#i cannot believe i forgot to warn for the panic attack it was the most obvious thing like omfg

[writtenapoiogy]

home; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: 'You were 20 weeks pregnant when Jacaerys and the Queen had deemed Dragonstone no longer safe for you and the babe. You were to be sent to Winterfell where your safety would be secured. Or so Jace thought.'

word count: 3.8k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy sex, slight hair pulling, some dirty talk, jace is obsessed with readers belly, ALSO-- ANGST, pregnancy, miscarriage, blood, hurt and comfort, and sadness PROBABLY SOME OTHER STUFF I FORGOT

a/n: i don't go too in-depth about the miscarriage but it is known that she has one ALSO THIS IS THE MOST IVE WRITTEN EVER???? yall it took me TEN days to write this... anyway i hope you guys enjoy it <333

You stood watching the Dragons soar above the castle. Your hands sat clasped under your growing belly. You heard footsteps approach from behind you. You were pleased to see Jacaerys yet shocked to see the Queen trailing closely behind. You didn’t see Rhaenyra much unless she had matters to discuss involving the war— more specifically what you could do to help.

“Jace,” you smiled before curtsying to Rhaenyra. “Your grace. Is everything all right?”

Jace came up beside you and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. His hand came to rest on your belly; something he did regularly since you two found out you were with child.

Rhaenyra smiled at the happy couple. “How’s the babe, Princess?” Her question was genuine. She was very happy for you and the prince.

You smiled and placed your hand on top of Jace’s, “He’s moving a lot more.”

“He?” The Queen exclaimed.

Jacaerys chimed in, “The princess believes we are having a boy. I think it is a girl.”

Though it was nothing but harmless small talk you couldn’t help but think there was something more they came up here to talk to you about. “Not that I don’t enjoy your presence, your grace, but I can’t help but wonder if there is some other reason you came up here with my husband.”

Jace stepped away from you and you looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. A feeling of worry and impending doom took over. The worst of the worst flooded your thoughts. You took a deep breath, “Was there a raven from the North? I-is my brother okay?” You tried to remain calm but the thought alone had you hyperventilating.

“Hey, hey. Shhh.” Jacaerys cupped your face to calm you down. “Everything is alright, my love. Everything is safe up north.” More than one meaning was behind his words. He kissed your forehead as you caught your breath before you had a panic attack. “Which is why you must go.”

What? You must’ve not heard the prince correctly.

“Beg your pardon?” Your eyes went from your husband to his mother quickly. The Queen, however, did not move. She let you and the prince talk this through.

Jacaerys grabbed your attention again. “You are not safe here. Neither of you.” He looked down at your belly. Worry dripped from his words. After losing Lucerys he couldn’t survive if he lost you too— the both of you. What is a man without his wife and child?

“Yet Dragonstone is safe for you?” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. You are going through something that should be faced together as a couple. Together as a family.

Jace took a deep breath. It was going to be harder to convince you than he originally thought. “It’s different.”

“How? How is it different, Jacaerys?” You quipped

“Because you cannot fight. We don’t need you to fight. I don’t need you to fight. I just need you and our future prince or princess to be safe. And that is not here. It cannot be here.” Jacaerys’ words punched a hole in your chest.

You felt so useless. You knew how to fight. It was one of your favorite pastimes with Cregan. But due to you being with child, it seemed to have left you feeling worthless. You stormed past the two of them, heading inside the castle.

You headed down a corridor for your bedchamber with hot tears running down your cheeks.

Rhaenyra was quick to follow you inside.“Princess,” the queen spoke gaining your attention. “Every day that that babe grows and flourishes inside of you, you are helping my claim and your husbands. You’re helping us win. That is why we need you in Winterfell, with your brother and his men, so that you will be safe.” Rhaenyra and Jacaerys had spoken about this before they came outside to find you. They knew that this was the best way to secure your family’s future. They just needed you to see that too.

She was right. You had the crown prince’s child growing within you. And keeping you safe is keeping the baby safe. “Okay, your grace. I will go.” You continued, rubbing your belly. “For our protection.”

“It must be tonight, Princess. Once you are farther along it will be too dangerous for you to fly.”

You nodded at your queen and headed to your chambers to gather what things you could.

Within hours you were atop Vermax, your arms wrapped tightly around your husband. The air grew crisp and cold as you flew closer to Winterfell. You buried your face into Jace’s shoulder. You inhaled his scent, never wanting him to leave you. You knew that this was necessary. You held part of the succession to the Iron Throne inside of you.

You landed fairly close to the entrance of Winterfell. You embraced the cold air then you looked at Jacaerys who looked as if he might turn into a popsicle at any given moment.

Cregan called your name as you walked through the doors into Winterfell with the prince by your side. You picked up your pace and threw your arms over your older brother’s shoulders. It had been a while since you last saw him. He squeezed you tightly. After your brother had passed, it was always the two of you. Protecting and comforting each other.

After separating from your embrace you both looked at Jace.

“Could we go inside? Preferably by a warm freshly lit hearth?” The crown prince’s teeth chattered together. His arms wrapped around his chest to preserve heat.

“Always a dramatic to our cool air, my prince.” Cregan jested.

Jacaerys scoffed, “Cool is drastically an understatement, my lord. Sea breeze is cool. This is whatever the complete opposite of dragon fire would be.”

You tried and failed to bite back your smile as you stuck your hand out to Jace. “C’mon my icicle.”

You and Cregan had convinced Jace to stay for supper and to spend one night in the castle before heading back down south.

You were in your nightclothes, standing in front of a warm fire. So much had happened in just a day. Your day had started in Dragonstone and had ended in Winterfell. All you could think about as you looked into the flames was your future with Jacaerys. What the future would hold when this dreadful war was over. What life would be like with your little family on Dragonstone.

Jacaerys walked up behind you and brought his hands to rest on your plump belly. He placed feather-light kisses on your neck, making you relax into him. He rutted his hips against your arse. You felt his hardness against you.

“Jacaerys.” You warned. You brought your hand to the back of his head when the kisses to your neck got rougher. You spun around and as you went to slot your lips together, Jacaerys began to back away pulling you with him. He made you yearn for his kiss, a devilish smirk adorning his face.

You followed him entranced. You climbed into his lap as he sat on the bed. Jace rid you of your gown. Your arms fell to his shoulders, using him to steady yourself. He wrapped a strong arm across your back. He ran his unoccupied hand across your full stomach before running his hand up to cup your plump breast.

You let a whine out at your husband’s touch. His hands left a trail of molten lava on every inch of you they touched. You’ve been ultrasensitive to his touch recently. “Someone will hear us.”

“I do not care,” Jacaerys said bringing his hand to the nape of your neck, pulling you down to smash your lips together. He didn’t know the next time he would see you after tonight. He was going to make sure he left an imprint. He moved his head down giving you a second to breathe. Your foreheads rested together. “I am the crown prince. I will have my wife when I so please.”

You moaned, snaking a hand to the back of the prince’s head to pull his head back. He groaned in response. You felt wetness pool in your smallclothes. Staring down at the pale skin on his outstretched neck. You quickly made work of ridding him of the thin shirt. Not even bothering with removing his pants completely, you only freed his hardened length.

The two of you stared down at your hand wrapped around the top of his shaft. Jacaerys’ slick smirk faltered when you began to pump him slowly. The tip of his cock hit your stomach, eliciting a moan from the dark-haired boy. Droplets of precome dripping from the head, smearing on your stomach.

Your breath hitched, “Jace. I need you.”

“Then take me, darling.”

You let out a low whimper. You lifted your hips and ran his member down your folds til he reached your entrance. You leaned your forehead against his. You began to sit on his hardness. Feeling his cock enter you deliciously slow.

Jacaerys helped guide you down. You tensed, the burn from his size becoming too much.

Running a soothing hand along your spine, “Breath, my love. It is nothing you haven’t had before.” Jace rasped against your lips.

You took a deep breath in and tilted your forehead against Jacaerys’. You moaned as you exhaled—his cock had begun to slip inside of you as you adjusted to his size.

“That’s it. That’s my girl.” he moaned as he slid completely into you. He adjusted his grip so that his hands were at the base of your bottom, assisting you.

“Jace.” You whimpered feeling so full it was overwhelming. So full of him. So consumed by him. He was all around you. He was completely inside of you, everywhere. You carried his babe inside of you. His blood practically ran in your veins.

“Yes.” He groaned.

You attempted to move your hips to the best of your ability. But you were beginning to realize that your condition was going to be hindering your mobility. Especially while in bed with your husband. “I can’t anymore. I’m too-,” You tried to get out your words, exasperated by the difficulty this was causing you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jace reassured you. He helped move you so that you could lay on your side. After placing you on the bed he stripped the rest of his clothes off of his body.

He laid behind you so that the two of you were spooning. “You are so perfect.” Jacaerys praised you as he placed chaste kisses from your shoulder to your cheek and then to your neck.

You hummed at the words that left your husband’s mouth. You lifted your leg so he could guide his cock to your entrance. He slowly began to press into you, his hand which was once on his member, moved to your hip to completely push into you.

Jace had to squeeze his eyes shut hard to make sure he didn’t come too quickly. Your wet walls welcomed him in. They pulled him deep within your warmth. “Your sweet cunt is all mine, pretty.” He said into your ear, his voice coming out hoarse. He started to slowly thrust into you. He was so tender with you.

Jace had your walls clamping down on him within minutes. The angle at which he was rocking into you, made his cockhead hit that sweet spot deep inside of you leaving you a complete whimpering mess. You swear you could feel every detail of his member. The slight curve it had. And the vein that ran up the side— which you loved to trace with your tongue.

“Fuck.” He groaned into your ear. His hand moved to hold on to your belly, spurring his thrusts. He pumped into you harder now. He loved seeing the results of his actions. Seeing his seed having taken root and growing a beautiful life inside of you. It drove Jacaerys absolutely insane.

“Jace, it’s so-, Fuck!” You yelped at one particularly sharp thrust.

Jace brought his hand down to your sensitive cluster of nerves and drew figure eights. His hips snapped against your arse relentlessly. He loved the noises he was pulling from you as you attempted to keep quiet.

You turned your head back to face your husband as you felt your body begin to convulse. He covered your swollen lips as you let out a drawn-out mewl as you came. Pulsing around him, milking him for all he was worth.

The push and pull of your cunt caused his release to hit him hard and unexpectedly. He moaned into your mouth. He covered your walls in searing hot come. You two lapped your tongues at the others as Jace continued to slowly pump into you. Making sure he had emptied himself completely inside of you.

You winced as Jace pulled out. You hated the feeling of being empty, being without him.

He cleaned you up and you cuddled. One last night before gods knew how long.

One moon had passed since you last saw Jacaerys. And though you had not seen him, you had received a letter from him every other day. He expressed how much he missed and loved you deeply. How much he missed rubbing and kissing your belly. He worried the babe would forget his voice.

He told you that his uncles had been keeping a close look at the skies and that flying to you on a regular basis would do nothing but endanger the both of you. But he promised to fly to you when the babe arrived. He would be there for you. No matter what he would find a way.

You decided to take a stroll, needing a break from the interior of the castle. You were beginning to feel woozy and a change of scenery should do the trick. You had just begun your walk when your brother approached you. “Sister. What are your plans for this afternoon?”

“Read, and read, and then probably read some more.” You joked with the taller man.

Cregan smiled warmly. “What if I knew something fun we could do that does not involve dusty old books?”

“And what would that be dear brother?” You had missed your brother and your people. You knew no one other than Jacaerys down south.

He leaned down, closer to you, “Hunting.” Cregan said in a hushed whisper.

“Hunting? In my condition?” You could’ve let out an obscene laugh, but you didn’t. That would’ve been absurd for a princess.

“Our ancestors had been doing it for centuries. You don’t even have to get close to the animals.” Cregan bumped into your shoulder. “You always had a natural talent with a long bow.”

He was being truthful, however, you hadn’t picked up a bow or, any weapon for that matter, since you began your courtship with Jacaerys. That skill you once had probably dwindled to nothing. “Fine. Under one condition.”

“Anything. I have missed my sister, dearly.”

Your lips upturned into a smile, “We must stay close. If Jace sends a raven or by the grace of the Gods flies in, then I want to be near.”

“Deal.”

The two of you stepped just outside the gates of Winterfell. A quiver weighed heavy against your back, and your longbow sat comfortably on your shoulder. You welcomed the crisp air against your face. The war beams from the sun greeting your cheeks. Oh, how you missed the North. The South was beautiful but it would never compare— it would never quite feel like home.

You and your brother forgone your horses for this hunt since he promised you you would stay close to the wall. You missed hunting. You missed having a bow in your hands. The adrenaline rush it gave was unlike any other.

You were about a quarter mile from the gates when something felt terribly wrong. Cregan turned towards you as he heard your footfalls cease.

Your bow fell, your hands dropping down to your stomach. “Somethings wrong.” You blanched. You turned behind you and looked down noticing a trail of blood. “Cregan..” You gasped and just as you were about to collapse your brother rushed towards you, catching you in his arms.

Cregan had one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. He ran all the way back to the castle yelling for them to open the gates. His heart was pounding. He couldn’t lose his sister like this. He made it to your bedchamber with the Maester Kennet following closely behind.

As Cregan placed you in your bed the Maester tended to you swiftly. You moaned in pain. “This can’t be happening.”

“How far along is she?”

You spoke before your brother had the chance, “We only found out two moons ago.” Your sentence finished with a loud groan.

Cregan stood there frozen watching you in pain. His first wife had suffered a terrible fate at the birth of his son. But you were his baby sister and he needed to be there for you in the absence of your husband. He ran to your side taking a warm wet cloth from one of the handmaidens, dabbing it on your forehead.

“Send a raven to Jace. Please.” You said hoarsely to your brother.

“He won’t get it in time.”

“But he will get it. Please just tell him it is urgent. I need him here. I do not care.” You moaned in pain, lurching forward. “CREGAN GO PLEASE!”

The lord rushed down the hall, your screams fading. He quickly found a sheet of paper and wrote a message to the prince hoping he would receive it faster than normal.

“Where is she.”

When the prince arrived in Winterfell, he immediately sought Cregan. Finding him in the Great Hall. The letter Jacaerys received told him something was wrong with the babe and that he needed to come to the North as soon as he possibly could.

“She’s at the godswood.” Cregan looked destroyed. “She refuses to leave.”

Jacaerys went into the woods inside of Winterfell with a lantern since it was the dead of night— and way too cold for you to be out here in any state.

You didn’t turn your head when he called out your name nor when he placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Please look at me.” He pleaded. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that without me. I’m sorry we were apart.”

You turned to him sharply. Bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “We were apart because you decided. You sent me away. You sent me away to go through this alone.” Venom dripped from your words, not hiding your pain.

“I sent you home so you would be safe. So you could bear this child in a safe environment with your family.” Jace tried his hardest to make you understand why he did what he did. “I did what I thought was best.”

“And how did that work out Jacaerys?” You knew you shouldn’t be mad at him. It was a great loss for you both, but you needed to direct your anger, your hurt somewhere. “You are my home. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t know this would happen. The queen needed me and she needed my dragon.” He let out an exasperated breath. “This war needs me!”

“More than I? Your wife?” Your words stung him. Tears welt up in his eyes, seeing you like this. Hearing you speak to him like this.

“Please,” Your name fell from his lips.

“You cannot believe that to be true.” You finally reached out and grabbed Jacaerys’ hands, pleading. “Just stay here with me. That way we don’t have to be apart again. We can guarantee each other’s safety.”

“I can’t.” The regret in his eyes was evident. He knew you needed his comfort. Husband and wife shouldn’t be separated the way you have been. He, however, feels that pull to the war. Jace will not be seen as the princeling who didn’t fight for his kingdom or his people. What kind of king would that make him in the future?

“Jacaerys, you can. Your mother has plenty of men to fight for her. She sent your brothers away for their safety. Why would she deny you the same luxury?”

“Their dragons aren’t grown-,” Jace began.

You cut him off, “And Vermax is?”

Jace exclaimed your name, frustrated, “Sending me away with Vermax means my mother is losing another dragon and dragon rider in a war between dragons.” He tried to compose himself not to raise his voice at you. “We cannot sit here and argue when there is a war going on. We just lost our child! I do not want to sit here and argue with my wife when I should be holding her.”

Your face softens. “So stay and hold me Jace. You can fly off with my brother in tow when the time comes. When you are needed. But for now, I need you here. I need you with me. Just come home. Your mother has to understand that. More than anyone. She should understand that.”

“I am home. Anywhere I am with you, I am home. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

You brought your hands up to his face, his face resting in your palm. The two of you were so young. Only ten and seven. He placed his hands on your back and closed the distance between you both. You and Jace relaxed into the kiss. Millions of emotions poured into one kiss.

You pulled yourself away from his lips. “There is something I want to show you.” You took his hand and walked him behind the beautiful weirwood tree. At the bottom of the stomp laid a carving of a baby girl.

Jacaerys gasped. “Is that-,” He started.

“Our beautiful little girl.”

He tried to hold his composure but it hurt so much. He blamed himself. A thousand maybes and what-ifs clouded his mind. He fell to his knees and traced the carving. “I am so sorry.” Jace started to sob.

You fell to the floor and embraced him. “Jace this isn’t your fault. There has been a lot going on. Maester Kennet said it could’ve happened no matter where I was. I was under a lot of stress, Jace. We are in the middle of a war.” You pulled away and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

He pulled you so that you were sitting in his lap. He held you tight, almost suffocating. “I love you. This will never happen again. We will never grieve a loss like this apart.”

“I love you most, Husband.” You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face into his neck.

“I won’t leave you again.”

“Good.”

divider creds: @cafekitsune

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours

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

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k 

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

{masterlist}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boring, you mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truce.”

(pt II)

[holidaywishes]

a bit of stress relief

  Requested: 👍

  Summary/Request: Can you PLEASE write about Freddie coming to your work and having a quickie in your office

  Warning: smut, fluff, whiny Freddie

  Author’s Note: REQUESTS ARE CLOSED for a bit. I do have one more in my inbox right now so I’ll add it to my drafts but after I write that I won’t be taking requests for... a while. Maybe a month? I have a few series I want to finish up before I start having requests piling up. I always love seeing my inbox full of requests for different types of fics, so this isn’t forever, just until I’m able to finish my Gally series for sure and possibly my 9-1-1 series. This request was fun and I just couldn’t say no lol. Thanks in advance for your understanding and I hope I’ll be able to get back to requests sooner than later but I’ll keep y’all updated! Stay Golden, loves! <3 

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

  Your boss asked you to go into the office on a Saturday to finish an assignment that she had forgotten to mention earlier in the week. You would’ve argued that you had plans but your boss said it was for a presentation the next morning that they needed the information for

  “I’m sorry, Freddie,” you whined to your boyfriend as he tried to convince you to stay at his apartment, “believe me, I’d much rather be here but I’m not about to get fired...”

  “It’s not your assignment, it’s hers,” he argued, “she made the mistake. Why do you have to do it for her?”

  “It’s my job” you admitted

  “Except when it’s not...” he groaned

  “Freddie,” you sighed, “I won’t be long I promise. I just need to go in and print up some stuff and make a couple calls. Nothing major...”

  “So why can’t your boss do it?” he challenged, “it’s her mistake, so.. she should be responsible for fixing it”

  “I know,” you repeated, wrapping your arms around his neck before kissing his cheek, “but I can’t lose this job. I have loans to pay off”

  “You know I can help with that”

  “No,” you scoffed, “no you absolutely cannot. I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything. That’s not the relationship we have... I’m not your sugar baby”

  “But you could be”

  “But I don’t wanna be”

  “Alright...” he laughed, kissing your nose playfully

  “I’ll call you when I’m finished okay. I give it one, two hours tops”

  “If you’re not finished in two hours, I’m coming down there and taking you home” he teased

  “Okay,” you scoffed, “I’ll see you later.” You got to the office and rushed into your boss’s office to find the information you needed to work on. The office was empty, as it should’ve been, but when you heard the door open and close, you popped your out of the door to see who was there, “Hello?” you called

  “(Y/N)?” your co-worker asked

  “Mason? What are you doing here?” you returned, noticing now that a bunch of your co-workers were walking in

  “We could ask you the same thing” he chuckled

  “Laura forgot to do stuff for the presentation tomorrow, so she asked me to come in and do it”

  “For the conference?”

  “Yup”

  “Yeah,” he replied, “our team is having the same issue. Except they’re saying they ‘lost it’ or that it ‘must have gotten deleted somehow’ so now we have to be here all day trying to fix this”

  “Why are any of this people in charge again?” you asked

  “Maybe they slept their way to the top” he joked before waving you goodbye and heading to his station. You started at this company as an intern, mostly handing out mail and grabbing coffee for everyone, but they kept you around because you had a good eye for graphic design which was important in a marketing firm. However, your boss, Laura, had replaced Debra, the former Head of Marketing, a month before you were hired to be her assistant and she really wasn’t all that fond of you. She claimed that your degree should be in Business or Marketing not Graphic Design and that you’d only ever be an assistant in this industry so ‘don’t hope for more than that.’ You didn’t think too much of her comments though, at the end of the day, you had a job to you and you were going to do it well; even if it meant coming in on the weekend to do her forgotten assignments. When you finally found Laura’s papers, you groaned audibly, realizing this wasn’t going to be quick work

  “Hey!” Freddie greeted you from the other end of the line when you called him to let him know what was happening

  “Hey...” you sighed

  “What?” he groaned, “what’s going on?”

  “It looks like I’m gonna be here for a while. Laura underplayed how much work there was for me to do...”

  “You can’t really be doing this?” he whined

  “Babe, I have to. I told you, it’s my job. But,” you added, hoping it would make him feel better, “it’s not just me! Apparently, all the senior staff forgot to do these super important assignments for the conference. So, a bunch of us are here working until we finish them”

  “You need to quit this job,” he grumbled, “clearly no one is good at what they were hired to do”

  “I can’t quit unless I have something lined up,” you argued, “babe, I’m sorry. I know I promised that we’d lay in bed all weekend because this was the first time that you had free time but I have to do this. I promise, I’ll work as fast as I can but the longer I’m on the phone, the longer I’m at the office. So, I gotta go. I love you and I’ll see you as soon as I’m done okay?”

  “Call me and I’ll pick you up,” he replied, “you shouldn’t have to take an Uber back here...”

  “Okay,” you smiled, “that would be nice. Talk soon. Love you”

  “Love you, too” he said before you ended the call. You took a deep breath and started getting to work. Organizing timelines and trying to understand doctors-note-handwriting from past meetings

  “How can she possibly expect me to be able to understand this?” you thought to yourself. You signed onto her computer and were immediately left in shock at the jumbled mess of her desktop, “holy fuck!” you exclaimed silently, it’s no wonder she gets nothing done, “she’s the most unorganized person I’ve ever seen!” You spent the next 20 minutes opening files to find what you were looking for, closing what was not it immediately so you could legally say you didn’t see anything, and then you had to spend the next half an hour printing documents and running back and forth between Laura’s office and the copy room

  “How’s it goin’?” Rob, one of the other team members who was forced to come in and work on a Saturday, asked when he noticed you rushing throughout the room

  “Oh, you know, I’m sure I’ll have a panic attack in the next, oh, twenty or so minutes” you replied, sighing as you walked back to the printer one last time. You had managed to get most of the paper work done but you still had to make a few phone calls to get estimates on some of the ad spaces needed and whether or not there could be a discount involved for the company

  “Hey!” Freddie said gleefully, walking into your boss’ office like he owned the place

  “Freddie,” you gasped, a slight sneer on your tone, “what are you doing here?”

  “I came to see you...” he replied, furrowing his brow at your response, “when you said you were gonna be longer than you thought, I thought I’d come down and surprise you. Maybe take the stress off a little?”

  “That’s sweet, babe,” you smiled, noticing the look in his eyes and realizing what he was really there for, “but I have to make some calls so I can’t... do that”

  “We can make it work” he teased, biting his bottom lip quickly before pulling you close to him

  “Fred...” you whined, kissing him once before pushing him away from you and walking back to Laura’s desk, “I really do have to work. You can sit if you want but that’s it...” he slumped onto the plush couch against the window and frowned before scrolling through his phone as you started to call the businesses on your list. After about 10 minutes, you noticed Freddie peering up from his phone to look over at you, as if he was trying to get you to hang up the phone just from a look, choosing to walk over to you when you didn’t. “Yes, that’s right. I know you’ve been with us for quite some time and our relationship has helped both our businesses grow,” you spoke as Freddie swiveled you and your chair out from the desk, “we want that relationship to keep growing” you continued before noticing the smirk on Freddie’s face as he hovered over you, kissing your neck as you tried to pay attention to the call. “Mhmm,” you said to the person on the other end of the phone, distracted by Freddie’s lips pressing against the sensitive skin on your neck, his hot breath cascading down your neck, “mhm, sure. I understand” you said again, trying not to let on what was happening. “Laura is so sorry she couldn’t make this call to you herself,” you lied, Freddie kissing his way down to your core, pulling off your leggings quickly and kissing your inner thighs as you spoke, “however, she is excited to showcase your work to those at our conference tomorrow. We all just wanted to make sure the numbers were 100% accurate...” you had to bite your lip and move the receiver end of the phone from your mouth in case any sound escaped when you felt Freddie’s tongue finally press against your clit. “Oh that’s great!” you exclaimed when the partner on the phone added a discount to the quote you’d already been given, claiming that, had he known other businesses would be hearing of his services earlier, he would’ve offered it sooner. “Thank you so much,” you smiled, Freddie’s hands pulling your body closer to his him as his mouth brought you closer and closer to your orgasm, “I or Laura will let you know how everything goes. Thank you again” you said quickly before hanging up the phone. “Fuck,” you cursed breathlessly, “oh my god, Freddie!” your back was forced to arch, as you were pretty much falling out of your seat as Freddie continued to stimulate your clit, only now moving his finger to caress your folds before slowly inserted it inside of you and pumping until you whimpered, tugging at his hair. “Freddie,” you squeaked, trying not to be heard from outside the office, “fuck” you repeated quietly, your grip loosening from his hair as his ministrations slowed and your breathing steadied.

  “How’s your stress now?” he smirked, wiping his mouth casually before standing up in front of you once more

  “You can’t do that” you said, small pants escaping your lips, making Freddie believe you less than you intended

  “I think I can” he teased

  “I was on a business call, Fred!” you exclaimed, pulling your leggings back up, “what if they heard something?”

  “They would only hear something if you let them” he countered and, ultimately, you knew he was right but you still shook your head

  “You can’t do that” you repeated and he scoffed, hovering over you once more to taunt you with a kiss but stopped right in front of your lips

  “We’ll see about that...” he smirked, taking his hands away from the chair and walking back to sit on the couch

  “What’s goin’ on with you?” you asked

  “I just want to be with you,” he whined, giving you puppy dog eyes and earning a scoff from you, “that’s what we were supposed to be doing anyway...”

  “I told you we would when I got home...” you said

  “Come here,” he said, patting his thigh, “come sit on my lap” you chuckled but obliged. You wrapped your arms around his neck after sitting on his thigh, playing with his hair and kissing his nose before he spoke again, “see, isn’t this better than making a few phone calls?” he asked, his hand beginning to rub your back lightly

  “You know I would rather be doing this, or more than this, with you,” you admitted, leaning in and kissing him softly, letting your lips linger a moment before you pulled back, “but I have to do this stuff...”

  “Just a quickie...” he whispered, “and then I’ll go. Then we can pick up at home”

  “This is my boss’s office” you whined

  “All the more reason to do it. We’re in a private spot, secluded from everyone else, it’s perfect” he replied, kissing your jaw before moving down to your neck and you let your head fall back to give him more room

  “Mmmm,” you hummed, melting into his kiss, “I can’t”

  “(Y/N)...“ he groaned

  “Just a few more calls,” you argued, “I don’t have a lot left. Just like, five, maybe six”

  “That’s a lot. How long are each of those calls? 10 minutes? 20?” he asked, “we could do a lot with that time...”

  “Stop,” you smiled, standing up from his lap and walking back to the desk chair, “just a few more calls...” you repeated. He slunk into the couch and angrily unlocked his phone while you picked up Laura’s phone and began dialing. You were able to make three calls before Freddie began sighing loudly across the room and you had to glare at him, which is when the texts started

  “I want you” he sent as you spoke to another advertising partner on the phone

  “Like now” another came through

  “I’m gonna come over there”

  “And make you cum again” you glared up at him and he smiled

  “And again” you shook your head, turning off your sound so the partner didn’t hear the constant dinging

  “And again”

  “And again”

  “Until you can’t cum anymore” you noticed him smile as he thought up more responses and you threw a pencil at him, still paying attention to the conversation on the phone before mouthing ‘stop’ to Freddie but he just shook his head with a teasing smile

  “You won’t be able to walk”

  “Your legs will be numb”

  “Your chest will be heaving because you can’t catch your breath”

  “You’re gonna crave my dick”

  “Every time you move”

  “You’ll have to physically stop yourself from jumping me in public”

  “Because you’re still feeling me inside you” your eyes went wide as you read his messages, heat flooding your face as you ended the call, forcing yourself to dial another number before Freddie could get the upper hand. He slowly made his way to the desk once more and you gulped as you swallowed the saliva that had filled your mouth, Freddie hung up the phone before it ever even really began to ring

  “Seriously, don’t...” you whispered, knowing that you were about to break from whatever move he made next

  “But I want to” he growled, grazing your nose with his and you started to give in when he walked toward the door, “crap” you thought to yourself when you thought he was about to leave but he was only locking the door

  “What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, “that was unlocked this whole time?!”

  “Yeah?” he chuckled

  “Freddie! What would have happened if someone walked in earlier?”

  “They would’ve gotten a great show” he replied, walking over to you, leaning over you but not doing anything. You took a deep breath before running your hands up his arms, tangling your fingers in his hair before bringing him down to kiss you

  “We have to be quick...” you whispered, earning a grin from Freddie before he pulled your leggings off and directed your thighs around his waist so he could pick you up to carry you to the couch. You laughed when he sat down and you fell into him clumsily, “quiet” you shushed him before kissing him slowly and trailing your hands down to his waistband, pushing his pants down just enough to free his erection while his hands lifted your shirt up, stopping to massage your breasts. You heard a laugh outside of the office and stopped what you were doing, “wait,” you whispered, “I think someone’s there” he didn’t listen, kissing your neck and lining himself up with your entrance before bucking his hips to yours; your nails digging into his shoulders to stop yourself from making any sound. His hands gripped your hips as he thrust into you, bringing your attention back to him while your lips found each other in a clumsy rush to muffle the sounds of each other’s moans

  “Fuck,” Freddie moaned first, “fuck” you were about to reciprocate his sentiment when the phone rang and your head jerked back in panic

  “Shit” you sighed, worry mixing with pleasure as Freddie continued to grip your hips tightly

  “Ignore it” he said, kissing your peaked nipple over your shirt before moving a hand to your core, but your head still stayed looking at the ringing phone

  “What if it’s her?” you whined, referring to your boss

  “Ignore it” he repeated

  “What if it’s one of the partners or the vendors? What if it’s one of the really important clients?” you asked, knowing he wouldn’t give any helpful advice other than

  “Ignore it” he said once more, pulling your face back to his before kissing you harshly. The phone stopped ringing and you felt a faint sense of peace course through you as you softened the kiss that Freddie had started, your tongue begging for his lips to part, a muffled moan intertwining with his warm breath as it brushed over your exposed neck. Your tongue danced with his for a while as his fingers circled your clit, pressing down on the sensitive flesh every so often

  “Fuck” you breathed finally, now beginning to ride him faster, feeling his thighs flex underneath you as he welcomed the sensation of you crashing onto him. “Fuck,” you repeated, “shit, oh my god. Fuck Freddie” you felt your climax build as his lips met your neck, his finger still working on your clit while you rode him harder; the loud ringing of the phone the only thing that brought you back to where you were. “Ugh” you groaned

  “Leave it” he groaned back

  “Fuck” you sighed, reluctantly ignoring the phone to continue fucking your incredibly broad shoulder boyfriend

  “That’s my girl” he smirked, watching you bounce up and down his length

  “Fuck, Freddie, I’m gonna cum” you panted, your hands clutching his shirt as your hips began to shake. “Sh-i-it, god fuck! Freddie” you moaned, still trying to be as quiet as possible but knowing that everyone in the office was probably putting on noise cancelling headphones just to try to escape the sounds they were undoubtedly hearing.

  “Almost there, baby” Freddie breathed, clutching onto your waist to assist your movements. Fuck, his hands fit so perfectly on your body, you really hated that this had to end so quickly, but that’s what he came here for. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in you”

  “Fuck” you breathed, dropping your head onto his shoulder, your body taking over until you and Freddie met your release. Like clockwork, the annoying ringing of the phone appeared and you had to scoff at Freddie while you quickly got dressed

  “That was fun,” he smiled, “you sure you don’t wanna go round two?”

  “Hello” you greeted, picking up the phone to continue the work you had come to do, “I am so sorry about that. I’m not sure what was happening with the line…”

  “So we’ll continue this at my place then?” Freddie teased before and you nodded with wink before shooing him away but not before he kissed you goodbye. You were dreading the walk out of the office if Mason and his team hadn’t left yet but you knew it had to happen sooner or later

  “So, should we hire a clean up crew before your boss gets back?” one of the guys teased

  “Shut up” you said, hoping your embarrassment didn’t show too clearly

  “You do know we put on our headphones as soon as we saw him,” Mason admitted, “we knew there’s no way that he was gonna just show up to say hi”

  “He could’ve,” you tried, exhaling when you realized you were never going to fool any of them, “fine. Just, please, don’t rat me out. I just pulled together a miracle in that office and I don’t need Laura finding out about my office sex-capades — I don’t want that to be the reason she fires me. I’m not that girl…”

  “We know” another co-worker smirked

  “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us,” Mason assured, “it’s a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy as far as we’re concerned” you gave him an appreciative smile before heading out to meet Freddie in the parking garage

  “Hey” he smiled as you sat in the front seat

  “Hi” you replied, leaning over to peck his lips

  “Did you get your work done?” he teased

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, “it was a miracle but I got it done” he took your hand and brought it to his lips to press a kiss to it

  “No more quickies,” he whined, holding your hand for the remainder of the ride, until he needed it for one reason or another, “I need more than that”

  “I agree,” you smirked, “now, let’s go home so you can fuck me until I can’t walk

  “Yes ma’am.”

[sociallyanxiouss]

You Don’t Know Me (Part 2) (Severus Snape)

Part One 

Masterlist

pairing : severus snape x student (slytherin) student 

summary :  professor snape is known to be ruthless on his students, which causes a lot of people to hate him. that means it doesn’t stop him from being more hard on you since you’re the daughter of one of his former bullies in hogwarts. what he did not know, was that you’ve been neglected as a child, and grew up in a not so amazing home. when he said something about you, you end up getting hurt and upset. (angst)

warnings : abuse!

i made up the last names since there was no marauders era boys that fit the family descriptions, so try to imagine another guy included in the group!

a/n : hi! i cannot believe my work has been recognise when i’ve only started writing this week. here’s the part 2 you guys have been waiting for!

-

severus takes the letter and walks out the great hall, into his dungeon. he walks in, closes the door behind him, and locks it swiftly, not wanting any interruptions. 

he was curious to know what had made you so sad. you, the one who usually controlled your emotions. he knew it was a letter from your parents, your father, specifically, since he recognized the owl that sent your letter. so how bad could it be? did a relative of yours died?

as he moves to open the letter, he hears a knock on his door. annoyed, he puts the letter in his cupboard. he rolls his eyes. “come in.” 

he sees dumbledore walk in. with a frown still etched on his face, he finally says. “this better be some amazing news, i was busy before you came in.” 

about an hour later, dumbledore finally leaves. unfortunately for severus, he had potions with slytherins and gryffindors in two minutes. he sighs again, knowing that he can’t read your letter until later. 

he thought about asking you privately at first, or try to read what’s going in her mind, since he knew legilimency. however, you didn’t turn up for his class, which he found odd as you were not one to skip class, even when you were sick. 

he later found out from your slytherin friends that you hadn’t even been to any of the classes before his. he found this weird, and felt more eager to read that letter you got. maybe that was reason why you’re acting different today. 

you were in your private room, silently sobbing. although you had a sliencing charm so that other people won’t hear you, your sobs became silent since you’ve been crying so long. your chest hurting, still thinking about the letter. 

your father sent you a lot of letters recently, so you didn’t think much about the most recent letter you received. in the letter, your father had said that both him and your mum had decided to disown you. you were not of age, and you weren’t working, where would you find a shelter? 

you broke down again, under your covers. you told draco all about it, he assured you that you would stay with him and you didn’t have to worry about anything. but you were still worried, what if your parents tried to do something else? you didn’t want anyone hurt because of you. it took draco a while to convince you to stay with him, but you finally caved in. 

severus ends his class and forces all his students out of the door. he needed to read that letter. he had hated you for years now. he told himself that reading this letter probably won’t change the both of your relationship. 

he hurried to his room that was connected to the potions classroom. he walks quickly to the cupboard, ripping it open and takes out the letter. he sits down on his chair and opens the letter. his eyes widen from just reading the first sentence. the more he read, the more he couldn’t believe his own eyes. he even had to rub his eye to make sure he was sure he read the word correctly. 

severus stays rigid on his chair, not knowing what to do. how long had this been happening? in the letter, they were descriptive, talking about your father torturing you in his own classroom. that made his heart drop. severus was not one to have a lot of feelings, especially towards a student, but he could now understand you, he felt bad for you. 

standing up from his chair, he gracefully walks to your private room, hoping to find you and maybe talk to you. 

you heard a slow but urgent knock on your door. you knew it wasn’t draco as you knew how the blonde boy’s knocks sounded. you disarm the silencing spell.

“come in.” you said to whoever it was outside. 

the unknown person walks in. you sat up slowly from your bed, still cuddled up in your duvet. you were surprised to see your potions professor walk in your private suite. you abruptly sat up straight. you felt like you knew what was going to happen. 

“are you here to dock points because i didn’t come to potions?” you sigh as you asked him. 

“actually, miss emrys. i came here to talk, not take away points.” he replies to your question, walking slowly towards my bed. 

“talk? professor, you and i both know that you don’t just talk to anyone. especially not when you hate the person.” you said to him, a little confused. 

he sighs and walks closer to you. he looks at your bed before turning to look at you again. you nodded to him, knowing he was asking permission to sit beside you. 

“i know, but i’m just going to say this and get over. i’ve hated you throughout your years in hogwarts because of your father.” he says.

you nodded, knowing the real reason why he hated you in the first place. 

“but we both know that you are one smart girl, getting all outstandings. i am truly proud to have you as a slytherin.” he continues. 

“i must admit, that i have read your recent letter from your father.” he finally ended his sentence. 

you froze in your position on your bed. you could feel the tears in your eyes. soon your tears couldn’t stay in your eyes, they dripped one by one down your already swollen face. it didn’t take long for you to full on start crying again. 

you felt your professor freeze a little from beside you, clearly not knowing what to do to comfort you. your breathing suddenly halts, chest on fire. you felt like you forgot how to breathe. 

to severus, it looked like you were having trouble breathing. he becomes more rigid in his seat. he had never had to comfort anyone in his life. 

your breaths became shorter and shorter each second. you felt your vision blur as your tears wouldn’t stop coming out. you pull you legs to your chest, somewhat hugging it and using it as support to yourself. you knew you were getting into a panic attack. 

“what’s wrong with you?” your professor asks, his voice wavering, full of concern. he didn’t know what he had said wrong for you to react like this.

“i just can’t stop thinking about not having a place to stay after hogwarts, i’m scared.” you told him, voice shaking, hiccups stopping you from saying your sentence smoothly.

you felt like the bed was shaking. you didn’t know that you were the cause of the bed shaking. your hands trembled as you try to wipe your own tears. you soon felt extremely exhausted and almost wanted to sleep then and there, but you were still crying heavily.

severus stands up and crouches in front of you, so that he could see your face. although he hadn’t done anything like this before, he had to try. 

he slowly brings his right hand to your face, wiping your unwanted, non stop tears from your face. his left hand was on your thigh, soothing you. 

you felt comfort from the small touch, but the action did not cease your crying and shaking. you were still having a panic attack. 

the potions professor sighs as he doesn’t know how to help you. he moves his left hand from your thigh to caress your hair, hoping that would help. unfortunately, it did not. 

he only had one other choice. 

he pulls his hand away from you for while. soon, you felt two large, warm hands cup your face. you look up slightly, not knowing what your professor was up to. he brings his face close to you. the potions professor closes his eyes and slowly brought his lips to yours. 

your trembling self ceased for a while, body going rigid before finally giving in to him, kissing him back softly. it was slow and soft. you could feel your sad and nervous emotions mixed with his calm but slightly concerned emotion in the kiss. 

still connected to him, he moves up the bed, making himself comfortable to continue. the kiss slowly changed to passion. his left hand now on your hip as the other stays on your cheek. your hands moved to hold his neck. 

he could feel your tears still falling, slowly ceasing fall on his face as he pulls your face impossibly closer to his. 

he pulls himself slightly away from you, resting his forehead on yours as you both calmed yourself from his actions earlier. he looked at you, scanning your face for any signs of regret. he sees your eyes closed, tears gone, now only left with tear marks on your cheeks and a swollen face. 

“you are always welcome to stay with me, love.” he says softly to you, his intimidating demeanor gone, now only showing care. 

you slowly open your eyes, looking him in his eyes to make sure he wasn’t joking. you only was sincerity in his dark eyes. you moved to nuzzle your face in his neck, your hands move to hug his torso. 

he moves his hand to cradle you, one hand stroking your hair and the other on your waist. he coos, hoping that it would somewhat calm you down. he has never felt more right with you in his arms ever before. 

-

fast forward a couple months after your graduation in hogwarts, you moved in with severus. the both of you now inseparable. you had graduated with honors, even becoming the valedictorian of your year. severus was proud of you, to say the least. he treated you with amazing respect, always insisting to cook for you even though you knew how to yourself. 

this was your happy ending, being with your now former potions professor. 

-

TAGLIST 

@imonlyherecauseimbored @lokilover-39 @evilluciferisevil @misselsbells06

[spencers-renaissance]

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.15

if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own

Chapter Fourteen

This is the fifteenth chapter in my ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Derek & Emily called Spencer for a consult, and with him off his antidepressants, things very quickly fell apart.

In This Chapter: Hotch & Penelope pick up the pieces.

tw: depression-related exhaustion, disordered thinking, reference to last chapter's breakdown, discussion of medication

Word Count: 4K

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

(Quick Note: A couple of chapters ago I referred to Spencer's psychiatrist by she/her pronouns, but I forgot that I assigned that character he/him pronouns wayyy back, so I've decided to go with that one. I just wanted to address that in case anyone else caught it like I did! I apologise for the mistake & any confusion it might have caused.)

AARON

"Find my hand in the darkness and if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own." — Tyler Knott Gregson

Aaron doesn’t fall asleep until well into the small hours of the morning, finally lulled into a cold dreamless sleep once he’s cried himself out. He keeps as quiet as he can, but he knows he won’t wake Spencer up anyway: he’s completely exhausted, and he’s out cold. It’s a small consolation, but he tries to take a small bit of comfort in knowing that his boyfriend is at least getting the rest he needs.

He wakes up only a couple of hours after he falls asleep, and despite feeling completely exhausted, he sets about the things he needs to do. The first thing he does is call Strauss to request a family day — thankfully, the bureau’s been a lot more understanding of his situation since Haley died — before texting Derek and telling him that he needs to take charge of the team if they get sent on a case. Then he calls Jess and asks if she can collect Jack from his sleepover at lunchtime and have him until the evening.

With the technicalities sorted out, he makes a phone call to Spencer's psychiatrist. At this point, if he has to drag him kicking and screaming, if Spencer never talks to him again, if it calls an irreparable rift in their relationship, it won’t get in the way of him getting Spencer the help he needs. After an emergency appointment for 11am is booked, he collapses onto the sofa and calls Penelope.

“Hotch? It’s not even 7am, is everything alright?”

Just hearing her voice, hearing someone ask if he’s okay, is enough to push him over the edge. “No,” he admits into the phone, not even trying to disguise the emotion in his voice.

“I’m on my way,” she says immediately, and he can hear a flurry of activity start up on the other end of the line. “What’s happened, Hotch?”

He breathes out shakily, running a hand down his face. The early morning sun, the bustling city below him, the bright apartment all seems so contrary to the current situation. “Spencer hit a breaking point last night,” he says shakily, unsure exactly how to word it. “Derek and Emily called him to consult on a case, and they were as brisk and focused as we all are when we’re working, but he’s out of practice; he’s not used to that way of doing things anymore. It triggered him and sent him into what I’m gonna guess was a panic attack? But honestly, Penelope… it looked like a breakdown.”

“Oh God,” she says quietly, and the sound of her exiting her apartment reassures Aaron a little.

“I had no idea how to handle it,” he says, dissolving into tears. “He locked himself in the bathroom and was literally tearing his hair out… there were clumps of hair all over the floor. He was screaming at me to leave, telling me he wasn’t good enough that he forgot his place? I had no idea what he was saying—”

Penelope interrupts him. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“Well, when I first found out about his depression, Spencer told me something about how he didn’t feel like he was good for anything except his brain and IQ, you know? He said that he wasn’t cut out for friendships or relationships and I’m pretty sure he called that his ‘place’. It’s stuck with me because of just how awful it sounded.”

“Fuck,” Aaron mutters, sniffing as a fresh wave of tears come to his eyes. “So Emily and Derek consulting him for their case triggered those thoughts again.”

“Sounds like it,” she agrees. “They’re gonna feel so guilty.”

Aaron knows she’s in a tricky situation: her girlfriend and close friend sending her best friend into a near-breakdown, and for a brief minute he feels guilty for roping her in before reminding himself that she wouldn’t be anywhere else if Spencer needed her.

“Yeah, I don’t even know what I’m gonna do about that,” he sighs. “I thought about not telling them, because Spencer doesn’t need everyone knowing about every step of his recovery; it’s personal, right? But more secrets between everyone… I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like a good idea. Especially not for something this serious.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Penelope promises. “Look, I’m in my car now. I’ll be there in 10, okay?”

He sighs in relief. “Thanks, Penelope.”

They hang up and he drops his phone next to him before staring up at the ceiling for a minute, rubbing his temples. Forcing himself off the sofa, he considers putting the coffee machine on but he doesn’t want the sound of the bean grinder to wake Spencer up, so he settles for a cup of instant coffee instead, putting a slice of bread in the toaster as well.

By the time he’s finished his second slice, Penelope’s letting herself in.

“He’s still asleep?”

He nods, watching as she dumps her handbag on the armchair and walks further into the apartment. It’s always strange seeing her without her usual colourful outfits and makeup on, and although he’s gotten used to it in the past year as they’ve rallied around Spencer, sometimes it still reminds him of seeing her in her casual clothes for the first time when she got shot a couple of years ago.

“I’m just gonna grab some breakfast and a tea,” she says quietly, helping herself to everything in the kitchen as she always does. “You go and sit down, I’ll be over in a minute and we can discuss a game plan.”

He obeys, closing his eyes against the headache coming on, but it’s only a couple of minutes before Penelope’s sitting in the armchair opposite the sofa with a cup of chamomile tea and a slice of marmalade toast.

“Right, the first thing we need to tackle is convincing him to get back on his meds,” Penelope says seriously, keeping her voice low to avoid waking Spencer up.

He nods. “I know. I’ve made an emergency appointment with his psychiatrist for 11am, it’s just a case of a) getting him there and b) making him listen to him.”

“The problem is that he sees going back on medication as admitting defeat or failing at recovery. We need to have a really honest, frank conversation with him about it, but I just don’t know how we’re gonna get him to believe us.”

“Maybe we should use our own experiences? He doesn’t think any less of me or think I’m weak when I take pain medication when my injuries flare up. He wouldn’t think any less of you for accepting pain meds throughout your recovery after you were shot. He doesn’t think less of his mother because she relies on psychiatric medication.”

Penelope nods. “He has a twisted perception of himself. One rule for himself, another for everyone else.”

Something about her words makes Aaron feel suddenly, desperately sad. He’s always been sad for Spencer and what he’s gone through, and he’s been crying most of the night, but the realisation, the reassertion, of just how much Spencer hates himself, what his brain’s put him through over the last two years cuts deep, winding him.

“I just wish he could see himself the way we see him,” he says sadly, another tear spilling down his cheek, as though he has anything left to give.

Penelope’s expression tells him she feels the same.

Hotch goes in to check on Spencer as the clock approaches nine, and his heart breaks for the thousandth time when he finds him staring listlessly at the wall again.

“Morning, baby,” he says gently, making his way into the room.

Thankfully, it grabs Spencer’s attention, and he turns to look at him, misery and self-loathing written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything, but he holds eye contact with Aaron long enough for him to understand that it’s okay for him to be there, and he makes his way further into the room, climbing onto the bed. He’s not expecting Spencer to immediately latch onto him, burying his face in his t-shirt as he clings to him like he’s going somewhere, but that’s exactly what happens.

“Penelope’s in the living room,” he murmurs, carding his fingers through Spencer’s hair. There’s no expectation for him to reply, so he lets the words settle over them as they lay quietly together; the calm after the storm. Aaron hopes it won’t double as the before as well.

After a good couple of minutes, Spencer shifts, and Aaron follows his lead as they shuffle out of the bedroom towards Penelope’s contemplative perch on the sofa. Spencer heads straight towards her, curling into her side and drawing the warm comfort Penelope always has to offer.

“Oh, baby genius,” she whispers, kissing the top of his head. “You’re okay. We love you so much.”

It’s apparently the wrong thing to say, because Spencer immediately withdraws, curling in on himself as he starts to cry.

“Hey, hey, Spencer,” Aaron soothes calmly as he rushes over to his side, “what’s going on?”

Penelope starts to apologise but Aaron shakes his head and she settles for resting a gentle hand on his side instead.

“Can you tell us what’s wrong, Spencer?” Aaron asks, a knot forming in his stomach as he hopes against hope that this won’t turn into a repeat of last night. “We can’t help you unless you talk to us.”

Spencer takes a ragged breath in, turning his face slightly towards Aaron’s direction, and his chest clenches at the bags under his sore, red eyes; his pallid skin. “I’m sorry,” he says shakily, wiping at the tears on his face.

“You don’t have to apologise, Spencer. You just need to tell us how we can help you,” Penelope says gently, her hand rubbing small, consoling circles on his side.

Spencer meets his eyes, his face crumpling as he does and Aaron, in that moment, is reminded distinctly of a star collapsing in on itself. Spencer heaves a painful sob as two more tears spill down his cheeks. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

The admission seems obvious at surface level, but the magnitude of such a statement isn’t lost on either Aaron nor Penelope.

Aaron sighs sadly. “Come here, baby.” Spencer falls gladly into Aaron’s embrace, sobbing dejectedly into his shoulder, sounding so tired and defeated that it’s painful to listen to.

Once he’s finished crying himself out, Aaron and Penelope switch places, Aaron moving to sit on the sofa with Spencer propped up against him and Penelope settling into the armchair.

He approaches his next words carefully. “I’ve made an appointment for you to see Dr Parker at 11am. Penelope and I will take you, and we both think that you should talk to him about going back on the venlafaxine.”

To his surprise Spencer just nods tiredly, no longer crying and instead resuming his blank staring.

“And we also think you should consider talking to Derek and Emily about what happened yesterday,” Penelope suggests quietly, an encouraging expression on her face.

Spencer looks up at her, emotions flying across his face as he processes her words and how he feels about them. Briefly, he looks like he’s about to argue, about to shout or get mad, but he quickly deflates. “They’ll feel guilty,” he says miserably. “Not their fault.”

“Your relationships with everyone have come a long way, Spencer, and that’s great. But everyone is still fragile and affected by everything that’s happened in the past year, and keeping secrets like these is only going to hurt everyone more.”

Spencer’s still and silent for a moment before he nods reluctantly.

“I think that maybe,” Aaron ventures cautiously, “you should avoid doing any consulting work for a while. It’s clearly damaging for you and is always going to come with potential triggers, and when you’re already feeling sad and vulnerable, it’s really just a catalyst for an event like yesterday evening.”

Spencer nods at that, too, and Aaron wishes he could take his acquiescence as a win, but he knows it’s coming from a place of defeat and despair, and he’ll never take any consolation in that.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Aaron says. “We have about an hour until we need to leave, so why don’t we get you some food, get you into the shower, and then you can rest for any left over time? Does that sound okay?”

At Spencer’s agreement, Penelope heads to the kitchen to whip him up something a bit more nutritious than the toast they both settled for, while Aaron takes him to the bathroom to wash up.

“Are you alright on your own?” he asks as he sets the shower up for him, Spencer perching on the edge of the bath as he waits.

Instead of answering his question though, panic suddenly crosses Spencer’s face and he looks at Aaron urgently. “Jack!”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says soothingly. “Jess is gonna pick him up from his sleepover at lunchtime and have him for the afternoon. I’ve taken a personal day and unless a case comes in, Penelope will be here for as long as we need her. Everything’s in hand.”

“But it’s Jack’s spring break! You should be spending time with him, not herding me into the shower—”

At the first sign of tears, Aaron is quick to step in, reassuring him as best he can. “Hey, I will spend time with him, alright? He was already going to be with Sam all morning, and he’ll be dropped off before dinner, so Jess is only going to have him for a couple of hours. And if you’re feeling well enough once we get back from the doctor’s, then he can come home early, but right now, your health is the most important thing we need to deal with, you hear me?”

Spencer nods reluctantly, but he can tell that the thought of cutting into Aaron’s time with Jack is only fuelling his self-loathing. Having to accept that there’s nothing he can do about that, he makes sure he’s okay in the shower before heading out into the kitchen to find Penelope.

“I can’t tell if that went well or not,” she says quietly, not looking up from the frying pan currently cooking eggs and bacon.

Aaron sighs, leaning against the counter top, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. “I think it went about as well as it could.”

“I texted Emily and Derek, and they’re going to pop over this afternoon if we don’t get a case,” she says. “If Spencer’s not up for it, we can rearrange, but I thought it was better to be prepared.”

“No, you’re right, thank you for doing that, Penelope. What would I do without you?”

“Aw, stop it, bossman,” she says, grinning as she nudges him playfully.

He smiles. “I mean it.”

“I know. But I’m happy to help you guys out. I’d do anything for Spencer, and I know he’d do anything for me.”

“Without a doubt.”

Spencer emerges from the bathroom a few moments later, clad in a white t-shirt and some tracksuit bottoms Aaron is pretty sure are both actually his, damp curly hair a mess on his head. He can’t help but smile despite himself; his boyfriend looking so damn cute will always be a small pick-me-up on even the worst of days.

“Penelope’s cooked up a storm for you,” he says as brightly as the situation allows, guiding him to the sofa and tucking him in with a couple of blankets to get him as comfortable as possible.

He gets a small smile at that, and a murmured ‘thank you’ when Penelope brings him over a plate of bacon and eggs, arranged as perfectly as he’d expect with Penelope serving as cook.

He flicks the TV to the discovery channel, managing to catch the beginning of a documentary on big cats, and he counts it as a win when it catches Spencer’s attention, hoping it takes his mind off the pain he’s feeling just a little bit.

They spend the next forty minutes watching documentaries with Spencer before Penelope notices the time and begins herding them out the door towards the parking garage.

“No way,” Aaron laughs as she heads towards her car.

“What?”

“You are not driving, Penelope,” he says, laughing even more at her incredulous reaction. “I’ve seen you; you drive like a maniac. We’re taking my car.”

She pouts. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Does this mean I have to sit in the back, too?”

He just levels her with a look that has her sighing dramatically and flinging herself into the backseat, but when he looks over at Spencer and sees a smile on his face, he’s suddenly even more thankful for Penelope.

They sit in the waiting room while Spencer has his appointment and try desperately not to make each other more anxious than they already feel. Penelope flicks through fashion magazines at a pace that tells Aaron she’s not reading a single word, and Aaron reads over and over the case notes he’d bought with him to pass the time, no more going in the second, third, eleventh time than it did the first.

Finally, though, Spencer emerges from Dr Parker’s office with a script in hand and they both sigh a small breath of relief at the idea that he’s finally getting the help he’s been needing so badly.

“Okay, baby?” he murmurs as Spencer reaches for his hand on the way out of the psychiatrist’s office, and something loosens in his chest when Spencer nods and smiles, looking happier and more relaxed than he has in weeks.

Derek and Emily come over just after lunchtime, and Penelope gets up to open the door for them, Spencer and Aaron not moving from their position on the couch, Spencer resting his head in Aaron’s lap as one of his favourite sci-fi movies is playing on the TV.

When he sees who it is, though, Spencer moves to sit up slightly, still keeping himself folded into Aaron’s side.

“Hey, Spence,” Emily says softly, taking a seat in the armchair while Penelope comes over to perch on the arm, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend, “what’s this about?”

Both Emily and Derek look confused enough that Aaron knows Spencer will be able to tell that neither he nor Penelope told them what happened last night, willing to give him a last minute out if that’s what he needs, as well as full control over the narrative.

Derek comes over to the sofa and sits next to Spencer, keeping enough distance between them to keep Spencer comfortable, though he still rests a warm hand on his ankle. “What’s going on? You can tell us anything, pretty boy, you know that.”

Spencer looks to Aaron, and the expression on his face conveys what he needs immediately.

“Yesterday, your consult with Spencer on the methanol poisoning case triggered an… event,” he explains, trying to choose his words carefully. He wants to tell the truth, but he also doesn’t want to sound like he’s blaming Derek and Emily or use language Spencer wouldn’t be happy with. “It was a breaking point of sorts and as such, he decided to go back on his medication.”

Relief tied up with confusion are the first emotions he watches play over Emily and Derek’s faces. Everyone’s been hoping Spencer will return to his medication, but he knows they’ll want more information as to what exactly happened and why they’ve been asked over.

“An event?” Emily asks, sounding a little hesitant.

Before Aaron can answer, Spencer speaks up, his voice a little tired and croaky but convicted nonetheless. “It was a breakdown,” he says plainly, not sugar-coating his words. “I was in a bad place already and I was out of practice with what a time sensitive case entails, and it sent me into a tailspin. It reminded me of all the feelings that working in the BAU caused that year, and I couldn’t handle it. I lashed out at Aaron and…”

“The details don’t matter,” Aaron rescues his tailed off sentence. “The fact is we thought that more secrets were only going to make things worse in the long run, and you needed to understand what happened last night since Spencer going back on his meds was bound to raise questions anyway.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer interjects, his voice anxious and urgent. “It wasn’t your fault, it’s just the way of the BAU and if I’d been on my medication like I should’ve been in the first place it wouldn’t have been a problem, it was just a horrible medley of circumstances. But I’ve decided that I won’t be doing any consults for a while until I can get my head on straight again. It may be that I’m never able to do them without being triggered, but we’re going to play it by ear.”

Aaron smiles at him proudly, kissing the top of his head as soon as he buries back in for a cuddle.

“Oh, Spence,” Emily sighs sadly. “I’m so sorry, we didn’t even think. We were so caught up in the case we didn’t even stop to consider you and how you’d interpret things.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says again, this time from his place on Aaron’s chest. “I’m sorry that it had to be you guys that triggered the breaking point.”

“We should’ve been more considerate,” Derek says firmly, his expression filled with regret. “The last thing I’d ever want is to make you feel the way I did last year, and even though other circumstances contributed to what happened last night, we still failed you, kid, and I’m so sorry for that.”

“It’s fine, seriously. In a way, I’m glad it happened. Something had to give, and I’m glad that I can look forward to finally feeling normal again. I talked to my psychiatrist this morning and even though… it still feels a little bit like giving up, I feel better about it. And we’re gonna work on my attitude to medication in the next couple of sessions until I feel more comfortable about it.”

Aaron knows how much Spencer hates talking about his recovery, so it feels like a big step for him to be so personal and vulnerable in front of four different people, even if they are all virtually his family at this point.

“I’m proud of you, Spencer,” Emily says earnestly, and even though Aaron can tell she still feels guilty, at least it’s no longer the most dominant emotion on her face.

“Me too, kid. You’ve been through hell and back and we’re all so proud of you for getting to where you are.”

Spencer smiles gratefully, but Aaron can tell he’s exhausted from the events of the morning, so he sends a look to Penelope and she shows Emily and Derek out, but not before giving Emily a kiss and being teased by Derek for it.

“Right, baby,” he says as the apartment quietens and it’s just the three of them left. “I think you could do with a nap, don’t you?”

“Don’t wanna leave you,” Spencer mumbles tiredly, clinging to his t-shirt.

“Well how about I come and sit with you while you sleep, yeah? You go and get tucked in and I’ll be in in a minute, I promise.”

“You better.” It’s not much, but it’s the closest to teasing Spencer’s come in weeks, and he’ll absolutely take it.

He gives Penelope a warm hug and disappears into the bedroom.

“Looks like I can leave you to it,” Penelope says quietly as soon as the door’s closed behind him.

Aaron looks at her seriously, before wrapping her in a rare hug. “Thank you for today. I mean it. I don’t know what we would’ve done this past year without you, Penelope, but we sure as hell wouldn’t be where we are now. I’m always gonna be thankful that Spencer has someone as wonderful as you to call a best friend.”

“Hotch,” she says tearily, “I love you both so much. You don’t have to thank me, but it means a lot that you did.”

He smiles at her. “You should go back to the BAU. Go and find Derek and Emily who are no doubt beating themselves up and tell them they’re being ridiculous.”

She gives him a mock salute as she smiles back. “You got it, boss.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Keep me posted,” she says as she gathers the last of her things and heads to the door. “Let me know how he’s doing tonight and I’ll pop round after work to see him tomorrow, okay?”

“Perfect.”

As soon as she’s gone, he climbs into bed with Spencer and wraps him up in his arms, feeling — for the first time in weeks — a distinct conviction that everything is going to be okay.

Chapter Sixteen

Soooo, we don't hate me anymore? I really enjoyed writing this part of the fic, I'm such a sucker for third act angst and the resolution is always so satisfying to me, so I hope I managed to give you guys the same feeling. Only one more chapter to go, and then we're done wtf, how did that happen? I can't wait for you to all read the happy lil ending I wrote for you! See you next Saturday, for the very last time :( If this chapter has brought anything up for you and you're feeling unsafe please check out this link <3

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[four-rabbit]

A perfect birthday

This is for the day 4 of the @dukexietyweek: Parents.

Hope you enjoy it!

Summary: This is the first one of Janus' birthday that they are celebrating together since Virgil and Remus adopted her and Virgil wants it to be perfect.

Characters: Remus sanders, Virgil sanders, Logan Sanders, Janus sanders, mentions to Patton Sanders

Warnings: swearing (some of it in front of middle schoolers), something that is not exactly a panic attack but could have evolved into one.

Obs: Janus is a trans girl here and uses exclusively she/her pronouns.

"Who do you want us to invite?" Besides Logan, I mean" Virgil asked as the family finished lunch, looking down at Janus, who shrugged.

Obs: Janus is a trans girl here and uses exclusively she/her pron

"Dunno. I'm not really friends with anyone besides him" 

"Oh, you could invite Patton! You like him, don't you?" Remus suggested excitedly, looking between his husband and their daughter, waiting for approval. Janus fixed her gaze on her food, embarrassed.

"I mean, whatever, he's just nice to me, but he's nice to everyone. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even like me" 

"Well, then it's a great opportunity for him to get to know how cool you're!" 

"It's supposed to be my birthday, dad, I'm supposed to have fun, not be trying to impress some boy" she replied sharply. The kitchen stayed in a heavy silence for some seconds before Virgil said, softly.

"We just want you to make friends." she sighed.

"I know. But people already don't really like me. I'm new, I'm weird, I'm trans-" Virgil and Remus exchanged a worried look as Janus looked down sadly. 

"Hey" Remus started, putting a hand on her shoulder "Being weird and trans fucking rules, remember that, but we get it, school can be scary and making friends can be even scarier" 

"Especially if you're trying to be friends with middle schoolers. They are the devil" Virgil agreed and Janus chuckled. 

"Maybe we can keep the long list of guests for my next birthday, how about that? Then I won't be giving you guys too much work" she suggested.

"Oh, don't worry about that, we got everything under control, Remus, did you order the cake?"

"Was I supposed to?"

"... We got most things under control" she rolled her eyes playfully.

"Hm. How about that: I'll call Logan and order a pizza, you guys find me a gift. Suggestion: money" Janus quickly decided, putting her plate on the sink and going to her room, already picking her phone to call Logan. Virgil immediately turned to Remus as she entered her room. 

"I can't believe you forgot the cake. This needs to be perfect! We can't ruin her first birthday with us!" 

"Hey, emo, don't worry, it will be fine! We don't need to be perfect, man, as long as she has fun"

"I know, I know, I just- being a dad is hard and I can't stop worried that we'll do the wrong thing it's already hard because she is older and we need her to adapt and we know she had a tough life before the adoption and I just want to be there for her and-"

"Virgil, breathe with me" Remus said calmly, putting a hand on his husband's shoulder and guiding him through a resting exercise for some minutes until Virgil got better.

"Thanks" he whispered. Remus held his hands, looking his partner in the eyes.

"Being a parent is hard, dude, it's on the job description, but we'll get there. Together, the three of us. Also, if it serves as any consolation, we literally cannot fuck up as much as yours parents" Virgil chucked.

"Or yours"

"Oh yeah, talk about shitty people"

"I'm glad we don't have to deal with them anymore"

"So am I. Hey, about that cake, we won't be having a personalized one, sorry for that, but how about I pick one up at the supermarket? It's better than nothing" 

"Oh so you're not totally useless after all" Virgil provoked, with a grin "Yeah, bring some snacks too, I'll try to clean the house a little bit while you're gone" 

"Cool. Let me just wash the dishes-"

"Look at him, offering himself to do chores" Virgil commented sarcastically. 

"Oh shut up, I'll just do it and then I'll go" 

"'Kay" he smiled, messing Remus' hair fondly and giving him the plates.

•••

When Remus got back the house was already cleaner and Janus' weird nerd friend was already there.

"Oh finally! Your dad is home, he brought food!" Virgil announced, relieved to be able to back away from the videogame where the kids were destroying him. Middle schoolers really are the devil, even the nice ones. 

"Yeah, I sure hope he did" Janus replied, not even looking away from the screen. Her dad rolled his eyes, going to open the door and let his husband in, who carried three plastic bags and a chocolate cake.

"I'm here guys, you can start the party now!"

"Of course. We were playing some video games while we waited for you"

"Yeah, wanna play with us? I didn't want to say anything, but" Janus put her hand in front of her mouth as if she was going to tell a secret, but said as loudly as always: "because dad Virgil sucks at this" 

"Hey! Show some respect! I haven't played in a long time"

"Fuck yeah girl, but don't you cry about it when I beat you, oh hey Logan, sup!" 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Storm."

"Oh, I bought you something!" He grabbed one of the bags as Virgil organized everything at the table, coming back with a jar full of jam. "I knew you liked it so I bought" Logan's eyes were almost shining.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Storm!"

"He got something but I don't? It's like you don't even care about me!" Janus said dramatically. 

"I did buy you something, I- you know what" he grabbed his wallet, picking a one hundred dollars bill from there and handling it to Janus, who accepted the gift with a wide smile "Use it wisely"

"Thanks, dad!" 

"Hey, I bought you something too, an actual gift, by the way" Remus subtly showed his middle finger to his husband, who smiled and grabbed a small box, wrapped in gift paper, handing it to Janus, who immediately opened it, only to find an eyeshadow palette. She didn't answer immediately, slowly getting to her feet and hugging Virgil, whispering:

"Thanks" said genuinely.

"I can teach you how to do makeup! I was really good at each when I was trying to be a cis girl!" Remus suggested right after. She rolled her eyes, but didn't stop smiling.

"It's not a competition, you dumb old man. But thanks anyway. You guys are cool" 

"Oh, I see that it's time for the gifts, in this case, here is mine, Janus, I hope you appreciate it," Logan added, grabbing a heavy book from his backpack and giving it to his best friend. It was called 'Philosophy through History'. "We can talk about it at school" 

"I'm waiting for it, you big nerd" Logan opened one of his rare smiles. 

"Nice" Remus grabbed a bowl filled with Doritos, starting to eat it "What do you guys wanna do? How about a game?" 

"Oh, we could play chess!" Logan suggested.

"Chess? How the fuck do you even know how to play chess? Oh, shit, don't tell your mom I said that. I mean, the "fuck" part, you can tell that I asked how you know how to play chess, she probably already thinks I'm dumb so whatever"

"Mr. Storm, if I was to tell my mom everytime that you swore in front of me, she probably wouldn't allow me to come here anymore" 

"Yeah, right. How about we play poker? Everyone knows how to play poker, right?" Logan looked at him dead in the eye.

"Mr. Storm, I'm ten. However, I'm friends with Janus, so yes, of course I know how to play poker" 

"Yes! What are we going to bet?!" Janus exclaimed, smiling devilishly. 

"Cake slices" Virgil was the one to answer. She seemed disappointed, but quickly accepted it.

"Yeah, ok, I'll grab the cards, oh Logan, come with me, I totally forgot to show you a book I just bought, you'll love it, I can lend it to you if you want to"

"Alright" as the kids went to their room, Remus turned to his husband.

"The makeup was a great idea, you know?"

"Yeah. I would have liked for my parents to support me when I was her age. Would have made it easier to come to terms with my gender" 

"I feel you, man. See, we can do it" Remus said, holding his husband's hand. 

"I guess we aren't that bad" 

"Yeah" Remus smiled, planting a soft kiss on Virgil's lips, who smiled too. 

"I'm going to destroy you at poker"

"I would love to see you try" 

[persephonesinfernos]

constellations | part six.

summary: there are only 88 officially recognized constellations, a small number considering you and your soulmate would have the exact same constellation on your skin. how can be sure if it was really them with so few of them? you could mistake your soulmate.

word count: 1578.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader.

warnings: abusive boyfriends, violence.

constellations masterlist | masterlist

Bucky did not appear, Nat did not appear. No one appeared for that matter. Not a knight in shining armour was running towards you to save the day. No, you were alone with someone you used to love and trust when it happened.

This was not a movie, nothing could’ve saved you from happening. This was real life and real life is hard, impartial and fucked up. You were not the first woman who has gone through this and you will not be the last one.

The slap to your face was not what hurt more of this situation. Neither were the successive hits you took from Erik. That was nothing, just physical pain that would go away.

What hurt most about the situation you were currently in was how you felt your heart shattered into a million pieces. How the love and adoration you once felt for someone were replaced by horror and fear. How your trusting persona was no longer there. Hit by hit, your whole being kept breaking down more and more, just as your cheeks and lips did.

The sun rays did not wake you up, you were not able to fall asleep after the beating.  Erik did not leave your side, he stayed over. His body pressed to yours, arms around you. Once in a protective way, not anymore. You haven’t dared to move an inched in case Erik noticed, well just breathing was hurting you.

He was clever, he’d hit you in places the bruises wouldn’t be too prominent and that you only could see once you were undressed. Expect for those in your face, that you were sure were placed there so every time you look yourself in the mirror you would know who you belong to.

Those were the words used by him along with some other nasty comments. Just the memory made you flinch.

Erik started to stir next to you, he was waking up. You held your breath, tears threatening to spill. When he was fully awake, he kissed your cheek.

“Morning love.” He said smiling as if nothing’s ever happened. You stood still, not being able to move. “I love you so much, you cannot imagine (Y/N).” His words almost made you puke right there.

“I need to go, I’ll see you at the end of your classes. You know where I’ll be” His voice made you feel chills all over your body and it ached, it ached so much due to the already formed bruises on your stomach and shoulders and to your broken soul. This time not a single tear could be kept.

You looked at your reflection on the mirror, you were a mess. Not even a shower could have helped you. The bruises and cuts on your once smooth skin seemed to be highlighted by the shower you just took.

How could you let this happen? How could you not see that? You were so fucking stupid and naïve, and now… Now.

You broke down crying hard, knees on the cold bathroom floor. You had no strength to support yourself up, everything was spinning. Panic was setting in and you could not breathe or you were breathing too much. Hyperventilating? Shit, panic attack.

Break through this (Y/N). You thought, do it for you. So you pulled all your strength together and got up. Hands clenching the sides of your bathroom counter, looking one more to yourself in that fucking mirror.

Something went wild inside you. With a scream you threw you fist to the mirror, destroying it.

This was not your fault, you should’ve not seen it coming. ‘Cause it is not your damn fault, it was only his. No other girls saw it coming when it happened. You would not endure comments as “it is your fault, you laid eyes on another man”. Well, you were free to feel love or to stop feeling it, you never promised anyone your undying love or your life. Your feelings were allowed to change and disappeared.

And you would not endure comments about Erik being just concern and jealous. No, you wouldn’t. You were sick and tired of this idea planted on everyone’s brains about how jealousy means concern and to keep someone safe. No, it does not. Jealousy is a scourge in this society, it means possession and not trusting and to want to be in control of your partner and all their actions.

The mere course of your thoughts made you puke all over the sink, but you didn’t matter. This was ending today, you were not going to be more afraid. Not gonna let Erik made you feel like last night, fuck him and fuck his bullshit.

Your apartment phone ring, you picked up.

“(Y/N)? I’m Steve, Steve Rogers. I was trying to get a hold of you but your mobile phone is dead or something.” You heard him.

“Yeah, sorry about it. How’s everything?” You answered him.

“Fine, but I need you in here in an hour tops to start your internship. Can you make it?”

You arrived in time to the base, make-up covering all your scars. Battle scars, that’s what you decided to call them.

As you entered the room you locked eyes with Bucky, you forgot about him with all the crap that went down. You instantly felt guilty and sad as you saw the sadness and confusion in his breathtaking eyes. He looked away, as he did not know you, it broke your heart even more. Something you couldn’t believe.

“(Y/N), I’m glad you could make it,” Steve said to you while patting your right shoulder. The touched sent a wave of pain all over your body and even though you tried not to flinch, a pained emotion flashed through your face. Steve was not aware but Bucky did, Bucky noticed every single detail about you.

“Had nothing better to do and this gives me a good excuse to not attend classes so…” You chuckled. Your eyes searched for Bucky’s, but he kept staring straight.

“Well, education is important young lady.” You rolled your eyes at his comment. “I just want you to get familiarized with the base of operations and where you’ll be working. So not a too rough star. Bucky will be your supervisor, I get a feeling that you two would get along.” Your jaw clenched and you gulped.

Steve eyed you, sensing the tension on your body. “I gotta go, have a nice day and whatever you need, give me a call.”

Bucky still didn’t glance at you and you couldn’t stand it so you walked to him “Hey, I’m sorry about…”

“I called you, too many time that I lost count.” He decided to look down on you, betray in his eyes. “You promised you’d be back (Y/N), you promised me.” He said with a slightly plead for an explanation.

“I know but things went crazy and by the time I was done with Erik I just couldn’t move and fell asleep.” You said softly reaching your hands to his. You did not lie, just omitted the whole truth.

He seemed to buy it and that only made the knot on your stomach to get tighter. “Okay, okay.” He let out a breath that was mixed with a light laughter, his other hand running through his brunette locks.

His hands reached to your shoulders to get you closer to him, it hurt but you said nothing. That was until he kissed you, your lips were broken and the lipstick could cover much but as he was kissing you they started to itch and burn, making you pull away with a pained groan.

Bucky observed you carefully, worry setting in his beautiful features. “Why is your lip bleeding?” His comment made you reached your lips with your fingers.

As you noticed the metallic taste of the blood in your tongue and the red colour of it in your finger you, alarm was all you could feel. You stepped back not daring to look at Bucky.

“(Y/N)?” His tone was a mixture of concern and anger. He strode to you and if it wasn’t for this current situation you would be turned on by this.

He grabbed your wrist gently “Look up at me doll, please. Let me help you”.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I just….” No more words came off your mouth but you didn’t cry this time, just looked down at your feet.

He reached to your waist to pull you in for a hug and this time you couldn’t help it. You flinched to his touch and whimper loudly.

He, Bucky, your soulmate searched for the origin of your pain and reached to pull your shit up and saw a giant bruise on your right hip. Clenching his left fist to his side, his jaw shut down and reached for your shoulder. This area was worse, besides the purple bruise, there were some cuts could re-open anytime soon, too recently done that were red.

“WHO. DID. THIS?” He whisper-shouted to you. “IT WAS THAT FUCKING ERIK SCUMBAG, WASN’T IT?” Your eyes not meeting his yet. “This is the reason you weren’t able to come back to me.” He stated, an interrogation tone in his voice.

Your lips quiver, a single tear fell on Bucky’s hand and he lost it.

“I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.” He said as he stormed off the room. He was fuming enraged.

Constellation Tag List: @zizzlekwum​ |

[the-final-sif]

Per the anons in my inbox’s requests, I give you my sad ‘Katsuki is a dog person headcanon. Fair warning, this is a sad headcanon about Katsuki having a childhood dog. You know where this is going.

Now if you’ve been following me for any length of time, you probably know about my Katsuki getting kidnapped headcanon. Basically, the story goes that Katsuki was kidnapped and/or had multiple groups try to kidnap him for his quirk throughout his childhood, he just managed to escape and then never told anyone, because he's Katsuki and the day he willingly volunteers information about himself and/or the problems he’s struggling with is never.

At some point, someone in class 1-A asks Izuku whether Katsuki is a cat person or a dog person, because a group of them had been arguing about it. By this point most people have learned that it's much easier to ask Izuku for information about Katsuki than it is to ask Katsuki for information about Katsuki.

Lucky them, Izuku knows the answer! Kacchan's a dog person. Or at least, he was when they were growing up. He's not so sure that Kacchan's still a dog person. Kacchan doesn't like to talk about his dog or any dogs these days. Everyone is intrigued by that and asks for details, but turns out that surprisingly, Izuku doesn't know what happened. Not the whole story anyways. He does remember some stuff though.

Kacchan's dog was a big Tibetan Mastiff named Mamoru. Izuku can only  remember three things about him.

First and foremost, Mamoru was mean as hell to almost everyone. He barely put up with Izuku, he didn't like either of Kacchan's parents, he hated strangers. If they were alive odds are this dog hated them. Mamoru wasn't afraid to show that he hated someone either. He would get bitey/growly the moment someone got in his space and given his size and appearance, most people would back off quick.

Second, Mamoru loved Kacchan with all his heart. Even if he was a jerk to almost everyone else, this dog adored Kacchan. Every time he was around Kacchan's his tail was wagging like he was a puppy. While he basically never listened to anyone else's commands, he'd follow Kacchan's in an instant and picked up new tricks like it was nothing. When they were little he would even let Kacchan ride on his back. Kacchan was why that Mamoru put up with Izuku (or anyone for that matter), and also probably the only reason Mamoru wasn't put down.

The last thing Izuku knew about Mamoru was that passed away very suddenly when Izuku was 10 years old. He never found out how the dog died. Kacchan didn't want to talk about it at all, and his parents dodged the subject when it was brought up. Not even Izuku’s mom could get the story out of them. Mamoru was an older dog when he passed away, but he'd been fairly healthy, so it must’ve been something bad.

After telling them this, Izuku warns his classmates not to bring it up. Whatever happened is a sore subject for Katsuki. All of them can understand pet's death being hard, particularly such a sudden one, so they leave it alone.

They think that's that... only at some point, there's someone with a weird quirk that the class meets while out on a field trip. The person can let you speak to a loved one that passed away for a short period, although it only works once for each person. You can't pick who you speak to/see, it's whoever you miss most.

Most of the class is excited and gets some heartfelt words from their dead relatives, but Katsuki wants nothing to do with it. The person accidentally activates their quirk on him anyways, and everyone is expecting a relative or someone similar to show up.

Instead, in bounds in a giant, overjoyed dog; tail wagging, eyes shining and tongue out. Katsuki is totally frozen up. Everyone expects him to be happy, but he's not. He stares at the dog for a solid 4-5 seconds as the dog wanders over to him, whining for attention and trying to play. Then Katsuki turns on his heel and runs.

None of them are supposed to be out on their own, so his classmates try to follow him only to lose Katsuki, who doesn't seem to be able to hear them in his upset state.The whole class is super freaked out, and the ghost dog is getting really aggressive and upset at the class as they search.

Aizawa is called over, and now he's panicking because his kid whose been kidnapped before is off on his own and not answering his cell phone. Lucky him, when he starts trying to figure out how to find Katsuki, Ghost Mamoru barks at him, runs off a little ways, then runs back. He's been hostile towards everyone else, but he seems okay with Aizawa. He also seems increasingly agitated about something.

Taking the hint, Aizawa tells the rest of the class to head back to their meeting point and follows Mamoru, who leads him to Katsuki. Katsuki's curled himself into a small hiding spot, which was why he was so hard to find. Mamoru obviously wants to go comfort his kid, everything about him is drooping and he lets out a whine, but seems to think better of it. Instead, he takes a long look at Katsuki, and then shoots a pleading look towards Aizawa before he lets out a quiet huff and fades away.

That leaves Aizawa alone with Katsuki, a kid whose hard to understand on the best of days, and who is currently having a panic attack.

There's not much else he can do, so Aizawa waits it out. He sits beside Katsuki's hiding place and keeps things calm and quiet, waving off the rest of the class, and letting the other teachers know Katsuki's been found.

It takes quite awhile, but finally Katsuki recovers enough to speak. He still doesn't want to come out of his hiding spot though, and Aizawa doesn't ask him to. At this point it's obvious something serious happened, he just wants to know what.

Katsuki takes several tries to start,  this story is hard for him to tell, but eventually he manages to force out a "It was my fault." and after that, everything comes tumbling out.

He'd been heading back to his house all alone in the early evening one day. He was 10 years old, and he hadn't been paying attention to the people around him. He should've been paying more attention. He should've known better. But he didn't, and some goons got the jump on him. There hadn't been time for him to do anything. The men had been on him too quickly and gotten his hands locked behind him. Katsuki had tried to fight, but he hadn't been strong enough.

It was only a block or two from his house and if he'd just walked faster or not stopped to look at things, everything would've been fine. But he hadn't, so the men caught him. He was pretty sure he'd been attacked by those guys before too, so he should've recognized them. They'd already gotten his hands restrained, and they'd stuck him with a needle.

There was nobody else around, and Katsuki thought that was it. This was the time that they got him.

The men thought so too, he couldn't remember their exact words, but they were gloating. Going slower than they probably should've. They hadn't been expecting anyone to come help Katsuki. They hadn't expected anyone to care enough to help him. And they were sort of right, there weren't any people coming to help Katsuki, but there was a very loyal dog who heard Katsuki's muffled cries.

Mamoru didn't hesitate for even one goddamn second; he was on the man holding Katsuki like in flash, dagger like teeth digging deep into the man's shoulder. He went for the goddamn throat of the other one, the one who had some of Katsuki's blood on him.

Despite his best efforts, the dog didn't manage to kill either man, but he drove both of them off. He fought like a goddamn hell hound, as if he was made of nothing but of fury and muscle. Maybe in that moment he was.

Mamoru was so vicious and strong, that Katsuki didn't even realize the dog was hurt in the fight. Not until he'd managed to wiggle his way out of the cuffs and thrown his arms around his dog, only to jerk back at the wet feeling of blood soaking through his shirt.

The injury was bad. One of the men had had a knife and must've caught the edge of it on Mamoru's throat. Katsuki was drugged out, but he knew he needed to do something. Mamoru was somehow still on his feet, so he helped Katsuki get home, his condition getting worse and worse as they pressed on.

When Katsuki got home, there was nobody there, but he was able to call his father and through his sobs communicate the important parts of what happened. That some guys had bothered him and they'd hurt Mamoru. His dad said he'd be home as soon as he could, and to put pressure on the wound until then.

And here's the thing. That's good advice. Stopping the blood loss is really important when you have an injured animal.

But Katsuki was a 10 year old, he was on drugs, he was completely panicked and distraught.

And he forgot what was always coming out of his hands.

Nitroglycerin is toxic under the best of circumstances, but when an animal is already bleeding out, it's a death sentence.

The veterinarian tried to tell him afterwards that it probably wouldn't have changed anything. Mamoru was heavily injured and he would've bled out no matter what. He hadn't known, he'd been trying his best to help. It wasn't his fault. But Katsuki knew better, and his mother reminded him of that much.

On the drive back from the vet's office, his mother told him they weren't getting another goddamn dog to replace Mamoru because he'd probably kill that one too.

Katsuki didn't want another dog. He was too scared that someone would try to kidnap him again, and the dog would die again. Or he'd forget himself and end up killing the dog more directly. After that, he didn't even let himself go near animals. He wouldn't be near them, and he wouldn't touch them at all. Hell, he hardly even let himself touch other people after that.

When Katsuki finishes up his story, he looks ashamed and Aizawa is silent out of pure shock for several long seconds. First and foremost, he cannot believe that this was just something that happened that he had no idea about. Katsuki mentioned getting attacked by strangers at least once before he was 10 years old?? What the hell had happened in his student's childhood??? All of the implications of all of this are concerning him.

But in that same moment, he's suddenly rethinking Katsuki with this new information. Awhile ago Mic had made a joke about how Izuku follows Katsuki around like a puppy and all the teachers had laughed about it. Katsuki had gotten strangely angry about it, and suddenly it seems a whole lot less funny. Not only that, but how Katsuki reacted to All-Might's downfall after his kidnapping has a whole new light to it now. As do so many other little things.

It's hard for him to get any words out, but he manages a strangled "Kid..." and gently coaxes Katsuki out of his hiding place so Aizawa can just give him a goddamn hug for once in his life. And Katsuki is confused by this because he was expecting Aizawa to agree that he fucked up, but instead he's getting hugged and he really doesn't want to cry again but he's not sure he has a choice.

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six: "..it means divine beauty.."

Word Count 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of blood, heavy angst

When you reached Kattegat's border, you were already bleeding. You could feel the droplets slipping down your leg and onto your dragon's scales. You hear Neith cry out when she notices you bleeding. 

"I-ah...I'm alright! Boy..land!" You stammered but he obeyed. You slide off of your dragon and fall to the ground. 

"Torvi!" You shouted, "Torvi!" You shouted again, until you saw her before you.

Torvi "Y/n..Y/N what is it!?"

"Ah, the baby..she's coming!" She took no time at all to call a group of vikings over to you. They lifted you up and when they did, Torvi saw the puddle of blood that was underneath you. The thing is, you have not been sitting there for very long. Worrying her. She looks at the horizon, hoping to see a group of men on horses, riding into the gates but she does not. She took a deep breath and ran inside to help you deliver your child. 

When you are placed on your back, you have the immense urge to push. You scream out because you are trying your hardest to keep her in until your beloved is by your side. 

"My queen, you are bleeding-"

"I kno-Torvi!" 

Torvi "I am here, I am here." She took your hand and you squeezed hers long and tight. 

"Is..the bleeding normal?" You stammered.

Torvi "Yes, dear one. I bled with all of my children."

"Ivar..Hvitserk..they won't make it!"

Hvitserk "Says who?" You look from behind your friend's figure and see both of them, out of breath in the doorway. You burst into tears from relief. Hvitserk rushes to your side and takes your hand in his own. While Ivar on the other hand, sits in front of you. Looking like he is going to have a heart attack, or vomit from the panic and the fear. 

"You made it-"

Hvitserk "Of course I did," he said caressing your cheek, "I swore to you that I would not miss it." He kissed your forehead but you scream out in pain. "TORVI!" He yelled at her to get in there, to check to see if you are ready to push or if it is only contractions. You feel her checking, and that hurts just as bad. 

Torvi "Okay, my friend..are you ready to have this baby?"

"No.." Torvi giggles. 

Hvitserk "I have you." 

Torvi "Push." You did as she told you and screamed until she told you to pause. Ivar covers his ears, trying to block out your screams because he cannot bare it. 

Torvi "You are doing so well, only a few more!" You continued following her guidance until you felt a release within you, and you knew that she was here. 

Torvi sighs, "It is indeed a girl." Hvitserk looks at her and cries tears of joy. 

"Oh..can I-can I see her?" 

Torvi "Of course." When you see her, she is just as your visions foreshowed. She is simply perfect. Ivar cried with you. So happy to hear this news and to hear her cries for you for the first time. 

"Hello, beautiful." You say as you help her to latch onto your breast. "We have been waiting for you for so long." Ivar gets up from his seat and walks his way to your bedside. But he stays silent. 

Ivar "Y/n.." you look up at him and you see the fear in his eyes. That is when you look down and notice the blood surrounding you. That is when you feel your adrenaline die down and you feel as weak as you should be. 

Hvitserk "Let me take her.." she finished feeding when Hvitserk took her from your arm's. 

Torvi "We need to stop the bleeding, she tore giving birth to her.."

Ivar "What can I do?!"

Torvi "Get me stitching, and hurry."

"Hvitserk," he looks at you from staring at her, "what if-"

Hvitserk "No, don't even think that way..do you hear me?" You slowly nod, "Torvi will-will stitch your tare and you will be fine. I promise."

"Mm, what is her name?" He looks at you and then down at her and smiles. 

Hvitserk "what about Asta?"

"Asta.."

Hvitserk "Yes, it means divine beauty. And she looks like you."

You smile, "Asta is perfect." Ivar comes back with the stitching and when you see the needling, you feel your eyelids getting heavy and soon enough, you are unconscious.

..

Hvitserk and Ivar stay with you even though you were asleep. They did not leave your side until the bleeding had stopped. 

Ivar "When will she wake?" He asked Torvi.

She sighs, "I am not sure. She lost quite the amount.."

Hvitserk "What are you telling us exactly, huh?" He said, rocking his daughter. 

Torvi "She may not wake for a day or so. I do not know how fast her body can heal itself!"

Ivar nods, "I have to go.." Hvitserk makes eye contact, "I can't see her laying there like that. I've seen it before, I can't do it again." And just like that, without another word, he left. Hvitserk holds back the tears as he sits down by your bedside, rocking Asta. 

Hvitserk "Your mother has been through too much during her lifetime, little one. And I wish that was not the case." She coos, "But she is strong. She is a warrior, a shield maiden..a queen." He looks up at you, "She won't leave us."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you wake, it feels like you are in a whole other world. Everything around you is gloomy, and quite dark. But you find it all splendidly peaceful. You walk further and find a body of water. The lake was surrounded by dragon statues of great mass. 

"Gods...where am I?" You say to yourself as you walk further. You walk and walk until you reach a cave. In this cave were two dragon eggs. White and red in color. You smile to yourself and think to yourself 'this is why I am here, for little Asta.' And in that moment, you took a deep breath and came out of your vision. 

When you look to your left, you find Ivar with his head down. Asleep. You try to move but the pain in between your legs stops you. But only for a moment, you see, because Ivar was not with Asta, so you had to find her. You silently got out of bed and wobbled your way out of the chamber doors. You find two guards and they stop you in your tracks.

"My queen, you should be in-:

"Bed? Yes, I think I have been in bed long enough. Where is my daughter?" Your voice woke Ivar dead in his sleep. 

Ivar "Y/n?" You look back and your eyes connect with his bright blue eyes. "You are awake!" He walks to you and cups your cheeks and kisses you softly. 

"How long have I been asleep?"

Ivar "Two or three days..I am not quite sure."

You sigh, "Where is Asta?"

He smiles and caresses your cheek, "She is perfectly well, my love."

"I'll go find her-"

Hvitserk "She is with Hvitserk." You nod and make your way to his chambers, where you find him fast asleep, with the baby asleep on his chest. Your eyes welled with tears, but the most joyous of tears. When you sat down on the corner of the bed, the pain became excruciating and you could not hold back your yelp. This woke Hvitserk up and when his eyes adjusted, he lost it. His emotions overcame him and so did yours. 

Hvitserk "You-"

"Hi.." he laughs and raises himself and Asta from his position in the bed and he makes his way closer to you. "I missed her first few days of life-"

Hvitserk "Nothing happened, kitten..she barely has her eyes opened yet." You nod and sniffle away the last of your tears as he hands her to you. 

"Gods she is so perfect." He nods and kisses your forehead. "Has Ivar held her?"

Hvitserk "I offered but he refused. He said that he would not hold her until you woke from your deep slumber." Your brows scrunch together in confusion, "He meant that if you did not awake, then he would want nothing to do with her." 

You scuff, "I don't believe that-"

Hvitserk "Y/n, he killed a son that his wife told to be his own because he was born different.." you think back on that story that Ivar told you a long time ago. You forgot about that, because you did not want to believe that he really did such an awful thing. 

"Well, I am awake.." he nods, "I do not want to think about the past. I just want to be here and now, with her. You and Asta are not in my past." Another tear falls from his eye as he leans down and kisses Asta's forehead. 

Hvitserk "You two are my everything. You know that, yes?"

"Of course I do, I love you." You lean in and kiss him gently before kissing your sweet daughter. "She is so tiny."

Hvitserk "She is. She does not look real, she is so perfect." In that moment, she opened her eyes and you saw the color for the first time. They are your blue but in the center, they are his green. 

"Wow.."

Hvitserk "Mhmm.." he nods in agreement. 

"How did we make her?"

Hvitserk "What can I say, we are just beautiful-" you two burst out laughing, making Asta start to fuss. 

"Shh, shh. I've got you." Hvitserk sits there and admires the both of you. Until he saw his brother's gathering in the doorway. 

Ubbe "Momma bear is finally awake!" He shouted but not too loudly. 

"I am." You said, exhaling deeply. He walks over to you and kisses your forehead. 

Ubbe "I am happy to see you holding her, she looks just like you."

"Mm, I see both of us in her." You say as you look at her. 

Ubbe "A little bit," he winks at Hvitserk, "But you should eat."

"I will soon, I just want to spend time with her."

Ivar "Let her be with her." Ubbe looks at his brother and nods in agreement. 

Ubbe "I'll leave you two be then." You nod and then watch him leave the chamber. Ivar stayed, of course. 

Ivar "She does look like you, my sweetheart."

"Thank you. But would you like to hold her?" He walks closer and smiles once you smile at him. He sits down next to you and Hvitserk, and takes Asta in his arms. You hear his breath hitch and his eyes begin to water. 

Ivar "You know," he sniffles, "I thought that I would never hold her." 

"You would. Maybe not at first, but you would Ivar."

Ivar shook his head, "I couldn't. I could never love someone that took the love of my life away from me." He looks up at you. "If I lost you, then what would be the point of my life, hmm?" You do not answer him, "So no, I couldn't. If I lost you, I lost the will to live."

"I am here, Ivar. You do not have to think that way."

Ivar "I know that. But I had to let you know that. I am sure that Hvitserk told you that I did not hold her while you were asleep, so I had to tell you myself." You nod. 

"I love you, my love. But if the day should come where I pass on before you do, I want you to be happy." He looks disgusted, "And Asta needs you."

Hvitserk "I think we all need to stop worrying, aye?" He tries to break the tension, "You are here, you woke..Asta is here and she is healthy. And we are all together. So why sadden this wonderful day with what could happen in the future, huh?" 

"Hvitserk is right." Ivar nods and glances down at Asta. She coos and he chuckles. Hvitserk rubs small circles on your back and takes in this moment that he thought would never happen, nor become a possibility. 

"I have to tell you something-"

Torvi "You are awake! Ubbe just told me!" 

"Hi!" She runs to you and greets you with a warm and friendly embrace. 

Torvi "How are you feeling?"

"Like I tore.."

Torvi "Mm, I need to check the stitching every now and then but not now. I want you to take this time with Asta."

"Thank you, for everything."

Torvi "My pleasure." She walks back out, to give you all this time to yourselves. 

Hvitserk "What is it that you have to tell me?"

"I know where her dragon's are." Hvitserk's eyes sparkled with excitement. 

Hvitserk "Really? Where?"

"I am not quite sure of the name of the place, but I know what it looks like!" You explain your vision and Ivar is amazed to know that such a place existed. 

Ivar "When should we go?"

"Not any time soon. We need to be home with her. I just want to have them for when she is old enough."

Ivar "I understand." 

"I should feed her and then feed myself." You force a laugh. Ivar smiled and handed her back to you and headed for the door. 

Ivar "Hvitserk, will you join me for a moment?" Hvitserk growled but got up and followed his brother's orders anyway. 

"It is just you and me, little one." You smile, "it should have been this way on the first day of your life but the God's had other plans." She suckled and listened, "But because so, I know how to gift you the best gift that my father had ever given me. And now I can give that to you. One day, of course." You think to yourself and smile, "I love you so much, little Asta. So so much. I hope you never forget that." She coos, "And you will grow up to be a strong, powerful woman. I promise. You will be safe and loved by so many, and be admired from all over the world. But most importantly, your father and I love you most."

Ivar leads his brother to the dining hall to sit down and chat. What about? Hvitserk would soon find out. 

Hvitserk "So what is it you wanted to talk about, Ivar? You know that I want to see-"

Ivar "Y/n, I know."

Hvitserk "So why am I here and not with her, hmm?" Ivar chuckles, "what couldn't you say with her in the room?"

Ivar "I would like to talk about Asta, of course."

Hvitserk "What about her?" He already began to fume. 

Ivar "You know exactly what about her. I am not her father-"

Hvitserk "No, you're not."

Ivar "Do not test me, brother. I am trying to be kind." Hvitserk stops himself from talking any further by resting his hand to his face. "I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter."

Hvitserk "I suppose you would like her to grow up thinking that you are her father..no?" Ivar thinks for a moment and smirks. 

Ivar "You are not wrong." 

Hvitserk "But think of Asta. How would that affect her?" Ivar lets his head drop when he hears that question. "This is her life, we have to take care of her Ivar."

Ivar "And I will-"

Hvitserk "Will you? You see, you did not even want to hold her!"

Ivar "I couldn't. I told you why."

Hvitserk "I understand why, but even if something did happen to Y/n, Asta would still need us Ivar. You know that." Ivar nods slowly, inhaling deeply. 

Ivar "Asta will know that you are her father when she is old enough to fight. Until then, she will be mine." And before Hvitserk could protest, he got up and left the room. For a moment, Hvitserk couldn't believe it. But then he realized that it was Ivar, so he believed it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You managed to eat today but only a little. When Torvi checked your stitching, it felt like hot coils burning your core. It was so painful, but you managed not to scream. Ivar was by your side through that moment, which surprised you. He held your hand and helped you through it. Which was the first time he could see you in pain and manage to help you through it. 

Torvi "It is going to be painful until it heals completely, so no fighting.." 

You smile, "I won't be going into any battle anytime soon."

Torvi "Good. You can do what you are able but no sex or anything that could tare the stitching."

"Thank you Torvi."

Torvi "Of course." She hugs you tightly, "Now I'm going to go coddle that little princess of yours." 

You giggle, "Go, before I steal my own daughter from you." She bursts out laughing. 

Ivar "Seems like you and Hvitserk won't be having fun for a few weeks."

"Don't talk like that."

Ivar "I am sorry."

"So what did you and Hvitserk talk about?" You stammered as you got yourself up from your laying position on the mattress. 

Ivar "I told him that Asta would not know that he was her father until she was old enough to fight."

"And I suppose I have no say in that?"

Ivar "No, it is the only way I can keep it from my people. If they knew, they would belittle me..I cannot have that."

You nod, "No, of course not."

Ivar "That day will not be easy for me-"

"Nor will it be easy for her."

Ivar "You are right. It won't but this is how it must be." 

"Fine. Will you please help me up?" He rises and helps you off of the bed. You attempt to walk away from him but he holds you close to him. He holds you tight to his chest and your hearts beat at the same time. 

Ivar "I know that you must hate me right now, and for that I am sorry. If she was mine, it would not be an issue. And I am happy for my brother, but it has to be this way." He loosens his grip so that you have enough room to look up at him. 

"Okay Ivar." He caresses your cheeks, leans in and kisses you. You kiss him back, of course. 

Ivar "I love you."

"I love you too." 

Ivar "Go ahead." He lets you go and he watched as you walked out of the door. Thinking to himself, "Was this the only way?" 

@hvitserkmarcosource @a-mess-of-fandoms @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @krissydclayton93 @heavenly1927 @saldelys @conaionaru

[worthlessjunk]

Ryan, Shane, and Reader

The newest episode is just you, Shane, and Ryan, spending all night at a haunted castle.

THIS IS !!NOT!! A SHYAN FIC, I WANTED A FIC WITH EVERYONE BEING GOOD OLD BUDDY PALS

This fic has multiple chapters, please be patient with me on uploading!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sexual assault, Blood, Swearing, Panic Attacks

“Who’s fucking idea was this?” Shane laughs as he puts his hand in his flannel pockets.

“Mine.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Do you really think Ryan would have willingly gone to a haunted castle overnight?”

“I take offense to that.” Ryan is walking ahead of you, eyes forward.

“Aww, are you pissed that you have to sleep with the Ghosties?” Shane walks up to Ryan. You smile at them being idiots as Ryan threatens Shane.

“Hey, can we maybe be...adults?” You call up to them. “We kinda have a show to get done.”

You loved those too more than anything. You had so many memories with them and were excited to make more.

Ryan was especially excited. He did most of the research every time, but this was your time to shine. You had set everything up, the dates, the research, the money. Everything.

You had always felt more like a third wheel, even though you knew the guys loved and appreciated you. But still, you couldn’t help feeling like a weight. So this time, you would prove to everyone that you could help.

“Is this it?” Ryan stops in his tracks, causing you to almost bump into him.

You look up, the dark castle is right ahead. It looks like it did in the pictures; scary. Something about it in person is almost worse.

“Yep!” You pull out your camera, angling it at the castle. “Let’s get filming!”

Shane looks at you, laughing.

“How the hell are you gonna get a shot? Can you even see anything above some blades of grass?”

You roll your eyes. “Eat shit tall ass.”

Ryan wheezes.

“Are you guys ready for the scariest night of our lives?”

Ryan shakes his head. “Oh fuck no.”

***

Walking into the castle the cold air hits you like a slap.

“Well Jesus, this is like a shitty horror film.”

Shane is laughing at the old paintings on the wall.

“It’s a tourist place, so it’s probably played up a little.” You say. “But that doesn’t mean the legends aren’t true!”

Ryan looks at you both. “I cannot believe I am sleeping here tonight.”

“Ryan, the scariest thing in this place is the amount of dust collecting.”

You burst out laughing at Shane.

This was going to be fun.

You started talking about the history of the place, how a grand king lived in wealth and women, having many mistresses. The king murdered his queen so he could marry one of his mistresses. The Princess, daughter of the queen, became blind with rage and grief, killing the King and his Mistress with poison. All of their ghosts are rumored to walk the halls at night. The Queen calling out in pain, the Princess searching for her mother, and the King seeking vengeance.

“Why the hell does the king get vengeance?” Shane looks at you.

“It sounds like he was the real asshole here!” Ryan adds.

You start giggling. “Like a fairytale villain.” You all laugh, and you feel all worries fade away.

A candle falls to the ground in a loud crash, the tin holder making a ringing noise.

“Huh. Guess someone didn’t like that.” Shane chuckled as Ryan’s eyes grew wide.

You grab Ryan’s arm and squeeze. “It’s probably just a prop for the show they do. Gotta keep tourists interested.”

Ryan relaxes a little, but you can tell he’s more on edge.

“Ryan, it’s not even dark! How can you be scared?” Shane walks toward the dining hall. “Where can we get some food? I’m starving!”

You turn toward Ryan.

“You okay?”

He shakes his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

***

You sit at the grand table eating McDonald’s, working on editing the beginning shots of the episode, Ryan is writing something, and Shane...is being Shane.

“How many ghouls do you think we’ll find today?”

“Well,” You look up “There are a lot of active areas, but no one has ever actually stayed the night, so…”

Ryan looks up from his work. “No one has ever stayed here?”

“Nope.”

Ryan’s eyes widen. “And you forgot to mention this?”

You look at him quizzically. “I didn’t think it was important?”

Ryan shakes his head. “Whatever, let’s get this over with.”

You share a look with Shane, confused. You feel your worries creep into your stomach, holding you hostage. You wanted this to be perfect.

Shane looks at you and gives a small smile. You let out a breath, Ryan was just scared, You were overreacting.

“Okay, Lets start searching for Ghosts.”

chapter two:

[ibijau]

Hi I hope you are well! in Worse engagement AU, does NHS ever find out about LXC getting longer-lasting incense, or LQR intentionally failing him his first year in Cloud Recesses? Poor NHS just can't catch a break, and I love the angst

Worst engagement AU

He does! And I may or may not have pushed myself to write nhs failing his year just because of how badly I wanted to write this, ahah.

Set soon after they get married :D

warning for... I guess he’s having a panic attack of sorts?

Unpacking is a terrible chore, worse in some ways than the packing that preceded it, but at least Nie Huaisang gets some help from his...

His face heats up. It's going to take a while to get used to the fact that they're married. It's only been a few days, and half the time it doesn't feel real. Which is the entire reason why Lan Xichen insisted that Nie Huaisang unpacked his things so they could put everything in its proper place and turn the Hanshi into something that's home for both of them. Even more than Nie Huaisang, it's obvious that Lan Xichen can't believe he gets to have this. It shows in the way he looks at Nie Huaisang when he enters the room where he's working, always half surprised to see him there. It shows also in the way he clings to him at night, as if Nie Huaisang might disappear otherwise, or run away, or do whatever other insane thing Lan Xichen might be imagining.

“What are those?” Lan Xichen asks, having opened a chest and found it full of various papers.

Nie Huaisang abandons the books he was trying to organise and comes to sit next to his husband, a little closer than necessary perhaps, but he knows Lan Xichen will appreciate it.

“This... Ah, it's a bit of everything,” Nie Huaisang admits. “Things I’ve done for fun these last few years. Most of it is bad poetry. Some of it about you, actually.”

“Did you?”

“I got very creative with insults at one point. I made Jin... I made someone read them, he found them very funny. Jiang Cheng saw them too, but he made a fuss about me being rude.”

Lan Xichen's smile freezes into that very annoying, very polite expression he has when he's unhappy about something. They usually avoid talking about Jin Zixuan, really, but Nie Huaisang was so taken by nostalgia for a moment that he half forgot. Besides, the poems really were funny.

Still, Nie Huaisang takes pity on Lan Xichen, and quickly digs into the chest to find something that will let him change the conversation. There's some half finished paintings, some calligraphy attempts, even notes from his time as a student and...

“Oh, right, I kept that,” he mutters, grabbing a neat little stack of paper. “That's probably good for a laugh.”

“Poems?”

“Even worse,” Nie Huaisang chuckles. “It's that exam I failed, my first year in the Cloud Recesses. I really thought I'd done great, you know? Well, maybe not great, but decently at least. Heavens, sometimes kids are so stupid they can't even see how stupid they are.”

Lan Xichen tenses next to him, and rather than to laugh along, throws him a concerned look.

“You kept that? Why?”

Nie Huaisang shrugs, grinning, and looks over the failed test. It always just felt like an important reminder that he’d never manage to play by the rules of others. A good chunk of the paper is unreadable because Lan Qiren had crossed over those wrong answers, but suddenly Nie Huaisang feels curious to see if he'd figure out how he got it so wrong.

“May I see?” Lan Xichen asks, his tone almost too careful, as if he fears he might offend.

“Sure, why not,” Nie Huaisang replies, handing him the papers and turning his attention back to the chest. “You know, I think I have a few portraits of you somewhere in there. Let me just find them, I think one at least is pretty good.”

While Lan Xichen deciphers the physical incarnation of all of his failures, Nie Huaisang continues digging into the chest. He does find a few portraits, but not the one he wants. These are doodles of Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, and this he must get rid of discreetly because it's Jin Zixuan, smiling, so Lan Xichen won't like it, and this... well that's a painting of Lan Xichen alright, but he doesn't know how his husband might feel about, ah, imaginative depicting of what Nie Huaisang had once thought their married life might become. Besides, aside from the faces, everything was copied from one of his artful books, so it hardly counts as his own work. And this...

“Huaisang, are you sure this is the test you took back then?” Lan Xichen asks in a strange voice.

“It's not something I'd forget, is it?” Nie Huaisang replies with more bitterness than intended.

He half regrets it when he looks at Lan Xichen. Nie Huaisang almost can't figure what sort of an expression is on his husband's face except that it's an intense, rarely seen one.

Then it hits him.

Lan Xichen is furious.

“If you're having second thoughts because you're realising that I'm really an idiot after all...” Nie Huaisang starts, an old, half forgotten rage and terror already welling in his guts.

“Huaisang, I wouldn't have passed that test.”

Nie Huaisang stares. It's all he can do, when nothing makes sense. 

"And I'm not saying I would have failed it when I was the age you were," Lan Xichen continues, blind to Nie Huaisang’s growing panic, his hands clenched on the papers, nearly tearing them apart. "As I am today I would probably not pass this test. The questions are made to look simple and to have easy answers, but they are actually on complicated subjects that only a scholar would know.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Nie Huaisang mumbles, fear still curling in his chest, though a little less tight now. Lan Xichen is angry, but not at him.

Possibly for him. 

But it makes no sense, none of this makes sense, because if his exam was really this hard and tricky, then…

“Uncle set you up for failure,” Lan Xichen states, almost a hiss.

Nie Huaisang stares.

This is. This is important. This changes. It just. It changes everything. It should make him angry, and it should make him happy. It should make him feel something, but instead he’s just numb.

It changes everything.

It changes too much.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t even know how to start unpacking everything this discovery means. It’s too much, it’s all at once, it’s the very basis of everything he’s done and felt those last few years being shaken on its foundations so badly that it threatens to crumble.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t think, he can’t breathe, because it’s too much, it’s too much, it’s too much, it’s…

He feels hands on his and that grounds him. One of the hands move to his face, wiping tears he hadn’t realised started flowing down his cheeks, just as he doesn’t know when he closed his eyes. He opens them when a gentle, worried voice calls his name.

“Huaisang,” Lan Xichen whispers. “Huaisang, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know.”

Nie Huaisang nods, trying to remember how to breathe. He doesn’t doubt that Lan Xichen didn’t know. Neither of them wanted to be forced to spend time together at that time, Lan Xichen wouldn’t have played along if he’d known, not even for his uncle. 

But this is still…

“I didn’t fail,” Nie Huaisang manages to gasp. “I didn’t fail.”

“You didn’t.”

“I’m not stupid.”

He hears Lan Xichen make a noise almost like a wounded animal, feels himself being pulled into a tight hug that he doesn’t, cannot resist.

It’s not.

It’s not that he actually thinks he’s stupid. Nie Huaisang has learned, has accepted, that he’s quite smart, in his own way. He’s good at reading people, and at becoming friends with them, and he knows about literature and poetry and art and, and he’s nearly as good as Jiang Cheng for mixing patterns, and he understands animals and how to tame them. Nie Huaisang is clever, and he’s forced everyone who matters to see how clever he can be, but he knows what some people still say.

Even now, there are some who think that Lan Xichen should be pitied for their marriage. He’s heard them say that Nie Mingjue should have released his sworn brother from that ridiculous engagement, now that there are no Wens left to justify the need for an alliance. That a man as brilliant and respected as the mighty Zewu-Jun deserves a better spouse than that kid who somehow managed to fail when studying in the Cloud Recesses, something nearly unheard of.

But he’s not stupid.

He didn’t fail.

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Lan Xichen whispers against the top of his head, fierce and sincere in a way that Nie Huaisang doesn’t know how to handle. This, also, is too much, but in a way that hurts less. “I will go talk to Uncle. He owes you an apology.”

It’s almost funny. The idea that Lan Qiren might have to say sorry to Nie Huaisang… 

Not so long ago, he would have said that it was impossible. He would have suspected that Lan Xichen would never dare confront his uncle, least of all on Nie Huaisang’s behalf. But now, if Lan Xichen says he will obtain an apology for him, his husband believes that he’ll really fight tooth and nail to get it. He’ll probably still fail, because that’s Lan Qiren and he isn’t one to admit mistakes, least of all when he can argue that things turned out fine for Nie Huaisang, but it doesn’t matter. The apology doesn’t matter. What does matter is knowing Lan Xichen is on his side, and the fact that he didn’t actually fail.

“Don’t go now,” Nie Huaisang demands, pressing himself closer to his husband. “I want… stay with me for now? I don’t care, I really don’t care, just stay with me.”

“Anything you want, my love. I wouldn’t have gone until you felt better, don’t worry.”

Nie Huaisang sighs, and closes his eyes again. He’s breathing easier now, the worst of the shock has passed. Later he’ll feel angry, he suspects. Furious even.

Later.

For now he is at relative peace, in his husband’s arms, loved and protected and seen, the way he always wanted to be, even back when he was a child too shy to dare want anything.

The rest doesn’t matter not really, not when he’s proven his worth in spite of what others say, but…

He didn’t fail, and an old wound he didn’t know he still carried stops itching.

[lifeisntafantasy]

Bathtub

!!Suicide Warning!!

Even tho I already said suicide warning I also wanna warn you it talks about self harm and drowning so like don't read this if it triggers you please.

The ship is anxeitmus (Virgil x Deceit x Remus).

This is much longer than I expected it to be. I’m also kind of proud of it ig? I posted this on Wattpad, but almost forgot to post it her. Actually, I forget to post most things on here tbh.

Deceit smiled to himself as he got in the warm water of his bathtub, and he immediately felt his muscles relax. It was so nice and quiet, and he couldn't hear any of the other sides. He felt so calm that he could probably fall asleep right there.

Which is exactly what he planned to do. He already took about fifteen sleeping pills, he didn't know how many he would need, so he could fall asleep in the tub. He would be asleep as he drowned because instinct would make him pull his head out of the water if he were awake.

Deceit didn't even take off his clothes, which were just a yellow t-shirt and some ripped jeans, before he got in the tub; right after he took the pills he wrote several notes for the other sides, and doing that wasted the little energy he had. He couldn't leave without letting them know what they had done to him. They needed to know how their glares, hateful words, and insults had affected him.

He didn't have the energy to take his clothes off since the pills were already taking affect, and he needed to be in the bathtub before he passed out. He needed this to work. He couldn't deal with eveything and everyone.

Deceit chuckled dryly as he looked at his arms, scars and cuts covering them. Some of the cuts were from earlier that day, so his arms were stinging slightly. He knew the other sides wouldn't look for him until his death affected Thomas; they didn't care about how he was doing. They never noticed how he sometimes didn't eat for three days. They didn't notice he sometimes didn't leave his room for days because he didn't have the energy. They didn't care.

Deceit hoped his death would affect Thomas quickly, if only because it would make the other sides try to come find him. He left the door to his room and bathroom unlocked to make it easier for them to find him.

Deceit knew the other sides would worry about what would happen to Thomas after Deceit died, but he wrote in his notes that another side would eventually appear in his place. Roman would just have to help Thomas more, since acting was kind of like lying.

Deceit smiled tiredly as he felt his consciousness slip away. He'd finally be at peace.

Soon enough Deceit fell into a deep slumber, and his head slipped under the water. His lungs filled with water as he took a breath in his sleep, eventually killing him.

Not even an hour after Deceit's death, Thomas was affected. He was hanging out with Joan in Thomas's apartment when he felt something change. He could tell it was something to do with his sides, so he needed Joan to leave. They didn't know that Thomas's sides were real, and Thomas planned to keep it that way.

"Hey, Joan, can we cut this short?" Thomas said with an apologetic face.

Joan looked at Thomas, their head tilted in confusion, "Why? Is it because I took the last pizza slice?" they asked, chuckling to show they were joking.

"No it's not that. Something changed and now I need to call my sides to see what's up," Thomas said. It took a moment before he realized he didn't come up with a lie like he meant to.

Joan just laughed, thinking Thomas was joking, "You mean the Sanders Sides? That's just you acting for your YouTube channel."

Thomas laughed nervously, trying to tell Joan he was just joking, but he couldn't lie.

"My sides are real. I can actually summon them," Thomas said.

Joan looked at Thomas a bit apprehensively, "You're joking right..?" they asked, confused.

Thomas took a deep breath as he summoned Logan, not being able to lie to Joan and make them leave.

Logan rose up, book in hand, "Hello, Thomas. How may I help you?" the side asked, not looking up from his book.

"What?! Is that Logan?!" Joan shouted in fear, making Logan look up from his book slightly startled.

"Um hello, Joan. Yes, I am Logan, Thomas's logic. Thomas what are they doing here? I thought you weren't going to tell them that we were real?" Logan asked, his voice sounding slightly nervous.

Thomas sighed, his voice shaking slightly, "So apparently I cannot lie right now, and Joan and I were hanging out when I felt a weird shift in my head, so I tried to make Joan leave so that I could summon you guys, but they asked me why and, as I said, I couldn't lie to them because I cannot lie right now so I accidentally told them you guys were real and they didn't believe me and I had to summon you because I can't lie," Thomas took a deep breath since he said that all in one breath and he was slightly panicking.

"It's right Thomas, just breathe. You will be okay," Logan said calmly, although he was slightly worried.

Thomas nodded as he took a couple of deep breaths to calm down.

Joan was looking at Logan.

"So wait.. all of you guys are real? Like Roman, Virgil, Patton, Deceit, and Remus?" they asked Logan.

Logan nodded, "Yes. Although something seems to be wrong with Deceit, seeing as Thomas cannot currently lie."

Joan nodded their head, "That's cool that you guys are real. When we do videos is it really Thomas or do you guys trade places when he says he goes to change?" they asked, slightly more curious now.

"Usually it's Thomas, but he sometimes does ask us to do it for him when he is feeling tired," Logan responds. "But that's not important. What is important is figuring out why Deceit isn't doing his job. Thomas, would you mind trying to summon Deceit?"

"Okay," Thomas says, more calm after breathing a bit. He tried to summon Deceit a couple of times before he gives up, Deceit not arriving.

"Hm. That's odd. Usually a side cannot ignore a summon from you," Logan thinks aloud. Then he turns to Joan. "Joan, we will be visting Thomas's mind and, seeing as you are not him or one of his sides, you cannot come. You may stay here if you would like, or you may leave."

"I'll leave," they say. "It'll probably be awkward for me to just sit here. I'll talk to you later, Thomas."

Thomas nodded to them as they left. Then he turned to talk to Logan, "Should we get the other sides, too?"

"Yes, that might be a good idea."

Thomas nodded determinedly as he summoned the rest of the sides, including Remus.

They all looked at Thomas, then at each other. Virgil looked at Remus and then went to look at Deceit, but he noticed he wasn't there. Remus noticed too, and he clearly wanted to know why his snake like boyfriend wasn't there.

"Hey! Where's Double Dee? Why isn't he here?"

Thomas looked at Remus, "He's not here because I can't summon him. I also apparently can't lie, and Logan and I think that there's something wrong with Deceit."

"What? Something's wrong with Deceit?" Virgil asked, quickly getting worried.

"We don't know for sure, but it certainly is a possibility," Logan responded. "Which is why Thomas summoned you all so we could visit his room to see what is happening."

"Yeah and I'm getting worried, so let's go, okay?" Thomas said quickly.

All the sides nodded and quickly sunk out and into Deceit's room.

As they rose up, they realized Deciet wasn't there, which was very odd. They started searching around the room, not seeing him anywhere. Virgil decided to check the private bathroom. He immediately regrets it.

Virgil stumbled out of the bathroom, tears streaming down his face and his breathing labored. He forced himself to keep going, grabbing Remus and dragging him to the bathroom. There they find their boyfriend, very pale and head under water.

Virgil finds the closest wall to sit down and lean against, quickly slipping into a panic attack. Remus swore loudly, shouting to the other sides to come into the bathroom, before rushing to Virgil to calm him down.

"Hey, hey Virge, look at me. Virge I need you to look at me," Remus said calmly, although he felt like breaking down right then and there.

Virgil looked at Remus with wide eyes, panic and sadness written clearly over his features.

"Hey hey hey. It's going to be okay. I promise. Can I touch you? I promise it'll be okay. Can I touch you?" Remus said softly. The others were already in the bathroom, for some reason staring at Remus and Virgil instead of Deceit's corpse in the tub. They all looked surprised at how softly Remus was speaking to Virgil.

Virgil didn't seem to notice the other sides and Thomas, silently nodding at Remus. Remus grabbed Virgil's hand and placed it on his chest, willing his heart to calm down.

"Just copy my breathing, okay?" Remus said, taking a deep breath.

Virgil nodded, attempting to imitate Remus's breathing. After a couple moments Virgil could copy Remus. After Virgil's panic attack ended, he fully broke down sobbing. Remus pulled Virgil into a tight hug, letting the latter cry into his boyfriend's chest.

"I just- I can't- Why- why would he do this?" Virgil sobbed. "Didn't he care about- about us?"

Remus just rocked gently, letting tears slip from his eyes. After a couple minutes Virgil finally stopped crying, and Remus pulled away.

"I'm going to get up. Would you like help up, too?" Remus said softly. Virgil only nodded, letting Remus pull him up off the ground.

Virgil quickly pulled away from Remus's grasp, searching the bathroom for some sort of sign as to why Deceit's would leave them. After only a couple of moments of searching, he found notes for all of them.

He handed all of the sides their papers. Virgil and Remus got a note assigned to both of them. It explained why he killed himself, the pain he had to deal with, and how much he loved them both. After reading it, both sides were almost sobbing and glaring at the other sides. They had all finished reading their notes, and the only other one who had any tears was Thomas.

Patton seemed guilty, but not sad. Logan seemed impassive, but you could see some confusion in his face. Almost as if he was confused as to how to feel. Roman was the only one showing sadness, but it was barely there. He clearly didn't care, he was just sad he couldn't "save the damsel in distress".

Thomas was the only one who was showing any genuine sadness. He was clearly heartbroken over the loss of his deceitful side. Although his presence made Thomas feel a bit uneasy, he wanted to get to know Deceit, and see what the side was passionate about, what he loved, how he did things. Thomas was truly upset.

Virgil and Remus were enraged. How could none of them care that they killed one of the best sides in Thomas's mind?

Patton looked at Virgil, the latter's face slowly turning red from rage.

"Hey kiddo, why don't you just calm down?" Patton said softly, like he was talking to a scared animal.

"I am not your kiddo!" Virgil shouted, his tempest tongue flaring, making the other sides flinch. "You all killed my boyfriend. I will never ever forgive any of you. And when the new deceit shows up, you better treat him with the highest respect, or I will let Remus out on all of you. You will regret what you did, and that's a promise." Virgil finished and left the room and pulled a seething Remus with him, leaving the other three sides in a terrified and remorseful silence.

As Deceit had said in his letters, a new Deceit appeared within a week. Virgil broke down crying the first time he saw the newly formed side, and the light sides were forced to watch as Remus helped him. Ever since Virgil snapped at them, he'd been avoiding them like the plague.

The light sides greeted the new deceit with open arms, just like Virgil had told them. They didn't need Remus attacking them since Virgil was already affecting by avoiding them and giving them anxiety. He was staying true to his word and making them regret ever treating Deceit badly. The only time Virgil would talk to them was during videos.

The new deceit was happy, and that's all that mattered.

idk how to end this so thats it.

[holdyourfire]

taylir gar Tracyn

hold your Fire (Mando’a)

A/N: This is a fic based around a pre-TFA Poe. He’s been assigned to a mission with someone he doesn’t really like by Leia. This has been sitting in my head since January, and I’ve finallyyy written it out. It’s a long one, multi-chaptered of course. It’s not a Poe x Reader fic though I know that’s more popular than Poe x OC. Also it’s written from Poe’s POV.

Rating: Pretty much General for the first part but heads into a mature range in later chapters.

Tags: Poe x OFC, hurt/comfort, angst, massive slow burn, pining, eventual fluff, Mandalorians, enemies to friends to...,

Warnings: mild sexual content, panic attacks, minor character death.

Extra note: I suggest watching The Mandalorian if you’re interested by this fic. It does contain spoilers for the show.

Chapter 1 - Fire

1.5k words

      ***

      Poe, smeared in grease and covered in sweat, was fiddling with his X-Wing’s engine, as he usually would in his rare periods of free time.

Snap was across the path on the other side of the landing area, working on his own ship.

BB-8 was whirring around the two starfighters, assisting when needed. 

      He was so focused in the task at hand, that when his little droid purposely crashed into his leg, Poe turned on him in a fury, prepared to scold.

      But, anything he’d been about to say was interrupted by the droid swivelling his body sideways to point out a figure heading towards them.

       “Dameron!”

      It was Kaydel Connix.

As she jogged towards him, she tripped over a stray wire trailing from a power-unit.

Poe struggled to fight back a smile as he heard Snap snort behind him.

      ‘Collected-Kaydel’, not so collected after all, huh? Poe thought, a grin finally escaping him.

Kaydel scowled, seeing him watching her approach. “The General sent me to come and find you,” she snapped. “Apparently, you’re forgetting something?”

      His grin disappeared.

      Shit.

      “Did you really forget another meeting?” Snap called from across the path.

      Damn it, that man’s ears are too sharp. Poe shot an annoyed look at his friend.

      “They really should demote you,” Snap continued, blind to Poe's obvious irritation.

      “Well,” Poe yelled back, “at least I’ve never sh-”

      “Quit it you two,” Kaydel said, disrupting whatever dirt Poe had been about to spill. “You need to be at the General’s workstation twenty minutes ago.”

      She turned away dismissively, heading back to where she’d appeared from.

      “Yeah! Get moving nerve-burner,” Snap sneered, clearly delighted with the situation.

      Poe just flipped him off as he desperately shed his bulky tool belt onto the gravel under him. BB-8 trilled questioningly as Poe began to run towards the underground admin sector.

      “No buddy, you stay here with Snap. I’ll see you after dinner!” he called over his shoulder.

      He frantically made his way to General Organa’s workstation, dodging people, stumbling down stairs and hurdling the occasional crate, swearing under his breath the whole time.

      By the time he reached, he was out of breath. He burst into the workstation with a jumble of excuses. 

      “Sorry General! I forgot about this, I was with Snap- I mean Temmin, it’s really kinda his fault I’m late, he’s very, uh...” 

      Poe trailed off as he took in his general’s exasperated but entertained expression, before noticing another figure in the room. He shuffled his feet, frowning, suddenly self-conscious of his sweaty, grease-stained appearance.

      “Commander Dameron, I’m sure your friends have told you that you’re not a good liar?” 

      Not waiting for the indignant response that was about to come, she continued.

      “This is Commander Avara Deccol,” she said, gesturing to the unknown figure. 

      Poe shifted his focus to the newcomer.

      “She has recently joined the Resistance as a weapons expert and spy.”

      Deccol nodded curtly and Poe returned the gesture stiffly. 

       Sharp eyes, dark-ish skin. Her short, curly hair was flat against her head as if she’d been wearing a cap or helmet. It reminded him of his own hair whenever he pulled off his own flight helmet.

He had to admit to himself, she was pretty cute.

She was wearing a scuffed piece of armour with some symbol carved in the metal, on her right shoulder. 

      Deccol was observing him as carefully as he was her. Her face was expressionless as she watched him. Posture was perfect, almost like a soldier standing at attention. Poe got the impression that’s how she always held herself. Her hand rested on her hip- no, not her hip.

      It was rested on an empty holster, where a blaster would be.

      Is that a habit... or is she trying to be intimidating? he wondered. At least she’s shorter than me, way shorter. The top of her head would have barely reached his chin. Thank the Maker.

      This was a sore point for him, due to his squadron’s incessant teasing. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his dirty orange flight-suit and pursed his lips very slightly, trying to appear unbothered as he held Deccol's unflinching gaze.

       As he continued to scrutinise the new commander with his keen eyes, General Organa had turned to address Deccol. “Commander Dameron here is my best pilot. That’s why I picked him as your partner for the mission.”

      “Mission?” Poe asked, focus instantly shifting to Leia, bothered he didn’t know what was going on and that the newcomer clearly did. “What mission?”

      “Slow down, Poe. You’re needed for this mission because incredibly swift piloting will be required. Avara, you have been picked because I trust Maz Katana’s instincts. If Maz believes that a person is right for a specific job, then they are. Plus, she said you were the best shot she had ever seen. Good marksmanship is always valued.”

      Poe’s brows furrowed. Best shot? 

      Beside him, the new commander ducked her head slightly at the praise.

      “Your mission,” Leia continued, “will consist of several tasks. I cannot stress how important they will be to the downfall of the First Order. These tasks will include intelligence collection and assassinations.” 

      “Avara, that’s where you come in.” 

      She’s an assassin? What the-

      “It’ll be mostly First Order officials, as many as our agents can locate. Poe, before you ask, yes, BB-8 may join you. It’ll be a long mission.”

      Poe smiled slightly.

Leia always knew what he was thinking. Whether it was because she was capable in the force, or just because he'd grown up knowing her, he didn't know.

      The general walked behind her desk, fetching something from a drawer. A holoprojector. She passed it to Deccol, who examined it, squinting closely, flipping it several times in her hands.

      “It’s been altered," the newbie said slowly. "For long-distance transmissions?” Deccol asked, holding it out to Poe without looking at him. 

      Oh, is she a holoprojector expert too? Within second Poe’s annoyance had elevated again.

He almost snatched it from her, fuming. I've barely known her a minute and she's already infuriating. Is that even possible?

      “Yes, and to be undetectable. This is how you two will be receiving your tasks. Only after you leave the base, will you get your first mission. This is, naturally, to preserve confidentiality.”

      Both commanders nodded seriously. This, they understood.

      “You two don’t know each other, but I expect you both to be smart enough to know you have to work together." Leia looked at Poe pointedly. "No petty squabbling or fighting.” 

      Poe internally rolled his eyes.

      “You two will be leaving tomorrow at sundown. Poe, as the pilot, you’ll be picking a ship suitable for you both, but most importantly, suitable for the mission.”

      Leia looked from Poe to Deccol, studying them for a second.

      “Commander Deccol, my assistant, Kaydel, will show you to the mess hall. It’s almost dinner,” Leia said. “You can go, I’ll meet you tomorrow.”

      Both commanders turned to the door.

      “Poe, wait. I want a word.”

      Poe waited until Deccol had disappeared from view, speaking quickly before Leia could. 

      “Am I really just going to be the pilot for this mission?”

      “Poe,” she sighed. “Listen. Deccol is new to the Resistance, whereas you are not. You know how we operate, I expect you to show her our way. However, you will be respectful.”

      So, the usual lecture then.

      “I know what you can be like if you’re not particularly keen on someone," she sighed, rubbing her forehead for a second.

"Unfortunately, I get the feeling Avara is like that too. She is prideful and definitely not the sort of person to ignore an insult,” she said, continuing to make her point. “You both are experts in your own fields and you will listen to each other. She’s a ‘Fire’ and instead of picking a ‘Water’ as her partner, I’m picking another ‘Fire’. I’m taking a risk picking you as her counterpart and I need to know you will not let me down. I’m trusting you, Poe.”

      Poe pursed his lips at the lecture, still miffed. 

      “I- I’ll try, bu-” he cut off, seeing Leia narrow her eyes. 

      He sighed, glaring at the ceiling for a second, resigned.

      “I won’t let you down, General,” he corrected. “I promise.”

      “Good,” she replied, turning back to her desk. “Now, go make a new friend,” Leia said teasingly over her shoulder.

      Poe huffed. “Why do you always talk to me like I’m still a kid?”

      “Well, you haven’t yet proved you’re one hundred per cent adult yet, Poe. After all, you ran in here half an hour late and the first thing you did was try to blame your delayed arrival on poor Wexley.”

      Why is she always right?

      "It wasn't half an hour, it was twenty minutes."

      "Twenty-five,” she countered, humouring him.

      Poe grinned. "A five-minute improvement from last time then," he said, turning for the door.

      Something smacked against the back of his head. He whipped around, to see Leia had her back turned to him. 

      “Did you just-” He paused. "Who's the kid now?"

      "Still you, Dameron."

      He left the room before he was subjected to any more scathing comments.

      How did she- her back was turned! he grumbled to himself as he left the building, trying to ignore the fondness creeping up as the bell for dinner chimed.

      Kriffing Force.

      ***

E/N: next chapter will be up in like a day :) glad to see someone made it to the bottom of the first chapter lol. I know my writing isn’t the best but it gets better, trust me.

Chapter 2 is up!

[your-shield-of-love]

The following is an idea I had if the Warden was in the fade, being tricked and their Love Interest comes to rescue them!

(I would love to see your Wardens being rescued in the fade by their love interest)

Warning: Mention of suicidal thoughts & feelings, depression, anxiety and trauma. Please do not read if these trigger you or distress you.

Kalle Surana sat in the library, reading a book on healing spells and such, the silent library helping her ability to focus. This was she wanted, a life to read books and nothing else. Two Templars stood nearby, their identities hidden and private. Something Kalle didn't mind, she would rather not get to know her... the word lost on her tongue.

She leaned back, for a while now she had an itch at the back of her mind. Like something calling to her. Like a song or-

"Mage." One of the Templars had began stepping to her, "Don't lose focus. Your Harrowing is soon, isn't it?"

"Ah, yes." Kalle pushed back her thoughts, thankful for the reminder. "Wouldn't want to lose to a dem..on." The harrowing had a demon in it? She didn't remember being told that?

"You're so lucky," Kalle's friend, Vanessa Amell spoke with a grin, appearing beside her friend. "Irving told you that right?" Nessie tilts her head, her curls bouncing at the movement.

Kalle laughs, quickly patting her friends back, "How'd you get here without me noticing??" She giggles. "I... think so? I don't remember." Kalle rubs the back of her neck, her hand reaching to the top of her spine. Something was missing.

Nessie hums for a moment, a familiar song, "Uhh magic?" She sarcastically waved her fingers, "You were always a bit scatter-brained." Nessie laughs, her head leaning back. Hmmm, Kalle thought her friend must have been upset about something, cause she never pointed out others flaws, without good reason.

Eyeing her still laughing friend, Kalle spoke up, "Ness? Are you okay?" At this, Nessie stopped laughing and looked back at Kalle.

"Eh? Well... I'm still not over it, you know? Jowan becoming a Grey Warden, and that Sister. " Nessie shook her head of hair, "Can't believe it, can you?"

Kalle inhaled, her chest beginning to hurt. She felt guilty, but why? "Yeah it's... Sad. I don't like the idea of leaving the people I love behind." A pull of her heart, was there someone she was forgetting?

"I hear that Templar, uh Cullen? He's apparently telling everyone you'll pass your harrowing with flying colours." Nessie giggled, nudging Kalle. Kalle raised her eyebrows at her friend, why on earth would someone, a templar be telling everyone how he believed in a mage? That didn't even sound like Cullen.

Nessie laughs, "Wow you've really been practising for this harrowing, huh?"

Kalle laughs hesitantly, "Yeah..."

Sort of suddenly, Kalle found time had flown by. It was dark, with only the candle light being a beacon in the dark. She found herself alone. Something felt shifted, like there was something missing. She looked past the bookcase in front of her, staring out the tall windows of the circle and smiled up to the stars.

She thought of all those times she would look out these windows to the sky, watching the stars and the clouds move slowly across the sky. She noticed there were no clouds in the sky and her smile grew wider. Kalle loved sleeping at night, underneath the never ending sky. This made her blink back, she was never permitted to sleep out at night so what-?

"Elf!" A templar grabbed at her, dragging her quickly to table and slamming her against it. Kalle flinched, chanting to herself to not do magic, don't do magic, won't do magic. "You're meant to be studying!"

"I-I know! I'm sorry I-" Kalle felt a panic attack growing,

"When I called out to you, you didn't listen!" They screamed into her face, hardly any space between her nose and their helmet. She sat onto the table, trying to get farther from them but they gripped her hands against the table.

"I'm sorry! I was-"

"No! So much for knife ears being a sharp listener, ha!" They pinned her on the table easily, taking out a dagger to ear, "Maybe you won't need them if you don't use th-" Suddenly the templar was shot in the neck with an arrow. They whipped to where it came from, "How did you get in-"

A group of four silhouetted against the entrance, a bright light shining from the doorway. Wynne, another mage of the circle, shot her magic at the Templar. Kalle blinked in shock, the Templar moving away from Kalle and facing the group of four.

"No, stop!" Kalle jumped in front of the Templar, raising up a barrier, "Wynne?! What are you doing? Attacking a templar-"

Wayne's face softened towards Kalle, "My sweet girl, that is no templar, it's a demon." She spoke softly, "Do not let it sway you."

"What? They're not a demon, they're.. they're a templar!" Kalle stepped to the side of the templar, showing them that it was a person in armour.

A woman with Black hair and sharp amber eyes stepped forward, a flame in her palm and a staff in the other. "My friend, snap out of this stupidity!" Kalle flinched back from the shout, "Who taught you that very barrier spell? You could barely use it for this long when we met." The barrier spell came undone.

"I- I've been practising, apostate! I've never even MET you!" Kalle angrily waved her arms, a pull of something at the back of her mind.

"Then how, friend, did you know I was an apostate? As you say, we've never met?" The mage stared, a pained glare in her eyes. Kalle swallowed,

"You... You aren't from here!" Kalle threw out an excuse.

Kalle forgot the Templar had been standing behind her when it grabbed her shoulder. "You are strong to fight against these demons, mage. I don't know how they even got here." A memory of demons being in the circle cried out to Kalle. "We must not have got them all since last time. They must have hid in these people's bodies, we should kill them in mercy." The templar whispered to Kalle's pointed ears, the grip beginning to get warmer...

Kalle held out her staff, when a dagger shot the staff out from her hold. A handsome elf stepping forward, a tattoo on his face with sad smile. She wanted to speak to him, but why? "My dear Warden, it has been a while since we last met. It's a shame we reunite here, though." He reached his hand out to her, "I've missed your precious hold." Kalle blinked at the Antivan, having no clue who he was but.. he was familiar. He lowered his hand, pained by her not reaching for him. "At least this time, meeting you again, I won't be trying to kill you again."

Wynne speaks up again, "Dear," She spoke the last person, who Kalle squinted her eyes at, "We cannot reach her." She spoke sadly.

The Templar stepped forward, placing Kalle behind them, "Do not let demons get to you. It will do you no favours." She nodded, watching the last person, who steps out from behind the Apostate.

"We deal with that," The sweet voice almost growling the word, "first." Before Kalle could step forward to stop the group, Wynne used a barrier to stop Kalle from interfering, the apostate transforming into a blighted spider, fighting the Templar up close. The Antivan elf appearing from air, using his blades to hit the points where the armour was not covering. Stabbing into them.

Kalle gasps, covering her mouth. "Stop! Stop it!" She slammed her first against the barrier. Arrows shot the Templar, making them fall over, the armour loudly crashing. The barrier lowered but Kalle refused to move, afraid. But not sure what of...

A woman steps forward, lowering her hood and revealing beautiful ginger hair. Kalle took a breath, her eyes wide as she got lost in those saddened blue eyes. Her heart started freaking out, Kalle feeling embarrassed for some reason. Makers sake, Kalle always was weak for gingers. She then inwardly scolded herself, focus! As the woman stepped forward, Wynne lightly touched her arm, whispering quietly to her before stepping away from the ginger.

"Kalle, my-" The woman began but hesitating, "It didn't hurt you, did it?" She eyed the Templar before continuing to walk to Kalle. Who didn't want to fight her, for some reason... she could be a demon.

"Stop." Kalle commanded, the four looking to her in hope of something, which she felt her eyebrow raise at. "I... I don't know you."

The woman smiles subtly, "You hesitated." She stops at an arms length from Kalle, who is preparing for the demon to know things it shouldn't know of her. Kalle closed her eyes, sighing before staring at the woman, trusting in herself. The ginger seemed to smile warmly saying, "I always admired the fact that you could look an enemy as an equal, but when they've crossed your line, your lip pouts and your toes curl." Kalle simply blinks in response, trying not to look to her feet.

"I didn't realise demons could have foot fetishes." Kalle says, the Antivan laughs for a moment and the ginger giggles softly, making her want to laugh too.

The ginger looked around the room, "It's nice to see the circle the way it used to be. I can imagine you, sitting on the windowsill, book in hand and a snack in your pockets..." She softly smiles then looks to Kalle sharply, "You know demons, yes?"

Kalle slowly nods, taking a slow and calming breath. "I know they use your most precious memories, traumas and anything you hold dear against you. To persuade and trick you that what you see is true." She stood a little straighter.

"Thank you, love." The ginger smiled with such a warmth in her smile it was unbearable to watch, so Kalle looked away. Why was she even thanking her?

"Why.. are you thanking me?" Kalle wondered, slowly looking back to her.

The gingers warm smile still there, seemed to grow even wider. "Even when you look at me as your foe, you help. It is one of the many things I love about you." The woman began to slowly reach her hand out, not making any quick movements. "You may call me Leliana." Kalle took another breath, it was a pretty name that suited a pretty lady.

Kalle began reaching out too, but pulled back, frowning. With a sigh she looks to the templar on the floor. Remind yourself, they're a demon... doubt began to sprout in her thoughts, who was the demon?

"This may take a lot longer than when she helped us. Our friend is very stubborn." The Antivan sat on the table Kalle had been sitting at previously. How did she know he was Antivan? *The accent, probably.* Though .. how did she know that was an Antivan accent? She had never met someone from Antiva.

Leliana took a small step forward, making Kalle step back, making Leliana stop. "You say a demon will use what you hold dear against you?" She paused for a moment, like she was collecting information in her mind and while Kalle was lost in her clear eyes, she looked up swiftly. Almost making Kalle jump. "When you listen to someone's pain and grief, you listen deeply, tilting your head, asking the right questions and speaking when it can help them and you make others feel so safe with you." Kalle's ears twitched, she hated compliments. "When you watch the stars, your fingers fiddle with the grass near you, like when you fidget when you feel like dancing, but can't. You tie a knot, then untie it, and continue doing that until your imagination stops flying with the stars." Leliana takes a step forward, this time Kalle doesn't step away. "When you overthink, you sometimes pull on your own hair or your nostrils twitch, like a little nug." Kalle feels her cheeks blush.

"How do you-" Kalle starts.

"Because I love you." Leliana hums, Kalle's heart skipping a beat and her mind feeling like an explosion going off in her head. Taking away whatever called to her, like the sea easily takes the sand.

Kalle's voice held in her throat, "w-what?" She let out the tiniest whisper.

"I'm sorry I'm telling you here, like this but.. It's the truth." Leliana looks down for a moment, returning her gaze with a determined look in her eye. "I know that you do not trust me. That right now, I am a stranger but ... I know all the things you don't realise about yourself. You refuse to compliment yourself, or see the good that is a piece of you. That is why I'm no demon. I love you. You who despises yourself and do not hold yourself dear. I love you, for everything you despise. For all the little habits and mannerisms you don't realise you have, because why should you? When you could care less for yourself?" Kalle hadn't realised when Leliana had held her shoulders but didn't say anything, looking at the desperate look Leliana had. "I love that you are an elf." Leliana lovingly and filled with pride, softly strokes along Kalle's ears. "I love that you are a mage, how creative and excited you get about your magic. It is one of the few things you take pride in, but when someone compliments you, you never accept it. But if they compliment your magic, you grin happily. What you don't realise is, when you turn away from that, your eyes become sad. I love how you love unconditionally and I love you." Leliana holds onto Kalle's cheek, when did she begin leaning into her palm?

Kalle mumbles, "Y-you said that already.. that you love me."

Leliana takes two steps forward, her nose touching the top of Kalle's nose, as she was taller than Kalle. "I love everything about you, especially the parts you despise. I love that when you are struggling you can talk to us about your heartaches. I love the little habits that are utterly adorable, I love how you hold everyone dear to you no matter who they are. I love, that despite you wanting to give up and... and no longer being around, you stay, because you've lost someone. Because you were hurt, left behind and broken from it. Something you refuse to do to everyone else, as long as one person loves you. You do not give up. I love that you are kind even when you angry and grieving, I love you as much as I can. That is why I'm not a demon. I love what you don't hold dear: yourself."

Kalle didn't realise her eyes wept, her words frozen and her body beginning to shake. "How can- how can you love me? I just-" She gripped her head, Leliana softly removing her hands and with one hand, wiped her tears, kissing where they were.

"I don't need a reason to love you. But if you need more reasons, I have plenty for you to listen too, my love." The two held onto eachother, Kalle sniffing into Leliana's shoulder, catching her scent.

Andraste's grace, the flowers... The flowers Kalle always gathered when she could. For her, for her Leliana. Kalle raised her head, the grip of the fade demon lost from her. "Leliana," she breathed, seeing Leliana teary eyed, finally remembering everything, "Leliana!" The couple meet each others lips, gently but desperately kissing, holding onto eachother and reassuring the other they were okay, that they were really there for one another. "I love you too." Kalle breathed, a heavy pain and weight lifting from her heart. "Growing up in the circle, it's ingrained into us that relationships will never work. That only pain is the ending..." Kalle wipes her tears, holding Leliana's hand tightly. "That falling in love is impossible and foolish..." Looking into the teary eyes of Leliana, Kalle holds onto her lovers cheek, "I thought... it would be wrong for me to say I love you. As a mage, an elf, a warden... a stupid, lost soul who couldn't ever just be happy." Blinking away her tears, "I won't hesitate anymore... I want to see myself as a person. I want to love you without holding back. I want to live. With you." The couple leaned their heads on eachother, happy to be together finally and Kalle holding Leliana's waist. Leliana tilts her head down to Kalle, her arms loosely around Kalle's neck and the pair kiss sweetly.

"If your quite finished?" Morrigan interrupted, venom in her voice, "Not all of us want to witness the love you share."

"Oh shush. They are happy, leave them be. You can hassle them later." Wynne waves Morrigan off.

"Yes, quite." Zevran's voice seems to grin, "Do continue. Seeing my two best friends kiss is one of my life's delights."

Kalle laughs, standing beside Leliana and looks to her friends. "Thanks, everyone. I'll give you a proper thanks when we return." She grins, the others gathering closer together, closing their eyes as they awake from the fade.

~~☆

Thank you to anyone who read it.

The feelings and emotions conveyed are things that I struggle with to this day but because of games like the Dragon Age series (mostly just Dragon Age), I strive to feel and get better every day.

I'd love to hear how Dragon Age makes you feel, how you are, what your OC's are like and how they are with their loved ones xxx

[music-my-angel]

Years of hurt

Prompt - I’d love to read a fic where Jack opens up to Joe about why he has panic attacks coming back from family gatherings. It’s because one of his uncles abused him as a child and he can’t say anything about it because he wants to protect his family. Joe tells him he’ll always protect him. 🌻

Prompt - Please could you do one where Jack has nightmares about how he used to be abused (by a parent or family member or something) when he was little and Conor used to protect him? Jack was told Conor was the talented one and Anna was the golden child and he was nothing. He wakes up screaming so Conor comforts him and reminds him he’ll always be there and stuff! Thank you! :)

Trigger Warning: Reference to underage sexual abuse

 ------

For years, Jack had to battle night demons. He rarely knew a good night’s sleep. Most of his family and friends knew about his sleep problems and tried to help him however they can. But as they say, you cannot help someone without getting to the root of the problem. Jack never told anyone what his nightmares were about. He’d always say that he forgot what they were and mostly they believed him except Conor who was pretty sure that there was something really wrong about it but he couldn’t even guess what it was.

------

With time, Conor thought that Jack would outgrow the nightmare period but it never happened. As they grew up and went separate ways, Jack learnt to handle his nightmares better. Some nights, he’d try to sleep again and on some nights, he’d wait for the sun to come out.

Jack could handle the panic attacks on his own but he’d have to admit that after getting in a relationship with Joe, things got better. Joe would soothe him back to sleep on most nights and it reminded him of how his brother would coax him to get some sleep after a bad nightmare.

But he still hadn’t open up to Joe about the reason behind his nightmare. He just couldn’t! Instead he was determined to stay away from the cause of his nightmare as much as he could. But life wasn’t going to be that easy on him!

------

It all started going down the hill when Jack’s family invited them over. Jack pulled every card in his bag to avoid going there but between Joe being so excited to meet Jack’s family and Conor wanting a reunion, Jack realized that he wasn’t getting out of this.

So he packed a bag, packed a boyfriend along and flew home to a big family reunion and it was literally his nightmare coming true again. Jack had been on the edge throughout the whole thing and it didn’t take long for Joe to notice something.

So he stood by his boyfriend’s side, hoping that a night with his family will equal to a night without the bad dreams.

------

The nightmares came as usual. Jack started screaming and Joe desperately tried to calm him down. But this time the nightmare was a little more specific. For the first time, Jack had said something during his nightmare.

“Get away from me. Don’t touch me. Please. I can’t again. Don’t!” Jack screamed.

Joe had gotten straight into trying to comfort Jack while Conor ran to the bedroom.

Jack seemed to snap out of his nightmare and spring himself right into Joe’s arms sobbing about wanting to get out of here.

Conor was about to get in the bedroom and say something when Joe asked, “Jack, you said that you can’t again. What did you mean?”

This time, Jack bared his chest.

------

“When I was 5, my uncle used to come over a lot. He used to grab me and do things that you wouldn’t do to a 5 year old. Didn’t rape me but it was enough to leave me scarred for life” Jack admitted.

“The nightmares are of him, huh? Why didn’t you tell me or anyone? Your brother at least, Jack?” Joe asked.

“Conor was the talented kid you know. Everybody loved him and Anna. She was the golden child. But I was nothing more than a trouble so I didn’t want to add up to it. It would have broken my family” Jack said.

“Oh bubs!” Conor sighed as he walked in the bedroom.

Jack raised his head up at Conor before lowering it down when he realized that his brother had heard everything.

“I’m sorry” Jack mumbled.

“No, I’m sorry kiddo. I failed you. I should have protected you. It wasn’t not your job to protect the family. God, I’m so sorry!” Conor said.

Jack let Conor pull him in a hug, sobbing his years of hurt in his big brother’s shoulder.

------

Jack let Conor take over. His big brother informed their family about what had happened and they cut contact with the uncle’s family given that the uncle was no more now. Jack’s nightmare wasn’t going to stop miraculously but letting other’s know about the abuse did help lessen the burden on his chest. With Joe and Conor by his side, the nightmares got easier to deal with and between the two of them, they were sure to help Jack get over his nightmare as well.

------

A/N

Hope you all like it.

[thestuckylibrary]

Group Ask 154

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Anon 1 said:

i’ve combed through every single tag i can think of but still can’t find this fic. steve is a glory hole sex worker and bucky is a veteran and is trying to get better at positive touch but is super quiet at first when he first starts going. steve is determined to get him to make noise and their relationship progresses from there. PLEASE help me out and thank you so much!!!!

Anon sent in  Say it louder for the people in the back by redhook (complete | 14,864 | E)

Anon 2 said:

hi! I’m looking for a fic that I just read but can’t seem to find. Revolves around Steve and Bucky living together, Bucky often cooks or bakes for Steve and doesn’t get out of the house much and they watch TV together every night and when Steve has to leave he always sends Bucky coded text messages to update him? I remember so much from it, like Steve invited Nat and Sam over for lunch, Bucky slept in Steve’s bed for two weeks while he was out. Please help me :(

dolphinqueen10 sent in  Stop and Say You Love Me by eyesofshinigami (complete |  20,082 | E)

herkharvey sent in  all your tenderness by belovedmuerto (oneshot | 22,580 | T)

Anon sent in before we can breathe easy by belovedmuerto (oneshot | 22,052 | T)

Anon 3 said:

Hiiiii, so sorry to bother you but like, I was reading this oneshot fic where Bucky has PTSD and he accidentally triggers it and Steve helps him through it? It was something like that, maybe they were sleeping, or it was night. I had literally just started reading it and then my phone crashed and my internet closed down. I've been looking everywhere and I think the author wasn't very popular, so I can't find it. But if you could please help me? Thank you!

Anon 4 said:

I'm looking for this fic where Steve cross dresses pre-war, and when he comes back after the ice, he tries to dress up again but because he's big now, he doesn't feel pretty anymore and Bucky comes home and says something like "I never thought I'd see my best gal again"

Anon sent in  If Only For One Night by OhCaptainMyCaptain (oneshot | 11,749 | E)

Anon sent in  bodily whole (but my head's in a mess) by wilderswans (oneshot | 4,434 | M)

Anon 5 said:

Hello, I looked all over the soulmate tag and couldn’t find this fic where Steve is at Bucky’s house and then he realized bucky is his soulmate. His soul tries to reach to bucky but he didn’t reach it back. I can’t remember any other details besides this one

dolphinqueen10  sent in True North by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) (oneshot | 6,693 | T)

crescendohno said:

Wondering if you can help me find a fic. After the serum, steve loses his memory of everything that came before it. He doesn’t remember Bucky or Brooklyn or any of it. I think it’s mostly a re-telling of TFA. I’ve already looked through the amnesiac Steve tag. Anyone remember this one?

Anon sent in  The Gift of a Clean Slate (it's a Trojan horse) by StuckySituation (oneshot | 6,603 | M)

Anon 6 said:

I've been looking for a short smut fic for a while and i can't seem to find it again - it was post winter soldier and bucky had steve pretend to be one of his handlers (as in, d/s scene) and bucky had to take a bunch of buttplugs that increased in size. thanks for any help!

Anon sent in  Forward, Always Forward by BrighteyedJill, helahler (oneshot | 3,736 | E)

Anon 7 said:

Hi! I’m looking for a fic where bucky tells steve he loves him and Steve has a panic attack and CANNOT believe him bc in the 40s steve told bucky he loved him the night he left for the draft, and bucky called him all kinds of awful slurs trying to “save” him from being queer. Post WS bucky doesn’t remember, but after steve panics he finds out. I remember there being a line like “it was still hard for steve to say it and know it was a good thing” but that’s it. Any help would b gr8, thx!

dolphinqueen10 sent in Remember Me by prisma134 (oneshot | 18,040 | M)

Anon 8 said:

The only thing I remember about this fic I'm looking for is that Bucky was slightly feral, and he made up a nest under the armchair in the living room and Steve accidentally scared him and apologized for encroaching on Bucky's space?

lindsey-of-north and time-lord-no-more sent in Here We Mark the Price of Freedom by Diamond_Raven (restricted, complete | 175,595 | E)

stevietomybuck said:

hi! so i remember this fanfic that i read maybe 2015-17. it’s shrinkyclinks/modern au. steve moves into bucky’s apartment building and he has severe ptsd. steve is like a cartoon colorer/cartoonist. it’s like ten chapters long. i would love to reread it thank you!! (if you can’t find it it’s fine sksbsjdnsn)

ajkal2 sent in  To Be Vulnerable Is Needed Most Of All by perfect_plan (complete | 118,363 | M)

Anon 9 said:

Hello! I'm so thankful for all the effort you're doing here. I just wanted to ask if you happen to know of this fic where steve and bucky with the howling comandos are given time off, in a house in the london suburbs. Everyone goes off to the bar except steve and bucky, and they end up doing nsfw things in the kitchen? and they're almost discovered? I've tried searching for it but I'm not sure if it was complete or if it was tagged switching or etc. I'll continue my search but help?

ajkal2 sent in  The Size of Perfection by Phoenike (complete | 31,193 | E)

Anon 10 said:

Hi, im looking for a fic ive read before but forgot the title. Basically, Steve never got the serum and I'm pretty sure Bucky was Cap. Bucky crashes the plane and wakes up in the future where Steve is an old man.

stevesbi sent in  though you're many years away by eyres (complete | 12,588 | T)

Anon 11 said:

I’m looking for this fic where I think steve is small and he’s a comic book artist with sam(?) and he goes to this coffee shop owned by nat and he has a crush on bucky but bucky is really awkward and for some reason can only speak Russian around steve and the agents of shield are in it and buckys Lives with Natasha and Clint??

pendragonstar and Anon sent in to live with thee by aw marvel no (getoffmysheets) (complete | 69,834 | E)

Anon 12 said:

Okay so I'm looking for a fic. Basically Steve starts dating again and The Winter Soldier gets jealous and either severely injures or kills Steve's dates. Steve wants to see Bucky so he starts getting reckless with the dates and that's all I remember. THank you so much

Anon sent in  Warning Shot by togina (oneshot | 5,577 | T) - steve/others

polyglot-night-owl said:

Hii!! So, I'm looking for this fic I read on Ao3 where Bucky couldn't speak or didn't remember how to. Steve tried to make him write stuff but even that, he could barely do. I just remember that Bucky knew like 10 signs (like sign language) and Steve was interrogating him at some point. If that helps, one of the sign meant like 'stop' or 'please no'. Sorry if that's too vague 😅

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