#also yes i could actually just edit my plans and call that a fic because really that is the effort i put into them.
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Let's see if Cybird comes out with a new card by the time I post this
Edit: they did not. I am forced to use the same 3 cards on shuffle
But uhhh similar to the fic with Theo with an mc who wears a choker. Bc it's hot and if I'm trying not to write Theo smut then it's being passed along to Drake
"What's this?"
You yell out in surprise as Drake hooks his finger under the choker you are wearing after you enter his room to bring him lunch. You wear it everyday, how has he not noticed?
You barely had time to set the tray down before he pulled you closer.
"Drake," you whine "I'm busy right now."
He keeps his finger around the choker, keeping you close to him. You bit your tongue. If you let yourself slip you were going to let out a moan.
"I didn't realize little fawns needed to be collard. Does that mean you need a leash too?" He chuckles but you so badly wanted to say yes.
"I hope this doesn't mean Theo claimed you, calling you his dog and all."
"Wha- no! It's just a choker, I don't know how you never noticed it before," you pout at him and try to move his hand off. "Now if you will excuse me-"
"I don't," his arm goes around your waist to keep you against his body. "Why don't you stay here and entertain me on his rainy day?"
There was no gap between your bodies. He wasn't giving you a choice, just waiting for you to agree.
"Just because the rain stops you from working doesn't mean it stops me."
"Then a little break then," he suddenly tugs the choker again, this time getting a moan out of you. "That's what I want to hear."
Your face gets red. You wouldn't say you don't want this, it just wasn't part of your plan.
"How trained are you?" He smirks. "On your knees," you drop down to your knees, no hesitation, still looking up at him. "Good girl," his hand brushed through your hair.
"Come this way," his finger hooks into your choker again and leads you towards the bed. He sits on the edge, his legs spread, pulling you between them.
"I need to get back to wo-"
Your words get cut off by him putting his fingers in your mouth.
"You were a good girl a moment ago. Don't tell me you want to ruin that," he removes his fingers. "Now how are you going to entertain me.
You rest your head on his lap, looking up at him. "If I'm on my break why should I be doing the work," you smirk up at him.
He can't say he was expecting that. "Talk like that again and I'll make sure you choke on my cock," he stays stern but you feel like playing around.
"Choke? I don't think that thing could make me gag."
"Then you shouldn't have an issue."
He undoes his pants, pulling out his hardening cock. He leans back on his hands, moaning as he watches his cock disappear into your mouth.
"Good girl," his hand runs through your hair before pushing your face down into his crotch.
His tip hits the back of your throat, and you squeeze in his thighs as he keeps you there.
"You said you wouldn't have a problem," he smirks, not letting your head go until you actually start pushing against him.
He pulls your hair to bring your head up. You cough and try to catch your breath.
"What happened, fawn? All bark no bite I see."
"I would have been fine if you would have let me do it on my own," your chest heaves slightly.
He stands up, pulling you up to your feet with him. "Since you failed, I'll use you in a different way."
He kisses you as he starts unbuttoning your shirt. The moment he can touch your skin he squeezes your flesh, running his hands against you roughly, as if he's been craving you.
Moments after your shirt came off so did your bra. By the time you felt the cold air on your skin your skirt was also on the floor.
"Drake.."
"Quiet."
His lips grazed against yours. You thought you could feel his fingers against your thigh, but that didn't feel quite right.
"Don't move."
Whatever was crawling against your skin went up to your hip. It jerked away from you and that's when you realized it was a knife, and it just cut your underwear open.
Your heart was beating fast, but you could tell if it was out of fear or arousal. He cut the other side open so that your underwear fell to the floor.
The cold blade slipped between the small gap between your neck and your choker, giving it a tug.
You kept your eyes on Drake, who in turn was looking at you, licking his lips.
"If you're going to wear this often I'm going to have to get a leash so I can walk you around."
"I'm sure you have some rope around here that would work just fine," you smirk up at him.
He holds you close with an arm around your waist while you push his pants down to his ankles.
"Now why don't you take your shirt off, I shouldn't be the only one that's topless."
He moves the knife away from you as his grip on you tightens. Quickly, he turns and tosses you into the bed. Before you can even get situated Drake has his shirt off and is pushing your legs apart.
"If I use rope on you it's going to be used to tie you to the bed," he leans down and kisses you hungerly. "I want to keep you tied up and ready whenever I want."
You can't help but moan at the thought. He takes your hands, pinning them to the bed.
"I need a stress reliever after a hard day."
He kisses your neck, nibbling at the soft skin around the choker while his tip teases your hole.
You squirm slightly, trying to force him inside you.
"A hard day of giving shitty tours to pretty women? Such a hard- ohh!"
He quickly thrusts into you, getting as deep as he can without forcing your legs even wider. His thrusts get rough fast.
"Your moans are much prettier than your voice."
You wanted to say something back, but all that came from your mouth were moans. One hand let you go in order to squeeze your chest. His hand grabs your tit, squeezing it tightly before moving to pinch your nipple.
"Ahh!" Your body jerks not expecting it. The smirks and rubs your nipple harder, enjoying watching you squirm.
"You're so loud," he thrusts faster, hoping you'll get louder. "Everyone here surely knows how good I make you feel."
His fingers dig into you again, and his lips are back on your neck. Using his teeth, he holds onto the choker and pulls on it.
You moan louder, your hips bucking up, now feeling his cock thrust in at a new angle.
"Drake!"
"That's what I like to hear," he sits up to hold your hips. He pushes you down into the mattress so he can be even rougher.
Your hands dig into the pillow under you, squeezing and pulling it. Your moans become screams as he gets ruthless. It was more about his pleasure than the both of you getting off.
"H.. harder... harder!" You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your tongue. Drake smirked and lifted both your legs over his shoulders, throwing into you harder and deeper.
You tighten around him as you get closer. You whine as you start feeling bliss, your body getting filled with ecstasy.
Drake kept going, even after feeling you cum. He was close but not quite. You try opening your eyes to look at him, panting and moaning. He pushes you into the mattress harder, making sure you don't move at all.
He takes in a sharp breath and he finally fills you with cum. As he catches his breath, he lets your legs drop, the last of his cum leaking into you.
He doesn't pull out for a few more moments, but when he does, he lays beside you. You let your body relax and start thinking about how you need to get back to work.
Drake pulls you in the cuddle, your face in his chest. "If it's still raining later, make sure you stop by again," he kisses the top of your head.
"As if," you pout. "Maybe you should come looking for me instead."
"Be careful. Wherever I find you, I will bend you over right there. I don't care who is watching."
You let out a soft moan at the thought. "F-fine. But I won't come by until after dinner."
"Sounds like I have dessert."
~~
Tag list ~
@kissmetwicekissmedeadly @fang-and-feather @xalxtusxiao @namine-somebodies-nobody @ana-thedaydreamer @evil-quartett @ameyoruakiikemenseries @yrenesposts @tele86 @damekathearasi @lokis-laugh @candied-boys @breadmercury @aquagirl1978 @xenokiryu @nightghoul381 @vampiricpancake @faust-bitten @floydsteeth
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Oh man!! The latest chapter!!! The angst was angsting, pain was paining, heart is wrenching, tear is falling, it was soooo mean, but do it again!!!
It was the longest chapter and ironically the most painful chapter as well. Have I said how much I love slow burn and angst and this fic hits home everytime?? Likeee woah I just LOVE how this fic is LOOONG , nowhere near close bc that means I get me read it longer lol.
And I feel like I would never be able to appreciate how much hard work you put in Who Holds the Devil.
I am guessing it is now Ga On's turn to pursue Yohan and Oh man I can already imagine how much he is gonna suffer while doing it 😭 or maybe not (bc he tends to be pretty straightforward at times and impulsive as well) but I believe it's gonna be pretty hard bc Gaon has so much shit to get together and Yohan, my man, already gave up (poor him) so gaon trying to persue him or rather seduce his sugar daddy would look very suspicious to him. Nevertheless I am exited to see Gaon try and miserably, comically and hilariously half fail bc he will succeed eventually as Yohan is too much of a loser for Gaon lol. I am excited for future chapters and definitely wouldn't complain about more angst lol.
It was necessary for this to happen, otherwise the story would go nowhere and most importantly Gaon and Yohan would go nowhere, their problems will never be solved. Sometimes hitting rock bottom is crucial to develop in life BUT I would hate it if it happens to me, hope I will be able to get my shits together before that happens ( or maybe it already happened but I am not relizing it or not acknowledging it much like gaon but he is better than me ngl at least he has the courage)
This became a rant about me naur 😭
Lastly I hope you have a great day and things work out for you 💕
Also idk if it's your cup of tea but My Happy Ending kdrama is sooo good and worth giving it a try. It's a psychological suspense drama hehe. I am soo invested in it nowadays so couldn't help recommending you as well 💫
It was a painful chapter, yeah. And I'm both relieved and heartbroken to finally have it out there. As someone who doesn't actually like angst, this chapter was a struggle in more than one way. But it's necessary if I want their relationship to move forward, so here we are.
At this point, writing Who Holds the Devil has sort of turned into a second job, not going to lie. I still enjoy it, make no mistake, but I have to plan all of my other hobbies around it since I feel an obligation to post somewhat regularly. Like, I've been postponing drawing for the past two weeks because I wanted to get this chapter out (that's how long it took to edit, yes) but drawing is the thing that helps the most with my depression symptoms (that have made an unwanted reappearance due to my burnout), so I've been struggling quite a bit. And now all I want to do is draw for a couple of days.
So yeah. I can't lie and say it's not a lot of work, both in terms of planning, writing, editing, etc., but also how it affects the rest of my life. BUT I just love it too much to give up on it ;)
And yes, Ga On will have to be the one to pursue Yo Han now ;) Or, well, eventually. He has to wallow and overthink things a bit first because, well, Ga On. If overthinking things was an Olympic sport, he'd win the gold for sure. But he WILL give Yo Han what he wants in the end, I promise.
In short, the "the only way after hitting rock bottom is up" saying is pretty apt in this case.
There's still hope, so just hang in there :)
I looked at the plot for My Happy Ending but I admit it didn't really catch my attention. But that could be because I don't really watch much right now? I'm too busy writing and drawing. I'm also trying to finish a drama I started ages ago called Mad Dog. Which, let me tell you, it's disorientingly gay for a drama about insurance fraud. But unlike The Devil Judge I'm not sure if they're actually AWARE of how gay it is? (especially since it's from 2017)
But, like, if I had a penny for every time I've watched a drama in which a traumatised, older man brings home a reckless, bratty twink after said twink got injured — under the pretence of protecting him from more harm — only for the twink to start snooping around his house before deciding to charm the dude with home-cooked food and then just doesn't leave I would have two pennies. Which isn't a lot, but it's still weird that it's happened twice.
Also, what the heck do they want me to think when they have these kinds of angles when the two dudes are arguing?
That looks questionable both in and out of context. BUT that could also be because Woo Do Hwan could have sexual tension with a goddamn rock. Rarely have I seen a man with so much "fuck me and find out" energy as his character in this drama.
But the twink also has a romantic plotline with the woman on the team, at the same time as he's living in the older dude's apartment and giving this poor dude all kinds of conflicted feelings because he's a widower who's lived alone since his wife and kid died and suddenly there's someone in his apartment cooking him food, nagging at him when he comes late and drunk etc. etc. Like, bruh. It really sounds like the twink is his new wife? And I am SO CONFUSED because the drama plays it so straight (without the "hint, hint, nudge, nudge" winks that The Devil Judge had) that I'm about to have an existential crisis.
Fellas, is it gay if this is the face you make when you're told you're not actually living with the man who took you home to keep you safe after you almost got murdered but then you accidentally behaved like his concerned and doting wife?
Asking for a friend.
(and don't even get me started on the whole "Bring Your Twink to Work Day" scene)
At this point, I'm half convinced I'm gaslighting myself into thinking this is gay when it's actually just a really heartwarming story about a really deep bromance that I'm too queer to understand.
ANYWAY. Thanks for the rec! But I'm not sure if it's my thing and I'm really bad at watching things right now. But I'm thrilled to hear that you're having so much fun with it! I'm happy for you! :D
And thank you so much for the lovely message 💜
#Amethystina Replies#1-boiledpotato#Who Holds the Devil#Amethystina Writes#I swear#Watching Mad Dog is so very disorienting#Because it's genuinely SO GAY to me#But I've seen no one else so much as mention this#Is it just because the right people haven't watched it?#Or am I going crazy?#Who knows at this point#Sorry that this answer became more about Mad Dog than Who Holds the Devil#It's just been weighing very heavily on me lately xD#I AM SO CONFUSED
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gotta catch em all: persona 5 edition!
full disclosure, this au started as a joke.
so for the last two-three-ish weeks i've been playing with the idea of a pokemon au for the p5 cast, it's been living in my head rent free, and it's been developing with a speed i definitely was not expecting but am not about to question, and there is definitely an impending fic in the making. so i decided i'd try something new where i actually introduce an au on here before i start posting the fic itself to my ao3 and yes this is partially because my co-developer-slash-beta-reader-slash-best-friend has art pending for this. just gonna do brief introductions (as brief as i can manage anyways; proper character introductions are coming soon!) so without further ado, here we go :D
setup: this is obviously set in the world of pokemon; however it is not set in any particular region. this is partly because i wanted to keep my options open when selecting pokemon for the main cast. in addition, the main cast have been aged up to college age, with the pts in the 20-23 range (as of right now akira will be 22 and the rest will be adjusted around that). pokemon journeys begin around 17 or 18 and there's not as much pressure to start a journey as soon as you're old enough, which is why akira is only just starting his. non-thief confidants will be making appearances, though most will be only minor. also, morgana is not a pokemon - he is still a cat, and he can still talk. this will be explained much much later. for now here's the main cast:
akira: the one on a journey! he lives with sojiro, who runs a pokemon cafe in a small town, and futaba, his little sister in all but blood. he likes to run a mixed-type team and calls home often
ryuji: trainer who specializes in electric types! he was supposed to start his journey right at eighteen but wasn't able to due to his leg injury. he grew up with his yamper, which evolved into a boltund a few months into ryuji's recovery; the boltund is his best friend
ann: fierce fire type trainer who loves to travel! she's in a long distance relationship with shiho, who lives in a neighboring city. her starter pokemon was fennekin, which sparked her love for fire types; she's very protective of all her pokemon
yusuke: ice type trainer whose real passion isn't pokemon battles but pokemon art! he has a goal to paint every pokemon, and he's slowly working his way through every one he can find, starting with his beloved frosmoth. but he can't explore the world just yet....
makoto: the youngest steel type gym leader in her city's history! at only twenty, she was able to beat out several older candidates for the position of gym leader through her sheer skill and her coordination with her pokemon. her skarmory is a force to be feared
futaba: a young intern whose mother was a pokemon researcher! she mainly works remotely from her dad's cafe, but she's dead set on someday being able to visit her mother's lab. she's great with pokemon, with her umbreon providing comfort from darkness
haru: unwilling but skilled psychic type gym leader! her father used to run the gym and insisted she take his place when he retired, and she's plenty suited to the task. but she has other interests and plans for her future that only gothitelle and her other pokemon know....
goro: dark type gym leader who is rarely at the gym! he wants to run the gym, but an organization beyond his control is set on wresting control of the gym from him. they can't get control without defeating him, though, so he and his corviknight are on quite the trip
sumire: the trainer with an uncertain path! her sister once ran a grass-type gym in their city, but she's been in a coma for months. she's not sure how to move forward. fortunately for her, mimikyu found her at her lowest and could help her choose a future....
i'm really looking forward to posting this au, both in the form of actual fic on ao3 and fleshing out the details here on tumblr! i've got big plans for the story, which is shocking for someone who struggles with plot so often, so i think this'll be a fun experience. can't wait to share more :3
#persona 5#persona 5 royal#p5r#phantom thieves#pokemon#pokémon#pokemon au#crossover#brain dump#literally i love making this au so much#cannot wait to start posting fic#if you have questions they'll probably be answered later#but feel free to ask anyways lol#(ranting about fandom shit makes my brain happy)#this au was born out of doing art for a different au
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[20 Question Fic Writer Tag]
I wasn't actually tagged by anyone and I would never usually do this but @ainulindaelynn said anyone could consider themselves tagged and this one looked fun so here I am. 🤪
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
Five! Four one-shots and one multi-chapter WIP.
2. What is your AO3 word count?
16,451
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Currently Assassin's Creed, formerly (but I'm sure I'll be dragged back into it at some point) Star Wars. I also have a bunch of old WIPs for Pacific Rim and (🤢) the MCU but never completed/published any of them.
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
I only have five fics posted so:
Hideaway - 147
Bright Skies - 136
Press On, Move Along - 92
Out of the Cold - 35
Honor Bound - 22
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes! I try to respond to every comment I get, even if it's just a short little acknowledgement. Because I would like people to know I see them and appreciate them so they keep commenting. <3
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Press On, Move Along. Everyone died, dude.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Hideaway!
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Not yet! 🤪
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Yes, as of like... three months ago. I have yet to publish any of it though and it'll probably be a long while before I do, but I also have a little one-shot that may be done long before then if I decide to actually finish it. In terms of "what kind" I think it's pretty vanilla. IDK how else to describe it.🧍🏻♀️
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
Not generally, except for the AC Star Wars AU that has taken over my brain. I'm not even sure I would count that as a crossover so much as a fusion AU because there are absolutely no Star Wars characters in it.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
I'm not positive this person was copying my fic, but I distinctly remember not long after I posted Hideaway coming across a fic with the same premise (Din playing hide and seek with the kids on Sorgan), which followed all the exact same plot beats as mine. And I do mean exactly. Obviously the plot itself is not particularly groundbreaking and I think there are plenty of other similar stories out there, but this one was similar enough to set off alarm bells.
I didn't end up doing anything about it because again, I like to give people the benefit of the doubt and it could have easily been a coincidence, but obviously if they had fully reposted my fic then that would be a different story.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Nope!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Actively written a fic with another person? No. Plotted a fic from start to finish in a months-long series of increasingly deranged DMs? So many times. Hi Parker. :)
14. What's your all-time favourite ship?
Girl... I can't answer this. I don't know about "favourite" but if I had to pick a ship that has made me crazy for the most amount of time, it's probably Mako/Raleigh.
15. What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will?
I still think about my post-Mando s2 fix-it fic every once in a while but I honestly doubt I'll ever finish it. Disney has pretty much killed any care I once had for this show and it fucking sucks. :/
16. What are your writing strengths?
I'm not even being modest right now I just actually don't know lmao. Anything that I might qualify as a strength isn't consistent enough for me to feel justified in calling it a strength.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Overthinking my use of commas, editing while I write, feeling directionless when I don't do enough planning ahead of time but feeling suffocated when I do too much planning ahead of time. Also just being sooooo fucking slow, but I think that can be attributed to the overthinking.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I avoid it as much as humanly possible. If someone is speaking another language I'll usually just note it in the text somehow or, as has been the case with Honor Bound a lot of the time, purposefully write from the POV of a character who doesn't speak that language which, in addition to conveniently sidestepping that issue, works well as a narrative device.
I just absolutely hate the thought of putting Google translated dialogue in a fic and having a native speaker cringe their way through grammatically incoherent dialogue lmao.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Marvel >:(
20. Favourite fic you've ever written?
Honor Bound obviously holds a special place in my heart but Out of the Cold is really good. Like really good IMO.
No-pressure tags: @orphiceonian, @aeide, @findusinaweek, @reiverreturns, @basimibnishaqs, ????? anyone else who wants to <3
#one of my favourite pastimes is talking about my writing instead of actually writing and it shows#ky posts text#tag games
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Did you talk about the winter warmth one already? Curious on that one too 👀
I did not yet! Though it’s probably not what you were gonna expect
So, this one is an old one so please excuse any bad writing. I am planning on editing it a lot once I finally continue writing it.
So! For context: this is a Bat! Jotaro au. Why a bat? Because I was talking with a friend and they sent an adorable picture of a bat so I went “what if bat, but Jotaro :0” And then I proceeded to make an entire crytpid creature from it called a ‘Chiroptera’ that I unironically love. HA
For this particular fic he can shapeshift into a little bat like a vampire, but that’s not how the universe/cryptid usually works. Just like my Mer au, I like my realism. So please excuse that, I may just write that out still, it depends. But yes, this has been my baby for a while and though the descriptions are a little wonky, I’m working on it. Bear in mind I wrote this like a year and a half ago probably, oops.
Oh yeah, it’s also yandere, so CW, bear that in mind. Mainly just stalking though
It was deep into the night. Hanging from a tree nearby, two vibrantly coloured eyes - almost glowing in the dark - stared dead at a window.
Inside, sitting slumped over at a desk, were you.
You’d fallen asleep half an hour ago, giving the creature outside a perfect view of you.
For months, Jotaro had hung outside your window like this, toes firmly planted around the branch, black wings wrapped around his body for camouflage and comfort as he simply observed you.
You lived on the edge of town, your house right by the forest. It was what allowed Jotaro to have watched you for so long and go on undetected.
The wind howled by, rustling the fluffy fur on his back and making a shiver briefly pass through him. He wasn’t made for being out in the open in this winter weather.
Almost as if to prove a point, snowflakes started descending from the sky, adding to the already present layer of snow on the ground.
It wasn’t storming by any means, but the curtain of white was somewhat blocking the creature’s vision.
You hadn’t been laying like that for too long but the Chiroptera knew that sleeping like that was not good for you either way.
The snow, the cold, and his underlying thoughts brought Jotaro to move.
Unfurling his wings, he stretched his arms out wide, feeling the leathery material connected to it stretch as he flexed his fingers.
Similar to a bat, his arms were his wings, though Jotaro’s arms appeared more human-like in shape than the actual animal’s did. When having his wings folded up, his arms and hands functioned the same as a human’s, simply having his wings folded by his body as much as he could - a clawed, seemingly four fingered hand at the culmination of it all.
Hanging upside down from his feet - toes curled around the large branch - Jotaro had no choice but to just drop himself.
Stretching his wings out, the leathery appendages extended as his fifth finger shot out sideways, almost doubling the size of his wing span.
Without much fanfare, Jotaro released the branch, dropping himself as he quickly flapped his wings, lifting his body in the air and turning around the tree he had just been hanging from; flying the small distance through the snow to your balcony window.
Landing on the stone almost soundlessly, the Chiroptera sat ducked for a few seconds before slowly standing up, seeing you still motionless at your desk.
It was rare for the bat to see you from this close and he raked his eyes over your form, appreciating you for a bit.
When those seconds were up, he reached his claw up to the handle of your window. Trying to open it proved no problem as he turned it and pulled the mechanism towards himself, the window opening without problem.
Wanting to keep the cold out, the bat-creature immediately climbed from your window into your room, shutting the thing behind himself and banishing the snow and cold.
Instantly, Jotaro felt like melting in relief, feeling the warmth of your house wash away the cold that clung to his fur. The scent of your room clearing his airways from the sting of the cold outside air.
Letting one last shiver rack through his body, Jotaro relaxed, shaking the snow off himself before slowly starting to step his monstrous feet over your carpeted floor; the pads of his feet splayed out, his toes spreading flat and wide. It felt amazing after the more rough bark from the branch he had been hanging on, but there was no time for that now.
Stepping forward, he cautiously approached your form, staying close to the ground for a bit as he moved closer.
Once he was close enough, he stood up fully behind you. Looming over your back and looking down.
Your head was dropped down on your desk, so innocently and calmly sleeping away, as if a monster wasn’t standing directly behind you.
A high pitched chirr left his throat as he crooned at how cute you looked.
So soft, so vulnerable. Any creature could come inside here like he did. You really were too naïve of what lurked out in the forest.
Bringing his left arm up, he gently placed his hand on the back of your chair, the neon colour of it contrasting wildly with the completely black appendage.
Reaching his right up, the Chiroptera gently moved your hair aside and away from the back of your neck, careful to not scratch your delicate skin with his sharp claws. Once it was exposed to him, he leaned down and nipped at the flesh, leaving his mark on you.
You stirred a little at the slight pain his bite brought, but were too deep in sleep to really register it.
Taking note of your reaction - or rather your lack of - Jotaro stepped around your chair so that your face was facing him.
With careful moves, the bat leaned down and slinked his arms under your body, leaning you into his naked chest before lifting you up slowly, making sure to not stir you.
A small noise left your sleeping form, making the Chiroptera freeze, but your hand merely grabbed hold of the fuzz that marred his side before you settled down again.
Calmed by that, he walked you over to your bed and lowered you down, feeling his folded up wings graze past your blankets as he did.
Once he was sure you were secure, Jotaro pulled his arms away from you, careful to not trap his wing under your body.
The hand that had been in the short fur on his side fell limply next to you as you melted into your bed.
Grasping the corner of the blanket, the bat tried to put it over your body as best as possible. After tucking you in to his satisfaction, he let his hand linger, allowing it to roam the material, his four clawed fingers pushing down a bit to take in how it felt.
He had never really felt any of this with his own hands, only ever having watched it from afar.
Debating for a second, the Chiroptera looked back at your window, seeing the snow had picked up so much so that it wouldn’t surprise him if it became a storm later.
Looking down on himself, he sighed softly, the fur he had only ran across his legs, back, sides and the top of his shoulders. His entire chest, face and arms were unprotected from the cold and if he had to fly out into the snow to find a cave or hollow tree to rest in, he would surely have a bad time if not freeze to death before he could.
Sure, he could go into his bat form to combat the cold, but the winds were too strong for him to fly in at that size.
Not taking too long to decide, the man turned back to you, the ears on top of his head twitching back and forth for a second before he carefully climbed onto your bed.
Wary to not touch you, he placed one foot on the edge, reaching over your body and putting his weight on his arm as he put his other foot on the edge of the bed, his toes securely curling around the frame like it did the branch outside as he now carefully stepped over your body.
Completely getting on your bed, smushed between your body and the wall, Jotaro lowered himself down.
He had been waiting so long to be this close to you.
Bringing his knees up to his chest, he curled up into a little ball, spreading his right wing out over himself as a blanket as he placed his chin on your stomach gently, sighing a deep yet content sigh as he allowed his muscles to relax completely.
He hadn’t been this warm and comfortable since he was a pup, sleeping under his mother’s wing.
Twitching his foot a little as he settled completely, he pushed a little more into your side before closing his eyes, your blankets firmly in his left fist as he fell into a rest in the wee hours of the morning.
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😈💖🦅 for the emoji asks!
Thank you for the ask (and apologies for answering it a month late)!
😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?
....yes. It wasn't so much with the writing of the story itself, because I never wrote it with the intention of publishing it, but when I was breaking up Kairos into chapters, I very intentionally put a chapter break in a place where I had not originally broken the scene. I also edited out about twenty pages of smut.
💖 What made you start writing?
I don't actually remember. There is a scrap of family lore from my moms that I started telling stories before I could read or write -- starting when I was two or three, they say they could hear me talking to myself at night, telling myself stories. I remember that, although I thankfully don't remember what those stories were about. But I've been writing since I learned to write, basically, with increasing seriousness as the years passed. I probably started to get really serious about it (novel-wise) when I was thirteen or fourteen.
🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?
I keep notes with information about the fics, but they aren't proper outlines -- just details I don't want to forget, pieces of dialogue, or reminders for key scenes. For example, the planning note for Kairos contains things like:
a list of flowers that would be available on July 6th in New Hampshire for Bard to put in Thranduil's hair
a list of cookbooks that would have been available for Thranduil to borrow from the library
a list of books the kids might read
dialogue outlines for the first phone call and the first in-person meeting
and the actual ending to the whole thing
Otherwise, I fly totally by the seat of my pants.
fanfic writer emoji asks
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So uhhhhh what Inspired you to do DR69 in the first place? Crossover Fangans are quite frequent as of now ( such as Cartoons In Danganronpa, totally not promoting one of my current favourite on going Fangans (; ) but nah on a serious note, just really curious to the upbringing of 69 and how the whole thought process with it's conception went yknow?
Ah yes, my origin story (or well the fic’s at least lol)
I did mention this in another post, but one day while I was scrolling through danganronpa fics (terrible decision, I know) I stumbled across a fic called DR9: Despair’s Counterattack (by PurpleDrank). Now, just by looking at the absurd but hilarious cast list, I was infatuated with the idea of placing random characters into a killing game. I knew of fangans that existed such as SDRA2, but I hadn’t really been exposed to the idea of crossover killing games until that fic.
I don’t think anyone knows this, but since I was young, I was obsessed with crossovers. And I mean obsessed. Not like those 2 TV shows having a crossover special kind of interest, no, like slapping characters from separate medias I enjoyed and just thinking about them doing stuff together. From the most trauma-torn grunge middle-aged man to a cartoon horse to a random anime girl just hanging out because… why not? It’s free, and no one can stop you.
And believe it or not, that hasn’t changed.
For fun, I was just like, “lol, what if I wrote down my own cast of characters that might be funny to see interact because it’s not like anyone’s gonna read it anyway.” Once I assembled the cast, it spiralled from there. Oh, who would be the protagonist? How would these characters look in my current artstyle? What would the first floor of the school look like? At that point I decided to abandon my current fixation on a set of old OCs and focus on creating this fic. Unlike DR9, I wanted to actually draw the images myself, seeing as how photo editing could only go so far with the intro cards and not for more dynamic CGs (still respect the use of it though cuz it does make things more visually engaging imo).
I remember trying to figure out how to produce my own murder cases. I was very interested to try and use ideas related to the characters involved in the case, which is why for the first case, the BDA image is a reference to a gag from spongebob, and the method of murder is directly tied to the murderer’s iconic ability in his game. I also remember drawing small diagrams and jotting down the truth bullets that could expand the case such as accounts in a notebook I had. This process has actually been used a bit for DR96 too — just using different mediums to help plan can really refresh your mind if you’re having trouble figuring things out.
I didn’t think the fic would get as popular as it did. Back then, I’m certain crossover fangans were not a huge thing, and definitely not as saturated as they are now. It was fun having a small following, but as things grew, it definitely was exhilarating as it was intimidating. But I don’t regret going through with it at all, as I’ve seen first hand how it’s inspired many, allowed people to connect and form friendships and even open people up to other medias.
So all in all, I’m just a big crossover fan and danganronpa is a strangely good medium for it, and makes for a pretty gruesome one at that lol
#it really was humble beginnings#I was just messing around never expecting things to blow up#that’s why when I receive some very niche criticism it’s very funny#as I literally started it as a fun hobby and not as a literary masterpiece#I mean I do take it into account but it’s important to understand why things are they way they are here
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
Thank you so much @picnokinesis for tagging me in this!!! As the Doctor would say, 'I'm so chuffed!' akfndjnfn
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
19
2. What's your total AO3 word count?
1,260,962 (girl wtaf)
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Doctor Who, specifically for the 13th Doctor
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Heaven Sent
Rising Tides
Timeless
The Haunting Ground
On Hallowed Ground
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes, for sure! And if I haven't, it's because I've either missed it or haven't gotten to it yet! But i'm very grateful for people who comment, only seems right to respond (even if sometimes it takes me months... sorry!)
6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Hmm. I'm actually not sure, I try to round out endings of stories so there's at least some sense of satisfaction or hope. I suppose Strike Twice. Out of all my au's the ending it's the least happy- i don't show them in the future where they're in a much better place. but, having said that, there's lots of hope in that ending.
(There's also a very short oneshot i wrote about Yaz and weeping angel 13 which is angsty af but i'm not counting that i wrote it in 20 mins after the episode lol)
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
This has got to be a tie between Rising Tides and Heaven Sent! I went all out with making those endings as happy as they could be lol.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Fortunately nothing all that bad, only someone once calling something 'boring,' which is rude but i deleted their comment.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Nope, a few times I've written things that precede it but i'm just not comfy writing it lol
10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
Nope.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know!
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Not that I know!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Nope but i did have plans to a while back!
14. What's your all-time favourite ship?
I find it hard to go all-in on lots of ships. In fact, i can only really have one answer, which is Thasmin. I think because it is a mix of the character who had given me so much power for self-actualisation (thirteenth doctor) and also a character whose strength yet vulnerabilities i absolutely adore (Yaz). I really enjoy writing them because they're dynamic is so interesting. but, i will say, i actually prefer to write the persuing of a relationship in au form rather than in-universe. I think in universe i do really like the inevitability of their heartbreak, that's another interesting thing to explore.
i'm going on here but can i just say, what i love most about thasmin is how much it was born and continues to exist in the fans. Talking to like-minded people and appreciating this ship- it's actually been my first experience of queer community! It's been very formative for me personally so i'll always treasure it!
15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
*sigh* Relativity. I'm sorry, but that is going to be so hard to get back into and feel like i'm doing it justice. I feel very bad, people have been very kind about that story.
16. What are your writing strengths?
argh. ermm. I really enjoy writing characters and fleshing them out so... that, maybe? i am quite proud of how i managed to write the very poisonous relationship between Tecteun and au13 Thete in Heaven Sent, and the characterisation of Tecteun so... characterisation, maybe.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
I write a lot. Too much. And i think that can be off-putting. I am trying to be more concise, I've definitely been experimenting with editing, etc. recently which I'm actually quite enjoying!
i also think i have a tendency to lay things out too much about who my characters are, what they are thinking and how this influences their actions. So, i am trying to trust the narrative to explore and explain why characters do what they do, etc.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
I mean if the occassion calls for it! But i am the complete opposite of multi-lingual, so i'd need to seek some help.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Well, I've only ever posted for Doctor Who, but I suppose my first fandom was Merlin. Me circa 2011/2012 writing the crappiest angst in little notebooks lol
20. Favourite fic you've ever written?
ooh aghh!! okay... Heaven Sent. Yeah. There's far too much of it lol but i had such a blast writing that story. It was so fun to develop something quite rich and an interesting challenge to go for a complex plot and lots of emotional heft. I'm also so nostalgic for 2021 when flux was airing!
Thanks so much Taka for tagging me! I'm gonna tag @eriadu-in-the-wildwood @jae-writes-stuff and anyone else who wants do to it!!
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NO NO CRINGING I LOVE THAT FIC - HOW DARE QUESTION 😠 so many scenes from stygian live in my head rent-free. goons dragging Loki away????? Nat getting Loki to eat a banana???? the ELEVATOR bit with Clint alone. cinematic masterpiece. the DRIVING???????? BUCKKY????????????????? the entire thing is iconic honestly it's like "we don't have any keys" "what? what on the nine do we need KEYS for?" "to start the car!!!" "KEYS?!" and the Avengers getting along - making a smoothie the first time sakjdjgshjfek Loki not being able to see and tehrefore not being able to eat at the start and not know where things are around him and who is there without magic ;-; Bruce talking to Loki when the adoption comes up and the entire conversation being so dkjfsgsdg like neither WANTS to be there fr like yes i'm going to figure out his medical history but oh no this conversation has devolved into a um. metabolism lesson? Thor shows up and Bruce is just guilty the entire time but curious too akjsfhv and I remember whenever there *was* any improvement with Loki's condition it felt like such a BIG thing - possibly because of the time and struggles along the way to get there? like he doesn't show to be improving with the sight till WAY into the story. and ALSO how could i forget the fic OPENS with Loki disrupting the ENTIRE RAFT like COME ON that's so cool and secxy and am not the anon from before but i'm VERY happy that fic is there even if you don't look back on it so well so thank you for it and I hope you find your more recent writings better to yourself because ALL of them are a delight
anon.
no jokes, no exaggeration, I love you with my whole soul. I will give you my firstborn.
Thank you. Thank you so so so much.
I had NO IDEA anyone felt so passionately about this fic. I know people like it, but it's so rare for anyone to tell me that now, given how old it is. It's literally so strange to me to think about anyone actually....enjoying my fics. I love the support I get on my fics, I really really do, but specifics on WHY a story is so beloved to them is so rare and so precious to me.
And like. Okay. Stygian is a mess of grammatical errors and weird inconsistencies, I know that. I want to go back and edit it up into fighting shape because I think I would do a much better job now, four years later, than I did initially, but the thing is--I don't want to remove the comfort of the fic from people. There are fics that I reread all the time despite the grammatical mess and I know the sentence structure and word placement by heart and if anything changed I would have a breakdown, and I imagine there are people that feel the same about Stygian so despite my frustrations with it, I leave it the same.
this just-- it just reminds me how much I love the story. I planned the fic out in a notebook across several long, lazy summer afternoons, completely embracing the tropes of loki and avenger fics because I wanted to and it was enjoyable. I meticulously plotted out an arc for every avenger + thor and loki and carefully detailed when and where their POVs would be the most impactful. It was my first real exploration into the characters and everything felt so raw and exciting.
I had Clint call Natasha his partner because of CBS Elementary and how Joan Watson and Sherlock Holmes call each other partner despite being completely platonic. It felt like such the perfect word and I STILL use that today.
I planned the "WE NEED THE KEYS YOU FOOL" scene after one in Sorcerer's Apprentice 2010 and how cool it was that Balthazar started the car with magic.
Loki was blind because of an image that I saw on Pinterest that looked cool and i looked for other fanart of blind Loki and it just kind of went from there. I barely knew how blunt force trauma actually worked. I didn't even know how many bullets a gun could hold on average.
Loki and Thor had their major argument based off of a fic I read for BBCs Sherlock.
The scene where they’re in total darkness and being attacked in the tower was based on a Spider-Man/Avengers fic I read a long LONG time ago. I can’t even remember if it’s IN the fic I’m thinking of.
Lila was obsessed with cats because my younger sister was going through a phase and her line "I want to have so many kitties I can't step on the floor" was something she said.
I had no idea how Loki, Nat and Clint were going to break into the HYDRA facility and made that up on the go. The facility being where Clint was kept at the beginning was a happy accident
I wrote some chapter beginnings in notebooks to fight my writer’s block. The original version of Steve waking up after they escape the Tower was written in a notebook with a purple pen.
I completely planned from the start that the beginning would be the Avengers saving Loki from HYDRA and then Loki saving them to parallel it.
The amount of people who have asked me if Loki was still blind at the end of the story is insane. TO ANSWER THIS: THE ANSWER IS NO, HE COULD SEE.
And also the sight thing--Loki being blind is a HUGE part of the story. It wasn’t supposed to be this vague thing that happened and then went away. It was intentionally kept there for the majority of the story because the story is called “Stygian” which means darkness. When Loki healed and was able TO see the story was over. That was the goal.
I couldn’t even drive when I wrote this story. I had to look up how to drive a car, oh my gosh. And how a dishwasher works. And guns. And ventilation. And how to shoot a bow and arrow.
There was so much love poured into this story, so much exploration. I forgot about that. Yeah, it’s cringy and kinda terrible, but I worked so hard and put so many countless hours into this fic.
Anyway. Wow my brain went away from me there. But thank you. Here’s a garbage dump of my thoughts about it. anon, I really do love you. You’re a blessing <3
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fic stats!
rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words.
please excuse me bc i was not tagged in this, but i saw this pop up on my dash from some of my non-mutuals and i was OBSESSED - so i did not wait my turn, i've just gone for it :)
most hits: yes, there is a chain and no, you're not on it (schitt's creek) a patrick/david fic i started when there were literally 15 fics for them on ao3 - it's patrick and stevie's text chain for all of the episodes of season four and i still feel smug about some of the things i managed to predict. i think it has the most hits of anything because it was there at the Beginning on ao3, it's got the most chapters, and i did accidentally leave it unfinished for like two years. (oops.) [but it has an incredible podfic!]
second most kudos: the best made plans are your open hands (911) for a fic that kind of walloped me upside the head and made me write it in like... a single evening, the reception on this has been SO sweet!!! an au where maddie takes buck with her when she leaves home at 18. i call it my 'happy healthy buckley verse' and i even have some more headcanons for it in the tag i have for it. in my mind, nothing ever really goes wrong for these two in this verse; it's my emotional support au.
third most comments: i only wanna be alone with you (schitt's creek) another patrick/david fic, this one written for a challenge. (a deadline always increases the likelihood of me finishing a fic.) this is probably (?) the ~sexiest thing i've ever written and it is... like not that explicit lmao. it also had a prompt that made me want to jump out of window bc my secondhand embarrassment threshold is practically zero - but i managed to write something that even my poor little soul could read and enjoy. [technically, 3rd most comments is the previous fic, but this one isn't far off in 4th place.]
fourth most bookmarks: deliver us unto each other (the old guard) this fic is my favorite child. i just think the stuff i love writing and the stuff i'm good at writing collided in this fic in a really lovely way and i'm so stinkin' proud of it. i felt feral while writing it lmao. it's about nicky's complex but deeply earnest and loving relationship with god and how his love for joe actually reaffirms his faith!! plus some great nicky + nile bonding.
fifth most words: i fell heavy into your arms (as the world turns) this is not my favorite of my luke/noah fics but i am very glad one of them made it on the list because all of my longest stuff is for this fandom and i miss nuke an unreasonable amount. those big bang prompts could pull 30k from me, no problem!!! this one's an au where noah is a detective and he has to solve damian's murder - and holden is a suspect :(
and least amount of words: Commandeered (h50) god this one was written so long ago it's still got an uppercase letter in the title 😬 also back in the day when i was still posting individual drabbles as their own fics - i've learned better! this fic represents my intense mcdanno phase, which still lingers in my heart like poison. (or a bomb.) genuinely a delightful prompt tho - an au where danny is the navy SEAL and steve is the jersey transplant. i honestly think i pulled this one off pretty well! they still sound very much like themselves.
-
i'm sad none of my sparty fics happened to make it in, since that was an Era unto itself but all of these delight me, so!!! here you go!!!
i tag: @cluelessheroes @functionalnihilism @angryfightingjew @woebegone-kenobi and literallly anyone else who wants to do this. you, yes you. i mean it!!! i promise you, if you do this and just pretend like i've tagged you to do it i will EDIT this post and tag you in it like you've always been there. i don't care if we're not mutuals DO IT!!! (sorry this was fun i really liked it and i'd like everyone else to have fun too!)
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hi kennedy! i was wondering if you could tell us how this is how you fall in love came to be? as in, how did the idea first come to your mind, and has it changed much since that firts idea? also, i'm really curious about how much time you've been working on it 👀❤️
hi ari! I absolutely can do that, but bear with me because it's long!
I had to scroll through my google doc history to find when it started, but apparently I got on the idea for it on August 23, 2021 lol. I'd forgotten this but I guess it came for an AU bingo that I was sort of doing (but definitely didn't complete). It was supposed to be the College AU square and all the doc had at first was this:
"Idea: pre-serum steve wants to lose his virginity before he graduates from college, doesn't really know tony but asks him to be the one to do it (seems likely he would say yes), turns into friends with benefits, they both catch feelings, mutual pining and all the fun things"
That initial idea didn't go very far until April 2022, when another bingo started and I thought I'd incorporate those squares. I absolutely missed that deadline, so as you can see, there's a recurring theme here of me failing hard at bingos.
But those squares were: virginity, Netflix, Edwin Jarvis, Bronx, Kissing in the Car, Victor von Doom
All of those are hilarious now, because Jarvis and Victor von Doom aren't even mentioned in the final version, and Steve and Tony never end up in the Bronx. But, they started me on an outline that evolved over time and helped a lot.
I wrote really sporadically from April-August 2022, then stopped completely in September-October. I felt like it wasn't turning out very well, so I went to other projects and wrote/posted those instead. When I came back to it, it turned out I actually really liked it.
I think there were 7 or 8 chapters written at the time I came back to it. I edited those, then kept going and so, so much of my initial outline changed. Entire scenes got scrapped, some parts were moved around or combined, and a few minor plotlines disappeared all together. The only major thing I kept from chapters 9-19 was the ending, but it was initially supposed to be 26 chapters, I think.
I didn't know exactly who these characters were at the time I outlined it, though, so it had to change as they developed into themselves. Like, there was supposed to be some plotline for the ~drama~ of Tony showing up at Steve's dorm drunk, because he was upset after a phone call with his mom. But it turned out that this Tony just wouldn't do that after everything I'd already written him to be. So, him talking to Steve about his mom got put into chapter 12 instead to preserve some pre-written dialogue I had, and now there's kind of no real drama between him and Steve specifically. (And I certainly stressed over that for months, for the record, but then I decided that not everything needs angst like that.)
This fic was the first multi-chaptered one that I didn't start posting until it was completely done, so I had more freedom to make changes, but also I kind of thought I might never finish it without the posting pressure lol. It did end up taking almost a year and a half, but I'm really happy with the way it ended up!
And I also may or may not have started writing a companion fic from Tony's pov 👀 and it may or may have 15 planned chapters.
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4KINGDOMS RE-READ ADVENTURE part 5
today turned into more of a fic editing night because all of these chapters were a little trashy. but hey. better fix them now than never
Chapter 18: max makes a bet with rei that's "going to be an easy win", then proceeds to lose the bet 50 chapters later
i've always enjoyed including the detail that giancarlo has taught max to sneak out of the house. because gianni does it in canon. it's just perfect and i can't believe these two prob don't even talk to each other once in canon
and now max is starting to roast ralf too but also, nice foreshadowing there
“It’s just not right,” he said, “for a royal knight to not be by his master’s side at all times.”
“You’re starting to sound like Ralf!” I congratulated him. “Incredible.”
holy shit max being like "idk what rick dislikes me for. maybe he's mad i'm cuter than him"
he also just flat out calls takao obsessed with kai. already
i forgot about this thing of them betting about kai's visit to cherrywood
max says he's jealous of takao! takao just said some chapter back that he's jealous of max! funny how that works
hmm. this was very cheesy
Chapter 19: takao-sensei teaches us world geography
thank you takao. i didn't remember some of the worldbuilding stuff in here so like. good to know. actually the thing he's saying about the east believing there to be three mountains that holy beasts originate from, i found those three things from wikipedia the other day and was like ah. did i intend to use these for something or.
i also forgot takao here talks about mao like oh she's so pretty. she so curvy. NFDBGHSDGSD
OH MY GOD TAKAO IS SO PETTY!! THIS BITCH
Whatever, I'd show them later - then they'd admit they were wrong and I was right, and they’d apologise for having been so silly and prejudiced. Yeah. “Sorry, Takao! You were right all along!” and so on. “We’re sorry for ever doubting you! You were steps ahead of us with your thinking!” Like that. […] I’d show them, I’d make Kai my new best buddy, and then we’d have so much fun together every day.
i may have kind of forgotten this subplot about all the mentions of kai's absence in southern media, i mean it's still gonna be relevant but i forgot this was. one part of it. yeah
this chapter wasn't very well written tbh so i spent like an hour fixing it just now. where were we again
Chapter 20: just a stinky pile of reimax fluff
the one where they stand on water holding hands. this is some aladdin&jasmine shit. these two got intense very fast
As soon as he was back on the veranda, he let out a sigh of relief.
Then he immediately recollected himself, straightening his back and trying to look brave.
“That was fun,” he said without a hint of fun is his voice.
rei you are so pathetic
oh this is a drop that i enjoy:
I shook my head and turned my attention back to Rei. “Doesn’t matter. I was just thinking that you could end up such a powerful magic-user. And yours seems like the offensive type. You could become a real fighter!”
“A fighter?” Rei repeated the word as if sampling its taste. “Like the knights? Do you think magic could be used with a weapon?”
i know i had the major points of this story planned beforehand but i'm still all LOOKKK I KNEW TO FORESHADOW THIS AND THAT! OH HOORAY! like i had no faith in myself that it was in there. IT'S JUST LIKE MAX SAYS TO REI IN THIS CHAPTER have faith in yourself!!
i very much love the robot koi fish of rei's pond
Chapter 21: kai arrives at takao's house and it's. not so fluffy
the plot moved a lot faster back then, now kai is already coming to cherrywood! i could just do a time jump in my current chapters too tbh
so like, about the first 1-on-1 interaction in person between takao and kai that they ever have, is this:
Kai slid it open a few inches, just enough to glare at me through the narrow gap like I was a cockroach that he couldn’t quite reach. Or didn’t want to.
“Hey,” I whispered. “I wanna talk. Could you let me in?”
“Why?” Kai bellowed, not lowering his voice at all.
i am great at writing romance yes.
takao realises that kai has probably never had a single friend……… /plays the world's smallest violin (and, any extremely handsome and sexy person who has read my other tales oneshots, knows that kai literally asked johnny what a "friend" is)
Chapter 22: takao gets nothing out of kai, surprise
yeah this is the point with double takao chapters! this is my own story where i'm the one who did the decisions yet i keep imagining this being like a wrestling match between rei and takao where they fight which one is the protag---
this chapter is really just description of cherrywood and the garden. the highlight is takao deciding he needs to try if the triangles on kai's face are paint or not
i wasn't very good at describing things in these chapters, i remember struggling with that and rewriting things a hundred times actually. well, the good news is that it comes easier to me now so clearly something has improved.
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If you like, please answer these? 🌬️🌌⚡🌈🌙 Thank you!!
Thank you, I'd love to! I think I'll go with Righting Reflex since that's still my newest long WIP (and I know you have special interest in it ;))
🌬 Wind - What was the easiest part of your WIP to write?
Chapter 10, I think? Which I believe is the next chapter for you to read, so I will try not to spoil too much. But that was a breeze to write - despite the angst.
As you might remember, I added it after the story was already finished, a little extra introspection into the Doctor and how she reacts to Melody showing up again in her life. Also to show a little how she's reflecting on her relationship with Yaz and the corresponding guilt.
So it was a light write because I knew I didn't NEED to add it for the story to work. But I could for fun and depth. And then the idea with imaginary Yaz appeared and I could have her and imaginary River flirt and call the Doctor out and that was amazing.
Also I kinda felt possessed by 13 herself while writing and I think I caught her way of thinking on paper better than usually :)
🌌 Clear Skies - How long have you been writing your current WIP?
I started writing Righting Reflex in October, I believe. So that would be 6 months now. It is kinda done but I am still revising and editing chapters as I publish and there is a possibility for adding a prologue still, so it can safely be called a WIP.
⚡️Lightning - Have you ever spontaneously added something to your story that you wouldn't have added normally? If so, what made you do it?
Oh yes!! All of chapter 10. Most of chapter 5. A cat. A scene of Yaz and River cuddling. A doctorriver scene that is like 5x as long as it should be. An epilogue. Another epilogue. Possibly a prologue in the future. I have added again and again to Righting Reflex while writing and most of it wasn't planned at all. It just came up as ideas while writing and I had 0 self-restraint. The comments have been very inspiring, too, I have to say :) People have been so nice and helpful!
🌈 Rainbow - What do you think makes your story unique / stand out?
River is a cat? That is honestly the working title I used for a while 😅 Until you helped me come up with the actual much better title.
There's also a lot of fluff to make you forget how angsty everything is, really. And there's an emphasis on both Yaz & Ryan and River & Ryan. You don't have that too often, I believe. And it's the only story with the clovvarths as alien antagonists (since I made them up)
🌙 Eclipse - What's the most common / reoccurring theme of your WIP(s)?
I'd say 'trust'. There's many issues with characters having to find trust in others, but most importantly in themselves. And we're still working on getting the Doctor to trust in love and happiness and confess her feelings to Yaz.
It's why we called the fic Righting Reflex, didn't we? Because with a righting reflex you can take a leap of faith and trust you'll land safely. Like a cat :)
Thank you so much for the ask, dear!
#jennyandvastraflint#I have actually started writing two new fics since then that are kinda WIPs#But one I likely won't continue and the other isn't dw#So answering for Righting Reflex is the best call I'm sure
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okay, firstly, the zayn thing?? OH MY GORD. AMAZING. AHHHH. IT HAS TO BE A SIGN!!
let’s take a moment to appreciate this man.
sadly, i don’t know how to do the page break. sorry!your favourite flower is so pretty! i’m glad that people can’t pick them, they’re too nice to be picked. the colors are cute too. did you subconsciously pick photos of red and green shutters (art heist, baby!) or were you making a reference? also swimming??? pls don’t do a regulus, that would be so sad 😭 im also adding your songs to my playlist!
current additions:
this feeling - the chainsmokers & kelsea ballerini
lovely - billie eilish & khalid
valerie - the glee cast version
give me love - ed sheeran
somewhere only we know - darren criss
now for my questions!
the song i’d use to describe myself would have to be: bad child - tones and i (very sirius black, i know)
my comfort colors: honestly? any type of pastels but particularly blue, pink and yellow
a character i relate to: there’s actually a few. let’s see, amy marsh - little women. alaska young - looking for alaska. regulus black - harry potter. (the original) will grayson - will grayson, will grayson
and my love language: this one i actually had no idea. so i used the love language online quiz, and besides discovering that i have a praise kink, i’ve learnt that my love language is physical touch and words of affirmation
now your questions (only if you want <3)
if you could live forever in a book, which one would you choose?
what’s your favourite thing to do when you’re bored?
if regulus and james were hanging off a cliff, who would you save first?
if you were giving 10 million dollars (or whatever your currency is) right now, what is the first thing you’d do with it? (something fun? not like saving it or buying a house)
what’s your hogwarts house?
- tmwb <3
So the colours I just felt described me best (I actually asked my mom today to give me three colours and she said the ones I chose so it was pretty accurate) but those pictures were definitely a reference to art heist, baby! I was looking for the colours and was drawn to those pictures and then realised and it was too good to not use them. That fic has truly taken over my life. And yep the swimming is truly ironic and every time I swim now I think of him… don’t worry though I can actually swim so I won’t pull a reggie
Yes that is very much Sirius of you (song choice) and I love pastels! I haven’t read will Grayson, will Grayson but I looked it up and will definitely add it to my list. Also, relating to regulus is honestly superior and he would definitely approve of this whole mysterious exchange:)
I love how I made you discover about your praise kink
So for the questions-
- my immediate thought was Harry Potter (it would have to be during the 70s though) and ideally the just lovers universe because a queer club and no war?? Yes please! The idea of magic and Hogwarts as a school has always appealed to me so it has to be that. can it be a fic? I’m gonna assume yes. Also I have to say Art heist, baby! is a close second because I just really want to learn more about art and plan+do a heist!!!!
- when I’m bored I love singing.It’s one of my favourite things to do full stop.
- now this question was just uncalled for. I’m sad and stressed and Idk what to do… there’s two ways this would go. Either I save James first because he’s strong and he can then help me save regulus or, I save regulus because that little shit is so determined and there’s no way he’s letting James fall. Realistically though, I would panic and call for remus because he would know what do do. Is this a cop out? Idk but I can’t decide!!! What would you do???? Edit because this was plaguing my mind- if the fall from the cliff led to water I would save reg first because no way am I gonna be responsible for him drowning
- ooo ok if I got that money I would give some of it to charities (I’m gonna say mainly animal shelters because animalssssss). But for the more fun stuff I would definitely go travelling. That’s always been my dream and with that money I could actually travel without having to be constantly worried about spending too much. I would also pay for sooo many acting classes because they are so fucking expensive🙄. I was gonna say more stuff but I just went back to the question and saw you said the first thing I would do so let’s just say travelling. I could do the other stuff after :)
- my Hogwarts house changes every time I do the quiz. I’ve mainly gotten slytherin and gryffindor so I’ll say a mix between the two? But I think if I actually went to Hogwarts it would be slytherin 🐍
Now for my questions-
- what’s your favourite animal? +would you consider yourself more of a cat or dog person?
- if you could choose to do anything for a day what would it be?
- what is your go to karaoke song?
- if you could go back in time, what year would you travel to?
Loving this playlist!!! I cried at somewhere only we know. Also, Valerie is one of the first songs I sang with my singing teacher so I absolutely love it! Amy winehouse is one of the greats and I know this was a different version but still. AND I SAW BILLIE EILISH SING LOVELY LIVE. IT WAS INCREDIBLE <3
Song for this ask- dream a little dream of me - Ella Fitzgerald
This song played at a restaurant today and I immediately added it to your playlist x
I think one big thing you’re learning about me through these is that I absolutely don’t know how to give simple straightforward responses😂 I am a good problem solver because of this though because my brain is always working on overdrive (not maths though, I suck at that).
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Favorite Muse (Model!Uzui Tengen x Photographer!Reader) Ko-fi Request
Sooo yes another request for kimetsu no yaiba with our flamboyant Tengen Uzui.Maybe an a/o/b fic (I like how you write them) or an modern au where Tengen is a model (instagram models?) And reader is sort of his personal photographer .I dont mind if you mix the two together.
I’m sorry this took so long, I hope this finds you with some good timing since season 2 is finally out and it is Uzui in all his glory. I’d like to write more stories and blurbs with a photographer/model relationship, this one was a fun one to write. thank you so much for the support! I hope you enjoy!!!
title: Favorite Muse
pairing: Uzui Tengen/Reader
rating: slight nsfw
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I have a new shoot idea I want to try.
You glance at your phone, blinking in surprise over the top of your energy drink. You glance at the familiar contact name and look back to your current editing project—the wedding photos should be done by the end of the night if you keep on track. You’re scheduled for a few more shoots in the morning and had planned to kick back as a little reward to yourself.
You consider your options briefly. A new string of texts follow the first, and you know it’s just him trying to incite you even further for whatever crackpot idea he’s come up with this time. You know with how he is, he won’t let it drop if it’s an idea he’s especially fond of, even if it means a half-nude shoot in the middle of the god damn Antarctic because somehow—
The one and only elusive model Uzui Tengen’s photos—they always sell.
You can tell him no, suffer the consequences of having him barrage you for the next few days, suffer the even harder consequences of having one of the girls try to persuade you into doing it—you’re particularly weak to Hinatsuru’s advances—and also miss out on a chance to make some extra pocket change for what you get as Uzui Tengen’s one and only private contractor and photographer. But, what you do get in return is a peaceful, stress-free night to yourself, which is hopelessly and utterly rare and your body is rather beat and haggard after all these back-to-back shoots and especially that god damn rock climbing advertisement, you shouldn’t have done that one.
Or, you could say yes; get paid handsomely because Tengen’s photos always sell well, get to eat Hinatsuru’s cooking because she’ll have heard you’ll be stopping by the studio and would make sure something’s ready, get to partake in the luxuries that surround the Uzui household, get Uzui off your back for about forty-eight hours max…
Your phone is still being spammed with texts. You ignore them, staring at the happy couple smearing cake onto each other’s faces. When Uzui and the girls finally get a proper wedding in place, you’d take those photos in a heartbeat. You know they’d be the kind for the record books.
Your phone lights up now with a phone call. You suddenly consider turning down the offer out of spite, nursing your energy drink with dull eyes. Your gaze does stray, however, to the pile of take-out containers sitting on your work desk. You frown at them, feeling your stomach churn at the thought of Hinatsuru's warm porridge…
Your stomach wins. You swipe your phone, pressing it to your ear.
“Finally! What are you doing not picking up my calls at this hour?” you hear music blasting from Uzui’s side and suddenly wonder if you’ve made the wrong choice. “I know, are you getting off on my photos? You can just come and I’ll help you out. No need to play by yourself.”
“What’s this idea of yours?” you say, checking your schedule. If Uzui leaves you alone for the next two days, you can schedule a day-off after the male calendar shoot… yeah, this can work out! “If it’s the frosting idea in a different theme, I’m going to cut all ties with you—”
“You love taking my photos too much,” Uzui says, sounding bored. “I want to do something good for Valentine’s. A single theme, straight-forward, nothing crazy this time, actually.”
“The most flamboyant man on earth,” you say flatly. “And it’s nothing crazy?”
“It’ll be more than enough, baby,” Uzui says. You imagine him kicking his head back, lounging on some kind of leather couch tucked into a dazzling club somewhere or another. The man’s got too much energy, too much stamina, and you’re not really sure where he keeps it. “Less is more, you know?”
You do know. You always tell him those exact words. But for Uzui Tengen, it’s either go big or go home. That’s why his shoots always require you to clear out your schedule the day after because they’re far too arduous for you to do anything else.
“I don’t like how secretive you’re being with the whole thing,” you say, clicking to clean up another photo. “Give me something to mull over. I’ll be there after seven.”
“Six.”
“Seven.”
“Fine, but you’re staying until it’s done.”
You nod, even though he can’t see it. You get the feeling he knows anyway though because he continues, “One word theme. Think about it however you’d like, sweetheart.”
You wait, tapping a finger idly against the minimizing key. You hear the music dull in the background, wondering if he’s moving away from the source of noise. His side quiets, and all you hear is the faint rustle of fabric, and then you imagine Uzui’s phone pressed against the side of his face, maybe held up in his hand, right by his mouth—
The husky, low alto of his voice nearly catches you off guard for a second. Uzui whispers it, sweet, like honey against your ears.
“Seduction.”
---- ---- ----
You’ve been working as Uzui Tengen’s photographer since high school, before the guy made his big break crashing into the industry through his social media and photo outlets until agencies and businesses and yada yada were all clamoring for a chance to represent him.
You two were classmates. Simple enough. Uzui always had a pretty big presence on campus and you just minutely made your way by on the average. You guys weren’t close, maybe a word or two in passing with papers or asking about homework. You were a part of the photography club and loved the art with a passion. You were sure you’d just about photographed anything that could be photographed on campus until your club members urged you to try moving to people.
It’d been a simple convenience of interests. Uzui had been looking to try getting into more professional photography without the commitment of hooking up with some agency he didn’t really have the patience to deal with, and you’d seen the clear and utter potential in getting to practice your skills photographing an actual model.
So you approached him that fateful day, camera in hand, ignoring the eyes of all your peers as you walked up to the best-looking second-year in school and asked:
“Can I take your photo?”
Because Uzui Tengen, for all his low-key arrogance that sometimes comes barreling right into your face, for all his exaggerated moves and flamboyance and whatever he likes to call his method and style of living—is beautiful.
He’s gorgeous. Uzui Tengen had been made with love, blessed most definitely in some way or another by a god or goddess in his past life. From the symmetrical contours of his face, the sharp angles of his jaw, the fit, healthy shift of all his muscles—all of it, down to the way his hair could look anything like liquid platinum or pure moonlight—he was ethereal.
And you, with your camera and lens—you were like a sculptor called to the altar in the face of such potential.
Uzui Tengen, leaning back on his desk, uniform half-unbuttoned, staring right back at you had said:
“Sure.”
You’re not quite certain why Uzui had been willing to let you take his photos that first shoot—though you’re fairly certain it’s mostly from the devil-may-care attitude, what’d either of you have to lose except a few hours of time? Uzui liked your work, you liked taking pictures of him. You two would work together, doing shoot after shoot, trying everything and then some, studying late into the night for exams and taking the bus to school, sneaking into abandoned complexes to get that one shot…
And then the partnership had spiraled out from there on, even into your adult careers, even through the meetings with the girls and everything else—
Uzui had been offered photographer after photographer after crashing into the big leagues. His faces were on the more underground magazines, but never doubted renown or fame. The moment his issues went out—they were gone. You’d urged him before over a long conversation at an izakaya, despite all his loud, lazy protesting and rude gestures and kicking feet into yours, stroking your legs up and down and trying to stop you from talking—to try other photographers, people with more skill and experience, but after the entire affair, he’d shown up to your college dorm saying—
“No one else but you,” Uzui pressed his finger into your camera, pressing it back into your gut as he leaned over you, lazy, half-lidded and with intent, “is allowed to take pictures of this face.”
He placed a hand on his chest, dragging it down.
“Of this body.”
“Okay,” you said simply. “But we should get some papers drawn up, just in case.”
“You can’t read a mood for shit, can you?”
Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru all got along with you just fine, and you were fond of them just as equally. Uzui was fond of this whole open relationship thing, and you didn’t really care one way or another, even if you suspected he was merely standing in for the girls so they’d be left alone due to other familial circumstances and constraints, but that's none of your business. There was love there between all four of them, and it was more than most could speak for.
“You can join in,” Uzui said before, massaging your shoulders as he sat behind you, watching you edit his own photos. One of his favorite pastimes, the narcissist. “We’d love to have you. I think we could get up to some good fun.”
“Pass,” you’d said. “Unless Hinatsuru and I can be exclusive.”
Uzui cursed under his breath.
Now, after all these years, you guessed you could call each other friends. Very comfortable acquaintances as well as business partners. Being Uzui’s photographer got you many gigs, great offers, and good money—but most importantly you were able to do what you really loved. You got to experiment with him, try new things, break molds—Uzui was the perfect model, if you had to be honest, unyielding but moldable, and you—
You could only try to capture grains of that and show it to the world.
-- ---- ----
It’s seven on the dot when the door to Uzui’s luxurious flat swings wide open for you.
The god himself stands before you in all his glory—his hair drips, just at the tips, hinting to his previous shower. It dampens the silk of his hair, gives it a darker shine and it makes the dark glimmer of his eyes feel a little more intimate, a little more bedroomy. He’s got nothing but a dark red robe on, splayed wide over his bare, muscular chest and parted a bit to show his legs are just as naked. Uzui’s eyes are on you, raking up and down, taking their time, long and languid like he’s undressing you just for the fun of it, molding you whatever way he likes—and he leans right up against the doorframe, one arm braced over his head.
Uzui Tengen drips pure sex appeal tonight, which makes sense for the theme.
Meanwhile, your equipment is bursting at the seams from your heavy duty bags, piled over your shoulders like a mule and hanging under your arms. You dully meet his gaze, somehow managing to still be slurping another energy jelly pouch through a straw.
There’s a fire going on behind him, you hear low music too, smooth like silk, but you simply step past him into his apartment, waddling with your equipment, ignoring him completely.
“Alright,” you say. “Let’s do this.”
Uzui stands there at the door for a good few minutes longer before he lets the door swing shut. He turns, facing you with his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t look the slightest bit happy.
“Well?” he says.
“What?”
Uzui gestures to himself.
“Well?”
“You look great,” you say simply, knowing exactly what he wants. Compliments. Even though the damn man receives thousands of them on the daily. “Now this stuff is heavy, let’s get to the studio—”
“What’s the rush?” Uzui complains, walking right over to you and grabbing handfuls of your bags. They lift off your shoulders like they weigh nothing and you sigh in relief, rolling your aching shoulders. Uzui starts to herd you in the direction of his studio with his knees, even though you yap back in protest. “Here I was, ready to make some nice, lovely conversation because we haven’t seen each other—”
“I saw you two days ago.”
“—I even got wine ready, had a whole menu set to be ordered if you were hungry—”
“We never eat before shoots.” You pout. “I wanted Hinatsuru’s food…”
“She has a meal for you in the fridge.”
“Yes!”
“—and got all dolled up for tonight, just for you,” Uzui says, right at your ear, breath hot against the side of your face and you ignore him, opening up his studio. “And you barely even look at me.”
“Cry about it to Makio later,” you say, setting up your cameras. Uzui drops your bags with care, setting them aside and pulling out a single camera out of the many. “I’m on a bit of a time crunch tonight. I fit you at the last minute, remember?”
“I know,” Uzui says, running his thumb over the top of the lens. It’s the camera you always use when you can, your favorite one—your first one, with him. “I love that you can take me all the way in.”
You pause for a moment at his ridiculous wording. You raise a brow, continuing your work and ignoring Uzui’s movements behind you. “I’ve been thinking about your idea—it’s a good one. I think we can definitely make it work since you normally go so left field anyway. Something straightforward and intense… intimate, I like it. You’re good at that too.”
“Yeah,” Uzui calls from behind you, almost like a siren song, low, rumbling. “I know.”
He’s awfully playful tonight. You chalk it off to the fact that he’s got more energy and been too bored—he did say the girls would be out tonight visiting some old friends… Uzui Tengen has the attention span of a house cat—which means you’ve either got his entire focus or none of it at all, and when it’s all of it, you’re in for a bit of a rough time.
One big, stupid house cat. You think, assessing the studio. Uzui’s mostly set up the props himself you see, with a single, plush white mattress draped in dark red silks. There’s wine spilled into the corners of the paper sheet below, and the smell of it lightly permeates the air—you’re starting to get a better feel for this shoot.
“How’ve you been lately, (Y/n)-chan?” you almost jump when he appears right at your side, still playing with your camera. You glance up at him. “What have you been up to, hmm?”
“The usual,” you say simply. “You know, I just talked with you—it’s not like I’ve done anything more since then.”
“Maybe,” Uzui says with a wave of his hand. “But I like knowing everything.”
Yeah, I know. He’s been like this since high school. You just get the strange feeling that there’s something Uzui’s already got settled in his head he’s not quite sharing with you. It just better be about the damn shoot.
“Just finished that wedding shoot,” you say. “I’m still waiting to take yours.”
“The girls are waiting for you to join first.”
You roll your eyes. “Probably going to take a nice long break after these ones sell too. I think I’ve been doing too much lately.”
“Glad you finally agree,” Uzui says. “Now we can finally book that trip to—”
“Maybe go on a date,” you murmur offhandedly, considering it. Uzui’s talk about Valentine’s and seduction has got you thinking a bit. It has been awhile.
Uzui looks completely and utterly offended. Scandalized.
“Excuse me? With who?”
“There’s a cute photographer from another studio who’s been hitting me up lately,” you explain. “Might give him a chance.”
“Cute,” Uzui repeats, like the word burns on his tongue. He places a hand on his chest, dragging it down and making a point to move so his robe barely hides— “You’d pick cute over this?”
You move away from the lighting, satisfied with how it looks. Uzui rolls his eyes hard enough for you to hear it.
“You have an idea of how you want me to start or do you want my pitch?”
“Oh, I’ve got it all planned out,” Uzui says, dripping extravagance. You blink in surprise when he pushes your old camera into your hands. “We’re shooting with this one.”
“...if we’ve got the red background,” you start, “my other one should be better for the—”
“I want this one.”
You roll your eyes. Uzui smiles, pleased with your compliance and he smooths a hand over his hair, stalking past you toward the mattress. You follow behind him, quickly adjusting the settings on your camera to get ready for the shoot. “How far are we going with this?”
You’ve shot Uzui nude plenty of times before, it’s a boundary you’ve crossed time and time again, but a minor heads up is always appreciated.
“As far as you want to go,” Uzui says. You raise a brow at him but he doesn’t say anything else, settling down onto the mattress and turning to lay on his back. He arranges himself, getting comfortable like one, giant jungle cat in the middle of a bedroom, considering his appearance for a moment before he parts a leg, letting his robe drape and tease against the moonlit column of his skin.
Uzui looks at you then. You pause. He’s getting into it today. The look in his gaze is already beginning to drip with heat, there’s a beckoning call in his face, a thin line of exasperation, like he can’t understand why you’re taking so long to come to him, until it slowly begins to creep into you the nature of what he’s going for.
“A POV kind of thing,” you murmur, sliding up to the edge of the mattress. Uzui tilts his head up to look at you, humming in agreement, “like they’re really there with you… okay, I like this. I can work with this.”
“I know you can,” Uzui says. He shows more skin, baring his neck, looking right up at you with those heated eyes. “It’s my idea after all.”
You lean over Uzui, quietly beginning to snap some shots. You start to warm up, moving around him a bit, testing the angles and pressing a little more forward. You keep your knees against the edge of the mattress, trying to find the spot that feels the most right—
Uzui’s warm, molten fingertips find the back of your neck like a vice. You freeze, camera in place by your head as he begins to guide you forward, forcing you closer. You get on your knees to quietly comply, kneeling on the mattress between his legs as you crouch over him with your lens.
“Like this,” Uzui whispers. His fingers stay and you consider for a moment telling him to switch poses, but relent and begin to snap away. “Yeah, just like that.”
“What sparked the sudden inspiration?” you ask, getting closer and leaning entirely over him now. Your hair shifts a bit over your shoulder and Uzui’s fingers brush it back. It’s beginning to feel more and more intimate, the air a little thick, and you think briefly that he feels like he’s on his best game today—he’s on top of it. “Feeling a little restless?”
“Wanted to do something special,” Uzui says, low and husky. He begins to raise himself up on his elbows, letting his robe pool around his waist as he rises, as though to meet you. You back off, sitting on your heels as he comes closer, half tilting his head, peering up through thick, long lashes. “Felt a bit… impatient.”
“About what?”
Click. Click. Click.
This is going to sell.
Uzui pushes forward, more, more. You snap off, moving with him as he begins to bend you backwards, leaning over you now. One of his hands slides down to your lower back, guiding you to unfold your legs and let them slide over his own. You adjust the angle, quick and move, trying to catch all the nuances of this position at Uzui’s dripping gaze, burning against your lens. Uzui gets closer as you bend back into the sheets. They’re cool on your back.
“I don’t think the nature of my photos,” Uzui says above you, like silk. “Are reaching my targeted audience.”
Now that’s a surprise. You almost ask more about it but this shoot is flying faster and smoother than you ever expected. These are all stellar shots. Uzui is killing it and it’s getting you a bit excited. Maybe you should try doing an angle from the other side with a chair and—
Uzui kneels between your legs, forcing you to part them to make room for him. You have to open them wide to comply with all of him. His robes pool around his waist, hiding the rest of his otherwise naked body from view. His hands come down on either side of your head as he pins you down into the sheets, licking his bottom lip and you click away, photo after mad photo while he looks down at you with a gaze that begs to devour, coaxes to allow submission and—
You pause, stiffening. One of Uzui’s hands is on the underside of your knee. You don’t mind if he’s just getting into character, but his hand is out of view and it’s not needed for him to touch you like that outside of the frame.
Uzui lifts your leg up and over his hip. You feel the hot, thrumming burn of his flesh against your leggings. You stop briefly in your clicking. “...Uzui, you can—”
“Don’t stop.”
You frown but quickly resume taking photos. Uzui’s free hand rest at first beside your head on the mattress, but once he leaves your leg at his waist, the hands switch as you adjust your angle and—
Uzui’s hand rests on the inside of your thigh. His large palm engulfs the inside of your leg, dangerously close to a boundary the two of you have not crossed. You pause again in your clicking, slowly tilting your camera to make it more obvious that his arm is somewhere it shouldn’t be.
You’re just imagining things. This is Uzui with three hot girl friends, the Uzui you’ve always—
When your camera keeps clicking, Uzui’s expression starts to change. His robes are nearly sliding off his waist now, almost exposing him completely. One simple motion and he’d be out of them. You raise a brow when he starts to look a bit… irritated? Impatient and restless, the corners of his brows edged with something like doubt until it clears.
“Alright,” Uzui sighs dramatically, “I’m done.”
You blink behind your camera, moving it aside to look at him. “Done? Already? Well, there’s probably plenty of good ones—”
Uzui grabs your hips with both his hands. You only have a second to blink at him before he gently but firmly, quickly pulls you flush against his waist, legs forced to part on either side of him and he pulls you completely tight up against—
You freeze. Your grip on your camera becomes shaky. Your mouth parts in surprise because suddenly—
There is something very, very hard pressed against the inside of your thigh.
Something you’re quite familiar with from past shoots.
But not like this.
“Um,” you curse your voice for cracking, trying to clear your throat. Heat flashes up your neck, starting to crawl up to your cheeks. “U… Uzui—”
“I don’t think that boy you’re even considering,” Uzui says, low, a bit dark. “Would be creative enough to do something like this, just to get his feelings across.”
Uzui loosens his grip on your thighs. He gives you the chance to retreat, but you’re caught in the earnestness of his gaze, the…
Want?
“I tried to be obvious,” Uzui says calmly. But his calm is dangerous, it drips with intent, guided purposefully as commands your gaze with a single look. You suddenly feel microscoped, forced under the lens of someone else’s camera. “Like Makio suggested.”
Uzui squeezes your thigh, his longer fingers reaching, covering pieces of your body with ease. He reminds you his hand is there, it’s intentional, and your jaw drops, gaping at him in disbelief. Did you drink too many energy drinks? Were you dreaming? Again? You’d washed out any dreams each time Uzui made those suggestions, lingered with those touches—you’d talked yourself out of it plenty of times before, there was just no way, keeping it professional was better—
“I’d tried to be cute,” Uzui says, dragging the word across his teeth, but one hand starts to dance fingers against the nape of your neck, following your collarbone, sending goosebumps up your spine. His expression is anything but cute. “Like Suma said.”
The heat, the hard, rigid press between your legs has not relented. Your head starts to spin, understanding and disbelief struggling for a stronger place at the forefront of your mind, chased quickly by your choices—stop this? Keep going? Let him finish? Run away?
“But I think being honest, like your favorite Hinatsuru said,” Uzui says huskily, “will work the best, won’t it?”
“Y-You,” you start. Uzui waits, with waning patience, watching you almost fondly. “You—are you saying—t-this, I mean, right now—”
You struggle for words. Uzui’s fingers rub distracting circles into your hip. They catch the outline of your underwear through your pants, tugging a bit purposefully. “I-I don’t know—a one night… we’re partners—”
“Oh,” Uzui says, looking a bit amused. “That’s cute. You think this would only be for one night?”
“Flings are—”
“Not very flamboyant,” Uzui says simply. He leans over you. The smell of wine still lingers. The sharp bite of his cologne. Your head feels a little dizzy. “I prefer something more… long term.”
Uzui lightly drums his fingers against your neck, following the bob of your throat with heated eyes. “Willing to consider a new contract?”
Uzui has always been your favorite subject. In a way, you realize, he’s probably always known. He’s your favorite muse. He knows it. Being able to have him through the lens has always been enough, you’ve never been greedy enough to consider anything else. What the two of you had has always been fine, it’s always been fun enough for you to just watch. Watch and see what Uzui Tengen does next but—
What’s next right now is—
(You’ve always found him interesting.)
You accidentally click your camera.
Uzui’s gaze seems lazy—it’s a poor disguise for the molten liquid dripping from his gaze, the heat searing under his touch and from his body between your legs. “One click for yes, two for no.”
Your fingers hesitate against your camera. Your breath catches in your throat.
(So why not wait and see, one more time?)
Click.
“That’s fine,” Uzui says. He smiles, pleased, and he speaks like each word is a promise for something else. “I want you to remember this night.”
Your camera slides out from your fingertips. Uzui calmly grasps it with one hand, raising it above your head, pulling the strap off from around your neck. Keeping his gaze locked with yours the entire time, he sets it down, away from the mattress, gently on the floor.
“I don’t think you’ll need a camera to remember it though.”
“T-This whole shoot—”
“I’m going,” Uzui says, “to kiss you now.”
And he does.
(And much, much more.)
- hope you enjoyed!
#ko-fi requests#uzui tengen#uzui x reader#kny reader insert#suma#makio#hinatsuru#model!uzui tengen#kny modern au#legend says you werent allowed to leave that bedroom for a week
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42 Hours
Content: an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time
Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content
Pairing: Harry Styles x reader
Word Count: 20k
A/N: I actually cannot believe that this is finally being posted over almost a month of working on it!! originally, I was going to make this one long stand alone fic, but once I hit 35k with no end in sight, I decided to split it into two parts so that it would be easier to read for you guys. I’m hoping to have part 2 posted within a week, so keep an eye out for it!! this fic was partially inspired by this post by @avhrodite (thank you miss bailey!!) and can I just say that I had so much fun writing it!! I love road trips!! it makes me so sad that I had to split this fic because there are so many fun music scenes in the next part but those will all come in due time!! I would also like to give a big thank you to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy and miss alex @darthstyles for putting up with me bouncing ideas off of them and for proof reading for me!! and miss andrea again for editing this stunning header pic!! also everyone I tagged is a wonderful writer and if you’re looking for more to read after reading this then I HIGHLY suggest taking a look through their masterlists. and as always, if you like this fic, please like and reblog it!! and shoot me a message!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by all content creators <3
{masterlist}
also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!
When she was a little girl, Y/N’s grandmother had told her about Murphy’s Law. Grandma Sarah’s favourite activity was staring at her granddaughter over the kitchen counter, a knife in one hand and half an onion that she’d been cutting in the other, spouting various wisdoms at the young girl, who would often be sitting and peeling vegetables for her. The old lady had hoped that, after being lectured enough times on life’s difficulties, Y/N might be able to avoid making the same mistakes that she had made in her own time. She always had a list of advice that she’d cycle through, as if she were a record on a loop.
“Always look both ways before crossing the street. Your great uncle Albert didn’t, and he never regained full function of his left hand.”
“Beauty fades, but there’s no shelf life on your mind.”
“The grass is always greener on the other side, so stop staring at it, and focus on taking care of your own lawn.”
All of the advice was, by any accounts, useful for anyone to know, especially a young girl. Of course, sometimes the advice would get a little scrambled after Grandma Sarah had had a few glasses of wine, but even her tipsy thoughts were useful to Y/N in her later years. To this day, Y/N still sets a glass of water on her nightstand before going out to a bar, and her hungover self is always grateful the next morning. And Y/N had yet to find anything that smelled as sweet as a vanilla dabbed behind her ears and on her wrists when she runs out of perfume. However, perhaps the most important piece of advice Grandma Sarah ever gave her came one afternoon when Y/N was eleven years old, and her older cousin Grace was due to get married the next week.
Grandma Sarah had cracked egg after egg into her mixing bowl, always without getting any unwanted pieces of shell in the egg whites, and gave her granddaughter a long look across the kitchen counter.
“When you get married, Y/N,” She had said, voice firm. “Remember Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment. When Murphy’s Law comes into play, there’s nothing you can do except roll with the punches.”
Eleven year old Y/N had nodded her head seriously, as she always did when her grandmother told her seemingly important things. The advice, despite its usefulness, however, didn’t stick around in her head, and Murphy’s Law didn’t cross Y/N’s mind for fourteen years.
It takes fourteen years for Y/N, who is standing in front of a flight check-in at LAX, two large suitcases next to her, one of which contains two gold wedding bands, passport in hand, and a distressed look on her face, to remember the law her grandmother had once told her about.
“When you get married, Y/N…anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.”
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Y/N pushes the echoing words of her grandmother out of her head. “I’m sorry, just—” She gives a pained smile to the lady working the check in. “Can you explain that to me again, please?”
The lady also takes a deep breath, the smile on her ruby tinted lips just as pained as Y/N’s. “There’s a storm system moving through Utah and Colorado. These systems have the potential to become tornadoes, and because of that, the conditions for flying are too dangerous right now, so all flights through that area are grounded until further notice.”
“So my flight is cancelled?” Y/N holds up the ticket in her hand that’s stamped with LAX – JFK. “This flight, this flight to New York, which is nowhere near Utah—that’s cancelled?”
The check-in lady, whose name tag reads Brynn, gives another tight smile. “Yes, ma’am. It’s cancelled.”
“Okay, no, I’m sorry, Brynn, but that doesn’t work for me.” Y/N shakes her head fiercely as the manic rush of emotions through her begins to set in. The denial, she finds, keeps the oncoming panic at bay, and so she decides to focus on that to ground herself. “My best friend is getting married in the Catskills in one week.” Y/N holds up one finger, as if her words are hard for Brynn to understand. “That’s one week from today. I’m the maid of honour. I have to be there to help organize, keep her calm, and make sure she actually makes it down the aisle, because—between you and me—she’s got some commitment issues—” The more Y/N speaks, the more her panic begins to spill out in her words, like a dam with a leak that’s about to burst. “And she forgot the goddamn wedding rings, so I have those too, and I just—I really need to get to New York, like, now. Right now.”
Y/N finally pauses to take a sharp breath, and Brynn, who had been waiting for her to finish, speaks again, her voice flatter than before.
“I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am, but as I said, all flights are grounded right now.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, Y/N takes another deep breath. Roll with the punches, her grandmother had told her. What else is there to do? “Okay.” Y/N is careful to keep her voice in check when she speaks again. “Alright. Do you know when they’ll be ungrounded?”
“As I’ve said,” Brynn’s smile is more of a grimace now, and Y/N knows that she’s treading on thin ice. “All flights are grounded until further notice. We’re not sure when we’ll be able to open them again. It could be a day, or it could be five. If you’d like, I can put you down on a list to be called when flights are available again, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”
“Let’s do that, then.” Y/N relents in a tired voice, already making plans to pick up a coffee on her way back to her apartment. In the back of her mind, she begins to wonder if she has any Baileys Irish cream liqueur left in her kitchen cabinet—and if 8:30 A.M. is too early to be drinking Baileys with her coffee.
…
It takes Y/N two cups of coffee with Baileys (it had been 10 A.M. by the time she arrived home, thanks to L.A. traffic, and she had decided that 10 A.M. was a fine time to drink when one’s flight gets cancelled indefinitely) to work up the courage to call Jo and tell her that she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to make it to the wedding.
Josephine Waters, or Jo to anyone who doesn’t want to get punched in the arm, has been Y/N’s best friend since the girls were five years old. They became fast friends on the first day of kindergarten, as Jo liked how Y/N could already colour inside the lines, and Y/N liked how Jo tackled a boy who tugged on Y/N’s pigtails. From the very beginning, the two were a perfect match for each other; where Y/N was reserved, Jo was wild. Where Jo was disorganized, Y/N was focused. Each girl balanced the other in the most natural way, and it’s this fact that Y/N and Jo credit for the two of them staying friends for twenty years. As they grew up together, they grew together, taking the very best traits from the other and using it to help themselves develop. Y/N had been the first person that Jo came out to, confessing to her best friend during an eighth grade sleepover in a quiet and nervous voice. To Jo’s pleasure, Y/N had been completely supportive, and returned the favour from the first day of kindergarten by punching a boy in the nose for calling Jo a homophobic slur. Jo helped Y/N through her parent’s divorce. Y/N helped Jo manage her ADHD. Jo talked Y/N through discovering her bisexuality in university. Y/N answered every 3 A.M. phone call to comfort Jo after a panic attack. In every sense of the word, the two girls had been there for each other.
And now Y/N is going to miss Jo’s wedding.
The harsh realization digs a pit in her stomach as she opens her phone and clicks on Jo’s name. It’s noon in L.A., which means it’s 3 P.M. in New York time, and Y/N knows Jo will answer. She always does.
Sure enough, after three short rings, Jo’s voice chirps through the phone. “Hey, Y/N! Has your flight landed already?”
“No, there’s—there’s been an issue.” Y/N downs another gulp of her coffee, wishing she had added more Baileys when she had the chance, and clears her throat before continuing. “There’s, um, a storm in Utah, and apparently it’s bad, and so all flights from L.A. to New York are grounded until further notice.”
Jo makes a scoffing noise, and Y/N can practically picture the indignant look on her face that she’s seen so many times before. “That’s ridiculous. Did you tell them that New York is nowhere near Utah?”
“Uh huh.”
“What about that my wedding is in one week?”
“I told them that, too. Brynn didn’t seem to care.”
“Bitch.” Jo mutters under her breath. “Okay, just wait a second, Laure just walked through the door, so I’m putting you on speakerphone—”
Y/N hears rustling on the speaker, as well as muttering in the background as Jo speaks to her fiancée, and then Jo’s voice is back, sounding slightly more distant.
“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”
“That’s awful, Y/N.” Laure’s voice is laced with stress, and Y/N can only imagine how much anxiety this information is adding to her already full plate. “They won’t tell you when flights will be leaving again?”
“Nope.” Y/N pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her free arm around them, leaning her head against the back of her couch.
“Okay, well, planes aren’t the only way to get here.” Laure says, always the more rational out of the two. “Maybe a car—?”
“Y/N doesn’t have one.” Jo chimes in, a hint of teasing in her voice, despite the serious problem that’s in discussion. “She’s scared of driving—”
Y/N sits up, an indignant look on her face. “I’m not scared of driving!” She says hotly, setting her empty coffee mug on the table with a thud. “I just hate L.A. traffic, and honestly, there’s no point! I can walk to work, and Uber anywhere else I need to go! A car would be completely useless to me!”
“Except now, when you’re about to miss your best friend’s wedding.” Jo points out. “What about renting one?”
Y/N sighs, her moment of indignation already fizzled out. “I tried that already. There’s nothing available for a cross country trip.”
“And the drive is so long.” Laure murmurs, and Y/N knows it’s more for Jo’s benefit than hers. “It’s over forty hours. She can’t do that by herself; it’s not safe.”
“But—”
“Look, Jo, don’t worry about this, alright?” Y/N cuts across her best friend’s anxious voice, assuming her usual role of protector. “I’ll figure this out. I promise you; I will make it to your wedding on time, looking pretty in my dress, and with your wedding bands. I promise.”
“We’ll keep thinking about it and see what we can come up with.” Laure promises through the phone, her voice sounding further and further away. “This is just—it’s a bump in the road, but it’s fine. We can work around this. We’ll find a way.”
…
The way that Laure finds for Y/N pounds on her door at 7:30 A.M. the next morning.
Y/N, like any exhausted and stressed out adult who has already begun her ten days of vacation time that she booked off for the wedding, is fast asleep in her bed when she hears the knocking. The loud noise pulls her out from her dreams abruptly, and she cracks one eye open, squinting through the sunlight that’s lighting up her room. When the knock echoes through her apartment again, she pulls herself from her sheets with a groan, grabbing her robe from the back of her door and tying it around herself as she makes her way to the front hallway to yell at whoever has the audacity to wake her up.
When she opens the door, Harry Styles is peering down at her with an irritated look on his face.
“Took you long enough, Y/N.” He rolls his eyes as he speaks, finally stepping back from the door that he had been pounding on a moment ago. “Are you ready to go?”
Y/N rubs her eyes, suppressing a yawn as she does so. “Styles, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What are you doing here?” She demands. She doesn’t have the energy to deal with him right now, she thinks, let alone the mental capacity to listen to anything he has to say.
Harry crosses his arms across his chest, and it’s then that Y/N notices the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder. “It’s a forty-two hour drive from L.A. to the Catskills.” Harry’s eyes scan over Y/N’s appearance, the very corner of his strawberry pink lips twitching, and Y/N tightens her robe around herself with a glare.
“A drive?” Y/N asks, uncertainty growing in her voice as she crosses her arm over her chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Your flight was cancelled, right?” Harry’s voice grows more impatient as Y/N’s half asleep brain struggles to piece together what’s happening. “So was mine, so I decided to drive to the wedding, and then Laure called me last night, begging me to take you with me.” He shrugs a bit, fixing his sunglasses on top of his head as his jade eyes scan over her appearance one more time. “Not my first choice of road trip partner, but I don’t think the best man can say no to bringing the maid of honour. And splitting the cost of gas will be nice.”
“Okay, wait, I…” Y/N’s finally coming out of her fog of exhaustion, and the newfound clarity of her mind is causing a newfound pit to develop in her stomach. “Laure and Jo didn’t tell me any of this.”
“Well, I expect they’re a bit busy, given that they’re getting married in a week.” Harry adjusts the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder with a sharp sigh. “Look, are you ready to go or not? It’s over a five day drive, so we need to leave as soon as possible.”
“I—yeah—” Y/N nods before taking a hesitant step back from the doorway, positioning herself to the side so that Harry can get by her. “I just have to get dressed and grab a couple last minute things, so…come in, I guess.”
Harry flashes an insincere smile to Y/N as he steps into her apartment, his eyes darting around at the furniture and home decor. Y/N watches as his gaze lingers on her library of books, her yellow bicycle leaning against the wall, and every other little touch of herself that she likes her home to have, and she can see the judgement that’s clearly apparent in his eyes.
“You can sit, if you want.” She mutters, turning on her heel to go back to her bedroom. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
The first thing Y/N does when she shuts her bedroom door behind herself is assess the situation in the analytical way that usually calms her. Alright. So a road trip across the country isn’t exactly ideal, and a road trip across the country with Harry Styles is even less ideal. But, at the present moment, being stuck in a car with Harry seems to be the only sure way that she’ll be able to make it to Jo’s wedding on time. And for Jo, Y/N would put up with anything. Even Harry.
As she rummages through her drawers for some leggings and a tank top, Y/N wonders what she could have possibly done to bring this much bad karma into her life. While she gets dressed, her mind flickers back to Murphy’s Law, how everything that can go wrong will go wrong, in the worst possible way, and then she thinks about being in a confined space with Harry for five days, and—yeah. That seems to be the worst possible thing she can think of.
Y/N remembers the first moment she’d met Harry seven years ago, and the unfortunate circumstances under which that meeting had happened. Jo and Laure had just barely met back then, and Jo had begged Y/N to come out on a double date with her and “this really hot girl from my women studies class who I’m, like, 83% sure swings my way.”
Y/N had groaned at that comment, flopping back on her bed in the tiny dorm that she and Jo shared. “No! I have an essay due in three days that I haven’t even started!”
Jo rolled her eyes as she flopped down on Y/N’s bed as well, ignoring her own half-made bunk that was across the small room, favouring her best friend’s bed like she always did. “We both know you’re not starting that essay until the day before it’s due, and that it’s just an excuse because you don’t want to go!”
“I don’t want to go.” Y/N had agreed with a sharp and fervent nod. She shut her laptop and pushed it to the side of her bed, knowing from experience that she wasn’t going to be able to focus and argue at the same time. “Why would I want to hang out with a complete stranger while you make googly eyes at a girl from your class?”
“Okay, first, I don’t make googly eyes.” Jo made a face at that comment, nudging Y/N’s calf with her own foot. “And second, he’s her best friend from high school, and he’s coming to visit all the way from London!”
“So? He’s still a stranger!” Y/N pointed out, her eyes drifting to the sticky note covered novel beside her. She picks it up and begins to flip through the marked pages as she speaks. “Knowing where he’s from doesn’t change that!”
“It should, because he’s only going to be here for a week, and Laure almost cancelled the date because she doesn’t want to miss spending time with him—” Jo grabbed one of Y/N’s pillows and tossed it at her arm, knocking the book from her hands. “Focus! So I said that he could come, but she said that she didn’t want him to be left out, so I said that I happen to have an incredibly beautiful and witty best friend who would be able to entertain Harry while we all hang out together.”
Y/N inhaled deeply as she gave Jo a withering look. “Did you already tell her I’m going?”
Jo, in return, gave Y/N her most dazzling smile. “Yes. We’re meeting them for dinner at 7.”
Y/N shakes herself from her memories as she runs to her bathroom to toss her toiletries back into the bag she’d taken them out of the day before, working as quickly as she can. It does her no good to think of Harry in the past, she thinks, because the present Harry is currently sitting in her living room, probably snooping through her stuff, and the longer she takes to get ready to go, the more he’ll go through. Not that there’s anything incriminating in her apartment, really—or at least, nothing incriminating in her living room. When Y/N makes it back to her bedroom, however, to quickly zip up her suitcase, she does make sure she grabs her favourite vibrator from the box under her bed, tucking it between her half-folded underwear. If she’s going to be gone for a week, she’ll need something to help her relax.
Within a few more minutes, Y/N is repacked and ready to go. Her hunter green bridesmaid dress is carefully arranged on the very top of her clothes in her suitcase, all of her makeup and toiletries are packed inside, and Jo and Laure’s wedding rings are secured in little velvet boxes stashed between her socks. As far as physical preparedness goes, Y/N is ready to go on a coast to coast road trip. As far as mental preparedness goes, however…that’s the thing that Y/N’s not quite sure about.
…
“What are you doing?”
Y/N glances at Harry from the corner of her eye, her hand still half stretched out to the radio dials in his car. Although Harry’s green eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses, and his face is turned towards the long road in front of them, he still somehow manages to catch her motions, and it irritates her to no end.
“I’m changing the radio station?” Y/N answers after a moment, giving him a puzzled look. “I don’t know why you listen to this weird oldies station, but—”
“First of all—” Harry’s hands turn the steering wheel slightly to guide his car over the curve of the road, his jaw twitching as a smirk works its way onto his pink lips. “This isn’t a radio station, it’s my Spotify playlist. I put a Bluetooth connection in Stevie a year ago. Secondly—”
“Stevie?” Y/N repeats incredulously, twisting her whole body as best she can to look at Harry straight on. “You named your car? You’re one of those guys?”
Harry finally gives Y/N a flicker of a glance, the glare obvious in his eyes even behind his dark sunglasses. He turns his attention back to the road before replying. “Secondly—” He continues from before, ignoring her comment as his right hand readjusts the gear shift. “Driver picks the music.”
Y/N makes a face, the corners of her lips pulling down into a grimace as she settles back into the passenger seat with her arms crossed. “So we’re just going to listen to ‘Tiny Dancer’ for the entire drive, are we?”
“Not the entire drive, no.” Harry flicks on his turn signal with a ringed hand before shoulder checking to change lanes. Y/N glances at him, her eyes training on the strained muscles in his neck as Harry continues. “We’ll listen to ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,’ too.”
“Great.” Y/N exhales slowly and presses her head back into the seat’s headrest, closing her eyes as Elton John’s voice continues to float through the speakers. “Really looking forward to it.”
“You know, maybe you should try to sleep.” Harry says, his voice prickled with irritation as Elton John bleeds into The Zombies. “I think you’ll be in a better mood after you take a nap.”
Y/N readjusts her crossed arms as she mutters a short reply. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Still, she shuts her eyes again, twisting her body towards the window in an attempt to get comfortable enough to sleep. Being in the car with Harry is already giving her a throbbing migraine, and they’ve only been on the road for less than two hours. Sleeping through most of the trip will probably be the only way she’ll be able to survive it.
Despite that realization, however, her phone vibrates in her lap three minutes later, pulling her away from her thoughts. Y/N glances down at the now lit screen, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she registers the name on the message. Opening her phone quickly, she reads over the reply as a guilty feeling begins to build in her stomach.
BRANT: Hey, what are you doing tonight? Want to grab some dinner?
“What’s wrong?”
“Hm?” Y/N’s head snaps back up, her eyes jerking in Harry’s direction. Like before, he’s watching her from the corner of his eye, catching every one of her movements, and the constant surveillance is annoying to no end.
Harry, it seems, is either oblivious to her annoyance, or is choosing to ignore it. “I asked what’s wrong. You have a weird look on your face.” Harry’s blunt words are accompanied by the sound of him tapping his ring covered fingers against the gear shift. “Everything alright? Is it Laure and Jo?”
“No, it’s just—” Y/N glances down at her phone again, fingers poised over her keyboard as she crafts a reply in her head. “It’s no one.”
Harry snorts once, a short and harsh sound that grates against Y/N’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “I don’t buy that for a second.”
“It’s no one to you.” Y/N updates her retort, turning her full attention back to her phone. “My personal life is none of your business.”
Y/N: I’m sorry, I can’t!! Caught a last minute ride to New York with somebody. Maybe once I’m back?
“Personal life, huh?” Harry clicks his tongue once, and the childish noise is even more irritating than his snort. “What, you can’t talk to me about whoever you’re shagging?”
The blunt remark hits Y/N like a shot to the chest, and she sputters for a moment as she struggles to form a response. “I—we’re not—” Taking a moment to gather herself and clear her throat quickly, Y/N avoids Harry’s gaze as her cheeks begin to burn. “We’re not like that. We’ve just…had a few dates, that’s all. There’s nothing…official.”
“You don’t need to be official to have a shag, now, do you?” Harry lifts his hand from the gear shift to fix his sunglasses, settling it back down on his jean covered thigh once he’s done. “If you don’t want to date the bloke—”
“I didn’t say that.” Y/N cuts over him, pulling herself from her embarrassment enough to give him a cold glare. “He’s very nice—”
“Boring, you mean—”
“And I—this is none of your business!” Feeling the flush of embarrassment rise back to her cheeks, Y/N once again turns her attention to her passenger seat window, avoiding Harry’s pressing gaze. “I’m done talking about this.”
Harry gives an indifferent shrug. “Whatever.” He says casually, tapping his finger against his thigh as his shoulders once again lift slightly beneath his fitted black t-shirt. “I just feel bad for the guy, that’s all.”
The comment is bait. And the thing is, Y/N knows it’s bait. She knows that the only reason Harry is saying it is to get under her skin and keep her talking about Brant, further embarrassing herself in the process. She’s been around Harry enough to know how he works, and she knows that the only reason he would say that is to bait her. She knows she shouldn’t take it. And yet—
“There’s no reason to feel bad for him.” Y/N scoffs as she fidgets with the position of her seatbelt, trying to stop the strap from cutting into her chest. “We’ve been talking for a month, and there’s nothing official happening. Just because you can’t go that long without trying to stick your dick in someone—”
“You have no idea what I can do, Y/N. Don’t pretend that you do.” Harry’s tone of voice is just as scoffing as hers, his eyes still set on the road in front of them intently as he gives his sharp response. Y/N watches as he shifts the gears of the car and speeds up, just enough to make the engine roar, but not enough to lose control of the car. Part of Y/N wistfully wishes that he would just slip up and crash the car, just so she wouldn’t have to continue this conversation.
“All I meant,” Harry continues, unaware of the dark daydreams running through Y/N’s head. “Is that I feel bad that you’re clearly not interested in him, which is proven by the fact that you haven’t wanted him in your bed.”
Irritation flares through Y/N’s body again, stronger than the embarrassment of discussing her sex life (or lack thereof) with Harry, and she half considers just grabbing the steering wheel and yanking it into a passing cliff so she can finish them off herself. “For Christ’s sake, Harry, sex isn’t the only way to—”
“I don’t mean actually having it, that’s not a given.” Harry rolls his eyes from behind his sunglasses as he slows down for a curve in the road, his practiced hands once again changing gears with ease. “You don’t have to fuck him. But you should want to, especially if you’ve had a month of dates, and you clearly don’t want to.”
Y/N doesn’t hide the incredulous stare of disbelief on her face as she turns to look at him. Harry’s face, though turned towards the road still, has a look of amusement mixed with contemplation on it, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control not to smack the expression off of him. Although there’s the ghost of a smirk on his strawberry coloured lips, his brow is furrowed behind his sunglasses, as if he’s thinking hard about the conversation between them. Normally, Y/N would be amazed that Harry is thinking hard about anything. However, given that their conversation is apparently turning into whether or not she wants to have sex with someone, Y/N’s not too thrilled about his sudden investment and serious contemplation of the topic.
Shaking her head decidedly, Y/N finally spits out a finishing phrase. “You don’t know what I want.” She says decidedly, reaching into the backseat to grab the sweater she stashed back there. She clumsily pulls it over her body without taking off her seatbelt. Harry keeps the AC cranked as high as he can, and she knows that he’ll kill her if she tries to change it. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know more than you think.” Harry counters, the tip of his tongue running along his bottom lip. “And I’m pretty good at reading body language. You don’t really want him. He—what’s his name?”
Despite her better judgement, Y/N answers in a flat voice. “Brant.”
The corners of Harry’s cherry lip twitches. “Brant. Yeah. It’s clear you don’t really want him, and you’re wasting your time. You’re wasting his time, too. Poor Brant.”
“Poor—you’re such an ass, you know that?” Y/N’s irritation bubbles over as she gives Harry a nasty look, her hand squeezing her thigh hard in an attempt to ground herself in their conversation. “You can try to pretend otherwise, but you don’t know anything about me, or him, so—”
“You think I’ve been friends with Laure and Jo this long and haven’t learned anything about you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, risking a glance at her as he presses a heavier foot onto the gas. “I told you, I know more than you think, and that includes your type.”
An incredulous scoff leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she shakes her head in obvious disbelief before responding. “My type. Right. What is my type, then? What’s Brant like, exactly, since you seem to know everything?”
Harry goes quiet then, his brow furrowing again as he returns his full attention to the road. With his incessant chatter gone, the only sounds in the car being “Maps” playing quietly in the background and Harry’s ringed index and forefinger tap on the steering wheel. Y/N breathes out a long sigh of satisfaction as she relaxes back in her seat, her attention turned back to the blurred landscapes speeding by her window. Finally, she’s managed to get Harry to stop with his ridiculous assumptions—
“You like someone that’s stable and secure, so he probably works in some corporation, or an office job. Majored in business, I’d think, but has a minor in something like mathematics.” The side profile of Harry’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the thought. “He wants to work his way up in the company, but never wants to actually start anything on his own. He likes the stability of a blueprint. You’re obsessed with punctuality, so he’s probably always on time to pick you up for dates—and he has to pick you up, because you don’t drive—and your dates are never really dates. Dinners, or movies, or something like that, but they never really have that spark.” Harry’s shoulder lift slightly as he continues to make his conclusions. “Which, honestly, is probably a big reason in why you don’t want to fuck him, because as much as you like stability and safety, you also like the idea of a grand gesture, or something like that. And you probably split the bill a lot at dinner, right? Because it just seems fair, but really it’s because you know it’s not a real date. But it passes the time, and he’s nice, so it’s fine. But it’s only fine.” Harry licks his lips once more as he collects his next thoughts, his teeth catching his bottom lip just barely as his tongue retreats back into his mouth. “And he’s probably already talking about you coming to meet his family for some holiday. Not in a romantic way, but just because he likes to plan everything in advance to every minute detail. Just like you.”
Halfway through Harry’s speech, a flush had begun to creep up Y/N’s neck, continuing to warm her jaw and ears before settling on the apples of her cheeks. She keeps her eyes trained on her window and her mouth pressed into a tight line, refusing to look at Harry and give him any hint of just how shocked she is that he’s guessed so much.
Harry, however, doesn’t plan on letting her get away from his inquisition. “Well?” He impatiently prompts after a moment, and even though she’s not looking at him, she can feel him looking at her, his emerald irises burning into the back of her head. “Am I right?”
“I—” Y/N clears her throat quickly, but her voice is still strained and tight when she replies. “No.”
Harry hums low in his throat, and his voice is laced with curiosity with he replies. “Really?” The irritating tap of his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music continues. “What did I get wrong?”
“He—” Y/N hates the way her skin is burning from his interrogation, how her voice shrinks smaller and smaller the more she speaks. If Harry knows her so well, then he knows how much she loves being in control, and in this situation, with Harry managing to pull every one of her most secret inner thoughts and feelings out of her without trouble, she feels anything but in control. “He has a minor in accounting, not mathematics.”
The laugh that leaves Harry’s mouth is loud and bombastic, and his whole body curves over the steering wheel as the sound rolls out of him, his eyes just barely managing to stay on the road while his sunglasses slide down his nose. “Right.” Harry says between belly laughs, his voice stretched out in amusement. “But everything else was spot on?”
Y/N keeps her stiff body turned towards the window, refusing to engage in the conversation any further. That doesn’t stop Harry, however, who fixes his sunglasses as chuckles continue to roll out of him.
“I take it back. Maybe he’s the one wasting your time.” His hand runs through his hair lazily, fixing the curled strands that had fallen into his eyes as he laughed. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to sleep with your bore of a boyfriend—”
“He’s stable!” Y/N breaks her silence to protest Harry’s words, her voice heated. “And he’s not my boyfriend. We’ve been seeing each other, but we’re not—it’s not exclusive, or—nothing serious—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It’s fine.” Harry waves off her arguments with a flick of his tattooed hand. “Besides, like you said, it’s none of my business, right?”
Y/N can practically picture what Harry looks like in this moment. His chestnut curls are probably a mess from fidgeting with them, and his cheeks are most likely rosy beneath his stubble from the peels of laughter that left his equally red lips a moment ago. Most infuriatingly of all, his dimples are probably present, making little indentations in his cheeks to show how entertaining he’s found embarrassing her. Bastard, she thinks, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dig into her palms, pressing them into her sides beneath her makeshift blanket.
She refuses to let herself confirm if her suspicions about Harry’s appearance are correct, and instead keeps her gaze on the blurred trees whipping by outside her window. “Right.” She mutters, leaning her head against the headrest as she closes her eyes. “It’s none of your business.”
…
As soon as the paint-peeled door to the motel room swings open, Y/N knows that she’s not going to be sleeping soundly tonight.
She’s not sure what her first hint should have been. Perhaps it was the half-flickering blue and red light of the Motel 6 sign that should have tipped her off, or the front-desk attendant who looked as though he was hiding a few secrets himself. When Y/N and Harry had first approached the front desk of the tiny, vaguely mildew-smelling lobby, their clothes rumpled from the drive and their attitudes just as bothered, the employee in the Motel 6 uniform had barely raised an eye at them, not bothering to look up from his computer until Y/N and Harry were directly in front of him.
“Hi.” Harry had said, his voice taking on a cautious but polite tone that, Y/N remembers thinking, she would have appreciated hearing throughout their eight hour drive that day. “We’d like two rooms, please—”
“Here.” The attendant’s gum snapped in his mouth as he reached behind himself and grabbed an old key with a flimsy blue plastic tag from a wall of empty pegs. “Queen sized bed, the first door on the left. It’ll do you two nicely.”
“Um, no.” Harry cleared his throat loudly as he gave a slight shake of his head. “We need two rooms.”
Finally, the attendant looked towards them, his eyes scanning Harry before Y/N. The latter had self consciously pulled her sweater around her, as there was something in the attendant’s eyes that had bothered her. “Don’t have two rooms. I got one room left. Everything else is booked.”
Harry had glanced at Y/N then, and she knew that his thoughts mirrored hers: there was no way that they’d share a queen bed together. No way in hell. They’d barely survived eight hours in the same cramped car without one of them driving them off a cliff. If Y/N had to share a bed with Harry, even for just one night, she’d probably end up smothering him in his sleep before the first snore left his obnoxious mouth.
“That’s really not an option.” Y/N had stepped forward then, crossing her arms around herself as the attendant’s eyes canvassed her again. “Isn’t there something—”
“Look, lady, I’m telling you what’s available.” The attendant’s eyes continued to flicker between her face and her chest, making Y/N’s skin crawl more and more with every word that fell from his gum-filled mouth. “The room might have a pull out chair—some do, but I couldn’t tell you which. Now do you want to share the room with him or not? If you don’t want to share, then I could try to find something else for just you—”
Before Y/N had the opportunity to respond to the lewd suggestion, Harry was already stepping forward, his body angling protectively in front of her own. She watched from behind as his broad shoulders squared beneath his black t-shirt, his shoulder blades flexing as he straightened up to his full height. When Harry answered, his voice was just as firm as it was dark, lacking its previous polite tone.
“We’ll take the room.” He had said coldly, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet before tossing a few bills on the front desk. “Thanks for the help.”
Yes, Y/N thinks, all of that should have been a sign for the state of the motel room that they now find themselves standing inside.
The same mildew smell from the lobby surrounds them, permeating through every inch of air that Y/N breathes in. Dust seems to coat every surface as well, with thick layers of it covering the decades old TV and stand, the small coffee table, and the ledge of the window to her right. To her relief, there is a small arm chair in the corner, which must be the pull out that the attendant had mentioned. However, her relief is short lived when she sees the ratty beige comforter on the bed, and wonders if maybe sleeping in Harry’s car, which she had sworn to him that she didn’t want to do, might have been the better choice.
Harry shuts the door behind them with a firm thud, turning the deadbolt lock before attaching the chain from the door to the door frame. “Let’s keep that locked, yeah?” He mutters, walking to the window and making sure the beige curtains—everything in the room is a sea of beige, like some sort of khaki coloured nightmare—are pulled closed tightly. “I don’t trust that front-desk prick not to sneak in here.”
Y/N nods, fixing the strap of her duffel bag with her overnight clothes on her shoulder. She’s not quite sure where to set it down, as everything around them seems to have been sitting stagnant and uncleaned for a while. “Yeah. Thanks, by the way. For that.”
Harry acknowledges her thanks with a small grunt, barely lifting his head to look at her. “You don’t need to thank me.”
Despite her gratitude for his actions, Y/N can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at his gruff response. “Jesus, can you not just say you’re welcome?”
Harry chooses to ignore her comment, and instead sets his bag down on the arm chair, unzipping it roughly. “You can take the bed.” He says simply, tossing his sunglasses into his bag before pulling out a small bag filled with what Y/N assumes are toiletries. “I’ll take the pullout.”
“Fine.” Y/N reluctantly sets her own bag down on the creaking bed, pulling back the covers to check for anything unsightly. To her relief, the interior of the bed looks cleaner than the exterior, and she returns the covers to their previous position before grabbing her phone charger from her duffel.
Harry glances at her as she gingerly sits on the bed and plugs her phone into the wall. “I’m going to shower.” He says slowly, as if gauging her reaction to the simple phrase. “Do you, um, need in there, or—?”
“Nope.” Y/N shakes her head, her cheeks flushing slightly as she checks her messages. “You’re good.” She keeps her eyes glued to her phone until she hears the click of the bathroom door behind Harry, signalling that she’s alone.
Taking advantage of what she knows will be a rare moment of solitude over the next week, Y/N changes from her tank top and leggings into her pajamas, wishing that her past self had realized how likely it would be that she’d be sharing a room with Harry. She’d brought exactly two pairs of pajamas with her on the trip, and neither pairs were something she wanted Harry to see her in. The first pair, a baby pink silk set she’d bought on a whim from her favourite lingerie shop, is eliminated before Y/N even considers them, leaving her with just her usual casual pajamas. Unfortunately, Y/N’s usual casual pajamas consist of an old sports bra that she’d had since moving to L.A., and a pair of men’s boxers that she stole from an ex in college. Still, despite her hesitancy, she knows that plaid boxers and a faded grey sports bra are better than pink silk and lace, and she changes into them quickly before sitting cross-legged on the bed and dialing Jo’s number.
Jo, like she usually does, answers on the third ring, her voice extra chipper to compensate for the verbal lecture that she knows is coming. “Hey, Y/N! How was driving today?”
“It would have been better if I’d known Harry was driving.” Y/N sighs, rubbing her palm over the cold skin of her exposed thigh. “Shouldn’t I have been informed of that decision?”
“It completely slipped my mind, actually.” Jo says casually, and Y/N can just picture her leaning her chin into her palm. “How was the first day? Are you calling to ask me to help bury his body in the desert? Because, like, you know I would in a heart beat, but I think it may put a damper on mine and Laure’s nuptials if my best friend murders her best friend.”
“No one’s been murdered. Yet.” Y/N glances at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower echoing through the vents and into the bedroom. “Although a ‘help me hide the body’ phone call may be coming soon.”
“Uh oh.” Y/N hears something crackling against the speaker, and pictures Jo shifting the phone from one ear to the other. “Is it that bad?”
Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose as she contemplates the easiest way to answer Jo’s question. “He’s such an irritating ass. He really is.” She lowers her voice, but only slightly. If Harry’s eavesdropping, she thinks, then let him hear. It would serve him right. “He wanted to pick a fight over every little thing, and he’s so particular about his car—did you know he named it? He named it, Jo. He talks about it like it’s a person!”
A loud sigh echoes through the speaker. “That’s really not that weird, you know.” Jo replies in her best peace keeping voice. “And, by the way, did you know that you’re really the only person who finds Harry irritating? Laure adores him, and I really like him, and everyone who meets him thinks he’s very thoughtful!”
“Then they haven’t been trapped in a car with him and his playlists for eight hours.” Y/N begins to tap her fingers against her knee in a quick staccato pattern. “He practically interrogated me about Brant today, as if he has any clue about the people I date.”
“Did he?” There’s a trace of curiosity in Jo’s voice now, and Y/N can imagine her leaning forward in interest. “What did he say?”
“He said he thinks he’s boring.” Twisting a lock of her hair behind her ear as she speaks, Y/N leaves her hand resting against her cheek. “He was rude about it, too. I didn’t ask for his opinion.”
“Well, honestly, Y/N…” Jo’s curiosity twists into hesitation. “Brant isn’t exactly the most thrilling person. You know that.”
Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks flushing for what seems to be the millionth time that day. “I’m aware of that. But he didn’t need to be so smug about it!”
“Okay, well, what’s done is done.” Jo says as she takes on her mediator persona once again. “So there’s nothing else to do now except go to sleep, get back in the car tomorrow, and continue driving.”
The sound of the shower stream cuts off, leaving just the pitter patter of rain beginning to hit the roof of the motel as ambiant noise. “I guess.” Y/N mumbles, fidgeting with the waistband of her bra. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
After the line clicks dead, Y/N flops back on the squeaking mattress and begins to scroll through her phone, opening her work email to check if everything is running okay back home while she’s gone. On top of all this, the last thing she needs is for her work to completely blow up in her absence. Within minutes, Y/N becomes so engrossed in her phone that she doesn’t even notice the bathroom door creaking open and Harry walking out with just a towel around his waist.
Until she looks up, and then her mind goes completely blank.
Immediately, Y/N feels overstimulated. There’s just…so much going on that she doesn’t even know where to look first, let alone have the ability to remind herself that she shouldn’t even be looking at Harry like this in the first place.
Harry’s curls are soaking wet, curling down around his flushed cheeks in a way that, if it were anyone else, she’d immediately describe as attractive. Droplets of water are clinging to every inch of his skin, his toned and tanned and tattooed skin, that seems to continue forever as her eyes travel down his bare chest, noticing every curve of his muscle. His jade cross, which is almost the exact shade of his eyes, sits between his pronounced pectoral muscles, moving ever so slightly with each step he takes. Y/N notices tattoos she’s never seen before, like the giant butterfly across his toned stomach, and—her mind goes blank for just a moment—two vines that are tattooed over his prominent pelvic muscles, which just barely dip beneath the white towel that’s wrapped loosely around his hips.
As Y/N’s eyes glue themselves to the way Harry’s towel is moving as he walks, arousal begins to pool in her stomach, travelling all the way down to her core and back again. For a split second, she thinks that maybe Harry is right. Maybe she doesn’t want to fuck Brant, because she knows for certain that she’s never thought about him the way she’s thinking about Harry in this moment.
But it’s Harry, she reminds herself, as she tries to force herself to snap her gaping mouth closed. Underneath all those muscles and tattoos—and there are a lot of muscles and tattoos—it’s Harry, who annoys her to no end, who is one of the most self-absorbed individuals she’s ever met, and who has had it out for her since the day they met.
“Sorry.” Harry’s low accent snaps Y/N from her thoughts and pulls her wandering eyes back to his face. “Forgot my clothes out here.”
“It’s—” Y/N’s voice cracks in the middle of the word, still hyper-focused on just how it’s possible for one person to be as attractive as they are irritating, and she clears her throat before trying to speak again. “It’s fine.”
If Harry notices the slip in Y/N’s voice, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just walks to his open bag, locking one hand firmly over his towel as the other searches through his clothes. He pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, examining them for just a moment before nodding in satisfaction and heading back to the bathroom. Y/N almost swears that she sees him glance at her one last time before he shuts the door, but then she gets lost in the taut muscles of his back, and forgets what she’s thinking entirely.
She’s only just begun to contemplate that maybe she should pull herself together when the door opens again, and Harry exits the bathroom in a way that’s a little more presentable. His hair is still damp, but his body is dry, proven by the faded Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s now clinging to his arms and the boxers that are hanging low on his hips. His tattooed hips. His incredibly sexy tattooed hips that could probably—
“What are you wearing?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow at her as he moves his bag from the chair to the ground. He begins to unfold the bed from the armchair cushions to reveal a creaking twin bed, carefully stretching it out as he waits for an answer.
“I—pajamas.” Y/N glances down at herself self consciously, fixing the strap of her sports bra as she does so. “I just—I didn’t think we’d be sharing a room, so…”
Harry nods tersely as he finishes setting up the bed, his expression unreadable while he walks to the closet and grabs a set of sheets and a blanket. “Cute boxers.” He says casually. “Are they Brant’s?”
Within a flash, the intense rush of attraction and desire Y/N had been feeling is gone, and is instead replaced by the familiar irritation as she watches a smirk grow in the very corner of Harry’s mouth. “No.” She says flatly, turning her attention back to her phone.
“Interesting.” Harry says slowly, laying the sheets and blanket on the bed in a haphazard manner. “Whose are they, then?”
Y/N gets up from the bed and grabs her toiletry bag from her duffel before answering. “An ex.” She says shortly, tucking the patterned bag under her arm. “And why does it matter to you?”
The sound of the rain against the roof and windows gets louder and louder as they speak, and Harry raises his voice to be heard over the precipitation. “It doesn’t.” He shrugs as he maneuvers his lanky body under the blanket without causing the bed to fold in on itself. “Just curious, that’s all.”
“Well, you don’t need to be curious.” Y/N opens the bathroom door, sparing one last withering glance at Harry over her shoulder. He’s sitting up on the bed with one leg hanging out from beneath the covers as one hand plays with his hair, the other fiddles with a ring on his finger, and the way he looks at her from the corner of his eye lights a fire in Y/N’s chest. Except she can’t tell if it’s a fire of anger or arousal.
When she slams the door behind her, it’s her own confusion over that distinction that frustrates her more than anything else.
…
“Took you long enough.” Harry scoffs while leaning against the side of his car, his white t-shirt a contrast to the dust covered body of the black Chevy Impala. His dark sunglasses are perched on top of his head, keeping his unruly curls out of his eyes, while his arms are crossed over his chest impatiently as he waits for an answer. “I dropped off the keys ten minutes ago.”
By way of explanation, Y/N holds up the cardboard drink tray in her hands, a brown bag balancing in between the two coffee cups. “I was getting us breakfast, Styles. Calm down.” She walks to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and climbing in one handed. “I figured you’d be even crabbier hungry.”
“You mean you’d be crabbier without caffeine.” Harry retorts, climbing into the driver’s side in one smooth motion. “Here—” He takes the tray from her so she can buckle her seatbelt, carefully removing the two coffees and setting them in the cup holders between them. “Just be careful not to spill anything.”
Y/N rolls her eyes as she picks up the coffee closest to her (she’d gotten them both black). “Why? Worried about me ruining Stevie?”
Harry reaches into his pocket, pulling out his keys as he gives her an irritated look. “Yes, actually. I’ve put a lot of work into her.” The car roars to life as Harry turns the key in the ignition, buckling his own seat as the motor warms up. “Adding on two thousand miles to her in five days is already worrisome enough, and that’s not even counting the other two thousand she’ll get on the way back.”
Y/N doesn’t respond to the comment, and instead lets the sound of Harry’s playlist fill the silence of the car as Harry peels out of the Motel 6 parking lot. She’ll be glad to leave that place behind, she thinks, and focus on finding something better—and more private—for tonight, wherever they end up.
Harry, however, doesn’t seem content with letting silence fall between them. “How did you sleep last night?” He asks after a few moments, one hand on the steering wheel as he takes a sip of his coffee.
Glancing at him from the corner of her eye suspiciously, Y/N reaches into the paper bag and grabs her Danish, taking a small bite before answering. “Not great.”
“Was the bed bad?” Harry asks curiously, his brow furrowing while his eyes stay glued to the road, moving only to glance at the occasion sign directing him back to the highway. “The pull out wasn’t great, but I’ve slept on worse. I would’ve thought the bed would be better than that.”
“No, it—I mean, the bed wasn’t amazing, but it—” Y/N clears her throat and swallows the bite of pastry in her mouth. “I, uh, I don’t sleep well when it’s raining.”
At this new information, Harry’s eyebrow quirks up, and he risks a look in her direction to attempt to read her face. Y/N’s own eyes are focused on the Danish in her hands, refusing to meet his gaze as she lifts the pastry to her mouth to take another bite.
“You don’t?” Harry asks after a moment, the confusion in his voice almost visible within the space between them. “But it’s like white noise, isn’t it? Supposed to be relaxing, and all that.”
Y/N gives a half shrug of her shoulders. “It’s—well, it’s not the rain, exactly, just—what it’s usually paired with.” Y/N hopes that her clear hesitancy to answer will be enough of a signal to Harry for him to drop the subject. Harry, however, doesn’t seem to pick up on the reluctance in Y/N’s voice; or, at least, he doesn’t care enough to acknowledge it.
“What do you mean, what it’s paired with?” Harry takes a small sip of his own coffee, careful of the temperature of the liquid. “Like…wind, or—?”
Y/N debates back and forth with herself internally, but she knows that Harry won’t drop the subject without getting a satisfying answer. “Thunder.” She answers finally, setting her coffee down in her cup holder before turning her gaze towards her window. “I don’t like thunderstorms, ever since I was a little kid, and when it’s raining, it always feels like thunder is around the corner. Puts me on edge, like I’m waiting for it. And I can’t sleep.”
“So you never sleep when it rains?” Harry asks slowly, and the tone of incredulous disbelief in Harry’s voice is enough for Y/N to be able to imagine the expression on his face. His forest green eyes wide, strawberry pink lips agape, brow furrowed in confusion, his jaw slack as he contemplates a response to a grown woman admitting that she’s afraid of thunder. The image in her head is enough to make the back of her neck flush.
There’s a tightness in the back of her throat, and Y/N attempts to clear it again before answering. “Never.”
“Huh.” Harry taps his fingers against the gear shift in succession three times. “You’d hate London, then.”
The casual comment catches Y/N by surprise, but she doesn’t allow herself to lower her guard. “That’s why I don’t live in London.” She mumbles the words as her fingers pick at the napkin wrapped around her Danish. “I picked L.A. for a reason. It has lots of heat, barely any rain, and I’m reasonably close to Disneyland whenever I feel like I need something magical.” The last part slips out without Y/N thinking, and the flush creeps further up her neck as a surprised laugh leaves Harry’s mouth.
“Something magical?” Harry repeats, new crinkles appearing next to his eyes as he laughs, as if the dimples that crease his cheeks aren’t proof of his amusement enough. “Do you frequently feel like you need something magical?”
It’s Y/N’s turn to give an incredulous look now, her body half twisting towards Harry to observe his confusing reactions. “How did I just admit that I’m afraid of thunder, and the thing you’re focusing on is that I like Disney?”
Harry shrugs at her words, flicking on his turn signal to exit towards the highway. “I don’t know.” He says as he peers over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars. “I mean, everyone has fears. Not liking thunder isn’t exactly uncommon, you know. However, hearing that Ms. Serious Type A Perfectionist likes magic—” His grin grows bigger by the second. “Now that’s surprising.”
“Oh, shut up.” Y/N mutters, finishing her Danish in a few more bites. She waits until she’s entirely finished chewing before continuing the conversation over the voice of Billy Joel coming through the speakers. “Since I’ve admitted something I’m afraid of…” She starts, glancing at Harry from the corner of her eye. “I think it’s only fair that you admit something, too.”
Harry snorts in response, his hand freezing its movement with his coffee cup still half lifted to his lips. “Is that so?”
“Mhmm.” Y/N hums as she slips off her shoes in order to pull her legs beneath her to fold into a cross-legged position on the car seat. “Not so much fun when it’s your turn, huh? C’mon, what’s the Brit scared of? Not enough biscuits for afternoon tea?”
A short and harsh breath of air leaves Harry’s nose, half a snort as he sets his coffee down in his cupholder. “No, actually, diminishing biscuit levels are a low level fear for me.”
“Then what’s a higher one?” Y/N prods, watching as Harry’s neck muscles tense as he shoulder checks to change lanes. There’s something about the movement that catches her eye, but she can’t quite figure out why—or rather, she can, but she’d rather pretend that she’s unaware.
“Uh…” Harry’s fingers nimbly switch on his turn signal before he transitions to the left lane, his right hand moving the gear shift to its desired place. “Crowds. I’m not a fan of big crowds, really. Like when everyone’s pressed together, so tight that you can’t breathe, and you can’t hear yourself think because it’s so loud…yeah. I don’t like that.”
The simple answer surprises Y/N as much as she imagines her answer surprised Harry. “Crowds?” She repeats back to him, a forgotten memory of long gone conversations coming to the forefront of her mind. “But what about, like, concerts and stuff? Laure always told me when she’d go to shows with you…”
“That’s different.” Harry shrugs as one of his ringed hands comes to his lips, rubbing over them slowly as he contemplates his next words. “I…When I’m at concerts, I always go with someone, and if we’re in the general seating area, where there’s a lot of people, I always stick with them. Like, sometimes, if it’s getting crowded, or people are pushing, Laure will hold my hand, so…” Redness begins to creep up Harry’s pale neck, staining the tops of his ears a deep berry colour as he trails off.
Not for the first time since their conversation began, Y/N is surprised at how candid they’re being with each other. As she watches Harry’s blush grow, she feels her own diminish, a physical representation of her trading her embarrassment for something more empathetic.
“I get it.” Y/N says after a moment, once it’s clear that Harry isn’t going to continue. “When there’s thunderstorms, um, I feel better when I’m with someone, or talking to someone. It makes me feel less…”
“Alone?” Harry finishes for her, his eyes flickering from the road to her profile. His green irises capture hers for longer than they should, his focus completely gone from the stretch of highway for at least five seconds before Harry’s attention turns back to driving. “Yeah.” He says slowly, pulling his sunglasses down from his hair to hide his eyes. “Yeah, less alone. It helps.”
Y/N nods slowly, unable to look away from Harry’s side profile. It’s apparent that he’s on edge after their conversation, and she knows her body language is the same. Tight in the shoulders, hands clenched, back rigidly straight. And yet, seeing her own body language reflected in front of her bothers her. Part of her wants to reach out and take Harry’s hand, soothe him like Laure does in the crowd of a concert, but she knows that’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous, and it’s Harry, and Harry, of all people, does not need her comfort. Not in the slightest.
She watches as Harry clenches his fist on top of his thigh.
…
“Is this really necessary?” Y/N asks, slamming her car door shut as Harry does the same on the other side of the vehicle. She leans over the roof of the car, crossing her arms on the cool metal as she tilts her head to the side in an inquisitive manner. The clouds in the sky are getting darker by the minute, signalling the beginning of the storm that canceled her flight, and the angry black colour above their heads is making Y/N anxious.
Harry, however, seems unbothered by the gathering storm, and nods tersely as he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head before opening the door to the backseat and grabbing his army green jacket. “Of course it’s necessary.” He says, slipping the jacket over his broad shoulders before slamming the door shut and locking the car. “I’ve never been to Utah before. I want a souvenir.”
“Okay, but—” Y/N follows Harry as he walks towards the dilapidated building in front of them. “Here? Really? Does this seem like the best place?”
Harry glances at her over his shoulder at her, pausing his long strides to look up at the building he spotted from the highway. If the chipped grey paint that was once pastel blue and dust-coated windows are any sign, the structure is probably older than Harry and Y/N combined, with a splintered front porch wrapping around its small perimeter. The building has one faded sign above the door that reads “SOUVENIRS/SNACKS” in hand-painted capital letters, and seems to be hanging onto the outside façade by three small bolts and sheer willpower. Y/N’s almost certain that she’s seen this exact building in a horror movie before someone gets murdered, and while getting back into the car with Harry isn’t at the top of her list of wants, it’s certainly preferable to getting stabbed to death by a serial killer.
“It’s fine, Y/N.” Harry waves off her concern without a second thought about the appearance of the shop. “If you’re really bothered, you can wait in the car.”
Y/N considers it for a moment, but decides against it. She needs to stretch her legs, and honestly, Harry seems too trusting. He probably wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was sketchy until their knife was in his back. And, seeing as how he has the keys to the only getaway car available, Y/N kind of needs him around without a stab wound carved into his flesh.
“Let’s just get this over with.” She sighs, pulling her own jacket around her tighter as she steps over the worn wooden steps to the door. “We’re on a schedule.”
When Harry pushes open the door, the smell of stale air hits Y/N before anything else. Despite one open window and a fan in the corner of the shop that’s being used in a weak attempt to circulate the air, it feels like nothing fresh has been in the shop for a while. Y/N shoots a glance at Harry, caution and warning written all over her face.
While Harry sees her glance, he waves off her concern, turning his attention to the few shelves and wire racks around the small shop that are lined with inventory. Within a few moments, he’s entertaining himself in the post card section, comparing different photos of the Utah landscape to each other with great care and concern. Y/N observes him for a few moments before wandering off on her own towards the snack section of the shop. Although there are a few items that she thinks about picking up, the thick layer of dust over the packaging puts her off from purchasing them. She grimaces as she continues walking, stopping in front of a tower of silver key chains in the back corner of the shop. Most of them, she finds, are crosses and bible verses, and all of them give her an ominous feeling in her stomach. Y/N runs her finger over a miniature silver version of the Ten Commandments, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she does so.
“I think we should go, Harry.” She calls to him without turning around, setting the key chain back down on the rack carefully. “Just pick your post card and—Harry?”
When Y/N turns around, Harry’s broad figure is nowhere to be seen. She walks back over to the post card section slowly, her brow furrowed with confusion as a knot tightens in her stomach. Where could he be? She wonders, running her hand along the dusty wire rack in front of her. It’s not like there’s anywhere for him to go in the small shop, and she would have heard if he left, or if he drove away.
“Harry?” She calls again, her steps slower now as worry fills her voice. “Where did you—fuck—!” Y/N screams as something grabs her from behind, its fingers digging into her sides harshly. She whips around to find Harry standing over her, loud outbursts of laughter spilling from his strawberry pink mouth at the look on her face.
An indignant flush rushes over Y/N’s face. “You’re such an ass!” She hisses, gripping his shoulders and shoving his laughing frame away from her. “I swear, you’re like a five year old—”
“Did I worry you?” Harry snickers between his words, a wicked look of mischief alight in his dark green eyes. “Were you afraid something happened to me?”
Y/N’s cheeks burn with anger as she turns away from him, crossing her arms defiantly. “No. I wish something had happened to you. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your immature antics.”
Harry’s lips stay quirked up in a smirk as he follows her, his voice falling into a singsong tone. “You were worried.” He insists, chuckles still rolling out of him every few moments. “I could tell.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Y/N snaps at him in an irritated voice. “Just pay for your stupid post card and let’s go.”
“I already did. There’s a sign on the desk saying the clerk is out for lunch, so I left some money.” Harry nods to the small desk in the corner with a few dollars left tucked under the dusty service bell. “I think that’ll cover it, yeah?”
“Whatever.” Y/N can’t resist shoving Harry one last time before walking towards the shop door. “That’s enough. Let’s go. I want to make it to the motel before the storm hits.”
…
The nice thing about Grand Junction, Colorado, Y/N realizes, is that their motels have multiple single rooms available on short notice. While she didn’t realize the importance of this fact before this trip started, having an evening of solitude and her own stable space away from Harry for the first time in two days is nothing short of a blessing.
When she gets inside her private motel room, which, while still shabby, is leagues above their previous motel, Y/N locks the door before breathing a sigh of relief. Just the silence in the room is wonderful, and even though she knows Harry is right next door, having a wall between them is a luxury that she doesn’t take for granted. When she showers, she doesn’t have to worry about being quick, or toweling off as fast as she can so she can get dressed inside the bathroom without Harry seeing. There’s no need to worry about anyone hearing Y/N sing quietly to herself under the (albeit weak) stream of the shower, nor is there an uncomfortable stick of her sports bra to her back caused by water droplets that she couldn’t reach in her hurry to dry off. And after her shower, with some of the knots from her back finally worked out, Y/N is able to stretch out on the double bed in the center of the room, her phone in her hand as she reaches for the takeout menus stacked on the bedside table. She peruses the menus available before settling on Chinese takeout, and within five minutes, her order of a two entrée plate and fried rice is on its way.
Y/N sighs gently as she leans back on the pillows, wishing that she and Harry had stopped at a liquor store before coming to the motel. She knows she could probably walk to one, but now that she’s showered and comfortable, the last thing she wants to do is wander around Grand Junction until she finds a bottle of Moscato. Instead, Y/N flicks on the TV with a click of the ancient remote, and begins scrolling through the channels until she finds a rerun of Dirty Dancing that’s just starting.
An amused yet wry smile appears on Y/N’s lips. It’s this movie’s fault that she and Harry are on an impromptu road trip, really. Jo and Laure both loved it, and were insistent that they had to get married at a resort in the Catskills similar to one from the film. As her two friends cross her mind, Y/N settles into the sheets as Baby begins her narration, contemplating whether or not she should call Jo to check in. Just as the thought pops into her head, however, the phone rings.
Y/N answers within a moment, not bothering to check the caller ID. She and Jo had a strange habit of calling each other the moment the other thought of it, and when she raises her phone to her ear, she expects to hear her best friend’s familiar voice reply. “Hello?”
What voice she actually hears, however, surprises her. “Hey, Y/N. I’m glad I got through.” Brant says easily, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “How are you?”
“Brant!” Y/N jerks up in bed in surprise, the remote falling from its perch on her stomach onto the sheets. “I—I’m fine. How are you?”
“Oh, alright. Just busy with work, but that’s the usual.” Y/N can practically picture the neutral expression on his face, and how he’d shrug his shoulders as he speaks. “How’s the road trip? I can’t imagine driving for as long as you have to drive.”
“It’s…it’s alright, yeah.” Y/N speaks slowly as she puts her phone on speaker, balancing it on her knee while her hands begin to fidget with her rings. “Long, but not too bad.”
“Well, that’s good.” Brant clears his throat thickly, as if what he’s about to say makes him uncomfortable. “I miss you, though. And our weekly dinners.”
A feeling of guilt washes over Y/N. Truthfully, besides Harry’s inquisition on the first day of driving, Brant has barely crossed her mind. Granted, he isn’t usually at the forefront of her mind while she’s in L.A., either, but for the last few days, her thoughts have been constantly consumed by the stress of making it to the wedding and her annoyance and frustration with Harry.
“Y/N?” Brant’s voice crackles through her speaker again. “Are you there?
“I—yeah.” She says quickly, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Sorry, just—long day. I’m tired.”
“I can imagine.” Brant says sympathetically, but there’s something in his tone that almost sounds patronizing. “Who are you driving with? Have you been taking turns?”
Y/N pauses the fidgeting of her rings before snatching her phone from its balanced place on her knee. She quickly opens her messages and scrolls to her thread with Brant, searching through the text bubbles for a reminder of what she’d said to him. Had she not told him that she was traveling with Harry?
Within a moment, Y/N confirms that she hadn’t. All she had said was that she was getting a ride with someone. Why had she done that, she wonders? She’s sure she’s mentioned Harry in passing to Brant at least once. When she talked about the wedding, probably. As she thinks about it more, however…what had she told Brant about the wedding? About Jo? How much does he actually know about her personal life? Most of their dinner conversations revolve around work, or some book both of them have read. Had the topic ever come up in detail?
“I’m, um, I’m driving with one of Laure’s friends.” Y/N brings the phone closer to her mouth as her other hand works its way to her mouth. She begins to chew on a hangnail absentmindedly between her words, something she always does when her nerves begin to get to her. She can’t count the number of times Jo has grasped her wrist and pulled her hand from her mouth to chastise her about the habit. “We’re…we’re in Colorado now.”
“Oh, Colorado. That’s nice.” Brant says over the rustling of papers. “Listen, Y/N, I’ve got some work to get back to, but I’m glad we had this talk. I’ll call you again soon.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll talk to you later.” Y/N nods, and then the line goes dead. Out of curiosity, Y/N checks the length of the call. The time 3:09 blinks back at her.
Tossing her phone back down on the covers, Y/N resumes her relaxed position in bed, despite being anything but relaxed after that phone call. She should feel guilty, she thinks, for not telling Brant about Harry. But then again, what’s there to tell? She said she was getting a ride with one of Laure’s friends, and that’s true. She hadn’t lied. And even if Brant did know that the friend is Harry, why would he care? It’s just Harry. There’s no reason for Brant to be alarmed, because there’s nothing going on. And she and Brant…Y/N glances down at the call time again. Things are different between them. There’s…they’re comfortable as they are, she thinks. They’re not dating, and they’re comfortable like that. So there’s no reason to tell him about Harry, because there’s nothing to tell. Nothing at all.
Y/N refocuses on the TV screen, where Patrick Swayze is dancing in a tight black tank top. Right. Nothing to tell.
…
When Y/N leaves her motel room the next morning with her bag over her shoulder, Harry is already waiting by his car, leaning against the dusty black body with two coffee cups in his hands. He’s dressed in another black t-shirt (Y/N wonders just how many identical copies of the same shirt Harry has) with usual jeans covering his long legs. His curls are tied out of his face with a dark green bandana, and Y/N knows that if his eyes weren’t covered with his black sunglasses, the bandana would make them even brighter than they usually are.
“Hey.” Harry calls to her, extending a ringed hand that holds a coffee cup towards her as she walks over. “I got the coffee this morning. You drink it black, right?”
Y/N nods as she takes the cup from him, careful not to brush over his fingers with her own. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Harry crosses around to the back of the car, opening the trunk with a turn of his key. “Here.” Harry holds out his free hand for Y/N’s bag, taking it from her and setting it down on top of the suitcases in the back. “I got it.”
Y/N regards Harry with a bemused look as she wraps both hands around her coffee cup. “Thanks?” She says again, more questioning this time as she looks at him strangely. “I can do that myself, you know.”
“I know. I’m just trying to be polite.” Harry’s voice takes on its usual bite like he’s flipping a switch. “Is that alright with you, princess?”
Within a second, the familiar irritation with Harry returns to Y/N, and it’s almost comforting to snap back at him in a testy voice. “Don’t call me that.”
Harry snickers under his breath, and although the sound makes Y/N’s annoyance grow, she detects a different tone in it than a few days before. Before she can place a finger on why it sounds different, however, Harry is climbing into the driver’s side of the car and starting the engine.
The two of them are silent as Harry finds his way back to the highway, and they stay in that silence for the first few hours of that day’s leg of the trip. As the third hour begins to pass, Y/N is content listening to the throaty and captivating voice of Stevie Nicks fill the cab of the car. By the second chorus of the song, Y/N is humming along quietly, her foot tapping to the same beat that Harry’s fingers are spelling out against the steering wheel. It’s comfortable, she thinks after a moment. The silence between them. It feels different than it did on their first day, when Y/N was questioning her choice to get into a car with Harry and commit to a 42 hour drive. The silence seems to be fueled more by comfort than tension. It’s…refreshing.
A memory from the first day ignites in the back of her mind, a spark so bright and obvious that she can’t believe it took her so long to see it. “Stevie.” Y/N says suddenly, turning to Harry as a smile spreads over her face. “You named your car Stevie, as in Stevie Nicks?”
Harry laughs, his shoulders moving up and down beneath his black t-shirt from the motion. One hand lifts from the steering wheel and points a finger gun at her. “Took you long enough. I was wondering how many days you’d have to listen to my music to get it.”
Y/N gives his hand a light shove. “I was too distracted by the fact that you named your car.” She rolls her eyes, bringing her bottle of water to her lips for a short sip. “I still think it’s weird.”
“It gives her character.” Harry defends himself as he rubs a hand over the steering wheel absentmindedly. Y/N can see the mirth swirling around in his light irises. “A bit of personality. Just because you don’t value personalities doesn’t mean anyone else doesn’t.”
“I don’t value personalities?” Turning in her seat to stare at Harry head on, Y/N raises an eyebrow in question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just your taste in men, that’s all.” Harry says it casually, like it really can just be a “that’s all” type of sentence.
Within a heart beat, the comfortable atmosphere in the car turns to ice as Y/N straightens in her seat, her spine tense, tightening every nerve in her body along with it. “What the fuck does that mean?”
When Harry glances at her again, his eyes darken, his guard going up as he senses the shift in Y/N’s tone. “Nothing, just…motel rooms have thin walls.” Harry mumbles, having the decency to keep his eyes on the road as his ears redden slightly. “And from what I overheard, Brant doesn’t exactly seem…stimulating.”
Y/N sputters indignantly for a moment, unable to form a coherent response as anger rises in her chest. “You—” She sucks in a quick breath that hits the back of her throat harshly. “You eavesdropped on me?”
Harry licks his lips once, clearing his throat once before answering. The tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel has resumed, his nervousness apparent in his movements as well as his facial expressions. “Not on purpose. I told you, the walls were thin.”
“So put in head phones!” Y/N exclaims, gripping her water bottle so tight that her fingers begin to strain in protest against the metal exterior. She has half a mind to throw the bottle at Harry in her anger, barely able to talk herself down from the ledge of the idea.
Harry’s posture shifts in his seat as his shoulders square, and Y/N can practically see his defensive side emerge from within his chest. “It’s not like you two were having phone sex.” He rolls his eyes at the idea. “It was the most boring conversation in the world, and lasted, what, three minutes? Makes you wonder how long he lasts in other ways, doesn’t it?”
“Stop the car.” Y/N’s voice is low and void of emotion as she replies, her body turned back forward in her seat.
“Am I wrong? It’s not like you know for sure—”
Anger bubbles over in Y/N’s chest, cancelling out any rational thought she has inside her and leaving pure, unadulterated fury. “Stop the car, Harry! Now!”
Harry half jumps in his seat when Y/N yells, and he quickly jerks the car to the side of the highway without so much as a turn signal. Pulling her seatbelt off as he pulls over, Y/N is out the door before Harry can so much as put the car into neutral. While her more rational mind would tell her that she has nowhere to walk to along a highway in Colorado as the sky darkens to an angry black above them, the only thing she’s thinking of is getting away from Harry. Stupid, self-absorbed, ignorant, and rude Harry.
“Y/N—” The sound of Harry scrambling out of the car and slamming the door behind him pushes her to walk faster. “Y/N, come back—”
Y/N turns around on her heel fast and hard, heart pounding so fast that she thinks it might break through her ribs. “What is your problem?” She hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Why do you insist on being so—so nasty about him? You don’t even know him!”
Harry freezes where he is as the wind whips his hair around his face, his bandana barely keeping the messy curls in place. “I don’t—” His speech falters, and he sucks in a sharp breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’m being…nasty.”
“Well, you are!” Y/N takes a deep breath in, placing her hands over her stomach as it expands with air. It’s a trick that Jo taught her back in high school, as a way to ground herself to her body. Feeling the movement of air in and out of her lungs helps calm her, even if by just a fraction. “Brant is just—he’s someone I’m talking to. We’ve gone on dates, but we’re not dating, and even though we’re not dating, that doesn’t mean that you can insinuate things about him, or eavesdrop on our private conversations!”
Harry’s jaw tenses as he listens to Y/N speak, waiting until she’s finished her speech to respond in a harsh and clipped tone. “I already told you, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. And I’m teasing you. It’s supposed to be a joke. Isn’t that what friends do?”
“But we’re not friends, Harry.” Y/N’s voice is flat, the fury in her tone replaced with a hollow emptiness. “We’re not friends. I don’t need you teasing me about a boy like we’re buddies, or whatever, because we’re not.”
Although Harry opens his mouth to respond, no words cross over the edges of his pink lips. His jaw tightens even more as he closes his mouth again, and Y/N can see a million things flitting through his green irises, which are getting darker by the moment. Y/N’s not certain if the darkness is from her words, or the black sky rolling above them that’s sapping the light of day from the atmosphere, and she’s not sure if she can take the answer either way. Part of her knows that maybe—just maybe—she’s blown this whole thing out of proportion, and maybe she should examine why Harry making fun of Brant bothers her like it does. It’s not like she’s unaware of his shortcomings, she thinks, but then she wonders why she’s now seeing them as shortcomings, when a week ago, she saw them as positives. Y/N never has to worry about Brant being too much for her, or forgetful, or scatterbrained—he’s organized, and secure, and stable, and that’s what she likes. It’s always been what she likes.
Harry’s delayed response tears Y/N from her thoughts. “Not friends. Got it.” He mutters, rubbing his hand over his stubbled and taut cheeks. “Just get back in the car, then. Let’s go.”
…
“Hello! My name is Gracie, I’ll be your server today.” The waitress in the tiny diner smiles at Harry and Y/N, a notepad in one hand and a half filled coffee pot in the other. “Can I get you guys anything to start?”
“Coffee.” Harry and Y/N speak at the same time, each person’s eyes flickering to the other before looking away. Y/N keeps her eyes focused on her off-white ceramic coffee cup as Gracie fills it, refusing to make eye contact with Harry again.
The last hour has been almost unbearable. After they got back in the car, Harry had turned off his playlist, and for the first time since the road trip had begun, true silence had fallen between them. Y/N had thought she would like it, but truthfully, it had been the worst thing she’d ever heard. Every few minutes, she’d hear Harry shift, or sigh, or tap a tense finger against the gear shift, and she wished that she could say something, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She’d been grateful when he wordlessly exited the highway and parked in front of a diner, as the conversations of stopped truck drivers and the clatter of a kitchen was a good distraction from their argument.
A movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention, and Y/N glances up just enough to watch Harry slip a pat of butter into his coffee, stirring the contents of the cup with his spoon until it’s melted together. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, and almost opens her mouth to make a comment (“Really, Harry? Just add milk like a regular person, instead of drinking a cup of grease.”), but bites it back before it can fall off her tongue. They’re not exactly in the position to make quips to each other, she thinks, especially after she told him that they weren’t friends.
Which they’re not. They’ve never been friends; that fact isn’t exactly news. Not getting along has been Harry and Y/N’s signature since the day they first met. So why is there a pit in Y/N’s stomach that gets deeper every time Harry looks away from her?
The click of heels alerts Y/N of Gracie’s returned presence before her voice does. “Have you two decided what you’d like to eat?”
“I’ll have a turkey club, please, on whole wheat bread.” Harry folds up his plastic menu carefully. “And a glass of water on the side.”
Gracie nods, taking the menu from him before turning her eyes to Y/N. “And for yourself?”
“Um—” Y/N had barely glanced at the menu, too lost in her thoughts to think about it. “I’ll just have a burger, please. And a water, as well.”
Gracie nods as she writes down the order, taking Y/N’s menu and giving the pair one last smile before disappearing to the kitchen. A fresh wave of silence falls between Harry and Y/N as each of them sips their coffee, both of them doing their best not to look at the person sitting across from them.
Y/N’s best, however, is not up to her usual standard, as she can’t stop herself from stealing a few quick glances while Harry looks out the window. He hasn’t shaved in a couple days, she notices, as the stubble on his cheeks and chin is even darker than it was the day before. There’s a permanent crease between his eyebrows, his face as tense as she’s ever seen it, and a darkness over his whole expression overall. It’s like there’s a new wall up between the two of them, and Y/N’s never felt more detached from him. Which, honestly, is saying something.
She’s looking back down at her own half empty coffee when Harry finally speaks a few minutes later, his voice just as tense as his expression.
“Shit.” He says in a low voice, and then the next sound Y/N hears is that of someone ruffling through pockets.
She looks up to see Harry doing just that, his hands digging through the outer pockets of his army green jacket. “What?” She asks, her curiosity outweighing her need to continue the silent treatment. “What is it?”
“I had the vows in my—my pocket, but they’re—” Harry jams his hands inside a pocket sewn into the lining of his jacket, and Y/N watches as his face visibly relaxes. “Oh, thank God. I thought they fell out.”
Harry removes his hand from his pocket, two folded up notes clutched within his hand. Each one is labeled carefully, one with Jo written in Laure’s neat penmanship, and the other with Laure scribbled in Jo’s quick writing.
Y/N recognizes the papers immediately. It’s easy, really, considering the amount of time she spent helping Jo rewrite draft after draft of the same sentiments. “You have Jo and Laure’s vows?” She questions, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Why?”
“The same reason you have their wedding bands.” Harry shrugs as he turns the papers over in his careful fingers, making sure not to crease them. “They forgot them.”
A small smile plays on the edge of Y/N’s lips at the memory of her forgetful friends. “Right. Of course.”
Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s mouth at the sign of movement, and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth before responding. “Want to take a look?”
“At their vows?” Y/N looks around, as if someone could be watching and monitoring them. “I—that doesn’t seem right.”
“Fine. Then don’t look at them.” Harry says easily, setting the note labeled Laure on the table between them. His nimble fingers unfold the paper labeled with Jo’s name as his green irises begin to scan across the sheet. “I’ll read them.”
It only takes a few seconds of watching Harry read over the words for Y/N to crack. “Wait.” She brings her thumb to her mouth, chewing anxiously on her cuticle as Harry quirks an eyebrow at her. “Will you read them to me?”
When she asks, Harry spends so long staring at her that Y/N thinks he’ll refuse. His jade eyes meet hers with an intensity that almost makes her flinch, but Y/N holds his stare, refusing to be the first to back down. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Harry gives a sharp nod, looking down at the note before he starts to read from the beginning.
“‘My darling Jo’,” He begins, his voice soft and low, his accent thick. “‘It seems so strange that this day is finally here. I feel like we’ve been building up to it ever since the day we first met, and yet it’s always seemed so far away. When I was a little girl, I always’…” Harry trails off as his eyes continue to move across the words, and he clears his throat before attempting to continue to read aloud. “‘I always thought that there was something wrong with me. I thought that the things that I felt, and the way that I loved, was dirty. I thought it was wrong. I thought that—that I was going against God, and against nature, and that I was going to be punished for it. And then I met you’.”
Harry pauses to take a sip of his coffee, and Y/N does the same. There’s a shine beginning to appear in his eyes, and Y/N recognizes it as the beginning of tears because she feels the same thing brimming in her own eyes. She feels a bit guilty for reading the vows, but reasons that it’s for the best. If she were to hear them for the first time at the wedding, she doesn’t think she’d be able to keep it together.
“‘The moment I met you, I knew that the way I loved could never be wrong, or be dirty, because I was loving you’.” Harry’s accent grows thicker the more he reads, and although Y/N hasn’t seem Harry in many different emotional states, she can tell that this is a sign of how the vows are affecting him. “‘Being with you could never be wrong, and God could never get mad at me for it, because only God could create someone as perfect as you. I promise to love you when you wake me up at 3 A.M. because you’ve stolen all the blankets, and I promise to love you at 6 P.M. when you almost burn down our apartment while trying to cook for me. I promise to support you through everything, listen to your stories, and watch in wonder as you make a difference in this world. I promise to never let my anger get the best of me, and to always give you the benefit of the doubt. I promise to love every version of yourself that you grow into, just as I’ve loved all the versions you once were. I promise to love you in every way humanly possible, and even in ways that aren’t humanly possible. I promise to love, period. I’—” Harry’s voice cracks, and he glances up at Y/N as he clears his throat to continue. “‘I love you’.”
Y/N doesn’t realize just how emotional listening to Harry read Laure’s vows has made her until the first tear wells over the corner of her eye. She turns her head towards the window to wipe it away as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, but from the way Harry is looking at her when she turns back around, she knows that he caught what she was doing.
“That, um—” Now it’s Y/N’s turn to attempt to clear the emotion from her throat. “Wow.”
Harry carefully folds Laure’s vows back up, taking extra care to re-crease the paper exactly how it had been folded. “I didn’t know she…felt like that.” Harry says after a moment, his voice quiet. “Like she was…wrong.”
Y/N, unsure of what to say, just nods while reaching for Jo’s vows in front of her. Like Harry, she takes great care when unfolding the paper, smoothing it gently between her hands. “I’ll read Jo’s, then?”
Harry nods as he takes a sip of his water. “Sure.”
Y/N licks her lips once, wetting them with what little saliva she has in her mouth before beginning. “‘Laure’,” She starts, emotion already rising up to form a lump in her throat. “‘I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve tried to write down all the ways I love you a million different times, but I can never seem to find the right words. The problem is, I don’t think that there is a big enough word to describe what I feel for you. ‘Love’ is only four letters, and four letters is just not enough to contain everything I feel. ‘Adoration’ is nine letters, but even that doesn’t come close. I think the best way I can describe it is ‘permanent’.” Y/N pauses her reading to take a long gulp of water, the coolness soothing the dry and parched feeling in her mouth and throat. “‘Anyone who knows me knows that I have trouble committing. The idea of having something forever, of being in one place, normally terrifies me. But the idea of having you forever, and being in one place with you forever…that’s all I want. I want us to be permanent to each other. Even when we struggle, and we will struggle, I know that we won’t fall apart. Committing to you isn’t any trouble. It’s as easy as breathing. I’m sure of you, and I’m sure of us. I love you, permanently. I’ll love you when you’re sick and gross, and I’ll love you when you’re old with a bad hip.” A small laugh falls out of Y/N’s mouth before she continues. “I’ll love you when you haggle at flea markets for the best prices, and I’ll love you when you do something so stupid that it makes me want to tear my hair out. I love you permanently, and I want all of our family and friends to witness me saying that. I’ll never back out, or bail, or run away from you. You’re the one thing in my life that’s never felt hard. You’re my home base, and my north star, and you bring me back down to Earth whenever I need it. I love you permanently, Laure. I’ll never stop’.”
As she finishes reading, Y/N folds the paper back up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand before grabbing the other note sitting on the table. She pushes them towards Harry, her misty eyes unable to meet his. “Here. Put these away again, somewhere safe.”
Harry takes the vows from her, slipping them back inside his inner jacket pocket for safekeeping. “It’s probably—” He clears his throat once more, and Y/N knows that the vows have caught him in his chest just as they’ve caught her. “It’s probably good that we read them now, so that we’re…prepared for the ceremony.”
“Yeah.” Y/N wraps her hands around her coffee mug, the warm ceramic surface heating her cold fingers. “You’re right. They really…love each other.”
Harry taps his fingers against the table top, a concentrative and thoughtful expression on his face. His eyebrows are knit together above his stormy green eyes, and his pink tongue swipes over his pinker lips once before he speaks. “You know, Laure is my closest friend. I don’t want her to get hurt.”
Immediately registering the tone of Harry’s voice, Y/N’s head snaps up, her own eyes becoming stormy as they meet his own. “Jo would never hurt Laure.” Y/N says defensively, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up at even the suggestion of her friend hurting someone. “Didn’t you hear her vows? I’ve never heard her sound so sure of something in her entire life.”
Harry’s jaw flexes at the cadence of Y/N’s voice, and his is just as agitated when he responds. “I’m just saying, if anything ever happened—”
“And I’m just saying, it won’t.” The tension between them doubles as Y/N shoots Harry an icy glare. “Do you just look for the worst in people? Is that all you do?”
“You think I look for the worst in people? Really?” Harry barks out a harsh laugh, pressing one hand flat against the table as the other fixes his bandana. “Christ, if that’s what you think of me—”
“Why would I think anything else?” Y/N asks incredulously, tilting her head to the side as she regards him. “All you’ve shown me is—”
“Alright, I have the turkey club on whole wheat, and the burger here.” Gracie appears suddenly to Y/N’s right, her tray loaded with food. “Here you guys are…” She sets the plates down in front of Harry and Y/N, her gaze darting between them nervously as she reads the tension in the booth. “Is…there anything else I can get you two?”
“No.” Harry’s voice is hard. “We don’t need anything else.”
…
By the time Harry pulls the car into a motel just off the highway in Lexington, Nebraska, all Y/N wants is a moment alone. The strained atmosphere during that day’s drive had been unbearable, and between the anxiety from her confrontation with Harry and the sound of thunder beginning in the distance, Y/N just needs some space to herself to relax and calm down.
Of course, just because that’s what she needs, doesn’t mean that she’s going to get it. When Harry returns back to the car with a single key in his hand and a sour look on his face, Y/N knows for sure that the universe is against her.
This room, at least, she’s pleased to find, has two actual beds, which are pushed up against the wall perpendicular to the door with a small night table between them. However, that’s where her pleasure stops, as the click of Harry turning the lock behind her just reminds her that she’s trapped in here, with no chance to get away from Harry, the oncoming storm, or any one of her problems that have developed over the last four days. The reality of the situation hits her all at once, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control to toss her bag on the bed and walk brusquely to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her before she allows herself to show a sign of her emotions.
The rest of the evening passes in silence. She showers before changing into her sports bra and boxers, but the amount of exposed skin sends a vulnerable shiver down her spine. Y/N opts for pulling a sweatshirt over her body, and then sets herself the task of braiding her hair to distract herself. After that’s done, she busies herself with her skincare routine, taking up as much time as she can in the bathroom before she absolutely has to leave its private interior.
Harry, however, seems to want to see as little of Y/N as she wants to see of him, and pushes past her to enter the bathroom the moment that she steps out of it. His routine, it seems, is designed to take up just as much time as hers was, because by the time Harry exits the bathroom, the scent of his shampoo trailing behind him, Y/N is already tucked under the covers of her bed, although she’s far from asleep.
In the time it took for her to shower and get ready for bed, the storm had picked up, and the only thing audible in the room was the sound of rain pelting against the roof and window, the wind howling through the trees, and Y/N’s shallow, uneven breaths. She wraps the sheets tightly around herself, pulling them taut to her chin with clenched fists that tighten every time a clap of thunder echoes through the room. Although she’s turned to face the wall, away from Harry, she can hear his footsteps pause as he gets a glimpse of her shivering form beneath the blankets, and she does her best to will herself to appear asleep. Breathing in as deeply as her tight chest will allow her, Y/N attempts to even her breathing, forcing her shoulders rise and fall in a way that appears natural and normal. But all it takes is one clap of thunder for the controlled motion to go out the window.
“Y/N…” Harry’s voice is low, but despite its raspy cadence, it lacks the rough edge that it had earlier. The bed behind her squeaks, signalling that Harry’s taken a seat on the edge of it. “Are you—?”
“I-I’m fine.” Y/N says quickly, pulling the sheets tighter to her chin as another shiver rolls through her body. “Go to sleep.”
There’s another creak of Harry’s bed, and Y/N imagines him climbing under the starched linen covers, his damp curls flopping into his eyes as he lays back on the lumpy motel pillow. The image is almost enough to distract her until there’s another clap of thunder. The sound seems to shake the motel room, and Y/N can’t stop the small whimper that leaves her lips as her body jumps in response.
“When I was a little kid, my mum took my sister and I to the fair every year.”
Harry’s deep voice cuts over the rain, and Y/N shifts in her bed, turning over to face him. She keeps the covers pulled up to her chin, but readjusts herself so that she can keep her head on her pillow while looking Harry in the eye. “What?” She asks, confusion audible in her quiet tone.
Harry shifts himself as she does, continuing to move down until he’s completely horizontal, with one hand tucked under his pillow as he speaks. “My mum took my sister and I to the fair. It came to Holmes Chapel every spring, and there were always rides, and games to play, and so many things to see. It drew crowds from nearby villages every year, really big crowds, and my mum always held my hand tightly so I wouldn’t get lost.”
“I don’t understand, what—” Another clap of thunder shakes the room, making Y/N flinch halfway through her sentence.
“You’re okay.” Harry says immediately, his calm jade eyes focused on her as the reassurance slips from his mouth. He waits a moment, gauging Y/N’s body language and waiting for his examination to be positive before resuming his story. “So…my mum always told me not to wander off, but when I was six, I did. I saw some older kids playing games that I wanted to play, and Gemma was busy playing some sort of game with a ball—I can’t really remember what—and when my mum turned her back, I ran off.”
Y/N’s about to open her mouth to ask why he’s telling her the story when the answer clicks into place in her head. She thinks back to the conversation in the car the day before, how she told Harry that it helps when someone talks to her to distract her from the thunder. That’s what he’s doing, she realizes, as she forces herself to focus on his quiet and level voice. He’s trying to keep her calm, even after everything she said and did today.
“I don’t look like it now,” A small smile flits across Harry’s blushed lips. “But I was pretty scrawny back then. And all the people around me were so tall, my eyes were barely level with their hips. Everyone was rushing around, going in all directions, and I kept calling for my mum, but she couldn’t hear me. No one stopped to help me. I felt like I was…trapped. Like it was a huge forest of legs, running all around me, circling me, and I couldn’t get out. I was probably only gone for five minutes, but to a six year old, it felt like an eternity. And just something about it…I don’t know. It changed me. I still don’t like crowds because of that day.”
Y/N’s shoulders unclench the slightest bit as another gust of wind blows against the window. “That must have been scary.”
Harry’s own shoulders lift in a slight shrug as he shifts the sheet to cover him more. “It was. But I can’t change it. I just have to deal with the repercussions of it. That’s all a fear is, really. A side effect. We just have to deal with them as best we can.”
More thunder booms loudly outside, but Y/N manages to keep her flinch to a minimum, despite her hands curling into fists again under the covers. “Harry…” She whispers his name into the darkness between them, his outline barely visible save for his green eyes. “I’m—I’m sorry about today.”
Harry shakes his head, his damp hair rubbing against his pillow. “You don’t have to apologize.” He whispers back, his tone as gentle as she’s ever heard it. “I was an arse. I shouldn’t have pushed the topic.”
“I shouldn’t have been so uptight about it.” Rubbing her eyes with one fist, Y/N lets out a low sigh. “I felt so shitty all day because of our fight. I’ve never…none of our fights have ever made me feel like that.”
“Maybe it’s because…” Harry’s tentative voice trails off, his eyes flickering to the ground for a brief moment before staring back at Y/N nervously. “I don’t know. I thought we were getting along better. For a moment, at least.”
“We were.” Y/N’s teeth tug on her bottom lip, and she feels a sudden shyness overcome her at the admission. “I’m sorry I said that we…weren’t friends. I think…I don’t know. I’ve been stubborn for so long, but I can see now that you’re different than I thought you were.”
“Yeah. Me too. I was wrong, too.” Harry runs a hand through his damp curls, a soft laugh leaving his mouth. “How did we even end up like this? I barely remember what made us hate each other so much in the beginning.”
“Seriously?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, barely peaking out from beneath the sheets as another clap of thunder sounds. “You don’t remember?”
Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”
“Yes! It was the very first night we met. We had that double date with Laure and Jo.” Shifting beneath her covers, Y/N moves herself into a better position on her side, so she can be more comfortable while still maintaining eye contact with Harry. “And you were rude, and made inappropriate jokes, and you left in the middle of the date to go chat up a sorority girl!”
“Wait a minute, no!” Harry protests the memory, half sitting up in his bed as he speaks. “That’s not what happened!”
“Yes, it is!” A small laugh falls off Y/N’s lips at his indignant reaction. “I remember it perfectly!”
“No, you remember it wrong!” Although a flush creeps up Harry’s neck, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips, a tiny hint of a dimple just barely appearing in his visible cheek. “I was making jokes to try and break the ice, which didn’t work on the Ice Queen, it seems—” Harry motions to Y/N teasingly. “And you’re the one who started talking to some bloke before I started talking to that girl!”
Another clap of thunder echoes through the room, but Y/N hardly notices as she thinks back to the night they met, and who Harry could possibly be referring to. “A bloke—? He was a classmate of mine! I had to talk to him!”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to enjoy it so much.” Harry grumbles, crossing his muscled arms over his sheets. “I had been so excited when Laure said she had an American girl for me, and then—”
“You were excited?” Y/N asks, her voice laced with surprise. “Really?”
The flush on Harry’s neck works its way to the apples of his cheeks. “Well, yeah.” He mumbles the words as his eyes drop from Y/N’s, slipping both hands beneath his head. “She said that you were funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful—”
“And then you met me, and realized that it was all a lie?” Y/N finishes for him, rolling her eyes in the darkness.
“No.” Harry gives a small shake of his head as his body shifts, the motel bed creaking under his weight. “No, she wasn’t wrong. You were all of those things. But I wasn’t, and it seemed like…I don’t know. Like you didn’t think I was good enough for you. I couldn’t keep your attention.”
The teasing smile slips from Y/N’s face as she registers Harry’s words. “You thought that I thought you weren’t…good enough?”
The nervousness is clear in Harry’s voice now, even over the pounding of rain against the window. “That’s what it seemed like, yeah.”
“I never—I didn’t think that.” Y/N says slowly, managing to relax her body beneath the sheets as she keeps her focus on the memory of meeting Harry. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there, but that’s because Jo set the date up without telling me. I thought you were handsome, and I liked your accent, but then you started to act weird, and you started flirting with that girl, so I thought you were an ass.”
“You still think I’m an arse, princess, be honest.” The teasing tone replaces the nerves, and for once, Harry’s joke has the intended affect on Y/N. When she rolls her eyes again, it’s more playful, and the same tone is in her voice when she responds.
“I told you, don’t call me princess.” She replies, running her teeth over her lip gently. “So…I guess we both kind of fucked up that day.”
“Yeah.” Harry nods, a sheepish smile playing over his red lips. “I guess so.”
“Can we just restart?” Y/N’s voice is small when she asks the question, barely audible over the sounds of the storm raging outside. “Like, all the way from the beginning. No more grudges, no more yelling. Even if it’s just for this trip, for Jo and Laure—”
“It doesn’t have to be just for this trip.” Harry cuts in, his eyes catching Y/N’s again. “We’re going to have to be around each other for a long time. It’ll be a lot easer if we get along.”
Y/N nods in agreement, tugging down her covers to extend one arm towards Harry. She makes a fist, holding out just her pinkie finger to him with half a grin on her face. “Truce?”
The space between their beds is small, and Harry’s long arm easily makes it across the no man’s land to meet Y/N’s pinkie with his own. He loops it together with a smile that matches hers, tired and content and just at the edge of a humble new beginning. Harry’s response is almost inaudible as thunder booms loudly outside the room, but Y/N can still pick out the cadence of his accent under the noise.
“Truce.”
(pt II)
#feedback is appreciated!!#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles preference#one direction fanfiction#one direction fic#one direction imagine#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#enemies to lovers#road trip au#fine line#fine line album#dreamwithharry#42 hours#writing
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