#Especially all of them sticking with each other and supporting each other Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[cheetabites]

☆彡 cinnamon pt 2 ˳༄꠶

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

˳༄꠶ summary: five sfw and nsfw general headcannons for dae-ho

sfw headcannons

★ he’s a man that knows how to dress himself well. in korea, the importance on appearance is a reinforced by society so lots of people dress good, but i’m telling you that he knows how to keep up appearances - even if his clothes remain casual, all his outfits look good on him; he mainly wears black high waisted dress pants w/ wide pant legs paired with a loose fitting shirt & a cardigan or an oversized hoodie w/ cargo pants

★ he has a sad playlist that he jams out to regularly; even if nothing bad happened. he could be doing the most mundane task - like walking down the streets of korea - and one of the most heartbreaking songs would be blasting out of his earphones

★ he hates needles, and i mean he hates them. sure, he got a tattoo, but if he has to do anything like getting his blood drawn he’ll bolt it out of there - unless you’re there and you hold his hand

★ he’s one of those people that keeps all their app tabs open on their phone. and probably barely has any storage space because of the amount of pictures he has of you and other things; he doesn’t want to delete them because he thinks he’ll forget the moment

★ he’s big on physical touch. there isn’t a moment where he can go on without holding your hand or wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind. it’s also normal for him to place tiny kisses on your face whenever the opportunity arises

nsfw headcannons

★ loves to tell you how beautiful you are when you please each other. your hair could be messy and sticking to your face, or you’re sweating profusely, but it doesn’t matter. he never wants to think your any less than beautiful

★ he really likes when you ride him; especially when he’s just laying flat - no hands on you or anything - on the bed and you lay your palms flat on his shoulders for support

★ the idea of you just using him for pleasure really gets him off - like if you were stressed and needed to blow of steam so you decide to pin him down and be a little bit mean and condescending while you please him; he usually cries when you guys fuck like that, but it’s always out of pleasure

★ he wouldn’t want to have sex anywhere besides the bedroom. i feel like both of you tried it once in a more public place - like maybe one of your guys’ cars or in a hotel room - but it turned him off so bad that you both agreed to not try that again

★ he’s all for waking you up by eating you out (consensual somnophilia); hearing you gasp as you awake and having you card your fingers through his hair to tug on it, it’s one of the best sights he’d ever witnessed. he usually does this on the days he has to work cause he loves riling you up, but he always makes sure to clean you up before he leaves

the end! i hope you enjoyed <3!

© cheetabites. don’t translate, claim or repost my works on any platform. jan 3 2025.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

I thought of this while falling asleep, so stick with me.

I have a very specific image in my head of jisung/chan/noona laying in bed all day and struggling with their mental health, like depresh sesh fr. And then seungmin sees it after he went to school and came back and they were in the same position. (Especially chan, bc we know he has experienced depression irl). So seungmin texts the pack and everyone goes into help the sad mode. Felix makes baked goods and lays with them, Minho makes dinner and makes sure they drink water (he knows when he doesn't need to be a snarky baby, so he lets them live), hyunjin helps with self care and gets them to shower, changbin talks to them and tries to get to the root of the issue, jeongin tries to get them to play games with him or just cuddles up to them and holds them tight like Felix. (Babies) at the end of the night, everyone is piled up in someone's bed watching a kdrama.

Also, ig i could ask the pack this too. If someone is being seriously depressed, how does everyone help? Who usually has the worst of it, if you wanna answer?

(This is so sweet. Thank you for sharing. Because as someone who struggles with mental health (as most of us do!) this was so comforting to read and imagine and take into consideration. <3)

Triggers (only discussed, nothing specific but please take care of yourself): Self Harm, Depression, Anxiety, Mental Illness, Suicide

********************************************************************************

"This is a serious ask." Changbin remarks somberly, lips drawing into a thin, pressed line.

"It is," Chan agrees, nodding. "But it's also incredibly important to talk about. But first-" He gives a soft little smile. "I wanna give all of you guys a big hug and tell you you're doing your absolute best-no matter where you are on your journey-that we're proud of you, and we love you."

He settles back into his seat, folding his hands into his lap, glancing around at the other members of the pack.

"Is there anyone who feels comfortable discussing this? Or would you like me to go first?"

You glance to him. "I think we've all talked about this amongst each other before, but I don't know if we've ever really talked about it outside of the pack. So maybe it's best you go first, Channie."

He nods once and lets out a long breath between his lips. "Okay. Well, I've had a long, hard road of mental health struggles, it's not a secret I don't believe." He pauses for a moment, gathering his words, and then continues. "I've always had bouts of depression, but it got a lot worse when I moved from Australia to Korea to study."

"I was alone, I didn't know anyone, I was just a kid. I felt like no one cared, like I was adrift without anyone or anything to support me. I turned to school and music and producing to try and fill the void, but the weight of the darkness was increasing, and none of those things felt like enough."

You reach out silently and cover his hand with your own. He gives you a slight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and squeezes your fingers between his own gratefully.

"It got so bad, eventually I never left the studio-I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I didn't take care of myself. At my lowest, I seriously considered just being done with it all. No one would miss me anyway. At least that's what I'd convinced myself-and the depression agreed."

He blows another long sigh out through his teeth, and the pain in his dark eyes is heartbreaking.

"But-" He shifts, sitting up straighter and shaking off some of the heaviness, glancing to Changbin now. "-Then some asshole convinced me to partner up with him for a semester project."

Changbin shrugs and gives a rueful half grin in response. "What can I say? I wanted the best."

Chan gives a little chuckle, shaking his head slightly at the other alpha's teasing. "The depression didn't go away. The weight didn't just disappear over night. But over time, I realized that maybe I did have something, was really someone, that people would miss. At least, certain people that mattered."

He glances around at all of you now, affection flashing across his features, and he gives your hand another squeeze.

"It's still hard some days. I still get too in my head, the darkness never really disappears, it just takes the back seat for awhile, but I've learned how to cope with it better, to turn to people I trust for help, instead of withdrawing and being alone and letting it consume me."

"We're proud of you, Christopher." Minho states plainly, and you can see how much the words mean to Chan as they settle like a blanket around his shoulders.

"Anyway-" Chan gives a little laugh, the tips of his ears going red, as he shifts and rakes a hand through his curls. "Enough about me, someone else go."

"No, but wait-" You stop him, and he glances at you curiously. "-I think it's important to talk about and realize the triggers, the tells, of someone you know and love when it comes to mental health. Because sometimes, when they feel the darkness creeping back in, they can't vocally express that need for help."

Chan nods thoughtfully. "Very true."

"Hyung has very specific tells." Changbin adds, studying Chan. "He starts to withdraw, he spends a hell of a lot more time alone-in the studio, his room, etc.-which leads to him not taking care of himself. He gets quiet, like he's in his head and not with us, and I think everyone's gotten to the point where they can tell 'regular Chan quiet' from 'overthinking, sinking Chan quiet.'"

Chan is nodding again, shooting the other alpha a wordless, grateful look.

"Jisung and I both struggle incredibly with anxiety and panic attacks." You bring up next, looking to the beta, who is nodding beside Changbin. "Although, just because we have the same diagnosis, it doesn't mean our triggers or even our symptoms are the same."

"Yeah-" Jisung agrees, jumping in. "It's important to note that you can struggle from the same mental issues as someone else, and still realize that that doesn't mean you know anything about what the other person is going through. A similar diagnosis can look completely different for someone else."

"In my case, my anxiety revolves around uncertainty and the 'what ifs', and certain scenarios are really triggering for me." You continue, giving Jisung a breather before you give him the option to express his feelings. "If someone is later than normal getting home from school or work, I panic, coming up with all the worst case scenarios in my head until I can't breathe."

"Communication is absolutely key for you and the type of anxiety you struggle with." Chan agrees, nodding.

"Yeah, we've implemented check ins or communication methods when someone is going to be late or somewhere unexpected." You nod, giving Chan a little half smile. "It's really helped, and I really appreciate you guys doing that for me, even if it feels silly."

"Hey, Hyunjin-hyung never has to check in." Jeongin suddenly complains, as if he's only now just realized.

You grin. "Hyunjin is always late, so I've just come to expect it."

Hyunjin smirks like a cat, all sharp teeth and feline eyes. "You know me so well, baby."

Jisung takes in a deep breath, and you take that as his silent signal that he's ready to discuss his own struggles now.

You glance to him, and give him a little encouraging nod.

"On the other hand, I have a hard time with anxiety and panic attacks in social situations, or when dealing with crowds. I don't like to be around a lot of people that I don't know."

Changbin reaches over and stops the beta's nervous twisting of his hands in his lap, giving him a little warm smile.

Jisung steels himself with the alpha's encouragement and goes on. "I don't like feeling like people are counting on me, or expecting something from me that I can't give. In social situations, there's too many variables and too many unknowns, and I feel like I'm guaranteed to fail no matter what I do."

"The buddy system is a great way to help Sungie when he's feeling anxious." Felix interjects, giving the beta a dazzling smile. "We always stick around him in social situations or gatherings, just so he has someone he knows well to joke with or talk to."

"Yeah." Jisung lets out the breath he'd been holding, seem to relax a little. "That helps a lot."

"And Minho-hyung and noona are great at talking him down when he's in the full throes of an actual panic attack." Seungmin adds, throwing an arm around the other beta's shoulders in a silent show of support. "They let him breathe and take his time, and then convince him his feelings are valid and okay, and that he's safe."

Jisung nods again wordlessly, and you see Changbin squeeze his hands.

"As far as everyone helping out-" Felix looks thoughtful now, his brow creased. "-I feel like we all suffer from certain levels of mental issues, and that's to be expected, and everyone kind of just knows how to help in the right way depending on what pack member is feeling down."

"You were absolutely spot on with your scenario of what Channie likes though." You laugh, referencing the previous thoughts. "He needs people to pull him out of his head, help him take care of himself, and mainly snuggle and be there for him. He likes the entire pack to pull around him when he's in a rut."

"Minho-hyung on the other hand-" Changbin speaks up, giving the elder a pointed look. "-he'll bite your head off the first day. He likes his space until he's come down a little, and even then, he wants one or two specific people to just exist with him for awhile."

"And who are those one or two people?" You ask, already knowing the answer, laughing a little.

Minho rolls his eyes as Changbin answers without hesitation, "Chan and Felix of course."

"Ah, Aussie line!" Chan crows triumphantly, and Felix grins at him from across the room as Minho looks annoyed at having been called out.

"Anyway, as we said-" You continue, threading your fingers through Chan's. "-this is a super important topic to talk and be open about, and please, if you ever feel like you need someone to talk to or confide in, find someone you trust-a therapist, a friend, a sibling, a parent-"

"A stranger on the internet." Jisung adds cheekily, grinning.

You laugh. "-a stranger on the internet. Just know you don't have to struggle alone, and that there are always people who will be there for you, even if the darkness makes you doubt that."

"We love you guys." Chan adds seriously, nodding. "And I think I've said it all at this point, so let's end with another big hug."

[maxcuntstappen]

heyoheyo quick question i just started getting into f1. this race is the first i watched live while lurking on the tag here and is it always like this? the amount of hateful posts and anti this anti that stuff I've seen is crazy. i know it's sport and everythings competitive but im in other sport fandoms here and the atmosphere is much nicer when cheering for and respecting all athletes with the mutuals.

so yeah i guess i just wanna know if this is always the vibe before getting involved further. which would be sad cause the athletes and racing is very fun

hi anon <3 first of all, i'm so fucking sorry that this was ur first experience live blogging during a race. yest was a toxic whirlwind and i, despite having been part of f1blr for a bit, was quite downtrodden and mad about it.

i will say this. i personally believe it's not as bad as it was yesterday.

there are many reasons for this i think. to begin with, it was the first race of the season effect. everyone's been waiting n dying to see their fav on track and to have a good result and we also didn't really know how the teams would perform. so a lot of expectation -> a lot of disappointment -> mean things on tumblr.

people often find it easier to blame another driver than a whole ass team cause it's easier to direct the anger at a person than a concept which i think is what happened yesterday with multiple drivers.

it's not usually this bad.

but.

it is often quite bad. definitely worse than other fandoms.

i do think the racing makes up for it and that's why i've still stuck around.

ella and i were talking about it and the takes are definitely at its worse during the race and two hours after it.

once we pass that wave, things tend to calm down and we enter the funny text posts territory.

but if you do want to live post/scroll through it, i would stick to my own dash and avoid the main tags.

tumblr gives us the privilege of careful curation and i use that shit everyday. like i will check the bio and do a quick scroll thru each blog i follow.

i also have multiple tags (n blogs) blocked.

there are several people on f1blr who post amazing content and are so on top of updates. but they can be really mean in their phrasing. i don't follow them or block them cause i know that their content will reach my dash through my mutuals but their hot takes won't (especially the text posts where people rant in their tags, those tend to be the meanest).

despite all this, yesterday i spent a good amount of time unfollowing some mutuals. but as i said, i really do believe that f1blr was at its worst then.

there are definitely some blogs that are neutral/nice about the drivers/teams they don't support. these are some of my favourites;

@epylonia @cooali @liamlawsonlesbian @jussst-lurking

i know i have answered ur simple yes/no question with a WikiHow article but i really do hope that bits of it can be helpful to u and that if ur online n scrolling thru jeddah, u see more fun takes than hurtful ones

[oscconfessions]

Thinking about this one person who said that no one likes both nickloon and bickel. I do! They both have problems in their own ways, which I've seen talked about before. More so for nickloon which bothers me so! bickel! I think I mentioned this here before but the confession might've gotten buried- no pressure though! I get having a lotta these. Anyways the biggest thing is Baseball is the reason, imo, for Nickel and Balloon not getting along. And this is all because of how much BB abled Nickel to do bad things. He basically made Nickel comfortable with being an asshole, he really said "I wanna make him better" and actively made him worse despite genuinely trying. Also people who hate on nickcase with all their might are so silly too, yeah Suitcase doesn't need to forgive him, besides it wasn't what lead him to a way to be better. Balloon was basically... enabling him only a little bit- his friendship was more conditional and rooted in their conflict. Yet, just like something about them I mentioned before, the familiarity kept them sticking together. Because yea I see the point of how he saw others in a way lesser than himself (in a very similar way to Taco! I also like tacomic but not that insane about it) but I think familiarity also plays part. I think what bickel needed really- really was space, which is why I'm actually so much more sad about the fact that we never saw BB live reaction to nickloon. Or even seeing his inner conflict about the idea of him realising that it was him basically making them not get along to an extent. Anyways bickel with Nickel actually trying since he learned from being friends with Balloon and actually trying to be less selfish and consider BB a bit more and also making him a bit more- sure with his words, maybe they could exchange some mean words than feel a bit better all about it. Like them both admitting how much they sucked for each other but still caring about each other enough to be willing to fix it after cussing each other out and laughing about it? Because regardless I think Nickel will always use comedy to cope with his personality being the way it is, that won't ever change. So yeah anyways, despite preferring nickloon I do also like bickel, perhaps nickcase after suitcase becomes way more assertive and perhaps feels "strong enough" to face Nickel and just. being better about it in general. Nicekl finally coming to treat her as his equal, in fact, many more people around him- I do think Balloon and BB could also have quite the talk about Nickel, Suitcase as well- I can also see him heavy supporting BB and like- in a fun way Balloon and Nickel becoming BB's silly cheerleaders to see him succeed as a leader for real. Also Suitcase in some way being independent of them but still hanging out with all 3 of her own choice AND also having other friends because she's. a little different from those 3? If yall get what I'm saying. That's not to say that she isn't committed to the squad but she kinda has other people she's close to as well. But Balloon will def always be her number 1 poet that's for sure. While BB, Balloon and Nickel are in a circle of hyping each other up to me. Especially Nickel.... He can be SO annoyingly supportive I love him so much. Maybe in a world that allows creativity and one where people realise that fans can write arcs where characters change and base their art on that, maybe Trophy can get involved too, that circle of those 3 idiots would put him on a better path for sure, peak poly ship for sure. Well, this was a yapstorm, sorry about that, I just feel really strongly about Nickel and his relationships and that one person saying no one ships bickel and nickloon at the same time.

.

[eyesontheskyline]

Ok so I wanted to post the link to a tumblr post but for some reason it’s not letting me, however I’m determined to get this off my chest mostly because so many people agree with this nonsense

sucker-for-emily-prentiss says:

“We do not talk ENOUGH about how Emily saw JJ break down when Will decided to go into the bank and confront the robbers and went in herself and actually SAVED Will’s life RISKING HER OWN. Will told her to leave but she didn’t and you cannot convince me that she didn’t do it for JJ. Because Emily would DIE if it meant JJ was happy. That’s my Roman empires.”

I don't really get jemily but I don't hate it, but to use THIS point to try to sell them to me is so insane. You could choose literally any other scene to show their chemistry or whatever, but people are acting like Emily didn't save Will because he's an actual human being??? Like hello?? And he's her friend too, not that if he wasn't she would've just left him, she's a law enforcement agent for fuck's sake. It's her showing basic humanity and a hole lot of bravery to stick with him, she did NOT do it because he's JJ's boyfriend, she did not do it because JJ cared about him, she did it because he's a human being who was in need of help at that time and she would've helped him even if he wasn't JJ's boyfriend. This post makes me so mad omg because that's just human compassion??? And Emily is such a caring person naturally so to reduce that to her just doing it because JJ loves Will feels cheap. You could literally use any other  scene to sell me on jemily but not this.

I'm assuming since you're anon you're happy for me to post this but sometimes people don't want their controversial takes out there so please let me know if not 🙈

So yeah I agree. I love Jemily pre-Will, and I can see it even for a little while around Henry being born, like I can imagine a world where him moving to be with her and Henry doesn't happen, or doesn't work out. But there comes a point in canon where JJ and Will have basically the only healthy, supportive relationship on the show, and they obviously love and respect each other a lot and work to communicate in a way that strengthens their relationship and their family. And for me personally, the Jemily ship has sailed at that stage, and it feels sad to me past that. (Like not "you're sad for shipping that", but actually the thought of either of them having feelings for the other past that point just makes me feel sad for them, and I don't like my ships to make me feel that way, so I don't go there.) And a lot of things people talk about as obvious Jemily things can just as easily be interpreted as Emily pining for what JJ has - a relationship, a little nuclear family, whatever.

Anyway, this scene specifically I 100% agree with you - especially at this point in canon, when I feel like her self preservation instinct is at an all time low, but also just the way she is in general - she's walked into a situation she thought would likely kill her before, she's had a gun to her head and been ready to die, and I think she would do this for anyone. No matter who she found strapped to a bomb with the timer at 2:45 and the bomb squad 3 minutes out, she'd stay there and try to save them. And Will isn't a stranger. There's a lot I'd do to save my best friend's partner's life, because (1) he's a person, (2) she's my best friend, and (3) she loves him. I don't want to bang or marry either of them.

What I also don't want to lose sight of in this moment by making it about Jemily is Will. He tells her to get out, he tells her to get Henry, and he's the one who tells her the right code and saves them both. They collaborate here in literally the most stressful situation possible and I love everything it says about both of them that they’re able to do that. And I'll never be entirely over "I'm not gonna leave you, just gimme a minute" / *looks at timer* "That's about all you got". Will's awesome in this ep.

I got a comment once on a Jemily ficlet I wrote (in my previous form lol) that they didn't normally ship Jemily because they felt it could cheapen the friendship between JJ and Emily but they appreciated how I had done it or whatever, and I remember at the time not really getting it. But I think it's this kind of thing - arguing that this kind of moment is definitive proof of a romantic connection puts romantic love on a pedestal and says this character would never do this for a friend. And idk. I think she would 🤷‍♀️

It's all subjective and open to interpretation of course. But the Emily Prentiss I see would absolutely do what she does in this ep without romantic love crossing her mind. She just sees a person in danger with nobody else around to help them, and does what she can. She never lets anyone feel alone, and she always tries to protect anyone she has a chance to protect. That's such a core part of her character for me and we see her do it for other characters too.

ETA I also really don't want to yuck anyone else's yum here (god I hate that phrase). . . Fandom is supposed to be fun, and I don't want anyone ever feeling attacked. I don't agree with the post you quoted but I honestly think there are a lot of fair interpretations and also even if you have an objectively insane interpretation of a scene from this crime show, if it brings you joy and entertainment that is ABSOLUTELY EXCELLENT, no judgment here.

[deripmaver]

laurent is a good person - book 1 meta

one of the most amazing things about captive prince is how the reveals in book 3 recontextualize all of the scenes leading up to them, including about laurent himself. in book one, all we see is damen pov as he’s being abused and humiliated by this supposedly spoiled, vile ice prince. when the regent comes to damen and subtly (and not so subtly) insults laurent, calling him unfit to rule - well, why would he think anything different? laurent has insulted him, had him whipped within an inch of his life, and even attempted to (and later successfully lmfao) have him raped while drugged out of his mind. 

after book 3 we can reread most if not all of book 1 as a very traumatized boy who has finally been confronted with the man who killed his brother, leaving him alone with his abusive uncle, and who he clearly has made into a complete monster in his own mind. damen of course sees him as a complete bitch, but there’s textual/subtextual evidence that laurent is well liked, and that his behavior during book 1 was actually pretty out of character for him. i’d like to provide some examples of that now!!!!

“Laurent had stopped dead the moment he had seen Damen, his face turning white as though in reaction to a slap, or an insult. Damen’s view, half-truncated by the short chain at this neck, had been enough to see that. But Laurent’s expression had shuttered quickly.” Captive Prince, Chapter One

i couldn’t resist adding this one in hehe. laurent recognizes damen!! he’s come down, knowing his uncle has devised another truly horrendous and triggering “gift” and that he’ll lose support if he calls it our for what it truly is, only to find out that it’s fucking damianos of akielos sent to him as a sex slave. a jab at laurent’s trauma about auguste and also a jab at laurent’s frigid sexuality - which ofc is completely the regent’s fault. fuck that guy so much lmfao 

“‘It’s so rare to see you at these entertainments, Your Highness,’ said Vannes.” Captive Prince, Chapter Two.

this is right before the fight between govart and damen in the ring, of course. damen sees laurent as depraved and vile as the sexual sadism on display by the veretian court, and considers him to be a willing purveyor of it. this is wrong, of course, as said by vannes here. laurent has only shown up because he wants to humiliate damen lmfao.

“He did remember being supported by two of the guards, here, in this room, while Radel stared athis back in horror. ‘The Prince really . . . did this.’ ‘Who else?’ Damen said. Radel had stepped forward, and slapped Damen across the face; it was a hard slap, and the man wore three rings on each finger. ‘What did you do to him?’ Radel demanded.” Captive Prince, Chapter Four

this scene, to me, was the most telling lmfao. it’s right after damen is whipped. you could argue that radel is just a servant in the employ of the royal household, so is of course going to be loyal to the prince, but he seems genuinely surprised of the prince’s cruelty towards damen. not only that, but he slaps him and immediately assumes damen must have done something. which - i mean, technically he did lmao. not necessarily enough to deserve having the skin flayed from his back, but you know. if laurent was in the habit of torturing pets and slaves, why would the overseer react this way?

“The men guarding him were the Prince’s Guard, and had no affiliation with the Regent whatsoever. It surprised Damen how loyal they were to their Prince, and how diligent in his service, airing none of the grudges and complaints that he might have expected, considering Laurent’s noxious personality. Laurent’s feud with his uncle they took up wholeheartedly; there were deep schisms and rivalries between the Prince’s Guard and the Regent’s Guard, apparently.” Captive Prince, Chapter Four

laurents relationships with his guards are also some of the biggest indicators that he isn’t just a spoiled brat, but can insire a deep loyalty in his men. even if they do all want to fuck him. ah, sexual harassment. it’s also hilarious that damen immediately assumes they’re loyal to him because they want to fuck him - nice projection there, dude. we know a bit more about laurent and his guards thanks to green but for a season, but this little bit here is interesting.

“Laurent was indeed good at talking. He accepted sympathy gracefully. He put his position rationally. He stopped the flow of talk when it became dangerously critical of his uncle. He said nothing that could be taken as an open slight on the Regency. Yet no one who talked to him could have any doubt that his uncle was behaving at best misguidedly and at worst treasonously.”  Captive Prince, Chapter Five

idek what to say here. laurent my beloved <3333

“‘When someone doesn’t like you very much, it isn’t a good idea to let them know that you care about something,’ said Laurent. Damen felt himself turn ashen, as the threat sank in. ‘Would it hurt worse than a lashing for me to cut down someone you care for?’ said Laurent.” Captive Prince, Chapter Seven

this isn’t really relevant to my thesis lmfao i just love this exchange bc it gives SO MUCH information about laurent and his uncle in just three lines of dialogue. what has the regent done, who did he cut down just to hurt laurent? when and how did laurent learn that? p a i n 

“Laurent’s fussy horse began acting out again, and he leaned forward in the saddle, murmuring something as he stroked her neck in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture to quiet her.” Captive Prince, Chapter Nine. 

HORSEY NO- lmfao this scene just hurts so badly on the reread. especially later on, in book 3 i think, where laurent says something like “i provoked my uncle.” he’s really blaming himself for his uncle KILLING HIS HORSE, his horse that his murdered brother trained, one of the only living connections to auguste... all because his uncle could not let a single miniscule plan laurent had set go through without some kind of repercussion. literally all laurent did was do something to stop an innocent group of people from being abused, nothing to undermine his uncle’s rule, but because the regent is VILE he could not let laurent have even this. he’s so good with her, too. he must have known by this point and also known that there was no way to stop this. P A I N

“‘I know that you have somehow arranged this,’ said Erasmus. He was incapable of hiding what he felt, and just seemed to radiate embarrassed happiness. ‘You kept your promise. You and your master. I told you he was kind,’ Erasmus said. ‘You did,’ said Damen. He was pleased to see Erasmus happy. Whatever Erasmus believed about Laurent, Damen wasn’t going to dissuade him. ‘He’s even nicer in person. Did you know he came and talked to me?’ said Erasmus. ‘—He did?’ said Damen. It was something he couldn’t imagine. ‘He asked about . . . what happened in the gardens. Then he warned me. About last night.’ ‘He warned you,’ said Damen. ‘He said that Nicaise would make me perform before the court and it would be awful, but that if I was brave, something good might come at the end of it.’ Erasmus looked up at Damen curiously. ‘Why do you look surprised?’ ‘I don’t know. I shouldn’t be. He likes to plan things in advance,’ said Damen.” Captive Prince, Chapter 9.

this is the first in-text confirmation we have that laurent has a good heart beneath his layers and layers of trauma-induced lashing out. book one often skeeves people out because of its graphic and, honestly, yes, kind of sexualized depiction of rape, slavery, and depravity, but beneath it all you meet these two protagonists who are going to have all of their most deeply held views about each other challenged. laurent from very early on is shaken to his core when damen refuses to rape nicaise in the ring - it cracks the very foundations of the person he’d built up in his head as this horrible monster who killed his brother in cold blood. and damen keeps defying laurents expectations by being a good person through and through. on the other hand, laurent spends the first part of the book taking out years of anger on damen, but here for the first time we see him do something just because its the kind thing to do. yes, torveld is an ally against his uncle, but laurent has clearly been scheming with him for a while now, and he’s now overlooking his hatred of damen and working with him just because none of the slaves deserve whats happened to them. it’s such a sweet moment.

“One of the other men, eyeing them, approached a moment later. ‘Don’t mind Jean. He’s in a foul mood. He was the one had to stick a sword through the mare’s throat and put her down. The Prince tore strips off him for not doing it fast enough.’” Captive Prince, Chapter Nine.

HORSEY NO- pt 2. this is just another really sweet and sad detail - laurent being so upset that the horse’s death could have been more painless. it must have hurt so much to see her in pain, and to know that the only way for that pain to end was being put down as quickly as possible. i wuv him. im sad

that’s it, though there are still a few more chapters left in the book. this isn’t providing any new information, of course, the path of the three books is to show that laurent isnt the man we meet in book one, that he’s actually sweet, and earnest, and he’s been fighting his own battle practically alone against his abuser since he was fifteen years old. also, the reveal that laurent knew who damianos was from the start makes it clear imo that all of his violence in book 1 was supposed vengence, not... him being evil. he apologizes explicitly in-text, and also, all of the acts of violence he commits cause serious problems for him in terms of his future alliance which he then needs to fix. i just love how layered these books are, how there’s so much information in them that makes rereading almost more fun than reading them for the very first time!

[may-nr1rooftoptriodefender]

Heyoo, saw that you had your requests open and thought I'd give them a try!

If you can, can you please write headcanons for Aizawa from mha having a twin sister thats older than him. How do you think they acted jn high-school? To me the prolly fighted a lot. And HATED being in school projects together.

What about you, what do you think?

(If this is too much, feel free to ignore!)

Sorry that it took some time to respond, but I had a lot going on these last weeks but I’d love to make headcanons for that!

I’m so happy that’s my first request :D

I think here aren’t any warnings so yeah

masterlist

soo… let’s get started!

okay so I could imagine them fighting since they were little..

especially if his twin is louder and way more cheerful than him

like yk…. complete opposites

and that annoys them … a lot

aizawa wishes his twin could be a bit more quiet and his dear sister wants him to go out of his introvert shell

they both took the entrance exam in separate areas

they both hoped to have a higher score than the other-

but aizawa scored less with 1 point

100% ego boost for his sister

(she is 3 minutes older so she really likes when she’s better than her brother)

they hoped to get in separate classes but whoops they landed both in class 1-A

…a sad day for them

they both decided to not stick around each other and have different friend groups and such (they also didn’t want to mention that they’re related)

but the others figured out fast (they look similar and have the same last name like common)

since aizawa is an introvert, his sister is rather surprised that he found friends, especially with such cheerful people

she herself made also a good amount of friends

which is no surprise to her brother

it’s annoying when her friends are hanging out at their house

it’s also annoying that when his two best friends are there, she also hangs out with them

they’re classmates after all, so of course they know each other and get along

aizawa prays that she doesn’t start dating one of them

same goes with the friends of his sister

but she’s the only girl he’s talking to so no worries

like said earlier, they’re avoiding each other in school but sometimes they have to interact with each other

like school projects (which they both hate)

or sparring (which they like because they can see who’s stronger)

and the walk from and to school

sometimes they get along

the aizawas help each other when the other one is struggling with something

but most of the time they’re fighting over stupid things and are swearing at each other

it’s funny to watch them interact

aizawas nickname is emo cat lover boy

his sister gets the ‘annoying sister’

(the female aizawa is more talented with names…)

would she ever get a boyfriend, aizawa has his protective brother mode on

no one is ever good enough for his sister

and if he would ever get a girlfriend, his sister would only embarrass him to no end

even if they hate each other sometimes, they’re always supporting each other

they’d listen to each others problems.

——————————————————

okay that’s all I have for today. I hope I reached your expectations!

Requests are open and I have the rules pinned on my acc.

song for today- starboy by the weeknd

[sapphirestuff]

Childhood Friends with...

Featuring : Iwaizumi Hajime

Tags: hcs, hq, fluff, pretime!au, with bestie!oikawa

A/n: some oneshots for the follow up will be coming soon, possibly there will be 2 or 3 parts, this is some general of being the childhood fren, i admit this helps me spark some ideas for future fics

I get a feel that he doesn't go out of his house much, except if it's with Oikawa who lure him outside, he's that quiet kid but prefers staying indoors

once you get a chance to play with them for the first time, it was pretty awkward mostly with lil Iwa, but not with Oikawa lol

the more the merrier, so he invites you to play with them, and so that Iwa can have another friend to play with

Iwa may not open up with you that quick, but he instantly thought that hanging with you is better than stuck with the light brunette, so he prefers sticking with you more

like you two really click together

even if he's acting all awkward at first

"Iwa channn, is it just me or you really like y/n more than mee?" what about it-

Iwa prefers to play indoors such, you mostly came to his preferably

playing in the living room, watching tvs, playing toys, hide n seek, etc

when his parents pass by you two while playing, they have that proud parent look on their face

especially because he often shows off confidently (often about his hidden passion about his interests) in front of you two

seeing you all get along so well, his parents considers you as their own children (in law-)

"come and join us for dinner, dear! I cooked your favourite meal!" "aren't your parents will be away until midnight, y/n dear? Why don't you have a sleepover here if you want? I'll let your mother know!"

you are like the second sibling for the Iwaizumis

when he plays in yours or Tooru's house, he's that polite and stoic child who will help clean up the mess yall made when playing and will remind yall to put your trash in the bin type

can and might stole your parents heart since childhood

sigh gentleman genetics...

and when you two go out, he likes treating you some snacks while venturing around, his love language as a child-

like he LOVES walking around the neighborhood together, very outdoor-y but timid kid

tho he'll be punching out kids who messed with you, comforting you when you're sad

he's so fond of you fr

when you two started to attend school is where the lovey-dovey phase grow more obvious

some classmates might mistake you as more than friends, and when they do, you two secretly likes that but is trying to deny that

i mean, walking to school or home often together, working homework in pairs, spending recess at least 10 minutes together, there's also that time when his mother bought you lunch and Iwa has to gave it to you, all with no embarrassment

if Tooru isn't stuck with you two and didn't know about your painful pinings for each other, he might've believe that

"Aunty, I saw y/n and Iwa chan ki-" "CRAPPYKAWA DON'T YOU DRAG THE PARENTS INTO THIS BS OR I-"

Tooru pushing y/n n iwa to h*ld h*nds already and smoochy smooch, the only active supporter ever

like that's the innocence of childhood romance

[murfpersonalblog]

Unfortunately, the thing is that Jonah also couldn't be a proud gay black man--IN AMERICA. He had to enlist in the army during WWI--at risk of being deployed someplace godawful--just to get OUT of this stinking racist homophobic country, and be seen & treated more equally by society.

MANY gay black men and women fled America to Europe, where it was just safer & more lucrative for them, from Josephine Baker to James Baldwin.

It had nothing to do with Louis being a vampire or not. If you were caught being gay and black in the Jim Crow South, you could be beat up, jailed, or just killed.

The sad truth is that there was no good solution for Louis--and there was no hope for Louis & Jonah in a relationship, either. They hadn't seen in each other in years before 1917 (Ep3).

Jonah was able to leave & travel. Louis couldn't've gone with him--he'd been trapped in NOLA taking care of the DPDL estate since 1905.

We can assume that Jonah & the Macons were nowhere near as affluent as Louis & the DPDLs--especially cuz Louis was a mixed-race Creole with white ancestors and a fortune from owning a sugar plantation. There was no way in the world duty-bound Louis would've packed up and left the estate to collapse under the mentally ill Paul & the unmarried girl Grace--just to live with Jonah way up North & work cheap labor as a busboy/janitor in a Philly hotel, or have 3 of his fingers blown off in a Delaware gunpowder mill. Who would look after his family without Louis there to make them A LOT of money--enough to keep paying the church hefty "donations" to keep Paul busy/calm (instead of throwing him back in a mental asylum); and make sure Grace had a good dowry so she could get married; and keep Florence's banjo bands paid?

And we know Louis started running Storyville after Jonah had already left, cuz Jonah was shocked by Louis' success, "Mr Done Alright."

So Jonah wasn't there when Lestat came a'knockin--Paul was still suicidal, and if Louis hadn't become a vampire he would've died too--likely the same night as Paul's funeral, cuz Louis was also suicidal.

The real "what if" is what could've happened if Jonah had STAYED.

And it's bleak: Jonah was looking for work, but cuz Papa DPDL hadn't died yet, Louis was in no position to financially support Jonah, or his own family. He hadn't become the "Dark Prince of Iberville" yet. So Jonah would've been jobless, poor & destitute, likely for a long time--it took Louis 5 years to build his "small empire". Jonah was desperate & willing to do any hard but honest labor that would keep him fed & FREE--from gunpowerder mills, to WWI enlistment.

Would Jonah have approved of Louis becoming a pimp? Would he have urged Louis to stick to harder but more honest work, like just sticking to the smaller businesses he ran--earning only "nickels, dimes, quarters!"?

Louis & Jonah would've drifted apart HELLA fast, I reckon. Louis was way too ambitious, proud, and sorry to say it: SCUMMY. Candidates for vampirism are those who have just enough moral greyness in them to turn to the dark side and damn their souls for power. That's why the shift from slaveowner to pimp works so well.

There's also Louis' interesting reactions to seeing Lestat's vampirism (i.e.: tricks AND blatant crimes) in action, and being unfazed by it all (especially in the OG pilot script, where he had a much closer relationship with "Nawlins voodoo"). But Louis said Jonah freaked TF out when seeing proof of Louis' vampirism when they reunited decades later.

So I just don't see Jonah as having been at all cool with the dirty business of being a pimp, on top of the societal demands that would require both Louis AND Jonah to stay in the closet in order to maintain their status as respected businessmen in a world quick to use any excuse to see successful black men thrown in jail or killed. Jonah seems like way too much of a good egg, to have put up with Louis' nonsense for too long before leaving him behind anyway.

So we all know that Lestat's promise that turning Louis into a vampire will let him live his life "without apology" is a lie. Lestat has no understanding of how Louis will still need to navigate being a Black man in the U.S. and how that'll impact his life (even after he's a vampire).

But also, that's part of why having Jonah be a Black man, and specifically a Black man who Louis knew in his childhood, and even more specifically, a Black man comfortable with his own queerness...is such a good decision.

Because Jonah's existence in this story makes us, the audience, ask 'what if.' Like, here's an example of who Louis could have been if he'd never met Lestat. He could've had a human life where he was a proud gay Black man.

In episode 1, Louis says that being a gay Black man in New Orleans was impossible. And then in episode 3, Jonah comes in as a gay Black man and shows that actually there was a way to be himself without turning into a vampire.

Louis' deteriorating relationship with his sister does something similar. We see that she is actually quite accepting of Louis' as a gay man. All the problems in their relationship stem from him being a vampire. Which makes it so tragic...because it makes it pretty clear that he'd have been able to maintain his relationship with his sister if he'd been out with her as a human.

The more time passes, we see the life Louis could have had...and the life Louis wanted to have.

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xviii. | m [last chapter]

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: sad and happy tears, growth, so much cuteness, smut, face-sitting, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, jk's body o-o, mentions of a quarter-life-crisis, the END ;(

words: 15, 628 (!!!!!)

summary: a series of drabbles where you’re confused and jungkook’s confusing

a/n:

oh my god!!!!!! we're finally here. the last chapter of bad boy good thing. honestly, it feels surreal to even say because I couldn't ever imagine it getting this far, especially with the love and support that it's gotten along the way. I've grown attached to the characters, especially since I was essentially writing them through each chapter and it's nice to see that they've grown along with the story.

i wanted to end the story in a way that's both satisfying and necessary, and I really enjoyed writing this chapter despite it being the last one for bad boy good thing :(

thank you so much for everyone who has read this story and has shown so much love and support that I frankly don't know if I deserve or not. i hope you enjoy this chapter, and find it as pleasurable to read as it was to write.

[and on another note, I'll be opening up an Ask My Muse for bad boy good thing, so please drop any questions that you have for the characters in my ask! I'll release it all as a separate post at a later date 🥰 happy asking!]

- pobbie <3

What people don’t ever tell you about change is that you can never plan it. No matter how stringent you claim yourself to be in following timelines and the zero hour—life will work out in the way it’s supposed to and you’ll have absolutely no control over how things will play out. Usually, these thoughts unsettled you. Your routine was the most important aspect of your life because it never changed. It was always to keep up with how you’ve got by so far, kept the people you were already comfortable with close—and never do things that you were uncomfortable with. A routine was perfect—for you. Not for the people around you.

To a certain extent, you couldn’t even fault people for saying that you had a stick up your ass. Though there were definitely far more constructive ways of pointing it out—you knew that people were simple yet utterly complex creatures. Often, they made split-second judgements in scenarios that required more thought and care. While on the other end, simple decisions were decided with rigorous usage of your brain muscles that lead people in creating unreal, unsolvable and frankly—uncomfortable—problems.

But complexity was unnecessary and unhelpful. Especially when your heart and mind are on two completely different pages. Yet, they remain the two organs that play the most vital role in keeping you alive and sane. People are aware of the internal conflict that most face when it comes to making rational decisions, though verbalising these exact sentiments never come easy. How do you accurately depict a struggle that is both so universal yet so personal all at once? It’s a paradox that only continues, and as humans, we add fuel to that already blazing fire.

You suppose that time did indeed dictate all. It was linear, continuous, and perhaps a social construct. Nothing worked out in a timeframe, yet we adhere to strict rules of day and night, do or don’t yesterday and tomorrow—we followed time because that was the only thing that allowed us space. You didn’t understand when people said that things will just feel right, because how could something feel right? Right wasn’t tangible. It wasn’t just a direction, it wasn’t just the socially acceptable option—it was a multitude of things. But like most things in life, they only become real when it happens to you.

And today, it felt right. It felt like time.

It could have felt right a week ago when you first got your tattoo. The impulsive yet not-so-impulsive decision felt right. It felt uncomfortable, terrifying and frankly—stupid—but it didn’t for one second, feel wrong. But somehow, the tattoo being right was the only thing that you could truly feel. The apology you owed? Not quite.

Not even when your friends carefully gauged your reactions to let you know that Jungkook was joining your group for lunch a few days back. You missed him, your heart definitely did—but your mind did tell you—it wasn’t right. So, you let them know. The right time will come, but until then, you’ll do your part and allow time to dictate your next steps for you. They didn’t pry, though you could tell Jimin was curious while Namjoon remained concerned. You didn’t need to explain anything. What would you say, anyway? Your existential thoughts were candidly absurd to be comprehended by most. It was things that ran through your mind, not necessarily needing to be shared.

You don’t know if it’s the tattoo, or if it’s Jeonghan, or if it’s Jennie, or if it’s Jungkook—of if it’s just you—but there was something that you buried deep down in your chest for a long time, and it finally felt big enough to leave. To let go.

Maybe it’s because you officially turn a year older today. The impending doom of a quarter-life crisis washing over you while you frantically decide that you didn’t want to take the mindset you and in the first twenty-five years of your life along with you into the next chapter. It could be a multitude of things. But you woke up today, weary yet determined—and you knew that it was the right time.

“Happy birthday!”

You’re welcomed with an overexcited Yena as she topples into your body in giggles and grins while she wraps her arms around you. You stumble back but catch yourself before the both of you fall over. Though you’re surprised, you can’t help the smile that makes its way to your face—sincere and happy.

“Thank you,” you laugh, hugging her back as you rest your head on your shoulder.

She hugs you for a while longer, as if you were going to head anywhere but into the apartment, you rang the doorbell to. You don’t complain because you know she likes this. It’s her way of telling you that she’s happy and glad you’re here. You understood her well enough to know that the way she clings to you is her love language and you appreciated that.

When she pulls away, she’s still beaming. It’s almost comical to see Yena so happy. Not that she wasn’t on a daily basis. But her facial expressions were usually limited to her usual stoic appearance and misleading resting face that intimidated people. This Yena was a cheerful puppy waiting to be played with.

“Very Gemini of you to turn up late,” she says snootily, eyeing you up and down as you roll your eyes.

“By five minutes,” you clarify.

“I’ll let it pass only because it’s your birthday,” she pinches your cheeks as you nearly bite her finger off at her attempt. You’re about to finally enter the apartment but her hand on your shoulder stops you from getting far. “New outfit?”

Her question makes your eyes dart down to your attire. You take in the relatively risqué apparel you opted for today. But in reality, it was simply just a cropped tank top and a pair of high waisted jeans that showed a little bit of your skin. You weren’t thinking much when you reached for the outfit, your only intent was to show off the tattoo you got. But now as Yena ogles you further, only do you realise how different it is from your usual style.

“Yeah,” you breathe, even if your heart rattles a little in anxiety, “Is it okay?”

Yena grins.

“You look gorgeous,” she compliments before she’s gripping you by your arm and dragging you into Jimin and Taehyung’s apartment.

You stumble forward, and you’re greeted by blown up balloons that wish you a happy birthday, along with streamers and party hats that adorn your friend's heads. They’re all beaming at you, eyes crinkled into thin slits as you laugh at their keen endeavour.

“The birthday bitch is finally here!” Yena hollers, queuing the loud horns of streamers that Jimin and Taehyung attempt to deafen you with as Namjoon slams his hands un-rhythmically against a tambourine.

Your eyes soften ever so slightly when they finally rest on Jungkook, who’s slightly tucked away from the rest but yet still carries a sincere enough smile on his face. You know him well enough that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and your heart clenches for a split second when you recall the reason. But you hear the birthday song be led by Taehyung, and you’re snapped out of the mini-stare off you and with Jungkook.

“Happy birthday to you!” He all but shrieks, drawing closer as you wince, “Happy birthday to you!” Taehyung ditches his instrument to wrap an arm around you while the rest of the circle you like prey as you laugh at their antics. “Happy birthday to ____, happy birthday to you!”

Your cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling, and your heart feels content with the way your friends continue to huddle around you, squeezing you until it hurts to breathe. In the best way possible.

“Is this what icon treatment feels like?” You snort.

You spot a grimace on Jimin’s face, even if you know it’s a light-hearted jibe. He rolls his eyes but tugs you to his chest fondly anyway, his arms immediately providing you with a sense of warmth in a friendship that’s lasted for over a decade.

“Don’t get used to it,” he warns, “I think I’ve exercised all my festive spirit this year.”

“My birthday is in September, you know,” Namjoon interjects.

“Then celebrate it by yourself,” Jimin sticks a petulant tongue out that Namjoon gapes at.

“It’s my birthday month too.” And for the first time, Jungkook speaks loud enough that it has all of your heads turning to him. The millisecond of silence is loud enough for you to hear, and perhaps to everyone else too. Your cheeks heat ever so slightly, but Jimin—ever the observer—picks up on this immediately.

“Hm, no wonder the two of you are so alike,” Jimin mumbles off-handedly, a glint of mischief painting his tone.

You don’t miss the insinuation behind his words as you shoot him a glare that you hope isn’t as obvious to the rest as it is to him. He smiles innocently before ruffling your hair, hopping away towards the table of assortments that they likely prepared for the celebration.

“Happy birthday!” Namjoon walks over with a dimpled grin, arms immediately open for you to lean into as you giggle at his exaggerated expression.

“Thank you, Joonie,” you beam up at him.

Namjoon gives you a tight squeeze before he reaches his arm towards the couch where you only notice the small box that lays atop of it. Your eyes follow his arm where he subtly (or not so) hides it behind his back that makes you shoot him an unimpressed look, your heart immensely thankful but the gesture still flustered you.

“I got you something,” he mumbles.

You whine, “Joon.”

“No, none of that,” he scolds, “I wanted to get you something, okay? Just let me gift the birthday girl.” He adds on playfully.

You scowl but receive the gift anyway, wrapping an arm around his waist as you admire the pretty mint colour the box was embellished in.

“You didn’t spend too much money, right?” You ask sceptically.

“And if I did?” He retorts.

You scowl.

“Namjoon.”

He sighs, “Okay, it was a decent amount of money but”—he stops you from returning to gift into his arms as he shoots you a stern look that you pout at—“I told you. I wanted to get you something. You’ll make me really happy if you accept it.”

You know he’s baiting you with his puppy eyes and you sigh at your resolve dissolving at his attempt.

“Fine,” you accept, “Thank you, Namjoon.”

He waves you off with a bashful smile as he urges you to open it. You abide as you carefully unravel the meticulously tied ribbon (that you’re kind of sure that he got help with) as you wonder about what he had gotten you. Namjoon was always a thoughtful person and you were really warmed by his consideration—so you knew that whatever he got you, you’d love.

Once you finally reach the end, you lift the lid as you gasp—an intricate ceramic planter that mirrored your favourite animal—a cute rabbit that peers up at you with wide eyes. It’s a pale yellow, with a red ribbon carved around its ears as your face crumbles in adoration.

“Oh my God,” you marvel, “It’s adorable! Thank you so much, Joon.”

He grins at you as he leans forward to admire the piece with you.

“It’s a customised order by one of my favourite ceramic artists,” he tells you, “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nod your head vigorously as he chuckles at your awestruck expression.

“It is,” you breathe, “God. It must’ve cost a lot, didn’t it?” You accuse playfully with narrowed eyes as he rolls his own at you.

He brings his finger up to his lips to mimic a lock before he throws away the key, smirking at you when you huff petulantly. Nevertheless, you were touched and you absolutely loved the gift. It was very Namjoon and very representative of what you liked—and what he did.

“Thank you again, Joon,” you murmur, engulfing him in another fond hug that he returns with equal affection.

You’re not sure if it’s bad taste to hug someone like this when they had feelings for you. But Namjoon was a great friend and a great person in general. But when you peer up at him with gentle eyes and he returns the gesture, you know that despite it all—he’s a friend that you’re willing to fight for.

Before he can get another word in, the presence of another person hovers by your side as you feel their shadow loom over you. You release Namjoon from your tight hug, and his eyes briefly dance across the guest as he smiles knowingly to himself, shooting you an equally implicative glance that makes your throat clamp up. You recognise it intimately; and even if you didn’t. You knew that only one person would induce this type of reaction, especially in the current setting.

“I’ll … I’ll leave you two to talk,” he smiles, and that’s when your head finally turns, face facing Jungkook who stands awkwardly by your side with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Namjoon squeezes your shoulder to bid farewell for now, but you know the implication runs far deeper than it did. “Hope you like the present.”

Namjoon leaves with a smile before you can muster a thank you. He leaves you with more than just a gift, but an empty space waiting to be filled. The person was right there, Jungkook hovering quietly as he awaits your introduction. You knew you knew that it was you who needed to take that leap of faith. His silence or perhaps his patience was a queue for you to take that.

Not here. But you’d do what you could with what you had.

“Hey,” you say breathlessly, offering a gentle smile to Jungkook.

He returns the gesture but his eyes aren’t settled on your face. They’re on your shoulder, or more specifically—your upper arm and on the comprehensive detail that marks your skin permanently.

“Hey yourself,” he replies equally as breathless, then he looks up at you with the same gentle eyes that you grew up with, that evokes far more than a sense of familiarity but thunder in your chest. “Happy birthday, by the way.” He says softly, knocking your elbow in a way that’s both friendly and hesitant.

You laugh softly, “You can ask you know.” You say teasingly, an attempt to defuse the situation. He was too tense. It was odd because it was definitely a switch in your roles. But you supposed it was necessary, the only way that you could grow and learn.

“Oh, I definitely was about to,” he snorts, “A tattoo, huh?”

You nod, twisting your body ever so slightly so that he gets a better glimpse of the artwork.

“Yeah,” you smile, sincerely pleased with the choice you made; albeit spontaneous and driven by the inherent need for change. “I took the leap of faith.”

He catches on your double entendre, and a small smile twitches on his lips as he nods his head slowly. He leans in closer to observe the work, and his eyes squint as if he was taking the time to appreciate the beauty of it. You suppose it’s the artistic side of Jungkook that pushes him to do so. He was talented, in more way than one. He knew what looked beautiful, how to create beautiful things—and definitely how to appreciate them.

“The line work looks familiar,” he peers up at you, “Did you get it done at the tattoo parlour by the book shop?”

Your eyes widen at his spot on pinpointing. Was it that familiar? Or was it just a tattoo-lover thing?

“I—yeah,” you nod, “How did you know?”

His eyes harden along with his jaw but he shakes his head off-handedly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I recognise it. Got some of mine done over there,” he mumbles, “Maybe not anymore.”

You know exactly what he’s referring to, especially when the second part of his sentence comes in as you freeze. You nibble on your lips, chest needing relief on the truth behind your tattoo. But you’d settle for the surface level honesty before anything else.

“Jeonghan did mine,” you blurt, “Maybe that’s why you recognise it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, next to his brows furrows, clearly displaying his confusion when the words leave your lips. You don’t fault him for his confusion, especially when the last interaction you had with him turned out more sour than pleasant—all at the hands of someone who apparently gave you your first tattoo.

“You—?” He starts, brain gearing to piece the information together. “He gave you your first tattoo?”

You nod your head, firm and resolute. You muster a smile, one that you hope tells Jungkook that it was far more than just him giving you a tattoo. It was a needed sense of closure that you didn’t plan for but somehow needed.

“Yeah,” you murmur, eyes peering up in a gentle and calm way. “I think it’s exactly what I needed.”

Jungkook accepts though you can tell he’s still slightly perturbed by the information. He still stares at your tattoo, though. He smiles ever so softly that you almost miss it, but you’re highly tuned to Jungkook’s every reaction. The smallest change of mood is easily picked up on, and you know that he likes it. That’s all that mattered to you.

“It looks beautiful on you,” he says softly.

You flush, fiddling with your thumbs.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you say in a low whisper.

He shifts his weight across both his heels, hands still stuffed tightly into his pants pocket in a way that shows his restlessness. You can tell he’s thinking of something else to say, but can’t quite find the exact words. The situation is all too fresh, you suppose. You don’t blame him. You wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to feel that way, that you were done running. But you don’t think now is the time and place—not with the cackles of your friends as the background music, or with the promise of cake to be devoured.

He settles for a tight smile before he turns to leave, but you stop him before he gets far—your shaky hand wrapping itself around his wrist. Jungkook stops, head-turning over his shoulder with a raised brow as you clear your throat to prepare for the next words that leave your lips.

“Can we talk?” You ask, and Jungkook’s eyes widen. You realise the lack of context immediately as you flush in embarrassment. “After. I mean. At your place—or mine. Wherever works for you.” You stammer out nervously.

Jungkook’s gaze rests on you for a tense second as you nervously wait for his response. You almost think he’s about to say no, but a small smile makes its way onto his face that immediately soothes your nerves.

“Mine. It’s closer anyway,” he says, “Happy birthday, again.”

He stuns you by pulling you into an unexpected hug, chin resting on the top of your head as he squeezes you tightly but holds you contrastingly soft. You immediately melt into his hold, missing the warmth of his sincerity in the short yet long time away from him. You smell him, and he smells familiar. He smells safe. You sigh contentedly when he doesn’t let go, and neither do you.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you repeat.

“I—” He’s about to say something but cuts himself off immediately. He pulls away, ears slightly flushed as he shoots you a brief grin before shaking his head. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”

Your head tilts to the side, but you don’t question his vague statement. You allow him to leave with a tender grin. You had things to tell him yourself, too.

“Hey, you,” Yena bumps into your shoulder with her own as you turn your head to face her. Her head cocks to Jungkook’s retreating figure where he joins the rest of the boys in an attempt to devour the assortments that you hadn’t had the chance to dig into just yet. “Everything okay?”

You smile gratefully at her before bringing her into a hug, surprising her ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” you murmur, “It is.”

And for once, you mean it.

“Sorry about the place,” Jungkook apologises when the two of you step into his apartment.

He’s referring to the pile of clothes sprawled across his couch and the numerous amount of art supplies that take up the floor space. You wave him off with a smile.

“Don’t mention it,” you say, “Your room, then?”

Jungkook raises a brow at you before you blush ever so slightly, catching the insinuative tone before you’re offering a meek smile and a correction.

“To talk.”

He nods his head in understanding before returning the gesture with a small grin of his own. He helps you with your stuff and sets it aside, as well as your shoes because Jungkook was meticulous about things like that.

When the two of you approach his room, you take a few moments of silence to get your thoughts in check. It’s terrifying, knowing exactly what you want to say but having no idea how to say them. You always told yourself that honesty is the best policy—but your mind races at a hundred miles per hour whenever you’re around Jungkook, and you don’t know if you have it in you to be eloquent.

His room is the same, and so very much like him. It’s neat and it smells fresh of laundry. He’s nothing like the stereotypical college student that dumps his laundry in one big pile (though the mess outside suggested otherwise), but you’ve always remembered Jungkook to have been a fan of tidy spaces.

He’s like this with his habits too. Strict and clean, always going the extra mile to ensure that his comfort was maximised in a cosy environment. And his room clearly represented this habit and goal of his in mind.

He gestures for you to sit on an old beanbag you fondly recall from your younger days where you’d sprawl across when you hung out with him. You know he took it with him to college for that very same reason. Well, before everything that has transpired between the two of you anyway.

Though things are not quite the same—you don’t wish it to be. You don’t want to be the same person you were just a week ago, let alone years ago. You wanted to be the person you were meant to be now. And that meant doing things you would’ve never done but should’ve done a long time ago.

Before you can plan out a speech like you usually do with any events you considered important, your mouth moves faster than your brain does.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook’s eyes shoot up from where it laid on his lap as he eyes you with a wide gaze.

“Why are you—?”

“I know you don’t think I need to apologise, but I do,” you say with a sad smile, “I owe you an apology, Jungkook.”

Jungkook purses his lips, hinting that he wants to say something but decides against it when he recognises the determined expression that lingers on your face. It’s the same one that you have when you really wanted to do something. Or at least had a plan on what to do.

He doesn’t interrupt that momentum, not when you take another deep breath.

“I’m sorry for not choosing you.”

He flinches, head drooping to his lap while he fiddles with his fingers.

“I’m sorry for not choosing you the first time,” you repeat, and his head glances up with a furrowed brow, “I’m sorry that it took me this long to realise that all I needed … that all I needed was you—not anyone else.”

“It’s not your fault.” He interjects softly.

“Maybe,” you shrug, “Maybe it is. But that’s not the point,” you say softly, “The point is that I was searching for answers everywhere else but where I could find one that mattered. I looked for answers in people, in the words of others—as if what they said somehow would change the way things were.” You murmur. “It didn’t.”

“Then why look?” Jungkook asks, the question heavier than it sounded. You know it’s because he wonders, too.

“It’s because I was afraid,” you confess, “I was afraid of so many things that I didn’t even know what I was afraid of anymore. I kept on making excuses for us—because that was safer than … than choosing. Because choosing meant there was a wrong choice and I didn’t want to make a wrong choice.”

Jungkook looks at you with a solemn expression before you begin to fiddle with your thumbs.

“My tattoo means a lot to me,” you tell him.

“Well, it’s beautiful,” he murmurs quietly.

“It means I’ve grown,” you continue, “I-I always wanted a tattoo. I just—I never got around to getting it until recently.”

He nods his head in understanding as he eyes the piece once more. He takes it in gently, not judgementally, and you can feel his smile than see it when your eyes dart to your lap.

“I’m glad you finally did.”

“Me too,” you say. “I’m glad.”

“But …” he trails off, “Jeonghan did it—right?”

You can hear the edge in his voice when he brings up a name that should’ve evoked a sour feeling in your chest. The discomfort is there, but just like anything in life—it would always exist. It was just a matter of what you focused on and what was your priority in that moment.

And now, when you see Jungkook, you know it’s not yourself—but it’s Jungkook who’s your priority.

“Yeah,” you breathe, “It didn’t matter, though.”

He raises a brow, “Really?”

You nod.

“He doesn’t matter,” you say softly.

You hope Jungkook gets it, that this is you letting go of the fear of judgement that took away such a huge part of your happiness—for the both of you. But you knew that speaking in riddles wasn’t what he deserved. He deserved to hear it—to feel it.

“Why not?” He asks, just as softly.

“Because no one else matters but you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook freezes, but you don’t let that deter you when you look up at him with gentle and resolute eyes.

“Because you were the only thing that should’ve mattered,” you say more firmly, “Because …”

You swallow when you realise that Jungkook’s staring straight at you.

“Because I love you.”

You don’t know if this is the first time you’ve said it. But it’s the first time you’ve allowed yourself to truly feel the way that you do. There’s no more judgement from your end. No more critical words on how other people may talk. There was nothing. Nothing but pure, unadulterated love.

“Is that enough?” Jungkook asks.

“It is,” you smile softly, “You are.”

Jungkook smiles, gentle and calm when you allow yourself to just look at each other. And for some reason, his face makes your throat clamp shut and your eyes water. It’s more than just him—it’s what had happened.

It’s the fact that you’ve been stalling for so long, hurting each other in the process when you could’ve just been honest. When you could’ve just chosen him.

You should’ve chosen yourself, too.

“Hey, why are you crying?” Jungkook asks softly, even though you hear a small smile in his voice.

He’s a distance away, yet you feel his sincerity, his concern. And that makes you cry harder.

“I’m sorry,” you choke, “I-I’m so sorry.”

You don’t leave your spot, too flustered to do anything.

“It’s okay,” he returns gently.

“I want to be with you, Jungkook,” you mumble, “I want you.”

Your second statement returns with much more determination, even through your puffy eyes that you’re sure made you look ridiculous. But you can’t think of anything more than you wanted—that you’ve prepared for.

“Me too,” he smiles, “I want to be with you.”

For the first time, you feel like your feet takes you further where your heart yearns to be. One moment you’re sat in the small beanbag that Jungkook keeps in the corner of his room, and the next you’re toppling over his startled frame and onto his plush bed. The two of you land (more so him than you) on his bed as his palm rests on your waist to catch you.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck while you helplessly sniff into the crook of his neck. Your heart lays easy and your body feels light. There’s still a fear in you but it doesn’t matter. Not when he laughs, clear and loud as you whine against him.

“Stop laughing!” You hiss, and your words sound clogged due to your stuffed nose, which only makes Jungkook laugh harder.

His hand squeezes your hips when you don’t bother to pull away, even with the potential of suffocating Jungkook to death with your body atop of his.

“Sorry,” he snickers and his apology is half-hearted at best. “You’re just—you sure you’re okay?”

His hand leaves your hips, much to your disappointment, but reaches up to your face to force your cheeks to peer up at him. He chases your wandering eyes playfully when you avoid his wide smiles, eyes still unalterably puffy from the tears you shed earlier. You were sure that the tip of your nose was still red and that your cheeks were tight with your dried tears. But he doesn’t relent, even if you threaten to bite his fingers off.

“Stop looking at me,” you snap.

He shoots you a toothy grin, “But you’re so cute. How can I not?”

You tuck your face back into his neck and make a noise of frustration, mostly because you were so flustered that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Jungkook seems to enjoy your demise, however. He was definitely far better at the teasing than you were—that enough was obvious, especially when he coos onto the crown of your head while you pinch the skin at the back of his neck in warning.

He yelps, shooting you a playful glare that you return with you sticking out your tongue.

“Don’t be mean, baby,” he husks, and you’d be lying if the term of endearment didn’t make you squirm, both under his hold and his intense gaze.

“You were being mean first,” you pout.

“But that’s because you’re too cute,” he retorts smartly, “All I wanna do is be mean to you and see you blush.”

Jungkook’s grin is nothing short of mischievous as you gawk at his blatant admission. He doesn’t look embarrassed, that was your job. His job, was just as he said, to be mean to you and see you quiver.

“Shut up,” you scowl.

“No,” he smiles, and before you can get out another retort, or shove yourself off of him, he pushes the two of you up until you’re straddling his hips. Your head spins at the sudden movement as your arms leave Jungkook’s neck to scramble for balance, but the one arm around your waist is enough to keep you comfortably rooted into position—right on his lap.

Just as you’ve recovered from the sudden whiplash, you’re about to give him an ear of expletives until you realise that he’s yet to shift his gaze away from you. In fact, Jungkook’s just staring. Soft and gentle, yet wickedly all at once. Your faces are so close, and despite the heartfelt moment the two of you shared just moments prior—you still can’t help but get flustered at the proximity.

When you’re this close, you can see all of his pores. You see the freckles adorning his cheeks that he never quite grew out of, despite his whines. You see the scar on the top of his cheekbone, a permanent reminder from his rough-house days with his older brother. You knew he grew up to accept it, and you found it adorable. A necessary part of Jungkook that made him him. The slope of his cupid's bow is more apparent than ever when you’re basically pressed against his body, and foolishly, your eyes dart down.

You feel his breath on your lips, yet neither one of you moves. It’s intimate like this, just being held. You wonder if this is what you could’ve had if you weren’t too caught up in your own thoughts. You wonder if there was an alternate world where you weren’t as selfish.

“Hi,” he murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts as your eyes snap back to his.

His eyes are still gentle, especially when the arm around your waist tugs you impossibly closer until you’re all but flushed against his chest, hands looping around his neck as the only space available for you to leave them.

“Hi,” you return shyly.

He’s gentle when he brushes the hair out of your face, fingers trailing across your cheek and down your face until it’s softly gripping your jaw. This time, his thumb rubs across your cheekbone and all you can do is melt into his touch. You’ve never felt so accounted for. As if you were being studied by someone who wanted to melt your feeling into memory. And the fact that it’s Jungkook giving you this attention makes your heart uncontrollably flutter.

“This is real, right?” He asks in a soft whisper.

“I am in fact, very real,” you joke, even if you know what he’s implying.

He rolls his eyes, squeezing your jaw in warning as you swallow. The heat in your stomach is soft, but definitely brewing. It didn’t help that you were precariously placed in Jungkook’s lap, where your hips could just inch—

“Don’t be a smartass,” he sighs before leaning closer to you, “Makes me want to do real mean things.”

Your body heats, but you’re empowered by some sort of confidence that you only get when you’re intoxicated with Jungkook’s warmth and scent.

“Then do it.” You challenge.

Jungkook’s jaw ticks and you note that he doesn’t relax the hand clasping your jaw. You teasingly rub your cheek against his thumb, hips slightly inching forward. And as observant as ever, Jungkook’s other arm that was wrapped around your waist stops you as his fingers drop down to your hips—squeezing in another warning that has you anticipating for more.

“I don’t think so,” he shakes his head as you frown. The expression he gives you isn’t one that’s saying no. Instead, he still smiles. “You deserve a tender kind of love.”

When he whispers those words to you, you literally melt into his hold. Your mind and heart can’t take it anymore. They make the decision for you to lean forward, crushing your lips against his as you chase for that euphoric feeling that only Jungkook can evoke in you.

Jungkook grunts at your force and uncoordinated movements. You don’t think too much about how there are more teeth than mouth, but what you do focus on is how Jungkook taste. He tastes like the strawberry chiffon cake from earlier mixed with cherry whine. It’s addictive—and you wonder if this is what love tastes like.

“Calm down, angel,” he whispers onto your lips, briefly pulling away.

Your eyes are half-lidded and dazed when you watch the string of saliva that connects your lips. He sees it too. His eyes darken significantly as you tug on the collar of his shirt, a whimper stuck in your throat as you peer up at him with your best version of a bedroom gaze.

“Kiss me,” you all but demand, “Kiss me stupid.”

Jungkook looks at you filled with lust before he’s recapturing your lips with his own. This time around, he leads. He’s by far more experienced in dragging out the experience and heightening all of your senses when he plays with the pout of your lips, purposefully dragging his teeth over the creases and nudging your lips open with his tongue.

He’s especially good when he groans into your mouth, low and husky as it pulls out a whimper from you. His hands explore your body, running up the curves of your waist, over your hips, and unconsciously pushing you forward on his lap.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing down your jaw as you tilt your head up to give him more space to work with. When he looks up for a brief second, your breath hitches at the way his lips are swollen at red. His gaze is dark, and you suppose it’s because your lips are likely the same. “So fucking pretty.”

You whine in embarrassment, approaching to cover your face with your hand but Jungkook stops you with a firm grab to lock your wrists together. His look is enough of a warning, and your lower body clenches in response.

“Don’t,” he warns, “Wanna see your face.”

What else could you do but comply?

You nod silently, and all your senses are in overload when he returns to laving at your neck, tongue darting out to soothe any bites that he’s left. All you can do is helplessly gasp as he sends goosebumps all across your body, growling into your skin with a purpose to drive your mind wild.

You never imagined making out to be this pleasurable. But you suppose it’s both because of Jungkook’s skill and your ardent feelings for him that makes you crazy. It’s the same feeling that makes you want more, that makes you grind your hips in a slow circle, right on his crotch.

Jungkook’s hand stutters as well as his mouth, probably not expecting the sudden onslaught of pressure on his lower half. He groans, tucking his face into your neck as you continue your ministrations, your own bundle of nerves stimulated with each grind forward.

“What are you doing?” He hisses.

He looks up and his eyes are completely blown up. You swallow, the fire in your chest already slowly starting to erupt into flames. His palms are unconsciously splayed across your ass, and you just know he’s tempted to push you forward.

“Wanna—” you croak, emphasising your point with another grind that has him hissing in pleasure. “Wanna feel you.”

“Don’t start a game you can’t finish, baby,” he grits, eyes fluttering shut as you continue rutting against him; your own breathless whines escaping your lips.

You shake your head frantically, “N-No!” You deny, and suddenly you’re darting forward as your foreheads clash. You wince in pain, and so does he—but the clumsiness of it all only makes Jungkook smile fondly at you, briefly dropping the persona he’s admonished. “I really—I really want you. All of you.”

Your desperate pleas don’t go unheard by jungkook. In fact, his arms completely still, as if he took a whole out of body experience to process your words.

“Really?” He smiles playfully, a look that has you softening into his hold. “You want me?”

You nod your head, “Y-Yes.”

Jungkook nudges your nose with his before he’s kissing you again. You whine, frustrated at how he still insists on kissing you. Sure, you loved his lips on yours—but you were undoubtedly wet right now, and you felt the telltale signs of his cock pressing against your inner thigh.

“Jungkook,” you whine, pushing him away as you scowl at him, “I want you.”

You’re aware of how petulant you sound, and it’s almost embarrassing when you shamelessly rut your hips forward. Jungkook laughs with a small smirk, and you’re about to chew him out for laughing at you when he was clearly hard! There was nothing amusing about the fact that you were so wet that you could die and he was doing absolutely nothing about it.

“My pretty girl wants me?” He croons, pulling you flush into his chest until he’s plopping back to the bed. You shriek, falling forward as you all but gracefully crash into his chest. “You want me?” He teases.

You scowl, suddenly more irritated than horny.

“Oh my God, do you have comprehension issues?” You snap, glaring at him when he grins cheekily at you from where you tilt your head up. “I said I want you!”

He hums noncommittally, “You gotta be more specific than that baby. Use your words.”

The way he shifted from such an alluring and … dark tone to such a light-hearted jibe that still makes your stomach clench is stupefying and impressive. But this Jungkook seemed more collateral with an easy smile marring his face, arms wrapped around you in a relaxed way as if he had all the time in the world.

“I-I—” you stammer, cheeks flushing embarrassingly red, “What part of I want you do you not get?” You opt to scowl at him further, glaring at him with your red cheeks.

“Let me help you then,” he murmurs, shifting backwards ever so slightly until his head was perched upon a pillow, right against his headboard. He looks at you with lazy eyes that has your core clenching unconsciously. You blush, unsure if he felt. If he did, he doesn’t say anything but smile. “Tell me how you want me.”

You blink.

“H-How?”

He nods, hands resting around your hips as he nudges your body upwards until you’re the one fully straddling him while he lays down, comfortable and casual as he rests his arms behind his head.

You gape at him, especially at the relaxed state he was in. As if he hadn’t riled you up in a way that has you wanting more while he awaits your answer as if you were just having an ordinary conversation.

“Yeah,” he nods, “You’re always complaining, right? Use your mouth and tell me then, and maybe if I’m feeling nice I’ll give you what you want.”

You still completely above him, legs resting at the sides of his hips while you stare at him like a deer caught in headlights. You were unsure where he was going with this, but you liked it. Despite the sheer mortification you felt at the insinuation of the fact that you had to verbalise what you wanted, the wetness pooling in your panties definitely told you that you were enjoying whatever Jungkook was playing at.

Especially when he sighs as if you were taking too long. The inherent need in you wanting to please him was overpowering your senses, even the one where you feel embarrassed.

“I,” you clear your throat, eyes looking away with red cheeks. “I want you to … I want you—to—t-touch me.”

“It’s rude not to look at people when you’re asking for something,” he snaps.

His voice suddenly startles you into looking back at him. He’s frowning at you, and your heart suddenly drops.

As if he senses your hesitation, the gentle look replaces the bored one almost immediately, hands darting out to grab your hands.

“Are you okay? We can stop—”

You shake your head immediately. You were way too worked up to stop right now and Jungkook looked too appetising with his cold expression. You knew that you’ve come to a point where your feelings for each other are known and that you are his as much as he is yours. It was nice, to have the coldness—it’s almost shameful to admit. But you thought it was hot. And the fact that you knew it would go away right after this was done made the situation even more arousing.

“N-No!” You deny, “I-I’ll be good. I promise.” His eyes widen at the sudden breathlessness of your voice. “Sorry.”

You duck your head down, and Jungkook gauges your expression for any hint of discomfort or uncertainty but doesn’t find any. He almost chuckles at how eager you seem, all innocent and doe-eyed when you struggle to find the right words.

“I forgive you, baby,” Jungkook husks, thumb rubbing a circle against your hip before his arms return to the back of his head. “You remember, right? Use your words and focus on me.”

You nod your head obediently, swallowing the saliva in your mouth as you shift around on his lap, unconsciously trying to relieve the pressure in your lower region. Jungkook’s lip twitches in a smirk at your semi-frustrated expression but doesn’t comment on it. He’s enjoying this way too much, and it was taking him more self-restraint than ever to not give in.

He knew what you wanted. But he wanted to be sure. He could wait for years if that meant having you fully be ready. This playfulness that he adopted was a first too since he was usually a one-and-done kind of guy. It wasn’t something he was proud of but it worked. It worked with women he didn’t care about. But you weren’t just a woman he cared about. You were the person he’s in love with. The woman he’s been in love with for the last decade of his life and the only other woman that wasn’t his mother or grandmother that he loved.

And you seem to be enjoying it, even if you’re a little unsure. It only adds to the sexiness of the entire situation. Even with your flushed cheeks and wide eyes, he thinks you’re stunning.

When you decide you’re ready, you clear your throat and establish unwavering eye contact with Jungkook, even if you felt like your face was the surface of the sun with how hot it was.

“I want you,” you say softly, yet your voice is firmer than before. “I want you to—touch me. To t-touch my body.” You say breathlessly, leaning forward ever so slightly as your hair dangles in front of your face. Jungkook clenches his jaw at how you’re progressively getting breathier, almost desperate as the manic look in your eyes surface.

“Where, baby?” He prompts.

You flush harder but swallow.

“My b-breasts,” you whimper, embarrassment painting your face, but Jungkook nods in contentment, cocking his head for you to continue. “M-My … my …?”

You didn’t even know what to call it. You knew it was your vagina—you weren’t stupid. But the lewdness of all other alternatives made you want to quiver into a hole and never return. It sounded good when Jungkook said it but what if you sounded awkward? What if he thought the way you pronounced its synonyms was unsexy—?

“You want me to touch your pussy?” He finishes for you, voice low in a whisper as your eyes widen.

You nod shamefully, still maintaining eye contact as you unconsciously find yourself nibbling on your bottom lip while you gauge his expression. Jungkook’s eyes immediately dart down, as he licks his own lips in response.

Jungkook smirks at you, suggestive and devious while he rakes his eyes all over your body. Your outfit is different from usual, but still nothing to rave about. Yet, with the way he ogles you, you feel almost naked. And, an even more absurd realisation comes across you when you note that you don’t mind.

“You gotta say it, baby,” he sighs as if he were disappointed in you.

Your confusion only spurs him further, cock straining against his pants when your mouth moves to get the words out, the lewd term still feeling foreign on your tongue.

“I—I want you t-to touch my—” the breath you take is shaky, but as always, you were always a determined person by nature, especially when something you wanted was on the line. “—want you to t-touch my p-pussy.”

When the words leave your lips, you hear Jungkook groan under his breath, eyes fluttering shut as his hands twitch behind his head. His obvious satisfaction causes a deep sense of pride to swell in your chest, the humiliation being overpowered by the innate desire to have Jungkook make that sound again.

“Please touch my pussy,” you beg, almost whiney when you look down at him.

Jungkook’s using all the restraint in him to keep himself level-headed. Where in actuality, he’s both baffled and thanking the Gods above for having you in front of him like this. He’s never allowed himself to delve much into his fantasies, even if he’d shamelessly admit that he had one too many of these same scenarios play out in his mind. It sounds sweeter on your tongue, almost verboten when you whimper those words out.

The usually kept together version of you is slowly unravelling, and Jungkook never thought he had a corruption kink—but he definitely did. Or, maybe it was just you. He wasn’t going anywhere else to find out.

“What a good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, hands teasingly drafting across your thighs as the lower half of your body twitches ever so slightly at the touch.

He smirks at your eagerness, but there was a devious part of him that wanted to drag this further. To see you completely be his, even if he knew where your heart laid.

“Take off your clothes, then.”

You were just about to rut against his crotch desperately, the heat in your body almost searing uncomfortably as you feel the fabric of your panties sticks against your folds.

“M-Myself?”

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek, “Do you see me helping?” He asks with a raised brow.

You don’t, in fact. Jungkook’s completely still, perched snugly under you as he continues to draw lazy glances over your body, awaiting your next move. Your cheeks are still on fire, and every inch of your skin is begging to be touched. It’s almost hysterical at how Jungkook’s managed to reduce you into an absolute desperate mess without even needing to touch you—directly, that is.

He’s fully clothed, cock hard—and he commands you to his will. And you obey.

You’re about to push yourself off his lap, but he stops you before you can get any further.

“On my lap.”

His authoritative tone makes you whimper, almost frustratedly begging for him to do something. To touch you. To kiss you. Anything.

When people spoke of sex, you always thought that they just got to it. Sure, there was foreplay that was enjoyable, but sex has never been something that you found inherently desirable. That’s one of the reasons why you still hadn’t had sex yet. It’s because you never saw the appeal.

But you suppose you’ve never had a reason to. Not until now, at least. Because Jungkook makes you want him. Makes you want to feel his cock in you while you moan and cry. It’s a part of you that you’ve never seen, but you imagine has always been there. You wanted him—and that was still as scary as it was the first time you realised it.

You hesitantly start at the hem of your tank-top, fingers stuttering when you realise that Jungkook’s just staring. It’s different this time. His eyes are dark and purposeful, trained sternly on your upper body that still remains covered.

“L-Like this?” You ask hesitantly, lifting the fabric ever so slightly.

You realise that you’ve never been fully naked in front of Jungkook before, despite him being somewhat familiar with your intimates. The thought makes you nervous, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel sexy. Like you were capable of making him push himself over the edge.

“Touch your body, baby,” he directs.

You follow his instructions obediently, albeit a little stiffly. You try to channel your inner seductress out when you graze your fingertips across the panel of your stomach, the sides of your body and up your breast. It’s so intimate, especially when Jungkook’s looking at you so intently while you attempt to map out your body. It’s funny how it’s been twenty-five years, yet this is the first time you’ve properly felt your body. That it’s the first time it’s felt like a home.

“You’re doing so good,” he encourages you softly, eyes raking over your breast when you give them an experimental squeeze. Your hands are small, but they do the job of alleviating some form of pressure. You gasp, eyes fluttering shut when it starts to feel more natural.

Jungkook’s praises spur you on, as you finally decide to tug at your tank-top, slowly and steadily as you attempt to teasingly lift it up.

“You’re a quick learner, aren’t you?” He murmurs, smiles apparent in his voice as you slowly peel your tank-top off, your heart beating with the adrenaline pumping through your system at the prospect of Jungkook seeing your body for the first time.

It’s both terrifying and arousing. You wonder if he notices the flaws you see when you undress at the end of every day. You wonder if he likes your body—more than you—or less than you. Though, it’s even exponentially more terrifying to think if he liked it less than you did. You’re nervous, especially when he hasn’t said anything and you’re fully topless, with the exception of your bra that covers the last bit of modesty across your chest.

What if he didn’t like your boobs? Did they look awkward in the bra? It wasn’t … sexy. You weren’t trying to get laid tonight. But you don’t know if Jungkook preferred the extra get-ups, or not. You didn’t know at all. And you definitely didn’t know what he was thinking when he continues to stare at you, face surprisingly blank.

“J-Jungkook?” You whisper, voice nervous.

Then, his eyes flutter shut, as if he was defeated before you hear him mumble a low fuck under his breath.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and before you can do anything else—he stares up at the ceiling as if there was something he needed to contemplate before you proceeded.

“You’re gorgeous.”

You don’t know how to react, especially because his works sound almost pained when he chokes it out. He wasn’t even looking at you—so you were rightfully confused.

“I—thank you?” You say slowly.

“I love your tits.” He blurts, eyes suddenly returning to zero onto your chest.

You blush at his vulgar words, hands immediately rushing around to hide your chest despite the fact that he continues to ogle.

“Don’t,” he whines, suddenly turning into the regular Jungkook that you know and love. Your eyes almost widen comically at the duality of the man in front of you, especially when he petulantly tugs at your hand to reveal your cups back to him.

“Did my tits really break you out of your persona?” You snort, finding the situation both funny and stimulating.

There was something about breaking a joke with someone during foreplay that made the build-up to sex much more enjoyable, and your heart nearly flies out of your chest when you realise that you’re experiencing this with Jungkook.

“I’m sorry but if you’re finally seeing the main character of all your teenaged wet dreams in person then I think you’d react the same way,” he snaps back.

You gawk, “Y-Your teenage what?”

He scoffs as if he can’t understand your disbelief.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he sneers accusingly at you while you continue to gape at his sudden confession, shirtless and all. “The number of things that I did on your tits—” And what makes it worse, wasn’t that you were turned on, but was when Jungkook’s eyes fluttered shut as he groans—as if he was picturing it all over again. “—fuuuck.”

“Jungkook!” You shriek, slapping his chest as he sighs, a dopey smile on his face.

“Promise me you’ll let me.” He begs.

You look at him dubiously.

“Let you what?” You ask carefully.

“Cum on them. Fuck them. Suck on them.” He shrugs. Your jaw is slackened when he says them so casually. You also note the jump in his pants, his cock twitching against your core as you gasp.

“J-Jungkook!” You say, scandalised.

(Though your panties are definitely drenched.)

“Please take your bra off.” He croaks, hands finally reaching out to grab at your hips.

You roll your eyes at the desperation in his tone. Even if Jungkook had done some growing up, he was still such a boy. You find his fascination with your tits almost amusing, especially when his eyes darken even further when you reach out to unclasp your bra.

You feel empowered on top, even if you know that ultimately, Jungkook calls the shots. It’s the way that he groans beneath you when your tits finally fall free, cups thrown carelessly aside as you smile bashfully at him.

“I’m going to die,” he groans.

“Just because you saw a pair of tits?” You snort, “Hm, maybe you really aren’t as impressive as I thought you were, Jeon.”

Jungkook immediately snaps up to look at you, eyes narrowed at your amused grin painting your phase. You’re about to continue jibing at him, but you realise that his eyes are hooded and menacing when they stare straight into your soul. Your face slowly drops when you realise he doesn’t respond with an equally light tone.

“I-I was just—”

You can’t even get another word out before he’s interrupting you.

“Pants off, baby.”

He doesn’t ask this time. He’s demanding.

You don’t argue this time. Even if you’re excited at the way he so effortlessly switches back into his first persona—you didn’t want to piss him off. Yet.

Fed with more confidence than earlier, you trail your hands up your thighs until they reach the button of your jeans. Jungkook’s still watching you intently, face void of any emotion that you can read as you begin to undo each button until your panties are peaking through the slit.

You slip your jeans off, a little unseemly, but it gets the job done. You aren’t sure if you can keep up being patient this way, especially when you return to settle down onto Jungkook’s lap, you feel the roughness of his jeans press against your clit as you gasp.

“So fucking wet, baby,” he smirks, “I didn’t even do anything.”

“Jungkook please,” you beg, hips jutting forward to chase anything. This time, without the barrier of your jeans, it feels so much better. So much more raw as the bump of his zipper nudges against your clit, your wetness lubricating the movement. “Do something.”

He stops you from moving before peering up at you with dark eyes and a warning expression. You immediately halt, the same fear returning as you whimper in a desperate tone.

“On my face.”

You blink owlishly at him as you attempt to process his demand.

He quirks an eyebrow up at you, impatient when he clicks his tongue.

“Did I stutter?”

“I’m sorry but did you just say—your face?” You ask incredulously.

Jungkook sighs, annoyed.

“Yes, my face. Hurry up before I get mean.” He warns.

You almost tell him that you wouldn’t mind, but the demand finally settles in as you gape at him in horror.

“I-I can’t sit on your face!” You snap, “I’m going to crush you.”

“I’m a big boy,” he rolls his eyes, “I can take it.”

You don’t think you can.

“Jungkook, you’re literally going to suffocate and die.” You deadpan.

“I’m not,” he drawls as he shoots you an unimpressed look before he’s pulling your hips forward. You nearly stumble off if it weren’t for your palms that press against his headboard. You turn absolutely red when you realise that you’ve hovering above him, cunt in his face as your scent essentially surrounds him.

“Fuck. You smell so good.” He groans, sniffing your pussy in an obscene manner that has your cheeks burning.

“J-Jungkook—“ you say nervously, attempting to shuffle back in embarrassment.

“I’ll be fine.” He snaps.

“I really don’t—”

“Why do you have to be so bratty,” he sighs with an irritating tick to his brow when you peer down, “Even if I die—I’d be happy to go by your pussy.”

You flush even harder at his crude words.

“Jeon Jungkook!”

“What?” He says defensively, “Do you need it in black and white in case I do? I’ll write you a contract if you—”

“Oh my God,” you huff in exasperation, “You’re unbelievable!”

“Unbelievably hard and horny so if you mind I’d really like for you to sit that pussy on my face,” he retorts snappishly.

You sigh to yourself, still embarrassed. You’re still confused at how Jungkook’s able to switch from one personality to another, and you suppose it’s just the many faces of Jungkook you’ve yet to learn about.

“Jungkook, I really—Jungkook!”

Your complaints are interrupted when he quite literally rips your panties off of you, the sound of the fabric tearing filling his room as you gasp.

“Jungkook what the hell?!” You shriek.

He doesn’t placate you with a response until he’s tugging your hips down to his face, his mouth immediately latching around your clit as you fall forward at the first lick. You never stood a chance.

“F-Fuck!” You scream, loud and unabashed when your lower half seizes in pleasure.

Jungkook immediately laps you up like he’s parched for water. You don’t even know where to look, especially when your body is inevitably hunched forward due to the onslaught of pressure relieved at your lower region. Your eyes eventually wander downwards and you’re welcomed with an equally as erotic sight with Jungkook’s purple hair between your thighs, his own eyes shut in pleasure as he laps at your pussy like a madman.

You’re undeniably flushing and beyond wet. That enough is clear when the wetness of your cunt is audible enough in between your gasps of pleasure while Jungkook keeps his arms wrapped around your thighs.

“J-Jungkook—oh my G-God—“ you mewl, the heat in the lower half of your body sending you into overdrive, especially when he’s dead-set on making a home between your thighs. “Oh, oh.” You’re moaning lewdly at this point, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he pushes you further onto his face. “I-I can’t—!”

Your hands reach out to grab on his hair, startled when you realise that you’re almost fully sitting on him.

“You can and you will,” he snarls against your pussy, the sound muffled by the wetness and the way he doesn’t bother to even take a breather as he drags his tongue across your folds to gather all your wetness and centre it around your throbbing bud.

“J-Jungkook, I’m g-going to crush you!” You cry in the middle of a moan, “Jungk—fuck.”

On Jungkook’s end, he’s positive he’s already dead and in heaven. All he can smell, taste and see is you. Your face is contorted in pure pleasure when he licks across your slit, tongue fucking into you with a sense of purpose that drives you insane. You taste so heady and sweet. All for him. Especially when he gets to see your tits from below.

“Fuck,” he growls into your pussy, the vibrations making your thighs shake at the side of his face. Your hands were the only things supporting your weight right now, and even then, they were close to giving out with how good Jungkook was making you feel. “Ride my face baby.”

Your eyes widen, immediately darting down to shoot Jungkook a stupefied expression. Too bad he doesn’t catch it because he’s too busy shaking his head, tongue following his motions as he presses it firmly against your clit. You let out an embarrassingly loud cry and a moan, your hand immediately reaching to clamp over your mouth in embarrassment.

“Don’t,” he complains, “Wanna hear you cum, pretty girl.”

You all but melt into him further at his term of endearment. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably at the way he refuses to give you a break. You feel the coil tighten further and further, so close to release especially when your body gives out of you—the weight of your body resting on his face as you unconsciously grind your hips across his tongue.

And fuck. Does it feel good.

“O-Oh, oh—J-Jungkook—fuck, you’re so good to me you make me—feel so—good,” you ramble manically, heading dropping forehead to rest on his headboard as you grind further onto his tongue, uncaring if he’s crushed. Jungkook lays there at your disposal, tongue out for you to use as he continues to hum into your pussy like a personal vibrator.

“Come on baby,” he encourages with a growl, “Cum for me, yeah? Gonna prep you real good for my cock. You want it, don’t you? Deep in your pussy while I make you scream? Cream my face for me, baby.”

His dirty words make you gasp, your hands tightly pulling at his hair as you shamelessly chase your hair. Your face is completely pressed against the headboard, and Jungkook can only admire the way your face is morphed into an expression he never thought he’d be able to get out of a girl—let alone seeing the girl of his dreams all desperate and wet for him like this.

You feel so filthy like this—in more than one sense that wasn’t just your sweaty body and malleable limbs—but the way he digs his nose further, occasionally brushing against your pelvis as you grind against his tongue. Your body is moving on its own, the innate desire to chase your high is the only thing your mind can register. All sense of poise and modesty out of the window when Jungkook lets you use him.

“J-Jungkook—” you sob, “I-I’m c-cumming—!”

“Cum for me baby,” he purrs, “Cum on my tongue.”

Just as you’re about to cum, Jungkook makes a split-second decision to roll you over until your back is pressed to his bed. He loves having you on his face, but he loves this. Seeing you squeak in surprise while you continue to mewl in pleasure, your back arching off the bed as you gasp for air.

He buries his face impossibly deeper, speeding up the way his tongue rolls against your clit. You’re moaning out incoherencies, hazed to absolute pleasure as your thighs quiver by the side of his head.

“Oh—!”

You cum loudly and messily, your pussy clenching and unclenching rhythmically as Jungkook laps up all of your essences, continuously tongue-fucking you through your pleasure. You almost blackout at how intensely your body was shaking from that orgasm, your thighs clamping shut around his head in oversensitivity when he continues to slurp at your pussy in an obscene manner.

“J-Jungkook—” you whine, attempting to push him away as he finally relents, parting from your cunt with a soft kiss to your clit that has your legs jumping.

Your back is absolutely damp with sweat, and sore the sheets beneath you as you attempt to catch your breath. Your chest is tight with the lack of oxygen while the room spins. You feel more than see the sheets ruffling by your sides, and Jungkook slowly inches up your body with wet kisses against your skin.

You all but let out helpless whimpers, absolutely spent—yet frantic for more.

“You did so well,” he coos, gently kissing up to your stomach, your ribs before his hands are capturing your breasts in his large hands. He squeezes them, evoking a gasp from you, body still tingling from your orgasm. “So good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

You can barely register his words, especially when his mouth attaches itself to your right breast, immediately delivering kitten licks to your nipples that causes your back to arch into his hot mouth. You mewl in pleasure when he doesn’t keep himself soft, instead, it’s wet and loud and desperate when he looks up—eyes dark as you whimper.

“Oh,” you exhale when he plops off with a pop, sending you a smile that’s far more gentle than how you feel. For that split second, you feel your heart melt, shooting him a weak smile in return.

“Can’t believe you’re here,” he sighs dreamily into your left breast, peppering kisses around your peaked buds before squeezing it between his fingers. His eyes are honest when they maintain eye contact, the gesture too intimate for you to handle as you bashfully look away. “Can’t believe this is happening.”

“It is,” you say softly, “I’m here, Kook.”

The nickname causes him to groan, his head resting on your breast as your hand finally finds the strength to instinctively wrap your fingers between his locks, delicately scraping through his hair as he sighs.

“You know I never thought I was good enough for you,” he abruptly confesses.

Your eyes widen.

“What? Why—?”

He doesn’t respond, instead; he kisses up your chest until he’s inches away from your lips, his face carrying the weight of your words as you search for an answer.

And it’s scary that he looks so much like himself. The Jungkook you’ve known for long loved for just as much—but were only brave enough to accept recently. He’s always looked youthful, though he definitely grew out of his round edges. He’s more defined, carved by years of experiences and mistakes that made him the person he was today.

He looks hesitant for the first time this night. As if he’s mulling over the next things he’ll say.

Jungkook looks at you, eyes holding more than just your gaze but the magnitude of his heart. You wonder how long he’s looked at you like that for.

“You’re amazing,” he finally says, and it’s against your lips.

“You are too,” you say with a soft gaze.

He shakes his head, and it’s probably an odd conversation to have while you’re fully naked and Jungkook’s yet to shed off a single piece of his clothing.

“I’m good at things, there’s a difference,” he sighs, “You’re … you’re it, you know? I don’t think you know how great you really are.”

“Jungkook …”

“No, really.” His eyes are suddenly wide as if he was afraid you wouldn’t believe him. Yet, you found it hard to truly trust his words, the part of you that feels lacking refuses to. “You’re driven and you’re passionate. You care so deeply and profoundly that it’s impossible not to love you. You just—how could I ever deserve someone like you?”

Your eyes soften as his eyes dart away from yours, his eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. You know he’s caught up in his own thoughts. The expression is too familiar to you because you’ve been there. You were just there, and it took a long time for you to recognise that sometimes—we won’t ever know what we deserve or do.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, hands reaching out to hold his cheeks and guide his gaze back to you. His eyes are unsure, and all you want to do is reassure him. So, you do. “Look at me. Please?”

He does, albeit hesitantly as you offer him the gentlest of smiles.

“It’s insane that you think that because I wonder how I could ever deserve you,” you throw his words back to him with a small smile.

His jaw drops, “No way—!”

You giggle, shushing him with a gentle peck to his lips that has him melting into your touch.

“My point is,” you continue, never breaking eye contact with him. “We’ll always feel lacking in some way because we always will be. We’re human. We’re bound to make mistakes and we’ll never be perfect. But I wouldn’t have you any other way. I fell in love with this version of you, and I’ll love every version of you that I’ll be blessed to learn about.”

Jungkook stares at you, awestruck as you continue smiling lovingly at him. Whatever you had just said was the truth and you’d tell him that over and over again if it meant he’d trust your words just a little more.

“Do you understand?” You ask softly, “I love—”

He shuts you up by smashing his lips to yours, causing you to gasp in surprise at the ferocity of the force. He’s pushing you into the sheets, not enough for it to hurt but enough to show you his intuitive want for you at that very moment.

His hand reach up to cup your cheeks, the other one already making its way down your body until it's cupping your mound.

“J-Jungkook,” you whimper, eyes dazed as you tilt your head to the side, “Take off your clothes.”

You emphasise your point with a tug to the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans.

He doesn’t argue with you, quickly pulling his shirt over his head from the back, exposing the firm expanse of his chest. The intricate design of tattoos trail up his arm and onto his shoulder, emphasising each slope of his muscles.

You really can’t close your mouth as you’re blatantly ogling him. You’ve seen Jungkook shirtless many times, it’s a given since he basically lived at the gym and was comfortable enough around you and in his own body when he lazily throws off his shirt when it got too hot. But you’ve never seen him like this. So close to you, panting in desire while his carnal eyes rake over your completely bare body while he’s in the midst of undressing.

“You’re staring,” he smirks.

You scoff, cheeks flushing even if you know it’s nothing but the truth.

“Pants. Off.” You demand, lips in a pout as he laughs, bending down to give you a quick smack before he shoots you that charming grin of him.

“Want to help?” He cocks an eyebrow up, licking his lips as you feel your pussy flutter at his tone.

Really, Jeon Jungkook was too hot for his own good.

You roll your eyes, yet you find yourself already shifting forward, despite the shake in your legs from your previous orgasm as you make your way towards the button of his jeans, fingers already working their way to undo it.

Jungkook observes your eagerness, especially when your eyes occasionally drift upwards as you search for his approval. All Jungkook does is rub a soothing hand over your head as you continue your ministrations. You help him tug his pants down, his briefs not doing much in covering his bulge that practically stares you straight in the eye as you swallow.

You’ve seen it once, had it in your mouth—yet, the thought becomes more appealing the longer you ogle.

Your hands are already reaching out to cup him through his briefs, your state of horniness throwing all hesitancy out of the window as you hear Jungkook suck in a deep breath before his large hand closes on top of your own.

“Next time, baby,” he murmurs, “This is about you.”

You roll your eyes at the cliche phrase, and you can’t help the indignant tone that travels through your chest and out of your mouth.

“And what if I want to suck your dick?”

Jungkook shoots you a pointed stare before pushing you down back onto your back as you squeak in surprise.

“Don’t be a smartass,” he sighs, “Besides, I’m the hardest I’ve ever been in my entire life and there’s no way I’m going to last if I have your mouth on me. The only place I wanna feel is your pussy, got it?”

Your eyes widen at his blatant words, and your gaping face may have thrown Jungkook off as his expression suddenly mimics yours.

“I-I mean—that’s if you’re still—we don’t have to have sex—”

You interrupt him by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss.

“Jungkook,” you mumble against his lips, pulling ever so slightly to shoot him a serious look, “If you’re not going to fuck me then I’m going to be really disappointed. Or—maybe I’ll just go find someone who is going to fuck me—”

Jungkook growls, hands delivering a pert smack to your right asscheek as you gasp at his actions, his gaze dropping to yours in a hooded gaze.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he snarls threateningly as your face drops, “I’m going to love you so good—you got that?”

Somehow, his rough tone is contrasted against his gentle words, especially when his eyes soften on your face.

“I’d really like that,” you smile.

Before you can say anything else, Jungkook already has his hands trailing down your abdomen once again to cup your mound. You gasp, squirming under his touch as you whine.

“Jungkook,” you whine, “Just—please just stick it in already.”

You realise how whiney you sound, but you were still really worked up and your previous orgasm along with Jungkook’s spit has provided enough lubricant for you to take him. At least that’s what you think.

“There’s no way my cock’s going to fit if I don’t stretch you out,” he says pointedly, “Even if your pussy’s all sloppy.”

His words make you whimper, thighs clenching in reprieve to relieve the pulsations in your lower abdomen. You can’t even imagine how it’s going to feel like—and you know that Jungkook isn’t average-sized by any means. It was already a struggle to have him in your mouth and you could somewhat contract and relax it voluntarily. Your pussy on the other hand? Not quite.

“P-Please hurry,” you beg, eyes peering up desperately.

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something but decides against it at the last minute, likely too worked up to do so. Rather, his fingers immediately gather the wetness from your pussy to your whole, causing you to mewl in expectation.

His index finger prods your hole before it slips in, as he peers up to gauge your expression. At this point, anything that Jungkook did would evoke a whine from you because you’ve already been riled up enough. He curls his digit, the pad of his finger immediately reaching deep in your wet cunt.

You gasp, head falling back onto the pillow as Jungkook smirks at you.

“Already?” He teases, “How are you going to take my cock if one finger gets you like this?”

You glare at him through lidded eyes.

“Would you prefer me to shut up and take it like a starfish?” You can’t help the spite that escapes your mouth, throwing back the familiar yet painful words back to him.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, mouth falling agape. You weren’t trying to be mean, in fact, it was more so that you were frustrated than anything else. Your heart has healed, but there was no harm in teasing—right?

“I—well”—he gulps, eyes comically apologetic as his face crumbles while his finger twitches in your cunt—“Baby you can’t do this to me.” He whines.

You roll your eyes.

“Then how about you get to it,” you smile sweetly at him, patting his cheek as he pouts, “Stretch me out so I can take you good.” You purr.

Jungkook nods his head obediently as if caught in a trance and you almost want to laugh. You quite liked the hold you had over him, even if it was just momentarily. You don’t dwell on your thoughts for too long because Jungkook’s slipping another digit in, your pussy acclimating to the stretch.

He thrusts his fingers into your pussy, digging deeper each time as you feel the tell-tale signs of your stomach clenching in desire as you moan softly.

“Does it feel good?” He asks.

You nod your head, eyes fluttering shut as he speeds up his fingers, your pussy throbbing around the digits. You were still wet from your previous orgasm, and still as sensitive—so you felt every inch of his fingers reach your walls and it felt heavenly, especially when Jungkook was pressed so close to you that his body warmed you up.

“So good,” you whimper.

“Can you take another?” He murmurs, the third digit already testing the waters.

You nod your head.

Once he gets your consent, he inserts his last finger as you wince at the burn. His fingers were long and girth enough to make you feel the stretch. He stills ever so slightly to catch your expression as he shoots you a concerned gaze.

“You okay?”

You nod your head, whimpering ever so slightly when he shallowly thrusts his fingers. Your pussy stretches to accommodate the new girth, and it’s both pleasurable and uncomfortable—but the way that Jungkook begins to press his lips to yours distracts you from the burn.

You feel his palm bump into your clit every time he thrusts harder, fingers curling expertly into the spot that has you moaning into his mouth, fingers clutching his hair in desperation to ground yourself. You think he’s just here to stretch you out, so you don’t expect much—but suddenly, he’s snapping his fingers into your pussy so rapidly that you catch yourself in a cry of pleasure.

“J-Jungkook—I—w-what—?” You ask manically, your voice high pitched as you clutch his arms while you feel your pussy clench uncontrollably around his digits.

“Cum for me again,” he grits, eyes narrowed in focus while he watches the way your wetness coats his fingers.

He scissors your pussy and you barely feel it, purely because your wetness makes it so much easier for him to thrust his fingers in and out without any barrier. It’s loud and wet, the way that your pussy squelches each time the heel of his palm purposefully drags itself across your clit.

“I-I’m going—ohohoh—please don’t stop please don’t stop,” you sob, head thrown back.

“So wet,” he growls, “Wanna see you cum again. Will you do that for me?” He whispers into your cheek, your whines caught against his mouth as you feel yourself reach the very edge. “Come on, you’re doing so good for me. Aren’t you? The prettiest and best girl.”

His praise makes you clutch onto him harder while he doesn’t stop the brutal thrusts into your cunt. And with one particularly good drag of his fingers on your g-spot, you cum—and it’s a silent cry that you let out while your lower half shakes.

Jungkook continues finger-fucking you through your orgasm, even when it begins to burn in oversensitivity as you whimper, body spent for the second time that night.

“That’s right,” he coos, “Always so beautiful for me.”

When you come down from your high, you slowly blink at him while you catch your breath. Jungkook’s already staring at you, and even if he’s yet to receive any direct stimulation, he looks equally as fucked out as he breathes, chest rising up and down while his eyes remain trained on your body.

“Jungkook,” you croak, throat raw from your moans. Your hands trail to his briefs as you tug on them, still desperate for more if it was from him. “Please fuck me.”

You don’t recognise your voice or your tone. You don’t think you’ve sounded this desperate in your life, but yet—you don’t feel ashamed. You don’t feel as embarrassed as you thought you would be. Instead, you feel even more desirable because of the man in front of you that gave you two mind-blowing orgasms while his cock strains against his briefs.

“You sure—?” He raises a brow at you as you whine.

“Jungkook please,” you plead, “I want you. All of you. In every way possible.”

The words are so similar, and Jungkook can’t stop the smile that threatens to appear on his face when he recognises it immediately. It’s the same words he’s reassured you with, and here you are throwing it back at him. You don’t realise the honest intention, but Jungkook does.

And he has to press another soft kiss to your lips before he’s quickly shrugging his briefs off, his cock springing free. It stands long and hard against his abdomen, the pre-cum undoubtedly leaking from his tip as you feel your mouth turn dry at the sight.

Jungkook was an attractive person but he was absolutely ethereal bare. His natural state, sweaty and flushed—only makes your pussy clench in expectation as you let out a tight groan of your own.

“You’re so hot,” you complain, “How are you so hot?”

Jungkook snickers leaning across your body as he reaches towards his bedside table. You briefly snap out of your horny daze as you furrow your brows at his gesture.

“What are you doing?”

Jungkook hums noncommittally before expertly dragging his drawer open to draw out a—

“Condom.”

You blink at him.

“You don’t need it.”

Jungkook freezes, hand still gripping the foil as he peers down at you with wide eyes.

“I don’t—?”

“You know I’ve been on birth control since high school. Acne and stuff.” you say pointedly, “Unless you’re not clean?”

Jungkook tosses the packet aside immediately before he’s hovering above you like a sweaty God.

“No,” he blurts, “I mean yes. I mean no, I’m not—I don’t have anything. Yes. I’m clean.”

You giggle, before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close, just enough so that his lips are fanning across your own.

“Then,” you lower your voice seductively, “Make love to me, Jungkook.”

Jungkook blinks at you before he’s letting out a groan of himself, looking to the ceiling for one second before his gaze returns to your own.

And the events of the entire night have been leading up to this moment, the way even Jungkook trembles when he lines up the tip of his cockhead to your hole as your heart beats vigorously against your rib cage.

It’s this. The way that Jungkook looks at you so softly while you bite your lip in anticipation. It’s this. When he finally breaks through the first barrier of your pussy as you feel the tip enter. You gasp, and he grunts, your fingers tighten against the sheets as you shut your eyes.

The burn is unpleasant. It’s expected. But Jungkook’s keeping a thumb on your clit the entire time to soothe any displeasure.

“Are you okay?” He whispers.

You nod, afraid if your voice would fail you.

Jungkook searches for any hesitancy before he continues slipping each inch in. It’s intimate this way when you see him clearly and he sees you. He watches your expression closely, even kisses away the frown lines on your forehead when you’re grimacing at the way your walls attempt to take him.

It’s when he licks his tongue into your mouth that he bottoms out completely. You gasp, feeling so wholly full and filled, even if the burn becomes more intense. It’s not painful, just … uncomfortable. But it’s almost mixed with the fact that he presses against your walls so well that there’s a fuzzy sense of pleasure that erupts in your lower abdomen.

“F-Fuck,” Jungkook chokes, his head dropping to the crook of your neck, “You feel so good.”

It strokes your ego that Jungkook looks absolutely destroyed right now. His face tight and eyes shut while he breathes heavily into your neck. You can tell he’s holding himself back because he’s scrunching the fabric of his sheets so tightly next to your hips, cock throbbing between your hot walls.

You can feel every inch of him like this, and you’re sure he does too. It’s because you get wetter just thinking about him fucking you, finally making you his while he becomes yours. The intimacy, the love, the years of pining finally bottoming out.

“You can move,” you whisper, running your hand through his hair.

“Are you sure?” He asks sceptically.

“Please, Jungkook,” you reply softly, “I’m okay.”

Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief before he tests the waters, pulling out completely before he thrusts back into you. At the impact, your body hikes up as you gasp, the pleasure tripling due to your sensitivity and the preciseness of his cockhead brushing against your sensitive spot.

“O-Oh,” you gasp.

“Baby, I need to warn you,” he says through a hitched breath, “I don’t think I’ll last long.”

You shake your head with a small laugh, your voice interrupted by your mewls when he starts to build up a rhythm of his own, thrusting into your pussy. You don’t care about anything else, except for the fact that you feel all of Jungkook. The heat and the desperation, all while he looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky.

Jungkook grunts and groans above you, hips slapping against your own when he grinds his cock deeper into your cunt. He’s not rushing, and you suppose that the pace doesn’t need to be hard or at super-speed when you know what you’re doing. And in this case, Jungkook’s managed to master the art of your body and what you liked by just gauging your expressions.

His hand reaches out to intertwine his fingers with your own before bringing them to the side of your head. The gesture is so intuitively intimate and romantic that you unconsciously clench your walls around his cock, causing Jungkook’s hips to falter ever so slightly before he shoots you a playful glare.

“Don’t try and kill me now,” he warns teasingly, face leaning closer to yours as you smile brightly at him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply.

He catches himself and begins snapping his hips harder against your own, his cock brushing against your g-spot with every thrust as you moan in pleasure. The sounds of skin slapping on skin reverberate against the walls of his room and you feel yourself burn from the lewdness of it all.

But it’s worth it when Jungkook groans against your lips while you feel his sticky chest pressed against yours when he hikes up your legs with his free hand, the other still dead-set on holding your hand.

“I’m going to cum,” he warns in a breathless tone, “I’ll get you off later—”

You don’t allow him to continue until your hips are moving at their own accord, chasing his thrusts as he chokes at your sudden proactiveness.

You don’t care if he gets you off later or not, not when he looks like this above you, feral and desperate as he chases his high. His thrusts get more intense and desperate, and especially deeper when you feel his cock throb inside of you.

“Cum in me,” you murmur against his lips.

You hear Jungkook mutter a string of curses under his breath before he shoves his cock impossibly deeper into you and stays in place, all while you feel his hot seed pour into your cunt as you gasp.

Jungkook cums like he’s on a mission to milk himself dry. He doesn’t leave your lips either, mouth continuing to receive open-mouthed kisses from you while you hold him close. He shallowly thrusts into your pussy, his cum pooling at the entrance of your cunt as you whimper at how erotic it feels.

When Jungkook finally comes down from his high, chest heaving, he does so by pressing a kiss so passionate that it makes your head spin and your heart grow ten times larger. He keeps himself in you, despite the way he’s softening.

“Fuck,” he laughs, eyes crinkling, “You’re really going to be the death of me.”

You smile cheekily at him, even though you feel the exhaustion suddenly hitting you like a wave.

“Nice doing business with you, Jeon,” you giggle.

He rolls his eyes and finally slips out of you with a wince, while you immediately snap your legs shut—not wanting to stain his sheets.

He raises an eyebrow at your gesture before you’re blushing.

“So this is what this was?” He pouts, “A business transaction?”

Now, it was your turn before you’re rolling your eyes.

“Don’t be dumb,” you scold, but it’s light.

He sighs contentedly and brings you close by wrapping his arms around your sweaty body. He rests your head against his chest while you listen to your heartbeat.

You’ve always imagined having sex for the first time to feel a lot more … desolating than this. Perhaps it was the unhealthy mindset that you associated having sex for the first time with losing a part of you. A part of you that somehow was someone else’s to claim. But with Jungkook’s breathing and your own intermingled together, it doesn’t feel like you’ve lost.

“Hey,” he whispers, catching your attention as you look up at him.

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?” He asks.

You grin from ear to ear before leaning up to kiss him.

“Yeah,” you nod, “And you know that I love you too, right?”

Jungkook laughs, tired as his eyes threaten to shut.

“Yeah. I do.”

When the both of you fall asleep, sticky and honestly, gross. You feel anything but discomfort. You feel content. You feel happy. And most importantly, you feel at home.

[its-deputy-caleb]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well, I really love your writing and I recently tried to come out to my family but it didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. I was wondering if you could do the four lords’ reactions to reader coming out as lesbian (it doesn’t have to be lesbian specific if you don’t want to) If you don’t feel comfortable writing this it’s totally fine, no pressure at all. And thank you for all of your work it really helps me just relax sometimes 😘

Hii, I’m so glad that my writing is able to make you feel happy! It honestly makes my day!! I’m so happy to write this for you and I feel so honoured to write this, I apologise that it’s late I wanted to write it sooner.

I’m sorry that all this has happened to you and if you ever need anything I will always be here for a listen if you need <3 just message x I also wrote this from some person experiences since I am bi and have also had bad experiences so this is just to make everyone feel loved and included!

Alcina Dimitrescu

You’re sitting on the lounge of one of the various sitting areas in Castle Dimitrescu, having tea with the Lady of the house one cold evening.

You were both enjoying each other’s company, having grown very fond of Alcina and her daughters. You’d become something like an aunt to the girls and Alcina had accepted you into her house with open arms.

The Lady Dimitrescu was currently speaking about another “man-thing” she had hidden in the dungeon when you told her about your own feelings towards women.

Your heart is practically beating in your throat as the nerves make you feel nauseous, anxiously awaiting a reaction from the Lady Dimitrescu. Your palms shaking slightly as she stopped speaking to glance at you.

Tears well in your eyes as you wonder if you’ve made a mistake, instantly going to apologise.

She takes two large steps towards you, kneeling down and takes your much smaller hands in her own. Her thumb moves in gentle circles along your knuckles as she soothes you.

“My darling, please do not cry… You’re too beautiful in your youth to be sad. Just know you will always be loved here in my castle both by my daughters and myself. No harm will come to you, I promise; I will protect you always.”

She brings her hand up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek, holding your chin up so you can look at her. Everything about her presence is calming and loving in that moment.

“All that matters in this world is your happiness, my darling, don’t let anybody take it away from you.”

She places a soft kiss to the back of your hand and uses it to bring you into a tight hug. Her arms wrap around you tightly and she holds you close, almost protecting you from the outside world.

“Come now; if you’re to be staying with us, you’ll be needing your own formal room. Besides if you stay with us you’ll find that you and I are not so different.”

You look up at her with wide eyes as she gives you a large smile and scoops you up in her arms. It’s there that she carries you to your new chambers just down the hall from her own and you continue to stay with the Lady Dimitrescu.

Each day and night she reminds you just how much you’re loved by her and her family, making sure you know just how much she cares for you no matter who you are.

Donna Beneviento

You’re standing on the porch with Donna, over looking the waterfall which her house sits next to. You notice Angie is not with her and she’s in lighter clothes than her usual layers which she wears to visit Mother Miranda.

It’s one thing you’re very happy about is Donna’s comfort around you. You two are very close and you’re the only person she feels like she can be herself even without her dolls. To her, you’re someone that makes her feel normal and safe in this crazy and chaotic world.

Much like Donna, you’ve kept to yourself, often hiding how you really feel inside but she’s someone who you’ve grown to trust with your life and who care for very deeply about.

That’s why you feel ready to finally tell her about your own feelings and who you are. Yet it doesn’t make it any less nerve racking, your friendship with Donna means everything to you and you don’t want to lose her.

She notices the way you tense up, how you focus more on the water falling to distract yourself, fiddling with your hands at the same time.

Donna leans over and rests her head on your shoulder which you relax into and place your head on hers as her arm wraps around you reassuringly.

“Angie and I still love you. No matter what, you’re still the only one who likes us. Just because you feel a certain way doesn’t change that.”

Donna’s hand squeezes every so often against your arm, a reminder that she means what she says. Her touch keeping you warm out in the cold as her words warm your heart.

Salvatore Moreau

You and Moreau have always found comfort in each other. The two of you feeling rejected by everyone in society, just wishing that someone would give you the opportunity to get to know you both better. To see the real you.

That’s what you were, inseparable and each other’s second chance to be yourselves. You were all you two had, telling each other everything and sticking by each other.

Hidden away in his reservoir was your own little world where no one could judge either of you and you could be yourselves.

That’s why with your hand in his, squeezing tightly, you decided to come out to him.

His hand squeezes back and matches your strength as he smiles at you, proud that you were able to say it.

“You’re my best friend, you know? And I will never view you any differently because you like girls, you’re braver than I could ever wish to be.”

Salvatore is captured by your ability to be yourself, especially around him. He feels honoured that you trust him with everything, even something as daunting as coming out and he makes you feel validated and respected all the time.

You’re something of a role model to him and the two of you work through all your troubles together, always relying on each other for support.

You never once had to face anything alone, no matter how hard it was for you to come out to everyone else, Salvatore was always there for you and was by your side.

Karl Heisenberg

You and Karl had an interesting friendship, something akin to the term “chalk and cheese”. He was the wild and crazy engineer, always tinkering in his workshops, working tirelessly for his revenge on Mother Miranda while you were the gentle and sweet soul who was once a member of the village.

No matter of your differences, you were both the only one you had left. You truly cared about each other. Although you both weren’t always great at saying it, you each had your moments.

After Karl told you about his childhood, the experiments he endured and the Cadou implant you both agreed to tell each other everything and he honest. Promising to be there for each other.

That’s why you knew you could come out to him and tell you how you felt deep down.

He instantly drops the hot piece of metal he was welding to draw his attention to you. Leaning in and listening to you as you told him all of what you had been hiding.

At the end of it you’re exhausted, teary eyed and in need of a hug which he gladly provides, practically crushing you as he holds you close.

“Hey now, you’re not broken like I am, there’s nothing wrong with who you are. Fuck what anyone has to say, if they want to hurt you I won’t let them okay? If they’ve got a problem with who you love they’re gonna have to deal with me. I mean it, if anyone gives you shit they’ll be fed to the lycans!”

You laugh at his little speech and he smiles when he sees you happy. Although apart of you knows he’s very serious and cares about you enough to rip anyone’s throat out for hurting you.

Karl Heisenberg was the last person you’d expect to find a friend in and yet he’d stop at nothing to make you feel loved and safe in his home.

i love all of you <3

[generalwildcat]

Rant Time

So as I'm sitting here squealing over the little moments we got of characters we were robbed of like Miss Jen, Seb, and Big Red; melting into a puddle over Kourtney's rendition of Let It Go; enjoying the music as a whole of the new season; emotionally attached to new characters; and happy with season 3 as a whole, there is a sour feeling that has finally shown itself and is probably only a fraction compared to what other Wildcats are feeling right now. It's EJ's last summer as a kid with most of his friends in one of the places he grew up. He gets thrown into directing a musical that's gonna be filmed AND livestreamed. He has to star in the musical. He has things going on at camp. He can't spend time with his girlfriend. He can't spend time with his friends. He gets told by his dad "I don't approve of what you're doing, you're not gonna be successful like me so enjoy the summer while it lasts cause when you come back you're being shipped off to this fancy schmancy leadership school where you can actually make something of yourself." He's juggling all these different things at one, meanwhile he's watching Gina with Ricky and, ok he's insecure in his relationship. Normal. She tries to spend time with EJ and he can't cause he's got all this work and crap to do, his plate is full, he's stressed, the only person he feels comfortable going to for support (aside from Miss Jenn about directing) is his pseudo older sister Val. He gets told that there has to be drama for the show to even be "good" and "watchable". He has to play that part. He has to help stir drama. More things to add to his list. As if he doesn't have enough ACTUAL drama going on. Then, THEN he and Gina break up because they're in different places and finally on like the LAST DAY OF CAMP he's FINALLY able to put all his focus and attention onto the show as if it hasn't been already but he gets slapped across the face by CALLING HIS FATHER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PLAY AND GETS REJECTED. But you know what, it sucks and it's sad but it's almost ok because at least after the show they're trending, they did their job, EJ directed a great show, and he's proven that he can do this and he has a future and he's happy and proud of what he and his friends did. EXCEPT at the premiere finally sees the thing he feared the entire summer which was Ricky and Gina getting together. Did he see them kiss? No. But the signs were all there. He saw everything he needed to see. So now, not only did he lose his last girlfriend Nini to Ricky, but he had a relationship with Gina who he couldn't even put his all into because of being a damn director and he was happy with her and was looking forward to spending his gap year with her and probably planning for a future where they could go to college near each other and have time together and, especially after the summer, do all the relationship stuff they couldn't do during the summer and what happens? Ricky. AGAIN. Over and over again who keeps stepping over him the most? Who does he keep losing to? Who keeps coming out from behind, practically stealing his happiness? Ricky. Fricking. Bowen. Disclaimer:I haven't been a fan of the Portwell ship, but I wasn't rooting for Rina to be cannon either. Everyone's been saying the entire season that EJ had all his character development undone. That he was getting the short end of the stick. That he was being done dirty. I was hoping that somehow, SOMEHOW, everything would come together in the end. Not necessarily that things would magically get better, but that SOMETHING would work out for EJ because it had to. Whether it meant starting over with Gina, his father accepting him and what he wants to do, getting something damn good for pulling off the musical, some recognition and appreciation...just SOMETHING. And what did he get instead? Not even thrown under the bus. He got tackled, run over, tossed into the street, kicked under the bus, smashed by the bus, chopped up into little tiny pieces, stomped on, and thrown into the garbage that then got set on fire. There are a lot of things I loved about High School Musical the Musical Season 3. But the way they treated EJ? What they did to him? Especially in this last episode? Not. Cool. Not Cool, Disney+. EJ is owed BIG TIME. He deserved better.

[satohqbanana]

Top 1 - My Arcanium magic worldbuilding post

I'm not sure about writeblr these days but I feel like the spheres I'm hovering around is really really all about the worldbuilding. This is also definitely my most popular Arcanium post, so you know, for all you worldbuilding nerds, I made two games and a post on mage society and culture worldbuilding.

Top 2 - My wishful Timebomb post before. Well. Things went down the way they did.

I had another Timebomb post that I deleted because people only ever liked it (not a single reply even!) but it had a similar number of notes.

But man does this post make me yearn for a better Timebomb canon. Not one where Ekko gets to have his happy moment with Powder, but one where Ekko and Jinx get to process their emotions and thoughts about each other, maybe finally have proper closure to their relationship especially now that they've changed so much.

Top 3 - Art of the new mage trio designs

YEAAAHHHH MY ART MADE IT TO TOP 3!!! Gracie, Des, and Ireus definitely look better in this artwork, especially with clothes that put them in the setting I intend for them, not just generic anime high school clothes. XD

Gosh. I love them. If you love me go reblog them (JK).

Top 4 - Arcanium masterpost

Uh. I need to update this. Like make a new post on it with proper and better dividers. But you're free to check it out for links and that.

Top 5 - Fanfic writers only have two moods and they’re, “I’m gonna write this thing and finish it even if nobody else likes it because I like it!” and, “Thanks to the only guy who commented on the previous chapter. You’re the only reason I got the next chapter done.”

It was inspired by someone who recently updated their fic and was really sad that only one person commented on their last update. (I only read like Chapters 1-3 but the fic was on Chapter 20? when I opened it again.)

Top 6 - Writemas Day 1: Evrinne's Gaze

Of course the Writemas entry that's short, is just a small scene in a secondary character's life, and contained her anger is the most famous of the Writemas entries. I feel quite bummed. I have better stories than this. Read them. T_T

Top 7 - Fans or Friends?

Listen I was having a bit of a paranoiac breakdown during this but I'm glad people chose friends.

And I hope you treat your friends as friends.

Top 8 - Yara's character sheet

MY (DEMI)GODDESS MY POOR SWEET BABY MY MOST PRECIOUS BRAINCHILD (She sticks out like a sore thumb among my OCs LOL.) Go give her a reblog if you love her!

Top 9 - Satoh is lost with fantasy maps…

And still is. I attempted to draw a map of Kaleidopolis earlier. I hated it and I scrapped it. Someone help me.

Top 10 - Satoh has emotional issues (when does she not) but she tries to work through it.

I'm in a better mood now. I think I've also adapted a better mentality since this post.

But I really gotta make some time to support other writers the way they support me. I still have to be careful when I say I don't like something, especially if that something is a big thing to OP and their work. There's still much for me to learn.

2024 Tumblr Top 10

1. 39 notes - Sep 27 2024

2. 35 notes - Nov 13 2024

Before this ship is submerged in canon like the others this S2 Arc 1, I just wanna say this is how I* would want a Jinx/Powder…

3. 33 notes - Sep 30 2024

4. 31 notes - Aug 23 2024

5. 29 notes - Sep 11 2024

Fanfic writers only have two moods and they’re, “I’m gonna write this thing and finish it even if nobody else likes it because I…

6. 27 notes - Dec 4 2024

7. 27 notes - Sep 10 2024

Would you rather have fans or friends over your work? Fans Friends No nuanced answer option; you can put them and your other…

8. 26 notes - Aug 29 2024

9. 24 notes - Oct 5 2024

Anybody wanna teach me how to make fantasy maps? Or give me tips? (Please bear in mind that I lean towards the whimsy aesthetic…

10. 24 notes - Sep 26 2024

Created by TumblrTop10

[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)

[chasingpj]

𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫

pairing: leo valdez x child of iris!reader

requested?: yes!

translation: full of color

warnings: uhh, mentions of mental health and ?? maybe some typos lmao

category: headcanons, fluff, best friends to lovers

pre-relationship

though, leo saw you around camp often, you caught interest in him before he caught interest in you

i mean, he literally couldn't miss you because your outfits were always bright, whether it was a combination of colors or monochromatic

you and your siblings actually look like a rainbow threw up on you guys, and it's honestly iconic

no one at camp can not notice the children of iris, especially when they're in a herd

one day, you were sitting alone at a picnic table near the lake, and you found yourself drawing him in your sketchbook

you sketched a portrait of him while he spoke to piper at a table nearby

you've always found the floppy curls and how his brightest smiles always look a little manic to be adorable

when you sketched his portrait in your notebook, you didn’t intend for him ever to see it

until a couple of weeks later in the arts and crafts center, leo passed by and caught sight of a new project you were working on

he stopped in his tracks to compliment your drawing

since you were nowhere near done with it, you couldn’t admire the piece as much as he was

but his enthusiasm was so endearing

he politely asked if he could see more, and you didn’t hesitate to slide over your sketchbook

he noticed a lot of your drawings were scenery and people at camp; especially your siblings

he stumbled across a detailed sketch of a woman and her child sitting in a bus

“wow… who’s this?”

“oh, I don’t know. It was just a little girl I saw on the train with her mother.”

“so you just drew her?”

you never realized how weird your habit of drawing random people was until he had asked

you giggled nervously, quick to explain yourself, “I tend to draw people or things that I find beautiful. I wanted to capture how calm and happy she was with her child ‘cause at the time, I was stressed and angry. Watching and drawing her made me calm.”

leo nodded, a faint smile on his lips before looking back down at the drawing. “that’s really cool,” he complimented, and you shifted in your seat, suddenly shy.

And then it hit you

you were so willing to show leo all your works that you had completely forgotten that his portrait was in that book

your pulse thumped loud in your ears, mind racing to figure out a way to take away your sketchbook before he could see it

you ended up spending so long thinking of what to do that he arrived on the page in no time

right before he could see the drawing in its entirety, you slammed the book closed and snatched it

leo’s startled expression turned into a mischievous smirk

“was that me?”

you froze in your place; a squeaky sound escaped your throat in your embarrassment

leo’s brown eyes sparkled as he leaned into you, your gaze fixed on his, “y/n, you think I’m beautiful?”

AHHHH!

^^ that was you in your head btw

leo laughed, amused at your attempt to deny it

“then why did you snatch it away?” he raises an eyebrow before reaching over quickly to grab the sketchbook back

you didn't pull it out of his reach fast enough, leo getting a grip on one side

the two of you pull it back and forth, leo laughing at you as you continued to deny what he saw

though you were incredibly embarrassed, you couldn't contain the laughter bubbling in your chest

gods, of course, this would happen to me, you thought

he got it out of your grip, and you sighed in defeat, watching him flip to the page of him and piper

he was quiet, studying the picture for a second before giving you that playful smirk

“you think I’m beautiful?” he asked again

you playfully rolled your eyes, “it was more piper than you.”

your tone was sarcastic, only fueling leo’s banter with you

“oh really?” he chuckled to himself, “but i’m the only one colored in.”

you were silent at his observation before scoffing, “whatever.”

leo only laughed as you take the book away from him

“don’t you have somewhere to be, fire boy?” you asked and nudged his shoulder

the glint in your eyes made him smile, and he shrugged, “i guess i do. i'll see you around."

you nodded, too shy to do anything else, and he walked off

after that, leo took it upon himself to talk to you every day

leo teased you about the drawing all the time, and he found the way you would play along to be funny

before you both fell in love, you were close friends

you had such an optimistic point of view about life, and it was pretty contagious

somehow when leo was in the dumps about something, you always knew what to say

you were just so easy to talk to, and because of this, your friendship just grew naturally

your first kiss was towards the end of summer

leo invited you to hang out with him in bunker nine at, specifically, 6 pm

you teasingly asked if it was a date, and you remember the way he tensed up a bit

with a mumble, he asked, "what if it is?"

from the tone in his voice, you knew he wasn’t joking

in fact, his tone was hesitant, a part of him was expecting you to reject him

then the heavy pit in his stomach turned light when you smiled and said, "then I'm down."

the grin leo gave you made your heart flutter like crazy

your first date consisted of eating snacks and watching a movie on one of those portable DVD players

You picked up on the tension between you and him, and noticed the opportunities for a kiss kept passing

it was until Leo walked you to your cabin that night did you have a moment of boldness and asked, "so are you going to kiss me or?"

leo's eyes widen in surprise before his face broke out in the familiar smirk he gives when he flirts with you

you rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into you

your first kiss was sweet and soft; a little awkward

his hands hovered over your sides for a second, not sure what to do with them until he decided to rest them on your waist

it was the perfect way to mark the beginning of your relationship

relationship

since you guys are both broke teenagers, you got creative with date nights

you came up with the idea of paint splattering with him

you guys got canvases, covered the walls and floors with plastic to make sure you didn't dirty them

then you filled water balloons with paint and just threw them

despite you guys singing and dancing around in the midst of it, the canvases came out so good

and to commemorate the beginning of your relationship, you hung them up side by side in bunker nine, and when you guys get a place together, you hang them up in the hallway of your apartment

leo is a huge gift giver; as i’ve said before in my “how he shows he loves you” headcanons

he’s made you a lot of things; canvases, jewelry, little trinkets with scrap metal

one of your favorite gifts from him is a suncatcher with rainbow quartz

you fell in love with it and when you move in together, you make sure to hang it up in the kitchen with the bunch of other suncatchers that he’s made you

i love the idea that you would attempt to bring more color in his wardrobe

a lot of his clothes are muted in color; you don’t mind it but you were interested to see what he’d look like in a colorful outfit like yours

To say the least, he was not that enthusiastic and maybe, you shouldn’t have put him in a monochromatic orange outfit but… you still thought he looked cute

leo thought he looked like a traffic cone though so it didn’t stick

it’s okay because you like him the way he is anyways

another thing is that you guys are super supportive of each other and leo loves just how you manage to lift his mood

once leo was having a bad mental health week

you guys were sitting under a tree, looking out at the water

his head laid on your shoulder and small sniffles came from the other

it hurt to see him like this and you wished you could do more to make him feel better

then you had the greatest idea to make a rainbow for him

so you did

leo was so stunned when he saw the rainbow form over the lake

he looked at you surprised and when you admitted to making the rainbow for him, the emotion on his face was indescribable

and then you laughed and held him when he started crying because he said it was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him

another time, you insisted that meditation would be good for him

he literally sat down for like 3 minutes with his eyes closed before he was itching to get up and do something

even when he was sitting down, he was still bouncing his legs and fidgeting

so that fell through too but you still helped him in other ways and he’s so grateful for your optimism and bubbly personality

leo always says that you bring color to everything; literally and figuratively

one of the things you bring color to is his life

and he’s constantly reminding you of this; that his world just feels brighter now that you’re around

and it’s literal too

since you painted the walls of bunker nine a bright orange

he asked you why orange, and you told him because orange encourages productivity, creativity, and most importantly, optimism

it may have also reminded you of the orange outfit you put him into

anyways, you told him that it hurt you to see him get down in the dumps, and you insisted there was no way he could be sad in a bright orange room

needless to say, you were kinda right

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if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on!

[kyogre-blue]

No, I'm playing with English voices. I try to compensate for my years of watching subbed anime like a weeb by using dubs in games when they're available (and don't drive me up the wall like Genshin).

Also, just to mention it because it might come up at some point, if JP voices came as a download separate from the game cartridge, I don't have them. I haven't connected my Switch to the internet, so I don't have any DLC, whether free or paid. This includes the sauna or whatever and Rhea team time, because those were patched in post-release.

EN Judith just says it's a shame that Ignatz died, he was a good kid.

I just realized we haven't fought Raphael or Lorenz, hm. I recruited Leonie, and I know Marianne is implied to just... succumb to her curse depression or something if you don't have her as playable. And I get Lorenz is in the pro-Empire faction, so it's not surprising he wouldn't sortie. Kinda expected Raphael to be with Ignatz tho.

Apparently Rhea being in Faerghus means Cornelia can't pull the shit she does in the other routes, so Dimitri has both of his eyes, his friends and would be in a pretty good situation if someone didn't wake up and decided to Make Adrestia Great Again.

I love being evil stupid. "I must protect Edelgard"... the picking your girl over the fate of the world scenario except without the story being on your side about it.

In general, I guess I'll interpret the CF war status difference as coming down to 1) Rhea keeping the Kingdom from falling to Agarthan infiltrators and then Imperial troops, and 2) Edelgard having to commit troops to keeping the monastery under their control. It's a strategic location in a sense, but we're also told several times that there's no way to reach it from the Empire, so it probably presents a number of logistical issues for her.

I love Bernie's comment here - because while the game wants to make you feel very sad (tm) for dicing students, technically, your characters only spent around 1 year with the students who aren't from their house, and they were never seen talking/speaking to each other (bar some cross houses supports), so yes, Bernie being "who?" about Claude is oddly fitting - she never met or talked to him before!

For Bernie here, it's probably aimed more in regard to how she never came out of her room if she wasn't forced to, so she doesn't know Claude even though everyone else does.

She's kinda... the BE students do have a variety of takes on the war, with Dorothea being the most uncertain and concerned about the people die part (says she thinks maybe she should have stayed with the opera), Linhardt giving some lipservice to not liking blood but overall rather indifferent except that it's a hassle, Caspar and Petra being gung-ho about it, Ferdie... also bought into the coolaid, Hubert is Hubert, and Bernie... is the comic relief. Yup.

Edel's questions... are something, but yep, it's ultimately a huge sunk-cost fallacy explanation, if you're going to fight, fight until you die - but does this mean Edel makes no war prisoners or offers no mercy to defeated soldiers? If they fought, they should fight to death? It's not that well developed and only food for thought...

She definitely allows prisoners, and we go on for a bit about how Claude chose a strategy where both his victory and his defeat would allow for the least amount of casualties, especially among civilians (<3) because the Alliance surrenders entirely once he's gone. Plus we can spare certain units and all that.

But I guess Edelgard doesn't really respect people who fight, lose, and then give up. If you lost, then you're weak, right? At least keep some honor by sticking to your guns all the way, lol

Mostly, I think it's funny that I've seen the interpretation that Edelgard knifes Dimitri and chooses to die in AM because she was too remorseful, but currently it's looking like, no, this is just her mentality - either win or die, surrender is for chumps.

Methinks the Adrestia Tablet of Bullshit was tweaked by Agarthans - or Adrestian themselves, who are still salty about the entire "Church accepted Faerghus's independence".

I think this is the likeliest take. The Agarthans were working on Ionius for sure, but they probably have been chipping away at the Imperial line for a long time. Being full on card-carrying villain types, they probably specifically chose this at least in part because of the sweet sweet irony of making the descendants of Seiros's greatest ally turn on her one day. I appreciate the dedication to the bit. Pure evil villains can be very fun... if used right.

Linhardt's take is even stupider when you consider that his crest, Flayn's Crest, boosts his healing magic. So sure, it can be used on battlefield, but also, to heal random people who suffer from random accidents, like, idk, NPC #55 falling down her roof, or something like that. But I guess Lin doesn't find healing useful?

Linhardt's angle is specifically that he's worried that his Crest research won't be useful in peacetime because there is only limited use for Crests without war (he does call out healing and iirc engineering with Mt crests).

But that's just because he's weak. Is, like, quantum physics actually useful? Is deep space astronomy? Only in even more limited ways, but people still research that stuff! Just suck it up and dedicate yourself to your passions properly, Lin!

Claude's reaction make a bit more sense when you consider Nader's motto which seems to be a general Almyran MO : people run away instead of dying - but here, in this case, Hilda who would have been the epitome of running away to avoid danger (at least on a shallow first reading) wants to, instead, protect him even if it costs her life, something he comes to understand too late (yes, in this route, he is beloved by the people of the Alliance, but only realises it too late).

Everyone loves Claude, as they should <3

Lorenz even says he's fighting in SS (and AM) because he'd be killed otherwise <3

(This is the smart and unbiased commentary we're all here for.)

Second chapter of CF down. Bye, Claude <3

I powered through yet another month of boring monastery stuff with the single thought of seeing Claude again (and killing him <3). If nothing else, this route is much more amusing than SS because I can see characters I care about doing stuff... as the enemy... but they're there!

Which really just highlights again how much of a missed opportunity Academy phase really is. They have all your future enemy units in the same place with you and then do basically nothing to make you care about them. It's all left onto replay or presuming they have off-screen relationships.

Aside from that, Edelgard's narrative about the Relics, human superiority and anti-dragon people is... hm. Well, it sure is a thing! Given how blatantly misconstrued some of the stuff she's saying gets (eg, about the Relics), the writers had to have been intentionally writing her as being utterly misguided, and I get that you're buying into her coolaid in the CF route. But the fact that you can't ever confront her about it in other routes despite all the "if only we could have understood each other :(" is just so.... sigh. It's unsatisfying to put it mildly.

Live blogging:

Hubert and Ferdie B: Hubert goes against Edelgard's explicit orders for something.

Felix says he's killed tons of people for the empire in the last five years and has the same look in his eyes now as Dimitri. lol

Dimitri with both eyes <3

Hubert's pre-Bridge conversation is hilarious. We need to cooperate with the Agarthans (presented as Arundel's subordinates) because we need to topple the Church! This is a very painful decision for Edelgard because you see they used her father as a puppet and killed her siblings :( Why are we more opposed to the church than these assholes? Well, because, I guess.

Bridge mission - nothing interesting. We do fight Judith, who has a unique model but is never playable. She's holding the bridge because Acheron is useless. He shows up as a horse guy (I'm pretty sure he was a mage in another route?) and then ditches after only one turn.

Afterwards, everyone makes fun of Edelgard for doing a bad job running the war until now because she's been too into Byleth. I've heard this angle before, but I think the actual difference is kind of mixed. They made less progress in the Kingdom, but that was all on Cornelia anyway, so it comes down more to Rhea not getting captured, presumably because she didn't have Byleth weighing her down. And the Alliance situation was never a real invasion in the five year gap to begin with. SS did have Lorenz siding with the Empire, but the exact in and out is kinda... hard to track.

Anyway, now we're in the Claude killing month!

Talk about how Claude has been acting as intermediary between those that oppose the Empire and those who support it, keeping them from fighting each other. Since everyone is compromising to keep the Alliance united for now, no one has openly sided with the Empire either.

But now he's scheming something, as we know because people have been stopped from entering or leaving Derdriu.

Everyone else: Claude is a smart, tough opponent. Bernie: Who's Claude

Ladislava is tasked with managing the supply lines and keeping the Goneril territories under control.

Being betrayed by Byleth made Rhea crack. "She started laughing as if she was possessed and spouting complete gibberish..."

Edelgard: Why can't people admit defeat without fighting back first? If they're going to surrender after I crush them under my boot, why not surrender without fighting? (Logically collolary: If you choose to fight, die fighting and never surrender. Explains why she's Like That in Azure Moon: sunk cost fallacy)

Edie is "not disinterested" in romance lol

Caspar family drama: His older brother is lazy, greedy and skates by relying on his position as heir. Their grandfather was really obsessed with his second wife, Randolph's mom. And she really wanted Randolph to become the heir, but the grandfather had to step down "earlier than expected," so Caspar's dad took over the title. With all this, Caspar's brother is really worried about the possibility of I guess Randolph taking over as heir instead.

This has.... interesting implications, I guess.

First, this makes Randolph Caspar's uncle, lmao

Second, I really, really wonder if Randolph was the grandpa's biological child. His mom explicitly married in after he was already born, but she could just as easily have been the grandpa's mistress. Either way, we get a very funny inheritance situation because Randolph does not have a crest, we can see that in his battle stats. So either crest ownership just doesn't matter in this case (lol Edie), or even wilder, you can just pass on your title to a completely unrelated child. Even if they ARE related, that's likely unprovable without a crest. (lol Edie extra hard)

Third, I wonder what the exact timeline here is? Because if Caspar's dad took over recently enough, he might not have been the lord who took part in the Insurrection. That might explain why he's inexplicably so chill about helping Edie take the throne and gain a whole ton of military power.

Edie, of course, turns this around as "this is the price of taking your own desires into account when choosing an heir" and this is why "the concept of nobility is decaying" but isn't Edie opposed to nobility in the first place? And she doesn't plan to institute a democracy anyway, so isn't everyone just going to be choosing their heirs based on "their own desires"?

She goes on to say that she wants a world where the best rise to the top and succeed, "regardless of bloodline," but uuuuuh this entire situation is about how the grandpa did not follow bloodline properly...? And all this also means that Caspar's bro can absolutely be removed from his position as heir, regardless of his bloodline...?

Caspar is like "ok, so you're saying nothing would change for me in your world, right?" L M A O

The way Edie presents the history of the Relics is so... "Relics were created by the hands of mankind" imo I wouldn't really count the Agarthans as particularly human anymore, and also this wasn't exactly something triumphant. "Seiros manipulated the people of the world and defeated the all-powerful King Nemesis" Nemesis was indeed tough, but you don't need to lick his boots quite that much. "Should the one leading the people of the world by someone with humanity or a creature that can merely masquerade as a human at will?" Given that you turn into an inhuman monster when you feel like it, which side of this binary do you fall on, Edie? I personally feel that Flayn, Seteth and Rhea have plenty of humanity even if they aren't human...

"The Immaculate One and her family"... dang, this phrasing is really...

This knowledge is passed down from emperor to emperor, huh. I know this kind of thing! Naruto taught me all about it! I remember that Uchiha tablet full of bullshit!

Byleth has been compared to Nemesis now. Hm.

Claude scene <3 He's upset about Judith dying, and that many more people will die following his orders. But of course he also talks himself up "do you have any idea how much of the Alliance adores me and believes in in me?" How much? Hm... about half? I remember SS and Lorenz leading the other half.

Anyway, Nader is also here.

Linhardt stupid take: "It's as if Crests were designed to be used only in times of war." How can you use them in peace-time? My dude...

There are three gates that connect Derdriu proper to its naval port. It looks like the naval port is a reinforced, walled area where the ships must dock before any goods or people can move into the city itself.

Killed Lysithea with Caspar, but I still get the prompt to spare her. I don't like these, it's too easy!

lol Claude keeps being upset that people are too stubborn to retreat even though he tells them to. My man, this is what happens when the Alliance adores you, it's called ride or die for a reason

The Almyran King fighting on the front lines... as expected.

Nader has been a soldier for 30-odd years. Incidentally, he retreats rather than outright being killed like Judith and Hilda... and Claude. It seems he has no dialogue for if Claude is killed first. Too bad!