#so i just had to WAIT until i opened my passport this afternoon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunflowervolvimp3 · 4 years ago

Text

42 Hours

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

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k

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

{masterlist}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boring, you mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truce.”

(pt II)

7K notes · View notes

moldisgoodforyou · 4 years ago

Text

home again

wordcount: 7.9k

warnings: brief smut moment, mentions of sexual content

________

Rafe double, triple-checked their plane tickets when they went back home from Rome. They’d bought them separately but somehow he was convinced he’d screwed it up again - when he reached for his phone a fourth time on the train to the airport, Sophie reached over and took it with a shake of her head.

After making it through security and buying two breakfast sandwiches for them, Rafe tucked his backpack under her feet. “Can you watch this for a second?”

“Yeah, where are you going?” Sophie asked curiously.

“I’ll be right back.” He answered vaguely, kissing her forehead. When he returned, he had an entire bag full of Italian snacks and candies, all indecipherable except for a small bag of dark chocolate M&Ms that he tossed at Sophie. Her face lit up as she caught it and realized. “Oh my god, I missed these.”

He grinned and slid into the seat next to her, dumping the snacks into his backpack. “I know you did. I figured we could try these on the plane, for some entertainment.”

“I’m not gonna be able to sleep.” She tore open the packet and poured some into her hand before offering it to him.

He accepted a few, but not too much more. “Good, you said we weren’t supposed to sleep. We’ll be all jetlagged.”

“But I’m tired.” She whined, dropping her head to his shoulder.

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lowering his voice. “Maybe you shouldn’t have convinced me to sleep with you last night then. Until 3am.”

She blushed and shot him an indignant glare. “You started it in the shower.”

“You dropped to your knees in the shower first.” He smirked. “This is your fault.”

“Nothing is ever my fault.” She declared. “You’re just too hot, that’s all.”

“Uh huh.” The airport called for boarding over the speakers and he hauled her up, pulling out their passports and walked with her to the line. He paused when she moved forward. “Wait, Sophie, aren’t we sitting together?”

“No, I’m 23A.”

“And I’m 23B - wait, no, shit, I’m not.” He frowned and glanced down at his ticket. “I’ll fix this.”

“Rafe, you don’t have to -”

Her argument fell on deaf ears as he went forward, glancing at people’s tickets. She held back a smile as he put on his best southern drawl and his most charming grin as he talked with the woman in 23B, convincing her eventually - with twenty dollars - to trade seats once they were on the plane. Once they boarded, he gave her a smug smile as he sat next to her, putting up the arm rest so she could lean into him.

“How much did you bribe her with?”

“Bribe? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never bribed anyone in my life.”

_____

The entire ride home, he didn’t sleep at all. Sophie fell asleep on him within minutes, curled into him comfortably, and he didn’t dare move and wake her up. When they made it back to Columbus and James and Colin picked them up - with a ‘welcome back from federal prison’ sign. Sophie just grinned and greeted them both with a big hug, giggling when James kissed her cheek and Rafe socked him in the arm. The whole drive back, she chattered excitedly, filling the boys in on all her adventures while Rafe barely stayed awake, his head slumped onto her shoulder.

They went straight to Rafe’s senior house to relax and she gave herself a tour right away, impressed by the clean house and lack of lewd decor. (It was going up next week, anyways.)

She wasn’t tired at all as she strolled into his room, making a big deal of the newly painted walls and a few plants scattered around on shelves. “Check it out! This looks so good, Rafe!”

He yawned - again - and flopped onto his bed. “Shh.”

“Didn’t you sleep?” She did the same, sprawling out on his bed. “I can’t believe you have a king-sized bed, I’m never staying at my place.”

“No. Couldn’t sleep.” He stretched his neck uncomfortably, groaning. She nudged him over, tugging at the hem of his shirt, and he shook his head. “Nooo. I’m too tired for sex.”

She giggled and tugged again. “It’s not that. Sit up, I’ll rub your back.”

He sat up just enough to tug his shirt over his head and flopped back down to the mattress on his stomach. She crawled onto him and straddled him to massage his shoulders, digging her thumbs into the base of his neck. He groaned, twisting a little. “Lotion. In my nightstand drawer.”

“Ew, is that for -”

“My hands get dry, dummy, get your head out of the gutter.”

She flicked his neck. “Be nice or I’ll leave you alone.”

“No, baby, stay.” He whined, flexing his back a little as she stretched. She smiled to herself, appreciating his muscles and traced a finger down his spine. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

“Watch your hands.”

“I’m just touching your back.” She dug in a little harder into his shoulders, grinning when he groaned in appreciation.

“Yeah, and I know how touchy you can get.” He quipped, closing his eyes and letting her continue the massage. “Handsy.”

She teased his fingertips under the waistband of his shorts. “You’re gonna have to shower anyways.”

It took about two seconds for him to change his mind. “Hmm….fine. But I’m not gonna do any work if you start something.” He yawned. “And you’re not done on my back.”

She rolled her eyes and got back to work, pleased by his little satisfied noises. She was just about to roll him back over and tug down his shorts when James slammed his palm on the door. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe, we don’t want to hear you jacking off!”

“Jesus Christ, James, come in!” Rafe yelled back with annoyance lacing his tone. James came in to see their (mainly) innocent position. “Oh. It sounded like you were doing something else. Hi Sophie, I didn’t know you were still here.”

She giggled, crawling off of Rafe. “Hey. We weren’t -”

“Yeah, I can see that. My bad.” He went to leave and paused, sticking his head back in the door. “You should know, though, my room’s right below his. And we all share that bathroom, so I’d prefer things to be cleaned. Regularly.”

“Get out, James.” Rafe pointed with a glare. James nodded with a grin and left, the door clicking shut behind him. Sophie gave him an apologetic smile. “He’s really just below us?”

“Yeah. I don’t fucking care, I told him I’d buy him a white noise machine. C’mere.” He flipped over and pulled her up to his hips, groaning obnoxiously loud when his hard cock brushed against her core.

She giggled, rocking back and forth on him. “Now you’re just being annoying.”

“Good. He’s been worse, bringing home a different girl every weekend for a straight month before I left. Colin says he’s going through his hoe phase.” He yawned, tugging at her shirt. “You have about ten minutes to fuck me before I pass out in this bed.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, pulling off her shirt. “That’s it? Sure it’s worth it?”

“Angel, please.” He nearly begged, pulling her down to kiss her desperately, grinding his hips against hers.

“Okay, okay, you’re so needy.” She teased. “Let me just take care of you.”

“No, I want -” He started, cutting himself off when she pulled out his hard cock from his shorts and stroked down his length, making him hiss. “Okay. That’s fine.”

She rolled her eyes and ducked down to take him into her mouth, not giving any warning. He nearly groaned again until she reached up and slapped her free hand over his mouth. “Shh. Stay quiet or I’ll stop.”

He let his head fall back so she couldn’t see him and fisted the sheets, bucking up into her mouth. “So good. So fucking good, baby.” He mumbled against her hand, just loud enough that Sophie could hardly hear.

It didn’t take long for him to come, especially with the way she sucked on him and twisted her wrist at the same time. When he did, her hand still clapped against his mouth, he let out a satisfied sigh and grinned down at her. “You’re incredible.”

She removed her hand and gave him a quick kiss. “You’re too easy. I think that was four minutes.”

“Can’t help it. You were all touchy, you know what that does to me.” He tried pulling her close, all sleepy, and she gently swatted her hands away.

“No, baby. I gotta go home and shower, then unpack. And I want to get dinner with Allie and Jules.”

He frowned. “What about me?”

“I’ve been with you nonstop for three whole weeks.” She grinned and gave him another short kiss. “You’ll be okay. We’re gonna have to go back to sleeping apart sometimes.”

“Noooo.” He grumbled, reaching for her as she stood and tugged her shoes back on.

“Welcome back to reality, Cameron.”

“But you - you need your turn -” He tried arguing helplessly and she just grinned.

“I own a vibrator, remember?”

“Fuck. That thing.”

“Don’t worry.” She leaned against the wall with a smirk, arms crossed. “I’ll let you borrow it sometime. Can you drive me?”

Rafe sighed but ambled out of bed, tugging his shorts back up and pulling his shirt on. “This is not how I expected the night to go.”

“We both know you’re gonna pass out in bed the second you get back. Hopefully after a shower.”

“Yeah, probably.” He yawned, stretching. “If I’m not texting you by one in the afternoon tomorrow please check on me.”

She nodded seriously and shook his hand, making him laugh. “You have a deal. Don’t forget you have to pack though, we’re going home in two days.”

“We are home…?”

“Home home. Remember? We booked the flights yesterday in Rome?”

He nodded in recognition, casting a glance at his stuffed suitcase on the ground. “Right. Remind me why I couldn’t just ask for the plane?”

She scowled before she could catch herself. “I thought you didn’t want to see your dad when you were home.”

“Touché.” Rafe noticed her scowl but didn’t mention it, not having the energy to persist. He grabbed his keys and took her hand, bringing her out to the car. “C’mon, my chariot awaits.”

____

The two of them spent their two days before going home very differently - Rafe slept nearly the entire time, woke up at night to go get tacos with the boys, then went back to bed. Sophie decorated her entire room within four hours, set up her senior architecture studio, and had meetings with a professor, an advisor, and the co-president of the alumni mentorship program. (Rafe was exhausted just from seeing her texts about her schedule.)

The girls dropped them off at the airport only forty five minutes before their flight, despite Rafe’s protests that it wasn’t nearly enough time and Sophie’s argument that she’d made a flight with less time on a tiny airline in Spain. Their flight was inconvenient, as always - they had to fly into Virginia and take a 2.5 hour ferry to get back home. When they finally arrived, greeted by the familiar summer humidity and the smell of the sea, her brother picked them up to bring them to Sophie’s.

“Soph!” He yelled out the window from the pickup line. Rafe noticed immediately and straightened up, grabbing her bag as well as his to walk to the car.

She beamed, waving as they came closer, and slid into the front seat while Rafe put their suitcases in the back. “Carter! Hi! I thought you were moving this weekend?”

“I pushed it back a couple weeks, wanted to see you before I left. How was Barcelona?” He glanced back and nodded at Rafe briefly in the backseat. “Rafe.”

“Hey. Thanks for picking us up.” Rafe smiled politely, nearly crammed into the backseat because of how far back Sophie’s seat was. He assumed Carter had moved it before he came to pick them up, but didn’t dare say a word.

“Yeah, no problem.” The rest of the ride was just the two siblings talking, mainly Sophie telling him about her study abroad and the trips she’d taken with Rafe. Carter kept his eye on Rafe in the backseat at a few parties of her story, especially when she stuttered over talking about swimming in Nice and Rafe’s birthday. (Rafe very pointedly looked out the window to avoid his eyes.)

They were greeted by Sophie’s dad when Carter pulled the car up in the driveway. He wrapped Sophie in a tight, smothering hug when she jumped out of the car, the two of them sharing matching grins. “Hey, Sophie girl.”

“Hi Dad.” She mumbled against his shirt, hugging him tight. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He finally let her go and welcomed Rafe in for a hug too, ignoring his handshake. “Nice to see you too, kiddo.”

“You too, Mr. Flint.” He beamed and excused himself from the hug quickly to get both his and Sophie’s suitcases, ever the gentleman in his presence. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here, I really appreciate it.”

Her dad nodded with a smile, taking Sophie’s bag from him. “Of course. Come on, I’ll show you to your spot in the guest room. Soph, your mom’s out running errands, I thought we could all head out to the course for a round if you’re not too tired?”

“Sure, that sounds fine. Dad, did you forward that study I emailed you about using filtered stormwater for the course to the groundskeeper? So it’s more eco-friendly?” Sophie asked over her shoulder, leading the way inside and upstairs.

Jeff sent Rafe a knowing smile behind her back, shaking his head. Ever since Sophie really got into eco conservation in high school, she’d been pushing more and more for the entire family to make small changes. Her efforts got more and more involved as she learned more in college, and she’d had meetings with the groundskeeper at the country club no less than five times - he listened politely as a favor to her dad, but that was all. “I sent it, yes. I’m not sure how well it was received.”

“Oh, well, I can send you some more resources. It’s good to at least provide the options, you know?” She turned back and took her bag into her room, automatically going for Rafe’s as well.

Rafe smiled, subtly pulling it away and tried to redirect her dad’s attention. “Um, which one’s the guest room?”

“Other end of the hallway, just opposite Carter’s room.” Jeff gave him a pointed look and he nodded quickly. “Great, thank you.”

“Dad, you’re not seriously making him stay in there.” Sophie argued, giving her dad a pleading look.

“No, it’s fine! I’m sure it’s perfect, I’ll go make myself at home.” Rafe quickly excused himself, heading down the hall and just barely stayed in earshot of the two.

Her dad regarded her carefully. “Sophie, you can’t really expect me to believe you two had been in separate dorms that entire trip like you’ve been telling your mother, can you?”

She grew embarrassed, leaning against her doorway. “Dad...”

“I’m not oblivious, honey, I just hope you’re being safe -”

“Dad! Please. I don’t want to talk about this with you. Ever.” She told him with wide eyes and red cheeks, backing into her room slowly.

“Alright, just. Be careful. Both of you.” He warned her, patting her shoulder before heading back down the stairs, calling out loudly over his shoulder. “Be ready in fifteen!”

She just groaned and flopped back onto her bed.

“Ready, kids?” Jeff called up the stairs, exactly fifteen minutes later. Sophie was in the guest room with Rafe, sporting a golf tank from high school and a matching skort. The tank was a little tight across the chest and she’d flaunted into his room with it unbuttoned to completely show off her boobs, showing him exactly what was underneath.

“Yes sir!” Rafe called back, a little higher pitched than normal, and shoved Sophie’s shoulder lightly. “Button that up,” he hissed.

“You’re a prude.” She rolled her eyes, buttoning it back up to her neck but adjusted her skort to sit a little higher. (Nothing too inappropriate, but it was just enough to drive Rafe crazy.)

“I’m not - we are going golfing with your father, baby, and you look like several dreams I’ve had in high school. Do not pull something. Fix your skirt.”

She perked up, taking a step closer. “You dreamed about me in high school? What kind of dreams?”

“No. We’re not doing this.” He told her, but she didn’t miss the way he reached in his pocket and grimaced for a moment. “Behave.”

She grinned and practically skipped downstairs, with Rafe following close behind. “We’re ready! Dad, can we just play 9 today? I wanted to go hang out on the beach with Rafe later.”

“Our reservation’s for the full 18. What, you don’t want to play a full round with your old man?” Her dad teased, but she could hear the tiny tone of hurt underneath.

“We can go to the beach another time, the full 18’s perfect.” Rafe interjected. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up with you though, Mr. Flint, I haven’t really played since last year.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine, I saw your form earlier this summer.” Her dad replied cheerfully, not noticing as Sophie mouthed “suck up” to Rafe behind his back.

They all drove to the course and split into carts, her dad in one and Rafe and Sophie in the other. As they rode to the second hole, Sophie kicked her feet up on the dash, ignoring the golf etiquette standard. “Hey, Rafe.”

He instantly reached over and shoved her feet off, casting a glance toward her dad to make sure he didn’t see. “Yes ma’am.”

“You think we could pull off a quickie tonight?”

He fixed her with a glare, unamused. “Sophie. Do not.”

She just smirked as she skipped off the cart to the hole, club in hand. She didn’t quit the entire rest of the game, murmuring little dirty things into his ear on the cart or pretending like she was going to flash him, bursting into giggles as he nearly wrecked the cart trying to lunge across the seat to keep her shirt down. Rafe was entirely distracted the whole game, trying to stay as civil as possible around her dad while also keeping Sophie in check.

Her competitive streak kicked in around the sixth hole, when she was losing by just enough. Jeff kept pointing out little imperfections in her form - her arms were bent too far, her hips didn’t rotate enough, her head wasn’t down for long enough - and Rafe winced nearly every time. Sophie took it all in stride though, and he had to remind himself that criticism from a parent was fine when it was paired with constant encouragement after she improved.

Her dad was a little more sensitive to how Rafe responded to criticism, starting everything with a compliment first and then phrasing the critique as a suggestion. At the end of the game - despite Rafe barely losing to Sophie, Jeff coming in first - he nudged Rafe and gave him an encouraging grin. “You’re looking good, kid. Might beat this one if she wasn’t so annoying.”

“Dad!” Sophie exclaimed. “I didn’t do a thing -”

“I raised you better than to whistle on the golf course, Soph.” Her dad pointed out as he poked her in the leg with his club. “Breaking every single etiquette rule out there.”

“It’s a simple distraction technique.” She protested with a sheepish grin. She had whistled at Rafe when he bent over to place his ball on the tee - twice - and thought her dad hadn’t noticed either time.

“If you’re using distraction to win the game, maybe you aren’t good enough.” Her dad retorted, laughing as Rafe’s eyebrows shot up at the same time as Sophie’s. “Go drive the carts back, I’ll meet you two at the car.” As Sophie grinned and started toward her dad’s cart, he called after her again. “No racing! Not again!”

She just ignored him and Jeff turned to Rafe with an exasperated grin. “I’m not sure how you kept up with her for that long in Europe.”

“I’m not entirely sure either, sir.” Rafe told him with a smile.

____

When they came back to the house, all a little sweaty, her mom had a tray of lemonade and snacks set out for all of them. “Mrs. Flint, hi. Thank you for this.” Rafe thanked her immediately, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“Rafe, it’s good to see you, thank you for keeping an eye on my child the past few weeks.” Her mom greeted with a teasing grin. “Sophie, Angie is coming over with the twins any second now, can you two watch them for a couple hours?”

Sophie scowled, flopping back into her chair and only straightened up instinctively when her mom tapped her shoulders. “Rafe and I were going to -”

“No, that’s fine, we don’t have plans.” Rafe cut her off quickly, nudging Sophie’s foot with his. “Who’s Angie?”

“Angie’s my older cousin, she just had her babies around February.” Sophie informed him. “They’re kind of cute, I guess.”

“They’re very cute, and it’s just so Angie and your aunt and I can go shopping for more baby clothes. You haven’t met them yet, you should be excited to see them.” Her mom chastised with a shake of her head. “You’ll have your own soon enough, so this’ll be a learning experience.”

Sophie nearly spat out her lemonade, affronted. “Mom!”

“Don’t be dramatic, Sophie.” She tutted and went back inside.

Sophie gaped after her, shaking her head. “Ignore her. Go shower, I’ll shower when you’re done.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that exchange, always a little confused by her mom’s well-intentioned insults. “I thought the kids were coming…?”

“Yeah, I can handle them and then we’ll swap.” She grinned, lowering her voice. “Or we could shower together and it’ll be faster.”

Rafe practically scrambled out of his chair to go shower, pointing accusingly at her. “Stop that.”

“Stop what.”

“You know - that.” He gestured wildly at the way she’d leaned forward, undone a button and bit her bottom lip. “You’re teasing. Just wait until we’re back in Ohio, please.”

She just smirked and leaned forward to kick his ass lightly. “Go.”

____

When she came back down after her slightly-too-long shower with damp hair, she stopped in her tracks at the base of the stairs. Rafe had one of the babies napping in the play crib and the other asleep on his chest, tiny fingers curled around his pinky as he carefully rubbed her back. Sophie took a quick photo before he could notice and approached quietly, combing her fingers through his hair affectionately.

He lifted his head to smile at her, whispering. “She fell asleep like this, isn’t she sweet? I think this one is baby Ava.”

She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “That’s Amelia. Ava’s in the crib, she has more hair.”

“Oh. Look at her tiny fingers, Sophie.” He murmured, so proud that he was able to get them to stay asleep. When Angie had arrived, she’d brought in both car seats and set up the crib, then handed off both still-sleeping babies to him with only a short introduction. She’d nestled Amelia on his chest, telling him she slept better that way, and thanked him profusely before leaving with Sophie’s mom.

“Babies are so weird.” Sophie replied, a little too loud. “At least they’re starting to get cute.”

He shushed her immediately with a glare. “They’re not weird.”

“How are you so good at this?” She cocked her head, considering picking up Ava from the crib but not trusting her skills.

“Dunno. I like kids.” He traced small circles on Amelia’s back, quietly shushing her when she cooed a little. After a few moments, he glanced up at Sophie with a smile. “How many do you want?”

“I’m not giving you a baby any time soon.” She told him pointedly, leaning into him a little. “But I guess if you really want, I could start calling you daddy…”

He shuddered, his whole face scrunching up into a scowl. “I hope that’s not a kink of yours because I’m really not sure I could entertain it.”

She giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m just kidding. Um, I don’t know that I’ve thought about it. I’ve only ever thought as far as my job.”

“Wait, really? Never?”

She shrugged. “Nah. I liked having Carter growing up though. You’ve thought about it?”

He nodded confidently. “Yeah. Two or three’s perfect, I think. Not too much of an age gap in between. A good mix of girls and boys. I want to...yeah.”

Sophie furrowed her brow, turning to face him. “You want what?”

“I want to be a good dad. To do it right.” He told her, a little shy. “I’m not sure I could, but -”

“You will.” She interrupted him, firmly. “I know you will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, baby. You’re going to love our kids so well -”

“Our kids?” He interjected with a small grin, making her blush as a matching blush crept up on his cheeks.

“Sorry, did you plan on having kids with someone else?” She raised her eyebrows.

“No. ‘Course not. Just didn’t know you planned on having them with me.” His grin grew to split across his cheeks, beaming.

She shook her head, feeling herself grow bright red. “Well, yeah. Later, but yeah. You’re it for me, Rafe.” She told him, her voice going a little soft.

He nodded, reaching out to grab her hand and kiss the back of it, the most movement he could make without disturbing the baby. “Good. My favorite.”

“My favorite.” She echoed softly, leaning back into him. As the garage door opened and both babies startled, Ava starting to wail, she scowled and stood to pick her up, holding her out at arm’s length as she began to scream. Amelia began to wake but stayed quiet, her little fist tightening around Rafe’s finger.

“Actually hold her, Soph.” He told her with a skeptical glance at the way she was clearly uncomfortable around the baby. She moved her grip to be able to rock the baby but Ava kept screaming, sensing Sophie’s lack of experience.

Just as Sophie was about to place her hand over Ava’s mouth, Angie came in with an exasperated sigh. “Oh, baby, it’s okay, did the garage wake you?” She cooed, immediately soothing her daughter.

Sophie’s mom followed, smiling at the sight of Rafe completely comfortable with Amelia quietly on his chest still. “Look at that, you’ve got the natural instinct.”

“Oh my god, can I take you home with me? Sophie, I’m stealing your boyfriend.” Angie joked, winking at Rafe.

He laughed, getting up carefully so he didn’t shift Amelia too much and carefully placed her back into the crib. “I wouldn’t mind a little babysitting, but I’ve got to go back to Ohio for our senior year at the end of the weekend.”

“Right, of course.�� Angie nodded, giving him a grateful smile.

Sophie rolled her eyes at Rafe behind Angie’s back. “Thanks for letting us watch them for a bit, Ang, they’re adorable, but we kind of have plans…”

“But you'll be back after dinner?” Her mom asked. Sophie resisted a scowl while Rafe just gave her an eager smile. “We’ll be back for dinner, no worries.”

“Okay, see you later!” Sophie practically dragged him upstairs, pulling him into her room and shutting the door before he could protest. He immediately reached for the doorknob, but she grabbed his hand and leaned up to kiss him, hard.

Rafe kissed her back for a few moments before he was reminded where he was and pulled back quickly. “Soph, we can’t.”

“I just want to kiss you.” She argued with a pleading tone, pouting a little.

“I thought we were leaving? Going to the beach?” He dodged another attempted kiss from her, easily slipping out from where she had him pinned against the door and stepped away from her.

“Right. I have to change.” She pulled off her shirt and bralette in one fell swoop, then kicked off her shorts too before he could blink.

He gaped for a moment when he realized she was completely naked, his voice lowering a little. “Baby.”

“Yeah?” She strolled over to her dresser, pretending to rifle through her drawer of old swimsuits, and settled on a hot pink string bikini. She’d bought it in high school and kept it in her car to change into for pool parties, because if her mom ever caught her in it she was sure she’d be transferred to a Catholic boarding school immediately. She knew for a fact Rafe had seen it before, even complimented her in it back in high school, and was hoping he’d recognize it.

He did.

Right away.

“Soph, not - not that one.” He implored, voice cracking. He could feel his throat going dry as he fought every urge in his body telling him to go over to her and have his way with her right that instant, trying to remind himself that her parents were literally right downstairs.

She held back a grin as she shimmied into the bikini, tying it up behind her neck. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“I’m getting you back for this. All this teasing today. I swear. I - I -” He couldn’t even come up with a decent half-hearted threat as she strode closer, letting her hair down from her claw clip, and a big whiff of her shampoo overloaded his senses.

“You’ll what.”

“You’re going to regret this.” He told her, and she swore she could hear the way his voice was shaking.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me? Tie me up?” She teased, and the hint of a laugh in her voice was enough to break his spell.

“Sophie, please. No more. I’ll do whatever you want the second we’re back in Ohio, but I am really trying to make a good impression on your family.” He pleaded, eyes trained intensely on hers - though she was pretty sure it was just so he wouldn’t be able to look down at her tits.

“Okay, okay.” She grabbed her shirt from the bed and pulled it on over the swimsuit, her shorts following. “You don’t have to try so hard though, you know?”

“I know, I just. I want to do this right.” He relaxed a little once she got dressed, but was still mainly tense. “Can I, uh, use your bathroom?”

Sophie sat back on the bed, sending him a confused glance. “No one uses the one out in the hall by the guest room, just use that.”

“That one doesn’t have a shower.”

“You just showered - oh.” She realized as soon as Rafe’s slightly pained expression set in and she noticed the bulge in his shorts. Sophie grinned, satisfied. “I could take care of that faster, y’know.”

“I think I’d still be hard after.” He confessed with a shake of his head, quickly letting himself into the bathroom and ignoring her giggles as he locked the door.

____

They were only out at the beach for a couple hours before they had to return home, but it was like she could see the tension literally unraveling from Rafe’s body when he wasn’t under the pressure of impressing her parents. They laid out their towels with a little overlap and she had her head on Rafe’s arm as they sprawled out on the beach, uninterrupted. When his phone chimed, he nudged her a little. “Can you grab that?”

Sophie sat up to get his phone from her bag at their feet. “Your dad texted.”

“What does it say?”

“I don’t know your password.”

“You did the Face ID thing for it in France, remember?” He didn’t move a muscle, halfway to falling asleep out in the sun.

She cocked her head, surprised when the phone unlocked. “I thought you would have taken it off, thought it was just for traveling.”

“Nope. I have nothing to hide.” He nudged his sunglasses down and squinted up at her. “What does it say?”

“Oh, right.” She opened his text, frowning a little. “Um, he said he saw you leaving the country club the other day and wants you over for lunch tomorrow.”

“Fuck.” He muttered, sitting up with a sigh and took the phone from her to read over the text to see if there were any undertones of him being in trouble. “Okay. You’ll come, right?”

“What - me? I don’t know if that’s really necessary -”

“I’ve been with your family all weekend.”

She frowned more, tucking her knees up to her chest. “I thought you wanted to stay with my family.”

“I do, I do!” He backtracked quickly, reaching out and skimming his hand over her arm. “But I want you to come with me.”

“Rafe…” She started, hesitant, but gave in once she saw his pleading look. “Alright. I’ll go, but I doubt he’ll want me there.”

“He’ll be fine.” Rafe shot off a quick reply to his dad, satisfied when Ward liked the message in response. “It’ll be fine. It’s just lunch.”

“Mmhmm.” She didn’t bring up how he sounded like he was reassuring himself more than anything. She stood, offering her hand. “Come on, swim with me.”

He kissed the back of it before taking it and hauling himself up. “I love you. You know that?”

“I know, baby. I always know.”

_____

Later that night, Sophie sat across from her dad as they got dinner ready. She’d informed him she and Rafe were going to Ward’s house tomorrow for lunch and her dad had merely replied with a noncommittal hum, asked her how she felt, and nodded again when she replied with a wary shrug.

“I never liked the idea of you dating.” Jeff told her as he sliced up watermelon for their dinner that night. Rafe paused around the corner, sent to the garage to grab charcoal for the grill, not wanting to interrupt.

“Dad.” She whined a little, embarrassed, but didn’t move from her spot across the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t, you’re my little girl. But I like Rafe, a lot. He’s a good kid, Sophie, keep him around.”

“I’m planning on it.” She murmured.

“You love him?” Jeff inquired, pausing his cutting of the watermelon for a moment. She merely nodded to respond with a blush and a smile and Rafe nearly walked out then just so he could see the look on her face, desperately craving the confirmation.

“He makes me...I just…” Sophie tripped over her words a little, tugging at the loose threads on her jean shorts. “I feel safe with him. With Luke, or Peter, you know, I -”

“I try not to remember them.” Her dad quipped with a smile, making her roll her eyes. “Go on.”

“Just, with them I didn’t really see much past what we had. But with Rafe, it’s different. Like, I know he’ll stick by my side. For...a while.” She decided, giving her dad a shy but eager smile.

“Well, when that time comes, I’ll be happy to have him in the family.” Jeff told her decisively.

“Me too.” She murmured, then hopped up from her chair. “I’m gonna go find him, he’s probably still rooting around the garage for the charcoal.”

Rafe carefully stepped back a few steps, just enough to quickly shut the door to the garage loudly and stroll in with a sense of purpose like he hadn’t just overheard the whole conversation. “Found it! Sorry, took me a second.”

“I thought you got lost.” She beamed at him, seeming to regard him in a different light for a moment.

He stood taller under her adoring gaze, smiling back. “Nope. Where do you want this, Mr. Flint?”

“Backyard’s fine. Know how to work the grill, Rafe?” Jeff set down the knife and pushed the watermelon toward Sophie so she could take over.

“Uh, not sure, I’ve only ever used electric.”

“C’mon then, let me show you how it’s done.” He clapped a hand on Rafe’s shoulder as he passed to lead the way out to the backyard.

____

Sophie was hardly able to sleep all night, so she crept into Rafe’s room around 1am, careful to only open the door just enough so it wouldn’t creak. “Rafe?”

He was awake too, just barely, and rolled over to greet her, whispering. “Hey. Why are you still up?”

“Can’t sleep.” She mumbled and crawled into his bed without invitation, laying on top of him and placed her head over his heart. He hesitated for a moment but eventually wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “Me either.”

“Are you nervous?” She asked.

“For lunch? A little, yeah. But I don’t sleep well without you anyways.” He confessed, playing with the ends of her hair.

“That’s no good.” She traced little patterns on his chest. “Your dad hates me. Right?”

“I don’t think so.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, not bothering to add that he wasn’t sure she was even enough on his radar for Ward to consider hating her. “You need to sleep, sweet girl.”

“So do you.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

She raised her arm with her watch aimlessly. “I set an alarm for six. I’ll go back to my room then.”

“Okay. Sweet dreams, angel.” He kept playing with her hair until he heard her breathing slow and deepen, and only let himself fall asleep an hour after, once he was sure they wouldn’t be caught.

_______

Later that day, after anxiously pacing the house all morning, Sophie was squeezing the life out of his hand as they walked up to his front door. He pressed a kiss to her temple before letting them in. “Soph. It’s okay.”

“Your dad hates me.” She told him with a straight face.

“He - I don’t think that’s true.” He faltered, punching in the code to the front door and toed it open when it unlocked. “This isn’t fun for me either, can you please help me out and not break my hand?”

“Right! Right, sorry.” She let go of him right away, letting him shake out his hand. “Here, let me -” She reached up to fix his hair and he jerked away, startled.

“He says it looks better gelled, don’t -”

“I’m not, I’m just fixing -” She carefully pushed a stray strand back into place and he gave her a grateful smile when he felt it. “Okay. We’re okay?”

“We’re good. Go ahead.” She nodded and followed him in, taking his hand when he reached out for hers.

Ward spotted them first, coming in from the kitchen with two wine glasses in his hands. “Rafe! Do you want wine? Um...Savannah…?”

Rafe’s face fell and his shoulders dropped as he clutched her hand a little tighter. “Her name is Sophie, Dad. I’ve only told you that at least ten times.”

“It’s okay.” She excused quickly with an overly polite smile. “We’ve only met once, at your Christmas party.”

“Right, right, I remember.” Ward nodded and set the glasses down at the table. “I’ll get you both a glass, hold on. Rose!” He called out, going back into the kitchen.

Rafe gave her an apologetic glance and she shook her head quickly. “It’s fine. Doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

“Yes, well, it’s fine. Are Sarah and Wheezie here?”

“I already asked, Sarah’s back at school and Wheezie got out of this to hang out with some friends.” He had texted them the night before for support, but had no luck.

“Okay.” She reached up and stroked her thumb over his cheek, whispering. “Relax your shoulders for me, baby.”

“Right.” He nodded, but stayed tense. Rose returned with Ward a few moments later, with the whole bottle in hand and two empty glasses. “Rafe, you’re here. Sophie, hello, are you still jetlagged from your trip?”

“Um, no.” Sophie replied curtly. “We’ve been back for a few days now.”

“Oh, you just looked a little tired. Maybe it’s the lighting.” Rose gave her a sweet smile and gestured around, although the entire dining room was filled with natural light.

“Maybe.” Sophie forced herself to agree, sitting after Rafe pulled out her chair for her. All their plates were already set out with individual portions, and she noticed there was more salad on her plate than anyone else’s, but didn’t dare say a thing.

“Tell me about your internship, Rafe. You didn’t leave early for the trip, did you?” Ward asked, starting to eat and Sophie took that as an invitation to start as well. When she reached for the wrong fork, Rafe tried to subtly reach out and push the other one toward her.

“No, I finished it then went out to Spain. The internship was good, I learned a lot. I have a job offer from them.”

“You’re not accepting, of course.” Rose replied, then raised her eyebrows at his pause to answer. “Right? Aren’t you coming home after graduation to work with your father?”

“I have a couple options.” Rafe replied vaguely, taking a larger sip of wine than what was considered polite.

To his surprise, Ward nodded in agreement. “You can explore a few things before you come home, it’ll give you more experience for joining the board. A year or so after graduation, that’s fine.”

“You’ll let him swan around instead of doing his job?”

“A couple years won’t hurt anything. He’s in supply chain, Rose, it’s relevant work.”

Rafe had a small smile as he picked at his food with the fork, then lifted his head. “What if I didn’t get a job in supply chain? To start?”

Ward fixed him with a stern gaze. “If this is about your minor, I don’t want to hear it.”

His smile dropped as quickly as he’d found it. “No, yeah, supply chain is smart.”

Rose glanced between the two of them, then cocked her head at Sophie. “What are you studying?”

“I’m in architecture.” Sophie replied, tensing a little.

“Oh. That’s cute. I’ve been looking to hire someone to help decorate our parlor, actually -”

“It’s, um, designing buildings, not interior decorating. It requires a master’s.” Sophie cut her off, with a little more edge to her voice than necessary.

Rose nodded. “Right. What’s the starting salary, around 30k? It’s a good thing you’re with Rafe, you won’t have to sacrifice for a tiny apartment once you graduate.”

Sophie flinched, stabbing her fork into the salad harder than necessary. “It depends on the firm.”

Rafe stayed silent, staring at his wine glass. They all sat there quietly as the clinks of their forks and their glasses echoed in the room for a few moments as they all ate, or pushed around the food on their plates.

“Rafe.”

His head snapped up at Ward. “Yes sir.”

“Are you still wanting the plane and the house for your fall break?”

Sophie didn’t dare look up to show the surprise flash across her face.

“Yes, sir, if that’s alright. It’s just a small group.” Rafe replied, nodding quickly. “I’ll do that remote work like you asked, call into the meetings if you need me to.”

“That’ll work.” Ward nodded. “You haven’t taken Sophie down there, just Brooklyn, right?”

“Mm. Yeah. That was a while ago.” Rafe sighed. “I haven’t dated her in over a year.”

“You’ll love it, Sophie,” Rose smiled at her. “It’s the best, so luxurious. You’re probably not used to it so it’ll be a treat.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, hard. “Right.”

Rafe glanced down at his watch as he briefly squeezed her knee under the table. “Thank you for having us over for lunch, Dad, Rose, but we have to catch our flight tonight and haven’t packed up yet. Sophie’s dad is driving us to the airport.”

“Alright.” Ward rose from his chair at the same time as his son, nodding. “Call me, okay? Check in once in a while?”

“Yeah, Dad, of course.” Rafe relaxed into the hug with his dad, pulling away with a broad smile. “Maybe you could come up for parent’s weekend this year.”

“I’ll check the calendar. Sophie, it was nice to see you again.” Ward walked them both out and she was unbelievably stiff as she shook his hand, her jaw set. When they walked out hand in hand again to her dad’s car, parked at the very end of the drive, she stayed quiet.

Rafe slid into the car with her and gave her a grin, like the weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “That wasn’t bad, right? I expected much worse!”

“Yeah.” She nodded weakly, staring ahead at his house out the window. “Can we go?”

He started the car with a frown, reaching out to place his hand on her thigh but she shifted away. “Sophie. What’s up?”

“Let’s just get home.” She offered a fake smile that he saw through right away, but he didn’t press it.

The rest of the drive was quiet as Rafe turned the radio up and tried to ignore her leg jittering anxiously and how she kept switching her ring from finger to finger, a constant nervous habit of hers. When he pulled into the driveway at her house, he reached out again and stilled her leg. “Sophie.”

“You didn’t say a thing.” She murmured to herself, not looking at him.

“What do you mean?” He frowned and reached out to take her hand.

Sophie pulled back a little, but turned to look at him. “Nothing, it’s fine. I’m glad it went well with your dad.”

“But…”

She leaned forward and gave him a short kiss and a smile to match, shaking her head. “You said it yourself, we have to go pack. Come on.” She got out of the car and didn’t give him a second glance backward as she strode into the house.

Rafe sat there and watched, dumbfounded and unsure of what he’d done.

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfic #rafe x sophie #college rafe #frat rafe #mine #ok rlly needed to get this out but i need to concentrate more on the big conversation so cliffhanger sry!!!!#actually no i'm giving you almost eight thousand words i'm not sorry. i take it back

122 notes · View notes

notdonesimpin · 4 years ago

Text

Sorcery ~r.s.~

ceo!ryomen sukuna x gn!reader

warnings: sukuna in a suit??, fluff

synopsis: [request by @draconic-dumbass ] “two unlikely people bound together by what some call fate, but to them, it must be sorcery” OR the reader doesn’t take care of themselves and sukuna has to do it for them.

a/n: For fic purposes, Sukuna has his own two armed body. I wanted a CEO!AU where curses don’t exist, okay? Sukuna’s just a man who looks great in a suit. The curse aspect isn’t really needed in the way it’s portrayed in the show so i don’t wanna think about it😣 don’t hate me.

The door opens as you peek your head in the hallway to see Sukuna roughly loosen his tie with a huff and unbutton the top of his shirt as he takes off his shoes.

“Long day?” you ask.

“My assistant cried today if that tells you anything. They overbooked me, and didn’t realize it until this morning.”

Your eyes narrow, “What did you say to the poor thing? She didn’t cry for nothing.”

Sukuna throws his hands up defensively as he walks over to you with a teasing smile, “I didn’t say anything! Though, I wanted to say a lot. I think she got the message when I sent her home.” The last part came out in a mutter, but you heard it well.

You hit him in the chest, “This is why you can’t keep an assistant! You’re too aggressive. I liked that one, too.”

“Well, I had an amazing assistant for years, but they quit when their husband told them to focus on art. My days ran so smoothly, and I had a beautiful sight all hours of the day,” he says, wrapping his arms around you as he continues, “Was I too aggressive with you?”

“You could barely say a sentence around me when we first met, Ryo. Don’t get cocky.”

Before he could say anything else, there was a knock on the door and you moved to answer it.

“It’s just Nao. They’re being my other model for today! I can’t model and draw myself, so I needed an amazing stand-in. How about you rest for a bit and I’ll do Nao’s solo poses and get you when I need you?” you suggested as you opened the door.

“It’s been a while. Good to see you, Y/N. Sukuna,” Nao says, giving Sukuna a wave and you a small hug.

“Nao, don’t fuck up while I’m not there,” Sukuna jokes, turning around to walk towards the bedroom.

“I’ve been doing this longer than you. I think I got it.”

“Don’t take those clothes off! The more wrinkles, the better!” you call after him.

You softly shake Sukuna. “Ryo, I need you to model for me now.”

He groans, opening his eyes to see you beaming at him. “It’s not fair, your face makes it hard to say no.”

“Then get up, so I can finish for today!” you urge.

He follows you to the living area with sleepiness still extremely apparent on his face.

“No wonder you chose him to be your muse for the King of Curses. He’s like The Walking Dead right now,” Nao laughs, earning a glare from Sukuna as you drag him to the spot you want him.

“You still haven’t told me anything about your art show,” Sukuna reminds you.

“Hands in pockets please…” you gesture to your own pockets when you make the statement and Sukuna lazily complies as you continue talking and telling him what to do. “My theme is Sorcery. Take a step but don't step… There! I wanted to do three bigger panels for my main showcase. They have the King of Curses- AKA you- and the ruler of blessings- aka Nao but Nao is just modeling so I can shade the pose right and put myself in it. Then the middle panel will be them together. Look at the ground. Now, only bring your eyes up the look at me… Perfect! Stay still. Basically it shows two unlikely people bound together by what some call fate, but to them, it must be sorcery.”

You yawn, waking up the sound of Sukuna roaming around the penthouse. You check your phone to see the time. 4:36 A.M.

You suddenly find yourself wide awake and decide to get up and work on your rough sketches.

You go out of your shared room, rubbing your eyes as you adjust to the light and walk to the kitchen.

“Where the hell is my…” Sukuna’s muttering comes to a stop when he sees you sitting at the island, drinking a glass of water as you wait for the coffee pot to get ready.

“Good morning,” you softly say with a yawn.

“Why are you up? Did I wake you?” Sukuna asks, buttoning the cuffs of the shirt and walking over to you.

“I need to work on the rough sketches anyways since my canvases come in today. I’m so behind,” you groan, “What are you looking for?”

“My passport. I swear I grabbed it from home before I came here.”

He watches you tie his tie for him as he tries to recall where it might be.

“It’s definitely at home on the kitchen counter. I saw it before I left. I meant to grab it for you. Sorry, Ryo.”

He tosses his head back in frustration, “Why is this penthouse so inconveniently located. I have to go in the opposite direction of the office and the airport to go home and get it.”

“You’re the one that said my apartment was too small to be my studio.”

“I know.”

“And that I should separate home from work.”

“I know.” He squeezes your cheeks to stop you from talking. “I don’t regret buying this penthouse for your work. You get an ocean view and you have an entire space to do your work. I’d buy you the entire building if you needed it.”

He lets go of your face and you say, “Okay, Mr. CEO. All you had to say was that you love me.”

He chuckles and pours two cups of coffee, handing you one of them. “This business trip is pretty short, so I should be back around afternoon or tomorrow night at the latest.” He checks his watch, “I should go, so I don’t be late with my detour.”

He grabs his blazer off of the back of the chair, sliding it on as he walks towards the door with you right behind him. He slips his shoes on and turns to you, giving you a soft kiss.

“Be safe. I love you.” you say.

“I love you. Don’t overwork yourself while I’m gone.”

As soon as the door closed, you muttered: Sorry, Ryo. That’s exactly what I’m about to do.

A few hours later, you get a call from Sukuna and immediately answer.

“How’s the new assistant, Ryo?” you immediately ask.

He paused, glancing at the assistant beside him. “So this was your doing. I can’t say that I’m surprised. This one seems a lot more competent.”

“Don’t run him off. He knows how to run businesses well since he grew up with his father.”

“I got it. Mx. CEO,” he taunts, “How long have you been working?”

You glance at the time on your phone. 10:32A.M.

“Technically five hours but only been diligent for the past four hours. I finished my sketch for the King of Curses panel about an hour ago. So, I’ve just started drawing it on the canvas.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that it’s time to take a break and eat something,” He suggests, but you both know that it was a command.

“I’m not going to pass out on you again, okay? I can take care of myself.”

“As you’ve proven on multiple occasions, you can’t. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you. Make good decisions!” You hang up and get back to work.

You didn’t know how much time had passed or how long you’d been actively moving around and working until your regular Wednesday at 11:30 alarm went off.

Wait… Wednesday??? You’d only been up for a couple hours. How has an entire day passed without you even realizing it?

At the same time, you received a text from Sukuna: I have to stop by the office before heading to you, so I’ll take you wherever you’d like around one.

“Shit!” you exclaim, typing back a quick response before rushing around the penthouse to clean and change your clothes.

Sukuna couldn’t know that you haven’t slept in the past 31 hours.

By the time you cleaned up and got dressed, Sukuna was already at the penthouse, leaning against the kitchen counter and holding a glass of bourbon in his hands.

“Let me see your hands,” he requests.

You stick out your hands, trying to calm them down because both of you knew that you get really bad tremors when you haven’t slept in a while.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so early,” you softly spoke.

“Darling, I texted you. I guess it makes sense that you don’t remember since you responded with a jumble of letters,” he sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets as he shakes his head, “What am I going to do with you?”

“I just got really focused. I’m so close to finishing the King of Curses panel. I started the Ruler of Blessings panel as well… I gotta keep the ball rolling while it’s hot,” you explained.

“That isn’t healthy. How have you been painting? With the way your hands are shaking, you shouldn’t even be able to hold a paintbrush straight.”

“I was focused! And before you say it, I’m not tired, so I’ll just get back to work.”

He looks at you in amusement as you walk away. “Still as stubborn as ever.”

“I’ll stop after I finish the curse panel, okay?”

Before you could even get out of the kitchen, Sukuna had picked you up by your waist and started walking away.

“Ryomen Sukuna! Put me down!” you exclaim, “I told you, my feet stay on the ground!”

He laughs and continues walking, “I told you that if I want to pick you up, I will. If you think you’re heavy, then you’re wrong. You’re like a feather compared to what I lift at the gym, okay?”

You fall silent, letting him carry you all the way to the bathroom. He sits you on the counter and starts running the water for a bath. As you wait for the bath to fill up, he stands in between your legs, bringing his hands up to your face and lightly grazing underneath your eyes.

“They’re puffy…” he looks at you with a hint of sadness, “I understand that the art show is very important to you, but this is the third time in the past few months that I’ve had to physically stop you from overworking yourself. If you don’t take care of yourself, your art will suffer, too.”

“I know. There’s just a lot of big names coming this time. I really want it to be good.”

“It will be because you’re an outstanding artist,” he reassures.

You give him a small thank you as he turns to stop the water and you shed your clothes, getting in and closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth.

“You see how nice hot water feels?” You could hear the teasing in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Self-care or whatever.”

Sukuna begins to wash your body for you, humming a soft tune and lulling you to sleep. He finishes washing you up and takes you to bed, putting one of his shirts on you and crawling in beside you, letting you wrap yourself around him to steal his warmth.

He softly smiles to himself and gives you a soft kiss on the top of your head as he whispers, “Sweet dreams.”

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fic #jjk masterfind

365 notes · View notes

hatterstan-shameblog · 4 years ago

Note

Okay so Aguni is sound asleep, just enjoying the few hours of peace he has, when there's a knock on the door. He ignores it, but the person just keeps knocking and knocking.

"Morizono, open the goddamn door!" he hears Takeru call, "This is an emergency!"

He groans to himself before standing up and opening the door.

"What?"

"So, remember that weird chonky cat Niragi found?"

"Yeah... what about it?"

"It's not fat... and is not a cat."

Where Hatter and apparently every other idiot at the Beach mistake a domesticated pregnant genet for a fat exotic cat. And it just gave birth on Hatter's bed.

I have no idea in what direction this is supposed to go lol but hopefully something chaotic.

alright I had to look up what a genet is and DAMN they are CUTE AS HELL and I’m love them v much

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Terminator

Rating: PG-13 for dialogue and like one drug reference

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Aguni Morizono is a simple man who enjoys simple pleasures.

He enjoys a healthy slathering of grape jelly on his toast. He enjoys watching the sunset reflect over the ocean. He enjoys watering his garden and reading the newspaper and taking naps on the sofa on Sunday afternoons after he’s finished his grocery shopping for the week.

What he does not particularly enjoy is being shaken awake by a borderline-frantic Takeru in the middle of the night.

Takeru insists that he has a good reason; that this is an emergency. Aguni reminds him that running out of marijuana does not qualify as an emergency, and pulls the blanket over his head in an attempt to shut the very exuberant man out.

But the aforementioned exuberant man refuses to be shut out, and he references the aforementioned emergency again—this time insisting that it is an actual real emergency and requires immediate attention. Aguni sincerely doubts this and tries his damnedest to fall back to sleep—a truly Herculean task, given Takeru’s incessant talking and the way he’s bouncing on the other side of the mattress like some kind of weird large puppy. Aguni is just about to enter the first misty moments of dozing off as Takeru says words like ‘Niragi’ and ‘cat’ and ‘bed’ and it’s all somewhat possible to ignore until he utters one word that makes Aguni sit straight up.

‘Babies.’

Now, ‘babies’ as a concept does not bother Aguni. He’s actually somewhat fond of them, the way they unabashedly stare at him on the train or in the park, eyes wide and fat little hands waving a clumsy ‘hello’ in his general direction. And if he waves back sometimes, well...that’s his business. (It’s only polite, after all.)

No, the issue here is that ‘babies’ and ‘the Borderlands’ sounds like a terrible, terrible mix. What’s worse is that said babies have, for some reason, been left in Takeru’s care. And, judging from Takeru’s presence in his room, the babies have been left alone.

It takes no time at all for Aguni to throw on a pair of pants and slip into his boots. It takes even less time for him to grab Takeru by the collar of his robe and physically drag him down the hall, the other man switching between heartfelt thank-you’s and desperate pleas for Aguni to be gentle when handling the raw silk of his ensemble.

Now, to those of us on the outside of Aguni’s brain, it may seem like he hasn’t thought this through; that he has tunnel-vision’d his way through the last two paragraphs without a logical thought as to how and why ‘babies’ may be present. That is simply not true. Aguni has considered that ‘babies’ could actually mean a number of things aside from ‘human infants’ and has thus compiled a short list of the three most likely candidates:

The spider plant he had placed on Takeru’s windowsill has propagated—or, as some would call it, ‘had babies.’ This is Aguni’s favorite option of the bunch. It is also the least likely.

Something about the cards. Although Aguni has never Takeru refer to them as ‘his babies,’ it is no secret that he is very protective of his prized collection. Seeing as this may or may not affect the entire Beach, it’s important for him to be aware of the situation.

Takeru is high as a goddamn kite and hallucinating. This is, unfortunately, the most likely scenario.

It is also important to mention that Aguni has taken a good look at his life and his choices throughout this ordeal, particularly when Takeru commented on the state of his biceps and made an off-color insinuation about the right one looking slightly more defined than the left—and then asked if he would like to discuss his love life, with an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows. Aguni chose not to comment. He also chose to push Takeru into the doorframe on the way into his suite, and took a smidge of pleasure when his head collided with the wood with a satisfying clunk-ing sound.

“Look,” Takeru says proudly, pointing a finger at the bed, “babies!”

Nestled in what a bulging nest of fluffy white blankets are...things. Fuzzy things. One big fuzzy thing, with sleepy eyes and what looks to be a long spotted tail wrapped around one, two, three tiny fuzzy things. When Aguni leans in to get a closer look, the big one quirks a corn-chip-shaped ear and gives him a wary glare.

“What,” Aguni asks, “in the goddamn—“

But before Aguni is able to finish his sentence, Takeru is giving him a stinging slap on the arm.

“Aguni Morizono,” he hisses, hands balled into fists and perched on his hips like a mother hen, “I will not have my children exposed to that kind of language.”

There are plenty of things wrong with what Takeru just said, but Aguni is having trouble getting past the idea that these...creatures have somehow been claimed by his very silly friend.

“Think about it,” Takeru continues, swanning his way past a very confused (and tired) Aguni to sit on the edge of the bed just behind the brood of fluffy individuals, “This lovely lady could have given birth on anyone’s bed...but she chose mine. Why do you think that is?”

“Because you leave the sheets all balled up in the middle and it’s the perfect place for an animal to make a nest?”

“Wrong, but I like how confident you sounded when you said it!”

With his hands pressed together and held in front of his lips, Takeru looks almost prayerful as he very seriously explains his theory.

“A woman alone-- heavily pregnant, scared, and lost in these cold and cruel Borderlands. Her thoughts shift to her young. Who will keep them safe? Who will help take care of them? That’s when her instincts took over,” Takeru opens his arms, the silken cuffs of his robe pooling around his elbows, “and, using her superior sense of smell, followed her nose to the den of the nearest alpha male for protection.”

Aguni wishes he could say that this is the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. He also wishes he had a cup of coffee (with a healthy glug of Bailey’s in there for good measure) before this whole event took place.

Takeru has since busied himself with the tiny new mother and her young, watching with gentle fascination as the newborns snuffle and snooze against her with unopened eyes and clumsy paws. When he reaches out a ring-bedecked hand to stroke along the bigger one’s head, she gives him a small growl and a pointed glare—to which he laughs and withdraws his touch, saying something cheeky about “the last time she let a man get too close” and quickly following it up with a promise to talk about it “after the kids are asleep.”

Takeru has just held up his hand for a high-five (which Aguni has decided to not reciprocate) when they hear a crash and then a bang and then the thundering thumpthumpthump of angry booted footsteps rapidly approaching their position in the bedroom. For some reason—a reason he’s not very keen to dwell upon at the current moment—Aguni instantly snaps into defense mode, hands curling into fists and shoulders squaring themselves in anticipation of a coming attack.

“WHERE. IS. TERMINATOR!?”

Niragi bursts into the room like a firework, all noise and flash and fire in his eyes. His knuckles strain around the dark of his rifle, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. Of course, Aguni knows (hopes) he won’t actually resort to filling Takeru full of bullets, but he keeps a close eye on his trigger finger, anyways.

“Ah! There’s my co-parent,” Hatter says with a measure of glee, gesturing with a flourish of his hand towards the cute, hairy pile on his bed, “As you can see, our lovely Terminator is doing very well and—“

“Our? She’s not fucking ours, she’s fucking mine,” Niragi snaps, “and I’m gonna fucking kill you for stealing my cat.”

“Not a cat,” a calm voice says, and Aguni turns to see Last Boss lurking in the doorway, katana sheathed and arms crossed, “She’s a common genet, native to the savanna’s of Africa.”

“Ooh, does that mean the babies have dual citizenship? No, wait,” Hatter claps his hands together with glee, “triple citizenship? Africa, Japan, and the Borderlands?!”

“Africa’s not a country, it’s a continent, dumbass,” Niragi retorts, “and I think we have bigger problems than what’s going to be on their fucking passports.”

It’s probably not the best thing in the world for Aguni to let Takeru and Niragi descend into heated bickering—a back-and-forth of ‘you stole her�� versus ‘no, she chose me’—but Aguni is simply not interested in breaking up their squabbling. Instead he goes to stand by Last Boss, who’s watching the two long-haired men argue like it’s a mildly interesting tennis match.

“So,” Aguni says, “you, uh, seem to know a lot about those things.”

“I did my research when Niragi first brought her back,” Last Boss says calmly, “He’s good with her, but I wanted to make sure we were taking care of her correctly.”

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

“I had my suspicions. Niragi wouldn’t listen, though. Kept telling me she was just fat.”

“Yeah, I thought she was ‘just fat,’” Niragi interjects, his gun no longer pointed at Takeru but a murderous gleam still in his eye, “because this fucking asshole kept feeding her potato chips!”

“Because she loves them,” Takeru shouts back, throwing his arms up in the air, “So shoot me for being a nice guy and sharing my snacks with your weird cat!”

“Don’t,” both Last Boss and Aguni say in unison—which is very uncomfortable for the both of them, but at least it has the desired effect of keeping Niragi from blasting a few dozen holes through Takeru’s person.

With the two of them quickly getting back into their heated back-and-forth, Aguni turns his attention to the creatures on the bed. Somehow, despite all of the noise and excitement, the mother and her babies have curled up and fallen asleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of their bellies a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding around them. Aguni feels jealous, but also, feels bad about feeling jealous because this...Terminator thing has undoubtedly had a rough night, too.

“Luckily,” Last Boss says, “genets are pretty independent creatures. She’ll be fine to take care of the kits on her own, provided that she has access to food and water.”

“So we should just...leave her alone?”

Last Boss shrugs.

“More or less.”

Aguni sighs internally. He sighs externally, too, but the internal sigh is the one that really sums up his thoughts on the whole situation. Just getting one of those hot-headed men to leave those poor animals alone is challenging enough, but both of them? That’s bordering on ‘damn near impossible.’

But, for the sake of those weird fuzzy babies, he has to try.

Takeru jumps when he feels Aguni’s hand on his elbow. He also manages to shut up for a moment, which is a nice bonus. Last Boss has also sprung into action and seems to be talking to Niragi in hushed tones, a hesitant but friendly hand on his shoulder.

“C’mon,” Aguni says, gentle-firm as he guides Takeru into a standing position—much to the other man’s confusion.

“Mori, what—?”

“You’ve had a big night. I’ve had a big night. But do you know whose had the biggest night of us all?” Aguni gestures to the snoozing creatures in front of them, “Terminator. She’s exhausted, and the last thing she needs is the four of us keeping her up. You can stay with me tonight, and we’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”

“But,” Takeru protests—an iota quieter, now that he’s realized that the pipe on the bed is now a sleeping pile, “we can’t just leave them alone, can we?”

“You’re right. Which is why,” Aguni says, “Last Boss is going to stay with her and keep an eye on things. If he’s okay with that, of course?”

Last Boss offers a solemn nod. Aguni makes a mental note to thank him for this later—maybe he’ll let him pick the music on their next supply run (provided it’s from Aguni’s list of pre-approved artists, of course...)

“You know what? Fucking fine,” Niragi spits, flicking his hair back with a quick jerk of his hand, “it’s too goddamn late to deal with you fucking losers, anyways. I’ll come back to collect my cat and her kittens in the morning.”

Aguni does not risk correcting Niragi on his incorrect terminology regarding his pets—frankly, he’s a little too busy being amazed at how suspiciously easy it was to get him to leave. With a sharp pivot, Niragi is exiting the room in what could be called a ‘brisk saunter,’ no doubt wanting to put as much distance between himself and whatever-the-hell just happened in this room as possible.

Aguni, for once, can relate to Niragi quite well.

With Last Boss keeping vigil over the new little family, Aguni is able to wrangle Takeru away from his room with minimal fuss. It’s probably because the man is very tired—despite multiple claims that he ‘isn’t sleepy yet’ and ‘can stay up for hours.’ This theory is proven when, within a grand total of seven seconds of Takeru flopping face-first onto the middle of Aguni’s bed, he’s managed to slip into what only can be described as a ‘light coma.’

Aguni manages to wrestle a stray pillow away from his sleeping friend’s grasp (he’s a notoriously cuddly sleeper, which has led to some...interesting situations over the course of their friendship) and settles his weary self onto the couch. It’s not quite long enough to accommodate his height, but it’s good enough for what will most likely end up being an extended nap before the sun comes up and he needs to solve whatever other issues have popped up at the Beach overnight.

...But, at least those problems won’t involve babies.

Probably.

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

Also here is a common genet and DAMN SIS U CUTE AS HELL

#alice in borderland #danma takeru #alice in borderland netflix #aguni morizono #niragi suguru #last boss #writings and such

60 notes · View notes

doyumacy · 4 years ago

Text

FALLOUT |LH| SEVEN

*gif not mine

PAIRING: donghyuck x reader bodyguard!donghyuck

WARNINGS: mentions of yuta, taeyong, jaemin and jeno. swearing, hospital, gunshots, handguns, stabbing, falling down the stairs, blood. character death

WORD COUNT: 3K

You didn’t even hear what Donghyuck had to say. You burst out running from his place and you fell when you were running and landed your knees and you thought you might have bruised something. You were in pain as you struggled to stand.

You can't run fast but you counted on his knowledge of you to carry you to where you know you should go. It took you a little over one minute to get to your destination, your house. You would be safe there. With Yuta.

As soon as you got home, you felt someone grab your arm so you whirled around to punch them. Taeyong clutched his nose, cursing as he felt blood gush out of his nose. You had one hell of a punching arm if you asked him now.

"Oh my, God," you covered your mouth, startled. "I'm sorry, Taeyong. I thought you were Don-"

"(Y/N)?" Yuta called you from behind.

You turned and ran to his arms. "I'm sorry. I should've listened to you. I'm sorry, Yuta."

Yuta wrapped his arms around you. "What happened?" He whispered to your ear.

"Donghyuck," you cried as you tightened his grip, not being able to say more.

Taeyong glanced at Yuta and Taeyong frowned looking at your knees that were bleeding.

"Put her in her room and send the medic there as soon as possible," Taeyong said.

Yuta nodded and took you in his arms, carrying you to your bedroom. When he put you in your bed, you grabbed his hand and looked him into his eyes. "Don't leave me alone, please. I'm scared." You whispered.

Then Yuta knew you knew, and for a moment thought how much you knew, but seeing you like that, asking him to stay then it meant Donghyuck didn't tell you about him. And that relieved him since he could finish what Donghyuck couldn't.

"I'm here, doll," he ran his fingers through your hair, "I won't let him get any mile close to you. I promise."

You nodded and you turned on your back, sinking your head in the pillows. You were shattered. You felt betrayed and so stupid. That was his plan; making you fall in love with him and killing you as if you were nothing but a piece of trash.

The next morning, Taeyong knocked on your door and let himself in after you did not respond. He shut the door behind him and sat next to you in the bed. (Y/N)? You have to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry,” you said, with your eyes still closed.

Taeyong sighed. “What happened?”

You gulped and sat on the bed. “Donghyuck…” you closed your eyes, trying to hold your tears. “He was all of this.”

“What?” Taeyong stood up, upset. “I’m gonna kill him. Son of a bitch.”

“Taeyong,” you cried. “I need you, please.”

Taeyong lay next to you and hugged you. “I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you, you understand?”

You nodded, whipping your tears. “I feel so stupid. I was so easy to fool.”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Taeyong pressed his lip against your temple. “You’re a good woman and sometimes people will try to take advantge of that, but that doesn’t make you stupid.”

“I’m not defending Donghyuck, but he was just doing his job, which is disgusting and you don't know how bad I want to beat the shit out of him.”

You sighed, maybe for the fiftieth time in the morning. “Whatever. Sometimes I wish he would just finish it with this.”

“That’s something selfish to say, you know?” Taeyong looked at you.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you cried again. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m here and if all you wanna do is to cry in bed then I’m laying in bed with you all day.”

“And what was your plan?” Jeno looked at Donghyuck. “How did you even think she was going to react?”

“Jeno, I really don't need this right now,” Donghyuck glanced at him and growled. “She didn't even let me explain everything.”

“What are you gonna do now? Jeno sat next to him.

“I’m sure Yuta will take advantage of this and finish it,” Donghyuck stood up walking around the living room. “I need to get her away from him. He 's dangerous.”

“Maybe you should… kidnap her?”

“Are you out of your mind? She hates me enough, I don't want her to hate me even more. She’ll despise me.”

“Right,” Jeno grimaced, “what about her friends? You should talk to them and warm them about Yuta so they can keep an eye on her.”

Donghyuck nodded. “Taeyong won’t listen to me and neither will Lena, maybe Jaemin. He seems more… flexible.”

“Then we should get going.” Jeno threw him his car keys and his black jacket.

Donghyuck and Jeno arrived to Jaemin’s restaurant and after a long battle with the host, she finally let Donghyuck talk to him. Jaemin tried to shut the door in front of him and threatened him to call the police if he didnt leave.

“Give me five minutes, that’s all i ask,” Donghyuck begged him and raised his arms. “I’m unarmed, I promise.”

Jaemin stared at him for a couple of seconds and then nodded. “Five minutes, that’s all you’re getting.”

“Thank you.”

Donghyuck didn't sit and just stayed standing up in front of him. “You need to talk to Taeyong and tell him Yuta is dangerous. He’s planning on hurting (Y/N).”

Jaemin laughed and looked at him astonished. “You have some balls to show up here and talk shit about the man who’s been there for her, protecting her. Fuck you.”

“Jaemin, listen to me. Yuta along with her father is planning on killing her so they can keep her company. She’s a threat to them, that's why her father hired me.” Donghyuck approached him a bit. “As I got to know her, I realised she’s just… amazing. I fell for her. I could never hurt her. All this time I planned something so she could make it out alive.”

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. “What plan?”

Donghyuck pulled out two fake passports and placed them on the table. “I was planning on leaving the country under a fake name with her for a couple of days until I could get all the proof against Yuta and her father to the police. Including me.”

Jaemin grabbed the fake passports and stared at them for a couple of seconds. He then looked up to Donghyuck. “Promise me you’re not bullshiting me.”

“I am not. I love her, Jaemin.” Donghyuck looked right into his eyes. “I will die for her if I have to.”

Jaemin squinted his eyes and then stood up. “I have a private jet that will take you anywhere you want. I’ll try to talk to her and take this,” Jaemin wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Here’s the address where I keep my jet. Be there on Saturday at midnight.”

Donghyuck nodded. “Thank you, Jaemin.”

“If I find out you’re lying about this, I swear to God I’ll destroy you, Donghyuck,” Jaemin warned him.

“I know,” Donghyuck nodded.

Later that day, Jaemin went to your house and brought you your favourite food but you weren't hungry and excused yourself early. Jaemin and Taeyong stayed in your living room and Jaemin unbuttoned his shirt. “I saw Donghyuck today.”

“And why would you do that?” Taeyong stared at him.

“He told me everything and even told me…” Jaemin made sure they were alone in the living room. “Yuta is behind along with her dad.”

“What?” Taeyong frowned. “That’s bullshit, I mean, her dad maybe but we’ve seen how Yuta behaves with her.”

“And we also saw how Donghyuck behaved with her,” Jaemin raised his eyebrows. “ Anyways, I’m gonna help him.”

“You’re gonna help Donghyuck?” Taeyong laughed. “Have you lost it?”

“Hear me out, okay?” Jaemin looked at him and Taeyong rolled his eyes.

“Fine.”

“Good afternoon, Yuta,” your father greeted him and poured some whisky in his glass. “Have you found Lee Donghyuck? I need him dead along with my daughter.”

Yuta shook his head. “We haven't been able to track him, but I will find him. Luckily, your daughter refused to listen to him and she doesnt know we were the ones who hired him.”

“Great, that gives us more time,” your father sat down on his leather couch.

“We should not wait.” Yuta licked his lips. “I’m gonna do it tonight.”

“Rushed, but okay. The sooner the better I guess,” your father shrugged. “Call me when it’s done.”

Yuta came back to your place and for the first time, you got out of your room and ate something. You missed Donghyuck so much, his touch, his kisses, his smile, his smell… everything. But you were hurt. More than hurt.

The next day, you woke up feeling worse than other days and took a long bath. Maybe that would help you feel better, but it didn’t, so instead, you spent the whole day zapping, not really paying attention to what was watching on the tv. In the night, you went downstairs and frowned not seeing any guards in the front door or the yard. Maybe Yuta had changed his mind about the security.

You entered the kitchen and opened the fridge watching all the things you got and spotted the food that Jaemin had brought you a night before. You grabbed the food container and put it into the microwave. You sighed waiting for the food to come out and leaned against the counter.

BEEP BEEP

You turned and got the food out from the microwave putting it in a plate. You decided you would watch something and zap again. You turned to go to the living room and you dropped your plate when you saw a man dressed in all black wearing a black ski mask. Your heart fell down to the floor, freezing.

That was it. That was how you died.

But a voice inside your head screamed at you to run or at least to die fighting.

“Listen,” you began in a quiet voice, trying to reason with him, “—I whatever they're paying you I can give you twice the amount, but please don't hurt me.”

The man in front of you didn't say a thing and he pulled out a gun and propped it his hand. He made a few steps getting closer to you and you were quickly enough to grab a knife. “Don’t move— don’t you fuckin’¡g move. I swear I’ll stab you, I’m not afraid to do it!” The man stopped.

You walked backwards until you were cornered in the sink and you cursed at yourself. The man made quick movements and in a matter of seconds, he had his hand around your neck, choking you. You tried to push him away with one of your hands, the other smacking wildly at his face and chest. He just got his other hand around your neck, making more pressure. At that point, you were gasping for air, you were not going to give up.

Your hand tucked into his ski mask and after pulling it a few times, you finally saw the man behind it: Yuta. You couldn't breathe and it wasn’t because of Yuta’s hands around your neck. Donghyuck was right. You should have never trusted him.

You even didn't think twice, you stabbed Yuta -or that’s what you thought, - in the chest and he released his hands growling. You pushed him aside and ran to the front door trying to open it but it was locked from the outside. You saw Yuta running to you and whined running upstairs to lock yourself in your bedroom and call the police. Unfortunately, Yuta made bigger steps and as you were about to reach the second floor, he grabbed your wrist. "Let go off of me," You tussled with him and tried to push him so he could fall down the stairs.

But Yuta was stronger and pulled you with him making you both fall down the stairs. Your foot went down for your third step it continued to fall, your eyes filling with fear as your lips parted.

It seemed like everything was going in slow motion.

Your body started to slip back as your arms went to the sides. The right hand landed on the wall but you continued to slip back, the other grabbing for the railing that wasn’t there. Your back hit the stairs and you screamed out, your eyes closing as you slid down. Your head hit the wall at the bottom of the stairs loudly, and time sped up again once Yuta fell beside you.

Every part of your body ached and your muscles weren't responding to your brain's signals to run and hide. You felt a warm liquid dripping from your forehead and you pressed your fingers on it. Blood. You were bleeding from your head. You turned your head slightly to see how Yuta stood up, groaning from the pain.

"Stupid bitch," he hissed between teeth and bent over to grab you by your hair making you stand up. "You've given me enough headaches. I'm gonna fucking kill you."

You whined from the pain when he clenched your jaw, tightening it. "Get on your knees."

"Yuta, please," you cried. "I'll give you everything, but please don't kill me."

Yuta pulled out a silencer and attached it to the handgun. He looked at you and smirked. "You already gave me what I wanted. No need to beg."

You cried again and Yuta finished loading his gun. "You won't even feel a thing. I promise, doll."

You closed your eyes and you heard a gunshot, you prepared yourself for the pain and but then opened them but you heard Yuta growl. Did he shoot himself? Yuta was bleeding from his stomach and he pressed a hand against his wound. "Fuck. He's here. Shit."

Who was there? The police?

You tried to stand up but Yuta was quick and hit you with his handgun making you fall. "Goodbye, (Y/N)." And then, you heard nothing.

“Hey, hey, don’t close your eyes, love. Look at me. Look at me, (Y/N) -”

Yuta was dead. A bullet to the heart, not even 6 feet away, and you tried to replay the events that had led up to it but you don't remember a single thing after Yuta hit you with his gun.

Then you were shot.

“Hey.” You vaguely registered Donghyuck calling for medical in the background, but all you can focus on was him. His hands were pressing down on the hole in your chest, and he kept looking between it and your face like you’ll magically disappear if he looked away for more than a few seconds.

Something in the corner of your eye moved. It was Jeno. Taeyong and Jaemin, kneeling down beside you, faces contorted with shock. They looked strange, like you’re looking at them through glass. Blurry, steadily dimming…

“Stay awake,” Donghyuck urged, hand slapping the side of your face gently. “C’mon, love, you can do it. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

“But I‘m… tired,” you slurred, whining with another twinge of pain. “Ah... my chest hurts, Hyuck, it hurts-”

“I know, love,” he’s gasping it out, he was holding back tears, you realised, and you couldn't fathom what for. “You’re doing so well, okay? Medical, where’s medical?!”

“They’re on their way,” somebody said.

“What’s taking them so long?” Somebody else exclaimed.

“I… I…” You couldn't speak. You couldn't. You were too tired, your lips almost refused to move, and it was getting harder to formulate words.“Donghyuck, I… love you… and I... forgive you okay…?”

The panic in his voice increased “Hey, no, don’t-”

But against your will, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and the world faded to black.

The journey to the hospital passed in flashes. The ambulance ride was a flurry of hushed talking between paramedics, the siren numb and shrill in the back of his mind. You were too still. Too grey-looking, too pale, and he knew the image would stick with him.

He walked with you as far as he could. Donghyuck had one bloodied hand on the side of your stretcher until one of the doctors who’d gathered around you kindly told him that he couldn't be past this point because you were going to have surgery. You were going into surgery because you got shot in the chest and your blood was all over his hands and he was still got his bulletproof vest on and

“Donghyuck, you need to clean yourself up.”

The rest of the guys arrived maybe10 minutes after he did. Donghyuck registered them walking towards him, registered the way they stopped and stared. He guesses he made an image, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed, blood up to his forearms. He told them what the doctor had said, word for word, but that wasn’t much — and then he didn’t say much afterwards, either. Just sat and stared at the ground, mind moving too fast for him to keep up with.

The third hour in, though, Jeno leaned over, a firm hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder. “C’mon. We’ve got you clean clothes. Go and change.”

Donghyuck wanted to say no, but he and his clothes were a mess and that was the last thing you needed to see. In case you'd wake up.

#donghyuck smut #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck imagine #haechan imagines #haechan x reader #haechan smut #nct haechan #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 haechan

108 notes · View notes

nbrook29 · 4 years ago

Note

Sobbe, 6: Teary kiss🥺

Another anon: 1!!

As always, apologies for the long post. Until someone shares the secret with me on how to make the read more thingy work, this is how it’s going to be :(

Again, I don’t know how to write plotless prompts, hence -->

based on But do you REALLY want the K?

Teary kiss + passionate kiss

***

Robbe lets out another shaky breath trying to gain control over his emotions.

There are people running back and forth next to them, yelling at their kids and dragging heavy suitcases on the tiled floor, rushing to get to their gate on time and yet it feels like the two of them are the only ones existing, foreheads resting against each other, hands reassuringly stroking bony hips and arms looped behind necks holding on for dear life.

They’ve been standing like this for a while, Sander swaying them a little as if to soothe the pain, both of them refusing to let go, not yet, not until that final call is announced.

It all still feels so surreal.

He knew it was coming, obviously, but he naively thought that he managed to prepare himself for this.

But now, when he’s faced with the cold interior of the airport at the early hour, gate number 5 looming over just around the corner, reality finally sinks in.

Five months apart.

He’s not sure how his heart is supposed to survive it.

When Sander burst into his bedroom that fateful Wednesday evening, elation in his eyes, talking a mile a minute about his project winning a scholarship, Robbe pulled him on his bed next to himself, placing congratulatory kisses all over his laughing face, calling him “His Artist” a bit teasingly but also with clear adoration easily detectable in his voice.

Once they calmed down a bit and rearranged their bodies to lie facing each other, the wide smile on Sander’s face started to slip, his hand reaching to touch Robbe’s cheek, thumb stroking under his eye as he opened and closed his mouth several times before uttering words that made Robbe’s smile slip as well.

Columbia University, New York City, five months

And then, he added in a small voice, “I don’t know what to do, Robbe.”

The selfish part of him instantly screamed at him to convince Sander, to beg him to stay, to not leave him. Not for five fucking months.

Robbe only needed five seconds to kill that thought and tell it to shut the fuck up.

His boyfriend lied there, next to him, licking his lips nervously, looking so lost and searching for an answer in his eyes, and Robbe could see he was moments away from declaring that nope, no way, he wasn’t going anywhere.

And that was absolutely unacceptable.

Instead of saying anything, he closed the distance between them and captured his mouth in a searing kiss, hoping it conveyed that he was one hundred percent on board with the plan.

When they broke apart, he shot him a beaming smile. “I can’t wait for you to send me photos of New York street art.”

Sander looked at him with wonder in his eyes, a little unsure if he actually meant it.

“Will you really wait for me for that long?”

“You know I’ll wait for you forever.”

It’s ironic that it was Robbe who spent the last two months reassuring Sander about the trip, squashing any doubt related to their relationship that arose, convincing him that he’s going to be okay left behind. That they are going to be okay.

It’s not that big of a deal, right? Robbe was about to start college anyway, so many exciting times were coming his way. Of course he’s going to wait. He’s going to enjoy his college experience at a film school and Sander is going to conquer New York City, living his best american life, video chatting with him everyday to tell him what he’s been up to. Then, he’s going to come back and they’re finally going to rent a place together. A perfect plan.

So yeah, it’s ironic. It’s ironic because it’s actually Robbe who is a mess now.

The thought of separation hurts so badly but Sander getting a chance to go to New York to study visual arts at fucking Columbia and rejecting the offer for Robbe and their relationship has been out of the question from the start. Robbe would never forgive himself for taking that away from him.

It’s the center of the art world. He needs to go there. If he had decided not to, Robbe would have packed him and pushed him through the plane entrance himself.

“You’re breaking my heart, baby,” Sander whispers in a shaky voice as his fingers catch a runaway tear on Robbe’s cheek.

Robbe can see that Sander is trying to be strong for both of them, as always taking care of him and his needs first and Robbe loves him so much for that that his heart is almost bursting.

But he also doesn’t want Sander to feel guilty or torn over this even for a second. This is supposed to be an adventure of a lifetime. He can’t take this away from him.

“I’m gonna be okay, don’t worry about me.” He shoots him a smile that he hopes looks convincing.

“I hate the thought of leaving you. Not being able to kiss you,” Sander connects their lips as if for emphasis, and the kiss tastes of salt, making Robbe realize that he’s not the only one getting overwhelmed.

Their bubble is brutally burst when the final call to board for Sander’s flight is announced over the speaker.

Robbe can feel his entire body getting filled with desperation all at once at the loud voice but before he can do anything Sander pulls him even closer and kisses him, burying his fingers in his curls. The kiss is bruising from the start, frantic as Sander sweeps his tongue in deeper and Robbe makes sure he gives as good as he gets, kissing him thoroughly, hands clinging to the lapels of his leather jacket.

It doesn’t matter that they already had their main goodbye last night. That they spent all those hours lost in each other, learning each other’s body anew, alternating between sweet and loving, and fast and passionate but not any less loving. It doesn’t matter that their bodies will be marked with mouth-shaped bruises and light scratches for days. It doesn’t matter that Robbe can still feel him.

It doesn’t matter because it wasn’t enough. It will never be enough.

It’s a good thing no one pays them any attention, everyone too busy with their own goodbyes and patting their chest all the time to make sure they have their passport, because the voice in the back of Robbe’s head tells him it’s probably not the most appropriate place for this kind of kissing.

It’s almost impossible for them to stop, to break apart but they don’t have a choice as the line to the gate keeps shortening.

“I’ll try to come home for Christmas, I promise,” Sander whispers into his mouth in between the kisses. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“You know, I left you my beige sweater so you don’t miss me too much.” Robbe’s laugh sounds teary, his body already mourning the loss of contact when Sander puts some distance between them, bending to grab his carry-on bag before letting out a miserable sigh.

“I have to go.”

The fingers of their right hands are still entwined though, neither of them strong enough to break the touch for good. It reminds Robbe of that cloudy afternoon in front of Sander’s school where the boy graciously granted him a second chance for which he still has been grateful every day.

In the end, Sander is the one to let go first but he only does it to then cup his cheeks with both hands and place the sweetest kiss on his lips Robbe has ever gotten.

Then it’s really time to go.

Robbe forces himself to keep the smile on throughout the entire process of boarding, twisting his fingers to keep the emotions at bay. Sander barely pays any attention to the flight attendant in front of him as he hands in his passport absentmindedly, his eyes flying over Robbe’s face as if he’s trying to memorize every single detail from afar, in case he somehow missed something during all those times before.

Once he’s all clear and the woman starts checking on the last passenger, Robbe knows it’s time.

So he watches, gnawing on his bottom lip with hot tears threatening to spill any second now. He watches as the love of his life hovers a bit longer next to the gate, blowing him that last kiss, mouthing “I love you, Robin” with glassy eyes of his own before turning around and disappearing in the long jet bridge.

It is only then that Robbe allows himself to break down completely.

***

Shoutout to @painfully-oblivious @dagcutie and @gele-gordijnen for helping me with figuring out Sander’s major when my brain decided to do me dirty <3

#wtfock

51 notes · View notes

beautifulletdownfics · 4 years ago

Text

Twenty Good Reasons :: Part Fourteen

Read Earlier Chapters Here My Masterlist

Part Fourteen, This Is Family

The following morning was like a balloon slowly deflating.

I woke up dozens of times during the night. Nurses would come and go, a night doctor came to check on Laykn a few times, and every time Harry moved underneath me, it tugged me back to the room. It felt like waiting for a flight, there was this restless stillness in feeling like something was coming, and I needed to be ready for this to be the time I woke up to it.

There was a sense that morning would come, and Laykn's doctors would waltz back in and have answers.

What really happened was that my parents returned from their hotel just after seven a.m. and when Laykn's doctor came back to see us, he wanted to wait until the late afternoon before changing anything. I flicked between watching Dr Davies as he spoke and looking to Harry from where he was standing in the far corner to me, giving up his seat so each of my parents could have one. He frowned through the news but gave nods of understanding where he seemed to agree with what was being presented to him.

But I wanted to know now. I wanted Laykn to wake up now.

I felt we had already waited entirely long enough.

"Has he gotten better overnight?" I asked carefully, but I could taste the impatience in the words, right on my tongue, "I just—Is he, I mean …"

Dr Davies gave me a look that said he really couldn't hypothesise, "Looking at the monitoring from overnight, he's definitely not gotten any worse which is sometimes the best news you can have at this stage. We're not seeing any of the things we worry about—a spike in temperature, further bleeding, swelling—so, so far Laykn's doing well. He's doing okay for now. I know it seems like nothing, but I promise you it's not. We'll review and talk again in another six hours, but we'll know even more in twelve. That's when I'd be thinking we'll start to see a shift and be able to talk about trying to wake him up for you."

"Twelve hours," I repeated aloud, mainly for myself. Harry gave me a small but infinitely reassuring nod, "Okay."

"In the meantime, stay with Laykn by all means, but Nina and Harry," he looked between us both, "You should go back to wherever you are staying and freshen up, have a nap, eat something. Laykn's going to need you all as he comes through this, and you're useless if you're not looking after yourselves. And each other."

"Thank you," my mum said for us all as Dr Davies left the room. She turned to Harry and I, "He's right. You came straight off the plane here, you haven't even checked in—oh, is that going to be a problem with your hotel?"

"It's fine," Harry pacified, "I let them know we wouldn't arrive until today."

"A shower and a nap," my mum reached for my arm as Harry started collecting our belongings, "You'll feel a thousand times better, trust me."

I thought about telling her I didn't know that I could feel any better, much less a thousand times so, but instead, I pulled her in for a long hug. I took the handle of my small, carry-on suitcase from Harry as he gave my parents both a hug as well.

"You'll be a new man too, Harry," The warmth in my dad's voice was evident, "Can't imagine you can feel any of your limbs right now after a night of Nina sleeping on you?"

"She's pretty comfortable, actually," Harry returned with a smile, "We'll call you from the hotel. Was there any problem with yours?" He asked as an afterthought, frown settled back on his forehead, "I can—

—Ours was perfect," my mum confirmed, giving Harry an appreciative smile. Something warm chinked together in my chest at Harry's care for my family, "Go now, both of you need showers and something substantial to eat. And you should call your family, Harry. We spoke to everyone at home last night."

In the hotel bathroom, Harry stayed under the spray of the water much longer than me.

I stood in front of the mirror carelessly towel drying my hair, wearing the pyjama set Harry packed for me. The steam from the shower and the smell of hotel soap had the whole bathroom giving off the perpetuating clean, warm feeling I enjoyed most.

Neither of us was speaking, and there was no song being hummed under Harry's breath as he stood behind the thin glass pane. When he eventually got out and stood behind me to dry off, he was frowning tersely, as if deep in some thought he couldn't get a hold of properly. I gave him a slight smile and tried to ask the question with my eyes: are you alright? While we ate, Harry called his mum and told her what was going on, and listening in on that conversation added another layer of realism to this whole thing. As if he read my mind, Harry's neck turned away from our reflections, and he gave me a concerned look.

"Your mum is right. You hadn't had a meal since we left London," his hand thoughtlessly gestured out from where we are in the direction of the suite where we'd just finished a couple of plates of room service, "We're going to have to take some food back with us if we're going to spend long hours at the hospital."

I was suddenly too tired to have the conversation I knew needed to happen, "I know," I agreed readily, part of the hollow feeling I'd had for the last twenty-four hours now filled with food, "But right now I swear all I want is to lie flat. Can we nap and then make a game plan?"

Harry paused, if only for a moment, "Yeah, we can."

"We both look like zombies."

Ten minutes later, under the perfectly crisp hotel sheets, Harry rolled over on his side to face me, "This doesn't feel like it's really happening, does it? I don't even know what day it is anymore and it's only been one day."

I hooked my knee up onto his thigh and pressed my forehead against his shoulder, "It doesn't feel like Laykn's even there, does it?" I whispered, "Like, without him being awake, it's like … I don't know."

"We should figure out where he was staying, go get his stuff," Harry said, "His passport and all that."

There was silence then for a few moments then, all I could hear was Harry's breathing and the soft hum of the city outside the hotel room. The sheer volume of thoughts and feelings I'd had in the last twenty-four hours was overwhelming, and as I took in a slow breath, the smell of Harry's clean skin was a final straw.

He heard me sniffle and pulled his arm out from between us to wrap it around my body, "I know," was all he said, which was somehow the perfect thing for him to say.

I cried against his shoulder until the release of it had simmered down all the conflicting emotions rising up in me. Eventually, it was just both our steady breathing, and the only way I knew Harry wasn't asleep was from watching his eyelashes blinking on his profile, lit slightly from a crack in the curtains. His fingers had stilled on my skin, and there was no sound from him. Just blinking. Just staring at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" I whispered.

"The baby," Harry replied easily. "And Laykn. And how quickly life can change without you realising it's going to. No warning for either, you know?"

I smiled minutely, "Well, we had a little warning with the baby. Just didn't know it was a warning, did we?"

Harry's hand fanned out on the top of my back, "That's true. I'm just—I'm glad that in both those things, in both these things, I've got you. I'm so grateful for …" his voice strained. Harry squeezed my shoulder to his side, "For you, and for us being solid but mainly I'm grateful you told me to pull my finger out a few months ago because boy I don't know if that douchebag could've handled this shock to the system. Not well, anyway."

"I'm grateful for you as well," I pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

"I think we should call your doctor in the morning," Harry said quickly, as though it had been right on the tip of his tongue to say, "Tell her what's happened and find out what we should do or even if there's anything we can do."

"You're worried, huh?"

"Yes," he turned his head towards mine, "I'm worried. I'm worried about everything. But I can't do anything about your brother, and I can't make your parents feel any better, and I can't quell your fears either, I can make sure we look after you right now."

"Are you worried about the tour as well?" I said quietly, sure it would be on the list somewhere.

"I'm really not," Harry rolled completely on his side, "I don't give a shit about it, I can do a tour whenever. The only thing I'm—I don't like that postponing dates will …"

"People are going to talk about it," I finished for him.

"Yeah," Harry sighed, "Dan sent through the statement earlier, do you want to read it?"

He was already reaching behind for his phone on the bedside table. The room lit up as Harry unlocked his work phone and held the screen between us, flicking through until he found the Mail app and opened it.

From: Dan B.

To: Harry Private

Subject: RE Statement, Clean

Mate, we can make any changes you like x

It is with deep regret we announce the indefinite postponement of the final leg of Harry's tour following a family emergency. At this stage, we do not know when the dates will proceed. We know this news is upsetting and will come as a shock to you all. We ask that you respect Harry's privacy at this time, and the privacy of his loved ones. Full Stop Management, on behalf of Harry Styles.

Will be posted as white text on black background on all channels. Comments disabled where they can be.

Awaiting your approval.

Love to you all, DB

We didn't say anything, and I knew Harry was waiting for me to speak first. It was straightforward and clinical, which was often the way with the communication out from Harry's team. This felt different, though, because it was talking about something deeply personal, without talking about it at all. I knew the layer of distance was protection. Harry was very deliberate in putting there.

"I think that's what you have to say, right? Is there anything else you'd like to include?"

Harry shook his head, "No."

"You didn't want it to come from you?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I only wanted eyes on it, I'm turning off my work phone after this. Dan can reach me if he needs to. Otherwise, I'm not working right now. I want this handled professionally, not personally."

"Okay," I wouldn't have minded if he'd felt the opposite, but wasn't surprised to hear him say it. "Well, I think you give them the okay then turn it off."

I watched him type out a quick response and do just that. He didn't hesitate or second guess it, just sent off his approval and that was that. The screen went black a few moments later, plunging the room back into darkness and I wondered if Harry was thinking about the fallout. What the next step he wasn't going to be involved in would mean. I wrapped my fingers around Harry's wrist and brought it to my mouth, kissing the warm skin there and then holding it to my lips.

"I'm not worried about it, Nina," he said eventually, turning his head to the side once more and finding my temple with his mouth, kissing me, "Just want Layk to be alright."

I woke up four hours later to Harry's phone ringing.

"Shit, sorry," he jogged into the bedroom and ripped if from where it was charging, "It's your mum."

I sat up in the sheets straight away, the initial shock of waking to the noise increasing tenfold by who was on the phone. Harry had it answered and on speakerphone almost instantly.

"Hi Mae," he said, lowering himself down to sit on his side of the bed.

"Hello, love, we just tried Nina's phone—"

"—I was asleep, I'm here, is he okay?" I cut over her speaking, staring at Harry's face in front of me.

I could hear movement behind her in the speaker, "Yes, yes, yes," she reassured us, I watched Harry let out half the breath he was holding, "The doctors have just been in, and they've made the adjustments that will wake him up. They think it'll still be another few hours—"

—We'll be there within the hour," Harry told her nodding despite my mum not being able to see it.

"Hopefully before that," I added quickly.

After getting off the phone with my mum, Harry and I sat still for half a beat before I realised I'd been clutching the bedsheets too tightly. My white knuckles released the material slowly and rubbed my palms down my face.

"Have another shower," Harry suggested, still watching me, "Wake up properly. I'll order some room service we can pack and take with us."

"Did you sleep at all?" I asked as he stood up and started walking out of the room, I pushed back the covers and rose to my knees.

"Yeah, I got up about half an hour ago to check in with mum and for a stretch, got some kinks in my back from the flight and—

—And me sleeping on you?"

He scrunched his nose up at me, "Maybe a little bit, now go," Harry nodded towards the bathroom door.

The shower helped with the fuzzy shock still hanging in my skull like a cloud. Eventually, the reality of the call with my mum set in and urgency set in. I shut off the water and got out, feeling something close to optimistic hope bloom. As I dried off and found fresh clothes to put on, I could hear Harry moving around the room. By the time I was coming out of the bedroom looking for the shoes I'd deserted when we had arrived earlier, he had a few brown paper bags and pieces of fruit sitting on the hotel dining table ready to take with us.

"Can you see my sneakers?" I asked him vaguely, hopping over his open suitcase that somehow hadn't made it into the bedroom.

He looked up from his seat, "At the door."

I hopped on one foot when I returned to the living area where Harry was, and, eventually, I dropped down onto the sofa beside him to slip on my shoes. Just as I was about to ask Harry if he was ready to go, his phone rang out loudly again.

"Richard?" He said quickly as soon as he answered, Harry, held his phone vertically out between us. "We're just about to leave the room."

"Oh good!" My dad's voice rang out, happy and lighter than it felt I'd heard in days.

Had it really still only been a day?

"Lakyn's awake!"

"What?" I exhaled, "Mum said it would take hours."

"That's brilliant," Harry said after me, a surprised grin on his face, "How is he?"

"Talking to your mum in the room now," dad continued, "He's groggy and a little disoriented, but he's awake."

The tears burst out of me immediately, loud, ugly tears that didn't arrive quietly, "Dad."

"I imagine he'll be asleep again by the time you get here," he told us, "But we told him you're here. He gave us a dopey smile."

"We're coming right now," Harry promised urgently. "Just as soon as Nina can manage to get her second shoe on."

My thumb kept slipping, and my heel would land outside the shoe again, I swatted Harry's shin at his teasing.

"It's because she doesn't undo the laces. And get her to stop crying," dad laughed, "You know how her brother hates any grand show of emotions."

"Shut up," I sniffled to them both, relief flooding through me in waves I couldn't quite believe. I violently shoved my foot into the sneaker one last time and wriggled it until it slipped in properly, "Ah! It's on. We're on our way, dad."

Harry deposited his phone into the pocket of the short sleeve, button-up shirt he was wearing. When I met his eyes, we were both smiling.

Harry shook his head and laughed, "Your fucking brother."

"He's awake!" I squeaked, crawling over Harry's lap and crossing my arms behind his neck. His hands settled on my waist, warm and steady, I planted a firm kiss on his lips, "I love you."

He smiled against me, "I love you too. Let's go."

Laykn slept for nearly six hours.

It was nearly 2pm by the time we got to the hospital, and when we arrived, my parents were sitting on either side of my brother, each with a book opened on their laps. A stark contrast to having sat watching him for any sign of movement for almost the entire twenty-four hours previous. There was a new calmness to the room, it felt less like an emergency situation somehow.

"Hi," Harry said behind me as we walked in and interrupted them.

My mum was up and hugging us both hardly a moment later. Harry and I got the recap on Laykn, and what his doctors were saying now he had woken up and fallen asleep. While we were talking, Harry slipped out, and it wasn't until he returned with four take away cups of tea I realised where he disappeared to.

And so then we waited.

Harry and my dad found a deck of cards and worked their way through all the games they knew between them. For a while, I sat to moderate and score. My mum sat at Laykn's side with her book, and about three hours in I pulled out Harry's laptop to try to get a few bars of symphony down. I gave up after another hour or so, his software wasn't up to date, and I couldn't remember the section I wanted to work on. Where momentary relief had cured my mind for most things, it still wasn't in work mode. I could hear the game of Snap starting to get nasty, Harry with his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration while my dad completely crushed him each round. I interfered before the name-calling could get particularly nasty, plonking myself down on Harry's lap and declaring my hunger to the room.

"I'd have beaten you that time," Harry insisted, dropping his cards on the table, "Nina broke my focus."

My dad rolled his eyes, "Sure you would've, son."

"Harry's got sandwiches," I announced, "One of them has mustard in, I had a sneaky peek as we left the hotel."

My mum stood up and stretched out her back, "I" m not quite ready for food yet, we did tell people at home we'd call them when it was morning their time. Richard, I could use a walk?"

My dad stood obediently, and pressed a kiss to my head as he walked past, "Look after our loser," he said of Harry with an amused smile on his face.

"Well," I let a puff of breath out once Harry and I had the room to ourselves, "That was rude? Why didn't they want to eat with us?"

Harry started pushing me off his legs, "Because we only had lunch two hours ago. They' v been in this room all night, I understand the need for a walk. It's good you're hungry, though."

I watched as Harry rummaged around in his backpack and pulled out a brown paper bag and two bottles of water. He returned to the table but took the seat my dad left, resting his elbows on the table and watching me with mild humour as I tore into the bag.

"I have to tell you something."

I frowned through chewing my first bite, Harry's face was unreadable if not a touch guilty, "What?"

Harry's eyebrows dug down as he looked to his hands on the table, "I told my mum … About being pregnant."

An incredulous laugh bubbled out of me, "Harry! You told her? What?"

"I know!" He cried out, "We're not meant to. I know. But with everything going on, I was so worried and stressed and fucking terrified for you. I didn't know how to deal with it all without talking to someone."

"Harry," I said softly. He was so earnest, and the concern was apparent on his face, "I'm okay."

"Didn't know that this morning," Harry mumbled. "I just needed her advice and help with what to do."

"It's okay," I took another bite of mustard and cheese goodness, "What did she say?"

That's when the smile appeared on Harry's face, "She's really happy about the baby. It was hard to keep her on track, really. She had good advice as well, just needed a clear head in on it with me, you know? I mean, then your dad rang and now things are a little lighter."

I knew how much Harry trusted his mother's judgement, and I truly loved it about him. Anne was a steadying force in his life, and when Harry couldn't trust himself, he could always trust her to have the answer. I had come to trust her voice in our lives as well.

"She's happy?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, and his smile turned into a megawatt grin, "Bloody elated."

"I'm glad you told her," I said honestly, "I'm sorry you've had to be so worried. I—

"—Hey, no," Harry frowned at me again and gestured to Laykn's bed without looking, "This is exactly where your head is supposed to have been. The baby happened so quickly before we left, it's… It's hard to keep everything in my brain at the moment, really."

"Whose baby?" A voice across the other side of the room said.

Harry and I both shot to our feet and turned to Laykn whose eyes were open and looking at the hospital ceiling, unfocused, but once I was at his side, they were clear and unmistakably those of my younger brother.

"Laykn," I breathed out, "Laykn, hi."

"Hey," he croaked out, "You're having a baby?"

I could barely see him from the tears brimming in my eyes, and just as I was about to evade the question, Harry spoke.

"We are."

"Harry," I hissed through an almost-laugh. "Stop telling people!"

"I might forget," Laykn piped up again, "Although I remember mum and dad saying you two were here … Was that today?"

"Yeah, mate," Harry responded, pressing his hand on the bed above Laykn's shoulder and leaning up over into his line of sight, "You spoke to them this morning. It's nearly 5pm now."

An expression fluttered on Laykn's face but couldn't stay there from the bandages. When he spoke, it strained his voice to try and inflect the humour behind it, "So my brains aren't leaking out my ears?"

"Laykn!" I scolded.

"Not yet, Layk," Harry said evenly.

I watched Laykn's eyes close in an exhausted flutter, "Are you really having a baby?"

Something softened in me at the sudden vulnerability in his voice and the way it was clearly difficult for him to be conscious this short amount of time, "We are," I told him, "We only just found out though, so you've got to keep the secret for us. Mum and dad don't know."

"Ah," Laykn sighed, "I can keep my mouth shut, but it'll cost 'ya."

I sniffed back, tears, "You idiot."

Whether it was our news or the moment, or Harry hovering over him and me scolding him, I watched Laykn's eyes pool as well. The skin around his eyes reddened, and a tear budded and then rolled down his cheek.

"I'm really fucking glad you're both here," he said through the emotion.

"Of course," Harry responded, "We love you. It's so good to hear your voice, mate. You scared us all."

"I scared me," my brother added quietly.

Handy internet portal to the writer’s inbox!

Tags: @heslilac @stylesfics-xx @miorni @prettyinlimegreenboots @ordiinarysue @bopbopstyles @georgiahoranxx @sing-me-a-song-harry

Would you like to join a tag list?

#1dff #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles stories #harry styles fiction #one direction #one direction fanfic #1dfanfic #fic: twenty good reasons #hina

84 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

summertime sadness .1.

springtime

Sequel to kiss me in the d-a-r-k

Warnings: dub con sex (intercourse, oral)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and dark(professor!)Bucky explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Summer approaches as the reader prepares for another holiday without rest.

Note: So here it is. We’ve got our sequel. Like the last installments, I’ll say six parts at most for this one. In terms of anything beyond that, we could revisit our reader well beyond but for now, let’s just live in the now with her and get some cummies. I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think in a reblog, reply, or like.

💋💋💋

The moan erupted from you, long and sultry. You leaned back as you clutched at your hair. Your hips rocked steadily, the sloppy and salacious lapping filled the room. Your thighs tensed around Bucky’s head as he devoured you. The pleasure pinged up your thighs and rolled over your spine.

Another buzz joined that in your core. Your phone vibrated noisily on the night table where you’d left it. You ignored it as the man at your mercy didn’t let up. The phone stopped but only for a moment; it began again and you slapped your hands against your thighs as you bit your lip.

You almost lost your balance as Bucky’s arm shot out. He grabbed your phone blindly and slid his finger across the screen. The line picked up and you swallowed down your moan as the name blinked back at you.

You brought the speaker to your ear gave a reproachful tug to Bucky’s hair. He buried his head deeper and you squeaked your greeting.

“Hey.”

“Hey, sweetie,” Steve purred from the other end. “You ignoring me?”

“No, no,” You gulped and your fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair. “Just… busy.”

“Oh yeah?” He replied. “Too busy for me.”

“Just-- just getting ready for my new job,” You lied. “A good old summer of-- work.”

“And is Bucky helping you by chance?” He asked knowingly. You grunted and let out a whimper.

“I was gonna call you back.” You whined. “But--”

“I’ll wait, sweetie,” He said. “You’re so close. Let me hear it.”

You swore and your breath picked up. The phone slid down your cheek as you came with a quivering mewl. Bucky kept up until you were entirely breathless. He wiggled his face free of your cunt and smiled up at you with shining lips.

“Hey, Steve,” He called.

You waved away his taunt and lifted yourself from him. You fell back onto the mattress beside him and he reached for you. You swatted him away and turned your back to him.

“Bucky says hi,” You grumbled.

Steve chuckled. “Sorry I can’t be there.”

“Mmmhmm,” You tried to ignored Bucky as he pressed himself to your back. “He sure is enjoying his summer classes.”

“Must be,” Steve said.

“Well…” You elbowed Bucky as he slid his hand past your ass and tickled you. “What’s up?”

“It’s been a while,” He groaned. “Miss you.”

You thought back to Spring Break, only a couple weeks ago. “Not that long.” You said.

Bucky lifted your leg and draped it over his. You tried to pull away and he held you to him. He snaked his arm around you and felt around as he guided his cock past your ass. He slipped inside and you murmured.

“Maybe not to you,” Steve tutted. “How long until the job? Another week?”

“Two,” You said. “Should be enough to cover rent for the summer and---” You inhaled sharply as Bucky impaled you entirely. “Jesus.” You pushed on his hip as he began to thrust. “Yeah, I…”

“So if I ask you to come away with me this weekend… you sound busy.” He said.

“Away?” You asked as Bucky bent his head and nibbled along the crook of your neck and shoulder. “Where exactly?”

“You ever been to Hawaii?” He asked and you scoffed. “Bit of a trek but worth it.”

“I can’t--”

“It’s on me.” He interjected. You let out a moan without thinking as Bucky rutted into you. “Just me and you.”

“I don’t know--”

“I’m sure you know Kylie’s at her mother’s planning her little girls’ trip.” Steve intoned.

“Yep,” You dug your nails into Bucky’s leg as he continued to fuck you. “Unfortunately, I had to pass that up.”

“So, why don’t you get a little R and R in while you can?” Steve urged. “Come on.”

“We can stay in New York,” You insisted as your words grew more strained.

“We’ll go,” He returned. “I’ve already got the tickets in my hand.”

“So were you asking or- or--” You grunted and pushed the phone away as you came again. You pulled the speaker back and gasped. “Fine. Please… let me call you back.”

“I’m flying in tomorrow,” He said. “We’ll talk then.... You have a good night, sweetie. Sounds like you already are.”

“Good night.” You hung up and tossed the phone away.

You gripped the pillow and Bucky forced you onto your stomach. “You’re going away?” He rasped in your ear as he sped up.

“Couple of days,” You turned your head as you hugged the pillow tighter.

He sped up again until you were whining and writhing beneath him. His flesh clapped against yours and his low grunts surrounded you. He pulled out suddenly and his cum spurted up your back as he held himself above you. He sighed and fell down beside you.

“Then we better make the best of the time we got left,” He smacked your ass.

You sat up and reached back to touch the cooling cum along your back. “I’m gonna be real busy this summer.”

“I know,” He said coolly. “I’m proud of you.”

“Are you? What are the odds I’d have this job without you?” You asked.

“You would,” He assured you. “You won that contest fair and square. Had nothing to do with me.”

“Yeah, but--”

He sat up suddenly and rested his hand on your shoulder. “Stop. You earned it. Have a little more faith in yourself.” He squeezed then let you go. “Adder Press will be lucky to have you.”

You nodded and turned your legs over the edge of the bed. “Sorry… thanks.”

“Don’t be sorry,” He got off the other side of the bed. “Just trust in yourself.”

💋

Steve was waiting at your place when you returned from a trip to the convenience store. A bottle of iced tea and an indulgent bag of gummy bears. You don’t know why you insisted on your maturity. You were an actual child with candy. His arms were crossed as he leaned against the front of his rover. You neared him and hid the candy in your purse.

“Early drive?” You wondered. He hadn’t responded to your texts and now you knew why.

“Figured I’d get a good night’s sleep in the city before we’re off,” He smiled as he stood straight and dropped his arms. “You don’t mind if I crash here?”

“If you don’t mind my tiny, lumpy bed,” You opened the bottle and took a drink. “When’s the flight? I gotta find my passport.”

“Tomorrow afternoon. We can sleep in and be at the airport by one.” He opened his trunk and took out a small bag. “About twelve hours on the plane but we’ll have lots of time to sleep it off at the hotel.”

You nodded and fished around for your keys in your bag. “You really shouldn’t have,” You said as he followed you to your building. “I looked up rates and… it’s too much.”

“No, it’s not,” He caught the door behind you as you stepped inside and climbed the creaky staircase. “I like to spoil you.” He pinched your ass as he stayed close. “And you know, you don’t seem like you’ve been adequately spoiled in your life.”

You shook your head as you came to your door. You unlocked it and held it open for him. He led the way inside and you shut the door with a click. “I’m content,” You affirmed.

“Well, I aim for more than content,” He set his bag on the end of your bed and unzipped it. “So…”

He turned to you with a small long box. You squinted at him as he neared and held it out to you. A pink ribbon was tied around the white box.

“You've done enough--”

“A congratulations on your new job,” He took your hand and pushed the box into your palm. “Now, open it.”

You ran your thumb along the edge of the ribbon and tugged it gently. The bow loosed easily and you placed it beside your purse on the small corner table. You opened the lid to reveal a fancy golden pen. Your name was engraved in small cursive it. Your mouth fell open and you looked up at him.

“Steve…”

“For your new job. School, too.” He said. “It’s refillable.”

“I can’t--”

“You will,” He asserted. “What am I gonna do with that, hmm?”

You replaced the lid and set the pen atop your purse. You crossed to him and threw your arms around him. “Thank you.”

“Anything,” He said as he rubbed your back. “So…” He slowly pulled back to look at you. “Did you miss me?”

You grinned at him. “I want you…” You poked him in the chest playfully, “Naked.”

He laughed at your poor mimicry but acquiesced. He stepped back as he unzipped his light jacket and slung it over your singular chair. Next, he pulled off the tee he wore beneath.

You still marvelled at his stature; the muscles thickened by age but toned nonetheless. You watched him closely as he undressed and when he was entirely nude, he shoved his bag onto the floor and flopped back onto the bed.

“Like this?” He asked.

“Like that,” You shed your canvas jacket and tossed it over his.

As you neared him, you removed your own clothing one piece at a time and left it to fall across the floor. When you reached him, you were completely bare. You climbed up into his lap and eased down onto his hard cock. You took all of him and relished the feel of him.

“I missed you,” You said. “Okay?”

“Ughhh,” He groaned as he gripped your hips. “Sweetie… you just get better and better, you know that?”

You hummed and began to move. You clung to his shoulders as he guided you. You kept your pace deliberate as he tried to rock you faster. He bent to kiss along your neck and you hung your head back. The sun streamed in through the open window and a spring breeze sent a shiver up your back.

You pushed him until he flat across the mattress. You sped up, your nails dug into his flesh as you rode him; eager for a release. Your moans floated along with his soft groans. His obvious pleasure fueled your own.

You bucked atop him and leaned back to place your hands behind you as you slid up and down his cock. You let out a low purr as you orgasmed, your walls quaked around him. You kept your hips moving as he sank deeper into the mattress.

“Fuck,” He tapped your thigh. “I’m gonna cum.”

You pulled off him quickly. You grasped his cock and stroked him, only a couple times before he came, the white ribbons strewn along his stomach. You drew your hand way, wet with his cum, and looked him in the eye. He raised his brows as you licked his mess from your fingers.

“Mmm, you really did miss me,” He smirked and carefully pushed himself up. “Well,” He looked down at his stomach. “I’ll make up for it this weekend.”

💋

When you landed in Honolulu, it was 11pm local time. You were exhausted from the long flight but relieved. You’d only flown once in your life and never in first class. You yawned as Steve helped the taxi driver load the bags and slumped into the back seat. You hadn’t slept much during the twelve hour trek; you could never doze in any vehicle.

The hotel was beautiful and reminded you of those enviable and unreachable resorts you saw on television. The room was sleek and tidy. Most of the decor was glass or modern white acrylic. Your room was on the lower floors and opened onto a private pool through sliding glass doors.

The suite was outfitted with a kitchenette alongside a fold out couch and two armchairs around a round coffee table. There was another tall table with two chairs near the glass doors that looked out onto the ocean.

There was a separate bedroom, the large bed welcoming. Steve left your bags just inside the door as you flopped onto the mattress. He chuckled under his breath as he neared and ran his fingers along your jeans.

“Before you pass out,” He began. “I have a little something for you. For tomorrow.”

You groaned and sat up. He rescinded his hand and returned to his bag. He pulled out another white box; this one bigger and shallower. Much like another gift he had given you before. You tried to wave him off but he was as insistent as ever. You took it and side as you rested it on your lap.

“I couldn’t open this tomorrow?” You asked.

“I want you to open it now.” He smiled. “Promise, I’ll leave you alone after.”

You tapped your fingers on the lid before you opened it. Inside was a single-piece bathing suit. It was red and when you held it up, you found it left little to the imagination. A high cut thong and deep cut halter in the front. You tilted your head as you looked at him.

“We have a private pool,” He cooed, “You don’t have to worry. Besides, you’ll look hot and if you don’t like it… I’ll be just as happy if you take it off.”

You dropped it and replaced the lid. You stood and set it on the thin table against the wall. You turned back to him and yawned. “So, can I--”

His phone rang and interrupted you. He ignored it and waited for you to continue. When it finally stopped you started again. “Can I go to--” The phone chirped again and you huffed. “Just answer it.”

He slid his phone out of his pocket with an apology and frowned as he read the caller ID. He reluctantly hit answer and turned his back to you.

“Sharon.” He answered sternly. “What? No. She said she was going to yours. Sharon, Sharon, we talked about this.” He spoke between pauses; his voice was grim and lined with an unusual venom. “My house? You’re sure? Instagram? Yeah, yeah. No, I’m away.... On business.”

He spun back to you and smiled stiffly. You couldn’t bring yourself to return it and instead slipped out of the room. Your stomach sank as you still heard his voice as you crossed the front room. You went to the glass doors and stared out into the dark pacific night.

Business. It was like a stab in the heart. The lies. From both of you. Kylie had no clue and you both were so eager to keep it that way. To continue on flaunting your deception behind her back. Was it really worth it? To get your kicks this way? Steve said himself there were plenty of boys who would have you. So why had you never found any before him?

You reeled and stared at the ripples along the pool’s surface.

“Hey, sorry,” Steve said gently as he came up beside you. “That was Kylie’s mom, she… turns out she decided to throw a party at my house.” He held the screen up. His daughter’s instagram moniker across the top; an image of solo cups littered across his living room. “I told Sharon she can either drive down herself or call the cops.”

You were quiet. You sniffed and turned away from him.

“You okay?” He asked tentatively.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged. “I just… Your my best friend’s father and you were just in there arguing with her mother,” You spun on your heel. “And… I don’t know. It’s harder and harder to justify the lie. If Kylie found out, she’d hate me and I’d deserve it.”

“The way I see it, Kylie did her best to sneak around with Taylor for an entire summer.” He said. “And she left you to do what exactly? And me? She lied to me under my own roof. If she’d hold something that petty against me, then I could find a dozen of her own wrongs to match my one.”

“And would you?” You asked.

“No, she’s my daughter and I like to think she’s more than the ditzy blonde she pretends to be,” He crossed to you and took your hand. “And I’d tell her not to be mad at you but to be mad at me. Because I know better…” He pulled you against him and wrapped his arms around you. “And I just don’t give a shit.”

954 notes · View notes

dweetwise · 4 years ago

Text

yes hello, i’m back on my riconti bullshit again, this time with a cute prompt fill from @dailyau by @hcpelesshcney about fire alarms and sharing a blanket ❤️

i’m also trying something new with splitting a fic into chapters!

ship: felix x ace warnings: briefly mentioned internalized homophobia word count: 3700

[next]

Where there’s smoke, there’s fire (part 1)

It's surprising just how scattered the human brain becomes during a crisis.

When Felix was woken from his restless sleep in the hotel bed by a blaring fire alarm, he'd bolted out of the bed and scrambled out into the hallway without second thought. He'd probably even left the door to his room wide open, with his wallet, passport, phone and laptop all neatly arranged on the desk for anyone to walk by and steal.

And now he's standing in the parking lot in the chilly late summer night, dressed in nothing but his pajama pants and a t-shirt. His socks were drenched as soon as he stepped outside, running straight into a puddle while hurrying to get away from the potential fire.

At least he's not alone in the stressful predicament. There's plenty of other people around, looking just as lost and dazed as him, having been forced to evacuate the hotel in the middle of the night. Most have been sensible enough to bring their jackets and shoes, a couple of kids even huddling beneath a hotel duvet.

And since there's no sign of a fire or even any smoke, Felix feels like an idiot for not having the foresight to bring something to warm him up.

The firefighters have just arrived at the scene and are preparing to search the building for the source of the alarm. Felix tries not to shiver even more as he relents to the fact that they're still going to be stuck out there for quite some time.

The crowd in the parking lot is loud, families and partners gossiping amongst themselves, some people even arguing with the staff members about ruining their vacation. Felix wishes they'd just shut up, more than happy to forget this ever happened if he'd just get to curl back under the warm covers of his bed instead of freezing out here.

This trip just kept getting worse. Not only had he been forced to come on only a day's notice, taking over Lauren's business trip across the Atlantic when she'd unexpectedly caught a cold. He’d also had to take a shitty flight route with two extra stops, and his last flight had been no less than six hours late.

When he’d finally arrived at the hotel and started trying to sleep off the massive jet lag after barely getting any sleep on the plane, he'd been rudely awakened by an emergency. And now, to add insult to injury, he’s gone from the threat of burning to death to freezing to death.

“Hey,” a voice says from right beside him, making Felix jolt in surprise over being distracted from his internal pity party.

He sees a man standing next to him, wrapped in a hotel-issued blanket, looking up at him with curious brown eyes and a pleasant smile.

Felix racks his brain for if he knows this man or not, but draws up a blank, the tiredness and cold making his thoughts feel sluggish. The man is shorter than Felix and looks a little older, if the laugh lines and grey hair are anything to go by.

“You look cold,” the man says. “Wanna share my blanket?”

As the man lifts the fabric just the slightest bit in invitation, mortification hits Felix. Not only is his shivering noticeable enough to warrant someone taking pity on him, he's being offered physical contact from a stranger.

Isn't it a weird thing to offer, especially to another man? Does he somehow know that Felix is gay? Is he making fun of him? Or is it just an American thing? Wouldn't it be weirder for Felix not to accept, since the man has noticed how much he’s freezing?

“Alright,” the man says when Felix isn't replying, lowering the bedding in surrender. “My bad, I just thought—"”

“Yes,” Felix says, interrupting him.

“Uh…” the man says, understandably confused by Felix's social awkwardness.

“Yes, I want to sh-share,” Felix says, another full-body shiver wracking his body.

“Oh! Sure,” the man grins happily, and then he's suddenly very close, shoulder bumping against Felix's chest, and a corner of the blanket is thrown haphazardously over Felix's shoulder.

“T-thank you,” Felix stammers, both from the nerves and the cold, grabbing the soft cotton fabric and pulling it tighter against himself.

And causing the stranger to stumble even closer from the momentum.

“Sure, don't mention it,” the man grins, like he's not now pressed against a stranger's side from shoulder to hip.

Embarrassed as Felix feels, both the blanket and the person attached to it are warm. Felix has to stop himself from sighing blissfully as the other's body heat starts to warm him up, slowly working away at the chill in his bones.

“Well, since we're gonna be stuck here for a while,” the man muses. “My name's Ace.”

“F-F-Felix,” Felix manages through clattering teeth.

“I'd shake your hand, but I think we're past that stage already,” Ace jokes, and then offers a pleased grin as Felix huffs out a surprised laugh through his nose. “In any case, it’s nice to meet you, Felix,” the man looks up at him and smiles, and Felix's poor, gay heart skips a beat.

Yeah, this is definitely preferable to freezing to death.

“I wonder how long they'll take to find the cause this time,” Ace starts conversationally, while pulling out his phone from the nest of blankets. He sets to what looks like writing a text to someone, not seeming the least bit bothered by their predicament.

“You don't seem very nervous,” Felix observes.

“Not my first rodeo,” Ace looks up and grins. “Probably someone just smoked inside and tripped the alarm. Happens a lot in hotels.”

“D-d-do you travel? A lot?” Felix asks, partly do distract himself from the cold while he gets his body heat up, partly to divert Ace’s attention from his phone.

“You could say that,” Ace says. “What about you? Here on business?”

“Yes,” Felix says, with no small amount of annoyance over being reminded he still has work tomorrow. “Thankfully my meeting isn't until the afternoon.”

“Glad you can get your beauty sleep,” Ace says.

“And hopefully get rid of the jet lag,” Felix comments with a tired sigh.

Ace hums in acknowledgement before going back to his phone message. Felix tries not to take it personally; he knows he's not that interesting to talk to.

Ace is so warm, and it's a little awkward being pressed this close, but embarrassingly enough, Felix finds himself drifting even closer. Ace smells like whiskey and cheap cologne, but somehow, it's oddly comforting. He'd probably been drinking last night—well, technically tonight. Thankfully, he doesn't seem drunk, as Felix doubts he would have had the patience to deal with alcohol-induced rambling.

“Whiskey man, I see,” Felix comments. When Ace looks up from his phone in surprise, Felix realize how weird it is for him to admit to smelling the man.

“I reek that bad, huh?” Ace grins, taking the comment in stride.

“I didn't mean—” Felix flounders to explain.

Damnit, he should just give up on trying to make conversation.

“Wow, lighten up,” Ace says and elbows him playfully under the blanket, adding even more physical contact to their already borderline inappropriate situation.

Felix tries to ignore the fluttering in his gut when he feels Ace's hairy forearm brush against his own. This is more physical contact than he's gotten from another man… probably ever.

“Yeah, I had a few drinks earlier. I'm more of a wine man, but…” Ace seems to ponder. “Sometimes, you've got to try new things.”

Like huddling under a blanket with an attractive stranger, Felix considers.

Suddenly, he almost regrets the blanket blocking his view from seeing more of the man. His body feels firm against Felix's, and his shoulders look defined, though that could just be an illusion from the thick fabric covering them.

“What’s your poison?” Ace asks, following Felix's awkward silence.

“I don't drink much,” Felix lies, like he hasn’t been going through his father’s old liquor collection at an alarming rate for the past year or so. “Uhm… whiskey, I guess. And bourbon.”

He could really, really go for either one right now. Not only would the drinks warm him up, they'd also make him act like an actual human being instead of the stiff robot impression he's currently doing.

“Huh,” Ace comments.

“What?” Felix asks, trying not to get defensive.

“Nothing! I would have pegged you as a beer guy, is all,” Ace muses. “Maybe that's just the accent, though.”

“Sorry,” Felix apologizes. Now hyperaware of his bad pronunciation and extremely German accent, he tries to bury his face deeper into the blanket in embarrassment.

“Naw, hey, come on,” Ace turns toward him as much as the cramped space allows him to. “Your English is amazing! The accent only adds charm.”

Felix looks at Ace's encouraging smile and tries not to think too much about their thighs now pressing together. Ace is clearly waiting for him to say something, but all Felix can focus on is his warm body and striking features.

“Where are you from?” Felix asks instead, trying to place the hint of an accent he thinks he hears.

“Huh. Good catch,” Ace smiles, seeming surprised. “Guess!”

Felix flushes and looks at Ace's eagerly grinning face. It's nighttime, but Ace's skin seems darker than his own, and his features look Mediterranean, reminding Felix of countless business trips to Spain. But the accent…

“Italy?” Felix suggests, and Ace's smile somehow widens even further.

“Close!” Ace says. “Argentina.”

“Ehm…” Felix furrows his brow in confusion, thinking that surely, being a whole continent and world sea off doesn't exactly count as "close".

“My family hails from Italy, and it's my native language,” Ace explains. “So it was a really good guess!”

“Thank you…?” Felix says awkwardly.

“I'd ask what you were doing when the alarm went off, but…” Ace pauses, glancing up at his disheveled hair. “From your outfit choice and the bedhead, I'd put 50 bucks on 'sleeping'."

“You'd be correct,” Felix murmurs, self-consciously poking his hand out from under the blanket to run through his tousled hair. “I'm not very interesting.”

“I think I'll be the judge of that," Ace grins. “If, uh… you don't mind chatting to pass the time?”

“Not at all,” Felix says, hoping he doesn't sound too eager, happy Ace deems him interesting enough to talk to instead of whoever he was texting earlier.

They spend some twenty minutes chatting about mostly insignificant things. But as much as Felix usually hates small talk, he now welcomes it, because Ace is asking him interesting questions instead of just talking about the weather. He appears to genuinely care about Felix's story, and Felix might end up sharing a little too much, from the work stress and business trip he didn't even want to come to, all the way to his relationship that ended a few weeks ago.

Ace seems friendly and pleasant, taking Felix's awkward pauses and nervousness in stride, filling in the silences with stories of his own. Felix hears a lot about the different places he's traveled to, along with some hotel horror stories that make him feel much better about the current fire alarm situation. He manages a few laughs, some merely polite, but some genuinely amused at Ace's over-the-top storytelling.

Eventually, Ace's phone beeps again and he excuses himself and engrosses himself momentarily in the screen, and this time, Felix welcomes the brief break in socializing.

He realizes just how nice this is. It feels like a stroke of luck that only a few short weeks after ending his relationship with his ex-girlfriend and coming out in the process, he'd meet a handsome stranger this eager to cuddle up to him.

Not cuddle up—share a blanket, Felix mentally berates himself.

He glances at Ace out of the corner of his eye, seeing his side profile illuminated by the dim glow from the phone screen. Felix never really considered what his type would be, apart from the all-encompassing "men" that he'd only recently come to accept about himself. But taking in Ace's defined features and the smile that seems to be a permanent part of his face, he's starting to get an idea.

Quickly looking away before Ace catches him staring, Felix suddenly feels almost too warm. He shouldn't get ahead of himself; even though It feels like Ace is being a little too friendly, he hasn't actually made a move, seeming happy just with chatting to kill time.

Felix briefly toys with the idea of placing his hand on Ace's hip in a loose embrace, just to test the waters. He'd never be that brave, but if he was, he'd at least know for sure, even if it would probably end in Ace being disgusted and kicking him out of the blanket cocoon.

But… maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d smile even wider and return the gesture, just as eager as Felix to get even closer. Felix would wrap his arms around him, and they'd stand there cuddling and sharing even more body heat, maybe even kissing—

Shit. This is exactly what his therapist said he shouldn't do, the term "excessive daydreaming" flashing in his mind.

“Sorry,” Ace is saying, turning back to face him and pocketing the phone, completely oblivious to Felix's internal dilemma. “Where were we?”

“I, uh,” Felix stammers.

Was just thinking about kissing you.

“Did I tell you about the time a bunch of college kids decided to set off fireworks in the hotel room next to mine?” Ace offers, saving Felix from floundering for a topic.

“What—why would they…?” Felix asks.

“Well, I'd just gotten back from this extravagant New Years party—” Ace excitedly starts telling yet another story, and Felix keenly starts listening in.

Ace seems to be completely in his element, getting lost in talking about just how fancy the party was, followed by a dramatic retelling of some very incredulously sounding explosions that turned out to be fireworks. Felix keeps listening raptly, not entirely sure about the accuracy of the story, but enjoying seeing the other so happy. The blanket occasionally shifts as Ace tries to gesture with his hands to add to the narration, only to remember that he can't, looking sheepish every time.

Felix has never met someone with such effortless charisma. Ace's voice is rich and pleasant, and Felix briefly zones out while he imagines it talking him to sleep.

It's stupid, and he knows it. He's only known the man for half an hour, and even "knowing" him is pushing it. Felix is only in the country for two more days, and he’s very aware that pursuing anything would be pointless.

But he also knows that given the chance, he wouldn't say no to seeing Ace again. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, the narrowly averted emergency, or simply being far away from home and realizing nobody would ever find out. Either way, he’s feeling more adventurous than usual, the adrenaline in his veins and butterflies in his gut keeping his tired body on high alert.

Too bad he's deathly afraid of rejection and would never dare to ask if the other is interested.

Suddenly, there's the screech of a PA system, and Ace stops mid-sentence, both of them turning to look at a firefighter speaking into a megaphone.

“The fire has been extinguished and the building is now safe. Please return to your rooms,” the fireman announces.

The horde of people immediately start flocking towards the hotel entrance at the same time, creating an annoyed crowd of freezing, grumpy people and managing to clog the entryway immediately.

“I wonder what the cause was,” Felix ponders out loud, not making an effort to move toward the commotion and get stuck between the shoving, complaining people.

“Who cares? We get to not freeze our asses off anymore!” Ace exclaims gleefully.

And Felix realizes they no longer have a reason to stay huddled up together. Reluctantly slipping away from under the blanket, he feels a disappointed pang in his chest over how happy Ace sounds to get rid of him.

“Thank you for lending your blanket,” Felix says, handing his side of the fabric back over to Ace and trying not to shiver as the cold of the night hits his warm skin.

“My pleasure! Thanks for keeping me warm!” Ace quips cheerfully, wrapping the item tighter around himself.

“Ehm… you as well,” Felix says, looking away so Ace doesn't see his face heating up.

“Come on, let's get you inside!” Ace prompts, and then he leans into Felix and shoves him lightly with a blanket-clad shoulder.

It's clearly in an intent to encourage Felix to move, but it still makes newfound hope blossom in his chest. They’re no longer forced to tolerate each other if they don't want to freeze, but Ace still seems far from repulsed by him.

“Right,” Felix says, starting the short trek to the hotel entrance that has thankfully cleared up from people.

“So…” Ace drawls, easily falling into step next to him. “Can I have your number?”

Felix glances at him and blinks in confusion. Is… is Ace asking him out? Or just being polite? Is he going to ask to be added on Facebook too, like all the weird colleagues Felix has met on business trips once and then never heard from again?

“For...?” Felix manages to ask when they arrive at the entrance, reaching for the door and holding it open for the man.

“Just wondering if you wanted to grab some drinks while you're still in town,” Ace says when he slips past Felix into the building. “I wouldn't mind getting to know you better,” Ace adds, looking him up and down with a smile that is definitely not just friendly.

Heat rises up Felix's neck from more than just the warm air of the hotel lobby. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one sensing the tension between them.

“Maybe,” Felix says, trying and probably failing to not seem way too enthusiastic.

“Oh?” Ace says, quirking an eyebrow. And then he's shrugging off the blanket, revealing a rolled-up, button-up shirt and—

Fuck. Broad shoulders and a lean build, that sure as hell doesn't make Felix's predicament any easier.

Felix definitely stares longer than appropriate while they continue walking to the elevator, Ace thankfully too busy with bunching up the blanket to notice his ogling.

“What…" Felix starts, making Ace look at him, cocking his head. "Uhm. What's with the sudden interest?”

“I mean,” Ace says, shooting him pointed look. “I was interested ever since I saw you there, shivering in your ridiculously tight T-shirt,” he winks.

Felix realizes that the shirt probably leaves a lot less to the imagination than the suits and blazers he always wears. He lifts a hand to his arm in a self-conscious manner, making an attempt to cover himself.

“But I didn't wanna freak you out,” Ace adds, giving a one-shoulder shrug. “Would have been pretty awkward if you said no, considering you were kinda stuck with me for a bit.”

That's… oddly sweet, and very much appreciated. Felix would probably have imploded on himself from embarrassment if Ace would have been this forward from the start.

“Thank you,” Felix says.

“No worries,” Ace grins, pushing the button to order the elevator. “So? Are you freaked out?”

Felix considers the question for a moment, only arriving at variations of "no", "I'm leaving in two days" and "help you're really hot but I've never been with a guy and don't know what to do".

“I think the word is…” Felix pauses in thought, trying to ignore his brain screaming insecurities at him. “'Intrigued'.”

Proud of managing to be smooth for once in his life, the ding of the elevator arriving is almost lost on Felix, because he's so focused on Ace's now downright lecherous grin.

But he obediently steps into the elevator, not wanting to keep the few hotel customers still lingering behind them.

“What's you floor, gorgeous?” Ace asks with a flirtatious smile, after pressing the number four.

Wow. How the hell did Felix ever manage to think he was just being friendly?

“Three,” Felix says.

“Looks like you're under me,” Ace flirts while pushing the button for him, making Felix choke on his own spit from the suggestive comment, embarrassed yet curious.

And then Ace clears his throat and averts his eyes as a woman and her daughter walk into the elevator with them.

They stand awkwardly next to each other as the elevator doors slide close. Felix’s thoughts are a mess of excitement, nervousness and embarrassment, not sure what to do in this situation.

He discreetly glances at Ace—

And the other catches him looking.

Felix's heart skips a beat as Ace's lips spread into a lazy grin, eyes shimmering with unspoken promise.

He wonders what it would be like to wipe that grin off the smug man's face. Felix imagines pushing Ace up against the elevator wall, picturing how the other’s eyes would go wide, maybe he'd even gasp, taken off guard at Felix's sudden boldness. Maybe he wouldn't have time to say anything, because Felix would capture his lips in a passionate kiss, and Ace would groan and drop the blanket to tangle his hands in Felix's hair—

DING!

Felix is rudely snapped out of his daydream by the elevator arriving on his floor. He realizes he's been spacing out while staring at Ace's face, and the smirk is gone from the man's lips, but his eyes are somehow even more intense.

“Good night,” Felix offers stiffly, forcing himself to break the eye contact before he gets lost in his own head again.

He takes a step out of the elevator, mentally scolding himself when he notices his racing heart and heavy breathing, getting himself worked up over a dumb fantasy.

Tomorrow, he promises himself when the elevator doors start sliding shut behind him. Tomorrow, he’d go out with Ace and could maybe, hopefully psyche himself up enough to make a move. He'd just text the man in the morning—

Except they never exchanged numbers.

Shit!

#riconti #felix richter #ace visconti #dbd fanfic #dweetwrites #dbd #dead by daylight #prompt #felix x ace

33 notes · View notes

amythedvdhoarder · 4 years ago

Text

Planning for the Worst

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 8K

Summary: Bucky is currently hiding with you in Romania. When the bombing happens in Vienna your whole world threatens to crumble around you.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff and smut. 18+ only

Authors notes: Written for the wonderful @sweater-daddiesdumbdork Birthday Celebration. I hope you have a had a lovely birthday week (because one day is never enough!).

I was sent the lovely gif above (not mine) and this “I’m thinking maybe a bit of angst and affection. However short or long you want it ” I opted for long, my longest fic yet!

This kind of follows the plot of civil war but is obviously adapted to include the reader. I love feedback so please let me know what you think!

Here is my masterlist if you want to read any of my other Bucky one-shots!

------------------------------------------------------

You looked at the newspaper in your hand. This had to be a terrible mistake. They were going to come for him, you just knew it. Throwing the newspaper down you turned on your heel and set off at a fast pace. It took a lot of effort for you to remain calm but you had to. Drawing any sort of attention now could be absolutely catastrophic. You pulled your phone and called the first of the two contacts you had on there. No answer. Then you called the second contact, the coffee shop, to let your boss you quit. As you approached the busy market you could hear the wail of multiple sirens in the distance. You tried to ignore the panic bubbling through your chest as you weaved through the people milling around, oblivious to the events going on around them. A tirade of curses was aimed in your direction after you accidently barged into someone. You didn’t even pause to apologise. All you could think about was getting to him. If you got back soon, then maybe you would have enough time to warn him. Enough time for both of you to run.

Bucky had told you the fragments of what he could remember from the last 70 years. You knew that he would never be safe, that you could never have a normal life together. You were a nobody, a nurse from New York with no family and no close friends. But Bucky was a different entity entirely. People would hunt him down for who he used to be, for what he used to be when HYDRA had controlled him. Although HYDRA had supposedly been destroyed, any sympathiser could be out to get him. Then there was Steve. The person who had finally snapped him out of the HYDRA brainwashing. His best friend. Steve would be searching for him for sure. For that reason, you never stayed in one place for too long, a couple of months tops. Finding temporary jobs in whatever city you lived in whilst Bucky kept a low profile. You had been in Romania for a month and a half now. Every day you checked the newspaper for anything that hinted at your discovery. For nearly two years on the run with Bucky, you had followed the same routine. Both of you always so careful and so vigilant, always one step ahead. Invisible. But all of that was about to change.

Bile rose in your throat as you turned the corner and approached your building. Ambulances were scattered all around the entrances and numerous bodies were being carried out on stretchers. You went up to the police officer by the door. “Hi, um I live here. What happened?” The officer gave a judgemental scan up and down your body. “Gas leak” You bit back the laugh at such a blatant lie. “Thanks, do you know when I will be able to get back into my flat?” The officer just shrugged and turned their back on you. As you walked away all you could do was hope that Bucky got out in time, that he was unharmed. Safe. You would swear on your own life that he hadn’t carried out the bombings he was accused of. It was an impossibility. He had been with you on that day, here in Romania. But the frontpage of the newspapers this morning told a different story.

All you could do was wait, kill time until you could get back into the flat. Everything you needed was in there. Passports, money but more importantly you hoped some indication of what had happened to Bucky. A TV in the bar you were walking past flashed up an image of a familiar face. You stopped, turning to look at the screen fully, stomach falling at the sight in front of you. The broadcast flickered to a live feed. A man with a backpack on being forced to the ground, a troupe of armed police pointing their guns directly at him. You bit your hand to prevent you from crying out. Terror filled you as you watched the man you loved, hauled to his feet and all but dragged towards a waiting armoured vehicle. The only small consolation was there in the form of a man dressed in red, white and blue; Steve. The man known to the world as Captain America. Surely, he would know that his friend was innocent and protect him. But any glimmer of hope faded as you watched America’s most famous hero, being pushed into another armoured vehicle.

------------------

The next hour felt like 10. You paced back and forth outside your building waiting for the police to leave. All the while trying to decide exactly what you should do. You didn’t know where Bucky had been taken, or by what agency. You just knew was that you were the only one who could help prove his innocence. Which was exactly what you were going to try and do. Your thoughts were running wild with the ideas of what they could be doing to Bucky and the fear and anger he must be feeling. Those two emotions were a bad combination for anyone but with Bucky it was 100 times worse. When he didn’t feel like he was fully in control the darkness did take over he would shut down. You had witnessed this countless times when he would just sit in the corner of the room for hours, stoic and trancelike.

Over time you had learnt how best to handle moments like these. Learning never to approach him or touch him. Not because you were scared of him but because he was scared that he could snap and hurt you. Instead you would talk, not necessarily to him, but the sound of your voice would help him escape the horrors cycling around in his head. Eventually when he was feeling more like himself, he would come and wrap his arms around you and just hold onto you. These episodes would usually end with you sat with his head in your lap just running your hand through his hair. It was times like these which Bucky appreciated how much you understood him. You never pressuring to explain what he was going through, gave him the space he needed.

Bucky began to open up to you and let him in. His memories were coming back slowly and as they did he tried to push you away. He was fully aware that he capable of killing you in a second. A trained assassin who wasn’t fully in command of their mind. The mere thought of that potential lapse of control had had led to many heated discussions. Bucky couldn’t understand why you were with him. He was a monster. A killer. Someone who many feared and those that didn’t, should. He tried to get you to leave him so many times but you had refused. He loved you more than he could express but knew you deserved more. More than what he could offer which was at best a shell of the man he once was before HYDRA. But for some reason he couldn’t understand, you loved him.

His past, however, did hold some advantages. The assassin within him made him hyper-vigilant and his instincts had kept you both safe and undetected for so long. In preparation for being discovered Bucky had ensured you both had go bags stashed away and also briefed you on what to do if something happened to him. In this moment you were trying to draw on everything that Bucky had taught you. You watched as the policeman left before approaching your building again. As you walked up to your flat it was evident that there had been a massive fight. Railings were hanging off on some parts of the stairs, chunks missing from the wall and there were plenty of broken doors. One of which was your own.

Stepping through the doorway you gasped as you took in the extent of the damage. It was much worse than the rest of the building, your brain telling you instinctively that this was where the fight had broken out. The place was destroyed; the windows shattered, bullet holes littered over the ceilings and walls, furniture destroyed. One bit of the damage that didn’t surprise you was hole in the floor where Bucky’s go bag had been. Yours pulled out your own which was still hidden behind the old sturdy fridge. The final thing you had to do was get rid of your phone. You pulled it out of your pocket, along with the wallet containing the ID you had been using and left if on the counter, exactly as Bucky had instructed. It seemed a strange thing to do but it was part of the plan; people would be busy hunting down the woman from the photos on your ID. By the time they realised it was a stolen identity you would be long gone with a new look and a new name. You took a final glance and headed out of the door and out into the cool late afternoon breeze.

Now you were going to take a risk and deviate from Bucky’s carefully constructed plan. Before travelling to the designated rendezvous point you were going to take a detour. You could provide Bucky an alibi for the Vienna bombing. If you got to him now then maybe you wouldn’t have to stick to the original plan. As you walked to the bus stop you ran through what you had to do if this didn’t work. The clock was already ticking. If you didn’t get Bucky now then you would go to the safe house. If he didn’t show up within the 48-hour time frame then you would have to abandon him and go on the run again without him.

-----------------------

The bus you were sat on took you into the centre of Bucharest where Bucky was being held. As the buildings rushed past the windows you tried to keep focussed but your mind kept drifting to Bucky. Even before the bombing he was wanted by pretty much every nations intelligence services for crimes committed as the winter soldier. Bucky would never willingly provide information. You just prayed that the intelligence services wouldn’t just assume his guilt when he was uncooperative and defensive. No intelligence service would be above using torture to get what they wanted, especially when it came down to someone as infamous as the winter soldier. They would have to realise they had got the wrong person, hopefully before they started to interrogate Bucky in earnest.

Out of the window you could see a large crowd of people staring into the body of water. A quite ring of an alarm could be heard and news vans were pulling up in front of the building. Paramedics there treating people stood around the many ambulances. This couldn’t be unrelated so you pressed the stop button and quickly disembarked and wondered across the bridge towards the chaos. People in bloodied clothes were not trying to keep their voices down as they talked hurriedly about recent events. You walked with purpose, trying to blend in and pick up any useful information “I saw him. He looked so cold, so inhuman. It was like he was a robot. Killed all the guards on his way out.” It didn’t take you long to figure out who they were talking about. The winter soldier. It was worse than anything you could have imagined.

“Did you see what happened to him?” You pushed yourself into a group of women who were talking. They all turned to look at you. “Sorry, do we know you?” A blonde woman sent a challenging glare your way. “I work in the basement in IT” The lie fell easily from your lips as you sent a small back at her. She shrugged, seemingly believing you. “He went down into the river in a helicopter. Captain America went under as well. The divers are looking for them now. No sign yet.” You nodded before quickly saying goodbye to the women and headed away from the scene. They had told you everything you needed to know. Bucky was alive. He was with Steve. Steve would keep him safe until he was himself again. All you had to do know was get to cabin outside of the city and pray he would do the same. If he could still remember you.

----------------

You rented a car under the guise of one of your fake identities, paying cash and providing a false address for insurance purposes. The poor girl at the company had no clue that the particular car you were borrowing was unlikely to be returned in one piece, if at all. The four-wheel drive was ideal for the long journey into the forests in the north of Romania. Hours later you were exhausted. The evening sky dimming as you hid the car at the end of a dirt track. The final distance was to be covered on foot taking you deeper into the forest. It was hard going; the thick undergrowth slowing you down and posing a constant challenge.

It was a journey you had hoped you never had to make. But as the small wooden hut, miles away from civilisation, came into view you allowed a sigh of relief to escape your lips. Bucky had really outdone himself this time. There was no way that anybody would find you. The building looked like it had been abandoned over 20 years ago. “It’s not exactly luxurious doll, even by our standards.” He certainly wasn’t kidding. After a brief tour you realised that it would be comfortable enough, it had the basics. Bucky had even left some rations. It was so off the beaten track that there was no chance of anyone stumbling across the place. You couldn’t help but wonder how Bucky had found it. Every time Bucky discovered a new safe house, the week following was filled with maps, questions and what if scenarios. It bordered on obsessive the way he quizzed and challenged you until he was satisfied. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. It wasn’t a normal activity for a couple but you didn’t care. If it meant being with Bucky, making him happy, then it was worth it.

----------

It was midday when you woke up. You had been that tired you hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes as when you collapsed onto the mattress. As you sat up you were momentarily confused by your surroundings only for the events of the last 12 hours to sneak up on you triggering a groan of frustration. You glanced at your watch. Bucky had just over 30 hours to get here before you left. How likely was that? There was every possibility that the HYDRA brainwashing could still be determining his actions. The best you could hope for was when he was finally himself again, he remembered you enough to try and track you down. At this point there was nothing you could apart from sit and plan out your next move. Of course, you wanted Bucky to walk through the door, sweep you into his arms and end this nightmare but you had to plan for the worst. Bucky would hate for you not to follow the plan. It was one devised to keep you safe, which was his priority. He had tried to prepare you for this eventuality and there was no way you were going to let him down.

You spent the best part of the next 24 hours trying to figure out where to go next. Even though Bucky wasn’t there he had given you a head start by circling a couple of places on the map hidden in your bag. Scotland seemed like a sensible next step; you had plenty of money and the lack of a language barrier would certainly help. The evening was focused on changing your appearance. It had to be convincing enough to fool anyone looking for you but similar enough to the photo in your fake UK passport. You used the scissors you found in the rudimentary kitchen to cut your hair into a choppy bob, adding a fringe to add a little more anonymity. There was little else you could do apart from using some coffee to darken your hair. As you looked into the cracked mirror you shrugged, it wasn’t much but you definitely less recognisable. All that was left to do now was get some rest. Only 6 more hours to go.

-----------------

“Just 10 more minutes” you mumbled to yourself. You paced back and forth on the creaking floor of the hut. If you delayed your departure, even just a little, maybe he might show up. The idea of leaving and him showing up once you were gone was sickening. So, you waited for as long as you reasonably could. An hour later as the sun started to dip behind the trees you reluctantly gathered up your bag and made your way out of the hut. Immediately after you closed the door behind you, you got the sense that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes scanned the treeline in front of you and to your dismay something was moving. There wasn’t any time for you to find a place to hide. The sound of twigs snapping under foot was getting closer by the second.

Captain America stepped into the clearing and came closer the instantaneous sense of relief vanished as quickly as it had appeared. You shivered involuntarily as you saw the blood covering his face, the rips in his uniform. Worry and exhaustion evident in his eyes as he stepped closer. “Steve?” Your voice came out as a whisper but thankfully he seemed to have heard you. “Um hi, I’m sorry I don’t know who you are. I was given these coordinates by Bucky and I…” You stepped forward at cut him off “Where is he? Is he ok? Why isn’t he here?” You could feel the blood rushing through your head, your fists clenched around the straps of your bag. Steve’s frowned, his eyes studying you intently. “He’s on the jet.” He scratched the back of his neck “We were in a bit of a fight. He’ll be fine, just needs to rest. Left him sleeping.” Steve didn’t miss the way your eyes widened and then contracted to glare at him. He resisted the urge to chuckle at you, but he was a little scared of how you would react, he didn’t really want to piss you off more than you already were. “Why are we still stood here then?” Steve gestured to you to follow him “I’ll take you to him.” You followed him without a second thought. All you wanted was to see Bucky, to feel the warmth of his body next to yours.

For the next couple of minutes, the two of you walked in complete silence, Steve walking a couple of steps in front of you leading the way. He was even more impressive in person, even when he had clearly had the shit beaten out of him. Steve was slightly taller and wider than Bucky but you could see by the way he carried himself that he was less agile. All you knew was that whoever they had been fighting must have come off much worse than the super soldiers. “We’re nearly there. I’m really sorry, I still don’t know your name?” “Shit, sorry. I’m Y/N. You mentioned Bucky’s name and I kinda forgot about everything else.” Steve glanced over his shoulder and sent you a small smile. “I know the feeling, he has that effect on people.” A minute later, he suddenly stopped in front of you making you nearly collide with him. The jet was standing in a small clearing ahead. Steve placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and looked down at you softly. “I don’t want you to get too much of a shock. It looks worse than in is. I promise he’s going to be alright.” You bit your lip and nodded slowly, trusting the man you barely knew.

Bucky was resting again the side of the jet. You bit back a cry as your eyes swept over him. His face was covered in blood and despite his accelerated healing the swelling was gruesome. But your eyes were drawn to his left arm, or lack of arm. He was still sleeping as you knelt down in front of him. You removed the bag off your shoulders and opened it to fish out the first aid kit. Steve came and stood next to you. “I’m gonna fire her up. I’m taking him to Wakanda. King T’Challa has offered us sanctuary there. I can drop you somewhere on the way if you want?” Your attention remained on the box in your hand. “Thanks Steve, but I go where he goes.” You shot a quick look up at him. Steve just nodded before heading off to the front of the jet.

Sitting back on your calves your eyes scanned over the wounds on Bucky’s face again. Some of them were healing up already. All you needed to do was clean off the blood and clean then deeper gashes around his eyes and mouth. “Take a picture it’ll last longer.” Bucky’s voice sounded quieter than normal but the slight teasing tone told you he was ok. His blue eyes found yours and held them, no words were needed. Bucky winced slightly as he leaned to cup your cheek in his hand, his thumb tenderly wiping away the tears that had begun fall. Your hand went up to rest on his, holding him to you. “I thought I lost you.” The statement was barely audible. Bucky pulled his hand away from your face and held your hand in his. “Doll you don’t ever need to worry about that. I will always find my way back to you no matter what.” He pulled your hand up to his lips. “I love you Y/N.” You sat up on your knees and pushed a rogue bit of hair back off his face. “I love you Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky let you clean him up, his eyes glued to you the whole time. Once you were satisfied that his physical wounds had been properly seen to, you sat down next to him, your thigh brushing against his. You looked across him and saw his eyes flicking between you and the floor. Normally this kind of proximity was welcomed but you knew his was nervous. Scared that he could inflict damage with even the smallest of touches. “I know it’s a dumb question but how are you doing?” His jaw clenched and you could see him trying to construct an answer he thought you might want to hear. “Honestly Buck.” Your tone warm but demanded the truth. He rested his head against wall and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m alright physically. My arm doesn’t hurt but I just can’t trust myself, my mind. All it took was 10 words and I was gone, nothing but a brainwashed assassin.” He flinched as you placed you hand on his thigh, for an awful minute you thought he was going to pull away. Bucky took a deep breath before looking at you, his eyes expressing emotions he couldn’t vocalise. “You’re not a monster.” He opened his mouth to argue but you stopped him. “No. You listen to me. I love you. Yes, you have done bad things, but it wasn’t really you. You are a good man James, nothing could convince me otherwise.” He bit at his bottom lip and his eyebrows fused together. Hesitantly he lifted his arm up and placed it over your shoulder. You leaned into him and rested your head on his shoulder. “I couldn’t live with myself if I ever hurt you Y/N.” Nestling further into him you shifted your arm so that it was draped around his abdomen, anchoring him to you. “You won’t hurt me. I trust you with my life.” Bucky didn’t want to argue with you so left it at that. He kissed the top of your head before resting his head on top of yours. After the events of the last couple of days he allowed himself to relax a little, watching as your eyes fluttered shut and your breathing deepened.

----------------------

Steve sidled over an hour later. He looked at his best friend and his girl. “She’s a good one Buck. Most would run but she seems pretty determined.” Bucky smiled. “Yeah I don’t deserve her.” Steve frowned. “How did you meet?” Steve lowered himself down against the opposite wall of the jet and tried to work some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Actually, I have you to thank for that.” Steve’s eyebrows raised in confusion and question. “The day I pulled you out of the river. I made it to the park and collapsed onto a bench.” Steve grimaced remembering the fight on the Helicarriers. “She was heading home from the shift from the hospital and found me. Insisted on taking me back to hers to patch me up. Wouldn’t take no for an answer and here we are.” Listening to his friend, Steve couldn’t help but feel sad and a little jealous. He didn’t know if he would feel the same love that Bucky did. Peggy’s funeral had been 3 days ago and the woman he had a crush turned out to be her niece, which made things a little more complicated. Now with the events of the last week cementing his criminal status, no woman in their right mind would go anywhere near him. Despite being apart for over 70 years, Bucky could still read Steve like a book. “Hey punk, you’ll find someone. If someone can love me after being brainwashed for years then I am certain that you will.” Steve gave a half-hearted smile before getting to his feet. “I’m gonna head back to the front, we must be getting close now.”

--------------------------

“Doll, we’re here” Bucky lightly tightened his arm around your shoulder. The sunshine was streaming in through the open ramp making you squint as you tried to open your eyes. “You two ready for this?” Steve had appeared and was stood in front of you, hand holding the front of his belt, as he slipped back into Captain America mode. You glanced across to Bucky who was already looking at you, ready to answer the unspoken question. He nodded at you and you turned back to Steve. “Yeah, let’s do this”. Steve helped the pair of you to your feet and started to lead the way out onto the landing strip. Bucky stayed close to you, his fingers brushing against yours as you walked out into the heat.

The royal welcome party greeted you all warmly. Bucky was clearly nervous, his hand twined around yours and keeping you tucked against him. Steve was in a deep conversation with the King when a young girl introduced as Shuri approached you and Bucky. “I can fix you. It would be easy. Well for me anyway.” You felt Bucky shift awkwardly next to you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Uh thanks, but I don’t have the rest of my arm.” The princess laughed. “I could manufacture you a new arm with my eyes closed but that wasn’t what I was talking about. I’m talking about the stuff in your head.” Steve diverted his attention to the conversation immediately. Bucky’s mouth was hung open in shock. “What do you mean?” You voice shaking slightly as you asked the question Bucky couldn’t. Shuri rolled her eyes. “The brain is like a computer, it’s just a case of reprogramming.” Bucky tried to suppress the hope currently rising within him. “Your saying you get out what HYDRA put into my head?” Shuri grinned. “For sure, just need to take a look in there.” She pointed to his head. Bucky’s face fell, the last thing he wanted was someone else poking around in his head. “My sister is very capable Sergeant Barnes. Take some time to think it through. You are welcome to stay as long as you want. All of you.” The King looked at you and smiled.

In the evening after washing away the events of the last few days, you walked into the living room of the suite to find Steve and Bucky huddled together talking in quiet voices. Shuri had shown them around her labs before they were taken to their rooms. She had you convinced in an instant that she could cure Bucky. You had watched the cogs turn in Bucky’s mind as he considered what was being offered to him as Shuri removed the last parts of his metal arm. It wasn’t your decision to make but you were determined to support him whichever way. The two super soldiers stopped their whispering as you walked closer to them, Bucky sitting up and looking at smiling softly at you. “Hey doll, how you feeling?” You took the seat next to him. “I’m alright just a bit tired.” Steve watched the interaction between the two of you. He knew the conversation that needed to happen, wouldn’t, if he stayed. Awkwardly he dragged himself up onto his feet and made his goodbyes, leaving you and Bucky in silence.

His bottom lip was nipped between his teeth, a sizable distance between you on the sofa. His face was set, his eyes cast down trying to mask the sadness. “You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?” Bucky nodded still not raising his head. Moving yourself off the sofa you came to kneel in front of him, your hands resting on his knees. You tilted your head until your eyes found his. “It’s ok. Whatever you have decided it’s ok.” His hand landed on yours, fingers knitting together. “I’m going to let Shuri try. She came to see me whilst you were in the shower. I think she can fix me, it shouldn’t take her long but …” His eyes closed briefly as he tried to find the right words. “I don’t trust myself. Not whilst this stuff is in my mind still. I’m going to into cryo again.” Your free hand ran up and down his calf. “Hey, look at me Buck.” Hesitantly he met your gaze, clearly worried about your reaction. “It’s alright, I’m proud of you. It was always your decision to make, I’ll still be here when you wake up again.” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t be like this. You deserve someone unbroken, who can give you the life you deserve.” You pulled your hand from his and sat back, your hand running through your hair, a frustrated groan living your lips. “So, we are back to this again. I decide what kind of life I want to have, not you. I choose you. Do you think I would have followed you around the world if I didn’t? When are you going to accept that you’re stuck with me Bucky? What do I have to do to convince you?” Hot tears ran down your cheeks, your lips pressed into a tight line trying to remain as composed as you could. “I’m sorry” His voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N, I’m sorry.” Bucky repeated those words like a mantra. Over and over again, his head hidden under his hand, rocking back and forth slightly. The sight of him in such a state made you feel guilty. The last couple of days clearly had taken their toll on him both physically and emotionally. You perched on the arm of the sofa and manoeuvred Bucky so that his head was resting against your chest, hand carding through his dark brown locks. “Hey, you’re alright. I’m here.” His arm circled your waist, clinging to you. “I’m sorry” he repeated. “I know. Me too.”

Both of you sat like that for a while. Bucky not wanting to let you go anytime soon, pulled you off the arm of the sofa and onto his lap. “When?” The single word loaded with an enormous weight. “Tomorrow.” You felt your heart sink, you had only just got him back and you were going to lose him. Yes, it wasn’t permanent and it was for his own good, but the couple of days you had been apart had made you realise that your life had little meaning without him. Bucky sensed the disappointment in you. “It’s not for long. Just think that after, we could have a normal life?” You nodded against his shoulder not trusting your voice.

Steve joined both of you later for dinner. Bucky and Steve chatted animatedly, reminiscing about their childhood. It was as if they had never been apart the way they teased each other, laughing and joking as they recalled stories. All of you kept the conversation light and avoided talking about anything too serious. Steve enquired about your life before meeting Bucky so you gave him a history of your childhood and life in New York. He listened intently and commented on how much New York had changed since they were kids. Time slipped away from you all and before you knew it, it was midnight. Steve headed off to his room, promising to join you tomorrow morning before heading down to Shuri’s lab.

------------------

You watched Bucky come out of the bathroom, his boxers hanging low in his hips. A smattering of blue and purple bruises still evident across his toned torso. He climbed into the bed next to you, leaving space between you. Taking the initiative you shuffled over towards him. You kissed the scars on his shoulder where his arm had been joined, then moved your mouth over his body pressing your lips to every bruise you could see. “Doll, I can’t.” From where you were now straddling his hips, you looked up at him through your lashes and murmured between kisses. “Can’t or won’t?” The hardness you could feel forming below gave you the answer. Bucky closed his eyes and slammed his head back into the pillow. “I trust you. Let me take care of you.” You sat up, your hips naturally grinding against his with the movement. He groaned at the sensation, his eyes fluttering open. He sat up slowly, his eyes searching yours for any doubt or worries. He didn’t find any. You leaned forwards crashing your lips into his. Your tongue flicked across his lips and they parted instantly allowing you access, the kiss becoming more heated instantly. Tongues battling with one another, making both of you moan into each other’s mouths. Bucky missed his metal arm as he could hold you tightly against him like he wanted to, instead he had to settle for pressing his hand on your lower back, pushing you to him. Your hips wiggled at his touch creating a delicious friction. Bucky moved his mouth from yours and trailed kisses along you jaw before travelling down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin as he went. One of your hands held onto the back of his neck acting as an anchor whilst the other trailed along the muscles of his back, nails dragging, leaving faint red lines in their wake.

“Doll, your shirt”. You leaned back and pulled your top off. Bucky’s mouth instantly made its way to your breasts. His tongue flicked over your hardened nipples, before taking one into his mouth. You threw your head back and gasped as he bit down gently before withdrawing, licking and kissing the sensitive skin and then repeating the process on the other. Whilst Bucky’s attention was directed at your chest you moved your hand down between you and under the band of his boxers. As your hand grasped his hardened length, Bucky released a growl. Your fingertips glided over his most sensitive part, making his buck up into your hand. “Doll” he gasped as your hand moved and twisted along his length. “Y/N” His voice strained as he tried to remain in control. You removed your hand and pushed Bucky back onto the bed. Standing up, you quickly removed your dampened underwear. Bucky started to pull his off but was struggling, you stepped closer to him and helped ease them off his body. You sucked in a breath at the sight in front of you. Bucky shifted his hips; your eyes tracked the movement and you heard him chuckle. “Come on doll, the anticipation is killing me here.” A devious smile formed on your lips. “I promised to take care of you.” You straddled his hips once again, rocking back a couple of times, covering him with your wetness. “But I’m going to make you wait.”

Bucky bit back a moan as you skated your hand down your body, tracing the curves of your breasts before guiding it lower to your core. He watched as your fingers circled your clit, occasionally flicking over the sensitive nub. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He watched as your head tilted back and your eyes fluttered close as you brought yourself nearer to the edge. The sight along with your cries of pleasure nearly made him come prematurely like an excited teenager. The movements quickened and your breath became ragged as you neared your climax. Your free hand massaged your breasts and Bucky placed his hand on the other, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. Your orgasm tore through your body, one hand keeping the pressure on your clit the other falling to Bucky’s chest to hold yourself up.

Bucky’s cock was throbbing now, the show you had just given him had whipped him up into a frenzy. His hand squeezed your thigh urging you to do something. Taking the hint, you took him in your hand and guided him easily into your heat. Both of you gasping as you sank down until he was fully seated. You stayed still for a couple of seconds getting comfortable with the stretch. Bucky moved his hand to your hips as you started to rock back and forth. “Jesus doll” he panted, already so worked up from before he had to try and calm himself down. His eyes locked onto yours. You leaned down, placing your hands either side of Bucky’s face, lips colliding once again. Your hips quickened the pace as Bucky began to thrust up into you. The knot in your stomach was tightening once again, you gasped into Bucky’s mouth as he began to thrust harder and faster into you. Suddenly he pulled out of you completely and you whimpered at the loss. He repositioned you so that you were on all fours and he was knelt behind you. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but was the best he could do whilst missing an arm. He pushed himself back into you and set a punishing pace, his hand gripped your shoulder as he pulled you to meet his thrusts. You screamed as you once again neared the edge. “Doll, touch yourself. Please.” The desperation in his voice made you obey immediately. Your fingers circled your swollen clit, your walls starting to flutter. Pleasure overtook your body and you fought to keep yourself upright as your legs began to tremble. You shouted out Bucky’s name as you reached your high. As your walls clamped and pulsated around him, his thrusts became sloppier. He chanted your name before releasing himself inside you with a grunt. After a final few thrusts he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled your flat against his chest, lowering you down onto the bed.

Both of you were covered in a film of sweat, panting as you tried to catch your breath. Bucky placed tender kisses to your shoulder before nuzzling against your neck. “I love you Buck” you whispered as your eyes began to close from exhaustion. “I love you too Y/N.” Bucky wasn’t sure if you heard him or not as he heard your breathing change and drift off to sleep, not even bothering to untangle yourself from him. Carefully as not to wake you he removed himself from you and awkwardly got himself out of bed. You didn’t stir as he cleaned you up or has he curled up behind you. For the first time this week Bucky allowed himself to fall asleep.

------------------------

The mood in the morning was sombre. Even Steve had an air of sadness to him when he arrived for breakfast. None of you spoke, just occasionally sending a half-hearted smile at one another. An hour later the three of you headed down to the lab. Bucky held your hand tightly the whole way there and was reluctant to let to when King T’Challa offered his hand to shake. “Sergeant Barnes, are you sure about this?” Bucky seemed to doubt his decision for a second but then he looked at Steve and then at you. “Yes.” His eyes never left yours as he replied. “Let’s just get this over with.” King T’Challa patted him on his shoulder and nodded his approval. “I’ll give you all a minute.” Both himself and Shuri stepped out of the room leaving just you, Steve and Bucky. “I’m proud of you Buck.” Steve gave Bucky a bear hug. Bucky leaned in and whispered something inaudible in Steve’s ear to which Steve nodded before they broke apart. Your bottom lip was trembling as Bucky stepped closer to you. “Doll, please don’t cry. If you cry I want be able to go through with this.” You nodded before burying your head into his chest, arms clinging to him. He kissed the top of your head delicately. You tilted your head up to his and kissed him. It wasn’t a heated kiss but it was filled with everything you wanted to say. The door opened and Bucky prised himself from you.

You watched as Shuri closed the door to the cryogenic chamber. Bucky’s face was still visible from inside. He looked directly at you and mouthed “I love you.” You smiled back at him “I love you too.” Shuri turned on the machine, the sound of the cold air being pumped into the chamber. As your knees began to buckle a strong pair of arms circled you and held you upright. The tears that had been threatening falling cascading down your cheeks. Steve held onto you tightly, already keeping the promise he had made to his best friend moments ago. When Steve finally released you, you glanced back to look at Bucky. A fresh wave of tears formed but you took comfort from how peaceful he looked, as if he could be sleeping. You didn’t want to leave him but couldn’t find it within you to fight Steve as he led you away.

-------------------------

The next three months flew by. The civil war in Wakanda had started and ended with little warning. Instead of leaving, when it was suggested by Shuri, you had immediately offered your services as a nurse and helped tend to the wounded and even doubled up as her lab assistant during emergencies. It was the least you could do really, the hospitality you had been shown during your stay was incredible. Steve had left to go and rescue Sam and the others from the Raft. He phoned you every now and again to check on the progress with Bucky but you got the sense that it was to check up on you too.

You were sat by the lake just by the hut T’Challa had provided for you when your thoughts were suddenly interrupted. “I told you I could fix him.” You turned to find Shuri strolling down the hill towards you. “You mean it’s done?” She grinned back at you. “Of course, it was simple really. We need to wake him up to be certain though but all of my analysis says it should have worked.” It was almost too good to be true. Shuri turned and started walking back up the hill. “Are you coming? I don’t think Sergeant Barnes will be happy if he wakes up and you’re not there.” You nearly tumble over in your rush to catch up with the Princess. The butterflies in your stomach making you feel sick.

Shuri switched off the machine and you watched nervously as Bucky’s eyes blinked open. She opened the door and you walked towards him. Shuri took his hand as he stepped out, a little unsteady on his feet. You placed your arm around his waist for support and helped Shuri lead him over to the bed and got him to sit on the side. “Y/N” his voice croaked. “Hi, I missed you.” You picked up his hand and held his palm to your cheek. For a couple of minutes, you just looked at one another, taking in every last detail.

“Sorry to interrupt. How are you feeling Sergeant Barnes?” You lowered Bucky’s hand but still held onto it. “Fine, just a little cold. Did it work?” Shuri nodded. “We won’t know until we try to say the words. I have them here I just need to get someone to read them whilst I scan your brain.” Bucky’s face fell slightly. “I’ll do it.” Shuri nodded but Bucky looked at you in horror. “Doll no. I don’t want you to seem me like that. Plus, you can’t speak any Russian.” You stepped back and looked at him dead on. “You wouldn’t hurt me, I trust you. And I can speak Russian.” He looked at you confused. “You talk in your sleep, I picked up a bit and then learnt a little every time you went away.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Ok let’s do this Sergeant Barnes.” Shuri said lightly.

Bucky continued to argue as Shuri attached the scanner to his head and scowled as she handed you the list. He insisted that you stand on the other side of the room which you agreed to. Shuri gave you the signal and you crossed your fingers as you said the first word. You watched as Bucky scrunched up his face and gripped the edge of the bed but it didn’t seem to have much impact. The next 6 words passed in a similar vein, no reaction, not indication on the scanner of any abnormal activity. You paused briefly. “Come on Y/N keep going.” Bucky growled at you, eager to get this over with, wanting to get the disappointment out of the way. You said the last three words and studied Bucky. Shuri was smiling and raised her fist in the air in celebration. But Bucky didn’t seem wholly convinced. “Say them again Y/N but one after another.” You followed Bucky’s command, not taking your eyes off of him.

Bucky opened his eyes and saw you watching him nervously. He then turned to Shuri, not wanting to celebrate too early. “It’s official Sergeant Barnes, I’m a genius. No sign of electrical activity at the trigger words. I would say you are cured.” A grin spread across his face, his features losing every last bit of tension and worry. Shuri removed the scanner and left the room. You walked towards him, tears of happiness in your eyes. He pulled you so that you were standing in between his legs, your hands on his shoulders. “I love you Y/N.” Dipping your head down, you pressed your lips to his. “I love you too.” Bucky wiped the tears from your face with his thumb and rested your forehead against his. “I’m all yours doll. If you still want me.” You drew back from him to look into his blue eyes. “Always. Just as I am yours.” In that moment as you looked at the man you loved with your whole heart, you felt complete. Everything was exactly how it should be. Somehow you knew that you could take on any challenge the world might throw at you as long as you were together.

Taglist is open so let me know if you want in

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 , @silentcoyotesong, @queenofstarliqht, @buckys-henley, @lonelyheartsm @alexa-lightwood-blog

#bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky angst #bucky fluff #bucky smut #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #civil war #marvel #marvel fanfics #avengers #steve rogers #birthday celebration

111 notes · View notes

lilianaswhatever · 5 years ago

Text

A place in the sun

Oh well, here is my contribution to the Tyler Rake fandom. Thanks to @givemeabite for the inspiration! I also listened to “A place in the sun” by Engelbert Humperdinck which gave me major Tyler vibes.

Tag list: @alievans007

Summary: You broke up with Tyler because of his reckless behavior but you just couldn’t get over him.

Warning: Mentions of blood, swearing (it’s just one word but still), and angst.

Pairing: Tyler Rake x Reader

Word Count: 3013

You were in the line at immigration and had your passport in your hands, ready to be next in line. When it was your turn, you stepped to the counter. The question that you thought about the whole flight then came: “What is the purpose of your trip?” The answer you gave to the immigration officer was simple: “I am here on vacation.” A smile rounded up your appearance as a normal tourist. The truth was you didn’t know why you were here. A part of you wanted to turn around and take the next flight home but the stamp came into your passport as if it sealed the deal. You had spent the whole day in an airplane just to get to Sydney. So instead of getting a ticket back home, you proceeded to board your connection flight to Broome International Airport, located in the Kimberley. After finally arriving at your destination, you were just happy to have solid ground under your feet. You got your luggage and went on to search for a cab. During all the time you had alone with your thoughts you came to the conclusion that you would make it your purpose to at least have some kind of vacation no matter if you would see him or not. But as soon as you stepped outside the airport into the dry heat of Australia your phone buzzed. ‘Nik’ was all you read on your screen, which caused you to sigh. You looked around to see if you could make out someone suspicious watching you -she had her tipsters everywhere- before you answered the call. “Hello Nik.” “(y/l/n). Where are you?” “I am pretty sure you already know, or you wouldn’t have called.” “Alright, I knew as soon as you stepped foot on the ground in Sydney, but I thought I would grant you some time to get settled.” You shook your head at that, waiting for a cab with your luggage in hand could hardly be classified as getting settled. “What do you want, Nik?” You opened your handbag searching for a pair of sunglasses to shield your eyes from the afternoon sun. “Are you up to work?” “Depends, I am technically here on vacation.” “And you picked Australia? More specific the Kimberly region?” “It is as good a place in the sun as others. Look, Nik, I gotta get going. Call me again in case you got something. Bye.” But before you could hang up you heard her say: “He is at home,” followed by the silence of the disconnected line.

- Time skip -

You spent three days in a hotel before you decided you needed to see him. So, you rented a Jeep and started navigation to the middle of nowhere. You carefully folded the small piece of paper with his scribbled address and put it into your jeans pocket. The paper showed clear signs of having been crumbled up and thrown away many times before, but you always fished it back out of the wastebasket and kept it after all. It had been almost a year since your last mission together, which ended with you leaving him in the rain at a small private airport near Tijuana. You had always asked yourself if you wanted to see him again, but the question which nobody could answer for you was if he wanted to see you. It was hard not to enjoy the beautiful landscape that passed by although your thoughts were racing, and your heart was restless. Back then you let your head rule thinking it would shield your heart from greater pain. But it never healed. Tyler was the ghost that haunted you wherever you went, no matter where you had run to, emerged in gun fire or sitting tight in a stake out somewhere in the harsh winter of Russia, he was always there with you – at least in your thoughts. You turned into an unpaved road which lead you to a small settlement. You passed by small houses, a bar and a store until you left the village behind. You had debated with yourself to stop at the bar to get a drink thinking the alcohol might soothe your nerves, but you needed to keep a clear head. You reached the coordinates as you pulled up in front of a little house secluded from the rest of civilization. Your heartbeat was fastening as you turned off the motor. It was almost dark now and a part of you still doubted if this was the right choice. It wasn’t too late to turn around and your hands were still on the steering wheel, grabbing it hard enough for the white in your knuckles to show. But you came all the way and you would not pull out now although you weren’t even sure what you expected from your visit. The only thing you knew was that you couldn’t get Tyler out of your head. You got out of your car and walked towards the small home, which was a nice way of saying a pile of wood and metal. You came to a stop on his front porch and closed your eyes while taking a deep breath before you eventually knocked on the door. But nothing happened, not even the slightest sound could be heard from the inside. A nudge on your leg ripped you out of your sudden sadness and you looked down to see a dog. “Hey there, little buddy. Do you know if Tyler is home?” You asked while leaning down to pet the doggo. And as if he had understood you, he raised his paw to scratch at the door. “Ohh, you live here?” You made the decision to not give up now and almost on an instinct you begin lifting up every flowerpot in hopes to find a key. You knew that Tyler had a habit of drinking a little too much, and you were right, under one of the pots was a key. He had probably left it there in case he forgot where his own was. You shook your head at this careless behavior by the mercenary but that was typical of him. You opened the door, letting the dog in, before stepping into the darkness of the house. “Tyler?” You called out his name to announce your presence. But only silence answered you. The thought that Nik might have been wrong crossed your mind before you quickly discarded it. If someone knew his whereabouts, it would be her. Maybe it just shouldn’t be. You turned around again, ready to leave, but in this moment the door opened, and Tyler appeared. Just like that he stood there. You haltered in your movement and for a moment the two of you just looked at each other. “Tyler, I…” But you got stuck with your explanation because he suddenly collapsed onto the ground. You and the dog were by his side in an instant. “Tyler, are you alright?” A grunt was his only answer as he tried to get up, but he immediately needed to lean against the wall to remain standing. “Come here, you have to sit down.” You wrapped an arm around his torso and pulled him off the wall. His heavy weight rested on you and you had trouble even getting him to his bed, which was the closest thing you could find to let him rest on. This reminded you so much of the past, only this time he was not nearly bleeding to death. You tried to gently place him on the bed, but he plopped down like a sack of potatoes. You went back to the door and found the light switch. You could only hear a groan in the back as a reaction to the sudden brightness. You then filled a glass with water and brought it to his side. Tyler had already sunken into his bed and had his eyes closed. Now the light laid bare the reason for his current state. He had a cut on his right eyebrow and his nose was bloody and his shirt was torn. But what concerned you way more was that blood now stained his sheets. So, scratch what you thought before, this definitely was a lot like some of your last encounters. You grabbed his hand, the source of the blood flow and looked at his palm. A gaping wound greeted you. “This needs stitches,” you concluded. “I’m fine.” An annoyed sigh escaped your lips. “Where is your emergency kit?” and before he could even start to debate with you, you added: “Tell me now or I will turn your house upside down.” “Nightstand.” He vaguely pointed in the direction beside his bed and you went over there and opened the drawers. At first you couldn’t find anything despite some pill bottles and other things. Only at the last drawer you finally laid eyes on the emergency kit, which turned out to be an oversized yellow lunchbox container. You opened it up and relief washed over you as you saw that most of the things you needed were still there. As you lifted the kit out and wanted to close the drawer a familiar picture caused you to pause. Your fingers gently picked it up and you stared at the faces of Tyler and you. He had his arm slung around your shoulder and was grinning at the camera while you looked at him with a loving expression. A pain went through your heart not only at the sight of how happy you once were but also as you saw that the side of the picture was burnt away and a black ruffled edge replaced what had once been the view over the mountains of Mexico. Tyler turned on the bed and you quickly put the picture on the bed before coming back to his side. You needed to tend to his hand first and then you would take care of his face. “Can you sit up?” He did as he was told for once and you went to his sink to fill a bowl with water. You cleaned his hand and disinfected the wound. But the blood was still flowing so you needed to work quickly. You sat down beside him and placed a cloth on your leg. You grabbed his hand and got to work, carefully stitching him up. Once in a while you looked at his face. His eyes were pressed shut and his jaw was clenched but these were the only signs of his pain. Now that you were so close to him you could clearly smell that whatever had caused his injury was probably to blame on alcohol and a bar fight. But the alcohol in his blood would at least numb most of the pain. “What are you doing here?” he mumbled as you cleaned off the blood from the now closed wound. “I am on vacation.” Despite not really answering his question it was also a lie. “Looking for a place in the sun, ey?” Another of those countless sighs left your lips. “She told you.” “I thought you wouldn’t come.” Now you looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in a year. His eyes were still bright blue but to your disdain they still carried the same amount of pain as the last time you looked into them. You turned your gaze toward the emergency kit and drenched some cotton balls with disinfectant and dabbed them onto the cuts on his face which caused him to close his eyes again. You slowly placed your free hand on his cheek to support his head as the last blotches of blood disappeared. Nonetheless, he would have a black eye in the morning, you were sure of it. His skin was hot under your touch and his stubble scratched your palm. You brushed your fingers past the scar he had above his eyebrow and a nameless dread filled you deep inside. You let your hand linger a little longer than necessary. Suddenly you felt like you were back in a shabby motel somewhere in the middle East, patching him up as one of your missions turned out badly. It was a habit even before the two of you became involved with each other. How often you had been in these situations you couldn’t say. You physically shook your head, trying to rid yourself of those sentimental thoughts. “So, I am finished,” you stated before you distanced yourself while grabbing all the blood-stained utensils. You stood up and looked for a trash can in his kitchen. “Thank you.” “No worries, that’s what friends…” you stopped yourself mid-sentence. Did you really just want to say that’s what friends are for? You had been something more than friends before but now you weren’t even friends. You just let it go and left the sentence unfinished and washed your hands. The blood was slowly running down the drain. “I should go,” you uttered. “You just came.” He sounded exhausted and it almost pained you to disappoint him, but you just couldn’t relive the past. “I know but this was a mistake. I am sorry.” “So, you are just leaving? What were you doing here in the first place? And I don’t buy the ‘place in the sun’ bullshit, in case you haven’t noticed.” His voice was strained with anger and it sounded like he had regained his strength just to confront you. “You haven’t changed at all, Tyler.” You started to dry your hands with a kitchen towel, rubbing harder than necessary. You fixed your gaze on the darkness outside the window. You couldn’t look at him for what you wanted to say, afraid that otherwise you couldn’t pull through. “You know this is why I left. You just throw yourself in some situation that could get you killed. You don’t even care. I love you but apparently that was never enough for you. You still threw yourself in front of every bullet that came flying your way. And every time we were not together, I feared that I would get a call from Nik saying that you are dead in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, I don’t know what I am doing here, I don’t know why I came. I just…for some fucked up reason I can’t let you go. But I also can’t live with the thought that you go off on a mission and decide that that’s it.” Your chest was rising and falling as you tried to compose yourself again. “I am still here, am I not?” his voice was so near, and you turned around only to find him standing right behind you. You leaned against the counter to have some space, but you imagined that you could still feel the heat of his body radiating off him. You realized that what he said was true. He was still here, and that years’ time was lost. Time you could have spent with him. You were so afraid to lose him that you hadn’t realized that by pushing him away you lost him. “I think I need a drink now.” You brushed past him to his table where you poured yourself a drink, not caring what it even was. You walked back to the bed, not sure of what to do next. “Quit walking away from me, would you.” He exclaimed before heaving himself back to the bed. “Hmm.” Was all you had to say to that, but you still went to sit next him, turning around to grab the picture of the two of you that was laying on the bed behind you. You placed it on your lap and proceeded to pull the piece of paper with his address out of your pants to place it beside the picture. “Guess we both couldn’t bury the past.” A sad smile rested on your lips as you looked at the two remnants of your love. “You love me?” he suddenly asked. “What?” Now you were confused. “Earlier, you said you love me and not loved.” Realization hit you. You couldn’t believe that he caught that out of everything while being drunk. “That doesn’t matter.” You glanced down at your beverage, rotating the glass in your hand. “It does because I love you, too, (y/n).” Your eyes began burning from tears you couldn’t spill. This whole time you thought that love just wasn’t enough. But it had to be enough, at least for the night. “Did anybody ever tell you that you think too much?” You huffed out a quiet laugh at his question “Yeah, you, many times. And you…” you looked at him, the words being stuck in your throat at the sight of him. You couldn’t imagine being separated again. You felt too weak to run away again, the strength you had minutes ago had left you as soon as you sat down. He chimed in, placing a hand on your cheek: “... and I don’t think things through, I know. That’s why I need you.” His eyes travelled from your lips and you caught your breath for a moment. He leaned down to kiss you, but he paused just before your lips could meet and asked: “Will you stay?” You nodded your head slightly. It was all you were capable of before you closed your eyes and welcomed his lips pressing against yours. As you two separated he raised his fingers, tracing the side of your face. A smile lit up his face and the pain in his eyes seemed to have subsided, at least a little bit. You always loved his smile, which was a stark contrast to his usual brooding expression. You knew that when he looked at you like that you would fall for him over and over again. His smile turned into a grin before he said: “I think I sobered up quite a bit but tell me you love me again in the morning.” Maybe you found your place in the sun.

#tyler rake x reader #tyler rake imagine #tyler rake fanfiction #extraction fanfiction #extraction imagine

226 notes · View notes

piracytheorist · 4 years ago

Text

A Kiss for Good Luck (7/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3) Warnings: This chapter contains mentions of character death and descriptions of past child and domestic abuse.

Word count for this chapter: 4.9k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 7: Emma Swan, October 19th 2011 – October 24th 2015

Emma's senses register very slowly. She first realizes the guy is tasting like rum, and then that he's already pushed her, gently, back.

"I thought it would be a quick kiss," he says and looks slowly up at her. "I have a girlfriend."

"Shit. Sorry."

"'Salright. Go pee."

"Yes. That. Thank you again."

Relieving her bladder and splashing cool water on her face bring her a bit back to Earth. Did she just try to make out with a stranger – one who apparently is taken – because he gave her his turn to the bathroom?

She looks at herself in the mirror. Somehow, though she splashed water on her face while completely forgetting she has make-up on, it has stayed intact, not even a single smudge from running mascara.

She may be drunk off her ass, but she's a good-looking drunk. She smiles at her reflection.

She straightens her back and prepares to unlock the bathroom door when a loud, sharp BANG erupts from outside. The music is still loud inside the club, but Emma can hear people screaming.

Her hand freezes over the key. A shooting?

Some long seconds pass by before a second BANG is heard – and with that, a man screaming. She looks at the window. It's too high to see outside, but it still carries the sounds pretty clear. The people inside are screaming in fear. The man outside is screaming in pain.

Finding some composure, Emma takes her hand away. There's a mop in the corner, and she takes it in her hands. It's not much of a weapon in this situation, but it's better than nothing.

Eventually, the screaming calms down and Emma hears ambulance sirens. By now some people have gotten out, so it's too loud to hear if the probably injured man is still there, or even alive.

A loud bang on the bathroom door and it's Emma's time to scream.

"NYPD! Are you alright in there?"

Emma unlocks the door and opens it. An officer with a bulletproof vest on is looking at her, gun at the holster.

Her alibi provided by locking herself in the bathroom – and the two surprisingly sober people who were waiting outside – is solid, so she's the very first to be allowed to leave. She learns that someone shot a woman in the chest, killing her almost instantly, then shot a man in the hand. She's advised to be careful and not stay alone, but it's not as if she has someone to accompany her.

However, she immediately finds a cab, having a smooth ride to her hostel.

She hears about the shooting on the news the next day, when she gets back to Boston. There are no leads about the killer, though they say he didn't act alone. The injured man is in no danger, but he was a couple with the deceased woman.

The guy she kissed... he mentioned having a girlfriend. And she didn't see him anywhere around after the shots – though she doesn't really have a perfectly clear memory of how he looked like.

Tears fill Emma's eyes. She wants to blame them on the thought that the chance of losing people she loves just like that is another reason why she isn't opening up to anyone, but it just doesn't feel a good enough justification for her crying.

She doesn't want to be cooped up in her apartment for her twenty-eighth birthday, but without any company her main choice is clubbing, and the memories of hearing the shots and the man screaming in pain are too raw, so she contents herself with blowing a candle on a single cupcake with the audacious wish to not be alone.

Tired from a busy workday, she lies in bed, checking her phone one last time. She sees Ingrid has contacted her on Facebook, and she stares at her phone for three minutes straight, having a hard time believing it.

Ingrid says she has been trying to get a visa for years now, but her criminal record especially regarding entering the country had been a big hindrance. A few days ago, her application for a 90-days visa was accepted, and she's asking Emma if it's okay to come see her.

Emma all but bursts out in sobs. She only decided to make a Facebook account a week ago, but Ingrid has been trying to get in contact with her for years, even though she knew there was a chance she may never be allowed in the country again.

She realizes she's too emotional to answer her now, and there's still a part of her that may regret the elated "Yes!" she wants to send back. She turns her phone off and sleeps on that thought.

Her emotions are still reeling from the possibility of seeing Ingrid again, finding out why she'd immigrated illegally in the first place, how she's been doing all this time... how much she's been thinking of Emma. But she still tells her yes, providing Ingrid stays in a hotel and not with Emma. At least not yet.

Ingrid arrives only a week later. Half of Emma wants to meet her at their designated rendezvous the next afternoon; the other half wants to greet her at the airport, perhaps even give her a lift to her hotel. It's the same half that feels guilty she didn't offer her to stay at her place.

The second half wins this round. From the distance, Ingrid looks exhausted and much older than Emma had expected her to look, but when she spots Emma her whole face lights up and she nearly drops her bags.

Fuck it. Who cares anymore. Emma runs to her and hugs her tight, and at once she's eleven and has just learned that that wonderful person is adopting her and giving her a forever, loving home.

"I'm so sorry, Emma. I'm so sorry for everything."

Emma is already crying, and so is Ingrid. Even in the arrivals section that's full of people reuniting, they look out of place. Emma feels a surge of cold when Ingrid pulls back a little, but Ingrid just places her hands on the sides of Emma's face and stares at her.

"Emma, Emma." Her voice is shaking. "You're all grown up. And I wasn't there for it."

"Shut up." Emma hugs her again, knowing that people are starting to stare now, but she doesn't care.

"I should have been more careful... you shouldn't have been left alone like that."

"It was because of my lost passport, wasn't it?" Emma pulls back, but she's not angry, and she's careful to not let Ingrid misunderstand. "When we contacted the embassy in England, to get me new papers so that I could travel back, they looked into your case."

Ingrid nods. "It's not your fault, honey. I should have... I..." She sighs. "I've got so much I want to tell you, and I can't get it out!"

"It's okay. It's okay. How long are you staying?"

Ingrid sniffles, wiping away her tears. "I haven't bought return tickets – yet. I can stay eighty more days, though, as long as my ESTA lasts. That's why I contacted you right as I got it, and why I came so soon. I didn't want to miss any day I could have spent here."

Eighty days. But then she'll have to go back. "Then there's enough time. Come. I'll drive you home."

"Home? Emma-"

"Nope. Forget the hotel. You're staying with me."

The next day, after Ingrid has had her rest and Emma has made them hot cocoa – her mug with cinnamon, Ingrid's neat – Ingrid begins her story.

"At first it was five of us. My parents, me, and my two younger sisters, Helga and Gerda. I might have been the oldest, but my love for my father had blinded me. I thought it was normal to get a beating for every little mistake we made. For every time the food wasn't tasty enough, for every time the house wasn't clean enough. He never did any housework himself, but he demanded it was kept pristine. Otherwise, he would hit us.

"My mother was an only child, her parents died before we were born. Our extended family was all on my father's side, and of course, most of them were just like him. It took me years to even consider that what was happening to me wasn't normal, or okay. Both of my father's brothers were policemen. Both their wives were miserable and distant, in every family gathering I can remember them at. Both of them disappeared at some point. I later learned that the one was dead, probably by her husband's hand. The other one had escaped him and fled the country.

"I got that idea myself before I even learned about her. I thought that, when I would turn eighteen, I'd have enough pull to take my mother and my sisters away, and somehow keep us safe."

Her face turns pensive.

"I didn't get the chance. My mother died one month before I turned eighteen. I panicked, I knew for sure that it was my father, making sure we'd never leave, and I was right, and his plan worked. I blacked out, got depressed. And he got worse. With three women to burst out on instead of four, the beatings got more often, and more serious. I ended up in the hospital three times. Helga and Gerda, once each. And every time, the cop who would ask us if our father ever acted on any 'suspicious' behaviour would be a friend of one of our uncles. We couldn't say anything.

"Until I woke up. That time is... hard." She sighs, the memory clearly upsetting her. "I don't remember much of it. I just remember father beating Gerda badly. She was only sixteen." She shakes her head.

Emma wants to tell her that details aren't necessary, but she knows Ingrid needs to let some of that out.

"I grabbed an old radio and hit him in the head. At the time, I thought I'd killed him. Me and Helga picked up Gerda and ran. We managed to hide for a few days, taking care of Gerda's wounds until she could walk and run, and then we tried to cross to Sweden. They found us... we had been wanted for assault and murder attempt. Murder attempt! We were running, and Helga tripped. Gerda wanted to go back for her, but Helga screamed for us to run. And then they shot."

She covers her face with her hand, and Emma's tears fall.

After a long silence, Ingrid continues. "I knew Gerda was running with me, but I barely felt her presence there. We managed to cross the border, but none of us felt any relief. For three months we were in the streets, pick-pocketing, eating off of garbage, shoplifting a few times..."

Emma looks away. Like mother, like daughter?

"Then we found someone who promised us fake passports. He promised us safe passage to the United States. At the time, it was like a gift from God, Emma. But I made Gerda swear not to follow me if they caught me. But I passed over safely. It was Gerda who was caught."

Emma's jaw drops.

Ingrid smiles. "She was okay. She was deported back to Sweden, and I don't know how she made it, but she did. She got married and had two beautiful girls, her Elsa and Anna. But all those years, until I was deported to Norway, I had no idea..."

"Your father?"

"He died four years after we left. I didn't even care to find out how. I've mostly been in Sweden all this time, reconnecting with Gerda."

"I'm so glad you found her."

Ingrid nods. "When I came here, my contact actually managed to find me a job and someone to teach me English, good enough to pass for a local. I worked hard, stayed in horrible apartments... but you know, it was the '80s. The more time passed, the better it got. I supported fundraisers for domestic abuse victims. I let victims stay in my tiny apartments until they found a safe space. And never... I could never share my full story." Her voice breaks. She sniffles, recovers, and continues. "But I wanted more. I wanted to help someone, and see for myself that they did well. Emma... you were not an experiment, I want you to know. I loved you, and I still do. I wanted you to be happy, I wanted you to have what I didn't have." Her voice breaks again. "And I messed that up. I left you alone, you had nothing, no-one... I failed you."

Emma shakes her head, more tears falling. "You tried. And yes, it sucked. But you changed my life. You have no idea how big it was, how better you made my life because you were there for me. I don't know where I would be if it weren't for you."

They're both crying now, and Emma is the first to hug her.

It takes time. Emma isn't ready to share everything that's happened to her, but she's still glad to have Ingrid back and know she had a very good reason for the things that eventually led to Emma being alone. And, after all, she did search for her. That's huge.

"My aunt, the one who had 'disappeared', found me a little after I was brought back and helped me. We didn't even know each other that well, but we knew each other's pain. A little more than a year after that I located Gerda. With my father and most of the side of his family dead, at least the older ones who shared his stance, it was easier to search around. I couldn't leave the country yet, so Gerda took her family and visited me in Norway." Her eyes tear up again.

What could it have been like, to not have heard from her in nearly twenty years, not knowing if she was dead or alive...

"It was... okay. But I still thought of you. I didn't know what I could do, I was nearly broke for years after I went back. It's only the past four years that I managed to make some money, and all of them were being saved for this exact trip. I will come visit you again, Emma. I don't know how soon I'll be allowed back, but I'll try my hardest. I know you don't need me anymore-"

"I do. I missed you. You have no idea how much."

She smiles sadly. "Perhaps I've got a clue."

She does stay eighty days, which go by way too fast, even with Emma using up her sick and vacation days to spend time with her.

It's the first time since Ingrid was deported that Emma has someone to spend Christmas and New Year's Eve with. It's even bigger for her, considering that Ingrid chose Emma and didn't go back to celebrate with her family.

January goes by too fast, and then Ingrid has to leave.

"I'll visit you in Norway first chance I get. I want to meet your family, too."

"The rest of my family," Ingrid says. "I will wait for you. I'm not perfect with Facebook, but I'll try to keep contact every day."

"Ask Elsa, or maybe even Anna, to teach you next time you meet. They're teenagers, they'll know."

And then she has to say goodbye, and it's too soon, but for the very, very first time, it's a goodbye she gets to say. And it's amazing, how less painful it is, now that it's out there with the promise of a reunion.

The next morning she takes an early walk before work and finds a ten dollar bill on the street.

She looks at it dumbfounded. It's the first time in probably ten years this has happened, and when she walks into her favourite coffee shop, she's still staring at the bill in her hand.

She has a coffee and a big piece of cake, courtesy of the found bill. As she's enjoying her treat, a young woman with bright red streaks in her brown hair sits on the chair across from Emma as if she was just invited to do so.

"Hi," she says all too casually. "Don't freak out, there's just this guy I'm trying to catch and it'll look less suspicious if I pretend to sit with company here." Her tone, facial expressions and hand movements are full in the game.

"What do you mean, 'catch'?"

The woman leans forward. "I'm a bail bond agent. There's a guy I'm trying to catch, and I got word that he comes into this coffee shop quite often. I'm just trying to- speak of the devil." Without changing her expression a bit, she tells Emma, "Don't turn around. He just got in."

"Is he dangerous?" Emma shivers.

"No, no, he was just arrested for some tax fraud." The woman's expression turns serious. "Are you alright?"

Emma's hands are shaking, and the question is out before she can consider it. "Is he gonna be armed?"

"I don't think so. In any case, stay down."

That's it, Emma thinks. The shooting in New York City. Emma lowers her head and leans it a little to the side, managing to get one small glimpse of someone walking towards them.

"Is that him?" Emma says.

"Yes!" the woman says excitedly, exaggerating for cover.

Then the man is right next to her.

"Excuse me," he says, and Emma bites her lip as she looks up at him. "I don't remember seeing you around here. Are you a new customer?"

Emma holds back her surprise. Is he trying to hit on her?

She just shrugs.

The man offers his hand. "My name's Walsh," he says.

"Damn right it is," the other woman says, and with a swift movement of her hand, a handcuff is placed around his wrist.

Walsh looks at them both like an idiot.

"Thanks for making my job so much easier," the woman tells him. "And thank you, too." She winks at Emma, then takes a handcuffed Walsh outside.

Emma sighs, staring at her coffee and half-eaten cake as her heartbeat returns to normal. She knows that this very reaction is different from her panic at first. She turns to see the woman push Walsh into the backseat of a car.

Emma smiles. That was actually exciting.

Her boss is lost in thought all day, so Emma's shift goes pretty smoothly, as boring as retail is. On her way home from work, she walks past a police station and runs into the woman from that morning.

"Oh," the woman says, smiling wide at Emma. "My good luck charm!"

"Your what?"

"You have no idea how long I've been trying to catch that Walsh guy. He may not have any serious felonies under his belt, but he's elusive as hell. And I got a pretty good bonus for him too."

"Oh. Sounds good."

"And it's all thanks to you! Come on, would you like a drink?"

Emma stares at her.

"Oh, no, not in that way," she says and laughs. "Just as a thank you for your help." Her smile is earnest now.

"I didn't do anything."

"You brought me luck. That's worthy enough of at least one beer. And you behaved very bravely at the sight of a potentially dangerous criminal. I think you deserve a relaxing night out."

Normally, Emma can't afford such relaxing nights out. And the woman seems nice. "Okay," she says.

"Great! My name's Ruby, by the way. I know a place around with the best homemade onion rings."

Emma's mouth waters. Ruby has no idea what she just unleashed. She only hopes she can restrain herself in front of her favourite snack.

Ruby is really fun and kind. She doesn't ask any too deep questions that might provoke painful answers, and Emma has one of the best nights out in a while.

She realizes that, not counting her little time with Ingrid the past three months, she hasn't actually had a girls' night out. Not as an adult, at least.

"I'm not kidding, though, when I say you were pretty brave with Walsh. Some people freak out completely. Not that that's bad, but..." she says and looks at Emma, raising her eyebrows.

"But?"

"You know, there are never enough bail bond agents out there. Especially in a city as big as this."

Emma lies in bed that night, mind too full of thoughts to sleep. Ruby went through all the details of her work, and Emma absorbed it all. But, she has done time �� not that she felt ready to confess this to Ruby.

She may have the guts to do that job, but probably not the ideal past for it.

Two weeks later, she's outside that same police station waiting to go with Ruby for drinks. Perhaps it's time to talk to her about whether her past would pose a problem to her becoming a bail bond agent.

She thinks she sees it too late; a car, losing control and going straight for the pregnant woman a few steps away from her.

Emma doesn't think; she runs forward, somehow manages to gently push the pregnant woman aside and then jump onto the running car's hood, rolling over the roof and down onto the street.

People are running to them. A man is shouting someone's name, worried. Then Ruby kneels down next to Emma.

"Emma! Are you alright?"

She is. She didn't even scrape her palms while falling down. She stands up, moving every limb and checking for any pains.

"Is it the adrenaline?" Emma says. "I feel fine!"

"You must be the luckiest chick on Earth," the car's driver says, also checking her for any injuries.

"You... you pushed my wife aside," a man says, coming closer to her, side-hugging the apparently unharmed pregnant woman.

"I- I did that."

The woman steps forward and hugs Emma tight. Then suddenly, people around them are clapping. Clapping at her.

She does go into a bit of a shock; David Nolan, the expectant father, takes her to the hospital to check her out for any internal injuries. Mary Margaret Nolan, the expectant mother, sits next to her on the back seat, holds her hand, and can't stop thanking Emma again and again.

Ruby is in the passenger's seat, talking to David, and it's only then that Emma realizes they're in a police cruiser, siren on and all.

After a full examination Emma turns out to be fine – not a single bruise. Once again, hearing the good news, Mary Margaret pulls her into a squeezing hug.

Encouraged by her unusually good luck, Emma tells Ruby about having done time. Ruby just tells her that David owes her big.

And by a week later, she's a bail bond agent.

Next month, she's staring at her bank balance, unable to comprehend having so much money available to spend however she likes.

At this rate, she'll be able to afford a trip to Norway in less than three months. And she does. She sees Ingrid, meets her sister and nieces, and for the first time since Neal left her she allows herself to just relax and enjoy the moment.

It's still not easy. Gerda's English isn't the best, and more than a few times Emma assumes Gerda doesn't like her, and her heart nearly breaks. It takes a lot of reassurance from Ingrid, but by the time Emma has to get back, she's already friends on Facebook with Elsa – Gerda says that Anna will get an account after turning eighteen as well – and they all promise each other that they will meet like that again.

On her flight back Emma gets a window seat facing north and gets a stunning view of the aurora. She hears the flight attendants say how they've never had sighting of it in the very few hours of dark the north gets in the middle of summer.

Emma can hardly believe it. How did luck decide to be so nice to her?

She can't even imagine something sullying her trip, but as she thinks that, she starts worrying that her bad luck will strike again.

It doesn't. Her job goes well, she gets a better apartment with a much kinder landlady, Ruby becomes her first friend in years and David and Mary Margaret invite her for dinner every Sunday, despite having a very loud and time-consuming infant.

The baby is always sleeping soundly every time Emma visits, and when he does wake up he's calm, surprisingly so according to his parents.

Emma lies in her new bed, on her brand new anatomical mattress, and thinks how it all started because she found that ten dollar bill on the street – the first of many that came later, if she's honest – and decided to treat herself that morning.

As luck would have it. Perhaps it was all a matter of positive thinking.

She grows closer to Ruby and the Nolans and, combined with Ingrid's surprise visit, her twenty-ninth birthday is the first in twelve years that she doesn't celebrate alone.

She starts crying when they sing her the Happy Birthday song. Against all odds, her wish from last year actually came true, in the most unexpectedly heart-warming way.

From that point on, it's only better and better apartments and all holidays spent with either friends in the States or family in Norway.

During one more return trip, she realizes how she can actually afford all these trips now; a dream she couldn't even imagine before.

Her thirtieth birthday is celebrated in Norway; her thirty-first, back in the States, and for her thirty-second, she decides to gift herself and Ingrid something they'll both love; tickets to the Scorpions' 50th Anniversary Tour in Maidstone, England.

Ingrid tries to stop Emma from paying both their plane tickets, but Emma is not having it.

A small part of her remembers what happened after their first and last trip to England, but it's too small a part to stop her from organizing the whole trip.

If Emma is honest, it's one hundred percent Ingrid's fault that Emma loves the band so much. It's one of the things she passed on to her without even trying.

The concert is amazing; even though they have first row tickets, they have lots of space to dance and jump and enjoy the whole concert.

After the concert is over, Emma is waiting for Ingrid a bit farther away from the portable toilets, when she hears someone humming the melody of No One Like You next to her.

"Catchy tune, huh?" she tells him.

"Oh, which one isn't?" he answers. "What a night."

Emma nods. He's definitely a local. "Did you have fun?"

He makes a grimace. "A lot of people stepped on me, I got groped, pick-pocketed, and I got in a fight with my... friend, but you know what?" He shrugs. "Bloody worth it."

"Oh, sorry that you were mugged."

"Ah, it was like, twenty quid. I've known better than to carry credit cards where hands can easily reach."

Emma realizes she had almost everything on her, including her passport. But everything in her belt bag is intact.

"Do you have a ride back home?"

He looks at her, and his expression turns shocked for a moment. "Bollocks. I overshared, didn't I?"

"I mean, I have a car, and space for two... how many of you are there?"

He seems to recoil a bit, raising his hand to scratch behind his ear before putting it back inside his jacket pocket. "Don't worry. We've got a car. And we going right back to Brighton, anyway."

"Oh." Emma pauses. "I don't even know where that is."

The man smiles. "Figured so. From your accent."

Emma smiles back. "I'm Emma," she says, extending her hand.

"Killian," he says, getting his hand out of the pocket and shaking hers. She barely notices that his other hand stays in the other pocket even after his right hand drops to his side. "So... you know that they're actually having a few concerts in the States for this tour, right? How come you decided to fly all over to here?"

"Well, today... or more like, yesterday," she says, checking her watch, "was my birthday. This was more like a birthday gift to me, and of course I'm going to see them in- What?"

He is staring at her with his jaw dropped. "You're not kidding? Tomorrow- or, today, is my birthday."

"Wow. Happy birthday, then."

"Happy birthday to you too. Seems it was a great one."

Emma sighs happily, looking back at the now empty stage. "I'd say one of the best ones." She then turns to him. "Does your birthday seem promising?"

He looks at her; his eyes and his smile soften. And she actually feels butterflies in her stomach.

Wow. It's not like she's been denying herself much, but this look... she takes a step forward before she realizes it.

And he leans towards her.

"It seems that way, aye," he says, still smiling.

Oh, damn him. They both close the distance between them, and his lips are on hers.

(A/N: It has happened! They have officially met! Rejoice! But prepare for the next chapter; you know what's coming. Emma spent those four years being lucky, so Killian... >:)

Also, Scorpions did have a concert in Maidstone in 2015 as part of their 50th Anniversary Tour. It took place in July, but I took some creative liberties with the date for this story ;) )

#Emma Swan #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #I want y'all to know that we haven't even reached the middle of the total word count #there are still like #80 more pages in the doc #piracytheorist writes

18 notes · View notes