#I also discovered my grandma had a lover back in the days | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunflowervolvimp3 · 5 years ago

Text

42 Hours

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

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k

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

{masterlist}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boring, you mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truce.”

(pt II)

7K notes · View notes

a-simple-gaywitch · 4 years ago

Text

A Very Cute Moose

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Princess (Y/N) has just turned 21 and is to succeed her grandmother, Queen Clarisse, as Queen of Genovia. But since an unmarried woman can’t be crowned queen, (Y/N) has only 30 days to find a husband.

Warnings: None, it’s just a Princess Diaries 2 AU and follows the plot of the film, Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 5455

Author’s Note: While the gif is early-seasons Spence, the personality and look I pictured is mid-seasons Spence. (also i have a subtle joke about Mandy Patinkin’s filmography somewhere in here, i wonder how many of you will notice)

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.” -Franklin D. Roosevelt

Dear diary,

Well, it's me, brand-new College Graduate/Princess. I can't believe it's been five years since Grandma told me that I was a princess. And right after that, my mother surprised me by marrying my high-school teacher. It must be going well, because they are now expecting a baby. Penelope remains the same as she continues to cause turmoil, but now as a graduate student at Berkeley, which she calls "Berzerkeley. "

Of course, I’m completely excited to be going back, but I’m also a bit nervous. Grandma Clarisse will be stepping down as Queen by the end of this year and I’ll be taking over. I know I studied diplomacy and political science at school, but there’s no course in "Queen" or "How To Run A Country." But Grandma 's going to help me, and I'll take over when she thinks I'm ready.

Of course, I wonder, will I ever be ready?

Love,

(Y/N)

You sighed, closing your diary and running your hand over the Genovian crest on the front. Your cat Sergio meowed to get your attention and you smiled, scratching his head. While much of your life had changed over the past five years, Sergio had been a constant, keeping you grounded. You kissed the top of his little head and looked out the window at your beautiful country.

“Welcome home, Princess (Y/F/N),” the head of the Genovian Guard, Dave, said to you. Throughout the turmoil of discovering your royalty, Dave had been there for you, almost like a surrogate father. Originally assigned to protect you as you continued through your teenage life, he grew to adore you as more than just his Princess.

That night was your 21st birthday party, and according to tradition, you were going to have a huge party. Despite your training to be more outgoing and comfortable in public, you were still decidedly an introvert. Big, elaborate parties were never your thing. Unfortunately, big elaborate parties came with being royalty.

Another perk of the party was that you had to dance with every member of Parliament, and every eligible man in attendance. Even if that meant dancing with a twelve-year-old.

You were getting tired and your feet were starting to hurt. The corset of your dress was digging into your ribs and you were just generally no longer having a pleasant time. You decided to go sneak a bite of cake to cheer yourself up.

“I saw that.”

You turned around, ready to apologize, when you saw one of your best diplomatic friends, Jordan Todd. You both squealed as you hugged her. She started pulling you away and your clumsiness got the better of you, as you stepped on a man’s foot.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” you said as you stumbled back. “Are you-are you alright?”

His hazel eyes met yours and you felt your heart skip a beat, as cliche as it sounds.

“I’ll survive, Your Highness,” he said. “The fault was entirely my own. I apologize.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to exchange licenses and proof of insurance?” you joked, hoping to get the handsome man’s name.

“No. No, these shoes were a bit too big anyway,” he said, “and the swelling should help them fit better.” He walked off and you felt Jordan’s eyes on you.

You turned to her. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing,” she said with a sly smile.

There were still people to dance with. You were being led in a very jerky tango when the older man’s shoulder was tapped.

“May I?” The man from earlier asked. The parliament member stepped back and you exhaled in relief.

“Your timing is impeccable,” you said. “Thank you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Your Highness.”

“(Y/N). I like to be called (Y/N).” He hummed as he led you in a waltz. “And you are?”

“Spencer. Just Spencer.”

“Well, I’m very glad to see that my clumsiness hasn’t affected your dancing,” you said. “I’m sorry I stepped on your foot.”

He smiled at you. “You can step on my foot anytime.”

The prime minister, Aaron Hotchner, came over to you and said there was someone from parliament you needed to meet. You sighed and started following him when a server walked a little too close and knocked your crown off your head.

He started apologizing profusely, to which you said it was no big deal. No one was hurt, and that was what mattered.

“Princess,” a member of parliament, Viscount Gideon, said, handing you your crown.

“Oh, thank you.”

“You should be more careful, Your Royal Highness,” he said as he situated the crown back on your head. “Someone might try to take that crown away from you.”

“Oh, I hope not,” you said with an awkward laugh before excusing yourself to find the Prime Minister.

You were exploring the castle properly for the first time since returning from school. Upon being nosy, you discovered a secret passage. There was a small grate at the end of the tunnel that peeked into Parliament’s meeting.

Viscount Gideon made an argument against your queenship, saying that an unmarried woman could not be crowned queen. He argued that his nephew, Lord Reid, should be crowned as king.

Of course, Queen Clarisse tried to fight the men of Parliament, but she was unsuccessful. They agreed that you had a month to find a husband or your crown would be passed to Gideon’s nephew.

When you made it to the throne room to meet your grandmother for Queen Lessons, you started pacing.

“How can Parliament expect me to fall in love in 30 days?” you ranted as you paced back and forth. “It’s like… It’s like it’s a big trick to get me in an arranged marriage or…” You froze. “No. No, there is no or. That’s what this is, an arranged marriage is my only choice,” you stuttered out. “What kind of person agrees to an arranged marriage?!” You looked at the painting of your grandmother and grandfather. “Oh. You did.”

“Yes, I did,” she said with a smile. “And it turned out quite splendidly. Rupert and I grew very fond of each other.”

“Yeah, I’m sure, Grandma, but I want more than just fondness. I want love.”

“But you don’t have to do this, (Y/N),” she assured you. “You don’t have to become queen.”

You looked at the wall of paintings again. Your eyes fell on the painting of your deceased father. You cleared your throat. “There are 550 years of (L/N)s on these walls. And I’m going to be up there, too.”

Your grandmother decided to try and pacify Viscount Gideon by inviting his nephew to stay at the palace during your search for a husband. To say you were pissed was an understatement.

“I offered to have him hung by his toes in our courtyard,” Dave said, trying to get any kind of smile out of you.

When Clarisse’s PA, Emily Prentiss, announced the arrival of the viscount and his nephew, you swallowed back your anger and plastered on a diplomatic smile. Although, you could tell she was also angry and annoyed at Viscount Gideon.

When they walked in, your smile fell upon seeing Lord Reid.

It was Spencer. The guy you danced with and flirted with.

“Ma’am, may I introduce my nephew, Lord Spencer Reid.”

Your grandmother reached her hand out to him. “Spencer, we are delighted to make your acquaintance.” she said. She turned to you. “This is my granddaughter, Princess (Y/F/N).”

Instead of reaching out your hand like you were expected to, you stomped on Spencer’s foot before storming off.

Spencer was hunched over and he groaned out, “She’s always doing that.”

To cheer you up and keep you from eating an entire pint of ice cream by yourself, your grandmother decided to show you your newly finished living quarters. The bed was huge, and covered in so many pillows. There was a cat condo shaped like a castle in the corner for Sergio to claim. The walls were painted with elaborate murals.

But the best part was the closet that was bigger than your childhood bedroom. The closet was stocked with all manner of dresses, shoes, jewelry, you name it.

Although, none of that quite compared to the biggest surprise your grandma set up for you.

While you were looking at the drawer filled with sunglasses, you were started by someone tickling your sides. When you turned around, you screamed in excitement.

Your best friend in the whole world, Penelope Garcia, had been hiding in your closet. You gave her a big hug as the two of you squealed.

“You’re here! You’re in Genovia! And you’re in my closet!” you said. Then you took a look at her appearance. “And you’re blonde!” The last time you saw her, her hair had been dyed black

She smiled. “I’m blond!”

You gave her another tight hug, almost to the point of tears. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you. When did your flight get in?”

“Just a little while ago.”

“Oh, by the way,” you said, knowing she would kill you if you didn’t tell her, “I’m getting married.”

“What?”

Emily had assembled a slideshow of potential suitors for you. It seemed like a mixed bag of bad matches. Whether it was because they were too old, too young, or not interested in women, none of them seemed to fit. Until you got to the side on Grant Anderson, a duke from England.

You’d decided he would be your husband. Queen Clarisse invited him to the palace almost immediately so the two of you could get to know each other. He was sweet, and you got along well enough. He made you laugh, and he was kind of a clumsy dork, matching your own personality quite well. He proposed to you after only a week, though the proposal was merely a formality.

Everyone in Genovia seemed pleased with the union. Everyone, that is, but Lord Spencer and his grouch of an uncle.

Spencer seemed to take every opportunity to antagonize and annoy you. The worst part was, you couldn’t hide how he got under your skin. Part of it was the betrayal you felt after having danced with him, but part of it was also that you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since the two of you danced.

Your Queen Lessons continued. Surprise, surprise. As part of one Genovian tradition, you had to learn to shoot a flaming arrow through a ring, to symbolize your own eternal flame.

To say you weren’t an expert marksman was an understatement. Your clumsy nature was on full display, as your arrows went all over the garden, hitting everything but the target. One almost hit Spencer while he was reading. Sure, you felt bad, but it also made you a little happy to see the shock on his face.

Your grandmother was also teaching you how to handle the complaints and requests of your subjects. It was going surprisingly well, until a farmer brought a chicken as a gift for your table. The chicken jumped from the basket and started running through the throne room. You were about to help the servants catch it when your grandmother grabbed the back of your shirt.

“(Y/N), a princess never chases a chicken.”

Unfortunately, that was not the worst thing to happen that week.

You were to review the royal guard, led by Captain Derek Morgan. In a floor length dress. Riding side-saddle. Thankfully, your grandmother had a trick for you: a wooden leg.

Penelope, Grant, and Spencer were standing on the sidelines, watching as you rode in with your groom leading your horse.

“I’m Spencer, Viscount Gideon’s nephew,” he said, holding his hand out to shake Grant’s.

“Ah, the man trying to stage the palace coup,” Grant said, shaking Spencer’s hand. “I’m Grant Anderson. Nice to meet you.”

Penelope stuck her hand out. “Penelope Garcia, official best friend of future queen. I don’t like you.”

Spencer looked at her for a moment. “Pleasure.”

The tragedy happened when something spooked your horse. While the groom was trying to steady the horse, Dave was trying to keep you from getting bucked off. Unfortunately, he grabbed the wooden leg and it fell off the saddle, exposing your rouse. You grabbed your horse’s reins as it took off in a run.

You were sitting in the stables, alone so you could cry without the millions of eyes of the court, the media, and the servants.

Unfortunately, you weren’t alone for long. Spencer found you.

“You shouldn’t hide,” he said, handing you the hat that had fallen off your head during the chaos. “It only makes them gossip more.”

You took the hat and wiped your eyes. “What do you want?”

“Just think, (Y/N). One more leg and you could have easily outrun your horse,” he said. It came out as a taunt, but he was really just trying to cheer you up. But you didn’t take it that way.

“I don’t need this right now,” you snapped at him, your voice shaking.

Spencer softened and he took a step closer to you. “(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he said.

“No, you’re not. You never think about anyone but yourself, so just this once, can you please let me be miserable and not make me feel worse about myself?” You got up from the window you’d been perched on. “Just… go away. Leave me alone.”

Thankfully, Dave came to your rescue, like he always did in your worst moments.

“Princess,” he said, “the queen has arrived.”

“Yes.” You straightened yourself up and walked to the doors, where your lady’s maids were waiting for you with tissues. In that moment, you were grateful for their overbearing natures.

Dave turned to Spencer. “Spencer, am I going to be disappointed in you?” he asked the young man.

Before he could answer, Gideon walked into the stables. “Unfortunate incident, that,” he said. “I’m just leaving. Come see me off,” he told Spencer.

“I’d like to speak to your uncle alone for a moment, Spencer,” Dave said. Spencer nodded and left the barn. Dave turned to Gideon. “Viscount, you may not be aware of what my job entails as the royal head of security. My job is to protect the crown, to make sure no one harms the crown, to step in when someone toys with the crown’s emotions, you see?”

“I think the entire country understands how well you cater to the crown’s emotions.”

Dave ignored the jab and stepped closer. “If you hurt my girl, you will answer directly to me. And whatever crimes I commit against you, remember, I have diplomatic immunity in 46 countries. Including Puerto Rico.”

“Sir, you will find that ‘fear’ is not in my vocabulary.”

“Maybe not. But it’s in your eyes.” He draped the rubber snake of the viscount’s shoulder. “You forgot something.”

You were attending a royal garden party in an effort to get to know the members of the court and their families better. The day was going pretty well, until you and Grant ran into Spencer and his date. Spencer introduced you to his companion, Lady Maeve.

“Maeve and I were just discussing her latest achievement,” he said. “She received a scholarship to one of the best schools to study genetics.”

“Please, Spencer-”

“Why not brag?” he said. “You’re an amazing woman.”

“Congratulations, Maeve,” you said. “You know, Grant has a PhD in Anthropology from Oxford.”

Unfortunately, this just started a bragging war between you and Spencer. Maeve and Grant had since stepped away, not wanting to get in between your ongoing feud.

“You two make such a lovely couple, you know,” he said after you fell into a moment of awkward silence.

“I know, we do.”

“It’s a shame you’re not attracted to him.”

“I- what?” Spencer had started walking away. “Wait, get back here!” You started following him through the palace’s hedge maze. “I’ll have you know, I am very attracted to Grant.”

“Well, obviously,” he mocked.

“I am! He’s… We are perfect for each other. He understands me-”

“Understands you, wow! What passion! I didn’t hear you mention love.”

You scoffed. “You’re just jealous.” You turned away from him and started walking away.

“Why would I be jealous of Grant? He’s got to spend the rest of his life married to you.”

You stopped and turned around, glaring at him. You smacked him with the fan in your hand. “I loathe you.”

He smacked your shoulder with the music program in his hand. “I loathe you.”

Before you knew what was happening, he grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you. You felt your foot threatening to pop up and unfortunately, that caused you to lose your balance, making both you and Spencer fall into the pond behind you.

“(Y/N)-” He reached over to help you up.

You pulled away from him. “You know what, I have an idea. Why don’t you go underwater, and I’ll count to a million.” You climbed out of the fountain and stormed away. When you got back to the party, your grandmother and Grant both turned to look at you.

“Do I want to know?” Clarisse asked.

You shook your head and mouthed the word, “No.” You excused yourself to your chambers to change.

“She’s going to be a handful, isn’t she?” Grant asked the queen.

“Well, Grant, you’ll never be bored.”

The next day, you were in the Genovian Independence Day Parade. Penelope was going to be riding in your infamous Mustang at the front of the parade.

You were perched atop the royal carriage, holding a Genovian flag in your lap. Dave walked over to you.

“How are you feeling, Princess?”

“Honestly? Not great, Dave.”

“Would it make you feel better to call me Davey?”

You smiled at him and shook your head. “No. Dave.”

“Come on, David, we’re already late,” Clarisse said as she took her seat next to you.

The parade was going well. There was little chance of you messing it up. You just had to sit, smile, and wave. But when you passed the children’s shelter, you made the carriage stop. Two older boys were picking on a little girl who couldn’t be much older than four. You hopped out of the carriage and walked over to the children. You knew all eyes were on you, but you didn’t care.

“Hello, everybody,” you said, smiling at all the kids.

“Hi, Princessa,” they all said.

You walked through the crowd of kids to the girl who was being teased. “Hello. What’s your name?” you asked her.

“Carolina,” she said. She was sucking on her thumb while clutching a ragged blanket.

You looked up at the boys. “And what are your names?” After they told you, you said, “Did I see you picking on Carolina?”

“They were tugging on my braids,” the girl said. The boys ran deeper into the crowd, hiding from you.

You turned to the adult in charge. “Excuse me, these children are…?”

“Mostly orphans, ma’am,” he said. “We care for as many as possible, but the shelter doesn’t have enough room.”

You hummed, an idea forming in your mind.

Spencer was watching you with his uncle. He was fighting back a smile as he watched how gently you interacted with the children, having one of the parade vendors hand tiaras to all of the children.

“Kissing children,” Gideon scoffed. “Hugging orphans. What a vulgar, low, despicable political trick.”

“I don’t think it’s a trick,” Spencer said as you invited all the children to walk next to you in the parade. “I think she genuinely cares.”

When you got back to the palace, you called a parliamentary meeting. You’d discussed with Queen Clarisse converting the winter palace into a temporary home for the orphans. When the men in parliament started to object, claiming the winter palace was a perk for them, you cut them off.

“I’m de-perking it,” you said, keeping your voice level and calm, despite your anger at their selfishness. “I feel bad having two homes when these children don’t even have one.” You looked around the conference table and the men were shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Good, you thought.

Prime Minister Hotchner gave you an approving nod and smile as you continued to discuss the plans for raising the funds for a proper children’s shelter.

Spencer was having a debate with his uncle.

“What are you saying?” Gideon asked him.

“She’s… She’s smart, and she really cares about Genovia. Maybe… well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she ran the country.”

“Are you crazy?”

“She believes in Genovia so much she’s convinced herself to marry a man she knows she can never love.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. After all the work we’ve put in to end up with nothing?!”

“Well, it wouldn’t be nothing,” Spencer argued. “Genovia would be in good hands.” He paused. “And she would be happy.”

“Ah. You’ve fallen in love with her.”

“No. No,” he protested. “All I ask-”

“No, no, no, no! Listen. What do you think will happen, hmm? That she’ll leave Grant and marry you? I have put in the effort to make you a king, not to have you marry a queen. I won’t have it!”

Spencer sighed. “Don’t worry, Uncle. That will never happen. (Y/N) doesn’t care for me that way.”

“Oh, but you care for her.”

“All I’m asking is that we stop trying to sabotage her.”

Gideon sighed. “Alright. If that’s what you really want. I just want your happiness, my boy. Go to her. Congratulate her and tell her we surrender.”

Spencer smiled. “Thank you, Uncle.”

As soon as Spencer left, Gideon picked up the phone and dialed the press.

You sighed as yet another flaming arrow missed the target. “Alright, that’s enough flaming ones for now.” You turned to Grant. “Are you sure I didn’t burn you?”

“Of course you did, look at his coat,” Penelope fussed.

“No, no, you just sort of… seared the sleeve,” he assured you, trying to make you feel better.

Unfortunately, your foul mood got worse when you heard Spencer whistling.

“Penelope, can I talk to you for a minute, please?” The two of you stepped away from the archery range. “Look over there,” you whispered.

When she saw Spencer, she looked back at Grant and said said, “Should I shoo him or should I shoo him? Just tell me who I should shoo and I’ll shoo.”

“I just want to talk to Spencer for a minute, okay?”

Penelope smiled as the two of you walked back to Grant. “Hey Grant, why don’t you go introduce Penelope to your parents?” you suggested. “Just tell them I’ll be up for brunch in a sec.”

“Sure, I’d love to meet Susan and Arnold. We can have those tasty finger sandwiches together,” Penelope said, looping her arm through Grant’s to drag him away. As soon as they were out of earshot, you turned back to Spencer.

“Would you like some help?” he offered, gesturing to the bow you’d left on the ground. When you took your stance, he stood close behind you, adjusting your arm. He put his hand on top of yours as he whispered instruction to you.

He was so close you could smell his cologne, and it was making your head spin. In a good way. And it was making your stomach flip in a way that it shouldn’t have.

When you let go, the arrow landed in the middle of the target. You lowered your bow and huffed out a laugh. You turned around to face him and found yourself staring into his beautiful hazel eyes.

He cleared his throat and took a small step back. “I should go. I really only came to pack my things.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I thought it was time I bowed out gracefully. Don’t you?”

You smiled and whispered, “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” He turned to leave and you started walking away. But he turned around and ran to stand in front of you again. “(Y/N), can I see you one more time before I go?”

You looked over at your lady’s maids, who had turned around but were still listening to everything. “Spencer, I’m watched like a hawk…”

“I’ll find a way.”

And he did.

You were reading in your private chambers when Penelope came running in.

“Oh, hi, Miss Penelope, may we announce?” your maid asked.

“I can announce myself. Penelope Garcia! (Y/N), look out your window,” she said, out of breath from running.

“What?”

“Look out your window.” When you got up and started walking over, she said, “Prince Charming is throwing pebbles.”

You smiled as you saw Spencer standing on the grass, throwing pebbles up to your window.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, with hair so fine, come out your window, climb down the vine,” he said.

“The feat you ask, dear sir, isn’t easy, and I won’t respond to that line. It’s far too cheesy.” You smiled and pulled back from the window.

“So, what does he want?” Penelope asked you.

“He wants me to climb down the vine.”

“Well, do you want to?”

“Yes.”

“So, go.”

“It’s a recipe for disaster.”

“(Y/N), do something impulsive for once in your life. You’re getting married. Do you want a regular bachelorette party with 12 screaming girls, or do you want a stroll in the moonlight with your almost-Prince Charming?”

You chewed on your lip before you made your decision. You climbed up on the window ledge and tried to find your footing on the vine climbing up the wall. Climbing down wasn’t easy, and you felt ridiculous.

“This really is more romantic in books,” you complained. Unfortunately, then was the moment when you slipped and fell off the vine. Luckily, Spencer broke your fall. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you again?” you asked.

“You know, I’m getting used to it,” he said.

Penelope looked down at the two of you. “I’ll cover for you!” she whispered. “Go, Rapunzel, go!”

You and Spencer spent the night together by a pond he knew. You got to know each other on a deeper level, and you danced with each other again. You knew you were falling for him, and that scared you.

But the bubble you’d created popped when, in the morning, you noticed a photographer in a boat on the lake. Assuming he was setting you up yet again, you ran away. When you got back to the palace, your grandmother was in your room with Penelope, who had slept in your bed in an attempt to cover for you.

Emily burst into the room and turned on the TV, where the press was covering the story of the night before.

Your grandmother was going to reprimand you, but then she saw that you were crying. Penelope and Emily left the room as you sat on the floor, your head in your hands.

Clarisse lowered herself to the floor next to you and wrapped her arm around you, pulling you into her side. When you calmed down, she said, “Now the question is, do we still have a wedding?”

You and Grant agreed to go on with the wedding, though you acknowledged that there was no spark between either of you.

The morning of your wedding was already stressful, but some of the stress was alleviated when your mother surprised you. And introduced you to your new baby brother.

But you were more excited to see your mom.

However, any stress she took away immediately came back when Paolo, the hairdresser, entered your room.

You remembered the last time he was around you quite clearly. He was a narcissistic, obnoxious man, but he was good at what he did.

The first hairdo he tried was not a winner.

When you looked in the mirror, you said, “I look like a moose.”

“Ah, but a very cute moose,” Paolo said. “Make all the boy moose go whaaaaa.” He laughed. When he saw that your expression wasn’t changing, he tried again. Eventually, he found a style you both loved.

Spencer didn’t want to go to the wedding. He knew you were mad at him, and he also knew it would be too painful to see you marry another man. He resigned himself to wallowing in self-pity at home while Gideon went to the wedding alone.

After he left, Spencer’s maid said, “Sir, I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but I feel you should know. Your uncle called the press and set you up.”

Spencer clenched his jaw. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? I should have known.”

“He’s up to something. He’s much too delighted that you aren’t going to that wedding.”

Spencer raced around the house. “I have to get to the church. But how? Everything on four wheels has been rented out. You know what? Doesn’t matter, I’ll run.”

“Wait, wait,” the maid said. “Your father’s old bike is out back! It’ll be a little rusty, but it’ll still get you there in plenty of time.”

“Oh, Gretchen, you’re a lifesaver,” he said before kissing her cheek. “Thank you.”

As you stood at the end of the aisle and looked at the altar, you took a step forward. You knew you had to do this, for Genovia. But about halfway up the aisle, you turned around and ran back out the church.

After calming the crowd down, your grandmother went to go find you. She found you in an alcove, in the midst of a panic attack.

“Oh, (Y/N).”

“I’m sorry, Grandma, I’m sorry. I just- I just need a minute,” you assured her. “I can do this, I can do this.”

She smiled at you. “No.”

You shook your head. “I can’t do this.”

“(Y/N), listen to me. I made my choice, duty to my country over love. It’s what I’ve always done, it seems.It was drummed into me my whole life. Now I’ve lost the one man I’ve ever really loved.”

You peered out of the alcove where Dave was standing, making sure no one would bother you during your heart to heart. You knew your grandmother loved David Rossi more than she let on.

“Darling, I want you to make your own choices. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Make your own mistakes.” You laughed at that. You knew there’d be plenty of those. “Now, you can go back in there and get married, or you can choose not to. Whatever you decide, I support you.”

When you walked back into the church, you decided not to get married.

“Thank you,” Grant said when you gave him back the ring.

“For what?”

“For saving me from doing the proper thing for once in my life.”

Of course, Viscount Gideon started making a scene. But Spencer showed up just in time and declined the position of king. After the viscount stormed off, you petitioned Parliament to abolish the rule that was the whole reason for the wedding.

Thankfully, Prime Minister Hotchner was on your side, as he always was. He guided you through the petition and helped you successfully win.

And while you didn’t end up getting married, Dave and Clarisse did, much to the happiness of everyone who knew them.

You were sitting in the throne room with Sergio seated on a pillow next to the throne. You were enjoying the chance to finally breathe before you were coronated. You couldn’t believe it was finally happening.

“What do you say, Sergio? Will I make a good queen?”

“I certainly do.” You looked up and saw Spencer. “If I may be so bold, I’d like to request an audience with Your Highness.”

You gestured for him to come forward. Sergio’s tail flicked back and forth as he surveyed Spencer. “What is your dilemma, young man?” you asked him as he knelt in front of your throne.

“I am in love with the queen to be,” he said, “and I am inquiring if she loves me, too.”

You smiled at him. “Do you have a chicken for my table?” you joked.

“No, I’m afraid my kitchen is out of chickens,” he said.

You hummed, pretending to consider his problem before you got up and ran to him. He enveloped you in a hug, spinning you around. When he set you down, you kissed him.

Maybe you would get your fairytale ending after all.

“You are never too old to set another goal or dream a new dream.” -C.S. Lewis

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #x reader #em's fics

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kosmosguk · 4 years ago

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5 days of spooktober~ #2: carnal

day #2: vampire seokjin x reader

word count: 1.4k

summ. midnight is a horrific hour to be awake, and it is at midnight in which you open the door to the ceo’s office and discover the bloody monster that lurks underneath his gentlemanly disguise.

warnings: mature themes (cunnilingus, bloodplay(ish?), mindbreak), dubcon themes, death, violence, gore, yandere, 18+, near-death experiences, explicit language

a/n: the fact that i managed to get part 2 out ?? on time ??? this is a whole celebration- hoping to make up for my inactivity thru this spooky series. also the rough draft was delirious so i had to rewrite it and i vibe with this version so much more. ty for 3.5k babes and happy halloween (10 days early) <3 lemme know if i made any mistakes because i never review my work before posting oops

You remember as a little girl how your grandma would gently stroke your hair, tucking locks of it behind your hair, and look outside at the night. She would hum a lullaby as she lulled you to sleep, and before you could close your eyes, you would hear her say aloud:

“Never be outside at midnight.”

As a little girl, you had thought it to be a serious remark, the kind that settled into your nightmares where beasts would emerge from the shadowy depths of your closet when the clock struct midnight. As an adult, you now viewed it as a doting relative’s overprotective instinct coming out at as an unconventional comment.

But now, you couldn’t help remembering those moments as you opened the door of your boss’s office, and as the grandfather clock in the room struck midnight, your eyes fell on your boss’s teeth buried in the crook of the new intern’s neck.

You froze, the files in your hand dropping like the overdramatic, overplayed scene of some cheesy low-budget horror movie, and you made eye contact with the man…no monster…in the room.

There was blood, the deep crimson color of mortality, stained over his features, soaking his jaw and the collar of his black shirt, and you could feel the images of him kindly smiling at you as you handed him his coffee shattering in your mind and being replaced with images of the true monster he had been hiding all along.

You were one of the only few people left in the building, and you clasped a hand over your mouth before you could scream. You could not risk anyone else being in danger.

You watched, petrified, as your boss dropped the intern onto the floor, and her body made a hollow thud as she hit the ground. You heard a low moan of pain come from her, and a part of you was grateful that she was still alive, but a majority of you was terrified of what fate you were to undergo.

“Secretary (L/n),’’ his voice was like a purr, and he wiped the blood off his chin and lapped it up, his eyes refusing to wave from the strong hold they held over yours. You were lost in the depths of his eyes, the sheen of red that replaced his normal gentle brown, and your unconscious attempt for a scream strangled in your throat. “Overtime?’’

God, this was the bad pinnacle of some B-grade horror blockbuster, and it seemed like you were the unfortunate side character. If you had been watching yourself from the comfort of your sofa, you would have laughed and commented on how shitty the movie was. But it was different when you were that unfortunate character.

“Yes, sir,’’ you regained your composure and tried to ignore the elephant—or in this case, the unconscious girl—in the room before gesturing at the scattered documents on the ground,’’ I was wondering if you could sign these documents, Boss Kim, but it seems like you’re…preoccupied.”

Come on, a few more words, and you would be out of here dialing the number of the nearest emergency provider. Your boss was nuts, and that should have been capitalized and dotted with an exclamation mark.

“Should I get some help for your…dinner date? Or may I leave now?’’ your voice sounded wry, a sure distance away from the inner panic you were feeling. Your boss looked taken aback, and for a moment, you almost thought you could see the gentle him of the day return. But then he opened his mouth, showing a glimpse of brutally sharp fangs, and laughed.

“That’s what I love most about you, Secretary (L/n). You never seem surprised at anything,’’ he took steps closer to you, stepping over the paperwork on the ground and leaving bloody footsteps on them. He sounded pleased…too pleased.

“I want to see what it’s like for you to unravel. Don’t mind the mess, Secretary (L/n), or may I—?’’ he was close now. You couldn’t move as he reached behind you and shut the door behind you and locked it with a resounding click. He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, and his voice was like a domineering taunt as he fondly stroked your still cheek with his unusually cold hand.

“I’ve always kept an eye on you. You’re…quite different from my previous secretaries. They fell like easy prey when I wanted them to, all for some money that wouldn’t even be worth much once they’re dead. But you...,” he chuckled and took your hand, pressing a frigid kiss on the curve of your knuckles,” For some reason, I don’t quite like the idea of you being dead…even though you just smell so tempting.’’

He held you closer to him, and your voice felt trapped in your throat. He slid his palm down the curve of your waist and held you tightly as if you were the lover of a beast. And perhaps, in that moment and in every moment from then on, you were.

“I imagined her as you, but it didn’t seem the same. Even when I ripped my teeth through her neck, all she did was plea to me to take her as my lover. But now…Now I have you.”

He was smearing blood on you again as his teeth sunk into the soft curve of your neck, and you felt dizzy as he drank from you. It hurt. It hurt so, so much. But you could feel a buzz, tingling underneath your punctured skin and spreading down into a heat in your stomach. You tried to fend him off, but…

Your eyes were glazing over now. You felt him take his fangs out of your neck and lower to the ground, and you were being pressed to the door as he spread your legs and fervently lapped at your clothed pussy before ripping through your stockings and sinking his tongue into your trembling hot walls.

“Mmph!’’ your attempt to speak came out as a muffled moan, and your fingers tried to claw at the edge of the door as each movement of your boss’s tongue stroked a churning fire in your stomach. He pulled away one step before you could come, your slick coating his tongue and snapping as he went lower to your inner thighs and sunk his teeth into the flesh.

It should have hurt this time. You should have been screaming. But for some reason, the tinge of pain added a new edge to your dazed high, and you were panting as he sucked at the blood. You felt his finger probe at your soaked walls and then they were stroking your clit, rolling over the hardened bud in light strokes that left you trembling. You could feel your eyes roll back, and your voice broke out in lewd moans of his name.

“Boss Kim…ngh…Boss Kim, I want you…please, please,’’ you were close to sobbing now, every fear drained from you along with your blood, and you gripped his soft hair in tight fists as you sank into a toe-curling climax.

He was back on his feet now, and you could feel how hard he was as he pressed closer against you, his tongue dragging against the wounds on your neck. Your clothes were soaked with a mixture of your own blood and the intern’s, but you could hear the unzipping of Boss Kim’s slacks. He wasn’t done, and as you cupped his sculpted jaw with shaky hands, your eyes still glazing over as the burning heat of your trembling walls seared your insides, and pleaded for him to fuck you, you realized you weren’t done either.

Perhaps, if you had listened to your grandma’s warning for you to never come outside after midnight, you would have been safe, oblivious to what truly transpired on behind the closed doors of your boss’s office at night. Or maybe the outcome would have remained the same, with a blood-soaked you pinned underneath the rutting hips of your ravenous boss.

A part of you hoped for the latter. And as you held onto him tightly, you heard the clock strike half past midnight.

#yandere bts #yandere seokjin #yandere #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #bts jin #yandere jin #kim seokjin #bts smut #yandere smut #bts lemon #yandere lemon #yandere fic #seokjin smut #jin smut

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farfromsugafanfic · 4 years ago

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Sutures - Chapter Ten: Amiodarone

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): family member hospitalization, therapy, angst if you squint

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

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The first thing you felt--before you opened your eyes--was Yoongi's white T-shirt against your cheek and the warmth of his skin beneath it. His arm was around you and his hand rested on the peak of your hip. You opened your eyes and looked up to see his hair splayed across his forehead and his lips pouted.

You smiled as you slowly removed yourself from Yoongi's arms. He stirred as you stood up and were away from his grasp, but he softly moved as he rolled onto his side and his arms reached for where you had once been. You could get used to waking up next to Yoongi every morning. Something about the way he missed you--even when he wasn't awake--made your heart swell.

You quickly pushed those thoughts away as you took two mugs from the table and flipped them right side up. While you were used to cheap hotels with packages of instant coffee and--if you were lucky--an electric tea kettle, this hotel, however, had a full coffee maker and a few coffee brands to choose from. You chose a brand you recognized and placed it in the coffee maker.

It wasn't long before the entire room smelled of coffee. As you were pouring the second cup of coffee, you felt a soft touch on your waist and turned to catch Yoongi's soft smile and messy hair as he reached for one of the mugs.

"Thanks," he said, his voice raspy and deep.

You nodded and took a sip of your coffee and sat down at the table, Yoongi soon following and sitting across from you.

"You like it black?"

"Yeah," you said. "My dad would always drink it black and when I was old enough that's how he made it for me. It just kind of stuck."

"Do you miss them?"

"Of course," you said. "It's hard when they're so far away, but I don't regret staying here. I can make a living here, more so than I could in the US."

"When did you see them last?"

"Around a year ago. Minki came with me and it was the first time he'd been to the US and the first time he met my family. They didn't like him that much. I guess I should've listened to them." You chuckled sardonically and took a large sip of coffee, creating a silence--while not uncomfortable--had a small bit of tension laced in. "What about you? You don't get to see your family much either, right? Being an idol and all?"

The question caused him to sit up straight and meet your eyes before quickly looking back down at the wooden table. "Uh, yeah, we usually see our families a couple of times a year. Usually towards the end of the year and then sporadically throughout. Some see their families more often cause they live near Seoul, but getting to Daegu is hard. We didn't always get along when I first moved, so it was hard for a while."

"Oh," you said. While all families fight and disagree, you couldn't imagine not talking to your family or not having their support. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said. "We've moved past it. It was a long time ago. We talk more often now and they really want to meet you."

You laughed, not sure if it was from the nerves of thinking about meeting his family or simply because the idea itself was laughable because you weren't in a relationship. "Why? I mean, they know what we're trying to do, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "They're convinced it won't work though. We're soulmates. We'll always come back to each other."

"It's worked before. Pairs of soulmates able to distance themselves and move on. I think we can do it."

"Yeah," he said, his words punctuated by sips of coffee. "Yeah, we can." There were a few moments of silence before he set his mug down and his eyes met yours. "So, I promised you a proper date, but after everything that happened yesterday, do you want to risk going out into the city?"

"Not really," you said. "I don't even want to leave the room. I want to see the city, but it makes me nervous just thinking about going back out there."

Yoongi reached across the table, his fingers brushing over the back of your hand. "I'll bring you back someday when we can properly wander the city."

Your stomach flipped. You knew it was probably just an empty promise and supposed to be comforting, but considering you had just talked about distancing yourselves from one another, it seemed unwise to promise, even something empty and trivial.

---

Two hours later and the two of you were laid on the bed, close, but not touching. Empty plates littered the bedside tables and each of you held a wine glass in your hand. You smiled as you sipped the deep red alcohol and felt as a buzz came over your senses. It wasn't unpleasant, just like a small vibration in your head. The same one that had convinced you to sleep with Yoongi the first time you met him.

"You're sure this isn't too much?" you asked, glancing down at the nearly three hundred dollar room service bill.

Yoongi laughed. "You really don't have to worry about it."

"It makes me feel bad," you said. "Will you let me pay for something later?"

"If it makes you feel better." His fingers glided over the skin of your left hand that rested on the bed, dangerously close to his thigh.

The couple in the movie you were watching kissed and you felt a stirring low in your stomach. It had been so long since you'd felt Yoongi's lips on yours. You knew he was feeling the same way, as he squirmed slightly beside you.

"You feel it, too?"

"Yeah," he said. "We need to try and resist it."

"Didn't the therapist say to try and get through it with mainly friendly things?"

"I think so."

His arm came around you and his skin felt like ice on a sunburn. You nearly let out a moan. You wanted to feel his lips on your neck and his hands on your thighs. The bruising way he grabbed your skin without leaving any bruises. How his hair looked pushed back and the way his lips swelled after even the softest of kisses.

"Yoongi, can--can I kiss you?"

"I don't think that's exactly friendly."

"Just one," you said. "It'll be less than we did last time this happened."

"All right," he said. "But, we can't let it go too far."

You nodded and shifted so that you faced him, the front of your body pressed into his side. His hand came to rest on the small of you back and his lips came to meet yours before you'd fully closed your eyes.

They were soft, like always. You could taste the red wine on his lips and the hesitation as he pushed the tip of his tongue into your mouth. His hand bunched the fabric of your T-shirt and your hands laced in his hair. You never wanted to let go.

Yoongi pulled away first, although his eyes were pained as he did so. He reached up and smoothed your hair back.

"Damn," he said. "If only I'd met you before Jihee."

"Yoongi, you can't mean that."

"Maybe if it was a different time, or if I wasn't an idol, I don't know, but I like to think there's a universe where we work out."

Your lips formed words you hadn't thought of yet when your phone vibrated on the bed beside you. You reached for it and saw it was your mom. It was nearing 9 p.m. in Los Angeles and your mom normally called you just after dinner.

"I--uh--have to take this."

---

You walked into the bathroom and answered the phone as you shut the door.

"Mom? Hey, what's going on?"

"Sumi!" Your mom's voice sounded panicked. "Are you still in Japan?"

"Yeah, we're flying back to Korea tomorrow?" You paused. "Is everything okay? You don't usually call me at this time."

"Well, I don't want to worry you. I want you to enjoy the rest of your time in Japan, okay?"

"Okay..."

"Grandma fell and is in the hospital. She broke her wrist and the doctors say her blood sugar was too low. They don't know what caused it yet, but they're going to monitor her for a few days."

You nodded and already felt the tears forming in your eyes. Your grandmother was nearing ninety and you knew your time with her was limited, but she'd been the one to encourage you to stay in Korea and do what you wanted. She always knew and wanted what was best for you and you loved her more than anyone for it.

"Okay," you said, your voice cracking. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Call when you get back tomorrow. If she's feeling better, I'm sure she'd love to talk to you."

"Of course. I'll call as soon as I'm back." You reached up and wiped the few tears that had managed to squeeze out. "Just keep me updated."

You heard a soft knock on the door as you hung up the door. You opened it and met with a soft-eyed Yoongi, his arms almost immediately coming to rest on your hips.

"Everything okay?"

"Uh. yeah," you said. "My grandma's in the hospital. It's not too concerning at the moment, I just, uh, get a bit emotional when it comes to her."

He nodded and led you back to the bed. He didn't say anything else, just electing to keep one of his arms around your shoulders and turn the volume on the movie up. He handed you an unopened bag of cookies as if he knew it was exactly what you needed.

---

A few days later

"So, how are things going?" the therapist asked, her notebook resting on her lap and her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose.

"Uh, well, we get along better now. I-I think we understand each other better now. But, we've run into something a little more worrisome."

"What's that?"

"Well, we had a fight a while ago. I'm fairly close with his other members and one of them was trying to comfort me and when he touched me, I burned him."

"Yeah, I also have a weird emotional attachment to her. Like, my emotions are tied to hers. If she's sad, then I feel overwhelmingly sad until she's happy again."

You turned to Yoongi with your lips pursed in curiosity. "What?"

"Oh, I thought you'd caught onto to that."

You had noticed that Yoongi had seemed to understand you better recently. He was always there whenever your mood flatlined, you soon found Yoongi coming with a snack or a cup of tea. Sometimes he stuck around and sometimes he didn't, but he never failed to jumpstart your mood.

"Is this happening constantly or only after a conflict?"

"I'm always tuned into her emotions. However, negative emotions always come through the strongest, whether caused by me or not."

You felt him looking at you and it caused your cheeks to heat. "Oh, the burning happened twice. Once as we mentioned and the second time I burnt through another's T-shirt, but I didn't actually burn him."

The therapist nodded and chewed on the end of her pen. "There aren't many precedents for these sorts of things, as you know, soulmates are rare. It's even rarer for a pair to decide they don't want to be together. The physical symptoms we've seen before were not that different from the ones you're exhibiting." She jotted down a few notes and flipped back to a previous page. "Now that you're exhibiting these symptoms though, it means that you've grown to the stage where we can begin to back off the connection.

"The only things you two need to do is to try and minimize the conflict between the two of you, continue resisting urges to the best of your ability, and we will be prescribing some medication. Since such a high profile soulmates case has come up, the interest in research recently has increased and so your medical treatment may change. So, you'll need to go in for a checkup in after about a week on the new medication."

"I have a quick question," Yoongi said. "My, uh, parents really want to meet Sumi. They know we're trying to break this and everything, but we have some time off and I was wondering if that would hurt things if she came with me to Daegu?"

The therapist shrugged. "I don't see why it would. It's perfectly fine for the two of you to act as friends and you have to stay together until the bond is completely severed. However, if something feels off during the visit, leave."

You looked at Yoongi. He'd left you speechless for the second time during the appointment. He never brought up meeting his parents, only that they wanted to meet you. Your palms went clammy and you began to pick at the skin around your fingernails. You wished you'd brought your needles.

---

"You never mentioned actually meeting your parents," you said, carrying your prescription and ducking into the car before anyone could catch sight of you and Yoongi.

"I didn't really think it was happening, but, I don't know. If we only have one soulmate, I want them to meet mine."

"Okay," you said. "I-uh-I just don't have much time to prepare."

"What? Why would you need to prepare?"

"So they'll like me."

"You don't need to worry about that, Sumi. They'll love you."

---

Mom (3:45 am): Sumi!

You (3:47 am): Yes? Is everything all right?

Mom (3:49 am): Hey, isn't it early there? Shouldn't you be asleep?

You (3:50 am): It's all right. How's Grandma?

Mom (3:52 am): Oh, she's fine. She's getting discharged now. She's actually in fairly good spirits. You'll never guess what arrived this morning.

Sumi (3:53 am): What?

Mom (3:55 am):

Mom (3:55 am): From Min Yoongi. It made her so happy. Give him our thanks.

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jikookuntold · 3 years ago

Text

Jungkook and His Cover Songs: Is “10000 Hours” about Jimin?

Disclaimer: The following post includes theories, lyric and numeric analysis, plus my personal opinions, so please don’t take anything seriously. I’m too lazy to upload photos and videos for the moments I mentioned here, but I’m sure you know about them all. Any Jikooker must know. And I’m not Korean or a Korean culture expert, I just know as much as any Stan Twitter ARMY knows about their culture.

Anyone?

Maybe one of the biggest Jikook moments of 2021 so far, is where Jimin jumped into Jungkook’s hug, in Lee Hyun’s Vlog. But the other moment on that Vlog was even more significant; Jungkook was singing “Anyone” from Justin Bieber’s new album, and Jimin was harmonizing with him while holding on his shirt. I don’t want to mention their interview moment singing “Peaches” because I know this song is super popular in South Korea right now and somehow it doesn’t count as a moment. But it’s safe to say that Jikook has something special with his songs, and JK in particular always was invested in him.

JK & JB

The reason behind Jungkook’s devotion to Justin Bieber was always a big question for me, and I got my answer not long time ago. Jungkook’s playlist for Melon Radio Station included a song from JB’s new album named “Lonely”. This is one of the most personal songs any artist can ever make, and JK recommended it to his audience. Here are the lyrics of “Lonely” by Justin Bieber:

Everybody knows my name now

But somethin' 'bout it still feels strange

Like lookin' in a mirror, tryna steady yourself

And seein' somebody else

And everything is not the same now

It feels like all our lives have changed

Maybe when I'm older, it'll all calm down

But it's killin' me now

What if you had it all, but nobody to call?

Maybe then you'd know me

'Cause I've had everything

But no one's listening

And that's just lonely

I'm so lonely, lonely

Everybody knows my past now

Like my house was always made of glass

And maybe that's the price you pay

For the money and fame at an early age

And everybody saw me sick

And it felt like no one gave

They criticized the things I did as an idiot kid

What if you had it all, but nobody to call?

Maybe then you'd know me

'Cause I've had everything

But no one's listening

And that's just lonely

These lyrics made me think of one specific thing, the thing that JK and JB have in common: They started their careers at a very young age, and their lives have been under the scrutiny of so many people. These people judged and criticized them but never tried to understand them. The lyrics are straightforward and leave no place for interpretation. By recommending this song, JK showed that he had (and probably still has) the same experiences in his life, and I think the reason he recommends or covers JB’s songs more than any other artist is that he has many things in common with him, and feels connected to his songs.

This can lead us to another theory: By covering a Justin Bieber song, Jungkook shares something about himself with us, something that he can’t express directly.

Jungkook is interested in JB’s songs, but he is not the only one. As I said earlier in this post, Jimin shares the same taste with Jungkook, and my receipt is not just that “Anyone” or “Peaches” harmonizing moments, but also Jimin’s Spotify playlists. Since 2017 (or earlier, I’m not sure about this part) he has added some JB songs to his official playlist, and even his current playlist (July 2021) has two JB songs. And also let’s not forget the fact that Jikook as a subunit started in 2014 with a JB cover. Yes, I’m talking about “Mistletoe” and as you may know, Jimin translated the lyrics of this song to Korean.

10000 Hours

Nearly 700 words and I haven’t started yet! The subject of this post was supposed to be the connections between “10000 hours” cover and Jikook but this prelude was necessary to clarify all the aspects of the topic and we find out how JB is special for JK and Jimin and how they (especially Jungkook) feel connected to him. Anyways, back to 10000 hours:

Dan + Shay and Justin Bieber released this Grammy winner song in October 2019. Here are the lyrics:

Do you love the rain, does it make you dance

When you're drunk with your friends at a party

What's your favorite song, does it make you smile

Do you think of me?

When you close your eyes, tell me, what are you dreamin'?

Everything, I wanna know it all

I'd spend ten thousand hours and ten thousand more

Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that sweet heart of yours

And I might never get there, but I'm gonna try

If it's ten thousand hours or the rest of my life

I'm gonna love you

Do you miss the road that you grew up on?

Did you get your middle name from your grandma?

When you think about your forever now, do you think of me?

When you close your eyes, tell me, what are you dreamin'?

Everything, I wanna know it all

I'd spend ten thousand hours and ten thousand more

Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that sweet heart of yours

And I might never get there, but I'm gonna try

If it's ten thousand hours or the rest of my life

I'm gonna love you

Ooh, want the good and the bad and everything in between

Ooh, gotta cure my curiosity

Ooh, yeah

I'd spend ten thousand hours and ten thousand more

Oh, if that's what it takes to learn that

Sweet heart of yours

And I might never get there, but I'm gonna try

If it's ten thousand hours or the rest of my life

I'm gonna love you

And I'm gonna love you

As you can see, the lyrics are 100% romantic, and the singers including JB, have dedicated this song to their lovers. Also, their girlfriends/wives have a cameo in the MV, which leaves no place for speculation for the context of the song: Even though the uncertainties always exist and no one knows about the future, our love is strong and will stay strong regardless of time.

The Cover and the Theories

Nearly one year later, on July 28th, 2020, Jungkook surprised ARMYs with a short video he tweeted at 11:56 AM. That video was a 49 seconds cover of 10000 hours. A few minutes later, he deleted the tweet (apparently with the advertisement excuses, because it was tweeted from an iPhone and they have a contract with Samsung). Later that night, Jungkook released the full version on Sound Cloud and tweeted the link at 11:47 PM.

Jikookers discovered numerous theories that day about the times of both tweets; if you add the digits of the time, the result is “13” for both tweets 1+1+4+7=13, 1+1+5+6=13, and as you already know “13” is Jikook’s magic number. Also, the first video he tweeted was 49 seconds and 4+9=13. But in my opinion, this theory is not strong. I know that numerology is very popular in Korean culture but still, all of this can be coincidences, but the other things I’m going to bring up are most likely not.

28th July 2020 was the 7th anniversary of the first Jikook selca posted after debut. This also might be a coincidence and to be honest, it cannot be a strong link to make a connection with Jikook, but worths sharing.

The next thing that many Jikookers also pointed out, was related to the title of the song. The lyrics say “10000 hours and 10000 more” and 20000 hours after the 28th of July is 8th November 2022. As you may know. Jikookers believe November 8th is a significant date for Jikook. I believe this can be a coincidence either, and it’s very unlikely of Jungkook to do such calculations (Koreans are interested in numbers when it comes to days and dates, but counting hours is not usual in any culture. Other than that, I’m still doubtful about the origins of the November 8th theory because we have nothing other than two tweets and G.C.F Tokyo release date and their hotel room in Tokyo which still can be coincidental). But I don’t deny these theories because even as a coincidence, it’s still very interesting.

And the next theory is connected to the “Red Moon”. On 27th July 2018, a total lunar eclipse happened all over the world, which became known as the red moon. At that time, BTS were in Malta, and on the same night, Jikook were watching the red moon on a boat. They shared plenty of photos and videos of that moment and I’m sure as a Jikooker you have seen them all and you know that night had a very romantic mood (BigHit words, not mine) for Jikook. So, a second anniversary for that night and the day after that night can be a significant date to release a very romantic cover. Is this a coincidence too? I think we had many of them already.

And last but not least is something connected to Korean culture. You probably know that 1000 days anniversaries are very important for Koreans and they celebrate them along with real anniversaries of the important dates in their lives. And guess what? 27th July 2020 is 1000 days after 31 October 2017. This day is the day Jikook’s travel to Tokyo ended and they posted their couply mirror selca on Twitter with flower bouquet emoji. Despite the one-day difference (the same case for the red moon anniversary), this is not a minor event or small coincidence. I believe Jungkook posted “10000 hour” cover for this reason and based on this, the other theories I mentioned earlier can be true either.

The lyrics hit different if you read them again, after knowing this fact. Right? I don’t want to make this post much longer but before wrapping up, I want to talk about the lyrics of “Anyone” by JB (the song Jikook were harmonizing in Lee Hyun’s Vlog):

Dance with me under the diamonds

See me like breath in the cold

Sleep with me here in the silence

Come kiss me, silver and gold

You say that I won't lose you

But you can't predict the future

So, just hold on like you will never let go

Yeah, if you ever move on without me

I need to make sure you know that

You are the only one I'll ever love

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Looking back on my life

You're the only good I've ever done (ever done)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone (anyone)

Not anyone

Forever's not enough time to (oh)

Love you the way that I want (love you the way that I want)

'Cause every morning I find you (oh)

I fear the day that I don't

You say that I won't lose you

But you can't predict the future

'Cause certain things are out of our control

Yeah, if you ever move on without me

I need to make sure you know that

You are the only one I'll ever love

Only one (I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Yeah, you, if it's not you it's not anyone

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Looking back on my life

You're the only good I've ever done (I've ever done)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

It's not anyone, not anyone

Oh, oh, oh, oh

If it's not you, it's not anyone

Oh, oh, oh, yeah, whoa

Yeah, you are the only one I'll ever love

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

(I gotta tell ya, gotta tell ya) gotta tell ya

Looking back on my life

You're the only good I've ever done (ever done, oh, yeah)

Yeah, you, if it's not you, it's not anyone

If you read the lyrics, you will notice that the context is very similar to “10000 hours”. It talks about the uncertainties of a beautiful love or in other words: No matter what the future brings to us, this love will last forever.

This context of uncertainty and unknown future for a romance is a common concept in many of the songs Jungkook has covered and it’s not limited to the Justin Bieber covers he has done and maybe this concept can be the topic for my next analysis.

#jikook #jikookanalysis #jimin #jungkook

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years ago

Text

Flower | 32

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: A light chapter that I hope you’ll all enjoy! It’s fluffy and fun...but there’s also something significant that happens in it. So PLEASE let me know your thoughts and what you liked about it! The feedback has been decreasing as we’re getting to the end, which is a little disheartening :)

; Flower Masterpost

“Hobi! Oh my god, try this. It’s so delicious.” You practically moaned out, almost wiggling with delight on the aluminium seat. It wasn’t too hot thankfully, the clouds a little overcast but the hoodie you wore combat any chill. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Because you were on vacation. And not the kind of vacations you were used to, which were usually a little weekend break here and there at the closest beach or some nature park. You didn’t have any kind of issue with those places of course but you’d always yearned to be able to travel even further. Explore other countries.

Which is what you were doing right now.

For your second anniversary, Hoseok had surprised you with two weeks in Italy. Two things about that had shocked you. Firstly, the very fact that you’d now been with Hoseok for two years. Secondly, that he’d saved up some of his much higher salary and chosen to take you to one of the countries you’d always wanted to visit.

You hadn’t even known that he’d managed to subtly arrange it with your manager, a woman that you liked and enjoyed working for now. Two weeks of vacation time had been booked for you quietly and he’d organised the hotel, flights and even buying new suitcases. Stuff like this only happened in fiction, or so you’d thought.

But here you were, in the heart of Rome. It had already been a week and you’d eagerly taken in the magnificent sites of the Colosseum, the imposing Pantheon and the ancient Forum. As a lover of history, every part of it had excited you and you’d happily dragged Hoseok around to read every single information stand available while begging him to agree to go inside them all.

Not that he’d taken much begging really, he was just as eager to see things as you were. The only difference was that he was excited because of all the fantastic photo opportunities he was discovering. He’d brought his top of the line camera with him and was going wild with it, finding all the best angles and lighting to bring Rome’s important buildings to life.

For once, you’d been more than happy to pose for his photos. Each picture had you smiling so brightly, happiness evident in every part of you as you just relaxed and enjoyed yourself.

Hoseok leans forward, mouth open and waiting as you scoop up a good amount of pasta onto your fork. Carefully, a hand underneath to avoid any fallout, you fed it to him and watched his reaction eagerly. He chewed for a moment, expression thoughtful before letting out a quiet hum of appreciation.

While Hoseok had opted to go for a pizza bianca, you’d instead chosen the intriguing-sounding pasta alla gricia. It was better than you’d thought it would be, given you’d been a little unsure over the ingredients at first and your boyfriend agreed with your thought process as he nodded with a smile.

“It is good. Do you want a slice of this? It’s also better than it looks. Never considered having a pizza without tomato sauce anymore but...when in Rome, right?” Rolling your eyes at him, you sighed playfully. That was his favourite line to say at the moment, he seemed to take great pleasure out of it.

Instead of responding, you just opened your mouth up as well and let him feed you a piece of the pizza. For a moment, you let the flavours simply roll over your tongue as you chew. It was slightly salty, with hints of the olive oil it was cooked with and layered with delicious parmesan that gave it a lovely cheesy kick.

“Urgh, why doesn’t Italian food taste like this at home?” You moan softly, wiping at your mouth with the napkin before taking a sip of water. Laughing softly, Hoseok continues to eat as he shrugs and you marvel at how easily he travels.

Even though he quite clearly doesn’t fit into the little family-run restaurant you’d both stopped at, he seemed to feel at ease no matter where he was. While you understand feeling at ease with him at home, it was strange to see that he was just as comfortable no matter where he was.

“Probably because the food at home has been filtered through like...a million non-Italian mouths or something. The same way Indian food is nothing like what it is actually in India, you know? This is...this is the real shit.” Pointing towards his plate, he grins and you sigh affectionately before reaching out and brushing away some crumbs from his mouth.

He was like a child sometimes when he ate. Constantly get it everywhere except his mouth it seems. It was cute.

“Do you think they’d give me the recipe if I asked? I’d love to try and make this at home. Authentically.” Murmuring to him, you glance over to the older lady who had come out of the kitchen. This seemed to be a truly family-run place in that she’d only gone in there to cook your food.

“Err, I don’t know. Do you speak Italian? Aren’t Italian grandma’s like...feisty or something?”

“Now you’re stereotyping.” Pointing the fork at him, he just grins and shrugs with amusement. You don’t argue any further with him though, instead focusing on cleaning up your plate with enthusiastic gusto. The two of you were planning to head over to the Trevi Fountain and walk around for a little while, enjoy some gelato and what remains of whatever good weather there will be today.

You were going to throw a Euro into the fountain to guarantee that you’d come back one day before kissing Hoseok silly in some alcove. Enjoy a little of Rome at night before finally heading back to the hotel. Maybe even some more kissing, who knows? You liked it with him.

Once you’d both finished, you went and paid. Unfortunately, you became far too shy to ask about any recipes once there, so instead, you just complimented the old lady in your broken Italian before smiling brightly and leaving quickly. Hoseok’s laughter at your inability to ask caused you to gently poke his ribs until he was asking you to stop.

The walk to the Trevi Fountain was long, but you found that you enjoyed every moment of it. Even though you’d only been here a week, you had fallen truly in love with Rome. An ancient city that has captured your young heart with its delicious food, stunning architecture and rich culture.

Even just a stroll in the evening like now, you felt like you were in some kind of romance film. From the subtle, warm filter Rome seems to have to its colour scheme to the old building’s, the cobbled streets in some areas and the way ancient ruins seemed to pepper the city liberally. You loved every inch of it. Including the graffiti and the not-so-tourist friendly areas. It was proof to you that the city was lived in, and had been lived in continuously for over two millennia.

Surprisingly, you didn’t talk much on the way there. Instead, you were too busy just admiring everything and simply enjoying the moment. If you were this in love with Rome already then you had the itch to not only get to explore more of Italy but also explore the world. And you certainly couldn’t think of anyone better to do that with than the wonderful man by your side.

“Where do you wanna go on vacation next? What about...Greece? Or maybe Japan? New Zealand and Chile are definitely on my list but I’d also like to go to at least one country in each continent. What about you?” Peppering him with questions, Hoseok looks at you with wide eyes before laughing.

“Woman! We’re not even through two weeks in Italy! And you’re already planning our next trip?” Snorting, he rolls his eyes before kissing your temple with more affection than his pseudo-outraged words. “I don’t know, I’m pretty open to anywhere I think. Maybe India? Try that real food like we’ve talked about? Egypt? We could try and visit all the super ancient places. What’s that place with the big, building thing carved into a mountain or somet? It’s all orange?”

“Petra? That’s in Jordan. I want to go there too!” He just smiles at you, squeezing your hand before squinting at the signpost just ahead. You’re finally approaching your destination and you grin as the two of you move through some of the little alleys that make up Roman streets before finally coming upon the world-famous monument.

“Oooh, it’s pretty,” You whisper, simply staring at it with awe. “The water is so...blue. How do they do that?”

The soft click of Hoseok’s camera distracts you, causing you to look over to him before raising a brow. He just smiles and shrugs, looking down at his screen and you presume he’s just taken another photo of you seeing something for the first time. It would seem he’s gaining a collection of your reactions.

“I know something prettier,” Hoseok whispers into your ear. Almost immediately you cringe, pulling away from him to scowl while your lips pull away from your teeth almost automatically.

“Oh don’t. Don’t be that cheesy guy.” You whine, half-heartedly fighting as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. He’s laughing though, so you know he’s not offended by what you’ve said.

“I’ll tell your mom that you don’t think she’s prettier than the Trevi Fountain then. What kind of daught-oof.” Bending over slightly, he holds a hand to his stomach from where you’d elbowed him. It doesn’t stop him from laughing though and you find yourself following along despite how annoying he can be.

“Here.” Handing you a Euro coin, Hoseok takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Standing upright again, he gives you that brilliant and beautiful smile that you’ve come to love so dearly over the last two years.

“I read about this, you gotta stand with your back to it and throw it over your left shoulder with your right hand. That means we’ll come to Rome one day.” Giving him a satisfied look, you do as exactly as you told him to and throw the coin with gusto. He takes a moment to watch the coin fly through the air before doing the same with his own Euro, sealing the promise of a future trip.

“How many coins do you think are in here? There are hundreds.” Hoseok whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist and cuddling you closely from behind. The two of you stand there for a moment and watch as others crowd around the Fountain, some throwing coins of their own in while others simply take pictures.

There’s plenty of tourists here, but thankfully your anniversary isn’t near the true tourist season. So while there’s a lot, it’s manageable in your view. Still, you wouldn’t want to be the municipal workers cleaning up after all this.

“Come on, I want some gelato now.” Pulling out of his embrace, you head towards one of the side streets that lead away from the Fountain, positive that you’ll find a gelato shop hidden away this close to a tourist trap. It’s what you’d do if you wanted quick money.

It takes no time at all to find a nice looking shop and you soon have a cone in your hand with three large scoops of delicious looking gelato topping it. One is just plain vanilla, another is pineapple while the last is strawberry. Nothing too outrageous, but just a combination that makes your taste buds dance.

There’s not much in the way of public seating, unfortunately, so the two of you just sit down on the curbside of one of the streets. It’s pretty deserted with only the odd parked car every now and then. A few more mopeds are parked a little haphazardly but you’re not too worried about them really, they’re small enough that neither of you would be a nuisance if they wanted to get by.

“Mm, this is good.” Hoseok hums and you look over, catching him at the very moment that he licks at his mint chocolate flavoured gelato. It’s a pretty innocent movement, but the way his tongue curls into the soft, frozen cream reminds you of how he uses that tongue for something and you shiver softly. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice and you quickly glance away. It doesn’t help that you’re now considering how cold his tongue piercing might be from eating that.

Quietly, the two of you simply enjoy your cold treat while the gentle buzzing of the tourists only a few streets away filters through the alleyways. It’s getting close to sunrise and even though you wouldn’t say it was cold, the air certainly felt cool enough to warrant you cuddling a little closer into the warmth of your hoodie.

“So, now that we’re just chilling for a little bit. I have something important that I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Shifting slightly until he’s facing you more, you look up slowly to find him giving you a serious look. He’s got one of those ‘I’m about to ask you something life-changing’ looks. You’re not sure why you know that, but you can just tell instinctively.

“Are you about to ask me to marry you?” Blurting out the words, you slap your hand over your mouth as your eyes widen. Well, you certainly hoped he wasn’t now. If he was, you’d just ruined the whole moment.

Sure enough, Hoseok’s eyes widen at your words and he recoils a little, confusion mixed with shock painted onto his face.

“What? No! Why would you think that?” You’d laugh under any other circumstances if Hoseok had this kind of reaction to anything else. But he looks concerned as to why you thought he might be proposing, a hand resting on his chest almost like he’s trying to protect himself or something.

“Well...I don’t know! You whisk me away to Rome for a romantic holiday for our second anniversary? Then, after having a good time, you tell that you have something important to talk to me about and you look so serious! It was an educated guess!” Folding your arms over your chest, you hunch your shoulders over to make yourself a little smaller.

“I wasn’t going to propose. Did you want me to?” He sounds a little unsure then and you see the way his lips purse in thought like he’s wondering if maybe he should have been proposing or something. “And anyway, if I was going to propose then you’ve totally ruined the moment! It’s meant to be romantic and shit.”

Yeah, now he looks put out. His lower lip jutting out over how his non-proposal has been interrupted and you can’t help the laugh that leaves you at the sight. He’s too cute for his own good, honestly.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to not interrupt any romantic moment in the future. I promise.” There’s only the tiniest hint of sarcasm in your voice as you tell him that. Just a teeny, tiny bit. It’s enough to make him give you a droll stare though, reaching out to gently poke at your cheek with his index finger.

Grabbing his hand, you smile at him innocently before pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of his palm. For a moment, he lets you before shifting until he’s holding your hand in his own. Tilting your head at him, you wonder what he had been about to tell you and he understands the silent question with a small smirk.

“So, anyway. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Just before we flew out here, and I mean literally just before. Like...only two hours before we went to the airport, so don’t get too mad at me if you’re going to get mad. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, our landlady called me.” Hoseok pauses for a moment, letting you compute that information before carrying on.

Given he was far more comfortable talking on the phone, you’d elected to have him be the point of contact for anything related to the house. You figured he’d be able to sort out any of the non-important stuff by himself and anything important would be discussed by you both. Like right now.

“Oh...have we done something wrong? We signed the new lease properly and on time, right?” The two of you had signed a lease for another year just the other month. You liked the house and felt fully settled in it now, not wanting the hassle of having to move anywhere when you’d made it feel like a home. Thankfully, your landlady, Elsie, was lovely and had dealt with any issues quickly and efficiently.

“No, we’ve done nothing wrong. It’s just...she told that she’s going to sell the house. She’s moving across the country to be closer to her family as they’ve all moved away. So she’s selling up everything here to fund her move to a retirement home over there. We’ve got a few months until it’ll probably be sold and will need to move out.” He goes to carry on talking but you’re gripping his hand tightly, worry flickering to life inside you and anxiety following quickly after.

“What! She’s selling? But...but what about us? What do we do? Oh god, we need to find somewhere that’ll let us take Kasumi and-” You’re quieted by Hoseok’s finger on your lips, a gentle smile on his own that seems oddly calm for the bombshell he’s just dropped.

“If you’d let me finish...I thought you weren’t going to interrupt anymore?” Teasing you lightly, he taps your lips before sighing and shuffling on the hard curb. Looking in both directions, he takes the opportunity to stretch his legs out, the black Converse on his feet looking just as dirty as ever.

“What I was about to tell you, was that she told me that we’d been some of her best tenants even though we haven’t been there too long. Because she wants to sell quickly and get moving, she then asked if maybe we’d like to buy the house. First dibs on it. It’s going to go up for a reasonable price and I know we’ve both been putting money into our individual savings accounts for the last year. I mean, I can afford the deposit if necessary and I’m pretty sure we can get a nice mortgage.” Staring at him with wide eyes, you don’t quite realise that your jaw has dropped until he’s affectionately closing it with bemusement.

“Also, before you say anything. Let me just...say my piece here. It’s a good price and well, I’d like to do it. We’ve been together two years now, I love you and I can’t imagine my future without you. So...it’s not a marriage proposal but it is a ‘would you like to take a leap of faith and purchase a physical house with me that will require a mortgage for many years?’. As I said, I’ve got enough saved up to cover the deposit and...well...I know my parents will put money in. What should’ve been my sister’s college fund instead got turned into a ‘whenever you buy a house fund’, despite me telling them to donate it. So...we can get a small mortgage. Easily manageable.” There’s no need for you to ask if he’s thought about this because it’s incredibly obvious that he has.

So instead, you simply watch him in stunned silence. He wanted to buy a house with you. The house you currently lived in, that had become your home for over a year. Not just your home, but the safest place you’ve ever felt outside of your parents home. And he wanted to make that permanent.

Or at least, as permanent as you can get it without having to pay out lots of legal bills to get it all sold. This was a big move. A huge step in your relationship. Hell, in your life. A house. Buying a house. And you weren’t even thirty yet!

“I have some saved up,” Whispering, you cast your eyes down to instead focus on his hand as you gently trail along the veins and tendons along the back. “Probably not as much as you but enough to help.”

“Okay...what if you keep that money. And if we buy it, then we can use that money to start doing some of those home improvements we’ve always wished we could do? Like a new fence.” Gasping softly, you’re suddenly taken away from the fact that you were being faced with a big decision because your excited mind started to run away with you. While you weren’t a big fan of change, you were surprisingly a huge fan of causing planned change.

Which meant you loved decorating or building things. Moving the furniture around in a room and decorating everything into something entirely new was so incredibly satisfying. Plus, Hoseok was right. You’d spent the last year fantasising to him about all the stuff you would improve or change in the house if you could.

Because that’s what adult life was about. Getting excited at the prospect of new fencing.

“Oh my god, yes! And a new roof! Finally, get rid of those ugly tiles. And we can pave over the driveway so it doesn’t have that annoying gravel that gets everywhere. Can we redo the backyard entirely? I want a porch from the back door and then it leads down-” Laughing in amusement, Hoseok gently squeezes your hand before kissing your cheek when you look down in embarrassment.

“Okay, we can make a plan of all the DIY things we want to do. But I just need to know for the moment...would you agree to buy it? With me? We can sort everything properly when we get home, plan out the money and apply for the mortgage and all that. I just want to know for now.”

You don’t respond for probably half a minute, causing Hoseok to frown slightly. But then you almost burst in excitement, jumping up and dancing on the spot in uncontrollable excitement. Hoseok wasn’t expecting it, his eyes widening in shock while his hands are reaching out to you as if he was worried you were going to fall.

“Oh my god! Buying a house! This is...oh my god. Hoseok! You want to buy a house with me?” Reaching for his hands, you half tug him up and he snorts while catching his balance. Resting his palms on your hips, he brings you to a halt before grinning down at you.

“Yes, I want to buy a house with you. I mean, that’s why I asked. So is this a yes? You're an impossible woman, you know that? It’s not a marriage proposal but I’d still quite like a yes from you…” Trailing off, he pouts slightly and you reach up to gently flick at his lip ring.

“Yes. I mean, we need to talk more seriously about it and sort out the finances but...yes. As long as we can do all the things I want to. Like new doors inside. I hate the doors we have now, they’re so annoying.” Hoseok sighs like he’s got the weight of the world on his back before dropping his forehead to your shoulders, arms wrapping around your waist and hugging you tightly.

“Okay, okay. I give in, we’ll make a list of all the things we want to change later. But you realise we have to buy the place first, right? And then save up again to make all these home improvement changes? It’s not going to be cheap.” You don’t hear him though, giving him a quick kiss before humming to yourself as you visualise your house as it is and your house as you want it to be.

Watching you closely, Hoseok lets out another breath before smiling and shaking his head. Well, at least you’d said yes.

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rosierocks30 · 3 years ago

Text

Hidden series Ch.22

Chapter 22: The Legendary of the Infinity Stones

(Gilbert)

Most of the day since Nathaniel had come home was dull. He had to spend time with Nathaniel with the queen. It was absurd how much he had to put effort in getting his old lover’s attention while Queen Historia who doesn’t try and received more attention. Luckily, he has a plan to make this blonde whore fall from Nathaniel’s grace. Few of the templars who were only loyal to Alexander had discovered the culprits of Levi’s escape. Oh this made him grin in joy when it was Historia and also Zeke’s younger brother, Eren Jaeger. He had already informed Alexander about Historia and Eren involved in Levi’s escape.

Since a month had happened both Alexander and Gilbert were planning and waiting for the right time to execute the plan. At this moment, Gilly is about to meet Zeke Jaeger, the current leader of the Jaegerist. He wondered how Zeke would take in his little brother’s betrayal? Even though Eren was known to be one of the dangerous titan shifters, he was too overhead on his heels for the handmaiden. It’s such a shame he was not into men. Gilly had always wondered how good was he in bed? He heard so much of it from that other whore, Belia. It got him curious but annoyed at the same time.

Gilbert quietly knocked on the door and heard Zeke’s voice for him to enter. He opened the door to enter the room and saw only Zeke and Yelena. They probably were having a deep conversation. “Good evening, Gilbert! What brings you here? Please have a seat.” Zeke politely greeted the other man. Yelena guides Gilly to a chair then goes to pour whiskey for all three of them. She handed one to Gilbert then to Zeke.

“I hope I’m not interrupting both of you. I do have a message from the Grandmaster that I think you want to know.” Gilbert said that this had Zeke and Yelena interested.

“Oh really? What message does the Grandmaster have for me?” Zeke took a sip on his glass of whiskey.

“He believes it’s time to have a new King since Nathaniel hadn’t kept his bargain of the deal to keep his crown by letting one of our most valuable assets escape.” Gilbert said.

Zeke thought about it for a moment. “You mean about that monster Levi Ackerman escapee? I was disappointed when I heard Captain Levi had escaped.”

“Yes, we all are. So, the Grandmaster and I have thought of putting the rightful ruler to the throne.” Gilbert kept talking.

“Is Historia gaining her full power to rule? That’s very bold for the Grandmaster to assume she will comply.” Zeke had his brow raised in curiosity.

“I did say a king not a queen. We believe you are the perfect choice. Think about it? You being a ruler will help your group strengthen the support of the people of this island. And you at one point used to be part of Marley’s military. With that knowledge, you can command a new military who will do anything to fight against Marley. The people will glorify you as their savior instead of your little brother who's nobody.” Gilly resumed.

“I would be careful how you talk about my younger brother if I were you. He may be a hothead sometimes but this group would not exist if it weren’t for him!” Zeke glared at Gilbert for the way he disrespected his little brother.

“My apologies for offending you. It just saddens me how you care and love your brother so much and yet it doesn’t seem like he does based on his actions.” Gilbert coaxed Zeke as the other titan shifter paused for a second in confusion.

“What is the meaning of this, Gilbert?” Yelena had intervened when she looked at Zeke’s expression with a doubt.

“What I’m trying to say is that Eren Jaeger along with Queen Historia had conspired together to make sure Levi Ackerman was able to escape.” He finally pulled the trigger and waited for both of them to react.

“Wait what? So Eren was the one to let Levi escape?” Yelena said in shock.

“Yes, and I have evidence. What nobody knew but only very small members of the inner circle of the Grandmaster about there are small spy cameras installed in the palace. Week by week, they had tracked the queen’s and Eren’s movements. They had allied together to free Subject 18. We have videos.” Gilbert had his phone and showed the video evidence of Eren and Historia meeting together then it showed another scene of Historia meeting Levi in secret in the dungeon. Then it showed how Eren had helped Levi escape from the castle.

Zeke felt hurt by his little brother’s betrayal. So much rage surged inside him. Of course, he had to be calm and clear minded for now.

“I see, this is disappointing.” Zeke said.

“I know this truth is hurting you but you must know this.” Gilbert said.

“He is stupid for being reckless especially it can endanger his new little family. Alright like my father, putting his personal agenda first than his family’s safety. I was alright growing fond of my soon to be sister-in-law. I have no choice but to end her life along with my potential nephew or niece that she’s carrying.” Zeke sighed.

“I’m afraid you are not allowed to harm the handmaiden for now. She has something that the Grandmaster had been searching for years.” Gilbert said.

“Oh? Like what?” Zeke was curious again.

“The infinity stones. They are real and she is the wielder of all six. So if you accept our offer, you can help your dreams come true.” Gilly continued.

“What will you do about Eren and Historia? And how will you dethrone Nathaniel?” Zeke was now intrigued.

“With Eren being connected to the Path and Ymir, he will be difficult to get rid of. As for Historia and Nathan; I will expose this secret of her being responsible for Levi escaping and probably the king will lose his interest in her and execute her which will make the people rise up and dethrone him then place you as king. What do you say?” Gilbert said.

At first Zeke thought about it. “I see as long as I get to deal with my brother. So tell the grandmaster I accept his proposal as king.” The Beast Titan shifter shook Gilbert’s hand while Gilbert smirked in victory of phase 1.

“We have a deal then.” Gilbert said victoriously.

(Historia)

Shit. It’s like the day of the wedding with Nathan again. She was in her room waiting for Nathan. Naked and alone. He had told her to be ready for him at night.

Don’t let your fear show to anyone Historia..

The queen heard Ymir’s voice again. She had been quiet for a while. “I can’t help it...the thought of him touching me again is just too much for me.” The blonde woman whispered.

My Krista, I wish I was there to protect you and hold you like when we were in the scouts..

“Same...I do think about what would happen if you were still alive. I read your letter and if you were still alive, I would have married even with the short time you have before the curse takes you away from this fucked up world…” Historia felt a small tear slipped from her ocean blue eye.

But you shouldn’t feel regret in any decision that you made before. You have now Levi and your son, Atticus. Think of both of them when fear consumes you. You’re not giving yourself some credit of how strong and capable you are in fucked up situations.

“Atticus? My little boy...I missed him so much. I envied Sasha for raising him, which I should be the one.” Historia had always thought of her baby boy. For being Levi and Historia’s son, he wasn’t a tiny baby. Her hand wiped the tears off. She must endure these acts for their sake. Levi was caught once. She will have to be stronger and not be a burden to cause more misfortune. A queen can make many moves and has a chance to win this twist game in politics.

Suddenly, the doors opened and Historia glanced to see Nathaniel entering the room. The usurper noticed his wife was ready for him.

“I see you have been waiting for me, my wife.” Nathaniel smirked. Historia felt the urge to slap his smirking face, but she was composed.

The beautiful golden haired queen got up from the bed then let the white sheets fall on the floor to reveal her nude body. Nathaniel walked towards her and caressed his fingers on her soft creamy fair skin.

“Would you believe me if I say I have missed you?” Historia was not expecting his words. She knew he had hated her for many reasons but that feeling is mutual too. This does not make sense. She felt his lips on her neck slowly traveling down to her collarbone. No matter how hard she tries to enjoy it for her mental sake, these lips are not her true husband. Levi had always made her crave more. Her thoughts drifted to remembering their first time together. It was a grieving night for everyone from the betrayal of Reiner, Bertholdt, and Ymir. From feeling lonely and grief, both Historia and Levi had blossomed into a prue love.

“Historia, you are beautiful like your sister, Freida.” He muttered.

Historia glanced then took a step back from him. “How do you know my sister?” She whispered.

Nathaniel realized Historia was confused but alert. Maybe it’s the alcohol in him but he felt it’s time for her to know that long ago he was in love and engaged with Freida. He sighed and went to sit on the bed and pat the mattress for her to sit beside him.

“Come Historia, I think it’s time I tell you about the time I used to be engaged with the woman who was my first love.” He said. Historia was hesitant at first, but she went to sit next to him so he could tell her about her sister.

(Natasha)

The sky was beautiful with clear blue and white puffy clouds. A little girl with brown hair was plucking out wildflowers at the meadow. She carefully tried not to get her summer dress dirty. Her mother will scold her as today will be an important day. Natasha, her mother, and her baby brother Damon will go visit the palace to see Grandpa and Grandma. Her mother, Morgan Ackerman nee Stark had decided to fly from Hawaii to Paradise Isle two days before planning to see her in-laws. Long ago Atticus bought a private land away from the capital when Morgan became pregnant with Natasha.

For two days Morgan wanted to have some time to herself with her children. Life as a widow was too heartbreaking for her. She lost the love of her life just when their marriage was still new. This must be how her mother felt when her father died so many years ago. Natasha looked up to see her mother who’s in the cottage cradling her baby brother. The little girl smiled and resumed plucking out flowers. Her mommy loves flowers. This will make her smile again. Her mommy had a pretty smile.

It felt so long that little Natasha was surprised her mommy didn’t call her name to go see grandma and grandpa. Maybe mommy had fallen asleep with Damon again? The little girl skipped back home. When she saw the door was opened, Natasha was feeling weary but didn’t think too much into it. She entered and went upstairs.

“Mommy! I got flowers for you!” She heard no one.

As she got closer, the little girl heard a grunt and whispers. Huh? Who is with her mommy and brother? She slowly pushed the door to open for her to view a gruesome scene. Her silver grey eyes widened in horror to see two men were looking down at her mother who looked frozen from seeing a small body on the floor. There was blood soaking the wooden floor and from the look of these strange men's faces; they were laughing.

Did they hurt her little brother? Why? Why would they do that?

Her mother finally noticed her and shouted. “Natasha ran! Run to safety!”

Natasha gasped when another man grabbed her before she had the chance to run away.

“Oh no you don’t brat.” The man who grabbed her was struggling from her wiggling and kicking to be free. “Noo! Let go! Mommy!” She was calling for mother to save her.

“YOU PIECES OF SHIT! YOU MONSTERS!” Her mother was screaming and crying from seeing her baby laying on the floor dead. “WHY?! I have told you I don’t have it!”

“Don’t lie, woman. Your father was the last one to hold all six stones. Our sources say you found it five years ago with that Ackerman prince you married. So, tell us where those stones are and this time your last remaining child.” The sinister leader said.

“Fuck you. Fuck all of you, Jaegerists! I have told you. I don’t have them anymore. Please, please spare my daughter.” Her cries were heartbreak and full of agony. The worst pain to see your own child being killed.

“Tell us where was the last time you left it?” The Jaegerist man said.

Morgan was sobbing as she realized it’s pointless to beg for mercy since she was telling the truth. The stones literally disappeared as she used them to have her first pregnancy to make it to full term to birth a healthy child. Her daughter was the result of it. The one wielding the power of the six stones. They must not know the truth. These monsters will do anything to get the stones. The leader was losing his patience.

“Very well. Kill the other brat.” The leader ordered.

Morgan looked panicked when the other man who held Natasha placed the dragger on her small throat. Slowly, Natasha screamed in fear.

“Stop! Stop! I will tell you the truth! Please don’t take her away from me too…” The grieving mother begged them.

“Fine, now tell us.” He gestured to the man to not harm or kill the crying girl.

“They are inside...me. I absorbed them accidently.” Morgan said.

“I see and yet you are not unable to use them? What a terrible mother you are being unable to protect her children.?” The man mocked her. Morgan glared up with rage and charged at him with the knife that was used to kill her infant son.

The man used defense moves to disarm the knife and lock his arms around her neck and pinned her to the floor harshly. “You asked for this, bitch.”

Everything had gone to hell when Natasha saw the man pinned her mother and now he’s unbuckling his pants while her mother wiggling and screaming so many bad words. Then herding her mother crying and screaming in pain whatever the man was doing to her mother. All she know, that man’s hands with her baby brother’s blood smearing on her mommy. Then the man started to choke her in the process until no cries or screams were heard from her mommy.

Natasha stopped wiggling and whispered. “Mommy…?” She had a devastating expression.

“Such a shame. She’s dead.” He had finished violating the mother. The men groaned in disappointment since they wanted to have a turn.

“Stop being whiny brats. The body is still warm enough to have fun.” The leader said then chuckled.

Natasha felt her world became dark. Rage, sorrow, and feeling useless consumed her. A faint whisper was heard from her ear.

Take your ravenge...they have spilled blood now; they must pay for it…

Who was that? Natasha said mentally. She could hear the same voice again.

Use it..use your gifts form the stones they so eager to have…

Mommy had made me promise not to use it.

I’m sorry sweetheart but you must break your mommy’s promise...look what they have done to her and your baby brother? They must pay. You are an Ackerman and Ackermans must do whatever it takes to protect and survive. The least you can do is honor your mother, child…

You didn’t answer my question. Natasha said in her thoughts.

My apologies, I’m you...well the titan in you. Awaken first and let me and the power of infinity stones handle the rest…

Natasha snapped back to reality to glare at these awful men. “You will pay for it!”

Now the men started to laugh at the little girl’s threat. “Oh, she has fire in her. Men just end her so we can leave.” The leader said.

Suddenly a rush of electricity spread inside her as some unfamiliar power burst out. She now felt stronger and aware how to fight. The little girl let out a roar while using that strength to bring the man down to the ground surprisingly. The rest of the men were shocked to see a small girl was able to throw a full grown man onto the ground. Then she grabbed the knife the man was holding to stab repeatedly on his chest. Blood spilled everywhere while hearing the man screaming from the pain. All he could see was glowing silver eyes until he died.

Natasha dropped the bloody knife and turned herself to glance at the rest of the men. The men looked so scared and ran to try to leave the cottage.

“Where do you think you are going huh?” Natasha’s voice was distant but not like a human. With the power, she made the door closed and locked from the room so they wouldn't escape. The men tried to open the door.

“I just want to play a little game.” With her glowing hands, she made them lift up into the air without touching them and threw them to the wall for them to crash roughly.

“Please, please! Don’t hurt us. Have mercy..” Her hearing those words from their mouth had enraged her. “Mercy? Where was that mercy when my mother begged you not to harm my baby brother. Where was your mercy when you hurt her and killed her?! You deserve no mercy.”

Natasha slowly crushed their insides into liquid and watched how they coughed out blood. Now they look like a blob with human skin. She hadn't noticed the wind was causing it while she flew above ground. Little by little, she started to get back in control and saw what she had done. Her reaction was dizziness as darkness took over her and slumped down to the ground.

Night time had arrived when Natasha woke up. The cottage was dark but only the moonlight shined down the room to see blood all over the walls, floor, and furniture. Slowly, she got up and went to her mother’s body hoping she’s still alive. Her tiny hands shook the corpse but no response.

“Mommy, please wake up. We’ll be late…” her tears falling seeing no life in her mother’s once brown eyes. She let out an agony scream until the house phone rang. The little girl could hear it from downstairs in the living room. She quickly ran downstairs and picked up the phone.

“Hello? Who is this?” Her sniffles were loud enough a familiar voice was able to hear.

“Natasha? Is your mother there? Why are you crying?” Her grandfather Levi called.

“I-I..grandpa!” She cried.

“Hey kiddo, calm down. Tell me what's wrong?” Levi was trying to calm his granddaughter.

“M-mommy...they...kill her...and Damon too….I’m scared. Please come get me..” She was still sobbing.

It was quiet on the other side of the phone; only heavy breathing was heard. Then a growl of anger and a punch sound was heard.

“Honey, who was it that killed your mother...and Damon.” Levi’s voice felt like they were about to break. He and Historia had lost their son, Atticus a year ago, now two members of their family were killed.

“I think...they were called Jaegerists? I don’t know. Please I’m scared..come.” She begged.

“Natasha, it's going to be ok. I want to stay inside the cottage and don’t open the door to anyone besides me and your uncle. We’re going to get the military police to investigate. Can you do that, soldier?” Levi uses his affectionate tone while giving her an order. Whenever she visited her grandparents, Grandpa Levi played soldiers for fun. He sometimes teaches her some moves to protect herself.

“Y-yes Captain Grandpa.” She sniffled.

“Good girl, stay there. We’ll get there in half an hour.” With that, he hung up.

Natasha goes lay on the couch to wait for her grandfather. She began to chant to herself to calm down. As he had promised, a half hour had passed. A knock was heard but she was quiet.

“Natasha? It’s Grandpa. Open the door, kiddo.” She sprinted up and ran to unlock the door and open it. In her view, Levi and behind him were several military police men and Uncle Erwin. The little girl jumped at her grandfather to hug him tightly. He instantly held her and carried her.

“Shhh it’s ok. I’m here.” He whispered to comfort her. Levi entered the cottage with her holding onto him. He was grateful that she survived.

The police made their way into the cottage and explored all over the cottage. Her Uncle Erwin was beside his father. “Natasha, where are the bodies? Can you show us?”

She nodded and pointed them upstairs, they went and reached Damon's nursery room to see a bloodbath nightmare.

“Oh fuck. What a mess…” Levi glanced at each body and spotted his infant grandson’s corpse then his daughter-in-law’s. What is he going to tell his wife about this tragedy? And Pepper...too.

(Eren)

The green eyed titan shifter was dabbing a cold wet cloth on his lover’s forehead. He stared at the woman he loves while his hand caressing her hair. Eren was in disbelief at what he saw earlier with Natasha. She is full of surprises. The Eldian man got up and started making tea in case his fiancée woke up.

“Damn it, Natasha...you literally will be the death of me.” He sighed while turning on the stove to have the kettle pot boiling for tea.

He was stuck in contemplating other matters when a soft groan was heard. This got his attention. He glanced on the couch to see Natasha waking up. Eren went to be by her side.

“Hey…” It’s the first word she had said to him since the incident. He took her hand to gently kiss.

“How are you feeling, babe?” He asked with concern.

“I feel...like being hit against the wall.” She chuckled lightly and carefully tried to sit up. Eren stopped her so he could help her without struggling.

“Luckily I got a special tea just for that.” He smiled then got up as the kettle began to make a whistle sound.

Eren goes to turn off the stove. He poured the hot water into two mugs. The tea bags were already in the mugs as he poured the water. Carefully, he holds the handles to carry the mugs to the couch. Natasha watched the way he had prepared the tea. By the time she received her tea mug, she had enough strength to sit better. The heiress took a sip of her tea.

“It’s not green tea?” She was a bit disappointed.

“Doctor recommended not to let you consume caffeine while you're pregnant.” Eren informed her.

“Wait, is this ginger root tea?” She sipped again. The taste was familiar with earthy and spicy all in one. The Burnette loved ginger root tea especially with lemon to add the zesty flavor.

“Yeah, it’s good for you and safe for the baby.” Eren said while sipping his tea.

“I hope there will be more because I love ginger.” She gulped down her tea.

“Natasha, don’t drink too fast.” He warned her.

“Alright, alright. Any medical advice Dr. Jaeger?” She smirked.

“Dr. Jaeger is my dad.” He scoffed.

“Yes, but I can see you being one too. Imagine you wearing a white uniform coat or blue scrubs. I think it looks sexy on you.” Her hands rub on his chest. Usually he would respond to her flirty actions but right now it’s not appropriate. He had seen her use so much power and it almost drained her energy. If he hadn’t been there to try to calm her down, the situation would have gotten worse.

Eren sighed in disappointment and grabbed her hands gently to remove them from his chest. “Natasha, you have a lot of explaining to do. What was that earlier that you just did? It nearly drained your energy. You were unconscious since the incident. Fuck, I was scared for you. I just need you to be honest to me. What other surprises do you have?” He ranted.

Natasha was biting her lips nervously. This is where she needs to tell him what he saw was not what she had wanted anyone to know for many reasons. One of them is being used as a weapon by others. The American heiress placed her mug on the table stand.

“I don’t know where to start...this isn’t easy for me to tell anyone about my powers.” She said.

“You can start on how you got them.” Eren looked at her.

“I was born with them, but I don’t remember much of what my mother had told me long ago.” She paused as she was trying to remember the conversation with her mother on keeping her gifts a secret to everyone.

“Is it genetic?” He was concerned. If it was, there’s a chance their unborn child will inherit. It would put any of his children with Natasha into a dangerous situation.

“I don’t know. This had never happened to any wielder. It was one of the reasons why I joined a secret organization to help me know more about it and be in control. All I knew was that these stones inside me had killed my late grandfather, Tony Stark.” She began to explain.

“I see. So, no one knows about the stones besides me?” He asked.

“My grandmother from my mom’s side, Director Maria Hill who’s in charge of the organization I joined and now you. I don’t tell anyone about it so please can you not tell anyone?” She gave him a pleading look.

“Hey of course I won’t tell. Your secrets are mine now. I will not let anyone hurt you if they know the truth. I’m here for you, Natasha.” He wrapped his arms around her to reassure her that her secret is safe with him.

“Thank you..” She was grateful of having her secret being kept for good.

Eren was about to say something when her stomach made a loud growl. He saw how she blushed embarrassedly. He chuckled at how cute she looked.

“You haven’t eaten at all today. Tell me what you're craving and I’ll make whatever you want.” Eren offered to make something for her.

“Hmm...I am craving a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup?” Natasha glanced at him.

“You got it, rest here while I make what you request.” Eren smiled then kissed her forehead. He went to the kitchen to start making food.

Natasha watched Eren cooking from the couch. She had thought if it’s time to tell him the cause of her PTSD. She was lost in her thoughts when Eren was calling her name.

“Natasha, I got your soup and your grilled cheese.” Eren had already placed the tray of soup and grilled cheese on the coffee table. He sat on the couch next to her. His hand grabbed the bowl and spoon to help feed her. She was reluctant at first but let him feed her.

She moaned from having tomato soup in her stomach. Her eyes glanced at the delicious melting grilled cheese sandwich. Eren noticed where her eyes lingered and chuckled form the way she stared.

“This is why you can’t skip meals, my love.” He placed the bowl down on the table to grab the sandwich and let her bite down as the cheese stretched.

Natasha just made a grunt sound from having her mouth full from the grilled cheese. Her finger pointed to the bowel to have something to help her swallow down her food. Eren switched the sandwich to the soup and watched her slurp the soup.

“Thanks my love. Seriously, you have magic hands whenever you cook. Did you learn from your mom as a boy or was it on your own?” She gleaned into his rich emerald green eyes.

“I learnt just the basics from her, but mostly from during my time in the military.” Eren was a bit quiet from hearing the mention of his mother. His memories as a boy gave him a nostalgic feeling. His mother did teach him how to make soups, and sandwiches including grilled cheeses. He missed her so much.

“Hey...I’m sorry about our fight at the clinic. You were right. I wanted to forgive you and move on, but that pain was still there...I wasn’t being honest to you or myself.” Out of the blue, Natasha decided to apologize for her behavior towards him.

“Shhh it’s fine. I knew deep down what I did to you will take a long time for you to heal and forgive me completely.” He said.

“Um also...I think I’m ready to talk about my mother’s death..” She struggled to let it out in sentences.

“Babe, you don’t have to…” Eren gently grabbed her hand to kiss it softly.

“But this is important...it’s mainly the reason why I struggled to control my powers. My past has always haunted me where my pain and emotions get out of control and create chaos. I don’t want to end up hurting an innocent.” She glanced at him and hoped he let her talk about her past.

Eren sighed but nodded. “Alright if you’re really ready, I’ll listen to you.” He gave her a warmth smile.

Natasha smiled back and began to speak. She started every beginning of the summer, her parents and her had always visited Paradise Isle to spend time with her grandparents. When she was 4, her mother decided to go to the cottage that her father had built for my mother as when she was pregnant with Natasha. What she could remember was being in the meadows to pick at the flowers and smell them. She had collected a few for her mother and went back to the cottage. What she had seen was blood spread on the floor in her baby brother’s room. A small body laying in the pool of blood. Her mother’s face went pale than glared at the men who were responsible. Her mother yelled and screamed at them but all they did was laugh and it got to the point where it led Natasha to seeing red for what they did to baby brother than later witnessing her mother being raped. A child should never have witnessed such a gruesome scene. Then all she remembered was blackout until she woke up to see what she had done to these filthy men. She had heard a ring in the living room and went downstairs to pick it up and it was Levi who was concerned when they would come to visit them. She had explained what had happened and quickly her grandfather hung up to go to the cottage.

“So yeah...he brought the police and they were horrific from the scene. I told them what they have done and I torture them until their bones and organs were melted. They looked like a blobfish out of water, but they probably thought it was my Ackerman gene that killed them. I mean I was awoken on that day too but mostly the power of the stones did the damage.” She had stopped to see the way Eren was trying to compose himself. His knuckles were white from how his fists tightened.

“Do you know who were those men that did these awful acts on your mother and baby brother? Why did they do it?” Eren’s voice was cracking from feeling angry and disgusted by what these men have done to her and her family.

“What I heard from my mother before she was killed; they were…” She doesn’t know how Eren would act if he knew these men are part of the Jaegerist faction. Her grandmother, Queen Historia had been slowly gaining back her power throughout the years and she had restricted them until the Jaegerists had lost their power seat in Paradise Isle.

“You can tell me, Natasha.” He slowly calmed down for her sake.

“I don’t think you would like it if you knew who they were.” She said cautiously.

“Why? Don’t tell me it’s related to me?” Eren felt his heart beating fast as he became afraid of her answer.

“Y-yes...but I know it’s not you. It’s never you nor your brother since he's been dead for a long time. They belong to the Jaegerist. I don’t know who was the real leader during that time when I was a small child.” She felt Eren got up quickly. All she heard was an angry growl and a punch to the wall.

Natasha looked up to see he made a hole. She got up from the couch and slowly walked towards him. “Listen Eren, this is not your fault-”

Eren turned around to face her quickly. “Of course it is! I made the Jaegerists. I caused the revolution for Eldia not to fucking brutally kill an infant and raped then kill a mother. They stole your childhood away and yet I was not able to be there to prevent that. Was I there to protect you?”

“No, I haven't met you yet. Eren, I told you. This is not your fault. You didn’t kill them. You didn’t send them to kill my family.” She placed her hands on his cheeks. “I know what type of man you are and what you're capable of doing but you are not a monster. They are my love.”

Eren’s tears fall from the guilt. If he knew his followers would cause this kind of trouble, he would’ve not made Jaegerists. He was surprised that the Path didn’t let him access Natasha's timeline. He will need to have a talk with the Founder Ymir.

“But my name. My family’s name is tainted by causing pain to the mother-in-law I wouldn’t ever get to meet or your little brother.” What bothers him the most is when his child is born, how will he look at him or her without guilt.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty. They should feel the guilt for what their action had done to my family. I will not let those fucking Jaegerists take my happiness too by having the love of my life feeling the guilt and burden of their crime!” She could feel her body shaking with hatred from thinking about the Jaegerists.

“You really do hate them huh?” Eren said.

“I do. They took almost everything from me. My mother, brother, my birthright. I was supposed to be My grandmother’s heir but few Jaegerists who are still in power were prevented by passing a law to take my title I was born with and the line to succession. I am tired of the way they ruled over the government far too long and my family had to pay the price. I’m glad times are changing in the future era because my generation has been protesting to give my grandmother’s power seat full control. I only go visit Paradise because my father’s family lives there. Kuchel had been studying overseas to become a diplomat to best handle the government to help her family to survive there. The aftermath of the three Jaegerist’s acts of crime, the police had to cover the truth. I was angry and furious. My grandparents had to shut me up for my sake. So I had to play the fucked up heiress who sleeps with strangers and parties and drinks into my misery.” She finally calmed down from her outburst.

“It was not meant to be like the last government was before the uprising. I did it so the Eldians can open their eyes to know the truth and not live in some delusional lifestyle where we’re the last humans on this planet and these fucking walls are our life support. I can’t believe it fires back at my ideology.” He took a deep breath and joined Natasha to sit beside her.

“So what do they want from your mother? There must be a reason they went to your cottage on that day?” He resumed.

“They wanted the stones. My mom is the daughter of the late Tony Stark. He was the last person that used it to save the earth’s population from an alien invader, Thanos. She didn’t tell them that I have them in my body, instead she told them she had them inside her...to protect me.” Her lips quivered as tears fell. All Eren could do was hold her and comfort her.

“I won’t let the Jaegerists get you and our baby. If they or anyone tries to hurt my family; I will personally shed their blood like a river.” His tone was dark. This is one of the promises he will keep.

He needed her. His Eve. His soulmate. His freedom.

(Natasha)

The following morning both of them had woken up early to go back to the palace. At first, Eren was reluctant to let Natasha go back to work from yesterday's incident. She had to persuade him that she was better now. They entered the palace and looked at each other before they departed for their duties.

“Let me know if you don’t feel well. I’ll pick you up.” Eren said while she nodded.

“I promise I will. Now go before your annoying brother comes to find you. I’m not in the mood to greet him.” Natasha said.

“Alright, but I will see you later.” He gave her a kiss on her forehead.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.” She smiled back while embracing his kiss on her forehead.

She had watched him leave, then went to Queen Historia’s chamber to start her work. Later as half of the day reached, Natasha finished her morning chores. It’s lunch hour so she will wait for Eren to come by to get her to go eat. The brunette heiress was about to go inside the Queen’s chamber to grab her stuff.

“Ms. Potts, is the queen busy with an audience?” Yelena walked towards her. Natasha turned to see the stoic woman.

“Hey Yelena. Um, I think she is at the moment since she left in the morning to a bunch of meetings with the high ranking ladies, after lunch I will let her know you stopped by to have an audience with her.” Natasha said.

“I see. Then after lunch it is. Are you on your way to lunch?” Yelena asked her.

“Yes, but I’m waiting for Eren to come. You know how protective he has become lately.” Natasha chuckled.

“Yes, Eren will be a great father and husband too. SPeaking of husband, when will you two be wed?” This threw Natasha off guard.

“I don’t know. We haven’t picked a wedding date yet. Maybe after our baby is born?” From so many events had happened, it didn’t accrue to her or Eren to pick a date to be married. Only thing Eren ever mentioned was he just wanted to get married now and be his wife. She forgot the culture and society in this island was way different than most modern societies. Maybe she will give a date for the wedding before their child is born even though it's ridiculous to wed so rushly because society will label their baby an unwed bastard. Oh well, she’s just doing this for Eren.

“I’m sure Zeke and I can offer help for the wedding to happen as soon as possible. Queen Historia adores you. I’m sure she’ll happily help too.” The female Jaegerist said.

“Thank you, I’ll have a talk with Eren about your offer.” Natasha finds it suspicious that Yelena all of the sudden decided to talk to her so casually.

“Oh I forgot to mention, but Eren would be busy during lunch. He sent me a message to let you know he’ll see you later after work.” Yelena said as she noticed the way Natasha became disinterested and was about to leave.

“Really? He said that, huh?” Natasha sighed and felt a bit sad that her fiance will not be able to have lunch with her today.

“Of course. If you want, you can have lunch with me. I might have to come back here later anyways.” Yelena offered.

“I guess having lunch with you is better than eating alone. Shall we head to eat then?” Natasha gave in and walked with Yelena.

They went to the hall where most of the staff, Jaegerists members, lower ranks Templars have their meals. It’s basically a cafeteria to her but one day it will be one in the future. She preferred to have lunch outside of the palace since drama had always come to find her. As her pregnancy started to show, few people who had annoyed her before avoided her. Especially, her relationship with Eren was public so they don’t want to be on Eren’s bad side. Oh my god, she was so embarrassed the way he announced everyone the day after the ball. She remembered how her face was red and dying the need to hide herself. If she was in control of the situation then she wouldn’t feel embarrassed.

As for today, many people stared while walking through the aisle of tables to go wait in line for a meal with Yelena. This felt like her high school days where she was always the center of attention. Being the heiress of Stark Industries and the family’s fortunate, the public was always eyeing on her. It gets too much when she needs her privacy. Once they got their meal, both Yelena and Natasha sat on an empty table.

“Eat Ms. Potts. The child will need his or her strength.” Yelena gave a smile and began to eat her meal.

“You can just call me, Eve. I felt like those ladies during the Regency Era.” Natasha said while putting her meat.

“Very well, Eve.” Yelena said politely.

The rest of the meal hour, they were silent while eating. They barely had small talks which bugs Natasha. Maybe having lunch on her own would have been better? They finally finished their meals and Yelena spoke again.

“It’s almost over lunch, would you be alright if we take a detour? I need to drop off a letter to one of the members in their office.” Yelena waved an envelope letter towards her.

“Yeah, we got time before the Queen expected me to be back to serve her.” She said. Natasha got up to grab her tray.

“Good.” The other woman got up as well and took her tray.

Both women place the tray with empty dishes into a bin where kitchen staff pick up to wash them later. They walked out of the hall in silence. The detour walk was a bit long until slowly it got dim further away than the hallways Natasha was familiar with. She started to feel anxiety.

“Yelena, are you sure this is where the office leads?” She was getting a bit worried.

“Yes, I have come here a lot. There are some offices further down.” Yelena said casually.

“I see…” Maybe Natasha was just feeling a bit sick again. The meat was a bit heavy for her.

“We’re almost there.” The other woman said.

As they walked further, Natasha was getting frustrated as her feet were killing her. She stopped to take a small break.

“Sorry I am going to need a minute.” She begin to panting.

Suddenly, a hand was placed on her mouth to keep her silent. Natasha panicked and wiggled to free herself. Before she can use her Ackerman strength, she feels something poke on her neck and slowly sees the view blurry. She saw Yelena with a smirk along with two more people. Where did they come from? Why are they doing this? Shit, did they find out she was one of the spies for the Assassins and the last remaining Paradise military?

“W-what did you do to me, Yelena?” She was struggling to speak.

“Don’t worry this injection is not titan serum nor will it affect your child. We just need you for our special project. We know you have the stones in you. If we do not keep you until you give birth to the child, we’ll remove them from your body.” Yelena explained.

“Y-you bitch! Eren will notice. He will-” Natasha felt a slap on her cheek. She glared at all three with hatred.

“Be good and stay silent. The serum is working. Soon we’ll have you unconscious. Speaking of Eren, Zeke will handle him. Sleep well. Ms. Potts.” Natasha’s view slowly darkens.

Slowly her eyes began to open. All she saw was white surrounds but there were blue lines glowing. In front of her, there was a holosign doing a countdown. It felt like she was in a virtual game that’s becoming popular in her time.

Welcome to Animus Project. Name: Natasha Eve Ackerman-Stark. Code: 2467489

Shit. She’s in the Animus machine. They know her true identity. Oh where are you Eren?

New subject. Subject 19. Resuming Arene Ackerman arc.

Halonus, Eldia Empire 1556

It’s been forever since being knocked out by the king’s guards. Arne lost count being held in the cell. Is Ingrid alright and safe? He wondered about his wife. Arne heard the footsteps coming closer and the keys chain making noises as it unlocked his cell. The guard looked at him.

“The king had summoned you.” The guard said as he dragged Arne out of the cell. Arne prays to the gods and goddesses to protect his small growing family.

“What the hell? Where am I? Who are you?” Natasha suddenly sees white but as her vision became clear, there were many people staring at her. Some familiar ones like Zeke, Yelena, Floch.

“How intriguing. Girl, we should be asking you that. Who are you?” Alexander Di Lorenzo stands before her to observe like she’s some mythical creature.

“It’s pointless to answer that question when you have me hooked up into an Animus machine.” She with a bitter tone.

“True, but we wanted to give you the chance to speak, Eveline or should we call you Natasha? Tell me Miss Ackerman? What year are you both?” Alexander said.

“2041…” She whispered.

“Just as I expected. Gentleman and ladies. Who would ever think the handmaiden is from the future and even better a direct descendant of Levi Ackerman and Queen Historia. I presume that’s on your father’s side? The infant prince is your father?” Alexander chuckled from seeing how her expression became pale.

“Go fuck yourself.” She spit on the Grandmaster's face. The templars quickly aimed their gun at her ready for their leader to give command.

“Lower your guns.” Alexander ordered his men.

“You’re a hothead woman. It doesn’t matter now. You are the key to my goals. Knock her out again and gather any info since her grandfather decided to escape.” Alexander said. The scientists nodded.

“Hold up. Alexander, she is pregnant with my brother’s child. My niece or nephew might not make it.” Zeke was concerned.

“Don’t worry the baby will survive. It’s mother is an Ackerman. We’ll give you the baby as its legal guardian. If the child inherits the gifts, we’ll raise it as our weapon.” Alex smirked.

Zeke stayed silent, this is what he feared having an innocent being born in this cruel world and will be used as a weapon. He felt conflicted from knowing how his little brother will not hesitate to use The Rumbling on them instead.

A/N: Ok, this is where I’ll stop until the next chapter. I’ll see you next time.

#attack on titan #assassin's creed #mcu #crossver #fanfic

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