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schrijverr · 2 months ago

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I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 17

Chapter 17 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, the earthquake hits LA and Eddie can’t hide how much he worries for Chris, spilling the beans on his existence, but having to keep Buck out of the picture. And doubt and worry about their plan starts to seep in when Hen doesn’t answer the headcount.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie (slow burn)

Warnings: referenced misogyny, minor character death, near death experience

~~~

Chapter 17: Shaken Up on the Job

With Maddie getting a job, Eddie is on bringing Chris to school duty, so Buck can drive his sister to work. They’ll have to see if it’s manageable in the long run, should it take Maddie a bit to get a car of her own, but it works for now.

He arrives at work to find Buck already complaining about LA traffic. Eddie can’t blame him, he left ridiculously early to get Maddie to work on time for her first day.

Eddie can’t help but smile slightly at it, unable to be anything but fond at how invested Buck is in making Maddie comfortable and giving her a good start here. It’s just so like him. It reminds him a little of when they first met. Of course, Maddie is his sister and not a stranger, but seeing how happily he does it, even if he complains a little, makes Eddie feel less bad about dragging Buck into his mess.

Then the thought immediately makes him uncomfortable, so he is frowning slightly when he gets to the table.

“Everything okay?” Bobby asks, handing him a plate of breakfast.

‘No, maybe, I don’t know,’ is what goes through his brain, but it’s not something he wants, or can, get into. So, he just shrugs: “I’m fine.�� Then he realizes that doesn’t sound very convincing and adds: “Traffic was a nightmare.”

“Ha!” Buck exclaims loudly, looking thrilled. “That’s what I said.”

Bobby shakes his head at his antics, but Eddie can see the fond smile. One that probably matches his own. And one that he hides by quickly stuffing a bite in his mouth. Chris had cereal this morning and he had nothing, because Buck had left early, so he needs the energy anyways. He tries not to think about how much he notices when Buck isn’t there.

They actually make it through breakfast without the alarm sounding, as well as clean up. It’s calm and Eddie would call it quiet, but he promised Buck not to use the word.

He has to question whether there is some merit to it and whether the universe can read minds too when the building suddenly starts shaking with the heaviest earthquake that Eddie has ever experienced.

All of them are bracing themselves, diving under tables as they wait out the heaviest of the shocks. Then they’re running to their gear to get it on, before the alarm even starts sounding. Today is going to be busy. Incredibly busy. Eddie fears traffic will only get worse.

However, his main thought is: Christopher.

Buck catches his eye and he can see his own fear reflected in his eyes. Buck’s gaze flicks down to where his phone is in his pocket and he nods in return, doubling his effort to get his gear on, because he knows he can send a text in the rig. Hopefully get an answer before they arrive to the scene, so they can both get some peace of mind.

On their way to the call that dispatch directed them to, they see partially collapsed buildings everywhere. This doesn’t help ease Eddie’s anxiety at all, nor does it help that none of his texts are being sent, but he keeps sending them, keeps checking anyway.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Buck trying to look along on his screen. However, the angle must be off or the lack of other bubble must be worrying, because soon he’s asking: “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” says Eddie, while actually wanting to scream no. “There’s no service. Texts won’t even get through,” he supplies, so Buck can infer on his own that Chris cannot be reached.

“Are you sure?” Buck asks, not because he can’t believe it, but because he doesn’t want to. Eddie can relate to the feeling.

Buck fishes his phone out of his pocket and tries as well. Eddie can’t see the screen, so he anxiously asks: “And?”

“Can’t reach hi- Maddie. Either. I can’t reach Maddie either,” Buck stumbles over his sentence, then to save face and deflect, he asks: “Who are you trying to reach?”

Eddie sends him a ‘what are you doing’-look and tries to think of what to do. He gets why Buck did that, but they agreed it would be easier if Eddie just remained his private self at work. Two months in and he hasn’t mentioned anything. Will it be more difficult when they know he has a son? And what about Buck? Will it be harder if they know Chris exists, but Buck doesn’t know him? Is Eddie supposed to make that call for both of them now?

He sends Buck another look, trying to gauge what he’s thinking. The look on Buck’s face tells him it’s okay, to go with his gut. And his gut is telling him to worry.

“My son. I’m trying to reach my son,” he says, the words ‘my son’ feeling like a lie for the first time as he looks at Buck. He doesn’t know exactly what his face does, but he hopes there is an apology in his eyes.

There is a frailty to Buck’s voice as he tries to be his enthusiastic self as he says: “Wow, you have a kid?”

Eddie nods, words caught in his throat, fingers frozen. However, he feels the others watching him, so he moves, because he has to move. So, he forces out: “Christopher.” Finding a photo to show Buck, like Buck isn’t the one that took it to send to him, because that’s one of the few photos he has of Chris without Buck in it too. “He’s seven.”

“And super adorable,” Buck adds with a smile, the brightness back in his eyes. Whatever hurt he felt, has been shoved to the side and there is forgiveness there when he looks Eddie in the eyes again. Buck says: “I love kids,” and it sounds a lot like ‘I love this kid’ to Eddie.

“Yeah, me too,” Eddie says, unsure of what to do now. So, he clears his throat and looks out of the window for the rest of the drive, trying to convince himself Chris’s school doesn’t look like all the buildings they pass.

Buck’s knee is pressed against his. He gets a bit of strength out of the point of contact, enough to get him out of his own head by the time they get to the scene. He hates that he has to leave the point of contact behind and he hates that he mourns the loss in the first place.

At the scene they connect with the incident commander, before she leaves Bobby to assign them to the rescues that need to happen in the collapsing hotel.

“Okay, listen up,” Bobby says, getting their attention from the building and on him. “Here’s how you make it to the end of the day. You don’t worry about the things that you can’t do anything about. Focus on one task at a time. I can’t order you guys to go inside that building, and I’m not gonna judge you if you decide not to.”

He looks at Hen, then at Eddie. It’s clear that he’s picking out the parents from the crowd and Eddie wants to yell at him to look at Buck too. To not send him somewhere too risky, because he also has a kid waiting at home. A kid, who loves Buck to death. A kid, whose heart Eddie can’t break if he has to face him with the news that papi is never coming home again.

Chimney hadn’t been in the engine, so he just focuses on Hen as he says: “Hen, you got a kid, so…”

“Yeah,” she cuts him off. “And I’d hope if someone whose job it was to save him had the chance, they’d do it. No matter what.”

Eddie agrees with the sentiment and finds himself nodding. Next to him Buck instinctively nods too, turning it into a check of his gear when he catches himself. Still, to get attention off of Buck, Eddie says: “Where do you want us?”

Bobby studies his face for a moment, but seems to find what he’s looking for, because he nods in approval, before they’re interrupted by an officer, who has spotted a man trapped on what looks to be the eleventh floor.

The second he spots him, he knows that he and Buck are going to rescue him. They don’t even have to discuss it, starting to plan the best way to rescue him after establishing what floor he’s on and where to enter, setting the plan in motion when they get the go ahead from Bobby.

It takes a few minutes to get the ladder in position, but soon him and Buck are climbing up. As they get higher, Buck suddenly breaks the silence between them. “After Northridge, FEMA spent $200 million retrofitting every school in the LAUSD. Ceiling tiles, lighting fixtures. Eddie, Chris is in the safest place he can be.”

Of course he noticed the worried strain in Eddie’s shoulder that hadn’t left even after he convinced Bobby. And of course he has the exact facts ready to assuage some of that worry.

Eddie can’t help, but look back, his expression probably an embarrassing mix of gratefulness and awed disbelief that Buck is a real person.

Buck blushes slightly and ducks his head as he rubs the back of it. He admits: “I had the exact same spiral you’re having now after my first quake on the clock when Chris wouldn’t reply until lunch break. It was smaller and I lived. But I did a lot of googling in between calls to convince myself not to call the school.”

“You’re something else, Buck,” Eddie says, sounding way too fond, even to his own ears, so he quickly escapes the conversation by smashing in the glass and continuing their climb.

The man they’re rescuing turns out to be quite the pig and Eddie feels a mild disgust towards him, even as he goes to do his job. His harness is attached to Buck’s and both his life and that of everyone else in that room are quite literally in his hands. Yet, Eddie feels less worried here, than he’d been in the engine on their way here. He just has to focus on rescuing that pig, Buck has his back, he can forget about everything else for a second.

Despite his dislike for the man, his adrenaline spikes a little when he notices the spidering of the window. This rescue just got more dangerous.

He starts removing furniture to ease some of the pressure on the glass, as Buck holds him steady, both Ali and his own victim staying as still as they can. It’s both a race against the clock and a careful endeavor.

A race he loses when the aftershock hits.

It’s not even the shaking that hits him first, but Buck’s frantic: “Aftershock! Aftershock!” As if he needs to make sure Eddie notices, that Eddie gets to safety.

Your own safety is always a priority as a firefighter and Eddie has no issue bracing himself and hanging on tightly to his rope instead of desperately trying to save this creep. Still, when he falls, he can’t help but look on with horror. It’s not easy to watch someone die, no matter how much death you’ve already seen. Caused, even.

However, he’s snapped back to himself when he hears Ali scream. She is sliding down, towards the opening where the man just fell. Sliding towards a similar fate and nothing Buck is doing is stopping that from happening.

With the knowledge that Buck has his rope, he easily braces his whole weight against it, freeing both hands to grab Ali. He barely manages, but he gets her. Though she is dangling out the broken window, with nothing but his hand holding her there, Buck holding the two of them.

She is screaming and struggling and Eddie knows his grip must be hurting her, but he can’t let her fall. Can’t let both rescues be a total disaster. Can’t have the person that is Buck’s to rescue die. Not on his watch. He still remembers Devon and that horrible aftermath.

So with a strangled voice he demands: “Give me your other hand,” and he breathes a little easier despite the strain when she does.

But Eddie is still on his stomach with no way of leveraging her back into the building. She can probably just make it to a landing pad if they can set one up, but Eddie doesn’t know if he can hold long enough for that to happen, not to mention that neither can reach their radios to communicate that plan to anyone down below.

“You got a good grip?” Buck calls out, his voice also a little winded due to the effort.

“Yeah, just not for forever,” Eddie calls back. “And no leverage.”

“I think I can pull you up with the pulley here. But it’s gonna hurt and it’s not going to be fast,” Buck tells him. “You up for that?”

“I trust you,” Eddie says, because it’s true. He wouldn’t want anyone but Buck above him, holding the weight of him and Ali, pulling the both of them up.

If anyone can do it, it’s Buck, who trains so he can always carry Chris and win their stupid game of ‘who can carry the most grocery bags in one trip’. Having him here behind him now, knowing where he is at least in this disaster is worth the hassle of not having an opposite schedule.

“Alright. Brace yourself.”

“Jup,” Eddie groans, using the last of his loud voice for now and just whispering some assurances to Ali as he feels the harness tighten, before they get hoisted up centimeter by centimeter.

Ali hisses in pain when her arms are getting hoisted along, but with Eddie’s encouragement, she starts scrabbling along with her feet to ease the strain on Buck. However, it’s not until she can balance on the window frame that Eddie can scramble upright and Buck can take a breather as Eddie finally secures her properly with the rope.

With Ali all properly secured Eddie takes over for a bit. He can walk towards Buck, pulling Ali along with him as Buck catches his breath.

His whole face is red, birth mark going up in the exertion. However, when their eyes meet, he gives him a wide, only slightly breathless grin that Eddie matches immediately. There is something exhilarating about completing a high stakes rescue.

However, just because Ali didn’t fall to her death, doesn’t mean the rescue is over. Getting up already took forever and going down isn’t any easier. In fact, the aftershocks made it impossible to get down and they have to go up instead.

It’s not a great atmosphere, being trapped in a collapsing building that can come down on them at any moment with their exit blocked. And the atmosphere plummets more when Hen doesn’t answer the head count.

They share a look, the conversation from a few hours ago, from before they entered the building, echoing in both their minds.

Both know they have a dangerous job and that not making it home is always a possibility, but it has never been more real than now. They’re both stuck here in this death trap and while Denny will still have Karen, Chris will have no one if this building comes down on all of them.

Again Eddie wonders if doing this is a good idea, if he and Buck should be out here together, just so they can also go down together. Or if he should switch to a different shift once this is over. It’s not as if they won’t still be out there in dangerous situations, Eddie would have been out in this no matter where he worked, but it might increase their chances of one of them making it home.

But when they’re going down the elevator shift with Ali and Batari – the guy they rescued along the way – he changes his mind real quick.

Feeling the building shake, then looking up to see Buck in the path of the elevator that is about to come down, sends his heart rate spiking, but it also makes him act. He gets Batari through and can hold the door open for Buck to come flying through with Ali just before they would have been squashed by the elevator.

They catch their breath, recovering from the shock. Buck lightens the mood with: “I told you I liked our chances.”

And Eddie kind of wants to punch him, because he nearly died, but he is also so grateful that he didn’t, that he is still here and joking. And he knows, that he doesn’t trust anyone else to preserve that. That he doesn’t want anyone else watching Buck’s back.

The anxiety about Chris is still going strong in the background, he doesn’t want to go through worrying about Buck too. Not to mention that Buck would be every day, instead of just in the face of a natural disaster. He already did enough of that before he joined the 118.

So, he’s going to stay right here, right at Buck’s side. It feels right to be there.

Together they get Ali and Batari out of the building, where the incident commander fills them in on the situation with Hen. How she’s missing under there, fell during those first aftershocks, how she’s been MIA ever since. It’s not a comfortable feeling, in fact, Eddie feels a little sick at the thought. It is a long time to be missing.

But then Bobby’s voice comes over the radio, asking for back up, for all the equipment they need to get Hen out. Incident command orders retreat, but if Eddie knows these people well – and he likes to think he does, because Buck does and he knows Buck very well – he knows they won’t. Not when one of their own is in danger.

Wordlessly, he and Buck back away to get the stuff to meet Bobby and Chim at the south side of the parking garage, orders be damned. With the way Bobby is smiling at them, he figures they won’t be in too much trouble for it, especially when everyone else on site comes to help as well. Firefighters look out for their own. It’s nice to be in a line of work where no man gets left behind, Eddie can use that kind of security.

When Hen finally emerges, completely in tact and with the girl, it feels like a movie scene. Like a miracle. Eddie no longer believes in god, nor does he believe in the universe, but he thanks both anyway, just in case.

Though, he staunchly refuses to take it as a sign when they get outside and service is back up. He just fishes his phone out of his pocket as he tells Buck: “I’m calling the school. Text Chris?”

“Will do,” Buck nods immediately. “I’m texting Maddie too. Today was her first day.”

Eddie remembers that, wincing at what a first day she must have had, but he doesn’t think about it for long, too concerned with calling. The lingering sense of anxiety leaving him when one of Chris’s teachers tells him he’s waiting with Chris at the school, since he knows about both their jobs, putting Chris on the line too.

After today, Eddie risks handing his phone to Buck and standing guard so Buck can also hear Chris’s voice and assure himself that he’s okay.

Luckily the call is over, before the others get here. Bobby must notice he looks a little more relaxed, because he asks: “Got some good news?”

“Chris is safely at school and okay. His teacher is staying with him until he can be picked up,” he says, unable to help the smile.

Behind Bobby Chim and Hen look surprised at the news that Eddie has a kid, but he can’t care any less right now. Cat was already out of the bag with Bobby, so not answering would have been weirder anyway.

His smile gets bigger when Bobby says: “Well, you’ll be happy to know that you’ll see him soon then. We’re done for today. B shift has come in early to deal with whatever arises tonight, they want us to rest after this call.”

The drive back to the firehouse is exhausting and relieving. All of them are quiet, letting the events of today wash over them as the adrenaline leaves their bodies.

They all drag themselves out of the engine and hand it over to the next shift. As much as Eddie wants to drive to Chris’s school immediately, he is sweaty and covered in grime and once he has Chris in his arms, he won’t want to let go or leave to shower at home. So, they both shower at the firehouse first.

Buck has a set of clean clothes in his locker, but Eddie just changes into his spare uniform, making a mental note to put a set of spare clothes in his own locker too.

He practically runs out of there once he’s dressed, only to come face to face with his truck completely boxed in. B shift arrived haphazardly and now his car is blocked. His car is blocked. He needs to get to Chris and his car is blocked.

Without his permission, his head snaps around, looking for Buck. Buck can fix this. Then he remembers he’s at work and they can’t, so he looks back to his truck, trying not to cry. His brain is too anxious after today to come up with something and his self loathing at not being able to find a solution is not making it better.

“Oi, Eddie!” Buck’s shout breaks through his spiral and he turns to where Buck is at his Jeep, which is mercifully free. In the distance he can make out the others at well, all having turned at the noise to see what’s happening. Like Eddie, Buck pays them not mind, only yelling more when Eddie looks at him: “Come here. I can drive you to Chris. I’ll even give you a lift to work so you can get your truck tomorrow.” He winks and gives Eddie a big grin.

It sounds like a casual offer. Like he’s just being nice to the new coworker and Eddie wants to kiss him on the lips – metaphorically of course.

“Thank you so much,” he calls out, not caring that he’s running across the parking lot in an undignified manner and throwing himself into Buck’s Jeep with what is probably a bit more familiarity than he should have. However, Buck doesn’t comment on it, just getting into the Jeep as well and flooring the gas, he is excited to see Chris too.

At school Eddie is out the car before Buck has even put it in park, already running to meet Chris, who is waiting at the door. He knew Chris was okay, but hearing him is not at all the same as having him in his arms, feeling his giggles against his neck or his heartbeat under the palm of his hand, being able to burrow his nose into his hair.

In the background, he can hear Buck thank the teacher for staying with Chris while they were out there. But Eddie’s attention is entirely on Chris, letting him go to check him over. No bumps on his head and nothing irregular at first glance. The knowledge is soothing enough that he lets Chris go so that Buck can scoop him up for a hug.

With Chris safely in Buck’s arms, Eddie gets up from his knees to thank the teacher as well, hoping his gratitude comes through in the firm handshake he gives him.

Like he did with Buck, the man assures him it’s okay. “You and your husband are the real heroes here today, I’m just happy I could do this for you with what you’ve done for the city today.”

“Still, thank you,” Eddie repeats, a little uncomfortable.

Luckily, he is saved from further praise or conversation by Buck, who says: “Yeah, man, thank you. Now, I’m looking forward to my bed and I’m sure you do too. Plus, it is past you bedtime, Superman.”

“I’m still awake,” Chris insists. “We can totally move my bedtime.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, mijo,” Eddie tells him as he ruffles his hair, making Chris pout as he starts up an argument about why he isn’t tired at all, which Eddie entertains as Buck says the proper goodbyes to the teacher.

Despite Chris’s argument, he is asleep in the backseat within minutes. Both him and Buck fondly watch Chris sleep through the rear view mirror.

At home, Eddie gently extracts Chris from the backseat to carry him inside to tuck him in. Once he’s done that, he just stands in the doorway of Chris’s bedroom, watching him more. He can’t fathom Chris actually being in danger like he almost was today. He has half a mind to put a tracker in his shoe and give him a satellite phone.

Before his mind can spin further into control freak mode, Buck slides up next to him. “So much for a later bedtime, huh?”

“Yeah, I don’t think he won his case,” Eddie chuckles.

A short silence falls over them, then Eddie says: “I’m glad he’s okay.”

“Me too,” Buck says. “I know how worried you were today.”

“Weren’t you?” Eddie asks with a frown, unable to conceive not being out of his mind.

“Of course I was,” Buck answers immediately, a little affronted. Then his voice goes softer: “But he’s your kid. He’s tough cookie.”

“He is,” Eddie agrees, before the guilt of today comes bubbling up. “He’s your son too, you know. I know we can’t say it at work, but he’s yours too.”

“I know,” Buck says, though he ducks his head in that bashful way that tells Eddie he needed the reminder.

Still, he doesn’t push. Today was too exhausting for that. Instead he asks: “You going to check up on Maddie?”

“Nah, she texted me she’s working late.”

“True Buckley stubbornness.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Hell of a first day to have.”

“Tell me about it,” Buck laughs again. He is then overcome by a loud yawn, jaw cracking as it stretches. “But I’m gonna let her by the stubborn Buckley for tonight, I’m beat.”

“God, me too,” Eddie groans, exhaustion fully catching up with him now that Chris is safe and sound.

Together they stumble through their nightly routine, before they wish each other goodnight. Eddie practically falls into bed. It would be a little dramatic to claim he fell asleep before his head hits the pillow, but it sure feels like it. He’s out like a light and stays like that until the morning comes.

A/N:

Eddie… you’re so repressed <3

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nellcrain · 5 years ago

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Thomas Magnum knows how to choose a romantic setting for a fake proposal

#magnumpiedit #magnum p.i.#miggy #magnum x higgins #thomas magnum #juliet higgins #*#mine: magnum pi #i love them so much #i cannot wait for this to be referenced when they ACTUALLY get married

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 3 years ago

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That last ask about the Sy vignettes made me think about something, sorry if its a silly question😅

Anywayyyy, we suppose (except for HOS😭) that in all of your stories reader ends up with the *insert character of your liking😂*, so in a long period of time, and this goes for the series but also for real life situations,

how do you call them? Life partner? It sounds so long, boyfriend? Not sustancial enough for the love of my life😂 Just their name? I call my bff for her name and yes everybody who really knows me knows who is she but idk still not kinda important enough?😂

Like this is one of the things as stupid as it sounds that i kinda like about marrying someone, when talking about them you dont have to say their names cause everybody knows who you’re referring to, and again, sometimes it sounds like a label and more so a possesive label, especially in this sexist society, but it fits i think?

Finally I love how determined your idea of marriage and kids is regarding to what you want, i think we’re about the same age and i cannot have a strong position when it comes to those things cause it is SO deeply and strongly ingrained in our society, and in my family, the idea of getting married, and especially for a woman🙄, to have kids (“You only fully develop as a person once you are a mother” Quoting my fucking aunt), that idk if my doubts are of truly not wanting to get married or thinking about wanting that cause of how much the social pressure is. Damn, this got long sorry

post being referenced

OK. This is a very fair question.

And when it comes to my actual fics, what they call each other when they're not married really depends on the character:

For Syverson specifically, I think he would just call Y/N by her name. And I don't think he would have an issue with continuing to simply call her his girlfriend. But keep in mind, they're around the same group of people that have known them for a long time. And they're nosey neighbors/family who love to gossip, so everyone would eventually know that they don't have plans on getting married.

For my Steve Rogers fics, I think he would call Y/N his partner in conversations with people who didn't know her and when he was introducing her to people.

For Bucky Barnes, he would say girlfriend when he's being normal and polite. But if he was being cheeky, he'd say cute shit like "my better half" or "my left arm" or something ridiculous like that. He would like seeing people's confused faces. And it's his way to be funny while also subtly keeping his personal life a secret, because most people don't ask him to elaborate.

For Jason Todd, he'd say something dramatic, but romantic, like "consort." But when he was being an asshole and trying to mess with Y/N, he'd introduce her as "my roommate" to people. And Y/N would slap his arm and say, "Jason! Stop calling me your roommate." Then smile at them apologetically and say, "I'm his girlfriend."

For Dick Grayson, he'd just simply call Y/N is girlfriend. And he says it so proudly. Even his tone when he says it makes it very clear to people that it's very serious relationship.

For Damian Wayne, he'd straight up call Y/N his "lover" when introducing her to people – completely straight faced and confident. People would kind of blink in surprise, waiting for him to show some indication that he's joking. But Damian Wayne is not the joking type. Sometimes Y/N gets embarrassed just because it makes other people uncomfortable. Americans are such squares and the term "lover" sounds far too passionate for most people to casually hear in conversation. So sometimes she can convince Damian to call her his "partner."

For Bruce Wayne, he'd just fully call Y/N his "wife" – whether they were actually married or not. He thinks it's hilarious how panicked journalists get, trying to figure out if he got secretly married or not. And the media would lose their minds that he managed to possibly pull off a secret wedding with absolutely no one spilling the secret. When he's messing with people even more, he'll call Y/N "the missus" or "Mrs. Wayne" or any other ridiculous thing stupidly rich men and finance bros say to other men.

I would also like to point out that my sister and my friends that are married never call their husbands "my husband." They say their husband's names. Because we all know them personally and know who they're talking about. I actually pointed out to my sister that I had never once heard her say "my husband" in conversation – even as a bystander to a conversation I wasn't a part of. And she admitted that she found women who constantly said "husband" super annoying 🤣. But also they were together for a super duper long time before they got married, so that probably had a hand in it, too.

And I will admit that the idea of a hypothetical man calling me their "wife" sends a chill down my spine. It makes me gag. 🤣 Ya'll can psychoanalyze that all you want... But I just hate everything about it. And I have no desire to call someone "husband." It all feels so archaic and weird. I can't.

p.s. your aunt sounds like the worst and i think i want to slap her.

#invisibleanonymousmonsters #invisible anonymous monsters #syverson vignettes #captain syverson #syverson #father of mine #father of mine universe #jason todd x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #jason todd

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sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years ago

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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)

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stormblessed95 · 4 years ago

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Hiya, I hope you have had a great day/night! I wanted ask what Jikook moment was very revealing to you but did seem as big to others? And what moment that was huge to Kookminers did not seem that big to you?

(Also, I cannot wait for Yoonmin dynamics analysis! Both of them are what drew my attention when I first started watching BTS content. Honestly, I never saw them as romantic either. I just thought they gave off vibes of an old married couple almost (like the ones you have with friends you are very comfortable with?)? At least, some of their interactions seemed that way to me lol.

Hello! Thank you for all the kind words and I'm glad you agree about Yoonmin! I love them. I'll start with a moment i see JKKs talk about often and as a super suspicious moment. The "what is your desire" moment from 2015 from this 3J Christmas vlive:

This is another instance of international fans taking things out of context of Korean culture. Many K-army translators, even the KM ones, have said that when asked the question, Jungkook made a clicking sound with his mouth that is the sound Koreans tend to make when they reference drinking. It mimics the sounds of popping a champagne bottle open or something like that. We see Taehyung make the exact same sound to Jimin in their song "friends" when he references in the lyrics asking Jimin to go get a drink with him today. So I think we should take this as it is, I don't think that Jungkook was saying that Jimin is his desire. I think its simply that he desires to be able to go out drinking with his hyungs as soon as he is legally of age.

Now, KMs were wondering if he was just referencing drinking, why did J-hope and Jimin have the reactions that they did? I honestly think it's just because it was unexpected. I think they were waiting for a bit of a more wholesome answer than I can't wait to get to drink with you guys. Also you need to take Idol culture into consideration and their timeline. This was at the end of 2015, they were just BARELY starting to win bigger awards and getting recognition for their hard work. They still were doing some more obvious fanservice gags on stages and had a lot more rules to follow. Idols have to be perfect, they have to be an example of the ideal. Drinking was not something most idols were really allowed to talk about, much less ever actually do on camera. (I'll reference you to the much later Eat Jin live where they gave significantly less shits about the rules and made it obvious what they were doing while still "following the rules" and drinking their alcohol off screen while live streaming, and Jimin cackling over Jin's who gives an F attitude.) So I think there was a minor bit of panic over Jungkook saying his "i want to go out drinking" comment on a livestream national TV broadcast. But thinking that this comment doesn't have anything to do with Jikook, doesn't change that they were super cute the entire time. Jungkook taking every chance he got to touch Jimin, and once he got ahold of his hand, he didn't want to let it go and sat and just played with his fingers for awhile. It was super cute!

Maybe he meant something more by his comment, maybe not. I personally don't think so and there are so many other indicators of Jungkook "desiring" Jimin or of what their relationship is to each other, that this moment doesn't need to be held onto as much as some do. But that's just my opinion!

I talk a bit about a moment that I found a huge indicator of their relationship to each other in a blog post a while ago that i don't think enough people talk about. I'll link that here:

Thanks for the ask and the kind words again! Have a good day!

#jikook #jimin #jungkook #kookmin #jikook moments we dont talk about enough #anon #ask

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takoyakitenchou · 3 years ago

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masquerade ch.11

thank god i had the foresight to write this entire fic in advance now i can just post at irregular intervals

Souma had never been one for speeches—although his improvised addresses had been pretty good in his opinion—but his best man toast for Takumi Aldini was definitely his magnum opus.

Under normal circumstances he would’ve referenced it in every vivacious conversation he had with anyone that night, but his… uh, date… had had to cancel last minute and effectively sent him on a solo venture to the bar.

So when Marina Vesca pulled up a stool next to him and requested a tequila sunrise from the bartender, Souma had never felt more grateful in his entire life.

“The fuck are you doing by yourself?” she asked.

Well, he stood corrected. “Why’re you here?”

“I got invited, Sherlock. Now stop deflecting.”

“I think you were wrong, Marina.”

“I seriously doubt that, but let’s assume I was. How so?” Marina propped her chin on her hand and regarded the chef with a mordant look.

“You remember back when we were opening Origin, you said Erina couldn’t keep up the masquerade forever? I think her facade is going to last longer than my time on this Earth.”

Marina said with a straight face, “You’re fucking stupid.”

Souma frowned. “Don’t know how to break this to you, but I’m really not in the emotional state to receive that kind of compliment.”

“First of all, that wasn’t a compliment. Second of all, soulmateship and horribly packed schedules are independent events.”

“What the hell is soulmateship? You just made that up right now.”

“What’re you gonna do if I did make it up? Why don’t you quit your moaning and actually do something? My intuition says she wanted to show tonight but some incompetent fuck of a politician held her back and made it impossible.”

Souma sighed. “Whatever happened to love being—”

“Why is it that I’ve never had a legitimate conversation with Erina in my entire life and yet I can see exactly how she feels about you when you can’t?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re a journalist?”

“You’re in denial, Souma. Are you afraid she’s going to break your heart again? I think you’d rather be broken now by getting ghosted than take a chance and love her for real.”

“Heart’s already broken,” Souma deadpanned.

“I know, but she’s the only one that can fix that. You need to give her a chance.”

“Was all this not enough?”

It was just then that a certain blonde chef decided to make her appearance at the reception. She was wearing slightly wrinkled business suit with the top button of her blouse undone and her cheeks were flushed — it was pretty obvious she’d gotten here in a complete rush without even changing.

And at the exact moment that the iconic lilac gaze met Souma’s, the journalist swore the light returned to his eyes and his vision tunneled.

“I gotta bolt to Kronberg. I swear to god, Souma, the next time we meet, you will be with Erina or I will drop out of Northwestern and join the fucking MMA. Am I clear?”

Souma grinned. “I’d pay to see that.”

“You’re deflecting again,” she warned him.

His smile widened as Erina waved subtly at him. “Yeah. You’re clear. Have a safe flight, Marina.”

“Now to business,” she said, grabbing him by his lapels and generally chucking him in Erina’s direction. “Go get her, dumbass.”

7 years post grad

“Give me one plausible reason why you absolutely cannot be the new dean of Totsuki.”

Akira slammed his head down on his desk. “I can name at least ten, Kurokiba.”

“Shoot.”

“I finished grad school last year—”

“That is irrelevant.”

“There are plenty of other compet—”

“Gramps tried to get Erina to be dean when she was a second year. Dismissed.”

“I’m busy with Hab—”

“I’m CEO of NTG. Dismissed.”

“Also, I have to plan a—”

“YOU’RE PROPOSING? HOLY FUCK HAYAMA WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME!?”

Akira sighed as he heard vague crashing noises on the other end of the line, followed by a “Hayama-kun’s proposing to Hishoko!? OHMYGOD I NEED TO TEXT ERINA!”

“Wait, Kurokiba, tell your crazy wife not to publicize. I want to surprise Hisako. Actually, after today we’re all going to have to call her Doctor Arato.”

“Even you? Damn. Hang on.”

Fifteen seconds later, the silver haired chef turned CEO asked tentatively, “Uh, Kurokiba?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. We’ll keep our mouths shut. But! The thing is, I already told Chef Doujima that you’d agreed to be the new Totsuki dean, so he retired. He’s getting married with Riko Eibisawa in a few months. You’re invited to the wedding, by the way.”

“I hate you, Kurokiba.”

“I mean, if you’re gonna be in Tokyo, you might as well run Totsuki.” Then Ryo’s voice hushed considerably, and he said in a whisper, “It’s better than having Alice as dean, right?”

Akira blanched. “True. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Alright. I’ll facetime you when I feel like it.”

Well, there was no arguing with Kurokiba Ryo.

Akira called the newly minted Doctor Arato to tell her the news.

“Alice just told me Kurokiba installed you as the new dean of Totsuki. Is that true?” she asked before he got a single word out.

The world was going to leave him behind if he wasn’t careful. “Yeah. You’re okay with that, right?”

“Of course I am. But I hope you focus on taking care of yourself more than the school. And Habui for the matter.”

“Anything for you,” Akira replied, and knew it was true. “When are you coming to Japan? I’ll send a jet.”

“It’s okay. I’m flying out to Illinois to check up on Innlausn and then I’ll probably stay a night or so at Yukihira’s place. He has some interview thing in Chicago this week and we haven’t caught up in a while.”

Akira sighed. It’d be another three days until he saw her—and he’d been getting so excited.

But then he remembered that if all things went according to plan, by the end of the month he’d be secure with the knowledge that he’d be able to spend the rest of his life with her. Not for the first time, Akira understood just how blessed he was. The velvet box sitting in his desk drawer was proof.

Arato Hisako had changed his life; now it was his turn.

#soueri #sorina

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samwrights · 5 years ago

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Baby Fever

I’ve said it once, I’ll say it 600 times. I need Hanamaki Takahiro to put a baby in me. Y’all are going to be so tired of me after this one. Fluff and slight NSFW. @dreamyjaems not totally daddy related, but pretty darn close ;)

Hanamaki;

The first time he notices it is when you’re both out with another pair of couple friends.

They’d been married for six years, while the two of you were entering three years together, and they’d just had their first baby less than a year ago.

Despite never mentioning a future desire for them, Makki watched the way you interacted with that little girl and he knew straight away.

Haha, I’m in danger.

The way your eyes soften when you hold her or the way you’ve created a new, soft persona that only spoke in high pitched gibberish

The way you were constantly buying the baby’s clothes for no reason. At all.

It becomes more apparent when the two of you are out shopping and you somehow end up in the kids clothing section.

Baby vans is where Makki draws the line. Do y’all know expensive baby vans are? I’d draw the line too.

“Sweetie...sweetheart...love of my life...” Makki has a grin on his face, his eyes aren’t open, and he’s holding your guys’ statement for your joint bank account. “Mind telling me why the fuck you spent $138 at the vans store when you didn’t buy any new vans?”

“How do you know that I didn’t?”

“Because you would have shown me them.” His grin drops into an entirely unamused look. “What did you do?”

Sighing in defeat, you walked over to a nearby shoe closet, pulling out three boxes of baby vans in varying colors and sizes. “They were just so cute 🥺”

Makki takes a seat beside you on the couch, hunching over his knees while covering his face with one hand. “I wish you’d just talk to me about this first before you went splurging on a kid we don’t even have yet.”

Yet?? Y E T??

“I was under the impression you didn’t want any.” And that wasn’t necessarily wrong, per se. The two of you were still young, trying to work through college debt, and weren’t as stable as you could be. But Makki was in this for the long haul, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want you to be the mother of his future children.

“I mean I’m not opposed to the idea of trying.”

“...wanna start trying right now?”

“You son of a bitch, I’m in.”

Iwaizumi;

Iwaizumi was going to tear his hair out if he heard you coo at a baby one more time.

At first, it was fine. Yeah, the baby you spotted while the two of you were in line at Starbucks was cute. Even cuter when the baby waved to you, he wasn’t denying that.

But nearly every chance you got when the two of you were out in public, you’d smack him on the arm when you’d see a baby.

Legit, it was like you had a fucking radar on you.

“Haji, Haji, look! Look at how cute the wittle baby is!”

It was endearing, really, because he’d see the pout form on your lips as you tried to catch the infants attention. But again, that damned radar you had was driving him wild because it seemed to happen everywhere you went.

If there were toddler siblings or, heaven forbid, twins, you absolutely lost your shit. You fawning over one was bad enough but two? Or more? Good god.

Iwaizumi has banished all walks to the park. Walking your dog together? He made a new route away from the nearest children gathering place.

He couldn’t even bring you to McDonald’s anymore because you’d just stare at the fucking play place.

“D-do you really just not want kids, Hajime?” You’d asked him one time after seeing how red he turned with near anger? Maybe anger wasn’t the right word.

“That’s not it...”

???

He groans out of embarrassment cause he really doesn’t wanna admit this out loud. “Every time you talk about kids, I literally just wanna go home and fuck a baby into you.”

“Okay, so what the fuck are we waiting for?”

“College graduation???” Damn him and his logical rationalizations.

“We’re almost done with school—if we start now we’ll have already graduated before the baby’s even born.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Oikawa;

Oikawa actually entertains your baby fever—which is no help at all.

I see him totally being the dude that indulges watching 16&Pregnant, Teen Mom, etc. with you.

Half the time, you guys make bets over which couple’s going to break up, who loses custody of their child, so on and so forth.

But one thing remains consistent with the two of you—who the cutest babies are.

A constant topic of conversation between the two of you during these times is how idiotic some of the parents were. Have y’all ever seen Unexpected? Diego was the worst, and both of you had a unanimous opinion on that.

Unfortunately for you, these shows really start piquing your curiosity as to how yours and Oikawa’s little one would actually be.

And how the two of you would be as parents. It does upset you a little bit, considering he’s heavily focused on his pro career.

Oikawa notices the lack of desire to watch any of the aforementioned shows, despite that being a typical Friday night thing for the two of you. Friday night (baby) Fever.

“Alright, what’s wrong, love?”

“Nothing? I just feel like we should do something else.”

“Uh, no. I know you’re dying to see what the hell Max was doing while Chloe was giving birth.” 💀💀💀 he’s not wrong.

You gnaw on your lip while you make dinner—as per usual for your Friday nights. You always made something that required a bit more love while Tooru kept you up to date with his career.

“Do you think we would be better parents?”

“Duh,” he responds without skipping a beat. “both of us know how to make a bottle and change diapers.” He adds, referencing to the multitude of times you’d babysat friends’ kids or his newly born niece.

“Tooru, I’m serious.” A dry yet light laugh leaves his lips before he’s standing behind you, wrapping his arms just under your breasts and resting his chin on your head.

“I am too. I’ve just been waiting for you to give me permission.”

Oya? Wait, shit wrong person sorry

Needless to say, y’all don’t need to watch anymore pregnancy shows after this—too occupied with your own journey into parenthood.

Matsukawa;

Oh Mattsun, my clueless bunny.

He probably wouldn’t even notice, tbh, that you literally are in near tears when you see a cute baby.

Cause I imagine his s/o would be one that cries over all the cute things. Puppies? Cry. Kittens? Cry. Otter pups? Double cry.

But he seems to be missing the key theme here—b a b i e s, Issei.

He kinda dense.

You’ve always been good with kids without really trying, he learned, when you started watching your best friend’s five year old son once a week.

The little bean was your best friend, besides his mom and Issei of course. Every Thursday, you got up early so you could welcome the boy, make him breakfast, and hang out with him all day.

At first, it did funny things to Mattsun to see the way you’d glow while making slime or watching your favorite kid’s movies with him.

He learned quickly you could quote the entirety of Hercules and Mulan, and often acted out the singing parts with great theatrics.

When your best friend would come for her son, you’d get a little sad, enough for Mattsun to notice. He’s not that dense.

But dense enough not to notice the way you longingly stare at mothers holding the hands of their toddlers or carrying their babies while the two of you are out grocery shopping.

You’ve never wanted anything more than to have a kid with Issei. Even if he is kinda 💀💀

He’s so good to you, and it kinda hurts your heart the way he brushes off hanging out with you and the kiddo. Like he doesn’t want children period.

So, like any other healthy relationship, you actually decide to sit down and have a talk with him about this. Low key, it kinda scared him cause he thought you were about to dump him. “Do you see yourself having kids in the future?”

“Babe, I physically cannot.”

“I fucking hate you, Issei. I’m being serious.” Despite your words, you try not to laugh. You failed.

“What brought this on?”

“You just never seem to want to hang out with me and the rugrat when he’s over.”

“Not gonna lie, it’s just really hot watching you play mom.”

“You know, I don’t have to play mom.”

“Bedroom. Now.”

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queenestarcheron · 4 years ago

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acomaf review

so i recently reread acomaf and i made a post about everything that i liked/didn’t like (more of the latter). i also started another one so some of that is repeated in here. i have referenced page numbers but they are all from the uk paperback edition so i don’t think they will be the same for everyone. it’s all chronological. there will probably be typos since i wrote this on a whim pls ignore them. this is quite anti rhys so if that bothers you just ignore this and pls don’t attack me for my opinions.

(pg. 24) feyre says "I don't know if I can handle them calling me High Lady." implying that she doesn't even want to be in a position of power in prythian. is that the trauma talking? tamlin also says that there is no such thing as high lady which makes no sense bc high lord power is hereditary so it should be able to go to women too. also this makes rhys making feyre high lady make no sense.

(pg. 29) poor lucien i cannot believe his brothers did that to his girlfriend

(pg. 48-49) feyre threw a shoe at rhysand and all im saying is that, if nesta threw a shoe at cassian, they would try and flay her alive

(pg. 73) rhys says there can be high ladies... but there never was one?? how does he know they can exist? it doesn't add up. again, if a person could just be given the high lord power, then what is the point of having the high lord bloodline

the 90 pages in between are just feyre getting upset and rhys saving her from the spring court

(pg. 163) i am diSGOSTED "You know I'm always happy to tangle in the sheets with you Amren ... I know how much you enjoy Illyrian-" seriously?? i don't think this is a normal friendship dynamic. also we hear about how dangerous amren is but cassian literally just made this comment and she did nothing. and we dont see her do anything to others at all. the only thing to suggest that she's a powerful being was the end of acowar

(pg. 169) amren calling the illyrians "barbarians" does not sit right with me

(pg. 209) "They might not be happy about it, but I'll make Nesta and Elain do it" you'll make your sisters risk their lives and status? to help the fae? the race that enslaved humans for centuries? okay feyre. everyone's right, youre a great sister

(pg. 215) rhys offers feyre sex with cassian? how are the nesta stans the ones that don't gaf about cassian when his own friend (who he considers a brother) says this about him? i don't think after 500 years of knowing him and liking him nesta would say any of this

(pg. 229) cassian gets mad at rhys for endangering feyre's life for no reason and then rhys says "you would do the same" like nO SIR NO HE WOULDN'T

(pg. 246) feyre says nesta looks older in her eyes. she's obviously been affected by her sister running away with the fae and her and elain even thought she was dead. don't try and tell me that she doesn't care bye

(pg. 255) cassian's dinner table speech about how feyre died for the fae and nesta should stop being a bitch. um, sir your people enslaved hers for CENTURIES? and you want to play the fucking victim? okayyy sure. have fun with that

(pg. 280) rhys doesn't make his people play the tithe but he lets them live in tents in snowy mountains? while he lives in comfort? and im supposed to support this guy? hard pass for me

(pg. 288) rhys stalks about keeping velaris a secret and says "My people do not seem to be suffering much from it." basically ignoring the people in the hewn city and illyria as his people? tehy are all hated by the rest of the courts and apparently rhys is just cool with that bc velaris is fine.

(pg. 326) all i want to say is that cresseida deserves so much better

(pg. 361) okay lol jurian was "obsessive" in his pursuit to free his people. why couldn't he just be chill about it? his people could wait you know. he didn't hav eto go batshit crazy. it's not like they were servants their whole lives and were being treated like they weren't people.

(pg. 377) okay so this is when cassian comes back from giving nesta the letter (wings and ember) and he says something about how the family is full of "bossy, know-it-all females" my mans you invaded HER PERSONAL SPACE and asked her intrusive and inappropriate questions. she literally did what any other woman would have done.

(pg. 386) rhys fully says "neither side is innocent" when talking to the mortal queens BOI THE FAE KEPT THEM AS SLAVES WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND STOP TRYING TO SOUND OPPRESSED OMG

(pg. 393) they are talking about how miryam and drakon fell in love when she was still with jurian and apparently it's jurian's fault bc he was too obsessed with liberating the humans? you can say what you want about them fighting for the humans but it's clear they really don't give a shit

(pg. 398) feyre hears mor's story and says that she understands why rhys can't forgive nesta. she actually just compared what mor's family did (trying to marry off mor and nailing a note to her body and leaving her at the autumn court) to what nesta did (was mean to feyre when their family was in poverty and didn't stop feyre from hunting). chilee wut

(pg. 415) the court of nightmares scene and all i want to say is DID ANYONE IN THE HEWN CITY CONSENT TO SEE THAT. also their high lord using women like objects isn't exactly sending his people the best message, especially the youthful ones. like if their ruler is doing it, then why shouldn't they? rhys is kind of making it worse for women ( at the very least he isn't helping AT ALL)

(pg. 443) mor says that she hates the illyrian mountains and says that they should be "burned to the ground", completely forgetting about all of the people there, the culture and the fact that she has 2 and half illyrian friends

(all of chapter 54) rhys tells us his sad backstory and a bunch of excuses but never apologises for his actions utm. am i supposed to excuse sexual assault because he was emotionally distraught? bc im not going to do that

(pg. 548-553) nesta stands up A LOT for the humans and tries to convince the queens to give them the book. we see a lot of her humanity in this scene. don't tell me she's just a cold bitch please read with your eyes and see for yourself. ALSO THE NESSIAN BIT ON PAGE 553 LETS GOOOO

(pg. 559) feyre talks about how nesta feels everything too much and i just want to ask where this feyre was in acofas when her sister was off in the deep end with her ptsd

(pg. 589) jurian is called a monster for literally no fucking reason omg give my guy a break

(pg. 606) lucien helps elain when she is fae and on the ground soaking wet. this is all before he finds out that she is his mate. this is why we stan <3

please feel free to comment on/challenge anything ive said. you can try and come for my favs if you want but it probably won’t change my mind. i might do acofas later.

#acomaf #pro nesta archeron #pro nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #anti rhysand #a court of mist and fury #anti ic

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untamed-era · 4 years ago

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Come Out and Level Up, Part 2

(part 1) (EDIT: link now leads to both halves of part 1) (EDIT 2: AO3 Link)

Wei Ying does not look pleased with the situation. This is unexpected. Lan Wangji remembers finding proper labels as a deep relief, a sense that other people matched his experience. Wei Ying, on the other hand, comes and sits down, staring at his phone again, looking dejected.

Lan Wangji waits.

“I’m. I guess it’s good I know this, right? Let me make better choices, going forward. It’s good to. It’s good to understand, why I never particularly wanted to date anyone that asked me out. That’s good.”

He is trying to talk himself into the idea. Lan Wangji continues waiting.

“I just —“ He looks up, suddenly, meeting Lan Wangji’s eyes. “Lan Zhan, I really did want to get married.” He sounds forlorn, lost. “I mean. You remember, I talked about inviting you to a farm, someday? And like.” He shifts, uncomfortably, curling his arms around himself. Lan Wangji wants to hug him, comfort him. He does not know how. “I never pictured a wife, but I don’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

Lan Wangji remembers the fantasy Wei Ying had described. It had been so casually referenced, the idea of a little farm and lots of children running around and food cooking inside. It’s featured heavily in his own fantasies, since, when he allows himself to forget that he was invited only as an interloper.

“Action does not equal attraction,” he tells Wei Ying, quietly. “You may yet find a… wife. If you want. If they are happy with the arrangement.”

“Maybe. But like, how do you know when you’ve found someone you’d be willing to spend your life with, if you don’t have the whole true love thing to work with? I mean, you were the only specific person I ever put anywhere near that whole dream. I can’t think of anyone I know who’d be… who’d fit…” He trails off, thinking.

Lan Wangji looks away, breathing through the emotional turmoil of that. He knows Wei Ying doesn’t mean it like Lan Wangji wishes he did. He’s as good as saying he can’t picture Lan Wangji there all the time, can’t see him as a true life partner of any sort. Lan Wangji will respect that. Of course he will. None of this is about him.

“How did you even figure all this out?” Wei Ying asks, suddenly, and Lan Wangji flinches. Wei Ying plows ahead without noticing. “I mean, there’s so many terms here, and I don’t know — maybe I’m just overthinking everything! I like thinking about sex, I like the idea of kissing! But apparently not like everyone else does? How did you ever sort all this out?”

It was the best words for how I felt about you, Lan Wangji thinks but does not say. It was the only way to make sense of the intensity and specificity of his feelings. How can he help, when Wei Ying’s problem is not knowing, instead of knowing too much?

“I mean,” Wei Ying continues, not waiting for any sort of response, “I mean, like, sure I’ve contemplated kissing people in the past. Specific people, even! I mean, I’ve thought about kissing you, who hasn’t, obviously, that’s just… That’s just part of friendship, isn’t it?”

Lan Wangji stares. All of his deep, meditative thoughts are crumpling around him. He cannot feel any part of his body. He cannot interpret any of this. If he tries, he may actually explode.

“Oooookay you’re looking at me weirdly,” Wei Ying says from very far away and also about two feet from Lan Wangji’s face. It should be farther. It should be much less. How can he cope with any of this. “So what you’re saying is that imagining kissing isn’t a normal part of any close friendship.”

How is Lan Wangji supposed to answer that? It’s certainly a normal part of his closest friendships. Friendship. Singular.

Wei Ying laughs, high and strained. “I don’t suppose we can just forget about what I just said, move back to. Uh. Some other topic? Um.”

Lan Wangji physically cannot. He thinks his entire brain has rewired itself to play “I’ve thought about kissing you” on repeat. He cannot think of anything else well enough to respond. He cannot muster the strength to echo it.

“Maybe I should just. Just go? Sorry, I know I made things weird, I wouldn’t blame—“

“Don’t,” Lan Wangji says. It’s spoken from his instincts, the ones that never want Wei Ying to leave, the ones that he overrules when he has any brainpower left over for them.

“Uh. Okay, Lan Zhan.” He looks nervous, Lan Wangji notes. He should say something to reassure Wei Ying. That sounds good.

“You’ve thought about kissing me,” he says instead. Hmm.

Wei Ying avoids his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah? I… I didn’t think that was a big deal but. I’m also kind of thinking of… a lot of other. Things. I’ve thought about and. Oh, I don’t know. They’re my problem, I guess. I already made things weird enough.”

“What things,” he says.

Wei Ying looks at him, eyes wide.

Lan Wangji struggles to gather his words. “I want. To hear. Your thoughts.” His hands are curled into fists so tightly they hurt. “Always,” he adds.

“Lan Zhan, no, I’ve already made you uncomfortable enough, I wouldn’t want to —“

“I am not uncomfortable.” He hesitates, and self-evaluates. “Or. That is not my primary emotion.”

“Confused you, then.”

And he can’t quite dispute that one. He is confused. He is dumbfounded, and… It takes a long moment to sort through everything else and identify the most prominent emotion.

“Yes,” he says, finally. “But I am also hopeful.”

That finally leaves Wei Ying speechless. It is nice to turn the tables again. He waits, in silence.

“What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” he finally says, weakly. “What the fuck do you have to be hopeful about.”

“You asked about how I figured my identity out.” Lan Wangji says. He can see the shape of the conversation again, he thinks. He does not know the end, but he is hopeful.

“We’re well past that!” Wei Ying says. “That was before I — before — Before —“

“I found the terms,” Lan Wangji says, ploughing ahead heedlessly, “because they best described how much I wanted to kiss you, Wei Ying.”

He has flabbergasted Wei Ying again. He savors it, watching Wei Ying blink and gape and wave one hand wildly. Finally, Wei Ying opens his mouth, and quietly says “Wanted? Past tense?”

“Want,” he admits. It comes easily, in spite of everything. Years of hidden pining, all leading to this one needle-point admission.

Wei Ying stares at him. It’s easy to meet his eyes.

He’s scared, of course he’s scared. He’s on tenterhooks, waiting for the response. But he has had no hope, no reason to say anything, sometimes not even a chance — and now he has them all.

“What the fuck,” Wei Ying finally says, “is this conversation.”

Lan Wangji inclines his head in agreement.

“I mean seriously, what the fuck. I mean this started with me mentioning a gay person at work and now you’re… we’re…. I’m….” He shies away from saying what, exactly, any of these pronouns are doing, which Lan Wangji thinks is deeply unfortunate. He, himself, has been uncomfortably vulnerable multiple times and Wei Ying has mostly just floundered at him. In fairness, he himself had a complicated process of coming to terms with his sexuality and would not have been balanced or coherent about it in the first ten minutes of questioning. He can and will be patient with this. In the part of him that does not care about fairness it rankles, that he spent the last ten years slowly making peace with his identity and here Wei Ying is with the exact same internalized heteronormativity that characterized middle school.

“So, but. You want to kiss me, though.”

Lan Wangji had been very clear on that, he thought. “Mn.”

“Why, though. I mean just… Why?”

Lan Wangji stares at Wei Ying, the love of his life, his best friend, the smartest person he knows, for a good long minute. “Because I am attracted to you. Romantically and sexually.”

They stare at each other for another long moment, Wei Ying’s mouth hanging open. “What the fuck, Lan Zhan,” he says, finally, weakly.

If he were someone else, he could, perhaps, rhapsodize about Wei Ying’s sterling qualities, the foundation of his attraction. He certainly has the material, but lacks the skill to shape it into something convincing. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable,” he says.

“Uncomfortable? Uncomfortable? I’m not uncomfortable, Lan Zhan, I’m just baffled. I mean, you’re you! Who wouldn’t want to hear this stuff from you! How am I supposed to deal with this! How am I supposed to figure out — wait hang on I’m calling Jiang Cheng.”

Lan Wangji blinks. He did not anticipate Wei Ying’s irritating brother being part of any of these confessions. To borrow a phrase from Wei Ying, what the fuck is this conversation.

“Jiang Cheng? Hi, Jiang Cheng, hey, quick question: how much do you think about kissing your male friends.”

The faint but irate voice of Jiang Cheng says “What the fuck, Wei Ying.”

“No, this is important. Do you think about kissing your friends? How often are you hanging out with like, other men, and just start thinking about kissing them. Like just occasionally, or.”

“Never! I never think about that! Why would I?”

“So like. If one of them — let’s say Lan Zhan — offered to kiss you. Would you want to?”

A silence. “Why the fuck would I want to kiss Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng says. Lan Wangji thinks maybe he should be offended, except that it is an exact mirror of his feelings toward Jiang Cheng. Besides, Wei Ying is making a very endearing offended face on his behalf.

“Why wouldn’t you want to kiss Lan Zhan — wait I just realized I could be doing that instead of arguing with you so I guess live on in your delusion.”

“What the fuck, Wei Ying! Don’t you dare go harassing —“

The line cuts off before Jiang Cheng can finish his threat. Fortunately, Lan Wangji cannot find it in himself to give one singular fuck about his opinion right now. He stares at Wei Ying, who looks, suddenly, nervous. He licks his lips, and Lan Wangji stares more. “Uh,” he says, finally. “I still don’t. Exactly. Know where I stand on most of this? Like I’m pretty sure I want to, uh, experiment with, with everything, ‘cause suddenly I have a ton of questions, but mostly I think it’s frankly very rude that you aren’t already kissing me, what’s up with that, Lan Zhan —“

Lan Wangji’s tattered patience abruptly snaps, and he is pulling Wei Ying’s face to his before the other can finish talking. After all, he was not raised to be rude.

#lan wangji #wei wuxian #ace headcanons #wangxian #mdzs fic #this took much longer than i expected #but here it is

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muwi-translates · 4 years ago

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剣が君特典ドラマCD 若葉風奇譚～江戸花嫁騒動の巻～

Ken ga Kimi Tokuten Drama CD - Strange Tales of the Early Summer Breeze ~Edo Bride Scandal Volume~

Nine track hour or so long drama. No spoilers. As usual, Chinese source with light Japanese referencing.

**Please don’t move this translation or claim it as your own.**

Track 1 - Prologue

Everyone: M-Marriage?!

Enishi: Shh! You’re too loud!

Tsuzuramaru: S-Sorry… but, Miss is getting married…?

Enishi: Well, who wouldn’t be surprised? That one day our princess would actually become a bride… Ugh, those pink cheeks, that silky skin— I can't believe it’s all going to another guy…Gaaah! Princess!!

Saneaki: No, wait, are you sure? It’s so sudden it’s a bit hard to believe.

Suzukake: S-Saneaki’s right! What if you got it wrong? If… if… she got married, I’d get lonely…

Sakyo: You two need to calm down. No matter how much you panic, the problem won’t solve itself. First, let’s listen to what Enishi-dono has to say.

Sakyo: Now then, Enishi-dono. Quickly, tell us what is happening. Hurry and tell us everything you know…!

Kei: You’re the one who needs to calm down! You’re gonna kill him! Let go!

Sakyo: Ah, my deepest apologies. I got a little too… very well, please explain.

Enishi: *gasp* *gasp*...I saw heaven for a second there…

Saneaki: You were really hanging on by a thread there, Enishi-dono.

Enishi: As if you cared about me at all!

Enishi: Anyway, I understand how Sakyo feels. I don’t want to accept this just as much as you guys. The princess getting married to some man…

Tsuzuramaru: I don’t want to think about it!

Enishi: Exactly, to not think about it is to not believe it.

Kei: You’re the one who said it, how could you not believe it?!

Enishi: It’s true I don’t believe it, but I heard it myself.

Suzukake: Heard it? From where?

Enishi: I went to a cloth dealer I knew, and he was talking to me about how his son was getting married soon. Was bragging about how amazing his partner was. I was listening pretty intently, but the more he spoke, the more I thought he was talking about our princess. Eventually I figured out that he *was* talking about our princess, so I ran without even finishing my sake!

Sakyo: And then you summoned us here, yes? I will not say anything about you drinking in broad daylight, I understand the situation well enough.

Enishi. That’s right. That’s why I had to gather all my friends from our journey together from the bridal procession. This is the most serious of emergencies, right? It looked like the cloth dealer’s wedding gift was almost done being prepared, so I thought it would be better to tell you guys as soon as possible.

Kei: Ha. This is stupid. I thought something had happened, but that’s it?

Saneaki: Kei-dono? What’s wrong?

Kei: What do you mean what’s wrong? Cut it out! I was wondering why we had to be called here when it’s just about a girl getting married.

Enishi: You say that, but weren’t you the quickest here?

Kei: Shut up! I… just happened to be nearby!

Tsuzuramaru: Hm? But on my way here a man that looked just like you sped right past me. Did they just happen to look alike? I was walking pretty quickly but he still managed to pass me and disappeared. What a truly extraordinary person…

Kei: *punches Tsuzuramaru* S-S-S-S-Shut up! Stop yabbering! Besides! Enishi, I don’t believe what you’re saying at all. You must have made a mistake when you were all smashed.

Saneaki: Kei-dono is right. If she really were to be married to someone, she would have no reason to hide it from us—

Suzukake: Aaaaah!!

Kei: W-What is it now?

Suzukake: I-I just remembered… when I was delivering medicine earlier, I passed by Princess’ storefront. I think I saw some congratulatory gifts from a dowry being brought there...

Saneaki: What? If that’s true, then what Enishi said might have some weight…

Tsuzuramaru: Ah… it seems that way…

Enishi: Why don’t you guys trust me but trust Suzukake?!

Tsuzuramaru: If this is really happening then… Miss is really being married to some man… Aaaaagh…

Kei: Argh! You’re so loud! Don’t hold your head and start screaming! Oi, Sakyo, don’t just sit there, say something!

Sakyo: Unforgivable.

Kei: Hah? Why’d you stand up for?

Kei: ...Why’d you take your sword? …What are you planning on doing?

Sakyo: What, you ask?

Sakyo: Is it not obvious? I will cut that man.

Suzukake: Cut?! C-Calm down, Sakyo-san!

Tsuzuramaru: Y-You can’t do that!

Saneaki: That’s right, Sagihara-dono. You shouldn’t cut people.

Sakyo: But…!

Saneaki: Even if you injured him, that would change nothing.

Tsuzuramaru: Exactly!

Saneaki: It should be enough to exile him to a deserted island—

Tsuzuramaru: Saneaki!! You can’t do that either!

Kei: Saying some real scary stuff like that… are you forgetting there’s a patrolman here listening?

Enishi: In any case we’re not accepting this marriage. Everybody agree?

Sakyo: I have no complaints. This situation must be stopped, no matter the means.

Kei: You’re scaring us, you need to cool off!

Suzukake: I… I’ve always wished for the Princess’ happiness…so if she really wants to get married, I won’t stop her. But… but, if she’s hesitating even a little… then I hope I’ll be able to convince her to think about it again.

Tsuzuramaru: I’m the same. No matter what, I have to show her my feelings first!

Sakyo: Indeed. I may have been a bit rash...

Kei: A *bit*? A bit my ass. I don’t care what you guys do as long as you’re not cutting down people. And no exiling either!

Saneaki: I will think about it.

Kei: Don’t ‘think about it’, don’t even think about it at all!

Saneaki: No matter the case, I cannot pretend I didn’t hear about this. If this marriage is real, then I am concerned about why she didn’t talk to us about it. This needs to be investigated.

Enishi: Right! For the princess, let’s break this marriage!

Everyone except Kei: Right!

Kei: We’re not breaking anything, didn’t we *just say* we’re investigating? Geez… nothing bad’s gonna happen… right?

---

Track 2 - Kei

Ah, geez, what’s all this fuss about? Those guys got together and made so much noise over nothing, what an eyesore. It’s just her getting married to someone, what’s the problem?

W-Well, it’s worrying that she didn’t mention it to any of us. But just a bit. Just a bit, that’s all!

Hm? That guy ahead of me… isn’t he the young master of the cloth dealers’ Enishi talked about? But who’s the girl next to him?

(Looks like they’re pretty close… they’re walking so close, and they look happy together.

Don’t tell me, this guy’s about to get married, but he’s going on dates with girls in broad daylight?!

Don’t mess around. So he’s not planning on properly taking care of her after all?

That girl’s always working hard no matter where she is, she’s strong-willed but gentle at heart, and she’s an unimaginably good woman. But here you are… Dammit… how could someone like you snatch her up?)

Unforgivable.

Oi, you over there--

Who’s there?! Don’t bother me--

Huh? Ah, i-it’s you?! Wh-What are you doing here… d-don’t you have to watch the store?

Eh? Ah… you were just coming back from the dojo? Ah, well, there’s nothing wrong with that.

(Nothing wrong with that, my ass! It’ll get ugly if she stays here! If she sees that young master walking around with another woman, she’ll get hurt for sure! I need to think of a way to get her out of here fast. Agh! Why do I have to do something like this? But I can’t just leave it...)

Uh… *ahem* ah, um.. that’s… um… ah, that’s right! You look like you’re getting hungry.

You’re not? Just say you are, idiot!

Anyway, there’s a good teahouse over there. Let’s go! Right now!

---

(*sigh* Speak of the devil and they’ll appear, huh… but looking at her, it doesn’t look like she saw the young master. But now that I’ve seen that, to let a guy who hangs out with women like that become her husband-- I’m definitely not going to allow it. But… how am I gonna tell her that? …*sigh*)

‘What’s wrong’? What a sleazy guy! It’s because I’ve been thinking about you that I have this headache!

Huh? N-No, it’s nothing… Anyway, hurry up and eat it. Look, all those fresh beans in this anmitsu is definitely going to taste good-- ah, BEANS?! Ugh, I almost ate them…

Hah? I’m not being weird at all! I’m the same as always! Just hurry up and eat it! Here, you can have my portion too.

(What the hell am I doing? I’m getting way too distracted… Anyway, all I have to say is: “Hurry up and turn down the marriage”. A sleaze like him is going to bring her nothing but unhappiness. The time to stop it is now. No, I *have* to say it! “You gotta give up a guy like that”!)

Hey, you. Just give it up.

Idiot, why are you so dazed for? Did you think I wouldn’t know? I was going to find out why you didn’t tell me. But, I have to say this.

If you keep going like this, then you’re just going to get hurt. I won’t say more on what bad things could happen. So think about it again.

That’s true. You wouldn’t understand what I’m talking about. Because you didn’t see what I saw. But I saw it myself, with my own eyes.

I always thought that as long as you were happy, it would be enough. But I realised this wasn’t right. From now on, I don’t want to see you in pain either. That’s why, just believe in me, and think about it!

Ah! I see, you were already planning on giving it up?

--Why are you giving the anmitsu I gave you back?

Hah? I was trying so hard to get you to give up the anmitsu that you decided you won’t eat anymore?

N-No! I wasn’t talking about the anmitsu!

W-Well, it’s true that I don’t like beans, but I don’t care if someone else eats them! Besides! Being this serious over a bowl of anmitsu, that doesn’t even make sense! I wasn’t talking about that at all!

Anyway! Isn’t there something more important?!

That… you know… what I’m trying to say is-- argh, dammit! What I’ve been trying to say is that I want your future to be happy!

(Huh… huh? What… did I just say?)

*Clapping*

A-ah, no! Wanting you to be happy… that… that wasn’t what I meant! I-- aghhh!!

T-The money… I’m leaving it here! Bye!!

(What am I doing…? I was supposed to have her give up on the marriage completely… in the end I said so many unnecessary things… I’ll… never be able to face her again… Guh…)

---

Track 3 - Suzukake

Suzukake: (There she is… it’s the princess. She’s always sweeping the storefront at this time. If she’s really getting married… I won’t be able to meet up with her casually anymore.

I’ll get lonely.

Hey, Princess, are you really going to get married? Did you really want to get married?

I want to ask her, but I’m scared…

Ah! She spotted me… I… have to go. Even though I don’t know what to say… I-I’ll just talk like I normally do!)

H-Hey, Princess! The weather’s good today, isn’t it?

Eh? Why was I hiding behind the wagon? So I could come and see you— no, hide and seek! I was playing hide and seek!

Mhm! Y-Yep… I was playing by myself! Ah, no… a person can’t play by themselves… uh… um…

(Ugh… she’s going to think I’m weird…)

Eh? U-Uh huh, yeah, I came to see you. Because I have something I wanted to say to you.

(If I say that then there’s no way I’m gonna run away. I don’t want to either! I’m gonna listen to what she has to say.)

Hey… you haven’t been thinking about wanting to get married before, right?

I’m sorry for asking out of the blue… but I really have to know. You might not remember what happened during the bridal procession clearly anymore, but I still do.

I thought you looked really pretty in your bridal kimono then.

You were just a fake bride then but… but, did the princess really have someone you wanted to get married to one day? Was there... a place you wanted to go with someone?

(Why am I asking these kinds of questions? It’s because… I don’t want to let you go. If you go away with that person… I’ll get lonely. My heart will start hurting, and I’ll feel like I want to cry. Hey… don’t go off to another man’s side! Don’t go, Princess!)

Please, tell me. Do you want to get married?

...One day…?

(That’s a lie… you’re about to get married soon, aren’t you? And then we won’t be able to play, we won't be able to laugh together like this anymore.)

*sobs* Princess! You can’t! Don’t go anywhere! I don’t want that!! *cries*

I won’t be able to hug you like this anymore! I don’t want that! Hey, don’t go, alright?

I’ll do whatever I have to to make you smile! If you ever get hurt, I’ll be able to heal you quickly! No… I’d never let you get hurt! That’s why, Princess, stay with me forever!

Enishi: What the hell are you guys doing in public?

Suzukake: Aaah! Enishi?! Let me go! Princess is— Princess is—!

Enishi: How could I let you cry out on the streets? Can’t you see you’re worrying the princess?

Suzukake: How could you be so calm? Separating us is so mean!

Enishi: Hah?

Suzukake: The princess is disappearing soon! She’s gonna get taken away by a man I don’t even know!!!

Enishi: W-Wait! If you say it like that then you’re gonna make me sound like a human trafficker! Look! The people around us are staring! Do you want the police to come too?!

Suzukake: *wailing*

Enishi: O-Oi! Don’t move around so much! A-Ah, you’ll hit the wagon! Aaaagh!!

---

Track 4 - Enishi

*sigh* That got pretty bad… Thanks for letting me rest inside the restaurant, Princess. Suzukake kept coming back too, I wonder what happened?

Ah… you don’t know either. I see.

(Well, he’s probably coming back to listen to any rumours about the marriage… Even though he beat me to it, it looks like no one will bother us for the time being. Plus it’s just the two of us in the restaurant… I guess even the heavens are helping me.)

Ah, no, it’s nothing. Anyway, do you have some time now, Princess?

I see. It’s started to get calmer. That’s good. Hey, Princess, how about we talk for a bit? Here, come sit over here.

(Alright, alright! Everything’s going smoothly. Even though I want to look at Princess like this a bit more, the marriage thing is the most important thing at hand right now. I even made some special preparations for this. I have to change her mind no matter what.)

Hey, Princess. There’s actually something I want to give you.

Here, isn’t it beautiful? This kanzashi.

When I saw it I thought it would suit you so well I decided to buy it. It’s my present for you.

Don’t say that you can’t accept it, you’ll make the kanzashi cry! Besides, there’s nobody else aside from you I want to give it to, so you should take it.

Don’t move, let me put it on.

Come on, if you keep moving around I won’t be able to put it on properly, right?

Yep! I knew it’d suit you! As expected of someone like me, not bad! It’s made out of wood like the ones used for scabbards. Don’t you think that’s nice? You can say it matches the accessories I’m wearing.

Eh? You’re saying this is the first time you know what a scabbard is made out of?

Haha, I’m not *that* knowledgeable yet! Ahaha…

(Uuh… Even though I’m happy she just complimented me, we’re not here to talk about what it’s made out of… I thought it would remind her about the marriage… As expected of the princess, I can’t just use any plain old method… in that case…)

Buuuuut I’m a bit worried…

Why, you ask? Because the princess is just so cute, I’m worried that another man will steal you away.

Maybe that kanzashi can be proof that you should be by my side forever.

Hey… if I said that to you, how would you react? I don’t want to give a princess this cute to someone else.

I’m not playing around, this is how I really feel.

Princess, don’t run away. I want you to listen to me properly. The man you love the most… what’s he like?

You must have thought of someone. Even if you tried to hide it, I can see it clearly. Princess, please think about it carefully.

The man that you’re thinking of right now, is he better than me?

I don’t plan to lose to him. If you doubt my feelings, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll fight him if I have to.

Don’t stop me, there are times where men have to get into battles like this one.

I plan to bring that man here, and have a fight with him fair and square right in front of you.

What? He’s in the house? That’s perfect. Could you do me a favour and bring him out?

(The fact that this guy can just come in and out of her house in broad daylight… I’m so jealous!!— No, he’s about a hundred years too early staying here! Who is this outstanding guy? I’ll personally challenge you! If I win, she’ll definitely change her mind about the marriage!)

He’s out. I’ve been waiting for you. Now, it’s time to duel—!

Ah, huh? Um… I’m pretty sure you’re the princess’ father…?

(Why did her father come out? Hah? I just realised I didn’t specify that I was looking for her marriage partner. Haha, that’s true, if it’s not about love then of course the person she loves the most would be her father. Uh-huh… I see. So… my super serious confession didn’t get through to her at all? P-Princess… I can feel sad too, you know…)

Eh, ah… no, father… fighting fair and square… it was just a figure of speech! F-Father? Why are you grabbing my shoulder smiling like that?

Eh? A cooking battle?

You’re happy because there hasn’t been any youngsters with a backbone to challenge you lately…?? D-Don’t joke, how could a ronin like me challenge the owner of a restaurant?

N-No… y-you made a mistake— this is all just a misunderstanding!!

W-Wait!! Don’t pull me! I know I’m carrying a sword but I’ve never used a knife before!

AAH!! Princess, help me!! Princessss!!!!

---

Track 5 - Interlude

Kei, Suzukake, Enishi: *sigh*

Saneaki: What’s wrong, you three? Why do you look so worn out?

Kei: Why did I… in front of so many people…

Suzukake: *sobs* No… Princess….

Enishi: J-Julienning… no more…

Sakyo: This time it’s Enishi-dono? What a predicament...

Tsuzuramaru: W-What exactly happened…?

Saneaki: Enishi-dono, don’t you have anything to say?

Enishi: I… I’ll never give up! Princesss!!

Saneaki: It’s no use. I can’t get through to him.

Tsuzuramaru: What about you, Kei? What happened?

Kei: I have nothing to say… except… except. That cloth dealer bastard was getting real chummy with another woman!

Tsuzuramaru: What?!

Sakyo: He is already going to be wed soon… and he was with another woman? Unbelievable…

Saneaki: Even if we ignored Enishi-dono for now, if Kei-dono said so then it must be true.

Enishi: Why do you always have to say things that wound my heart?

Suzukake: *sobs* Princess… *cries*

Saneaki: Suzukake-dono…

Tsuzuramaru: I can’t let this go on! I’m going to go find Miss now!

Saneaki: Wait! Tsuzuramaru-dono!

Tsuzuramaru: Don’t stop me! There’s nothing to say about a guy like him!

Saneaki: Ah, he’s gone…It looks like he went without a plan… will he be alright?

Saneaki: Now then, Sagihara-dono, what should we do?

Sakyo: You… To hand her over to a person like that…

Saneaki: …It looks like there isn’t a plan here either. *sigh*

---

Track 6 - Tsuzuramaru

Tsuzuramaru: *panting* I made it…

(Miss… she’s inside. Calm down, Tsuzuramaru. She’s just the same as usual, helping out at home, she hasn’t left the house yet. I can still make it. I should still make it! Now’s the time to be a man, as if I’m staking my life on this!)

*stomach grumbles*

(For my stomach to growl even at a time like this… it makes me hate myself. No… but… ah… that smells so good. It looks like they’re cooking something right now. Are these dried sweet potatoes?

That smell… Miss’ food always whets the appetite. My stomach’s been completely captured. Even if it’s the same dish, if you look carefully, you can tell she put a lot of effort into it. A woman who meticulously works no matter what it is… that’s Miss… I… I…)

*stomach grumbles*

(Ugh… I want to yell out how I feel about Miss, but I’m so hungry I can’t even summon the energy…)

M-Miss? Why did you come outside?

Is that so? Because you saw me? H-How embarrassing. I seem to have gotten in the way of your cooking.

(No, this is a good opportunity. If I want Miss to cancel the marriage now’s the moment!)

Miss… actually, I’ve been wanting to tell you—

Ugh… this… Actually, I haven't eaten properly since morning because of my worries…

I came at a good time?

T-Taste testing? Are you saying I can help taste what you’re making right now?

(What? N-No… why did I come here in the first place? But to decline her offer would be a shame… and I’m hungry anyway…)

T-Then if it’s alright with you, I’ll try a little.

Y-Yes! Excuse me…

Usually the master does all the food preparations. It’s strange to see Miss doing that today.

Hm? A lot of customers came and there weren't enough ingredients? So he went to get some?

Ahaha, these customers can really eat a lot, don't they?

Eh? They weren’t eaten? He just did a lot of cooking? And made a lot of food?

Hm… I don’t really understand, but that’s unfortunate, isn’t it?

(Wait… doesn’t that mean it’s just the two of us here right now? W-What…? My heart suddenly won’t calm down… Anyway, I need to calm down first…)

Sorry, Miss! I was just thinking about something. Ah... did you need me to taste that sweet potato?

Then I’ll help myself.

Delicious! It’s so good! I could taste the flavour of the hot sweet potato as soon as it hit my mouth!

I’m not just being polite! Miss will definitely be a good wife one day.

(Hm? Wife? That’s right… I seem to have forgotten something important. What was it?)

Oh, did you need me to taste that too?

I’m very grateful. Then, if you’ll allow me…

As expected, delicious!

(Ah… I’m so lucky... If I were to marry Miss… would it be like this everyday? Marry? ...Marry? Huh… Something doesn’t seem right. I’ve forgotten something… but I can’t remember.

No, I should be focusing on helping taste test the dishes Miss made herself! If I don’t do it properly there’ll be retribution!)

The flavour of this fried fish is endless! I can’t stop my chopsticks! It’s so good I want to eat it with rice! Eh? Can I? Then I’ll help myself. I’ll eat this rice ball, then!

Ah! So satisfying!

Miss’ future husband is going to be so lucky! Hahahaha….

---

Kei: So. Why did you come back so casually after going out to eat food?!!

Tsuzuramaru: I-I’m ashamed of myself…

Kei: A samurai should stick to his word! Where did all that energy you had when you rushed out this morning go?!!

Tsuzuramaru: Ah… it’s because Miss’ food was so good, I accidentally forgot my original objective…

Suzukake: How lucky, you got to eat the princess’ homemade cooking.

Enishi: Good grief. Let’s not even talk about the food I made, all I got was severe criticism. Huu...

Tsuzuramaru: I-I’m sorry. Hey, where’s Saneaki?

Kei: He just went out. If he can’t do it either, then there’s nothing we’ll be able to do.

---

Track 7 - Saneaki

(The sun is about to set, and the number of pedestrians passing the bridges has fallen. If the information obtained is correct, the cloth dealer’s young master should pass by here around this time. To get to the truth about these marriage rumours, and the fact that he’s been close to other women, I’ll get to the bottom of this here. If there are any surprises…

No… of course, I don’t plan to cut him down. But if it’s just... the back of the blade, then there should be no problem.

W-What was I just thinking? I’m just going to talk to him.

But… contaminating her beautiful and flawless heart, this is a very serious crime.

Hm? That figure… It’s her? Why? At this time?

I can’t believe I’d see her while waiting for the young master… if she asks me what I’m doing, I’ll have no way to answer her.

Ugh, did she notice me?)

What a coincidence.

To meet in a place like this. Although… where were you going at a time like this?

Tsuzuramaru-dono forgot something at the restaurant?

(What was he doing? That Tsuzuramaru-dono…)

Ah, if that’s the case, I can return it to him. No, it’s fine. I have plans to see him again soon, so it’s no trouble.

Hm? Is something wrong?

Are you that surprised that he and I made plans to meet?

(Ah! No, if you think about it, it is strange! I usually live in the mountains far away from Edo, it’s already unusual for me to be on the streets. Not only that, but to also say I’m meeting with Tsuzuramaru-dono, she’ll definitely think something happened.)

Ah, no, Tsuzuramaru-dono and I were… I know, we promised to train together.

Yes, it was a favour he asked of me. I planned to meet up with him for a few duels.

(Looks like she believes me. So the princess's heart is this pure and flawless.

Plus, my heart is hurting as well.)

Hm? N-No, you don’t have to join us. Although I’m aware you're very passionate about the naginata, it is not appropriate to meet men at night.

Even if you ask me… I can’t…

(Oh no… hearing me mention practice… her eyes are sparkling… If I say it was just a lie, then she’ll know I deceived her. But, I can’t bear to refuse her like this.

Is there something I could say that wouldn’t hurt her but make her give up…?)

M-My apologies, but wouldn’t it be too difficult for you? This will be very intense training. It’s not something someone should go into without being fully aware of what it is.

What kind of training is it? Well… that…

(F-For me to lie to a pure-hearted girl… please forgive me for my sins!)

We will cross blades at Mount Nabebuta. With a single slice, we will be able to cleave through rocks and trees, split even the earth and ocean, make mountains erupt flames, to raise gales on flat ground, this atypical power passed under the heavens, the true swordsmanship that governs the universe and all living things! That! Is that we will be training for.

(Is what I said, but what sort of samurai like that would exist?! Even someone like her would notice…!)

I-I see… you think that’s impressive.

No… that… isn’t much.

(S-She believed me? E-Even though I was the one who said it… but to believe even those words is really… Ah… Her trusting eyes… seeing them now pains me!)

What? You want to watch us despite all that? No! E-Even watching us will be difficult.

The reason? The reason is…

(I’ve reached my limit… if I keep betraying her trust in me and continuing saying nonsense… I… I…—)

There’s no possible way I could do that!!

(Oh, God! Please forgive this most sinful servant of yours!)

---

Track 8 - Sakyo

Everyone: *sigh*

Enishi: Look, even Saneaki looks like he’s gone through a tough battle.

Suzukake: It seems so… Tsuzuramaru aside, Saneaki-san looks so defeated…

Enishi: It looks like the sun is setting soon, I can’t believe the mood got even heavier.

Suzukake: *sigh* We’ve really at the end of our ropes, what do we do now?

Enishi: Oi, Kei, don’t you have any good ideas?

Kei: Don’t ask me, go ask Sagihara. ...Huh? Where did he go?

Enishi: Huh? Now that you say it I haven’t seen him for a while.

Suzukake: Sakyo-san had a really scary face all day, is he going to be alright? When he first heard what Enishi told us, he almost lost his head…

Kei: That was the first time I’ve seen Sagihara make a face that scary before. Don’t tell me… something happened…?

Enishi: No… is what I’d like to say, but I’ve been having a bad feeling about this…

Suzukake: A bad feeling?

Kei: Don’t you remember? When we first met up…

(Flashback)

Sakyo: What, you ask?

Sakyo: Is it not obvious? I will cut that man.

---

Enishi: You don’t think he really took his sword and…?

Suzukake: Eh?! Then we have to go stop him!

Kei: I don’t want to believe it but, with a face like that he really might have gone and done it.

Enishi: In any case, we have to hurry…!

Suzukake: Yep! Come on, Tsuzuramaru, Saneaki-san! You have to pull yourself together for the princess!

Tsuzuramaru: A-Ah, sorry. Now’s not the time to be all down!

Saneaki: Even I had been… Let’s hurry and find Sagihara-dono!

---

Sakyo: Without knowing it I came to the storefront…

(Just thinking about her marriage partner gives me goose bumps all over my body in disgust. To cheat and marry a girl who doesn’t know any better, what a despicable man! Absolutely unforgivable.

Princess. I will definitely rescue you from the claws of this demon!

For that sake… yes, I have no choice but to draw support from the power of my blade!

Oh? It seems I have been discovered.)

Good evening, Princess.

Are you alright? To step outside at night like this is dangerous. You stepped out because you saw me?

Thank you very much.

Truthfully, I came to find you because I had something I wished to talk to you about.

Eh? Everyone has been saying they were looking for you?

(That’s true… everyone has been very worried about this issue. You did not change your mind no matter who came to you… That is why, I will use this sword…!

But I cannot do that in a place with so many people. I must find a place much darker, more quiet, somewhere where nobody can disturb me…)

Princess, are you willing to experience the night breeze with me for a while?

---

Kei: Oi! Is he over there?

Suzukake: He’s not! Where did Sakyo-san take the princess off to?

Kei: Sagihara!! Where are you? Come out!!

Suzukake: Sakyo-san!! Don’t hide anymore!

Tsuzuramaru: He really did go to the store, but I didn’t think we’d be a step too late… I didn’t think he’d take Miss, and not the young master…

Enishi: Sakyo wouldn’t get violent towards the princess, would he?!

Suzukake: N-No way! That wouldn’t happen, right?!

Tsuzuramaru: How could this have happened? Miss!! Where are you?

Saneaki: Isn’t he nearby? We should search the opposite side next…

Sakyo: Oh…?

Everyone: W-We found you!!

Sakyo: W-What is it? Staring at me like I am some exotic creature… and being so loud.

Kei: You have the gall to look that indifferent. We’ve been looking for you!

Sakyo: I do not know what happened, but can you step aside? The princess and I have a place we must go, please do not disturb us.

Suzukake: A place you have to go… w-where?

Enishi: Don’t tell me it’s the Underworld…?

Sakyo: The Underworld? Hm…

Sakyo: Haha. Well, if I am with the Princess, then that place does not sound bad…

Tsuzuramaru: Wh—

Saneaki: I knew it… it’s like that…

Sakyo: I was just teasing, your faces are all so pale. I was simply playing—

Tsuzuramaru: Even if you’re Sakyo, I won’t let you get away with it!

Sakyo: Excuse me—?

Tsuzuramaru: Miss! You can’t lose your life here! Come over here, run!

Sakyo: Where do you think you’re going? Wait!

Enishi: Tsuzuramaru, that guy’s getting the spotlight! As if I’ll let him! Just you wait—

Saneaki: …There’s no choice.

Suzukake: W-Wait! Everybody!

Kei: That idiot! Dammit…

---

Sakyo: I… I finally caught you… Princess… come, this time… you and I will… together… go…

Tsuzuramaru: I… I won’t let you! Sakyo! Think about it again properly!

Sakyo: No matter how many times I think, my feelings will not change!

Kei: You finally drew your sword, huh, you blockhead!

Saneaki: Sagihara-dono! Do you really think doing this will make the princess happy?

Suzukake: Exactly, Sakyo-san! Come on, put the sword down!

Sakyo: I politely decline the offer. No matter how many times my hand must grasp this sword, I must tell the princess how I feel!

Tsuzuramaru: I won’t let you! Miss, please hide behind me!

Sakyo: You’re naive, Tsuzuramaru-dono.

Sakyo: Oh? There’s a flying riceball in the sky!

Tsuzuramaru: What? Where?

Sakyo: An opening!

Tsuzuramaru: Dammit! Miss!

Enishi: What the hell are you doing, Tsuzuramaru? How could you fall for that?

Sakyo: Hehe. For Tsuzuramaru-dono to think he would win against me, he is a hundred years early for that!

Sakyo: Princess. I truly want to bring you to a very beautiful place. But please, allow me to use this blade to… to blade to…

Everyone: STOP!!

Sakyo: ...give to you! From now on, my family treasures and myself will belong to you!

Everyone: WHAT???

Sakyo: Even after these five’s persuasion, you haven't changed your mind. Since you still want to be paired with someone, then you will have no reason to be paired with that person! Allow me to take you as my bride! So, Princess, you no longer need to be by another person’s side!

Kei: Can you not make it about that?!

Enishi: Right! Right! If you can propose to her can I propose too?!

Kei: That’s not the point either!!

Suzukake: You can be with the princess when you become the groom, right? Then I want to become the groom!

Tsuzuramaru: W-What?! Then me too!! I want to eat Miss’ delicious food every day!

Saneaki: No, no, a groom is a man who can manage the family. If that’s the case then I am the best choice, when it comes to cooking I have some confidence in myself.

Kei: Did any of you guys even listen to me?!!!!

Sakyo: Princess, you do not have to listen to the others. Throw away the cloth dealer’s young master. All you have to do is choose me. Come, Princess!

---

Tsuzuramaru: M-Miss? Miss? Are you alright?

Enishi: She must be overwhelmed with how she couldn’t even cut in…

Saneaki: You’re asking what this is all about?

Sakyo: What do you mean? We…

Suzukake: We heard you were getting married… so…

Enishi: Right, and it’s the young master from the cloth dealer, right? But I don’t think that guy will make you happy.

Kei: Sorry, but I saw that guy go out with another girl.

Tsuzuramaru: That’s why we’ve been coming to you, so you can think about this marriage more carefully!

Tsuzuramaru: Eh? You haven’t been thinking about getting married?

Sakyo: But your house seems to have a dowry…

Saneaki: The dowry is your neighbour’s?

Suzukake: Eh? You’re just minding it because they’re not home?

Tsuzuramaru: W-Wait, but there’s been rumours that Miss and the young master were getting married?

Kei: O-Oi, Enishi! What’s going on? Didn’t you say the young master’s getting married to her?

Enishi: Yeah, that’s what I heard! And I was listening properly! The young master’s marriage partner is energetic, is good at cooking, her voice is as clear as a bell, and even flowers will bloom on the road where she walks. She’s so slender she looks like she would break at a touch, but her willpower is stronger than most people. And the most important thing: I heard she has a cute smile!

Enishi: It’s definitely the princess! Even now I think I’m right! That’s how it is! What do you think, you lot?

Tsuzuramaru: …I agree.

Suzukake: That’s true…

Saneaki: I see… Well, it’s not like I don’t understand how Enishi-dono feels.

Kei: WHERE?! You got it completely wrong!!

Sakyo: Wait a second… so what you are saying… is that this is all… a misunderstanding?

Enishi: Ah… It… seems… so. Hehe, but knowing the princess isn’t getting married is good news!

Kei: It’s. Not. Good. News. At. ALLLL!!!

---

Track 9 - Ending

Sakyo: Apologies for intruding.

Tsuzuramaru: Oh, if it isn’t Sakyo.

Sakyo: Tsuzuramaru-dono? And everyone else seems to have gathered here...

Enishi: Yep, and with you we’ll all be present. Can you sit with everyone? Sit here.

Sakyo: To visit the princess again… it seems everyone had the same idea.

Suzukake: Mhm, I caused trouble for the princess, so I bought some tea sweets as a gift for her.

Saneaki: Everyone all came here for the same reason.

Enishi: Anyway, it doesn’t need to be said, doesn’t matter which one of us it is, we all want to see the princess, right? Right, Kei?

Kei: D-Don’t touch me! You’re the one who needs to reflect on himself the most!

Tsuzuramaru: But, even though we brought trouble to Miss, to know that this time it was all just a misunderstanding was good. After reflecting my stomach couldn’t help but grumble, what can you do?

Enishi: Well… can’t you see Sakyo’s dripping in cold sweat?

Sakyo: T-That is not because I am here to apologise… please do not talk about it. You are being spiteful.

Suzukake: Let’s calm down, the both of you. Enishi, don’t make Sakyo angry.

Enishi: Alright, alright. Well… why isn’t the princess here yet?

Sakyo: Oh? That is strange… did she leave the restaurant today?

Saneaki: Yes, her father was the one who seated us.

Kei: That’s unusual. Usually she’ll rush back to welcome us. What is she doing…?

Tsuzuramaru: Don’t tell me… she’s been mad at us these past few days, so she doesn’t want to see us anymore?

Suzukake: Eh?! We didn’t make the princess hate us, did we?

Enishi: N-No way… we’re talking about the kind-hearted princess here! There’s no way that’s it…

Saneaki: But if it is… we should prepare ourselves just in case.

Kei: Don’t say something like that so seriously.

Sakyo: It does not look like we need to do that kind of preparation.

Suzukake: Ah! Princess! You came! That’s good!

Suzukake: Eh? The kimono you’re wearing today isn’t the same as the one you normally wear.

Tsuzuramaru: It… it suits you well!

Saneaki: I see… you got your other one wet, so you changed your clothes…

Enishi: Oh, it was just that? Buuuut… hmhm! Not bad! It’s more mature than your usual look, it adds to your womanliness!

Kei: Why’re you saying stuff like that? She hasn’t changed from how she normally is, or whatever.

Sakyo: It is good if that is the case. Kei-dono, why can’t you look at her?

Kei: Shut up!

Sakyo: Heh. Well, I cannot say I do not understand that kind of feeling too. That said, Princess, this is a gift to make up for that day. Please accept it.

Sakyo: No, please do. If you cannot, then my feelings will not be able to recover.

Sakyo: Phew… now I will be able to breathe in relief.

Tsuzuramaru: I’m really sorry, Miss. I got you involved in all that… Haha, seeing you able to laugh like that, it’s already something I can appreciate.

Suzukake: Ah, a customer is calling for you. Sorry for disturbing your work.

Saneaki: Don’t mind us, you should go back to work.

Kei: We’ll call you after we decide what to order.

Tsuzuramaru: Even though we caused nothing but trouble for her… she’s still… such a kind-hearted girl!

Sakyo: Yes, I agree.

Enishi: That’s because she's that kind of princess. That’s why we can’t stop watching her. Ignoring the whole thing with the cloth dealer’s young master, a wonderful woman like her, even if it was someone else we wouldn’t let her go easily.

Saneaki: The so-called fusion of reality and rumors. The customers watch over her too.

Suzukake: You’re right… they’re looking at her and talking about something.

Tsuzuramaru: Shh. Don’t talk…

Suzukake: What’s wrong? All of a sudden...

Tsuzuramaru: Those men over there, just now, they were talking about the rumours about Miss…

Tsuzuramaru: WHAAAAT!!

Tsuzuramaru: This time… he wants to get married to Miss???

Everyone: WHAT?!

Sakyo: I have had enough of this!!

#otome game #rejet #mytranslations #ken ga kimi #tsuzuramaru #kuroba saneaki #sagihara sakyou #suzukake #ken ga kimi kei #enishi #drama cd

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