#right. adding this tag after i just finished writing this thing. sorry it got long and now i'm emo shun al so i'm gonna go do replies

[fan-fantasies]

Learn to Love (p.1)

A/N: this is just the first part and I feel like it’s a lot of filler so I’m sorry if it’s not great! I’ve been in a pretty bad mental place recently and I’m trying to stick with writing as much as possible so please bear with me 🖤

Pairing: Rhea x Reader

Warnings: mean-ish Rhea, arguing, one suggestive comment, jealousy

Part two

“Interview starts in 10!” Your producer called to you while you finished getting your makeup done. You gave her a thumbs up and went back to playing on your phone.

“All done, gorgeous,” your makeup artist told you, setting down her brush.

“Thank you so much! You’re a miracle worker,” you chuckled, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“You could say that again,” Rhea scoffed, coming up behind you. Your smile immediately disappeared and was replaced with a scowl.

“I thought you had left already,” you snapped.

“They added an interview last minute. You know, since I’m in such high demand and all,” she said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes and got up from your chair.

“Yeah well so am I, so if you don’t mind I’ll be going now.”

“Trust me, I never mind you leaving,” she said.

To say that the two of you didn’t get along was an understatement. Ever since coming up from NXT, you had a target on your back from most of the women. You never expected to have one from the women’s champion. She knew what it was like to be a rising star so a part of you had hoped she might take you under her wing. All dreams of that were dashed, however, when she started having an attitude toward you. You gave it right back, of course, not wanting anyone to view you as weak.

“Thank you so much for joining us! What you’ve done so far in NXT and now on the RAW Roster is incredible. Some people are saying you’re the next Rhea Ripley. What do you have to say to that?” The interviewer asked.

“I say that Rhea wishes she was the next me,” you scoffed. You saw Rhea watching behind the cameras with anger in her eyes.

“She better watch out, because I’m coming for her throne.”

Rhea left after that, allowing you to finish your interview in peace. You found her not too long after, though, in Vince’s office.

“She’s a spoiled brat! She shouldn’t even be on the roster,” she told him.

“Maybe you should put that title on the line and we can see who really doesn’t belong here,” you snapped.

“You haven’t earned the right to be in the ring with me.”

“Oh what? You expect me to kiss the ground you walk on just cuz you’re the champ? I don’t think so!”

“Enough!” Vince yelled, making the both of you freeze. “The both of you are going to stop acting like children and you’re going to learn to work together. And better yet, you’re gonna learn to love it!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you mumbled quietly, looking at your shoes.

“You’re gonna do more than say sorry. You’re gonna have a championship match,” he said with a smug smile.

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think she should just be handed a title match against me,” Rhea argued. The smile never left his face.

“And who said it was against you, dear? The two of you will be having a title match, but not as opponents- as tag partners.”

“What?” You both yelled.

“You’re going to learn to get along and work together. Frankly, we’re all sick of the back and forth between you. So put that passion toward something better than petty arguments,” he told you. “From now on, you will eat together, sleep together, and train together. You will learn to be a functional, and maybe even successful, team.”

“But-“

“Nope! You’re dismissed. Go work out your new schedules,” he said, waving you both out of the room. You knew there was no arguing with him once he set his mind to something.

You both left the room feeling defeated. How were you going to work with this horrible woman?

“Listen, I don’t know what your training regimen is, but you’re gonna have to kick it up a notch if you want to work with me,” Rhea snapped.

“Let’s get one thing straight, I don’t want to work with you. But since I have to, let’s make this as painless as possible. We can train at the same time, we can stay in the same room, but we don’t have to do anything together.”

You missed the disappointed flicker in Rhea’s eyes but it was quickly masked with frustration.

“And how do you suggest we learn to work with each other then?” She asked.

“I know how you work, you should know how I work, and that’s that. We’re both fantastic in the ring so we shouldn’t have a problem there.”

“Did you just say something nice about me?” She asked with a smirk.

“Don’t get used to it!”

You let out one final huff before storming off. Rhea didn’t bother chasing after you, knowing she’d have to see you again eventually.

Vince was already one step ahead of you, calling the hotel and switching your reservation. You were now roomed with Rhea but you didn’t plan on spending much time around her. She always made you feel second best, and you didn’t want to put up with it.

The hotel you were staying at had a pool, so you figured you’d take advantage and try to relax.

“Hey, I heard the good news!” Someone said, jogging up behind you to catch the elevator.

“You and I have very different definitions of good,” you sighed, turning to face Dominik.

“Well if you’re partnered with Rhea that means you’ll get to hang out with the fam more often,” he said happily. You couldn’t help but soften your scowl. He was like a golden retriever and you knew he had good intentions.

“I don’t think I’ll be around that much, considering we kinda can’t stand each other,” you chuckled.

“She doesn’t hate you, I just don’t think she knows how to express her feelings that well,” he sighed.

“And what feelings would those be?” You asked, actually intrigued. Before he could answer, the elevator door opened and you immediately heard a scoff.

“Just because we’re sharing a room doesn’t mean we have to share our friends too.”

Rhea stormed off the elevator and stood between you and Dom.

“I’m allowed to be friends with whoever I want, but don’t worry I’m not gonna come for your little ‘family’.”

You stepped onto the elevator and quickly pressed the button to close the door. You and Rhea continued to glare at each other until they were closed.

You let your tough demeanor fall once you were alone. When you had arrived from NXT, you wanted to make friends. You so badly wanted to be accepted, but Rhea was making that harder. You’d never admit it, but you were jealous of the close kinship she had with her stable. They seemed like a proper family and part of you craved that- part of you hoped this might be an opportunity to change things. But with every passing interaction with Rhea, those hopes faded away.

You spent as much time as possible at the pool, not wanting to go back to the room. Maybe she would stay with Dom or Damien, avoiding staying in the room with you. When you got back upstairs, you found that you weren’t that lucky.

“Back so soon?” She asked as soon as you walked in the door.

“Have to come back to my room eventually.” You rolled your eyes and went to your back. You didn’t get to see the way Rhea’s eyes traveled your bathing suit-clad body, licking her lips appreciatively.

“Our room, sweetheart,” she reminded you.

“As if I could forget,” you signed. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Is that an invite?” She asked with a smirk, her comment making you snort.

“We don’t literally have to do everything together,” you said, a faint smile playing on your lips.

“Worth a shot,” she mumbled, glad the mood had lightened a bit.

She waited until she heard the water start to lay back against the pillows. Maybe this could be bearable, if you guys could put your pride aside and try to get along. That would be easier said than done.

The next morning, Rhea woke up before you and contemplated not waking you. She wanted to get a workout in before the flight and knew Vince would want you to join. But you looked so peaceful sleeping she didn’t want to disturb you. She wouldn’t tell anyone that though, she’d say it’s because she doesn’t want you to join her in the gym.

She figured she could soften the blow if she had a peace offering. So off she went to grab coffee, remembering your specific order to a T.

She got back to the room and was happy to find you still asleep.

“Hey, hey wake up,” she whispered, shaking you gently. “Time to get up.”

“No, it’s not,” you groaned. She shook your iced coffee which made you peek one eye open. “Or yes it is.”

“I figured we’d get a workout in before the flight,” she suggested.

“How’d you remember my order?” You asked, taking a sip.

“I mean it’s pretty simple and you always get the same thing,” she said with a shrug.

“Well thanks, I guess. So uh to the gym then?” You asked. She nodded and headed out, making you promise you’d meet her down there.

You didn’t know where this side of Rhea was coming from but you didn’t mind it. You still kept your guard up, though.

You got ready quickly and made your way down to the gym. Rhea had already started warming up so you stuck to the other side of the gym to do your own thing.

“You came!” Dom said excitedly, jogging over to you.

“Figured I should try to be a team player,” you sighed.

“Well I’m glad you came. I know she is too, even if she won’t admit it,” he whispered, making you look over at Rhea who was already watching.

“I don’t know about that,” you said. He threw an arm around your shoulder and gave you a squeeze.

“I know she’s rough around the edges, but she’ll come around.”

Rhea wasn’t sure what Dom was saying to you but she felt jealousy bubble up inside. She stopped what she was going and went over to the two of you.

“This isn’t social hour, we need to get to work,” she snapped. You scowled at her sudden outburst. You figured she didn’t want you getting close to Dom so you stepped away.

“You can go workout or do whatever, and I’ll just do my own thing,” you said.

“If we’re gonna win, we need to push each other,” she insisted.

“You push my buttons, does that count?” You asked, flashing her an annoying smile.

“Just shut up and workout,” she sighed. Dom gave her a pointed look but she ignored him. He shook his head and walked away, telling you he’d see you later.

You wrapped up your workout early and went back to the room without telling Rhea. You wanted to pack and head to the airport a little early.

“Do you usually skip out of training?” Rhea asked, making you jump when you heard her voice.

“Only when I’m not wanted there.”

“What are you talking about?” She asked, coming over to you.

“I don’t know what I did to make you hate me, but I’m over it. I promise I’m not trying to steal Dom away from you,” you answered. “Is that what the issue is? You think I want your little boyfriend?”

Rhea was taken back by your outburst and really had to think for a minute. Deep down, she knew why she acted the way she did around you. And she was jealous- just not of you. She wasn’t worried you would take Dom away, she just didn’t want anyone to take you away.

“Well I don’t. I promise he’s all yours,” you said, throwing your hands up.

“He’s not my boyfriend; he’s like a brother,” she said.

“Well whatever he is, you can have him. But you can’t isolate me from everyone in the company!”

“I’m not isolating you,” she argued.

“You are! You haven’t welcomed me and you’ve made sure no one else has had the chance! Dom is just trying to be nice to me but it seems like anytime he gets close to me you’re stepping in.”

Her gaze softened and she took a step toward you. You put your hand up to stop her.

“He said you have a hard time expressing your feelings, but you make it very clear you don’t like me so he doesn’t have to defend you anymore. I’ll keep my distance and we’ll just fake our way through the tag match, deal?” You picked up your bag and headed toward the door.

“I don’t dislike you,” Rhea said, too quietly for you to hear as you walked out of the room.

She knew she had messed up and Dom was right, she was horrible at expressing her feelings. The truth was she didn’t know how you made her feel; it was all new to her. You were captivating and intriguing and Rhea wanted more than anything to be close to you and that scared her. So she did the irrational thing and pushed you away; but now she realized just how much damage she had done.

She knew you’d be seated next to her on the flight and made a plan to talk to you basically since you couldn’t escape. She needed to explain her actions, or at least try to.

Rhea didn’t see you at the airport despite you being there before her. She figured you were avoiding her.

The flight began to board and she found her seat, nervously waiting for you to join her.

“I get the window seat? Sweet!” Damian explained, pushing past her.

“That’s your seat?” Rhea asked, clearly confused.

“Yeah well your bestie asked me to switch and after hearing what’s been going on from Dom I agreed,” he answered with a disappointed look.

“Yeah well I wanted to apologize to her but now it looks like that won’t be happening anytime soon,” she frowned.

“She’s a sweet girl and one hell of a wrestler; I think it would be good for you to try and get to know her.”

“Well maybe next time don’t agree to switch seats so I can do that,” she sighed.

“I’m just saying, I think you two could be good for each other,” he said.

“What does that mean?” Rhea asked, her face heating up. Damian just shrugged and gave her a knowing look.

Rhea stood up and looked around the plane, eyes finally landing on you. You were sitting next to Shayna, fully engrossed in whatever she was saying to you.

You finally looked up and caught her gaze. Your lips formed into a tight line and you immediately looked away.

“You okay?” Shayna asked, placing a comforting hand on your arm.

“Yeah, never better,” you said with a soft smile.

Rhea’s heart sank and jealousy began to bubble up inside once again. But she knew she couldn’t interfere. She just had to get through the flight and hope you’d let her explain yourself at the hotel.

—————————

Let me know what you think!

[little-lego-ninjas]

lightning in a bottle (burning full throttle)

Guess what I just posted on AO3 guys???? Are you excited, because I am! I'm actually really proud of this monster (it's 12.6k words h e l p), and I hope you guys like reading it as much as I liked writing it!

Fair warning, this is filled to the brim with queerness (as a queer myself, I could not resist the fruit ninja), so read with caution ig lmao.

Gun tw, and some minor injuries (somebody gets shot, but it's minor), slurs (not actually written bc i am too soft for it but wanted to include it bc i have had bad race-related encounters lately, and i protect my friends from toxic people as much as possible), ptsd, anxiety, anxiey/panic attack, gender issues, y'know the works.

There's probably a few more i can't think of rn, but all the tags are on AO3 if you feel the need to check! Nothing super insane happens (no weird age stuff or sex), so enjoy!!

AO3 link in case you wanna read it over there or leave a big comment or something i dunno. For you <3.

Fic below the cut bc it's too damn long.

"Okay, have we all got our roles down?" Lloyd asked at the head of the dining room table, papers and maps and blueprints scattered around him. His hair was a mess, blond waves tangled together and falling into his face. No doubt from staying up all night, finalizing and piecing everything together.

Cole nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. "I've got mine."

"I do as well," Zane added, his fingers threaded together atop the table.

Kai sighed before anyone else could say they had everything ready. "Why do I have to go in disguise? Shouldn't we let Zane do it?"

Pixal answered before Lloyd could open his mouth, her green eyes hard. "Kai, we have already discussed why you and Jay are going in disguise. Zane's cloaking software is down, mine is nowhere near the level his is, and Cole is going in disguise too."

She arched a brow at him. "I don't see the issue."

Kai gestured around the table, chest tight. "I'm going to be in a party while Nya, Lloyd, and you," he shot a blatant look at Pixal, "try to stop an assassin."

"Sorry for worrying like a good brother would," he grumbled as an afterthought.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, making him glance over to see who it was. Nya looked mildly annoyed, but mostly sympathetic, which was a good sign. "Kai, you know you aren't just going to a party."

"I know, I just-"

"Get worried." Jay finished, his chin resting in his hands. "We know. But this is serious stuff, me and you are going to protect Cyrus Borg."

When his name was uttered, Pixal looked down at her hands. Zane reached across the table, taking one of her hands. "We will not let anything happen to him, Pixal."

Pixal looked up, nodding. She didn't say anything though. Kai could understand her concerns, considering it was her father that they were attempting to save from an untimely death. Kai couldn’t imagine having to be in her position, and it only gave him more empathy towards her for being so strong about the entire subject. It couldn’t have been an easy thing to listen to, or talk about.

Cole nudged Zane’s shoulder, his expression a mixture of his usual soft one and a slightly more serious one reminiscent of his younger days of leading the team. “Besides, we have more help too. Skylor and some of the other elemental masters, right Lloyd?”

Lloyd nodded, digging through the scattered papers until he could find the one he had written all their names on. “Most of them helped with the resistance, so we’re in good hands. That assassin won’t know what hit them, Pix.”

Pixal pursed her lips, then stood. “Fantastic. I’ll go ensure my weaponry is ready and functional.”

Nya’s gaze followed the girl who had taken up her old mantle, the blue in her eyes holding a depth Kai had begun to notice whenever his little sister looked at Pixal. Nya sighed, pushing her chair away from the table. “I feel so bad for her.”

Zane nodded, his fingers threaded together again, something the nindroid had begun to do after his time in the NeverRealm. “I do as well, but we mustn’t let our worries consume the mission. We cannot fail.”

Cole rubbed Zane’s shoulder. “We won’t, Z. We won’t.”

Zane didn’t look convinced, but he did shoot Cole a smile that the other boy returned. Kai watched them all silently, his chest still tight with the idea of letting them risk their lives while he stayed inside at a party. It felt wrong and like he was slacking off, even though he knew he had an important role to play. A hand ruffled at his hair, snagging his attention. He shot a glare at Jay, who had an impish little smirk on his lips.

“Don’t you ruin this for me, Kai. It’s the anniversary of Borg’s empire!” Jay sighed with delight, earning several eye-rolls that he ignored. “What a legend.”

Kai scoffed, standing up. “Remember that we’re there to protect Cyrus, not party.”

Jay waved his hand. “Duh. Just think it’s neat.”

Lloyd hummed, shifting through his papers again. “Since it’s a pretty exclusive party, I think you two should really dress the part. High-class and stuff.”

Kai grinned. “I have just the suit.”

///

Kai tugged at his tie in mild annoyance, shooting a glare at his reflection. He didn't like the idea of just sitting on the sidelines while everyone else ran around playing hero. It didn't sit right with him to not be in the heat of the matter, but rather going incognito to better blend in.

Granted, Zane was pretending to be the intern who double-checked invitations, and Cole was one of the guards at the entrance, but still. If the news from Skylor handed down to her through the pipeline of elemental masters was true, which it was, Cyrus Borg was set to be a prime target to be assassinated tonight during his company's anniversary party.

Kai wanted to be the guy beating up the assassin, not hiding in a crowd of rich tech-heads, but he had to begrudgingly agree with Lloyd's plan. It was the best course of action, the best set-up to ensure Cyrus Borg and everyone attending the party would be safe. He just hated the idea of his family risking their lives without him beside them.

Heaving a sigh, Kai glanced at his reflection again, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. He had to admit, he looked nice. The suit was a bit darker than he would have chosen for himself, but it wasn't too terrible. It was fitted just enough to benefit his shape, but not overly so. His hair was what was bothering him the most, if he was being honest.

Instead of its usual spiked style, his hair looked much like it did when he was wet, falling into his eyes enough to bother him. Kai scrubbed his fingers through his hair again, grumbling under his breath as he did so. Maybe Nya was right when she said he needed a haircut.

"Kai."

Kai met his sister's eyes in the mirror. She was in her gi, only serving to remind Kai of the danger she was about to put herself in. "Yeah?"

Nya's lips twitched, as if she was fighting off a smile. "Have you been brooding this whole time?"

Kai opened his mouth, then clicked his tongue. " No ."

His sister stepped closer to him, turning him away from the mirror. "I know what you're stewing over, okay? But I think you need to see your boyfriend."

Kai knit his brows together. "Is Jay not helping me survey the party in disguise?"

"No," Nya said with a shake of her head. "He's still helping you, but I meant see like look at him because, uh."

Her cheeks pinkened. "He looks great."

Kai snorted, elbowing Nya. "You are such a bi disaster."

"Wha- says the pan disaster!" Nya sputtered as Kai left his bedroom, heading for Jay's.

He chuckled under his breath at the sound of Nya's grumbles, stopping before Jay's door. Knocking, Kai opened his mouth to ask if he could enter, but Jay interrupted him.

"Come in!"

Kai pushed the door open, a smile on his face and words on his tongue, only for his mouth to go dry at the sight of Jay in front of his bedroom mirror. Now, Kai had no doubts in his mind that Jay was attractive- and super fucking adorable -but he'd always seen Jay as pretty, or cute.

Drop-dead gorgeous was not a term he used lightly, and in this case, he meant it as if it was a precious sacred statement by the First Spinjitzu Master himself, which was to say, he was not anywhere close to joking about it. Jay cleaned up nice, and Kai had never really gotten to see it before.

Now though, Jay was fiddling with a silver hoop earring as Kai openly gaped at him, eyes drinking in every inch of his boyfriend. When Lloyd had suggested that Kai and Jay go together as a rich couple, Kai hadn't disputed the rich couple part, but he had figured it would be him and Jay in suits and showing up holding hands or something.

He had not expected to find Jay in a dress.

Not just any dress, no. Jay had found the most beautiful shade of midnight blue to ever exist, the color making his eyes that much more electric and enticing. The dress itself was fitted all the way down to the hemline, going to the top of Jay's toes. It had a sheath neckline, the material lying around Jay like a necklace, forming an upside down v that covered his chest entirely, but left part of his collarbones free.

Where sleeves would be, fingerless gloves of the same material encased his wrist up, stopping at the middle of Jay's biceps, freckled shoulders on full display. Jay smiled at his reflection, fingers playing with his silver hoop earrings before he noticed Kai had stepped inside of his bedroom. Jay's cheeks colored. "O-oh. I thought you were Nya."

Jay turned to face Kai, and Kai got a wonderful view of the thigh-high leg slit the dress had. If his mouth had been dry before, it was dust now. Just the sight was doing something to him, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Is it too much?" Jay asked, fingers playing with each other. "I figured fancy party meant fancy, and this is the fanciest thing I've really got so…"

Kai found his voice when Jay trailed off, looking so defeated that Kai wanted to punch whatever had made him feel that way. Since he was pretty sure he had done that, Kai decided that punching himself before going undercover was a really stupid idea. He didn't want to sport a black eye and draw attention to himself. 

"No!" He exclaimed, grabbing Jay's hands, noticing blue nail polish on his nails, matching his dress. "No, you look… wow."

Jay's blush worsened, his smile a little embarrassed. "I thought you'd think my hair was stupid."

Kai knit his brows, studying the usually messy curls that were in some semblance of order. And they were longer than Kai recalled them being just three hours ago. Curious, he shifted his fingers through the chestnut hair, amazed that the curls stretched down to the base of Jay's neck before springing back up to rest lightly under his earlobes.

"It's beautiful."

Kai cleared his throat when he saw how soft Jay's gaze had turned. "Uh, I mean, not as good as mine, you know. Still good though."

Jay's smile shifted into a smirk. "Uh-huh."

Not wanting to give Jay more ammo than he already had, Kai gestured at Jay's dress. "So, any particular reason for that? Asides to be sexy, I mean."

Jay flushed terribly at that, swatting at Kai's shoulder. "I figured a guy and a girl would be less attention-grabbing than two guys for us going undercover."

Kai must have made a sour expression because Jay shook his head. "No, I made the choice, I'm fine."

Kai pursed his lips. "I know you, Jay. If you look the tiniest bit uncomfortable, we're finding you the manliest suit ever to bash any dysphoria, got it?"

Jay laughed at that, drawing Kai's attention to his face, the way his freckles bunched up whenever he laughed, along with the delicate black lines surrounding his boyfriend's eyes. Jay had actually gone and put makeup on, which Kai hadn't seen in a very long time. Heat pooled into Kai's body, his lips itching to meet Jay's. "I- I'm serious. No dysphoria will ruin your night on my watch."

Jay nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Thanks, but I'll let you know if it gets to be too much, okay?"

Kai sighed, but relented at the lightning ninja's pointed gaze. "Alright, fine. But seriously, if you get misgendered, I might hit someone out of reflex alone."

Jay snorted, moving around Kai to get to his bed. Kai watched him, unsure of what else to say. Another compliment? Jay tugged a pair of strappy black heels out of a box from under his bed. "Restrain yourself, babe."

Kai stiffened at the word, every nerve alight with want. In the end, he was a weak man, a man who just wanted Jay to feel comfortable in his skin, to kiss on Jay and touch him reverently, and breathe promises of love against freckled skin. Kai crossed the room to Jay easily, the lightning ninja still busy putting on his heels.

(Which were also unfairly attractive on Jay, but Kai would circle back to that later.)

Jay glanced up when Kai tapped his bare shoulder, his expression playful. "Hm?"

Kai scowled at Jay, nudging his boyfriend backwards until he could pin him against the mattress. "You know what you're doing."

Jay laughed softly, twining his arms around Kai's neck, fingers playing with his hair. "You look hot too, by the way."

Kai winked, "You know it."

Jay rolled his eyes and Kai locked their lips together, not entirely aware of the world around him anymore. Jay was more important than the world, clearly and obviously. He pulled back only to dive right back in, tongue running along the ever-soft lips of his lover, Jay making a delicate sound underneath him. Kai felt a heel nudge his hip, hands tightening in his hair.

The kiss deepened, Kai's tongue tracing the inside of Jay's mouth, small shocks crossing from Jay to Kai, barely there moments of electricity that made Kai shudder and kiss Jay harder, eager for a bigger reaction. Before he could cross that line, Jay pushed him up and away from his lips a little, blue eyes meeting amber.

"Kai," Jay whispered, lips so pink and plump and Kai really didn't want to stop. "The mission?"

Kai pursed his lips, then kissed Jay again, a soft peck instead of the passionate one he wanted to continue. "After, if we aren't exhausted, I'll pick up where we left off."

Jay nodded, cheeks flushed but his eyes bright with excitement at the promise. "Sounds like a plan."

Kai crawled off of Jay, halting halfway off at the sight of Jay's leg being mostly uncovered from the slit in the dress. Teasingly, Kai drug his fingertips against the soft skin as he finished crawling off of Jay, hearing his boyfriend gasp prettily. Kai adjusted his suit jacket, then ran his fingers through his hair again.

He shot Jay a puzzled glance that was mostly fake. "Are you coming?"

Jay looked breathless, cheeks even darker than before. "You- You fucker."

Kai, unable to help himself, shot Jay a wink as he made his way out of the room. "I do try."

Kai got smacked upside the head with Mr. Cuddlywomp, but hey, it was worth it in his eyes. He needed something good to keep his mind away from the dark thoughts of potential failure tonight.

///

Kai had to gape at the light show that was occurring at Borg’s tower, the building glowing in prismatic colors and holographic words that screamed the reason for the party. He had to admit it was pretty, but with Jay on his arm, it wasn’t comparable in the slightest. Shooting a glance at his boyfriend, he found Jay’s electric blue eyes alight with wonder, his lips shaping words that Kai could barely hear.

“What was that last bit?” He asked, grinning when Jay flushed.

“O-oh.” Jay twirled one of his curls around his finger, nervous. “Just… it’s pretty.”

Kai nodded, nodding towards the line of equally lavishly dressed individuals, pointing Jay in the right direction. His boyfriend was a little overwhelmed by the lights and the people, and Kai was one-hundred percent okay with being the grounding point for him. Quietly, Kai ducked his head to whisper against Jay’s ear as they got into the line. “If you feel bad, let me know.”

Jay nodded, his eyes darting from one head to another, analyzing and categorizing them the way he did. Kai hadn’t understood it at one point in his life, thinking Jay was just easily distracted (which was true), but now he knew it was how Jay dealt with getting overwhelmed. He counted how many other people he might have to interact with, how many blinding lights would flash, how they spoke or reacted so he could match them.

It was how he coped, and Kai could see why. He had done it a couple of times, only to find it very helpful. Granted, he sucked at mimicking other people, but he did try his best if his unhoned skills would be useful. Sometimes he looked back to the time he pretended to be his father and cringed. How Nya had perfectly emulated their mother’s voice was lost on him, but it was impressive all the same.

Turning his attention back to the line, Kai found two security guards only a few people ahead of them. One was a nindroid, the other was Cole. Cyrus Borg was only loosely aware of the threat looming over him when Lloyd had contacted him prior to the party about the lead they had, but he hadn’t disagreed with anything the ninja had suggested they do. As long as they didn’t destroy his tower or harm his guests, the scientist was okay with them playing dress-up.

Kai understood why Lloyd had ultimately decided against telling Borg the entire reason they were attending his anniversary party incognito. If Cyrus Borg knew about the threat, he would cancel the party and force the assassin to try another time, which would leave Borg paranoid and the ninja in the dark about when the assassin would try again. That didn't mean Kai liked withholding information though.

When Jay tapped at Kai’s arm, he felt a brief second of worry, only to find a small smile on Jay’s lips. The lightning ninja was holding back a giggle. “Kai, look behind us.”

Curious, Kai did as he was instructed, almost laughing himself. Directly behind them stood Dareth, dressed surprisingly nicely with an invitation in his hand, holding a conversation with a rather wealthy-looking elderly couple that looked entertained by him. Kai snickered under his breath, setting off Jay’s giggles. “How on earth did he get an invite?”

Jay shrugged. “I think he won the civilian raffle for invitations? He’s like Borg's biggest fan.”

Kai arched his brow. “But baby, I thought that was you?”

Jay’s blushing cheeks were a perfect reward, and he didn’t get a chance to retaliate before they reached security. Kai showed both Cole and the nindroid their invitations, then pocketed them again. The nindroid studied them, then shared a glance with Cole, who shrugged. 

“Hate to be that guy,” Cole started, pushing off of the door jam he had been leaning against, “but I need to check for concealed weapons.”

Kai made a big show of sighing loudly, unlinking his arm from Jay’s. “Oh, if you must.”

Jay opened his purse, revealing a rather nice wallet and some miscellaneous items. “Nothing but my emergency make-up.”

Kai almost jerked his head around at the sound of Jay’s voice, so light and airy. Cole looked momentarily stunned too, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Er, yeah. You’re good.”

The nindroid nodded, gesturing to the open doors. “Please enjoy your evening.”

Kai shot him a grin, sliding his arm around Jay’s waist. “I’m sure we will.”

The entryway had been filled with streamers and balloons, all sorts of people wandering around and laughing together before they headed for the elevators. Before he and Jay could get that far though, their invitations would be checked for authenticity by the intern at the front desk, who happened to be Zane in disguise. It wasn’t as effective as his cloaking device, but he still looked every bit the part of the nerdy guy who ran the desk.

Zane had even modulated his voice to better fit the role, slightly nervous at being handed so much power and responsibility by someone so high above him. “May I see your invitations?”

Kai handed the papers over, feigning indifference while Jay looked around with wide blue eyes. Zane nodded after a moment, “You’re on the list, thank you for attending!”

Jay smiled sweetly and Kai nodded, both of them making for the elevators. The party was held at the top floor, normally Borg’s office but remodeled for a skyline view and filled with hors d'oeuvres and champagne for the occasion. Kai couldn't quite understand how the assassin could get a shot with all those windows, but he wouldn't underestimate the possibility.

He hoped everything was going well on the other end of the mission, and that Lloyd, Nya, and Pixal had managed to get into position with no issues. He wouldn’t be able to check his comm until later, after he could make for the bathroom without drawing suspicion.

When the elevator doors closed, Kai slumped slightly. “Who knew I would already be tired?”

Jay shrugged, a tube of mascara in hand, squinting at his reflection in the elevator’s mirror. “Pretending is hard.”

There was a depth inside those words that Kai wanted to understand, but he decided to broach the topic later. Instead, he watched as Jay messed with his eyelashes, even though they were fine. “Jay?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t be nervous.”

Jay laughed, capping the tube and dropping it back inside of his purse. “That’s difficult for me.”

Kai nodded, taking one of Jay’s hands, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I know.”

Jay rolled his eyes, watching as they climbed floors. “Ready to do some more pretending, hot stuff?”

Kai laughed, pulling Jay flush against him for a split-second, relishing in the closeness before he shifted their positions again, arm around Jay's waistline. “Always.”

Jay was flushed when the doors opened, shooting Kai a dirty look that made him grin. His grin faltered when he caught sight of Cyrus Borg, falling back into mission mode with ease. The inventor was holding a glass of champagne in one hand, laughing with a group of people Kai had seen around the building, no doubt some of his employees.

Kai and Jay stepped out of the elevator, and Kai skimmed the room, mentally labeling anything that could be useful. He faltered at the crowd though. There were so many people all dressed so nicely that it left Kai reeling, so many sparkling bits of jewelry and finery that was foreign to him.

If he felt broke, he had no idea how much worse Jay felt. Kai knew how the lightning ninja got sometimes, wishing he had enough money to give his parents everything they deserved to have. Kai felt the same way sometimes, but he knew it lurked in the back of Jay's head more than his own. After so much time, Jay still felt as if he had something to prove, to show he wasn't just some kid from a junkyard.

Why? Kai wasn't entirely sure. Kai tightened his hold around Jay's waist, getting his boyfriend to look up at him, inquisitive eyes meeting his own.

“Split up?" He suggested, watching Jay closely for any sign of distress.

Jay nodded, nudging Kai towards the table with hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne. “Go be a gentleman and get me a drink.”

Kai bowed playfully, taking Jay’s hand and pressing a kiss to his ring finger. “Of course, darling.”

Jay laughed softly, shoving Kai away. Kai watched him for a second, then made for the table, scanning the faces around him. Any one of them could be the person after Borg, even if they would have had hell getting past both Cole and Zane. He couldn’t let his guard down, not even for getting in-character. To passerby, he would simply look a little nervous, something many people around him would relate to.

The table held more than just drinks and hors d'oeuvres upon closer inspection. It also held all sorts of pastries that made Kai's mouth water. It took more restraint than he had hoped it would to prevent himself from sampling them all. Maybe it had been for the best that Cole wasn't at the party, considering his rather glaring weakness for desserts.

Kai snagged two flutes of champagne, then glanced out at the sea of posh strangers, his heart beginning to thud against his ribs. What happened to his charisma? He could handle this. It wasn't hard, putting on a fake front, he had done it multiple times over the years. Somehow though, the idea of faking for multi-millionaires felt… dangerous.

It hadn't stopped Jay from immediately becoming popular though, several ladies dressed in their own stunning finery had surrounded him, complimenting his dress and asking him questions that he answered easily. Kai pursed his lips, glancing back at the table before he snagged one of the pastries, shifting the glasses to one hand as he placed it on a napkin to take over to Jay.

Jay tended to do better if he felt secure and had someone he cared for close by. Kai knew the pastry would be an added bonus, considering Jay's love of desserts. The champagne was a pretense, something that might be sipped once or twice, but ultimately ignored. Kai scanned the crowd again, plotting out the exact path he would need to make it to Jay.

"Huh, didn't think you'd be here."

Kai flinched at the words, nearly spilling champagne on the floor. His gaze landed on an all-too familiar face, one that made him a little happy, a little angry, and mostly confused.

"Ronin?"

///

Cole tried to maintain his focus as he watched Jay and Kai vanish inside of the building, but it was hard. He had no clue what to expect, and honestly the evening had been borderline boring. It would have been completely boring if the adrenaline from the idea of an assassin trying to kill Borg wasn't at the forefront of his mind, but still. He was growing impatient just standing in place.

He almost choked when he saw who was next in line, Dareth grinning at him before his brows dipped together. Cole watched as the nindroid examined Dareth's invitation, assigning a name with a face, but the brown ninja's gaze remained locked on Cole the entire time. Cole couldn't help but think of the last time he had seen Dareth in disguise, how easily the older man had seen through it.

This time, it seemed, was no different. Dareth snapped his fingers and pointed at him. "Cole! I knew that was you!"

Cole pressed his lips together tightly. "Hey Dareth."

"When'd you get a side gig?"

Cole shrugged, gesturing for Dareth to come closer so he could check for weapons, which he heavily doubted he would find, but protocol was protocol. After ensuring the man was weaponless, he gestured through the open doors to the desk where Zane was stationed. "Have fun Dareth, you're cleared."

Dareth grinned at him, happily crossing the threshold. "Thanks dude!"

Cole shook his head with a small smile. Sometimes Dareth was just the thing that helped them ensure everything went according to plan. Maybe this was one of those times. After all, Dareth was the man who had done everything in his power to help them anyway he possibly could, no matter the risks he faced because of it.

"A hem."

Cole snapped his attention back to the world around him, rather than the one inside of his head. He found an elderly couple sharing aggravated looks between one another, and his nindroid companion looking exasperated.

"Sir, it's only protocol," the nindroid started, only to be cut off by the man, who flicked his hand at both the nindroid and Cole.

"Nonsense is what it is! An over-analytical farce that is as unnecessary as it is uncouth."

The woman by his side nodded, her expression pinched. "We never carry weapons." She said the word as if she could think of nothing fouler in the world, which made Cole bite back a sigh.

While he agreed weapons were a last result form of attack, that didn't mean they were inherently bad. It was a tool, depending on who used the knife made the knife either good or bad. That didn't make the knife inherently evil if it was used to harm someone, but some people just couldn't see it the way he did.

Different opinions were important, but not over something that was simple protocol. Now, if the protocol had the couple stripping down to their underthings? That Cole could see as bad. This was more of a minor annoyance, rather than something truly terrible.

"Sir, ma'am, this is simply to ensure not only Mr. Borg's safety," Cole looked pointedly at both of them, "but also yours."

The man looked downright insulted, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. "You have no right to speak to me."

Cole knit his brows, entirely lost for almost three seconds. It hit him when the man's wife moved to hide behind him slightly. A stab of guilt jabbed its way into his chest, even though he shouldn't have felt it at all. It wasn't his fault his skin was darker than theirs, or that he was taller than them, or stronger and more muscular.

It hurt though, to be looked at and only seen as a threat rather than a person too. Even the nindroid looked stunned, but the man continued. "Not only are you going to place your hands upon me and my wife, but you are asking for us to let you do that. My answer is no ."

"Would you change your mind if he was white?"

Cole snapped his gaze back, finding Dareth in the doorway, looking more furious than Cole had ever seen him. The commotion and hold up had snagged a lot of attention, the people in line whispering to each other and shooting glances at Cole. It made him nauseous to have so much attention on him, and not for the first time, he wished he was smaller.

The man looked stunned. "I- what are you implying?"

Dareth stepped forward, moving to stand between Cole and the wealthy man. "If I were the guard, would you listen?"

The man shrugged. "I do not rightly know, since you aren't. I do not feel safe with-"

"Do not say that ." Dareth hissed. "Don't you dare."

Before the man or his wife could speak again, the nindroid stepped forward, his hands raised placatingly. "If you will not allow us to check for hidden weapons, then we must decline your entrance to the building. Deeply sorry."

The man huffed, snatching his wife's arm. "I am as well, for having to deal with that -"

Cole's ears were ringing after the word was uttered, one he hadn't heard in a very long time. It reminded him of the first time he had learned what it meant when he was little, how his mother had clutched him close and whispered that it was just a word while his father raged at the parents of the little girl who had said it. While he didn't remember her name, he remembered her smug face when she had said it.

Almost like she had a right to call him that, to tear him down because he looked different than she did.

The world slammed back into focus when he felt a hand on his arm, the touch that normally would be grounding painful. There were so many voices, all saying different things, and his vision was a blur at best. Cole closed his eyes tightly, trying to breathe, but it felt like he was seven again, trembling when the teacher snapped at him for missing the "very easy steps", the words he muttered unkind and as horrible as what the little girl had said.

It was part of the reason he ran away.

The world around him was falling in and out of focus every time he opened his eyes, so just kept them shut, trying to control his breathing. Everything began to shift though, the loud voices falling away and the touch that had felt like fire now a more bearable presence, one he accepted readily now. He knew he was moving, the hand on his arm a guiding light, but he still didn't open his eyes.

He was almost afraid too, after what had happened the last time he had opened them. He had to get his head back in the game, back into the role he was playing for the mission, but if he opened his eyes and could only see the past, how could he help in the present?

///

Perched on the edge of the roof, Lloyd surveyed the city below and around him, the lights always brighter than needed. They never bothered him too badly though, so he didn't mind them. Better lighting made it easier to track down the villains than poor lighting did anyway. Unable to find anything out of the usual, Lloyd lowered his binoculars with a sigh.

Minus Cyrus Borg's anniversary party happening across from the skyscraper he was perched on, the city was in a normal state of function. Families were eating dinner, shifts were being switched, the neon lights alive with the night and the city they lit up. There was no sign of an assassin who wanted Pixal's father dead for reasons no one had managed to crack.

Lloyd shook his head, turning his gaze down to his sleeve, which he pushed up and out of the way. Tapping twice at the bracelet on his wrist, he watched the holographic main menu pull up, which he swiped through until he found contacts and communications. He double-checked that his settings were correct and ready to go, then he patched himself into the comm network he, Pixal, Neuro, and Nya had thrown together.

"Anyone hear me?"

Several voices answered, little blips showing their positions on his digital map. Lloyd felt a little of his tension ease at the sight, everyone was in position and ready to go. "Give me sights, what've we got on our hands guys?"

Nya's voice crackled to life, her words sure and holding the annoyance that came with her impatience. "Nothing but traffic, it's driving me up the wall."

Lloyd almost laughed, but refrained, recalling that he was supposed to be the leader right now, not Nya's little brother with a bad sense of humor.

"Nothing here, Lloyd," Skylor said, her words carrying an easy flow that he had grown accustomed to hearing.

"Nothin' here either, kiddo." Turner added quickly, not wanting to be the last to speak. The man was rather competitive when it came down to it.

"Karloff has nothing- ah!" Static flooded the line for a second, and Lloyd's feet were already in motion when Karlof said, "False alarm, sorry friends."

Lloyd skidded to a stop before he leapt off of the skyscraper he was perched atop, sighing. "Thanks Karloff. Anyone got anything?"

"Hate to break it to you," Tox said, "but I think your lead sucks."

Lloyd pursed his lips, unsure how to respond. He was almost thankful when Neuro's voice drowned out everyone else's. "I am afraid that the target may know we are onto them," Neuro's voice warned, his tone grave and serious. "I can't read too terribly far out, but everyone within twenty-clicks of my position isn't a threat."

Neuro was just outside of reading Lloyd and probably Pixal, who was driving her car down back alleys and checking for any trace of a threat. She was anxious and doing her best to hide it, and Lloyd could understand the feeling entirely. Hell, he felt anxious just thinking about his own father. With a shake of his head, he detached from that thought. The last thing he needed was to be distracted.

Lloyd sighed again, glaring at Borg's tower across from him, the large windows betraying the exact floor where the party was being held. He could almost make out the faces and people inside of the room without his binoculars, and his chest tightened with anxiety. If the assassin succeeded in killing just one person, they would fail. Lloyd refused to let that happen.

It didn't help that no one had checked in from the tower, not even Zane, who had promised to check in every half hour. It had been almost an hour since the last check in. Surely the last of the guests should have been inside of the party, freeing Zane to help them scout around the outside of the tower along with Cole. It was part of their plan, and Lloyd couldn't act on it if Zane wasn't responding.

They were running out of time, and Lloyd couldn't wait around for Zane and Cole, or Jay and Kai. They were busy with something else, no doubt important. Or their comms had been shut off, or glitching. Maybe they didn't work with Cyrus Borg's fancy Internet servers or something. The point was, Lloyd needed a new strategy, and he needed one pretty fast.

"Pix, get Neuro in your ride." He flicked through his holographic map, finding Pixal and Neuro relatively close to one another. "Help him survey the city for our hitman."

"Affirmative, moving now."

"Understood."

"Lloyd?" Nya asked, and Lloyd could almost see her expression. "What are you thinking, talk to us."

Lloyd opened his mouth, only to freeze. Something had moved behind him, and it wasn't the wind. He made no sudden moves, hoping to keep the other being on the roof thinking he had no clue of the other's presence. He slowly reached for the hilt of his sword, flinching into action when he heard something behind him go click ka-chunk.

"Lloyd?"

"What's goin' on, kid?"

"Lloyd, what was that noise!?"

Lloyd turned just in time to make out a dark-clothed figure with a rifle in hand, followed by a bang that made him instinctively reach for his ears and duck. That was not the right choice when one is holding a sword or being shot at apparently, because something made his world rock, pain shooting from somewhere and making everything blur for a second.

Lloyd forced a breath through his gritted teeth, blearily finding the person across from him reloading, a gruff voice shooting curses rather than bullets. At least he hadn't gotten Cryus Borg. Lloyd glimpsed at himself, finding blood on his upper arm. He could handle a flesh wound. Switching sword hands, Lloyd shouted, "Found him!"

///

Kai was still reeling at the sight of the thief, but he managed to find enough of his words to actually speak. "How did you even get invited?"

Ronin shrugged languidly, nabbing one of the pastries off of the table. "'Invited' is a strong word. Let's go with 'got let in'."

Kai opened his mouth, but Ronin continued on. "Helps if you know your forgeries and the guard at the front entrance, along with the intern at the front desk."

Kai knit his brows. "Why'd Zane let you in if your invite was fake?"

"Because I have some info that might keep Borg alive tonight."

Kai shifted the glasses in his hand slightly, boring his eyes into Ronin's form. "I feel like I should ask you to dump your pockets, but if you actually have something helpful, I'd love to hear it."

Ronin swallowed his bite of pastry, nodding. "There's more than one guy gunnin' to put a bullet in Borg's head. It's a group, as far as I know."

Kai stiffened, the situation far worse than it was moments prior. If there was more than one, that changed the entire mission. "Does Zane know?"

The second the words left his lips he knew Ronin already had told Zane, or else he wouldn't have been let up to the top floor. If Zane knew, that would mean the nindroid could alert Lloyd to the growing danger. "Nevermind, if you're up here he knows."

Ronin studied him for a second, making Kai's hackles raise slightly. The older man nodded towards the crowd. "Who's the dame headin' for you?"

Kai shot him a puzzled glance and Ronin sipped at his own glass of champagne. "Just askin', not trying to steal her from you."

When an arm slipped into his own, Kai knew exactly who Ronin had meant. His boyfriend's cheeks were flushed, and there was a smile on his face, but Kai could feel how tense Jay was against him. Jay offered Ronin a darling smile, then Jay's facade of a rich girlfriend disappeared when his blue eyes found Ronin's, his expression slipping into shock. " Ronin?"

Ronin's eyes widened, then he looked between Kai and Jay for a second. "I- Jay? That you?"

Jay nodded, curls bouncing. "Yeah."

"Damn."

Jay snorted, then beamed at the sight of the pastry Kai was still holding. He took it, along with one of the flutes of champagne Kai had in his other hand. "Thanks, also how the hell did you get in?"

Kai answered before Ronin could. "He had info, Zane let him in, there's more than one."

Jay froze, pastry halfway in his mouth. After a second of debate, Jay bit off the bite, his brows knitted together as he mulled the situation over. He swallowed, tilting his head. "How do you know that, Ronin?"

Ronin sighed. "I'm not in on it, before you even ask because I can tell where this is going. I don't do murder."

Kai was acutely aware of the eyes and ears around them, so he chuckled as if Ronin had made a joke, then dropped his voice to a murmur. "Talk later."

Ronin shot him a wink. "You got it."

Jay nodded, smiling politely at Ronin as Kai led them away from the table. Kai opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted before he could even make a sound.

"Oh! Albie, bring your partner over here!"

Jay's head swiveled around, making Kai follow suit, finding a group of well-dressed twenty-something-year olds. The group looked like a few couples who were all friends, beckoning Jay over. Kai let Jay take charge, ducking his head to whisper, "Albie?"

Jay smiled awkwardly. "Fake name," he murmured, but something in his tone indicated it was more than that.

Kai wasn't entirely sure what was said after that, or who was speaking to him. All he could hear was the little wobble in Jay's voice when he had said it. The way he was acting as if nothing was out of place, as if he wasn't a boy pretending to be a girl, falling back into his repertoire of jokes and fronts to hide any of his true feelings from the world.

Kai could feel his temper flaring, but he wasn't upset with Jay. Downing the last of his champagne, he ducked his head to whisper against Jay's ear. "I'll be back in a minute."

Jay smiled at him, and then shoved him off. "Oh, get lost already, you'll be back in like two minutes!"

Kai laughed, but his heart throbbed in pain at how Jay had fallen back into that airy voice, so delicate and so unlike himself that it hurt. Kai made his way to the bathroom in the corner, making sure it was empty before he locked the door. Shoving his sleeve out of the way, he tapped at his comm. "Lloyd? Nya? Anybody?"

"Hey, hot stuff," came Skylor's slightly labored voice. There were shouts in the background, making her voice difficult to hear through the din of battle. "How's the party going?"

"Guess you know about how there's more than one guy now, huh?"

A shriek, followed by Skylor's muffled laughing. "Oh, you bet ."

Kai chewed his lip, then glanced around the bathroom. "Do you need backup?"

"Zane and Cole should be here in a minute, I think you and Jay need to focus on Cyrus Borg. We have no idea how many-"

" Sky !"

A shink of metal, ending with Skylor calling out a thanks. Kai closed his eyes for a second. "Please be safe."

"I'll try."

Kai closed the line, mind whirring with options. It was then he realized that the comm hadn't exactly been quiet. Someone surely would have gone to check if anyone was being murdered. Kai unlocked the door, eyes going wide when he registered the shrieks and shouts of alarm. Kai dashed out of the bathroom, finding the window shattered and people with guns moving through the partygoers, a flash of green darting after them.

The sight alone was alarming, but finding no sight of Cyrus Borg anywhere might have been more so. Kai slammed his fingers against his comm, tapping furiously until he managed to hit the right numbers on the digital keypad. “Ninjago City Police Department, what’s your-”

“Borg’s tower, top floor, armed and dangerous individuals attacking, send help!” Kai didn’t wait around to hear the response, diving head-first into the fire of battle, heart thundering inside of his chest. He hoped Jay was okay.

///

Zane turned to Cole, who had been sitting in the office chair that had been Zane's to begin with, but was offered when Cole had started to fall apart. After admitting the last guest, Zane knew it was crucial to proceed with the next phase of the plan, but he couldn't just ignore what had happened with Cole.

It was difficult to have such a righteous sense of morals, torn between saving Cyrus Borg and saving Cole, both from vastly different things, but both important in their own ways. Zane shot a worried glance at Dareth, who had stayed beside Cole the entire time, helping the earth ninja remain calm while Zane all but speed ran the last invitation background checks.

He still ensured they were done correctly, but still. He had moved fast. Dareth smiled at Zane, nodding towards Cole as he stood up. "I think I'm going to head upstairs, hope you guys work everything out."

Cole mumbled something, no doubt a show of gratitude for what Dareth had done. Zane voiced his own gratitude, taking one of Dareth's hands. "Thank you, you did not have to do that."

"That's the thing, kid." Dareth patted Zane's hand, something in his expression sorrowful. "I really did have to."

Zane watched his friend head for the elevator, then turned his entire focus onto Cole, who hadn't looked at him yet. "Cole?"

Cole hummed, but otherwise was unchanged in his position. Zane pursed his lips, then knelt down before Cole, placing his hands on Cole’s knees, catching his attention. “Darling?”

Cole’s cheeks pinkened slightly, which Zane took as a win considering it was a reaction. “Z?”

Zane nodded, ducking his head a bit to meet Cole’s gaze. “Yes, Cole. It’s me.”

Cole pursed his lips, then shook his head slightly. “Sorry for shutting down, I-” Cole sighed, cutting himself off. “I don’t know what happened.”

Zane didn’t like that answer, so he stood up, feeling Cole’s eyes on him. “What happened was you were treated poorly, and reacted the way anyone would in that situation. It was wrong and rude, and I am happy it did not require a physical fight.”

If Dareth hadn't intervened, Zane would have, and he was pretty sure one of the outcomes involved a version of himself he had tried to bury. He couldn't help but wonder if Borg needed some very realistic ice sculptures in the future.

Cole sounded tired. “But, I just-”

“You got upset, and when you get upset you shut down.” Zane turned to look at his boyfriend again. “It is how you function. You cannot blame yourself for that.”

Cole opened his mouth, but Zane covered it with his hand. “Correction, I will not allow you to blame yourself.”

Cole’s lips moved into a smile against Zane’s hand, his eyes locked onto Zane’s. After a moment, Zane removed his hand from Cole’s lips, only to have Cole reach out and snag his hand. Cole pressed a kiss to his inner wrist, making Zane flush himself. “Thanks, Zane.”

Zane cleared his throat. “Yes, well, we should con-continue with the mission.”

Cole looked much happier, as if making Zane flustered was a mood booster. Perhaps it was. Whatever the case, Zane forced himself to refocus on the current issue at hand. He and Cole would talk more after Cyrus Borg and his guests were all declared safe. Zane was not about to let Cole just shut down the topic and never bring it up again.

It was a nasty habit his boyfriend harbored, and it broke Zane's heart watching Cole continuously shelve his agenda for the sake of others, but never take any time to deal with what he had shelved. Zane suspected it was from how he had been raised, which only served to make him feel sadder anytime he thought about it.

Zane rolled back his sleeve, unable to meet Cole's eyes as he spoke. "We should check in with Lloyd, then follow through-"

A crash shook the building, making Zane stagger into Cole, the pair of them falling against the office chair, which cried in protest at their combined weights being forced upon it. Zane shot a worried glance up at the ceiling. "What do you think that was?"

Cole copied Zane's motion, his eyes flicking upwards before they landed back on Zane. "Probably the guy who wants Borg dead."

Zane bolted to his feet, pausing for a second when he realized where he had been sitting was not the chair. Rather, it had been Cole's lap he had been resting upon. His face felt far too warm, as if his cooling units, along with his elemental power, had left him. He allowed himself a second of flustered shock, then shoved the emotions out of the way.

Zane leapt over the front desk, using spinjitzu mid-jump to change into his gi. When his feet hit the floor, he was fully geared up, Cole landing a second after him, dressed accordingly. Cole flipped open the comm channel, chaos sounding. "Uh- Nya? How's it going?"

A shout followed by a pained grunt was the response, making Cole and Zane share worried glances. While Cole tried to get a response on his end, Zane tapped directly into Pixal's comm. "Pixal? What is happening?"

"Zane! Get to the top floor now. "

Zane flinched at her tone, chest tightening with worry. He tugged Cole's arm, already moving. "Heading up, but-"

"Lloyd's got six or- or seven- they're all armed -"

Her voice slipped out of range, leaving Zane panicked. "Pixal!"

Cole's comm chose that moment to send a voice through, Nya's usually collected voice left in stressful tension. "Get Borg outta there!"

Cole broke into a sprint for the stairs, Zane right beside him. As they flew up the steps, Zane could only hope his brothers could handle the chaos before back-up arrived.

///

Jay ducked when artillery fired, tugging down the people closest to him. "Dammit," he muttered, peeking over the overturned table to try and get a read on positions, only to find a gun in his face, making him yelp. That was the wrong move, the owner of the gun lowering the muzzle, their face hidden by their ski mask. Jay watched the mask move though, and knew the thug was smiling.

Major ew.

Jay did his best to play the panicked rich person, but it was difficult when he could have the guy disarmed in seconds. Kai wouldn't hesitate the way he did, he would have already knocked the guy out and moved to the next lethal target. Kai didn't play a role when he was needed, he didn't sit and wait for the action to come to him.

But Jay wasn't like Kai, he wasn't out to the world. People saw the lightning ninja and said he was a man who could wield lightning, that he was funny and friendly. They didn't know he was trans, they didn't know he hid himself everyday or battled against his reflection continually. Jay wasn't brave enough to even think about coming out to the entire world, and if he disarmed the gunman before him, he would.

So he stayed still, heart beating against his ribs. The thug's eyes drifted to his lips, then the gun was in Jay's face again. "Get up."

Jay swallowed and did as he was told, nervous. His words were failing him, and for once, he couldn't think of anything to say. The gun was pressed under his chin, jerking his head upwards to meet the other person's eyes, which twinkled with mischief. Those eyes then drifted lower and lower, tracing Jay's shape as if he wanted to touch him. The thought made Jay light-headed.

He could almost hear the hearty laughter of pirates, the silky voice of a djinn, the constant hum of The Misfortune's Keep. Jay squeezed his eyes shut, but that just made it worse, phantom sounds shifting into memories that shouldn't exist, but they did and they scared him. Jay forced his eyes open, chest heaving as he tried to gulp down a breath, making himself count anything.

The gun went flying and Jay counted how long it flew. Four seconds. He turned his attention back to the owner of the gun, finding them unconscious on the floor, Kai standing over him. Kai turned to Jay, and Jay burst into tears, unable to stop the flow. Kai hadn't been on the ship, he hadn't been there, he was here. He was real and alive, not a timeline that never existed.

Kai's arms were around him, his voice gentle. "Oh baby, no I'm sorry I wasn't listening. I'm sorry."

Jay realized Kai was responding to his words, which had finally come back to him. He was apologizing, no doubt for being so scared and useless and-

"Jay no, you're so brave, stop."

Jay sniffled against Kai's shoulder, then shoved him back, panicked. "Wh- Cyrus Borg!?"

Kai pressed his lips together just as the stairwell door flew open, Cole and Zane dashing in. Jay suddenly realized that the threat had been neutralized while he had spiraled, Lloyd standing a bit behind Kai. When their eyes met, Lloyd waved. Jay waved back, sniffling. Zane made for Lloyd, immediately asking him questions, while Cole made for him and Kai.

Cole's arms wrapped tightly around him, and it took all of his willpower not to cry again. Cole pulled back, then yanked Kai in for a tight hug too. "You guys are okay, right?"

Kai nodded. "There's a few wounds, but nothing grievous. I got 9-1-1 punched and dialed before I went to bashing heads."

Lloyd then joined the conversation, asking what Jay had a moment ago. "Where's Cyrus Borg?"

Kai looked torn between smug and upset. "Ronin took him out while me and Jay were running survey."

Jay gaped, then snorted wetly. "Sounds like him."

Lloyd looked lost. "Ronin? Why was he here?"

Cole shook his head. "Who cares as long as he helped?"

Zane looked the tiniest bit sheepish, and Jay shot him a smile, knowing that feeling all too well. Zane had let Ronin up, and Jay wasn’t about to snitch on him. It had served to help in the end, and that was what really mattered. Instead, he straightened his dress out a bit, still feeling the phantoms of other hands against his skin, even though it wasn’t real. “Where’s everyone else?”

Nya chose that moment to fly in through the window, landing right beside Lloyd with a flip. She glanced around then took her hood down. “Uh, am I that late?”

Lloyd giggled. “A little bit, yeah, sorry.”

Nya groaned and Kai laughed. Jay found himself grinning too, relieved to be done with the chaos of the evening.

///

Lloyd had never been so done with people in his entire life, which was saying a lot because he despised big crowds all vying for his attention at the same time. This situation wasn't any different though, which only served to heighten his already overly tense mindset. He needed a minute to collapse and regroup, not be thrust into more crowds and answer more questions.

How Gayle had even shown up before the ninja had left was beyond him, but then again, Cyrus Borg's anniversary was a pretty big deal, so maybe she had already planned to cover it on the news. The other newscasters though? They had definitely only shown up because of the disaster that had struck during the party, getting witness reviews along with the police.

Lloyd had hoped to avoid the microphones and the probing questions altogether, but wearing green tended to stand out a bit too much to most people, considering the color was correlated with him now.

"Were you aware of the threat beforehand?"

"Why were these gunmen after Mr. Borg?"

"Were they all captured?"

Lloyd opened his mouth to answer one question, only to be thrown off by another. He was tempted to ask them to take turns, but he was pretty sure his voice would be drowned out by their own questions, their voices loud and demanding his attention. He couldn't give it to them, however, not when his team was tending to the finer details while he played newsfeed.

It didn't help that he couldn't answer half of the questions anyway, since he didn't know the answers. He didn't know why the men were after Borg, other than the hunch of them wanting to throw his company into chaos. He wasn't sure how many were involved to begin with, so he didn't know if they had all been captured. Sure, he was aware of the threat beforehand, but that really didn't mean much.

The questions started to blur together, the voices melding into one annoying hum that made him tempted to flee the scene entirely. But he couldn't do that, he was the green ninja, he was a beacon of hope and everything good in the world.

At least, that's what everyone said.

A gruff voice cut through the din, the police commissioner moving between Lloyd and the reporters. "Alright, you had your fun. Now please stand back ."

Gayle narrowed her eyes. "I am only trying to ensure the people are aware of any danger."

The commissioner didn't look too impressed. "We have taped off Borg's tower for security reasons. You are crossing the boundary. For your safety, stand back."

The reporters grumbled for a moment, but eventually backed up to the sidewalk. The commissioner adjusted his lapels, then turned to Lloyd. "I hope that helps."

Lloyd nodded. "It does, thanks. But I really don't have a lot of answers, and no one will until we interrogate the criminals."

"Exactly." The commissioner adjusted his hat. "News can't have news until the truth is out. I don't know why they try to rush things."

Lloyd shrugged, regretting the motion almost instantly because ow. He forgot he'd been shot at, and maybe even successfully struck with a bullet. He would have to get Zane to look at him later. Speaking of, Lloyd stood on his toes in an attempt to see over the crowd, trying to spot his team anywhere. He found Skylor's burst of red hair, which he decided would be a good start.

"Is everything under control, Commissioner?"

The old man nodded. "If you and your ninja are needed elsewhere, go ahead. We have the gunmen taken into custody, and Cyrus Borg is safe and well."

Lloyd smiled. "I'll have to thank Ronin for that."

The commissioner looked torn between respect and like he had eaten something very sour. "Yes, I should too."

Lloyd offered the commissioner a wave, then made his way through the crowd. He was slowed down by police escorting party guests out of the way, several of the guests breaking away and thanking Lloyd profusely for his efforts. Lloyd did his best to smile and keep going, but there were so many that he started to feel trapped. It felt like every single guest was out to thank him personally.

Lloyd darted his gaze around, realizing he was all but surrounded by thankful guests and disgruntled police officers. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure they could all hear it, and he knew he must look far too pale because he felt dizzy, like he might pass out. That wouldn't be very green ninja-y. Someone would take a video and post it, and then he'd be a meme forever, a joke.

Just a kid trying to save the world, passing out from… anxiety? Stress? Claustrophobia? He had no clue, actually. Something.

"Hey, hey."

Lloyd blinked when something moved in front of him, a wall of muscle and a sleeveless gi before him.

"Let's not suffocate him, yeah?" Cole said to the crowd, shooing them back a bit.

He took Lloyd's arm (not the injured one) in his hand, leading him away from the crowd, toward the rest of the team, who were all by the police cars. Lloyd let himself breathe a sigh of relief at the sight, the elemental masters and his family all getting along well and congratulating everyone on a job well-done.

"Thanks Cole," he said softly. "I didn't mean to just stand there."

Cole stopped walking, and turned to face him. He offered Lloyd a smile. "We've had a pretty crazy night, stress'll really mess you up. I'm happy I could help."

Lloyd nodded, then kept going toward the police cars. "You all did great."

Toxikita rolled her eyes. "Of course we did, we aren't losers."

Kai snickered. "Yeah."

Zane rushed forward at the same time Nya did, both of them zeroing in on the red coloring his green gi. "What is that?" Zane asked.

"Who's blood is it?" Asked Nya, her eyes searching his face for an answer.

Kai gasped softly, then rushed forward too. Lloyd did his best to hold back a sigh, already tired of the eyes on him. "Guys, yes it's mine, I'm fine."

Cole knit his brows, concern etched onto his features. Jay wasn't any better, his big blue eyes shimmery with worry. The rest of the elemental masters didn't look much better. Pixal was by Nya's side, her green eyes laser focused on his arm, no doubt scanning him for damage or something. Unable to handle the upsetting looks any longer, Lloyd backed up a few steps.

"Let's just call it a night and go home!"

He tried for a happy tone, but it came out strained, anxious sounding. He winced at the sound, trying again. “Look, let’s just go home.”

Nya pursed her lips, looking like she was about to say something when Pixal stepped forward, pointing to the entryway of Borg’s tower. “My father is inside with Ronin, and I would like to ensure he is well before I return to the monastery.”

Lloyd nodded, waving her off. “Go for it. Message if anything goes weird.”

Pixal smiled, then glanced back at Nya for a second, then looked away. Nya sighed, then rubbed Lloyd’s uninjured arm. “I’ll stay with her.”

Kai opened his mouth, then shook his head. “Yeah, go on sis.”

Nya jogged for a second to catch up with Pixal, the pair of them sharing soft smiles before they vanished inside of Borg’s tower. Cole scrubbed a hand through his hair, then turned to the other elemental masters. “Thanks guys. Head home, okay?”

Skylor nodded, shooting Lloyd a smile. “Be safe guys.”

Karloff made certain to hug them all before he left, leaving Jay gasping as he always did. Everyone else simply left with waves or well wishes, heading home after the evening of fighting. Lloyd couldn’t blame them because he felt three seconds away from collapsing entirely. He couldn’t do that though, so he forced himself to stand upright. “Let’s go.”

“Lloyd,” Jay said. “Maybe you should sit for a second?”

Lloyd shook his head, typing into his comm to bring his car over. “I’ll be fine.”

Kai shook his head, snatching Lloyd’s arm. “I’ll come with you then.”

Lloyd sighed, but nodded, too tired to even argue with Kai. He just wanted to be home.

///

Zane sighed softly as he dug through the medical supplies in the monastery, feeling Cole’s anxious hovering more than seeing it. The Earth Elementalist wasn’t even inside of the med bay, yet Zane couldn’t shake his presence. Perhaps his sixth sense was just deeply attuned to his surroundings today. (Pixal would laugh at him and say it was because he liked Cole, quite a bit actually, and Zane would quickly find a way to reroute the conversation. She was far too good at teasing him, and he was starting to wonder if she secretly enjoyed making him flustered.)

“I have brought the tea,” Master Wu intoned, drawing Zane’s attention towards him. He watched as the old master handed his nephew the cup, his expression torn between conflicting emotions.

Zane understood the feelings well, he was very proud of Lloyd, but he had gotten shot and didn’t think he needed to tell anyone about it. He was never exactly not worried about Lloyd, not after everything the poor boy had been through, but he still hated to think too much about the reasons behind Lloyd hiding injuries. He wondered if there was a way he could phrase a conversation that wouldn’t cause the blond to build higher walls.

Lloyd smiled at his uncle, “Thanks.”

“Master, could you go see what we have in the kitchen for a meal?” Zane asked, if only because it had just crossed his mind. “Even if it is something quick and easy we need to eat before bed.”

“Of course,” Master Wu said, patting Lloyd’s knee before he left the med bay.

Zane did his best to appear calm and like he didn’t want to ask any questions that could rock the already rocky state of Lloyd’s mind, but unfortunately, he was glaringly obvious to literally everyone else. That sadly included Lloyd.

“Zane, just spit it out,” Lloyd grumbled, sipping at his tea slowly, cringing after every sip. “I know you’re upset with me.”

“Not with you,” Zane quickly soothed, setting his medical supplies down beside Lloyd, picking up the scissors so he could get to Lloyd’s arm. “Just that you got hurt. I am sorry you got wounded, not mad at you.”

Lloyd arched a brow, looking strikingly like his mother. “Really? I figured you’d be upset that I didn’t mention I was wounded.”

Zane huffed out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Well, not exactly. I admit to a bit of anger about you trying to brush off your injury, but I expect it from you. You’ve never enjoyed the med bay.”

Lloyd stuck his tongue out teasingly, and Zane laughed as he cut off Lloyd’s sleeve. The younger ninja mourned his gi, watching Zane fold up the ruined sleeve with a sort of detached sadness. “I liked that sleeve, damn it.”

“Hey, no cussing in front of Zane,” Cole said, stepping into the med bay. “He’s sensitive.”

“I am far older than either of you, I have heard much cursing.” Zane set the scissors down, moving back to the medical supplies, gathering the cleaning liquids. “I just choose to use it sparingly, to further showcase my intelligence to others.”

“He just called Kai stupid in like five languages,” Cole stage-whispered to Lloyd, who broke into a fit of giggles.

Zane smiled softly at Cole, silently thanking him for boosting Lloyd’s mood with a well-timed wisecrack. Cole smiled back, returning to heckling Lloyd until the blonde could scarcely bleed. He was so distracted by Cole that he missed Zane cleaning and bandaging his wound, which was better for everyone involved. Lloyd wasn’t a bad patient, but he was…

Zane would say traumatized by his many, many, many runs into the med bay from normally near-fatal injuries. Or comas. The poor guy had been through a lot.

“All done,” Zane said, patting Lloyd’s knee to get his attention. “You can go.”

Lloyd looked mildly confused, then he grinned. “Cool. I’m gonna go call Nya and Pix, make sure everything’s still good.”

Cole waved as Lloyd left, turning to Zane the moment the door was closed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Zane balked, in the midst of putting the med kit away. “Oh? About what?”

There were certainly many intriguing topics they could discuss, anything pertaining to the evening, or maybe something entirely different as a palate cleanser. To be honest, Zane had no clue what Cole was going to ask. He was unpredictable sometimes, despite his steadiness.

Cole rung his hands together, leaning awkwardly against the examination table. “Uh, I was wondering… Well, maybe hoping, I guess, if you’re cool with it, of course! If you would like to, uh, shit.”

Zane watched as Cole dug himself into a stuttering hole, voice going lower and quieter as he tried to talk to himself. It was cute, in a silly way. “Darling?”

Cole flushed, jaw clicking from the force he shut his mouth. Zane rolled his eyes, putting the kit away so he could take one of Cole’s hands. “I would enjoy snuggling, if that was your suggestion. Perhaps a movie to wind down?”

Cole beamed brightly, and Zane knew he had understood exactly what the Earth Elementalist was asking. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

The moment was destroyed when Lloyd threw the door open, panting. “Guys! Uncle Wu’s trying to fucking cook .”

( Somewhere nearby, Kai had an aneurysm at the feeling of his baby brother cussing. )

Zane felt faint at the mere thought, and Cole actually shuddered. “Oh hell no, Lloyd stop him!”

Their fearless leader made a pathetic whimpering sound, dashing back down the hall. Cole was right behind him, shouting orders. Zane hadn’t personally eaten any of Master Wu’s cooking, but he knew Cole had lived with him before anyone else had, and the experience was apparently… an adventure , to say the least.

Then Zane recalled Cole’s own culinary skills and fell over laughing, unable to stand any longer. The irony was not lost on him, and that made everything even funnier.

///

Jay stretched, flopping back against his bed with a sigh. It was far too late at night, somewhere between three and four in the morning, but he was over the world. He couldn’t sleep though, which was really annoying. He rolled onto his side, tucking his arms under his head, staring at the wall. He really should be sleeping, but he just couldn’t get his mind turned off.

He grumbled under his breath, sitting back up, resting his hands in his lap. With another sigh, he climbed out of bed, bare feet silent as he walked over to his dresser. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well just start his day, right? That sounded right to him anyway. Jay tugged out a shirt and pair of sweats, then paused for a second.

Should he wear his binder too? Jay chewed his lip, torn. He didn’t really feel terrible, but he knew he’d circle back to the more traumatic moments from last night, and then he’d really want his binder on. He grabbed it too, heading for the bathroom. Since it was so early, no one else would even be awake yet, unless they were struggling too, so he could have his morning rather peacefully.

He stopped when he spotted Kai leaving his bedroom, the fire ninja running a hand through his messy hair. Kai stopped when he saw Jay, knitting his brows. “Hey, babe?”

Jay jerked his gaze to the floor, clutching his bundle of clothes tight to his chest. “H-hey.”

Kai moved to him, gently ruffling his curls. “You okay?”

Jay shrugged. “Was gonna shower.”

“You feeling bad?”

Now how did he answer that? Sure, he didn’t feel fantastic, but he didn’t feel like trash. Maybe. Ish.

“I don’t know.” He eventually murmured, unable to meet Kai’s gaze. 

Kai solved that issue by gently lifting his chin upwards, his soft amber eyes meeting Jay’s blue ones. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Jay blinked quickly, trying to stop the overwhelming feeling of tears. “I- I don’t know?”

“Okay, that’s fine.” Kai pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “Go shower, I’ll make you something to eat.”

Jay nodded, staying still and rooted in place until Kai was out of the hallway. He sucked in a deep breath, forcing his feet to move forward across the floor. It was only a shower, he could do a shower. Kai was being nice too, offering to make him breakfast when he didn’t even have to, so why did he feel so anxious? It wasn’t like Kai would dump him for being trans, because they already had that conversation ages ago.

Maybe he felt so anxious because of how he had pretended to be a girl last night, dressed and looked the part. At the time, he didn’t feel bad about it, but looking back at it, how could he have been so stupid? He knew how he did with crowds and so many eyes on him, but he still made sure to put on a show for them all, so they’d pay even more attention to him. Had they all known he was faking it the entire time, but they didn’t want to say anything and offend him?

Jay sniffled, swiping at his eyes. They probably had known, and all the whispers behind their hands had been about him. There was no doubt about it. Someone had probably figured out who was too, and posted it online and then there’d be uncomfortable questions about him being trans and then he’d have to confirm or deny the claim and then the world would flame him or- or want him deemed unfit to protect Ninjago or maybe even want him dead-

“Jay, Jay, hey, look at me okay?”

Jay flinched at the sensation of fingers on his arms, jerking backwards and away from the touch. Something slammed into his back, making him drop his clothes on the floor, the world swaying wildly around him. “I- I’m- I didn’t-”

“Jay, it’s okay. You're okay. Can you tell me where you are?”

Jay squeezed his eyes shut. “M-monastery?”

“That’s right, that’s good Jay.”

Jay sucked in a breath, forcing himself to focus on anything. The pressure of someone holding his arms, the pain in his chest as he forced his lungs to breathe, the rough wood against his back and the dull ache in his spine from hitting the wall. There was so much, but not enough, and he could feel his body losing control, falling down into the spirals he tried his best to push away until he couldn’t anymore. He shouldn’t be like this, all shaky and scared, he should be better.

He had saved the world countless times, so why couldn’t his body and brain get with the program and fucking like each other?

“Jay?”

Jay swallowed as best as he could, slowly lifting his gaze from the floor (when had that happened?) to meet pretty amber eyes flooded with warmth. “Hi.”

Kai smiled softly, running his thumb over the swell of Jay’s cheek. “Hey there.” The Fire Elementalist was so gentle, his normally brash and bold actions gone, replaced with a softness that made Jay melt into his touch, sighing quietly. “You need anything?”

Jay nodded against his hand, pushing himself closer to Kai, relishing in his comfort. “You’re good.”

Kai laughed softly, brushing a hand through Jay’s curls. “Alright, we’ll stay put for a minute.”

Jay buried his face in the crook of Kai’s neck, content and for a few minutes, happy right where he was. He wasn’t needed anywhere, he didn’t have to do anything, no one was watching him. It was just him and Kai, and Kai was so warm. Jay loved it, cuddling tighter, enamored by his boyfriend.

He’d be okay.

[ladyazulina]

August 4th

This day was... unexpected in a lot of senses, but I did what I wanted (as my goal), so everything is okay anyway.

I'm noticing I'm not only talking about my writing in those posts and don't know how to feel about that, maybe I should restrain myself and keep on topic or something... I will see.

I... canceled my stream this morning, just two minutes after I started it. The day was... not being kind to me, a lot of weird things happening at the same time, so I also... didn't write early. Mostly because of that.

I decided I wasn't in the mood.

So I passed the morning trying to rewatch Hamilton (trying because the internet was being a devil and the movie stopped every thirty seconds or something like that... for three hours, bless me for continuing trying for that long), Dear Theodosia was suddenly stuck in my head and hearing the song on Youtube wasn't enough.

And after that, how I was set on watching another musical I haven't been able to and wanted since a while ago, I continued with Tick, tick... BOOM!

It was good... I have to watch Rent now.

I have to see all the musicals I ever wanted now, before my hearing gets worse and they became too loud and painful to watch. (I put them on hold because I bought an accessory that let me hear the sounds directly in the hearing aids, but one of my hearing aids started faulting, and I wasn't going to hear anything that way while only wearing one.)

SO! I decided it was time to get to work. My goal of the outline in a month won't go anywhere if I don't sit to make it happen, right?

So I sat to make it happen.

I finished eight of these to reach ten

and also got some essences that let me finish some quests.

But I had a few more words to chime in, so I decided to go against three of these

because I need lots of wood for another quest.

In word count language (?)

Worked in: Microstory. Words written: 23.

I surprised myself adding a new microstory to my second collection (you can find the link to the first collection here), after transcribing a nine-word microstory I wrote before going to sleep.

I also wrote

Worked in: This post. Words written: 161.

which I feel a bit ashamed to be sharing this way. It has no hashtags because I kinda don't want anyone finding it just because and because I don't feel like airing it around (looking for ways to get traction) on the posts with my raw feelings. Yeah, I felt a lot better after feeling validated, and I would love to connect with other people feeling like me, but I found it... wrong to voice it out in the first place to also... format it in a way that makes my voice be spread. I don't know if I am making myself understood.

Sigh.

Anyway, I also

Worked in: AngelDemon. Words written: 1.259.

The outline of the fourth chapter is ready and things are already getting heated there. I'm writing down everything that occurs to me and trying to find answers to the questions even if it's not there where they will be answered. I can't rely on myself to remember it later. So better safe than sorry.

I just remembered I wanted to share a snippet of that old work, I think from the second chapter, but I will do it later when I start rewriting. I think it's still good and still holds a lot of meaning, but it won't be kept, at least not phrased that way, so if I'm going to change it, I can as well share it.

What I will share about it right now is that the demon fell first, but the angel fell harder.

Okay, nothing more to see here except the summary:

Total words: 1.443. Lower daily goal: 100 ✅ Higher daily goal: 300 ✅ 4thewords goal: 444 ✅

And there were days when I wasn't even able to write 100 words... they feel so far away...

Should I be saying that? Not going to be that I'm jinxing myself here...

Tagging: @aziz-reads

[bayisdying]

LUCKY PENNY - CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A/N: I don't love this chapter but you guys have waited long enough. Let me know what you think.

Tagging the babes: @dragon-kazansky @mrsjaderogers @gracespicybradshaw @cycbaby @callmemana @callsignscupcake @kloofspeaks @notyoursbutlewis @milesdickpic @askmarinaandothers @breadsquash

Lucky owed him - big time.

Not only did she call him of all people, she had given him a monumental task that he couldn't tell anyone else about. Oh she owed him about fifty beers when she got back from this stupid mission.

Especially since he was lying to all his friends, their friends, their friends who included his girlfriend and her husband.

Lying to both Alana and Mickey was hard, because they both knew something was up with him.

"Hey Jake, we are getting out of here early and heading to the beach for some dogfight football, you in?" Javy asked from the doorway.

"Nah, I need to finish some reports."

"Who are you and what you done with the Hangman? Hangman doesn't stay late to do reports." Javy laughs.

"Well you know, I can usually get Lucky to write them for me since we are teaching together but Cyclone decided to send her away."

"You do remember that she was going to be out for her honeymoon right?"

"Shut up Javy, get out of here." Jake tosses a pencil at his friend who walks away laughing.

Jake pulled back up the files he had minimized when he heard footsteps. Lucky had been adament that nobody knew what they were doing, mainly because she knew what the others would do if they knew.

He read report after report, flagging things he found that matched what she had told him. After an hour of being headfirst in these damn reports, he ran a hand through his hair.

"Lucky, what did you get me into?" He asks outloud to nobody but the air.

He compiled all of his findings into a list that was growing by the day. Scrolling through everything made him angrier. If anything happened to Lucky while she was over there? They might think Garcia would be their worst nightmare, but Jake planned on being the dark horse.

-----

While Jake was busy doing his top secret mission and everyone else was down at the beach, Fanboy and Cin were at the Hard Deck with Spicy.

"Jake is up to something." Cin says, the other two nodding.

"He's been paying for all the rounds lately, and usually he puts his beers on other open tabs."

"Hey wait, he does that?"

"That's not important, he's hiding something from us and it's bothering me."

"You don't ever put his drinks on my tab, right Spicy?

"Mickey! Pay attention."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. So what do you think he's up to Cin?"

"I don't know, but he's been staying late in his office and claiming he's doing reports. I know he isn't the best report writer but it has never been like this before. Plus his reports are the same length they usually are, when Lucky isn't doing it for him."

"He's been really on edge at work too, like totally opposite of the cocky asshole we all know and love." Fanboy added.

"We will figure it out." Spicy said, placing a hand over Cin's, "have either of you heard from Lucky?"

"Nope."

"No."

Spicy slides another beer to Fanboy.

"She'll be home soon and she'll help us with Jake. Lord knows she would have already burst down his door and asked by now."

-----

"Whay do you mean it's being pushed back again?"

Dragon flinched a little when she heard the bite in her husband's voice. She knew what he was talking about.

"Just run the damn mission Hermes. I'm running out of patience." Ice slams the phone down and puts his head in his hands.

"How much longer?"

"Hermes says it could be another two weeks, he's doing this to toy with her I know it." He mumbles.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What Rach?"

"You're THE Iceman, you can make the call to pull the mission."

-----

Two nights later, Jake is staying late yet again, waiting for the call from Lucky. She had texted him that the mission was pushed back again and he had seen red. So he had spent even more time in these reports, trying to find anything that could help.

As he waited he opened another report and began to read. All of a sudden he sat up a bit straighter.

"Baylie "Lucky" Steele."

Why was her name on this report? He read further and further until his phone rang.

"Jake."

"Lucky why didn't you tell me what he did to you?"

"You found that report?"

"Damn straight I did."

"Jake it was a long time ago."

"Still, he hurt you and now he's using this power he has over you to do it all over again. What if he purposely hurts you during this mission? Think about what that would do to us. To Mickey. To Ice. To Spicy and Cin."

Silence on the other end.

"That's why I have to do this Jake. I have to run this mission, then I am coming home and bringing everything to Ice. I have to prove to myself and to him that I can do this. Then I can finally put everything in the past."

"Lucky." He sighs, "you damn stubborn woman. I have more than enough information here to bury them all. You don't have to fly this mission, you can just come home."

"You know damn well I can't just come home."

"You could, but you're too stubborn to know when to give up. Please just come home safe. I don't like funerals."

They hung up, Jake sighs heavily. He sees a text from Cin. He responds that he's on the way home, skimming the report once again. A rage growing in him.

"Come on Lucky, come back home."

-----

Ice knew Lucky was going to hate him, but he made the call. Nobody would be going on the mission. Too bad his surrogate daughter is a stubborn bitch, and Hermes didn't quite like being told what to do. A deadly combination.

-----

[bicowboywuvhugz]

A/N writing this because of the beautiful boy trend and somewhat it gets through my dream too, so yeah basically this story is inspired by it. And maybe would be my source of comfort in the long run.

Nothing fancy, just father-daughter conversation with Endverse dean(?)... And yeah, you get it.. but I promise, no angst, just.. Comfort.

If you decided to read this then I warned you this is my first try to write and actually finished something, so my bad if it's kinda out of place..

Word count: 4.2k-ish

Should I tag this? Nah..

Dean Winchester never expected to have a kid, let alone a daughter. But then again, this whole thing hadn’t happened by accident and it wasn’t a coincidence that she was his own flesh and blood. She was the product of his love of her mother, a beautiful angel -a literal angel. He was never expected to fall in love with an angel, yet again when was life ever going his way?

Dean chuckled at the idea and let out a deep breath as he watched his daughter, learning to throw knifes by herself. Did he want her to do that? Of course not. But again she's just as much stubborn as Dean is, or more even adding from her mom genne. He just wants what the best for her, and hell, he have dedicated his whole life now to protect her.

It's been a tough life for them. Especially with everything going on, Apocalypse, his brother is somewhere around this world possessed by Lucifer. Life's never treated him right, but at least he got his daughter among the few good things he had left in this world.

Dean then decided to approach her while she's throwing the last knife, She turns to look at him while sighing and he can see the slight irritation in her eyes, "This is not what it looks like, Dad." Oh, she must think I'll scold her for trying to learn how to protect herself? Dean thought to himself. Then she added, sounding annoyed, "If you're here because you wanna talk about something, it better be important or you might find yourself sleeping on the couch tonight." That little bitch has balls, Dean mentally exclaimed. He smiled fondly at her before sitting beside her and said, "You know, Your mother taught me how to fight Angels. We fought them for many years, but they always escape us no matter where we go. When I met Mom…I thought she would save the world from these monsters." Dean couldn't help but feel nostalgic, reminiscing those days before the apocalypse. "And she did, even after her last breath."

He looked up from the ground and saw his daughter looking at him with hard eyes. He know that the talk about her mom will most likely upset her, so he kept talking instead of letting it linger for too long. "When your mother passed away, it felt like I died along with her." Dean take in a deep breath, he might be selfish to tell her all of this, but it's better that he did so than to let her suffer.

His daughter stared back at him silently. She seems to contemplate his words carefully and he could've sworn that she almost looks like she wanted to apologize and offer comfort. But she didn't, because there's a time when you need silence to process things, but not if you need someone to listen.

And right now he needed her. So he went on, "But she did it for you." Now he looked at her straight in the eye and continued, "She chose to leave you with me. She knew she wouldn't make it and she trusted my ability to raise you as her daughter." His gaze softened as he continued, "Your mother loved you very much and always made sure to protect you." He then sighed, he might have sounded like an ass. But he was tired and all he could think about was getting his child away from everything that could harm her, even though it seemed like it will happen again. Maybe one day she'll understand why he did it.

The girl looked down at her hands and fiddled with her fingers, "I'm sorry, Dad.." He stopped her before she can continue "Don't be," Dean replied, "I'm glad you're here. You're my daughter and I love you very much." He then stood up and offered her his hand, "Come on, lets go inside. We're leaving in the morning and I won't get any sleep until we're safe and sound. Okay?" Dean waited for her reply and she took his hand.

Her grip was tight, but gentle. A sign of understanding that she understood where he was coming from - that his actions are what she's used to. After some time, she nodded and squeezed his hand, letting go of it as soon as possible. They both turned towards the house and walked together. It's moments like these when Dean remembers how much she reminds him of her mother; she is just as kind and soft hearted as she is determined. And as much as he adores their daughter, he hopes she'll grow up knowing who her mom truly was...and the woman he loves.

[bitttertrees]

No, no. THANK you for adding because you are right. I tried to move passed this but I got mad again seeing stupid takes about it on twitter. Because you are right. They all ignored the 'darker tone than the show' tag along with everything else. Like I have no doubt a majority of those who have complained never have even read the fic and all their information has been gotten out of context. Like if I can rant real quick about their 'talking points'. Read more because I ended up just rambling

Torture Porn: So many on risetwt don't understand the meaning of this word. Movies like SAW and Texas Chainsaw Massacre. THOSE are movies that are the definition of torture porn. LFLS? Not even close. That fic has a plot and reasoning for things that happen. It has a story to tell unlike those movies that are just torture for torture sake. And I laugh every time someone goes 'LFLS is so gorey and descriptive with the gore!' because nah. It barely touches the surface level. I really want to know what risetwt thinks is 'gore' because my God.

Mischaracterization: Oh no. They made Draxum a bit more evil! THE HORROR! I feel like these folks just remember season 2 crap redemption arc Draxum and not the s1 Draxum that literally wanted to make children into soldiers, was mutating innocent people, threw a child off a roof and HIRED OTHERS to destroy said children. Like bruh. And with Leo. Well yeah dude's personality is gonna change after going through the horrors.

Hurt/Comfort but where is the comfort: I remember last year when the shit started someone went 'it shouldn't take two years for the fic to get to the comfort arc!' seeming to forget Glitch has a life outside of writing a fic and that there was a plot to this story. Stuff was happening and a build up/climax was going on and risetwt threw a hissy fit because the comfort could start. I remember someone going that Leo should have been rescued right in the Nexus and its like ??? no ??? do y'all not understand build up? That not every story is wrapped up in a little bow?

Sorry for the long rant but MAN people can criticize the fic and not like it but risetwt's animosity towards it is so over the top. I remember when that twitter space happened that people were like 'You can still like the fic!! We're just pointing out the problems with it!!' but now its like a witch hunt over there if you say/write/draw anything positive about it. And all said by people who are just parroting one another that again - never even read it.

What activated this long rant was someone on twt making a comment about how Glitch essentially deserved to get bullied for writing LFLS :/ like risetwt just needs to admit they like to go after people that don't conform to things THEY SPECIFICALLY like. And things that are harsher than a character stubbing a toe is too much for them. I cannot wait for the day Glitch updates and gets back in the groove of things so that it shows the whiners on risetwt didn't win or make Glitch lose their passion.

I want lfls to get its finish. Risetwt and their shit be damned.

At this point I no longer trust or think anyone who calls lfls 'torture porn' is valid. Because nine times out of ten they are just parroting what someone else said and never actually read the fic themselves or read a part of it out of context.

Like learn what the damn word means and form your own opinion rather than spout the same bs you heard someone else say because you don't want to 'accidentally like the weally bad fic :CCC'

[downspiral]

* / BPD ( borderline personality damon )

lil talk about damon’s behaviour, emotional patterns and mental health! i’m categorising this as a headcanon for simplicity’s sake but this is all based on canon material, whether unintentional or not i do genuinely think he has it in canon and will sort of be elaborating on why that’s clear to me. as a disclaimer none of this is meant to excuse any of his behaviour and hopefully it won’t come off that way either, but bpd and its associated stigma is a personal topic to me, so please go in with sympathy and an open mind. under the cut bc this could get lengthy!

so to start off with i’ll just briefly explain borderline personality disorder (BPD) for people unfamiliar with it— it’s a mood disorder that has many associated symptoms with various mental illnesses like depression, anxiety and bipolar disorder, as well as substance issues, eating disorders and other personality disorders eg. antisocial or narcissistic personality disorder. it’s classed by four groups of symptoms:

emotional instability

disturbed patterns of thinking or perception

impulsive behaviour

intense but unstable relationships with others

( obviously this definition is too broad for any specific diagnosis, since everyone is different, and can’t be used alone to diagnose someone without ruling out other disorders and subjective opinion of a professional who knows enough about your behaviours to make an assessment, so from here on out i’m going to be drawing on my own experiences, and hopefully i’ll be able to articulate it in a way that makes sense, but please let me know if it doesn’t. )

***

the first and most glaringly obvious identifiers of this where damon is concerned in my opinion is a), his tendency to spiral very suddenly and abruptly after even minor triggers, such as failure, rejection or even just feeling insulted by someone he cares about, and b) his frequent impulsive behaviour, and what might be termed a lack of self-control in following those impulses - the first examples that come to mind would be his leaving for a road trip with katherine despite hating her, or killing jeremy because he was the first person he saw after feeling rejected by elena - and as he later admitted honestly, not knowing that it wouldn’t be permanent. 

so starting with a), his irrational spiralling — i’ll preface this by saying that in my own experience, my initial diagnosis where my therapist suggested BPD as a possibility was immediately after i told her that i felt my emotions were just more severe than most people’s, which is why i always felt i was overreacting to things, both bad and good, alternating with feelings of extreme numbness and dissociation which would follow immediately after as a coping method. bouncing between extremes of emotion is also something we see damon do constantly; not regarding the humanity switch detail and focusing solely on his ‘humanity-on’ behaviour, we still see him go between extremely cold, numb and uncaring (albeit often this is hidden behind deflection and humor) to deeply hurt, loving, and willing to make huge sacrifices for causes or for people. 

this is also a little muddled by the in-world lore of vampires having very heightened emotions. if you consider that damon already had BPD while a human, which is highly plausible given what we see of the decisions he made even then, then it follows that as a vampire those already-dysfunctional behaviours would be driven to extremes. this isn’t only obvious to the person watching; other characters comment on it constantly, e.g. almost any time katherine shows up, everyone immediately starts worrying if damon’s going to snap, having learned that the tiniest of things can send him into extreme behaviour, harmful to both himself - picking a fight with julian out in the open, described as having a death wish, and various suicide missions - and other people - e.g. attempting to kill jeremy and bonnie, despite it being abundantly clear that those two murders would make everything worse for him, and logically, make no sense, and serve no benefit to him. they were not thought-out decisions, not premeditated, and not something he would do in a sound state of mind, which is part of why they’re so painful to watch - they’re stupid, unjustified decisions, and seem irrational and disproportionate to whatever triggered him to make them. this also falls into the category of ‘lashing out’, something damon is frequently noted to do - often in the form of destroying or severing relationships, which may be done via simple purposeful negative interaction with someone, or doing more, genuine harm so that those relationships are ended regardless. 

this ties in both with the impulsive behaviour aspect, but also a comment elena once made which struck a huge chord with me as an identifier of BPD - she said he felt that everyone hated him, and in an attempt to face those perceptions or correct them as someone of sound mind would do, he instead tries to come to terms with the pain of that by making himself believe that they were right - ‘proving’ both to others and to himself that they were right to hate him, via doing bad things. while this particular incident was partially due to enzo’s influence and damon seeking approval from the only person he felt he could still get it from, he still had the agency to make that decision, and this wasn’t the only time where that behavioural pattern could be observed. 

the depth to which those thought processes go can sort of be seen when you consider season 8, where enzo and damon were both under the mind control of a siren, leaving only their subconscious with free will to resist. enzo’s instinct was to try and weave messages into the things that the siren had him do, knowing that bonnie would recognise them and be able to save him from doing more harm. on the other hand, damon’s instinct was to sever those relationships so completely that none of them would ever attempt to save him again, thus keeping them, in his eyes, out of harm’s way. 

i don’t wanna make this so long it’s unreadable so i’ll try and end it with this last point, which is that another symptom of BPD is latching on to one particular person - whoever might feel most significant to them at the time, whether a friend or romantic interest, though often those feelings can combine and become confused when that emotional connection is made (most obvious example being elena, who damon had a relatively good and stable friendship with, that seemingly functioned fine as it was, yet progressed into romance anyway and became destructive). when that said person is found, the intensity of your emotion leads to a usually unhealthy amount of attachment on your part - often leading to possessive, manipulative or even emotionally abusive elements of relationships that more often than not become toxic. this person becomes the sole way that you feel validation/love/approval/happiness, any good emotion at all - in a way, your brain compensates for previous and more significant traumas, e.g. parental abuse/neglect, by channelling all this emotion into the nearest outlet of love and acceptance you can find. as a result even the tiniest fraction of attention or approval from that person can completely brighten your mental state for weeks, while the tiniest perception of disapproval or neglect from them - note perception, this could be something as miniscule as a misunderstanding, a tone being read wrong in a text, a genuine mistake being interpreted as a deliberate attempt to separate - can be enough to drive you to suicidal ideation. 

obviously, whether it’s known to them or not, all this puts an unrealistic amount of expectation on the other person - one individual cannot possibly be responsible for the entire mental state of another, and will often - quite rightly - lead to the decision to end the relationship out of self-preservation. this is observed very frequently with damon’s close relationships; at some point, most of the people he’s been closest to have, with some degree of regret, been forced to write him off, because he puts too much strain on their own mental state. without significant effort to change on the part of the disordered person, sadly, this situation doesn’t usually have a resolution, because one’s own mental health is never the sole responsibility of others. it’s worth saying that most of these behaviours are done unintentionally and instinctively, as what seems the first logical conclusion in a brain that has been wired - physically, neurons and pathways in the brain have been grown by trauma that leads to those paths becoming the ‘right’ ones, rather than the healthy alternatives, which is usually what therapy’s end goal is - minimising the disordered pathways while reinforcing the positive ones, via practice of healthy behaviours and identifying bad thought processes so they can be stopped with the hope that those ones will take priority eventually. that being said, decisions that are motivated by and followed by, self-hatred, doesn’t excuse them from the harm they may cause other people. and it’s not fair - none of it is, because immediately what that situation seems to become is, ‘i didn’t ask to be this way, i don’t want to be harmful, but because i have been traumatised this is how i turned out, and now if i want healthy and good relationships, i have to work twice as hard against all my natural instincts just to ensure i come off as a person worth caring about’. 

this is getting a little off-topic, but to say - there is a stigma about BPD, often associated with emotional abuse and manipulation, and it’s too complex a topic to sum up in one paragraph, but the gist of it is that sadly in my experience there is truth to it. i feel as though my disorder increases the likelihood of me being harmful, which means i have to work twice as hard to stop it - things that seem like common sense, basic decency, human logic that comes naturally and as first instinct to many, have to be actively strived for by people with this particular disorder. so while failing to do so may happen more for those people, and thus lead to them coming off as a worse person, there is some explanation as to why - and of course that doesn’t mean excusing that behaviour, never! but, there is a grey area between ‘excusing and enabling unhealthy behaviour’ and ‘your disability grants you no leeway whatsoever’. there is a middle ground and it’s hard to find the right place to walk it, and probably differs for everyone, but for me that’s why damon is relatable, and why i think i have more tolerance for things that he’s done. 

i’ll just end this by saying that this is all one person’s experience of bpd and what i’ve observed from a few others i’ve known. i don’t speak for everyone with bpd, it’s not my call to make, mental disorder is overwhelmingly complex and hotly debated even in medical circles. but all that being said, i have recognised a lot of my own emotional experiences in damon’s and how the characters around him react to it (without the murder, obviously) and to me it is slightly more complex than ‘this is a shitty person’. thank you for reading all this if you did, it’s kind of hard to talk about, but hopefully for some this adds a little more insight into my portrayal and attachment to the character. 

[witchybitchy222]

Azriel x Reader

Renewal | Chapter Four

Azriel x Female Reader

Based on this ask:

“My brain literally will not shut up about reader from our world who is actually the reincarnation of Rhys’ sister (and Az’s mate duh)but NONE of them realize it until she dies/gets put into the cauldron and comes back as high fae”

IM BACK BITCHES!! As some of you know, I’ve been slow to get more parts written because well, for one I never expected this many people to be invested in my writing and I’m (!!!!) and two, I just got married less than a month ago, and for the past year my life has been all about the wedding. BUT now I’m married and free to write! This is really just a fun filler chapter but I promise a more plot-driven part is coming soon! As always, send me suggestions if you have any! A lot of you asked to be added to the tag list, so if I forgot you I’m SO SORRY! Pls message me and I’ll add you ASAP. Much love! -J

Y/N

“Ow!” You yelped as you reached up to pat your aching scalp. “I have a human pain tolerance you know” you scowled at Mor’s reflection in the mirror as the female winced behind you.

“Sorry, sorry. I just want to do my absolute best, it’s your first night out with us!” Her fingers wove through your hair, braiding back the front pieces so they were out of your face. She’d assured you you’d want your hair out of the way once she got you on the dance floor.

“Im certain we’ll have an amazing time” Feyre assured the blonde as she came into the bedroom, giving you a wink over Mor’s shoulder.

You surveyed the females in the room with you. Mor in her silky red halter dress, lips painted to match, Feyre in a two-piece outfit of glittering deep purple that showed off just the right amount of cleavage, a sliver of her stomach was visible and the bell sleeves swished as she moved. Nesta was in a deceptively alluring dress, the high neck and long length made it unassuming, but the way the fabric hugged her curves was mesmerizing, and when she turned a cut out revealed her entire back from her neck to the base of her spine. You were anxious to see what had been chosen for you to wear.

You stared at your reflection as Mor put the finishing touches on your hair. The makeup the female had applied to your skin made you glow and your eyes popped with the subtle eyeliner. You had to admit you looked good, but being surrounded by all these fae females with their otherworldly beauty made it hard to feel confident.

“Perfect!” Mor all but squealed as she took in her work. “I’ll go grab your dress!” She rushed from the room and you grabbed your wine glass from the vanity, downing the rest in one gulp, you’d need a little liquid courage for this, you were certain. Nesta snickered from her chair by the fire and Feyre shot you a sympathetic look.

“She’s so excited, it’s like she’s a girl with a new doll” Nesta smirked at you. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m just hoping whatever she’s cooked up for me to wear gives me some semblance of coverage.” You said with a wince.

Your confidence was waning, and the last thing you needed was a dress that showed off all your human imperfections. Mor brought out a dark blue garment that had you feeling more than unsure, but when you looked in the mirror after she and feyre zipped you in, you were shocked at how good you looked. The dress had a sweetheart neckline that dipped just enough to show a bit of cleavage before lining up with the off-the-shoulder sleeves. The bottom was snug at your hips, but light and flowy around your legs, with a high slit on either side, it was gorgeous.

“Wow. I look incredible” you said as you looked at yourself from all angles.

Mor laughed “See!” She began “I knew you’d love it, you look amazing and more importantly you FEEL amazing.” You gave the female a quick hug, thinking how much you truly appreciated these people who had taken you in.

“Come on ladies,” Nesta said with a sigh as she rose from her chair, “I’m in need of something stronger than wine.” She winked as she passed you, and the four of you headed downstairs.

Azriel

Never, in his 500+ years of life, had Azriel thought a human would be the death of him, but the way his body reacted when he saw Y/N completely changed that notion. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, all there was, all he could see, was Y/N.

He knew his family was talking, that his shadows were whispering, that he’d been staring for far longer than appropriate, but he couldn’t snap out of it. She was stunning. Literally.

Her hair was down in waves, loose and wild and so incredibly soft looking he wanted to reach out and touch it. Her eyes were lined, making the violet hue all the more vibrant, her lips stained and left looking so damn kissable he could hardly contain himself. And her dress, mother, her fucking dress. It accentuated her curves in the most delicious way. He thought his heart stopped when she moved and the slits in her skirt showed off her legs, all the way up to mid thigh. The way it dipped to show off the curve of her breasts, and left her shoulders bare, he wanted to lick from that dip in her dress all the way up to her earlobe, and then he’d-

“Ready to go?” Mor’s face appeared in front of him and he nodded in reply, thankful he was usually quiet enough that no one noticed he’d been lost in his own mind for cauldron knows how long.

Azriel spent the walk to Rita’s mentally steeling himself. He was a damn spymaster, he could handle being around an attractive female for one night. When the group arrived, he settled himself at his usual spot by the bar, putting some much needed distance between him and Y/N.

Y/N

Rita’s was incredible. You were worried when your friends (were they your friends now?) had mentioned going to a bar. You pictured something darker, less inviting, and more uncomfortable. Then when they broke our their nice dresses and jewels you imagined a fancy lounge filled with rich fae sipping expensive whisky, but this, this was perfect.

The whole place was lit up with string lights and paper lanterns. It was crowded, but not enough that you couldn’t freely move around, and the drinks were delicious. People all around you were dancing and laughing and talking as if they were all one big group of friends. By the time you finished your second drink you were ready to follow Mor and Cassian to the dance floor and let loose.

Mor was a whirlwind, dancing and flirting and drinking with everyone in sight. Cassian was surprisingly graceful for his size, stepping through the crowd with ease and swinging a begrudging Nesta around with him.

You took a sip of your drink and reached for Mor. She twirled you around and you caught sight of Rhysand and Azriel leaning against the bar. “The males don’t dance?” You asked her.

Mor laughed and leaned in close. “Well, judging by the look on Rhys’ face, he’s about to snatch up our dear high lady and whisper something provocative that none of us want to be witness to, and Az, well, Az is just as stoic here as he is everywhere else.” You looked back at the males in question, Rhysand was polishing off his drink while keeping his eyesight solely focused on Feyre, you had no doubt Mor was right on that front. Azriel stood with a drink in hand, casually surveying the crowd. You frowned.

“The point of tonight was to let loose though.” You said as you looked back at the blonde.

She laughed, “well if you want to try and get him out here, be my guest, but my bet is he doesn’t move from that spot all night.” She threw back the last of her drink and headed for the bar, leaving you looking in the shadowsinger’s direction.

What you did next was definitely out of character, but you’d spent the whole time since you’d awoken here worrying and you wanted to have fun. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the thrumming beat of the music, or maybe just your determination to forget about all your problems for the evening. Whatever it was, it had you walking across the floor towards Azriel.

He stopped his surveillance of the room and locked eyes with you and for a moment you were frozen in place, stopped by the intensity of having his gaze solely upon you. You shook it off and smiled at him, beckoning him with a finger. He raised an eyebrow and you rolled your eyes, spinning in a circle to the music, silently asking him to come dance. He shook his head and you pouted at him, determined not to give up. He sighed and pushed off from the bar, making his way to you.

For a moment you wondered what you were getting yourself into. You looked him over as he walked toward you, he had ditched his jacket, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his elbows, wings pulled in tight behind him. He was easily the most beautiful male in the room, and right now, his gaze was focused solely on you. It was… intimidating. But you refused to back down, this was a night for fun, and nothing was going to get you down.

Azriel

He had no clue how long he’d been on the dance floor. As soon as he’d seen Y/N beckoning him over he knew he was done for. The way she looked tonight was… incredible. He’d always found her attractive, but tonight, she was glowing. It wasn’t just the hair and makeup, or the dress (Mother above, that dress made him weak in the knees), but it was the confidence, the way she let herself have fun without restrictions, without worry, it was intoxicating. She was a force all her own, and he wanted nothing more than to get wrapped up in her.

He twirled her around one last time as the song came to a close, and tried not to frown when she pulled away. Azriel was determined to be as gentlemanly as possible, keeping his hands strictly on Y/N’s waist, never straying from what was proper, as much as he’d love to let his hands roam to her back, to feel her skin, and maybe even dip lower, to pull her so close there was barely room to breathe… but no. He was determined to keep things friendly, nothing more.

Y/N polished off her drink and leaned in to tell him she was going to grab another, before heading off to the bar. He could only stand and stare as she walked away. Someone came up behind him, and he immediately knew it was Rhys. The high lord dripped a hand on his shoulder, and Azriel turned to look at him.

“It’s been a long while since I’ve seen you on the dance floor, brother.” Rhys said with a grin. Azriel only shrugged.

“How many drinks have you had? I’ve only seen you dance like that when you’re absolutely smashed!” Cas said, pushing between Azriel and Rhys and slinging an arm around each of them.

Azriel frowned and looked at the drink still in his hand, the glass was half full of amber liquid “this is my first one.” Cas only laughed, clearly wasted, and said something to Rhys, which had both of them laughing, and it struck him just how sober he was.

He glanced toward the bar, eyes immediately finding Y/N, only to see her already watching the three of them, a smile on her face. He raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a small smile, she waved in return and his heart sped up.

“What d’ya say Az, shots?” Cas asked. Azriel looked to his brother, his eyes were already glassy and his cheeks were red, he wasn’t sure he needed anything more than water at this point. Azriel winced, glanced back at the bar, and his face fell. Y/N was still there, perched on a stool, but there next to her was a blonde male, leaning in a bit too close. Azriel was about to head over there and rip the male from his seat, when he saw Y/N tip her head back and laugh at whatever the male had said. And that was all it took for him to realize that no matter how much she danced with him, and laughed with him, and looked up at him with those big violet eyes, she wasn’t his. And she never would be. Cas and Rhys were still arguing next to him about what alcohol to choose for their shots, but he suddenly couldn’t do it. He had to get out of there. He mumbled an excuse to his brothers and pushed his way out of the bar, refusing to look back at Y/N. As soon as his feet hit the street outside he shot into the air, wanting nothing more than to hear the beat of his wings and feel the sting of the wind on his face.

Taglist:

@strawbwebbie @judig92 @bankerfrog @meritxellao @amdiriel @kristalhi @everyonehatescarmen @reareaikea @nothxney @toothhurtyam @goldentournesol

[gojosoath]

the world underneath your skin — toji fic

MINORS DON'T INTERACT // 18+ ONLY!!

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader (uses she/her pronouns)

tags: romance x ANGST x like a SHIT TON OF ANGST x AU (no sorcerer stuff in this au) x action x some smut

warnings: alcoholism x self harm (Y/N self harms, i do NOT mean this in any way implying that the reader (you) do this. and that if you have struggled/or are struggling with self harm, this is a major trigger warning. as someone who personally has struggled with self harm, i know how sensitive the topic is) x death (only characters' death from manga is toji's wife and megumi)

summary: After spending most of his life as an underground hitman for desperate means to support himself financially — Toji Fushiguro gets recruited to work as an assassin for the government due to his his mastered skills. Through his new occupation, Toji struggles with muscle pains and is recommended to see a massage therapist. Toji meets Y/N, who becomes Toji’s massage therapist, and the two realize they both have toxic addictions they hide from daylight; Toji’s alcoholism and Y/N’s self-harm. Along the way, Toji and Y/N can’t seem to stay away from each other despite the darkness that threatens to keep them apart. 

Table of Contents taglist: @sakinotfound ;

a/n: please forgive me for how long it has taken me to update any of my fics. right when my summer break began, i suddenly fell into an AWFUL writers block. this is NOT my strongest piece of writing, it took me months to write this. i'm so sorry again for how long it's taken me, but thank you for everyone's continuous support, it means so much to me :') again, sorry if this chapter is shitty. nonetheless, enjoy <3

DO NOT REPOST/COPY MY WORKS ANYWHERE ELSE. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ©gojosoath

Part 2: Behind the Mask (wc: 4.1k) You were thankful that the appointment with Toji had been on Friday so you wouldn’t need to hear from him for two days. When you had gotten back to your apartment Friday night, you received a text from Naoya; 

Naoya: Hey, did you wanna go over to Rosa’s on Saturday? 

You contemplated whether you should go or not. You knew what he was asking for, it was the only time you and he got together. You and Naoya were into the same stuff but neither of you was looking for a romantic relationship. Naoya had his reasons and yours were different ones. It didn’t matter, you two had discussed and agreed to continue this sort of odd relationship until one of you said you didn’t want to do it anymore. You finally responded to Naoya that you’d be over at his place Saturday night. Naoya responded with:

Naoya: Okay. Wear one of your sexy pieces, pretty slut. 

You looked through your closet with a sigh, going through the multiple pieces of lingerie you owned. You decided to go with one of your classic black ones, slipping on your thigh garters and adding some makeup to finish the look. Before you slipped on your trench coat which would be used as the “veil” to hide what was truly underneath, you stared at your arms. Some scars on your arm were sloppy while others were neatly done; some were done in the heat of the moment while others were done on a plan. Your arm that got burned still had a bandage around it. Your eyes went to your breasts where the bra you wore barely covered them, the floral design being the only thing covering your nipples. To finish the look, you slipped on lace sleeves over your arms so they covered your tainted shame. You slipped on your trench coat and before you headed out of your apartment, kissed Willow on top of their head. 

“Once I’m back, we’ll get lots of cuddles together.” 

┅

Toji was out with Shiu and Shiu’s friends. Toji didn’t know any of these men, just that Shiu had told Toji they were cool guys to have drinks with. Toji couldn’t give two shits about them, all he wanted to do was get drunk and maybe gamble a little as well until he’d somehow end up back in his apartment blacked out. All of them were currently at a bar and Toji was on his first glass of whiskey. 

“Hey,” One of Shiu’s friends puts an arm around Shiu, “what if I took you guys to a cool place?”

“What kind of place?” Toji leers, arching an eyebrow at the friend. 

The friend looks even more excited now, “Well, it’s a place I’ve been to a couple of times. This place is…interesting, wild.”

“Wild?” Toji smirks, “I like wild stuff.”

“Then this will be a lot of fun for you.” 

┅

You arrived at the club with Naoya’s arm around your waist. Naoya paid for you like always at the entrance and the two of you stepped into a world shredded in fluorescent lights, leather, and blaring music. Naoya stopped you for a moment and pulled something out from the inside of his coat; a leather mask with cat ears and openings for your eyes. It also had bells hanging from the ears that made music with the slightest movement. You let Naoya put the mask over your face, it only went up to over your nose and cheekbones. Naoya gave you a head pat followed by his husky voice;

“Now be a good kitten for me.” 

You nodded your head obediently, giving him doe eyes. Naoya took your coat and his and checked out at the coat rack which you two would be able to retrieve after your night. Naoya and you went to the bar to grab a couple of drinks and pretty soon, some of your guys’ acquaintances joined you at the bar. You were talking with a girl who identified herself as a switch, the two of you having a conversation about the hard week she had at her job. 

“You and Naoya gonna check out a room tonight?” The girl, Jada, asks you as she takes a sip from her glass. 

“I’d like to,” You tell her, “it’s always a nice way to relieve stress,” you look over at Naoya, who is immersed in a conversation with the other people at the bar. “For now, though, he’s ordered me to sit still until his next orders.” 

Jada gets called over by someone and Jada excuses themselves to go and talk to them. You’re left in your bubble, using your straw to poke at the ice in your drink. You hear some rowdy chatter coming from your right until that noise is right next to you, plopping down into the chair that Jada was sitting in moments ago. You’re about to stand up and head next to Naoya’s spot until your eyes land on the man who is sitting right next to you. You let out a small gasp, blinking a few times as you make sure that you’re registering it correctly; the muscular build, raven hair that falls over his forehead, the scar at the corner of his mouth…

Toji has a drink in one hand, the other arm set onto the bar table. There are three other men by his side, the three of them indulged in a conversation with some girls. Toji looks at you, his top lip curling up into a smirk, his eyes look glazed over; he smelled like a mixture of cologne and alcohol. You hold your breath, does he recognize you? 

“Hey,” He greets smugly, “what’s your name?”

You come back with, “What’s yours?” 

His eyes widen for a moment, and he looks relaxed, both in his posture and his expressions. Your eyes trail down his arm, where he wears a shirt, exposing those toned biceps of his. Some scars run on his arms, making your mind wander to the ones on his back.   

“Like what you’re seeing?” 

You’re flustered, avoiding your gaze with his, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a drink. You hear Toji chuckle deeply, as he also mirrors your actions. He doesn’t seem tipsy. Why was he here? Was he also into this like you were? When you look for Naoya, you see he’s not where he was anymore. The men that were at Toji’s side also left with the girls they were talking with. 

“What’s your name?” Toji asks you again.

“Uh…” Your eyes trail around as you try to think of a name until your eyes catch the name of an alcohol bottle on the shelves behind the bar. “My name is…Penelope?” 

Toji gives you an amusing look, “Penelope? Really?”

“Y-yes,” You stammer, nervous he’s catching onto your disguise, “what’s your name?” You straighten your posture, sticking your chin out at him. 

“Toji Fushiguro,” He smirks and then adds, “I have to tell you a secret.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together, “Oh?” 

Toji curls his pointer finger at you in a ‘come here’ motion and you follow, leaning in closer to him. The music around you two blares, feeling the bass in your chest. Despite how loud it is, everything seems to settle down as the two of you become enclosed in each other’s presence. His green eyes scan your face and linger on your lips, being this close to him, you notice the small stubble on his chin and upper lip. 

In a low, deep voice, he says to you, “You’re so beautiful, Penelope.”

Heat floods to your face and you’re so thankful at this moment that you’ve got the cat mask on. Your heart hammers against your rib cage, butterflies clawing at your stomach. You want to pull back, get as far away from him as possible due to your embarrassment but your body doesn’t. You remain there and so does he, his eyes moving up until you two are looking into each other’s gazes. 

You find yourself asking him, “Are you also into BDSM?” 

Confusion flashes across Toji’s expression, “BDSM?” 

Your face feels hotter than a few moments ago, “Uh yeah…this is a BDSM club?” You sound puzzled now. 

Toji’s lips turn upward into a smile, “Ah, that’s why they said this place was wild.”

“Who did?” 

“My friends,” Toji clarifies, “they were the ones that suggested we come here.” 

Now you want to crawl underneath a rock and die, you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes high that he was also into BDSM. Then again, why were you thinking that your client might be into this sort of stuff like you? 

“Are you into BDSM?” Toji conceits. 

You contemplate if you should answer honestly, but then again, you could tell he had no idea who you were. You answered truthfully, “I am.” 

“Ooh,” Toji entertained, “what do you like?”

You sat back for a moment, trying to study Toji’s facial expression to see if you could make out what he was thinking. “It can be weird to say…” You chuckle nervously, “a lot of people who aren’t into it can feel intimidated.” 

Toji’s scar twitches as his lips form into a smirk, “It’s okay,” He says.

“Unless if you want to hear,” You perk up. 

Toji gave you a genuine, small smile. A smile you never thought you’d see on such an intimidating man. “Yeah,” He grinned, “what do you like?”

You couldn’t believe what you were about to share with him, “I like being spanked,” You held your breath as you awaited his frightened expression but he looked like he was genuinely listening. You continued, “I’m submissive, I like it when my dom gives me orders.” 

“What kind of orders?” Toji inquires. 

“It can be anything,” You begin to explain, “orders on what I should wear for the day, the way I should do something, and even what to do during foreplay.” Your eyes avert away from his, dreading the fact that you just shared that information about yourself with him. 

“Have you ever been a dom?” Toji cocks his head to the side. 

You shake your head, “No, I haven’t actually.”

You put your arms onto the bar table and Toji’s eyes flicker to your arms. Toji points at your arm, “Hey…” He begins, looking down to see that the white bandage can be seen pretty easily through the lace. “What happened to your arm?” 

“Oh, nothing!” You try to play it off by putting your arms underneath the table, and you’re panicking, “Do you want a lap dance from me?” You blurt out of desperate means to change the subject. 

Toji lets out a deep laugh, throwing his head back. Once he settles down, his eyes don’t seem playful anymore, rather they have eagerness in them. “I think I’d like that.”

“Are you drunk?” You ask him. 

“No,” Toji tells you, standing up. He towers over you which makes you look up at him. His hand cups your chin, making you let out a small gasp. Toji leans in, his nose is inches from yours, and you can smell the alcohol in his breath. “I’ve only had two drinks tonight, darling.” 

“Are you sure?” Your voice is so quiet, you’re not sure if he heard you. The fluorescent lights flash behind Toji’s head, hues of purple and blue reflecting across his features. 

“Yes,” Toji confirms. 

“Let’s check out a room then,” You tell him, and grab his hand unsurely, leading the way through the crowd. Toji’s large, calloused hand in yours feels like he swallows it up. Your back faces him, but you can’t help but feel conscious of the way he has a full view of your ass. You go over to the hallway that leads to the playrooms, checking one out at the receptionist stationed at the podium. The receptionist gives you a key along with a card that is proof you’ve checked out the room. 

You lead Toji to the room, your hands shaking as you’re inserting the key into the door. Toji notices, stepping closer to you where his chest meets your back, his figure looming over you. Your breath hitches in your throat, his large hand going over yours where he guides it to the keyhole. 

The door clicks softly, you can smell him, feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. He says by your ear, his voice husky, “You seem nervous.”

You inhale shakily, “It’s not because of you,” You tell him, and open the door, being greeted with one of the playrooms. This room has a bed in it with silk covers and to the side are some whips and bondages provided. Toji walks in and goes over to the couch chair, taking a seat with his legs spread wide. You close the door, setting the keys on the table. Toji puts his hand out for you, and you go over, taking his hand in yours. He helps you get settled in his lap, legs on either side of his waist. 

To your surprise, Toji says, “I have no expectations,” His arms are resting on the armrests, he looks relaxed, slouching in the chair. 

“Right,” You say, not sure if he means it or if he’s just saying that to make you think he doesn’t. 

He chuckles, “You certainly don’t trust what I just said, huh?”

The bells on your mask make noise as you look to the side, “Well, I don’t know…I guess I have expectations that’s just what men expect from women…”

There’s a frown between Toji’s eyebrows, his hand rubbing his chin, “That’s…concerning…” He comments. 

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest, “Oh, come on, seriously?”

“What?” 

You roll your eyes, “Like, from a young age we’re taught that men just want sex and shit.” 

“Is that what you want from me right now?” Toji asks bluntly. 

Your shoulder slump forward, “I don’t know…” You answer truthfully, “I was hoping that my dom and I could check out a room. BDSM helps me…” Your voice trails off, realizing that you’re oversharing with him. He’s your client, this man that helps you keep your business running. 

You decide to change the subject, “How did you get that scar on your lip?” 

Toji rests his cheek against his knuckles, “You’re a curious kitty, aren’t you?” He lifts his other hand to one of your bells and lightly pushes it with his forefinger. The phrase and gesture make you blush and even blood floods between your legs. 

Instead, you ask, “Do you do hookups often?” 

“Do I look like someone who does hookups often?” Toji remarks smugly.

You don’t hesitate to answer, “Yes.” 

“I used to do it more in the past,” Toji admits, “not so much the past few years…especially since I’m an old man.”

“You’re only forty-three,” You realize what you said until it’s too late. Toji arches an eyebrow at you, you stumble over your words, “Uh-I mean, you look like you're in your forties. If I had to take a guess, you’d be forty-three.” 

Wordlessly, Toji’s hands go to your face and he slides down your mask, you can’t move, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The mask jingles and Toji’s eyes scan your face, cocking his head to the side.

“Ooh,” He cooed, “how did we manage to meet here?”

You can’t even bring yourself to look at him, your face burning with redness, “S-sorry,” You whisper.

Toji holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your gaze up with his. “Kitten, why are you crying?” His thumb swiped a tear down your cheek which you didn’t even realize was happening. 

You sniffle, bringing your hands up to wipe at the rest of your tears, “Sorry,” You choke out, “just embarrassed…” 

“About what?” Toji asks. 

“About…this,” You gesture to your attire. 

“And?” Toji imposes, “You look sexy.” 

Your eyes scan Toji, the way his shirt hugs his muscles, the scars adorning his tanned skin, his thick thighs touching yours. He’s incredibly sexy, so sexy that you can feel you’re wet between your legs.

You run your clammy hands down your thighs, “I know this is weird,” You say to him.

Toji leans back, “I’ve had weirder stuff happen to me.”

You nod your head lightly, “Well, we can go…”

“Did you want to fuck?” 

Your eyes widen at his assertiveness, “Right now?”

Toji nods his head, he shifts in the seat so that his groin is pressed against the inner part of your thigh. You almost gasp, feeling how hard he is, and confirms, “Yeah, right now. If you want to.” 

You sit there, looking down at his going, seeing the tent pressed against his jeans. Your tongue runs over your lips, God, you’d love to ride him right then and there. You think back to him being shirtless, his perfectly toned body. You want to, you fucking want to. 

You answer Toji, “Yes, I’d really like to fuck you.”

Toji puts his arm around your waist, pulling you in so your chest collides with his, followed by his lips. Immediately, you can feel the indent of his scar on the corner of his lips as your guys’ lips move in natural sync. His hands press against your back, pushing you even closer to him that shifting the kiss into tongues getting involved. His tongue swirls around yours, and you can’t help but grind your crotch against his hard one. Your hands go to the back of his head, your fingers grasping clutches of his raven hair, feeling so soft and smooth against your skin. Toji’s lips move to the corner of your lips and then down to your chin, sliding his tongue from your neck to your chest, making you shiver. 

“Hmm,” Toji hums as he gets to the navel between your breasts, “mind if I take a look?” He looks up at you momentarily for approval and you give him it, his calloused hands at your lingerie straps and pushing them down your arms. Toji moves down the pads of the bralette, exposing your nipples and making them go hard. Toji presses his thumb on either nipple, making you arch your back and hiss through clenched teeth.

“Perfect tits,” Toji compliments as he delves his head into the crook of your neck, wasting no time to begin suckling at the area right below your ear. As his tongue and lips work at your neck, his fingers pinch your nipples. You moan at the ecstasy buzzing throughout your body from the way he’s touching you, his open-mouthed kisses moving down to your chest and finally, latching around one of your tits. He sucks hard, using his tongue to swirl around the nipples. Your hands grip his broad shoulders keeping yourself balanced that way. 

“In my mouth…” You ramble, “I want you in my mouth…”

Toji detaches his lips from your tit with a ‘pop’ sound, replacing it with his hand where he kneads the flesh. “We’ve got all night, kitten,” He rasps at you, his eyelids hooded, looking drunk from the way he’s already been with you. “No need to get so impatient.” You nod your head, breathing heavily, your heart hammering against your ribcage so that you’re sure Toji can hear it. 

“Go sit on the bed,” Toji orders you, “and spread your legs while you’re at it.”

You nod your head, the bells on the cat ears ringing and you get off from his lap, your legs feeling puddy once you’re standing. You go and sit on the edge of the bed and lean back with your handset onto the bed, and spread your legs as you were told. Toji remains in the couch chair, his eyes never leaving yours as his hands work at his belt and zipper. Your eyes go down to his crotch, where you can see the way he’s so ready. He pushes down his jeans and boxer, his large hard cock springing up and hitting his lower abdomen. You want nothing more but to pounce back onto his lap and ride him until he’s red in the face and screaming your name.

“Now you tell me,” Toji begins, drawing his words out, “how badly you want this cock inside your mouth.”

A gasp hitches in your throat, “R-really badly,” You stumble over your words. 

Toji wraps his fingers around his hardened length and he gives it light squeezes, “Hmm,” Toji smirks, cocking his head to the side, “I’m not convinced, sweetheart.”

“I want it in my mouth,” You try again, “I want you to put it in until I’m gagging,” your hand moves to your crotch area, just wanting a little release for the way you can feel the throbbing between your legs.

Toji suddenly stands up and stands over you, making your actions stop midway. He cups your chin with his hand, “Now, did I say you could touch yourself?”

Your eyelids flutter, “No, you didn’t…” you look up at him, “daddy.”

Toji’s lips twitch up into a smirk, “That’s my good girl, spit on my hand.”

You gather saliva in your mouth and spit it into his cupped palm where he lathers it onto his dick. Your eyes take in his dark pubic hairs, his thick hanging balls, and the throbbing veins on his dick. He starts to pump his dick, only a few inches away from your face. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and you’re going feral over it on the inside. 

“I think you’d look good with my dick in your mouth, what do you think?” His other hand goes to the back of your hair and grabs a fistful where he pulls your head back lightly, the bells ringing in response.

“It will look so good,” You breathe out, feeling the way your face and chest are flushed, “so good, daddy, see it for yourself.”

Toji’s face strains as he draws out his fisting on his cock and lets out a sigh, “Fuck, you see how hard you’ve made daddy?”

You can’t help but feel highly impressed by how much of a smooth dirty talker he is. The tip of his cock is bright red, followed by some of his pre-cum building up. “Please,” You beg, “I want it, daddy!” You mewl your hands going to his thighs, fingernails digging into his muscular flesh. 

“Open wide,” Toji tells you and you do so where he first runs the tip of his cock on the bottom of your lip. You can already taste the saltiness of his pre-cum, your eyelids fluttering close. You stick your tongue out, where Toji runs his head against it, your tastebuds becoming engulfed in his taste. 

“So pretty,” Toji practically coos, his knuckles running down your cheek, his hand moving down your neck and eventually to your arms, where his fingers begin pulling down the lace sleeves. You’re so immersed in wanting to have him in his mouth, that it doesn’t strike you until you feel his fingers gently running over your scars. 

It’s like getting electrocuted back to reality, your head jerking back, eyes wide, your hand gripping Toji’s wrist. Both of you remain in your positions, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes scanning your face. Your knuckles turn white from how hard they grasp Toji’s wrist. You let go and pull up the lace sleeve back over your arm, looking down at your lap so that he doesn’t see the way your eyes are already welled with tears. 

“I need to go,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, and you hear Toji work at his zipper and the clinking of his belt. 

Toji speaks up, “It’s okay,” He assures you. 

You stand up, your hands taking off your headband, feeling all of a sudden self-conscious. “I’m sorry for my unprofessional behavior,” Your bottom lip quivers, “but I really need to get back home.”

“Miss L/N,” His usage of formality makes you look up at him, he takes a step toward you. His voice is low as he says to you, “You don’t need to hide those away from me, you’ve already seen mine.” 

The tears slip past down your cheeks, and for some reason, Toji wants to drown in your glistening eyes. His hand moves back to your cheek, but you stop him with your headband, the bells making noise with the movement. 

Toji smoothly takes the headband from your hands, giving you a gentle smile, “I’ll keep this for tonight, kitten.” You can’t bear to let him see you like this anymore, so you walk across the room quickly and leave the room with a sob stuck in your throat. 

[eddisfargo]

Not a day will go by (9/?)

Hello my patient friends! Sorry for the wait! It won't be this long again (for real this time)! This is a Christmas fic for last year's Secret Santa, and I've given myself a deadline to finish it before this year's secret Santa. Specifically, I'm trying to finish before December 18, which is mine and @cosette141's birthday! Thanks so much to everyone who's still reading and leaving comments--they keep me going when my brain refuses to write! Thanks especially to @MotherKat for being the best beta EVER! I'm going all out in November, and I've actually already got Chapter 10 written!! So it won't be too long!

Tagging: @resident-of-storybrooke, @everything-person, @teamhook

AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9

Summary: He may not remember his present, but she doesn't know his past. If she did, she wouldn't have married him… right?

Let’s go home . 

She’d said it so simply, leading him back to the yellow machine, as if the concept of home was a given. A home they evidently shared. With a boy who he supposed was his… stepson. Because that had gone so well for him in the past. 

Home . 

The Jolly was his home. Perhaps he should start staying there, rather than in that house he didn’t remember. Should he suggest it? She’d probably be relieved. Or perhaps she’d worry that he’d simply sail away. Perhaps she’d be right. 

“Babe?” Her voice jolted Hook out of his thoughts, and he realized he’d hesitated outside the door of the building. 

He looked at her, working out how to phrase his intention to return to his ship without arousing her suspicions. “I don’t –” he began. 

She’d started talking at the same time, her face falling. “Sorry, I shouldn’t – Killian. Probably not Babe right now, right?” she laughed awkwardly. Truthfully, he hadn’t been called by his given name for so long that it felt more familiar than any pet name, but he elected not to correct her. Leaning against the wall, she let out a breath when he didn’t finish his thought. “Is something wrong?” 

Hook tried to find the words he’d come up with, but she looked so… tired. “Nothing,” he said finally. 

Emma looked at him for a long moment, searching. Hook had been prepared for the suspicion in her eyes. He hadn’t been prepared for what else he saw there. It was nothing he could easily name, but it made his lips go dry. Breaking eye contact, Hook started walking in what he hoped was the correct direction, if he’d oriented himself correctly – being instantly transported what seemed to be at least a mile was testing the limits of his sense of direction – but he had a feeling that this was the right way. To his relief, Emma began to walk beside him. 

They walked in an uncomfortable silence for a time, until Emma cleared her throat. “So… I guess we’re going to have to tell Henry.” 

Hook frowned. He’d thought he was doing alright at deceiving the boy. “Are we?” 

She looked at him like he was talking nonsense. Again. “It’s a little big to keep from him, right? And maybe… maybe he can help.” She smiled fondly. “This kind of thing is kind of right up his alley.” 

Hook opened his mouth to ask what exactly qualified under this kind of thing . But he couldn’t stop seeing the looks directed his way in that little room just now – the significant glances as certain things went unsaid. He… owns the local pawn shop . 

So he asked a different question. “What are you going to tell him?” 

She looked a bit pained. “ We are going to tell him the truth.” Shooting him a sidelong look, she added, “An… age appropriate version, if you don’t mind.” 

Ahh, after his slip-up, she’d lost any faith in his ability to regulate his mouth. That had been an error, but clearly she had no idea just how much he had managed to keep to himself. And that, of course, was how it would stay. To demonstrate, he only grunted his agreement. 

“And hey,” Emma added after a moment. “Maybe you’ll remember much you – how fond you are of the kid.” 

Hook grimaced. So it was true, his future self had been playing at fatherhood. And here he thought he’d learned from his mistakes. 

Suddenly, the woman beside him took his hand. 

“Hey,” she said, pausing in their walk. “What are you thinking?” 

He was thinking that trusting him with a child’s well being was ill-advised, but he wasn’t fool enough to say it, so he remained silent. It was only when she squeezed his hand that he realized that, almost of their own accord, his fingers had laced through hers. This betrayal by his own remaining limb shocked him into honesty. “That I’m not exactly stepfather material.” 

Her mouth opened in surprise. Fool , he chided himself. He removed his hand from hers and started walking again, faster. 

“Killian,” she said, arresting him. Facing away from her, he didn’t have to see her face. Instead, he saw another face. It had been so long since he’d indulged in this particular remembrance that the face in his mind seemed to have changed, attaining a marked resemblance to Emma’s boy. He felt a wave of grief he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge for longer than he could recall. 

“Killian!” she said again. He turned to face her. “You’re a wonderful stepfather.” She radiated sincerity, but she didn’t know . She looked so bloody sympathetic . “I can see why you might… doubt this, but you’re actually a great role model.” She smiled mischievously at him. “Most of the time.” 

He felt the strange urge to reveal a part of his past that would doubtless make her question this strange opinion she seemed to have formed of his suitability. To unburden himself – no , to make her see why whatever perfect man she thought she’d married was a lie. Then perhaps she’d let him go. 

“There are things…” he said, keeping his voice steady with more effort than it usually took. “In my past… things you couldn’t possibly –” 

Incredibly, her face cleared. She reached out to touch his face, and he managed not to pull away. “Oh,” she said, as if she understood, although there was no way she could. “You’re thinking about Baelfire.” 

Hook froze.

Impossible.

“How…” he breathed. “How do you…” 

“Killian,” she said gently. “Do you really think I married you without knowing the significant events in your life?” 

He found himself unable to answer. How could he open his mouth and say yes, of course he thought that. Why would a woman like she seemed to be have married him otherwise? “I…” he managed to say, with effort. “I told you?” 

“You told me all of it, eventually,” she said. But she couldn’t possibly know what all of it entailed, not if she was looking at him with such… sympathy in her eyes. She bit her lip suddenly, taking his hand. “But some of it… I heard from Baelfire.” 

The words knocked him breathless for the second time in as many minutes. He was vaguely aware that he was being led into the relative privacy of a small alley behind a shop, but his thoughts were a jumble. 

“Baelfire?” he rasped. “You… you’ve met him? He survived?” Hook had always wondered what became of the boy after his escape. When he’d let himself think about it at all, he’d feared the worst, and laid the blame… where it belonged. The guilt hung heavy around his neck–guilt he allowed himself to feel for precious few of his crimes. 

She looked very sad, suddenly. “He survived Neverland, yes. He got out. But…” As Emma trailed off, closing her eyes, Hook could see the truth in her face. He started to ask something – anything – but found himself unable to speak. 

Emma took his hand and held it to her face, which he found strangely comforting. Softly, she continued. “He forgave you, you know. Before the end.” Hook shook his head, denying the possibility. “It’s true, you made up,” she continued, quietly but firmly. He tried his damndest to maintain his skepticism, but the sincerity in her eyes left no room for doubt. Still, he kept shaking his head, because it was all he could do. Baelfire . Milah’s boy. 

Somehow, without realizing she’d drawn towards him, he was in Emma’s arms, utterly disgracing himself. He had never shed a tear over Bae. He’d used the last of his tears up after Milah, he’d always believed. But perhaps the grief had always been there, just waiting for somewhere safe to be expressed. Safe . With this woman? This stranger ? She was probably repulsed by his show of weakness, in broad daylight behind a shop that sold shoes. 

He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, but as his senses filtered back, he could feel one of her hands rubbing his back, feel fingers running through his hair. Could hear soft words, gentle words, whispered in his ear. No one had ever… no one had ever tolerated such a display from him. Nor would he have given anyone the chance. Not since he was almost too small to remember… Not since he’d realized his father wasn’t coming back. 

Hook jerked up suddenly, mortified. What had possessed him to take leave of his senses that way? He had never, never let himself break down like that in front of another person–if he ever had at all. He couldn’t bear to look at her, to see the expression . A grimace, surely? No, somehow she didn’t seem the type. Pity, then. Any revulsion, she’d be kind enough to hide. Steeling himself, he straightened. With more reluctance than he’d like to think about, he pulled out of her arms, and finally looked her in the eye. 

And found he couldn’t look away. 

There were tears in her eyes too. Not pity, no. But sympathy. Even… understanding. Perhaps even… well. Something more. 

He cleared his throat. “I… apologize,” he said stiffly, “for–” 

“Hey,” Emma said softly. “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I should’ve realized you’d have to grieve him again.” She took his hand yet again. “But you know… in a way, he’s not really gone.” 

Hook frowned. “What way is that, precisely?”

“Well, Henry’s his son.” 

Hook staggered back. Just when he’d thought the earth-shattering revelations were done for the day. “He’s what?” At Emma’s small smile and nod, he shook his head, unable to process. “But how ?” 

“Hoo boy,” Emma said gravely. “I kind of thought at your age you’d have figured out the facts of life. Okay, so sometimes, when a man and a woman–” 

“I know bloody how! ” Hook said quickly. Did she really think–no, of course she didn’t. Her eyes were twinkling at him. Catching himself about to smile back, he frowned instead. “But he was… he was a child! ” 

“Umm, yeah. He was a child. Like twenty through two hundred years ago. The thing about not being in Neverland is… you grow up. By the time we met, even physically, he was older than me.” 

Hook tried to readjust some things in his head. Of course Baelfire was older than Emma–Bae had likely been older than anyone else alive, saving himself. And perhaps the Crocodile, if he somehow still walked the earth. But it still felt strange to think of him with a son . A son with… Hook’s wife? He put a hand to his head, trying to understand. Realizing he’d started to pace the alley, he used his nervous energy to resume their walk. 

Perhaps it was a lie? But no… he’d met the lad. The resemblance was there, now that he considered it. Gods, but he’d even mistaken the boy for Bae – for his father – at first glance. 

A sudden realization hit him. “Did I… steal you from him?” The thought of it bothered him more than he would’ve expected. It wasn’t as if he’d considered a married woman off limits, but breaking up the same boy’s family twice seemed rather bad form. Especially after everything else he was responsible for, where Baelfire was concerned. 

“No,” Emma said firmly, “you did not. We didn’t formally get together until after he was gone, but even before that… Neal and I weren’t together. There was a lot of baggage between us, and… it would never have worked out anyway.” 

Hook walked silently for a moment, trying to figure out what he’d missed. He’d heard that name recently… He finally placed the context in which he’d heard it, but that just created more questions... With a sigh, he finally asked. “Who’s Neal?” 

“Oh! Sorry! I meant Baelfire. Neal’s the name he went by when I knew him.” 

“Ahh,” he said. But no, that didn’t solve the puzzle. “And why was he… teething?” 

There was a moment in which Emma looked as confused as he felt, before she burst out laughing. 

“Okay, that’s a different Neal. The little munchkin my parents were holding? Baelfire’s namesake.” 

It took him a moment to connect those particular dots, the unfamiliar word “munchkin” not particularly helping, but it was clear enough what she was telling him. Evidently his wife’s first husband was beloved enough by her family that they named their son after him. That was a lot to live up to.

Not, of course – he reminded himself – that he was going to try. He was going to get on his ship and sail away. Leave this town that did nothing but confuse him. Leave this woman who kept looking at him in that infuriating way, as if she understood him. As if he mattered to her. She didn’t know him. Regardless of what shameful secrets she apparently knew, had apparently forgiven him for. 

She’d be fine if he left. He was beginning to think she might cry for a while, but… He walked faster, as if to escape the idea. Beside him, Emma sped up, staying by his side. She gave him a warm smile as they reached the door to their house. Hook started. He hadn’t even been thinking about where he’d been going, but he hadn’t been following Emma, either. Once again, his feet had led him straight here. 

The word home entered his mind, unbidden. Shivering, he walked inside. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What’s yours is mine 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape, allusions to abuse, stalking, possessiveness, pregnancy, and more tags to be added.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: dark!Ransom Drysdale x pregnant!Reader

Summary: After five years, your past is far behind you but just as you think you can live your happily ever after, your ex shows up at the worst moment.

Note: I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing this and it will not be a long ongoing series but it will be a few parts. But Roo you say that all the time. Yes, well, I’m trying and I’m sorry but I’m gonna try to not be the worst.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh my god, is that really you?” the voice made you stand stalk straight.

You took a breath and forced a smile before you turned to the indomitable woman. You never expected to see Linda again, not after you broke up with her son almost five years ago. And there she was, as rigid and righteous as ever, her thin lips curved in a mocking grin.

“Linda,” you greeted her in a singsong and looked around the grocery store. You never went to the overpriced organic market but your local shop didn’t have dragonfruit and you had a painful craving, “how are you?”

“Darling, I’m just great,” she held an empty basket on her arm, an odd sight as you never expected her to do her own shopping, “oh, and look at you!” Before you knew it, her hand was on your stomach and you struggled not shy away, “how far are you?”

“Um,” you looked down at the large ring on her finger and resisted the urge to step away as you often did in this situation, “almost five months.”

“And married?” she grabbed your left hand and pretended to admire the small teardrop diamond, “gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you waited for you to release you and swayed in place, “you barely look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

“You’re well? You look well,” she primped her short hair at the compliment, “oh, a baby.” She reached out again and you sighed as she rubbed your stomach, “for luck.”

You tried not to frown and ended up laughing at the tension, “well, it was nice running into you.”

“Oh, you know, I barely come down here but we’re headed up to my father’s place, you remember, such a cozy house, and Joni is in charge of food and well, I wouldn’t trust her with a plastic spoon so of course, I have a back up plan.”

You nodded along with her awkwardly, frozen in the spot as the dragon fruit barely seemed worth the torture. Linda was hard to please and alway derisive, but for as long as you were with Ransom, she had taken a keen shine to you. That alone came with an edge but it was rarely used to cut you.

You forced another laugh, “that sounds fun, getting away from the city.”

“Ugh, just another family gathering,” she waved it off with her free hand, “I’ll have to tell Ransom I ran into you, if he even shows up.”

“Well, I don’t think--”

“He’s grown up so much,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t believe it. He got his own imprint in my father’s company publishing true crime. He’s really making a place for himself now.”

“That’s great,” you tried not to falter at the mention of her son. You hadn’t ended on the greatest terms and your relationship had been tumultuous and regrettable.

“I hope you have a great weekend, Linda,” you said, “but I got to--”

“Oh, not at all, I’m keeping you,” she squeezed your arm, “God, he was such an idiot to let you go.”

You nodded and swallowed through your tight throat, “I’m glad he’s doing better for himself.”

“You too,” she trilled, “oh, before I let you go, darling, is it a boy?”

You blinked and your smile wavered, “how did you know?”

“I could always tell,” she said, “so precious.”

She gave your stomach one last pat and disappeared into the produce section. You blinked as you looked down at the scaled fruit in your right hand. Chocolate, you needed chocolate.

You were rattled as you waited in the express line and put your things on the belt. You hadn’t thought of Ransom in a very long time. Not much. His shadow followed you around in those moments when your heart raced and your head spun, but you had learned to work through those fits. No one else knew what happened behind closed doors, they only knew Ransom, not Hugh.

You paid and shoved your fruit and candy into a paper bag. You headed out into the misty spring air. The rain had finally stopped and left the streets slick and shining. The sun was hazy as it clung to the last of the clouds and you inhaled the wet scent of grass and gravel.

You let your key hang from the ignition as you took a moment to gather yourself. You stared at the modest ring on your finger and held your stomach and you swore you could still feel Linda’s bony hand there. 

You had a loving husband, Dez, and a son on the way. Ransom wasn’t a part of any of that and this was just a blip on radar, the aftershock of the storm that ended years before. You sniffed and turned the engine. You wouldn’t go back to that store, it was far too expensive and the clientele were certainly not of your ilk.

🍼

Dez was in the kitchen when you got home, the smell of steak and peppers rose from the frying pan. You kissed his cheek as he kept one hand on the spatula and you dropped your bag on the counter beside the stove. You went to the fridge and poured yourself a glass of water. You turned and leaned against the marble and drank deeply.

“So, hon, how was your day?” he asked as he put the spatula down and peeked in the bag, “hmm, odd pairing but I don’t hate it.”

“I had a craving,” you shrugged, “it was… okay,” you heaved, “what’s for dinner?”

“Steak fajitas,” he said, “I trimmed the fat for you and,” he turned and reached out to you, “and I got you some champagne… non-alcoholic, obviously.”

“You know it doesn’t have the same effects,” you kidded as you put your glass down and settled into his arms, “and well,” you looked down at your stomach, “we already got one drunken night growing.”

He laughed and bent to kiss you on the lips. He rocked you as the pan sizzled behind him. You closed your eyes and tensed as suddenly your head flashed with the memory of Ransom, of the way he’d kiss you, harder than Dez, and the way it always turned to more whether you wanted it or not.

“Hey,” Dez pulled back, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, “hormones.”

“Aw, hon, well I have the perfect dessert planned,” he purred.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, strawberry massage oil,” he framed your face with his hand, “a nice long back rub…”

“Perfect,” you giggled, “why are you spoiling me?”

“Don’t I always?” he smirked.

“Hmm, rarely without reason,” you said.

“Well…” he voice trailed off and slowly he dropped his arms. He turned his back to you and grabbed the pan, stirring the contents with a shake, “I didn’t want you to miss me too bad.”

“Miss you?” you came forward and bent your arms over the counter, “where are you going?”

“Chicago, there’s some evidence down there we need to look at and they refuse to transfer it to our office so… bullshit confidentiality clause, but we need it.”

“How long?” your heart dropped.

“Well, I gotta leave in the morning but I told Gary I won’t stay longer than Monday.”

“And what did he say?”

“He laughed,” Dez shook his head, “I promise, I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can--”

“No, I understand,” you said gloomily, “it’s just…” you cupped your chin and tapped your lips with your fingertips, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said as he turned the burner off, “and this little guy,” he touched your stomach and you shivered as you remembered how Linda had done the same with her cold palm, “so, you choose a name yet?”

“Still not naming him Superman, babe,” you chided, “but no, I can’t make up my mind. God, it’s like my mind is in shambles, I can’t remember why I go in a room or even focus on one thing for more than two minutes before I’m distracted by what colour I want to paint the nursery and I can’t even decide on that because then I’m thinking about what kind of wood the crib should be--”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” he assured as he opened the bag of tortillas, “you’re still there, you’re just… sharing a brain right now.”

“Wasn’t enough to go around in the first place,” you scoffed.

“Shh,” he arranged the plates carefully, like a five star restaurant, tortillas stacked, steak and veg together, a little dish of cheese, some sour cream, lettuce, salsa, all divvied out in a spectacular salsa you would only make a mess of.

“I thought the pregnancy would give me a chance to finish my book, but--”

“Well, you got maternity leave after that,” he said.

“From what? Sitting at my keyboard and crying? I’ll just be holding a baby and crying,” you sighed, “you said you’d take some time off.”

“I did say that and I will,” he grabbed the plates and nodded you out of the kitchen. He set the plates on the table and you sat as he went to grab two glasses and as many bottles. He poured you your spineless champagne and had a beer for himself, “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You can’t take forever off,” you muttered, “we both know that. I could go back to copywriting and maybe--”

“Babe, that job made you miserable and you will finish your book,” he handed you a napkin, “I’ve read your stuff, it’s… you said your ex was in publishing?”

“Did I?”

“I thought you did, you never really… talk about the exes, which I love but, I think you said something about it. You don’t think he would--”

“No,” you snapped, “no,” you said softer, “he wouldn’t.”

“Sorry,” he said startled by your reaction, “I didn’t--”

“It’s nothing, I just-- exes, right?”

“It was a stupid suggestion,” he said, “I’m sorry, but… I have a client, he might have some contacts.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“I don’t have to, I want to because the world deserves to hear your voice,” he insisted, “I hate to share you but I’d be selfish to keep you to myself.”

You smiled and unfolded a tortilla. Still, your heart raced as the second mention of Ransom that day had you on edge. Dez watched you build your fajita and you looked up at him.

“Well, since you’ll be in Chicago, maybe I’ll get a few pages done.”

🍼

The call came on Monday, Dez wouldn’t be home that night. You contented yourself to stay in with your laptop and sugar cookies. Still, you barely got a sentence done before you snapped your computer closed and gave up with a frustrated grunt. You slept, not well, and got up with some trouble as your hips ached.

A good morning text from Dez made you smile but there was still no promise of an impending return. You felt pent up in the apartment and lonely as its emptiness reminded you of your absent husband. Too tense to sit down and type, you opted to go for a walk, hoping it would calm your nerves.

You walked past the shop windows and stopped to peek in at used books and handmade candles. You had no destination in mind, only a restless step. There was a little store at the corner with locally made quilts and knitted sweaters. The smell of potpourri wafted out from beneath the painted door and made your throat tickle. Even so, your curiosity drew you inside.

A small woman greeted you from behind the desk. She held two needles as she crocheted some indistinguishable craft. You smiled and said hello as you headed down the centre aisle. You looked along the racks of quilts, floral, striped, plaid, and polka dot. You stopped at a bright yellow piece with honey bees along the border. You hadn’t thought of yellow for the nursery.

You felt the soft fabric and checked the tag. You lifted the quilt from the bar, content that it was worth it and a great motivator. You stopped before you could turn back, a familiar voice chilled your blood.

“It’s cute,” Ransom said as he stepped up next to you, “kinda girly for a boy though.”

You glanced over at him and folded the blanket over your arm. You backed up but as you turned he did too. He blocked your bath as he stretched his arm across the aisle.

“My mother told me you were expecting,” he said, “and she was right, you look good.”

“What do you want?” you whispered as you clutched the quilt.

“Nothing, just saying hello,” his mouth slanted.

“Hugh, I’m not stupid,” you hissed, “it’s been five years.”

“Hugh,” he repeated dully, “you remember your manners.”

“Leave me alone and let me past,” you tried to duck under his arm but he shifted his body over and backed you up to the end of the aisle.

“And married,” he taunted.

“He’s outside,” you lied, “if I stay too long--”

“I didn’t see him when you walked up,” he intoned, “he must be easy to miss.”

“Have you been following me?” you uttered.

“Only from the cafe,” he shrugged, “short walk.”

“Please, get away from me,” you quivered.

“I’m not doing anything--”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hissed, “now I will scream so move.”

“Mama Bear,” he crooned, “I love it, you’re so protective.”

“Hugh,” you warned.

“Sweetie,” he hummed.

You shoved his shoulder but he didn’t move. You hit him harder and he winced. He chuckled and stood straight. He waved his arm down the aisle and stepped aside.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, “you always did like to be dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, “don’t come near me again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he called after you as you dropped the quilt on the counter, “we were so good together.”

You left without buying, a shrill apology to the lady at the counter as you went as fast as you could out the door. The bell tinkled after you and the door clamored shut. You felt nauseous and dizzy. The last thing you wanted or needed was to ever see that man again.

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours

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

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k 

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

{masterlist}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boring, you mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truce.”

(pt II)

[buckystevelove]

Three Musketeers

Part 9

Pairing: Stucky x reader

Warning: fluff

A/N: sorry for taking so long in this part, life has just gotten in the way. Please reblog, I really love when you write comment, that is what make my day. So please! Comment

——————————————————————————

Steve opened the door of your side and gave you a hand to help you come out. The place was amazing, it has so many green areas, and there were some soldiers and recruits jogging. When they passed near you they saluted both Steve and Bucky.

When you enter the building, you heard the voice of a woman sound through the walls.

“Welcome back Captain Rogers, Sargent Barnes. You must be Ms. YLN.”

You were surprised and confused. Never had you ever heard a voice come through the walls, not a voice that knows exactly who you are.

“Don’t worry honey, that’s Friday. The compounds AI, Tony designed it before… you know. Jesus Its going to be two years soon.” Steve said lowering his head, he had a sad look in his eyes you hadn’t seen in a while.

“I am so sorry sweetheart, he must had been a good man. I know the three of you had some problems in 2016, but he was you friend. I am sorry.” You gave him a side hug and did small patterns in his arm, kissing his shoulder.

“He was a good man, he had his flaws like any other human, but he tried to learn from them.”

The three of you were in the common room of the compound. Sam, Nat, Thor, Vision, Clint, and Bruce were in the dining table. Wanda was on the kitchen finishing the dinner.

You were beginning to get nervous again. You really wanted them to like you, they were the only family you boys had. This was literally like meeting the parents.

You knew that Sam was their best friend, Nat was really close to Steve, she was kind of Bucky’s ex. Well, not Bucky´s, more like the Winter Soldier. Bucky had told you about how the two of them that fallen in love a many years ago while both of them were in Hydra, but when they had officially met as Bucky and Nat, not as the Winter Soldier and Black Widow, things didn´t felt right. They weren´t really in love with each other. Still, they were friends.

You were shy, making yourself smaller the closer you were to them, both Steve and Bucky were holding your hands.

“They guys “Steve greeted them, grabbing all their attention. All the eyes were immediately on you. You could felt yourself getting hotter the longer their stare linger on you.

Nat was the first one to stand up and come closer to you.

“You must be the famous YN this men can´t stop talking about.” She said, you extended your hand to her, but she pulled you to give you a hug. When she was close to you she whispered in your ear. “Thanks for making them so happy, there has been a real change in them since you came into their lives, you are definitely a keeper.” Her word make you smile wide and fell proud, you friends had also told you that in the last months you were happier, that you seem to be glowing all the time. Hearing all this people say that your relationship was making the three of you so content, made you feel good, really good.

“I am glad to be good change in their life, I can assure you that they make me happy as well.” You said to her before pulling apart.

You looked at up at both of them ad they had the biggest smile on their face. Obviously they had heard what she said to you, dam super soldier hearing.

 They introduced you to the rest of the team, you immediately clicked with Sam, you get why you boys liked him so much. You loved Wanda, maybe had a tiny little crush in her, she was so beautiful and strong, who wouldn’t like her really, though you knew that you were going to be best friends.

Wanda cooked an amazing pasta for dinner, after a couple of glasses of wine you were no longer shy and self-conscious. You laugh and joked with them, you were like longtime friends.

After you ate the dessert that you has brought, you moved to the common room.

“You know, we should play UNO.” Sam proposed.

“Yes!” You said, you loved playing this game, and the more people the best it was.

Nat tried to argue, to warn you that all the Avengers were very competitive and normally the game nights in the compound turn very heated, sometimes they would even use their powers, but you were so excited that she let it pass.

Clint looked for the card and gave each of the players 7, and the game began.

Five rounds later things were getting really heated, Wanda was angry at Nat because she had made her draw 8 cards in the last two rounds, you were starting to get annoyed at Bucky because he hadn´t let you play in the last three rounds.

Shit was starting to get real.

When your turn finally came you placed a reverse the order, and gave a malicious smirk to Bucky. “Get ready handsome, I am going to destroy you.”

He gave you a kiss on the cheek and looked at you dead on the eyes. ”We will see babydoll.”

The game continue and Steve had been really merciful to you, that helped you take an advantage against the rest because they were trying to destroy each other. You only had 3 card left, two of them were a choose color plus draw 4 and a skip turn, you were going to finish Bucky.

When you turn came you placed the skip and Bucky gave you a sad puppy face, you innocently kissed his nose and said sorry.

Sam made Steve draw 4 cards, your blond boyfriend was definitely losing, he preferred to draw more cards than giving you a skip or draw 2. He was so adorable. You placed the draw 4 and said UNO. Everyone immediately gasped, they could believe that you were going to win.

“You hurt me dollface, you really broke my heart.” Bucky said pouting his lips, Steve got up and gave Bucky a kiss on his lips.

You finally placed you last card and jumped.

“I win!” You were so happy, you had already drink more than you would normally, feeling yourself a bit tipsy you almost fell from your sudden outburst, thankfully Steve was there to catch you.

“Very good honey.” He gave you a kiss on the cheeks and on your forehead,

The rest of the team congratulated you, you decided to sleep at the compound because it was already too late. You said goodnight and Bucky guided you to his bedroom, Steve walking behind the two of you.

They gave you a new toothbrush and Bucky let you borrow one of his t-shirts, you loved how it felt to your middle tights and smelled like him, like home.

The three of you curled up in the bed, you were in the middle of them both, Steve and Bucky were holding their hand. They gave each other a kiss and then they kissed you.

“I really liked you friends, now I get why you are all so close, I´m glad you have so nice people as your family.” You mumbled half asleep.

“I knew you would like them, I am sure they loved you.” Steve said to you, you were already asleep.

Bucky smiled at you and kissed your head. “I love you doll.”

“She really is the one Stevie.” He said looking at his boyfriend.

“She is.” He kissed you temple.

“Sleep well baby, I love you.” Steve said squeezing Bucky´s hand, he was already asleep.

The three of you fitted together perfectly, you were made to be together. You were the definition of soulmates.

Tags: @tenaciousperfectionunknown @bibliophile-life @classyunknownlover @authentically-rue @commonintrest @alina02

[atinydise]

Follow the rules (Part 2)

❦ Genre: Angst / Fluff / Suggestive.

❦ Pairing: Seonghwa.

❦ Word count: 1K.

❦ Requested: Don't ever believe me again when I say I'm posting something "soon" 💀Part 1

❦ Tags: @scuzmunkie, @butterfliesinthenightsky 🦋

Once again, you stared at your reflection in the dirty mirror of the theater.

You fixed your hair, removed the tiny stain of lipstick on your teeth, and shamelessly opened another button of your dress.

“You can do it, girl!” You motivated yourself. “It’s just a date! You are a pro for dates.”

It’s been 10 minutes that you were trying to spot something wrong with your outfit or just yourself.

This guy that you met at a party, invited you to several dates before, but for this one, you felt a little bit more stressed or insecure.

He was so good to you. Always funny, complimenting you when you doubt your own beauty because of these stupid “beauty standards” or always available when you need to talk.

You were diving into your thoughts, daydreaming about how this date could end when you receive a text from him asking if you were okay.

Not losing another second, you walked out of the restroom.

“Oh Y/N, are you okay? You were there for a while.” He asked, visibly worried for you.

“Yeah, there were just a few girls before me.” You lied. “Let’s go?”

He nodded and smiled.

“But first, do you want a snack or a drink?” He offered, already taking out his wallet.

“Wait, I'm paying.” You put your hand on his. “You paid for the restaurant yest-”

“Popcorn and a cold drink such as iced tea?” He asked, knowing exactly what you want.

Understanding that he would probably not give up and pay for your snacks, you simply nodded.

“Thank you again.”

“Wait for me here!” He said before running to the shop.

Seeing someone devoted to you made you happy and thankful.

“What could happen Y/N? It’s probably going to be a good date too.” You tried to reassure yourself, fixing your dress one last time.

“Y/N?”

You instinctively looked at the person next to you.

It took a few seconds to realize that the worst thing that could happen, was just there: Seonghwa.

You hated the way with simple eye contact, he made you doubt your entire existence.

Even if Seonghwa changed a bit during this last month, he was still this handsome man he used to be.

His hair was dyed in black and a bit curlier than before. He was probably working out a lot more because his figure was a tiny bit more massive.

The way his eyes were piercing and staring at your soul, gave you this warm feeling that only he can give you.

“Y/N?” He repeated.

You raised a brow to show him that he has your attention, but that you wouldn’t say anything.

“It’s been a while.”

The thought of shouting ‘you dumb or what’ or punching him right in the face, came to your mind for 2 seconds, but you decided to play it cool.

“Yeah.” You simply replied.

Seonghwa was taken aback because of these short and cold replies. You were the only one talkative among both of you.

“Hm… are we cool? Or?”

“Cool?” You repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Are you still mad at me?”

This situation was so strange to you that you pinched your hand discreetly, to be sure that you were not daydreaming or hallucinating.

“Y/N.” He called you once again.

You managed to keep your composure but hearing your name from his mouth made your knees weak a little bit more.

“Do you remember that we are not talking or seeing each other anymore?”

Seonghwa scratched the back of his head, searching for a possible excuse or explanation.

“You made it clear the last time we saw each other.” You continued. “So you don’t need to come and check after me as you care.”

“Y/N…”

“Don’t Y/N me.”

“That’s your name?” He raised a brow.

“Yeah, then don’t call me.” You gulped, realizing how dumb this was.

“Y/- I mean… Can we just talk about what happened? I know what I said was bad.”

“Bad?”

“Yes.”

“I would say painful, cold, uncomfortable, hard, unpleasant-”

“Okay okay, I got it.” He stopped you.

“No, I think you didn’t.” You started, clenching your fist to not yell at him for everything he did to you. “You literally throw me like a toy. Okay, we knew our deal, just sex, but you could have been a little- NO. A LOT nicer when you rejected me.”

“I freaked out.”

“And I don’t care.”

“Can we talk about this later? I really want to see you again.”

That was one of the things you were redoubting.

After a month, the moment you finally start to turn the page and focus again on your happiness, Seonghwa comes back.

You hated yourself for already knowing that you would run to him without any effort.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

You turned back and stared at Seungyeon. He looked so cute with these 2 big packs of popcorn and the drinks hanging between his fingers.

“Ah, you there.” You smiled.

Seonghwa stared at both of you, trying to know the exact situation or relationship you had with this man.

“Hello. I’m Seungyeon.” He politely bowed.

Your ex-friend and benefits didn’t even blink. He stayed there, only staring at him.

“Well… we should go. The movie is about to start soon.” You grabbed Seungyeon by the arm, making sure to help him with the drinks.

“And what about my request?” Asked Seonghwa, before you could leave.

You sighed. He wouldn’t give up so easily. He would even sit next to you during the movie for sure.

“Can you take our seats? I need to talk to him for a minute.” You simply explained, embarrassed that this situation happens during your date.

“Sure, text me if you have a problem.”

You understand well that he was bothered by you staying with a man that clearly has his effect on you. But for the sake of this date, you needed to make things clear with Seonghwa.

When Seungyeon disappeared from your eyesight, you confronted him.

“What’s your problem?”

“And who’s this guy?”

“And why are you asking as you care about who I’m dating?” You crossed your arms on your chest.

“Because you are mine.” He sighed in frustration.

“What the hell Park Seonghwa.”

“I’m the only one who is supposed to touch you.” He added.

You rolled your eyes at this comment. Of course, he was only thinking about sex.

“Well sorry, but other people don't see me as a vulgar piece of meat like you do.” You started. “Seungyeon is curious about how my day went and not about which position we are doing at night.”

“Do you sleep with him?” He stepped closer to you.

“This is none of your business.”

Seonghwa was frustrated. He ran his hand in his hair and growled something that you didn’t understand.

“So, for your request. It’s no. You told me that I’ve shouldn’t f-”

“Does he satisfy you well?”

You blink twice at this sudden question.

“I told you it’s n-”

“Does he fuck you better than me?”

He was stepping closer to you at every question. Your heart raced and your lips went dry in a second.

“Does he make these things that you love the most in bed?”

“You are being inappropriate.”

“I bet you never told him your little secrets. Like how you like to be choked. Did you tell him?”

The proximity, his perfume, or just his presence made you get a tone of flashbacks.

These times you met, how he treated you well or how he completely made you forget your own name.

“You are mine. And I don’t want anybody to touch you.” He whispered, resting his forehead on yours.

This contact made you close your eyes so you could enjoy his presence once again.

“Just ditch him…”

You shook your head, “I can’t. He’s nice to me.”

“And I am too.” He kissed your cheek.

“He’s giving me what I want.” You gently rested your palm on his torso, trying to push him a bit.

“I can give it to you too.” He slowly went to kiss your neck, your weak spot. “All night long.”

His offer was interesting, of course. But you remembered that after this “night” he wouldn’t text you or ask how your day went as Seungyeon does.

"No." You pushed him stronger this time and stepped back. “I don’t want to be a friend with benefits anymore. I just want to be a girlfriend.”

Your heart was beating so fast in your chest that you thought it would explode the next minute. Maybe it would be the time where Seonghwa would change the status of your relationship or simply disappear as he usually does.

“I just want to be special to someone and not only because I slept with them.” You added, not liking the silence that settled.

“If you want me to be yours and not only in your bed at night then say it now. Otherwise, there’s a movie which is waiting for me.”

His lips parted for a second then closed right after.

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

You pushed his hand away from your forearm.

“Excuse me, but I have a movie to see.”

You exchanged one last stare together, then you left to join Seungyeon.

The more you walked away from him, the more you felt your heart clenching in your chest.

When the door closed behind you, you brushed off the tear which was sliding on your cheek.

“Ah you there,” smiled Seungyeon when he saw you.

“Yeah sorry. Did I miss something?”

“Nop, only ads.”

“Good.” You sat down, blinking a few times to suppress the tears.

“Are you okay?” He asked, still worried for you.

You nodded, biting your tongue.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You whispered, taking a deep breath to forget this conversation.

When the room dimmed in the dark, you remembered that your phone wasn’t mute.

Just when you were about to turn it off, you received a text from Seonghwa.

[“Let’s finish our conversation.”]

You noticed that he didn’t write “tonight” like he usually does.

“It’s starting.” Whispered Seungyeon, when he saw you still on your phone.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You apologized for not being focused.

[“K.] You replied before turning it off.

You felt bad for agreeing to meet Seonghwa while you were sitting next to someone who probably likes you.

“What I am doing...” you whispered to yourself.

[seriouslysnape]

Detention

Ron Weasley x Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,829

“I’m sorry I ruined your weekend.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Save it, Ron.”

“I didn’t know you would get in trouble too!”

“Shut up, Ron.” 

This conversation had been going on for the last ten minutes. Just you and Ron alone in the Potions classroom, bickering over the reason why you had ended up in Professor Snape’s Saturday night detention. Your beloved boyfriend decided that assisting his infamous twin brothers with one of their pranks outweighed the consequences of if they got caught. Fred and George managed to get off easy without any punishment, considering that they left you and Ron with all the damning evidence.

For the most part, it started out as a pretty harmless prank. It might’ve caused Filch a bit of a headache and a hernia, but otherwise it was meant to be a mellow joke. Fred and George had been working on these new exploding firecrackers that were supposed to combust when lit. They were proud of their finished product, and they were ready to try it out. Every once in a while, the twins would seek out their little brother’s help to ensure that the prank would be successful. 

In all of their excitement, they forgot to actually test the firecrackers to make sure they worked as they were supposed to.

It had always been Fred and George’s dream to make an attack on one of the girls’ bathrooms. Obviously it could be difficult to actually sneak in and have the time to plan some sort of scheme. But this was rather simple. All they had to do was have Ron light the firecrackers, toss them in the sink and scare the daylights out of anyone in the room. Ron had asked you to tag along, and you decided that witnessing their endeavor might be worth your time. That’s when Ron, Fred, and George had found a slight quirk in the twins’ design. 

The firecracker didn’t only explode and destroy the sink, but it caught everything in the surrounding area on fire. It was the loudest noise that any of them had ever heard, and water soon came gushing out of the busted pipes. The twins made their escape shortly after, leaving you and Ron to deal with their screw up. A group of girls sprinted out of the bathroom in a flurry of frightened screams as the room filled with smoke and water soaked you and the floor. Ron went into a panic until Professor Snape came running in with all the commotion, casting a charm to stop the flames from further engulfing the bathroom. Ron frantically tried to explain that neither of you were really the culprits, but without Fred and George present, it was impossible to prove. 

Snape dragged the two of you to his Potions classroom, not even allowing either of you to change clothes first. So, that was how you ended up in the gloomy classroom, practically dripping wet from the broken sink. Professor Snape’s detentions were always the worst, because he either gave you way too much to do, or nothing at all. Sometimes being assigned nothing but to sit in silence for hours at a time was worse than the latter.

You were sitting on the opposite side of the room from Ron, per Professor Snape’s demands. Although, you were so miffed at Ron that you didn’t even mind. You had barely offered  him even a passing glance in the last hour. You weren’t exactly thrilled that Ron had dragged you into this, because this wasn’t how you wanted to spend your Saturday night. After the first hour of silent detention had passed, Snape made his exit for a bit to go handle something with one of his Slytherins. That left you and Ron alone in the room, allowing some time to speak.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to come see it if I had known that they hadn’t even tried the damned thing out first.” Ron claimed, trying his hardest to get you to at least look at him.

You didn’t offer any kind of response, only continuing to stare off into space with your head resting in your palm. Ron hated the silent treatment. He’d rather you scream and yell at him for all hours of the night than you not say anything at all. At least that way he could know how you felt. The red-headed boy let out a deep sigh, crossing his arms over the top of the desk and resting his chin on the arm that was propped on top. 

It was so quiet in the desolate classroom that it was almost loud. If it weren’t for the clock ticking on the wall, Ron might’ve thought he had lost all hearing. He had grown bored long ago, almost wishing Snape had made the two of you write an essay or something. Out of sheer boredom, Ron began to tap his foot on the ground, the sole of his shoe making some sort of melody each time it hit the floor. 

You still didn’t turn your head to look at him, but your eyes did shift in his general direction. He began to lull his head from side to side, fairly content with the entertainment he was providing for himself. You were already irritated, and this wasn’t helping. It was possible to endure you supposed. It wasn’t like he was being totally obnoxious.

That was until he started singing.

He started singing some song you didn’t even know, but you did know that it was terrible. Ron’s horrid singing skills were no assistance either. You groaned in aggravation, finally looking at him through a piercing glare.

“Ron! Enough with the singing.” You scolded, hissing at your boyfriend.

His music production had innocent intentions. He hadn’t meant to annoy the everloving soul out of you, but it was a win-win because now you had spoken to him again, and he had an opportunity. He sheepishly grinned, scratching at his neck cumbersomely. 

“Sorry, love.” He apologized.

Now you let out a heavy sigh, but gave your first non-harsh response of the evening.

“It’s okay.” You replied, twiddling your thumbs absentmindedly.

It seemed that you had taken pretty much all of the water damage, not a single part of your clothing being dry. Ron had taken most of the smoke from the fire, his face and clothes smudged with soot. It was always cold in the dungeons of the castle, and your damp state just made you even chillier. You couldn’t fight the shudder that vibrated down your spine and through your body, something that Ron couldn’t miss.

“Are you cold?” Ron asked, knowing that you had to be.

You only shrugged, still not giving into his antics yet. 

“A little.” You lied as another shiver coursed through you. 

Ron chuckled under his breath, standing from his place and removing his sweater from his body, leaving his t-shirt underneath to remain. He walked over to you with the warmer clothes in hand, giving you one simple instruction.

“Arms up.” He said.

You looked at him with hesitancy and coldness, but you obliged. 

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” Ron said, whipping your wet shirt off. His cheeks glowed red at your breasts peeking over the top of your lacy bra, “My pretty baby…”

He grinned cheekily when you couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on your face. He slipped his sweater over your head, rubbing your arms to get more heat through you.

“I would offer you my trousers, but I don’t think Snape would appreciate me walking around his classroom in nothing but my underwear,” Ron joked, “Besides, I’d rather you stay in that skirt because bloody hell…”

“Ron,” You warned, “Not right now.”

“Because you’re mad at me or because you’re afraid Snape might walk in?” Ron chided.

“Both.” You answered shortly.

Ron let out a playful, guttural noise as he sat in the empty chair next to you. His hand was warm on your inner thigh, his palm forming to it perfectly. He had always believed that his hands were made for touching you...for loving on you.

“C’mon, beautiful, don’t be mad. I really didn’t think you’d get in trouble too,” He pleaded again, “I’d never do that on purpose.”

You let your index fingertip trail over his knuckles, a gesture that he always found so cute. You went quiet again, still not going to break just yet. Ron sighed dramatically.

“I guess you leave me no choice…” He hinted.

You went to question him, but you didn’t get the chance before he began peppering you with an attack of kisses. You squealed under his lips, laughing and squirming when he pulled you into his lap. His hands tickled your sides and wherever else he knew you were ticklish, refusing to stop until you caved.

“Okay, okay! I’m not mad!” You admitted, realizing you couldn’t stay angry at him, “It was kind of funny.” You added once he stopped.

Ron’s smile spread twice in size, his giggle coming out as a hiccup of a laugh. 

“Snape’s face was priceless! I can’t believe Fred and George missed it!” He exclaimed, remembering how Snape had almost fainted at the sight of what had happened.

The two of you fell into rounds of laughter as you remembered the encounter. You laughed until you were lightheaded and breathless from the aching in your sides. When your laughter simmered down, Ron filled the silence by kissing you more lovingly this time. He was relieved that you wouldn’t hold this over his head, but even more relieved that you understood that he really didn’t intentionally get you in trouble. His hands came to cup your face as your lips danced together as they had hundreds of times before. He kept you grounded in his lap, his arms wrapped around your torso. 

You pulled away first, brushing some of his slightly singed hair out of his face.

“I’m sorry I ruined your weekend.” He said, apologizing for the millionth time. 

“You didn’t ruin my weekend. You’re here, aren’t you?” You asked, smiling when he got bashful at your words, “Now go back to your side before Snape doubles our detention.”

Ron grumbled in disapproval, but set you off of his lap so he could return to his original seat. It was just in the nick of time too, since Snape entered immediately after Ron sat down.

“You’re both still here,” Snape announced, “I thought I was about to walk in on the two of you snogging.”

You held down your giggle that threatened to escape, only giving Ron a knowing look. 

“No, Professor. Never.” Ron lied. 

The rest of the night was horribly boring, but you completed your detention sentence nonetheless. Ron owed you a weekend and lots of compensation for your time spent in detention, but at the end of the day, you had made a wonderful memory that you’d always share with him. 

And you’d take detention for that any day.

[sleeplessgaywriter]

Hey, can u write a one shot where poppy and mc are in relationship and poppy gets jealous and the aftermath of her jealousy😂😂

Hi, anon! I'm so sorry it took me so long in writing this 🥺

I just got re enrolled at college and getting use to the whole academic life again is quite difficult. Adding to that, I'm also working a part time job to pay the bills and let me be honest, mad respect to all of you that work and study at the same time. I don't know how you do it, I think I'm already at my limit 😥😥

Anyway, I know it sounds like a bunch of excuses, and I'm sorry...I'm trying to organize better my time so that I can write more frequently...hopefully I'll manage 🤗

Without further ado, here it is an attempt of what you asked. I hope you like it 😊

(I'm so sleep deprived that I can't come up with a name, so it is another nameless fic 😣)

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Sam/Samantha)

One of Poppy’s favorite things to do was going shopping.

She liked to try on a lot of different clothes and admire her reflection on the mirror as she posed with them on.

Sometimes Chloe and Veronica would tag along -when Poppy didn’t mind the company.

Most of the time, however, she enjoyed going alone.

There was not a single person who understood her, and it was rather tiring keeping up that “heartless” façade everyone saw of her.

Well, there wasn’t…until Sam's arrival at Belvoire.

Poppy would never -in her wildest dreams- have imagined that someone would come into her life, and be so stubborn and break down every damn wall around her heart.

Sam came like a tornado and put her life upside down. Making her way into Poppy’s heart so quickly, it was almost frightening.

Falling in love was like jumping off a cliff…you either crash and suffer heartbreak, or the one you love catches you…a frightening gamble, but she wasn’t afraid.

Poppy was certain Sam would catch her with both arms.

They went through a lot together on their junior year. Insults were exchanged, tears were spilled…and finally, a meaningful kiss was shared at the end of it.

They were the most popular couple in campus to say the least. There was always something about them on the T, and honestly, they couldn’t care less.

Being at each other’s throats because of a “crown" was but a distant memory.

Who would have known sharing the throne could feel so good?

And although Poppy was less bitchy all the time, she still couldn’t handle too much socializing in one day. Only Sam was allowed to be by her side all the time.

Especially when going shopping.

Doing her favorite thing with her favorite person sounded great.

And, Sam was happy to oblige.

At first Poppy had her doubts whether her girlfriend would enjoy going shopping, given that Carter very much loathed it. But she was happily surprised when Sam seemed to be excited about it.

Now, they were both at Poppy’s favorite mall, inside her go-to dressing shop.

She had just finished putting on a red dress, and her eyes looked at the mirror, watching as the dress hugged her body in all the right ways.

The dress was gorgeous, there was a finery in the details, as if the designer had poured their heart and soul into it.

With a smirk on her lips, Poppy stepped out of the dressing room.

The reaction was instant.

Sam took a sharp breath, and then like the moron she was, choked on air at the sight before her eyes.

Poppy rolled her eyes affectionately, internally savoring the effect she had on her girlfriend.

It took her a couple of minutes for Sam to calm her coughing, and when she did, she instantly approached the petite blonde, gently placing her hands on her hips and pulling her close.

“You’re gorgeous.”

Placing her arms lazily around Sam’s neck, she replied, “I know.”

Sam chuckled fondly and lent down to kiss her.

Poppy smiled on the kiss, and after a couple of minutes she gently push Sam away, action that made the taller girl pout.

“Come on, we still need to pick something for you.”

“I already have clothes.”

Poppy scoffed and shoved playfully at Sam’s shoulders, but still they didn’t let go of each other.

“Honestly, if it wasn’t for Wade you would’ve crashed and burned with your terrible fashion sense.”

“You like my hoodies, though.” Sam said with a cheeky grin.

A blush spread on her cheeks, knowing all too well how much she loved putting on one of Sam’s hoodies and just relax on the bed, watching a movie while cuddling together.

“Shut up.” She shoved her again.

“Fine, fine.” Sam chuckled. “You can pick something for me to wear to your party.”

With a final peck on her lips, Poppy went back inside the changing room.

She had to swat away Sam’s attempts to “help" her change her clothes. Some other time, she would’ve indulged in her girlfriend’s antics, but they were meeting their friends in an hour and Poppy wasn’t really looking forward to be teased.

Back in her regular clothes, Poppy started to look with Sam for a matching outfit for the latter.

The sorority was organizing a big party, and they had to look the part of the most powerful and popular couple in campus.

Competing with each other was a thing of the past, but that didn’t mean others could dare to take the throne from them.

Finally, a victorious smile formed on her lips as she found the perfect outfit.

As she was reaching for the outfit, her ears caught the voice of that one professor who seemed obsessed with her girlfriend.

“Sam, what a nice surprise seeing you here.”

“Oh, hi, professor Kingsley.”

With the clothes carefully folded on her arm, Poppy turned on her heels, narrowing her eyes at the sight of Ina Kingsley clearly making heart eyes at HER girlfriend.

“What are you doing here?” Ina asked.

“Shopping?” Sam replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Of course.” The older woman laughed lightly at her own dumb question. “Would you like some compa-"

And…Poppy had enough.

It was almost painful to watch such an awkward interaction. Poppy would even laugh at the professor’s hopeful glint on her eyes, if she wasn’t so pissed at the audacity of this woman.

With quick strides she reached her girlfriend and handed her the clothes on her arms.

“Try this on.” She said purposely ignoring the older woman.

Sam let out a small sigh of relief and with a cheery smile she pecked Poppy’s cheek.

“Thanks, babe. I’ll be out in a sec.”

Sam walked to the changing room, happy to leave behind that awkward encounter.

“Wait.” Poppy called before she reached the room, and Sam turned her head in curiosity.

With a smirk on her rosy lips and her eyes staring directly at Ina's, she spoke. “I’ll help you.”

Without saying anything else, Poppy walked towards the changing room, taking Sam by the hand in doing so. Leaving behind the stunned professor.

“I thought we didn’t have the time.” Sam mumbled a couple of minutes later while kissing her neck.

Poppy rolled her eyes and decided to shut her girlfriend with a kiss – it always worked.

Their friends could wait.

/

Poppy was bored and scrolling through her phone on her bed.

She didn’t have any classes that day, but Sam did.

Chloe would probably be happy to hang out before her afternoon class, but Poppy wasn’t in the mood of interacting with her friends.

She could only wait until Sam’s Anthropology class ended-

Her thoughts stopped and a playful grin formed on her lips.

/

Having classes with Ina as the professor was somewhat awkward, Sam had to admit.

From time to time she would catch her professor looking longingly at her, which she would promptly ignore.

Yes, they had a past together. But it was Ina the first one to say it couldn’t go anywhere.

It had hurt at the time, but now, Sam was happily in a relationship, and she wouldn’t change it for anything.

Taking a sip of her bottle of water – the one that Poppy made her carry around for health reasons, Sam felt her phone vibrate on her pocket. Taking it out, a smile plastered on her lips at seeing a new text from Poppy.

And when opening up the text, she chocked on her water, spilling some of it on her desk.

“Ms. Hughes, are you alright?” Ina asked worriedly. “Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

Sam would’ve rolled her eyes at the ridiculous suggestion. But right then, her thoughts were plagued with that photo Poppy had sent.

Her girlfriend was wearing a very revealing pink lingerie, one that left very little to the imagination, while accentuating Poppy’s curves.

“Yes! I’ll go to the infirmary.” She agreed with the professor and jumped out of her seat.

She quickly dumped all of her stuff on her backpack and made a beeline for the door, waving away Ina's concerns.

Her destiny was not the infirmary, but her girlfriend’s room.

Hope you enjoyed this anon, and again, I'm sorry it took so long 😣

Anyway, I'm off to sleep, my eyes are at that point they hurt just by being open...😅