#i cannot explain how this band just became comfort for me

[june-again]

the funny thing about depressive episodes is they can hit you a few hours after feeling like you've got it all figured out

#june shines #not sure whether i should sleep on it #like i probably should but i really really really dont want to wake up feeling like this #where's my korean alternative 2005 rock playlist #loveholic <3 #i cannot explain how this band just became comfort for me #anyways i'll be fine #just a long day and a little too much thinkin #maybe i should play NFS #right now #??? #um #or schedule my day for tomorrow #yeah i'll do that and then NFS #one thing after another #because i am a victim to constant stimulation and refuse to subject myself to my own thoughts

[marimayscarlett]

Can we talk about the bands engl7sh knowledge?

So Till was the first one to learn it. Knew enough to communicate in the early 90s. Probably most fluent of them all since he also probably read the entire dictionary and synonyms.

Richard did 0 to 60 in just 2 years. Obviously, moving to NYC and having English speaking wife helped a lot, but from 1998 not being able to, to 2001, speaking with easy, is truly impressive. Sassy german accent. More fluent in street talk than eloquence.

Then we have Schneider, who I think is as good as Till and Richard, but has the heaviest german accent making it seem like he's not as good.

There's Paul who's simply not used to expressing his opinions in English, and therefore, his brain cannot keep up with his tongue.

Dear sweet Olli, his English skills are as mysterious as himself. We probably only heard him speak English 3 times..

And then there's Flake. We know his skills got immensely better in the last 10 years alone. Went from don't wanna say something in case I sound stupid to reading books publicly.

Overall, like for a lot of us, english is necessary for survival. Especially if you travel a lot and meet lots of people. But kudos to them for learning it so quickly, especially when they were already in their mid/late 20.

Hi 👋

Oh, this is a wonderful ask! I think about the band's English learning journeys and their language skills in general quite a lot (it kind of is one of my 'roman empires', to use a contemporary phrase), since there are a lot of different skill levels present in this band. Let's work our way through it:

1. Till: the language genius of the band

I noticed Till's talent for languages and to express himself quite early on, and like you said, he seemingly was the one person in the band who could use English already in the 90s for conversation and explaining, like in this interview:

Another interview where Till speaks about the Nazi accusations the band has to face time and time again, he expresses himself and the points he likes to make so well:

Not only does Till speak English, from my knowledge he apparently speaks spanish, russian, I heard him speaking some polish - he is really talented in this regard and he has my utmost respect for it!

2. Richard: if eagerness to learn was a person

Richard seemed so lost on their first America tour in 1998, he was quite isolated from the rest of the bands which participated in this tour which made him apparently feel pretty lonely (I mentioned his language journey a bit in this ask). Movies helped him quite a lot to get more acquainted with the english language, and apparently he mastered english well enough around the time when he met his later-(ex) wife Caron in the end of the 1990s. Surely moving to the US together with her must've refined his english skills a lot, but to even consider moving there, he must've already speak enough english to at least feel a bit comfortable in an english speaking environment (at least that's what my thought process would be). I must say, I admire Richard's drive and eagerness to learn this language so quickly, and he became competent to express himself quite well. Here's an interview from 2004, he seems so relaxed speaking english, which makes me quite proud of him:

Here's another interview from 2017 as an example, Richard speaks quite fluent and seems to be very comfortable in the english language. He once said it's easier to make small talk in english than in german - he might not have to most sophisticated vocabulary in english with grand words and uses a lot of fillers (his famous "you know" always at hand), but he knows how to express himself in a straight forward yet entertaining and charming way.

3. Schneider: hidden talents

From what I've heard, Schneider definitely knows how to express himself and has a surprisingly well equipped vocabulary. I say 'suprinsingly', since I didn't expect this at first - like you mentioned, his german accent seems to distract from this fact a bit. In comparison to Thomas Lang (an austrian drummer), Schneider of course sounds a bit clunky and not that relaxed - nevertheless, he comes across quite soft spoken in the english language and knows his way around expressions.

In this interview Schneider finds his way into the speaking 'flow' a little better in my opinion, and brings across his points quite clearly. Despite his heavy accent, you can still understand him quite well (at least that's what I think) and it seems like he puts a lot of effort into finding the right words to describe certain things coherently.

4. Paul: motivated endeavours to express himself

Paul seemingly can use english to make conversation to a certain degree and understands the language without problems. In the earlier days of Rammstein, while speaking english he came across a bit ungainly, searching for correct expressions or words, like the infamous "slimey into people" - but you still know what he means 😅 I think here you can notice what you mentioned in your ask, he knows exactly what thoughts he would like to express, yet is a bit inhibited by the fact that he doesn't know the correct words for it.

Here's another, more "recent" interview from 2017 - he's a bit more comfortable speaking english, yet for me as a native german speaker, it became apparent (through all the english interviews I saw with him) that Paul tries to transfer the typical german sentence structure into the english language, which of course doesn't fully work and gives of a bit of a circuitous vibe. Yet he's quite understandable as well I think.

And a personal favourite of dear @dandysnob (who helped me looking for Paul's interviews, thank you dear 🤍), which shows Paul has no fear to make contact with fans using a different language than german 😊

5. Olli: Once again an enigma

I found several quite interesting and charming interviews with Olli, who's a joy to listen to (he comes across as shy and yet eager to answer the question he gets in a friendly and detailed manner), but all of them are in german. In my ask about Olli during meet and greets, it was mentioned that he doesn't seem to be really comfortable in the english language.

6. Flake: from fearing of ordering a cup of bacon to fearless one-man show

Flake is someone who isn't scared of expressing his opinion about matters and things he doesn't enjoy (he's not the biggest fan of the US to put it mildly) and also expressed that he struggles with the english language quite a lot (for example during 'Rammstein in America'). Plus he sometimes has a reoccuring stutter (since his child hood), is quite shy and he has, together with Paul, the broadest Berlin dialect you could imagine - and what does this guy do? Mastering the english language just enough to give public speeches about his early musician days in front of a whole audience, really overcoming his fear of public speaking and doing so gracefully in a different and hard language for him! Mad respect for him, and he maintains his distinct humor while doing so:

Flake's vocabulary isn't really refined, but good enough to express his thoughts in simple and understandable phrases. Same as Paul, he seems to adapt the german syntax into the english language, yet he speaks so fluently, barely searching for the words he needs!

Plus he even had the guts to sing in english on stage, another iconic moment, linked here (can't put any more videos in this post due to the video limit).

"But kudos to them for learning it so quickly, especially when they were already in their mid/late 20." I borrow this statement of yours to bring this post to an end, since this is exactly my point of view here - it really is remarkable how well many of them find their way around the english language 😊

#interesting ask and way too long answer #english skills in Rammstein #Rammstein language lore #Rammstein #ask #thank you for this message 🤍

[tomorrowxtogether]

Soobin Is Leading TOMORROW X TOGETHER with Positivity

The leader of TXT opens up about the group's current chapter

This week, in compliment with our TOMORROW X TOGETHER cover story, we’ll be rolling out individual spotlights on each member of the K-pop act. Today, we spend some time with the group’s leader, Soobin. Don’t forget to get your copy of the limited edition magazine collector’s box featuring six exclusive TXT covers and more at the Consequence Shop.

Soobin, the leader of TOMORROW X TOGETHER, is a very tall young man. Most of the members of the group tower over their peers in the K-pop world — three of the band members clear six feet — and Soobin has them all beat.

Sitting in a hotel room in Osaka, Japan, it’s almost as if Soobin, cozy in black sweatpants and a matching T-shirt, is unaware of this fact. With his stature, he could presumably be intimidating if he wanted to be; instead, he’s unfailingly polite and remarkably sweet. He bows to shake my hand as he sits down, offering an off-the-record recommendation for an anime on Netflix as we get comfortable. Soobin is soft-spoken enough that the interpreter in the room with us sometimes has to lean in to catch his responses. He dips his head again when he gets up at the end of our conversation.

“I’m not usually the talkative type,” he says, smiling shyly. “I don’t know how to make things flowery and eloquent.”

According to his bandmates, though, Soobin’s leadership strength isn’t dependent on locution. “Soobin is in charge of communications, and we can look into each other’s eyes when we are rehearsing and tell just from that how we’re feeling,” fellow TXT member Taehyun explains. For the group, the concept of communication extends beyond public-facing comments and speaking responsibilities.

At 22 years old, Soobin is not the oldest member of the group — that would be 23-year-old Yeonjun — but when TXT debuted in 2019, he was introduced to the world as the leader nonetheless. This is not uncommon in K-pop, as this title and its responsibilities often have more to do with personality than age. Soobin seems to be a generally agreeable person who is comfortable with taking a backseat a lot of the time, as he does when his bandmates are in the room the day we all meet.

That laid back attitude extends to his downtime, as well. In the past, a day off for Soobin would involve a lot of “watching animation lying down.” Recently, though, free time means spending the day with friends, catching up on movies, or going swimming. He’s also trying to become a better cook; one of his more recent endeavors was dakbokkeumtang, a Korean dish of braised spicy chicken.

He strives for improvement onstage as well, growing more confident in areas he used to find more challenging. Particularly after completing TXT’s first world tour (2022’s “ACT: LOVE SICK”), Soobin says he’s noticeably refined his public speaking: “I feel so grateful to our fans and I feel so happy during the tour, but I always get nervous at the end when I’m talking,” he notes. “But, recently, I realized my words and speeches became more organized.” He laughs. “I think I became kind of cool.”

With his bandmates, however, coolness also means knowing when to hold things back. Despite the closeness between the members of TXT, Soobin reveals that he tries not to add more pressure on the members than is absolutely necessary. “There are actually things that I cannot tell my members because they’re my members,” he explains. “Being the leader, I sometimes worry about things that could make them feel pressured, and with such things, I tend to open up to my other friends.”

That includes adding to the weight of their upcoming headlining slot at Lollapalooza; but, rather than focus on the immensity of the stage, he’s reveling in the excitement these days. Soobin happily recalls that when he first told his songwriter and producer friends about their 2022 appearance at the festival, “They said, ‘I’m so jealous, it’s driving me crazy… But it was a cute jealousy. This time, when we heard the news that we were headlining, I couldn’t wait to tell them.”

As effortless as Soobin may appear as a performer, there’s no doubt he and the TXT team have put in the hard work to earn that Lollapalooza billing. Beyond detailed rehearsals, all the members are involved behind the scenes of the group’s ever-evolving musical direction, too. Soobin has a songwriting credit on the group’s most recent album, the bouncy, bright “Happy Fools” featuring Coi Leray, while “Tinnitus (Wanna be a rock)” and “Farewell, Neverland” are described by the members as group efforts thematically. The band’s longtime studio collaborator, HYBE producer Slow Rabbit, calls Soobin and his bandmates “pioneers for the next generation of artists and fans, especially for Gen Z.”

To Soobin, his ability to connect with people stems from the fact that he grew up a K-pop fan long before becoming a K-pop idol. That sentiment allows him to relate to TXT’s fans, known as MOA, and it’s a connection Soobin doesn’t take lightly. “Being a fan turned me into a positive person, and I only experienced positive changes as a K-pop fan,” he explains. “So to our fans, and the people who like me, I want only positive things to happen to them. I hope that they can experience positive changes.”

It’s only been four years since TXT debuted, and the group has already achieved headliner status at a major American music festival. If he were to chat with Soobin of 2019, back when TOMORROW X TOGETHER were freshly debuted, he says that he wouldn’t want to change a thing about their story so far: “I did the best I could at that time,” he recalls. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that would affect present me, because I’m so satisfied with present me. I just hope past Soobin walks the path that I walked, exactly the way I did.”

#txt #tomorrow x together #230516 #consequence #article #soobin #choi soobin

[krikeymate]

Oooh for the foster au adding onto the scars theme: Sam crying the first time she sees Tara’s scars and Tara being unsure why she’s so upset and Sam having to work through her emotions to try and explain that she’s sad that Tara has been hurt the way she has and Tara is just confused because why would anyone care if she’s hurt? No one ever did before. The way Sam comforts her depends on what stage they’re on for physical affection when she sees them for the first time. Love this AU BTW

I've been trying to answer this all week but I just cannot do it justice. I do not have the words to describe how much I love, adore, this thought. Thank you so much for sending it in, and I'm so happy you're enjoying the AU!

Sam doesn't really begin to learn about the extent of the scars that map Tara's skin, until months and months into their new lives together.

Sam knows about the scar on her neck, knows all too well how it happened. She's spent hours re-reading the incident report, wondering where her mother went wrong, when she became the kind of person who would hold a knife to a child's throat - her child's throat - with the intention to use it. There's a large scar on her shoulder that Sam's seen only in medical photographs, and in the way Tara rubs at it sometimes, in the way she's so careful not to lean on that side.

She's spied the thin burn scar on the side of Tara's left wrist and across the back of her hand, and the splattering of thin white lines across her hands, usually hidden behind the drooping sleeves of the oversized hoodies that Tara insists on wearing.

It takes her two weeks before she notices the notch at the top of her right ear, a thick white line curling around behind it, when Tara gets frustrated with her hair falling in her face as she tries to tie her shoelaces and pulls it back, a hairtye already around her wrist. Sam's hairtye, she notices, the striped pink, purple, and blue band uncommon enough she feels confident in saying was stolen. (She should be irritated, Sam thinks, in seeing her privacy so brazenly violated, her possessions reappropriated. The old Sam would, the Sam from two weeks ago, the Sam who didn't know she had a little sister out there. New Sam doesn't care, new Sam thinks it's cute, she likes the way Tara has wiggled her way into her life so irreversibly).

One day Tara wakes up to the sound of Sam crying. She yawns and flops over to face her, stretching out across the bed and pulling at the bottom of her t-shirt where it had ridden up in her sleep. Sam's teary-eyed and watching her, curled up with her hand over her mouth in an attempt to silence the sobs that want to escape.

Tara's never seen Sam cry before. It upsets her.

"What's wrong?" she asks urgently, crawling forward to sit opposite Sam. Sam shakes her head and closes her eyes for a moment. Tara rests a hand on Sam's knee as she takes a deep breathe, trying to stop crying.

"Nothing, sweet girl," Sam eventually responds, sending her a tight smile. It makes Tara frown at her. Sam's lying. "You said you wouldn't lie," Tara says pointedly, fingers digging into Sam's knee sharply.

"I-" Sam sighs, reaching out to cover Tara's hand with her own. "I saw your back," she says, like that's supposed to mean anything to her. Tara tilts her head at her and waits.

Sam looks uncomfortable as she realises Tara expects more. "Your... scars. I saw your scars." Sam speaks in a hushed voice, and there's something in her tone that makes Tara think she's supposed to find some hidden meaning in it, but in truth she's just confused.

"Ok, but why are you crying," she asks uncertainly. Her hands begin to fiddle with Sam's pyjama bottoms, the urge to move her hands suddenly overwhelming.

"They make me sad, sweet girl," Sam replies softly. "They shouldn't be there, you should never have been hurt."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Tara feels her own eyes begin to sting at the knowledge that she's the one making Sam cry.

Seeing Tara begin to get upset, Sam pulls her into her lap and wraps her arms around her. "You don't have anything to be sorry for Tara. You haven't done anything. You didn't deserve to be hurt." Sam kisses the tip of Tara's scarred ear. "I'm sorry that people have hurt you. I'll never let it happen again. I promise."

#/mp #ask box #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #AU: foster this love make me whole again #trigger warning #-> mentioned past child abuse #me writing that last line knowing what happens in several years 😈

[blxckdragonfly]

Powerless | Medicine Man Outtake #5

(Song: “Powerless” by Linkin Park. 

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort/Suicide

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Katrina “Kat” Valentine (FC: Christian Serratos) 

Synopsis: It’s the anniversary of Chester Bennington’s passing and Kat is reminiscing, as well as Strange is of another sort. Co-written with @blackrose-92​ and features references to Avengers: Infinity War & Endgame. ​

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3qUmjvOojIyGwBe56T4K28?si=f7abc972699e4d54)

I turn the page of the book I’m reading as I rest on my bed, reaching for my phone and turning on Linkin Park– I feel a slight ache in my chest when I hear Chester’s voice start to fill the room, a reminder that today is indeed July 20th and the sixth anniversary of his passing. I hear what sounds like a portal opening and closing, I pass it off thinking it’s probably Wong. I keep my focus on the book in my hand as my phone changes from “Battle Symphony” to “Powerless”. 

You hid your skeletons when I had shown you mine

You woke the devil that I thought you'd left behind

I saw the evidence, the crimson soaking through

Ten thousand promises, ten thousand ways to lose… 

I feel a tension outside of my bedroom, so heavy that you could cut it with a knife. I stand up after closing the book and I walk toward the door. I open it and I see Stephen, he looks completely haunted, the color drained from his face. I raised a brow. 

“Stephen?” I say. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“In a sense,” Stephen’s body starts to settle from the tension. “I did.” 

“How so?” I ask. 

“That song that you played,” Stephen explains. “It reminded me of when I had to use the time stone to look at all the outcomes against the fight with Thanos and how there was only one way, by having Tony Stark sacrifice himself.” 

A silence followed as I felt my eyes start to widen in shock as I tried to process what he just shared with me. That he was there when Tony Stark died and had a part in it. I couldn’t imagine the guilt that he carried with him because of it. 

“Oh my God, I had no idea.” My voice comes out in a soft gasp as I see the emotions gracing his face and eyes-- the tears on the surface as I reached for his hand. “Tiger. You shouldn’t blame yourself though, you only did what you felt was right and Tony chose to go through with that path.” 

His fingers slide through mine as I try to reassure him because it’s coming from someone who had also been dusted when it happened five years ago and how hard it was to come back to a reality that seemed like it was never going to be the same again, but it had. 

And you held it all

But you were careless to let it fall

You held it all

And I was by your side, powerless

“Who wrote this song?” Stephen asks and tears fill my eyes as a twinge goes through my chest, making me choke for a second. 

“Chester Bennington,” I take a breath as my voice comes out in a way that’s so hard to keep from breaking as the ache goes through my body again, the pain of his passing. “Today is the anniversary of the day that he died of suicide. His band, Linkin Park was there for me when I had lost my parents in the accident. And when this day comes and goes, my heart aches knowing that I will never be able to meet him and say thank you for it.” 

Nothing could stop the flowing of tears after I spoke– I start to sob and my body starts to shake with each one that comes and goes. Stephen doesn’t say a single word and walks into the room, he reaches out to me, wrapping me up in his arms as I clutch onto him. I lay my head against his chest as his hand moves gently across my back. 

I watched you fall apart and chased you to the end

I'm left with emptiness that words cannot defend

You'll never know what I became because of you

Ten thousand promises, ten thousand ways to lose

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Stephen whispers. I shake my head at him as I look up into his blue eyes. 

“I’m also sorry for having Tony's memory linger over you,” I murmur, I feel his hands cup my face and his thumbs caress my jawline. 

“Hey. You don’t need to apologize, Kitten,” He rests his forehead against mine. “I did what had to be done.” 

And you held it all

But you were careless to let it fall

You held it all

And I was by your side, powerless...

I sniff and he places a tender kiss on my forehead as he holds me close to his body, letting his heartbeat calm my tears as he moves us so we’re laying on my bed. He rests his chin on the top of my head, running his fingers gently through my hair as I rest against his chest. 

“I’ve never told you this,” I say after I’ve calmed down in his arms as my fingers run through the gray streaks of his hair and my free arm wraps around his neck. “When I was just starting out as a physical therapist, I went on my break one day and as I was walking to the cafe down the street- I ran into Mike Shinoda of Linkin Park. I walked past him on the street but I paused when I saw his face and turned around. I asked if it was him and he said his name, extending his hand for me to shake. He invited me out for coffee the next day and we both spoke of Chester.” 

“Sounds like a sign that he was there that day.” Stephen keeps his arms around my waist. 

“That’s what I keep telling myself when I think back to meeting Mike Shinoda,” I shrug. “Either way, if Chester couldn’t do it– I got the next best thing.” 

Stephen chuckles and he kisses the top of my head as I rest against him, the pain that I once felt in my chest fading away knowing that he was there by my side.

#doctor strange #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange x kat valentine #stephen strange fic #medicine man #make chester proud

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours

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

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k 

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

{masterlist}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boring, you mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truce.”

(pt II)

#feedback is appreciated!! #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles preference #one direction fanfiction #one direction fic #one direction imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #enemies to lovers #road trip au #fine line #fine line album #dreamwithharry #42 hours #writing

[queenshelby]

MY BROTHERS FRIEND (PART THREE)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Smut, Angst, Mention of Attempted Rape, Blood, Violence

Words: 5230

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Pantry Time

It has been two weeks since you agreed to marry Joseph Kruger, just as Tommy had requested, and today was the day of your engagement party.

You had only met Joseph once and you were fairly certain that he was not interested in marrying you just as you weren’t interested in marrying him. In fact, you didn’t believe that he was interested in women at all. He was attractive and had good manners. There was no reason for him not to be married already at his age.

His four brothers on the other hand were savages. You had encounters with them before and you could understand why Tommy wouldn’t trust them.

You still were unsure what Tommy’s plan was but, for some reason, you trusted him and played a long.

As such, you attended the engagement party willingly and with a smile across your face. The smile wasn’t because of the marriage proposal, but because you knew that you would see Tommy again. It has been a week since you last seen him and had a chance to be intimate with him.

There was no denying it, you were falling for him and it was painfully sweet. There was no future for you and him, but yet you tried to deny this fact and dreamed about being with him, one day.

Your father didn’t know about your involvement with Tommy. He certainly wouldn’t approve.

Arthur walked in on you once, but kept the secret. Lizzie and Polly had their suspicions, but no more than that.

‘You look beautiful Y/N’ Tommy said quietly as he approached you from behind with a smile across his face.

‘Good Evening Tommy’ you said, equally happy to see him.

Tommy was joined by his sister Ada and took the time to engage into some conversation with you as you were getting to know Joseph Kruger.

You played the game well, getting to know all of Joseph’s family and pretending to show a genuine interest in him.

Even Tommy was impressed by your skills of deception.

After your initial encounter with Tommy that evening, you didn’t see much of him and were rather disappointed until, finally, he asked you to dance after the jazz band began to play.

‘I missed you’ he whispered as he was leading you to the dancefloor.

‘I missed you too Tommy’ you whispered in return, following his lead.

You were terrible at dancing and Tommy was well aware of that. You tried hard to maintain a conversation with Tommy without falling over your own two feet.

‘Come with me’ Tommy said with a chuckle about your efforts to not injure yourself.

‘Tommy, we cannot be seen together. You know that’ you said with a slight worry.

‘They are all drunk and dancing, no one will notice us gone’ Tommy smirked as he took your hand and you followed him through the crowd.

He walked with you up the corridor towards a room at the end of the hallway.

Tommy opened the door of the mysterious room and swiftly pushed you inside before closing the door behind him.

Within seconds, Tommy’s hand reaches behind your head and he pulled you to him for a passionate kiss.

‘Tommy, this is the pantry’ you said as you took a quick breath.

‘And? Food has been served. No one will come looking in here’ Tommy smirked before leaning in for another desperate kiss.

‘Did I already tell you that I missed you’ he whispered as his hands made their way over your breasts.

‘You did’ you said, biting your lip and running your hand in between his leg over his already hard cock, poking beneath his pants.

‘Good’ he said just before you exchanged one more passionate and urgent kiss before you turned around and Tommy bent you over the small table inside the pantry.

You both wished that you had more time but you were certain that people would be looking for the bride to be any time soon.

Tommy stood behind you, lifted up your dress and pulled down your panties. He undid his belt, button and fly and pushed his pants and underwear down halfway to his knees, freeing his engorged arousal.

Crouching a little, he placed the head of his cock against the hottest spot underneath your naked bum. He lifted upwards and he could feel your treasure open up and slowly absorb the top two inches of his hard cock.

‘Hmm Tommy’ you moaned quietly as he grabbed your soft hips.

Tommy pushed himself up inside you. Inch after inch invaded your intense heat and with one final and hard push he was inside of you all the way. An inferno engulfed him, squeezing around his entire length.

‘Oh god Tommy’ you moaned, closing your eyes and arching your head back.

‘You feel so fucking good’ Tommy groaned as he kissed the back of your neck.

Holding your hips, he began sliding in and out of you from behind, his groin gently slapping against your ass.

His thrusts soon became harder and faster and you loved the feeling of his hard member poking against the depths of your core again and again.

As he was increasing his speed, Tommy ran his hands over your soft belly, holding the flesh for a moment as he slid into her heat over and over.

He then slid his hands further up your body and cupped your breasts over your dress while kissing the skin on the back of your neck. He wanted to kiss your mouth -- badly.

He pulled his cock out of you and you quickly spun around before stepping out of your panties.

Tommy lifted up your dress before lifting up one of your legs and leaning your back against the table.

Tommy kissed you passionately as you ran your hand over his cheek. Then he entered you again and you both watched intently as he placed the head of his cock against your entrance.

‘Fuck’ Tommy moaned as he watched you open up for him and allow his hard cock to squeeze inside of you, inch by inch.

Your heat slowly embraced him, welcoming him. He thrust forward, jamming his entire manhood inside of you.

Holding himself against you, Tommy looked down at your beautiful face as he began thrusting in and out of you.

Tommy slipped his arms around your back and you stopped leaning back on your elbows and put your arms around his neck. Breathing heavily, your eyes mere slits as you were in ecstasy, your lips found his and you kissed him deeply.

Your tongue shot into his mouth hungrily as he continued to thrust into you deeply.

Tommy then sent his own tongue deep into your mouth, thrusting in and out of you even faster. Your tightness pulled at him, coaxing him.

Tommy continued to thrust up into you as hard as he could a few more times, kissing you equally as hard.

‘Tommy, don’t stop’ you moaned loudly, feeling your orgasm approaching.

Your walls clenched around him and Tommy could feel his engorged shaft pulsing.

Just as you let out another loud moan as your orgasm washed over you and your body began to shake, Tommy released. His sticky rope of hot cum shot out the end of his manhood and into your hungry treasure.

You could feel the warmth inside of you as you exchanged a passionate kiss while you both were coming down from your high.

‘I fucking missed this’ Tommy said as he pulled out of you carefully.

‘As did I’ you smiled as you pulled your panties up beneath your dress.

‘But we better get back to the party’ you said as you fixed up your hair.

‘I am sure your father is ready and waiting to make a speech’ Tommy said before giving you another kiss, causing you to smile. There was some sudden awkwardness between you.

You both straightened yourself up and you opened the pantry door carefully.

Just as Tommy opened the door, Finn approached.

‘Finn’ Tommy said surprised just as Finn barged inside. He must have stood there for a while and listened to your sweet moans.

‘It’s not what it looks like Finn’ Tommy said just as you were speechless, starring at them both.

‘Oh yeah? Isn’t it?’ Finn said angrily. ‘Out of all women in this town Tommy… you are my fucking brother’ Finn added.

‘Finn, listen to me…’ Tommy said as Finn walked off.

Tommy followed Finn while you had to return to the party so that you wouldn’t raise any suspicions.

After you joined your father and Joseph for a thank you speech, you hadn’t had another chance to speak to Tommy or Finn and were worried about if and how Tommy managed to resolve the issue.

Trouble Ahead

Without the air having been cleared between Tommy and Finn and Tommy largely ignoring Finn’s feelings, Tommy called a meeting between the brothers and Uncle Charlie, without the presence of Polly.

With his plan, he went behind Polly’s back and he needed man power to take over the Kruger’s family business. As one would expect, he trusted his brothers to keep his plan a secret from others.

The meeting took place at Uncle Charlie’s junk yard and went on for about an hour. Arthur was in favour of Tommy’s plan while Finn and Uncle Charlie considered the plan to be too dangerous. Nonetheless, they agreed to follow Tommy’s orders.

After his meeting with Tommy, Arthur and Uncle Charlie, Finn downed his anger with Whiskey and cocaine at the Garrison where, later that evening, he met a young woman named Esmeralda.

With ignorance and naiveness, he confided in Esmeralda. He told her what happened between you and his brother Thomas and how upset he was about it. He considered you to be the love of his life which Tommy has now taken away from him.

Finn also told Esmeralda about Tommy’s plan. Finn was of the view that Tommy was using you for his own advantage, ignoring the fact that Finn had strong feelings for you.

Little did Finn know that Esmeralda knew the Kruger Family and that, soon, word would come to Manual Kruger, Joseph’s father.

And, as it happened, after Esmeralda comforted Finn for the night, she arranged a meeting with Manuel Kruger and his brother.

During this meeting, Esmeralda explained that Tommy was liaising with Joseph in order to take over the Kruger’s Family Business, making Joseph an acquaintance of the Peaky Blinders.

What you and Finn didn’t know was that Joseph Kruger despised his father and uncle and had been gathering men for two years now to work against them. But Esmeralda was very well aware of the situation and so was Tommy.

For many years, Joseph had been discriminated against by his own father and uncle because of his sexual orientation. He was excluded from family dealings and his brothers worked against him. However, neither of them realised that Joseph did, in fact, have strong ties to certain night club owners in London which was perfect for the distribution of narcotics.

Of course, Tommy saw the potential in this. It was a win win situation for him to help Joseph to take out his father, uncle and brothers and work with him to distribute cocaine throughout London’s nightclubs. In addition, the need for marriage between your family and the Kruger family would be diminished.

It was clear to Esmeralda that this information would create a war between the Shelby family and the Kruger family and this was exactly what she wanted to achieve.

She had a vested interest in seeing the Shelbys lose their fortune. After all, it was Arthur Shelby who killed her brother in a boxing match several years ago. What she wanted was revenge. But of course, Finn didn’t know that, nor did he know that he had put your life in danger when he told Esmeralda about your romantic involvement with his brother and his brother’s plan.

Later that evening, unbeknownst to you, you were to realise how dire this situation had become. The Kruger family was determined to send a message to both, your father and Tommy.

That evening, just as you said goodbye to Tommy and walked out of the office building, you noticed both lights on the street were broken.

This was unusual but you didn’t think anything about it until you also noticed a blood-stained hat on the pavement outside.

‘Karl?’ you spoke loudly. Karl was the man who normally drove you home and, usually, he would already been waiting for you at the front door.

You walked around the corner, following the stains on the pavement.

‘Karl?’ you asked again until, all of a sudden, you stumbled over something. As you looked down, you noticed Karl’s dead body, blood running from his head and chest.

‘Oh my god’ you said, shivers running over your back as you stepped backwards until, all of a sudden, you were grabbed by a man from behind.

‘Shh Love’ the man laughed as he covered your mouth while you tried to escape his strong hold on you.

‘Miss Gold, what a lovely surprise’ another man said as, all of a sudden, a total of three more men approached you from each corner of the street.

‘We know about your man’s plan Love’ the attacker then went onto say as he stood right in front of you, running his dirty hands over your blouse.

You tried hard to escape and reach for your gun in your bag, but the men held onto you tightly.

‘I think it’s time for us to send him and your father a little message’ one of the men said just as he ripped open your blouse.

By that time tears were running down your face and you tried to kick your legs up in protest.

‘You know Love, we will all take our turn and it will be over quick if you hold still, yeah?’ he went on to say just as you leaped out and kicked him into his crotch with your heels.

‘You fucking bitch’ he yelled as he reached for your skirt. In this moment you took your chance and bit harshly into the hand of the man who was restraining you while continuing to kick your legs forward.

‘Tommy’ you yelled loudly as your mouth was freed for a brief second, knowing that he was still in the office.

But, the men wouldn’t back off and began to further tare on your clothes while holding you back down, letting you scream for help.

‘No one is coming Love’ one of the men said as he began kissing your neck.

Just as you felt the man’s tongue run over your ear and heard him unbuckling his belt, you heard a shot.

‘Get the fuck off her’ Tommy yelled harshly, firing again.

The next thing you saw was blood streaming down the pavement. One of the men had been shot into his knee. It was dark and difficult for Tommy to aim.

With a limited view, Tommy approached the attackers while they briefly halted their assault on you.

‘Mr Shelby, nice of you to join us. You can watch while we fuck your little girlfriend’ one of the men said as, suddenly, Tommy could feel a knife against his neck from one of the other men.

With one of the men on the ground and the other keeping Tommy at bay, the other two proceeded with their plan as they tore apart your skirt, leaving your underwear exposed to them.

‘Now Love, we will continue where we left of and your boyfriend gets to watch us’ the man said as he pulled down his pants.

You continued to scream in protest as the man was trying to push down your panties.

Just as he grabbed hold of the hem, you heard a loud scream coming from the man standing behind Tommy.

As you looked over, you observed Tommy slamming a large and sharp piece of metal from the floor besides him into the man’s throat.

You took this opportunity to reach for your gun in your purse and, within a split second, you shot the man who, at this point, still had hold of your panties.  

This allowed you to free yourself but, as you stepped backwards, you fell down to the floor. You had never shot someone before and were in shock, trembling at the sight of the dead man in front of you.

By the time you collected your thoughts, Tommy had already shot the other man who attacked you. It was almost like an execution, without mercy. Tommy’s face expressionless.

Tommy decided not to kill the fourth man but, instead, shot him into his other knee so that he couldn’t run away. He was to be questioned and then used to send a message to the Kruger Family.

‘Are you alright?’ Tommy asked as he raced over to you and placed his jacket around your half naked body.

You nodded while you were shivering and crying and your heart was pounding.

‘You are safe now’ Tommy said as he took you into his arms.

His white shirt was stained with blood and he had a large cut on his neck that would soon need some attention. But for now, he just wanted to comfort you.

With the man screaming in pain across the pavement, it wasn’t long for police to arrive.

Tommy didn’t leave your side as police assessed the scene.

‘What would you like us to do with this one Mr Shelby?’ the policeman asked after he instructed his other men to clean up the scene.

‘Take him to 5 Birmingham Avenue and chain him up. I will deal with him later’ Tommy said, causing the policeman to nod while Tommy helped you up from the pavement.

‘Common, let’s get you cleaned up ey?’ Tommy said as he walked you to his car, covering as much of your naked flesh as he could with his jacket.

Tommy helped you inside of his Bentley, which is when you noticed his wound. It was draining a lot of blood down his neck.

‘Tommy, you are hurt’ you said, looking at him concerned.

‘It’s just a scratch Y/N’ Tommy smirked as placed some pressure onto his open wound before driving off.

You didn’t know where he was taking you until he pulled up in front of a large house.

Love and Desire

‘Where are we?’ you asked.

‘My house. You will be safe here’ Tommy said as he parked the car.

Two maids were waiting for you as you walked inside the house. They must have seen the car pull up.

‘Mr Shelby, are you alright?’ Francis asked concerned.

‘Yes Francis. Could you please look after Ms Gold for me while I make a phone call?’ Tommy asked while he continued to press onto his wound firmly with his hands.

‘Yes Mr Shelby, of course. Shall I arrange a bath?’ Francis asked as you were clearly covered in mud and dirt.

‘Yes please. And some clean clothes and whatever else she needs’ Tommy said.

‘I do not think that we have clothes other than…’ Francis said and, before she could finish her sentence, Tommy interrupted her.

‘My wife’s clothes should fit her’ Tommy said.

‘Of course, Mr Shelby’ Francis responded before she helped you upstairs.

Francis ran a bath for you before she helped you undress and get rid of your dirty clothes.

She was kind and welcoming, almost like a mother.

As you then finally sank into the bath you could feel your bruised skin burn. Your legs hurt terribly and small cuts were covering your arms and knees.

Francis gave you some privacy at this point. But she had also given you three nightgowns to choose from before she left and prepared the guestroom for you.

You soaked in the bath for at least 20 minutes and scrubbed your skin. You felt disgusted and embarrassed.

When you stepped out of the bath, you dried yourself off with the soft white towel that Francis had given you before putting on one of the nightgowns. It was white, made out of soft and shiny satin. It covered some of your bruises but not all.

As you walked outside the bathroom, you could hear grunts coming from the kitchen.

You followed the noises to see Tommy being held down onto the kitchen table by Arthur and Finn while a nurse was using tweezers to remove fragments of gravel from the wound on his neck.

Tommy glanced over to you briefly before indicating to one of the maids that he wanted you to leave.

‘Can’t it just be stitched up?’ you asked, causing the maid to shake her head before asking you to follow her.

‘The wound has to be cleaned out, its quite deep’ the maid said as she showed you to your room.

You sat down on the bed in your room but couldn’t help it but worry about Tommy. All that you could hear from your otherwise quiet room were the occasional grunts. He was clearly in pain.

Then, after about ten minutes, there was dead silence and you became even more concerned and worried.

Finally, after 20 minutes, you heard a knock on the door.

‘Come in’ you said.

You were relieved to see Tommy when he opened the door.

You were quick to get off the bed and walk over to him, pressing your lips onto his in a haste.

He had been stitched up and his wound was covered by a large gauze.

Tommy didn’t say anything after the kiss but simply looked at you wearing Grace’s nightgown.

It was almost like he was assessing you and all of the small bruises and cuts that covered your body.

His hands then caressed your face before he kissed you again.

Silence. There was nothing but silence and kisses.

After about ten minutes of this, Tommy caressed your face again and looked into your eyes.

‘I am sorry this happened to you’ Tommy said.

‘It’s not your fault Tommy’ you responded.

‘You will stay here for a while until I sort this out, alright? You will be safe here and no one will ever hurt you again like this, I promise.’ Tommy said.

‘Alright Tommy’ you said as your hands ran over his bare chest. You wanted to tell him what you were feeling for him in that moment but couldn’t bring it over your lips.

At this point you pulled him onto the bed with you, kissing him gently, before reaching in between his legs.

‘Not tonight Y/N’ Tommy said as he could feel his hand run over his crotch.

‘Tommy, please, I need you’ you said, knowing how good it always makes you feel.

Tommy chuckled at your comment and nodded before leaning over you another kiss.

‘Alright’ he said, before he slowly removed your nightgown. It wasn’t long before his hands were touching you everywhere, lingering on your breasts, tracing the sharp curves of your hips.

Tommy’s lips followed his hands, planting gentle kisses against every inch of your bruised skin. His head moved back up to your chest and his full lips closed over the tips of first one breast and then the other. He began sucking your nipples gently, causing you to moan loudly.

‘Tell me if I'm hurting you’ he murmured as his hand reached down between your legs where most of your bruises had surfaced.

You nodded, breathless. You reached for his belt but your hands were shaking so much that you couldn't even maneuver the clasp. You were still wound up by what had happened that night.

Tommy eased your hands away and took over. In no more than ten seconds, he was as completely naked as were you.

He embraced you, holding you tightly against his chest. You ran your fingers up and down the length of his back, scraping your short nails against his smooth skin.

Tommy shifted his position and began suckling at your breasts once more. A moan of pleasure escaped your lips. You could feel his hard member pressing against your thigh. And you could feel moisture seeping out from between your legs.

Tommy reached between your thighs, parted them gently, and slowly swirled two fingers around your wet vaginal lips.

Tommy removed his fingers. His body slithered down the length of yours. He took hold of your hips, placed his mouth between your legs and nibbled at your sensitive flesh. Then the tip of his tongue began flicking against your clit, tracing circles around the hardened nub.

‘Oh god, Tommy’ you cried as you grabbed hold of his muscular shoulders as the shivers and shudders of an approaching orgasm wracked at your weak body.

The arching of your back was sending bolts of pain shooting down your spine. But you didn't care. Pain and pleasure were colliding and you chose the pleasure.

‘Don’t stop Tommy’ you urged him, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Tommy pressed his mouth to your wet entrance once again and used his tongue to toy with your clit some more.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as your orgasm was consuming you, fast and hard.

Tommy crawled up the length of your body and held you tightly as you lost all control. You were shaking and moaning. You grabbed onto him for dear life until the final shudder released you from the joint grasp of ecstasy and agony.

He kissed her hungrily, devouring your lips with his own. You could taste your own juices as you returned his kiss with every ounce of passion you possessed.

Though satiated and struggling with the pain, you parted your legs again and reached down to guide Tommy’s hard cock into your soaking wet pussy. Tommy groaned immediately. He propped himself up on his hands and began pushing into you gently.

‘It's okay’ you whispered as Tommy looked at you as if he was seeking approval.

‘Push harder’ you moaned, giving your body to him.

Tommy accepted your invitation and began thrusting into you more forcefully. He lowered his head to kiss you as he was pumping into you with increased speed and force.

The tip of his cock was grazing against your sweet spot as he thrusted into you and you felt another climax approaching.

At the same time, you also felt Tommy’s body begin to tremble with his own approaching release.

‘Oh god Tommy’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you.

At the same time, guttural groans escaped his throat and, with one final convulsive thrust, he erupted inside of you, flooding you with a rush of hot cum.

After you both came down from your high, Tommy rolled away from you and collapsed next to you.

He took you into his arms and held you against his body as, all of a sudden, Arthur barged through the door.

‘Fucking hell Arthur’ Tommy said just as you covered your bare breasts with the sheets.

‘Abraham Gold is here’ Arthur said, trying hard to look away from you.

‘I thought Finn was full of shit when he told me that you two were still fucking’ Arthur said as you quickly reached for your nightgown and Tommy put on his pants.

‘This stays between us’ Tommy instructed as he walked out of your room and downstairs.

‘Mr Gold’ Tommy said, greeting your father.

‘Where is my daughter’ Abrahama asked.

‘Upstairs, having a rest’ Tommy responded, causing Finn to sigh and Arthur to laugh.

You made your way downstairs after five minutes to greet your father before Tommy took him into his office to discuss the matter.

All you could hear from outside Tommy’s offices were arguments and yelling.

Your father didn’t know about your involvement with Tommy but soon learned about his plan. In your father’s opinion, Tommy was going behind his back and put your life at risk for financial gain and had now created a war with the Kruger family, especially after killing three of Manuel Kruger’s five sons.

‘These were men you wanted to be in business with, ey? Men who tried to force themselves on your daughter’ Tommy said angrily as your father stormed out of his office.

‘Carful Mr Shelby’ your father yelled before telling Tommy that it would have never come that far if he wouldn’t had interfered with the arrangement.

Your father took a hold of your hand told you to get into the car as he left Tommy’s office, the yelling continuing.

‘Mr Gold, it’s not safe’ Tommy tried to argue while your father forced you to leave with him.

‘My daughter’s safety is not your concern Mr Shelby’ Abrahama said and you had no choice but to follow him back to the commune.

You spent the next few days there, not being allowed to work or go on with your usual activities. You knew that your father regularly talked to Tommy. He had no choice but to work with him now after all this. But, you had no idea where things were heading from here on and you knew that Tommy’s actions made your father despise him.

Finally, five days later, your father arranged another meeting with Tommy and Arthur at the factory to which you were invited. It was Tommy who insisted that you were part of this meeting and gain an understanding of the plan. Tommy argued that this was for your own safety.

You appreciated Tommy’s efforts to have you included but, that particular morning, you could have very well stayed in bed.

You have been unwell for two days now and didn’t want to see Tommy looking the way you did.

You forced yourself to put on a nice dress and some make up before joining your father and brother in the car.

Just as you arrived at the factory building, you barged out of the car and towards the lavatory.

‘Excuse me’ you said as you stormed into the men’s lavatory on the ground floor. There was no female lavatory in close proximity.

‘You realise that this is the fucking men’s lavatory, right?’ Arthur said while taking a leek as, all of a sudden, he heard a loud choking noise.

‘Are you alright, Love?’ he asked as you were in the cubicle, with the door open, your head hanging over the toilet seat.

‘Yes, I am fine, thank you Arthur’ you said as you straightened yourself up and walked to the basin to wash your hands.

There was an awkward silence between you and Arthur.

‘Ate something bad, ey?’ Arthur said as he handed you his handkerchief.

‘Yes, probably. It’s been like this for two days’ you said. ‘I will return it, washed of course’ you added after you wiped your mouth with the handkerchief.

‘Don’t worry Love. Keep it’ Arthur said as you both left the bathroom and headed to the meeting.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

[yutahoes]

Ghost of You

pairing: idol! Yuta (NCT member) x idol! Y/N (solo idol-actress)

word count : 5k words

genre: angst

summary: He was the one who ended everything. But you’re like a ghost that kept haunting him. 

warning : break up, alleged cheating, pregnancy, a fic where you just want to strangle Yuta to death 

Based on this ask. I’m sorry, I tweaked the story and changed some of the song (especially the Olivia Rodrigo one because it doesn’t fit the story) The songs I used are linked in the story. Also, I have no idea how the idol world works and please note that this is just fanfiction. Please Enjoy reading. 

Broken glass, an empty unruly apartment. Signs that a big fight happened. All because of a tabloid article of him seeing his co-host late at night. Yuta argued that she needed someone to talk to and Y/N was angry that he winged their anniversary V-live just for this. “You can tell me if you’re sick of me, Yuta.” she claimed that made him hiss. “Don’t you think I didn’t notice? You’re always making up things just so you can’t meet me.” 

“That’s not true!” Yuta shouted. “I am busy.” 

Tears ran down her face. “Then explain how Jungwoo had lunch with me last Friday when you said that you’re practicing with your members.”    

“Stop saying that I don’t even make time for you.” His voice raised in frustration. “When all you do is hang out with that co-star of yours.” 

The girl scoffed. “So it’s my fault now? It’s work, Yuta.” It’s always the same reason. “I asked you a lot of times if you’re alright with the drama and you never mention anything. Now, you’re using it against me?” 

The guy shook his head. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow. I’m tired.”

“And I’m also tired.” She whispered. “Let’s end this, Yuta.” She threw the promise ring before leaving the apartment. 

The news next day was about Y/N erasing pictures of them in her social media accounts. The breakup news between the solo idol and the NCT member followed. Taeyong just shook his head watching Yuta exit the CEO’s office with droopy shoulders. “I really like her for you, hyung.” Mark claimed when he entered the practice room. 

He didn’t know where it went wrong. They were happy. Everyone likes their relationship. His fans are her fans, and hers are his. They were tagged as the greatest idol couple, often paired in dances since it’s both their strengths. Y/N was casted in a period drama and he’s a supportive boyfriend who visited her the first day of the filming and thanked everyone for taking care of his girlfriend. She filmed romantic scenes, kissing her actor co-star. And he was fine. “It’s work, Yuta.” She would always say. And he would just smile. 

He started hosting a radio show with a female Japanese idol and he was cold at her, wanting to stir away from controversy. But as her drama progressed, with more romantic scenes and more kissing, he felt left out. She’s becoming a star. And he’s becoming Y/N’s idol boyfriend. Slowly, he’s getting fed up with the relationship that’s slowly getting centered on her. 

It felt like a breath of fresh air that it all ended now. Like a thorn removed from his aching heart. 

All the public’s sympathy went to her, as he expected. She’s the star. The more famous one among the two of them. So he just painted himself as the bad guy by confirming that he’s dating his co-host which surprised the other girl. The agency was surprised at the decision but it became such a media frenzy that their radio show got high ratings every week. Even the sales of their album spiked up and he became known as NCT’s Yuta and not as someone’s idol boyfriend.

Everything is getting better. 

-----      

It was the end of the year award show when they crossed paths again. They were doing a great job avoiding each other. Why now? Nine members meant a vacant seat from the round table artists are seated at. The staff repeatedly apologized but as kind as she is, she just smiled and sat between Doyoung and Jaehyun, just across Yuta. She greeted all the members, even complimenting Haechan’s hair and Taeil’s suit. “Congratulations on best album.” she greeted, smiling widely to avoid the awkwardness. 

“Aren’t you releasing an album as well?” Johnny asked that made her nod. “Another dance track?” Taeyong asked but Y/N shook her head saying that it was a ballad album and that she will perform later. The guys were obviously surprised, ballad isn’t her best track. She’s more known for her dancing skills so it is indeed a huge surprise. 

When the best female idol awardee was called, the NCT members all stood up to congratulate her. Jungwoo even helped her with her pink lace gown. She did the usual thank you message: thanking her parents, the almighty being, the management, the staffs, and her fans. “And lastly…” Yuta gasped. Whenever she gets an award, she thanks him lastly for comforting and always supporting her. “Please watch out for my album.” He felt his heart drop, especially when she smiled that angelic smile. Why is she shaking him like this? 

Yuta was already bored. He just wants to go home. The lights dimmed and the emcees announced her as the next performer. Because it’s a live performance, they showed some clips of her photoshoot for her new album. He had to agree that this concept fits her. She looked prettier than when they used to go out.

He was more surprised to see an orchestra accompaniment behind her on stage. Her, seated on a platform, wearing a white sequined dress that shines like stars when the spotlight shone on her. The crowd clapped just as the start of the song played. (Imagine this as the performance.) 

The other members warily glanced at him. A break up song. Why isn’t he surprised? 

My dream changed - instead of a famous singer, I tried to become a good wife

He remembered how she would always try to learn to cook whenever she had extra time. She never mentioned anything to him. It was until one night, they were laying next to each other, when she asked him if he wanted her to continue being an idol. That made him curious that time. She loved performing. Why would she ask that? 

Now, he knew why. 

By the time the second chorus rolled in, he was just amazed at how she could sing those notes while seated down. Her singing really got better. 

Someday you’ll probably call me then I hope you will be a man and congratulate me

Because this is all thanks to you, I’ll prepare a good thank you message for you

He can hear Mark giggling beside him. Johnny pursed his lips as if preventing to laugh. “Hyung, please record her thank you message.” the youngest member teased that made him annoyed. 

Her voice echoed all throughout the venue. Her adlibs hitting notes that she cannot do before and she’s sitting while doing that. 

Slowly, I got over you like that

Their eyes met. Those sparkling eyes. She’s shining. She looks well. She looks better. Without him. 

The fresh air suffocated him, burning his lungs in the process. The thorn that was removed came back and brought friends, a knife tearing his heart into pieces. 

Everything is getting better. For her. Not for him.

The moment he went inside the empty apartment, he felt like breaking down. This is harder than the time she left. He missed her. He’s a wreck without her. A huge mess. Why is he taken over by his jealousy? She deserves to be the center of the relationship. The star. She deserves the whole world. Is it too late for him to get everything back now? He took his phone as a song on the radio played, “Mark, I need your help.” 

Another award show meant another chance to cross paths with her. To Y/N’s surprise, Yuta congratulated her with a wide smile after winning an award. The staffs were repeatedly asking if the members were sure of doing this that made the manager and the leader nod. Johnny was seated in front of the grand piano, Mark on one side with his guitar. Taeil, Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Yuta seated on different chairs in the middle of the stage. (Song)

Johnny started the melody while Mark played his guitar. Jaehyun started the song that made Y/N look at them from the artists’ place. Yuta smiled. Her favorite band. Taeil started singing the chorus with Yuta as back-up vocals. Doyoung sang the second verse while Jaehyun sang the chorus, followed by Taeil. By the end of the song, they lightly glance at Yuta. His last cry for her. 

So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house with the ghost of you

And I chase it down, with the shot of truth

He glanced at her, staring straight to those sparkling eyes. 

That my feet don’t dance like they did with you

The lights dim but he saw her silhouette remain on her seat, shoulders visibly heaving. Behind the spotlight, Yuta finally realized that like a ghost, he cannot shake her off. She’ll keep haunting him because he cannot let go of her. Yuta finally realized that he is still in love with her. 

They had been busy with the concerts abroad and she had been busy with the promotion of her album. Yuta’s co-host quit the radio show and days later, it was announced that she was pregnant. The members were surprised at first but it was her who confirmed that Yuta isn’t the father of the child. The public sympathy went to Yuta for the alleged cheating that the girl had done, making him in the center of the media frenzy once again. 

It was a Japanese radio show when he met Y/N again. He had to promote the Japanese leg of their concert while she promoted her Japanese single. She looked casual greeting him, as if nothing happened but her words echoed in his ears “It’s just work, Yuta.” Maybe it was really nothing to her. 

They were seated next to each other. He watched her put on her headphones then rubbed her palms together. “I kinda forgot Japanese.” she claimed then said a Japanese phrase to introduce herself. “Is that right?” He nodded, his warm gaze still on hers. Too casual. “I’m nervous.” 

He wanted to hug her. Comfort her. Tell her that everything will be alright. That he’s next to her so she doesn’t have to worry about anything. 

But he can’t. She’s not his. 

The host kept on claiming that they looked good together that startled them both. When the staff told him something in Japanese, he kept on apologizing while saying that he doesn’t know that they used to date. She just smiled, shaking her head to avoid the awkwardness. She really did move on. The radio show went smoothly until the last part where they had to sing a duet together. Y/N was obviously surprised. Didn’t she know? “We can skip it if you don’t want to.” Yuta whispered. 

Once again she shook her head. “It’s fine. I just haven’t prepared for it.” she claimed while looking at the music sheet. “The notes are a little high.” 

“You’ll do great. Your singing got better.” She giggled at the reference and he smiled. He missed her laugh. 

Y/N focused on the lyrics, asking the translator to tell her what the words mean or how to pronounce it. Yuta was reading the lyrics, seated next to her when she laughed. “Yuta,” she called and he felt his heart jump from his chest. He missed her voice calling his name. “Should we switch parts?” He looked surprised, curious even. “I mean, the lyrics.” 

Yuta smiled. “Should we?” 

Y/N giggled. “Sometimes I am convinced they’re doing this on purpose.” He smiled while looking at her. He missed her. So much. 

The host was asking repeatedly if they want to continue this, apologizing if it ever makes them uncomfortable but she would just smile and shake her head. He thanked her for being professional and she grinned, making Yuta breathless. He missed her smile. 

They were introduced and she even made a fighting sign at him as the melody started. It was a lonely song and Yuta poured all his feelings on his part. (This is the song they used. Dude, can they just remaster it by asking Yuta to sing this?) 

Long time no see

His eyes turned to her. He missed everything about her. 

We cannot express how we feel

Breath echoes in our ears 

The radio show staff all turned to them in surprise. 

My dear, you’ve already found a new love

She turned to him with her sparkling eyes. 

There is no one like you

I am cheating my heart

He sang while staring at her. She even missed the first beat of her part then smiled while looking at the music sheet in front of them. The bridge of the song came and the staff looked in awe at both of them.  

But you are not mine anymore

They stared at each other while singing those words. By the end of the song, Y/N’s voice was breaking so she stepped farther from the mic immediately. A smile escaped her lips when the host asked if she’s alright, apologizing that she ruined the song. Everyone were giving them compliments, fans commenting on how amazing they deliver the song and wishing that they can do a collab in the future. 

“Y/N,” Yuta called on the hallways of the building. He breathed hard while she just nodded at her manager, asking her to go first. “I…” He started but the words cannot come out of his mouth. I’m sorry. My ego got the worst of me. My insecurity caused our fall. I’m a wreck without you. Please come back to me. 

“Let’s not talk about it, Yuta.” She said while shaking her head. “We were immature. We’re so used to each other that we took each other for granted.” She grinned once again, eyes sparkling. Upon closer look, he figured out why. Her tears were forming. Like little pearls in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Yuta.” The words he cannot tell her. “Let’s be happy, hmm?” 

Yuta smiled, taking the hand she held out. “Can I call you when I am feeling miserable?” 

The girl laughed. “My number didn’t change.” She claimed. “And I still have to give you my thank message.” 

He pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms. “I missed you, Y/N.” 

------

Fans were delighted seeing Y/N and Yuta seated next to each other in the V-live account. A thing they always do every year on their anniversary. She was smiling, her lovely smile, while waving at the camera. Yuta adjusted the camera to capture them both before smiling his angelic smile. 

“I didn’t know your V-live account still works even if it isn’t used for a year.” She claimed, leaning in to read some comments. “I also didn’t know that there are still fans who come in this V-live account.” The number of watching people raised up that startled even Yuta. 

They both introduced themselves in a lively manner before the NCT member explained that they did this V-live as a thank you to fans who trended the song they sang in Japan. “I didn’t know that it would blow up like this.” He claimed and she nodded, even laughing at how embarrassing it is that her voice broke in the end. 

They started reading some comments about how fans missed them together, that they look together, and that their playfulness as a couple came back. “Are you back together?” Yuta read, pointing at the comment. 

“We’re not together together,” Y/N started then emphasized the last word with air quote marks. “We’re just…” She lightly glanced at him who was looking at her, mirroring the same smile she had. “Just patching things up and fixing ourselves.” Yuta continued for her. 

“Is there a possibility of a come back?” 

Y/N giggled before pointing at Yuta. “NCT is coming back with a new album. I’m preparing for a fall comeback.” The guy laughed at that. “Yuta, do you want to be featured in my album?” 

He nodded immediately. “Will you write me a love song?” 

She grinned, shaking her head playfully. “I’m not gonna write you a love song~” she sang before laughing. Yuta chuckled, poking her side playfully. “But we’ll see.” 

The fan asked what they had been up to. Y/N shared that she’s writing songs for her album and Yuta saying that he hangs out with the members often and the preparations for their comeback. “I’ve been hanging out with Jaehyun a lot.” he claimed, “I’ve been liking his music choices lately.” 

“You’re already done with your rocker state?” She asked, feigning a shock. “What song have you been listening to lately?” 

Yuta smiled, taking his phone out of his pocket. He played the song and Y/N smiled that there’s still a rockish feel on it.  (Song)

Oh, all my emotions feel like explosions when you are around

Yuta mouthed the words, trying to look for comments but his gaze was on her while jamming on the song. A smile crept his lips and he saw how one fan pointed out that he’s so in love with her. He is. 

“This song is so nice.” 

“Honestly, it kinda reminds me of you.”

He’s singing ‘She’s a, She’s a lady And I am just a boy’

He’s singing ‘She’s a, She’s a lady’ And I am just a line without a hook’

Oh baby, I am a wreck when I’m without you I need you here to stay

She looked surprised when Yuta sang the lines of the songs. The side of his lips curled up when he saw the sparkle back in her eyes. They talked a bit about what fans should watch out from their respective schedules. They said goodbye in a lively manner before Yuta ended the V-live. 

Y/N leaned on the couch, breathing heavily. She lightly glanced at Yuta and he smiled. “Want to get some sushi?” She nodded, grinning widely. 

Yuta cannot shake her off. Like a ghost, she will keep haunting him. And hopefully, she can come back to him. 

#hotpinklists #yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta angst #yuta nakamoto angst #nakamoto yuta angst

[pagesoflauren]

Money’s Worth - You’re Mine

soft husband!Ransom Drysdale x reader

Summary: Starting 2021 answering the question I got asked the most in 2020: “How will the reader react to learning that Ransom hooked up with someone when she was away for Christmas?”

A/N: When y’all filled out this poll, there was a 100% yes answer for a spinoff for The Highest Bidder. Well, here it is: Money’s Worth. In which Ransom is getting $50,000+ worth of experiences with his wife and child(ren). If you have more ideas, don’t be shy, drop ‘em in my ask box! I’ll update this series from time to time. 

If you were tagged in Highest Bidder, I automatically tagged you in this. If you’d like to be removed, let me know! My feelings won’t be hurt, I promise ❤️

Also, I’m sorry if your name is Amanda 🥴

Warnings: smut, swearing, jealousy, angst, daddy!kink

The Highest Bidder Masterlist

Money’s Worth Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Darling, can you go over to the next aisle and get a couple boxes of pasta?” 

Ransom nods, even though you’re too engrossed in looking at the differences between chickpea-based and gluten-based pasta. 

His son is awake, wide eyes looking around at brightly colored food packages and fluorescent lights with a pacifier in his mouth. From what Ransom recalls of tales from when he was a baby, Harlan Jr. is more like you. Quietly observing, not kicking up too much of a fuss. 

Pinching the baby’s nose gently and coaxing a small giggle out of him, Ransom ventures over to the next aisle to find the pasta you like. 

A sharp gasp and an obnoxious “oh my God,” draws his attention. When he looks up and finds the source of the voice, his stomach gurgles with dread and annoyance. 

“All the times I’ve been here, I’ve never seen you,” she says. “What are you up to? Disappointing more girls in bed?”

Ransom weighs his options in his head. He could dig low, reminding her of all the times she was actually begging for him, or he could take the high ground, grab the pasta, and ignore her. 

He does the latter, though makes the mistake of using his left hand to do so.

“Is that a wedding band?” she scoffs. 

“Yeah, it is--” 

“Oh, Ransom, don’t get that one, we want the bigger noodles.” 

Shutting his eyes, Ransom shouts all the swear words he can think of in his mind. This is such bad timing! 

“No fucking way,” Rebecca--or is it Veronica?--scoffs. 

“Hi,” Ransom sees you give a sickeningly sweet smile and he wants to disappear into the shelves. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall ever meeting you.” 

“I’m Amanda.” 

Wow. Completely different name than the ones his mind was supplying. 

“Your husband and I know each other pretty well.” 

He can see the gears turning in your head, analyzing the situation. 

“Quite frankly, I’m not surprised about the little one. I’m sure he did the same thing to you as he did to me, just finished and decided he was done without fully getting the job done!”

You’re visibly taken aback. “I’m sorry?” 

“Oh, we just hooked up casually like, two years ago? I can’t really remember, it was during Christmas though. Hadn’t heard from him in a while and he mentioned being lonely and I figured ‘Why not?’”

“Two years ago?” you echo, looking at her, then at Ransom. 

“It was casual, I left right after,” he points out, 

“Oh, were you two together then? I’m so sorry--”

“You know what, Veronica, just get your stupid pasta or rice or whatever the fuck you’re here for and leave me and my wife in peace! Don’t you have better shit to do?!”

“It’s Amanda.”

“I don’t care.” 

Rolling her eyes, she leaves, turning on her heel and exiting the aisle. 

Ransom turns back to you and doesn’t like the thoughtful look on your face. You don’t look at him or Harlan, just at the contents in your cart. 

“Hey, don’t let whatever she said get to you. You know I love you,” he reaches for you, fingertip just grazing your cheek and you cringe away from him. 

“Just put the pasta in the cart and let’s go.” 

You’ve snapped at him before to remind him to stop completely at intersections or double check the temperature of Harlan’s bottle. You’ve never snapped at him that way, in irritation as if you can’t stand him. 

He recoils, drawing his touch away from you. “Well, just...let me get the right one.” 

“Ransom,” you deadpan, “I wanna go home. Just put the pasta in the cart and let’s. go.” 

He does as you say, carefully placing the boxes atop the other items. 

You don’t speak to him as you check out and sit in the backseat with Harlan to make sure he’s okay as he drives the three of you home. His little eyelids drop closed, completely calm despite the palpable tension between the two of you. 

Once at home, Ransom takes care of the groceries while you bring Harlan upstairs to his crib so he can continue to sleep. Just as you get him settled, you hear your husband pipe up. 

“So, can we talk about what happened at the grocery store?”

You sigh, straightening up. You cross your arms as you turn to face him. “When was the last time you saw her?” 

“When you were on winter break a few months after you had just moved in.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, a whirlpool of emotions spinning around in your chest. 

You’re angry and hurt, but you don’t know why. The two of you were just starting your sugar arrangement and it wasn’t anything deeper than that. There weren’t any feelings on your end until the following spring. 

“It wasn’t anything, it was just some hook up. She was just being a bitch because I left--”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” you interrupt him. 

You had long reconciled Ransom’s past and never held it against him. But you just cannot pin the exact reason why this revelation bothers you. 

“Look, I’m still figuring out things going on in my head. And I don’t really...I don’t really want to see you right now.” 

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” he argues, “We weren’t anything. We only became a thing in July.” 

“Really?” you wonder. You weren’t going to bring this up, but it feels fair in order to get him to understand your perspective. “I had a crush on someone from my cohort.” You watch his expression shift from annoyed to surprised. “I kissed him once. In November, after I moved in with you. But it didn’t work out because I was living with you, so we decided to not do anything about it.” 

You can see the visible tinge of red on his neck. “Are you saying that just to get at me?”

“It’s the truth,” you say. “Does it bother you?” 

You can see him setting his jaw as he takes in the information. 

“But we weren’t anything, right?” you remind him of the words he spoke just minutes before. 

Ransom doesn’t say anything. He turns away and walks down the hall. You hear him going down the stairs and then the door to his office slams. 

You check on Harlan, he’s still sound asleep. Slightly relieved, you move into your bedroom and sit on the mattress. 

Ransom lets out a long-winded groan when he deletes the sentence he’s been working on for the fifty-second time in twenty minutes. 

He feels odd knowing you liked someone when you were living with him, just as the seeds of his feelings were being planted. He’s taken pride in the fact that he was the only one to have you, but turns out your heart was a better prize and that wasn’t his completely. 

He doesn’t doubt you love him and he’s certain he never has to worry about sharing you ever again, but it still bothers him. 

He scrubs his hands over his face and rubs the back of his neck. 

He remembers fights between his parents never being resolved, which resulted in their marriage slowly disintegrating into a financial arrangement than a romantic relationship. 

He knows you late at night when you’re both hungry; knows you pregnant and crying over hermit crabs while watching nature documentaries; knows you between his arms and keeping him warm, making him feel safe and loved when he felt he didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t want this to turn into anything close to the example of marriage he saw growing up. 

Shutting his laptop, he gets up and marches to the door. When he yanks it open, you’re standing there. 

“What are you doing?” 

You look caught, as if you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be. “I...I wanted to talk. Unless you don’t want to.”

You begin to leave and he grabs your arm. “No, let’s talk.” 

Stepping into the room feels reminiscent of walking into his office at the publishing house for the first time. You’re not comfortable entering this territory. 

Hugging your arms around your middle, making yourself look as small as you feel, you decide to just be forward. Your words come out sheepishly, “I just...I didn’t like knowing the moment I was gone, you went out and replaced me. Even if we didn’t have an exclusive label. And, I just thought, like, I realize it doesn’t matter because we’re married. And like you said, I know you love me. But, I don’t know. Just didn’t sit right with me.” 

Ransom sighs, shaking his head. “I wasn’t replacing you or anything like that. I...I saw a change in myself from just having you with me for a few months. But I thought you’d leave as soon as you got the opportunity,” he uses a large sweeping gesture as if he’s picturing you leaving all over again. “And I’d…” he hesitates, hand up by his head before his arm goes slack, “be back to my shitty normal self.” 

It’s different now with the explanation, and you wish you had been in the mindset to listen to him earlier instead of hurt him.

“And I get it. Knowing you had a crush on some guy doesn’t sit right with me either. I just,” he looks up and distantly, “I wonder what he had. What made you like him but then you were fine with nothing happening and then you started liking me?” 

“Neither of us were ready for a relationship at the time. We had just started and our first semester was crazy.” You take your turn to explain. “And feelings just come and go sometimes. I saw him again in February and it just...wasn’t there.” 

He takes in your strikingly simpler explanation, understanding your reference to fleeting feelings that are gone almost as quickly as they appear. 

“I’m sorry, Ransom. I shouldn’t have said anything about that. It was so stupid and it really didn’t mean anything--”

“Neither did Amanda.” 

“I…” you trail off, not knowing what to say. 

“I wasn’t being very understanding earlier when you first said it bothered you. You were just trying to get me to know your side of things.” 

“Doesn’t make it right,” you counter. “I really am so sorry.” 

Ransom smiles and laughs to himself. He still doesn’t know how to accept an apology. He sighs, reaching for you. “How long do you think junior will be asleep?” 

“Could be an hour, maybe two,” you answer as he draws you closer with a hand around your waist. 

“Think that’s plenty of time for us to make it up to each other.”

“Technically I need to make it up to you,” you correct him as you take his hand. “And I know how I want to.” 

You lead him back around his desk, ushering him to sit in his chair. It’s large with dark blue velvet, providing enough room for you too and straddle his lap. 

You dive for his mouth, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. 

His left hand comes to cradle your jaw, keeping your lips locked onto his, while his right hand drifts down your back to cup your bottom. 

You grind your core against his, smiling when you feel his hips jut up to yours. Tilting your head you give a tentative lick into his mouth. He opens up, bringing his tongue in to play with yours. 

It reminds you of how it was when it started; being shy  and letting him take the lead. You haven’t fallen into this cloudy headspace in a long time, but it feels so good that when you pull back and gasp the word “daddy,” it feels so natural. 

Ransom, on the other hand, is taken aback. He’s gotten used to you calling him “darling” or other terms of endearment. Hearing you call him that awakens something that had long gone into hibernation; and he wasn’t sure if it would ever see the light of day again. 

But like you, he slips into the space, creating a firm grip on your ass as a smirk appears on his face. 

“Wanna call me ‘daddy,’ baby? Hm?” he taunts. Your eyes are wide and doey, feigning innocence when he knows you’re far from it now. “Well, guess we can do that. We’ll make up for that night I wasted on someone else.” 

He watches your brows furrow and eyes squint in anger. Your hands slide into his hair, fingers tightening in the tresses. It creates a pull on his scalp, something he enjoys. “You’re mine, daddy,” you whisper just before your lips are on his again, kissing him harder than before, certain to bruise. 

You pull away and lean down to nip at his neck, hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You pop the button and undo the zipper unceremoniously. 

You remove yourself from his lap only to kneel between his legs on the carpet, pulling his jeans down to his knees. His boxers are quick to follow, revealing his hardening member. You grasp it, giving it a few squeezes and tugs the way you know he likes, watching his head loll back against the back of his chair. 

“This is mine, too,” you say. 

“Yeah?” he pants, looking down at you. A hand grazes through your hair, stopping at the back of your head. “My cock only belongs to you?” 

You nod, working him with more determination. 

“Then take it, baby.” 

You practically lunge for it, leaning forward to take him into your mouth, lips spreading to accommodate his girth. 

You’re satisfied with the sound Ransom makes, something between pained and blissful. He eggs you on, gathering your hair into a ponytail secured with his hand as he guides you to take more and withdraw in rhythm. 

You want him to finish in your mouth, but he pulls you off him and makes to lift you back onto his lap. You stand, already shimmying out of your bottoms. 

Straddling him again, you focus your attention down to poise yourself just above the head of him. 

He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and makes you look at him before crashing his lips on yours once more. 

“Take what’s yours, baby. It’ll always be yours,” he whispers. 

You sink down, crying out at the feeling of him within you. The doctor had just given you the green light to resume sex as normal after Harlan’s birth weeks ago, but you haven’t been able to find a lot of time to tangle with each other without your baby or Ransom’s book needing attention. 

Ransom appears to have an equally hazy feeling, looking at you with heavy-lidded eyes. You straighten up slightly until just the tip of him is in and lower yourself again. 

It’s so much for the both of you that his hands come to your waist and he guides your pace. “Slow,” he instructs you. 

You obey, finding a steady pattern as you build a climax for the both of you. Coaxing your hips the slightest bit forward, Ransom sinks all the way to reach that spot within you that makes you see stars. 

“Like that, baby?” he taunts you again, moving your hips up and down his length. “Tell daddy.” 

“Yes,” you gasp, “Just like that, daddy.” 

He works you until you’re nearing your end, tightening and pulsing around him to bring on his orgasm as well. Just as you’re about to fall over the edge, he taps below your eyes, a silent request for you to look at him. 

Your eyes meet his and he verbalizes exactly what he’s thinking. “I’m yours,” he pants, “I’m yours, my baby, my sunshine.” You fall forward and kiss him, letting him swallow your moans and whines. “Come for me, let me show you.” 

Your body weakens in his grasp, leaning onto him for support. Your movements falter and he makes up for them, jutting his hips up until he’s finishing within you. 

You gasp at the warmth that blooms in your stomach, feeling like gravity is failing but it’s okay; Ransom’s holding onto you, keeping you grounded. 

He holds you tightly as you breathe heavily, trying to recover your strength. You sigh and your arms wrap around his shoulders. You hear him chuckle and lean back. 

“We should’ve thought this through better,” he smiles, “We gotta get upstairs and clean up.” 

You moan your disappointment. “M’tired. Can’t we just stay here a bit?” 

Moving your hair out of your face, he kisses your exposed forehead. “Okay, sunshine,” he agrees. “Just a few minutes.” 

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#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale smut #Money's Worth #The Highest Bidder #ficsofpagesoflauren

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 10

A/N: I can’t believe I’m already on part 10 for this series and to be honest it’s fun to write. And in all seriousness, the tumblr mobile app needs to allow you to put a read more link. But anyways love you all and let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list! Mwah! 🖤🖤🖤

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, some violence, and blood

“Im sorry, did you just say Madripoor?” You blinked at Zemo, dreading the destination ahead of you.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it’s Skull Island.” Sam questioned, looking between you and Zemo.

“Imagine Mos Eisley from Tatooine but without the aliens and blasters.” You tried to make an analogy. “In other words, a shithole. And to be honest, I’d rather be in Mos Eisley.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” Bucky explained to Sam.

“It’s kept its lawless ways.” Zemo added before turning to James. “But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You had a feeling Zemo would suggest all of you going in with different identities, and being the only woman in the group, you already had a wild guess you weren’t going to be ecstatic about yours. You looked to Bucky with a frown on your lips. You knew what Zemo had meant towards him, and you didn’t know how it would affect him to transition back into the person he tried so hard to deviate from. Bucky saw the sympathetic smile you gave him, and he returned it with a look that reassured you that he would be fine.

“Y/n.” Zemo now spoke to you, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “I’m sure you are aware of the conditions.”

“Zemo if you...” Bucky trailed off as he glared at him, silently warning him to watch what he says next.

Sam and Bucky kept their eyes on Zemo, waiting to hear what his suggested persona for you was and ready to beat his ass if he dared to suggest something that would be demeaning to you.

“No way in the pits of Tartarus. I am not going in as an escort.” You voiced with a clenched jaw. “And if it’s eye candy you need, you have Sam.”

Sam gave you a surprised look from your comment, flattered to have you recommend him to be the designated eye candy before going back to the topic at hand. “Hell no Zemo. You’re not having y/n pretend to be an escort.”

“I’m afraid Sam is already going as someone.” Zemo sat back with his hands folded in his lap. “And don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on having you go as an escort, it isn’t befitting of a baron like me. Plus, I figured it would be uncomfortable for you, so I was going to suggest you act as my fiancé, if you are willing of course.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering on the subject. You were a bit relieved in all honesty. But to pretend to be Zemo’s fiancé and be in close and almost physical proximities with him?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to y/n.” Sam uttered to you.

“I’ll do it.” You confirmed.

“Are you sure?” Zemo asked you again, making sure you were comfortable with acting the part.

“I thought Zemo might step out of line with this one, but we don’t want you to do something that will make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure. I’ve had to do things I wasn’t comfortable with plenty of times in the past.”

Once you had all landed, Zemo decided to stop by a place so that you all may get dressed. You had already packed a dress and a pair of heels with you just in case for situations like these, since this wasn’t the first time you had to dress up for a mission. The dress you wore was a black, burned velvet silk slip-like dress with the velvet print being dark red roses. The dress wasn’t too tight to be constricting of movement and fit perfectly around around your curves. If the situation should arise that you needed to defend yourself, you needed the freedom to be able to move. Going down, the fabric flared slightly at your hips, brushing barely against the floor with your heels on. The skirt was slightly sheer from the bottom of your thighs and down with the floral velvet print, and had a slit going up your right thigh, perfect for kicking and concealing your dagger. The top torso portion of the front of your dress was a spaghetti strap cowl neckline that stopped just above the curve of your breasts, allowing for just a bit of cleavage. Your back was left bare, stopping at your mid back with thin straps that came across in a pattern. Your dress almost had a Grecian/witchy look from the way it draped over your chest and hips. It wasn’t too formal or too scandalous, it was elegant and classy, and showed just the right amount of skin where it wouldn’t be too revealing.

Even though you completely loathed and detested heels of any kinds, your heels were fairly simple, made of black velvet with straps that came across your ankles and toes. You dreaded heaving to wear them but at the same time you’d stick out like a sore thumb if you wore your docs with these. Perhaps you should’ve brought your nicer sandals, but it was too late now. You kept on your mother’s necklace and wore a set of amethyst drop earrings, throwing on a silver cuff bracelet on each wrist. Your hair was let loose to conceal your short sword that you hid on your back underneath your dress, the hilt resting right between your shoulder blades. You prayed that having your hair down would cover the scars and the sword you had on your back. But you were mostly focused about the scars, you failed to mention them to the guys about it since it was something that was hard for you to share. The only makeup you had on was some eyeshadow and mascara to darken your eyes, very little blush, and a lip tint.

The last thing to do was to put on some perfume, so you spritzed on your favorite oil based one that you had from Olympus on your pulse points. The scent was filled with incense-like scents like dragon’s blood, sage, crushed red roses, sandalwood, ghostly white musk, absinthe, almonds, and heady gardenia. It wasn’t as harsh as the common alcohol based ones, this one was more earthy and ancient, and every time you wore it, the scent lingered and heads turned. You gave yourself a once over when you were done, taking in a deep breath before heading out to join the others.

You became nervous as you saw them gathered together, talking amongst themselves as they haven’t noticed you yet. You rarely ever wore dresses these days, especially of the kind you were wearing now which left you feeling bare and exposed even though the dress wasn’t at all much revealing. So as you approached them, you couldn’t help picking at your fingers in anxiety.

The men turned at the sound of your heels clicking against the ground, and when they laid their eyes on you, they couldn’t help but gawk with their mouths parted open, as if they had seen the most beautiful creature to ever walk the earth. You chewed on the inside of your cheeks as you saw how they stared at you.

“Wow.” Sam was the first to say something. “You look like a million bucks.”

“What? Never seen a woman in a dress before?”

“No, I’ve just never seen you in a dress before.” Sam answered. “You’re always dressed like some hippie/librarian, with your bands shirts, sweaters, plaid pants and jackets.”

“Haha vary funny.”

“Also since when did you have muscles?” Sam noticed as he poked your bare arm. “And since when did you have a tattoo?” He observed the mark you had on your upper right arm, right below your shoulder. It was the mark that was given to you to signify your Olympian status and what you represented. It was about the color that henna left behind after you wiped the paste off your skin, the color of ginger and bronze. The center of your mark was a lightning bolt, which represented a child of Zeus. Below that was your symbol, the torch and the triple moons.

“Since when did you start asking so many questions? But yeah, I’ve always had muscles Sam, I was trained in combat since I was, you could say 9 years old in human years. Also, technically everyone has them, it’s what allows us to move and lift things. And that.” You pointed to your tattoo. “Is my goddess mark, not a tattoo. Every Olympian god has one and they each have their personal symbol that represents them.”

“Wait, so you’ve been trained since you were a kid?” Bucky looked at you to clarify what he heard as they all started to head out.

“Technically, everyone on Olympus starts training that young. Then, when they become of age, a tournament is held to display their skills, following a ceremony after, to celebrate their victory.” You explained as you walked beside them.

The four of you were currently walking on the bridge that led to Madripoor. You could see the city’s skyline out in the distance, the cyberpunk like buildings lighting up the night sky.

“Do you need my coat?” You heard Zemo say beside you, making you look at him.

“Sorry?”

“Do you need my coat?” He repeated himself, referring to how your arms were bare against the cool night. “I wouldn’t want you to get cold.”

You stared at him, stunned from the kind gesture as you tried to form words to say. “Oh uh.....I appreciate the gesture, but I’m fine actually. I’m not that cold.” Though you didn’t want to admit it, you actually would’ve liked to try on his coat, because in all honesty it was a damn nice coat.

“We have to fix this.” You heard Sam say with irritation visible in his voice. “I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing.” Zemo mentioned as he pulled out his phone to show Sam. “The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname. Hell, he does look like me, though.” Sam observed the photo.

“You smell this?”

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam sniffed the air as you did the same.

“Smells rancid.” You scrunched your nose at the smell.

“Madripoor. No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error.” Zemo instructed as a black car pulled up in front of you. “High Town’s that way. Not a bad place if you wanna visit, but Low Town’s the other way.”

“Let me guess. We don’t have any friends in High Town.” Sam remarked as he opened the door for the back seat.

“Y/n. A moment please, if you will.” Zemo uttered to you.

You stopped in your tracks, seeing Bucky and Sam stand on either side of the car doors, looking between the two of you and especially Zemo, with caution. You nodded your head at them, signaling you were fine and that they can get seated. And though they sat themselves inside the car, that didn’t stop them from keeping their eyes glued to Zemo to make sure he didn’t pull anything stupid.

“What’s the issue?” You turned to Zemo, giving him your attention.

“Since you will be portraying my fiancé, there’s a certain key element you will be needing to complete the image.” You watched as he pulled out a ring from his coat pocket, displaying it in front of you. “If I may?”

You stared at Zemo blankly before nodding your head and holding out your left hand for him. You knew this was only for a show, but you couldn’t help but stiffen as he delicately held your hand with his gloved one before slipping the ring onto your ring finger.

“There.” Hi smiled softly at you, his hand still holding yours. “Now you look the part.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, his thumb brushing against your knuckles, leaving behind a trail of warmth as he gazed down at you. Zemo swore he could have gotten lost in the violet swirls and gold flecks of your eyes forever, which now sparkled against Madripoor’s lit up skyline, the neon city and the places he’s visited not even coming close to the beauty he held before him.

You tried not to blush under his gaze as you gave him a polite smile before slipping your hand out of his. “I should probably change my eyes huh.” You remembered, changing your eyes to a normal color known to earth. “Should I hide the scar?” You asked him, referring to the one on your face.

“I think you should leave it. It suits you, and besides, you never know who might recognize you without it.”

Nodding your head at him, you headed to the car and settling in beside Bucky as Zemo followed, getting in the passenger seat in front of you. In the car ride there, you glanced down at the ring Zemo slipped on your finger, it was definitely a beautiful elegant ring, with a rose gold band and a pear cut garnet in the center that had diamonds that accented the bottom. Once you arrived in the city, you walked through the neon lit streets beside Zemo while Sam and Bucky followed behind. You loosened up your body as you went, swaying your hips slightly as you tried your best not to walk like a bodyguard and look threatening as everyone’s eyes followed the four of you strolling through the streets.

“Here we are.” Zemo announced, stopping in front of a bar before speaking to Bucky in Russian. “Ready to comply… Winter Soldier?”

As you went in, Zemo leaned in to whisper in your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck and startling you as he spoke in a hushed tone. “I want to apologize in advance, forgive me.”

You looked at him with furrowed brows to question what he meant until you felt his gloved hand slide across your back before resting on your waist, pulling you closer to his side. You noticed how his hand fumbled after brushing across your sword as he gave you a questioning look. What was that on your back? Did you really conceal a full on sword on your back underneath your dress? On your way to the bar table you saw people stare as you went through, some of them gawking in surprise at Bucky, or the winter soldier as he was now portraying, while the slimy men in the area roamed their eyes over your body hungrily. Zemo noticed your uneasiness from the way your muscles tensed, though your face didn’t show a sign of it, and glared at the men who dared to lay their eyes on you, only pulling you closer to him to prove that you were with him while Bucky and Sam noticed this as well and positioned themselves where you were blocked from the view of your peers, allowing you to breathe a little better as you approached the bar.

“Hello, gentlemen.” The bartender greeted you all. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed.” Zemo answered for him. “We have business to do with Selby.”

“The usual?”

Sam nodded his head.

“And for the lady?”

“Um Something fruity.” You answered with a flirtatious smile, silently hoping they had something like that on the menu and that you hadn’t blown their cover by ordering the wrong drink.

The bartender handed you what looked to be a pineapple martini and you internally thanked the gods for your sheer bit of luck, taking the drink and thanking the bartender with another smile. You watched as he went to work on Sam’s drink, pulling out of a jar what definitely was a snake. You gulped, your stomach feeling nauseous as you saw the bartender cut open the dead snake, taking out its guts and throwing it in the shot glass. You were mortified to say the least, snakes were one of your symbols and you had owned plenty of the gentle little creatures. You shot Sam a sympathetic look once you saw his expression.

“Cheers.” Zemo held up his glass while Sam stared at his before gathering the courage to drink it all in one go. If Sam wasn’t going to throw up, you were going to do it for him.

While your eyes were trained on Sam’s expression, you felt someone breathe over your neck before feeling a clammy hand graze across your ass.

“Hey baby-“

Your eyes widened before you grabbed the wrist of the man behind you in one quick motion, twisting his arm to an unnatural position as you yanked it away from your body, causing the sleazy looking individual let out a yelp of pain. You would’ve crushed his wrist like crumpled paper if Zemo hadn’t put a cautionary hand on your arm as he whispered to you. “Careful now.”

You let go of the man’s wrist before shoving him aside like a pile of garbage. If their identity wasn’t at risk of being revealed, Zemo, Sam, and Bucky would have gone over there and beat the guy up after you were done with him.

“I got word from high. You ain’t welcome here.” You watched from behind Zemo as a bearded man approached him.

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo gestured towards Bucky.

“New haircut?”

“Or bring Selby for a chat.”

The man glanced between Zemo and Bucky before leaving.

“A power broker? Really?” Sam turned to Zemo.

“Every kingdom needs its king. Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” You asked.

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”

Another man was approaching in your direction, most likely to kick you all out or worse, and after following your gaze, Zemo turned to Bucky, speaking to him in Russian just as the man laid a hand on his shoulder. “Winter Soldier. Attack.”

You stood back, watching as Bucky grabbed the dude’s arm and twisted it back. You refrained yourself from intervening as Bucky took down the men that fought against him.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” Zemo commented to you and Sam.

Bucky slammed one of the men down on the counter. And as you heard the clicking of guns being loaded, your defensive mode nearly kicked in as you almost reached for your sword before Zemo stopped you.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.” Zemo whispered to you both before turning to Bucky and speaking in Russian again. “Well done soldier.”

You let your arm drop back down to your side, not a single change in your expression as you eyed everyone around you.

“Selby will see you now.” The bartender spoke up after getting off the phone.

Zemo gave him a thanks, nodding you over and holding out his hand for you to take as you went to his side again, Bucky and Sam following after you. You went through a back door, going down a dark corridor with Zemo’s hand on your back as he guided you through.

“You should know, Baron. People don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” You heard a woman’s voice speak, turning your head to see an older woman in a suit with short white hair lounging back on the coach with her security around her.

“Not a demand. An offer.” Zemo sat down on the couch before waving you over when he saw you standing near Sam. “Come sit schatzi.”

You straightened up, plastering a smile on your face as you went over to him. Selby’s eyes followed you curiously as you placed your hand in his, your eyes rapidly moving in nervousness for what area would be the most appropriate area to sit. Were you......were you supposed to sit on his lap? Is that how couples work? No, that would be inappropriate. Before things got awkward, you quickly plopped down on the empty spot next to him, crossing over your leg in a way so that it draped over his, leaving your thigh completely exposed from the slit in your dress, save for the dagger that still remained hidden. Sam and Bucky widened their eyes at what you just did, while Zemo stiffened at this sudden movement from you as you also draped one arm around his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. Were you even doing this right?

“A lot has changed since you were here last.” Selby observed the two of you before her eyes landed on your ring. “Who’s this pretty little thing?”

“This.” Zemo looked at you with a loving look, throwing an arm around your waist to draw circles on your bare back, while his other hand rested on your thigh, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps on your skin as you felt shivers go down your spine. “Is my fiancé. Gorgeous isn’t she?”

How long has it been since you were this close and personal to someone? The last you could remember, women still wore corsets and people still rode carriages. You felt your body heat up from being this close to him, and from the way he stroked your back. How was a mortal man able to leave you feeling like this? If he was able to send shivers down your spine with the mere touch on your back with his gloved hand, you wondered how it would feel to have his bare hands on you, just skin to skin. And if you were being honest, you never really were a fan of cologne but his smelled of a deeper earthy tones with hints of musk, and you were surprised and almost ashamed to say you liked how he smelled. You returned the same loving look to Zemo, trying to make it as believable as possible as you ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head before placing a kiss on his jaw close to his ear. Sam and Bucky couldn’t believe their eyes at the scene before them, the same you who preferred to be a hermit and didn’t go on dates because it involved human interaction, was cuddling up to none other than Helmut Zemo himself. Zemo’s breath faltered a bit from from your touch as he swallowed the lump in his throat, struggling not to break character. Being this close to you, he was able to get a whiff of your perfume and my goodness, Zemo felt as if he could drown in your scent, you smelled like the heavens, not overbearingly sweet, but dark and luxurious and even seductive. Is this what vampires and sirens smelled like when they lured people to their deaths? You raised a brow at Zemo, your heightened senses were picking up on his breathing patterns and heartbeat. Was he getting nervous?

“Extremely.” Selby commented, smirking at the two of you before roaming her eyes over your body. You could feel her taking you in but you kept your eyes trained on the side of Zemo’s face. “Where did you pick this one up? She looks like a fighter.”

“As they say, why not get a woman who can do both. She was part of the Sokovian armed forces, I met her through there.”

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” Selby added after finally taking her eyes off you.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we? I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.”

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” Selby turned to Sam with a flirtatious grin, using her hand in a claw like manner as she let out a purr. “What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum.” Zemo got up off the couch, going over to Bucky and holding his chin between his fingers. “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.”

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember. I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or… condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but… things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?”

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me. But.....” She turned you with a sly smile which made your insides turn. “Throw her in with the package and you have yourself a deal.”

Zemo, Sam, and Bucky turned to look at you with dread upon hearing her words. This wasn’t at all part of the plan.

“No, no no. That wasn’t the deal.” Zemo stepped over to where you sat, blocking you from her. “She’s not for sale.”

“Why not?” Selby raised her brow at Zemo. “I’m pretty sure a man like you could pick up someone else to be your plaything or fiancé or whatever. I like this one in particular.” She turned to you again.

“That’s not-“ Zemo started before he was cut off by Sam’s cellphone vibrating.

You breath was caught in your throat and it felt as if the room had dropped in temperature. You could feel the tension floating around the air as everyone’s eyes were trained on Sam now, making you sit up straight and uncross your legs so that they were planted firmly on the ground. Your hand rested on your thigh just above where the hilt of your dagger was as your eyes darted around the room, watching each and every person like a hawk about to swoop down on its prey. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

Tag List: @girl-obsessed-with-things @aerynchromie @sunshinepower17 @viviace @kakimakiloh @thebivirgin @gambitsqueen @spookycereal-s @lulu-yuming @mochminnie @gabitanaka47 @s00nhi @vanteguccir @tomhollandsslilslut @dracoxxyoflam @suchababie @uhhhcrypticbastard @on-my-way-to-erebor @thewinterrbucky @mylifeispainandiloveit @fillechatoyante @padmoonyfeorge @montypythonsholysnail

#bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #zemo fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky x you #zemo fluff #zemo imagine #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n

[bluepinetree]

I posted 413 times in 2021

9 posts created (2%)

404 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 44.9 posts.

I added 1,143 tags in 2021

#gravity falls - 364 posts

#stanford pines - 206 posts

#fanart - 162 posts

#stanley pines - 155 posts

#lol - 50 posts

#fanfiction - 48 posts

#video - 45 posts

#mabel pines - 44 posts

#dipper pines - 37 posts

#headcanon - 32 posts

Longest Tag: 114 characters

#i am missing my copy of journal 3 and ive moved teice in three months and im scared i might have keft it somewhere

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Dimensional Parallel Theory

I’ve been thinking again, and my brain is going in circles over the concept introduced in Journal 3 where if two dimensional parallels make physical contact, they cause the collapse and demise of themselves and the dimension in which they exist.

On one hand, it explains a lot of Ford avoiding his other selves throughout the multiverse, fearing a recurrence of such an event, but on the other hand, we only have a single known incident of such an occurrence. A single known incident because the parameters to conduct an experiment to confirm the occurrence is not only unfeasible, but legitimately impossible to carry out without catastrophic consequences.

What if that incident was the exception to the norm? What if contact between parallels is not only feasible, but relatively common? After all, the multiverse is a vast and intricate network of multiple realities whose rules don’t always mesh with one another, and really the only truth of the multiverse is what you personally experience and that truth can change and develop over time. What if that incident occurred, not because it was a universal constant, but because it was a fear that the individuals involved in the incident believed to be a truth, and because they believed in that truth, it became a self fulfilling prophecy.

I cannot in good conscience believe that with all the multiverse realities that exist, parallels would not occasionally and unknowingly bump into each other and make physical contact. But because of that lack of knowledge, incidents fail to occur and dimensions go unscathed because the BELIEF of that occurrence is what caused it to happen, not a basal universal truth. Which again, universal truths are only as consistent as one can make them, and in the multiverse, literally ANYTHING is possible.

...look, I just want there to be a Ford Space like there’s a Mabel Dimension where scared and lost Fords can find comfort and companionship while traveling to find home OKAY?!

17 notes • Posted 2021-04-28 21:04:32 GMT

#4

People keep thanking me for starting the Round Robin that became the Knock Out AU and I never intended to start a thing, I just wrote a drabble and the fandom came together and I’m getting to write and chat with some of my author idols and I am going to goddang CRY from how happy I am with everything.

@verysorrytobother​ @roseverdict​ @mother-ofthe-universe​ @nelson-and-murdock​ @shipper-of-many-many-ships​ @presidentstalkeyes​ @detectivejigsawpines​ @leesbian42​ @ramblesanddragons​ and anyone else I can’t quite recall atm I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!

35 notes • Posted 2021-05-25 06:09:16 GMT

#3

The GF Round Robin Discord is going off on ideas of Multiverse Ford and his shenanigans.

Finger Dimension Hand Model Ford.

46 notes • Posted 2021-05-27 05:29:32 GMT

#2

Does anybody else have moments while perusing Journal 3 wishing there was an audiobook version with all the voice actors?

Cause I would totally be down for a Journal 3 audio book with JK Simmon, Jason Ritter and Kristen Schaal reading the various entries in character.

49 notes • Posted 2021-05-12 20:30:25 GMT

#1

Pines Family Musical Taste

So, I was listening to some of my older CDs on the way to work today, and I got to thinking-

People have lots of ideas and considerations of what the various Pines family members could be ASSOCIATED with musically, but what to they actually LIKE?

We do have some ideas given to us from the show- Mabel goes for rock ballads and boy bands, Dipper enjoys Icelandic pop music, Stan was pretty big into the dancing scene of the 70s. Ford? Not a dang clue, except for really not enjoying Fiddleford's banjo playing.

Did Stan go through a punk rock phase? Did he listen to the Beatles or Paul Simon? Ford, big nerd that he is, maybe went for the deeply nerdy filk music that became a big deal thanks to the fandom surrounding Star Trek.

Please reblog with your thoughts, cause I can't stop imagining Stan singing along to "Diamonds in the soles of her Shoes" and it is KILLING ME.

84 notes • Posted 2021-05-14 21:26:39 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #stuff cell says #mod stuff

[bubblegumbeech]

Keeping Cinderella

Dannymay Day 11: Midnight

He needed to leave. He needed to run, the clock was going to strike midnight at any moment and everything around him would fall to pieces. 

If he wasn’t back in time his masters might discover where he went and what little privileges he does have would be quickly swept away, he wouldn’t put it past them to lock him in the tower with nothing to do but make their clocks and fix their machinery. They weren’t about to learn how to do it themselves. 

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” his dance partner, Pariah, asked.

Clockwork glanced up at the large clock tower above them, counting the seconds until the spell wore off entirely. He needed an excuse. A believable one that wouldn’t offend him, he’d been a wonderful dancer after all and Clockwork didn’t exactly have a choice when it came to leaving. 

“I haven’t gotten to see the King,” he said, it was true if not the actual reason. “It might be my only chance.”

Pariah froze, surprise flickered across his expression for a fleeting moment but he didn’t let go. “What do you mean? You haven’t seen the king?”

This was wasting time, but there wasn’t anything Clockwork could do to break free. Sitting at home working constantly on clocks wasn’t exactly a sure fire way to gain muscle and Pariah had the body of a warrior, all toned muscles and obvious strength. 

He snuck a glance at the clock tower, time was running out. “I mean what I said, I arrived a bit late and missed his majesty’s arrival. You’re the only one I’ve danced with all night.” 

“Clockwork,” Pariah said, his voice carefully neutral, “I am the king.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He tried to pull away again, but Pariah’s grip simply tightened. Not enough to bruise or even hurt, but certainly enough to keep him in place. “The King has countless duties to attend, he wouldn’t have spent all night dancing with some stranger.”

Pariah’s eyes darkened and he actually started pulling him into another dance, a slow one, matching the music they could barely hear from the band back inside the palace. 

“Did you not hear? I have to leave-“

“If seeing the king is your only reason to leave then you’ve nothing to worry for. I’ve explained I am the King. The only duty I have this day is to find someone with which to dance.” 

Rolling his eyes, Clockwork attempted to pull away again, using the momentum of the dance itself. He was caught though, and pulled quickly back into Pariah’s arms, his back pressed against a firm muscular chest. His voice, low and even, tickled against Clockwork’s ear and he had to fight a shiver as it crawled along his spine. 

“So, clearly you must have some other reason for trying to flee so desperately.”

He was trapped, and if he didn’t do something soon every secret he had was going to be exposed. The magic, the clothes, the decorations in his hair, even the glass shoes fit snug against his feet, it would all disappear. He’d be nothing but a slave again, hardly fit to be called to the castle, much less for a ball. 

And if what Pariah had said was true, if he’d been dancing with the King, stealing time from his search for a Consort… he could be executed. 

His movements became desperate, he had to get away. Away from the comfortable warmth of Pariah’s hold, from his endearing, enjoyable company, away from the looks and glances they’d shared the entire night, promises not quite made that could never have been kept. 

“Be still,” Pariah whispered into his ear, “there is no reason to try and hurt yourself. I don’t seek to keep you captive, only an explanation so I might find you again after this night.”

Clockwork fell limp in the King’s hold, his eyes never once leaving the hand of the clock above them. “It’s too late.”

The clock struck midnight, and the magic left. It dripped away, pooling and running down his body only to dissipate entirely once it touched the ground, taking every bit of finery with it. 

Leaving a pauper in the King’s arms.

Arms that tightened around him, suddenly more desperate and Clockwork struggled not to flinch. He was turned around to meet Pariah’s eyes when he asked, “Will you disappear next?”

Clockwork froze, uncertain of how to respond. He chose his words carefully, making sure not to struggle too much lest Pariah assume he was trying once more to break his grip. 

“I will not disappear, the illusion was only my dress and the carriage I used to arrive.” 

The grip lightened slightly, and Pariah looked thoughtful for a moment. His eyes never once left Clockwork’s face, the torn and filthy rags he called clothes didn’t even seem to cross the King’s mind. He neither looked at Clockwork with disgust nor contempt. His gaze hadn’t changed at all from earlier in the night when Clockwork had been dressed in jewels and finery. 

Clockwork didn’t know how to react to that. 

“Then you have no way home for the evening.” 

“Nonsense, I can simply walk. It’s less than ten miles and my shoes are no longer glass.” 

Pariah looked down and Clockwork followed his gaze to his decidedly still glass shoes. Ah, that was troublesome. Pariah smiled, and Clockwork once more tried to take a step back. This attempt was no more successful than the others however and instead Pariah seemed to take it as a cue to start dancing again. With a man in rags. Rags and glass shoes. 

“Since you have no way home there is no reason you cannot stay the night at my castle,” Pariah offered casually. 

Clockwork smiled, his brain working a mile a minute. While Pariah might be King, and certainly had power over everyone in the kingdom including Clockwork’s own masters, there was no telling when he might bore of Clockwork and cast him aside. And the punishment he’d receive for his deceit, it was unthinkable. He’d already almost lost an eye, next they might saw off a foot, determined to keep him in place and unable to ever try dancing again. King or no.

“I’m afraid I’m expected at home.” His masters might not notice his absence stumbling home drunk tonight, but they certainly would come morning when he wasn’t there to nurse their hangovers and be dealt their abuse. 

“Then I will take you there in my personal carriage-“

“No!” That would definitely be noticed. 

Pariah quirked a brow, trying to catch Clockwork’s eyes while he ducked to hide behind a curtain of his ratty white hair. “You seem quite desperate to refuse any comfort for someone who used magic to sneak into a ball.”

He flushed, embarrassed. “I just wanted…” What did he want? To see the King? No, he’d never cared for royalty or titles. He didn’t particularly care for finery either, the riches around him fun to marvel at but hardly moving or enough to make him desperate, to seek out magic and the arts of the mind. “I wanted to dance. Just a night away…”

A soft touch at his chin tilted his face up. The emotions he never wanted anyone to see on full display while Pariah’s hand moved to cup his cheek, a thumb softly caressing the scar threaded across his cheek. 

“Away from what?”

He couldn’t say. Every instinct beat and carved into him held his tongue still before accusing his masters of anything at all. He tried to shake his head but Pariah lifted his other hand and placed it along Clockwork’s other cheek, cradling his face gently. “Clockwork… it’s an interesting name, isn’t it? I had wondered if perhaps such names were more common in foreign lands but that isn’t it at all is it?”

“It’s the only name I have-“

“They hurt you,” Pariah whispered, his voice soft and his thumb caressing once more against his scar, “and they call you a thing.”

Clockwork’s chest hurt, it was too much, like his emotions were water pouring into a clay bowl, brimming over and close to breaking it with the pressure. He felt a tear fall from his eye and he felt as Pariah wiped it away. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, the only thing he could do was keep Pariah’s gaze and try not to fall apart. 

There was no way he figured all of that out just from a name and a scar. Was there? His situation couldn’t possibly be that unique. 

Clockwork glared up at the King, silent and frustrated. It wasn’t like he’d had a choice, he didn’t decide to be nothing, a slave bound to the whims of his masters. 

“You won’t be going back there tonight,” Pariah said, causing Clockwork’s heart to sink. “You won’t be going back there at all in fact, since you’ll be too busy spending your time with me instead.” 

“Why would I be doing that, your majesty?”

Pariah smiled. “You’ll have to. To properly prepare for our wedding.” 

…. Oh.

#dannymay2021 #danny phantom #Pariah/Clockwork #Dark ages #Pariah Dark #Clockwork #Cinderella AU #Human AU #Bee's Writing

[mikaze-discord]

OG Heavens: Love letters

For these Heavens posts, I had reached out to a few people who just never ended up responding. With projects like these, please at least hear them out, you don't have to do it because I know its a huge project but at least tell them you won't be doing it instead of ghosting them. But apart from that little road block, this project was really fun!!

Please enjoy under the cut!!!!

EIICHI OTORI

From @milkmateartist:

I have always leaned towards megane characters and Eiichi is no exception. However, it's not often you see idols wearing glasses, and that is something I appreciate about Eiichi's design. His color palette also intrigues me since I love deep shades of blue. His royal blue jacket is very attractive, and the way he pops the collar also makes me go "kya!".  His voice is also very sexy as well and is pleasing to the ear uwu. I love how egoistic he is too. Being incredibly ambitious he has been able to reach amazing heights that surpass other idols. The one thing that seems to make him unique though is that he really gets zealous and overly passionate when it comes to the power of music, so much that it makes him physically tremble. You could get high off that shit literally. His entire being is centered around being an idol, and all the components of him go above and beyond the requirements. It's not just a job for him or something that simply makes an earning or brings satisfaction. It's pretty much everything to him. For that reason he has made it to the top. There is also the component where he's lonely and isolated emotionally that interests me. Despite being a beloved idol, he clearly didn't get the love he needed growing up. Even though he had Eiji I feel as though his nature was more to protect Eiji and shield him from whatever terrors would arise. I admire his ability to come through all of that and pay attention to the things he really cared about. Eiichi can be himself, his strange, sexy self, but also he acknowledges the lonesome darkness within too. I think that component makes him incredibly powerful.

Extra Details:

While appearing to be a bad guy in the anime (at least), Eiichi seemed to be that typical bad boy idol that would steal away Haruka from the main group. The time when he approached Haruka and took her by the chin is a perfect example. How dare this new guy just think he can have his way with our protagonist!  To be honest I liked that aspect about him a bit. While I can't remember my first impression of Eiichi aside from not knowing how to feel about that, he slowly grew on me. He had the appearance of just another selfish idol, demonstrated by swiping the mic away from the announcer at one of his concerts and immediately declaring their foreseen victory. So far that looked rather bland to me, and I was still cheering for STARISH. They really made him out to look like some bad guy who would not play fair and do whatever he could to take the throne (and the girl).  It's not surprising his glasses shine adds to his 'freaky antagonist' vibe that the show seemed to try to give off, but however for me I love the glasses beam, thus having the opposite effect.

And then there is the Next Door episode. Now here's where we got to see more of Eiichi aside from when the HEAVENS Dragon demolished the entire stadium. Aside from kya-ing over the EiichiOtoya content (especially where he goes behind otoya and covers his eyes), I got to see more of him here. It surprised me that someone so cocky and confident was actually the same depressed, lonely person that Otoya was. But it was also evident to me as well that he did care about the effect it had on Otoya as well after he sort-of-well mind broke him. I like how he is ambitious but also still caring, as compared to an antagonist that would stop at nothing to achieve their goal regardless of how much pain they cause.

I also enjoy Eiichi because I feel like I can roleplay him well. Usually for me, roleplay has to achieve some kind of goal since I tend to be business oriented. I think to some degree I'm able to practice being a eboy idol through Eiichi, as I do enjoy charming the fans. It also helps that I can naturally play characters with an inflated ego who enjoy charming people.

From @/egoisticCEO on twt:

July 2019. When Eiichi was first introduced to me via his voice, I hated him from the very beginning. His singing, his appearance, his personality – everything about him made me despise him. It’s funny looking back and seeing how quickly my attitude changed towards him, realising I’d been biased against him because of a friend. Finding more about him, hate turned to interest. It seemed like his life hadn’t been the best. Maybe that was why he acted in such a way? Interest turned to liking him more. Maybe I’d misunderstood him. I’d made the mistake of taking him at surface level.

December 2019. Like was slowly turning to love. More and more, I found myself looking at him instead of my current favourites. I found myself wanting him to actually be a part of Egoistic. Once I started devouring HEAVENS Radio and unveiling his true character, it was shocking how quickly I fell. He truly acted like a father to everyone in his band. Giving them what he never received. Everything was for them to thrive.

2020. With how much I was at home, it only made sense I grew more obsessed. I found Life with Thanks’ translation. “We’re irreplaceable to him,” he tells us, and that made me certain that his heart wasn’t as evil as some people liked to believe. He’s a caretaker, someone who wants everyone to feel like they matter. Even at his own expense. Instead of selfish, he’s selfless.

I related to him more than I have to any character – it was comforting. Seeing someone have no choice but to put on a brave face, even when his confidence was at an all time low. 2020 got a lot harder for me, but when I recovered, Eiichi was like a home to go back to. Time and time again, I’d have to break away, but I’d always be invited back in by that stupid smirk and overexaggerated ego and the warmest heart you could ever find. Every scene I watched with him would make me smile. I’d tease him to myself. I still do.

2021. That brings us to now. I can’t see my love for this one of a kind man dying any time soon. I don’t want it to, either. Just looking at him makes me happy! He’s the type of character with so many facets to his personality that you can keep digging and never reach the end. So, in conclusion, I hope I never stop finding new things out about this wonderful idiot. More than anything, he deserves all the love he gives to others, and I’d love to provide it tenfold.

KIRA SUMERAGI

From Anon: 

Many have their reasons to love their favorite characters. As for me, why Kira Sumeragi is my favorite character is because there are several things about him that I can relate myself to and there are a few qualities he has that I like about him. If many do not know about Kira that much, they’d look at who he is. He may look intimidating at first and may not talk much, when in actuality, Kira is a considerate, dependable, and mindful guy. Mainly, he is the type of guy that lets his actions do the explaining. He is a hard worker, as an idol, he looks after his bandmates, HEAVENS, like family. It’s like what Eiichi said in HEAVENS Radio about Kira, “he is HEAVENS’ pride!” Although he may not say much, Kira is very observant of his surroundings and never hesitates in his decisions. The members of HEAVENS understand and acknowledge Kira, knowing that he means well.

You can even tell in his solo music! Although there are only two solo songs for Kira, if you read the lyrics carefully, Kira’s thoughts and feelings are shown. Kira always knew that if he cannot explain his feelings through words, then he’ll let his songs and his actions do it for him for you to see.  Although the anime doesn’t show much of Kira, the only way to get to know him more is through HEAVENS Radio, also drama CDs like Paradise Lost, and other media like LINE Messenger Japan. There’s still much that I’d want to know about him, but as a start, these things are what makes Kira my favorite character for HEAVENS.

From Anon: 

Aside from my huge bias towards OnoD the first thing that drew my attention to Kira was his design. Dark haired anime boys with bright eyes have such a vibe and I loved how mysterious he was set up to be in season 2. But the thing that really hooked me a lot was the found family that Heavens became over the progression of the anime.

Particularly since people in the fandom have a bunch of funky headcanons about Kira being the mom friend in the group, which is incredibly wholesome. Kira’s very quiet and reserved but clearly holds a deep caring for his group members and does what he can when needed which is one of the reasons why he became so loveable for me.

NAGI MIKADO

From @/_PXRFECTIONIST on twt: 

If I managed to stan Nagi, so will you.

Greetings. I present to you, once more, a story of how I came to love a character that I wished I threw hands with.

So.

Nagi Mikado.

The possible only utapri character that Shinomiya oshis despise. Thanks to what happened in the anime.

Truth be told, I too was one of them. Until I came to love Both Shinomiya and Nagi. Reason?

Research.

Ya see, it is universally agreed upon that the way Nagi was pushing and pulling at Shinomiya's trauma and DID was… Not okay. So I said "yeah okay what an obnoxious kid i dont think ill ever like him lol" especially since I never come to really warm up to people younger than me.

Boy was I wrong.

My heart really sways easily when I go deep into characters, and why they act the way they are. And also because I chose to roleplay as him, but let's not. Speak of that.

(its actually the main reason i like him in the first place who am i fooling)

Nagi is… Indeed obnoxious, and really has bad manners that are covered up by his cute looks and fame, especially since he's one of the original HEAVENS members, but once you get to really know him.. It makes sense why he's being such a brat. And that is sort of endearing. And knowing how his group is like family to him too, it becomes harder and harder to completely dislike him.

….

He really is a boss man.

He knows what he wants, and how to get it. He knows how to get people to like him without handing over the tiniest sliver of his weaknesses. He acts in his own way that shapes his personality to suit him, yet still manages to be caring and helpful, even if it's hard to see tenderness and good will through his aggression.

Reading his solo lyrics, listening to the drama CDs, even thinking of headcanons due to lack of lore, it all slowly comes together like a lovely parfait to suddenly make you realize..

'Wow…'

'I really do like that rat.

#utapri #utanoprincesama #uta no prince sama #eiichi otori #otori eiichi #Kira Sumeragi #Sumeragi Kira #Nagi Mikado #Mikado Nagi

[yourdaddychan]

wow-

literally just wow- i genuinely have nothing to say about this please- i cannot explain how much this means to me- there's 1000 of us- *hugs all of you* [ especially the porn bots ] *turns into formal luna asf*

i remember when i started in may, just a tiny chatbot with only one mutual, only known to you guys as [ answer : admin ]. and now, almost a year later, i have 1k of my chainsaw eating demons who are metal as fuck 💪ive learned so much being on tumblr, as a part of both the skz writers community and the chatbot community. ive made a bunch of friends, lost a bunch of ones, and 1k of you stuck with me. i cannot begin to express my gratitude to all of you, and how much all of you and your interactions with me mean to me. all of the simping, the random stories, everything. i cherish all of it, and i love all of you. aight so letz get to the personal thanking asf

alsoer i kinda wanted to do something sexy so imma do what color they remind me of :D most of them can be found at this link : https://louisem.com/29880/color-thesaurus-infographic

@kvinly linn bb 🥺through all the drama we've been through and shit im so glad we ended up becoming friends again cause we're kinda sexy together 😉thank you so much for being my 1000th follower bb you mean so much to me and if anyone hurts you im about to *turns into jennie and kachows them* licherally lets nevah fight again

-> you remind me of the color punch , and not only because of the name- underneath that grr me edgy grr me bully you're just a softie simp and that reminds me of punch :D

@undeadbots steph 🥺lemme be your personal broken chopsticks pls :( KLDSKLD anywayz we've also gone through some sexy drama and thankfully you saw da light 😉and now look at us, with our own band, and our own producing line 🥺brohemian rhapsody for life bro 🥺 *big kithie for da best dad in da world :D*

-> you remind me of the color viridian , because it gives me confident vibes :D you carry yourself proudly and confidently as you should tbh go steph

@binniesthighs oh look its a cutie *pushes you to a mirror* right there :D RORORO YOUR BOAT :DD we havent talked too much, besides my simping for jisung- but you give me very sexy energy so imma propose rq *gets down on one knee* will you be the rororo to my boat 🥺thank you for being my moot :D

-> you remind me of the color espresso , because espresso looks like the color to be pretty chill and laid back, and you're all of those, and calming to be around

@toshis-flower BAYBEE BEBE BEEBEE :D thank you so much for being my moot and making me a wifey asf ‼️ you're literally so much like me whats not to love <3 JKSDJKD JKJK you're really sweet and really just a good person to rant to, i love you so so so much and i think im going to remarry you :D

-> you remind me of the color taffy , because you're sweet, cute, and bright :D *eats you* yummy

@lov3ric seyoung. i love you. so much. MY SOULMATEEEE :DD even though we tell the story over and over like a bunch of grandmas, ill still never forget how we became soulmates and then bonded over boba 🥺im licherally going to marry you one day like ez 💪also i wanna eat you can i eat you youre really cute *eats you*

-> you remind me of the color daffodil , because it reminds me of banana milk which reminds me of you tbh- buuuttt did you know that daffodils are one of the first flowers you see when spring starts? that definitely reminds me of you because through all of the cb drama, you've always been there with me, like literally always- i cannot express how much i love you *kithie*

@simpchimp LIDDLE CHEESE FUCKER THEMBO :DD drink water *spank* i love you so much you cutie 🥺you're also licherally the funniest person ever like stop bae i kinda need to be the funniest but noer its you 😔alsoer i love how random you are KDSKLD so nevah stop that because then *revz up arm* youre going to get luna-ified

-> you remind me of the color jam , because even though you seem kinda scary at first [ yes i was 100% scared of you ] you're really soft :D

@berrywoo the sun themself 💪you are easily the purest person ive met, and im so happy i somehow became moots with you :D you literally hit diff, yk? theres something about your personality and the way you act thats so comforting, and that means i eat you because youre too cute :D you cant just be a wholeass teacher for kids and expect not to get eaten kids are licherally demons whoever deals with them properly and treatz dem nicely gets a nom asf

-> you remind me of the color honey , because you're a sunshiney yellow, and you're sweet like honey :D i think you need to hear that its okay not to be okay bb, and you can come to my dms anytime you want to rant 😎

@yourchungha MS OG CHUNGHA MS IM KINDA SCARED OF THE SHIT YOU DO MS FURREH LOVER 101 MS ANNA BANANA :D yeah youre like really nice- thats all i have to say- like how tf do you deal with [ redacted ] like eggsplain- ALSO YOURE CARRYING OUR CONVERSATIONS BECAUSE IDK HOW TO TALK TO PEOPLE DKSJKD I LOVE YOU FOR THAT AND WE SHOULD HAVE LIKE ACTUAL CONVERSATIONS MORE OFTEN

-> you remind me of the color scarlet , because youre a sexy bitch tf and scarlet gives me 'idc what you think im hot' kinda vibes which is like exactly you

@satosimp WINTER DADDY :DD i lub you asf *insert we dont talk anymore by charlie daddy* ugh the way your personality matches mine is kinda sexy or whatever im also kinda in love with you but lets ignore that part 🙄 💪 *big kithes* *eats your cats casually*

-> you remind me of the color lilac , because it just gives me tsundere vibes, you act like you dont care but really do care :D you liddle sawftie *noms your cheekie*

@nightshade-minho DUCKIE :DD *insert we dont talk anymore by charlie daddy pt 2* licherally bae where the fuck are you i miss you you bettah be doing well in school otherwise im going to smack you with a chappal asf DSJJKSD *eats your cat because hes such a cutie*

-> you remind me of the color marigold , because you're adorable and sunshiney :D

@onigirimeeya MICHIE MICHIE MICHIEIEEIEI MY DAD :DDD i like you mucho much if you didnt know *kithes you* you're like one awf da best listeners ever- which is such a weirdass compliment but its true- you're really good at listening, and just being a comforting presence in general, like when you go to the beach and youre just staring at the waves all edgy mode, and it calms you down a fuck ton

-> you remind me of the color mint , for obvious reasons- mint choco chip cookie michie :DD

@hhjs bae we dont talk a lot but im kinda lurking on all of your posts- JKDSJSKD bae remarry me please youre really fucking hot 😭and the way you have with words is like damn- teach me oppar asf

-> you remind me of the color wine , because you're refined, and carry yourself in a way that makes everyone want to be you. the color wine is rich and deep, which reminds me of the way you write :D

@nsfw-stay MY LICHERAL BABIE YOUVE BEEN AN ANON FOR SUCH A LONG TIME AND WEVE TALKED ABOUT SO MUCH SHIT TOGETHER [ a lot about seungmin and jisung but shhh ] I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BB AND I WILL NOM YOU >:( BUT SOFTLY AND OUT OF LOVE *nomz yew* :D

-> you remind me of the color cerulean , because its a baby blue and what fits better than a baby blue yk? you're adorable and squishy and i want to nom you 24/7

@secretary-yeji *iz chan ig cause we dont talk admin to admin* oh erm gee is uncle chrith 😉DKLSKLD my liddle koala :D my liddle burgah :D my liddle aussie :D my besth frien :DDD evah since may i think we've been friends, and i think one of the highlights of that day was me marking you as spam twice and on accident too- LKSDKLSD WE DONT TALK ABOUT THAT anywayz thank yew for being uncle chrith's friend *kith*

-> you remind me of the color seafoam , because it's a very soft and light color yk, you're delicate asf which sounds like a bad thing now that im typing it BUT IT ISNT DSKLDSLK YOURE VERY CUTE YOU AND YOUR FLOOFY COWS :D

@ayolistenupp im kinda... in love with you? wtf? KDSDKSL MY DESI DADDY ASF I LOVE YOU SOER MUCH :D our music nights™️ mean so much to me, like theres just something so personal about listening to what the other person likes to hear even though half of your songs are sexy asf KLDSKLD

-> you remind me of the color ocean , because the ocean is loud but calming yk- like you're full of energy but you're also calming :D

@yanderexchungha OH ERM GEE YEW :O YOU PROBABLY WONT SEE THIS IN LIKE 10 MONTHS BESTIE MERRY CHRISTMAS IG KLDSLKD anyway i love you dad your lessons about vape >>> to quote your drunk ass exactly "vape isnt cool" JKSDJ anyway its gonna be sexy if we accidentally run into each other in the hallwayz asf

-> you remind me of grey cause youre a hag- JKJK KDJSD you remind me of the color caramel , because you're sweet, and licherally addictive caramel isnt good for my braces but i keep eating it 😰but youre addictive in a good way :D

@yanderelee literally only doing this because you were moping about not having a simp sunday and im such a good person 🥸you're cool 💪and unfortunately, you're funny too 😥and even though i bully you asf dont take it personally because i dont mean it asf

-> you remind me of the color dijon mustard because you just give those hacker vibes please dont hack me after i said this i like to keep my location private

@kpopswitchbot BESTIE 😏MY FIRST MUTUAL 😏 LICHERALLY DA BEST CUTEST FUNNIEST SMARTEST SEXIEST KEWLEST I CANT EVEN EXPRESS WITH WORDS FISHIE IN DA WORLD :D LICHERALLY STOP OUTDOING ME WITH YOUR GOODNIGHTS LIKE *spankz yew* YOURE LITERALLY TOO GOOD WITH WORDS ITS NOT FAIR- AND THE DAY YOU JUST TALKED TO ME IN SHAKESPEAREAN BECAUSE I FELT DOWN- AND EXPRESSED YOUR LOVE THAT WAY LIKE- PLEASE I ACTUALLY ADORE YOU AND I WILL LITERALLY EAT YOU ONE DAY

-> you remind me of the color coffee , not only because youre addicted to it but also because of the way you act, you're like the definition of an old soul- with the words you use, the drama kid you are asf, etc- you're a talented bitch *mwah* i love you so much you also remind me of those movies where they find an old ass book and they kinda hafta dust it off and it gives you treasure or something cause yeah that reminds me meeting you

AIGHT DAS IT ASF MWAH I LOVE YOU ALL :DDD

#if you wanna know more just drop an ask asf #would be cool if i had 1k for 1k but NOOOOO #i have more btw #*dabz* #THE WAY TUMBLR KEEPS GLITCHING BECAUSE THERES TOO MANY WORDS #NOT SEXY TUMBLR

[that-cartoony-villain]

Well since I made this account i guess i should share some random headcanons I thought of...

Starting with the show I watched recently which is BNHA and I loved it! (Finished until s4 but I haven't seen anything from the manga so this is purely based on the anime)

Anyway here are some random thoughts in no particular order:

• Hatsume and Shinso became coffee buddies at some point. You cannot convince me that these sleep deprived children wouldnt meet on accident and Hatsume would start rambling about her latest invention and Shinso would gladly just keep her company and listen to her.

• Because of them becoming sort of friends Hatsume tries out hero stuff with him since his quirk doesn't change his body physically.

• Midoriya and maybe Kirishima complaining about how the girls get the living room for themselves for their girls' night and Eri overhears them. She asks Aizawa and he tries to explain but she just gets even more confused so he decides to ask Nejire to have one with a few girls that Eri is comfortable with so she spends a whole week planning things with Tsuyu and Ochako.

• On one of the first rehearsal the band had for the school festival Momo had the keyboard on the piano settings and when she pushed The G Note™️ (Welcome to the Black Parade intro if you don't know what I'm talking about), three tears could be seen from Jiro, Tokoyami and Bakugo because you cannot convince me that they didn't have an emo phase at some point and MCR was in everyone's life.

• Jiro and Tokoyami have similar taste in music which they learned from hanging out for band practice and after the festival he still goes to her room sometimes to have a jam session.

• Since Tsuyu had to take care of her younger siblings before she is one of the first girls Eri likes to hangout with since she's very easygoing and she likes her "frog noises". Tsuyu lets Eri play with her hair since it's very long and she sometimes shows up with a braid to the dorms.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #headcanon #eri bnha #mei hatsume #shinsō hitoshi #tsuyu asui #nejire hado #izuku mydoria #eijiro kirishima #aizawa shouta #yaoyorozu momo #kyoka jiro #fumikage tokoyami #katsuki bakugō #ochako urakara #these are just some i thought of but if you want to talk more feel free to ask me :)

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Bi-Yearly Update #139: Don't You Shy Away (From Blogging About Fan Culture) (4/16/21)

Well... this week has been interesting!

A few years ago- heck, just one year ago- it would have been inconceivable to imagine Twenty One Pilots entering into a new era and me not being all over it. When Trench was released, I was practically a daily update page, covering every new drop of info as I reached it. Admittedly, a lot's changed since then. Some of those changes are just a matter of how much time and energy I have to run a blog. As I said ten days ago when it became clear that a new era was coming, I am deep into my doctoral work at the moment (and, due to defending my dissertation prospectus next Friday, will not be able to post next week either).

But there have also been some fundamental shifts in how I approach fan culture. The events of the last year, in the world and in my personal life, have made me really confront the problems inherent with holding people up onto a pedestal, of devoting any part of your life to following a stranger's, and of parasocial relationships in general. I cannot go back to the same mentality I formed in 2013 and kept until somewhere between 2017-19 where the music that I liked was a core part of my personality and writing about the people who made it was a thing that gave me purpose.

At the same time, though, I cannot pretend that I don't still love the band that provided me with indescribably valuable comfort at a time in my life where I needed it. Twenty One Pilots' music, message, and fan community carried me from one place to the next, and so did this blog. They're always going to be a part of me, my interests, and my history. So, yeah; I'm gonna keep writing about them, just with perhaps a little less gusto. And that's a healthy thing!

But boy, is there a lot to gush about. I don't know about the rest of you, but "Shy Away" has only continued to grow on me over the last week, leaving me very excited about the future of our band moving into the Scaled and Icy era.

Recap's under the "Read More". But before that, just gotta say (since I haven't for awhile): Power to the local dreamer.

|-/ (I ain't changing the logo, Tyler, you doof.)

Ok, so y'all don't need me to explain everything that's gone down in Cliqueland over the last two weeks. We had dmaorg updates that were quickly overshadowed by promo posters for Scaled and Icy (which, of course, is just an anagram of "Clancy is Dead", because Tyler Joseph hates me personally) featuring our new icon mascot, Trash the Dragon and an album tracklist. We had a sweet new website launch with plenty of nifty Easter eggs and the promise of an exciting livestream performance on the album's release date, May 21, after well over a year off the stage. We had several interviews where we got intel over when to expect a tour (no clue), where Ned's at (missing), and if the album's being produced under duress from Dema (no comment).

More importantly than all of that, we had a dope new electro-indie song/tutorial for Jay's music drop. After I initially responded with a somewhat subdued "This is fun", "Shy Away" has just continued to worm its way deeper and deeper into my brain; I'm still humming it every hour or so. I cannot wait to someday hear a room full of people yell "I LOVE YOU (ooh ooh)" in harmony. The music video, directed by Miles Cable and AJ Favicchio, is somewhat light on narrative unless you fall down some Reddit rabbit holes, but has some nifty visuals (and space buns). More exciting for me is seeing another BTS video from Mark; it's been over two years since we've gotten to see Tyler and Josh at work, joking around with each other between takes, and that's such comfort.

Clearly, lots of folks are also digging this song. While it's still early, "Shy Away" has been outperforming "Level of Concern" at this same point in its release, having the best debut performance from an alternative song at Billboard since... "Jumpsuit". We'll see if this poppier track catches on better with radio audiences than other TØP tracks have since Blurryface and deliver the band another bona fide hit. I'll admit, I'm skeptical- I haven't heard anything quite like this cross over to the Top 40 in a few years now, it's gonna need to have some time to grow on people, and those promising early numbers are starting to trail off. I'm excited to be proved wrong!

That's about all I've got for now. Like I said earlier, I don't plan on releasing another update until two weeks from now, but I might change that plan if they happen to mess around and drop another track over the next week. We'll see. I'm excited. My band's back in action! Stuff's wild.

Once again, power to the local dreamer.

|-/

#twenty one pilots #tyler joseph #josh dun #shy away #scaled and icy #billboard #top weekly update