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#I actually told her to say that to my older cousin since she's half the so-far dxed cases in the family

phoward89 · 7 days

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Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.

Series Masterlist

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker!Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC. Dark!Coriolanus, Jealous!Coriolanus, Dom!Coriolanus

Chapter 6:

It's been too long since you've been to the spa. You forgot how relaxing it is. And maybe what makes it even better is that Coriolanus is paying for it. That you can have all the treatments your little heart desires and he's footing the bill.

“It's good to see you here again. What happen, did Coriolanus and you get into a lovers spat and he cut off your spa allowance?” The esthetician asked, applying a much needed cleansing jelly mask to your face as you laid down on the comfortable bed like table.

“He's not my lover, Adara. He's actually my boss now, plus he's engaged to Livia Cardew.” You pointed out to your beloved skin goddess, the best esthetician in Capitol City.

“Oh please.” The violet and blonde streaked young lady loudly cackled. “Nobody believes that shame for a lousy minute.”

“What? But they look-” You start to say only for Adara to cut you off with, “Coriolanus looks absolutely miserable next to her in pictures. He seriously looks like he's going to strangle her.” Shaking her head and applying more of the thick vitalizing goop on your face, she adds, “And that blonde shrew might look sweet and smiley next to him but she bad mouths him every chance she gets. Some things she's said has even gone viral on Pan-Tok, Pan-Tube, and Pan-X. She even shit talked him while a bit tipsy on her friend's Pangram Live stream.”

“I didn't know this. Why didn't I know this?”

“Probably since the aspiring Senator Snow doesn't have social media and you only have a Panbook- that you haven't been on in like over a month.”

“Fuck! So she's dragging his name in the mud via social media?!”

“Yes.” Adara confirms while finishing applying your facial mask treatment. “And practically all of Panem hates her.” She informed you while putting cucumbers on your eyes for a finishing touch.

Sitting down in the stool next to your bed Adara, who was a friend of sorts to you, says, “Livia’s worse than her older brother and Livinius is always getting into shenanigans with the two Capitol losers: Odysseus Odair, the pretty boy that drinks too much, and Hector Heavensbee, the stoned cousin of Hilarious Heavensbee.”

“Wait, what? How do you know this?”

“Social media, duh.” The blonde-violet girl rolled her eyes at you, even if you couldn't see them since your eyes are closed with little cucumbers on them. “Girl, you're too young not to be on social media.” Adara seriously told you. “Listen up, after we're done with your mask we’ll do your manicure then your pedicure. And after that you're signing up for all the social media accounts.”

“Yes, I think it's overdue for me to have more social media then Panbook.” You told her, a calculating smile hinting your lips.

Oh you're going to be creating social media accounts, but solely for the purpose of finding out what damage Livia Cardew's doing to Coriolanus’ image. Once you find out, you'll have to tell him and then come up with a plan to address it.

You're hairstylist, Fabian, was currently with another client so you're scrolling on your phone; looking at all the crazy shit that Livia Cardew's been posting on Pangram, while sitting in the lobby of the high end salon. Oh God, she's such a stick up bitch. Such a shrew. She seriously posted a picture of a bubble tea while complaining that they're wasn't enough bubbles in the tea.

Oh hell…

The receptionist was sitting at the front desk, flipping thru a rag mag whenever she gasped. Whatever she saw must be shocking.

Flipping the magazine in half, she held it up to you and said in a scandalous tone, “That farce of a political pony show going on between your Coriolanus and Livia.Cardew’s going to ruin his reputation.” Waving the magazine in the are, she told you, “Look, paparazzi’s got some pictures of her drunk and stumbling on the sidewalk. The accompanying article says the picture were taken while she was ranting to her socialite friends about how her fiance’s a freak in bed that scoffs at her purity ring, asked if he could stick it up her ass to keep her virginity intact, and she even said that Coriolanus has a thing for dirty district women; chased that former singing victor all those years ago just to screw around with her before his fall semester of University.”

“What?!” You loudly exclaimed, jumping out of you seat and rushing over to the reception desk to grab that trash gossip magazine from Xandra. “Oh Andraste’s tit, let me see that!” You curse, snatching up the magazine that's freely offered to you.

As your eyes look at the damning pictures and read the article, the receptionist tells you, “That's one of the magazine's that get delivered all over Panem; even the Districts get it. Particularly the PK bases as I understand.”

“Shit…” You mutter under your breath. You feel both pissed and lightheaded at the sudden revelation of what Livia Cardew's actions mean for Coriolanus' Senate run.

Damnit…

And it was that moment that Fabian’s client left and the stylist with perfectly feathered hair came up to you. “Y/N, it's been too long.” The hairstylist greeted you with a kiss to the cheek, which you returned in kind. Leading you back to his work station, he asked, “It's been over a month since you've had your hair done. Did Coriolanus not like my work last time?”

“No, Fabian.” You shook your head. “We just got into a spat, so we weren't talking “ You explain, taking your place in the salon chair.

“I hope you worked everything out since he called to fit you in; is picking up the tab like always too.” Fabian told you while placing a colorful smock around you.

“We worked things out as best as we could considering I'm his new assistant now. I'm his new campaign manager too.”

“Oh that's wonderful. Now if only we could toss that horrible Livia into that toxic sludge river over in 8 then everything’ll be perfect.”

“Fabian, that's horrible.”

“Yes, but you know it's true. Now, what're we doing with your hair today? Blow out, keratin treatments?”

*I want an entire new look.” You told your hairstylist.

“Ooo, new look for a new era.” Fabian clapped happily.

“I want hair that says I'm a bad boss bitch.” You smirked.

“Oh, honey, I know exactly what you need. Just leave it to me.” Fabian told you before hurrying off to the supply room to grab some supplies to make your hair new and to die for.

Your hairstylist was going to give you new hair that'll be the envy of everyone in the Capitol. Your new hairstyle will even have Coriolanus down on his knees, begging you to take him back. Oh, Fabian knows that what he has planned cut and color wise for your hair’s going to drive Coriolanus up the wall with desire. That he's going to be going crazy when he sees you.

The hairstylist views it as his personal mission to make sure that his best client stays with the only man in the Capitol that encourages his girl to routinely get her hair done. Most men aren't so generous like that when it comes to expensive salon visits every handful of weeks.

After your getting your hair done, you went home and drowned yourself in endless social media posts across various platforms for Livia Cardew. It seems like some were worse then others, but none of them were any good for your best friend. As long as he's connected to her, well, his campaign's going to tank.

You saw that Festus and Persephone weren't following Livia on social media. The newlyweds, whose wedding Coriolanus dragged you a few months prior, seemed to have either never added her, stopped following her, or blocked her from their accounts. You also saw that the couple had started to follow you on the social media accounts that you created earlier in the day with Adara in the spa.

You’re done scrolling thru Livia Cardew's accounts and decide to call Coryo to tell him all about what you uncovered. After three rings he answers his phone with a professional, “Head Gamemaker Snow speaking, to whom am I speaking with?”, before he realizes it's you

“It's me, Y/N.” You tell him as you pop up on the phone’s video screen. “I thought you would've programmed my new number from my application into your phone.” You chuckle while sitting up straighter on your sofa.

“I didn't even notice it, I just hit accept hire after after looking over your education and work history.”

“Oh.” You simply nod.

Before you could even tell Coriolanus why you're calling, he gives you a dazzling smile paired with the compliment of, “I like what you've done with your hair. The new cut and color suits you, my darling rose.”

Fabian was right, the hairstyle and color he gave you was going to drive Coriolanus wild. How did he know, who knows? But right now Coryo's baby blues are flashing with interest and mirth; they're locked into your face- he's in absolute awe of your new hairstyle/color.

A lopsided grin appeared on the platinum blonde's lush lips as he suggests, “Why don't I take you out to dinner to celebrate hiring you as both the Head Assistant Gamemaker and my Campaign Manager?”

“Don't forget your PR Liaison as well, Aspiring Senator Snow.” You teased Coryo, who still hasn't styled his platinum curls yet. “Oh, I did some digging while waiting for my appointment at the salon and found out why your campaign’s tanking.”

“Well, what did you uncover, my darling?” Coriolanus asks, leaning back in his sitting chair. The one in his living room to be exact.

“The problem isn't you, but it's your fiance: Livia Cardew. Everyone hates her.”

“That doesn't surprise me; I hate the shrew too.” The imposing blonde man, who's been your best friend for nearly 2 decades, chuckled.

Shaking your head, you sadly sigh, “Well, I think she hates you more than you hate her considering she's posting a lot of hate about you.”

Coriolanus arched a perfectly shaped brow at your words, causing you to tell him the blunt truth of your discoveries. “She’s spewing shitty remarks here and there; not to mention ranting about you on her friend's Pangram Live.” You take a tiny breath, only to sigh and tell him the most damning information of all. “Oh and then there's a story and some pap pics in a very popular and well circulated rag mag that has her stumbling drunk and ranting to her friends about you wanting to stick it up her ass cause she's wearing a purity; how you have a sexual attraction to district girls too.”

“Fucking hell…” Coriolanus groans, raking his lake hands thru his platinum curls- a nervous habit of his. “That's very damning for my campaign.”

“Yes,” You nod in agreement, ��it is.”

“Well, I've been wanting out of the engagement and I've found a way to end it without looking like the bag guy.” Coriolanus told you, his lips in a thin pressed line. “But I can't tell you until we're alone in my car, it's not something I want to talk about over the phone.”

A few hours later you find yourself alone in a sleek, black sedan with Coriolanus behind the driver's seat. Since it's early spring, he's in a light grey suit with a wine hued waistcoat. It pairs lovely and really makes both his platinum hair, whose curls he just lightly gelled to keep from being messy, and his cerulean eyes pop.

“You look beautiful, baby.” Coriolanus smiles, looking between you and the road, as he pulls out of the parking garage.

“Thank you, but flattery’ll get you nowhere. You already complimented me on my dress when you picked me up, no need to do it again.”

“And only you, my darling rose, has the audacity to get your feathers ruffles over receiving multiple compliments from your lover.”

“My lover?” You scoff sardonicly, rolling your perfectly made up eyes.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, it's what we are, Y/N.” Coriolanus tells you, his baritone a bit softer then usual, as his hand slides off the clutch and onto your thigh- a thigh that's covered by the peachy pink skirt of your dress. A dress that was designed for you by Tigris, that had small white roses randomly embroidered on it.

Pushing his large hand off of your thigh, you give him a leveling look and state in a solid tone, “I thought that we're childhood best friends, who had a situationship that got a bit messy, but decided to work together for your political dreams.”

“We're working on our political ambitions. Don't forget, I did promise to make you my First Lady.” The platinum man with looks rivaling that of the gods themselves had the balls to tell you, all the while taking your hand in his. With a smirk, he changed the subject by giving you his opinion on your manicure. “I quite prefer your nails long and red, baby. They look much better then the short French tips you were wearing during our month long absence from each other.”

Of course he prefers long red stiletto nails on you over the short square French tips. Man sure does love red. You're not even surprised about that.

You don't make a comment about him liking your nails, but you do comment on his little making you his First Lady remark. “Last time I checked, Head Gamemaker Snow, the First Lady's married to the President and you're engaged to Livia Cardew.” After the little reminder of his reality, you decided to twist the knife in his heart and hurt his ego (because he broke your heart) by adding in, “Oh, and right now I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth.”

Coriolanus’ Adam's apple felt thick and stuck in the hollow of his throat as a reaction to hearing your cruel words. He knows deep down in is black, head, shriveled up heart why you said that. That you're trying to hurt him because he broke your heart; his promise to you.

Except he's doing his best to right his wrong; to ensure that he keeps his promise to you.

Coriolanus’ Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows down the thickness trapped in his throat. Looking between you and the road as he weaves in and out of traffic lanes, he reveals, “I'm going to get out of my arranged engagement by framing the Cardew's for bank fraud.”

“What?” You blurt out, finding his idea to be a bit brash. “Can’t you just call off the engagement because of irreconcilable differences?”

“No, baby,” Coriolanus shook his head, “I can't just break it off due to irreconcilable differences.” He quickly switched lanes again, cutting off a car and getting honked at. “Livia’s being a frigid shrew and dragging my name in the mud; how do you think me dropping her like a hot potato’ll make me look? Hmm, how would it look for my campaign?”

Turning your head to give him an incredulous look, you ask, “So, what, you're going to destroy the family that runs the Capitol United Bank to effortlessly break off an arranged engagement and to gain sympathy votes for your campaign?”

“Yes.” The icy eyes man smiles widely, like a maniac. “It's a flawless plan, Y/N. I trust that as my right hand woman and future First Lady that I have your complete support with this.”

Honestly, it might sound horrible, but you didn't give a shit about Livia Cardew or her family. If Coriolanus had to destroy the top banking family in the country to end his engagement and save his campaign then so be it.

“You just do whatever you have to do to and when it's done I'll make sure that you come out smelling like a rose in the media.” You told the man next to you as he pulled over, without using his blinkers, into the entrance of the restaurant he's taking you to.

The Capitol Grille.

“Good.” Coriolanus nods while getting into the line for valet parking. “Tomorrow we need to start switching our banking accounts to the Capitol One Bank.”

You've been to The Capitol Grille a few times with Coryo, so when the maitre d greets you both with a smile and ushers you to a cozy table for two, while making the other patrons in line ahead of you wait, you're not surprised.

Coriolanus, like always, orders a bottle of the best wine and some glasses of water for you two. He also orders the go to appetizer for when you dine out at The Capitol Grille: shrimp cocktail. He also orders the usual for you two as well: the chef's suggestion of the slices filet mignon topped onions and wild mushrooms with cream spinach and au gratin potatoes. Oh, and he ordered the infamous Capitol made cheesecake the restaurant’s known for.

You didn't mind him doing the ordering since you two always got the same thing every time he took you out to eat at The Capitol Grille. You'd be shocked if he didn't insist on ordering, truth be told.

The waiter delivered both your glasses of water, wine, and the large shrimp cocktail to share all on one tray. Once he finishes delivering the items and pouring the wine, he assured Coriolanus and you that your food would be out shortly and left.

Coriolanus is fixing you up a small plate of shrimp cocktail and engaging in small talk with you about your upcoming job as his right hand woman in the Citadel whenever Odysseus’ voice reaches your ear from nearby as he smiles disparagingly. “I see it didn't take you too long to move on, sweetheart. But I didn't think you'd be moving on with Satan, or is he who you've been cheating with.”

“Oh, Odysseus Odair, I wish I could say seeing you while out celebrating Y/N’s new job as my assistant is a pleasant surprise, but then I'd be lying and I make it my utmost priority not to lie to or around my childhood best friend.” Coriolanus said in a very cool, calm, and collective way that has just enough zing to bite.

“Your what?” The bronze haired man asked, his voice hitched up in shock.

“I told you that I attended the Academy, Odysseus. Maybe you should've believed me instead of insisting I wasn't on the same level as you and Coryo.” You told your neighbor and new ex while gesturing between him and your Coryo with your hand.

“He what?” Coriolanus blinked his eyes slowly, like an offended cat. It reminded you of a cat you had as a child. Looking at you, he said with so much disdain in his deep baritone, “That manwhore insulted you by insisting you weren't good enough to attend the Academy?”

“Coryo, let it go.” You told him in a whisper hiss while Odysseus’ sea-green eyes bounced between you and the platinum blonde man you're dining with very suspiciously.

“I will not let it go, darling. He insulted you.” Coriolanus whisper hissed back.

Well, looks like chivalry’s not dead at all.

“I have a business meeting I need to attend, Y/N, but I'll call you later so we can talk things out.” Odysseus told you before booking it away from your table (since he didn't want to be around Coriolanus) and towards the table his father Posieden Odair, Mr. Larimer (a wealthy politician and investor) and Mr. Hearst (a wealthy newspaper mogul) was sitting at; waiting for him.

“You better not answer your phone when he calls.” Coriolanus tells you while making himself a small plate of shrimp cocktail with jerky, aggravated movements.

Grabbing a piece of shrimp from your plate and dipping it into the red cocktail sauce, you tell him, “I’ll answer it if I want to, Coriolanus. My relationship’s none of your business.”

Tossing the serving spoon back into the middle of the extravagant crystal serving bowl, causing some of the red sauce to splash up. Coriolanus face skewed up as he watched you eat your piece of shrimp. Taking his and dipping it into the sauce, he darkly chuckled, “I see you're going to play little minx and punish me for my arrangement by having a fling with the sluttiest man in all of Capitol City.”

“What's good for the goose's good for the gander.” You simply smirk, causing the man sitting across from you to nearly choke on his shrimp.

And then, as he's coughing and trying not to die from shrimp going down the wrong windpipe, Odysseus loudly tells somebody at his table to ‘Shut the hell up!’ before storming away from the table, right past yours, and out of the restaurant.

Hmm…

You wonder what happened at his table.

Coriolanus Snow, ever the gentleman, used his pristine white cloth napkin to spit his piece of shrimp that nearly made him choke and die. Folding his napkin and placing it back on his lap, he seriously told you, “He's a spoiled brat; I hope you get seeing him to punish me out of your system real fast because I don't like sharing what's mine, Y/N.”

“Last time I checked I didn't belong to you.” You smugly retorted while eating another piece of your shrimp cocktail.

Coriolanus leaned in close, nearly crossing the table, and declared in a low, dark timbre, “You’ve always been mine, baby. And, as you know, I'm going to ruin a family just to make you my wife; First Lady.”

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apocalypseornaw · 7 months

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Wanna be Yours (Pt 1/5)

Sam Winchester x Reader

After years of hunting with Dean you finally meet his younger brother

@lacilou s genius idea

Every hunter had one thing in common, tragic backstory. The one event that fucked their lives up bad enough that they not only discovered that the things that went bump in the night were very real but they decided to not sit on the sidelines and to actually do something about it.

Your event? You'd gone camping with your family, your parents along with your aunt and uncle and a couple cousins. No one had heard anything about the so called animal attacks neither did anyone know how the hell to defend themselves when the wendigo attacked.

The initial bloodbath had been hell. Your dad and uncle were first gone, going at the beast straight in an attempt to save their families. Next came your mom and aunt, a last ditch effort to distract it while you and your cousins ran. The three of you barely made it half a mile before the beast caught you.

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

You'd assumed that was it, you'd die just like your family had. The beast had kept the three of you for days in a cavern. You'd seen it kill your older cousin, Derek was fourteen and had fought like hell so you begged it to spare to your younger cousin, Allie his little sister who was only four not knowing if it even understood you.

The begging seemed to lure it to you. It raised its clawed hand and you prepared for a slash that never came. Instead you heard someone yell "KIDS GET DOWN!"

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

You nodded to Allie and you both tucked down in as small of a ball as possible. The heat that filled the cavern was unbearable mixed with the scent of burning flesh along with the sounds of the creature as it died.

When it was over you untucked and was met with a woman, she was probably around your aunts age. Her brown hair braided back, wearing jeans and a red flannel of all things. A flamethrower was in her hands "You girls ok?" You nodded numbly "Help Allie first"

That was how you met Hayley Lynols. She was a second generation hunter. When it was discovered you had no legal guardian (Allie had gone to a relative of her dad's) Hayley had stepped in to offer you a place to stay.

She'd given you three options. One was a normal life, one was the life of a hunter and the third option was what she wanted you to take "I'll train you just like my dad trained me but you go to school and get a ged at least. Any kid of mine isn't going to be dumb in any way. If you want to hunt on your own some after you're eighteen that's you but just know I'll always be here to help"

You'd taken the third option. You'd buckled down on school and studied hard. You'd gotten a ged by the time you turned fifteen and started hunting with Hayley.

That was how you met Dean. You were nineteen, on the very first solo hunt Hayley had allowed you. She deemed it simple enough, a haunting case that seemed like it'd be a simple salt and burn.

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

She hadn't realized another hunter was already on the case. You stood across from the guy that had to be around your age, both of you carrying a duffle and a shovel.

Neither of you blinked so you decided to go out on a limb "Anthony Rowen?" He sort of laughed "You a hunter?" You nodded then motioned towards the grave that was about three feet from where the two of you stood "I say we work this together and it goes a lot faster" he nodded "I like that idea" then offered his hand "Dean" you shook his hand "Y/N, let's get to it"

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

Since the two of you weren't old enough for a bar you ended up at a diner, coffee and pie in front of you both as you talked about your lives. He told you about his father and brother and you told him about Hayley. Before you went your separate way you exchanged numbers and swore to keep in touch.

You'd see Dean off and on but when you were about twenty six he fell off the map for a while until he resurfaced about a year later with a simple phone call of "Y/N, I need some help"

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

You pulled your challenger to a stop next to Dean's impala and grabbed your phone to check the text as to what room he was in but before you could the door to room one fifteen opened and Dean walked out, shadowed by another guy. He looked a little younger than Dean with hair that borderlined shaggy but it was clear they were related. Could that be Sam?

You climbed out your car with a smile "Winchester!" Dean grinned and met you halfway pulling you into a hug "Y/N! It's good to see you" when the two of you separated he motioned to the other guy "This is my little brother Sam"

You turned your eyes towards Sam with a smile and offered your hand "I've heard about you for years, weird we're just now meeting but good to meet you" he grinned as he shook your hand "Good to meet you too" you had to admit, he was cute. Broad smile and dimples along with green hazel eyes that followed your every movement. You cut your eyes at Dean "Also, little brother? He's taller than you"

Sam laughed at your words, the sound was enough to pull a smile to your face "Oh I like her already" you winked at him "Stick around cutie, I'm a very likeable person" Dean shook his head "Let's get to work"

After that day you and the Winchesters started keeping in touch every few days. You hadn't known they lost John so you weren't able to be there for them but when you lost Hayley they'd driven straight across two states to get to your side.

--------‐--

You stood between them both, staring at the flames as they engulfed her body. You felt a shiver run through you and weren't sure if it was from the cold night air or losing the only parental figure you had left. "I'll go grab your jacket" Dean offered and headed for your challenger.

You and Sam stood silent for a few moments before he said "When dad died Dean wouldn't talk to anyone, let anyone in until he finally broke one day. Y/N I know we're not as close as you and Dean but you're my friend and if you need anything I'm here" you nodded, eyes never leaving the flames "Thanks Sam"

About that time Dean walked back over with your jacket and draped it over your shoulders "You know Y/N, I was thinking" you cut your eyes at Sam with a weak smile "Should we run?" A small smile slipped onto his face "Let's hear him out then we'll see if we need to"

"Ha ha very funny" Dean replied before continuing "Hayley always said she didn't like you hunting alone, you can always throw your hat in with me and Sam. We don't mind the company" you nodded "Maybe I will" a silence fell back over the three of you as the flames began to burn down to just embers.

@nelachu2423

@lacilou

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #wanna be yours mini series

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heyidkyay · 1 year

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Who can say no to bridezilla? |

Part Three

Just gonna say this now, this story actually has a mind of its own. I started part three and got carried away with the ending so expect a fourth, maybe even fifth part😬

So beyond grateful to everyone who showed the last two parts any love, it means a lot!! Hope you enjoy this next bit too:)

Summary: With no date to your sister's wedding, what are you to do? No worries though, she's already got it covered, well, sort of...

Masterlist

^found this picture and couldn't not use it

The party was now practically in full swing, but all I could really do was watch on from the sidelines. That guilt from earlier was still very much eating away at me, only now it had been accompanied by the sudden stress of my extremely complicated feelings towards Matty.

My sister had somehow managed to successfully avoid me since our previous conversation, dipping and diving amongst the throng of guests to evade my piercing stare. And I’d tried to keep my mind off of it all, really I had, but it was only proving to grow harder as the night went on.

“Here you are, my lady.” Came Matty’s sarky voice from over my shoulder as he handed me another tall glass. “Vodka coke, as promised.”

I smiled in appreciation as he dropped into the seat beside me, “Thank you. Was there much of a queue?”

Matty wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Nah, just got caught up chatting with your nana. Has plenty of stories to tell, that one.”

I choked a little on the sip I’d just taken and immediately snapped my head back towards the bar, where, sure enough, my nana was still sat. She gave a knowing little wave and wink when she spotted me and I raised an eyebrow in turn.

“Everything she’s ever told you is a lie.” I declared wholeheartedly, knowing first hand just how little filter the woman held.

I’d grown up having to bare witness to it, after all. At family get-togethers, during every Christmas party, at the plethora of weddings… And now that I was older, I’d come to quickly realise that it wasn’t the fact that she was oblivious to what she was doing or saying really, she simply just did not give a single fuck. She said what came to mind, and no one could tell her differently.

Headstrong was a word often used to describe her, a big gossip too- but to me, she honestly was the definition of stubborn to a fault. I loved that about her though. Albeit having said that, I also tended to get the brunt of it whenever she’d decide to spin a tale or two about my spotted past.

Nana really was the best of the best, and I’d defend her to the grave, but she was also the biggest shit-stirrer I’d ever met. Knew it too.

Matty snorted, his eyebrows raised in delight. “Well, that was a reaction and a half.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “What did she tell you?”

He hummed, deciding to drag it out as he necked a fair bit of his wine.

“Healy.” I demanded, giving him an unimpressed stare.

Matty laughed and rolled his eyes, but he was wearing a shit-eating grin when he tugged his chair in closer to mine. God, he smelt good.

I had to refocus my attention though when his eyes met mine, shimmering with mirth.

“Might’ve mentioned the time you shit yourself stood in the deli queue at Asda’s.”

My eyes widened on their own accord, and I had to place my drink down to make sure that I didn’t down it then and there. That woman.

He’d said it with so much confidence too, and used this little shrug that told me he was far too thrilled with the newfound information he'd been gifted.

“I was four!”

Matty scoffed at my argument, apparently pleased with the fact that he could get me all wound up so quickly.

“Also told me about that time you showed up to your cousin’s birthday party completely plastered, thinking no one would be none the wiser. Think she mentioned that he’d just turned four that day, too.”

I groaned, recalling that very day clearly in the forefront of my mind and slapped a hand over my face to hide my sudden humiliation. I swivelled round in my chair to send the woman in question a well deserved glare, which she paid no mind to. Of course.

“I can’t believe her. The smarmy cow.”

I turned back upon hearing Matty’s heightened laughter and pouted.

“Don’t laugh, you dickhead! I was mortified afterwards. I thought I’d played it off so well! Proper chuffed with myself that next morning. Only to then get a few choice words off my uncle that same afternoon.” I pursed my lips at the reminder. “Turns out tricking a bunch of kids into swearing like a couple of sailors is only funny when you’re hammered or have an actual sense of humour. Mum wasn’t too impressed either.”

“Nana was though.” Matty countered with a delighted little chuckle. I rolled my eyes.

“Nana’s a gossip.” I responded in kind. “Who should know by now that what goes around comes around!”

I yelled that last part over my shoulder, and chose to ignore the strange looks I garnered in favour of throwing a knowing look at the woman in question.

“I’m near seventy-four, dollface! No hide nor hair off of my back what you tell people as long as you let ‘em know I was havin’ a good time!” Nana called back in that strong Yorkshire accent of hers. She raised her glass in cheers.

I couldn’t help my breathy chuckle, and neither could Matty as it would seem, who was still laughing happily away beside me.

“Should’ve known she’d’ve put her hearing aids in.” I shook my head in complete levity, toying with a small smile, “Doesn’t want to miss a single thing said in a place like this, but ask her where she put the tele remote during a run of Corrie, well…”

“Fucking love your family.” Matty grinned at me, and I watched with baited breath as he just continued to glance around the rest of the venue as though he’d said nothing of the sort at all.

I inhaled quietly once his attention was then captured by someone he knew in passing, and shook off the strange feeling I’d felt as I finally downed the rest of that drink.

—

“Hann! Hann, mate!” Matty called over the shitty dubstep remix that was currently playing. I was just behind him, giggling at the sight he made. He’d no care in the world for anyone who was currently stood in his way as he waved haphazardly, wanting to garner the attention of his best mate.

We’d actually spent the better part of our time stood waiting in line for the buffet just shitting all over the DJ’s set, both claiming that we could’ve done a much fucking better job with just a Spotify playlist on hand.

But you win some, you lose some, I supposed. Though, I’d still be lording it over Adam’s head for the rest of forever- he was meant to be some sort of hotshot musician from what little I knew of his job, and he’d actually paid for this knobhead to spin a couple of early 2000’s records at his reception party and call it a day.

I was still chuckling away at the thought when I noticed the man in question wandering over to us with a big, fuck-off grin on his face.

“Mate!” Adam greeted cheerily as he tugged Matty into a one armed hug, pulling me along with the pair of them too, seeing as I was still holding onto Matty’s hand.

Matty had only taken it as we were parting our way through the crowds, but I realised now, that neither one of us had yet to let go.

Adam seemed to realise it then too, if the way his eyes travelled between our intertwined hands and my surprised face was anything to go by. Though, I noted that Matty stayed blissfully unaware in his slight tipsy state.

Thankfully Adam was mature enough to leave it be. For now, I could only suppose. Knowing that my sister would probably be the first one he’d let know. Oh, how I was looking forward to that conversation.

“Both having a good time?” Adam asked us as I let myself be roped into a hug from him as well.

“Been great, man.” Matty answered with a grin, pulling my hand with his again as he further exaggerated his point. “Can’t believe you’ve actually gone and done it! Locked that shit down, Hann. Don’t know whether to congratulate or console you.”

Adam’s mouth quirked to the left as he watched his mate with an indulgent expression. “Don’t be a wanker. Just let me enjoy this one night before you start getting all jealous on me.”

“Jealous? Ha, funny one, mate.” Matty retorted in good jest.

I rolled my eyes at the pair of them before I looked towards my new brother-in-law. “I’m gonna choose to offer my congrats here, but remember that if you upset my sister, I’ll do more than just hurt you.”

“Ooh, tell me more.” Matty said in a teasing tone, whilst Adam opted to ignore my date, simply raising his hands up at me to feign surrender.

“Wouldn’t dare.” He assured with a fond smile.

“Holding you to it.”

It was then that two more grown men came barrelling over- I say grown, but in reality it was like watching a bunch of ginormous kids kicking and scuffling with each other to get the first turn on the swing-set as they all embraced one another. I couldn’t hide my amusement.

“And who’s this beauty?” The one with the buzzcut encouraged, only noticing me when he’d slung an arm around Matty’s neck.

I looked him over then as I smiled at his compliment, I could see why he felt so confident in his approach, he was a right stunner. From the rolled up sleeves of his shirt which exposed the many tattoos that dotted his arms, to the slight smirk his pouty lips held as he watched me.

“This is y/n, y/s/n’s older sister.” Adam introduced us with a tilt of his chin, “And y/n, that idiot over there with the big gob is George, the bearded one's Ross.”

“I like it. Very manly.” I said, gesturing to Ross’s beard. Matty’s face twisted slightly when Ross smiled back at me with an appreciative nod, but before he could get a word in edge ways, George was speaking again, half-dangling over Matty to get a better look at me.

“We’ve met the once before, haven’t we? ‘Round Hann’s that one New Years, no?”

My face brightened at the sudden realisation, “Ah, yeah! You’re the weirdo who pulled out every pot in y/s/n’s kitchen to recreate that old Beach Boys song.”

Matty snorted beside me, whilst Adam laughed at the vivid memory.

“And if I recall, you also got so shitfaced that night that you actually ended up putting yourself to bed before the clock’s even struck twelve.”

My date and his friends all cackled at that, but George made a slight hissing sound as he inhaled sharply, holding a hand over his heart.

“Way to humiliate me there, cupcake, could’ve just left them with the knowledge of my sick rendition of I Get Around, but you had to go and start a war.”

I grinned in retort as I shrugged, “Learn to hold your drink better and I wouldn’t have to show you up, babe.”

George smirked, eyeing me closer now.

“Oi, no, no, no. You can fuck right off! She’s my date tonight, G.” Matty informed the drummer, elbowing the giant to shrug him off his shoulder.

George relented with a soft chuckle and sly smile. “Is that so? Reckon you’d have a ton more fun with me though.”

Adam shook his head, chuckling, whilst Matty and George started to scuffle.

My eyes widened briefly when they nearly went headfirst into the dessert table, but luckily they were quickly saved by Ross who redirected them onto the dance floor.

“Are they always like this?” I found myself asking Adam, watching as the trio interrupted a group of younger girls with all their pissing about. It was like looking at the live adaptation of a human bowling ball.

“Yeah.” Was all he offered, which made me laugh, and we both continued to watch the free show from the sidelines.

“Go on, Matty. Defend my honour!” I hollered over towards them, unable to help myself, and was rewarded with the sight of my date popping back up out of the brawl he’d created like a meerkat, wearing a comical grin.

I winced slightly when a strong arm tugged him right back down though.

“Someone should film this.” I overheard someone murmur somewhere off to my right, and I was quick to agree before the voice continued, “Imagine how much The Sun would give for an all inclusive on this.”

I frowned, confused, but continued to listen as best I could whilst I watched.

“Oh yeah, I can already see the headlines.” Came another excited voice, this one chuckling as they prattled off, “Matty Healy ruins guitarist’s wedding! Jealousy or just another downward drug spiral?”

Anger blew through me at that, and although I was bewildered by what they were saying, I couldn’t stop myself from immediately jumping to Matty's defence.

“What did you just say?”

The person in question was some guy I didn’t recognise, but he looked rather surprised by my sudden appearance. He fish mouthed for a moment before he just scoffed out a small laugh.

“No, go on.” I goaded with a narrow eyed stare, “I’m sure everyone here's desperate to hear what you have to say now.”

He rolled his eyes at me which only proved to aggravate me further. I was about to take another step forwards when a gentle hand took my shoulder.

“What’s happening here?” Came Adam’s familiar voice and I watched in satisfaction as the idiot before me stuttered slightly.

“Just making a joke, man.”

“Is that what you call it then?” I spat back, feeling Adam’s grip falter a little. “‘Cause it didn’t sound too funny to me.”

“What'd he say?” Adam attempted to intervene.

“Something about an article, or whatever. Wanting to make some money off of the lads just messing about.” I told Adam, still staring the twat down. “Made it out like Matty was off his head on something.”

Adam looked almost as pissed as I was in that moment, but then the man himself arrived, with George, Ross, and my sister trailing just behind. Matty seemed to have sobered up a bit at the sudden seriousness that must’ve overcome the rest of the party, as he came to a standstill by me, using his body to shield me somewhat from the opposing man.

“What’s gone on?” He demanded, eyes hard.

“Nothing.” The guy claimed, shrugging the whole thing off, but Matty was having none of it.

“Come off it, mate. You look stupid enough to start on my girl, but don’t lie straight to my face when I can see you’ve upset her.” Matty derided, then he turned to me, voice strikingly much softer. “Tell me what’s been said please, darling.”

I swallowed, surprised by the subdued attention Matty was now giving me, as well as how he’d chosen to handle the idiot.

I quickly recovered though, my anger still simmering beneath the surface. “I didn’t understand much of it, but he was spouting some nasty shit about you.”

Matty’s brow furrowed but he looked to Adam when the groom leant in nearer. “Tabloids and crap, claiming he could make a quick quid.”

“Shit stirring, you mean.” I said, scowling at the guy who’d drawn up quite the crowd. “Tried to make it seem like you were ruining Adam’s big day, spouting shit about how you were jealous, high or whatever.”

Matty merely chuckled, amused by it all, and I really should’ve known he’d react like that.

“Ad?” My sister called out then, pushing through the sea of onlookers to understand just what was going on. I instantly felt bad for having made a scene.

“I’m so sorry, y/s/n.”

She shook her head at me, waving my worries away as she took her husband’s hand. She looked back to him again.

“Just someone being an arse, babe.” Adam spoke and pulled her into his side to comfort her before he nodded over towards Ross. “Mate, grab that security guard for us.”

Ross did so, whilst George and, surprisingly, Jamie had the same idea to usher the fucker out.

“Take Thing Two with you whilst you’re at it, Jim.” I added, jerking my head over to where the lad’s friend had shied away from the commotion. He winced at the sudden attention I’d attracted.

My cousin dipped his head once at me and squeezed my shoulder in passing as he hauled the guy and his mate outside the venue with George.

Matty drew me in near, his careful hand in mine. “You alright? Got pretty wound up there, sweetheart.”

I exhaled and tried let go of whatever anger I had left, but my body was still trembling slightly with adrenaline as I nodded at him. Matty soothed that thought with a gentle caress up my arms, ducking his head to catch my eye.

He raised a brow.

I gifted him a small smile as I softly shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek when he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. He just really pissed me off.”

“Don’t have to get all riled up on my account, darling. Had a lot worse said, trust me.”

I frowned, “I couldn’t not say anything, Matty, he was being a right prick towards you.”

My chest tightened at the fond, albeit exasperated, smile Matty gave me then. “I appreciate it, but I’d rather have you enjoying yourself than occupying your time with twats like that, yeah? Ain’t worth it.”

I knew he was right, but it still didn’t sit right with me. “You don’t deserve that though, not with how hard you’ve worked, with how hard you’re still trying.”

Because he was. Recovery was a fucking hard road. And I only knew about it due to the fact that he'd been pretty open about it all with me- proud of the fact too, of how far he’d come since then. To hear someone just slag him off like that, it irritated me beyond belief, especially when it was said as some sort of sick joke, without him around to even defend himself.

“You’re lovely, you know that?” Matty commented then with an endeared little grin that threw me so off guard I felt like I’d been pulled through a blackhole. But before I could do or say anything, Matty was wrapping up the scene. “Alright, you fuckers! Party’s over- or well, party’s back on, I guess. So you can all sod off and stick your noses elsewhere now.”

I snorted out an ugly sort of laugh that had my sister’s brows raising before she merely chuckled. “Should’ve known that something like this was bound to happen. Surprised it held off as long as it did actually, especially with you around.”

I narrowed my eyes at her but did end up giving her a sheepish sort of smile. “I said I was sorry.”

She laughed again, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, and you can make it up to me by getting your arse out on that dance floor, alright? Don’t think that I haven’t noticed you avoiding it.”

“Avoiding it?” Matty asked, glancing between the two of us, “What do you mean?”

“She means to say that I’m shit at dancing. Like, beyond bad." I tell him myself, wanting to just quickly sweep it under the rug. "It’s why I’ve not gotten up yet.”

Matty, being his dramatic self, let his mouth drop wide open. I rolled my eyes at the theatrics before I pressed my knuckle under his chin to shut it back up again.

“I don’t believe you.” He said.

I furrowed my brow with a faint chuckle. “What is there to not believe? Don’t for one second think that you can get me to prove that I’m a shitty dancer, Matty.”

The man simply smiled at me, and he looked so smug when he clasped my wrists and begun to lead me towards the dance floor.

“No, Matty.” I deadpanned. “There's no way I’m dancing.”

“We’ll see.”

I gave him a humourless look. “No, we won’t. There's not a chance in hell.”

By that point we’d already made it onto the borders of the dance floor, where everyone else had seemingly wandered back towards after the argument had been doused out. Matty was still grinning as he bopped his head up and down, taking turns to move my stiff arms back and forth. It only brightened when the DJ finally put on a decent tune, increasing his enthusiasm by a tenfold.

“Come on, don’t be that person.” He drawled, taking the piss now. “You know you want to.”

I attempted to send him another dirty look, but it was overshadowed by the tiny lilt my mouth made, giving me away.

“Ah, see! Knew you loved it.”

I threw my head back lightly and groaned, unable to hide my smile now as I laughed more freely, letting him move us in whatever way he pleased. And it wasn’t half bad once I let myself get pretty into it, deciding to just say ‘fuck it’ and enjoy a dance for once.

Matty wasn’t too shabby a dancer either. In all honesty, he really did look so effortless dancing across from me, the way he pranced about, hips moving madly, as though his soul purpose was to simply perform. I loved watching him.

That reminded me— but as I went to ask my unanticipated question, the song changed. Or slowed, rather.

I was a little surprised at first when Matty’s arms encircled me to wind themselves around my waist, but I just followed his lead, lifting my hands to rest on his shoulders.

Everyone else around us seemed to be doing the same thing, or something of the sort, and I watched as a few more couples got up to join us.

I smiled past Matty’s ear at the sight of my sister and Adam, who, in that moment, couldn’t have looked more in love. And then at my pops who was twirling my nana about without a care in the world, his smile making him look twenty years younger.

I let myself rest my cheek against the jut of Matty’s shoulder to simply take in the entire day. A gentle smile limned my lips.

“Thank you for today.” I muttered softly as the chorus started, “I’ve had the best time.”

I felt Matty’s hold tighten around me slightly as he pulled us closer during a turn.

“What, even with that arsehole from earlier?” He joked quietly into my ear and I chuckled.

“What was up with that anyway?” I couldn't help but ask him, pulling away to look at his face. I watched as he blinked, wearing a significant look on his face that I couldn’t quite place.

“You really don’t know?” Matty said, though he’d phrased it less like a question and more like a revelation. More to himself, than me. He shook his head faintly as surprise worked its way across his features. “Honestly thought you’d clocked on when I first turned up.”

“Clocked onto what?” I questioned, more confused now than I was before. Mostly by his reaction.

“Just my job, really.” He replied, and for the first time he looked a little abashed. It threw me a bit. “I’m in a band.”

Ah, well that made a bit more sense. The lingering looks. The pointed lenses. The whispers and pointing. The obvious gawking I’d tried not to ponder too much on. And then what the lad from earlier had said about The Sun Newspaper. Realising that now made the situation all the more worse in my head.

I questioned, internally, whether it changed anything.

I mean, it was like Matty had said, it was just his job. But whilst most worked the usual nine to five, he had this big, interesting job that probably took him all over the globe.

It was a little daunting, in truth. And I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d agreed to this whole facade in the first place, knowing he definitely had his pick of the lot. Whether that was generally speaking, because everyone could easily see that he was a charmer, but also from the dozens of girls he probably had dying for his attention.

“A band…” I prolonged.

He hummed, eyes picking apart my reaction.

I quirked my lip, brightening slightly, “Is it a big one?”

He wore a wry smile then, and his squinted brown eyes flickered between both of mine.

“Massive.”

I just had to laugh then, and so as I shook my head, I pulled him in closer, fingertips finding the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t think you can be that famous- I’ve never even heard of you.” I commented playfully, though it was mostly the truth. I say mostly because if they were as big as those boys had made them out to be, then I figured I’d had to have heard a song or two of theirs in passing.

Matty heightened his reaction- like always, as I’d come to quickly realise- and gasped, not loud enough to be overheard, just so that it would make me laugh and roll my eyes. He smiled when I did.

“I’m hurt. Well, and truly, hurt.”

“Reckon you’ll get over it, rockstar.”

“And if I don’t?” He quipped, an eyebrow raised in retaliation.

I pretended to mull it over. “Then you’d best find some groupie to boost that ego of yours.”

“Why are you so nasty to me?”

I laughed loudly at that, too loudly actually, and had to quickly duck my head to hide my face in Matty’s chest when people’s heads darted towards the sudden noise.

“Are they still looking?” I questioned after a moment passed, my voice muffled by the man’s tailored suit jacket.

“Yeah, they’re all pointing and laughing too.”

I shook my head at him and felt the soft rumble of his chuckle from where my forehead was now pressed to his chest.

When I poked my head back out, I flashed him a bashful smile and had to actually make the effort not to let my gaze linger too long on his mouth or his eyes. Instead, I let myself survey the surrounding crowd.

My mum was on the dance floor now, I found, scolding and rolling her eyes at Jamie, who seemed to have two left feet and was galloping them around the dance floor.

George wasn’t too far away either, dancing the night away with Gracie, my overly-enthusiastic six year old niece. He winked when he caught me looking and mouthed the words, ‘You’ve pulled, cupcake!’.

I bit my lip to conceal my sudden amusement then mouthed back, ‘Fuck off!’.

He just cackled and little Gracie started rattling away again, regaining his focus.

Adam, it appeared, had whisked my sister off somewhere, because they were no longer anywhere in sight. I only hoped that they’d found a decent place to shag because porcelain did your arse no favours when you were getting railed against the nearest bathroom sink.

“What’re you thinking about?” Matty asked, drawing me back to the present by pinching my hip. I tugged on the ends of his hair in retort. He just smirked, “Careful, sweetheart, I quite like that.”

“You’re insufferable.” I snickered, but answered his question when I looked back at him. “Honestly?”

He nodded.

“Was just thinking about the last time I had sex in a bathroom.”

Matty visibly fought down a giant grin at that.

“That bad of a date, am I? Or are you just hoping I’ll offer up the chance to improve?”

I gaped a bit, not having expected him to be so forward, but then again, I couldn’t really blame him when I’d started it.

“Keep on wishing there, Healy. You’d be so lucky.” I scoffed with a sarky sort of smile.

He looked me up and down slowly as he hummed his appraisal. “Doubt I'd say no.”

I rolled my eyes at him and tugged again at the ends of his hair. Harder this time.

“Ow. Kinky.”

I had to swat him then, because even as I laughed I couldn’t let him get away with it.

When I’d calmed somewhat and found Matty to still be staring at me with that humoured grin of his, I gently shook my head.

“I just meant that-”, then I exhaled a small chuckle, “I merely noticed that the newly weds had disappeared and took a wild guess on what their current whereabouts might be.”

“Ah, I see.” I watched as Matty’s eyes trailed the rest of the room. “Reckon they’re going at it 'round the back.”

With a snort, I couldn't help but ask, “Why’d you say that?”

He shrugged, “Fire exit door over there by the DJ booth leads out there- be my first choice after seeing the queue to the toilets.”

I glanced back and found that he was correct, a line of seven or so people were all waiting to use the bathroom and the slit in the tent was discreet enough to slip out of unseen. It was also close enough to where the couple had just been seen dancing.

“Hm, and if I were to drop a certain kind of hint? Where would you head to next.” What could I say? I was intrigued.

“Chapel.” He said without a second thought.

I raised my brows at him. “Really?”

He hummed, linking his hands behind my back to bring us that much closer. And grinned, “Reckon it could be sexy- could play at being a nun... Or I could be your choir boy-”

I cut him off right there with a hand to his mouth.

I rebuked him with a small shake of my head but couldn’t hold back my amusement. “You’re actually so bad, you know that? Almost as bad as nana.”

Matty unwound his hands so that he could pull mine away from his lips, but he didn’t let go afterwards, simply held them together against his chest. And if I concentrated hard enough, I could just about feel the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“No one outranks your nana.” Matty assured me, “That woman’s got a hell of a vocabulary on her.”

Lightly laughing, I looked down at our paired hands, at how Matty’s thumb kept running over the back of my own and I wondered whether he felt it too.

“Oi, Healy!” Someone called out, breaking the moment, “I thought that was you!”

And just like that, as I looked up and caught sight of the goddess of a girl headed straight towards us, I knew that I’d just let myself get far too caught up in the moment.

Part Four>

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still-a-morosexual-help · 2 years

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Okay so. I’ve been playing OB! And I just got to the part where they discover Mc is the descendant of Human Lilith

Now my question is, does this counts as (The Mc and 7 bros) if they are relatives? Like a long line of lost nephews? Is this a Zeus situation where all that logic goes out the window?

After that, I don’t see them as datable anymore.

I see them at the end of the story visiting Mc’s house and relatives in a family gathering or something. Like their son/daughter just went to Hell and came back with 7 more uncles, the parents since then just invites the guys over for celebrations and dinners!

I went with the idea of a datable sim, came out with found family. Fuck! I love it?

Boom! So I'm actually officially??? qualified to answer this question! I was raised Buddhist & was actually good enough at the whole theory/concept behind it that I got the batch prize for religion multiple times/years (weird thing to brag about but my list of things I can brag about is v small so lemme have this one damnit). And reincarnation is a big thing in Buddhism so *jazz hands* yknow

I'm gonna answer this in 2 parts & add a bonus part for a "what if" AU;

1. Is MC Actually Related to Lilith the Angel aka The Brothers' Sister Lilith?

The Answer: No.

• Lilith died after the war. It's very specifically said that Diavolo reincarnated her as a human.

• Reincarnation, simplified, means that after a sentient being dies their soul is born again in the body of a whole new sentient being.

• Reincarnation allows a soul to live again as a whole new person with 0 ties to their previous life (unless the soul is born again within the same family). They may retain a couple memories from their previous life for their first 3-4 years of life* but that fades away eventually. They may hold on to a few characteristics but lots of unrelated people have the same characteristics so it's not a Big Deal.

* not sure how much I believe in reincarnation because it seems fantastical & a lot of this could just be childrens' brains being weird, imaginative and half formed but here's a few fun anecdotes of kids I knew talking about their "past lives"

01. My brother at age 3? would constantly tell us he was just staying with us till his real mother came to pick him up.

02. My cousin, an only child, would constantly tell his mother his older sister wanted him to change the lightbulb

03. There's one about my school friend (who currently may or may not hate me)'s little sister that I can't say because I'm lowkey scared she's got a tumblr account and on the 0.01% chance she sees this I might actually die so :D

04. I, till 4, apparently had a whole series of things I'd say about London of all places (I also constantly told one of my aunts not to sit in certain places cos there were ghosts already sitting there so I had a weird imagination so this should be taken with a boatload of salt); 1. Used to point at a very specific building and insist there was a similar one in London. 2. Talked about my dog Hiskie & how my parents? hid the both of us in the basement? when the police? were banging at our door - obviously we didn't have a dog or basement

• Lots of people see it as and call it "Rebirth" but I personally don't see it as that. You, the person you are & all that makes you up, dies. There's no second chance.* It's a way for your soul to live on but not you the person. Your soul gets to live on as a whole new person. You couldn't point at two strangers on the road and say "they're the same person" the same way you can't point at the person you were and the person your soul will become and say "they're the same person"

* In game, the brothers also see it as "rebirth" and as a second chance. They see it as Lilith surviving and living past the war. Which makes sense because;

• Rebirth/Reincarnation is not a phenomenon than occurs naturally in OM!. In OM!, canonically as seen in S2, peoples' souls are represented as candles that burn out. Once the candle burns out that's the end. Their soul is gone for good. Diavolo specifically uses his powers to stop this from happening to Lilith and to give her soul a second chance even if Lilith the person doesn't really get one. In a world where it's a known fact that once a person dies their soul is gone for good, finding out that your loved one, who died tragically and at a young age, 's soul got to live another life that was long and happy would be amazing. It would seem like that person got a second chance for real.

• A dog could die and the soul could be reincarnated as a human, who lives their life and gets married etc etc. This person is a human, not a dog in a human's body. (Though according to Buddhism you need to collect a lot of good karma to be born as a human & if you're a shithead your bad karma gets you demoted to an animal when you die* <- personally don't believe in this at all for a lot of reasons but mainly I know for a fact that there are animals living better & more luxurious lives than me so what is this bs?)

* 01. My grandma constantly told 5 yr old me that if I continued to blow spit bubbles I'd be reincarnated as a slug (this only made me blow more out of spite)

02. There's a saying? that you can tell someone who's pissing you off, which translated, basically means " I hope you get born as a dog in a shitty family" which I think is the funniest way you can tell someone to fuck off

TLDR;

* "human Lilith" probably looked nothing like Angel! Lilith, probably had a different name, canonically only remembered her life as Angel! Lilith when she died & her soul returned to its original state (she did have the soul of an angel though which probably affected her human body and which lead to MC's latent magic powers/why MC canonically doesn't seem to be 100% human/why MC's own soul is so shiny even though they're kind of an ass)

*MC is not related to the brothers' sister Lilith, so it ain't incest, if it were that means according to Buddhism everyone is always at a constant risk of accidentally participating in incest and beastiality which yeah....I'm not religious but good god would I fight someone who sees it as this

2. Are the Brothers & MC a Family - More Specifically A Found Family?

Answer: Yes.

• MC and the brothers are very much a family- more specifically a found family - something which is explicitly stated in OM! near the end of S2.

• Found families are as important as biological families. Their bonds are as strong, if not more so because they get the option to choose each other.

• But found families are gonna be messy because no one's gonna be actually related to each other & romantic and/or sexual chemistry can crop up. And that's normal.

• Depending on the found family, no one may take on more stereotypical family roles or certain people may rise up to take on those roles (eg: parental roles). With either of these types it's still pretty normal to date each other because they're not your real parents. Hell even normal friend groups have the "Mom Friend", that doesn't mean said friend can't date within their friend group.

• Most found families are friend groups who got closer and started seeing each other as family (it's also a very queer concept because lots of found families are queer people who came together because they couldn't get the love, acceptance & connection, all humans need, from their biological families).

• They're not "family" in the biological-related sense but rather in the "we care about each other above all else. we'll always have each others' backs. we'll call each other when we need help. we may fight but at the end of the day we love each other and will come together again". Again it doesn't mean they can't date within the group.

• In OM! however it gets Extra Messy because it mixes an adopted family and a found family. The brothers are a found family (the oddballs of the Celestial Realm who came together), but they're also an adopted family (adopted by Lucifer who saw them all as his brothers/kids) - the second part of this means they're actually brothers - they grew up together and are no different from biological brothers. None of them are gonna see romantic or sexual prospects in each other (with the exception of Asmo but that's just cause he's the personification of Lust + he always gets shut down by the rest).

• MC on the other hand is NOT part of their adopted family but IS part of their found family. MC's a stranger they met when they were all adults who became friends with them and who came to see the brothers as their (found) family and vice versa. This means MC dating the brothers would be completely normal and again not incestuous which I think is a lot of peoples' worry.

• The best example of a found family, with certain members taking on parental roles, that still has them dating/sleeping with each other within said found family is Community (the tv show which is getting a movie HELLO!!?!?). And this is an issue that community actually addresses in more or less detail;

Fucking watch this clip it's hilarious thank you

BONUS ROUND;

+ 1. What If MC Was Actually Related to Lilith the Angel; Would They Also Be Related to the Brothers?

The Answer: No.

• I've written a handful of human au! fics for the brothers and because of how short the time span in them must be, the whole descendent of a reincarnation thing doesn't work. Meaning I make MC a far off relation to OG! Lilith.

• For the answer to this question to be "No" you need to consider the background of two main points;

01. The Brothers & Lilith being an adopted family

-> Lilith & the brothers are canonically an adopted family. All the angels were created by God? presumably but they're not family/don't see themselves as family - the angels don't seem to practice family in the same way humans & demons do - I'm pretty sure the brothers are the odd ones out. Lucifer is the only one who refers to God as "Father" and Mammon canonically sees Lucifer as his dad. The brothers + Lilith are a family because Lucifer took them in one by one & referred to them as his family.

-> Am I saying being an adopted family makes their connections any less real or familial? No, calm down lemme get to my point.

02. MC's relationship with Lilith in this AU

-> MC (if MC was actually related to og Lilith) is a far off relation by thousands of years (my timeline between The Rebellion & S1 puts it at 5000+ years). Do you know who your blood relatives were 5000 years ago? Would you know who your blood relatives are 5000 years later?

-> To make up for the 5000 year time, in a human au MC would be a relative that's so far removed from your family that no one knows they or their own family branch even exists. It's doing a 23 and Me test & seeing you have some unheard of family line on the other side of the world. You're not gonna call them up and pretend to have some familial relationship with these complete strangers because not only will that be lowkey creepy, there's a high chance you won't even speak the same language.

• To make it easier to understand in our human lifetime perspective: Lilith and the brothers are part of a family where everyone was adopted by Lucifer (with only Satan being his biological son & only Lucifer being "God's" biological son). Lilith passes away and eventually the brothers meet MC who they befriend. Almost a year after they meet MC they accidentally discover that MC is a "so far off there's basically a 5000 year gap between us" relation of Lilith's. There'll be a lot of feelings involved, because Lilith's yknow dead, but after that's all dealt with in the grand scheme of things nothing's really changed. Lilith & the brothers' not being blood related didn't make them any less of a real family BUT Lilith & the brothers' not being blood related combined with how removed of a relative MC & Lilith are from each other means that there's no actual familial connection between MC & the brothers - they're not gonna look at each other and see their new sibling or something similar

Overall;

☆ Yes, MC & the brothers are a found family. It's one of my favourite things about OM! and one of the biggest reasons I stuck with this game for 2 1/2 years now (when a couple months is my usual attention span for games). OM!'s also the only dating sim ik of that pushed off the romance for one whole year (in game time) just so they can establish the found family aspect of it (ik there are lots of really good queer dating sims now - shoutout to The Arcana my love - but OM! is the queer dating sim for me)

☆ No, MC & the brothers aren't actually related and they don't see themselves as being related either

☆ Yes, MC can have romantic/sexual relationships with the brothers, it's nowhere near incest

☆ If you don't see the relationship between MC & the brothers as romantic then that's completely okay! While the events push the romantic aspect the main story lets you reject them and be only friends/family AND there are 7 more LIs available (though they are side characters & only get more screentime starting from S3)

☆ Here's more posts I made about Lilith that are related;

* I had about 3 more answered asks about Lilith's Reincarnation but I can't find them because the tagging system on tumblr is shit and I really need to make a masterlist of all my posts before I lose my mind trying to find a relevant post. Anyway this ask goes the most in depth about all of it so*

Lilith, Her Lover & Reincarnation

Lilith & MC's Story Relevance to One Another

Lilith and Her Other Descendents

☆ Here's me being shameless, in my self promotion, with a Lilith centered fic;

Speaking to Myself

7 brothers seek comfort from the grave of their long lost sister, a human lives and breathes just floors above them

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iamknicole · 1 month

Text

Baby Shower

Ten weeks flew by in a blur for everyone except Haleigh. She was so anxious and ready for her due date, she barely gave the baby shower a second thought. The only thing that excited her about it was that it meant she was that much closer to her due date.

Getting to the venue, Ardian helped her out of his SUV and pushed her hair from her face. She couldn't help but giggle at the excited look on his face. He was honestly more excited than she thought he would be especially since Roman and Rezar made it clear that they would be putting together all the furniture later that night.

"Excited?"

He nodded, grabbing her hand. "Yup. I got really good food at your gender reveal."

"Really?" She laughed. "Not for baby boy but for the food."

"I'm excited for him cause he get to eat good food too. Me and my best friend gon have a good day."

Haleigh waddled beside him, shaking her head.

When they got inside, Tia approached them with pins and pointed them to their chests. She ignored Ardian's protests about his pin, silencing him with a quick look.

"I'm gonna steal Mommy for a few minutes. Come on, Hae." Tia pulled Haleigh's hand away from Ardian and stared to gently pull her away.

"Wait," Ardian called out. He leaned over to talk to Haleigh's belly. "Don't kick Mommy too hard cause you think I left. I'm still here, best friend."

Tia chuckled. "But you ain't wanna put the pin on. Uhuh."

When they walked away, Ardian spotted them men in his family with the men in Haleigh's family. He went over to them to avoid getting hit later for not speaking. Rezar snorted seeing the pin and the other men laughed.

"See? Told you that's yo son," Eli joked slapping hands with him. "Glad to see you coming around to the truth."

Ardian laughed. "He just my lil best friend."

"Even I don't hold onto a lie this long." Tyrell joked slapping hands with his nephew.

"You barely let them outta your sight and when you not with them you texting and calling to check up on em. I had to make her let me take her to the store the other day." Jimmy said as he squeezed Ardian shoulders.

Jey nodded, agreeing with his brother. "Right, she kept telling me uhn uhn, Unc, Ardi gon take us. Had to put my foot down just to see her."

Roman and Rezar laughed listening to the men go on and Ardian blush. While they were talking, Haleigh was being interrogated by her sister in law and cousin in laws. They listened to her with smirks on their faces.

"Just friends? In what world?" Aunni laughed.

"They must have changed the meaning of friends." Nola joked.

Haleigh rubbed her belly, trying and failing not to laugh. "Talk been talking to Nicey and Morgan or something? Starting to sound like them."

"We actually hadn't yet," Tia admitted, "Only our mother in laws."

Haleigh rolled her eyes playfully. "Of course it was them. Me and him are just friends."

Nola rubbed Haleigh's back then her belly and spoke softly. "We know you're still a little shell shocked from the bitch boy so you're hesitant. And you don't wanna rush into anything while you're still carrying my nephew. But you can't keep running from your feelings, I know once he gets here neither of you will be able to or want to."

Aunni, Haleigh and Tia stared at Nola without saying a word making her chuckle.

"What?"

"I know it's bad if you're talking softly and being nice." Haleigh half-heartedly joked.

"That's right so you better listen cause that doesn't happen often."

The older women were making sure the food and treat tables were set up how they wanted and talked amongst themselves. Kandice and Tasha introduced their family to one another before the shower started.

"Guess you're a grandma too now," Apryl joked.

Kandice pinched her cousin. "Didn't I tell you not to call me that. I'm sure Tasha held the same way."

"And I do," Tasha nodded, "I am not a grandma."

Apryl laughed at the faces they made. "Grandma, Mama, Nana, GiGi ... either way yall got a grabdbaby coming."

"And don't be like your child and deny it." Monique added.

"Kandice, I say we don't invite these heffas when Hae has the baby for getting on our nerves."

"I think that's a great idea," Kandice answered.

Games were played, activities were done and now everyone was sitting around talking and eating. Haleigh sat at the table she shared with Ardian, waiting for him to bring their food to the table. In his absence, Roman slid into his seat, nudging his babygirl's shoulder playfully making her smile.

"Hey, Daddy."

"What's going on, Princess? How are you and my lil guy?"

"We're good, he pretty calm." She responded leaning against him. "What about you?"

He nodded, taking a look around the room. "I'm actually pretty good. You and lil guy have a lot of love in this from. I know at the beginning you were worried about how it would go without that boy but look at where we are now. He left to make room for someone even better."

She nodded listening to him.

"I know that boy tried to fuck up how you view men and relationships and trust but Ardian is changing your mind. Am I right?" He asked looking over at her.

"He is, Daddy."

"And I know it's scary but it's good for you and lil guy. Whatever your choice, you know Daddy's always her, Princess."

She smiled. "I know, Daddy."

"Good," he murmured kissing her head. "I hear he's gonna be in the delivery room with you."

"He is. He asked and I had been thinking about it so I was glad he did. You think I'm doing the right thing?"

"Doesn't matter what I think, Princess. But yes, I do."

"Thank you, Daddy. For everything."

"Don't have to thank me." He paused to look around once again. "Picked a name yet?"

"Yup," she answered proudly.

He chuckled. "Gonna share?"

"Nope! Everyone including Ardian finds out when he's born, Daddy."

Roman huffed playfully and kissed her head again before getting up. He helped Ardian out the plates on the table then slapped his back softly as he passed him. Making sure the two of them were occupied, Roman went to Rezar speaking softly.

"Step outside with us, real quick, big man."

Rezar nodded. "Everything okay?"

"My nephew wanted to show me and my cousins some texts he got. We may or may not need to make a trip later. We can leave Ardian out of it for now, Princess isn't gonna let him outta her sight right now."

"Sounds good," he smirked. "I'm gonna grab my brother in laws."

"Alright, meet yall outside."

Roman left Rezar, kissing his wife’s cheek as he passed her then went to his son. He squeezed his shoulder as he passed him, inconspicuously nodding towards the door. Catching the hint, Koda made eye contact with Eli and Milo and looked at the door.

#family ties au #pregnant single mama au #Ardian & Haleigh

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calxide · 2 years

Text

⋆⁺ [ 038 ] kiss me when you're sober, darling

warning/s: drinking alcohol, not proofread (i just let Grammarly do its magic lol) pls lmk if there's any more | w/c: 1.7k words

read under the cut!

After signing a ton of papers for the company partnerships, you finally got up from your seat and went out of the room you were in. Kazuha fixed the documents for you, seeing how tired you looked, and followed suit after you. He shoots you a smile before giving you a quick side hug as if saying congratulations. After all, this was your first time doing such a thing by yourself without your mother's help or your mother on your side. Thus, this should be considered an achievement for you and Kazuha.

You thanked Kazuha multiple times before and after though he had told you to shrug it off, and it was his duty to accompany you anyway. Nonetheless, you were grateful that he was always by your side. Although you two are not real siblings, being cousins made you extremely close to each other; because of all the events that have happened in the past, you started treating each other like real siblings. He was a good big brother to you, as you were a kind little sister to him. You both cherished each other; if ever there's a time one of you feels down, the other will do their best to act as a supporting pillar.

"See? I told you you can do it."

You scoffed at Kazuha's statement. You shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to take any compliments he gave. "Yeah, because I'm pretty sure Childe has pulled some strings for us."

Kazuha nudged you at your shoulder. He just wanted you to accept your achievements and be proud of what you accomplished. But he knew he couldn't convince you either way; sometimes, he'll ask you if you ever take any compliments, but you'd always laugh it off.

You two continued your way to the location where the party was being held. It started half an hour ago; while you were still inside the room, signing papers for your company. The venue was already packed to the brim with guests and even more.

People were dancing, drinking, laughing, and singing along to the songs being played. All in all, people seemed rather relaxed, enjoying themselves. This was a business party but… it seemed livelier. You supposed that Childe must have had invited friends that he has that were heirs from other companies who brought their friends along with them.

You were greeted by Xingqiu, who had a big smile on his face, whom you assumed had consumed a huge amount of alcoholic beverages already, by the way he talked and how his face was crimson.

"Oh, Y/N! You're finally here," he clings to your arm like a little kid and drags you to the buffet area. You signaled Kazuha to follow you to where Xingqiu might bring you. You'd not want to fall to one of his pranks at such a big party.

Once settling down to your table with a dinner plate in your hands, Childe greeted you. "Y/N! You did great during the meeting."

You smiled, "I couldn't have done it without the help of all of you." Indeed, Xingqiu has been a big help to you.

"Well, we're here to support you," Xingqiu replied as he took his first bite into his meal. You chuckled, knowing that he wasn't eating the actual food he had put inside his mouth. Seeing as he could barely swallow anything right now because of the strong alcohol he had been drinking since earlier, you supposed that he would pass out soon.

Suddenly, someone had placed their hand on your shoulder. You turned your head back and saw Ayaka with a huge smile on her face.

"Congratulations! I've heard from my brother about your achievement," she said with a huge smile on her face as she gave you a hug and settled down beside you. She greeted the three boys, and they greeted her back.

Her older brother, Ayato, was also in the meeting earlier, although he left much earlier than you after signing the documents that he had to sign. Having known Ayaka for years, it was actually the first time you had seen his brother up close and for such a long time. Normally, you would only see him greet you and Ayaka, and that's it. Additionally, he's always busy with school work.

"Thank you, Ayaka. It's nice to see you here."

The five of you continued to eat your dinner while having small chats. You were glad that Ayaka had finally relaxed in the presence of the other three. She managed to hold and join in with the conversations.

As soon as you all finished eating, Childe handed everyone a glass filled with an alcoholic beverage. You gave Ayaka a look as if asking if she would be drinking along. She only chuckled and took the glass into her hand, and you did the same.

"For the success of everyone's company, and of course, our friendships," Childe started.

"Cheers!" The five of you raised your glasses. Everyone clinked the glasses together. You took a small sip from the glass while Xingqiu drank everything in one go.

"It tastes so sweet, but not too bitter," Xingqiu commented. Ayaka laughed as she nodded in agreement.

"Not enough." He grabbed the bottle of wine and poured it into his glass and yours.

You raised your eyebrow and scoffed. "Come on, Y/N. You gotta drink more." Xingqiu giggled, giving you a sign that he was terribly drunk.

"Oh, please, Xingqiu. Fine, just one." You downed the glass in one go and immediately regretted what you'd just done. The moment it went down you felt something in your stomach trying to jump out. The sensation was intense, but it disappeared soon. You took another deep breath and shook your head, signaling you were fine. You didn't bother drinking anything else.

"Weak." You smacked both Kazuha and Xingqiu's heads when you heard them say that.

"Whatever. I'm going to go get some fresh air." You heard Kazuha warned you to stay safe or else he'll steal your money as soon as you turned your back on them. You shoot him a middle finger as a response to his statement; you hear them laugh in response.

You made your way to the balcony outside the building and found no one outside. Most probably because they were either inside having fun or drinking. The night sky was breathtaking, with stars and moon peeking through the clouds that floated across the blue sky. The wind blew softly against your face. For a minute, you leaned against the railing and enjoyed the feeling of the cool breeze caressing your cheeks. The view, especially the beautiful starry night scenery, made you feel calm.

Your thoughts drifted away from the present as you let your mind wander off to wherever it pleased. You sighed. It was indeed relaxing to just relax and not do a single thing but enjoy the peacefulness and quiet you felt. You closed your eyes. If there were any troubles to worry about, then they'd probably be the problems that came out of your mouth every once in a while.

A voice called you out of your trance. "Hey, are you alright?" You quickly looked over your shoulder to find Kazuha standing beside you, looking concerned. He gave you a worried look. You nodded your head, telling him that you were alright. Then, you smiled at him in assurance. He returned a genuine smile.

"I'll leave you alone for peace of mind, then." He patted your shoulder lightly before disappearing behind a corner of the balcony, walking back into the direction of the banquet room where your friends are located.

You appreciated how he wanted to give you space at the moment, but you knew that you needed someone to tell them about your problems. You sighed; you knew it wasn't his fault for doing so. After all, you always shut him out in the past whenever you have problems. Claiming that you want time and space whenever you feel down after having stupid fights with your mother.

A voice called out your name softly. You turned around to see a familiar face.

"Hey… Scara," you greeted back with a smile on your face.

Scaramouche was wearing a black coat and a pair of white trousers, with a simple button-up shirt underneath that looked as if it was tailored specifically for him. He approached you and leaned on the railings, copying what you were doing.

"What are you doing here?" You asked.

He scoffed jokingly as he turned his gaze to you, "I'm here to congratulate you. Dumbass, of course, Childe invited me beforehand."

You laughed. It felt good to laugh after all this stressful week that you've been enduring. You were happy with yourself. Even though things haven't really gone well at work lately, things are getting better. You were able to pull through with it somehow. You were thankful for your friends. They kept you sane throughout the times when you weren't.

"The view here sure is nice. They picked the right venue," you commented, to which Scaramouche nodded.

He noticed your words slurred a little and how your eyes seemed unfocused. Were you drunk? He supposed that you probably had a fair share of alcohol inside before making your way here to get some air.

"Hey, are you drunk?"

Questioning the obvious, you shrug and laugh. "Probs." And so, you began to chuckle again. It was clear to him that you were drunk.

Scaramouche sighs and looks up to the sky. He supposed that you were a little tipsy, but it was nothing that he had never experienced before. What was surprising to him was the fact that you had gotten drunk at all.

Your hand made its way to his. As a response to your action, he caressed your hand in return. "What is it?" He asked.

"I want a kiss," you said with a pout. You are definitely drunk, and Scaramouche was sure of it.

"Clingy when sick. Clingy when drunk. I see," he teased. You could feel his hot breath hitting you as he leaned forward, only to pull away a second after. You frowned, making him laugh.

"Kiss me when you're sober, darling." The sudden use of such a nickname made your cheeks flush red.

"Bastard," you mumbled under your breath. He only chuckles even harder at your reaction.

He hummed, "Look at you getting all pouty. You look like a duck."

You hit him on the chest. "I. Am. Not. Drunk."

"Sure, babe. Let's get you home."

"Fuck you."

"That's why we're going home."

"Fuck you!"

"I love you too."

He gave you a peck on the lips and grabbed your hand as he dragged you outside the venue. "Let's go."

ABYSSAL LOVE ✰ previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

(quite literal) TRANSLATION on what yn said on the last picture: “oh fuck-an” is a word play on “upakan” a tagalog word which literally means “(to) hit”; “what if i hit you” or “i'll hit you” | “dejk” is used when you want to say that you're only joking; it means “just kidding” or “i'm joking”.

a/n: i initially thought i'd be able to finish this smau before june ends; but look at the date, its july already, time flies so fast! this is probably the last written chapter (or maybe one more) i realized i'm starting to write too much in written chapters and some might find it boring, and yep, this chapt is lowkey boring lol. now, kazuha's problem is almost solved 🤧

⋆⁺ synopsis — Scaramouche, the person who tripped you on purpose just to see your despair expression on your face, hates how you always appear so happy in front of other people. He hated the fact that you find life enjoyable, unlike him. You, of course, hated him back. You don't understand why he goes to the extent to see your face crinkle in pure dismay. But what if you realize that the person who always laughs at your misery isn't so insufferable after you get to know him?

💌 @r-0-tt-3-n-m-1-lk @kanaqwqbear @berryqueue @nejibot @wrrapedroundmyfingerlikearing @cafescara @ferumie @zannivrs @kazuhasmaid @gunz-nrozes @thenightsflower @deimmortales99 @senjuchii @dollpoetwriting @yumixxn @plinkuro @w9vyy @lacy-lady @hanniejji @fluffimemes @ifelloutofbed @lunaflvms @aeulia @fluffloversmutavoider @aeriether @rizakari @c0nn0rv8 @llghtsnoww @moonxma

#genshin smau #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #scaramouche x you #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #◇ーsmau: abyssal love #◇ーcalx's collection

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fantomette22 · 11 months

Note

QUICK!! LET’S TALK ABOUT YOUR FIC CAINHURST OCS SO WE CAN INVITE THEM TO ME AND BIMBOM’S OC TEA PARTY AND WATCH THEM ALL FIGHT!!

OH OK Ok !!!

So i will keep it to my main fic « OCs »because if i add the 3 version of Maria family tree or smt it’s never gonna be over 😂

Potential lil spoilers for my fic too ahah (but I didn’t put any big spoils!) Also some are complete Ocs but other are based on the portrait or even fit in the lore and could be more of an oc with a prompt /interpretation. And funny things to note but literally more than half of my bloodborne ocs are from Cainhurst 😂

Ok let’s begin with Vledemyr!

The young newest addition to the royal guard. Maria & Annalise cousin & friend, future head of the royal guard of Annalise (and one of the most powerful vileblood one day). In my notes I said he is 4y older than Maria and 1y older than Annalise. That guy is like the mvp of cainhurst. Best inhabitant of Cain after Maria probably. I already talk about him I think ( I love him so much). Ok he would do anything for Annalise yeah but Maria too. Always here to watch over her like an older brother. He’s a bit overprotective of the girls when they were young yeah. Really a great support character, the ideal knight ! He’s not annoying like the rest of the typical cainhurst nobles too. His only default is maybe to be too loyal and obey order without contradicted them. Oh and he’s the one who take care of the crows & raven of the castle. (He’s the best that’s why you need to know)

Lady Sveta/ Svetta smt (kinda place holder name)

she’s a young noble lady from Cainhurst, similar age to Annalise and a close friend of her, Vledemyr, Maria etc She’s a calm & thoughtful lady who managed to become quite influential over the years at Cainhurst despite her young age. She’s not a knight but like most aristocratic cainhurst ladies she was taught how to weld a dagger at least. (Vled taught her quite a few extra tips too!)

Charles : What can I tell about him without telling too much🤔 He’s Maria, Annalise & Vledemyr childhood friend. His family don’t live at Cainhurst anymore and he’s not a super high class noble. The executioner gloves came from his family yep. He was a students at Byrgenwerth too. He begin his course 1y before Maria (1 year older). As a kid the 2 were really the inseparable little trouble makers of Cainhurst 😂 He grew more mature since but could cause troubles if he wish XD (a bit like Laurence, when told them NO and they say YES.) Yeah he’s a lil bastard basically but I love him.

He hope one to impress the noble from Cainhurst and have an important place one day. And you know help restore the great strength Cainhurst lost over time (it’s the shadow of it’s former glory)

He could have quite a decisive role at some point…

Richard, he’s the precedent king consort of cainhurst and Annalise’s father. Poor guy, so much stuff is going on in front of his salad and he can’t do anything about it xD. Yeah he’s not really the one in charge the old ladies of their council don’t even consult him every time ;-; but he’s trying his best and dream of a day where Cainhurst would be xxx again! Of course he’s not perfect but he tried. For exemple he’s really compatissant with Maria wanting to go study far from cainhurst and travel when she’s supposed to become a royal guard. And he prepared Annalise as best as he could and preferred to take pressure on himself than on his dear daughter. Still, sometimes (bc it’s his right) he’s wearing one of the most precious tresor of cainhurst. One of the crown of illusion. Said to diccipe & create illusion in the ancient times. The 2nd crown was lost century ago far into the plumerias labyrinth and all it’s just a normal crown now. All it’s mystic power seems to have disappear long ago…

Well there’s the late queen I guess. (Don’t have a name yet sorry) she was loved by her subject and yeah typical queen too. She was actually the one to try to begin expedition to pthumerians underground again. After decades/centuries of nothing because cainhurst was to salty at the war their loose against their cousins

The ex body guard of the queen (I don’t have a name yet 😐). Will be relevant at some point… He was originally a mercenary hiring by Cainhurst to go to Loran. One of the only person who came back and they made him knight for his exploit. He even become the Queen’s personal bodyguard. He mysteriously disappeared some times after the Queen passed away…

The Royal guard captain? Or at least one of the head of the knights (when Maria was a student at Byrgenwerth). He’s an asshole. Other instructors are much sympthetic but this guy omg… you will understand when the time come. He’s really strict, almost abusive and doesn’t support when you contradict him or try to insult him to his face 😬

3 squires : future royal guards in training about Maria’s age. The 4 of them are supposed to become the next royal guards & Annalise personal guard.

(Maria is on the right & Vledemyr supervise them. It’s a meme too xD)

There’s a young woman (chikage and Evelyn) and two young men, one really strong with 2 chikages and the other one wielding a reiterpallasch and an Evelyn)

I need names too. And I can’t tell you really much more for now.

The next 3 are inspired by a song my friend made.

Twins musician : 2 of the most incredible musicians of Cainhurst. They both can play a clavecin in sync for exemple. And really fast

The master of dance/maestro : He teach the young noble how to spar & dance. And is a bit crazy really XD he often wear a knight helmet with a black suit.

Oh I almost forgot but the chiefs cook ! They come from the same country as Yamamura. If you do shit with their food or tried to cook one of their signature dishes horribly they will fight you.

Then I guess there’s Maria’s close family & other relatives ? You know her parents, the other nobles (but not really ocs more like background character you know) and her annoying grand aunts… 🤣 « But Annalise you can’t stand grand aunt Suzanne either ! »

The birds (crows mostly), horses and dogs don’t count I guess rip 💔 (I’m looking for names too. Yes they are important and relevant background characters)

I know Bloody Crow is not an OC but does baby Bloody Crow (when he was a baby/kid/teens) aka Voron count ? 🥺 No? ok. All I will say for now is that Maria is his godmother.

Ok so Leo don’t count either I guess so not for today. I don’t think his half siblings : Lupin & sister count either XD they are not noble and from Hemwick so (also in the family of my dear hunter)

There’s one last cainhurst oc I have… I think… but hm i can’t really talk about it (a lil secret kinda) I will only say that this oc was a young and sweet little girl who loved flowers and her family. She is deeply missed.

Anyway can’t wait see a hell of a typical Cainhurst duel on the table 👀 oh I mean tea party sorry x)

#bloodborne #original charcaters #bloodborne oc #cainhurst #bloodborne original characters #cainhurst knight #my ask #bloodborne headcanons #part 1: a scholar’s dream #my asks

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scottysketches · 5 months

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Since the excerpt from my Korkie/Amis story seems to have people interested, I thought I might share some of my headcanons for the cadets :)

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Oldest to youngest goes: Amis, Soniee, Korkie and Lagos (Soniee and Korkie's birthdays are literally just a couple weeks apart and she holds it over his head lmao)

Amis is from a poorer family in the lower districts of Sundari (which is still leagues better than some parts of Coruscant). His biological parents are divorced and he hardly ever sees his bio father - which is fine by him, because his stepdad is a better father than his actual father ever could or would be. He has an older sister (Daisa) and a younger half-brother (Denn). His family's name is Kar'jor

Soniee's family are from Harswee (and her maternal grandparents were the weavers who crafted the carpets and tapestries that are displayed on the Coronet). Like Korkie, she's an only child, but she has lots of cousins that she's close with. Her family's name is Bevehn

Lagos comes from a family of warriors who all fought on the side of the New Mandalorians during the civil war. Her ancestors originally hailed from Concord Dawn. She's the youngest of ten children - five sisters and four brothers. Her family's name is Agol'dade

Amis and Soniee were the first to meet each other on their first day at the academy and very quickly became besties because they're both repressed gays you can pry this one out of my cold dead hands

Amis and Soniee actually met Satine on their first day at the academy; Lagos didn't meet her until the end of the second term/semester, when Satine came to pick up Korkie for the holiday break

Korkie broke his arm falling out of a hammock once as a young child while he and Satine were visiting family on Kalevala because he tosses and turns a lot in his sleep, so he quickly picks out one of the lower bunks in their dorm room

Lagos snores. It's bad. (Korkie also snores, but not as bad as Lagos.) Soniee and Amis invest in some comfortable earplugs for sleeping so that they can actually get some rest at night, rather than have to survive on caf

At the end of the first term/semester, all first-year cadets get to choose a selection of elective subjects to take in order to fill out their timetables (this also includes extra-curricular activities like sports teams and clubs)

Korkie takes three languages (Rodese, Shyriiwook and Twi'leki), dance, cookery, additional political history and additional debate classes (because unfortunately for Satine he inherited Obi-Wan's restlessness and constant need to be busy - basically the Eleventh Doctor in The Power of Three, skip ahead to 2:28)

Amis takes one language (Twi'leki), architecture, cookery and martial arts. He's also part of the academy's shockball and fencing teams and enjoys free-climbing in his spare time

Lagos takes three languages (Durese, Kaminoan and Twi'leki), martial arts and the Mandalorian equivalent of religious studies

Soniee takes three languages (Durese, Rodese and Twi'leki), robotics, hacking and additional debate classes

Out of the four of them, Lagos is the only straight kid - Korkie is openly bi from the age of 14, Soniee and Amis are both gay but repressing throughout their time at the academy (Soniee until the outbreak of the Clone Wars, and Amis until the year leading up to the Death Watch coup)

Korkie bunks off school one day to visit Satine at the palace, which is when he comes out to her; she reassures him that there's nothing he could do, say or be that would change how much she loves him (before scolding him for sneaking out of school)

Amis and Soniee both bond over their sexualities, as they're each the first person the other came out to

Lagos and Amis both think they're being subtle about their crushes on Korkie. He knows

When he's 16, Amis's stepdad passes away; he gets pulled out of class to be told, and Daisa also has to break the uncomfortable news that their mother found the letter Amis wrote to their stepdad where he comes out, and she subsequently disowns Amis because he's gay. Daisa promises to stay in contact with him, and sets up a separate bank account that she deposits a set amount of credits in every month so that Amis has some money once he graduates from the academy

Satine is absolutely disgusted when Korkie tells her what happened, and promptly declares that Amis can stay with her and Korkie at the palace during the term breaks when the rest of the students go home

When they're almost 17, Korkie tells Amis that Satine is actually his mother, not his aunt - but because they're both stoned at the time, Amis doesn't take him seriously

As they get older and more confident in themselves and their identities, all four cadets start to explore different aspects of themselves around each other

Korkie wears traditionally masculine clothing a majority of the time, but he also likes to mix it up with high-waisted trousers, shirts in various colours/patterns/etc. that would be considered feminine, and crop tops

Amis wears masculine clothes all the time but starts to experiment with small amounts of make-up (eyeliner, nail polish, etc.) in their last year at the academy before the Death Watch coup; his signature clothing item is jeans with carpenter detailing on them (extra pockets, a loop for a hammer, padded panels at the knees, etc.)

Lagos is quite feminine, but she enjoys the comfy aspect of lounging around in sweats; she's also a big fan of cargo trousers (so! many! pockets!)

Soniee fully embraces her feminine side, whereas when she was younger she was more androgynous; she's the go-to for make-up advice (and was the one to teach Amis how to paint his nails and draw the perfect vintage wing)

At the end of every year at the academy, each year group has a school dance that gets more sophisticated the older the students are (think more like a disco for the younger years, and the older students have more black/white tie coded events)

As a joke, Soniee suggests going to what would be their last school dance in drag to Amis; he's 100% serious when he says yes

Poor Korkie suddenly has a gay crisis when he realises that the "girl" chatting with some of their other classmates across the room is Amis

#writing #character headcanons #star wars the clone wars #sw tcw #mandalorian cadets #korkie kryze #korkie kryze headcanons #amis #amis headcanons #lagos #lagos headcanons #soniee #soniee headcanons #korkie kryze x amis #kormis #korkie kryze is a kenobi #scotty's words #scotty's rambles

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sea-owl · 1 year

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So I never posted the edited ao3 version of this post for the true mates au on Tumblr. And since I am currently working on the next part for this au I should probably fix that. Here you go.

"You were avoiding Mama and Papa today," Maina said. "Does it have something to do with a certain alpha?"

Penelope winced. Damn, she was hoping Marina hadn't noticed. "I was not avoiding them. I was merely avoiding their unsubtle hints about me and Pip courting."

"Oh, Penelope why don't you want to marry Phillip? We could really be sisters then," Marina said, holding her cousin tighter. The two omegas were cuddling in Marina's nest. Marina's heat was due soon and it always helped if another unmated omega was there before and after the heat.

Because Pip and I only see each other as pack mates, Penelope thought. Because I would rather write my novels and Pip wants to study his plants. Because it would be the most awkward marriage and mating ever.

Truthfully the only real advantage Phillip and Penelope would have being married to one another is that they would let each other continue their passions and be left alone by others. Penelope couldn't say that though. Her cousins didn't even know she was the novel writer Lady Whistledown, it wasn't something a proper omega did.

But her romantic cousin did believe in true mates.

Penelope leaned in closer to whisper to Marina. "I believe I have found my true mate."

"Penelope," Marina gasped. "Who is it? Have I met him?"

Penelope shook her head. "Do you remember my pen pal Eloise?"

"Ms. Bridgerton?" Marina asked.

Penelope nodded. "Yes, one of her brothers caught my scent from a letter I sent her. He sent me a letter with Eloise's and oh Marina. I just know he is my mate."

"Which brother?"

Penelope ran through a list of names in her head, trying to remember Elosie's actual brothers' names so she didn't choose one of them. How many did she say she had again? Three? Yes, that sounds about right, two older and one younger. The Bridgertons were so well known, even out here, for their being many in their pack and for all looking so alike that half the time most don't know which one is which from a distance. Surly no would notice if she added one more, and Eloise would help surely help her if she knew Penelope was doing it to avoid marriage.

A name, she needed to pick a name.

"Colin. His name is Colin Bridgerton."

Later that night Penelope wrote two letters. One to Eloise, and one to the mate she made up.

Dear Eloise,

My cousins are once again trying to push me and Phillip to court, no matter how many times we tell them we see each other no more than as pack mates. I may have fibbed and told them I have recently started a long-distanced courtship with one of your brothers. Colin is the first name that came to mind. If you could please help me I greatly appreciate it.

with great thanks ,

Penelope Featherington

The letter she wrote to the made-up brother was shorter, adding in a few details she remembers Eloise said about one of her actual brothers.

Dear Mr. Bridgerton,

Thank you kindly for your first letter. You will have to write to me while on your tour around the Mediterranean. I have heard you could find really good tomato plants there.

yours truly,

Penelope Featherington

On the back of her stationary, she added some musings she had once written on new love when Marina and George first started courting.

Two weeks later Penelope found herself having a picnic with Marina and the Cranes. George and Marina were sitting on a blanket a little ways away from Phillip and Penelope, still in sight but far enough to where they couldn't hear their conversation. Phillip and Penelope were sent to keep an eye on the engaged couple.

Phillip rolled his eyes. "More like scheme to have us start courting too," he muttered under his breath.

"Yes, your. . .father and my guardians do seem rather persistent," Penelope agreed. "Which is a wonder since you'll be starting Cambridge soon Pip."

Phillip glared into the distance; the same one he used when thinking about Sir Crane. "Anything to make me proper alpha. I guess we should be grateful that your pack alpha has not given in to the arrangement Penny."

Which was odd, since it was her pack alpha, her father, Lord Featherington, that sent her live in Gloucestershire with her cousins in the first place. One would think he would make arrangements to keep her out here since to her knowledge neither of her parents knew what to do with an omega. Everyone else in her family was betas, from her parents to her three sisters.

"I still can't believe you made up a fake mate," Phillip whispered.

Penelope looked down at her letters. She had received two from Eloise. One smelled of Eloise's warm scent of honeysuckle, the smell becoming more potent as she opened the envelope.

"If I had not Sir. Crane," Penelope spat the name, " and my guardians would certainly have us engaged to be married."

It was almost too easy for Penelope to spin the tale to her guardians of a long-distance suitor who she believed to be her true mate, and that her mama was help coordinating back in London. Neither really wrote to Lady Featherington, Mr. Thompson exclusively only wrote to Lord Featherington.

Penelope pulled out the letter.

Dear Penelope,

Yes, I shall help you at once! We still have accomplishments we must achieve and how are we to do that when they try to marry you off when you are not even out in society yet!

Though really Penelope, Colin? Of all your choices, you chose Colin? I suppose it is better than Gregory.

you friend,

Eloise

Penelope smiled. "Oh, this is wonderful Pip, now you can continue your studies at Cambridge and . . .Pip?"

Phillip sat next to Penelope in a daze, his body shaking, and his unfocused eyes staring at the letter in her hands. "Lonicera," he muttered, breathing in deeply.

"Phillip!" Penelope yelled.

Whatever scattered her friend's mind stopped it's control. Phillip blinked a few times before coming back to himself. "I'm sorry Penny. I'm not sure what happened."

"You're not about to go into a rut are you?" Penelope asked, leaning away.

Phillip shook his head. "No, I'm not due for a while."

Penelope stared at her friend for a few moments before turning back to her other letter. This one didn't contain Eloise's scent; she must have sprayed some sort of perfume on it. The perfume gave off a scent of an ocean breeze with hints of citrus. It was the most wonderful scent Penelope has ever smelled. She must remember to ask Eloise what perfumed she sprayed it with.

Dear Penelope Featherington,

I thank you for your well wishes and will make sure to write to you on my travels. You say there are good tomato plants in Greece? I shall be eagerly awaiting to see if that is true.

yours,

Colin Bridgerton

Over the next few years Penelope kept sending letters to her Mr. Bridgerton. She must really commend Eloise for her dedication to keep up the charade, even if she still hasn't told Penelope what perfume she sprays the letters with. If Penelope was not the one to make up Mr. Colin Bridgerton she would have sworn he was real. Eloise put so many details in of a young man traveling to different parts of the world that Penelope wonders where she learned them. She even pretended to send gifts from those travels. Penelope busted out laughing when the first one of tomato plant seeds came in with a note.

You were right Pen, there are good tomato plants here.

yours,

Colin

Penelope wished things went as smoothly with the rest of her life. When she was 17, George had went to battle and died, leaving behind an unmarried and unbitten pregnant mate. Phillip was dragged home by his father who had died two weeks after George. Now the lord of Romney Hall Phillip tried to honor his brother and look after Marina and her unborn child. They had married when Marina was three months along, but never mated. No one dared spoke about how Sir Crane and Lady Crane had no mating marks.

Marina was never the same. During the last months of her pregnancy, she had become snappy with Phillip, and demanded that Penelope not leave her side.

"Penelope will move in with us!" Marina ordered. "She will be my companion and my child's governess!"

Phillip and Penelope had hoped that once Marina gave birth she would calm, but no such luck. After the twins were born Marina had become despondent. She never left her rooms and allowed very few to enter.

"Penny how is she today?" Phillip asked one morning, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think she would like to see the children?"

"She barely has spoken, nor eaten," Penelope relied. "She only stares ahead of her. I fear brining in the children would send her into another fit."

For two years they lived like that before the sickness took hold of Marina and she allowed it to take her.

Phillip and Penelope were reading over condolence letters when she got the rare letter from her mother.

Penelope,

I am sorry to tell you this but your father has passed. Come next season when we go into half mourning, I will need you in London. It is time for you to be serious about your suitor.

Penelope stopped reading. Her father was dead. She supposes as her official pack leader and sire she should mourn his loss. She's sure her sisters in London are.

Penelope read over the letter once more. Still she felt like she was reading about the death of an unnamed character in one of her novels.

Penelope puts down her mother's letter and picks up the one from her fake suitor.

My darling Pen,

I cannot begin to imagine the pain you are going through right now. It is never easy to lose one member of your pack, much less two. I hear you are to come to London next season. I shall be waiting for you here. Mayhaps we shall finally see if we suit for marriage.

patiently waiting,

Colin

"My mother expects me to return to London next season. I am to join the marriage mart," Penelope said.

Phillip nodded. "I will accompany you. We will both be in half mourning and be able to begin courting others."

Penelope looked up, her confusion leaking into her scent. "You will come to London with me?"

Phillip smiled. Penelope could smell his smugness at shocking her in his pine scent. "I figured we would both like someone we would know there when taking on the marriage mart. I need to find the children a new mother."

"You should find yourself a mate," Penelope muttered under her breath.

Penelope was 20 when she stepped back into London for the first time since her parents decided they could not raise an omega. Her dress was lavender and her gloves black.

Phillip stepped out of the carriage beside her with his black gloves and coat.

They are greeted in the Featherington drawing room by Penelope's mother and three sisters, along with two unknown alphas and an unknown omega.

That familiar smell of ocean and citrus hits Penelope so hard she's thankful Phillip has given her his arm to escort her in. She's not sure she would be standing if he didn't.

"Penelope, Sir Crane" Portia said. "This is Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, Lady Violet Bridgerton, and Mr. Colin Bridgerton."

Phillip shot Penelope a look. I thought you made him up.

Penelope shot Phillip a look back. So did I.

#bridgerton #true mates au #besties phillip and penelope #mentioned couples #polin #philoise

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capricorn-0mnikorn · 2 years

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✨Character Foils✨: What they are, and a list of all of them in Jane Austen’s _Persuasion_

I’ve been saying, in my “Persuasion Listen- and Read-along” posts,* that Jane Austen had threaded so many character foils through this novel, you could make a Christmas tree decoration from it 🎄. I’ve been thinking about which discussion would be the best place for a full list. But since no post seems better than any other, I’m just going ahead and posting a stand-alone.

In case you don’t know what I’m talking about:

If I recall correctly, the term “character foil,” and phrases like “Character [A] is a foil for Character [B]” actually come from jewelry-making. When light hits a gemstone, some of it bounces off the surface and makes it look shiny. But some of it also passes through the stone and out the other side (which is why gems are often semitransparent). So a jeweler will put a piece of foil in the setting behind a gem, so the light that passes through it will bounce back through the surface and make the gem extra shiny.

And authors will put a foil (contrasting) character behind / next to the main character to help make the main character’s most important traits clear to the reader.

Most study guides for Persuasion, aimed at high-school students, that I’ve come across, point out that Louisa Musgrove (young, playful, charming, impetuous, obstinate, apparent rival for the Captain Wentworth’s affection) is a foil character to Anne Elliot (older, pensive, watchful, patient, Responsible, former love of Captain Wentworth). And leave it at that.

But Jane Austen did not leave it at that (Buckle up for Spoilers)

In order of appearance:

The Whole Musgrove Family (a wealthy, but not an aristocratic family, embraces new ideas and fashions, is friendly with the poorer cousins, and holds dinner parties and dances almost every night because they’re fun) is a foil for Anne Elliot’s family ([Her father, two sisters, and her godmother, Lady Russell]. Anne’s family is obsessed with being Aristocrats,™ and “upholding the dignity of a baronetcy;” her sister hosts an annual ball for their town every year only because people expect the aristocrats to host annual balls).

Admiral Croft (good natured, practical, with an unaffected sense of humor, who doesn’t care much about his appearance) is a foil for Sir Walter Elliot (obsessed with his own -- and everyone’s else’s -- appearance and social rank, and is always putting on airs)

Mrs. (Sophia) Croft (Cheerful, rational, practical, woman, who is clearly an equal partner in her marriage to the Admiral) is a foil to Anne Elliot’s own late mother (unhappy with her life, who spent all her energy trying to compensate for her husband’s faults)

Louisa Musgrove see above.

The Fate of Captain Benwick and Fanny Harville (Captain Benwick proposed marriage to Fanny and she accepted. But her family told them to wait until after Captain Benwick had more money. Captain Benwick survived the Napoleonic Wars with a large fortune, but Fanny Harville fell ill and died just before he returned home) is a foil storyline to Anne Elliot’s and Captain Wentworth’s backstory (Captain Wentworth was also a navel officer with little money, only instead of telling them to wait, Anne’s family told her to break off the engagement altogether).

Mr. William Elliot (Anne’s cousin, and most likely heir to her family estate. In the second half of the book, he courts and flatters Anne, and Lady Russell wants them to marry) is a foil to Louisa Musgrove (who spent the first half of the novel flirting with Captain Wentworth, and whom everyone assumes he will eventually marry).

Mrs Smith (An old school friend of Anne’s, now disabled, widowed and saddled with her late husband’s debts, has a generally positive outlook on life while still having a clear vision of human nature, and is highly skeptical of the advantages of money and status in improving a person’s intelligence) is a foil to Lady Russell (Generally thought of a sensible woman, she nonetheless lets her “prejudice in favor of the aristocracy” blind her to aristocratic people’s character flaws, and puts her in danger of being taken advantage of).

And Finally:

The Cultural Values of the Navy (as illustrated through the characters and actions of Admiral and Mrs. Croft, Captain and Mrs. Harville, Captain Benwick, and Captain Wentworth: keeping your property in good shape [shipshape], being generous to your friends and family, doing what you see needs to be done, and having marriages based on equality and respect) is a macro-level foil to the Cultural Values of the Aristocratic Classes (obsessed with gossip, social status, fashion, and rank, and all the aristocratic marriages that are described in this novel are unhappy ones).

*Links to those discussions (so far): Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapters Three & Four, Chapters Five & Six, Chapters Seven & Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapters Ten & Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapters Thirteen, Fourteen, & Fifteen, Chapters Sixteen & Seventeen.

#literary foils #Persuasion #Miss Jane Austen shows us how #Tie a string around this novel and hang it on your Christmas tree #(or hang it in your window as a sun catcher)

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spotaus · 4 months

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Touching on the Human au for my utmv ship-kid story Eternal Ashes again!

Pictured are some more rough designs for Abel (Shotput, a Kreme kid), Orchid (an Errormare kid), and Richy (Reset, an Afterdeath kid)!

Lore ramble for my own memory:

Abel was a good kid, set for a private college and a promising life. Right up until the death of Kane, Richy's older brother. Kane was the best guy that anyone knew, and losing that hurt a lot of people. Especially Abel, who'd been inspired by Kane's inherent need to help others. Abel didn't grieve at first, trying to keep up with his demanding life, but the struggle grew too rough. He ended up with the wrong crowd without realizing it, because they made him forget about his grief. He dropped out of school and ran away from his old life. Years later he shows back up in his home-town to tell his family that he has a stable job, is in support groups, and has a boyfriend. He's working through the grief, but still can't kick his fashion-sense or smoking habits.

Orchid was similar to Abel. Their fathers ran sister-companies, almost holding a monopoly over the industry through their familial ties. Since she was born, Orchid had been told she'd inherent the company, and grrat things were expected of her. She was a gentle girl, then as a teen she'd do almost anything to rebel against her perfect image. Issue was, her parents supported her. Up until one stupid stunt at 16 left her missing a leg and half-blind. She sobered up after that, recovery taking a long time. Eventually she learned to walk again, with aids, and started taking her father's business seriously. He never pushed it on her after her accident, but she was devoted now. She actively goes to school for business, and does sone online video-tutoriels as hobby to keep her mind sharp. (Knitting and Sewing videos are her specialty)

Richy... poor Richy was the younger brother. He was raised by a mortician and a forensic analysist. His older brother, Kane, was a for-hire detective. His family was happy and content with their lives, up until Kane got killed by complete chance. Richy took it the hardest, 14 at the time. He had boughts of depression and suicidal thoughts (and actions) that landed him in the hospital. The pain of losing who he looked up to was almost too much to bare. Then he met Orchid. She was in physical therapy at the time, and he was waiting to get picked up by his parents. She asked him why he looked so mopey, and he replied with his honest answer. Orchid told him about her injuries (She'd driven recklessly without a license. Got into an accident that crushed her leg. A sharp of glass went straight into her eye.) They talked for what felt like hours, and by the time they were done, Richy's parents were there to pick him up. He had Orchid's number. Richy kept in contact with Orchid, and unlike talking with family or his friends (Abel was worse off than him) he found himself actually grieving healthily to Orchid. Orchid said keeping in contact with someone was good for her recovery. They were close friends, and now Richy is her roommate. He's going to school for journalism, buy focuses more on his streaming than his classes.

I want to say that Orchid is 21, Richy is 19, and Abel is 20. Orchid and Abel are cousins by Blood, too. Abel and Richy were friends thanks to Kane, but Orchid and Richy clicked on their own. Richy was a depressed iPad kid and Orchid was a workaholic until they balanced eacgother.

#utmv #oc #orchid #richy #abel #reset #shotput #wip #they're goofy and I love em ♡#i miss drawing Orchid #and all of them needed a first design and/or revamp #spot q #posting this late at night so uhhhhh

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katsukikitten · 3 years

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Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader

478 notes · View notes

sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years

Text

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)

7K notes · View notes

heyyyharry · 3 years

Text

Drivers License

(inspired by drivers license by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.5k

And you're probably with that blonde girl Who always made me doubt She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about

This song is so sad and it made me cry so I had to write something about it 🤧

“I love the song.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “But?” she asked her producer, who was on the phone. “You don’t sound like you love it.”

“Of course I love it, Y/N. It’s just–” Came a pause. “Do you really want this to be the next single?”

“What do you mean? You love it but it’s not good enough to be a single?”

“It’s too good, Y/N,” her producer said. “It’s very...personal.”

“That’s why I want to put it out, Gray. It means a lot to me.”

Gray was quiet for another moment. “The media and his fans are going to come for you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Alright. I’ll call you back.” Gray sounded defeated but she could still sense a smile as he told her, “Good job, kid,” before hanging up.

Y/N put her phone away, tossed her head back and heaved a sigh. She was well aware of the trouble she’d cause by releasing this song. It’d be like showing the whole world her diary. She’d written plenty of songs on her previous albums about her relationships, too. There had been witch hunts simply because the men she’d written songs about had fans who worshipped them and refused to see them as anything less than perfect. She wasn’t perfect, either. If she were perfect, she wouldn’t have written a song about an ‘almost’ relationship. She’d know her worth and not have chased someone who didn’t and would never want her. She knew that now. So this song would be the last thing she’d give this person. The last goodbye that she never got to say.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing.”

“Let me see,” Y/N giggled and tried to grab his phone as he pretended to fight her off.

“Alright, alright.” He laughed, reached out to turn the music in his car down and handed her the phone. “It’s the memes your fans made about you not being able to drive,” he said, suppressing a grin.

Her jaw dropped. “I hate you!”

“I’m sorry. It slipped out,” he said, laughing again. She could listen to his laugh on replay. She loved his music, but his laugh had to be her most favourite melody. “To be fair, you talked a lot of shit about me in that interview, too.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” she scoffed at the smug look he was wearing. “At least I didn’t tell the whole world about your imaginary friend that you had until you were thirteen. You spilt my secret.”

“Not a secret anymore.”

She playfully smacked him on the arm. “My lawyer will hear about this.”

He pouted, pretending to be upset. “Guess we’ll never work together anymore.”

“Acting is not for me anyway.”

Y/N gave Harry back his phone. He took it but didn’t break eye contact as his brows knitted. “Stop saying that. You were great in the movie.”

She rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Oh please, have you been on the internet?”

“You mean my fans’ reactions, right? Just ignore them.” He breathed. “I mean, I love my fans, but they could be too much sometimes. Just look at all my previous relationships. I can’t even breathe around a female without them sending her death threats.”

“Yeah,” Y/N let out a nervous laugh, hands folded together resting on her knees. “Speaking of relationships,” she ventured, “are you talking to someone new?”

She wasn’t looking at him yet she could feel the heat from his gaze as he told her, “No. I already told you, Y/N. Right now there’s just you.”

Harry turned, putting both hands on his steering wheel. Was he nervous as well? Had she ruined the moment by bringing this up?

He took a deep breath, confirming her assumption. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just not ready for a relationship.”

It was the same line he’d told her times and times again, and she wished she could just tell him how much she loathed it. And since she couldn’t say anything, she just nodded and focused on the rings on her fingers.

“I do care a lot about you, though,” he added, his voice heavy with emotions.

Her friends had told her that men would say things like this, and most of the time they barely meant half of it. However, she’d known Harry for years. Their relationship had only changed since they’d been cast for the same movie earlier this year. She was confident that she knew him better than her friends or anyone else. Surely, he’d meant all the things he’d said to her. The problem was, he just wasn’t ready for a relationship.

“And I don’t want to lose you, Y/N,” he said, now looking at her again.

She turned slowly and met his thoughtful green eyes. She offered a single smile as a way to tell him she wasn’t upset, even though she was, a little bit. “I don’t want to lose you, either,” she admitted.

His dimples reappeared. “I feel like it’s rare for people like us to find a connection like this, and I’ve never opened up to anyone the way I have to you. But I think now isn’t the time for us to take the risk of ruining this. Right now we’re still trying to figure out our own lives, you know?”

She nodded again, not knowing what to say.

They sat quietly for another moment, and it was he who broke the silence. “How come you never learn to drive?”

She could feel her cheeks glowing red. “I never had to drive myself.”

She’d been famous since she was fourteen, so she’d always had people driving her places. Whenever she told anyone that reason, they’d either call her spoiled to her face or give her a judgemental look that made her feel self-conscious. She didn’t have a dad or siblings, her mum didn’t know how to drive, either, and she was too afraid to ask anyone to teach her for she feared they’d judged her.

“I could teach you.”

Y/N whipped her head up and blinked blankly at him. “Really?”

“Of course,” he chuckled. “I have a cousin who didn’t learn to drive when he was young because of his anxiety and I taught him. I could teach you.”

Trying to hide her excitement, Y/N smiled. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” His grin widened even though he was the one doing her a favour. It was moments like this that reassured her that he wasn’t like the other guys who’d broken her heart. “When you got your driver license,” he said, “you can drive up to my house on your own.”

“We can even go on road trips,” she said happily, already imagining the many scenarios in her head.

He seemed equally elated, which made her heart swell. “Yeah! Wanna do it now or–”

“Let’s do it now.”

“Yeah, okay.” Quickly, he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. She climbed into the driver seat and watched him settle into the passenger side. That afternoon was the first time she’d learned how to drive. She would always remember that.

“Y/N, you’re up next,” said one member of the backstage staff who handed Y/N her mic and ran off to check on the backing vocalist.

Y/N felt her heart thumping in her chest as she clutched the microphone to her chest and sucked in a deep breath. She looked to her right, peering at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She looked beautiful. The makeup team and her stylist had spent three hours on this look and made sure that she was flawless.

Would he be watching the show tonight?

Had he even listened to the song?

It got to number one on the iTunes chart today. He must have listened to it. If not, he must have heard it on the radio or someone must have sent it to him. The whole world knew the song was for him, and everyone was talking about it. So even though he didn’t care anymore, even though he was happy with his new girlfriend, he must be wondering. Because when she’d heard that he’d written a song about her, she’d been so excited to listen to it. So could it be that he was wondering as well?

“This is Y/N performing her latest single DRIVERS LICENSE!”

Y/N took a deep breath as she got a nod from the stage director. She stepped out, soaked in the stage lights while the audience applauded and cheered for her. She stood at the centre of the stage as the band started playing and the noise in the audience died down. As a habit, she searched the front rows for his face despite knowing with every fibre in her body that this would be the last place he’d be tonight.

I got my driver's license last week

Just like we always talked about

'Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

She could see it even now. Them driving through the quiet night. From her house to his and back. Just the two of them. The kisses they’d share at stoplights when there was no one else around. The way he’d place his hand on her thigh just because he wanted to. In retrospect, she should have realised that he wouldn’t ever do that to her in public. Their relationship, if she could call it that, had been almost nonexistent. Maybe that was why it’d been so easy for him to move on. You couldn’t feel remorse leaving behind something that didn’t exist. How unfortunate. It’d been real to her.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

She’d thought to herself that if he could write a song about someone he’d never dated, it was worth staying with him despite not actually being with him. She could not expect that a few months after that song had come out, he would be seen driving around with another girl. The girl he’d told her was only a good friend. This girl was older and perfect in every way. Y/N wouldn’t choose herself either if the choices were between her and that girl. But she couldn’t bring herself to hate the girl. It wasn’t the girl’s fault that Harry had chosen her. And it wasn’t Harry’s fault that Y/N refused to see the red flags through her rose-coloured glasses.

And I know we weren't perfect

But I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine

How you could be so okay now that I'm gone?

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

Y/N wrote this song a week after she’d got her drivers license. She’d blast sad music in her car and cried as she drove past his house, wondering if he was still up and thinking of her whenever he saw headlights passing his street. The heartbreak had been confusing to her as they weren’t even together. It was funny how the whole world had believed in them, except for him. He’d told her he loved her, so why weren’t they together now? He’d said he wasn’t ready, so why was he holding hands with someone else on the street? Was it because of her? Was it something that she’d done? Was there something wrong with her? Why couldn’t he choose her? Y/N had pondered over those questions for months until she came to accept that there didn’t have to be a reason for someone to leave you. They simply lost feelings or found someone else. No one owed you an explanation.

Red lights, stop signs

I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Can't drive past the places we used to go to

'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

For months, he'd been a ghost living rent-free in her head. She saw him in every face and every crowd, and she could even, in this moment, hear the sound of his laugh somewhere in the audience. She could hear him telling her he was proud of her, that everything would be okay. And the worst part was that, without her, he was still doing fine. He wouldn’t see her everywhere he went. He wouldn’t think about her when he was lying in bed and couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t wonder if she missed him. Because he didn’t miss her. And he would be saying the same things he’d said to her to his new girl.

Sidewalks we crossed

I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing

Over all the noise

God, I'm so blue, know we're through

But I still fuckin' love you, babe (Ooh, ooh)

There on the stage, she received sympathetic looks from the people in the front row as she cried her heart out to the lyrics. He might be at home this moment, watching the show with his new girlfriend, and seeing her cry on live television. Would they laugh at her together? Would he turn to his girlfriend and say he was sorry for how he’d treated Y/N and promised to never hurt his girlfriend the same way? The most heartbreaking thing, Y/N thought, wasn’t him leaving, but seeing him treat someone the way she’d wanted to be treated and realising that he’d been capable of doing it all this time, just not with her.

I know we weren't perfect

But I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine

How you could be so okay now that I'm gone?

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

Putting all her feelings into this song had made everything seem so much simpler and clearer. And at the end of the day, Y/N believed that the whole purpose of songwriting was to get closure. Perhaps, one day, when she listened to this song again, she wouldn’t be sad anymore.

Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

“Good job, Y/N.”

“Thank you.”

“Love the song! You’re amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Y/N faked a few more smiles then shut the door of her dressing room and slumped into her chair in front of the vanity.

All alone, she looked right at her reflection and took a deep breath.

Her phone buzzed and lit up with a new text message.

Harry: Congratulations on your no 1 :) xx

She pondered over the words, picked up her phone, and deleted his contact.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #drivers license

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marauderundercover · 2 years

Text

A Guide to Love and Coffee in the City of Crime: Ch. 2

Best Day of My Life

AO3

“WAKE UP!” Conner yells at the top of his lungs. Marinette screeches and falls off her bed, glaring up at her older cousin.

“What the heck was that about?” She asks with a huff. He grins.

“Wanna go get breakfast with me and Jon and Tim and Damian?” He asks. Apparently, the entire Wayne family had decided to stay the night in Metropolis. Something she didn’t think was a big idea, but had definitely shocked her Uncle Clark for some reason. Narrowing her eyes from her spot on the floor, she scoffs.

“You woke me up for that?” Marinette asks, giving him an incredulous look. Conner shrugs.

“The diner has good coffee and pancakes.” He says, knowing exactly which buttons to press. Pursing her lips, she nods.

“Fine. Now get out so I can change.” She says, leaping to her feet and practically shoving him out the door.

“We’re leaving in ten minutes!” He calls as she slams the door.

“Kay!” She calls back. She dresses quickly, spotting the jacket she’d borrowed from Tim the night before sitting on her chair. Oops. Marinette grabs it and her purse, making a mental note to pass it off to Tim once she sees him so she doesn’t accidentally forget.

“Mari!” Jon cheers as she walks into the living room. She grins.

“Hey kid.” Marinette says, ruffling his hair, laughing at the annoyed look on his face. The look disappears almost immediately, his eyes widen slightly.

“You never told us what the surprise was!” He complains. Marinette grins, noticing her aunt and uncle glancing over at her expectantly.

“A couple of months ago, I applied for an exchange student program.” She starts. It had been an extremely long conversation with Tikki, trying to convince the kwami that she could handle being Paris’ hero while not living in Paris. But she had to try. She had to at least attempt to make communication with older heroes without the French government breathing down her neck. “There was a certain city that was accepting students, so I applied and got in!” She says excitedly. Her uncle grins.

“Metropolis?” He asks. She winces slightly.

“Close!” She says. He frowns, immediately understanding.

“Mari-” He starts, but she cuts him off.

“Uncle Clark, I’m not a little kid anymore. Plus, you guys will be so close and it’s for an entire school year. And it’s an amazing opportunity. Besides, Metropolis wasn’t even accepting exchange students this year.” She says. He pouts, but Jon cheers.

“Yes!” He yells, pumping his fist into the air. Marinette laughs, bracing herself as the kid runs at her and hugs her.

“Is that Tim’s jacket?” Conner asks suddenly, eyes narrowed as he stares at it. Her uncle’s small smile is wiped away immediately.

“Why do you have Tim’s jacket?” He asks. Marinette huffs.

“What’s with the third degree? Yes, it’s Tim’s. I have it because I was cold last night. I didn’t get to give it back then because I fell asleep and Conner carried me to the car. I only have it now so that I can give it back to him at breakfast. Now are we gonna get waffles and pancakes, or talk more about a jacket?” She asks, arms crossed as she quirks an eyebrow. Lois snorts, not even hiding it, while Jon grins widely. Conner sighs, but grabs his truck keys and heads out the door. Marinette grins, nodding her head for Jon to follow. This would be a fun year.

---

Marinette grins as she’s shoved into the booth. Apparently, Damian and Tim’s other brothers weren’t happy that the two were going to get breakfast without them. So they’d also shown up, meaning they were placed in one of those giant half-circle booths instead of a normal one. Since she was the shortest (despite not being the youngest), she was made to scoot all the way to the middle. Apparently Jason and Dick were “too old” and Damian had just scoffed when Jon suggested they could sit in the middle. She’d accepted her fate though, and was actually pretty happy when Tim slid in to sit on her left. Followed almost immediately by Conner sliding in to sit on her right. Jon and Damian immediately launch into a conversation about some video game they were both excited about, while Jason teases Dick about some girl named Barbara. Tim’s arm accidentally bumps into her, and he mutters a small apology. She just smiles.

“Do you happen to go to Gotham Academy? I’m part of their exchange program this year and it’d be nice to see a familiar face.” Marinette asks, deciding to start a conversation. He shakes his head, a small frown on his face.

“I uh, kind of dropped out of school?” He says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“If my parents and Uncle Clark wouldn’t kill me, I’d do the same.” She laughs. “I’d much prefer to spend my time working on commissions.” Tim’s face brightens slightly.

“Commissions?” He asks. Marinette nods.

“I’m actually a designer. Well, when I have the time.” She laughs. Tim grins.

“That’s awesome. Maybe you could show me some of your designs some time?” He suggests. She nods, grinning.

“Of course! Oh, hey, here’s your jacket by the way.” She says, passing it over to Tim. He smiles softly at her.

“Thanks.” He says. “You can borrow it any time.”

“Can you not flirt with my cousin?” Conner asks with a huff. Marinette narrows her eyes and whacks his arm, hissing lowly at the pain.

“Jesus Conner, stop working out.” She says, moving her hand to sit under the table. Conner frowns, the worry immediately clear on his face.

“Let me see your hand, M.” He says. She shakes her head. He huffs. “M, seriously, what if you broke it?” He asks. She scoffs.

“Kon, I hit you, not a wall. Yeah, it hurts, but I didn’t break my hand hitting your arm.”

---

Marinette blinks at the doctor standing in front of her, trying to comprehend how the hell she’d managed to actually break her hand by hitting her cousin’s arm.

“Are you alright ma’am?” The doctor asks, a frown on her face. Marinette nods, giving her a tense smile in return. Just another thing to add to her ‘the Kent side of the family is weird’ list. She’d started it when she was four, and saw her Uncle Clark fly. Of course her parents hadn’t believed her, and Uncle Clark had changed the subject every time she tried to bring it up. Eventually, she just accepted it as something that wasn’t supposed to be talked about. So now, when she spotted Jon or Uncle Clark hovering off the floor, she kept her mouth shut and looked the other way. Apparently, Conner being as tough as a brick wall was something she’d just have to add.

“Your parents are never going to let you stay with us again.” Her uncle groans, dropping his head into his hands. Marinette snorts.

“It’s a broken bone, and I’m a klutz. It’s not like I’m pregnant.” She jokes, immediately regretting it as her uncle pales. “I’m not- oh for Pete’s sake.” He leaps to his feet, pacing around the small room while they waited for the doctor to bring in the supplies for the cast.

“Bruce gave Conner the talk for me, I haven’t had the talk with Jon yet, how am I supposed to give you the talk? This is a lot. How does- oh my god are you dating Tim?” He rambles, stopping in front of her and looking desperate. Marinette sighs.

“Sit down before you give yourself a heart attack, old man.” She teases lightly. He frowns, but sits. “Now, you don’t have to give me any talk, Uncle Clark. Maman and Papa already did. Quite a while ago. I’m not dating Tim either.” She says, trying not to snort as his shoulders visibly relax.

“Listen, Bruce is my friend, but I’m not sure if I approve of any of his sons dating you.” He says. Marinette smirks.

“Luckily for me, Papa would approve as long as I’m happy.” She says. Clark narrows his eyes.

“I thought you said you weren’t dating Tim?” He says. She shrugs.

“I said I wasn’t, not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.” She says. He opens his mouth to argue, but Marinette cuts him off. “Like I said this morning, I’m not a little kid anymore. Plus, Tim is super nice and funny. He’s also really smart and fun to hang out with. I mean, I don’t think he likes me, but if he did ask, I wouldn’t say no to a date.” Her uncle sighs, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

“I guess it could be worse.” He says. Marinette raises an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“You could be old enough to date Dick.”

---

A week after getting her bright pink cast on, Marinette was back in Paris. She had an entire semester to pack for, after all. She’d be going back home for the winter break, but probably not sooner. Well, not as Marinette. Carefully placing her sewing machine in the special suitcase she’d gotten for her supplies, she nearly falls over when she hears the obnoxious ringing of her phone. Reaching over, she grabs it and answers, a small grin on her face when she sees the caller ID.

“Hey Tim.” She says. They’d exchanged numbers at the diner (right before Conner was a traitor and texted Uncle Clark to pick her up and take her to the hospital for her hand), and had been talking pretty consistently ever since. It helped that, apparently, neither of them had a sleep schedule. Insomniacs unite, and all that jazz.

“Have you ever heard of an akuma?” He asks, in lieu of a greeting. Marinette freezes. She thought that the rest of the world didn’t get news about attacks.

“You haven’t told my Uncle or cousins about this, have you?” She asks, instead of answering.

“Not yet, but- Marinette, is that stuff actually real?” Tim asks. Marinette sighs, plopping down onto her chaise.

“Yes. Akuma attacks are real. I’m assuming you found the Ladyblog?” She asks.

“Yeah, some of these videos-” He starts, but she cuts him off.

“Stick to the attack videos. The theory videos are awful examples of journalism.” Marinette sighs. He laughs lightly. “What? My aunt is Lois Lane and my Uncle is Clark Kent. I know a little about journalism.” She laughs.

“Some of the attacks are pretty graphic. Why hasn’t the Justice League shown up?” He asks. Marinette huffs, remembering to be careful so that she didn’t accidentally reveal her identity.

“No clue. You’d think they’d care, but I guess not. It might have something to do with the fact that Ladybug’s power erases all of the physical damage.” She says.

“Physical damage?” Tim asks. Marinette sighs.

“Just physical. Everyone, except for the person who was akumatized, remembers what happened. Unless they become a mindless minion. But everyone else? The ones who get crushed or die or injured or see something awful? Yeah. We remember.” She says quietly. It’s silent for a minute before Tim speaks again.

“I’m so sorry.” He says softly.

“Nothing you can do about it, Tim. Except, please don’t tell my US bound family.” She begs.

“Why not?” Tim asks.

“Uh, because Uncle Clark would be super overprotective? And he’d probably be mad, and negative emotions are not great in Paris. So just- just don’t say anything please.” She sighs out.

“Fine. Wait. You can’t have negative emotions?” He asks. She pinches the bridge of her nose. It was sweet that Tim cared, but he hadn’t mentioned going to Paris any time soon, so she also wasn’t quite sure why he cared so much.

“We can, it just makes us vulnerable to being akumatized. I can explain more when I get back to Gotham, but for now, maybe look over the Ladyblog? Write down any questions you have. I’ve kinda put off packing and I really need to finish before my flight tomorrow.” She says.

“Oh crap, yeah. Of course. Um, do you need someone to pick you up from the airport?” Tim asks. Marinette smiles.

“Conner’s supposed to pick me up, but I’d love it if you came with him.” She says softly.

“Cool! It’s a- I’ll see you then.” Tim says. Marinette grins.

“See you then, Tim.”

Story tag list (open): @timari-month-event

Permanent tag list (open): @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @crazylittlemunchkin

#timari january #timari #timinette #maribat #maribat fanfiction #maribat fanfic #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat jon kent #maribat conner kent #maribat clark kent #maribat lois lane #maribat tim drake #maribat jason todd #maribat dick grayson #maribat damian wayne #maribat january #platonic marijon #platonic relationships

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