#yes i will continue to tag with their full names and you cannot stop me

[kwanisms]

Kinkuary 12 Seungcheol — daddy kink // sex tape/photos

➥ daddy dom!Cheol × little girl!Reader summary: Seungcheol loves falling into his caregiver role as Y/N's daddy but he loves it even more when his baby lets him take pictures of her for him to use when he's alone on tour. wc: 2.4k warnings: afab reader, adult dialogue, sexual content (minors dni!): dom!Cheol, sub!Reader, dd/lg themes, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, spanking as punishment, use of pet names (baby girl, little one, angel, etc), unprotected sex (pls use protection!), lowkey love-making, sex tape/photos, Cheol has a big d!ck (sorry, we on the monster cock idol agenda), please let me know if I missed any! Permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @candidupped @dejavernon Kinkuary full taglist: @baldi-2 @wonderfulshinee @lacie220900 @sup-dallyboy @drunk-on-dk @violagoth @mixling-blog @dilfjohnny @fairylixie_0915 Seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @95cheols @niktwazny303 @indigo35 @moonlightsora @witherednotes @cixrosie Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. Join the taglist!

a/n: apologies that this is late. I’m working on getting back on track! I will never get tired of big d!ck, daddy dom Cheol. Ever. I love those themes with him and I can't associate him with anything else. I also love writing for Cheol so much. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

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It was a very well known fact that Seungcheol loved to take pictures. He loved capturing bits of his life and memorializing them forever. None of that changed, even after you started dating. He just had a new subject to photograph. A new muse.

Despite finding his need to constantly photograph you silly, you were happy to oblige him when he wanted to snap a picture of you in the kitchen or when you were out on a date. He just loved to take photos of you so he could look at you even when you weren’t around.

Early on in your relationship, Seungcheol made it obvious that he was in charge in the bedroom and when you finally opened up about your kinks, he was totally on board. Most of the time he was Seungcheol, leader of Seventeen, S.Coups and you were his girlfriend Y/N.

But there were times, especially when you needed to be taken care of, where you were his baby and he fell into the role of caregiver as your daddy and nothing filled him with a strong sense of pride quite like you putting your trust in him entirely.

“You taste so good,” Seungcheol groaned, licking his lips. Your fingers tightened in his hair, a whimper escaping you as you felt his tongue drag against you. He’d always been vocal about how much he enjoyed going down on you. Even if he didn’t get his dick wet, he could eat you out for hours and he’d done it before.

“Cheol,” you moaned as the tip of his tongue swirled your clit before his lips wrapped around it and he sucked softly. “Yes baby?” He asked, pulling away for only a moment. “Nothing,” you breathed, waving your hand. “Don’t stop.” Seungcheol’s lips pulled into a smile briefly before he continued, licking and teasing your clit.

One of his hands held your hip, your thighs over his shoulders, while the other moved to push your thigh back, opening you up to him more. His tongue disappeared sliding into your hole while his nose bumped against your swollen clit. He groaned against you, the vibrations making your body shudder.

Your stomach muscles tightened as you felt your impending orgasm approach only for Seungcheol to pull away, letting it fall flat, making you whine in protest as he sat up, wiping his mouth and chin with his shirt before moving to lean over you, lips finding yours as one of his hands snuck down your stomach, fingers skimming your skin until he was pushing two fingers inside your wet cunt, making you moan against his lips.

“God I can’t wait to fill you up,” he mumbled, his fingers moving slowly in and out of you, scissoring them to make sure you were more than prepared to take him. No matter how many times you had sex, he always had to take his time to properly prepare you before he could get his cock inside you.

One of the many things you loved about him. His laugh, his eyes, his dimples, his morning voice, and his massive—

“Hey,” he said softly, drawing your attention back to him. “Where did you go?” He asked, an amused smile forming on his face. Your cheeks burned and you shook your head. “Oh, come on baby,” he purred, dragging his fingers against your walls. “You can tell me.” You shook your head again, too embarrassed to speak.

“Were you thinking about my cock?” He asked suddenly, surprising you and making you gasp.

“N-no!” You lied but Seungcheol could see through it. “It’s okay, baby girl. I know you love daddy’s cock,” he said, leaning down to press his lips to your cheek as you whined in embarrassment. He pulled back, a grin present on his lips, dimples on display. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed, baby,” he cooed.

“Do you want it now?” He asked, slowing his fingers and waiting for you to answer. Nodding, you mumbled out a yes, cheeks still flushed.

“All you had to do was ask, little one,” Seungcheol answered, pulling his fingers from you and sitting up. You watched as he stripped, removing his clothes and tossing them towards the hamper in the corner of the room, not caring whether or not he made the throw.

“Top or bottom?” He asked climbing back onto the bed. “Bottom,” you whispered as he hovered over you. “Of course,” he said with a smirk. “My little pillow princess,” he added, taking you in a searing kiss. “How do you want it?”

You knew he was asking if you wanted it rough or soft. He always asked this and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on even more, that he was able to prioritize your experience and pleasure over his own.

“Slow,” you murmured. “Hmm?” Seungcheol asked, enjoying the way you blushed and squirmed under him. “I didn’t hear that princess.”

“I want it slow, daddy,” you blurted out, the eternal flush on your cheeks burning just as much as before.

“Slow?” Seungcheol asked, dipping his head to kiss your neck, lips dragging up to your ear. “You want daddy to take it slow?” He asked again, making you nod. “Want me to make love to you?” He whispered. “Yes,” you breathed out as you felt him grind against your soaked center.

“If my baby wants it slow, then she’ll get it slow,” he muttered, guiding the tip of his cock to your slit, brushing against you teasingly before pushing past your folds, gliding the head in. Your back arched off the mattress, one hand gripping the sheets under you, the other grabbing his arm, squeezing his bicep.

“Always so tight for me,” Seungcheol whispered, kissing the tip of your nose. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” As your body relaxed under him, Seungcheol was able to glide in further, your tight walls welcoming him with erratic fluttering as he slid in further and further until he was fully encased inside you.

“Eyes on me, pretty,” he said softly as he stilled inside of you. Your eyes met his and you felt your cheeks burn and the urge to look away but you held his gaze. A smile spread across his face as he reached up to caress your cheek. “That’s it,” he said sweetly. “There’s my girl.”

You whined at the amount of affection he was giving you, your hand on his arm squeezing softly. “Daddy, please,” you whimpered, attempting to move your hips but his weight on you kept you in place. “Please move.”

Seungcheol let out a chuckle and nuzzled your cheek. “Since you asked so nicely,” he murmured, pulling out before pushing back in slowly. It felt good but not enough to give you what you were craving.

“Faster, daddy, please,” you whispered. “Faster?” Seungcheol asked, keeping the same languid pace. “But you asked for it like this. Said you wanted it slow. This is slow, baby,” he murmured, pressing short chaste kisses to your cheek. “Do you want it faster?” He whispered in your ear. “Yes,” you gasped as he gave you a sharp thrust. “Yes, daddy,” you answered.

“Then I guess I can give you what you want,” he muttered, hips moving faster, burying his cock deep inside you with each thrust. You moaned loudly, walls clenching around him. “You’re so responsive,” Seungcheol noted. “You react so well to me.”

Your brain was understanding him but unable to form a response except in whimpers and moans. Seungcheol didn’t seem to mind, instead focusing on keeping a steady pace and not pounding into you like his instincts told him to.

“Oh, shit,” you cursed, immediately regretting the words when you heard Seungcheol click his tongue. ‘Fuck.’

“We’ve talked about this before, little girl,” he said in a darker tone. “I’m sorry, daddy,” you replied quickly. “It just slipped out. I won’t do it again,” you tried to backpedal but Seungcheol wasn’t having it.

You whined as he pulled out of you, sitting back and grabbing your hips to roll you over onto your stomach. “We’ve talked about your language,” he said, pulling you back onto his lap. “You know the rules,” he added as he held you still. “No, please, I’m sorry!” You whimpered frantically, crying out when you felt his hand land a sharp smack to your ass.

“Me too, baby. You know I’d rather be making you feel good but we have rules for a reason.” Your body jumped as you felt another blow land in the same spot. “I’m sorry, daddy. I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, holding back a sob as his hand made contact once more with the same spot before rubbing it soothingly.

“I think three is enough,” he said as he continued to caress the reddened skin of your bottom. “Keep this in mind and think before you speak, little one,” he added, leaning over to kiss your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, checking to make sure he hadn’t hurt you. Nodding, it took a moment to form a sentence. “Yes. I’m okay.” Seungcheol pressed another kiss to your shoulder before letting you go.

You climbed off his lap but only made it a short distance away before he was pushing you onto your stomach.

“Hold still,” he said sternly, keeping one hand on your shoulder, the other gripping your hip and pulling up so your ass was raised. “You still want it slowly?” He asked, his voice low. You nodded, turning your head to the side as your cheek was pressed to the mattress. “Do you trust me?” His voice was even softer now.

You nodded, letting out a sigh as you felt his cock grind against you.

“I trust you.”

Seungcheol wasted no time, pushing back into you from behind, snapping his hips in evenly timed thrusts, his cock hitting deeper in this new position and the angle making you see stars in your vision with each measured thrust.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He growled, watching the way your ass bounced each time his hips hit you. “Feels so good, daddy,” you moaned, fingers curling into the sheets. “Cock feels so good!”

Seungcheol let out a chuckle. “Can’t even form full sentences? Is it that good?” He asked, keeping a firm hold on your hip, his other hand keeping your chest pressed against the mattress. “Is daddy fucking you dumb?”

A whimper left your parted lips but you couldn’t deny it when he was right. You couldn’t form a full sentence. He’d once again rendered you speechless with just a few sharp thrusts.

Seungcheol glanced to the bedside table where his phone sat and had an idea. He loved to memorialize most moments with you and this was no different.

He slowed his hips. “Grab my phone,” he ordered, moving his hand from your back. “W-what?” You asked, being lost in another world from how good his cock felt that you hadn’t heard him properly.

“Grab my phone from the bedside table, angel,” he repeated, nodding towards the device.

You reached out, grabbing the edge of the phone and held it up for him to grab from you.

“Stay still,” he warned, opening his camera and lining up the shot. He snapped a couple point of view pictures before turning the camera to video and pressing the start button. His hips continued to snap forward, thrusting hard and deep into you, making you moan out. On screen it looked amazing.

Your reddened ass from his earlier punishment, the way your ass bounced with each thrust, the base of his cock visible every time he pulled back, even the way your fists gripped the sheets.

He knew he was going to save this for later use.

After ending the recording, he locked the screen and tossed his phone to the side on the bed and gave you a few more thrusts before pulling out with a hiss. You whined as he rolled you over, spreading your thighs and sliding his cock back into you.

Your thighs rested on his as he grabbed his phone with one hand and your waist with the other. He opened the camera again, snapping a couple pictures before starting another recording.

You moaned out, keeping a firm grip on the sheets as your boyfriend resumed the same pace from before.

You looked up to see the phone in his hand and whined. “Are you recording this?” you gasped.

You could see the smirk on Seungcheol’s face. “Shh,” he said, letting go of your hip and moving to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing your lip and entering your mouth when you parted your lips. He let out a growl as you sucked on his thumb, his thrusts increasing in speed.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he grunted. You moaned around his thumb, whining when he pulled his hand from your face, fingers skimming down the skin of your neck past your collar, stopping to cup your breast and squeeze gently. “You gonna cum for me?” Seungcheol rasped out, his hand traveling down your stomach and stopping just above where your bodies met.

You nodded quickly, moaning when you felt his thumb start rubbing against your clit in time with his thrusts. He pointed the camera down where he could see his cock disappear repeatedly inside your warm cunt. “Be a good girl and cum for daddy,” Seungcheol groaned, continuing to record as your walls convulsed around his cock.

“That’s it,” he breathed as your moans grew in volume and pitch until your thighs attempted to close but he pushed them apart with one hand, keeping one thigh pinned as he continued to thrust into you. “You’re gonna make me cum,” he moaned. “D-daddy,” you whimpered as your walls clenched around him again.

“Oh fuck,” Seungcheol groaned, hips stuttering as his cock twitched inside you. He came with a loud moan, his release coating your walls as he continued to fuck you through his high until he slowed to a stop. Keeping the camera trained on your cunt, he slowly pulled out, moving to record your fluttering hole as his cum slowly spilled out of you.

He pushed his cum back into you with two fingers before turning off the recording and setting his phone aside.

“I can’t believe you recorded that!” You finally said after coming down from your high. “Don’t worry, baby,” he said, continuing to push his cum back into you as it tried to escape.

“That’s for my eyes only.”

#svthub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #scoups smut #scoups x reader #kwanisms kinkuary #kinkuary 2023

[just-french-me-up]

Hi, if possible and you are still taking prompts request, could you do number 12 pls? Thanks!

Fandom : The Sandman | 1.5k Pairing : Dream of the Endless x Fem!Nameless!Reader (3rd person, no (Y/N)) Prompt : "The things I want to do to you..." Rating : M/E (Suggestive talk and a heavy dose of seduction more than outright smut) Tags : Established relationship | PWP with feelings | Nada rules : Endless beings and humans cannot have sex in the Waking World, or the Universe shall unleash hell and ruin on said human

Dream of the Endless was no stranger to duty. His own existence was ruled by obligations, endless tasks he had to see through only for them to be completed again, as Sisyphus rolls his boulder up the hill. He had spent countless hours, days, months, years, eras on his own, in the name of duty.

Yet, when it came to his lover's obligations in the Waking World, his regard for duty often weakened. It was selfish of him, he knew it. A little dismissive too, or so she had told him on a few occasions. How could he be blamed, though, when valuable time meant time spent with her? He could not be expected to be pleased to have it shortened.

"When should I expect you back home?" Dream asked, as conversationally as he could.

Home. They had taken to referring to the Dreaming as such, recently. Or rather she had, which pleased him to no end. He never failed to use the word, now. That was the beauty of it. It was a word meant to be shared.

The room he was standing in was in a different home, however. Hers. It was not a place Dream would call his own, but he'd grown familiar with it, attached, almost. He knew where she liked every little trinket, where she sat to bask in the warm afternoon sun, where she preferred to read the morning papers. Every room carried her perfume, as though her presence never truly left these walls.

"I don't know," his lover's voice rose from the bathroom. "Two, three in the morning, perhaps?"

Dream frowned.

"That is quite insufficient for your mind to rest."

"I could squeeze in a nap tomorrow, then," she negotiated. He could hear a smile in her voice. "It will be something of a surprise visit." Sounds continued to emerge from behind the door, drawers being opened and closed, zips being opened. "It's a wedding reception. It's considered rude to leave before the newlyweds."

Humans had such strange traditions. If they could even be called that. Most of them had emerged during his imprisonment, making them traditions in name only, hardly a century old. More of a passing fad than anything else.

The door of the bathroom creaked open. Sometimes, Morpheus wished he needed a beating heart, only to have it stop on such occasions.

Undergarments had come a long way since the beginning of the twentieth century. Gone were chemises and drawers. These days humans favoured tighter fits, less fabric. They were less about warmth and support than aesthetics. For once, Morpheus understood the appeal.

His eyes followed her as she walked past him to reach a full-length mirror. There was something artful about it, in the way her bustier followed the slope of her waist to perfection, drew the curves of her breasts as though it had been tailored to her, and her only. He could feel the invitation of it, the growing desire to feel the fabric under his hands, to have his fingers trace these lines, too.

"Are these not mostly worn for viewing pleasure?" he asked, taking in every inch of fabric, committing them to memory.

She gave him an impish smile through the reflection as she put on her earrings. Dream resisted the urge to brush away her hair to fill her empty neck with his mouth. Oh, she was making this very difficult.

"Mostly, yes."

"Why wear it, then, if it is destined to remain hidden all night?"

She looked over her shoulder, her smile utterly disarming.

"What about my viewing pleasure?"

She turned back to the mirror, her eyes gazing at her own reflection.

"I like wearing it. It makes me feel... I don't know. Strong, I suppose. Confident. Almost like an armour. You have one in the Dreaming, don't you?"

Dream let out an amused huff, his lips drawn into a small smile as he stepped closer to her.

"Nothing quite like this."

His hand caressed her waist, indulging in the naked skin between the fabric of the bustier and the lace of her underwear, his fingertips gently playing with the hem. Never further, they both knew. Not here.

"An armour is meant to intimidate your enemies, not draw them to you."

"Good thing you're not my enemy, then."

He smiled against her shoulder, leaving a kiss on her skin. Her breathing was faster now, her pulse as well, he could feel it. She might not be aware herself, but he knew. Her skin was warmer under his lips than it was a second ago.

"The armour isn't complete yet," she told him, looking at him through the reflection of the mirror.

"Oh?"

She smoothly escaped his touch, his fingertips sliding across her lower back as she moved away. She picked up two delicate things from the chest of drawers left open and prompted one of her legs on the bed, under Dream's watchful eye.

"I see," he chuckled lightly. "Greaves."

He drank in the sight of her unrolling the fabric along her leg up to her upper thigh once, then twice, her fingers careful not to scratch the material. They were fragile things, or so he had learnt recently, after accidentally ruining a handful of those, some instances less accidental than others.

Connecting the bustier with the stockings came with somewhat of a struggle. He watched her as she tried and failed to attach the suspenders, her nails sliding against the end.

"Allow me."

Morpheus sat on the bed next to her. Slowly, his hands travelled along her leg, memorising the fabric, the way it felt, the way it glided under his fingertips. He wanted to remember it all, down to the last detail, so he could make a perfect copy of it, back home. One of his hands stopped at the lace at the top of the stocking, while the other reached further, purposefully caressing the skin of her upper thigh to catch the stray suspender. She shivered under his touch, and the temptation to keep going almost overtook him.

His movements were meticulous, precise. Once the suspender attached, Morpheus leant back, giving her space to settle her other leg next to him. All the while, he could feel her eyes upon him, though he only met them once the task was done. She didn't need an armour, nor any weapon for that matter. She could undo him with a single glance.

His lips brushed the skin of her inner thigh, right above the hem of the stocking. Her warmth was inviting, beckoning him to come closer. His mouth opened into a languid kiss, the taste of her skin on his tongue. Her pulse was there, under him, throbbing against his lips. The sigh he heard overhead only encouraged him, but ultimately, reason won.

"You are impossible," she whispered as he looked up. There was a slight mark on her skin where his lips had been. It seemed lonely there. It took all of Dream's resolve not to make another.

"Impossible enough for you to change your evening plans?"

She chuckled, shaking her head gently. At least he had tried. She ran a hand through his hair, her touch as revering as his had been. His own hands had a will of their own, drawing the shape of her hips, stroking her thighs. It became harder, then, to keep his desire at bay, to respect the clear boundaries the Universe had set for them.

"The things I want to do to you," he sighed, his fingertips digging into her flesh.

"Morpheus," she warned softly.

"I want you like this," he continued, his eyes looking into hers, unbothered by the lust she could see in them. "I want to have you like this. I want you above me so I can watch you unravel in this, all of you."

He could feel her body respond to him, leaning closer. Her hand cupped his jaw, her thumb following the line of his lips. He ran his tongue over it, for good measure.

"I want you to come on my tongue, again and again, until your thighs can't hold you up anymore."

Heat radiated from her skin, warming his own. His finger ran the length of one of the suspenders, as though testing its elasticity.

"I want to rip this to shreds and build it up again. For you."

"Later," she whispered, her cheeks flushed, a playful spark burning in her eyes.

A promise. She was ever so good at keeping them. She pulled away, depriving him of her warmth, to go slip on a dress of her choosing.

"Will you be waiting for me tonight, at home?"

"Avidly," he promised, his gaze detailing her thoroughly.

"Should I expect to be wearing any proper clothes at all?"

"Not if I have a say in the matter. Which I do."

"Sounds fair enough."

Morpheus stood up and took her hand, pressing a kiss against it.

"Do enjoy your evening, love of mine."

"My evening? Not my night?" she teased.

"Nights are my domain. Trust me, I will make it nothing but pleasant. You have provided quite the inspiration."

"My pleasure."

"Oh, it shall be."

Send me a smutty prompt? (open for promptmas)

#the sandman #sandman #the sandman netflix #sandman fics #dream x reader #my writing #dream x oc #dream x y/n #morpheus x reader #morpheus x y/n #dream of the endless #morpheus #smut #I GUESS #listen i know this isnt technically smut there WILL BE PROPER SMUT IN THE FUTURE I SWEAR #the visual was just.... too appealing #let's face it morpheus is a visual creature #he created the corinthian that's proof enough #and morpheus looking at LINGERIE #that man also likes fashion so!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THERE TO SAY #the real dilemma here is will he undress you or will he take you with half of your clothes on #if they look real good on ya #also.......... i might to that 12 prompts before christmas thing #i like the idea of that #ANYWAY share thoughts if you have any god knows my mind's reeling from them :'))))))))))

[tickle-my-hyperfocus]

My friend told me to post this tiny SC ficlet so here goes i hope you’ll take my little token of my love for this fandom and all you do for me with the beautiful things you all create.

Tags: supercorp, confession, pining, one-sided., no happy ending in sight sorry

—————

Kara took a deep breath, she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her, her vision darkening around the edges as her chest started feeling tight and she could hear her heart drum in her ears.

“Lena can I talk to you?”

Her own voice sounded weird and foreign, and kind of far away. She couldn’t remember what she had said, what she was going to say, yet she knew it was going to screw things up between them.

But as Lena turned to her and locked eyes with her, concern evident as she seemed to search Kara’s expression for an indication of what was happening, if Kara was ok, if she needed to do something to make sure she was ok, Kara knew it was too late to back out now. She had no choice but to keep talking. Literally, as she realized her mind no longer had control over what was about to come out of her mouth.

So in response to the slight tilt of Lena’s head she spoke, a little too loudly, a little too fast, a little off-kilter.

“Lena I don’t think I can, I need to tell you something, but please don’t hate me, promise me you won’t hate me, I don’t want to lose you please, ever I just —“ Her eyes locked with Lena’s and for a split second the thoughts in her head quieted down, she could breathe, oxygen was flowing to her brain again.

That was until Lena put a hand on her biceps and with a reassuring squeeze invited her to continue, with a softly spoken “Kara?”

Rao the way she said her name, so warm, so quietly, so full of love and Kara just wanted to wrap herself up in the two syllables falling off Lena’s lips and yell into the universe YES, YES I AM KARA. She had never loved her name as much as when Lena spoke it.

Her eyes fell to those lips, those gorgeous, soft lips, just begging to be kissed.

Kara closed her eyes and breathed to steady herself before losing control again and, while begging to please stop, to not say anything, to not risk anything of what they had, she blurted out:

“Lena I think I’m in love with you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, hoping that if she couldn’t see Lena’s expression she wouldn’t have to face the certain revolt, and hurt, and rejection that was certainly painted across her best friend’s face.

Her best friend.

Tears slipped through her lashes and down her cheeks as she realized she had gone and truly screwed everything up. She had lost Lena. She had lost her best friend. She had messed it up as she had messed up every friendship before this. By being too much, too intense, too attached.

Her shoulders tightened as she felt a sob part to build in her chest, burning its way up and making her lips quiver: flashes of their friendship flying through her mind at neck brake speed. Hugs, kisses on cheeks, laughter, Lena’s eyes when she spotted Kara across a room, the smell of Lena’s hair.

But as the first sob shook her body, she felt something.

Two hands cupping her cheeks, thumbs softly wiping away tears, arms pulling her into a hug, lips kissing her hair.

The warm, familiar smell of Lena invaded her senses and felt like a blanket of comfort and safety.

Lena’s breath on her ear and neck as Lena whispered softly into Kara’s hair.

“Don’t cry, shh, it’s ok. I’m here Kara. It’s ok love, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

As Kara relaxed and took a deep shaky breath Lena pulled back to look at her, her hands still holding on to Kara’s shoulders.

“Kara, darling. I love you. I care for you so much. You are my favorite person. So even if I cannot love you back that way, and I wish I could, I really do. But even though I can’t love you the way you want, I would never leave you. I couldn’t bear to lose you. I am so sorry Kara, I am so sorry if I have made you think—. But I hope you can understand it wasn’t intentional, ever. I just- you confuse me. I don’t know how to- I had sworn to never trust anyone ever again, and you barged in and broke through all of my walls with a battering ram. Kara I don’t know how, but I couldn’t stop myself from loving you even if I tried. And believe me, I have tried. But I cannot love you like that. I can’t.”

Kara dropped her eyes and breathed in, composing herself.

“I know, I understand. I’m sorry Lena I shouldn’t have—“ And with that her eyes dart up to Lena’s face, a sad grimace crossing Kara’s before she takes Lena’s hands in hers, removing them from her shoulders, and looking Lena in the eyes. 

“I am sorry I overstepped your boundaries.”

And with a soft squeeze Kara drops Lena’s hands, looking into her eyes one more time before turning on her heel and walking out of the room. The door swings closed behind her.

It isn’t until the click of the lock that Lena realizes she’s gone.

#sc #supercorp #my fic #pining #unrequited love #friends to heartbreak #kara x lena #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl cw

[lestappenforever]

Oh wow, the tags are so full of hate recently even I ran into them despite not really shipping Lestappen. I enjoy Charles content a lot so I stumble into Lestappen posts often and I know some lore. The childhood rivals to friends to something more trope is appealing so I understand the obsession even though all people get are crumbs. here’s a more objective(??), outsider(??) opinion.

People saying Charles only tolerates Max is the other side of the hyperbole. Yes, Charles is polite with everyone, but even I think their relationship is better than just “we tolerate each other because we must, we compete in the same sport so we cannot escape bumping into each other”. Remember when Charles was asked to name 10 drivers he gets along well on the grid, and he also listed Max (even explaining that despite most people believing otherwise, they get along well)? Or just look at the pre-drivers parade videos. Yes, they are surrounded by cameras, but they don’t have mics shoved into their faces so they get to talk more privately. Every time Max and Charles are in the same group of people their joy and interest in what the other has to say seem genuine to me. Hell, every time Max maxplains something post-quali or post-race Charles seems intrigued (he’s the number one after all, ofc Charles would want to hear what the current champion has to say). I’m not saying they are friends, but they aren’t forced to tolerate each other either. And why would they have to pretend to get along? They aren’t team mates! I bet a hate-fuelled rivalry narrative would sell better, yet they don’t bad-mouth each other, even going as far as carefully choosing the wording of what they say about the other so it doesn’t get twisted by the media.

Max speaks with so much respect about Lando, Oscar recently, and that means there’s so much interaction you can compare to how Max talks about Charles. It’s the same respect. As a non-shipper I don’t see Max putting Charles higher than the rest, but he doesn’t piss on him either. Max and Lando are known to be good friends and they hang out outside of racing too. If Max and Charles only tolerate each other because they must, how come Max talks about Charles in interviews with the same enthusiasm he talks about Lando’s skills for example? And then there’s Charles. He’d always pick Pierre, but just because you have a bestie that doesn’t mean you cannot get along with others as well. You don’t have to be friends, but being amicable co-workers in my eyes is more than just being forced to tolerate the other. And Charles really REALLY wants to catch up to Max so the latter will continue to occupy his mind. So why should it be hate when it can also be respect?

(Sorry this got long, but shipping wars keep ruining my fun. Get along folks, yikes.)

Just gonna leave this here, guys, because this non-Lestappen shipper anon speaks the truth. (And I love you, anon.)

I stay out of tags pretty much everywhere because the hate that's always there is just exhausting, and frankly, kind of pathetic. This goes for shipping wars in general.

Shipping is supposed to be fun, guys. Stop taking everything so God damned seriously and personally, and just let people enjoy the ships they enjoy and leave the ones you don't enjoy the fuck alone.

#Asks #Anon #Anon asks #Lestappen asks

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite2023 - Day 14: Clear

"Hey, let's take this neutral-to-positive word and make angst about it." - my brain, apparently. [Spoilers for the very end of ARR patches, although if you have yet to get that far, then this is a WILD tag to be browsing.]

-----------------------------

Keimwyda barely had time to realize her bonds had been cut before a large, powerful hand grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet. It was Raubahn—his eyes intense, burning with rage and grief and adrenaline. He pulled her behind a pillar, putting it between them and the rest of the fighting. 

He spoke as a man who knew he had but an instant to say what he wished to. “I never doubted you. Not for a moment. But there is more to this than I yet understand.” He ducked a quick glance around the pillar and growled a quiet curse at what he saw. He turned back to her, urgent, insistent. “Flee this place. Clear your names. Find the vermin who orchestrated this. Do not stay to fight. GO.”

She barely heard him. Her eyes were riveted, aghast, to the blood pouring from the wound where his arm should be.

Seeing that she was hesitating, he shoved her towards the door. Yda caught her as she staggered. Minfilia locked eyes with her, saying nothing. She just nodded with a terrible solemnity. Y’shtola already had the door open. It was time to go.

Keimwyda still felt as if she was in a daze—but she found her legs, and followed her friends. 

As they ran, Thancred met them. Thank the gods. They were getting out of here.

Yda and Papalymo were the first to peel off, urging the others to run ahead while they bought them some time from their pursuers. Keimwyda could not fathom it. She was the Warrior of Light. She was sent into battles, not away from them. It felt so wrong. It was also terrifying. If the people who so often bade her fight were now telling her to flee, she could not but take it with the utmost seriousness.

It did not make it feel any better to leave behind the very Scions who recruited her.

But the other three were urging her on, Minfilia tugging at her arm. It cut through her confusion just enough. She would trust them. She had to. She kept running.

Further they fled, into the depths of the city, seeking to escape its monumental stone walls by going beneath them. The ancient waterways were not well-known, hopefully even to the traitors. 

And then the sound of footsteps behind them prompted Thancred and Y’shtola to stop.

“Keep going,” Thancred waved at them, trying to still sound cavalier.

“What do you mean to do?” Minfilia asked, sorrowful disbelief in her voice.

Y’shtola’s face was stone. “Only that which is required to ensure that the dawn’s light survive to brighten the morrow.”

Keimwyda’s head fairly swam to leave yet more people behind, but a single thought snapped into clarity through the fog. Of course. Minfilia. They had to get her out of here. Yes, protect Minfilia. Keimwyda would escort her. She would make her own desperate last stand if she needed to. They could not lose the Antecedent.

Not even a full minute after the two remaining Scions had continued their flight, Minfilia suddenly stumbled to a halt. “Hydaelyn,” she breathed.

“What is it?” Keimwyda asked, skidding as she attempted to stop.

Minfilia’s eyes clouded over, looking not entirely unfamiliar to a vision from the Echo. “She speaks to me.”

Keimwyda’s mind raced. Is She going to save us? She remembered Her words about light in the darkness, and the way She had impossibly preserved Her champion from the Ultima Weapon. Maybe all was not lost after all. Maybe She could do something about all this. Keimwyda felt a tenuous spark of hope.

Minfilia kept listening for another few seconds, before gasping an anguished, “No…”

That small hope collapsed into dread.

The Antecedent gave a pained look, and took half a step backwards in the direction from which they had just come. 

Keimwyda’s mind began swimming once more.

“I must remain behind… but you cannot stay with me.”

“No,” she replied, moving towards her. “The others… they are all fighting that you may escape. I can go back. We need you. You are the Antecedent.”

“And you are the Warrior of Light.” Minfilia said firmly, taking another step away, holding up her hand to stop her.

But Keimwyda did not stop. “Which is why I should be staying and fighting! Not you, not anyone else!”

Minfilia shook her head. “Please. You must go on. You are hope—for the Scions and for all the realm.”

“As if you are not?”

“You must escape. It is the only way.”

Keimwyda hardly ever raised her voice, and never at any of the Scions. Not until now. “This isn’t right!” she cried. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

The Hyuran woman looked heartbroken, but did not move. She spoke with a grave, punctuated tone, emphasizing every word. “Keimwyda. I heard Hydaelyn.”

The Warrior of Light could find no reply. She could just stare numbly as the Antecedent turned and ran with purpose straight back towards the danger they were fleeing.

And then she was alone.

Before she could even complete her internal debate about rebelling against Minfilia’s orders, a terrible thunder shook the whole tunnel—a few stones shaking loose from the ceiling nearby, and a devastating crash resounding just around the bend. 

She could not even find the voice to scream.

She could not think. She could barely breathe. What could she do? Where should she even go?

You must escape, her panicked mind managed to remember. That’s right. Minfilia told me…

The Warrior of Light turned and started walking, then jogging, then breaking into a dead sprint as fast as her legs could carry her. She was alone. Tears began to brim in her eyes, burning like fire in the foul air of the waterways. She heard nothing but the sickening squelch of muck under her boots, competing in rhythm with the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Her mind latched onto another voice—Raubahn’s, this time, as if punctuating her footfalls.

Flee this place. Clear your names.

Flee this place. Clear your names.

Flee this place. Clear your names.

Flee this place…

Gods be good. 

There were no names left to clear.

#FFxivWrite #FFxivWrite2023 #ARR spoilers #the bloody banquet FFXIV #raubahn aldynn #minfilia #Keimwyda Sylbdhemwyn #roegadyn wol #The WoL and the terrible horrible no good very bad day

[peregrin-tookish]

Legolas: *kills an oliphant*

Gimli: work smarter not harder!

#lotr #i love these two with everything in me #legolas and gimli #legolas greenleaf #gimli son of gloin #yes i will continue to tag with their full names and you cannot stop me #tolkien

[p-antomime]

ㅤ𔘓 ─ ##. bonten boys with a partner having a baby fever!

ㅤ𔘓 ─ ##. manjiro, haruchiyo, ran, rindou, takeomi, kokonoi, kakucho.

𖦹 content: nicknames, breeding kink, creampie, ofc mention of baby fever, slight degradation, implied cum play, cunnilingus, impregnation, implied overstimulation, praise kink & worship, mating press, orgasm control.

request. | tokyo rev. masterlist!

ㅤ🏷 tagging: @festive @eriskaitto @wakasa-wifey @haruphilia .

❝ Babe... ❞, you called him breathing heavily and feeling his hands squeezing your breasts hard while his mouth was busy biting and molesting your neck.

Your knees were resting on the mattress of the bed below you both, your tired and sweaty body busy riding on the lap of that same man whose hands had already explored every inch of skin present on you, the sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberating through the room and legs trembling from having to support your own weight after long minutes of having him fuck you relentlessly.

❝ Yes, pretty? ❞, he replied moaning against your neck as he felt you tighten around him as soon as your ears caught the nickname he used.

❝ We can... ❞, shame burned inside you and your eyes darted to the flushed and panting face of the man below you, your body suddenly stopping moving up and down, ❝ A ba-mhm, w-wait! ❞, he put his hands on your hips to make you start bouncing on his dick again and your thoughts became completely shuffled.

❝ Oh, don't be distracted by me, keep talking, I'm listening to you, princess ❞, he spoke with eyes fixed on the way your pussy was engulfing him.

❝ Fuck! W-wait, I cannot... ❞, his hands held you still as he continued to pound inside you reveling in the way you could barely formulate your sentences right, ❝ I wanna... a baby-mhm, c-can we? Please? ❞

An amused laugh escaped his lips and the next question made you moan loudly with the tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix and pushing you into another orgasm, ❝ Pretty girl having a baby fever? ❞ and soon after he would continue fucking you harder and harder talking about how he would fuck his babies into you and leave you completely full.

Was there any doubt that he would take full advantage of your baby fever?

ㅤ⋕ HARUCHIYO, RINDOU, manjiro.

In fact, the question of ❝ Can we have a baby? ❞ was precisely what brought the two of you to this situation.

Him with his arms forcing your legs open almost to the limit between comfortable and painful and you taking him deep inside you in a mating press position. His cock coming quickly out of you only to be buried in your heat even deeper and harder than before and you feeling your head getting dizzy with pleasure.

The way your walls were sucking him in deeper and deeper was almost driving him crazy now, it was impossible to cum anywhere but inside you, stuffing you to the brim and then soon after sticking his fingers in your pussy to make sure you had drained every last drop.

❝ You're a cumslut, my cumslut, aren't you? ❞, he whispered close to your ear and grunted as he heard you call his name in the form of a slurred moan, almost a purr, ❝ How long have you dreamed about this, hm? With me giving you my babies and filling you up so well? ❞

You were trying to babble that you wanted his babies, wanted him to fill you completely until you leaked and he needed to fill you again to make sure he had impregnated you completely, but the only things that escaped your lips were moans, whimpers, disconnected words and the name of the only man who was allowed to cum inside you without fear of the consequences of it.

Your legs wraped around his waist and as more minutes passed, the more your hips tried to force themselves up to decrease the small seconds his cock spent outside your cunt. You wanted more. Faster, harder, more pressure, more of anything he could give you or force inside your wet pussy.

❝ Plea-ahn! Gimme... give it to me, p-please, I need it! Need so bad! ❞, you gasped below him as the knot in your belly grew tighter and the arrival of the impregnation was getting closer and closer.

⋕ RAN, MANJIRO, kakucho, takeomi.

His lips kissed your crotch after he had eaten you out until you were about to cum and he had deliberately left you without reaching an orgasm only to hear you whimper in frustration and watch you try to push his face toward your dripping pussy again with your hands tangled in his hair.

And you were facing a baby fever from the last time you two had sex and he had used a condom and your eyes were fixated on how much cum he had thrown into that protection.

You wanted all of it inside you, leaking out of your entrance. You wanted his babies and to try to have them until both of your bodies collapsed from exhaustion. But even then, there was still some shame in asking him for it. What if he refused?

❝ What's bothering you, my pretty little thing? ❞, he asked making a trail of kisses up your neck as his hands held your legs open and his dick began to rub between your wet folds. ❝ Tell me, want me to stop? ❞, you moaned denying with your head.

❝ Can you...❞, you batted your eyelashes innocently, letting hands rest on his hips to pull him closer, ❝ Cum inside, please? ❞, he suddenly raised his eyes to face you and seeing a mischievous smile appear on his lips, your eyes darted to the side shyly, ❝ Wanna have your babies ❞

And he caught your face forcing you to look at him before kissing you and slowly sinking his cock inside your pussy that swallowed him completely. You moaned against his mouth and your eyes rolled up as nails dug into the skin of his lower back.

❝ If you wanted to become my breeding doll to have my babies you should have asked me after, princess ❞

⋕ KAKUCHO, kokonoi, takeomi.

#tokyo revengers smut #mikey smut #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers hcs #tokyo rev headcanons #sanzu smut #sanzu haruchiyo #manjiro sano smut #takeomi hcs #takeomi akashi smut #takeomi smut #ran haitani smut #ran smut #ran headcanons #rindou smut #rindou haitani #rindou headcanons #rindou x reader #kokonoi smut #kokonoi hajime #kakucho smut #kakucho hitto #tw.breeding kink #tw.degradation

[a-second-hand-sorrow]

You Have Bewitched Me, Body and Soul - Chapter 1 (Druig X Reader)

WC: 1975

Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol, kinda old-timey writing 

Summary: Netherfield has been let at last, and the prospect of a wealthy bachelor in town causes a stir in Y/N’s household.

A/N: Ok so here’s the Pride and Prejudice AU! I pumped this out very quickly lmao. It’s mostly just setting up the story at the moment but to everyone who liked this idea I hope you enjoy! The more romantic content will come, I promise.

Tags: @nycvalntyne​ 

Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

The day Ajak heard the news that Netherfield was finally to be rented out to a wealthy bachelor was a riotous day in Longbourn House. As the mother to three girls the prospect of any of them marrying was exciting, perhaps more so to the girls than their mother.

Ajak heard the news after her trip to the market, and she was eager to tell her daughters. She arrived home and quickly set down the items she bought before ringing the bell to summon all her daughters to the parlour.

Sprite was the first to arrive, almost shocking her mother with her speedy appearance. Sprite was the youngest of the girls and always full of energy. She was often playing tricks on her sisters, a trait that Ajak found amusing when Sprite was younger but now wished she’d discouraged.

“What’s going on? You only use the bell for serious things.” Sprite said, taking a seat in one of the plush armchairs in the room.

“I’ll tell you once your sisters arrive, Sprite.” Ajak said, listening for the sound of her other daughters’ footsteps. Quickly Sersi arrived in the parlour, a gentle curiosity painted on her face.

Sersi was the oldest, gentlest, and kindest of the three girls. She had been a model daughter her entire life, and she suspected that Sprite harboured some jealousy towards her as a result. That didn’t stop them from getting along, however it did make some of their interactions a little tense.

“Where’s your sister?” Ajak asked as Sersi took a seat next to Sprite.

“Last I saw Y/N she was leaving for a walk but that was an hour ago.” Sersi said, and Ajak sighed. Her middle daughter Y/N had always marched to the beat of her own drum, and though she was just over twenty years old she had no intention of getting married, much to her mother’s disdain.

The three women made conversation about how their day had been so far and they continued talking until the sound of heavy footsteps coupled with humming met their ears. “Y/N darling is that you?” Ajak called out, the footsteps suddenly stopping.

“Yes mother. Where are you?” Y/N called back, and Ajak let out a small sigh of relief that all of her daughters were finally ready.

“Just in the parlour, would you come join us?” The sound of Y/N’s footsteps resumed until she entered the parlour, the skirts of her dress slightly muddied from her walk.

“Darling you know how I feel when you ruin your dresses like that.” Ajak said, moving her eyes from the hem of Y/N’s dress to her face. Y/N sighed, sitting down next to Sersi.

“I’m sorry mother, but it rained last night and I cannot help that the woods get muddy after rain.” Y/N said, her mother choosing to ignore the comment. Ajak cleared her throat, finally getting to share her news with the girls.

“Girls, the reason I’ve brought you all here is that I have wonderful news.” She said, curiosity piquing amongst her daughters.

“Netherfield is finally being rented out for the season, and by a wealthy bachelor at that!” Y/N was unfazed by the news, Sersi was genuinely curious, and Sprite was over the moon.

“Oh what a season we’re going to have! Have you heard much about him?” Sprite asked, looking at Ajak eagerly.

“The ladies at the market say his name is Mr Kingo, and he has made quite a name for himself as a stage actor in London. He has five thousand a year, girls. He is moving with his brother Phastos, and I believe they are to have a ball tomorrow evening to celebrate their arrival. What wonderful news!” Sprite audibly cheered at the news, Y/N and Sersi briefly locking eyes as Y/N shrugged her shoulders.

“Now we need to make sure you all have suitable dresses for tomorrow night. If not I will run back to the dressmaker’s shop in town and find you something, is that clear?” Ajak said, standing up as the girls all nodded. They took Ajak’s departure as their own cue to leave, Sprite rushing off to her room as Y/N and Sersi walked slower.

“Some part of me does not even want to go out tomorrow, but I know mother will be furious if I don’t.” Y/N said, getting a small laugh from her sister.

“You know she only means well. To her being married is the best thing that can happen to us, and she only wants the best for her children, Y/N.” Sersi said, ever the calming voice of reason.

“As always you are right, Sersi. Maybe you might just find your perfect match tomorrow.” Y/N said, playfully nudging her sister.

“Maybe, my lovely pessimist, you might find yours.”

The day passed quickly and soon the women found themselves at the ball in Meryton, music and chatter filling the hall with noise. Sprite quickly found her place on the dance floor, moving from partner to partner quicker than Ajak would like to see.

Sersi and Y/N stood away from the crowd, and Y/N took a moment to observe her sister. “Sersi, if every man in this room does not end the evening in love with you then I am no judge of beauty.” Y/N said, the white dress making her sister seem almost heavenly.

“Or men.” Sersi replied, causing Y/N to scoff slightly.

“Oh, they are too easy to judge.” Y/N said, a sardonic tone in her voice. Sersi frowned slightly, accepting a glass of champagne from a man with a tray.

“They are not all bad.” Sersi said, her want to keep the peace extremely evident. Y/N rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her champagne.

“Humourless lobcocks in my limited experience.” Y/N said, the edge in her voice causing Sersi to sigh.

“One of these days, Y/N, someone will catch your eye and then you’ll have to watch your tongue.” She said, taking a sip of her drink. Y/N went to respond but her eye was suddenly drawn to the group of people entering the room.

It was a trio, three men who each held a very distinct energy. The man in the middle seemed friendly, his clothes fashionable and his face lit up with a polite smile. The man to his right towered over the others, an air of superiority seeming to emanate from him. The man to his left was the one Y/N’s attention was held most by. He was the shortest of them all but he seemed broody and almost mysterious.

All the dancing and music ceased, with the entire hall turning to stare at the party who had just entered. The shorter man surveyed the hall before glancing over at Y/N, surprised to see her meet his gaze with curiosity.

“We really are quite a way from Grosvenor Square, are we not, Druig?” The tall man said to the shorter, and Y/N finally had a name for this mysterious stranger. Druig. Odd, but it suited him.

As the guests were tended to, Y/N leaned over to Sersi. “Which one of these peacocks is Mr Kingo?” Y/N asked, sneaking glances at the group.

“I believe the one in the middle, and the one to his right is his brother, Phastos.” Sersi said, drawing on the incessant chatter of her mother about the group.

“Right, and the one remaining?” Y/N said, drinking the last drops of her champagne.

“I believe that is Kingo’s close friend, Druig.” Sersi said, her memory of these strangers surprising both her and her sister.

“The poor man looks miserable.” Y/N commented, trying to supress a laugh at how out of place he looked.

“He may be miserable, but he certainly isn’t poor. Mother heard that he has ten thousand a year and owns half of Derbyshire.” Sprite’s voice scared her sisters, who were both shocked at her sudden appearance.

“Grown tired of the dance floor have you, Sprite?” Y/N said playfully, already knowing the answer based on her sister’s flushed face.

“Simply taking a break, that’s all. Where’s mother?” Sprite asked, taking Sersi’s glass and drinking from it, much to Sersei’s disdain.

“I think she’s over there talking with Mr Lucas, who is now coming right our way with the gaggle of city-folk in tow. Brace yourselves, ladies.” Y/N said, clearing her throat as Sprite smoothed her dress. Sersi barely moved as she already looked picturesque.

Mr Lucas smiled at the girls as he stood in front of them. He looked over at Kingo and began speaking. “These are Mrs Bennet’s daughters. Sersi, Y/N and Sprite.” He said, and as soon as Kingo’s gaze met Sersei he was almost entranced.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance.” He said, his words seemingly directed at Sersi alone. She smiled politely at him, a smile that was matched most eagerly by Kingo.

“And may I introduce Mr Druig of Pemberley, in Derbyshire.” Mr Lucas said, almost beaming as he finished his sentence. Druig bowed stiffly in a way that seemed robotic, very clearly displaying his discomfort. Y/N gave him a small smile to try and ease his discomfort, however her smile was not matched at all. His face stayed still, betraying no emotions.

“So how do you like it in Hertfordshire, Mr Kingo?” Sersi asked, the genuineness on her face almost off-putting to Y/N.

“Very much.” He replied, an edge of shyness in his voice that surprised Y/N. Apparently not all rich men were pompous and sure of themselves.

“The library at Netherfield is one of the finest in all of England, so I’ve heard.” Y/N chimed in, drawing a fraction of a look from Druig.

“Yes, I am filled with guilt about it.” Kingo said, both Y/N and Sersi tilting their heads in confusion at his statement.

“I’m not the world’s best reader, I’ve always preferred being outdoors. Not that I cannot read, of course I can read, and not that one cannot read outdoors either.” Kingo was stumbling over his words, and Y/N knew for a fact it was Sersi that had him acting this way.

“I really do wish I read more, but there is always so much more to do.” Sersi said, intervening in a way that almost made Y/N let out a sigh of relief.

“That is precisely what I meant to say. I must say Miss Bennet, you have a way with words.” He said, giving Sersi a brilliant smile as his thanks.

Suddenly their conversation was put on hold by the sound of Sprite’s screaming about the upcoming regiment stationing in the village, a piece of news that was met with an equal level of joy from their mother.

Moving their attention away from the outbursts of their family, Y/N and Sersi moved back to the two men in front of them, only to find Kingo’s hand extended towards Sersi.

“May I have the honour of a dance?” He asked, and Sersi nodded surprisingly quickly, taking his hand and moving to the dance floor. Suddenly it was just Y/N, Kingo’s brother Phastos and Druig, two men who had not said a single word to her all evening.

“Do you dance, Mr Druig?” Y/N asked, partially to foster polite conversation and partially to move his attention away from the chaos being caused by her family.

“Not if I can help it.” He said, the Irish lilt in his voice catching Y/N off guard. She was so caught up in the sound of him speaking that she almost didn’t register his words.

Y/N fell silent quickly, the silence surrounding the three of them uncomfortable in nature. As her eyes wandered she saw Sersi and Kingo dancing, and the clearly smitten look written on Kingo’s face. Sersi appeared composed, but Y/N could tell she was enjoying herself.

At least one member of her family was having a pleasant evening.

#druig #druig x reader #eternals #eternals x reader #barry keoghan

[javier-pena]

Astrid hello!! I've heard tell that you want people to talk to you about Javi G and uh ... I just can't get the image of him driving the two of you somewhere and having to pull over to fuck you in the car because he's so worked up out of my headdd 😌 (feel free to delete if you don't want to/can't answer!! I totally understand!)

- @javisjeanjacket

Hi! Okay, anyway, writing this nearly was the end of me, but I hope it's what you were looking for!

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Rating: it's so explicit that I'm thinking about getting a new identity actually

Summary: the ask says it all, but car s*x

Warnings: fingering | multiple orgasms | spanking | a bit of butt stuff | public sex | masturbation (male) | cum eating

Notes: "i am simply ready to lose my mind. you warned me about this but was i prepared? no." - Dani @javierpcna

***

The leather of the backseat scrapes uncomfortably against your knees, you feel your skin stick to the warm surface. Sweat is forming on your brow, your arms, your legs. Everything is hot and sticky and heavy. Your pants fog up the window in front of you, and the landscape behind it appears murky, despite the late afternoon sun, despite the light dancing over the glistening waves below. If you raise your head slightly, you can even see the next bend in the road.

But you don’t lift your head – you can’t. You press your forehead against the glass, your nails scraping against the rough, leathery surface of the door, while you’re being pushed forward over and over again by precise, well-timed thrusts, by three fingers focused on one spot, three fingers that are your entire world.

I just wanna show you the view.

Javi wasn’t lying when he said that, when he pulled the car over. You are looking at the view, but you aren’t seeing it, not really, not in a way you were meant to be seeing it. Because the minute he stopped the car, his hands were all over you, under your skirt, on your chest – squeezing, holding, teasing. You couldn’t blame him because you had been feeling much the same, had felt an ever-growing itch during his week-long absence, one phone calls and expensive toys hadn’t been able to scratch. And when he had suggested taking you out to dinner after getting back from the airport, you’d been slightly disappointed. Yes, you enjoy the build-up, the tension, the teasing, but tonight you need it hard and fast and dirty.

You hadn’t made it to the restaurant.

Javi was impatient in the car, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, his foot like lead on the gas pedal. The second your hand found his thigh, the muscles tense like steel, he pulled over.

I just wanna show you the view.

The words were slightly slurred, and the next thing you heard was a ripping sound when he tore your panties, tore them right off you, like impatiently unwrapping a gift. He found you hot and wet and wanting, he all but lifted you onto the backseat and here you are now, your skirt pushed up, your backside exposed, your slick dripping down your thighs.

“Baby,” you moan after a particularly rough thrust. You bite your lip when he does it again. “Fuck!” It’s breathless, it’s quiet, it barely scratches the surface of how good he makes you feel.

His other hand lands on the soft flesh of your backside with a crack and you gasp, your forehead knocking against the glass. Your legs tremble as you push yourself back towards him.

“Again,” you groan. “Do it again.”

He does, and the pain turns into searing hot pleasure so intense that when he thrusts his fingers into you next, you come all over them, coating them with your slick, with wet, hot release, trembling, spilling, screaming his name. Through the haze you hear a new sound, you hear how he pulls down his zipper, you even hear his hand pushing aside the fabric of his expensive dress pants, the dark green ones, the ones you love the most, followed by a sigh of relief.

You clench around his fingers at the prospect of his next move, anticipating how he will fill you up, first with his cock, then with his release, and it feels as if you didn’t just come, and maybe you haven’t because when he starts moving his fingers again, you tumble towards another edge at alarming speed.

“Need you--,” you groan through gritted teeth, “--inside, please, God, please, please, Javi, I’ve missed you so much, I’ve missed your …,” you swallow hard, “your cock, please …”

He huffs, and suddenly he’s hovering above you, his fingers on your chin, pulling so your head disconnects from the cooling support of the glass. His palm hovers in front of your face, and without hesitation you lick it, tasting leather and sweat and him. He allows you to suck two fingers into your mouth, to feel their heavy weight on your tongue before he pushes them slightly deeper, making you gag, making you feel full on both ends, before pulling them out. His hand disappears and the wet sounds that follow, mixed with his low grunts are like a heady soundtrack to your own pleasure.

You listen, and imagine his face, his hooded eyes, his reddened cheeks, his curls sticking up in odd places, and suddenly you find yourself yearning for how he looks when he’s fucked out and glowing and sated. You cannot wait to give that to him, so you try to pull yourself off his fingers to turn around, but he stops you with a harsh command.

“Stay!”

You follow his orders and listen to him fucking into his own fist, thinking about how it could be your cunt instead, and he knows you’re thinking it, too, that’s why he teases you like that, that’s why he makes you listen to his pleasure, why he keeps you on the tip of his fingers where he can feel you clench in time with his hand moving over himself.

“Did you think of me?” you ask with the last bit of strength you have left.

A grunt is all you receive as confirmation. But he does pull out his fingers and you tense because you know what’s about to happen.

His hand is so wet, covered in your slick like this that when he grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, he leaves cooling imprints against your hot skin. He slaps you again, does it two times more – grab, slap, grab, slap. You whimper, a pitiful little sound that makes him snarl.

“Harder,” you demand.

This time, your wish remains unheard. Instead, he buries his index finger between your wet folds, then moves it up, leaving a wet trail in its wake, until he reaches a destination you both have only talked about visiting without making the actual trip. But when his wet digit probes it carefully, you want it, want him so much it makes you light-headed, makes you feel fuzzy and high.

His deep voice cuts through the blanket of lust surrounding you. “You’re so tight”, the tip of his finger slips past the firm ring of muscle, “… tight little hole for me to fill.”

He holds you hooked on his finger, like a fish caught, while he continues to stroke himself frantically. You hold your breath, listening to the obscene sounds his hand is making, listening to his pants and moans, and you wish you knew where his eyes are, but you think you can guess. Then something shifts, he shifts, and he’s closer now, also deeper inside of you, while his thumb is buried between your folds again, and your entire body clenches with need.

His thumb finds your clit and it’s over, you come with a scream that echoes around the stuffy car – it might be his name, it might be a curse – but you pull his index finger deeper inside of you as your orgasm rips through you, and he gasps in surprise, deep and desperate. He tries to wait until you’re done, but you won’t stop shaking, your cunt won’t stop fluttering like a butterfly caught in a storm, so he pulls his finger out of you while you’re still coming, making you mewl at the loss.

You feel it, hot and heavy and hard, as he drags his cock through your drenched folds, up until it brushes against where you want him inside of you, but his hot release is already coating your back, your thighs, your over-sensitive center.

You both need to come back down to reality and you need to do it now before someone finds you like this. “We’re gonna be late.”

“Late for what?”

God, his voice! Hearing it after he’s just come makes your legs feel like jelly.

You swallow. “Dinner.”

“Oh, did I forget to specify what kind of dinner?” he teases.

Both of his hands hold you in place as he leans down over your back and drags his tongue over your skin covered in sweat and his own release. When your high giggle turns into a deep moan, he whispers against you.

“I have all I need right here.”

Javi G tag: @badbatches | @darksber | @doin-stuff | @filthybookworm | @for-my-satisfaction | @frannyzooey | @javigutierrez | @karkii | @maziken | @pann-malii | @pedrostories | @raspberrymama | @silksaddle | @skeletonstwins

#the unbearable weight of massive talent #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez #pedro pascal #fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #please forgive me

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours

Content: an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k 

A/N: I actually cannot believe that this is finally being posted over almost a month of working on it!! originally, I was going to make this one long stand alone fic, but once I hit 35k with no end in sight, I decided to split it into two parts so that it would be easier to read for you guys.  I’m hoping to have part 2 posted within a week, so keep an eye out for it!! this fic was partially inspired by this post by @avhrodite​ (thank you miss bailey!!) and can I just say that I had so much fun writing it!! I love road trips!! it makes me so sad that I had to split this fic because there are so many fun music scenes in the next part but those will all come in due time!! I would also like to give a big thank you to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy​ and miss alex @darthstyles​ for putting up with me bouncing ideas off of them and for proof reading for me!! and miss andrea again for editing this stunning header pic!! also everyone I tagged is a wonderful writer and if you’re looking for more to read after reading this then I HIGHLY suggest taking a look through their masterlists. and as always, if you like this fic, please like and reblog it!! and shoot me a message!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by all content creators <3

{masterlist}

also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!

When she was a little girl, Y/N’s grandmother had told her about Murphy’s Law.  Grandma Sarah’s favourite activity was staring at her granddaughter over the kitchen counter, a knife in one hand and half an onion that she’d been cutting in the other, spouting various wisdoms at the young girl, who would often be sitting and peeling vegetables for her.  The old lady had hoped that, after being lectured enough times on life’s difficulties, Y/N might be able to avoid making the same mistakes that she had made in her own time.  She always had a list of advice that she’d cycle through, as if she were a record on a loop.

“Always look both ways before crossing the street.  Your great uncle Albert didn’t, and he never regained full function of his left hand.”

“Beauty fades, but there’s no shelf life on your mind.”

“The grass is always greener on the other side, so stop staring at it, and focus on taking care of your own lawn.”

All of the advice was, by any accounts, useful for anyone to know, especially a young girl.  Of course, sometimes the advice would get a little scrambled after Grandma Sarah had had a few glasses of wine, but even her tipsy thoughts were useful to Y/N in her later years.  To this day, Y/N still sets a glass of water on her nightstand before going out to a bar, and her hungover self is always grateful the next morning.  And Y/N had yet to find anything that smelled as sweet as a vanilla dabbed behind her ears and on her wrists when she runs out of perfume.  However, perhaps the most important piece of advice Grandma Sarah ever gave her came one afternoon when Y/N was eleven years old, and her older cousin Grace was due to get married the next week.

Grandma Sarah had cracked egg after egg into her mixing bowl, always without getting any unwanted pieces of shell in the egg whites, and gave her granddaughter a long look across the kitchen counter.

“When you get married, Y/N,” She had said, voice firm. “Remember Murphy’s Law.  Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.  When Murphy’s Law comes into play, there’s nothing you can do except roll with the punches.”

Eleven year old Y/N had nodded her head seriously, as she always did when her grandmother told her seemingly important things.  The advice, despite its usefulness, however, didn’t stick around in her head, and Murphy’s Law didn’t cross Y/N’s mind for fourteen years.

It takes fourteen years for Y/N, who is standing in front of a flight check-in at LAX, two large suitcases next to her, one of which contains two gold wedding bands, passport in hand, and a distressed look on her face, to remember the law her grandmother had once told her about.

“When you get married, Y/N…anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.”

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Y/N pushes the echoing words of her grandmother out of her head. “I’m sorry, just—” She gives a pained smile to the lady working the check in. “Can you explain that to me again, please?”

The lady also takes a deep breath, the smile on her ruby tinted lips just as pained as Y/N’s. “There’s a storm system moving through Utah and Colorado.  These systems have the potential to become tornadoes, and because of that, the conditions for flying are too dangerous right now, so all flights through that area are grounded until further notice.”

“So my flight is cancelled?” Y/N holds up the ticket in her hand that’s stamped with LAX – JFK. “This flight, this flight to New York, which is nowhere near Utah—that’s cancelled?”

The check-in lady, whose name tag reads Brynn, gives another tight smile. “Yes, ma’am.  It’s cancelled.”

“Okay, no, I’m sorry, Brynn, but that doesn’t work for me.” Y/N shakes her head fiercely as the manic rush of emotions through her begins to set in.  The denial, she finds, keeps the oncoming panic at bay, and so she decides to focus on that to ground herself. “My best friend is getting married in the Catskills in one week.” Y/N holds up one finger, as if her words are hard for Brynn to understand. “That’s one week from today.  I’m the maid of honour.  I have to be there to help organize, keep her calm, and make sure she actually makes it down the aisle, because—between you and me—she’s got some commitment issues—” The more Y/N speaks, the more her panic begins to spill out in her words, like a dam with a leak that’s about to burst. “And she forgot the goddamn wedding rings, so I have those too, and I just—I really need to get to New York, like, now. Right now.”

Y/N finally pauses to take a sharp breath, and Brynn, who had been waiting for her to finish, speaks again, her voice flatter than before.

“I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am, but as I said, all flights are grounded right now.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, Y/N takes another deep breath.  Roll with the punches, her grandmother had told her.  What else is there to do? “Okay.” Y/N is careful to keep her voice in check when she speaks again. “Alright.  Do you know when they’ll be ungrounded?”

“As I’ve said,” Brynn’s smile is more of a grimace now, and Y/N knows that she’s treading on thin ice. “All flights are grounded until further notice.  We’re not sure when we’ll be able to open them again.  It could be a day, or it could be five.  If you’d like, I can put you down on a list to be called when flights are available again, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

“Let’s do that, then.” Y/N relents in a tired voice, already making plans to pick up a coffee on her way back to her apartment.  In the back of her mind, she begins to wonder if she has any Baileys Irish cream liqueur left in her kitchen cabinet—and if 8:30 A.M. is too early to be drinking Baileys with her coffee.

…

It takes Y/N two cups of coffee with Baileys (it had been 10 A.M. by the time she arrived home, thanks to L.A. traffic, and she had decided that 10 A.M. was a fine time to drink when one’s flight gets cancelled indefinitely) to work up the courage to call Jo and tell her that she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to make it to the wedding.

Josephine Waters, or Jo to anyone who doesn’t want to get punched in the arm, has been Y/N’s best friend since the girls were five years old.  They became fast friends on the first day of kindergarten, as Jo liked how Y/N could already colour inside the lines, and Y/N liked how Jo tackled a boy who tugged on Y/N’s pigtails.  From the very beginning, the two were a perfect match for each other; where Y/N was reserved, Jo was wild.  Where Jo was disorganized, Y/N was focused.  Each girl balanced the other in the most natural way, and it’s this fact that Y/N and Jo credit for the two of them staying friends for twenty years. As they grew up together, they grew together, taking the very best traits from the other and using it to help themselves develop.  Y/N had been the first person that Jo came out to, confessing to her best friend during an eighth grade sleepover in a quiet and nervous voice.  To Jo’s pleasure, Y/N had been completely supportive, and returned the favour from the first day of kindergarten by punching a boy in the nose for calling Jo a homophobic slur.  Jo helped Y/N through her parent’s divorce.  Y/N helped Jo manage her ADHD.  Jo talked Y/N through discovering her bisexuality in university. Y/N answered every 3 A.M. phone call to comfort Jo after a panic attack.  In every sense of the word, the two girls had been there for each other.

And now Y/N is going to miss Jo’s wedding.

The harsh realization digs a pit in her stomach as she opens her phone and clicks on Jo’s name.  It’s noon in L.A., which means it’s 3 P.M. in New York time, and Y/N knows Jo will answer.  She always does.

Sure enough, after three short rings, Jo’s voice chirps through the phone. “Hey, Y/N!  Has your flight landed already?”

“No, there’s—there’s been an issue.” Y/N downs another gulp of her coffee, wishing she had added more Baileys when she had the chance, and clears her throat before continuing. “There’s, um, a storm in Utah, and apparently it’s bad, and so all flights from L.A. to New York are grounded until further notice.”

Jo makes a scoffing noise, and Y/N can practically picture the indignant look on her face that she’s seen so many times before. “That’s ridiculous.  Did you tell them that New York is nowhere near Utah?”

“Uh huh.”

“What about that my wedding is in one week?”

“I told them that, too. Brynn didn’t seem to care.”

“Bitch.” Jo mutters under her breath. “Okay, just wait a second, Laure just walked through the door, so I’m putting you on speakerphone—”

Y/N hears rustling on the speaker, as well as muttering in the background as Jo speaks to her fiancée, and then Jo’s voice is back, sounding slightly more distant.

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

“That’s awful, Y/N.” Laure’s voice is laced with stress, and Y/N can only imagine how much anxiety this information is adding to her already full plate. “They won’t tell you when flights will be leaving again?”

“Nope.” Y/N pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her free arm around them, leaning her head against the back of her couch.

“Okay, well, planes aren’t the only way to get here.” Laure says, always the more rational out of the two. “Maybe a car—?”

“Y/N doesn’t have one.” Jo chimes in, a hint of teasing in her voice, despite the serious problem that’s in discussion. “She’s scared of driving—”

Y/N sits up, an indignant look on her face. “I’m not scared of driving!” She says hotly, setting her empty coffee mug on the table with a thud. “I just hate L.A. traffic, and honestly, there’s no point!  I can walk to work, and Uber anywhere else I need to go!  A car would be completely useless to me!”

“Except now, when you’re about to miss your best friend’s wedding.” Jo points out. “What about renting one?”

Y/N sighs, her moment of indignation already fizzled out. “I tried that already.  There’s nothing available for a cross country trip.”

“And the drive is so long.” Laure murmurs, and Y/N knows it’s more for Jo’s benefit than hers. “It’s over forty hours.  She can’t do that by herself; it’s not safe.”

“But—”

“Look, Jo, don’t worry about this, alright?” Y/N cuts across her best friend’s anxious voice, assuming her usual role of protector. “I’ll figure this out.  I promise you; I will make it to your wedding on time, looking pretty in my dress, and with your wedding bands.  I promise.”

“We’ll keep thinking about it and see what we can come up with.” Laure promises through the phone, her voice sounding further and further away. “This is just—it’s a bump in the road, but it’s fine.  We can work around this.  We’ll find a way.”

…

The way that Laure finds for Y/N pounds on her door at 7:30 A.M. the next morning.

Y/N, like any exhausted and stressed out adult who has already begun her ten days of vacation time that she booked off for the wedding, is fast asleep in her bed when she hears the knocking.  The loud noise pulls her out from her dreams abruptly, and she cracks one eye open, squinting through the sunlight that’s lighting up her room.  When the knock echoes through her apartment again, she pulls herself from her sheets with a groan, grabbing her robe from the back of her door and tying it around herself as she makes her way to the front hallway to yell at whoever has the audacity to wake her up.

When she opens the door, Harry Styles is peering down at her with an irritated look on his face.

“Took you long enough, Y/N.” He rolls his eyes as he speaks, finally stepping back from the door that he had been pounding on a moment ago. “Are you ready to go?”

Y/N rubs her eyes, suppressing a yawn as she does so. “Styles, I have no idea what you’re talking about.  What are you doing here?” She demands.  She doesn’t have the energy to deal with him right now, she thinks, let alone the mental capacity to listen to anything he has to say.

Harry crosses his arms across his chest, and it’s then that Y/N notices the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder. “It’s a forty-two hour drive from L.A. to the Catskills.” Harry’s eyes scan over Y/N’s appearance, the very corner of his strawberry pink lips twitching, and Y/N tightens her robe around herself with a glare.

“A drive?” Y/N asks, uncertainty growing in her voice as she crosses her arm over her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Your flight was cancelled, right?” Harry’s voice grows more impatient as Y/N’s half asleep brain struggles to piece together what’s happening. “So was mine, so I decided to drive to the wedding, and then Laure called me last night, begging me to take you with me.” He shrugs a bit, fixing his sunglasses on top of his head as his jade eyes scan over her appearance one more time. “Not my first choice of road trip partner, but I don’t think the best man can say no to bringing the maid of honour.  And splitting the cost of gas will be nice.”

“Okay, wait, I…” Y/N’s finally coming out of her fog of exhaustion, and the newfound clarity of her mind is causing a newfound pit to develop in her stomach. “Laure and Jo didn’t tell me any of this.”

“Well, I expect they’re a bit busy, given that they’re getting married in a week.” Harry adjusts the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder with a sharp sigh. “Look, are you ready to go or not?  It’s over a five day drive, so we need to leave as soon as possible.”

“I—yeah—” Y/N nods before taking a hesitant step back from the doorway, positioning herself to the side so that Harry can get by her. “I just have to get dressed and grab a couple last minute things, so…come in, I guess.”

Harry flashes an insincere smile to Y/N as he steps into her apartment, his eyes darting around at the furniture and home decor.  Y/N watches as his gaze lingers on her library of books, her yellow bicycle leaning against the wall, and every other little touch of herself that she likes her home to have, and she can see the judgement that’s clearly apparent in his eyes.

“You can sit, if you want.” She mutters, turning on her heel to go back to her bedroom. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

The first thing Y/N does when she shuts her bedroom door behind herself is assess the situation in the analytical way that usually calms her.  Alright.  So a road trip across the country isn’t exactly ideal, and a road trip across the country with Harry Styles is even less ideal.  But, at the present moment, being stuck in a car with Harry seems to be the only sure way that she’ll be able to make it to Jo’s wedding on time. And for Jo, Y/N would put up with anything.  Even Harry.

As she rummages through her drawers for some leggings and a tank top, Y/N wonders what she could have possibly done to bring this much bad karma into her life.  While she gets dressed, her mind flickers back to Murphy’s Law, how everything that can go wrong will go wrong, in the worst possible way, and then she thinks about being in a confined space with Harry for five days, and—yeah.  That seems to be the worst possible thing she can think of.

Y/N remembers the first moment she’d met Harry seven years ago, and the unfortunate circumstances under which that meeting had happened.  Jo and Laure had just barely met back then, and Jo had begged Y/N to come out on a double date with her and “this really hot girl from my women studies class who I’m, like, 83% sure swings my way.”

Y/N had groaned at that comment, flopping back on her bed in the tiny dorm that she and Jo shared. “No! I have an essay due in three days that I haven’t even started!”

Jo rolled her eyes as she flopped down on Y/N’s bed as well, ignoring her own half-made bunk that was across the small room, favouring her best friend’s bed like she always did. “We both know you’re not starting that essay until the day before it’s due, and that it’s just an excuse because you don’t want to go!”

“I don’t want to go.” Y/N had agreed with a sharp and fervent nod.  She shut her laptop and pushed it to the side of her bed, knowing from experience that she wasn’t going to be able to focus and argue at the same time. “Why would I want to hang out with a complete stranger while you make googly eyes at a girl from your class?”

“Okay, first, I don’t make googly eyes.” Jo made a face at that comment, nudging Y/N’s calf with her own foot. “And second, he’s her best friend from high school, and he’s coming to visit all the way from London!”

“So?  He’s still a stranger!” Y/N pointed out, her eyes drifting to the sticky note covered novel beside her.  She picks it up and begins to flip through the marked pages as she speaks. “Knowing where he’s from doesn’t change that!”

“It should, because he’s only going to be here for a week, and Laure almost cancelled the date because she doesn’t want to miss spending time with him—” Jo grabbed one of Y/N’s pillows and tossed it at her arm, knocking the book from her hands. “Focus! So I said that he could come, but she said that she didn’t want him to be left out, so I said that I happen to have an incredibly beautiful and witty best friend who would be able to entertain Harry while we all hang out together.”

Y/N inhaled deeply as she gave Jo a withering look. “Did you already tell her I’m going?”

Jo, in return, gave Y/N her most dazzling smile. “Yes.  We’re meeting them for dinner at 7.”

Y/N shakes herself from her memories as she runs to her bathroom to toss her toiletries back into the bag she’d taken them out of the day before, working as quickly as she can. It does her no good to think of Harry in the past, she thinks, because the present Harry is currently sitting in her living room, probably snooping through her stuff, and the longer she takes to get ready to go, the more he’ll go through.  Not that there’s anything incriminating in her apartment, really—or at least, nothing incriminating in her living room.  When Y/N makes it back to her bedroom, however, to quickly zip up her suitcase, she does make sure she grabs her favourite vibrator from the box under her bed, tucking it between her half-folded underwear.  If she’s going to be gone for a week, she’ll need something to help her relax.

Within a few more minutes, Y/N is repacked and ready to go.  Her hunter green bridesmaid dress is carefully arranged on the very top of her clothes in her suitcase, all of her makeup and toiletries are packed inside, and Jo and Laure’s wedding rings are secured in little velvet boxes stashed between her socks.  As far as physical preparedness goes, Y/N is ready to go on a coast to coast road trip. As far as mental preparedness goes, however…that’s the thing that Y/N’s not quite sure about.

…

“What are you doing?”

Y/N glances at Harry from the corner of her eye, her hand still half stretched out to the radio dials in his car.  Although Harry’s green eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses, and his face is turned towards the long road in front of them, he still somehow manages to catch her motions, and it irritates her to no end.

“I’m changing the radio station?” Y/N answers after a moment, giving him a puzzled look. “I don’t know why you listen to this weird oldies station, but—”

“First of all—” Harry’s hands turn the steering wheel slightly to guide his car over the curve of the road, his jaw twitching as a smirk works its way onto his pink lips. “This isn’t a radio station, it’s my Spotify playlist.  I put a Bluetooth connection in Stevie a year ago. Secondly—”

“Stevie?” Y/N repeats incredulously, twisting her whole body as best she can to look at Harry straight on. “You named your car?  You’re one of those guys?”

Harry finally gives Y/N a flicker of a glance, the glare obvious in his eyes even behind his dark sunglasses.  He turns his attention back to the road before replying. “Secondly—” He continues from before, ignoring her comment as his right hand readjusts the gear shift. “Driver picks the music.”

Y/N makes a face, the corners of her lips pulling down into a grimace as she settles back into the passenger seat with her arms crossed. “So we’re just going to listen to ‘Tiny Dancer’ for the entire drive, are we?”

“Not the entire drive, no.” Harry flicks on his turn signal with a ringed hand before shoulder checking to change lanes.  Y/N glances at him, her eyes training on the strained muscles in his neck as Harry continues. “We’ll listen to ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,’ too.”

“Great.” Y/N exhales slowly and presses her head back into the seat’s headrest, closing her eyes as Elton John’s voice continues to float through the speakers. “Really looking forward to it.”

“You know, maybe you should try to sleep.” Harry says, his voice prickled with irritation as Elton John bleeds into The Zombies. “I think you’ll be in a better mood after you take a nap.”

Y/N readjusts her crossed arms as she mutters a short reply. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Still, she shuts her eyes again, twisting her body towards the window in an attempt to get comfortable enough to sleep.  Being in the car with Harry is already giving her a throbbing migraine, and they’ve only been on the road for less than two hours.  Sleeping through most of the trip will probably be the only way she’ll be able to survive it.

Despite that realization, however, her phone vibrates in her lap three minutes later, pulling her away from her thoughts.  Y/N glances down at the now lit screen, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she registers the name on the message.  Opening her phone quickly, she reads over the reply as a guilty feeling begins to build in her stomach.

BRANT: Hey, what are you doing tonight?  Want to grab some dinner?

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” Y/N’s head snaps back up, her eyes jerking in Harry’s direction.  Like before, he’s watching her from the corner of his eye, catching every one of her movements, and the constant surveillance is annoying to no end.

Harry, it seems, is either oblivious to her annoyance, or is choosing to ignore it. “I asked what’s wrong. You have a weird look on your face.” Harry’s blunt words are accompanied by the sound of him tapping his ring covered fingers against the gear shift. “Everything alright?  Is it Laure and Jo?”

“No, it’s just—” Y/N glances down at her phone again, fingers poised over her keyboard as she crafts a reply in her head. “It’s no one.”

Harry snorts once, a short and harsh sound that grates against Y/N’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “I don’t buy that for a second.”

“It’s no one to you.” Y/N updates her retort, turning her full attention back to her phone. “My personal life is none of your business.”

Y/N: I’m sorry, I can’t!! Caught a last minute ride to New York with somebody.  Maybe once I’m back?

“Personal life, huh?” Harry clicks his tongue once, and the childish noise is even more irritating than his snort. “What, you can’t talk to me about whoever you’re shagging?”

The blunt remark hits Y/N like a shot to the chest, and she sputters for a moment as she struggles to form a response. “I—we’re not—” Taking a moment to gather herself and clear her throat quickly, Y/N avoids Harry’s gaze as her cheeks begin to burn. “We’re not like that. We’ve just…had a few dates, that’s all. There’s nothing…official.”

“You don’t need to be official to have a shag, now, do you?” Harry lifts his hand from the gear shift to fix his sunglasses, settling it back down on his jean covered thigh once he’s done. “If you don’t want to date the bloke—”

“I didn’t say that.” Y/N cuts over him, pulling herself from her embarrassment enough to give him a cold glare. “He’s very nice—”

“Boring, you mean—”

“And I—this is none of your business!” Feeling the flush of embarrassment rise back to her cheeks, Y/N once again turns her attention to her passenger seat window, avoiding Harry’s pressing gaze. “I’m done talking about this.”

Harry gives an indifferent shrug. “Whatever.” He says casually, tapping his finger against his thigh as his shoulders once again lift slightly beneath his fitted black t-shirt. “I just feel bad for the guy, that’s all.”

The comment is bait. And the thing is, Y/N knows it’s bait.  She knows that the only reason Harry is saying it is to get under her skin and keep her talking about Brant, further embarrassing herself in the process. She’s been around Harry enough to know how he works, and she knows that the only reason he would say that is to bait her.  She knows she shouldn’t take it.  And yet—

“There’s no reason to feel bad for him.” Y/N scoffs as she fidgets with the position of her seatbelt, trying to stop the strap from cutting into her chest. “We’ve been talking for a month, and there’s nothing official happening.  Just because you can’t go that long without trying to stick your dick in someone—”

“You have no idea what I can do, Y/N.  Don’t pretend that you do.” Harry’s tone of voice is just as scoffing as hers, his eyes still set on the road in front of them intently as he gives his sharp response. Y/N watches as he shifts the gears of the car and speeds up, just enough to make the engine roar, but not enough to lose control of the car.  Part of Y/N wistfully wishes that he would just slip up and crash the car, just so she wouldn’t have to continue this conversation.

“All I meant,” Harry continues, unaware of the dark daydreams running through Y/N’s head. “Is that I feel bad that you’re clearly not interested in him, which is proven by the fact that you haven’t wanted him in your bed.”

Irritation flares through Y/N’s body again, stronger than the embarrassment of discussing her sex life (or lack thereof) with Harry, and she half considers just grabbing the steering wheel and yanking it into a passing cliff so she can finish them off herself. “For Christ’s sake, Harry, sex isn’t the only way to—”

“I don’t mean actually having it, that’s not a given.” Harry rolls his eyes from behind his sunglasses as he slows down for a curve in the road, his practiced hands once again changing gears with ease. “You don’t have to fuck him.  But you should want to, especially if you’ve had a month of dates, and you clearly don’t want to.”

Y/N doesn’t hide the incredulous stare of disbelief on her face as she turns to look at him. Harry’s face, though turned towards the road still, has a look of amusement mixed with contemplation on it, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control not to smack the expression off of him. Although there’s the ghost of a smirk on his strawberry coloured lips, his brow is furrowed behind his sunglasses, as if he’s thinking hard about the conversation between them.  Normally, Y/N would be amazed that Harry is thinking hard about anything.  However, given that their conversation is apparently turning into whether or not she wants to have sex with someone, Y/N’s not too thrilled about his sudden investment and serious contemplation of the topic.

Shaking her head decidedly, Y/N finally spits out a finishing phrase. “You don’t know what I want.” She says decidedly, reaching into the backseat to grab the sweater she stashed back there.  She clumsily pulls it over her body without taking off her seatbelt.  Harry keeps the AC cranked as high as he can, and she knows that he’ll kill her if she tries to change it. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know more than you think.” Harry counters, the tip of his tongue running along his bottom lip. “And I’m pretty good at reading body language.  You don’t really want him.  He—what’s his name?”

Despite her better judgement, Y/N answers in a flat voice. “Brant.”

The corners of Harry’s cherry lip twitches. “Brant.  Yeah. It’s clear you don’t really want him, and you’re wasting your time.  You’re wasting his time, too.  Poor Brant.”

“Poor—you’re such an ass, you know that?” Y/N’s irritation bubbles over as she gives Harry a nasty look, her hand squeezing her thigh hard in an attempt to ground herself in their conversation. “You can try to pretend otherwise, but you don’t know anything about me, or him, so—”

“You think I’ve been friends with Laure and Jo this long and haven’t learned anything about you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, risking a glance at her as he presses a heavier foot onto the gas. “I told you, I know more than you think, and that includes your type.”

An incredulous scoff leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she shakes her head in obvious disbelief before responding. “My type.  Right. What is my type, then?  What’s Brant like, exactly, since you seem to know everything?”

Harry goes quiet then, his brow furrowing again as he returns his full attention to the road.  With his incessant chatter gone, the only sounds in the car being “Maps” playing quietly in the background and Harry’s ringed index and forefinger tap on the steering wheel.  Y/N breathes out a long sigh of satisfaction as she relaxes back in her seat, her attention turned back to the blurred landscapes speeding by her window.  Finally, she’s managed to get Harry to stop with his ridiculous assumptions—

“You like someone that’s stable and secure, so he probably works in some corporation, or an office job. Majored in business, I’d think, but has a minor in something like mathematics.” The side profile of Harry’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the thought. “He wants to work his way up in the company, but never wants to actually start anything on his own.  He likes the stability of a blueprint. You’re obsessed with punctuality, so he’s probably always on time to pick you up for dates—and he has to pick you up, because you don’t drive—and your dates are never really dates. Dinners, or movies, or something like that, but they never really have that spark.” Harry’s shoulder lift slightly as he continues to make his conclusions. “Which, honestly, is probably a big reason in why you don’t want to fuck him, because as much as you like stability and safety, you also like the idea of a grand gesture, or something like that.  And you probably split the bill a lot at dinner, right?  Because it just seems fair, but really it’s because you know it’s not a real date.  But it passes the time, and he’s nice, so it’s fine.  But it’s only fine.” Harry licks his lips once more as he collects his next thoughts, his teeth catching his bottom lip just barely as his tongue retreats back into his mouth. “And he’s probably already talking about you coming to meet his family for some holiday.  Not in a romantic way, but just because he likes to plan everything in advance to every minute detail.  Just like you.”

Halfway through Harry’s speech, a flush had begun to creep up Y/N’s neck, continuing to warm her jaw and ears before settling on the apples of her cheeks.  She keeps her eyes trained on her window and her mouth pressed into a tight line, refusing to look at Harry and give him any hint of just how shocked she is that he’s guessed so much.

Harry, however, doesn’t plan on letting her get away from his inquisition. “Well?” He impatiently prompts after a moment, and even though she’s not looking at him, she can feel him looking at her, his emerald irises burning into the back of her head. “Am I right?”

“I—” Y/N clears her throat quickly, but her voice is still strained and tight when she replies. “No.”

Harry hums low in his throat, and his voice is laced with curiosity with he replies. “Really?” The irritating tap of his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music continues. “What did I get wrong?”

“He—” Y/N hates the way her skin is burning from his interrogation, how her voice shrinks smaller and smaller the more she speaks.  If Harry knows her so well, then he knows how much she loves being in control, and in this situation, with Harry managing to pull every one of her most secret inner thoughts and feelings out of her without trouble, she feels anything but in control. “He has a minor in accounting, not mathematics.”

The laugh that leaves Harry’s mouth is loud and bombastic, and his whole body curves over the steering wheel as the sound rolls out of him, his eyes just barely managing to stay on the road while his sunglasses slide down his nose. “Right.” Harry says between belly laughs, his voice stretched out in amusement. “But everything else was spot on?”

Y/N keeps her stiff body turned towards the window, refusing to engage in the conversation any further. That doesn’t stop Harry, however, who fixes his sunglasses as chuckles continue to roll out of him.

“I take it back. Maybe he’s the one wasting your time.” His hand runs through his hair lazily, fixing the curled strands that had fallen into his eyes as he laughed. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to sleep with your bore of a boyfriend—”

“He’s stable!” Y/N breaks her silence to protest Harry’s words, her voice heated. “And he’s not my boyfriend.  We’ve been seeing each other, but we’re not—it’s not exclusive, or—nothing serious—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.  It’s fine.” Harry waves off her arguments with a flick of his tattooed hand. “Besides, like you said, it’s none of my business, right?”

Y/N can practically picture what Harry looks like in this moment.  His chestnut curls are probably a mess from fidgeting with them, and his cheeks are most likely rosy beneath his stubble from the peels of laughter that left his equally red lips a moment ago.  Most infuriatingly of all, his dimples are probably present, making little indentations in his cheeks to show how entertaining he’s found embarrassing her. Bastard, she thinks, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dig into her palms, pressing them into her sides beneath her makeshift blanket.

She refuses to let herself confirm if her suspicions about Harry’s appearance are correct, and instead keeps her gaze on the blurred trees whipping by outside her window. “Right.” She mutters, leaning her head against the headrest as she closes her eyes. “It’s none of your business.”

…

As soon as the paint-peeled door to the motel room swings open, Y/N knows that she’s not going to be sleeping soundly tonight.

She’s not sure what her first hint should have been.  Perhaps it was the half-flickering blue and red light of the Motel 6 sign that should have tipped her off, or the front-desk attendant who looked as though he was hiding a few secrets himself.  When Y/N and Harry had first approached the front desk of the tiny, vaguely mildew-smelling lobby, their clothes rumpled from the drive and their attitudes just as bothered, the employee in the Motel 6 uniform had barely raised an eye at them, not bothering to look up from his computer until Y/N and Harry were directly in front of him.

“Hi.” Harry had said, his voice taking on a cautious but polite tone that, Y/N remembers thinking, she would have appreciated hearing throughout their eight hour drive that day. “We’d like two rooms, please—”

“Here.” The attendant’s gum snapped in his mouth as he reached behind himself and grabbed an old key with a flimsy blue plastic tag from a wall of empty pegs. “Queen sized bed, the first door on the left.  It’ll do you two nicely.”

“Um, no.” Harry cleared his throat loudly as he gave a slight shake of his head. “We need two rooms.”

Finally, the attendant looked towards them, his eyes scanning Harry before Y/N.  The latter had self consciously pulled her sweater around her, as there was something in the attendant’s eyes that had bothered her. “Don’t have two rooms.  I got one room left.  Everything else is booked.”

Harry had glanced at Y/N then, and she knew that his thoughts mirrored hers: there was no way that they’d share a queen bed together.  No way in hell.  They’d barely survived eight hours in the same cramped car without one of them driving them off a cliff.  If Y/N had to share a bed with Harry, even for just one night, she’d probably end up smothering him in his sleep before the first snore left his obnoxious mouth.

“That’s really not an option.” Y/N had stepped forward then, crossing her arms around herself as the attendant’s eyes canvassed her again. “Isn’t there something—”

“Look, lady, I’m telling you what’s available.” The attendant’s eyes continued to flicker between her face and her chest, making Y/N’s skin crawl more and more with every word that fell from his gum-filled mouth. “The room might have a pull out chair—some do, but I couldn’t tell you which.  Now do you want to share the room with him or not?  If you don’t want to share, then I could try to find something else for just you—”

Before Y/N had the opportunity to respond to the lewd suggestion, Harry was already stepping forward, his body angling protectively in front of her own.  She watched from behind as his broad shoulders squared beneath his black t-shirt, his shoulder blades flexing as he straightened up to his full height.  When Harry answered, his voice was just as firm as it was dark, lacking its previous polite tone.

“We’ll take the room.” He had said coldly, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet before tossing a few bills on the front desk. “Thanks for the help.”

Yes, Y/N thinks, all of that should have been a sign for the state of the motel room that they now find themselves standing inside.

The same mildew smell from the lobby surrounds them, permeating through every inch of air that Y/N breathes in. Dust seems to coat every surface as well, with thick layers of it covering the decades old TV and stand, the small coffee table, and the ledge of the window to her right.  To her relief, there is a small arm chair in the corner, which must be the pull out that the attendant had mentioned.  However, her relief is short lived when she sees the ratty beige comforter on the bed, and wonders if maybe sleeping in Harry’s car, which she had sworn to him that she didn’t want to do, might have been the better choice.

Harry shuts the door behind them with a firm thud, turning the deadbolt lock before attaching the chain from the door to the door frame. “Let’s keep that locked, yeah?” He mutters, walking to the window and making sure the beige curtains—everything in the room is a sea of beige, like some sort of khaki coloured nightmare—are pulled closed tightly. “I don’t trust that front-desk prick not to sneak in here.”

Y/N nods, fixing the strap of her duffel bag with her overnight clothes on her shoulder.  She’s not quite sure where to set it down, as everything around them seems to have been sitting stagnant and uncleaned for a while. “Yeah. Thanks, by the way.  For that.”

Harry acknowledges her thanks with a small grunt, barely lifting his head to look at her. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Despite her gratitude for his actions, Y/N can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at his gruff response. “Jesus, can you not just say you’re welcome?”

Harry chooses to ignore her comment, and instead sets his bag down on the arm chair, unzipping it roughly. “You can take the bed.” He says simply, tossing his sunglasses into his bag before pulling out a small bag filled with what Y/N assumes are toiletries. “I’ll take the pullout.”

“Fine.” Y/N reluctantly sets her own bag down on the creaking bed, pulling back the covers to check for anything unsightly.  To her relief, the interior of the bed looks cleaner than the exterior, and she returns the covers to their previous position before grabbing her phone charger from her duffel.

Harry glances at her as she gingerly sits on the bed and plugs her phone into the wall. “I’m going to shower.” He says slowly, as if gauging her reaction to the simple phrase. “Do you, um, need in there, or—?”

“Nope.” Y/N shakes her head, her cheeks flushing slightly as she checks her messages. “You’re good.” She keeps her eyes glued to her phone until she hears the click of the bathroom door behind Harry, signalling that she’s alone.

Taking advantage of what she knows will be a rare moment of solitude over the next week, Y/N changes from her tank top and leggings into her pajamas, wishing that her past self had realized how likely it would be that she’d be sharing a room with Harry. She’d brought exactly two pairs of pajamas with her on the trip, and neither pairs were something she wanted Harry to see her in.  The first pair, a baby pink silk set she’d bought on a whim from her favourite lingerie shop, is eliminated before Y/N even considers them, leaving her with just her usual casual pajamas.  Unfortunately, Y/N’s usual casual pajamas consist of an old sports bra that she’d had since moving to L.A., and a pair of men’s boxers that she stole from an ex in college.  Still, despite her hesitancy, she knows that plaid boxers and a faded grey sports bra are better than pink silk and lace, and she changes into them quickly before sitting cross-legged on the bed and dialing Jo’s number.

Jo, like she usually does, answers on the third ring, her voice extra chipper to compensate for the verbal lecture that she knows is coming. “Hey, Y/N!  How was driving today?”

“It would have been better if I’d known Harry was driving.” Y/N sighs, rubbing her palm over the cold skin of her exposed thigh. “Shouldn’t I have been informed of that decision?”

“It completely slipped my mind, actually.” Jo says casually, and Y/N can just picture her leaning her chin into her palm. “How was the first day?  Are you calling to ask me to help bury his body in the desert?  Because, like, you know I would in a heart beat, but I think it may put a damper on mine and Laure’s nuptials if my best friend murders her best friend.”

“No one’s been murdered. Yet.” Y/N glances at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower echoing through the vents and into the bedroom. “Although a ‘help me hide the body’ phone call may be coming soon.”

“Uh oh.” Y/N hears something crackling against the speaker, and pictures Jo shifting the phone from one ear to the other. “Is it that bad?”

Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose as she contemplates the easiest way to answer Jo’s question. “He’s such an irritating ass.  He really is.” She lowers her voice, but only slightly.  If Harry’s eavesdropping, she thinks, then let him hear.  It would serve him right. “He wanted to pick a fight over every little thing, and he’s so particular about his car—did you know he named it?  He named it, Jo.  He talks about it like it’s a person!”

A loud sigh echoes through the speaker. “That’s really not that weird, you know.” Jo replies in her best peace keeping voice. “And, by the way, did you know that you’re really the only person who finds Harry irritating?  Laure adores him, and I really like him, and everyone who meets him thinks he’s very thoughtful!”

“Then they haven’t been trapped in a car with him and his playlists for eight hours.” Y/N begins to tap her fingers against her knee in a quick staccato pattern. “He practically interrogated me about Brant today, as if he has any clue about the people I date.”

“Did he?” There’s a trace of curiosity in Jo’s voice now, and Y/N can imagine her leaning forward in interest. “What did he say?”

“He said he thinks he’s boring.” Twisting a lock of her hair behind her ear as she speaks, Y/N leaves her hand resting against her cheek. “He was rude about it, too.  I didn’t ask for his opinion.”

“Well, honestly, Y/N…” Jo’s curiosity twists into hesitation. “Brant isn’t exactly the most thrilling person.  You know that.”

Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks flushing for what seems to be the millionth time that day. “I’m aware of that.  But he didn’t need to be so smug about it!”

“Okay, well, what’s done is done.” Jo says as she takes on her mediator persona once again. “So there’s nothing else to do now except go to sleep, get back in the car tomorrow, and continue driving.”

The sound of the shower stream cuts off, leaving just the pitter patter of rain beginning to hit the roof of the motel as ambiant noise. “I guess.” Y/N mumbles, fidgeting with the waistband of her bra. “I’ll talk to you later.  Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

After the line clicks dead, Y/N flops back on the squeaking mattress and begins to scroll through her phone, opening her work email to check if everything is running okay back home while she’s gone.  On top of all this, the last thing she needs is for her work to completely blow up in her absence.  Within minutes, Y/N becomes so engrossed in her phone that she doesn’t even notice the bathroom door creaking open and Harry walking out with just a towel around his waist.

Until she looks up, and then her mind goes completely blank.

Immediately, Y/N feels overstimulated.  There’s just…so much going on that she doesn’t even know where to look first, let alone have the ability to remind herself that she shouldn’t even be looking at Harry like this in the first place.  

Harry’s curls are soaking wet, curling down around his flushed cheeks in a way that, if it were anyone else, she’d immediately describe as attractive.  Droplets of water are clinging to every inch of his skin, his toned and tanned and tattooed skin, that seems to continue forever as her eyes travel down his bare chest, noticing every curve of his muscle.  His jade cross, which is almost the exact shade of his eyes, sits between his pronounced pectoral muscles, moving ever so slightly with each step he takes.  Y/N notices tattoos she’s never seen before, like the giant butterfly across his toned stomach, and—her mind goes blank for just a moment—two vines that are tattooed over his prominent pelvic muscles, which just barely dip beneath the white towel that’s wrapped loosely around his hips.

As Y/N’s eyes glue themselves to the way Harry’s towel is moving as he walks, arousal begins to pool in her stomach, travelling all the way down to her core and back again.  For a split second, she thinks that maybe Harry is right.  Maybe she doesn’t want to fuck Brant, because she knows for certain that she’s never thought about him the way she’s thinking about Harry in this moment.

But it’s Harry, she reminds herself, as she tries to force herself to snap her gaping mouth closed. Underneath all those muscles and tattoos—and there are a lot of muscles and tattoos—it’s Harry, who annoys her to no end, who is one of the most self-absorbed individuals she’s ever met, and who has had it out for her since the day they met.

“Sorry.” Harry’s low accent snaps Y/N from her thoughts and pulls her wandering eyes back to his face. “Forgot my clothes out here.”

“It’s—” Y/N’s voice cracks in the middle of the word, still hyper-focused on just how it’s possible for one person to be as attractive as they are irritating, and she clears her throat before trying to speak again. “It’s fine.”

If Harry notices the slip in Y/N’s voice, he doesn’t say anything.  Instead, he just walks to his open bag, locking one hand firmly over his towel as the other searches through his clothes.  He pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, examining them for just a moment before nodding in satisfaction and heading back to the bathroom. Y/N almost swears that she sees him glance at her one last time before he shuts the door, but then she gets lost in the taut muscles of his back, and forgets what she’s thinking entirely.

She’s only just begun to contemplate that maybe she should pull herself together when the door opens again, and Harry exits the bathroom in a way that’s a little more presentable.  His hair is still damp, but his body is dry, proven by the faded Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s now clinging to his arms and the boxers that are hanging low on his hips. His tattooed hips.  His incredibly sexy tattooed hips that could probably—

“What are you wearing?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow at her as he moves his bag from the chair to the ground.  He begins to unfold the bed from the armchair cushions to reveal a creaking twin bed, carefully stretching it out as he waits for an answer.

“I—pajamas.” Y/N glances down at herself self consciously, fixing the strap of her sports bra as she does so. “I just—I didn’t think we’d be sharing a room, so…”

Harry nods tersely as he finishes setting up the bed, his expression unreadable while he walks to the closet and grabs a set of sheets and a blanket. “Cute boxers.” He says casually. “Are they Brant’s?”

Within a flash, the intense rush of attraction and desire Y/N had been feeling is gone, and is instead replaced by the familiar irritation as she watches a smirk grow in the very corner of Harry’s mouth. “No.” She says flatly, turning her attention back to her phone.

“Interesting.” Harry says slowly, laying the sheets and blanket on the bed in a haphazard manner. “Whose are they, then?”

Y/N gets up from the bed and grabs her toiletry bag from her duffel before answering. “An ex.” She says shortly, tucking the patterned bag under her arm. “And why does it matter to you?”

The sound of the rain against the roof and windows gets louder and louder as they speak, and Harry raises his voice to be heard over the precipitation. “It doesn’t.” He shrugs as he maneuvers his lanky body under the blanket without causing the bed to fold in on itself. “Just curious, that’s all.”

“Well, you don’t need to be curious.” Y/N opens the bathroom door, sparing one last withering glance at Harry over her shoulder.  He’s sitting up on the bed with one leg hanging out from beneath the covers as one hand plays with his hair, the other fiddles with a ring on his finger, and the way he looks at her from the corner of his eye lights a fire in Y/N’s chest.  Except she can’t tell if it’s a fire of anger or arousal.  

When she slams the door behind her, it’s her own confusion over that distinction that frustrates her more than anything else.

…

“Took you long enough.” Harry scoffs while leaning against the side of his car, his white t-shirt a contrast to the dust covered body of the black Chevy Impala.  His dark sunglasses are perched on top of his head, keeping his unruly curls out of his eyes, while his arms are crossed over his chest impatiently as he waits for an answer. “I dropped off the keys ten minutes ago.”

By way of explanation, Y/N holds up the cardboard drink tray in her hands, a brown bag balancing in between the two coffee cups. “I was getting us breakfast, Styles.  Calm down.” She walks to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and climbing in one handed. “I figured you’d be even crabbier hungry.”

“You mean you’d be crabbier without caffeine.” Harry retorts, climbing into the driver’s side in one smooth motion. “Here—” He takes the tray from her so she can buckle her seatbelt, carefully removing the two coffees and setting them in the cup holders between them. “Just be careful not to spill anything.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she picks up the coffee closest to her (she’d gotten them both black). “Why? Worried about me ruining Stevie?”

Harry reaches into his pocket, pulling out his keys as he gives her an irritated look. “Yes, actually. I’ve put a lot of work into her.” The car roars to life as Harry turns the key in the ignition, buckling his own seat as the motor warms up. “Adding on two thousand miles to her in five days is already worrisome enough, and that’s not even counting the other two thousand she’ll get on the way back.”

Y/N doesn’t respond to the comment, and instead lets the sound of Harry’s playlist fill the silence of the car as Harry peels out of the Motel 6 parking lot.  She’ll be glad to leave that place behind, she thinks, and focus on finding something better—and more private—for tonight, wherever they end up.

Harry, however, doesn’t seem content with letting silence fall between them. “How did you sleep last night?” He asks after a few moments, one hand on the steering wheel as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye suspiciously, Y/N reaches into the paper bag and grabs her Danish, taking a small bite before answering. “Not great.”

“Was the bed bad?” Harry asks curiously, his brow furrowing while his eyes stay glued to the road, moving only to glance at the occasion sign directing him back to the highway. “The pull out wasn’t great, but I’ve slept on worse.  I would’ve thought the bed would be better than that.”

“No, it—I mean, the bed wasn’t amazing, but it—” Y/N clears her throat and swallows the bite of pastry in her mouth. “I, uh, I don’t sleep well when it’s raining.”

At this new information, Harry’s eyebrow quirks up, and he risks a look in her direction to attempt to read her face.  Y/N’s own eyes are focused on the Danish in her hands, refusing to meet his gaze as she lifts the pastry to her mouth to take another bite.

“You don’t?” Harry asks after a moment, the confusion in his voice almost visible within the space between them. “But it’s like white noise, isn’t it?  Supposed to be relaxing, and all that.”

Y/N gives a half shrug of her shoulders. “It’s—well, it’s not the rain, exactly, just—what it’s usually paired with.” Y/N hopes that her clear hesitancy to answer will be enough of a signal to Harry for him to drop the subject.  Harry, however, doesn’t seem to pick up on the reluctance in Y/N’s voice; or, at least, he doesn’t care enough to acknowledge it.

“What do you mean, what it’s paired with?” Harry takes a small sip of his own coffee, careful of the temperature of the liquid. “Like…wind, or—?”

Y/N debates back and forth with herself internally, but she knows that Harry won’t drop the subject without getting a satisfying answer. “Thunder.” She answers finally, setting her coffee down in her cup holder before turning her gaze towards her window. “I don’t like thunderstorms, ever since I was a little kid, and when it’s raining, it always feels like thunder is around the corner.  Puts me on edge, like I’m waiting for it.  And I can’t sleep.”

“So you never sleep when it rains?” Harry asks slowly, and the tone of incredulous disbelief in Harry’s voice is enough for Y/N to be able to imagine the expression on his face. His forest green eyes wide, strawberry pink lips agape, brow furrowed in confusion, his jaw slack as he contemplates a response to a grown woman admitting that she’s afraid of thunder. The image in her head is enough to make the back of her neck flush.

There’s a tightness in the back of her throat, and Y/N attempts to clear it again before answering. “Never.”

“Huh.” Harry taps his fingers against the gear shift in succession three times. “You’d hate London, then.”

The casual comment catches Y/N by surprise, but she doesn’t allow herself to lower her guard. “That’s why I don’t live in London.” She mumbles the words as her fingers pick at the napkin wrapped around her Danish. “I picked L.A. for a reason.  It has lots of heat, barely any rain, and I’m reasonably close to Disneyland whenever I feel like I need something magical.” The last part slips out without Y/N thinking, and the flush creeps further up her neck as a surprised laugh leaves Harry’s mouth.

“Something magical?” Harry repeats, new crinkles appearing next to his eyes as he laughs, as if the dimples that crease his cheeks aren’t proof of his amusement enough. “Do you frequently feel like you need something magical?”

It’s Y/N’s turn to give an incredulous look now, her body half twisting towards Harry to observe his confusing reactions. “How did I just admit that I’m afraid of thunder, and the thing you’re focusing on is that I like Disney?”

Harry shrugs at her words, flicking on his turn signal to exit towards the highway. “I don’t know.” He says as he peers over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars. “I mean, everyone has fears.  Not liking thunder isn’t exactly uncommon, you know.  However, hearing that Ms. Serious Type A Perfectionist likes magic—” His grin grows bigger by the second. “Now that’s surprising.”

“Oh, shut up.” Y/N mutters, finishing her Danish in a few more bites.  She waits until she’s entirely finished chewing before continuing the conversation over the voice of Billy Joel coming through the speakers. “Since I’ve admitted something I’m afraid of…” She starts, glancing at Harry from the corner of her eye. “I think it’s only fair that you admit something, too.”

Harry snorts in response, his hand freezing its movement with his coffee cup still half lifted to his lips. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” Y/N hums as she slips off her shoes in order to pull her legs beneath her to fold into a cross-legged position on the car seat. “Not so much fun when it’s your turn, huh? C’mon, what’s the Brit scared of? Not enough biscuits for afternoon tea?”

A short and harsh breath of air leaves Harry’s nose, half a snort as he sets his coffee down in his cupholder. “No, actually, diminishing biscuit levels are a low level fear for me.”

“Then what’s a higher one?” Y/N prods, watching as Harry’s neck muscles tense as he shoulder checks to change lanes.  There’s something about the movement that catches her eye, but she can’t quite figure out why—or rather, she can, but she’d rather pretend that she’s unaware.

“Uh…” Harry’s fingers nimbly switch on his turn signal before he transitions to the left lane, his right hand moving the gear shift to its desired place. “Crowds.  I’m not a fan of big crowds, really.  Like when everyone’s pressed together, so tight that you can’t breathe, and you can’t hear yourself think because it’s so loud…yeah. I don’t like that.”

The simple answer surprises Y/N as much as she imagines her answer surprised Harry. “Crowds?” She repeats back to him, a forgotten memory of long gone conversations coming to the forefront of her mind. “But what about, like, concerts and stuff?  Laure always told me when she’d go to shows with you…”

“That’s different.” Harry shrugs as one of his ringed hands comes to his lips, rubbing over them slowly as he contemplates his next words. “I…When I’m at concerts, I always go with someone, and if we’re in the general seating area, where there’s a lot of people, I always stick with them.  Like, sometimes, if it’s getting crowded, or people are pushing, Laure will hold my hand, so…” Redness begins to creep up Harry’s pale neck, staining the tops of his ears a deep berry colour as he trails off.

Not for the first time since their conversation began, Y/N is surprised at how candid they’re being with each other.  As she watches Harry’s blush grow, she feels her own diminish, a physical representation of her trading her embarrassment for something more empathetic.

“I get it.” Y/N says after a moment, once it’s clear that Harry isn’t going to continue. “When there’s thunderstorms, um, I feel better when I’m with someone, or talking to someone. It makes me feel less…”

“Alone?” Harry finishes for her, his eyes flickering from the road to her profile.  His green irises capture hers for longer than they should, his focus completely gone from the stretch of highway for at least five seconds before Harry’s attention turns back to driving. “Yeah.” He says slowly, pulling his sunglasses down from his hair to hide his eyes. “Yeah, less alone. It helps.”

Y/N nods slowly, unable to look away from Harry’s side profile.  It’s apparent that he’s on edge after their conversation, and she knows her body language is the same.  Tight in the shoulders, hands clenched, back rigidly straight.  And yet, seeing her own body language reflected in front of her bothers her.  Part of her wants to reach out and take Harry’s hand, soothe him like Laure does in the crowd of a concert, but she knows that’s ridiculous.  It’s ridiculous, and it’s Harry, and Harry, of all people, does not need her comfort.  Not in the slightest.

She watches as Harry clenches his fist on top of his thigh.

…

“Is this really necessary?” Y/N asks, slamming her car door shut as Harry does the same on the other side of the vehicle.  She leans over the roof of the car, crossing her arms on the cool metal as she tilts her head to the side in an inquisitive manner.  The clouds in the sky are getting darker by the minute, signalling the beginning of the storm that canceled her flight, and the angry black colour above their heads is making Y/N anxious.

Harry, however, seems unbothered by the gathering storm, and nods tersely as he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head before opening the door to the backseat and grabbing his army green jacket. “Of course it’s necessary.” He says, slipping the jacket over his broad shoulders before slamming the door shut and locking the car. “I’ve never been to Utah before.  I want a souvenir.”

“Okay, but—” Y/N follows Harry as he walks towards the dilapidated building in front of them. “Here? Really?  Does this seem like the best place?”

Harry glances at her over his shoulder at her, pausing his long strides to look up at the building he spotted from the highway.  If the chipped grey paint that was once pastel blue and dust-coated windows are any sign, the structure is probably older than Harry and Y/N combined, with a splintered front porch wrapping around its small perimeter.  The building has one faded sign above the door that reads “SOUVENIRS/SNACKS” in hand-painted capital letters, and seems to be hanging onto the outside façade by three small bolts and sheer willpower.  Y/N’s almost certain that she’s seen this exact building in a horror movie before someone gets murdered, and while getting back into the car with Harry isn’t at the top of her list of wants, it’s certainly preferable to getting stabbed to death by a serial killer.

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Harry waves off her concern without a second thought about the appearance of the shop. “If you’re really bothered, you can wait in the car.”

Y/N considers it for a moment, but decides against it.  She needs to stretch her legs, and honestly, Harry seems too trusting.  He probably wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was sketchy until their knife was in his back.  And, seeing as how he has the keys to the only getaway car available, Y/N kind of needs him around without a stab wound carved into his flesh.

“Let’s just get this over with.” She sighs, pulling her own jacket around her tighter as she steps over the worn wooden steps to the door. “We’re on a schedule.”

When Harry pushes open the door, the smell of stale air hits Y/N before anything else.  Despite one open window and a fan in the corner of the shop that’s being used in a weak attempt to circulate the air, it feels like nothing fresh has been in the shop for a while.  Y/N shoots a glance at Harry, caution and warning written all over her face.

While Harry sees her glance, he waves off her concern, turning his attention to the few shelves and wire racks around the small shop that are lined with inventory.  Within a few moments, he’s entertaining himself in the post card section, comparing different photos of the Utah landscape to each other with great care and concern.  Y/N observes him for a few moments before wandering off on her own towards the snack section of the shop.  Although there are a few items that she thinks about picking up, the thick layer of dust over the packaging puts her off from purchasing them.  She grimaces as she continues walking, stopping in front of a tower of silver key chains in the back corner of the shop.  Most of them, she finds, are crosses and bible verses, and all of them give her an ominous feeling in her stomach.  Y/N runs her finger over a miniature silver version of the Ten Commandments, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she does so.

“I think we should go, Harry.” She calls to him without turning around, setting the key chain back down on the rack carefully. “Just pick your post card and—Harry?”

When Y/N turns around, Harry’s broad figure is nowhere to be seen.  She walks back over to the post card section slowly, her brow furrowed with confusion as a knot tightens in her stomach.  Where could he be? She wonders, running her hand along the dusty wire rack in front of her.  It’s not like there’s anywhere for him to go in the small shop, and she would have heard if he left, or if he drove away.

“Harry?” She calls again, her steps slower now as worry fills her voice. “Where did you—fuck—!” Y/N screams as something grabs her from behind, its fingers digging into her sides harshly.  She whips around to find Harry standing over her, loud outbursts of laughter spilling from his strawberry pink mouth at the look on her face.

An indignant flush rushes over Y/N’s face. “You’re such an ass!” She hisses, gripping his shoulders and shoving his laughing frame away from her. “I swear, you’re like a five year old—”

“Did I worry you?” Harry snickers between his words, a wicked look of mischief alight in his dark green eyes. “Were you afraid something happened to me?”

Y/N’s cheeks burn with anger as she turns away from him, crossing her arms defiantly. “No.  I wish something had happened to you.  Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your immature antics.”

Harry’s lips stay quirked up in a smirk as he follows her, his voice falling into a singsong tone. “You were worried.” He insists, chuckles still rolling out of him every few moments. “I could tell.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Y/N snaps at him in an irritated voice. “Just pay for your stupid post card and let’s go.”

“I already did. There’s a sign on the desk saying the clerk is out for lunch, so I left some money.” Harry nods to the small desk in the corner with a few dollars left tucked under the dusty service bell. “I think that’ll cover it, yeah?”

“Whatever.” Y/N can’t resist shoving Harry one last time before walking towards the shop door. “That’s enough.  Let’s go. I want to make it to the motel before the storm hits.”

…

The nice thing about Grand Junction, Colorado, Y/N realizes, is that their motels have multiple single rooms available on short notice.  While she didn’t realize the importance of this fact before this trip started, having an evening of solitude and her own stable space away from Harry for the first time in two days is nothing short of a blessing.

When she gets inside her private motel room, which, while still shabby, is leagues above their previous motel, Y/N locks the door before breathing a sigh of relief.  Just the silence in the room is wonderful, and even though she knows Harry is right next door, having a wall between them is a luxury that she doesn’t take for granted.  When she showers, she doesn’t have to worry about being quick, or toweling off as fast as she can so she can get dressed inside the bathroom without Harry seeing. There’s no need to worry about anyone hearing Y/N sing quietly to herself under the (albeit weak) stream of the shower, nor is there an uncomfortable stick of her sports bra to her back caused by water droplets that she couldn’t reach in her hurry to dry off. And after her shower, with some of the knots from her back finally worked out, Y/N is able to stretch out on the double bed in the center of the room, her phone in her hand as she reaches for the takeout menus stacked on the bedside table.  She peruses the menus available before settling on Chinese takeout, and within five minutes, her order of a two entrée plate and fried rice is on its way.

Y/N sighs gently as she leans back on the pillows, wishing that she and Harry had stopped at a liquor store before coming to the motel.  She knows she could probably walk to one, but now that she’s showered and comfortable, the last thing she wants to do is wander around Grand Junction until she finds a bottle of Moscato.  Instead, Y/N flicks on the TV with a click of the ancient remote, and begins scrolling through the channels until she finds a rerun of Dirty Dancing that’s just starting.

An amused yet wry smile appears on Y/N’s lips.  It’s this movie’s fault that she and Harry are on an impromptu road trip, really. Jo and Laure both loved it, and were insistent that they had to get married at a resort in the Catskills similar to one from the film.  As her two friends cross her mind, Y/N settles into the sheets as Baby begins her narration, contemplating whether or not she should call Jo to check in.  Just as the thought pops into her head, however, the phone rings.

Y/N answers within a moment, not bothering to check the caller ID.  She and Jo had a strange habit of calling each other the moment the other thought of it, and when she raises her phone to her ear, she expects to hear her best friend’s familiar voice reply. “Hello?”

What voice she actually hears, however, surprises her. “Hey, Y/N.  I’m glad I got through.” Brant says easily, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “How are you?”

“Brant!” Y/N jerks up in bed in surprise, the remote falling from its perch on her stomach onto the sheets. “I—I’m fine.  How are you?”

“Oh, alright.  Just busy with work, but that’s the usual.” Y/N can practically picture the neutral expression on his face, and how he’d shrug his shoulders as he speaks. “How’s the road trip?  I can’t imagine driving for as long as you have to drive.”

“It’s…it’s alright, yeah.” Y/N speaks slowly as she puts her phone on speaker, balancing it on her knee while her hands begin to fidget with her rings. “Long, but not too bad.”

“Well, that’s good.” Brant clears his throat thickly, as if what he’s about to say makes him uncomfortable. “I miss you, though.  And our weekly dinners.”

A feeling of guilt washes over Y/N.  Truthfully, besides Harry’s inquisition on the first day of driving, Brant has barely crossed her mind.  Granted, he isn’t usually at the forefront of her mind while she’s in L.A., either, but for the last few days, her thoughts have been constantly consumed by the stress of making it to the wedding and her annoyance and frustration with Harry.  

“Y/N?” Brant’s voice crackles through her speaker again. “Are you there?

“I—yeah.” She says quickly, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Sorry, just—long day.  I’m tired.”

“I can imagine.” Brant says sympathetically, but there’s something in his tone that almost sounds patronizing. “Who are you driving with?  Have you been taking turns?”

Y/N pauses the fidgeting of her rings before snatching her phone from its balanced place on her knee. She quickly opens her messages and scrolls to her thread with Brant, searching through the text bubbles for a reminder of what she’d said to him.  Had she not told him that she was traveling with Harry?

Within a moment, Y/N confirms that she hadn’t.  All she had said was that she was getting a ride with someone.  Why had she done that, she wonders?  She’s sure she’s mentioned Harry in passing to Brant at least once.  When she talked about the wedding, probably.  As she thinks about it more, however…what had she told Brant about the wedding?  About Jo? How much does he actually know about her personal life?  Most of their dinner conversations revolve around work, or some book both of them have read.  Had the topic ever come up in detail?

“I’m, um, I’m driving with one of Laure’s friends.” Y/N brings the phone closer to her mouth as her other hand works its way to her mouth.  She begins to chew on a hangnail absentmindedly between her words, something she always does when her nerves begin to get to her.  She can’t count the number of times Jo has grasped her wrist and pulled her hand from her mouth to chastise her about the habit. “We’re…we’re in Colorado now.”

“Oh, Colorado.  That’s nice.” Brant says over the rustling of papers. “Listen, Y/N, I’ve got some work to get back to, but I’m glad we had this talk. I’ll call you again soon.”

“Uh, yeah.  Sure.  I’ll talk to you later.” Y/N nods, and then the line goes dead.  Out of curiosity, Y/N checks the length of the call.  The time 3:09 blinks back at her.

Tossing her phone back down on the covers, Y/N resumes her relaxed position in bed, despite being anything but relaxed after that phone call.  She should feel guilty, she thinks, for not telling Brant about Harry. But then again, what’s there to tell? She said she was getting a ride with one of Laure’s friends, and that’s true.  She hadn’t lied.  And even if Brant did know that the friend is Harry, why would he care?  It’s just Harry.  There’s no reason for Brant to be alarmed, because there’s nothing going on. And she and Brant…Y/N glances down at the call time again.  Things are different between them.  There’s…they’re comfortable as they are, she thinks.  They’re not dating, and they’re comfortable like that.  So there’s no reason to tell him about Harry, because there’s nothing to tell.  Nothing at all.

Y/N refocuses on the TV screen, where Patrick Swayze is dancing in a tight black tank top. Right.  Nothing to tell.

…

When Y/N leaves her motel room the next morning with her bag over her shoulder, Harry is already waiting by his car, leaning against the dusty black body with two coffee cups in his hands.  He’s dressed in another black t-shirt (Y/N wonders just how many identical copies of the same shirt Harry has) with usual jeans covering his long legs.  His curls are tied out of his face with a dark green bandana, and Y/N knows that if his eyes weren’t covered with his black sunglasses, the bandana would make them even brighter than they usually are.

“Hey.” Harry calls to her, extending a ringed hand that holds a coffee cup towards her as she walks over. “I got the coffee this morning.  You drink it black, right?”

Y/N nods as she takes the cup from him, careful not to brush over his fingers with her own. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Harry crosses around to the back of the car, opening the trunk with a turn of his key. “Here.” Harry holds out his free hand for Y/N’s bag, taking it from her and setting it down on top of the suitcases in the back. “I got it.”

Y/N regards Harry with a bemused look as she wraps both hands around her coffee cup. “Thanks?” She says again, more questioning this time as she looks at him strangely. “I can do that myself, you know.”

“I know.  I’m just trying to be polite.” Harry’s voice takes on its usual bite like he’s flipping a switch. “Is that alright with you, princess?”

Within a second, the familiar irritation with Harry returns to Y/N, and it’s almost comforting to snap back at him in a testy voice. “Don’t call me that.”

Harry snickers under his breath, and although the sound makes Y/N’s annoyance grow, she detects a different tone in it than a few days before.  Before she can place a finger on why it sounds different, however, Harry is climbing into the driver’s side of the car and starting the engine.

The two of them are silent as Harry finds his way back to the highway, and they stay in that silence for the first few hours of that day’s leg of the trip.  As the third hour begins to pass, Y/N is content listening to the throaty and captivating voice of Stevie Nicks fill the cab of the car. By the second chorus of the song, Y/N is humming along quietly, her foot tapping to the same beat that Harry’s fingers are spelling out against the steering wheel.  It’s comfortable, she thinks after a moment.  The silence between them.  It feels different than it did on their first day, when Y/N was questioning her choice to get into a car with Harry and commit to a 42 hour drive. The silence seems to be fueled more by comfort than tension.  It’s…refreshing.

A memory from the first day ignites in the back of her mind, a spark so bright and obvious that she can’t believe it took her so long to see it. “Stevie.” Y/N says suddenly, turning to Harry as a smile spreads over her face. “You named your car Stevie, as in Stevie Nicks?”

Harry laughs, his shoulders moving up and down beneath his black t-shirt from the motion.  One hand lifts from the steering wheel and points a finger gun at her. “Took you long enough.  I was wondering how many days you’d have to listen to my music to get it.”

Y/N gives his hand a light shove. “I was too distracted by the fact that you named your car.” She rolls her eyes, bringing her bottle of water to her lips for a short sip. “I still think it’s weird.”

“It gives her character.” Harry defends himself as he rubs a hand over the steering wheel absentmindedly. Y/N can see the mirth swirling around in his light irises. “A bit of personality.  Just because you don’t value personalities doesn’t mean anyone else doesn’t.”

“I don’t value personalities?” Turning in her seat to stare at Harry head on, Y/N raises an eyebrow in question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just your taste in men, that’s all.” Harry says it casually, like it really can just be a “that’s all” type of sentence.

Within a heart beat, the comfortable atmosphere in the car turns to ice as Y/N straightens in her seat, her spine tense, tightening every nerve in her body along with it. “What the fuck does that mean?”

When Harry glances at her again, his eyes darken, his guard going up as he senses the shift in Y/N’s tone. “Nothing, just…motel rooms have thin walls.” Harry mumbles, having the decency to keep his eyes on the road as his ears redden slightly. “And from what I overheard, Brant doesn’t exactly seem…stimulating.”

Y/N sputters indignantly for a moment, unable to form a coherent response as anger rises in her chest. “You—” She sucks in a quick breath that hits the back of her throat harshly. “You eavesdropped on me?”

Harry licks his lips once, clearing his throat once before answering.  The tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel has resumed, his nervousness apparent in his movements as well as his facial expressions. “Not on purpose.  I told you, the walls were thin.”

“So put in head phones!” Y/N exclaims, gripping her water bottle so tight that her fingers begin to strain in protest against the metal exterior.  She has half a mind to throw the bottle at Harry in her anger, barely able to talk herself down from the ledge of the idea.

Harry’s posture shifts in his seat as his shoulders square, and Y/N can practically see his defensive side emerge from within his chest. “It’s not like you two were having phone sex.” He rolls his eyes at the idea. “It was the most boring conversation in the world, and lasted, what, three minutes?  Makes you wonder how long he lasts in other ways, doesn’t it?”

“Stop the car.” Y/N’s voice is low and void of emotion as she replies, her body turned back forward in her seat.

“Am I wrong?  It’s not like you know for sure—”

Anger bubbles over in Y/N’s chest, cancelling out any rational thought she has inside her and leaving pure, unadulterated fury. “Stop the car, Harry!  Now!”

Harry half jumps in his seat when Y/N yells, and he quickly jerks the car to the side of the highway without so much as a turn signal.  Pulling her seatbelt off as he pulls over, Y/N is out the door before Harry can so much as put the car into neutral.  While her more rational mind would tell her that she has nowhere to walk to along a highway in Colorado as the sky darkens to an angry black above them, the only thing she’s thinking of is getting away from Harry.  Stupid, self-absorbed, ignorant, and rude Harry.

“Y/N—” The sound of Harry scrambling out of the car and slamming the door behind him pushes her to walk faster. “Y/N, come back—”

Y/N turns around on her heel fast and hard, heart pounding so fast that she thinks it might break through her ribs. “What is your problem?” She hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Why do you insist on being so—so nasty about him?  You don’t even know him!”

Harry freezes where he is as the wind whips his hair around his face, his bandana barely keeping the messy curls in place. “I don’t—” His speech falters, and he sucks in a sharp breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’m being…nasty.”

“Well, you are!” Y/N takes a deep breath in, placing her hands over her stomach as it expands with air.  It’s a trick that Jo taught her back in high school, as a way to ground herself to her body. Feeling the movement of air in and out of her lungs helps calm her, even if by just a fraction. “Brant is just—he’s someone I’m talking to.  We’ve gone on dates, but we’re not dating, and even though we’re not dating, that doesn’t mean that you can insinuate things about him, or eavesdrop on our private conversations!”

Harry’s jaw tenses as he listens to Y/N speak, waiting until she’s finished her speech to respond in a harsh and clipped tone. “I already told you, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. And I’m teasing you.  It’s supposed to be a joke.  Isn’t that what friends do?”

“But we’re not friends, Harry.” Y/N’s voice is flat, the fury in her tone replaced with a hollow emptiness. “We’re not friends.  I don’t need you teasing me about a boy like we’re buddies, or whatever, because we’re not.”

Although Harry opens his mouth to respond, no words cross over the edges of his pink lips.  His jaw tightens even more as he closes his mouth again, and Y/N can see a million things flitting through his green irises, which are getting darker by the moment.  Y/N’s not certain if the darkness is from her words, or the black sky rolling above them that’s sapping the light of day from the atmosphere, and she’s not sure if she can take the answer either way.  Part of her knows that maybe—just maybe—she’s blown this whole thing out of proportion, and maybe she should examine why Harry making fun of Brant bothers her like it does.  It’s not like she’s unaware of his shortcomings, she thinks, but then she wonders why she’s now seeing them as shortcomings, when a week ago, she saw them as positives.  Y/N never has to worry about Brant being too much for her, or forgetful, or scatterbrained—he’s organized, and secure, and stable, and that’s what she likes.  It’s always been what she likes.

Harry’s delayed response tears Y/N from her thoughts. “Not friends.  Got it.” He mutters, rubbing his hand over his stubbled and taut cheeks. “Just get back in the car, then.  Let’s go.”

…

“Hello!  My name is Gracie, I’ll be your server today.” The waitress in the tiny diner smiles at Harry and Y/N, a notepad in one hand and a half filled coffee pot in the other. “Can I get you guys anything to start?”

“Coffee.” Harry and Y/N speak at the same time, each person’s eyes flickering to the other before looking away.  Y/N keeps her eyes focused on her off-white ceramic coffee cup as Gracie fills it, refusing to make eye contact with Harry again.

The last hour has been almost unbearable.  After they got back in the car, Harry had turned off his playlist, and for the first time since the road trip had begun, true silence had fallen between them. Y/N had thought she would like it, but truthfully, it had been the worst thing she’d ever heard.  Every few minutes, she’d hear Harry shift, or sigh, or tap a tense finger against the gear shift, and she wished that she could say something, but she didn’t.  She couldn’t.  She’d been grateful when he wordlessly exited the highway and parked in front of a diner, as the conversations of stopped truck drivers and the clatter of a kitchen was a good distraction from their argument.

A movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention, and Y/N glances up just enough to watch Harry slip a pat of butter into his coffee, stirring the contents of the cup with his spoon until it’s melted together.  She wrinkles her nose in disgust, and almost opens her mouth to make a comment (“Really, Harry?  Just add milk like a regular person, instead of drinking a cup of grease.”), but bites it back before it can fall off her tongue.  They’re not exactly in the position to make quips to each other, she thinks, especially after she told him that they weren’t friends.

Which they’re not. They’ve never been friends; that fact isn’t exactly news.  Not getting along has been Harry and Y/N’s signature since the day they first met. So why is there a pit in Y/N’s stomach that gets deeper every time Harry looks away from her?

The click of heels alerts Y/N of Gracie’s returned presence before her voice does. “Have you two decided what you’d like to eat?”

“I’ll have a turkey club, please, on whole wheat bread.” Harry folds up his plastic menu carefully. “And a glass of water on the side.”

Gracie nods, taking the menu from him before turning her eyes to Y/N. “And for yourself?”

“Um—” Y/N had barely glanced at the menu, too lost in her thoughts to think about it. “I’ll just have a burger, please.  And a water, as well.”

Gracie nods as she writes down the order, taking Y/N’s menu and giving the pair one last smile before disappearing to the kitchen.  A fresh wave of silence falls between Harry and Y/N as each of them sips their coffee, both of them doing their best not to look at the person sitting across from them.

Y/N’s best, however, is not up to her usual standard, as she can’t stop herself from stealing a few quick glances while Harry looks out the window.  He hasn’t shaved in a couple days, she notices, as the stubble on his cheeks and chin is even darker than it was the day before.  There’s a permanent crease between his eyebrows, his face as tense as she’s ever seen it, and a darkness over his whole expression overall. It’s like there’s a new wall up between the two of them, and Y/N’s never felt more detached from him.  Which, honestly, is saying something.

She’s looking back down at her own half empty coffee when Harry finally speaks a few minutes later, his voice just as tense as his expression.

“Shit.” He says in a low voice, and then the next sound Y/N hears is that of someone ruffling through pockets.  

She looks up to see Harry doing just that, his hands digging through the outer pockets of his army green jacket. “What?” She asks, her curiosity outweighing her need to continue the silent treatment. “What is it?”

“I had the vows in my—my pocket, but they’re—” Harry jams his hands inside a pocket sewn into the lining of his jacket, and Y/N watches as his face visibly relaxes. “Oh, thank God. I thought they fell out.”

Harry removes his hand from his pocket, two folded up notes clutched within his hand.  Each one is labeled carefully, one with Jo written in Laure’s neat penmanship, and the other with Laure scribbled in Jo’s quick writing.  

Y/N recognizes the papers immediately.  It’s easy, really, considering the amount of time she spent helping Jo rewrite draft after draft of the same sentiments. “You have Jo and Laure’s vows?” She questions, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Why?”

“The same reason you have their wedding bands.” Harry shrugs as he turns the papers over in his careful fingers, making sure not to crease them. “They forgot them.”

A small smile plays on the edge of Y/N’s lips at the memory of her forgetful friends. “Right.  Of course.”

Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s mouth at the sign of movement, and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth before responding. “Want to take a look?”

“At their vows?” Y/N looks around, as if someone could be watching and monitoring them. “I—that doesn’t seem right.”

“Fine.  Then don’t look at them.” Harry says easily, setting the note labeled Laure on the table between them.  His nimble fingers unfold the paper labeled with Jo’s name as his green irises begin to scan across the sheet. “I’ll read them.”

It only takes a few seconds of watching Harry read over the words for Y/N to crack. “Wait.” She brings her thumb to her mouth, chewing anxiously on her cuticle as Harry quirks an eyebrow at her. “Will you read them to me?”

When she asks, Harry spends so long staring at her that Y/N thinks he’ll refuse.  His jade eyes meet hers with an intensity that almost makes her flinch, but Y/N holds his stare, refusing to be the first to back down. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Harry gives a sharp nod, looking down at the note before he starts to read from the beginning.

“‘My darling Jo’,” He begins, his voice soft and low, his accent thick. “‘It seems so strange that this day is finally here.  I feel like we’ve been building up to it ever since the day we first met, and yet it’s always seemed so far away.  When I was a little girl, I always’…” Harry trails off as his eyes continue to move across the words, and he clears his throat before attempting to continue to read aloud. “‘I always thought that there was something wrong with me.  I thought that the things that I felt, and the way that I loved, was dirty.  I thought it was wrong.  I thought that—that I was going against God, and against nature, and that I was going to be punished for it.  And then I met you’.”

Harry pauses to take a sip of his coffee, and Y/N does the same.  There’s a shine beginning to appear in his eyes, and Y/N recognizes it as the beginning of tears because she feels the same thing brimming in her own eyes. She feels a bit guilty for reading the vows, but reasons that it’s for the best.  If she were to hear them for the first time at the wedding, she doesn’t think she’d be able to keep it together.

“‘The moment I met you, I knew that the way I loved could never be wrong, or be dirty, because I was loving you’.” Harry’s accent grows thicker the more he reads, and although Y/N hasn’t seem Harry in many different emotional states, she can tell that this is a sign of how the vows are affecting him. “‘Being with you could never be wrong, and God could never get mad at me for it, because only God could create someone as perfect as you.  I promise to love you when you wake me up at 3 A.M. because you’ve stolen all the blankets, and I promise to love you at 6 P.M. when you almost burn down our apartment while trying to cook for me.  I promise to support you through everything, listen to your stories, and watch in wonder as you make a difference in this world.  I promise to never let my anger get the best of me, and to always give you the benefit of the doubt.  I promise to love every version of yourself that you grow into, just as I’ve loved all the versions you once were.  I promise to love you in every way humanly possible, and even in ways that aren’t humanly possible.  I promise to love, period.  I’—” Harry’s voice cracks, and he glances up at Y/N as he clears his throat to continue. “‘I love you’.”

Y/N doesn’t realize just how emotional listening to Harry read Laure’s vows has made her until the first tear wells over the corner of her eye.  She turns her head towards the window to wipe it away as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, but from the way Harry is looking at her when she turns back around, she knows that he caught what she was doing.

“That, um—” Now it’s Y/N’s turn to attempt to clear the emotion from her throat. “Wow.”

Harry carefully folds Laure’s vows back up, taking extra care to re-crease the paper exactly how it had been folded. “I didn’t know she…felt like that.” Harry says after a moment, his voice quiet. “Like she was…wrong.”

Y/N, unsure of what to say, just nods while reaching for Jo’s vows in front of her.  Like Harry, she takes great care when unfolding the paper, smoothing it gently between her hands. “I’ll read Jo’s, then?”

Harry nods as he takes a sip of his water. “Sure.”

Y/N licks her lips once, wetting them with what little saliva she has in her mouth before beginning. “‘Laure’,” She starts, emotion already rising up to form a lump in her throat. “‘I don’t even know where to begin.  I’ve tried to write down all the ways I love you a million different times, but I can never seem to find the right words.  The problem is, I don’t think that there is a big enough word to describe what I feel for you.  ‘Love’ is only four letters, and four letters is just not enough to contain everything I feel.  ‘Adoration’ is nine letters, but even that doesn’t come close.  I think the best way I can describe it is ‘permanent’.” Y/N pauses her reading to take a long gulp of water, the coolness soothing the dry and parched feeling in her mouth and throat. “‘Anyone who knows me knows that I have trouble committing.  The idea of having something forever, of being in one place, normally terrifies me. But the idea of having you forever, and being in one place with you forever…that’s all I want.  I want us to be permanent to each other.  Even when we struggle, and we will struggle, I know that we won’t fall apart.  Committing to you isn’t any trouble.  It’s as easy as breathing.  I’m sure of you, and I’m sure of us.  I love you, permanently.  I’ll love you when you’re sick and gross, and I’ll love you when you’re old with a bad hip.” A small laugh falls out of Y/N’s mouth before she continues. “I’ll love you when you haggle at flea markets for the best prices, and I’ll love you when you do something so stupid that it makes me want to tear my hair out.  I love you permanently, and I want all of our family and friends to witness me saying that.  I’ll never back out, or bail, or run away from you.  You’re the one thing in my life that’s never felt hard. You’re my home base, and my north star, and you bring me back down to Earth whenever I need it.  I love you permanently, Laure.  I’ll never stop’.”

As she finishes reading, Y/N folds the paper back up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand before grabbing the other note sitting on the table.  She pushes them towards Harry, her misty eyes unable to meet his. “Here. Put these away again, somewhere safe.”

Harry takes the vows from her, slipping them back inside his inner jacket pocket for safekeeping. “It’s probably—” He clears his throat once more, and Y/N knows that the vows have caught him in his chest just as they’ve caught her. “It’s probably good that we read them now, so that we’re…prepared for the ceremony.”

“Yeah.” Y/N wraps her hands around her coffee mug, the warm ceramic surface heating her cold fingers. “You’re right.  They really…love each other.”

Harry taps his fingers against the table top, a concentrative and thoughtful expression on his face.  His eyebrows are knit together above his stormy green eyes, and his pink tongue swipes over his pinker lips once before he speaks. “You know, Laure is my closest friend.  I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Immediately registering the tone of Harry’s voice, Y/N’s head snaps up, her own eyes becoming stormy as they meet his own. “Jo would never hurt Laure.” Y/N says defensively, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up at even the suggestion of her friend hurting someone. “Didn’t you hear her vows?  I’ve never heard her sound so sure of something in her entire life.”

Harry’s jaw flexes at the cadence of Y/N’s voice, and his is just as agitated when he responds. “I’m just saying, if anything ever happened—”

“And I’m just saying, it won’t.” The tension between them doubles as Y/N shoots Harry an icy glare. “Do you just look for the worst in people?  Is that all you do?”

“You think I look for the worst in people?  Really?” Harry barks out a harsh laugh, pressing one hand flat against the table as the other fixes his bandana. “Christ, if that’s what you think of me—”

“Why would I think anything else?” Y/N asks incredulously, tilting her head to the side as she regards him. “All you’ve shown me is—”

“Alright, I have the turkey club on whole wheat, and the burger here.” Gracie appears suddenly to Y/N’s right, her tray loaded with food. “Here you guys are…” She sets the plates down in front of Harry and Y/N, her gaze darting between them nervously as she reads the tension in the booth. “Is…there anything else I can get you two?”

“No.” Harry’s voice is hard. “We don’t need anything else.”

…

By the time Harry pulls the car into a motel just off the highway in Lexington, Nebraska, all Y/N wants is a moment alone.  The strained atmosphere during that day’s drive had been unbearable, and between the anxiety from her confrontation with Harry and the sound of thunder beginning in the distance, Y/N just needs some space to herself to relax and calm down.

Of course, just because that’s what she needs, doesn’t mean that she’s going to get it.  When Harry returns back to the car with a single key in his hand and a sour look on his face, Y/N knows for sure that the universe is against her.

This room, at least, she’s pleased to find, has two actual beds, which are pushed up against the wall perpendicular to the door with a small night table between them.  However, that’s where her pleasure stops, as the click of Harry turning the lock behind her just reminds her that she’s trapped in here, with no chance to get away from Harry, the oncoming storm, or any one of her problems that have developed over the last four days.  The reality of the situation hits her all at once, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control to toss her bag on the bed and walk brusquely to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her before she allows herself to show a sign of her emotions.

The rest of the evening passes in silence.  She showers before changing into her sports bra and boxers, but the amount of exposed skin sends a vulnerable shiver down her spine.  Y/N opts for pulling a sweatshirt over her body, and then sets herself the task of braiding her hair to distract herself.  After that’s done, she busies herself with her skincare routine, taking up as much time as she can in the bathroom before she absolutely has to leave its private interior.

Harry, however, seems to want to see as little of Y/N as she wants to see of him, and pushes past her to enter the bathroom the moment that she steps out of it.  His routine, it seems, is designed to take up just as much time as hers was, because by the time Harry exits the bathroom, the scent of his shampoo trailing behind him, Y/N is already tucked under the covers of her bed, although she’s far from asleep.

In the time it took for her to shower and get ready for bed, the storm had picked up, and the only thing audible in the room was the sound of rain pelting against the roof and window, the wind howling through the trees, and Y/N’s shallow, uneven breaths. She wraps the sheets tightly around herself, pulling them taut to her chin with clenched fists that tighten every time a clap of thunder echoes through the room.  Although she’s turned to face the wall, away from Harry, she can hear his footsteps pause as he gets a glimpse of her shivering form beneath the blankets, and she does her best to will herself to appear asleep.  Breathing in as deeply as her tight chest will allow her, Y/N attempts to even her breathing, forcing her shoulders rise and fall in a way that appears natural and normal.  But all it takes is one clap of thunder for the controlled motion to go out the window.

“Y/N…” Harry’s voice is low, but despite its raspy cadence, it lacks the rough edge that it had earlier. The bed behind her squeaks, signalling that Harry’s taken a seat on the edge of it. “Are you—?”

“I-I’m fine.” Y/N says quickly, pulling the sheets tighter to her chin as another shiver rolls through her body. “Go to sleep.”

There’s another creak of Harry’s bed, and Y/N imagines him climbing under the starched linen covers, his damp curls flopping into his eyes as he lays back on the lumpy motel pillow. The image is almost enough to distract her until there’s another clap of thunder.  The sound seems to shake the motel room, and Y/N can’t stop the small whimper that leaves her lips as her body jumps in response.

“When I was a little kid, my mum took my sister and I to the fair every year.”

Harry’s deep voice cuts over the rain, and Y/N shifts in her bed, turning over to face him.  She keeps the covers pulled up to her chin, but readjusts herself so that she can keep her head on her pillow while looking Harry in the eye. “What?” She asks, confusion audible in her quiet tone.

Harry shifts himself as she does, continuing to move down until he’s completely horizontal, with one hand tucked under his pillow as he speaks. “My mum took my sister and I to the fair.  It came to Holmes Chapel every spring, and there were always rides, and games to play, and so many things to see.  It drew crowds from nearby villages every year, really big crowds, and my mum always held my hand tightly so I wouldn’t get lost.”

“I don’t understand, what—” Another clap of thunder shakes the room, making Y/N flinch halfway through her sentence.

“You’re okay.” Harry says immediately, his calm jade eyes focused on her as the reassurance slips from his mouth.  He waits a moment, gauging Y/N’s body language and waiting for his examination to be positive before resuming his story. “So…my mum always told me not to wander off, but when I was six, I did.  I saw some older kids playing games that I wanted to play, and Gemma was busy playing some sort of game with a ball—I can’t really remember what—and when my mum turned her back, I ran off.”

Y/N’s about to open her mouth to ask why he’s telling her the story when the answer clicks into place in her head.  She thinks back to the conversation in the car the day before, how she told Harry that it helps when someone talks to her to distract her from the thunder.  That’s what he’s doing, she realizes, as she forces herself to focus on his quiet and level voice.  He’s trying to keep her calm, even after everything she said and did today.

“I don’t look like it now,” A small smile flits across Harry’s blushed lips. “But I was pretty scrawny back then.  And all the people around me were so tall, my eyes were barely level with their hips. Everyone was rushing around, going in all directions, and I kept calling for my mum, but she couldn’t hear me.  No one stopped to help me.  I felt like I was…trapped.  Like it was a huge forest of legs, running all around me, circling me, and I couldn’t get out.  I was probably only gone for five minutes, but to a six year old, it felt like an eternity.  And just something about it…I don’t know.  It changed me.  I still don’t like crowds because of that day.”

Y/N’s shoulders unclench the slightest bit as another gust of wind blows against the window. “That must have been scary.”

Harry’s own shoulders lift in a slight shrug as he shifts the sheet to cover him more. “It was. But I can’t change it.  I just have to deal with the repercussions of it. That’s all a fear is, really.  A side effect.  We just have to deal with them as best we can.”

More thunder booms loudly outside, but Y/N manages to keep her flinch to a minimum, despite her hands curling into fists again under the covers. “Harry…” She whispers his name into the darkness between them, his outline barely visible save for his green eyes. “I’m—I’m sorry about today.”

Harry shakes his head, his damp hair rubbing against his pillow. “You don’t have to apologize.” He whispers back, his tone as gentle as she’s ever heard it. “I was an arse.  I shouldn’t have pushed the topic.”

“I shouldn’t have been so uptight about it.” Rubbing her eyes with one fist, Y/N lets out a low sigh. “I felt so shitty all day because of our fight.  I’ve never…none of our fights have ever made me feel like that.”

“Maybe it’s because…” Harry’s tentative voice trails off, his eyes flickering to the ground for a brief moment before staring back at Y/N nervously. “I don’t know.  I thought we were getting along better.  For a moment, at least.”

“We were.” Y/N’s teeth tug on her bottom lip, and she feels a sudden shyness overcome her at the admission. “I’m sorry I said that we…weren’t friends.  I think…I don’t know.  I’ve been stubborn for so long, but I can see now that you’re different than I thought you were.”

“Yeah.  Me too.  I was wrong, too.” Harry runs a hand through his damp curls, a soft laugh leaving his mouth. “How did we even end up like this?  I barely remember what made us hate each other so much in the beginning.”

“Seriously?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, barely peaking out from beneath the sheets as another clap of thunder sounds. “You don’t remember?”

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

“Yes!  It was the very first night we met.  We had that double date with Laure and Jo.” Shifting beneath her covers, Y/N moves herself into a better position on her side, so she can be more comfortable while still maintaining eye contact with Harry. “And you were rude, and made inappropriate jokes, and you left in the middle of the date to go chat up a sorority girl!”

“Wait a minute, no!” Harry protests the memory, half sitting up in his bed as he speaks. “That’s not what happened!”

“Yes, it is!” A small laugh falls off Y/N’s lips at his indignant reaction. “I remember it perfectly!”

“No, you remember it wrong!” Although a flush creeps up Harry’s neck, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips, a tiny hint of a dimple just barely appearing in his visible cheek. “I was making jokes to try and break the ice, which didn’t work on the Ice Queen, it seems—” Harry motions to Y/N teasingly. “And you’re the one who started talking to some bloke before I started talking to that girl!”

Another clap of thunder echoes through the room, but Y/N hardly notices as she thinks back to the night they met, and who Harry could possibly be referring to. “A bloke—?  He was a classmate of mine!  I had to talk to him!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to enjoy it so much.” Harry grumbles, crossing his muscled arms over his sheets. “I had been so excited when Laure said she had an American girl for me, and then—”

“You were excited?” Y/N asks, her voice laced with surprise. “Really?”

The flush on Harry’s neck works its way to the apples of his cheeks. “Well, yeah.” He mumbles the words as his eyes drop from Y/N’s, slipping both hands beneath his head. “She said that you were funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful—”

“And then you met me, and realized that it was all a lie?” Y/N finishes for him, rolling her eyes in the darkness.

“No.” Harry gives a small shake of his head as his body shifts, the motel bed creaking under his weight. “No, she wasn’t wrong.  You were all of those things.  But I wasn’t, and it seemed like…I don’t know.  Like you didn’t think I was good enough for you.  I couldn’t keep your attention.”

The teasing smile slips from Y/N’s face as she registers Harry’s words. “You thought that I thought you weren’t…good enough?”

The nervousness is clear in Harry’s voice now, even over the pounding of rain against the window. “That’s what it seemed like, yeah.”

“I never—I didn’t think that.” Y/N says slowly, managing to relax her body beneath the sheets as she keeps her focus on the memory of meeting Harry. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there, but that’s because Jo set the date up without telling me.  I thought you were handsome, and I liked your accent, but then you started to act weird, and you started flirting with that girl, so I thought you were an ass.”

“You still think I’m an arse, princess, be honest.” The teasing tone replaces the nerves, and for once, Harry’s joke has the intended affect on Y/N.  When she rolls her eyes again, it’s more playful, and the same tone is in her voice when she responds.

“I told you, don’t call me princess.” She replies, running her teeth over her lip gently. “So…I guess we both kind of fucked up that day.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods, a sheepish smile playing over his red lips. “I guess so.”

“Can we just restart?” Y/N’s voice is small when she asks the question, barely audible over the sounds of the storm raging outside. “Like, all the way from the beginning. No more grudges, no more yelling. Even if it’s just for this trip, for Jo and Laure—”

“It doesn’t have to be just for this trip.” Harry cuts in, his eyes catching Y/N��s again. “We’re going to have to be around each other for a long time.  It’ll be a lot easer if we get along.”

Y/N nods in agreement, tugging down her covers to extend one arm towards Harry.  She makes a fist, holding out just her pinkie finger to him with half a grin on her face. “Truce?”

The space between their beds is small, and Harry’s long arm easily makes it across the no man’s land to meet Y/N’s pinkie with his own.  He loops it together with a smile that matches hers, tired and content and just at the edge of a humble new beginning.  Harry’s response is almost inaudible as thunder booms loudly outside the room, but Y/N can still pick out the cadence of his accent under the noise.

“Truce.”

(pt II)

#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

[queenshelby]

A QUIET PLACE  2 - YOU BELONG TO ME (ONE SHOT)

Featuring: Emmett x Reader

Words: 3009

Warning: Smut, Domination 

Requested: Yes

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It has been six weeks since you and Emmett made it to a community on an island just of the US coast.

The journey was hard, but it was well worth it. Finally, for once, you could feel some normality return.

You only met Emmett five months ago when he was staying in an abandoned factory and you were seeking shelter. He let you in and he saved you and, eventually, you fell in love with each other.

On the island, things worked differently. You were no longer by yourself. Instead, you were surrounded by others, predominantly men who seemed to have better luck surviving.

Quite frequently, you were getting hit on, causing Emmett’s frustration to grow. But, despite the fact that he put potential suiters into place, you thought his occasional jealousy was sweet and you enjoyed nothing more than when he became protective over you.

But, just today, one of the new residents took things just a little too far and decided to kiss you. This was too much for Emmett’s liking and a fight broke out between them, making you rather angry.

As such, just as he arrived back at your small cottage, you confronted him.

‘Johnny didn’t know, he was new and I told him. There is no need for you to be jealous’ you said.

‘I am not jealous Y/N, I am fucking worried about you. We don’t know these men. What is if one of them takes it too far when I am not around?’ Emmett growled.

‘I can protect myself, thank you’ you said sheepishly, earning yourself a deep sigh from Emmett.

‘Alright Emmett, if you don’t think I am a strong ass woman, then you should probably go and find someone else’ you said jokingly and playfully as you pointed to the door.

Emmett just smiled and shrugged before moving to the door. When his hand closed

‘Nah, I am not leaving’ Emmett smirked and your eyes widened in surprise for an instant until your pride caused you to flare just a little.

‘Oh? So, you agree that I am a strong woman?’ you asked with a grin on your face.

‘Oh I agree that you are a strong woman, alright…but you are my strong woman and these men out there better know that’ Emmett said suggestively, causing you to smile.

‘Well, the windows are wide open. Perhaps you should claim what is yours then?’ you suggested before biting your lip again suggestively.

Emmett turned from the door and slowly crossed the room to you, invading your space one slow, purposeful step at a time. Your stumbled back a few steps toward the wall, causing one corner of Emmett's mouth to lift in a crooked grin as he ambled after you, stalking his prey.

‘Perhaps I should’ he smirked as he loomed over you, his fingertips barely brushing your inner wrists, and you took another step back with a nervous stammer.

‘Take me already’ you said as your heart skipped a beat. You knew that tone of his voice all too well ever since you moved into this cottage. Before, you had to be quiet, but now you didn’t and Emmett really liked to talk, dominate you and make you scream his name. You took another step back and Emmett followed, guiding you until you reached the corner and could escape no further.

‘Going somewhere?’ Emmett teased and moved in close, tenderly taking your left wrist in his right hand and gently lifting it over your head to pin it against the wall, eliciting a soft sound from you. He held you there and gazed into your eyes for a moment, and your heart skipped another beat. Your eyes widened as he lowered his face to your sensitive neck and his warm breath fanned over your skin. You tensed, barely able to breathe, much less fashion a coherent response to his question.

‘No’ you said as you took in a deep breath.

Emmett reached down to your side and intertwined his fingers with those of your right hand, lifting it to join the other above your head. He leaned closer, his body not quite touching yours, his bearded cheek nuzzling your jawline an instant before his lips brushed over your earlobe.

‘I love you’ Emmett whispered and you trembled visibly, shuddering a little more with each passing second, unable to focus on anything but his touch. Your neck was so tender and you ached for more. You mewled softly and tilted your head to the side, opening yourself to him.

‘I love you too’ you responded.

‘Good, now just remember that you're mine’ he said and lightly pressed his lips to your exposed neck. He loved to kiss you there almost as much as you loved to be kissed, if for no other reason than what he knew it did to the rest of your body. He kept the kiss soft and breathed in your intoxicating scent as you shuddered again and arched a little toward him.

‘I am yours Emmett’ you breathed out softly, eyes wide and slightly glazed.

Emmett smiled and traced his fingertips down your left arm to caress your cheek, raising up to loom over you and stare down into your beautiful eyes.

‘I've loved you since the first moment I met you, Y/N’ Emmett said as his fingertips continued lower, the backs of his nails grazing down your neck. Your breath quickened at his touch, growing heavier and you could only moan in reply.

‘You belong to me and I will do anything for you’ he whispered as he moved closer to press his lips to your forehead even as his hips pinned yours to the wall. Your entire body shifted and you jerked your hips as his pressed in.

Your cheeks burned and you knew that they must be completely red now. Your eyes widened again and you could feel that your pulse hammered visibly in your neck.

Emmett swallowed his growing hunger and took a half step back. You struggled to breathe as Emmett stared down into your eyes and slowly unbuttoned your kaki coloured shirt from the top down, exposing more and more of your skin. Your body tensed with each button and your breasts quivered in anticipation. As the last button slipped free, Emmett guided the blouse open to bare your belly and black lace bra to the cool air.

His eyes never left yours until he took a step back and purposefully dragged his gaze down your body, drinking in the luscious sight. You swallowed hard and blushed furiously. Emmett smiled and nodded in approval as you remained still while he looked upon you.

Finally, he stepped forward once more and reached up to take your wrists in his hands again, slowly lowering them to your sides as he leaned in to softly press his lips to yours in the smallest hint of a kiss. You shivered lightly as he loomed over you again. You leaned forward to kiss him more deeply, wanting to taste more of him, and you tugged on your wrists, anxious to feel him under your itching fingers.

Emmett smiled and leaned away from your kiss, shaking his head and tightening his grip on your wrists, causing you to shudder and whimper. The vulnerable sound shifted to a gasp when Emmett stepped back once more and spun your around to face the corner. He lifted his hands to your shoulders and guided your shirt down your arms, stopping with it at the small of your back, keeping your wrists bound to your side.

You were helpless, unable to even see him now. You could not touch or taste, only listen and feel what it was like to be the object of his desire.

‘I'm in control Y/N’ he whispered and pressed his lips to the bared flesh of your shoulder and neck. A light nip sent your head falling back and you mewled again.

‘I want to touch you’ you somehow made out, but instinctively kept your wrists at your side.

Emmett continued to kiss you, his lips moving back down your neck and over your shoulder as he dropped the blouse to the floor and lifted your wrists once again.

‘No, not yet’ Emmett said firmly.

You pressed your wrists against the wall and moaned as Emmett's lips moved back and forth over your sensitive skin. You shuddered when he traced back down your arms and sides to stop on your waist. His hands slid around to the front to unbutton and unzip your jeans, causing your eyes to widen again as he casually pushed them over your hips and down to join your shirt on the floor.

‘Emmett’ you breathed as he stepped back to eye you again, eager to imprint the sight of your body on his mind. He took special note of the lacy, black panties, silky and tight against curves of your hips and ass. Eyes never leaving that amazing view, Emmett reached out and unclasped your bra.

‘Turn around’ he instructed.

You could feel the pounding of your heart and turned slowly, keenly aware of how precariously your bra draped over your breasts. So very self-conscious, you nevertheless forced your wide eyes to meet his. Emmett looked down into your eyes and met your gaze with a smile. Reaching up to your shoulders, he slowly guided the bra straps down your arms. He leaned forward as he did, kissing your neck and softly sucking on the tender flesh.

You whimpered. Your breasts were now exposed to him and you were left in only your panties. Your heart pounded furiously and you couldn't help but arch your hips toward him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noticed your head falling back. Emmett took full advantage of your offering and nuzzled deeply into your neck. Reaching down, he took your hands in his and returned them to their proper place - pinned to the wall above your head.

‘You belong to me Y/N’ he whispered and pressed his teeth to your skin, slowly biting down as his hips met yours and pinned them to the wall.

The words made you shudder, and you ached to arch your hips again. Your heart raced. Your body writhed as much as the press of his against yours would allow. You grew more and more needy by the second, and the touch of his teeth to your tender neck made you mewl and breathe harshly.

Emmett met your desperate sound with a low growl and rolled his hips into you. He dragged his tongue over your flesh, tasting your surrender, and clenched his jaw. His teeth sunk into your neck, marking his territory.

‘Emmett’ you screamed and bucked into his body, gasping and writhing against him, the sensation so intense. You could feel your panties becoming soaked.

Emmett flinched at your scream, the sound loud but delicious in his ear, and relaxed his jaw. He nuzzled into your neck, softly kissing the pained flesh as the blood rushed back to your skin. You sobbed out softly, sinking a little against the wall, eyes glazed over.

After taking a few steadying breaths, Emmett began to walk backward, pulling you with him by your hands. You stumbled with him as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Staring up into your eyes as you stood there in front of him, Emmett kissed all around your navel and hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties. You shivered and bit your lower lip, gripping his shoulders tightly, as he slid the panties to the floor.

As soon as the panties dropped, Emmett reached for your wrists, guiding them back to your sides.

‘I am not done’ he spoke softly, but the words were heavy with force.

Still looking up and into your eyes, he bent lower and began kissing over your mound, causing you to whimper and then sharply cry out his name when the tip of his tongue traced down your slit while you could feel his beard tickle your skin.

Hands above your head’ he breathed out against your skin, and you instantly complied, raising your hands and lacing your fingers together.

‘Oh god Emmett’ you whimpered again as his tongue stretched lower, dragging over your clit. He gripped your hips tightly as you cried out his name once more and jerked toward his mouth. He alternated between kissing over your mound and flicking his tongue over your clit, never letting you focus on one sensation for long. Trusting you to keep your hands above your head as you were told, Emmett slid one hand down to sink two of his strong fingers into your opening. His other hand moved up your chest, closing over your right breast to knead softly, his rough palm grating over your hard nipple.

You gasped and trembled against his hold. You were so wet, you just knew you must have been dripping.

‘You taste so sweet’ you heard Emmett say, and you sunk your teeth into your lower lip as you struggled to stay standing while Emmett ducked his head lower, lapping at the juices coating your lips.

‘Please, Emmett... Please! I need you!’ you cried.

Emmett jerked at your cry and pushed your back away from him. Taking a calming breath, he stood before you, his body so impossibly close to yours. He stared down into your eyes with barely contained hunger and you stumbled back a step, breathing harshly and mewling almost steadily now. You trembled as he walked around you, his eyes raking over your naked, vulnerable body.

‘On the bed, now’ Emmett commanded, and you turned to crawl backward onto it immediately. He watched you go, admiring your liquid grace, and began to strip. Down went his t-shirt, jeans, and finally his boxers. You watched with open lust, your breath catching as each peace hit the floor.

I want to touch you’ you whined.

Emmett smiled and walked to the bed. He stood towering over your naked body and you could see the throbbing of his erect cock. You moaned loudly as Emmett took your hand in his and guided it to his thick shaft.

Your fingers instantly wrapped around him and squeezed lightly, stroking along his length up and down, watching Emmett with wide eyes. Your touch was magic, and he sucked in a sharp breath in response. His head rolled back and his hips rocked forward. A surge of precum wet the tip of his cock, dripping over your fingers.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he breathed out but you couldn't wait any longer.

‘I need you inside me’ you whispered and rubbed your thumb over the head of his cock. You tightened your grip and stroked faster, the action making you shudder just as much Emmett was. Your hips shifted restlessly on the bed in anticipation.

‘Impatient as usual’ Emmett chuckled as he gripped your wrist tightly and pulled your hand away. In a flash he was on you, pushing your back onto the bed, climbing over you. He dipped his hips between your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him, and he locked gazes with you.

‘Take me Emmett’ you moaned as he pinned your hands above your head, causing you to buck your hips up toward his.

‘As you wish’ Emmett growled as he adjusted his hips and shifted them forward. His bulbous head parted your lips and began sinking into you, causing you to cry out. Emmett moaned and shuddered and pressed steadily deeper, slowly filling and stretching your welcoming pussy.

‘Fuck you are tight’ Emmett murmured with a heavy breath as he entered you and you threw your head back, clenching and arching into him desperately. He filled you so deeply already and you were absolutely gushing with wetness.

‘Oh god’ you moaned as Emmett bucked the last little distance, slamming his cock fully into you and rotating his hips.

‘So utterly and completely mine’ Emmett growled as he pulled back slowly and slammed in again

‘Emmett’ you screamed out his name and threw your head back, arching up sharply toward him. Your legs squeezed even more tightly around his waist, trying to pull him ever deeper. Emmett buried his face in your neck, biting again and again, intent on marking you once more.

His teeth were just too much. You couldn't bear any more. Unable to stop the sensations from ripping through you, you screamed out his name again and began to climax.

‘Come inside me Emmett, please’ you murmured as your walls began to tighten around him. You weren’t on birth control, but you no longer cared now that you were safe.

Emmett tightened his grips on your wrists and pushed up to stare down at your lovely body, wracked in pleasure. He panted for breath as he pushed his hips harder and faster, the sound of each impact wet with your juices.

Your orgasm washed over you and your legs began to quiver as he continued to thrust into you at a relentless speed.

’Fuck’ he growled and pressed his forehead to yours, slamming his cock hard into your pussy once more. He planted his full length deep inside you, grinding, and suddenly arched his back with a primal shout, coming hard and filling you with his warm cum.

‘Emmett, oh god yes’ you screamed again as the pleasure he gave you was so intense. It ripped through your body and left your slick with sweat, shaking with each wave as the orgasm went on and on in a steady flow of aftershocks.

Emmett shuddered wordlessly atop you, hips rolling once more, desperate to empty every last drop of cum into your writhing form. He gasped for breath and jerked with each orgasmic spasm that shook his body. As the near painful pleasure began to subside, he breathlessly found your mouth with his, kissing you hard.

You both fought for breath, and Emmett finally collapsed to the bed beside you. He weakly pulled you to him, cradling your again his chest.

Without words, you moaned softly and went limp in his arms, aside from the occasional shudder.

‘I love you’ he finally whispered.

‘I love you too’ you said as you cuddled in as closely as possible, breathing in Emmett's scent.

‘

Featuring: Emmett x Reader

 Words: 3009

 Warning: Smut

 Requested: Yes

 Tag List (Cillian Murphy):

@lilymurphy03  @deefigs @theflamecrystal   @desperate-and-broken  @weepingstudentfishhorse   @livinginfantaxy  @rosey1981  @atomicsoulcollecto  @peakyboyslover  @nerdy4itall  @elenavampire21  @hanster1998  @mariapaiva13  @fairypitou  @harry-is-my-sunflower  @zozeebo  @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa  @littlewierdalien  @sad-huffle-nerd  @theflamecrystal   @peakymalfoyscullymulder  @themissthang  @0ghostwriter0  @stylescanbeatmyback  @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni  @momoneymolife  @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03  @mcntsee​  @cloudofdisney​  

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@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee  @daydreamingnymph  @fookingshelby  

 It has been six weeks since you and Emmett made it to a community on an island just of the US coast.

The journey was hard, but it was well worth it. Finally, for once, you could feel some normality return.

You only met Emmett five months ago when he was staying in an abandoned factory and you were seeking shelter. He let you in and he saved you and, eventually, you fell in love with each other.

On the island, things worked differently. You were no longer by yourself. Instead, you were surrounded by others, predominantly men who seemed to have better luck surviving.

Quite frequently, you were getting hit on, causing Emmett’s frustration to grow. But, despite the fact that he put potential suiters into place, you thought his occasional jealousy was sweet and you enjoyed nothing more than when he became protective over you.

But, just today, one of the new residents took things just a little too far and decided to kiss you. This was too much for Emmett’s liking and a fight broke out between them, making you rather angry.

As such, just as he arrived back at your small cottage, you confronted him.

‘Johnny didn’t know, he was new and I told him. There is no need for you to be jealous’ you said.

‘I am not jealous Y/N, I am fucking worried about you. We don’t know these men. What is if one of them takes it too far when I am not around?’ Emmett growled.

‘I can protect myself, thank you’ you said sheepishly, earning yourself a deep sigh from Emmett.

‘Alright Emmett, if you don’t think I am a strong ass woman, then you should probably go and find someone else’ you said jokingly and playfully as you pointed to the door.

Emmett just smiled and shrugged before moving to the door. When his hand closed

‘Nah, I am not leaving’ Emmett smirked and your eyes widened in surprise for an instant until your pride caused you to flare just a little.

‘Oh? So, you agree that I am a strong woman?’ you asked with a grin on your face.

‘Oh I agree that you are a strong woman, alright…but you are my strong woman and these men out there better know that’ Emmett said suggestively, causing you to smile.

‘Well, the windows are wide open. Perhaps you should claim what is yours then?’ you suggested before biting your lip again suggestively.

Emmett turned from the door and slowly crossed the room to you, invading your space one slow, purposeful step at a time. Your stumbled back a few steps toward the wall, causing one corner of Emmett's mouth to lift in a crooked grin as he ambled after you, stalking his prey.

‘Perhaps I should’ he smirked as he loomed over you, his fingertips barely brushing your inner wrists, and you took another step back with a nervous stammer.

‘Take me already’ you said as your heart skipped a beat. You knew that tone of his voice all too well ever since you moved into this cottage. Before, you had to be quiet, but now you didn’t and Emmett really liked to talk, dominate you and make you scream his name. You took another step back and Emmett followed, guiding you until you reached the corner and could escape no further.

‘Going somewhere?’ Emmett teased and moved in close, tenderly taking your left wrist in his right hand and gently lifting it over your head to pin it against the wall, eliciting a soft sound from you. He held you there and gazed into your eyes for a moment, and your heart skipped another beat. Your eyes widened as he lowered his face to your sensitive neck and his warm breath fanned over your skin. You tensed, barely able to breathe, much less fashion a coherent response to his question.

‘No’ you said as you took in a deep breath.

Emmett reached down to your side and intertwined his fingers with those of your right hand, lifting it to join the other above your head. He leaned closer, his body not quite touching yours, his bearded cheek nuzzling your jawline an instant before his lips brushed over your earlobe.

‘I love you’ Emmett whispered and you trembled visibly, shuddering a little more with each passing second, unable to focus on anything but his touch. Your neck was so tender and you ached for more. You mewled softly and tilted your head to the side, opening yourself to him.

‘I love you too’ you responded.

‘Good, now just remember that you're mine’ he said and lightly pressed his lips to your exposed neck. He loved to kiss you there almost as much as you loved to be kissed, if for no other reason than what he knew it did to the rest of your body. He kept the kiss soft and breathed in your intoxicating scent as you shuddered again and arched a little toward him.

‘I am yours Emmett’ you breathed out softly, eyes wide and slightly glazed.

Emmett smiled and traced his fingertips down your left arm to caress your cheek, raising up to loom over you and stare down into your beautiful eyes.

‘I've loved you since the first moment I met you, Y/N’ Emmett said as his fingertips continued lower, the backs of his nails grazing down your neck. Your breath quickened at his touch, growing heavier and you could only moan in reply.

‘You belong to me and I will do anything for you’ he whispered as he moved closer to press his lips to your forehead even as his hips pinned yours to the wall. Your entire body shifted and you jerked your hips as his pressed in.

Your cheeks burned and you knew that they must be completely red now. Your eyes widened again and you could feel that your pulse hammered visibly in your neck.

Emmett swallowed his growing hunger and took a half step back. You struggled to breathe as Emmett stared down into your eyes and slowly unbuttoned your kaki coloured shirt from the top down, exposing more and more of your skin. Your body tensed with each button and your breasts quivered in anticipation. As the last button slipped free, Emmett guided the blouse open to bare your belly and black lace bra to the cool air.

His eyes never left yours until he took a step back and purposefully dragged his gaze down your body, drinking in the luscious sight. You swallowed hard and blushed furiously. Emmett smiled and nodded in approval as you remained still while he looked upon you.

Finally, he stepped forward once more and reached up to take your wrists in his hands again, slowly lowering them to your sides as he leaned in to softly press his lips to yours in the smallest hint of a kiss. You shivered lightly as he loomed over you again. You leaned forward to kiss him more deeply, wanting to taste more of him, and you tugged on your wrists, anxious to feel him under your itching fingers.

Emmett smiled and leaned away from your kiss, shaking his head and tightening his grip on your wrists, causing you to shudder and whimper. The vulnerable sound shifted to a gasp when Emmett stepped back once more and spun your around to face the corner. He lifted his hands to your shoulders and guided your shirt down your arms, stopping with it at the small of your back, keeping your wrists bound to your side.

You were helpless, unable to even see him now. You could not touch or taste, only listen and feel what it was like to be the object of his desire.

‘I'm in control Y/N’ he whispered and pressed his lips to the bared flesh of your shoulder and neck. A light nip sent your head falling back and you mewled again.

‘I want to touch you’ you somehow made out, but instinctively kept your wrists at your side.

Emmett continued to kiss you, his lips moving back down your neck and over your shoulder as he dropped the blouse to the floor and lifted your wrists once again.

‘No, not yet’ Emmett said firmly.

You pressed your wrists against the wall and moaned as Emmett's lips moved back and forth over your sensitive skin. You shuddered when he traced back down your arms and sides to stop on your waist. His hands slid around to the front to unbutton and unzip your jeans, causing your eyes to widen again as he casually pushed them over your hips and down to join your shirt on the floor.

‘Emmett’ you breathed as he stepped back to eye you again, eager to imprint the sight of your body on his mind. He took special note of the lacy, black panties, silky and tight against curves of your hips and ass. Eyes never leaving that amazing view, Emmett reached out and unclasped your bra.

‘Turn around’ he instructed.

You could feel the pounding of your heart and turned slowly, keenly aware of how precariously your bra draped over your breasts. So very self-conscious, you nevertheless forced your wide eyes to meet his. Emmett looked down into your eyes and met your gaze with a smile. Reaching up to your shoulders, he slowly guided the bra straps down your arms. He leaned forward as he did, kissing your neck and softly sucking on the tender flesh.

You whimpered. Your breasts were now exposed to him and you were left in only your panties. Your heart pounded furiously and you couldn't help but arch your hips toward him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noticed your head falling back. Emmett took full advantage of your offering and nuzzled deeply into your neck. Reaching down, he took your hands in his and returned them to their proper place - pinned to the wall above your head.

‘You belong to me Y/N’ he whispered and pressed his teeth to your skin, slowly biting down as his hips met yours and pinned them to the wall.

The words made you shudder, and you ached to arch your hips again. Your heart raced. Your body writhed as much as the press of his against yours would allow. You grew more and more needy by the second, and the touch of his teeth to your tender neck made you mewl and breathe harshly.

Emmett met your desperate sound with a low growl and rolled his hips into you. He dragged his tongue over your flesh, tasting your surrender, and clenched his jaw. His teeth sunk into your neck, marking his territory.

‘Emmett’ you screamed and bucked into his body, gasping and writhing against him, the sensation so intense. You could feel your panties becoming soaked.

Emmett flinched at your scream, the sound loud but delicious in his ear, and relaxed his jaw. He nuzzled into your neck, softly kissing the pained flesh as the blood rushed back to your skin. You sobbed out softly, sinking a little against the wall, eyes glazed over.

After taking a few steadying breaths, Emmett began to walk backward, pulling you with him by your hands. You stumbled with him as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Staring up into your eyes as you stood there in front of him, Emmett kissed all around your navel and hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties. You shivered and bit your lower lip, gripping his shoulders tightly, as he slid the panties to the floor.

As soon as the panties dropped, Emmett reached for your wrists, guiding them back to your sides.

‘I am not done’ he spoke softly, but the words were heavy with force.

Still looking up and into your eyes, he bent lower and began kissing over your mound, causing you to whimper and then sharply cry out his name when the tip of his tongue traced down your slit while you could feel his beard tickle your skin.

Hands above your head’ he breathed out against your skin, and you instantly complied, raising your hands and lacing your fingers together.

‘Oh god Emmett’ you whimpered again as his tongue stretched lower, dragging over your clit. He gripped your hips tightly as you cried out his name once more and jerked toward his mouth. He alternated between kissing over your mound and flicking his tongue over your clit, never letting you focus on one sensation for long. Trusting you to keep your hands above your head as you were told, Emmett slid one hand down to sink two of his strong fingers into your opening. His other hand moved up your chest, closing over your right breast to knead softly, his rough palm grating over your hard nipple.

You gasped and trembled against his hold. You were so wet, you just knew you must have been dripping.

‘You taste so sweet’ you heard Emmett say, and you sunk your teeth into your lower lip as you struggled to stay standing while Emmett ducked his head lower, lapping at the juices coating your lips.

‘Please, Emmett... Please! I need you!’ you cried.

Emmett jerked at your cry and pushed your back away from him. Taking a calming breath, he stood before you, his body so impossibly close to yours. He stared down into your eyes with barely contained hunger and you stumbled back a step, breathing harshly and mewling almost steadily now. You trembled as he walked around you, his eyes raking over your naked, vulnerable body.

‘On the bed, now’ Emmett commanded, and you turned to crawl backward onto it immediately. He watched you go, admiring your liquid grace, and began to strip. Down went his t-shirt, jeans, and finally his boxers. You watched with open lust, your breath catching as each peace hit the floor.

I want to touch you’ you whined.

Emmett smiled and walked to the bed. He stood towering over your naked body and you could see the throbbing of his erect cock. You moaned loudly as Emmett took your hand in his and guided it to his thick shaft.

Your fingers instantly wrapped around him and squeezed lightly, stroking along his length up and down, watching Emmett with wide eyes. Your touch was magic, and he sucked in a sharp breath in response. His head rolled back and his hips rocked forward. A surge of precum wet the tip of his cock, dripping over your fingers.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he breathed out but you couldn't wait any longer.

‘I need you inside me’ you whispered and rubbed your thumb over the head of his cock. You tightened your grip and stroked faster, the action making you shudder just as much Emmett was. Your hips shifted restlessly on the bed in anticipation.

‘Impatient as usual’ Emmett chuckled as he gripped your wrist tightly and pulled your hand away. In a flash he was on you, pushing your back onto the bed, climbing over you. He dipped his hips between your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him, and he locked gazes with you.

‘Take me Emmett’ you moaned as he pinned your hands above your head, causing you to buck your hips up toward his.

‘As you wish’ Emmett growled as he adjusted his hips and shifted them forward. His bulbous head parted your lips and began sinking into you, causing you to cry out. Emmett moaned and shuddered and pressed steadily deeper, slowly filling and stretching your welcoming pussy.

‘Fuck you are tight’ Emmett murmured with a heavy breath as he entered you and you threw your head back, clenching and arching into him desperately. He filled you so deeply already and you were absolutely gushing with wetness.

‘Oh god’ you moaned as Emmett bucked the last little distance, slamming his cock fully into you and rotating his hips.

‘So utterly and completely mine’ Emmett growled as he pulled back slowly and slammed in again

‘Emmett’ you screamed out his name and threw your head back, arching up sharply toward him. Your legs squeezed even more tightly around his waist, trying to pull him ever deeper. Emmett buried his face in your neck, biting again and again, intent on marking you once more.

His teeth were just too much. You couldn't bear any more. Unable to stop the sensations from ripping through you, you screamed out his name again and began to climax.

‘Come inside me Emmett, please’ you murmured as your walls began to tighten around him. You weren’t on birth control, but you no longer cared now that you were safe.

Emmett tightened his grips on your wrists and pushed up to stare down at your lovely body, wracked in pleasure. He panted for breath as he pushed his hips harder and faster, the sound of each impact wet with your juices.

Your orgasm washed over you and your legs began to quiver as he continued to thrust into you at a relentless speed.

’Fuck’ he growled and pressed his forehead to yours, slamming his cock hard into your pussy once more. He planted his full length deep inside you, grinding, and suddenly arched his back with a primal shout, coming hard and filling you with his warm cum.

‘Emmett, oh god yes’ you screamed again as the pleasure he gave you was so intense. It ripped through your body and left your slick with sweat, shaking with each wave as the orgasm went on and on in a steady flow of aftershocks.

Emmett shuddered wordlessly atop you, hips rolling once more, desperate to empty every last drop of cum into your writhing form. He gasped for breath and jerked with each orgasmic spasm that shook his body. As the near painful pleasure began to subside, he breathlessly found your mouth with his, kissing you hard.

You both fought for breath, and Emmett finally collapsed to the bed beside you. He weakly pulled you to him, cradling your again his chest.

Without words, you moaned softly and went limp in his arms, aside from the occasional shudder.

‘I love you’ he finally whispered.

‘I love you too’ you said as you cuddled in as closely as possible, breathing in Emmett's scent.

‘

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #Emmett #emmett x reader #emmett smut #a quiet place #a quiet place 2 #a quiet place imagine #a quiet place fanfic #a quiet place smut #a quiet place ii #a quiet place part ii #smut #skyfii #fanfic #fanfiction

[writingwithcolor]

I'm writing an AU of a movie that takes place in the 1880s USA, where a travelling white character and a Jewish character are waylaid by Native Americans, who they befriend. Probably because it was written by and about PoC (Jews) the scene actually avoids the stuff on your Native American Masterpost, but I'd still like to do better than a movie made in the 1980's, and I feel weird cutting them from the plot entirely. I have a Jewish woman reading it for that, but are there any things you (1/1)

2/2 1880s western movie ask--are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s? I do plan to base them on a real tribe (Ute, probably) and have proper housing/clothes and so forth, but right now I'm just trying to avoid or subvert awful cowboy movie tropes. Any ideas?

White and Jewish Men, Native American interactions in 1880s

I am vaguely concerned with how you only cite one of our posts about Native Americans, that was not written by a Native person, and do not cite any of the posts relating to this time period, or any posts relating to representation in media. 

Sidenote: if you want us to give accurate reflections of the media you’re discussing, please tell us the NAME. I cannot go look up this movie based off this description to give you an idea of what my issues are with this scene, and must instead trust that the representation is good based off your judgement. I cannot make my own judgement. This is a problem. Especially since your whole question boils down to “this scene is good but not great and I want it to be great. How can I do that?”

Your baseline for “good” could very well be my baseline for “terrible hack job”. I can’t give you the proper education required for you to be able to accurately evaluate the media you’re watching for racist stereotypes if you don’t tell me what you’re even working with.

When you’re writing fanfic where the media is directly relevant to the question, please tell us the name of the media. We will not judge your tastes. We need this information in order to properly help you.

Moving on.

I bring up my concern for you citing that one—exceptionally old—post because it is lacking in many of the tropes that don’t exist in the media critique field but exist in the real world. This is an issue I have run into countless times on WWC (hence further concern you did not cite any other posts) and have spoken about at length. 

People look at the media critique world exclusively, assume it is a complete evaluation of how Native Americans are seen in society, and as a result end up ignoring some really toxic stereotypes and then come to the inbox with “these characters aren’t abc trope, so they’re fine, but I want to rubber stamp them anyway. Anything wrong here?”. The answer is pretty much always yes. 

Issue one: “Waylaid” by Native Americans

This wording is extremely loaded for one reason: Native American people are seen as tricksters, liars, and predators. This is the #1 trope that shows up in the real world that does not show up in media critique. It’s also the trope I have talked about the most when it comes to media representation, so you not knowing the trope is a sign you haven’t read the entirety of the Native tag—which is in the FAQ as something we would really prefer you did before coming at us to answer questions. It avoids us having to re-explain ourselves.

Now, hostility is honestly to be expected for the time period the movie is set in. This is in the beginnings (or ramping up) of residential schools in America* and Canada, we have generations upon generations of stolen or killed children, reserves being allocated perhaps hundreds of miles from sacred sites, and various wars with Plains and Southwest peoples are in full force (Wounded Knee would have happened in 1890, in December, and the Dakoa’s mass execution would have been in 1862. Those are just the big-name wars. There absolutely were others). 

*America covers up its residential schools abuse extremely thoroughly, so if you try to research them in the American context you will come up empty. Please research Canada’s schools and apply the same abuse to America, as Canada has had a Truth and Reconciliation Commission about residential schools and therefore is more (but not completely) transparent about the abuse that happened. Please note that America’s history with residential schools is longer than Canada’s history. There is an extremely large trigger warning for mass child death when you do this research.

But just because the hostility is expected does not mean that this hostility would be treated well in the movie. Especially when you consider the sheer amount of tension between any Native actors and white actors, for how Sacheen Littlefeather had just been nearly beaten up by white actors at the 1973 Academy Awards for mentioning Wounded Knee, and the American Indian Religious Freedom Act had only been passed two years prior in 1978. 

These Native actors would not have had the ability to truly consent to how they were shown, and this power dynamic has to be in your mind when you watch this scene over. I don’t care that the writers were from a discriminated-against background. This does not always result in being respectful, and I’ve also spoken about this power imbalance at length (primarily in the cowboy tag).

Documentaries and history specials made in the 2010s (with some degree of academic muster) will still fall into wording that harkens Indigenous people to wolves and settlers as frightened prey animals getting picked off by the mean animalistic Natives. This is not neutral, or good. This is perpetuating the myth that the settlers were helpless, just doing their own thing completely unobtrusively, and then the evil territorial Native Americans didn’t want to share.

To paraphrase Batman: if I had a week I couldn’t explain all the reasons that’s wrong.

How were these characters waylaid by the Native population? Because that answer—which I cannot get because you did not name the media—will determine how good the framing is. But based on the time period this movie was made alone, I do not trust it was done respectfully.

Issue 2: “Befriending”

I mentioned this was in an intense period of residential schools and land wars all in that area. The Ute themselves had just been massacred by Mormons in the Grass Valley Massacre in 1865, with ten men and an unknown number of women and children killed thanks to a case of assumed association with a war chief (Antonga Black Hawk) currently at war with Utah. The Paiute had been massacred in 1866. Over 100 Timpanogo men had been killed, with an unknown number of women and children enslaved by Brigham Young in Salt Lake City in 1850, with many of the enslaved people dying in captivity (those numbers were not tracked, but I would assume at least two hundred were enslaved— that’s simply assuming one woman/wife and one child for every man, and the numbers could have very well been higher if any war-widows and their children were in the group, not to mention families with multiple children). This is after an unknown group of Indigenous people had been killed by Governor Brigham Young the year prior, to “permanently stop cattle theft” from settlers. 

The number of Native Americans killed in Utah in the 1800s—just the number of dead counted (since women and children weren’t counted)—in massacres not tied to war (because there was at least one war) is over 130. The actual number of random murders is much higher; between the uncounted deaths and how the Governor had issued orders to “deal with” the problem of cattle theft permanently. I doubt you would have been tried or convicted if you murdered Indigenous peoples on “your” land. This is why it’s called state sanctioned genocide.

This is not counting the Black Hawk War in Utah (1865-1872), which the Ute were absolutely a part of (the wiki articles I read were contradictory if Antonga Black Hawk was Ute or Timpanogo, but the Ute were part of it). The first official massacre tied to the war—the Bear River Massacre, ordered by the US Military—places the death count of just that singular massacre at over five hundred Shoshone, including elders, women, and children. It would not be unreasonable to assume that the number of Indigenous people killed in Utah from 1850, onward, is over a thousand, perhaps two or three.

Pardon me for not reading beyond that point to list more massacres and simply ballparking a number; the source will be linked for you to get an accurate number of dead.

So how did they befriend the Native population? Let alone see them as fully human considering the racism of the time period? Natives were absolutely not seen as fully human so long as they were tied to their culture, and assimilation equalling some sliver of respect was already a stick being waved around as a threat. This lack of humanity continues to the present day.

I’m not saying friendship is impossible. I am saying the sheer levels of mistrust that would exist between random wandering groups of white/pale men and Indigenous communities wouldn’t exactly make that friendship easy. Having the scene end be a genuine friendship feels ignorant and hollow and flattening of ongoing genocide, because settlers lied about their intentions and then lined you up for slauther (that’s how the Timpanogo were killed and enslaved).

Utah had already done most of its mass killing by this point. The era of trusting them was over. There was an active open hunting season, and the acceptable targets were the Indigenous populations of Utah.

(sources for the numbers: 

List of Indian Massacres in North America Black Hawk War (1865-1872))

Issue 3: “Proper housing/clothes and so forth”

Do you mean Western style settlements and jeans? If yes, congratulations you have written a reservation which means the land-ripped-away wounds are going to be fresh, painful, and sore.

You do not codify what you mean by “proper”, and proper is another one of those deeply loaded colonial words that can mean “like a white man” or “appropriate for their tribe.” For the time period, it would be the former. Without specifying which direction you’re going for, I have no idea what you’re imagining. And without the name of the media, I don’t know what the basis of this is.

The reservation history of this time period seems to maybe have some wiggle room; there were two reservations allocated for the Ute at this time, one made in 1861 and another made in 1882 (they were combined into the Uintah and Ouray Indian Reservation in 1886). This is all at the surface level of a google and wikipedia search, so I have no idea how many lived in the bush and how many lived on the reserve. 

There were certainly land defenders trying to tell Utah the land did not belong to them, so holdouts that avoided getting rounded up were certainly possible. But these holdouts would be far, far more hostile to anyone non-Native.

The Ute seemed to be some degree of lucky in that the reserve is on some of their ancestral territory, but any loss of land that large is going to leave huge scars. 

It should be noted that reserves would mean the traditional clothing and housing would likely be forbidden, because assimilation logic was in full force and absolutely vicious at this time. 

It’s a large reserve, so the possibility exists they could have accidentally ended up within the borders of it. I’m not sure how hostile the state government was for rounding up all the Ute, so I don’t know if there would have been pockets of them hiding out. In present day, half of the Ute tribe lives on the reserve, but this wasn’t necessarily true historically—it could have been a much higher percentage in either direction.

It’s up to you if you want to make them be reservation-bound or not. Regardless, the above mentioned genocide would have been pretty fresh, the land theft in negotiations or already having happened, and generally, the Ute would be well on their way to every assimilation attempt made from either residential schools, missionaries, and/or the forced settlement and pre-fab homes.

To Answer Your Question

I don’t want another flattened, sanitized portrayal of genocide.

Look at the number of dead above, the amount of land lost above, the amount of executive orders above. And try to tell me that these people would be anything less than completely and totally devastated. Beyond traumatized. Beyond broken hearted. Absolutely grief stricken with almost no soul left.

Their religion would have been illegal. Their children would have been stolen. Their land was taken away. A saying about post-apocalyptic fiction is how settler-based it is, because Indigenous people have already lived through their own apocalypse.

It would have all just happened at the time period this story is set in. All of the grief you feel now at the environment changing so drastically that you aren’t sure how you’ll survive? Take that, magnify it by an exponential amount because it happened, and you have the mindset of these Native characters.

This is not a topic to tread lightly. This is not a topic to read one masterpost and treat it as a golden rule when there is too much history buried in unmarked, overfull graves of school grounds and cities and battlefields. I doubt the movie you’re using is good representation if it doesn’t even hint at the amount of trauma these Native characters would have been through in thirty years.

A single generation, and the life that they had spent millennia living was gone. Despite massive losses of life trying to fight to preserve their culture and land.

Learn some history. That’s all I can tell you. Learn it, process it, and look outside of checklists. Look outside of media. 

And let us have our grief.

~ Mod Lesya

On Question Framing

Please allow me the opportunity to comment on “are there things you'd LIKE to see in a movie where a white man and a Jewish man run into Native Americans in the 1880s?” That strikes me as the same type of question as asking what color food I’d like for lunch. I don’t see how the cultural backgrounds of characters I have literally no other information about is supposed to make me want anything in particular about them. I don’t know anything about their personalities or if they have anything in common.

Compare the following questions:

“Are there things you’d like to see in a movie where two American women, one from a Nordic background and one Jewish, are interacting?” I struggle to see how our backgrounds are going to yield any further inspiration. It certainly doesn’t tell you that we’re both queer and cling to each other’s support in a scary world; it doesn’t tell you that we uplift each other through mental illness; it doesn’t go into our 30 years of endless bizarre inside jokes related to everything from mustelids to bad subtitles.

Because: “white”, “Jewish”, and “Native American” aren’t personality words. You can ask me what kind of interaction I’d like to see from a high-strung overachieving woman and a happy-go-lucky Manic Pixie Dream Girl, and I’ll tell you I’d want fluffy f/f romance. Someone else might want conflict ultimately resolving in friendship. A third person might want them slowly getting on each other’s nerves more and more until one becomes a supervillain and the other must thwart her. But the same question about a cultural demographic? That told me nothing about the people involved.

Also, the first time I meet a new person from a very different culture, it might take weeks before discussion of our specific cultural differences comes up. As a consequence, my first deep conversations with a Costa Rican American gentile friend were not about Costa Rica or my Jewishness but about things we had in common: classical music and coping with breakups--which are obviously conversations I could have had if we were both Jewish, both Costa Rican gentiles, or both something else. So in other words, I’m having trouble seeing how knowing so little about these characters is supposed to give me something to want to see on the page.

Thank you for understanding.

(And yes, I agree with Lesya, what’s with this trend of people trying to explain their fandom in a roundabout way instead of mentioning it by name? It makes it harder to give meaningful help….)

--Shira

#platypan #genocide #native american #North America #america #history #american history #media #representation #asks

[readerstories]

I’m sorry- Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

Idk if angry was the emotion you wanted, but for some reason that is what I was feeling like writing this time. Also, I cannot keep stuff with Hotch short apparently. (AO3)

Warnings/tags: established relationship, angst, fighting, hurt/comfort, Hotch being an ass, happy ending

Wordcount: 2696

Request: I was wondering if you could do a hotch x BAU!reader where Hotch says something in the heat of an argument and the reader gets super emotional and Hotch just tries to apologize and make it up to reader. Thank you💕💕

Sometimes, injuries happen at work.

You had done a quick assessment in the field, making a hard decision when you needed to. Going in without much backup had been a risk you chose to take.

Being hit in the head with an old briefcase that has metal edges had not been a possibility you had foreseen, but it happened anyways.

You had rounded a corner in the unsub’s home, gun raised and yelling his name, and he had gotten a good knock on your forehead. You had been dazed for a few seconds, but managed to tackle him and cuff him anyway, reading him his rights as you did so.

The hard edge of the briefcase had hit your forehead, making a small gash, which was not deep, but it was bleeding quite a bit like head wounds tend to do. It’s running down your face as you get the unsub up on his feet, so you have to close your left eye and wipe at it as you lead the cuffed man outside.

Once outside you hand him over to an officer, who gives your head a glance, but doesn’t ask as you turn away from him as he starts to lead the unsub towards a car.

Rossi spots where he’s talking to Hotch and the police chief and points towards the ambulance standing close. You nod, and wipe at your face with the edge of your jacket sleeve, catching Hotch turning around to look at you too, but you don’t catch the worried look in his eyes.

Walking over to the ambulance, you’re guided to sit on the back as one of the paramedics cleans you up.

Even though it looked bad with the blood, the clean up goes quick, and they say you won’t even need stitches.

And luckily no concussion either.

A few butterfly strips get applied to your forehead and you are allowed to go with a promise that you will take it easy for at least a day or two.

You’re asked if you have anyone to stay with just in case and you nod as an answer, the adrenaline of it all wearing off as you stand up and yawn. The paramedic smiles and wishes you good night, you do the same to them.

Joining Aaron at his car, he doesn’t say anything, his mouth in a thin line as he looks at the strips now adorning your forehead. Both of you had agreed from the start to keep PDA to a minimum at work, but you wish he would at least say or do something.

Ask you if you’re fine.

Hold your hand maybe.

Comment on how you should change out of your bloodied jacket.

Something.

Something other than the stony silence that follows you into the car.

It takes a few minutes of Aaron driving towards Quantico before anything is said.

“You were reckless.”

“I made a decision on the spot and it backfired a little, yes, but I was hardly reckless.”

“If he had a gun-”

“I would have disarmed him or shot him first.”

“You couldn’t stop a briefcase, you think you could do a gun?” Getting irritated, you glare at Aaron.

“Yes.” You grit out.

“You sure?”

“Aaron, what the fuck is this?” You see him clench at the wheel, his knuckles turning whiter as he concentrates on driving for a few seconds before answering you.

“You need a debrief.”

“Yes, from Rossi, at the office, not like this.” He scoffs, glancing at you briefly before locking his gaze back on the road. You see his jaw clench, but he doesn’t answer you, so you don’t say anything either.

Neither of you speak again until you’re back at headquarters. Aaron beelines for his office, and you’re hot on his heels, not paying any attention to the rest of the team already gathered at the bullpen.

“Aaron-” You try to speak as you close the door behind you, but he interrupts you.

“You should take a week off.” You stare at him as he rummages through some papers on his desk, not even looking at you as he speaks. “One paid week off should do you good. After all this.” He gestures at you and finally looks away from the papers again.

“Hotch, if this was anyone else, you would let them come back after a day to sleep in.” Aaron sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t have to explain my reasoning to you.” His voice is angry, but simmering with tiredness just beneath the surface.

The silence in the room as you don’t even give an answer to the statement is deafening. There’s a look in your eyes that he never wished to see directed at him.

Ice cold anger. Mixed with disappointment, and something else he can’t quite place. Sadness perhaps?

You unclip your gun from your holster, placing it on his desk with your badge.

“See you in a week, Hotchner.” The use of his full last name hurts, you might as well have used bullets.

You don’t let him give you any response to your statement, opening the door and striding out of his office, not slamming the door behind you as much as you want to. Your steps down to you desk are fast, as fast as they can be without fully running.

You gather your things quickly, ignoring the rest of your team.

Morgan tries to stop you with a hand on your shoulder, but you evade him with a glare, making him back off.

All the things you need on your person, you’re out of the glass door seconds later. You slam on the elevator button, debating on just taking the stairs to run off some steam while also getting out of here.

Rossi joins you as you wait, and you hear him open his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“If you try to say something to get me to stay, I swear to god, I will put you on the ground.” Your words and glare makes Rossi’s eyebrows rise, but he keeps his mouth shut and takes a few steps away from you.

Finally the elevator doors open and you get in, pushing the button for the parking garage and the button to close the door faster in quick succession. With one last glare at the bullpen the elevator door closes in front of your face.

While you try your damnedest to set a new speed record for leaving the building, Rossi goes back to the bullpen, where the rest of the team sends him questioning glances.

“What even happened?” Morgan wonders out loud. “I’ve never seen them so angry before.”

“I don’t know.” Rossi is looking at Hotch, who is moving around in his office, partly shielded by the blinds. Everyone is looking between each other and Hotch’s office, the first one daring to go up there ends up being Rossi.

He knocks softly on the door with a knuckle, making Hotch look up from where he is standing next to his desk and reading some paperwork in his hand.

“You want to talk?” Hotch scoffs, putting the papers down on the desk.

“I’m fine.” Rossi closes the door behind him.

“But they clearly weren’t, so come on, spill. What did you do?” Hotch clenches his jaw, sparing a glance down at the bullpen, where the rest of the team tries to pretend they’re busy.

“I told them to take a paid week off, they protested, I insisted.” Hotch sighs as Rossi scoffs.

“For such a smart man you sure are dumb sometimes.” Hotch’s head snaps back by the comment, looking like he wants to answer and defend himself, but Rossi holds up a hand to stop him.

“You messed up. You must have known telling them to take a week off just for this was a bad call.”

“I didn’t.” Hotch's eyes are like steel, but there’s hurt hiding behind, if it’s at Rossi’s words or your actions he doesn’t know.

“But it was. Fuck Aaron, what are you even still doing here?” Hotch squints his eyes at Rossi, who throws his hands up into the air.

“You should be running after them and begging them to forgive you for doing the wrong thing. Preferably with their favorite flowers and candy in hand, or some sort of gesture, because this-” He gestures at Hotch and your gun and badge on his desk, “Is not good for anyone.” Hotch watches him for a few seconds.

“Rossi-”

“Just go Aaron.” Seemingly making up his mind, Hotch gathers his stuff, only stopping right next to Rossi and giving him a glance.

“I-” Rossi pats Hotch’s shoulder.

“Someone had to knock some sense into you. Go.” Hotch nods, out the door in seconds. The team watches him go, neither of them saying anything before Hotch is gone and Rossi joins them in the bullpen.

“They going to be okay?” Morgan asks.

“Let’s hope so.” Rossi answers, staring at the glass doors.

“I hate when people fight.” Garcia says quietly as Morgan pulls her into a side-hug.

----

You don’t know if you should even be driving right now, but can’t find it in yourself to care or think too much about it.

You just need to get somewhere where you can be alone and clear your head. Somewhere there’s less people and more open space.

And lucky for you, you know just the spot.

Almost on auto-pilot, you drive your truck away from work, heading out on the main road, not driving for long until you turn onto a small side road. It can barely even be called that, small and uneven as it is, but it’s no problem for you truck where you drive it with sure hands.

You end up in a clearing near the water, a small beach barely touched or seen by anyone else, except maybe the occasional hiker. You debate going down to the water, but instead you park your truck with its back towards it, flipping the tailgate down so you can sit on it.

Jumping up to sit on the tailgate, you pull out the newly bought pack of smokes and lighter from your pocket. You had quit years ago, but tonight seems like a good idea for bad habits, you think to yourself as you light one.

Taking a drag, you can already tell you will regret it later with the aftertaste you know it leaves, but you continue smoking nonetheless. 

Turning some old candy wrapper in your pocket into an improvised ashtray and putting it on the right side of you, one cigarette turns into two, soon morphing into a third.

It’s just seconds after lighting your forth cigarette that you hear another car approach. Which is odd, because you were certain few people know about this place, but you’re not too worried, your private gun resting in the back of your pants a comforting weight.

The car rounds the last bend of the small road, coming to a stop not too far from you, lights illuminating your truck and the beach beyond. Turning to look, you’re almost blinded by the lights, but they are quickly shut off as the car is turned off, and you realize you know the car.

Aaron’s car.

You snort.

The trip out here from the main road couldn’t have been comfortable for his car, or for Aaron.

Good.

You turn back around just as the driver door starts to open, and you ignore the sound of Aaron’s steps in the dirt in favor of taking another drag of your cigarette and staring into the water.

Aaron comes around your truck, leaning against your truck’s tailgate on your left, keeping his distance. He places a plastic grocery bag in the space between you. It makes a dull thud and despite you trying to ignore it, you find yourself curious.

“Peace offering.” Aaron explains as you eye the bag. You reach over and push at the top of the bag so you can peek inside. A couple of your favorite snacks, drinks, and a DVD with the logo of a movie you had talked about wanting to see. You push the bag behind you into the truck bed, taking another drag of your cigarette.

“How did you find me?” You don’t look at Aaron just yet, but you can tell he is looking at you.

“You told me about this place a few months ago and how you go here to relax sometimes and I- I just thought with how I acted-” Aaron sighs. He holds out his hand just in your field of vision, gesture clear. You give him your cigarette, watching him for the first time since he arrived as he takes a drag, letting the smoke lazily spill out from his lips with practiced ease.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“I had a phase in college.” He offers, taking another drag before giving the cigarette back to you. You take a drag yourself, letting the silence linger for a moment before you speak.

“You know you were being stupid.”

“Yes.” You’re just slightly surprised with how there is no hesitation in the one-word answer, but you’re a little content as well.

“If it had been anyone else in the team you wouldn’t have reacted that way.” Aaron sighs, putting his arms back on the tailgate, using them as leverage to hoist himself up so he’s sitting on the tailgate too, still keeping his distance.

“No one else in the team are you.” You wait for him to say more, taking a last drag of your cigarette, putting it out with the three others in the candy wrapper.

“I’m sorry.” Aaron admits, but you still don’t say anything. “I was acting and thinking like your significant other, and not your boss. I let my worry get the best of me, and I tried to find a way to shield you from any further harm in what little way I could by telling you to take a week off.” You nod, at least seeing his reasoning a bit clearer now.

“I’m not taking it.”

“You are but-” He holds up a hand before you can protest and glare at him too hard “-but so am I.” You blink, staring at him for a few seconds.

“You are?” He nods, and you lean forward to place the back of your hand on his forehead. He almost jolts at your touch, but doesn’t move away.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking if you have a fever.” Hotch scoffs, but a small smile peaks through as you let your hand fall down. He felt fine, and other than looking a bit tired and very sorry, he looks fine too.

Hotch takes your hand in his, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles and you can’t help the fond smile on your face.

“I’m sorry.” He offers up again, letting go of your hand in favor of moving closer so he can put an arm around your waist and lean his head on your shoulder as you look at the water again. You hum, turning your head ever so slightly so you can kiss the top of your head. You can’t see the little shy smile on Aaron’s face, but you can almost hear it in his almost hopeful voice as he speaks.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” You hum, moving your hand to rest on his knee.

“Mostly. But you are the only one doing chores this week.”

“That’s alright with me, as long as I get to spend time with you.” His hand on your jaw turns your head towards him, letting him give a brief kiss to your lips, and then a feather light one just below the butterfly strips on your forehead.

“You’re a fool Aaron.”

“I’m only a fool for you.”

“Cheesy.” You roll your eyes at him with a smile as you get down from the tailgate, Aaron joining you, standing close so he can give you another kiss.

“Always.” He says with a grin, making his eyes light up and you can’t help but kiss him.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #gender neutral #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #reader #readerinsert #reader insert #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #written

[cuquitalocita]

a new addition- rowaelin

AN: okay, a bunch of you guys asked for a part two to this fic so here it is! it’s longer than i meant for it to be and it’s not my favorite but i hope you guys like it- by the way the name eliora is not mine originally- i can’t remember who used it but it was not me so feel free to tag people if you know :)

part one

~~

“And then what?” Her voice was eager.

Aelin shrugged, her lips tilting up into a small smile as she gazed at the green eyes across from her. “Then he kissed me.” Being completely honest, Aelin could remember the kiss as if it was yesterday. Could still feel his hard body pressed against hers and the fading taste of alcohol on his lips. 

“Bullshit,” a voice scoffed from behind her. Aelin whirled to face the matching turquoise eyes and she arched a brow, causing him to visibly swallow. 

“Excuse you? As far as I recall, I don’t remember you being there.”

Her son shook his head, plopping down on the open area of the couch beside her and taking her feet into his lap. “I didn’t need to be,” he shrugged. “You and Dad tell the story often enough. Everyone knows that you-”

He was cut off as Eliora’s hand slapped over his mouth. “No spoiling, Sammy! I wanna hear the story!” Aelin laughed at her six-year-old and pulled her onto her lap, kissing her cheek as she did so. She gazed at Eliora for a moment; she truly was a beautiful child, even if Aelin was a little bias. 

“That’s right, Eliora,” Aelin grinned at her daughter. “And what did we say about spoiling?”

“Don’t do it,” she replied definitively with a firm shake of her head. Aelin couldn’t help but squeeze Eliora a bit tighter as she opened her mouth to continue the story. Her mouth closed as another body entered the living room. 

“What are we doing?” Nehemia asked, coming to sit by her twin on the couch. Shoulder to shoulder, Aelin’s eyes stared back at her. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Mama’s telling me a love story,” Eliora gushed to her sister, her green eyes alight with childlike excitement. “The greatest of all time!” 

Nehemia gazed at Eliora with pure love, even as she leaned over to whisper something in her brother’s ear. Aelin was just able to hear, “She’s telling it again, huh?” 

“I told you we should have gone to Aunt Lys’s house,” was her son’s muttered response. Nehemia snorted, leaning back over the couch until she was eye to eye with Eliora. 

“Greatest of all time, huh? Must be a good one.” Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint Aelin could only credit to herself. 

“It is,” Aelin finally cut in. “And if you would stop interrupting, I would be able to finish it.” 

The sixteen year-olds rolled their eyes, gazing at one another in a silent language only they could understand. But Aelin didn’t need to hear their dialogue to understand that they had heard the story enough times. But Aelin couldn’t help it. She just loved telling it. Gazing at the sparkling emerald on her finger, Aelin didn’t think she would ever get sick of telling it.

“So, as I was saying.” She bounced Eliora playfully in her lap until she giggled. “He kissed me and-” 

“Aelin Galathynius Whitethorn, you better not be telling my daughter that I kissed you at that party!” Aelin had been so absorbed in her kids that she had barely registered her hulking husband walking into the room. He stood at the door, arms crossed in front of his body as he glared at her, emerald eyes meeting turquoise in a clash of passion. Rowan was still in his work clothes, clearly having just arrived, and Aelin was really trying not to drool at how good he looked with his hair ruffled and his tie undone around his neck.

She threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh.

“Gods, what does a girl have to do to finish a story around here?” 

The floor of their living room creaked as Rowan came to sit beside Aelin and Sam on the couch, his gaze never leaving hers. Rowan leaned forward, catching Aelin’s lips with his for a quick kiss before settling back down on the couch. Nehemia immediately rested her head on her father’s shoulder and was rewarded with a warm kiss to the top of her head. 

Aelin gazed at them with fondness, love filling her heart. Until her husband’s gaze locked with her own once more, and Aelin smirked. 

“You cannot keep telling people that,” Rowan shook his head before turning to their youngest, taking her from Aelin’s lap and shooting his wife an exasperated look. “Eliora, do you remember what Mama and I told you about lying?”

From across from her, Aelin watched Sam snort. He swallowed as his gaze met hers, smile dropping. 

Eliora’s tiny eyebrows scrunched up at the top of her head, the look identical to one Aelin constantly saw on Rowan’s face. Finally, she shook her head, gazing up at her father. “It’s… wrong?”

“That’s right,” Rowan smiled down at her. “And we don’t do it. Even if Mama does.” He looked at the gape on his wife’s face before looking down at their daughter once more. “Especially if Mama does.” Aelin stuck her tongue out to her husband, who finally cracked a smile at her. This one sent warmth all the way down to her toes.

“Does this mean Mama can’t finish the story?” Eliora asked, her voice turning sad as she gazed between her family. Rowan laughed, bouncing her up and down before looking at the twins and back at Aelin, an unmistakable look of triumph in his eyes. 

“Oh, no no no,” he replied, grinning. “Daddy’s here now. And I’m gonna tell you what really happened. I didn’t want to be at that party, to begin with...” 

Aelin didn’t need him to, even if their kids did. She remembered everything about that night. Everything about the days and weeks following she didn’t think she would ever forget them until the day she died. It wasn’t every day you kissed the love of your life at a shitty fraternity rager.

~~

Rowan sat in the kitchen nursing his long since warmed beer. Shitty rap music blared through the speakers around him and it was then that he decided he was better off going back to his dorms before he did something he would regret. 

It had been an hour since the kiss. An hour until he had finally gotten to understand what the hype of kissing Aelin Galathynius was. She was a lot of things- but a bad kisser wasn’t one of them. Rowan had sworn to every god imaginable he could handle a kiss with the infuriating blonde. It was just a kiss, right? Just a game.

But her lips had touched his and Rowan knew something was very very different. He hadn’t been able to get the smell of lemon and verbatim out of his senses for the past hour and it was unlikely that he would stop imagining the kiss any time soon.

But it was just a kiss. He didn’t like Aelin Galathynius. 

She was annoying, and loud, obnoxious, and rude, and she lived to annoy him.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking of her? Even before the party, after their failed project, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about those damn turquoise eyes. 

It wasn’t that he hated everything about her. No- he had noticed the kind voice she would take when talking to Lysandra’s little sister. And he would be a fool not to notice the special smile that lit up her face when she would play with her dog or talk about literature. No, he didn’t hate her. But whatever he did feel was proving to be extremely problematic. Because there was no way she felt the same way. 

Yes- it was definitely time to go home. 

Making his way out from behind the kitchen counter, Rowan made to leave the kitchen just as the door went flying open. The sound of laughter rang through the door and Rowan stared at the exact person he was hoping to be done with for the night.

“Not likely, Moonbeam,” she was saying with a shake of her head, even though a spark glimmered in her blue eyes. Rowan had to consciously check himself from staring for too long as Aelin realized who was standing in front of her.

Her hand flew to her chest with wide eyes. “Jesus, Rowan, you scared me!” 

Rowan thought it was the first time she had ever said his name. He quite liked the sound of it from her lips. 

He was staring again. Full-blown staring at the woman in front of him as he contemplated what to say or do. He was coming up blank. Every thought in his mind seemed to be screaming at him at once. Some saying to run- to flee and never come into contact with her again, others saying to grab her and kiss her. All of them agreed she looked breathtaking in front of him. Like a golden angle.

“Ditto, Galathynius,” he managed out, earning a frown from Aelin. The action brought his gaze to her lips and he quickly looked away. Aelin seemed to have changed as well. Gone was the snarky woman who had spilled her beer all over him, replaced with a beautiful woman who he might’ve been friends with in another life. 

“Hey, can we-” 

“You know you may want to switch to a different conditioner,” he cut her off, saying the first thing he could think of to leave the conversation. “Your hair’s a little dry.” 

Aelin gaped at him, her once lidded eyes turning cold and hard as she scoffed, shoving past him further into the kitchen. “Charming as ever, Whitethorn,” she sniped. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” 

~~

Eliora clapped from her place on her father’s lap.

“It was true love’s kiss!” she cried, earning a laugh from her siblings and parents. It had definitely been something, that was for sure.

“I don’t know…” Aelin mused. “I thought true love’s kiss was reserved for princes, the bravest of them all.” Eliora frowned, as did the twins as their gazes switched to their father. 

“I am brave!” Rowan squawked, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about, Aelin?”

“Why, my dear husband,” Aelin placed her hand on her chest, pretending to be affronted. “It seems you’ve forgotten what happened afterward.” Realization dawned on Rowan’s face before retreating back into a frown. He seemed to hold Eliora tighter as he glared at his wife. 

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he muttered, voice low.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam interrupted his parents from his side of the couch. “What do you mean what happened afterward?” This was a part of the story that neither one of their teenagers had heard before. Whether they were too young to understand it, or it had never come up, the twins were now fully invested in the story. 

“Yeah,” Nehemia joined in. “You guys got together after the kiss at the party. That was it, right?” At their parents’ silence, the twins looked at each other before bolting upright in their seats. 

“Right?” they asked in unison. 

Rowan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. It seemed it was time for a sequel to their family tale. 

~~

Rowan was sure there should be a ditch where his feet had paced through the grass in front of Aelin’s dorm. Cursing to whatever gods there were, Rowan forced his feet to stop moving. How was he supposed to apologize to Aelin if he couldn’t even stop pacing from the nervousness of just thinking about it?

It hadn’t taken long after Rowan had left the party for him to realize what an idiotic prick he had been. He had been tempted to drive over to her dorm right then and there and grovel for her forgiveness. But ultimately he had decided against it, choosing instead in favor of avoiding a hangover. 

But he was sober now, and an apology was necessary. More than necessary. 

He had apologized to people before. He had begged his professors for extensions and apologized after a falling out with an old friend. But he had never planned on asking out any of the people he had been apologizing to. Two days and Rowan had refused to talk about the kiss with anyone. To be honest, he had tried to forget about it himself.

But it seemed it was destined to never leave his mind for the rest of his existence. And as he played the kiss back in his mind, he couldn’t say he minded it. It had been a rude awakening to realize he may have had feelings for Aelin Galathynius. To go from loathing the girl in his chemistry class to suddenly picturing her face everywhere was a big change, and Rowan didn’t know what to do about it. 

Rowan wasn’t stupid. Aelin Galathynius was a beautiful person. Gorgeous looks aside, the woman had a pure heart of fire and gold. Of course, he had noticed this in sullen silence, but that wasn’t the point. He could acknowledge her wicked intelligence and her need to fight for something that was important to her. And he knew that she loved unconditionally. 

Whether he liked it or not, he had kissed Aelin back, and that had been all him. 

He wanted to do it again. 

“Fleetfoot, slow down! Hang on a second Lys- Fleetfoot, no!” Rowan whipped around as he heard Aelin’s voice come from behind him. Sure enough, the golden beauty walked along the sidewalk to her dorm, dog leash in hand. 

She was dressed in a university sweatshirt and leggings that showed off the curve of her legs, so much so that Rowan was forced to look away. Her phone was between her ear and shoulder as she spoke with who Rowan assumed to be Lysandra. He held back a smile as the massive golden retriever yanked her along the road, apparently following a particularly interesting squirrel. 

“I’m telling you, Lys,” she was saying as she came closer, clearly still not seeing him. “It’s not li-” Her feet came to a sudden stop and Rowan’s head snapped up to see her gaze was already on his, eyes wide. Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Rowan couldn’t find he had anything to say either. Her golden hair ran down her back and Rowan found himself fighting the urge to twirl a strand of it around his finger. She really was breathtaking. 

“Lys, I’ll call you back,” she said, eyes not leaving his as she took the phone from her shoulder and ended the call. “Rowan? What are you doing here?” 

It was his turn to struggle for words. How would he even bring it up? A week ago the two were on nothing more than insulting terms. She had infuriated him- had tried every nerve in his body and every bit of anger he had. But now… 

Aelin’s brows were raised in anticipation. Are you going to answer?

Rowan coughed, finally thrown out of his reverie. Who was he kidding? Aelin didn’t want to go on a date with him? Aelin didn’t want to go anywhere with him. And he couldn’t blame her. Rowan had been nothing but a prick to her since the moment they had met, and it was truly coming back to bite him in the ass. 

“Uh, Aedion told me he left something in Lys’s room.” The lie rolled off of his tongue easily enough, yet he hoped Aelin would be able to see through it. It seemed that she didn’t.

“Oh,” she said, understanding and almost shame clouding her words. “Right. What is it? Do you wanna come inside to find it?” Aelin’s dog sat obediently at her heels, looking between the two college kids in silent wonder. 

Yeah, dude, Rowan wanted to say. I don’ know what’s happening either.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s Aedion’s problem. I just thought I could find it before class started but I think it’s too late. He’ll come around later for it.” 

“Right,” Aelin said doubtfully, crossing her arms in front of her body and looking at him.

“Right,” Rowan repeated back to her, causing Aelin to raise another brow. He wanted to push it back down. “Well, I’m gonna go- get to… class. So- bye Aelin.” He was gone before she could say anything else, giving her his back and practically sprinting back toward his side of campus. 

Rowan Whitethorn was an idiot. He knew it. But one look from Aelin and the cold fear that had rushed through his body had him wanting to curl up into a ball and never speak to her again. But he had to. Rowan would have to talk to her again if he was going to find out who was truly behind those stunning blue eyes.

But even at the thought of speaking to her again-

~~

“Hold on, hold on, I know where this is going,” Nehemia interrupted her father before he could continue his sentence. “You avoided her didn’t you?” As Rowan’s cheeks flamed, Sam sat upright in his seat, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“No way. You avoided her?” Aelin cackled as Rowan grumbled something under his breath, earning herself another glare. Nonetheless, Aelin tucked herself under her husband’s arm, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He seemed to soften at the touch, green eyes meeting hers in a look so full of love Aelin thought she might explode. 

“Well, what is it, old man?” Sam prompted. Rowan scowled at his son and daughter, both of who looked ready to pass out from restrained laughter. 

“Only for a couple of weeks,” he muttered lowly. 

“A COUPLE OF WEEKS?” Sam exploded, his laughter finally ringing out through the house as he fell back into the couch, holding his stomach. Nehemia glared at her brother and poked him in the stomach. It didn’t seem to matter as Sam sat up, still grinning. “And you call me a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out.” 

“You are a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out,” Rowan shook his head, running a hand down his face. Nehemia nodded, offering her father a high five which he quickly returned. She was such a daddy’s girl. 

“It’s true honey,” Aelin cut in, even as her son glared at her. “Dorian knows she likes you.”

“The world knows she likes him,” Nehemia said, exasperated. “Now get back to the story. Mom,” she turned to Aelin. “Did you know Dad was lying about having places to be?”

Aelin snorted, running her hand through the hair at the nape of Rowan’s neck which seemed to be even redder than it had been moments before. “Of course I did. His excuse was that he had to go to class. It was Sunday.” 

It was Nehemia’s turn to crackle now and Rowan looked downright offended. It wasn’t often that his oldest daughter wasn’t on his side. Aelin leaned into Rowan’s shoulder, delight running through her body as he placed a chaste kiss on her temple. 

“You’ll pay for this,” he mumbled into her hair. 

Her eyes said it all. I’m looking forward to it, Buzzard. 

“What happened? What happened?” Eliora’s voice dragged Aelin back to the present. She was sure her youngest had no idea what was going on at this point in the story, but Rowan continued nonetheless. 

~~

It was three weeks before he saw her again. Three weeks of avoided group hangouts and staying in his dorm room during parties. Three weeks of taking a longer route than normal to all of his classes, and three weeks of wishing he could speak to the girl he couldn’t get out of his head. 

Rowan was sitting at a picnic table in the middle of one of the university quads, textbook open and highlighter in hand. He hadn’t actually understood any bit of what he had read, but at least it looked like he was doing something. And it seemed to be working pretty well for his other problem.

“Fleetfoot, get back here!” Or not. 

Rowan tried not to draw attention to himself as Aelin ran past his table, after the massive bundle of golden fur that was running away from her. He watched as she chased her dog around the quad, finally giving up as she layed on the ground, arms splayed wide. It wasn’t long before Fleetfoot was back and licking her face. 

He felt Aelin’s laugh all the way to his heart.

~~

“Ten bucks says he grows a pair and asks her out.” Sam had long since abandoned his spot on the couch in favor of sitting on the ground to watch his father intently as he told the story. He had muttered the words to his sister, whose feet were right by his head. She too was looking at her father intently.

“Twenty says he keeps ignoring her until happenstance pushes them together.” 

Rowan rolled his eyes at his children, even though the spark in his green eyes showed he was more than amused. “Your mother was right. It is impossible to finish a story in this house.” 

“Gods,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my dad was such a pus-”

“Let’s see how fast I can ground you,” Rowan cut him off with a stern look to the child in his arms who seemed to be on the verge of sleep. Sam smiled sheepishly.

“My bad.” 

“Will you shut up so he can finish the story?” Nehemia glared at her brother. 

~~

“Alright,” Aedion slammed his hand down on Rowan’s helmet, sending a large clattering sound through his head. Rowan scowled at his best friend, shoving him away. “What the fuck is going on between you and my cousin?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rowan turned back to his bag, shrugging off his helmet and shoving it into the massive pack before taking a sip of his water bottle, all while ignoring Aedion and those eyes that reminded him so much of the ones he truly wanted to see. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” Aedion snapped at him, forcing Rowan to face him. “The two of you have been skirting around each other for the past three weeks and Aelin won’t even come to parties with us anymore so what. Happened.” 

Rowan stopped. Aelin hadn’t been going to parties? Had she been avoiding him as much as he had been avoiding her? He looked at his best friend and shrugged. 

“We kissed. During spin the bottle.” 

Aedion looked at him for what seemed like minutes before bursting into uncanny laughter. 

“Damn,” he wheezed out. “That’s it? Well, it’s about time.” 

“Excuse me?” Rowan growled, and Aedion stopped laughing. 

“You know what I mean, man. It’s about time. All those years when you two would look at each other and glance away before the other noticed. Or when you defend each other when the 

other isn’t there- yep, don’t think I didn’t notice that. I think we can all agree that it’s about time.” 

Rowan shook his head, incredulous. Other people had noticed that?

“No, Aedion,” he sighed. “Aelin hates me. She wants nothing to do with me.” Aedion stared at him again before, shaking his head.

“Ro, man, you are such an idiot sometimes.” 

“You know, Aedion. Saying cryptic shit and expecting other people to understand you doesn’t help anyone,” Rowan snapped, his patience thinning. Turning back to Aedion, he found his eyes glued on something behind him. 

Rowan’s heart stopped. There was no way.

But sure enough, Rowan turned around to meet the gaze of a gaping Aelin Galathynius. She held a tennis ball in one hand and Fleetfoot circled the ground at her feet. Clearly, the dog had chased the ball into their field and her owner had eventually followed. At the worst timing imaginable. 

“Aelin-” Rowan started, but she was already gone, whirling around and sprinting out of the stadium, the golden retriever at her heels. He didn’t think before following after her. “Aelin, wait!” he called after her, forcing his legs to go faster.

It turned out that Aelin Galathynius was quite fast when she wanted to be, and Rowan only caught up to her when she was standing in front of her dorm building. She didn’t need to turn around for Rowan to know she was fuming. 

“Gods, what do you want, Rowan?” she glared at him, her voice ice. “Haven’t you already proven your point?” Rowan wanted to grab her and shake her.

“Proven my- what? Aelin I-” 

“Look you made yourself very clear at the party, alright?” she snapped, turning away from him. But Rowan’s arm shot out, catching hers before she could leave and forcing her to look at him. “I get that Aedion can be nosy at times but you were so out of line, Whitethorn.” 

The confused look on his face must have been painfully obvious. Aelin rolled her eyes. “Look, if it was just an act to shut Aedion up, I-” 

Rowan kissed her.

This woman. This annoying, infuriating, intelligent, beautiful woman. She was absolutely astounding. And she thought he somehow hadn’t noticed that. 

Rowan wanted to remember the feeling of her lips on his for the rest of his life. Wanted to bottle the sound of the small gasp she released before melting into the kiss. He wanted to mold their bodies together until there was no room left. Rowan wanted to feel her soft hair between his fingers and the feeling of her hands in his hair until the day he died. He never wanted to let her go. 

This time when the two pulled back, Rowan kept her close to his body with an arm around her waist. Her arms were still around his neck and Aelin gazed at him through wide eyes. Before she could say anything, Rowan kissed her again, this time lingering. She kissed his smile with her own.

“It was never an act.”

~~

“Well it seems to me that Fleetfoot is the true heroine of the story,” Nehemia grinned, petting the head of her own puppy that sat at her feet next to Sam. “Without her, you two would never have met again. Oh, and I won, by the way Sammy. Pay up.”

“That’s my girl,” Rowan grinned, pride shone over his face at his daughter’s antics regardless of her win being at his expense. Sam practically growled as he handed his sister a twenty-dollar bill. 

“Oh, don’t be sad, Sammy,” Aelin comforted her son, holding her arms out until he rolled his eyes and walked over to give her a hug. “Ask out Asterin and your kids won’t do the same thing to you,” she whispered, earning a dark red blush on her son’s cheeks.

She shared a knowing look with Rowan, unable to resist reaching up and kissing his lips once more. Rowan returned it in kind, grinning when she nipped playfully at his bottom lip. 

“Boo!” Nehemia called from her spot on the couch as Sam yelled, “Get a room!” 

Aelin turned to Rowan once more, unsurprised to see his gaze already on her. “Remind me why we keep them?” Rowan’s laugh rang out loud as he pulled Aelin close to his body. Her head landed on his shoulder and she sighed in content.

“Because we’re cute,” Nehemia supplied. “At least, one of us is.” She gazed at her little sister who had long since fallen asleep on her father’s lap. 

It seemed that their entire reason for telling the story had fallen asleep long before her father had finished telling it. There was no doubt that Eliora wouldn’t remember any bit of the story when she woke up. 

“She’s too young to understand the story yet,” Nehemia said, brushing back a piece of her little sister’s hair with astounding gentleness. 

“So what do we tell her when she’s old enough?” Aelin asked, cherishing the kiss that Rowan placed on her head and unable to contain the insurmountable love in her heart as her kids responded. 

“Oh, Mom’s version, for sure. It’s way better.”

~~

taglist:

@story-scribbler​

@rowaelinismyotp​

@live-the-fangirl-life​

@claralady

@surielandiareendgame​

#aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #aelin #rowan #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fic #rowaelin au #modern au #rowaelin fanfiction #tog #sjm #throne of glass

[jschlattsbabydoll]

Ocean Away Part 2 (Chishiya Shuntaro x Reader)

A/N: Hi! How are you? 

Sorry for the delays for part 2. But here you are 😊

I’m sorry if the story felt rushed, but I would be editing the story once it has been finished for a more detailed version of the story.

Thank you so much for the support for part 1. The notes on this one is amazing currently at 119 notes…. Thank you so much! Hopefully part 2 won’t disappoint.

And I want to tag @eggbutnotyolk and @kaiorik​ , Thank you for commenting and the support! <3

I won’t take so much of the space here.

Please enjoy part 2! :)

 -----+------

“Far away, an ocean away. Where I won’t let you hurt me again.” – Loreen, Ocean Away.

------+-------

 “Don’t leave me.”

 “I won’t.”, You lied.

  Around 12 noon, you awoke from your bed. You around your room to see a note on the bedside cabinet,

“I will be meeting up with Kuina for just a bit.” – Chishiya. 

Then suddenly memories of last night came rushing back on your mind…

You’ll be leaving Chishiya.

Suddenly tears fell down your body, with the memories of last night, your talk with your uncles and after that with him… It was so fucked up on how much you doubt your plan right now. Is this how he can easily manipulate you into thinking things? 

Every night that you two have been together, his body is so warm that you love being with him, but the feelings he portrays, they lack emotions, it was so cold that she would give so much time and space. She would always wait for him to come to her instead.

The game that he plays is dangerous. He is willing to give up everything, even her.

*Flashback*

“Chishiya! Help me! I’m drowning!” you looked at the man you loved the most, he looked back with the coldest eyes that you have ever seen, then he took off.

You screamed loudly for his name, but he didn’t come back.

“Y/N!!!” you heard someone scream your name, hoping that it was Chishiya that he might just went and took some back up.

As you slowly went down, you felt someone pull you from the water, as you were place on land, you coughed hard and tears started to form from your eyes, it suddenly hurt to breathe in and out, but you needed to breathe.

You quickly look at the person who saved you. It was Arisu.

“Arisu…” You said as you slowly started to cry, you couldn’t even form any sentence right now with the outburst of feelings that you have inside, “I.. I thought… I… No…Chishiya… Why?” you tried to speak, as you looked into Arisu’s eyes for answers. You suddenly grabbed Arisu’s sleeves for support. You saw in his eyes that he was worried and pained with the panicked and crying form that you are in.

“Why?! Arisu… Arisu….? Chishiya… left me….”  You continue to break down, you let go of Arisu’s sleeve and you placed both hands on your face.

Arisu suddenly hugged you, “I’m sorry… This is all I could offer you.”

The sadness, dread, disappointment, and the pain are now mixing all in together. Now all you could think of is wishing that you died than suffering under Chishiya’s side.

 “why?” you said through tears with the only answer is pure silence.

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 “HATTER! HATTER! HATTER!” Everyone screamed and cheered their leader, who was leaving for a game with Aguni and you. Your uncle waved from the back seat and smiled at everybody for their immense support, 

While your Uncle Aguni drove the car, you sat on the passenger seat. While the car is slowly leaving the Beach’s premises. You through the crowd and saw him. 

He looked at you eye to eye, but you removed you eyes from his gaze. You didn’t want to leave him, but staying with him hurt a lot more. 

As your uncle Aguni drove off, you uncle Hatter looked at you, “don’t be sad, my child. I know that the beach has everything you need and can ever ask for this world. But, remember, if you need some space from the people within my walls, you can always go a different location.”

You nodded your head, “Thank you Uncle Hatter and Uncle Aguni.”

“Just a bit of wait. We’ll be out of this country and we can have our lives back.” Aguni said as he took a turn to the arena, a school building. 

“After this game, we will be driving you off to your hiding spot. It would be from the other side of Tokyo near Shibuya… We will keep track of you now and then. You will be joining games from the other side, just let us know what is going on, what games you played and what card you have received.” Hatter has explained, “And just to completely hide your identity from other players, you might need to change your hair color or maybe let you wear a mask.” 

“Anyways, the place that we have chosen is near a mall, but we would still be providing for you as promised once we visit you again.” Aguni added,

“Noted.” You answered, as you got out of the car. You opened the car door for you uncle and helped him out, “Uncle Hatter, having a hard time getting out of the car?”

“I’m almost at my 30’s dear. I’m getting old.” He joked, “Wish I could go back to the simpler days.”

You smiled, “30 is not old uncle. Besides, you are still so full of life.”

As your Uncle Aguni got out of the car, “By the way… I followed your plan.” He said while looking at Hatter, “As dangerous as it sounds, but I told Niragi about the plan.”

Niragi wasn’t a good person. You’ve had some issues with Niragi and his awful behavior. Your uncle Aguni has explained and made it very clear with Niragi that you cannot be touched by him in anyway. You two had a very civil talk once after a game where you saved him from being mauled by a tiger, because he lost bullets from his riffle.

He became honest with his feelings that he didn’t thought that someone would save him.

Later he opened up being bullied in class, being thrown by rocks and there is a point system in it. You would always remember his glasses were 50 points and his crotch area is 100 points. He didn’t have any friends at all and even if people would see him being beaten up, no one came to his aid.

 “I know that you don’t see me as your friend. But hiding from a sadistic silhouette won’t give you happiness. Yes, people are afraid of you, but that doesn’t ease the pain. I know, what they have done in the real world is wrong and un humane. But in the end of the day, you’re just human. We all have scars. And if you keep that inside, you’ll go insane… Actually, you are already. But, don’t go down further, Niragi. If you want someone to let out your outburst inside, I’m here.” 

“Why do you…. Why are you so nice?” he asked,

“I don’t know. But it’s all I can give right now. You deserve it, even if you think you don’t.”

 You kept his secrets, he’s still a douchebag with others after your encounter with him, but he became nice to you ever since. 

Chishiya didn’t like the closeness between you and Niragi. Sometimes, he would interrupt a conversation between you and Niragi.

“Y/n… “ Chishiya said, intervening the conversation you have with Niragi, “Let’s go.” Extending his hands to hold your hand, 

“Interrupting again? You make me angry, Chishiya. “, Niragi said with full annoyance, “Jealous, because your girlfriend is so fond of me?”

“hm….” Chishiya smirked, “I trust her that she won’t fall for someone who’s dumb witted as you.”

Things escalated very quickly, with Niragi pointing his riffle towards Chishiya’s head and Chishiya with his knife on Niragi’s neck,

“I’ll blow your head up, you fucker!” Niragi angrily said,

“Not if I slit your fucking throat.”

“STOP! STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING!” You screamed, “Stop acting so fucking childish!”

They came to their senses and placed down their weapons, Niragi huffed with annoyance, he would have killed Chishiya if you didn’t stop him.

“I’ll go with Chishiya.” You looked towards Niragi, “I’m sorry Niragi. But I’ll talk again with you, okay? “

“Okay.” Niragi said in defeat. You touched his cheeks as a form of goodbye and then you left with Chishiya.

“Niragi knows about the plan?” you asked, looking through your uncle Hatter’s eyes,

“Yes. He’s like a back up that we have. He seems so fond of you, If ever that we can’t go towards your location due to meetings or maybe emergencies, we can secretly asked Niragi’s help.”

“Oh, at least… I have someone to talk to…” you said within you mind,

You started to walk with uncle to face the game that you will be all joining.

Hopefully, no one dies during this game.

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~Time Skip~

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 You three finished the game and was granted 6 days of visa. You all drove off near Shibuya, and they have sent you to your new location. It was a hotel, it was two blocks away from a mall, which can give you supplies for your stay here. 

You Uncle Aguni has handed you a walkie talkie, and tested it with his, Hatter and one of the Walkie for Niragi.

“You sure, you’ll be okay without us, dear?” Hatter asked once more,

You smiled, “Yes… I will be. I can talk to you any time with these walkie talkies. And If ever I’ll just give you a beep.” Then you hugged your uncle Hatter and then your Uncle Aguni.

“I know that you’re just keeping quiet, but you’ll miss me too, Uncle Aguni.” You teased, he smirked,

“Don’t get too cocky…” He said, but then he patted you gently on the head, “I would miss you…Just be careful here kid.”

“I will.” You smiled, after a few minutes, they were gone… Leaving you all alone.

Tears started to fall from your eyes, “I’m sorry, Chishiya…”

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 Everyone cheered on as Hatter and Aguni arrived, they chanted their names.

They went to the balcony and then Hatter raised his hands to stop the noise from the crowd below him.

He removed his sunglasses and he acted devastated…with tears on his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Thank you… Thank you for being happy that Aguni and I have come safe and sound from the war that we have joined tonight…” he said then stopped, he was now hearing whispers asking on where you are.

“You might have noticed that when we left, we have brought our precious y/n… We have a terrible news to tell… A death of an executive has happened… the death of our sweet child, y/n…”

Everybody went silent shocked to hear that one of the best players have died.

“She sacrificed her life for us… But…” Hatter wiped his fake tears on his face, “We will not let her death go in vain… We promised that we would complete the cards and in the end; we will survive this country and get out of this soon on her behalf. We need you all to fulfill this promise for her not just for her but also for yourselves…”

Unknown to everybody, a person on the floor above the balcony has been watching the whole scene, Chishiya, who has heard the news, ran towards your room. Thinking that this might me a sick joke that Hatter has brought to everybody.

But he was greeted by an empty room.

He tried to search everywhere, but you were gone. 

He stopped looking for you and he went in front of your room door again.

He has mixed feeling about everything, he placed his hand to his chest. He felt a different kind of loneliness inside his chest.

“What would you do If I suddenly got lost or disappeared?” He remembers your question last night.

“This might be some sick joke…” he whispered to himself, “It’s impossible for you to die… not now.” As he was about to leave your door step, he saw Aguni walking towards him,

“Interesting.” He heard Aguni said while walking towards him, “what are you doing here?”

“I was just passing by.” Chishiya kept a straight face, “why did you let her die?”

Aguni smirked, “Caring now, Cheshire? It doesn’t suit you at all.”

“Hm.” Chishiya didn’t speak, but instead let Aguni walk by past him.

When Aguni was already 1 feet away from Chishiya, “Don’t fake it too much…  Isn’t this what you wanted? To see her dead? That’s why you left her in one of the games?”

Chishiya turned around to answer his question, but Aguni was gone.

 “Don’t leave me…”

 “Why?” Chishiya asked to nobody as he remembers you..

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[TBC]

#chishiya #chishiya imagine #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #chishiya imagines #niragi #niragi imagines #alice in borderland #alice in borderland imagines #alice in borderland imagine #aib #aib imagines #aibsource #aib x reader #hikari kuina #kuina alice in borderland #nijiro murakami

[omsrandom]

Bait and Switch: A Dovahkiin Changer Mod

An explaination/detailed expanse on the tags from this post:

The Follower is a nord male named Helún. I don't know if it means anything, I just think it sounds nice :)

Helún is technically an Imperial Soldier and is stationed at Helgen when Alduin attacks.

If you choose to not trigger his romance (line will be something similar to "why do you keep looking so sad when you look at me?"), he will be a basic follower, but not marriagable.

If you choose to trigger the romance, it'll be revealed that you've been married short of two years, and you were on your way to Helgen to be with him when the ambush happened, you caught in the middle.

Helún being an Imperial Soldier does not mean you cannot join the Stormcloaks.

The plan is to have a force greet once Mirmulnir dies, so that when you absorb Mir's soul, Helún is close to you.

You will be referred to as Dragonborn, but so will Helún. Perhaps him more than you.

Helún is NOT the Dragonborn, and he will argue this should you choose to not let him take the disguise when Miraak's cult attacks.

Miraak's first cultists attacks on you will prompt Helún to ask you if maybe he should pose as the Dragonborn for your safety against assassinations. If you say yes, he will stop trying to correct NPCs. If you say no, he will continue denying being Dragonborn.

The Greybeards know, as so the Dragons. That being said, given enough time spent waiting in High Hrothgar, Helún will ask if he should try to learn the Thu'um.

Saying yes will allow him the FUS shout, as well as WULD. Saying no with keep him shoutless.

Sometime between Delphine asking you to kill Paathurnax and trapping Odahviing, Helún will be attacked by a Thalmor Spy dressed in the same armor as the faction you two are in. This will allow another Crown Dilemma, in which you can change Civil War factions one last time.

Helún will leave your service during the attack, and after talking to him, he will be found in the closest player-owned home. If none can be found, he will go to Jorrvaskr, regardless on whether you have completed the Companions quest line or not.

If you have multiple followers, during the goodbye scene, Lydia (provided she's still alive) or Serana will comment that she'll watch over Helún until you get back.

When you reach Sovenguarde, Don't Look Behind You :)

Why did you look behind you?

Memes aside, Helún will be in Sovenguarde. He died while Odahviing was flying you to your Final Destination.

I do have more of the mod planned out after you reunite with Helún, including some Post-BaS Storyline things, but I won't reveal everything in one post.

What the plan is:

Full DLC compatability.

LE/SSE/AE

All vanilla characters react and talk to him.

Maybe modded companions too? (Lucien and Inigo are always on my mod list, would be awesome if Helún could hold a conversation with them)

A Proper Romance system, where arguments over quest choices can happen, and courting is no longer "Hey, I have an amulet, wanna get married and then never talk again?".

Romance System can be used without Helen's Romance, though this one might take longest.

New Items for specific races for certain scenarios. (Why are Khajiit and Argonians banned from cities, but the Dragonborn can enter freely? Mers are hated and often roughed up. Helún won't risk you getting carted off again and will give you a disguise.)

New NPCs to talk to and quest lines to put off as well as a few new locations to take your beloved on a date to.

Obviously, things may change. Things might get removed or added, but this is the general gist of what I'm going to try and do. I've definitely bitten of a lot, but from what modding experiments I've done, it seems to be simple enough thus far.

#Bait and Switch Mod #skyrim mod creation #Skyrim Mod #Special thanks to liz who let me brainstorm in her stream #absolutely lovely 💜 #girlwiththegreenhat