#you managed to partially take me out of my very bad mood today and for that i am grateful 😌

[loserboyfriendrjl]

r u mine by the artic monkeys <3

dorcas to/about marlene, definitely. i'm a huge fan of arctic monkeys, btw, so trust my judgement </3 /j

"I'm a puppet on a string" <- literally the effect that marlene has on dorcas. she's got her wrapped around her finger and everyone knows it. she can play dorcas any way she wanted to, and they'd let her. the feeling is reciprocated, and this devotion and implied trust (because it takes a lot of courage to open up to someone, to show not just the beautiful, but the ugly and bruised as well) to each other was sort of what made their relationship hold on so well, even during the war.

"She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space / In my mind, when she's not right there beside me / I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be" <- i do not know how to describe it but the first line is marlene. also, dorcas is definitely the kind of person who would ditch everyone just to hang out with her girlfriend, and the only place where they could be in forever and never get bored of it was next to marlene.

"And satisfaction feels like a distant memory / And I can't help myself / All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?" / Well, are you mine?" <- these lyrics are giving enemies to lovers, honestly. the second lyrics, to me, implies sort of a... not wanting to always think about a certain person, not wanting them to be yours, which in dorlene's case seems right, seeing the fact that they were in opposing houses (my headcanon) and academic/quidditch rivals. they had always hated each other, so why were they falling in love now? also, the "are you mine?" is obvious.

"I guess what I'm tryin' to say is I need the deep end / Keep imaginin' meetin', wished away entire lifetimes / Unfair we're not somewhere misbehavin' for days / Great escape, lost track of time and space" <- this part of the song makes me think of their need for escaping from the war, and the third line really encapsulates that. wanting to misbehave and push each other out of the routine that had both been created for them and had been created by themselves too, wanting to run wild, knowing they didn't have much time left.

"And the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways" <- this lyric makes me think especially of the period when they bordered on both love and hate. "the thrill of the chase" being wanting to let the other know more, but at the same time, pushing each other away in order to be mysterious, to still leave secrets to discover; after all, where's the fun in knowing everything?

[littlexdeaths]

maybe taking steve’s closing shift wasn’t such a bad idea after all…

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

warnings: smut 18+ ONLY! robin is a ride or die bff baby, dom!eddie, little bit of brat!reader, semi-public sex, dirty talk, praise kink, pussy slapping, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, cum eating

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

a/n: thank you all so much for the love on this series so far!! seeing all your comments has made me so excited to keep going. and shoutout to both @take-everything-you-can and @inourtownofhawkins for letting bounce some silly name ideas off you. 💕

eddie’s promise of later didn’t come.

and you can blame the entirety of that on your brother.

while eddie had managed to sneak in your room later that night, he very quickly had to bolt before he got more than his lips on you. the male had barely managed to crawl out your bedroom window when sid barged in looking for him.

thankfully he bought eddie’s excuse of being out for a late night cigarette, but how many more excuses until he stopped believing them?

you both knew you had to be a lot more careful if you were going to keep this up. which also meant less time with your boyfriend if your brother was around.

so to say you were frustrated was the understatement of the century.

and when you had to sit across the kitchen table from them both that next morning, acting natural was harder than you cared to admit. your brother picked up on your foul mood almost immediately, which mirrored eddie’s.

“you two woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” he laughed, stuffing his face with some eggo’s.

but sid doesn’t realize the subtle truth behind his own words, which further fuels your irritation. instead of saying what you really want, you just roll your eyes before quickly finishing your own breakfast.

“well if you hadn’t barged into my room at the ass crack of dawn, maybe i would’ve slept better.”

you don’t let him get the last word before you stomp off to your bedroom.

it was saturday, which was the first of three evening shifts you’d have to cover for steve. part of you was extremely annoyed for agreeing to it in the first place, but there was no taking it back now.

saturday’s were the one day that you could spent with eddie without the presence of your overbearing brother, so that was partially why you woke up in such a terrible mood. but your attitude only persisted throughout your shift, despite robin’s best attempts to cheer you up.

“not even the charismatic powers of johnny depp in leather and denim can cheer you up, color me shocked.” she deadpans, glancing up at the tv screen and then you.

throughout your shift she’d put on all the johnny depp movies family video had to offer. but as much as you loved cry-baby walker— even he had his limitations.

“sorry robs, just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

but you both know it’s more than just that.

while robin doesn’t push you to talk about it, she definitely had some idea of what’s going on. perks of being best friends with both you and steve. so when you took your last break of the night, she took it upon herself to look up eddie’s number in the system and give him a call.

so you’re a little confused when you come back to a nearly empty store, the sorry we’re closed sign up in the window and your boyfriend leaning casually against the counter.

“uh… hi.”

it almost sounds like a question.

“don’t look so happy to see me, sweetheart.” he chuckles, pushing off the counter and closing the few feet separating you.

“no— of course i am! i just… what are you doing here?”

“well, a little birdie told me you had a bit of an attitude today. thought maybe i could be of some assistance.” he teases, before taking your face in between his palms.

and you practically melt under his touch.

as angry as you want to be at robin for prying into your personal business, you really can’t be. not when she essentially just hand delivered your boyfriend to you.

“now miss, there’s a certain… film i’ve been dying to rent. think you could help a poor guy out?”

that is how you ended up behind the emerald curtain of the adult section of the store, your back pressed against his chest as he railed into you from behind.

“is this what you needed to fix that little attitude, sweetness? just needed me to come take care of you, huh?”

you nod, whimpering pathetically as you grip harder onto the shelf in front of you. accidentally knocking numerous copies of dirty films to the floor with each hard thrust of his hips.

one of his large hands grips onto your hip, rings digging into the flesh there as the other rubs harsh circles over your swollen clit. your shorts and panties are scattered amongst the porn flicks, with his pants and boxers just barely shoved down below his knees.

you can feel him everywhere, fully stretching you out on the base of his cock. it’s all consuming and overwhelming, but everything you needed at the same time.

but your lack of response has him gradually slowing the pace of his hips, and the fingers that are rubbing your clit disappear.

“need you to answer me, sweetheart.” his lips graze over your ear, which pulls another whine from your throat.

that response has his hand coming back down, slapping against your throbbing clit with a wet smack.

“come on now— use your words, pretty girl.”

you gasp at the feeling, which earns you another slap.

“— yes yes yes! i need you, eds.”

you all but sob and his answering chuckle has you squirming his grasp, “see? now was that so hard?”

you find yourself moaning in relief when he starts thrusting into you again, barely able to stutter out a soft response to his question. but it’s better than nothing, because his calloused fingers are back to rubbing your clit.

“there’s my good girl, knew she was in there somewhere.”

you practically preen at his praise, and the wet schlick of his cock sliding into you is suddenly much louder in the small space.

“god, you’re fucking dripping, baby.” he grunts.

your grip on the shelf tightens, the wood creaking beneath your fingertips.

“— c-cause of you.”

he hums, snapping his hips even faster into yours. but the way your walls continually flutter around his cock, signals your quick finish.

“shit, shit, shit… hold it for me, okay? need to look at you, sweet girl.”

you want to cry when he slips out of you completely, but you have no time to complain before he spins you around to face him. his large hands cup under the back of your thighs, your own gripping onto his shoulders as he lifts you. using the shelf behind you for leverage, he slides back into you with ease.

his pupils are blown wide, practically swallowing the brown of his irises as he takes you in. and you’re not fairing much better, the glassy look in your eyes reflects in his own. he quickly builds up to the same pace as before, but his thrusts are almost deeper now. each stroke hitting a spot inside you that has you loudly keening in his embrace.

“that’s it— good fucking girl, let it all out, baby.”

your fingers slide up from his taut shoulders to tangle themselves in his wild hair, tugging until his lips are on yours. he groans into your mouth, hips stuttering as he nears his end.

“shit, come with me. come with me,” he all but growls.

you let one of your hands fall between your bodies, circling over your sensitive bud with a newfound urgency. but the feeling of his cock twitching inside you is what finally sends you over the edge, crying desperately into his mouth when he spills inside you.

eddie’s pleasured groans almost completely encompass your own, the male continuing to work you along his shaft until his thighs start to shake from the excursion. while his hips still, he keeps himself buried to the hilt inside you and playfully nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

you both stay like that for a while, basking in your post sex haze. he only untangles himself from you when your breath has returned to a normal pace and you can feel his warmth beginning to drip down your thighs.

eddie gently sets you back on your feet, a look of utter fondness crossing over his features as he gazes down at you.

“you should’ve brought your bandana or something,” you laugh softly, gesturing down toward your legs. “i’m all sticky now.”

he just grins, his curls bouncing when he shakes his head, “no need for that, sweetness.”

and then eddie drops to his knees, pushing your hips back against the shelf as he tongue darts out. the plastic cases creak in protest beneath his weight as he licks and sucks the mess he made from your overheated skin.

by the time he’s done your thighs are trembling from overstimulation, and your chest heaves as he helps you back into your clothes. the male presses a few more tender kisses to the tops of your thighs before he returns to his feet, now clutching one of the discarded tapes in his hand.

you can’t help but raise a brow when he looks down at the tape, then back up at you with a boyish grin.

“so, can i still rent this copy of throbbin’ hood?”

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks @munsonhoneybaby @alagalaska @creative1writings @missmarch-99 @stolen-in-moonlight

let me know if you want to join the taglist!

[nonbinary-octopus]

Our apartment staircase is missing a handrail. It's sort of got one, but only on the lower half and it's the kind that's more "don't fall off" than "don't fall down". There ought to be one on the other side against the wall, and going all the way up, for actual support.

In our discussions before moving in, we were told it should be installed by the time we moved in

it was not. the reasoning was that apparently our desire for it to be a proper length (as the ones in our previous apartment had not been, ending too soon on both the upward and downward sides) combined with the stairs not being split into two smaller sets of stairs, meant that sourcing a long enough handrail was proving difficult.

They had it on order at Lowes! we were told. It just isn't here yet!

For three and a half months, we were told this. Today I went to enquire again, and was told that, alas, their vendor has an order at Lowes for this and other stuff, and Lowes isn't gonna deliver it until the whole order is ready, and it was supposed to be ready a few weeks ago but hasn't been yet...

I mentioned that one of my roommates fell the other day, at the top of the stairs because there isn't even the partial support railing there. Fortunately, my roommate is uninjured, but we'd really like to avoid that happening again.

And I asked for a date when we could expect a railing.

The manager hemmed and hawed a little, really can't predict when Lowes will deliver, but! She'll call the head maintenance guy and see if he can get one from one of the apartments that's currently empty ("as a stopgap?" I asked. "until the full size one gets here?")

Half an hour later, he’d arrived to badly install it

first thing he said to me was "how'd you manage to fall?" which is a great start, heavy sarcasm

He was going to put the railing at about shoulder height, until I pointed out that it was way higher than the other rail, at which point he looked at me and said in a you're full of shit and I hate you voice "you want it that low?"

yes, I said, because that side was at a reasonable height

so he lowered it to just above that, no checking beyond eyeballing it and asking me in a very impatient tone if it was about right

he would've attached the middle support at a height that would've put the top at about ankle height if I hadn't pointed out it was nowhere near parallel. At this point I was thinking "If I were doing this, I'd measure, and also check where the studs were," but he was very clearly in a bad mood and wouldn't take that suggestion well (he's never taken feedback well, even when it's very helpful such as "you're caught on that thing." He'd rather struggle on his own I guess. or in this case do an extremely negligent lackluster job)

so I resigned myself to fixing it later and watched him finish putting it up poorly

It's still not parallel, by the way. I measured after he left, and the bottom is four or five inches higher (relative to the steps) than the top. It's also still higher than the other rail.

and it doesn't reach the top of the stairs either. In the last apartment, at least the railing ended at the end of the steps (for proper support it should extend beyond the top stair a bit). This time, it ended two or three steps down.

also the screws holding bottom support piece to the wall weren’t fully in, and a gentle tug on the railing was enough to pull them out entirely.

and I didn't take a picture of this, but one of the screws in the top support was just placed in a hole, not doing anything whatsoever. I watched him realize this and leave it there.

So, after he left, I took some pics to document how shittily he'd slapped the railing onto the wall, and then took it down to reattach properly later today. Honestly the way it was attached was more of a hazard than not having one at all, so it’s not staying like that even temporarily

[mchlgayser]

𓂃⭑ᜊ: SASS ft trent alexander-arnold

𓂃⭑ᜊ an: HELLO! Okay first of all, this idea just kind of popped up in my head but I'm not complaining! Lol I came up with such a great idea *maliciously laughing*

𓂃⭑ᜊ content warning: cursing and bad actions

𓂃⭑ᜊ: @iwritesjud3's masterlist

It was a hot sunny day, a well-perfect day to ruin your mood. To sum up the matter worse, you had promised your boyfriend you would come to his match today, not that you always don't but since you got your ticket booked late you couldn't manage to get the v.i.p benchers.

Not that you mind but ever since you and Trent publicized your relationship to the world and media, many of his fans hadn't take you seriously, you are a rising model star, fame and money are your mid name but what made the fans not very much fond of you is your poorly attitude and nastiness.

I mean, come on you are not that rude and vicious but due to your career, you are always with your resting bitch face 24/7. And nasty? Yes, you are a bit sassy, and you give rude remarks to rude interviewers but that's it, you are quite friendly to your fans but of course, it's the media that always point out your flaws. But do you care? No, you don't give a fuck.

Your relationship with Trent has always been sweet and nontoxic, those who know you both would say that you both have the perfect relationship anyone could ever ask for.

You are always in your 'I don't give a fuck' mode but today since you know you won't be able to be in the v.i.p you should at least lay low, not to attracts attention from his horny fans.

Right now, you are dressed in his jersey with a pair of jeans skirt that stopped right above your knees, you wore a pair of sneakers and even wore his grey cap and a mask. You didn't bother to wear makeup, partially because you wears a mask. You get your purse bag and a few important essentials and left afterwards.

You arrived at the place already on your way to your seat before you accidentally launch with three girls who are also on their way 'Hey watch it!' The brunette yelled, her other friends helping her as she accidentally poured some of the carbonated drink on her jersey 'Sorry,' you apologized, already marching to your seat but she pulled you back, intentionally dropping your cap and ruining your messy ponytail and your hair let loose, you gasped in disbelief 'Hey!'

'Oh my God! Are you who I thought you were? Y/n L/n?' She laughed while her other friends joined in 'God, it is you!' You take off your mask 'What if I am, Gosh just give me back the cap!' She throw it away to the crowds and snickered 'Oh looks like it went missing, sadly you gotta go and search for it.'

'Yeah no shit, the cap went missing just like your father did.' She gasped 'How dare you?!' You throw her one nasty look 'And please, what's the different between your father and your hairline? None, both missing.'

'And you, you got a stink and tangled hair like you bath rain puddle. And you, your laugh sounds like a hyena who just recovered from asthma. You should've thought twice before coming here and roasting me, you bunch of horny hoes.' You sassed, rolling your eyes at them

'And this is why you got so much hate on social medias, I wonder what Trent sees in you anyway! You are so rude!'

You give her a sarcastic laugh 'Who? Me, rude? You started it and please, it's people like you who would crumble down when you get a little hate on the internet, I don't give a damn about what other people said and what you did you said? What does Trent see in me? Probably something that you can't afford having, so peace out whores.'

She went blazing mad, eyes fuming with anger, her two other friends are embarrassed enough that so many people are eyeing them and whispering 'Just so you know, once this shit got viral, I won't be the only one who got the hates, you three will too and as for me it was something that I used to. So I hope you booked a therapist just in case you got depression or something.' You gave them one last look and left for your seat.

-

The match ended with Liverpool winning the game, you are more than happy that your boyfriend got to prove himself again by doing amazing assists and scoring one goal against the opponent team. He found you as soon as the match ended, he mouthed and motioned you to meet him after that and you did.

He was smiling when he sees you, inviting you in for a long and warm hug 'Okay, to be frank, I saw you fighting with three of my fans.' You groan in frustration 'You just had to mock me!' He chuckles wrapping an arm around you to caress your back 'Someone recorded it and it went viral rapidly! They got your convo from a to z.'

You broke the hug and crashed one brow at him 'Really? So it's like my name is clean now innit? I mean I wasn't in the wrong at all!' He laughs harder, pressing his face to your neck 'Multiple people praised you for your quick remarks! I assume they liked it!' You snort 'They better be!'

trentupdates

❤️🚀💬

3,475 likes

trentupdates model @yourusername is spotted on trent's game tonight, she was caught on camera fighting with three fans

view 497 comments

fans1 what she did was 100% reasonable, they were harassing her when she absolutely did nothing wrong

fans2 I love her more for calling them out like that

fans3 replied the dad ones tho 💀💀

fans2 replied ...honestly serve them right

fightingfan2 @fightingfan1 this is all ur fucking fault

[pbandjesse]

I just had some carrot cake and i absolutely did not need that and now I am entirely to full. I have to stop doing that!!

I actually ate really well today and it was all great. Even if it was mostly fast food. I just really had a good time even if I was worried about not having a full day off before my cruise. Today would still be good.

I slept fine last night. It wasn't amazing but it was good. Waking up was hard but James was there. And after I got up and got dressed I was gathering my last things and we were getting Crabcake breakfast. And then all of a sudden there was a huge calamity in the kitchen when a glass storage jar full of sugar fell off the fridge and shattered on the ground. It was so loud! James was very upset. But they would work on sweeping up the glass and I would get Crabcake fed and then would set up a barrier around the kitchen in the glass zone. And would send Ruby the roomba to work. I had her go around 3 times. Hopefully getting all of the small pieces.

We left to go to the farmers market. James was stressed about being late and I was like James it is okay. You don't start until 830. I won't take long to set up. Everything it fine and I love you and please stop beating yourself up.

James would help me bring everything over and I would set up and have a lovely conversation with Ann about Crabcake and camp and Ginny said I looked really skinny and good which was a really nice compliment. Though I think it's partially an illusion because I was wearing a tight jumpsuit and I usually wear baggy clothes. But I appreciated.thr compliment none the less.

I would have a nice, but slow, day at the market. I made $60. Not amazing but it's all good. I would sit and do the math and figured out that over the 9 markers I've done so far this year I have made an average of $185 a market. Which is awesome. So even when I have some slow days I am still doing so much better then last year. Feels really good. Feel like success.

I would buy a pepper and a tomato. James would come out and we would get baked goods. And I was just having a nice day. It wasn't to hot. It was a bit humid but my hair was looking good. I was in a nice mood. I was knitting. I was chatting with people. I was happy. I was having a really nice day.

I would finish my drink around 11 and was very thirsty. I would go inside for water and would get to say hi to educator Sarah. Was really nice to see her. I would hug James and go back outside.

The last bit of the market was quiet. I would have a nice conversation with Stanley about how you can be taken seriously by children without yelling and how it's a skill. I would also sell stickers to children and adults. It was fun.

At the very end of the market a girl who comes every week who makes jewelry asked to watch me pack up to see how I managed because she's in a wheelchair and would need to bring everything on the accessibility bus. She loved the folding table. I am so glad it's inspired so many others?! It's such a good design. And using the new one today was great. It is slightly longer then the wood one was. And I am really really happy with it.

I was ready to go pretty quick. I actually had my wagon this time so it was quick and then I was going to say goodbye to James.

And Meril was there! It was nice to see her and say goodbye to James. I had things to do!

I drove to Glen Burnie to drop off my bags of clothes to value village. Where the guy flirted with me about getting my number. I didn't 100% understand he was flirting at first "fill out this survey so I can get your number" but I got it when he did that up down eyeball movement to me. Silly silly silly.

I wouldn't shop today. Was proud of myself. I just paid off my credit card for the month and I spent more then I meant to buy it was cruise related so I don't feel to bad.

Instead I went to Taco Bell and got two tacos and some potatoes to add to it. And they were great. And then I headed home.

I had chores and things to do. And I was letting Sweetp and Crabcake in the backyard when Celia texted me and let me know she was downtown if I wanted to hang out.

So of course I said yes. And she would pick us up Indian food. And while I was not hungry I knew I would be sad if I didn't get Indian food. I love that we order the same thing with different spice levels. I was looking forward to her coming over.

I would look at my packing for a bit. And went to sit outside until Celia got here. And I was really happy to see her. We would bring the animals inside. Well Crabcake, Sweetp would take more convincing. And then we would have our Indian food and talk.

It was very very good paneer and naan. I was having a great meal and was enjoying the conversation. About people who annoy us and things happening in the world. Eventually we would move to the couch and takes about animals. And eventually we headed to the backyard.

It started drizzling but I wanted to prune the plants and then added some boxes for elevation. I am very happy with how it looks right now.

We also discovered that there are other fruit trees in the green space. Not just the plums I had a few weeks ago. We also have crab apples and possibly persimmons! We aren't positive because they don't normally grow here so they are not in sync with the normal persimmons life cycle. But we are pretty positive! Even the photo apps we used agreed. We also found a bee moth? It was really fun hanging out out there.

But eventually I decided I had been rained on enough. We came back inside and I would work on my fake stained glass while she showed memes. We discovered how to log into my WiFi using a QR code. We were having fun.

James would come home when we were sitting in the couch discussing Crabcake and his care. And I felt so vindicated that my research I did to care for him has been correct. Like I knew about his low protein needs. His temperature needs. His humidity needs. The care and love I have put into his enclosures. It's important to me to be a good person owner.

James would have to go do laundry. And me and Celia hung out for a little longer. Had a brownie. And then she was off.

And now as back to my projects. I hung a shelf and put more things away in the studio. It was hard work but I was proud of myself. I was getting stuff done. After bringing everyone inside again, after sweetp scared/upset the neighbors dog, I would head upstairs to continue to work on my packing.

It stresses me out how much stuff I am bringing. How many toiletries and such. But I know that I will be happy with these things. I don't feel like I will need anything. I really want to use my new duffle but if I wanted to use just one bag I would need to switch to my regular suitcase. Sad. Ah well.

When James got home they gave me all the underwear and the one outfit I needed. And I would get everything packed. It took a few packs and unpacks of the clothes. Which I am very comfortable with now. And of the stuff. Which still stresses me but also. I don't think I can cut anything else in good conscience. I packed well and I can be okay with that.

When we were both done our stuff we went outside to hang out the porch swing together. Eventually I was telling James that I wanted to paint a mural on the backyard. And I was like I want to paint that painting of the train and James is like "what are you talking about?"

I remember there was a painting with a train in it. And it reminded me of the cover of love in the time of cholera. A specific copy that I have. And we spent 10 minutes talking through what it was and different artists and possibly styles or time periods. And how to Google it.

We were trying to figure out the best way to phrase it for the search. We were trying. different phrases and we discovered that if you put the words 'art history' it'll get rid of all the AI generated art. And finally I was able to think of a way to describe it that did not focus on the train that I remembered being in the painting. And I was able to find it and I was so excited.

I remembered "train in the background. Courtyard. Tan building. Structure that is tan in the lower left corner." And would eventually Google "painting with train symbolism in background art history" and found a different angle of the same scene. And after clicking through that I found the original artist and the exact painting I remembered!! I was just so wildly proud of myself and my ability to find things. The painting was "The Soothsayer's Recompense" by Giorgio de Chirico. My memory was not 100% but I remembered the train placement and the texture and the structure in the front. I did not remember the correct location of the train but I did remember the arch way and I didn't remember the structure was a sculpture but I remebered the location and the color. I was just really proud of myself.

I would go inside soon after we did in that detective work. Had some more of the Indian food. Chatted with James. James took some wood material down stairs for me. And I would hang out upstairs. Eventually taking a bath. And then getting in bed to write this. But I am so tired now it's hard to keep my eyes open. And I have another full day tomorrow.

Because we are going to a street market! It's going to be a bit long. 10-5. Which I don't love but it's fine. I am sure it'll be fun. I'm doing a printing workshop and it is just really cool to be invited and paid. I should have given my rates before they made an offer but it's fine. Especially since I'm also vending. So it's all profit.

And James gets to be with me!! I am excited to spend the day working with my husband.

But now is time for sleep. I hope you all have a great rest and a great Sunday. I love you all. Goodnight!!

[dravidssideblog]

"Ayy, hey there darling."

"Don't call me that."

"I was looking for you. You seemed like you're in a bad mood today."

"Oh gee. How could you tell."

"Because you're my favorite, of course! You're grumpier than usual. I was thinking some touchy affection might be just the thing to make you feel better~"

"How selfless of you."

"Aw, thanks, I'm glad you think so! I'm even letting you choose what kind of affection you'd like!"

"Oh really? Is 'none' an option?"

"Yes! If by 'none' you mean 'I choose for you like usual'."

He rolls his eyes, then goes silent for a while, his gaze drifting down. He stands like that for a long time. I don't want to race him along, or he might just blurt out something bland and boring, but I think he might just be seeing how long he can stall-

"This way." He grabs me by the wrist and pulls me down the hall.

"O-ho, you're giving orders to me now? *tsk* A bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

I expect him to point out how I just told him to tell me what to do, but he ignores me, focused on speed-walking to our destination: My bedroom. He pulls me inside and shuts the door behind us, then climbs onto the bed and lies on his back, arms spread out. I follow him over to the bed, and he turns his head away. "... Come on, just... do it already."

"Do... what?"

His voice is a whisper. "Don't make me say it, you asshole..."

"Okay, while normally I'd love to force you to say something embarrassing, I genuinely don't know what you're getting at. This doesn't seem like anything I've done to you before."

"...... rub my belly."

It takes all my strength to restrain myself from laughing and teasing until he's red in the face, but I manage it. Partially because he's already red in the face.

I take a seat on the bed and, gently, run a hand over his belly. He's tensed up as hard as a rock, but with each stroke up, down, up, down, he loosens up bit by bit. Before long, he's soft and relaxed, my fingers sinking into him a bit. I switch to a circular motion, dragging my hand along with a bit more pressure, and I hear a noise from him for just a moment before he cuts it off. That's good, very good; his complaints are much louder than that.

I pick up speed, eager to draw more cute noises from him, but I hold myself back; he's been so reluctant to admit he likes this, if I push too hard too soon he'll jump right back into that thorny shell of his. I give him some time to adjust to the pace, then add in my other hand rubbing circles the opposite way. And just like that, another mumbled noise that he cuts short~

I fall into a nice rhythm of rubbing, giving me time to think. My touches with him are usually limited to headpats or petting down his back, an arm around his shoulder, the occasional hold or hug. But this... He's so vulnerable like this! His whole body at my fingertips, presented willingly~

As much as I want to exploit the situation, I'd be a fool to ruin this... But I'd be a sucker to just pass up the opportunity! I start circling one of my hands just a bit wider, reaching his chest at the top of its path. He tenses up, but it's mostly in surprise; he soon relaxes again, letting my hand feel over his chest with each loop across his body.

I want to push my luck further, but oh how high the risk is. I always act like I know exactly how he's feeling, but the truth is he hides it pretty well! I obviously can't just ASK him if he likes it, that would ruin both the mood and my image, and he probably wouldn't tell me anyway; he only speaks up when... Aha!

"Just tell me if I do anything you don't enjoy~" I say, brushing my fingertips along his side as my other hand circles around.

"Sh... shut up," he mutters.

Perfect; he can still talk, and he can still complain. I'll know if he dislikes it. Which means when I rub my other hand over his side with each loop, I should hear...

... Nothing~

Time to see just how much of my favorite plaything's body I can explore~

[dwindlebunnies]

Emotions rant

I'm having trouble feeling like I'm fitting in at my new job. I've been there since August, so it's not that new. And still I don't feel like I'm a part of the team - 4 librarians in an all-girls high school.

It's not that I can point to anything specific that they've done. And it's not that I expect to be great friends with them - they've all been there for between 3 and 8 years.

I feel like it's a nightmare for my ADHD - sitting still, switching tasks too quickly to get much work done. The tasks range in difficulty and importance, and I'm never sure with what I should ask for help and what I'm expected to do alone.

I was put in charge of all the library's displays without being consulted? Like I knew it was partially my responsibility, but now it's entirely my responsibility, and I had to find out about it from the other library assistant, probably about a week after my manager had the conversation with her. About me. When I had assumed it was a collaborative project.

That being said, it seems that the whole process still has to be run by everyone, even though I'll do the bulk of the work.

I'm on two weeks holidays starting today, and thank god for that. But, I'll be doing work on my holidays to prepare for a display I need to set up next week. I was made aware that they expect a display made on Ancient Greece - a photobooth and some kind of doorway piece - probably columns and a roof. I have virtually no budget and no materials with which to work. Luckily I'm an artist and craftsperson so I do have some things I can utilise. But I know even if or when I can pull off this project, I won't get any praise or thanks.

I keep thinking it's just an issue with communication - I don't take criticism well, and I'm used to trying to interpret signals to find out if someone doesn't like me. To me, the absence of warmth indicates dissatisfaction. But these women are just not very warm people, so I'm left either thinking they're always dissatisfied, or that they never are. I end up feeling so sensitised to how they're all reacting to me that any change in the mood makes me wary.

There's also been a few times where we've played a game of telephone - I've said something, another has interpreted what I said in bad faith and repeated that to my manager, and then I have to explain to her what happened from my own perspective, and it feels like she just doesn't believe me.

Like today, I was using a document my coworker had made. I was referencing the information she'd gathered to copy into an Excel sheet so I could sort that information in a way that made more sense to me. It's the information about what different subjects are studying, so I can base future displays on current class topics. The way it was laid out in the domcuent she had made was hard for me to read.

That coworker saw my computer and asked what I was doing, so I explained it to her. Hours later my manager confronts me and says I shouldn't be editing the documents. I told her I hadn't changed them. She then said that it's important that the integrity of the documents remain. I said I understood, but I didn't change them. She then kept saying why I shouldn't change them. I asked her if she wanted to actually see what I'd been working on and she declined. She said she could "go back and see the changes made" or something, like she either didn't hear me or believe me when I said I *didn't change them*.

After that, the coworker who made the domcuents said to me "you know I didn't dob you in, right?" and I said "oh. Yeah?" like trying to brush it off. Because I didn't want to keep thinking about it. She said "I just told (manager) what you were doing, I didn't tell her to confront you." but like. Telling her what I was working on *was* dobbing me in. That's exactly what that is.

Unfortunately this coworker can really easily tell when I'm upset and insists on pointing it out, which makes it way, way worse. I don't want to cry. I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I don't want to feel weak, incompetent, insecure, out of control. But I hate not being understood. I hate not being able to live up to people's expectations.

Often I'll hear the other librarians talking and laughing loudly in the back office while I'm working on the desk. This happens at least once a week but maybe more like every other day. I think about going back there and trying to join in, but I know I'll have no idea what they're talking about. And they might just get annoyed at me for leaving the desk unmanned.

I know I'm working hard, and I know I'm doing a good job. I think I'm doing really well in my role and I'm building good relationships with the students and other staff. I think I've helped more students find information, find books they like, access resources, feel safe. I think I'm good at this job. But that's never been even implied by my coworkers.

On days I feel awful, I try to be extra nice to the people around me. I know what's it's like to be treated badly by someone having a bad day, and I never want to do that. The days where I'm kindest are the days I'm in the most pain. But that's a lot these days.

I'm just glad I don't have to go back for two weeks. I don't know what to do. Does this sound like normal things for a new job? Am I overreacting?

[wakaoujisenhime]

Hi Hi could I request Kuroko, Kagamai, Akashi, Midorima and Murasakibara reaction to their s/o who's into photography and loves to take photos of them because they think their the most beautiful muse. They say things like "the light is hitting you perfectly please don't move until I take this picture." something like that lol

A/N: anon…this, THIS is a masterpiece of an idea and I love you for it (๑♡⌓♡๑) please enjoy! ♥️

Tags: the boys [KKMMA] x reader ✅ SFW ✅ fluff ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Kuroko:

ok so the first time you took a picture of him was during lunch break

since he usually likes to spend his free time in the classroom while eating his homemade bento, the moment you became a couple you’d always join him

one day you were a bit late because one of the teachers had held you up, so you quickly texted him an apology for your delay and told him you’d be there soon so he can start eating without you

when you finally arrived, you immediately proceeded to apologize but promptly shut your mouth as you saw the scenery before you

Kuroko was reading one of his many novels, his elbows propped on the very edges of his desk, bento box and chopsticks untouched before him, blue eyes fixated on the text before him

everything about this was perfect as is, but what really gripped you and made you unconsciously reach for your camera, that you always had dangling from your neck, was the way the morning sun hit his face casting an ever so small shadow that only further accentuated his beautiful and calm facial features

as if in trance you gently push the small button on top of your camera and the shutter goes off

surprised by the sudden sound he turned his head in your direction and wanted to greet you but you cut him off even before he uttered a single syllable: “Tetsu, don’t move! The way the sun hits the back of your head right now is perfect…I just need to take a picture so bear with me for a moment.”

the way you had your left arm outstretched to stop any of his movements while your eyes were hidden behind the small rectangular object didn’t stop your boyfriend’s light blush to spread across his cheeks

he wasn’t used to being the only one in a photo so that alone made him a little nervous and embarrassed, but your silent comments and compliments on how his hair looked even more remarkable under the sunlight or how his facial features managed to perfectly cast shadows on his face that made him look more mature made his heart race faster than any game

luckily for your lover, this situation showed him another side of you that he rarely got to see, and who was he to interrupt your adorable mumbling just because of his embarrassment?

.

since then you used any and every opportunity to take his photo, whether it was in Maji Burger as he drank his usual smoothie or when he waited for you in front of a fountain in the park where you scheduled your date

when he finally asked you about it you proudly announced: “I’m sorry, but I can’t help the fact that my lover is such an amazing model for basically any type of photo! I always thought that you were hiding your beauty beneath those bangs and turns out I was absolutely right!”

you continued showering him with compliments until he couldn’t take it anymore and shut you up with a gentle kiss

“If it weren’t for your keen eye, I could’ve continued hiding myself and avoid the other’s gazes”

“Do you hate being the center of attention that much?” you whispered out, your eyes directly peering into his own big ones

with a smile he gently caresses your cheek and answers: “Your attention is all I need.”

Kagami:

Kagami was aware of your fascination for photography, I mean how could he not be when every time the two of you were out together for different reasons, you’d always take your camera with you and snap a photo or two

what he wasn’t aware of though, was what or better said who the subject of your images was

every time you reached for your camera the lens was always aimed in his direction and it never bothered him, because he figured that you were taking a photo of the scenery behind him so he never bothered to pose, smile, or anything of that sort

one day though it made him wonder whether his presence might disturb whatever images you’d taken so the next time you aimed your camera he turned his head, looking directly into the object’s circular lens, and just as he was about to say something the familiar sound of the shutter shut him up

“Perfect…that might be the best one yet” you silently praised and smiled to yourself

W-Wait a second…

“(Y/N)?”

“Hm?”

“What did you just photograph?”

you looked at him with slightly wide eyes, confusion spreading across your face as you answered: “Why of you of course”

and that’s when it clicked

all this time you’d taken pictures of what he thought to be the nature and scenery but in actuality, it was him you’d focused on

“W-Wait! You mean to t-tell me that I wasn’t in the way of your photos a-and that you actually photographed–“

before he could finish his sentence he realized something else that made him blush even harder

Perfect…Absolutely breathtaking…I’m so glad that I took my camera with me…The lighting and wind make you even prettier…What tranquility and gentleness, I’m in love…You’re so beautiful

all these comments that he’d brushed off, thinking that they were some kind of weird quirk of yours that resembled his captain’s whenever he talked about his samurai series, now made perfect sense

when the reality of the situation hit him he couldn’t help but bury his face in his hands and grunt at his stupidness, meanwhile, you tried to wrap your head around what Kagami had been believing up until today

looking at him being that frustrated with himself made you chuckle, but it also made you feel bad since you never directly told him so you decided that now might be the best time

with a gentle smile, you once again raised the camera to your face, waited until his figure became the focus and blurred the background, and gently pressed down the shutter

the sound made the young man beside you flinch and ever so hesitantly glance up to you with a dreading expression on his face

after pushing some of the buttons you cozy up to your boyfriend until your shoulders touched and showed him the image you had just taken with a proud smile

“I’m sorry for not telling you about it, but if I shared the fact that you’re my muse with you, you probably would’ve never allowed me to take any” you reasoned as you looked into his eyes and observed the way his cheeks reddened the moment you called him your muse

“I’m your muse…?”

you nodded and showed him a few other photos that all showed him do average everyday things such as eating something, chatting on his phone, warming up, etc. and even though they weren’t that special, the way you managed to capture him, his expression, and even some of the background made them all look professional

“Taiga, you’re such a nice guy that you would’ve probably offered to be my model if I had asked you to, but I wanted to capture that raw beauty of yours, the one that you display on every basketball match and that was the only way to do it…or at least that’s what I thought”

you paused before returning to the most recent image

“Having you being aware might be better after all…just look here at the way your eyes sparkle and your posture, both tense and relaxed at the same time gives off the impression of confidence and a tinge of uncertainty, both summing up your profound character that I love so much”

listening to your explanation made his heart beat harder against his chest and to stop you from fawning even more he covered your camera with his big hand and murmured: ”I-It’s fine already…I get it”

after seeing yet another unexpected expression on your boyfriend’s face you tried to get another shot of him, but this time he tried his best to avoid you and the two of you ended up chasing each other around the park, attracting the attention of many fellow visitors, but to you, it was as if only Kagami and you existed

Midorima:

one afternoon during the end of basketball practice, you had joined your green-haired boyfriend with his supplementary exercises, observing him and the perfect way he shoots one three-pointer after the other

you’d asked him long ago whether it was alright with him to take his photo and despite the many protests he’d agreed under the condition that it happened during basketball practice

unfortunately, the way he played didn’t manage to ignite the spark you needed to snap that one photo you’ve always been hoping for, neither his skills nor his playstyle were to blame for that, there was just something missing that you couldn’t name

the way you sighed caught Midorima’s attention and made him stop mid-throw so that he could take a glance in your direction and when he saw the disappointed face you made it made his heart ache

“Is something the matter (Y/N)?” he suddenly asked as he sat beside you, towel in one hand and his drinking bottle in the other

you shook your head and tried to play it off, blaming your bad mood on one of your earlier classes and the complaisant boyfriend he was he let it go (also partially because he was afraid that if he prodded further you’d get mad)

out of the corner of your eyes, you could see how he took off his glasses and started cleaning them

and that’s when your heart throbbed

the way his long fingers carefully handled the fragile black frames, the skillful and cautious way he removed any speck of dust from the glass, mixed with the way some of his green hair’s strands stuck to his slightly sweaty forehead, and lastly his beautiful long eyelashes were what won you over

before you knew it, you had grabbed your camera and had taken a photo of his profile, the shutter’s sound startling both him and you

“D-Did you just take a ph–”

“Shush! Stay just like that!” you blurted out, your hand on his chest to restrict his movements and keep him in that exact pose he was right now

with a reluctant expression on his face, he avoided looking in your direction, hoping that you wouldn’t notice the light blush spreading across his cheeks, meanwhile you smiled to yourself at his futile attempt and once again snapped another picture…

.

thanks to that one coincidental photo you managed to take back then, you finally knew what you have been missing all this time, namely your boyfriend being himself and not the Midorima Shintaro from Shuutoku who never missed a shot

in order to achieve that “normality” you had to take as many sneaky shots as possible, but they unfortunately never stayed as secretive as you would’ve wanted them to be because he either caught you mid-photo or your own comments betrayed you

Just like that Shin, look more to the side!

Leave your glasses be, you’re even more beautiful without them!

Don’t touch your hair! The way it is right now compliments your face perfectly!

Even if you scowl at me, you still look good!

he’d always run up to you afterward, blushing at the entire situation and no matter how much he ended up protesting, scolding you, or trying to take the camera from you to delete the photos, he never truly was upset about it

the reason Midorima let it all slide was because he enjoyed the way you smiled when you looked at the images you’d taken

the way your eyes practically sparkled mixed with the slight flush of your cheeks made his heart race every single time

“Is something wrong Shin? You’ve been staring at my face for quite a while.”

embarrassed of being caught by you, he squeezed your nose and stuttered: “I-It’s nothing, k-keep looking at y-your photos!”

Murasakibara:

taking Murasakibara’s pictures wasn’t an issue, you simply asked him and he agreed with no resistance whatsoever

you were over the moon at first and even made sure to have your camera with you at all times so that when an opportunity presented itself you’d be ready

from a pedestrian’s point of view, you looked like a cute touristic couple which consisted of the somewhat bored boyfriend, who agreed to have his photos taken for your happiness, and you, who couldn’t hold the excitement of being together with this young man back while happily snapping one pic after the other

their thoughts weren’t that off from the truth, you truly were delighted to be able to practice your hobby, and even having the tall young man as your model made it even better

thanks to the amount of muscles he’d gained from his daily basketball training, his height, his beautifully long and purple hair, his constantly relaxed expression, and his surprisingly gentle facial features, your boyfriend was already photogenic as is so any photo you took was downright breathtaking

and yet, those fulfilling feelings were rather short-lived

as time went by and you shot one photo after the other you came to realize that you hadn’t managed to take a single photo where he genuinely smiled or grinned

getting him to do either was nearly impossible, even for you

all you ever managed to summon was a very loving and gentle smile that resembled that of an angel; it was so pure that you could read all of his emotions from it, but that smile was reserved for your cuddle sessions that always ended up with him almost crushing you with his embrace and his low giggles as the result to your mixed reactions

“(Y/N)-chin, let’s go over there and sit down…I can’t walk anymore”

you giggled and took his hand that he’d extended to you, following him to a bench that was protected by a couple of trees, which cast down a perfect shadow on the wooden surface

the young man plopped down as if he’d ran for hours without a single break and wrapped his big arms around your waist, burying his face in your tummy

his childish behavior made you giggle and you softly caressed his head

“Didn’t you want to eat your snacks?” you asked after a short while, only to receive a silent growl as an answer

“Let me stay like this for a while…please”

his cute way of pleading with you only broadened your smile, which turned it into a grin as soon as an idea popped into your mind

with one hand still on his head, you used the other to aim the camera lens at the young man’s head as you asked your lover to look up at you

it took him a short while to comply because he kinda had the feeling that you wanted to ask for yet another photo, but he ultimately gave in and cast his purple eyes up to you

still smiling you glanced at the small screen on your camera in order to make sure that everything was perfect when you subconsciously blurted out: “Everything about you is charming Atsushi, the way the wind caresses your hair, perfectly accentuating your gentle face’s features…I’m so glad to have you as my muse”

…

…

your eyes went wide as you noticed the change in his expression

his cheeks had taken on an unexpected shade of deep red, one that you’ve never seen on him before; his eyes were a bit glassy and maybe equally as wide as yours, and his mouth was slightly agape

“Wha-! What are you saying (Y/N)-chin?!” he screamed out and once again hid his face before you could manage to snap a picture of this rare expression

“Atsushi, wait don’t hide! Let me take a photo!”

your protests fell on deaf ears and no matter how much you struggled or tried to loosen his grip around your waist, his strength made sure to make all of your attempts futile

“I-If I let you see me like that…I won’t be cool in your eyes anymore a-and I don’t want that” he finally admitted in a low voice

it took you a short while to comprehend what exactly he was trying to say; and when you did you couldn’t hold your laughter in any longer, ruffled his hair, and kissed the top of his head, waiting until he had regained his composure and returned your affectionate gestures

Akashi:

having the famous Emperor as your lover was like a dream, but when it came to keeping things a secret you were at a clear disadvantage because this man read you like an open book

no matter how hard you tried to act innocent or clueless, he’d always be able to add two and two together and expose whatever you were hiding within a matter of minutes

same goes for your fondness of photography and the fact that you had your eyes set on him as your muse

one day when you visited his home the two of you were in the living room and he was playing a round of shogi against himself while you sorted your camera’s gallery

when you took a glance at the young man your heart throbbed

the soft light of the sun that managed to come forth between the many clouds of that day shone right at him; in order to block the light from disturbing his vision, he’d leaned his chin on his hand and let his fingers extend to the corner of his mesmerizing eyes; a soft smile adorned his lips as his left hand stretched out to move one of the many wooden pieces before him

you couldn’t help it and immediately proceeded to take a picture, successfully catching him off guard

“Did you take a picture of me?” he asked without shifting his line of sight from the board, a hint of amusement in his voice

“Mhm, I did…sorry” you apologized before sighing to yourself, “it’s just that you looked really beautiful and I thought it’d be a shame if I didn’t use the opportunity.”

being called beautiful was something he wasn’t used to, so as he heard that word pass your lips, he froze up and finally tore his attention away from the game, and now gazed at you with a warm smile

“You can take more if you’d like.”

“R-Really?”

and with that, he became your conspirator in your mission to take as many photos of him as your camera’s storage could handle

.

“Just like that Sei…look more to the lef- yes, perfect!”

you spat one command after the other as the young man before you held onto the reins of his gorgeous white horse and let his hand gently run along the animal’s head

after snapping a few more photos you looked at them in silence, an unusual scene for your boyfriend

“Is something the matter (Y/N)? Aren’t you satisfied with these?”

your head shot up and you violently shook your head, explaining that it was nothing and you were just lost in thought; even though he quickly realized that you weren’t telling the truth, he chose to keep silent until you were ready to tell him what truly bothered you

unexpectedly, your silence lasted longer than he’d hoped for and no matter how unique he tried to organize these little photo sessions you did, your mood never seemed to improve which frustrated him

when he saw you sitting on the couch all sad and unmotivated while you scrolled through your camera roll, he immediately turned around and went back outside to his garden to mull over ways in which he could help you out

so to distract himself, he picked up his basketball, started dribbling, and began perfecting his shooting

the sound of the ball hitting the wall caught your attention, causing you to get up and search for its source

when you opened the front door you were greeted by a similar sight as the one back when you’d first taken Akashi’s photo which made you smile

“Sei-chan, that’s what I was looking for” you whispered as you subconsciously took a photo of the exact moment where the young man jumped and gently threw the ball against the wall, simulating a layup shot

still unaware of your presence the young man wiped his sweat with his shirt’s collar and the moment he felt your arms wrap around his body he jumped ever so slightly

before he could ask you anything, let alone say something, you kissed his cheek and whispered: “I knew it…you’re always beautiful, but the moment you shine the brightest is when you’re being yourself”

moved by your words he turned around, returning your embrace and kissing your lips as he then proceeded to hide his blushing face and glassy eyes from you by pressing you closer to himself

[sunflowervolvimp3]

42 Hours

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

Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Word Count: 20k 

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

{masterlist}

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boring, you mean—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truce.”

(pt II)

[cafeacademic]

Marshal Commander Hardass

Pairing: Commander Cody x Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors dni)

Warnings: light degradation (use of the word cockdumb mostly), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex (wrap it before u tap it)

Word Count: ~3.4k

A little (and by little I mean several thousand words) something for one of my favorite Clone Commanders. This is one of several current WIPs, so it felt good to finally finish this one up! Hope you all enjoy lovelies <3

*Read on AO3* or under the cut!

You huffed as the door to the bar swung open and half a dozen clone troopers walked in. You were used to seeing a single soldier here and there, but a large, fully armored group meant trouble. Sighing, you excused yourself from the conversation you were having with a regular patron and returned to your place at the center of the bar.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you deadpanned, not at all in the mood to have to deal with the war today. Your planet had been lucky enough to stay relatively neutral, but the arrival of the soldiers reminded you how fragile that neutrality was.

“Good evening, miss,” the presumed leader of the group said. His armor was slightly different from other clone troopers that had stumbled across your bar in the past; his helmet was framed by an orange visor, and a rank insignia was affixed to his chest plate. “We’re looking for a man named Tost. Do you have any information about his whereabouts?”

“No,” you snapped, hoping to shut down the conversation. “If that’s all, I do have patrons to get back to,”

“Are you sure? Any information would be very helpful--” you waved a hand dismissively, silencing the trooper.

“I don’t know anything, and I don’t want to get caught up in this war. All it does is bring destruction to the planets it claims, and we refuse to offer ourselves up for annihilation on a silver platter,” you said impatiently. “So either order a drink or get out of my bar,”

The regular you were chatting with earlier snorted at your little speech, and a very drunk group in the back broke out into a loud cheer. You raised a single, challenging eyebrow at the soldiers.

“Come on, the General is probably waiting for us,” another clone spoke up from the back of the group. The leader nodded, not even turning to look at the clone who had spoken, seemingly too transfixed on you.

“You’re right, Boil,” he said calmly. “If you can think of anything that would be helpful to the Republic cause, please don’t hesitate to come to one of our outposts. Ask for Marshal Commander Cody, and I’ll see to it that your information is in good hands,”

You scoffed and folded your arms over your chest defensively. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,”

As the troopers filed out, you were sure that you could hear one of them swearing at you, but you chose to ignore it.

Later that night, when darkness had fallen completely and drunk patrons would fall off their stools every so often, two of the soldiers came in and tucked themselves away at a corner table. You grumbled a swear under your breath before walking over to the table and standing there, a single hand on your hip. The clones, now without their helmets, looked up sheepishly at you.

“I know you told us to get out earlier, but we’re not here for the Commander. We just want to unwind and have a drink,” one of them stuttered, obviously reciting a speech he had planned since before they walked in. You softened slightly as you watched the two men; it wasn’t their fault they were stuck in this war. Offering them a small smile, you took their orders and brought them their drinks, a little extra poured on top as a sign of goodwill.

“What’s up with them?” one of the men sitting at the bar asked you.

“Don’t know for sure,” you replied. “The whole squad came in earlier, asking for information. I get the feeling their commander is kind of a hardass,”

“Bet they just need to blow off some steam then,” the man said, and you nodded in agreement. With a sly look, the man glanced over at the troopers. “I’m sure you could offer them a much better way to relax,”

“You’re such a creep,” you deadpanned back, and the man laughed. “Besides, I don’t think clones are really my type,”

The door swung open with a clatter, and the orange-visored Commander stood in the doorway once more. You winced at the sudden loud noise.

“Is that Commander Hardass?” the man at the bar asked, and your grimace was enough to answer his question.

“Crys, Wooley, get back to camp,” the commander ordered, not even needing to raise his voice. The tipsy clones mumbled apologies and tossed a handful of credits on the table before shuffling out of the bar.

“What the hell!” you snapped at the clone commander. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“It was their turn for watch,” the clone said, sliding onto one of the unoccupied stools at the bar. The man you were speaking with earlier looked between the two of you, amused. “I’d like a drink. Corellian whiskey,”

“It’s after last call,” you lied.

“Since you won’t give me any information, the least you can do is give me a drink,” the commander said, taking off his helmet and setting it on the bar next to him. You stood there for a moment, simply taking the clone in. He somehow looked older than the other clones; perhaps it was just exhaustion from the war. His face was partially marred by a scar, but it only served to make him look more striking. It was the challenging look in his eyes, however, that made you pour him a glass of whiskey.

“So, you must be Commander Hardass,” the man at the bar said. You braced yourself for a fight, but instead, the clone just sipped on his drink, not even glancing at the other man.

“That’s Marshal Commander Hardass,” the clone replied. “But I much prefer to just be called Cody,”

“Well, well! We’ve got a big man in charge, here!” the man said, obviously inebriated. You glanced at the clock on the wall; it was probably time to start clearing everyone’s checks.

“I think you’ve had enough, hun,” you drawled to the man, taking his now empty glass away from him. “You should be getting on home,”

“Come on! I just wanted in on the fun!” the man protested, but Cody shot him a glare, and the man dropped credits on the bar and left without further complaint.

You went about your nightly duties of wiping down tables and clearing tabs, only having to break up one drunken argument before it turned into a brawl. By the time you were finished, the Commander was the only person left in the bar.

“Time to go,” you said, voice clipped. Cody looked up at you, still nursing his glass of whiskey. You couldn’t help but find yourself staring as an errant drop of liquid ran spilled over his lip and down his chin, trailing a path down his neck. You swallowed hard.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay and chat,” he countered, as if daring you to throw him out once more.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” your reply was weakened by the slight crack in your voice as you watched Cody grip his drink tightly. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly in his throat as he swallowed the whiskey, and your eyes traced over the movement.

“No more little speeches?” he taunted you. “I even went so far as to buy a drink,”

“I told you, I don’t know anything about the guy you’re looking for,” you said, a hint of resignation in your voice. “And if I did, I have no reason to trust you,”

“Your lack of trust certainly isn’t stopping you from eye-fucking me from across the bar,” Cody countered, and you blushed bright red. So he had noticed.

“I think you may be misconstruing my looks, Commander,” you tried to regain your blasé attitude, but it was no use.

“No, I think I’m quite right,” he said mildly as if he wasn’t laying all your dirty secrets on the table for him to peruse. “For someone who hates the war, you sure do seem to want a big, bad soldier to put you in your place,”

You gave up on trying to act aloof: “Hating the war and recognizing a good fuck aren’t mutually exclusive,”

A gloved hand fisted into your blouse and pulled you over the bar, and Cody crashed his lips into yours with so much force you felt your teeth clatter together. As you melted into the kiss, you weren’t quite sure if you had won your little battle of wills with the Commander, but at the moment, it didn’t seem to matter.

With surprising grace, Cody climbed over the bar and pushed you backward, framing your body by placing his arms on either side of you. He kissed you once more, less violent, but no less passionate. When you let out a soft whimper, Cody seized your moment of weakness and slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Mm, cyare, look at you,” he breathed out, and you felt your face get hot at his praise. One gloved hand ran over the curve of your hip and up the side of your ribcage, before dragging up the side of your neck and gripping your chin between his fingers. “Absolutely at my mercy,”

As much as you were sure you looked the part of a good submissive, eyes glassy and mouth slightly agape, you refused to give him the satisfaction of having won so easily.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Commander,” you taunted, dropping one hand to press against his codpiece. He hissed at the contact, even though it wasn’t direct, and you smirked.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Cody said darkly in your ear. “Don’t get in over your head,”

“I won’t,” you replied confidently, mustering up all your strength to keep your voice even, despite the way one of his large hands was kneading the flesh of your waist. “I’m quite sure that you’ll be a mess for me by the end of the night,”

It was like you had flipped a switch in Cody’s head, and any sort of softness he was holding onto flew out the window. The hand that was gently touching your waist soon captured your wrist in a bruising grip, and he pulled you flush against his body.

“Is there somewhere more private that we can do this?” he asked, and you nodded frantically.

“I have an apartment above the bar,” you managed to stammer out.

“Good,” Cody said, grabbing his helmet and dragging you up the stairs by the wrist. You followed along but made sure to walk slowly, just so he’d have to put the extra bit of effort into getting you there. As you resisted, his fingers tightened slightly in warning.

When you had gotten upstairs and into the bedroom of your small apartment, Cody finally released your arm. He dropped his helmet on your dresser and pushed you back onto the bed, kissing you again. You whimpered as he slipped a hand under your shirt, cupping your breast through your bra.

“Cody--” you gasped between kisses, but Cody only smirked and pinched your nipple roughly. You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, trying to press into his touch.

“No, no. Address me with respect,” he said, and you whimpered as he looked down at you. One of his legs slotted between yours, and he held himself over your chest with his free arm. All you could think of was how he looked over you.

“Commander,” you said in a mockingly sweet tone. Cody growled and kissed you again, this time trailing kisses and soft bites down your neck and jaw. The hand that had been covering your breast was now toying with the edge of your shirt, and you pulled back to let him take it off. When your shirt was discarded, Cody made quick work of your bra, and you had to hold back a moan as he looked at your now exposed chest reverently.

“See something you like?” you teased, but the dark look in Cody’s eyes shut you up immediately. He looked near feral, as if he was trying to stop himself from lunging at you right then and there. Involuntarily, a grin started to creep across your face.

“Something funny, pretty girl?” Cody said, reaching out and grazing his thumb over one of your nipples.

“You just look so eager--ah!” you were cut off as Cody took one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling the other between his fingers. You could feel him smirk against you as you continued to whimper, your breathy moans turning needy as he continued his work.

“You like that, sweet girl?” he teased, sitting back so he could watch your chest heave as you sucked in labored breaths.

“Cody, I swear if you don’t fuck me right now,” you said, but your threat had no force behind it. Nonetheless, Cody started to remove his armor, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re not very patient,” he said, one eyebrow raised.

“I’ve been known to be a bit demanding at times,” you said, pleased that you got what you wanted.

“The only thing you’ll be by the time I’m finished is a cockdumb little whore,” Cody challenged, and you swallowed thickly. He had finished taking off his armor and was now pulling his shirt over his head, and you tried to memorize the plains of his body as quickly as you could. The muscles in his abdomen flexed as he relaxed, and you couldn’t help but notice the thin trail of dark hair that crept down below the waistband of his blacks.

“See something you like?” he parroted back your earlier words. You nodded, and Cody smiled as he tugged you closer to him once more. His hands worked at the button on your pants, and before you knew it, he was shimmying the garment down your hips, leaving you in just your panties. With a gentle push, you fell back against the bed and Cody positioned himself between your thighs.

“You’ve soaked through your panties, pretty girl,” Cody said, tracing one finger lightly over your slit. You whined, trying to jerk your hips up for more friction, but he merely chuckled and placed an arm over your hips. “No, you’ll take what I give you,”

“Yes, Commander,” you looked down at him with glassy eyes, the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over you was almost too much. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long, because Cody pulled your panties to the side and dove in, lapping up the wetness you had already created before wrapping his lips around your clit. Your mouth dropped open with your loud moan.

“For all your bravado, you’re quite easy to control,” Cody said, voice rumbling against you in a way that sent sparks flying up your spine. He was right, as much as you hated to admit it; the way he was working your body right now, you would’ve committed murder if he’d asked. His tongue traced lazy circles over your clit, occasionally dipping down to thrust into you for a moment, making you squeal.

“Ahh! Commander!” your moans were whiny, and you could almost feel Cody’s ego inflating as you writhed underneath him. Suddenly, he slipped one thick finger into you, and you clenched around it so hard that Cody throbbed in his blacks.

“That’s it, take my fingers. Have to prepare you for my cock, pretty girl,” he growled before giving your clit another teasing lick. A second finger joined the first, and you bucked your hips up to meet them. Cody laughed. “It’s so easy to make you squirm,”

“Don’t get smug on me,” you tried to scold him, but it came out as a whine. You could rapidly feel your orgasm approaching, and you tried to warn the man underneath you, but your words all turned into moans as you tried to form them.

“Come on, pretty girl, let go for me,” Cody ordered, and you did as he asked. Clenching around his fingers, you whimpered as he worked you through it. It wasn’t until you were too over sensitive to bear it that he finally pulled away.

“Holy shit,” you said dreamily, head still a little fuzzy from your orgasm. Cody kissed you once more, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. “Commander, please,”

“Please what?” he said back, and you rolled your eyes.

“You know what I want,” you said, trailing your hand down until you could rub him through his blacks. He groaned as you palmed him, and you smiled innocently.

“Ask for it nicely,” Cody teased. He was nearly as impatient as you were, however, and he was already reaching for the waistband of his blacks.

“Please fuck me, Commander,” you said, rolling your hips against his in an attempt to get some friction. Your shame had flown completely out the window, your brain now singularly focused on the man above you.

Grinning eagerly, Cody pulled off his pants and discarded them, and your mouth hung open slightly at the sight of his cock. You quickly closed it when you heard Cody snort in amusement, and pouted as he lined himself up.

“You still want this?” he asked, face so close that you could feel his breath on your neck.

“Stop teasing and just do it already!” your voice pitched up as he slowly pushed himself in. You could feel him stretching you, and Cody swore under his breath as he bottomed out.

“So fucking wet for me,” he groaned, rocking his hips slightly to let you adjust to the movement. You hooked one leg around his waist, trying to pull him deeper into you.

“Please, I’m not gonna break, Commander,” you gave him your best doe eyes, and Cody growled and thrust into you hard, pushing you up the bed slightly. He kept a steady pace, making sure to press his cock as deep as it would go with every thrust. He grabbed the leg that you had wrapped around his waist and pulled it up until it was sitting on his shoulder, letting him hit a whole new angle inside you.

Your whimpering turned into loud moans as he continued pounding into you, hitting the bundle of nerves inside of you that sent spots flying through your vision. Cody gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as he fucked you. His face was dusted pink from exertion, and his pupils were blown so wide that they nearly eclipsed the soft amber of the iris.

“That’s my girl, taking me so well. Tell me how good I’m making you feel,” Cody groaned, his grip on your chin tightening. “Want my pretty girl to feel good,”

“So fucking good, feel so big inside me,” you stammered, unable to think about much other than the way he was fucking you. Your back arched off the bed as Cody dropped your chin and trailed his hand down to your clit, rubbing tight circles on it.

“There’s my little cockdumb girl,” he said, a tinge of admiration in his voice. “Taking me so fucking well,”

“Yes, please, anything!” your words were jumbled, but Cody seemed to know what you meant. His thumb worked faster on your clit, and you squirmed, trying to lean into the touch and wriggle away from it at the same time. Cody held you in place, watching your chest heave as he brought you closer and closer to orgasm.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he said, and you did, a broken moan of his name on your lips. He fucked you through it, his thrusts getting erratic as you tightened around him. As you trembled with the aftershocks, you were able to see Cody pull out of you and jerk himself a few times, before spilling all over his hand and your stomach.

“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” you said. Your voice was still a little shaky, and Cody laughed at how fucked out you sounded. He swiped a towel from your attached ‘fresher and cleaned you off, before falling into bed beside you.

“Practice,” he said smugly, and you rolled your eyes. “So was I?”

“Hmm?” you mumbled sleepily, snuggling your face into the clone’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you comfortingly.

“You said I looked like a good fuck. Was I?” he said, kissing the top of your head playfully.

“Well, I’m not completely cockdumb like you said I’d be,” you said, a mischievous smirk on your face. Cody sat up, a wicked look in his eyes. A surge of arousal pooled in your stomach.

“Guess we’re not done, then,”

[yayteaberry]

*SFW* Just, Relax. (Enji Todoroki)

As far as casual fucking could go, he didn’t leave much room to desire anything he couldn’t give. He liked it in the same ways that you usually did, which was hard, fast, and full of energy. There was a lot of stress in his life and this was one of the ways he got the tension out.

But, you had stress too.

This week had really beaten you down, between several incidents at work you never wanted to think about again and less than favorable interactions with who you thought was your friend, you were exhausted.

Of course, he picked today to stop by.

You knew it from the moment you opened the door, it was impossible to not notice his presence.

Especially when he was right in front of you.

“Took you long enough.” His voice had always been something to excite you, but right now you really didn’t care.

“I’m not in the mood, you gotta go home.”, you say blandly, letting your purse slide onto the floor and shuffling past him, going to your room so you can lay face down on your bed.

The front door closes, and you think he’s left, letting out a long sigh as you continue to lay still, considering just passing out in your work clothes.

Why should you even bother, not like you’re dirty or anything.

“... Is everything okay?”

You push yourself up and turn your head, very surprised he’s still here. Though you sense it’s to get between your legs, not interested in the least. “I said you have to go home Enji, I don’t wanna mess around right now.”

“Never said I wanted to do that. You didn’t answer my question.” He folds his arms in that iconic stance he’s always doing in pictures, taking a few steps closer so he can better observe how miserable you are.

“Sure, you’re so openly concerned about me and my needs. It won’t change anything if you leave, if anything I’d appreciate it.” With that you drop back into position, waiting for him to go away. But he doesn’t, the bed dipping besides you as he sits down. You roll over onto your back and give him a pointedly ‘really?’ look.

It’s confusing that he isn’t getting the hint, he’s never been the type to force anything on you.  Well, anything you hadn’t asked for.

“If things have been rough for you… I.. Hope they improve. Sooner rather than later.” It’s stiff and entirely unnatural for the man to say something like that, but he forces it out, trying to be comforting.

You’re stunned by that, it’d be a shitty attempt at soothing if it came from anyone else, but from him that was absolutely precious. The words do revive you a bit, sitting up so you can lean against him, calmly enjoying the aura he’s made. There’d always been pressure to be someone else around him, he’d fuck you and that was all he was there to do, it made sense you’d exaggerate some aspects of your personality to suit the environment that created.

But this felt different.

Like something changed. And, it wasn’t a bad change either. This was nice, unusual, but nice.

“That’s sweet,”, you say after a moment passes, smiling when he runs a hand along your arm in a reassuring way. He could be so aggressive during sex that you’d forgotten he’s even capable of being gentle.

You get up on your knees so you can reach him, turning him so you can give him a kiss. “I do mean that, it’s very thoughtful of you.”

When he tries to follow that up with another, you back away, still smiling. “Mm-mm, I’m up for this but that’s about it, okay?”

“If that’s what you want,” he murmurs before cradling the back of your head, successfully kissing you. It’s light, but there’s a serious heat behind it. So you relinquish your hesitations and crawl over to sit in his lap, just barely able to stay level with the massive man.

“Honestly, what are you even here for now?”, you ask as you pull away, curiously sizing his intentions up. It really didn’t make much sense, even if he said what he did, this was very out of the normal for him.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here because I want to be, because you’re here.”

That makes your heart thud a bit faster, he’s never been one to lie at any rate. You can’t think of a way to respond that’d be nearly as meaningful as you want it to be, so you just say what’s on your mind.

“I mean, not to discredit you, I just straight up told you we aren’t gonna fuck, so you get why I’d be confused as to why you wanna stick around. I’m very aware that you don’t do things out of sheer politeness if you don’t want to do them but…”, your thoughts get bunched up, unable to finish the sentence you’d started, pointedly looking through him as you figure out the best way to piece it together.

He doesn’t let you think long, tilting your chin so you meet his eyes. Doing so breaks you out of your hailstorm of thoughts. “You’re right, I don’t do things I don’t want to do. I don’t hide any of my opinions. So, knowing that, why are you still looking for an underlying motive?”, he says with his eyebrows narrowed down, almost suggesting he’s a little hurt by the question.

That has you feeling bad in a lot of ways, knowing your trust issues are yet again intervening in places it doesn’t have too. Being vulnerable is hard but if he’s doing it for you then you should for him.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I’ve been having a shit week and it’s just a reflex to take anything at its worst anymore…” You huff and let all your weight rest against him, face against his chest.

He hums in response and you can feel the vibration more than you hear it, fully melting when he runs his hand over your back, digits firmly smoothing over your sore muscles. A good few minutes pass by, the peace of his presence actually managing to undo a lot of your pent up angst.

You can hear his heartbeat rhythmically thudding away, almost hypnotized by it. There’s something about him today that has you noticing how nice and masculine he smells today, comfortable in partially smothering yourself for it.

You can’t be sure when you fell asleep, but you open your eyes and it’s pitch black, now lying down on your bed.

Disappointment has you grimacing, realizing you passed out on him and he most likely left right after. As you go to sit up so you can change into some proper sleep wear, you notice a few things.

First, he’s still here, one arm slung over your waist keeping you from actually moving. Secondly he undressed you down to your underwear, which you find sweet that he’d consider how uncomfortable sleeping in your work clothes would’ve been. Third, he’s out cold next to you, but radiating heat like a furnace, something you appreciate with your lack of clothing.

The usual set of events was that he’d leave an hour or so after finishing, likely before you’d even fully recovered, sending a nice arranged gift basket on your way the next day.

But here he was, snoozing away.

You don’t have a clue as to what inspired this behavior but that doesn’t mean you don’t embrace it fully, cuddling up close to him.

When he tightens his arm around you to pull you in close, you can’t help but smile.

[ereawrites]

Diego’s alarm blares you awake at 5:45AM - you know this without even opening your eyes because, unpredictable as Diego is, he always wakes up unreasonably early to work out. You know this because he always texts you at 6AM to bitch about how stiff his shoulders are.

Today, you’re sure, his whole body will be screaming at him. Having shown up at your door last night just after midnight, covered in dust and dirt and bruises, Diego had simply shrugged off your concerns.

“What-“, you started, but he was already sliding past you into your apartment. At least he had the decency to pat your cheek as he passed.

“Nothing to worry about.”, Diego said, rifling through your refrigerator as if it were his own. He didn’t need to know that you keep extra eggs in stock for him, after all. “I jumped out of a window, that’s all. Totally fine.”

His back was to you and you could still see his stupid little smile. “Well, excuse me for not figuring that one out right away. Unforgivable.”. He huffed out a quiet laugh at that, gingerly turning to face you with your last bottle of milk in hand.

“You want this for breakfast in the morning?”

You did. You absolutely did. He dropped off a box of your favourite cereal two days ago, claiming to have been ‘passing by’, and that was total bullshit because the closest store is 15 minutes’ walk away from your house, and he shouldn’t even have known your favourite cereal because Diego Hargreeves was very much not your boyfriend.

Anyway.

His bust lower lip had twisted up into a too-soft smile when you said, “Nah, go for it. Just don’t drink it so fast that you’re sick this time. I’ll be in the bathroom to help fix you up when you’re done.”

-

The window is now taking its revenge. Is this his karma for destruction of property, you muse to yourself as you stretch the kind of stretch that makes your whole body shake, or for waking you up last night? Diego grunts. The alarm shuts off and you hear his phone clatter unceremoniously back onto the nightstand.

“Good morning.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry. Go back to sleep, I’ll be out of here in a minute.”. Bless his soul, he really does sound apologetic. Thankfully, the deep rumble of his first-thing-in-the-morning voice does wonders to put you in a good mood with him.

When you roll over to face him, you’re not quite sure what you notice first: the gentle, bleary brown eyes, or the bruise smacked right across his cheekbone. “Hm, it’s okay. How are you feeling?”

Diego’s palm envelops the back of your hand and gives a quick squeeze. “Great.”, he hums, despite how exhausted he looks. “Thanks for letting me crash here. I’ll bring you breakfast after my workout.” - and you’re at least 60% sure he was born with persuasive powers, too, because the way he looks at you leaves you reeling in the early morning light, and he’s halfway sat up before you can even react.

“Nope. No. Absolutely not. You need to rest today.”, you insist, grabbing his wrist to stop him in his tracks. Diego is a stubborn little shit and he looks at you like you’re an idiot - sweetly, sympathetically, and you’d want to kill him if he hadn't managed to carve out such a soft spot in your chest. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, and you permit it if only to admire them. It’s far too early for subtlety and, hey, Diego’s always loved flattery.

“I don’t have time.”

When flattery doesn’t work, reason is your next best bet. A little guilt can't hurt, either, right? You pout up at him. “Who’s committing crimes at 6AM, baby? It can wait.”

(You should not call Diego that. He is not your boyfriend.

His face lights up just a bit.)

“Troublemakers.”

He smirks, and you know you’ve lost with that approach. Diego flip-flops between sweetness and sarcasm as if he's attached to a particularly irritating bungee cord, promising you breakfast one minute and deliberately driving you crazy the next. With a brush of his thumb over your knuckles, he’s moving away and stretching his arms over his head with a groan.

You wag an accusatory finger at him, still squinting in the ray of sunlight that manages to penetrate through your broken shutters. You’ll get him to fix it later this week. “Troublemakers like the guys who crash through innocent windows?”

“That’s different-“

“-In fact,”, you smile, poking at the skin of his gorgeous back in a petty attempt to get his attention solely back on you. “Maybe I should report you to the police. Bring down the crime rates and all.”

“You’d love to see me in handcuffs, huh?”, he quips as he stands and stretches again, giving you a perfect view of those lithe muscles in action. Boy, would you ever. But the smugness in his voice is way too evident, even if you can’t see his face: your only option is to scoff. 

“You’d be lucky.”, which is absolutely true (because you would rock his shit), because you’re pretty sure Diego is all bark and no bite, because you’ve seen just enough of his hidden tender side to really believe all his cocky jokes. You try not to dwell on it too much, but a tiny part of your heart believes that maybe Diego really, really cares for you.

Maybe it’s because of how he leans back over the bed to hold your cheek in his palm. God, he has you crumbling with that look in his eyes sometimes. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

Then his touch is gone, and it’s so embarrassing how you almost chase after it, but you smush your face into the pillow with a sigh. He’s stubborn as a mule and you're too exhausted to put up much more of a fight. Maybe you should just let him go for his ridiculous workout. Let him push his tired body, and let him send you an extra bitchy text in half an hour. You’ll ignore him, really teach him a lesson. See how he likes that.

You're just beginning to snicker into the pillow when Diego bends down to grab his shirt, staggers on his bad leg, and whimpers in pain.

Oh, well. Not a chance he's leaving now.

Three weeks ago, Diego had insisted on giving you some sort of self-defence training, which you had only actually agreed to on the assumption that you’d be able to annoy the shit out of him with it later. The main focus had been on ‘using the opponent’s size against them’ - this was not the first time you’d understood the reason behind all the Batman jokes - and, oh, this is the perfect opportunity to test your new skills.

With all the grace of a drunken bull, you leap from the bed, nearly tripping on the tangled bedsheets, and wrap your arms around his waist. Diego reaches out to steady you even as you're dragging him back towards the bed, tumbling down with him in tow and turning the impact into a roll that leaves him on the far side of the bed, with you curled tightly around his back, arm draped across his chest. The final step is to sling your leg over his hip, effectively pinning him with the least possible pressure on his sore muscles.

“Honey-”, Diego begins, but then you're running your fingers through his hair and it dissolves into a quiet little oh that you’re sure looks perfect on those pouty lips. It strikes you that this is the first time Diego has let you hold him - you're always the little spoon, on the rare occasions that both of you give in to the desire to touch each other, and you’re shocked by how right it seems to feel him melt into your touch. All the fight vanishes from his body in seconds.

“…I sleep better when you’re here, you know.” - and it’s not using any tricks to get him to stay, it’s just the plain truth. Diego’s breath hitches in his throat. It’s partially for selfish reasons that you want him to stay in bed, you admit, but mostly because he deserves a rest for once. You worry for him more than you would ever let him know. He probably figures it out, anyway, once you give in and drop your forehead to rest against the back of his neck. Somehow, you can't bring yourself to care - it’s much nicer to just enjoy how he kisses your wrist on the next brush of your fingers through his hair.

He’s leaning into your hand even before he pretends to grudgingly concede. “Just another hour.”

You’ll see about that.

[sserpente]

A/N: Surprise! Here’s the thing—I don’t normally write sub!Loki at all. However, since Christmas is a time of gifting and making wishes come true and it has been requested quite a few times in the past, I decided to take on an anon request. I can’t write fully-fledged sub!Loki, I just can’t… so I hope this will do! There’s another anon request in there too. I hope you all enjoy it!

Words: 2357 Warnings: sub!Loki-ish, fluff, smut

Additional NSFW warnings: light bondage, oral, usage of anal sex toy

-

You cursed when you stubbed your toe on the door, shutting it aggressively all the while flinging your bag into the corner like it was the reason for all of your problems. You were trembling, anger and exhaustion gnawing at your guts.

When you let out a desperate sigh as you kicked off your winter boots, Loki tilted his head. He had appeared in the threshold leading to the living room on your floor—an entire floor on Stark Tower, all to yourself. Today, however, this very circumstance did not cheer you up in the slightest.

“A good evening to you too, pet.” He said, eyeing you with curiosity.

“I bloody hate working in retail!” You spat in response. “Why are people being so idiotic, can you tell me that? Oh, I want a refund on this obviously used item which I don’t even have the receipt for, oh, can’t you hurry up I need to catch a train—I had hours to spend on browsing but I want to pay for this immediately or I’m just gonna leave, oh, can you recommend a gift for my niece, I barely know her or her interests but surely you’ll find a gift for her because I am too lazy to use my own brain?” You were fuming. Loki chuckled.

“My dear… breathe.” He was never this gentle with any of the other Avengers but then again, you were the only one he had taken a romantic and sexual interest in. You sighed when he approached you to pull you into a tight embrace, forcing you to calm down for him. Your hands wrapped around his middle almost automatically, allowing him to lift you off the ground and carry you into your bedroom.

Loki spent most of his time in your flat here in Stark Tower. Here, he wasn’t always under suspicion of plotting world domination again—and in fact, all he did was reading, stealing your sweets and learning more about Midgardian culture, first and foremost Christmas. Last week, you had forced him through all Santa Clause films and he had actually ended up enjoying them in the end.

Another sigh escaped your lips as you pressed your face against his chest, letting his hand stroke over your head. Perhaps you should finally let the cat out of the bag and tell the others about your relationship. Loki could be so sweet… and he loved being pampered by you, even if you made sure to take your time teasing him thoroughly first.

“Is there a particular reason you left me a gift this morning?” He changed the topic. Oh yes. You had almost forgotten about this. You had shoved part of Loki’s Christmas gift into his green and gold socket above your bed before you had left this morning. It was Christmas Eve and since you would be spending the 25th with the other Avengers, you had decided that him receiving part of his gift in private would be more appropriate.

“Me?” You asked, playing innocent. “That must have been Santa, Lokes.”

“Are you going to tell me what exactly it is?” He probed. You giggled, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

“I was hoping you’d ask. Where did you put it?” Loki conjured it up seemingly out of thin air—you’d never grow tired of seeing him use his seidr—and handed you a black plastic packaging which contained an equally black butt plug with a prostate massager for men. Loki and you had recently had a conversation about toys for men as opposed to women only and much to your surprise, he had shown quite the interest in the topic. The faces of the Avengers would have been priceless, had you put it under the Christmas tree for him along with his main present.

You grinned. “Lie down on the bed for me—and magic your clothes off, will you?” Loki smiled at your request. He did not often let you command him around like that—but when he did he knew you needed it, to have some fun with his arousal for you to distract yourself from work and other sorrows, much like today. You shouldn’t be in such a bad mood on Christmas Eve, after all.

Still smiling gently, he did as he was told and then slightly raised his eyebrows for you to make the next move. You winked at him after admiring his semi-hard cock for a bit, disappearing in the bathroom. Once you had returned, hands washed, clothes changed and sex toy sanitised properly, you got to work. Loki’s eyebrows shot up all the way when you produced the bondage rope you kept in the drawer right next to the bed and then climbed on the bed as well, straddling his strong thighs.

“Please? Let me play.” You pouted. Loki sighed—allowing you to tie his hands together and then to the bedpost. Both of you were very well aware that he could rip himself free at any time—it was more a matter of it looking pretty and downright hot to have the God of Mischief tied up and at your mercy, at least hypothetically.

He shifted on the mattress just a little when you reached for the toy again which you had already coated in a thick layer of strawberry lube and brought it to his anus. It was designed to directly stimulate his prostate and you positively couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

“What are you doing?” His question was a warning; reminding you it was a privilege he was playing submissive for you and that the… situation could change at any moment. You swallowed, your own arousal pooling in your knickers like a waterfall.

“Trust me? It will feel good, I promise.”

Loki sighed once more—and gasped when you slowly and carefully worked the butt plug inside of his rear. His cock twitched, joyful anticipation mixing with impatience. By the time it was snugly in place, he was as hard as rock and moaned upon you wrapping your hand around him, giving him a few strokes with your hands partially still covered in the strawberry lube you had used.

Loki bucked his hips almost immediately, growling when you drew your hand away again. You chuckled. “You look pretty adorable like that, you know… desperate for pleasure…”

He growled in response. “You will be the one desperate for pleasure and begging me for my touch if you keep this up for long.” He threatened. Your giggle intensified. You felt so much better already.

“Just you wait.” You said, pressing the button of the small bullet vibrator inserted into the butt plug. Loki tensed up when it hummed to life, sending continuous vibrations through his anus and stimulating his prostate.

Then, taking mercy on him, your hand returned to his impressive length, jerking and pleading for attention. A few drops of precum had already formed on his red tip—it was too tempting to ignore. Unceremoniously, you bent down and closed your lips around him, licking over his slit and lapping up all he had to give for now.

Loki tugged at his restraints. A little more strength and he’d tear them apart altogether and he was barely just containing himself anymore already. Knowing he could stop this anytime and pin you down underneath him to just take what he desired for some reason only fuelled his arousal. He bucked his hips in an attempt to plunge himself deeper into your mouth but you were being particularly relentless today. He growled once more, watching how a grin formed on your lips. With a smacking sound, you released him again, continuing to stroke him all the while the prostate massager kept vibrating inside of his rear.

“Does that feel good?” You asked, almost timidly. Loki was an experienced lover, you knew this much. How many Asgardian women had had the pleasure to learn what had earned him the nickname silver tongue you did not want to know and yet, even though his confidence in bed and knowledge of pleasing a woman was exciting, at the very same time it intimidated you.

Loki nodded, blue eyes locked with yours. “Yes. Keep going, my dear.” It almost sounded like an order—one you’d do better not to defy. You took it as an invitation and pressed the button of the vibrator again.

The setting was on high now—but not high enough to tip him over the edge just yet. You needed to hear him whimper first. You had managed once, a few weeks back when Loki had allowed you to tie him up and tease him for a while for the very first time. In the end, it had resulted in him flipping you around and fucking you roughly from behind so hard you had been unable to walk the next day. Your cunt clenched upon remembering how deliciously sore you had felt. It was a risk you were willing to take again.

Loki bucked his hips once more, thrusting up in a steadier rhythm now and desperate for more friction… which gave you another idea. Biting your lower lip, you stood from the bed and peeled off the comfy trousers you had changed into, right along with your underwear. If only Loki could see the wet spot on them as you stepped out of them, he would be grinning like a cat who got the cream but fortunately for you, you were in charge tonight—or at least, for now.

He eyed you like a hungry wolf, growling in an animalistic manner as soon as your slick pussy lips rubbed against his tip and you massaged your clit with it for a while before slowly, painfully slow, sinking down on him and sheathing his cock deep inside of you. You moaned, throwing your head back. Riding him always felt so much deeper than when he was on top… unless he hauled your legs over his shoulders that was.

“More…” He choked out, his blue gaze getting almost feverish, about to turn him into a mindless beast. You stilled, not moving an inch and just kept him inside of you all the while the vibrator in his rear kept stimulating him. He gritted his teeth when you failed to move, bucking up his hips in a desperate attempt to get you to ride him but you decided to take your time. Leaning forward, you began covering his chest and neck in light kisses, tongue darting out every now and then to taste him. Loki was already sweating, his limbs shaking and you knew then just how badly he needed his release. The restraints keeping his hands above his head on the bedpost gave a suspicious tearing sound as he thrust up into you once more.

He was close. He was so close. Smiling, you kissed him and moved back up and into a sitting position. Your fingers found the switch of the vibrator, turning the setting even higher. There was no need for you to move and ride him anymore. Loki came by himself and finally, gave you the whimper you had so desired to hear from him. Your lips parted when he starting twitching inside of you, spilling himself with a groan. His warm seed coated your walls, his cock jerking until he was all but spent. Once he had caught his breath, you turned off the vibrator… for now.

“Get that lovely quim of yours up here.” He ordered with a hoarse voice, once more raising the question whether you had ever truly been in charge of his pleasure. But who were you to defy him? Biting your lower lip, you let him slide out of you, whimpering at the loss of feeling so deliciously full, inched forward until your most private parts were only inches from his mouth and then carefully sat again, your thighs to either side of his head.

Loki wasted no time. Humming contently, he licked over your slit and clit, suckling on your outer lips and circling your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue pressing against it, massaging it, until you dug your fingers into his raven hair, urging him on. You were so incredibly wet for him it wouldn’t take you long to gush all over him either and so you did. Loki ate you out like you were his last meal, pampering your clit until your body couldn’t take it anymore and you fell, seeing stars as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in pure pleasure. You only realised once you lifted yourself off his face because he would not stop that he had wrapped his fingers around the bars of the top of the bed. The bondage rope was torn apart beyond repair.

You smiled, allowing him you wrap you in his arms as he flipped you both around so you came to lie on the bed more comfortably.

“Feeling more relaxed now, my dear?” He asked with a sly smile.

“Much better. Thank you.” Loki hummed in response. “I’m pretty hungry… how about an early Christmas dinner? Just the two of us, without the others.”

“That sounds promising. But first I will need you to get that thing out of me.” He said, eliciting a devilish grin from you.

“I think I’m gonna leave that thing where it is for now. You’ll get a taste of your own medicine. Remember that golden butt plug you made me wear on Christmas last year? Revenge is sweet. So…” You paused. “Are you going to help me cook?”

Loki’s expression darkened, sending pleasant shivers up and down your spine. “You are going to remove that right now.”

“Nope,” you announced smugly, freeing yourself from his embrace and climbing off the mattress. “I’ll be in the kitchen, whenever you’re ready.”

Truth be told, you never made it to the kitchen. Loki was after you in a matter of seconds, dragged you back into bed and made sure you came to regret teasing him like that. Oh, and you most definitely lost count after at least five more orgasms.

-

A/N: There’s a hint in there for another smutty Loki Christmas Imagine soon to come. Can you find it? ;-)

If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥ 

[watchmegetobsessed]

Dead Or Alive - Harry Styles

a/n: oof okay hello! this is a little different, i guess? but im very excited to share this with you! don’t ask me how i got the idea for this, no clue but it was stuck in my head for days before i finally gave in and started writing it. please share your thoughts and comments on it, i would love to read them!! hope you’ll enjoy it!

pairing: Wanted!Harry x BountyHunter!Reader

warning: violence, talks of drugs, murder, guns, i really lost track of it lol

word count: 15.2k

masterlist

The man in the handcuffs growls in pain again, but you just yank him forward, not in the mood to deal with a whining girl trapped in a six feet tall disgusting looking, oily-faced bald man in his forties.

“Y/N! What do we got today?” Jeremy greets you at the front desk, thumbs hooked into his belt as he watches you tug the guy into the hall of the station, pushing him down to the nearest seat as you step to Jeremy who is already handing you the paperwork.

“Dennis Delgado. Took me a few days to find him, but he couldn’t hide forever,” you grin proudly as you grab a pen and start filling the papers out.

Jeremy walks over to Dennis who just looks up at the officer in disgust. It’s not enough that he is a child molester disgusting prick, he is racist on top of everything and now Jeremy is enjoying having the higher ground, Dennis trapped in his handcuffs while Jeremy will be the one to get him behind bars for a long time.

“Nice one. We’ll have a lot of fun with this one,” Jeremy chuckles. “Want me to ring up your brother?”

“Is he in? Would love to have a word with him,” you nod smiling. When you’re done with the papers you hand them over to Stella, the receptionist who gets to work with them right away so you can get your money.

“Sure, I’ll get him for you on my way,” Jeremy nods, grabbing Dennis by his arm, pulling him along on his way to the elevators. “Come on you scumbag, you have a cell waiting with your name on it.”

The two of them disappear and you get into a little chit-chat with Stella while she is finishing up the paperwork. Leaning against the counter you look around, officers come and go in the hall, all of them dressed in their uniform and for a moment you picture yourself wearing the same outfit. At one point in your life it seemed to be part of your future, but now it would be the most ridiculous sight. Y/N, the best bounty hunter in the region in a police uniform? That’s not happening.

The elevator dings and your brother, Robert walks out. He on the other hand, made this vision happen. He has been an officer for about ten years now and though at first he was outraged that you chose the not so gracious lifestyle of a bounty hunter, but you soon became his unofficial partner, handing him over a wanted person every few days, making his work easier. Everyone at the station knows that Robert is the one who plays by the rules, doing everything according to the handbook, the perfect officer, always working to keep up the peace in town while you are… Well, you are a rebel. You could never play by the rules, always sneaking ways to do things according to your desires. You never liked if someone wanted to tell you what to do and how to do it, you are not a team player or either one that can easily managed by higher forces. It didn’t take long for you to realize your nature will never let you be an officer so you chose the other path that’s somewhere near joining the police, but still playing by your own rules.

Being a female bounty hunter wasn’t the easiest when you started off at the young age of seventeen. In desperate need of the extra money after the tragic passing of both your parents, the two of you had to get along on Robert’s slim, beginner paycheck. He was only twenty-three, started working at the station just a year prior, you knew you had to help him out. He kept bringing up cases, worked on them through the nights and when he passed you on the couch from exhaustion, you sneaked your way into the dining room and looked for easy targets. Speeding tickets, light drug trafficking, whatever you could deal with as a high schooler.

Robert hated the idea of you dealing with wanted people, you had endless fights about it, but you were too stubborn to stop and besides, you liked the adrenaline rush you got whenever you caught another one and brought them back to the station. Loved the stunned and shocked looks on the older officers when you managed to catch a bigger fish. It took Robert a few years to come to peace with your choice of lifestyle and now he doesn’t even try to talk you down. Instead, he keeps bringing you cases that pay well and he knows you’d like them.

“Who did you catch this time?” he grins at you, walking up to you and he envelopes you in a short hug.

“Just got Dennis Delgado, Jeremy took him.”

“Poor Dennis, he’ll have a rough evening,” Robert chuckles. “Did you get your money?”

“Stella is already working on it,” you nod towards the lady behind you.

“Oh, I’ve got you, Sweetheart,” Stella pushes herself back from her desk and walks over to you with an envelope filled with your reward.

“Amazing, thank you, Stella,” you grin at her happily. Dennis was worth a little more than the usual, you are well covered for the rest of the month thanks to him.

“Do you have something coming next?” Robert asks, hands on his hips as he watches you put the money away into your backpack.

“Not yet. Got something exciting for me?”

“An old friend,” he nods with a small smile. He reaches behind the counter and grabs a flyer, handing it over to you, a familiar face staring back at you from the photo this time.

Harry Styles is a name you’ve heard plenty of times and you know him well by now. You actually went to high school with him, you were just never in the same group. He was labeled as troubled all through his teenage years, his parents were brutally killed when he was just a kid, he was tossed around from one foster family to the other, moving around town every few months. It was no surprised when he got into some darker circles, he almost got kicked out of school right before graduation but somehow managed to stick around to get his diploma at the end.

You have actually handed him in a few times before. Never for anything bigger than drug trafficking or robbing smaller shops downtown, Harry is actually not as bad as people tend to portray him to be, he was just not blessed with the best background as most people. He is a smart guy and would never hurt anyone for real, this is why you are now staring down at his flyer shocked.

He is wanted for the murder of a local man who was found dead a few days ago in his home, Harry’s hair was found near the body with no other evidence.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask Robert with a concerned look. This doesn’t feel right. Not that you know Harry that well, but it’s very unlike him.

“Very much. His hair was the only thing we found near the body of Dave RIchards so evidently, he is our number one suspect.”

“I don’t know, this doesn’t sound right,” you think to yourself, staring down at the mug shot of him that was taken the last time you brought him in for selling weed to underage kids. You remember it exactly, because bringing Harry in is always… fun, if you could say that.

That last time, he was already expecting you, waiting around in his usual motel room that is somewhat considered as his home.

“My Y/N! You arrived earlier than I expected!” he greeted you when you kicked his door in. He was sitting in the middle of the double bed, rolling a joint as always, not a care in the world about your arrival.

“You knew I was coming?” you cocked your head to the side walking in and stopping at the end of the bed, watching him finish the joint and simply light it before taking a big puff.

“Of course. I was informed I’m on your list again, just thought you’d give me a few more hours, but it’s alright.” He waved around carelessly before holding out the joint in your way, offering you to try it.

“No thanks, I don’t trust your sketchy stuff.”

“That hurt!” he gasped dramatically, placing a hand to his tattooed chest that was partially on display since his shirts are never buttoned all the way up.

You brought him in that day, stopping for McDonald’s on your way to the station before handing him over to Robert. He was actually a great guy, nice sense of humor and good looks, you never thought otherwise, he was just moving around in different circles than you so you were left with the few jokes he always cracked when you took him in every few months.

“Well, it’s not your job to question his innocence. Want to take the job or not?” Robert asks you.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll find him,” you nod and fold the flyer, sliding it into your back pocket.

Normally, you take the rest of the day for yourself after turning someone in, but this situation with Harry just bugs you way more than to just go home and pretend like it’s not all you can think about. Harry is not a murderer, he would never randomly kill a man, he is not a psycho, just a guy with a rough background and some poor life decisions.

You know the route to the motel like the back of your hand. Arriving to the dodgy parking lot you park your car in the far end before taking one last look at the flyer. Then you push it into your backpack and get out, heading to Harry’s room with firm steps. You see no lights on, the door is closed and you almost don’t even get closer, thinking he is not here when you see someone move around inside.

You are almost at the door when a hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your body, pulling you back forcefully. It takes you a moment to recover from the shock as you are yanked backwards, but as you are being dragged towards the alleyway next to the motel you elbow your attacker in the stomach before kicking them in the knees. The hands fall from around you and turning around you pull out your pocket knife, ready to cut throats right away, but you are shocked to see Harry hunched over, groaning in pain as he holds his arm to his stomach.

“The fuck, Y/N?!” he growls, his chocolate curls falling forward, they’ve definitely gotten longer since the last time you saw him, he could easily put them up into a bun now. “What was that for?” he whispers in disbelief, his green eyes meeting yours in a scowl.

“What the fuck do you mean? You attacked me!”

“I didn’t attack you, I was trying to fucking save you!”

“From what?!”

“From the fucking asshole in my room who is four times bigger than you and would have probably shot you the moment you kicked my door in like you always fucking do!”

It’s just now processing in you that if Harry is here, the person you saw in the room can’t be him and he surely looked bulky. Harry runs his hand through his hair, straightening up from his hunched position before he sighs tiredly. He looks… worn-out, even more than he usually does. The dark circles under his eyes and beat-up knuckles are new, he usually looks fine despite everything that goes on in his life, but this is a version of him you haven’t seen. He has definitely been through some shit lately.

“What are you doin—“

“No time for questions now, we have to get out of here,” he cuts you off, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the alleyway to another parking lot on the other side of the motel. You spot his old jeep right away, but you yank your hand out of his hold, stopping in your tracks.

“Wait, my car is there!”

“We’ll come back for that later, but they can’t find you here with me or they’ll be after you as well,” he explains, grabbing your hand again as he pulls you towards the car and this time you follow him blindly.

You get into his jeep without even questioning it, not even caring that he is a man who is currently wanted for murder. Your instinct is telling you that you’re completely fine with him and you believe it. The two of you head out of town, taking the route to the next town nearby, but he takes a turn to the left, the jeep rolling onto a dirty road leading along fields filled with wildflowers. You have a guess where you’re going, there are some abandoned cabins near the woods that used to function as vacation homes, but they were slowly left to stand empty for eternity when a luxury resort was built on the other side of the woods.

“Care to tell me what the fuck just happened?” you ask him calmly, turning to look at him. He has one hand on the wheel, while his other elbow is resting on the armrest, fingers tapping on his chapped, pink lips.

“I’m in… deep shit, Y/N,” he admits with a sigh, eyes glued to the road ahead of him.

“No shit, you killed someone?”

“I didn’t,” he states, his eyes meeting yours for a moment to emphasize his truth. “It was a fucking set up and now they are after me every way possible.”

“Who is? And what did you do to get into so much trouble?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we arrive, okay?”

You sit in silence for the rest of the ride until you finally arrive to the cabins. You follow Harry inside one of them and it seems like he has set his base up here a few days ago. There’s a double bed with blankets thrown over it and a few mismatched pillows, a sports bag with his clothes and a few grocery bags on the dusty kitchen counter, candles everywhere since there’s probably no power in the cabin. You wonder how long he has been camping out here.

“About a week ago I got a visit from Hugo McKain, you’ve heard about him?” he asks as he grabs a bottled water from one of the grocery bags and fills up two plastic cups, handing you one of them.

“Sure. I’ve heard that… he is a big fish,” you nod.

“Yeah. He wanted me to work for him, but I sincerely rejected the offer, however it didn’t sit well with him. He threatened me that if I’m not selling his stuff, then I won’t sell anyone else’s stuff,” he explains, walking over to the bed and he sits at the edge, staring at the cup in his hands. “He gave me another day to change my mind, but I said that I don’t want to get involved with any of the heavy shit he deals with. I was hoping he would just willing to forget about it, but apparently, he is not the kind to just let shit go,” he chuckles bitterly. “A few days ago he sent two of his men after me, but I was able to run away. I was ready to pack my shit up and just leave the state forever, but then the fucking asshole framed me for the murder of that guy. A friend called me to let me know that I’m the only suspect in the case and that my face has been sent out already everywhere in the state. Hugo made it impossible for me to leave, I would be caught the moment I stop to pump fucking gas in my car,” he growls in annoyance. “So it’s a whole shit show, the police and Hugo are after me and I’m fucking stuck here.”

You stand there at a complete loss of words, because though you have no evidence if he is telling you the truth, you just know he is and the situation is fucking miserable. Harry drinks his water and throws the cup into a plastic bag that serves as a trashcan, his fingers running through his hair nervously.

“Do you know who killed the guy?” you speak up after some silence.

“Yeah, one of his men called Axel, he is a proper idiot, I’m actually surprised he didn’t leave his DNA back, just mine,” Harry scoffs.

“If you know they are after you, what were you doing at the motel?” you ask, leaning against the wall, curiously eyeing him as he glances up at you.

“Knew you’d come after me, didn’t want them to pull you into this mess too.”

Your eyebrows rise at his words. He went back because of you? Harry notices your surprise, a smug smirk tugging on his lips.

“What? Couldn’t let them lay a finger on my Y/N, right?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. He has always been so flirty with you since day one, always trying to pull your leg, chatting your ears off in hopes that he can finally drag you to bed one day. But you never give in, it all stays just some empty flirting and a playful banter.

“So what are you going to do now?” you ask clearing your throat. There’s just always been something in the way he calls you his Y/N that makes you a tad bit nervous.

“That’s an excellent question to which… I have no answer,” he truthfully admits.

“You can’t hide here forever.”

“You tryna’ lure me into going to the station with you?” he asks with a grin. “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t cuffed me yet. You love that stuff, don’t you?” Harry stands from the bed and strides over to you, the height difference between the two of you forcing you to tilt your head up a little as he smirks down at you, enjoying that he has successfully made you blush. “Question is, have you been the one in the cuffs?”

You part your lips with the intention of answering, but nothing comes out. Harry smirks down at you, so full of himself before stepping away.

“Anyway, I think I’m just gonna lay low here for a while and then hopefully I’ll be able to sneak out of town at one point.”

“You wanna stay here?” you ask looking around. The place is fine for just a few nomad days, but staying here for more seems impossible. There’s no electricity, probably no water, some of the windows are broken in, the temperature must drop drastically in the nights so close to the woods.

“Not that I have any other choices,” he huffs, opening a bag of chips from the groceries.

“Don’t you have any friends who can share their couch with you for a while?”

“You think anyone would want to hide a dude who is wanted for murder and who is also in trouble with Hugo McKain? Baby, even if any of my friends were willing to help, I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t want to pull them into my shit. Besides, Hugo is probably already keeping tabs of all my friends, he has the connections to know everything about me.”

“And what about me?” you suddenly ask. Harry freezes, eyes flickering at you in confusion.

“What about you?”

“Would he look for you at mine?”

Now it’s his turn to rock a stunned expression, eyebrows shooting up as he stares back at you. He wasn’t expecting it, but truth is neither did you. However it doesn’t take him long to turn it into something entirely sexual.

“You know, if you wanted to see me in your bed, you should have just asked.”

Luckily, you don’t fall under his spell this time. Rolling your eyes you put the cup to the nearest surface and head to the door.

“Alright, changed my mind. Have fun camping out here on your own,” you mumble, reaching for the doorknob, but he is quick to get between you and the door, stopping you from leaving.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was just not expecting you to make that offer, alright?” You take a step back, folding your arms on your chest. “Were you serious about that?”

“It seemed like an option. I doubt you’d be expected to be at my place.”

“And you’d actually let me stay there?”

“I guess a few days wouldn’t hurt. Until you figure out what to do.”

Harry stares at you in awe, like you just did the best thing ever for him and the thought that he never had anyone to do such favor for him is kind of heartbreaking. He might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but there’s just something in him.

You help him pack his stuff back into the jeep, leaving the weathered cabin empty again before you head back to town. Harry drops you off a few blocks from the motel so you can walk back to your car, you glance at his door just once, it’s still closed but they could easily still be there.

Harry is already at your place when you arrive to your building, waiting around in his jeep, he has put a beanie and sunglasses on, keeping his head low. As he follows you up to your little apartment, you actually realize that Harry is about to move in with you for the upcoming days, he is going to live in your place, you’ll share your home with him. How crazy does that sound?

Unlocking the door you walk into your small apartment. It’s just the perfect size for one person, a decent kitchen with a small dining table, a living room that also functions as your study, your desk filled with folders and flyers from previous works. Then you have a little bedroom and a bathroom opening from the living room. It’s cozy and homey, but definitely not the setting you would have ever imagined Harry in.

“So, the couch is a pull out, I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow, make yourself… home I guess,” you tell him walking into your bedroom to get him everything he needs. However, he is following you into the room, already snooping around in your private little space.

As you grab him a blanket and pillow, you find him inspecting your clutters on top of your dresser, your jewelry, perfumes and makeup stuff is just thrown out there, and he seemingly takes an interest in your rings.

“Never seen you wear any jewelry,” he huffs as you walk up to him.

“Don’t like them on me that much,” you admit. “Here,” you give them the bedding and usher him out of the bedroom before he gets way too adventurous and starts digging into your lingerie drawers.

When the pullout is all set up and Harry has settled in a little, you are faced with the fact once again, that Harry is in your home and about to spend the upcoming days here with you, since he can’t really roam around the streets.

You make sandwiches for the two of you and sit at the small dining table, eating in silence until you speak up.

“I can ask my brother to help find the guy who did it. There has to be a way to get you out of this.”

Harry glances at you, chewing on his food before putting the sandwich down, swallowing the bite.

“Not really if they don’t find evidence.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something.”

“We?” he smirks at you playfully, earning a blush from you again. You hate the effect he has on you, he is clearly a good-looking guy, you always thought that, even in high school. Thanks to his troubled name, girls easily fall for his bad guy behavior, they just never really saw that being a so called bad guy wasn’t just about the looks, with a slightly similar background you could imagine how hard it really was for him. Though he never really let it show. He is always this whitty, cocky bastard who is ready to flirt his way into your pants whenever the opportunity is given.

“If you keep up with the teasing you’ll find yourself on the street one morning,” you warn him and he just holds his hands up with a smug grin.

“You are the boss lady here,” she chuckles softly before returning to his sandwich.

For the rest of the evening you bury yourself into some other work stuff, you always have a few smaller gigs going on that are easy money, Harry in the meanwhile makes himself comfortable on the couch, watching your tiny TV in silence, letting you do your thing. It’s nearing midnight when you wrap it up and head to have a quick shower. Standing under the hot water you take a few minutes to collect your thoughts and just simply try to get used to the thought that you are in fact hiding a man who is wanted for murder. It’s going to be some pretty interesting days you have ahead of you, that is for sure.

Putting on your oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts you leave a clean towel on the counter for Harry in case he doesn’t have one before heading out.

“Towel is on the counter. Sorry, I don’t have shower gel for men, but the soap is unscented so feel free to use,” you tell him walking out, only to find him already waiting around the door, leaning against the wall. His eyes fall down the length of your uncovered leg, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“If you’re the kind who sleeps naked, feel free to get rid of the textile.”

“Are you a naked sleeper?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“I can be, if you want me to be,” he grins smugly and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Good night, Harry,” you sigh walking into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you, only allowing yourself to let out a shaky sigh when you are out of his sight. Leaning against the door you hear him shuffling around until the bathroom door closes and the water starts running. You try your best to ignore the thought of Harry currently in your shower naked as you climb to bed and pull the covers over your head. You need the coverage, hopefully it’ll help you with your wandering thoughts.

“Thought you’d deliver Styles by now,” Robert teases you when he meets you at the station the next day. You left Harry at your place, sincerely asking not to trash your home while you’re away and headed to the police station in hopes that your brother might be able to help him out.

“Uh, no. But actually, he is the reason why I’m here,” you tell him with a nervous chuckle.

“What? Did he hurt you or something?”

“No, nothing like that. Can we please talk in your office?” you ask and he nods, leading you up to his office.

Once the two of you are settled and secluded from the rest of the officers, you just decide to start right in the middle and not waste your time beating around the bush.

“Harry didn’t do it. He was framed.”

Robert gives you a surprised look as he leans back in his seat on the other side of his desk. He thinks about your words furrowing his eyebrows before scratching his neck.

“How… do you know that?”

“I just know. He is being framed by Hugo McKain, it was one of his men who killed the guy, not Harry.”

“I have a feeling that your source about this was none other than Harry himself.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does, because of course he would try to defend himself!”

“Harry is not a murderer, Robert,” you snap. “He always owns up to his mistakes and he would never do anything to hurt others. Yes, he is troubled and did a lot of illegal shit in his life, but never anything that could hurt others. He became a target because he didn’t want to join Hugo.”

Robert stares at you for a while, probably trying to figure out whether he should believe you or not. You knew he’d be skeptical, but you can only hope he trusts you enough to help you out in this one case.

“And what do you expect me to do?” he asks after a while.

“He knows the name of the guy. Axel something, can you get someone on his case? Look into the evidence more? Something might come up that could help Harry out of this mess.”

Robert’s jaw clenches as he stares back at you, contemplating his choices but something is telling you he is already in. You won him over.

“I’ll have Jake look into it, I think I know who this Axel guy is.”

“Thank you, Robert!” you cheer in excitement. Jumping from your seat you go around his desk and hug him from behind, kissing his cheek as he tries to escape your embrace. He hates it when you get all affectionate at his work, but you just had to. You head to the door to get out of his hair before he changes his mind, but he stops you before you could leave.

“Y/N, just please be careful with Styles, okay?”

“He is not as bad as people make him sound.”

“I just don’t want him to get you into trouble. There’s only so much I can do to save your ass.” “Don’t worry,” you smile at him softly. “I’ll be alright.”

The rest of the day goes by with catching some stupid guy who was wanted for trying to rob a gas station while drunk, it’s a mystery how he was able to run away, you saw the security footage, the guy was barely standing on his feet, but lucky for you, he is in the exact same state when you surprise him at a bar and bring him in.

It’s past seven when you finally get home. Keying yourself into the apartment you are met with a quite pleasant sight. Harry has pushed the pullout in to make some space in the cramped living room and as you step inside, you are met with the sight of him doing pushups in the middle of the room, no shirt on, just a pair of loose shorts, all his tattoos are on display, a thin layer of sweat covering his body, his curls are held back with a headband. When he hears you arrive, his head shoots up and smirks in your way before doing a few more and then he stops, standing up just as you shut the front door.

“Welcome home, Honey,” he winks in your way and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Turning my living room into your personal gym, huh?”

“I can’t just sit around all day, waiting for you to get home, can I?”

“You can always just fix up my apartment while I’m gone,” you joke chuckling. Setting your bag down on your bed you join him in the kitchen where he is sipping on some water. “Anyway, I have good news for you. My brother said he’ll have one of his guys look into the case. I’m sure he’ll check after this Axel dude you mentioned.”

“That’s great! I’ve also been asking around today, some of my friends said they will try to dig up some dirt that might help me out, but I don’t want any of them to get too deep and then have Hugo go after them too.”

“It’ll be fine,” you nod, convinced that things will turn out well. “Alright, I’ll throw something together for dinner, what—“

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I already ordered, should be here soon.”

“You ordered food?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course. I won’t just eat your fridge out, dinners are on me while I’m here,” he smiles genuinely and you’re stunned by the gesture.

Half an hour later the two of you are sitting on the living room floor, Chinese takeout boxes littering the place around you, having a full on feast because Harry didn’t go light on the order.

“So, tell me, what have you been doing since high school?” he prompts the question. “I feel like I know you but I also don’t. Don’t get me wrong, being handcuffed by you every other month is fucking hot, but I don’t know much about you.”

“There’s not much to know,” you shrug. “I’ve been doing this since I was seventeen, no grandiose career.”

“But did you have any other plans before?”

“Thought about joining the police, but I was never tame enough to follow their rules.”

“Ooh, a little rebel?” he teases you and you throw a handful of napkins in his way, making him laugh.

“You can joke about it, but I’ve had my fair share of trouble as well, you are not the only one who’s been through some rough years.”

“I know that,” he nods, eyes getting serious for a moment. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“You know about them?” you ask in surprise. You didn’t really share it with anyone, talking about the loss of them just made it harder to deal with it and you also didn’t want everyone’s petty.

“You just know about this kind of stuff when you grow up in foster care. Though you were lucky your brother was already of age.”

“I know. I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here if I had to go into foster care.” Putting down the box from your hands you look at Harry. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.”

“Not that it was any of your fault,” he smiles softly, but you can see the pain in his green eyes. Despite not knowing him well growing up, you always felt this weird urge to tell him how sorry you were for everything he had to deal with. He deserved a better childhood and teenage years and most importantly, respect from people. Everyone just labeled him as a lost case because of his background, but no one really tried to help him. Part of you feels guilty, because you could have helped through those years, but you were a little frightened from him as well, believing the rumors and talks about him, though now you know they were probably just stupid gossips.

Harry reaches into your box, stealing a dumpling and you snap on his hand, but he just pops it into his mouth grinning slyly.

“Hey! You have your own!” you tell him off.

“I know, but yours just tastes better.”

“You are such a pest,” you roll your eyes at him as you grab your box and start eating again.

“So, what does your boyfriend think about me being here?” he asks out of nowhere, but you see through his act. It’s his sneaky way of trying to get you to say if you’re single or not, probably already knowing the answer to that, but you choose to pull his leg a little.

“He is fine. Though you might have to plug your ears in a little when he comes over,” you tell him with a straight face and see his fall, a stunned expression on his handsome face.

“Wait, really? You have a boyfriend and told him about me being here?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I?”

It’s hard not to start laughing, especially when the words process and he realizes that you are in fact taken. The flirty, teasing act is long gone, he presses his lips together nodding to himself as he continues to eat in silence.

“I’m just fucking with you, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you tell him at last, finally letting out a laugh. His eyes snap up at you and a smirk slowly tugs at his lips as he points a finger at you.

“You had me for a hot minute. Nice one.”

“Why were you so surprised when I said I have a boyfriend?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“Guess the thought was just a little weird, I’ve never seen you with a guy before.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve never been with any,” you point out, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh, I know. I never thought you are pretending to be a nun,” he snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasp, feeling like it was a subtle way to call you some sort of slut. Harry looks up at your upset expression and he immediately knows how his words were taken.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he defends himself.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I meant that I always thought a girl as pretty as you must have plenty of guys after her.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at how bluntly he just called you pretty. It had a refreshing sound after all the shameless flirting he has been doing when it came to you, and your poor little heart immediately skipped a beat upon hearing his words.

“Well, I didn’t have,” you admit with a sad smile. You briefly dated a guy from another school in tenth grade, but after that, your life was just way too complicated to get involved in a relationship and you haven’t really been able to change that even years later. When you’re very keen on some intimacy you go to a nearby bar and just let whatever man to pick you up and have for the night, but that doesn’t happen too often either, because it seems useless most of the time, you can do the job yourself just fine too, you don’t need some random man to call you his babygirl when he doesn’t even know your name. Some never even bother to finish you, they pass out once they got what they wanted so you prefer being on your own.

“Fucking losers!” Harry huffs dramatically. “They have no idea what’s good.”

“You don’t need to say that just to make me feel better,” you roll your eyes at him, but you can feel yourself blushing.

“I’m not, I was always crushing on you a little in high school, if I’m being honest,” he admits truthfully, managing to surprise you once again.

“For real?”

“Sure,” he nods, turning his focus back to his food as he continues to talk. “Even thought about asking you out to prom one time. But I figured you might not even know who I am.”

“Come on, everyone knew who you were!”

“Are you telling me off for being humble?” he asks grinning. “Okay, let me rephrase it. I didn’t know if you wanted anything to do with me after hearing stuff about me, so I just dodged the idea.”

You chew on his words a little before looking up at him, eyes meeting his green irises, though you are usually not one to get in on the flirting, now you just feel like being a little blunt.

“Well, I always thought you were good-looking.”

“Were? Am I not good-looking anymore?” he teases with a dramatic gasp that makes you roll your eyes.

“Well, the smugness takes a bit away from it, if I’m being honest,” you tell him off making him laugh.

Once you both are well fed you clean the boxes up together, you wash the few extra plates you used while Harry dries them off and puts them away. Opening one of the cabinets he moves the door a bit, examining how it hangs a little low.

“I always forget to fix it up,” you sigh. There’s quite a few things that could use some work, but you just never get to start on them so they are always put aside.

You take your turns in the bathroom as usual and you sit at your desk a little, working on a few stuff before calling it a night. Harry is already lying in his temporary bed on the pullout, scrolling through his phone. The covers hide only half of his body, his naked, tattooed chest is on display, one of his arms is tucked under his head, the muscles on his arm flexing just right. He surely is a sight, you can’t deny that.

“Seeing something you like?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been caught staring. Clearing your throat you stack up the papers on your desk and head into your bedroom.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heating up.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he calls after you before you click the door closed.

The next day you go with your usual routine, Robert checks in with you letting you know he already has someone on Harry’s case, so there’s not much you can do for now, only hope that something will surface that can help him out of this mess. Throughout the day you often catch yourself thinking about what Harry could be doing at home all day and you pray to all higher powers he is not currently snooping through your lingerie.

It’s a frustrating day, you couldn’t find the guy you’ve been after but you were really hoping to finally get the money for him. He is big money, but he makes you work for it certainly. When you arrive home Harry is nowhere to be seen, but then you hear the shower running so you figure he must have just been working out and is now taking a shower. Two pizza boxes are set on the dining table and you sigh in relief that you don’t have to think about cooking with him around. Going to the kitchen you are about to grab two plates when you notice that the cupboard door that’s been hanging low a little is now fixed. It’s as new as it never was since you’ve been living here and it gets you wondering if anything else has been taken care of. Going through the kitchen you start to realize that all the little things that’s been waiting to be fixed are now working perfectly: the handle on one of the drawers, the loose tap, the shelf that’s been crooked for a while, it’s all perfect now.

The bathroom door opens and Harry walks out wearing a pair of black sweatpants, his hair is wet and he has a towel hanging from around his neck.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you arrive,” he breathes out throwing the towel to the back of one of the chairs around the dining table.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago. Hey, did you fix my kitchen?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“Uh, yeah. Took a look at the stuff that seemed off. Also fixed the shoe rack near the door and the hangers in the bathroom.”

“Oh wow. You really shouldn’t have.”

“Didn’t you tell me to fix the place up while being here?” he teases you with a smirk as he leans against the table.

“That was just a joke.”

“I know,” he chuckles softly. “But I really didn’t have much to do today so I thought I might make myself useful.”

“That’s… actually very nice of you. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

“So how was your day?” Harry asks as the two of you are chewing on the pizza, sitting at the dining table.

“Why are you making small talk like we’re a married couple?” you scrunch your nose, taking another bite from your slice.

“What, I can’t be nice?”

“You can, it’s just you are usually not,” you point out.

“Or you are just never around when I decide to be nice,” he grins. “You usually just burst into my place, handcuff me and then bring me in. That doesn’t give much time to be nice.”

“I wouldn’t cuff you if you didn’t try to run away the first time I wanted to bring you in,” you retort shrugging.

“Okay, first of all, I was not expecting you to just kick my door in and have a fucking knife pointed at my throat, of course I tried to escape! And second, I quite enjoy being handcuffed by you, so I guess it’s not that bad.”

That smug smirk is back on his lips again and you wish you could just wipe it off sometimes. He is so full of himself!

“You are always coming with this cuffing thing. Get a hold of your kinks, Styles.”

“You can’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on. I bet you’d like that, if you haven’t already been cuffed in the bedroom,” he snorts, taking a big bite, the sauce dripping a bit from the corner of his mouth that he wipes with the back of his hand.

“My kinks are none of your concerns,” you sternly reply, but it just makes his grin wider.

“Oh, so you do have kinks! Tell me more about them!”

“Well what are yours?” you retort, hoping it would shut him up, but it has the opposite effect on him. Leaning back he swallows the food in his mouth before starting the list.

“Well I do love getting handcuffed, I’m into spanking, both ways. I have a weird thing for—“

“Alright! I’ve heard enough!” you cut him off. “Stop, just… stop,” you breathe out.

“What?” Harry chuckles, clearly enjoying the situation more than you’d want him to. “Don’t tell me you’re too prude to talk about sex.”

“I’m not,” you answer right away.

“Okay, then tell me about your kinks!” he teases you some more. Snapping your eyes at him you can tell how much he is enjoying making you so uncomfortable, but you also know that he thinks he’ll just make you blush and you won’t tell him a thing. So you decide to give him his own medicine.

“I do in fact like to be handcuffed, I love a good spanking, when my ass cheeks turn red from the slaps, that makes me cum very hard. I love a good old choking and I particularly enjoy giving blowjobs because I don’t have a gagging reflex, makes men go fucking nuts when I have them down my throat to the last inch, I get off their reaction easily.”

Harry’s lips part as he stares at you with a stunned expression, he definitely did not expect that answer, or any answer at all. That face alone makes up for the slight anxiety that took over you talking about what you really enjoy in the bedroom. Your eyes wander down and a triumphant smirk tugs on your lips.

“Don’t be such a horny teenager, I can see your dick getting hard,” you tell him before flipping the pizza box closed and walking into the kitchen you put the remaining of it into the fridge.

“You are such a tease, Y/N,” he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “But it might backfire, because now I’m gonna get off thinking about spanking you,” he grins at you, but you just shrug, heading to the bathroom.

“Do whatever you want, fantasizing is free,” you tell him before locking yourself in the bathroom.

You’d be lying if you said you don’t think about him in the shower. As your hands move down your body, your fingers wander between your legs, gently playing with your clit while thinking about Harry spanking you. Knowing that he is kind of into the same things as you makes your fantasies even more vivid, but you don’t let yourself get off. You wouldn’t want him to hear you moan under the shower, he would tease you about it forever.

When you’re all done you step out of the bathroom only to get startled by Harry who is standing right at the door, wearing only his boxer briefs.

“Shit!” you gasp, snapping your hand to your chest.

“You took awfully long in there, Y/N,” he smirks at you, but you just roll your eyes at him. “If you ever need help washing you back, don’t be shy to ask me to join.”

“Keep dreaming,” you mumble under your breath as you walk past him and make your way into your bedroom.

“I already do that!” he calls after you before you shut the door closed.

Throwing yourself to your bed you take a deep breath closing your eyes. If he keeps up this act, you have no idea how you’re gonna survive having him around any longer.

Two days go by in the same manner. You spend most of the day out doing your usual stuff, you actually manage to catch another guy who was a small reward, but it’s more than nothing. Harry usually has dinner ready and waiting for you by the time you get back home. During these two days he has fixed up basically everything that wasn’t working in your apartment, freeing you from doing it yourself for probably twice as long as he did.

You sit and eat together, Harry usually tries to get under your skin with some more flirting that you return with a cold shoulder, but then, when you’re lying in the comfort of your bed or standing under the hot water in the shower, you always find your thoughts wandering off to the man on the other side of the door.

Ashamed to admit, but you’ve gotten yourself off once thinking about him. You woke up in the middle of the night from a quite hot dream that, of course, featured a shirtless Harry and you just couldn’t stop yourself from bringing you some relief. For a little while your hands weren’t yours, you imagined that Harry’s big, calloused and ring clad fingers were moving against your body and you needed every drop of self-control not to moan his name out as you came. You blame it on him being so comfortable shirtless around your place, he has been really making himself feel home. Not that you’re complaining, he is a sight for the eyes certainly, but it’s also giving you a hard time.

Robert soon asks you to swing by the station to discuss some details about Harry’s case. You can tell he couldn’t dig up anything helpful, he would have already mentioned it through the phone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have anything that can be useful in further investigation.

“So, I’ve caught wind of Axel Morris being involved in the death of the victim, but we haven’t been able to recover any evidence that would point towards him, unfortunately,” Robert explains as the two of you sit in his office. “Didn’t want to bring him in for questioning either because then Hugo would find out we are after him.”

“So what can be done now?”

“I’m… really not sure, Y/N. If Axel doesn’t magically confesses the murder on tape, I’m not sure I can do anything to help Styles.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you’re trying hard to think of what to do. This can’t end like this, there has to be a way out for Harry…

“Look. I know you’re trying to cook up something to help Styles, but I’m not sure I can give you much time.”

“What do you mean?” you ask with a puzzled look.

“I mean that…” He glances at the door and then leans closer, speaking more quietly. “If I had a guess where he could be found, I would say he is at your place as we are speaking. I can’t let a guy walk free who is wanted for murder, Y/N. I eventually have to bring him back.”

“Alright, alright. Just give me a few more days. I’ll figure it out,” you plead, running your hand through your hair. Robert sighs, shaking his head.

“You have three days. That marks ten days since the warrant has been out. If you don’t bring me evidence by then, I’m sending the guys to your place to get him.”

“Three days, alright. I’ll… figure it out. Thanks, Robert,” you nod, leaving his office in a rush.

You have three days to find evidence against Axel and free Harry, but how do you even start? You’re good at what you do, but this is kind of out of your field and you’re not sure you can deal with it.

Walking around town you try to come up with an idea, but end up doing what you always do when you’re stuck on a case. Thanks to your work you’ve built up quite a web of connections, you always know someone who knows someone who is exactly the person you need. So sitting at a diner, munching on a late lunch you start calling your connections to see if you can dig up anything that could help.

A few hours later the situation becomes brighter and you finally have a somewhat useful plan so you head home to let Harry in on what you’ve come up with.

He is seemingly surprised when you arrive home earlier than the usual, he is sitting at the dining table, a bowl of instant noodles in front of him as he is watching some video on his phone. Like usually, he is only wearing a pair of sweatpants, his tattooed abdomen on full display.

“Oh, hi! Something happened?” he asks, concern showing in his eyes as he watches you kick your shoes off and storm into your bedroom, going straight to your wardrobe to dig up one particular outfit. “Y/N?” you hear him call out for you, his voice coming from your door.

“Yes! I knew I still had it!” you cheer in triumph as you hold up the latex set that clearly leaves very little to the imagination. When Harry sees it, his eyes go wide and his imagination probably gets wild for a moment, because he clears his throat as he looks at you puzzled.

“What do you need that for?”

“It’s part of my plan that will get us evidence against Axel Morris.”

“I’m not really following, so please elaborate?”

“I talked to Robert, he said we need to get him to confess. Now, I made a few phone calls and found out that our friend, Axel is a regular at this strip club called Siren. I’ll pretend to be a dancer and wrap him around my fingers and get him to confess while recording. You said it yourself, he is a real dumbass, I’m sure I can make it work.”

Harry stares at you frozen for a long moment before he lets out a heartfelt chuckle and now you’re the one confused about what’s really going on.

“S’cute you think I’m letting you close to that man. Funny, that was a good joke. Alright, what do you want for dinner?” he asks, walking back to the dinner table, but you chase after him.

“It’s not a joke, Harry. Pretty much our only chance to get you out of this mess!”

“You are not going anywhere near that guy and that’s not up for debate.”

“Not that you can tell me what to do!” you scoff at him.

“Y/N, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shakes his head sitting back to the table, stirring his pasta around with the spoon.

“I certainly know, and this is pretty much your only chance to save your ass, Harry.”

“Not if it means you go near Axel, nah,” he shakes his head calmly, as if it wasn’t even an argument and he had the right to grant you permission.

“Well, I’m doing it and you can’t do anything about that. I’m going in tomorrow. I know one of the dancers, she is helping me set it all up,” you shrug, your attitude meeting his careless one, but he doesn’t like your answer, not even a bit.

“Y/N, you are not going there!” he snaps, standing up, the chair falling back from the sudden movement. “That psycho killed a man or did you forget about that?!”

“Okay, so what’s your plan to save your ass? Because there’s literally no other choice,” you retort giving him a frown as you march back to your room and Harry follows you.

“But it won’t be you dressing up as a stripper, seducing a fucking murderer to get him to confess!”

“So then what is it going to be?!” you snap at him facing him again. “Because Robert gave me three days to sort things out before he comes here and takes you in himself!”

“Then I’ll go to jail! No big deal!” he throws his hands into the air like it was just a minor inconvenience and not a case of murder that could put him behind bars forever.

“Are you fucking insane?” you laugh in disbelief. “You’re willing to lose the rest of your life for what? Nothing at all?!”

“It’s not nothing, Y/N. You are not getting yourself into this mess and it’s not up for debate.”

“You hold no control over me, Harry!” you scream at him at this point, fed up with his bullshit.

You find yourself pinned against the wall in a blink of the eye, Harry is pressed up against you, hands grabbing onto your forearms as he keeps you in place firmly, one of his thighs coming between your legs as his face is dangerously close to yours now. He knocks the air out of you for a moment and you stare back at him with parted lips for just a split second before your instincts kick in.

You easily knee him in the crotch, giving you just enough opportunity to grab one of his wrists and twist it behind his back, forcing him to get on the ground, growling in pain.

“Fuck! Y/N!” he groans, snapping his other hand against the hardwood floor. You give him another squeeze as a warning before letting him go and he falls to the ground for a moment before he pushes himself up to sit on his heels.

“You still think I can’t protect myself against a man?” you sneer at him walking over to the bed to grab the outfit that was tossed to the side in the hustle.

“Shit, I think you broke my dick!” he breathes out hunching over and you just smile to yourself as you hand the outfit up to the side of your wardrobe.

“Don’t be such a crybaby, you’re fine.”

“Don’t think so, might need a get-well kiss on it though,” he smirks through his painful expression and you roll your eyes at him. How is he still at it when you just kneeled him in his crotch? “Okay, your message came through very clear though, but I’m still not a fan of your plan,” he sighs finally standing up from the floor.

“It’s gonna be easy, I’ll get him a little drunk, offer him a private dance, make a move and get him to talk. If he really is that dumb like you said, I can easily get him to open up, just gotta make sure he is focusing on something else,” you explain gesturing towards the outfit on the hanger.

“You can’t wear that, Y/N.”

“This is what strippers wear, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“My problem is that it’s like… nonexistent. There’s no textile at all!” he rages, still eyeing the red latex set.

“Are you… jealous?” you ask, starting to get a feel of what’s really going on. Harry’s head snaps in your way and the look in his eyes answers your question even when he tries to hide his real reasons.

“Jealous of you becoming a stripper? I bet I can make more than you if I became one,” he scoffs smugly.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking jealous!” you laugh, enjoying this one in a million moment. “What’s next, you have feelings for me? Are you gonna confess your undying love?” you tease him.

“Okay, you had your laughs, that was enough. Excuse me if I’m looking out for you and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“Don’t get all smitten with me now. I’ve been doing just fine without you so far.”

“Yeah, how many people did you bring in for murder?” Harry questions and that leaves you without an answer. Not that you don’t know it, but because the number is exactly zero. You’ve been doing your job for quite a while and there’s been all kind of cases under your hands, but not murders. Though you are completely capable of defending yourself, you’re not sure you want to deal with monsters who took a human’s life. The only reason you took Harry’s case was because you had an inkling feeling from the very start that he did not do it.

“Just as I thought,” Harry scoffs. “Listen, if you really want to do this then I’m going with you. No way I’m gonna just sit around here and wait to see if you make it back home.”

“How do you plan on leaving the house? Someone might recognize you and then it’s game over.”

“I’ll just… disguise myself,” he shrugs. “Can’t be that hard.”

You never thought the day would come when you see Harry Styles wearing a fake mustache and a ridiculous wig, secured with a beanie to his head. The moment the two of you finish his disguise, you can’t hold your laughter back. He looks so damn ridiculous, you can barely breathe through your laughter as he checks himself out in the mirror.

“I look like a fucking pedophile,” he shakes his head chuckling as he pushes some fake hair out of his forehead. “Where the fuck did you find this wig?” he snaps at you in disbelief.

“Does it matter? You look so fucking bad!” you laugh hysterically and Harry just stands there, waiting for you to finally stop, but it seems like he is not bothered by your reaction. He probably finds it equally funny too.

It’s currently seven pm, you have to head to Siren soon to start your fake shift as a stripper and you haven’t been able to talk Harry down from following you, so there you are, getting ready to fool everyone around you. Harry with his awful disguise and you with your stripper outfit.

When you finally catch your breath you leave Harry in the living room to get ready as well. Following a heavy makeup with dark, smokey eyes, you also put on a wig, a short, red bob that’s part of the outfit. Then you squeeze yourself into the latex, the tiny top barely covering you, the skirt is not even a skirt, rather than just a belt. As an extra to the fit, you’ve put on a red corset, though it’s more so you can hide the voice recorder since the original outfit doesn’t give too many places to do that. You pair it all with fishnet tights and a pair of black, thigh-high boots. As you check yourself out in the mirror you don’t even recognize yourself. Y/N is officially gone, the girl in the boots is… Crystabel.

Opening the door you step out of your bedroom, Harry is standing in the middle of the living room, busy with his phone so at first he doesn’t even see you walk out.

“Ready to leave?” he asks, eyes still on the screen of his phone.

“I… guess?” you breathe out, feeling extremely self-conscious in this revealing set.

When Harry finally looks up his mouth drops open. He is not even trying to hide his hunger as his eyes rake down the length of your body. He takes his time to take in every inch of your exposed skin before his gaze settles on your eyes behind your long fake lashes.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out and it gives you quite the confidence boost.

“You like it?” you ask, striking a pose as you push your hips to the side and place your hands on your waist.

“I-I’m… I’m fucking speechless,” he chuckles as you walk closer and grabbing the strings of his hoodie, you tug on the playfully while he is still shamelessly checking you out. “I don’t know how I could live this long without seeing you like this.”

“You are such a flirt,” you roll your eyes, but just as you are about to step away from him he grabs you by your waist and pulls you against him firmly. Your hands move to his broad shoulders right away, trying to keep your balance in his hold.

“I might be a flirt, but you are the hottest woman I’ve seen and I admit I will be fucking jealous of every man that’s gonna lay their eyes on you tonight.” His voice is low, full of lust and if it wasn’t for his funny disguise, you would have melted right into his arms in a heartbeat.

“I can’t take you seriously with this mustache on,” you chuckle softly, running your fingers over the fake facial hair, the pad of your fingers slightly touching his soft lips underneath.

“Just wait until we get back home and I get rid of it,” he smirks and winks at you, making you chuckle, but you can also feel yourself blushing at his words.

You put on a trench coat to cover the racy outfit as the two of you make your way to the club. Harry is driving, but you took your car in case someone might recognize him near the club. Arriving Harry parks at a darker corner in the parking lot and he pulls out a little box from his backpack.

“Alright, let’s wire you up, Love,” he smirks as you undo the coat and let him help you get the devices situated on you.

The voice recorder gets pushed into your stomach, hiding behind your corset. It’s thick enough that it doesn’t give away that anything is hidden under it, it’s just a little uncomfortable for you, but you are sucking it up.

“Here, put this into your ears,” Harry hands you an earpiece that you place into your right ear, hiding it with your wig. “It’s not the best quality, but you’ll be able to hear me and I’ll hear everything around you. We need a safe word if anything happens so I know I have to go inside.”

“This is starting to look like a spy movie or something,” you mumble under your breath as you start buttoning your coat again.

“Don’t turn it into a joke, Y/N. Axel might be a stupid jerk, but don’t forget he killed that man. He doesn’t care if you’re a woman or not, or if you’re a real stripper or not.”

“Alright, alright,” you sigh nodding. “How about… cherry?”

“Okay. Use it if you are in trouble or someone is hurting you or anything.” You nod, fidgeting with the end of the coat, but Harry grabs your hand and makes you look at him. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want you to play the hero.”

“I won’t, calm down. I gotta go now. I’ll see you soon,” you tell him before getting out of the car and heading to the backdoor. Glancing back one last time you see Harry standing at the hood of the car, watching you intently as you disappear from his sight.

Sienna, who is helping you tonight is already waiting for you at the backdoor. You met her a few years ago when you caught her abusive ex and took him in. She said she owed you one for freeing her from that asshole and now you are finally here to collect that favor.

“Damn, you look good!” she grins, pulling you into a short hug.

“You think it’s gonna be alright?” you ask, pulling the coat open to show her the whole outfit.

“Fucking fantastic. No men will be able to focus on anything than your boobs,” she snorts, pulling you inside.

The plan is easy. You won’t be out all night, Sienna will be your eyes and when she spots Axel arrive, that’s when you come into the picture. Sienna will escort him to a secluded area and tell him he has a free lap dance which will be, of course, performed by you. Some flirting, some seducing and hopefully Axel will be dumb enough to let a some sort of confession slip.

Sienna takes you to the changing room and you stay in the corner, trying not to be in the way as you watch the girls get ready. There are ten girls in total, five of them are dancing tonight, the other five are servers, but they still dress like dancers. They all wear equally revealing outfits, just like you and as you watch them move around so confidently, you start to get more and more nervous. What if Axel figures out you’re not a real dancer right away? Or if he notices the recorder pushed into your stomach? This plan is definitely not the safest you’ve ever come up with, and you are starting to doubt yourself now that you are so deep in it.

“Y/N?” you hear Harry’s faint voice in your ear. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” you breathe out and hearing his voice calms your nerves a little.

“Everything alright?” First you nod, but then you realize he can’t see you.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Are you nervous?”

“Very,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. Luckily, Harry doesn’t bring his usual cockiness out, feeling how serious the situation is.

“You can still come out and we can just go home. You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to do this,” you firmly answer. “Just… talk to me a little. Please.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you about when I wanted to ask you out to prom,” you hear him start and you can’t push a smile down as you sit and wait, listening to his soothing voice. “You were wearing this pretty white sweater that day and tight jeans, you looked so fucking good, Y/N. I saw you walking to your locker and you smiled at some random guy and I was instantly jealous.”

“Really?” you ask quietly.

“O, yeah,” he chuckles. “I told you, I had a crush on you. So I thought about asking you out, wanted to just walk up to you and casually ask if you wanted to go with me. But then I just watched you and realized that you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me, so I just watched you get your books out of your locker and then you walked right past me, looked me in the eyes and I straight up felt my knees turn into jelly. Good thing I was leaning against the wall. You walked away and I never asked you out. Still regret that,” he admits and your heart flutters at his words.

As weird as it sounds, you remember that day. Especially because when your eyes met Harry’s you felt kind of the same. You felt intimidated and wondered why he was watching you so intently, but you would have never guessed he wanted to ask you out.

You see Sienna walking in, her eyes find you and you immediately know it’s show time.

“Harry?” you breathe out at last.

“Yeah?”

“I would have said yes,” you tell him before you follow Sienna out and the blasting music pushes down Harry’s voice in your earpiece.

The bright lights of the back are switched to the dim, red lighting in the main bar area, a dancer is already on the stage and the place seems packed for the night as all men are hungrily watching the girl on the stage, throwing dollar bills at her shamelessly.

Sienna pulls you to the bar and leans closer to your ear so you can hear what she is saying.

“He is in one of the private rooms, told him the dance is on the house to thank him for being a regular. I asked one of the guards to stand nearby.”

“Thank you, S,” you nod at her as she squeezes your hands.

“Good luck, girl,” she smiles a little bitterly before she shows you the way to the room where Axel is currently waiting for his private dance.

As you stop at the door you take a deep breath, staring at the doorknob for a moment, trying to brace yourself for whatever is about to happen in there.

“I’m going in,” you say, partially to yourself, but mostly to Harry so he knows what’s happening though you don’t hear an answer before you open the door and step inside.

The room is mostly what you were expecting, a small stage with a rod in the middle, across that a long, plush, deep burgundy couch. The walls are black, just the red led lights illuminating the place.

And there he is. Axel Morris is sitting in the middle of the couch, manspreading so widely like the asshole that he is, arms leisurely draped across the back of the couch as his hungry eyes immediately snap to your body.

Axel is big. He is a large man and you realize that the moment you see him. Though he is sitting you can easily tell that he’s tall and he is definitely bulky. Could end you in a blink of an eye and knowing that he is capable of murder is just an eerie thought that doesn’t leave you alone. But you suck it up and get into character, only thinking about one thing: help Harry out of this mess.

Music with low bass starts playing through the speakers as you make your way over to Axel who grins at you disgustingly, making it hard for you to keep the façade.

“Hey big boy, heard you’ve earned a dance for yourself,” you coo at him stopping at the edge of the stage as you keep eye-contact with him. You lean against the edge and spread your legs just enough to tease his imagination about what’s about to come.

“Hell yes, I did! Hope you’re a good dancer, babygirl. Haven’t seen you around here.”

“I’m new. But I’m really good, that’s why they sent me,” you smirk at him sweetly as you walk closer until you’re standing in front of him. He reaches out and grabbing your hips he pulls you to straddle his lap and it catches you by surprise but you don’t fall out of character.

“Then show me what you can do. What’s your name?” He licks his lips as you start moving, doing your best from movies you’ve seen with strippers in them.

“Crystabel, but you can call me yours,” you hum, grinding and bouncing yourself, completely unleashing your inner hoe. “Tell me, big boy. Are you as dangerous as you seem?”

“Oh baby, you have no idea,” he grins proudly.

“Really?” you coo, pushing yourself up against him. His dirty hands find your ass and you want to push them away so badly, but you let him have his way with you for the sake of the plan. “What’s the worst you’ve done?”

“Why does a pretty girl like you want to know about that, huh?” he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you with suspicion so you know you have to be careful.

“Because I have a thing for those stuff. I love pain and blood, it gets me off always,” you smirk at him teasingly, grinding yourself against him to divert his attention a little from the words spoken.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Yeah, I love that kind of stuff,” you moan, running your hands down your chest, his eyes hungrily following your every move and you know he is zoned out. It’s going perfectly.

“Well, I’m the perfect man for you then, babygirl. I’ve done all the things you can imagine.”

“Really? You are turning me on, big boy,” you murmur lowly, turning around for a bit so he can get a good glimpse of your backside as well. “Have you… taken anyone’s life before?” you bluntly ask, hoping you aren’t moving too fast and he won’t snap at you.

“Not sure I should be talking about that with you, pretty girl,” he smirks smugly. You turn back to face him, pushing your crotch against him as you try not to gag feeling his erection under you.

“I’m good with secrets, Honey. My lips are sealed,” you grin at him, stroking his oily face and try your best not to wipe your fingers into the cushion of the couch. Axel smirks at you, clearly enjoying the show you are putting on, his fingers are digging into your thighs as his eyes are practically glued to your chest.

“I’m a killer, babygirl.”

“Yeah?” you gasp, faking your excitement. “What did you do, big boy? Tell me, make me wet,” you purr biting into your bottom lip, pushing your chest out some more to distract him from his consciousness that might keep him from answering.

“Killed a guy recently,” he smugly admits and your adrenaline is high in the sky. You are so close to what you need!

“Oh my, sounds like a dirty job.”

“It was.”

“Saw it on the news a guy got killed not long ago, did you do that?” you smirk at him, his hand slapping your ass and you fight yourself not to punch him in the face.

“That Richards guy? Yeah,” he nods and you almost start screaming in your triumph. This dumbass really did just confess to you, because you had your ass and tits out for him!

“Cool. What’s your name, big guy? Wanna know who I’ll think of when I touch myself later,” you pant into his ear, you need him to say his name otherwise the confession might go to shit.

“I’m Axel, babygirl,” he grins, leaning dangerously close to you, he clearly wants to push his tongue down your throat but you push yourself away and up from his lap.

“Our time is up, big boy. See you later!” you sing and walk out of the room while he is still kind of zoned out.

The moment you are out, you start running. You can’t have him realize what just happened and stop you. Pushing your way back to the dressing room you grab all your stuff and spring out of the building. Harry is standing at the entrance, his ridiculous disguise is gone as he spots you with wide eyes. He probably heard everything and wanted to be there for you when you get out and as soon as you reach him he grabs your hand and the two of you run to the car. Right when you get into the car, you spot Axel running out from the front entrance and he definitely realized what just happened.

“Hey! Get back here you slut!” he shouts as Harry starts the car and you melt into the seat, scared of what’s about to happen because you see Axel reach to his back and the next thing you know is that he has a gun in his hand.

“Harry! Go!” you scream when you see him aim at the car and right at that moment, the wheels screech as Harry pushes the gas pedal to the fullest and the car yanks forward.

Your heart drops to the floor when a bullet shoots into the side of the car as Axel tries to stop the two of you. Harry takes a sharp turn and leaves the car park with full speed. You see Axel from the mirror, he is raging and keeps shooting after you, but he has no aim or whatsoever. You reach the end of the street and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Oh shit, fuck,” you mumble, chest heaving as you grab onto the armrest for some kind of leverage, your adrenaline is still pumping through your veins from the action movie-like scene that just happened.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Harry asks, eyes dancing between the road ahead of him and you as he tries to figure out if anything happened to you.

“I-I’m fine, he was just… fucking nasty to deal with you,” you groan at the thought of his hands on you. You’ll need the hottest shower after this, that’s for sure. “Go to the station, we gotta bring the tape in now,” you tell him as you reach into your corset. Pulling the recorder out you huff in relief, it’s been pressed into you for way too long. The tape is still rolling so you end it and then rewind it, checking if everything you need is on it. Luckily, it caught the whole thing perfectly, that means Harry is not going to jail. Well, not this time at least.

He is speeding down the streets as you get rid of the wig and put on your coat, you don’t want to walk into the police station dressed like a hooker and have the word spread that Robert’s sister has been making money some other way lately.

Arriving to the station you hold the recorder so tightly as if your life depends on it while Harry reaches for your other hand and firmly holds it in his warm palm. You walk inside and immediately spot Jeremy at the front desk. Letting go of Harry’s hand you run up to him.

“Jer, I got evidence for the Richards case! I got a confession on tape,” you beam at him holding the recorder up. He gives you a stunned look as he takes the recorder.

“Confession? How do you—“ He is cut off when you hear Harry’s voice from behind you.

“Hey! What the fuck!” he snaps and as you turn around you see that two officers are already on him, trying to handcuff him. Jeremy quickly forgets about the recorder as he joins in on strangling Harry. but you grab his arm and try to pull back.

“No! He didn’t do it! Listen to the tape!” you cry out, desperate to end this mess, but it feels like no one is listening to you.

“Harry Styles, you are under arrest for the murder of Dave Richards. You have the right…” One of the officers starts saying the usual speech as they drag Harry away while you are begging to Jeremy to listen to you.

“Jeremy! He didn’t fucking do it!” you scream, tears rolling down your face.

“What do you mean?” he asks giving you a puzzled look. It was Axel Morris! One of Hugo McKain’s men! They are trying to frame Harry!” you explain, while Harry is being taken away. “Harry, no!” you shout after them, but the officers don’t stop.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll be fine!” he calls after you before he disappears from your vision.

“Jeremy, please just listen to the fucking tape! I got his confession!”

“I’ll look into it, but I’m afraid Harry is spending the night here,” he sighs, looking down at the recorder before he walks away.

“Fuck, no!” you choke out.

When you finally stop crying you rush out of the building and call your brother, not even caring that it’s past midnight. He better answer your call or you are showing up at his house and start banging on his door until he opens it.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he growls into the phone.

“Robert, they fucking took Harry in! I had the confession on tape, but they just wouldn’t listen, they arrested him!”

“Hey, slow down, what are you talking about?”

Taking a deep breath you tell him the whole story. The club, the dance, the confession and then how you came straight to the station but they arrested Harry without listening to you.

“Alright, you can’t do much now, Y/N. He is still a suspect but I’ll call Jeremy to look into the tape. If it’s found relevant Harry will be out in the morning okay?”

“Please come in early in the morning and make sure he is let out, please!” you cry out, feeling so helpless after everything that just happened.

“I will. Meet me at the station at six, okay? It’ll be alright. Go home, have some sleep and then we’ll make everything right in the morning.”

You do as Robert asked, go home, have a shower, wash the night off of your skin and lie in bed however you are not able to sleep, not even for a minute. You keep thinking about Harry and what might be happening to him now. They better get their shit together and let him out in the morning or you are losing your mind. You didn’t go through all this just to have him put behind bars anyway.

It’s not even six when you are already at the station, anxiously waiting for Robert to show up. You keep glancing up at the building, thinking about how Harry is somewhere in there and you can only hope he’ll be out with you shortly.

When Robert arrives he goes straight up to check out the situation with the tape and Harry. Waiting for him down in the hall is nerve-wrecking, you feel like time has stopped. When he finally appears again you jump to your feet running up to him with high hopes.

“The tape has been examined, it was classified as evidence. Jeremy has already put out an arrest warrant on Axel. Harry is no longer a suspect. He’ll be down once the paperwork is done.”

“Oh thank God!” you breathe out and throw yourself at him, hugging him tighter than ever.

“Look, but there is something I need to talk to you about,” he says with a serious look.

“Okay, what is it?”

“We might be able to get this Axel guy, but I’m pretty sure Hugo is already after the two of you. We have a whole team for him, working on catching him finally, but it might be smart if you just left town for a little.”

“Oh. Yeah, sounds logical,” you nod.

“Let me know if you need help with that. I can arrange something for you.”

“We’ll see. I have to talk to Harry first.”

“Harry, huh?” Robert smirks down at you knowingly and you feel yourself blushing. A lot has changed lately around you and Harry and you guess it’s quite evident for everyone else as well. “Just so you know, he asked about you during the night. Wanted to know if you are alright.”

“Yeah?” you breathe out with a small smile.

“Yes. Might have been wrong about him a little. Tell him I said hello, I need to get to work now,” he nods with a fond smile.

“Thank you, Robert!” you call after him as he waves in your way before disappearing in the elevator.

Waiting around in the hall you keep looking towards the hallway, hoping to see him appear finally, but the minutes are just dragging by way too slowly.

You’re impatiently sitting on one of the benches by the wall when you finally see him walking down the hallway, leisurely running his hand through his hair, a tired smile sitting on his lips when he sees you leap from your seat and launch at him, throwing yourself into his arms.

“Hey, hey! It’s all good, Love. Told you not to worry about me,” he chuckles, but holds you tight anyway, his arms wrapping around you as he lifts you off the ground, taking a few steps forward.

“Of course I fucking worry about you, idiot!” you mumble into his neck before leaning back you look at his pretty face.

“Yeah? Does this mean I had the right to worry about you last night?”

“You were?”

“Fuck yes,” he laughs. “You have no idea what it was like to sit outside and listen to everything that fucker told you. Wanted to punch him in the face so badly.”

“So heroic,” you grin at him, your face already inching closer to his, arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Only for my favorite stripper,” he winks at you, making you gasp.

“If you dare to bring it up again and call me a stripper, I swear to God I—“

You don’t get to finish your threat, because his hand snakes to the back of your neck and he pulls you into a hard kiss, his lips smashing against yours. Melting into the kiss you open your mouth for him without hesitation, his tongue meeting yours as he kisses you with so much vigor and passion, he makes you bend your back, leaning back as he holds you firmly in his strong arms. And suddenly, you feel like you’re seventeen again, making out with your high school crush in the school hallway, luckily, you are kissing the same person you wanted then.

“I’m fucking starving, babe,” he breathes out once you finally pull away from each other. “For you as well, but can we get some real food?” he asks as he laces his fingers together with yours, heading out of the station.

“Sure,” you chuckle. “Hey, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Love, told you, you can handcuff me to the bedframe, I’m into that stuff.”

“Shut up!” you laugh smacking his chest as the two of you walk out to your car. “It’s not about that,” you murmur with a soft blush. “Robert said we should leave for a while, Hugo might be after us after what happened last night.”

“Yeah, thought about that myself too,” he nods as he gets behind the wheel without even asking if you want him to drive or not.

“So what should we do?” you question, sitting in the comfort of your car. Harry reaches for your hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly before he smirks at you.

“Have you been to Ireland, Love?”

“No,” you breathe out, a little stunned by the question.

“I have a friend over there, I’m sure he would love to have us there for a while. What do you say?”

“Are you for real? You want to go to Ireland with me?”

“Yeah, would be fun, don’t you think?”

“Okay,” you smile in awe. Even after that kiss you had doubts he would want to run away with you for the time being. But he is definitely planning to have you around longer. “Yeah, Ireland sounds fun.”

“Great. Then let’s head home to pack,” he smirks, starting the car. “Oh, Love?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to bring your handcuffs,” he grins and you just laugh at his smugness before leaning closer to kiss him quickly before the two of you finally drive away from the station.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[theshelbyclan]

Family Secrets

Summary: Polly finally lets slip what the real Shelby curse is and as the youngest Shelby, with a little encouragement from John, you feel obligated to use it to your own advantage

(Gif by @mistress-gif​) A/N: I wrote this one when I couldn’t sleep, a long time ago, fuelled by my own frustration of being picked on as the youngest. This has been a headcanon of mine for ages and I finally put it to paper. I never had any intention of posting it, but because I’ve reached the 500 followers mark, I decided to share. It’s short, fluffy and a lot lighter than the actual series. Enjoy!

Words: 3220

*** 

“Give me the fucking book, John!” you bellowed through the kitchen. Your aunt was adamant that you’d all eat together, one day a week, on Sunday. These dinners were great and important, but they always ended in chaos. Tommy usually left early to get on with work, so he was never part of the sibling banter that ensued.

You had just finished eating and while Aunt Polly was busy clearing the dishes, you thought you could read a little. How wrong you were.

Holding the book out of your reach, the most annoying brother in the world was grinning broadly at you. “I will punch you in the fucking throat…” you threatened. This only made John laugh harder and he threw the book over your head towards Arthur who caught it nimbly. “How about me, little sister,” Arthur said playfully, “Are you going to cut me?” With a sigh you turned around and made another failed attempt at grabbing the book. Arthur threw the book back at John and a little game had started that you had no energy for. Still, you wanted that fucking book. “Forget the book, Y/N,” Ada commented from behind her own book, “Let them have their fun.”

But you were too stubborn for your own good, “I’ll be damned if I let them win…” which gave rise to more laughter from your brothers. So you grabbed the nearest tea towel and threw it in Arthur’s face. Before he could remove it, you pounced and actually felt the book beneath your fingers now. Polly paused her work and watched the scene with interest, partially because it was sweet, in a very Shelby manner, and partially because she wanted to put a stop to it before her kitchen got destroyed. You were so close, but Arthur grabbed you around your waist and managed to get the book back to John. Now you were well and truly stuck. “Right, what now?” he teased in a low voice. “Get the fuck off!” you screamed, when John walked over to you and dangled the book in front of you. Stretching out your arms as much as you could, you could almost reach it. But John, evil as he was, used his other hand to tickle your ribs and you immediately crumpled down in Arthur’s arms. The second brother soon joined in and now you were being attacked by two pairs of hands. You dissolved in a mess of giggles within seconds and there was nothing you could do. Sliding down onto the floor, with very little hope of rescue from your sister or aunt, you were at their mercy completely. And then, like some miracle, Ada intervened. She grabbed John by the collar and pulled him back. You gasped for breath as soon as you could. “She’s had enough, John,” Ada said sternly, “Back off, or you’re next.” Arthur looked down on you with a huge grin on his face, “Ada, we both know she can take much more than that…” “Noo!” you whined and without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you rolled away on your stomach across the kitchen until you bumped into your aunt. “Should’ve punched him in the throat,” she said softly to you. “Don’t be a baby!” John called out, “It’s your own fault.” “How the fuck is it my fault?” you replied indignantly from the floor. “For being so fucking sensitive,” John grinned. Arthur joined in, “That’s right. Just turn it off.” You rolled your eyes almost audibly. 

John scoffed and pushed Ada away, “You’re fourteen now, Y/N. Time to learn.”

Polly turned around swiftly, “Oh, like you ever did!”

“What?” your head shot up.

Ada looked at you with a smirk, “What, you thought you were the only one?”

As you got to your feet, Polly helped you up and said meaningfully, “That’s the real family curse, sweetheart.”

Years of them pinning you down and teasing you bubbled up in frustration, “Are you saying that I’ve been going through torture for all these years, thinking that it was just me, when all this time…”

Arthur shrugged, “You’re the youngest and smallest. Comes with the territory.” 

“Besides, we’re stronger,” John added smugly. He was right of course, which made it all the more annoying.

Polly threw down the washing cloth and theatrically said, “Welcome to the Shelby family, feared by all in Birmingham and where everyone is ticklish as fuck!” Your entire worldview had been altered in seconds. Apparently this wasn’t news to your siblings, because they all looked completely unimpressed by this bit of information, while you stood there with your mouth hanging open in surprise. After thinking about all of this for a while, you asked, “Even Tommy?” “When we were kids we used to make fun of him,” John recalled with a glint in his eyes, “It’s just his ribs, but if you poke him suddenly, he literally jumps.” “He went absolutely feral,” Arthur nodded. An idea was taking shape in your head, “Would that still work, you think?” “You’ll only get yourself killed,” Ada commented in her usual bored tone of voice. “Do it!” John urged, “Come Ada, you know she’ll get away with it.” You and John had always been the most mischievous in the family and you shared a look with a similar twinkle in your eyes. You finally knew something Tommy didn’t know. This was your one chance to catch Thomas Shelby by surprise. ***

For the next couple of days, you tried to get your brother alone. It was strange, because on the one hand you couldn’t wait to try out your plan. Envisioning how he would react was brilliant already, but the feeling of power you had was even greater. However, you also feared his reaction. Thomas Shelby was a busy man and he had very little time for anyone these days. When he did spend time with you, it was short and it often involved him reprimanding you. In all honesty, you were a little scared of him, but not scared enough to let a prank like this one go to waste. You’d deal with the consequences, whatever they were.

John might’ve been even more excited than you were and whenever Tommy left to go somewhere on his own, he motioned you frantically to follow him. Finding the right time proved almost impossible though. So you decided just to get on with it. This was the day you would find out if your brother shared the family curse. Unfortunately, he’d been in a bad mood all day. He’d called a family meeting at breakfast and had left quickly after that. They’d all reconvene in the evening. Dodging all your other responsibilities, you shadowed Tommy for most of the day, but he had one business meeting after the other. His mood was getting darker and darker, and you began to wonder if you were actually suicidal. But then, unexpectedly, you found yourself alone with him outside. “Y/N,” he said strictly, “Tell me what’s going on.” You’d come outside for some peace, because today was one of the busiest days at the shop and you’d had enough of the noise. Outside, you planned on reading your book and you’d forgotten about Tommy for a minute. Until he had appeared suddenly. “Nothing,” you said, looking up.

“Then why have you been following me all day, eh?” He sounded annoyed almost and all courage left you.

Improvising quickly, you said, “Missed you at dinner last Sunday.” “I was there,” he lit a cigarette and sat down next to you on the stone steps.

“For five whole minutes…”

“There was business to attend to.” “And there’s family to attend to as well,” you replied, without missing a beat. Silently, he side-eyed you and a small smirk played around his lips, “You’re right, I’ll do better next week. Am I forgiven?” “No,” you feigned anger. He turned his head towards you and he smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

The bond you had with Tommy was a complicated one. In many ways you were very similar, but the war had changed him the most. Sometimes you felt like you’d lost him completely, when you thought of how you used to talk and laugh with him when you were younger. These moments were so rare now. And these exact thoughts did the trick and you decided that you had to be the one to make that old Tommy come back, if only a little. So you said a silent prayer, decided not to overthink it and poked him in the ribs once. The effect was immediate. Thomas Shelby shot up and nearly rocketed himself off the steps. With a wild look of betrayal he turned his eyes on you and you almost burst out laughing.   “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” you asked innocently.

He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and sat back down. Apparently, we’re pretending this never happened, you thought. 

A few seconds of awkward silence later, you poked him again. This time, a small yelp escaped him. The most feared gangster in Birmingham yelped, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing any longer. 

As you were still trying to regain composure, Tommy pointed at you with a menacing finger, “Do that again and you will not live to tell the fucking tale.” You could only snort in reply. He was trying so hard to act all scary and while that had an effect on most people, you just couldn’t be bothered right now: It was too funny. Besides, you thought you could detect just a hint of mirth behind those pale blue eyes and decided to risk everything on just that.

“I mean it, Y/N,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows, “Do it again, I fucking dare you, and see what happens.” So you did it again. 

In a flash, he was up and dove for you. But you were faster and jumped out of the way. Like the two of you were a part of a bad play, you started circling each other around the small yard. Neither said a word and seconds felt like hours. Then Arthur called from inside the house, “Tom!”

“You called a family meeting,” you reminded him, while relaxing a little at the prospect of escape.

Tommy’s eyes stayed on you and he cleared his throat again, “Fuck, alright. You’re coming with me.” And he lifted you up and threw you over one shoulder. Your shrieks filled the house as he walked through the betting den, over to the table where the family was already gathered, with you still on his shoulder. Without blinking, the leader of the Peaky Blinders announced, “Right, well you’re all here. Let’s talk business quickly…” Aunt Polly pointed vaguely at your arse, which was sticking up in the air, “You do realise you have my niece in your arms?” “Well aware, Poll,” Tommy continued, like it was the most normal thing in the world, “Business! We’ve done well this week. John’s shown me the books and we’re making more money than ever. Next week, we’re buying a new horse and I’m going to race her.” Flabbergasted, the family stared at Tommy. You could see the million questions on their faces, but they decided to wait until he was done talking. You had also refrained from protesting by now. “Poll, as treasurer I need your permission to buy the horse.” She blinked a few times and mumbled, “Buy the horse. Y/N‘s still…” Tommy held up a hand, “Not finished,” and everyone closed their mouths again, “John, I need you to talk to that old widow down the road. She’s recently lost her son and she should become part of our fund. Arthur, for fucks sake, get the books from the Garrison in order.” “It’s those bloody numbers, Tom…” Arthur grumbled in reply. “Are we all clear on what to do?” Tommy finished off in a hurry. When no one replied, he answered for them, “Good!” With this he plucked you down from his shoulder and held you in his arms bridal style. With a grave and business-like tone he announced, “As you all know, this is Y/N Shelby, youngest member of the family. While we were away in France, she kept the fort and she has often provided us with some relief in times of stress ever since we’ve come back. But not anymore.” John started to get nervous and looked from you to Tommy. Had they gone too far this time? But then he saw Arthur grinning and even Ada had a small smile on her face, so he knew Tommy was only playing. “Gentlemen,” Tommy continued, “This is the day that Y/N Shelby dies. Say goodbye to your sister.”

And that’s when you decided not to await your fate, so you made a sudden movement and jumped out of Tommy’s arms. Dashing past the table, you sought refuge behind Polly’s back. 

“Told you this would happen, Y/N,” Ada said, not helping at all.

For some reason, Polly got up and left the room, while stating triumphantly, “The secret’s out, Thomas. Deal with it.” Now you just had an empty chair for protection. Tommy pointed at you directly and practically growled, “And it’s going back in.” With three of the largest steps he was at your side once again.

So you held up your hands, “Okay, wait, I can explain.”

“Too late, little sister,” Tommy said in a low voice, “These are family secrets that are not spoken of.”

“You’re such a drama queen, Tommy,” your sister commented, while getting up to leave. And all you could think was: why would you leave me alone with these mad bastards?

You really should’ve known better but decided to go for the cocky approach, “There’s no point in trying to scare me now, Tommy, knowing what I know.” You raised your eyebrows in an attempt to show him you were still in control. You weren’t. In a flash he’d tackled you to the floor and had you pinned down, while whispering ominously, “You picked the wrong brother to fuck with, Y/N Shelby.”

And for the second time in a week, you cursed your own sensitive skin as dexterous hands attacked your sides. Incapable of little but laughing and screaming, you flailed around hopelessly. Tommy’s face was slowly softening into a smile as well.

“Tommy!” you pleaded between giggles, “It was John, not me!” “Was it now?” he taunted without stilling his fingers, “And who was the fool to listen to his ideas, eh?” He moved up to your ribs, which made the pitch of your laughter increase. “Toohoohoom! Wait!”

Now, it was no secret that your major weakness in life was your sensitivity. Usually it was John who took the most advantage of it, being the mad joker that he was, but he often got Finn or Arthur to join in. Arthur on his own could be absolutely brutal, which was due to his strength as well, so there was no hope for you at all. Ada didn’t bother much, but when she did, she was merciless, much like Polly. But Tommy, he was a whole other story. You didn’t have many moments like this with him anymore, but when he did play and did get his hands on you, it was hell. He knew exactly how to reduce you to a small heap of giggles, pleading for your life and regretting all life choices up to that point. And this was happening right now. His smile was widening and he shook his head, “You thought you could beat me, eh?” “Yeheeeheees,” you admitted. Then he stopped for a second, allowing you to breathe, “Alright, you little devil, I’ll give you one a chance to speak.”

Residual giggles were pouring from your mouth, “Never… listen… to… John.” Tommy looked up at his younger brother who was showing zero remorse on his face, and he nodded slowly, “Good. What else?” “I’ve learned that Thomas Shelby sounds like a girl when…” but you never got to finish that sentence, as he continued his assault.

“Wrong answer. And you are way to ticklish to have an attitude like that, Y/N,” he said calmly. 

As he dragged your arms up and dug his hands under your arms, you squeezed your eyes shut, “NOOOO, I’M SOOHOORYYY!” “Are you?” he asked, now smiling broadly at your reaction, “Then tell me what you’ve fucking learned from this, eh?” “YOU DON’T FUCK WITH THE PEAKY BLINDERS!” you managed to shout out between laughs. “That’s right,” Arthur commented, watching the scene while sitting back in his chair, “Finally, she gets it.” Tommy paused and looked at both of his brothers, as if he was waiting for their verdict. “Nah,” John decided to cause more trouble, “I don’t think she has…” Still struggling unsuccessfully to get out of Tommy’s grasp, you shouted, “John, shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God…” Tommy rolled his eyes and interrupted you, “Get her, boys,” he called out, “Let’s teach our sister some respect for her brothers.” So now there were three brothers trying to keep you in place, while you were being tickled from all sides. Why did you listen to John? Why did you not know better than to challenge Tommy? Spluttering, kicking and fighting like crazy, you managed to kick them a little bit at least, but the fact that they were all grinning down on you still meant that it didn’t help much. 

Tears leaking out of your eyes, you shrieked, “YOOOUAAHAHAH AHAHAHALL SUAHAHACK!”

Then Tommy stopped them and crossed his arms in front of him. The amusement was twinkling in his eyes, “Had enough?” “Yep,” you said quickly, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Whatever Polly has told you,” he widened his eyes and brought his face close to yours, “Family secrets are not spoken of.” “Fine!” you called out, “They’re not spoken of.” His smile grew again, “Remember this, Y/N. And remember this was nothing compared to what we can do and what I will do, if you ever feel the need to cross Thomas fucking Shelby again.” You got up, again, and brushed yourself off while sending a death-stare to each of your brothers. But when Tommy smiled at you, there was a certain warmth to it that you hadn’t seen in ages.

“Wankers…” you mumbled carefully. Tommy smirked slightly, “You brought this upon yourself, Y/N. Now you know what happens…” “…when you fuck with the Peaky Blinders. Bladibladibla…” you finished his sentence. Making your way to the door, you turned back for a moment, “To be fair, Tommy, I did just saw you jump up about a foot because you’re actually fucking ticklish. So much for the whole gangster act, I should say.” Tommy’s eyes narrowed, John burst out laughing and Arthur managed to shout out a quick “Oi!” And before anyone could react, you sprinted away. Somehow, this still felt like a victory. Sure, you were the youngest and probably the most sensitive in the family, but you had discovered your own weapon now. John would be next, just for setting you up. Arthur would involve more planning. But finding Tommy’s weakness, that was the real triumph. Behind you, you could hear Tommy sit down and sigh, “Well, boys, we’re well and truly fucked now…”

And you grinned to yourself. The game was on.

***

Masterlist

[lilshitwayne]

for the bingo: "hiding injuries from the group" + Saul, perchance? 😁

Saul wasn't stupid. Really, he wasn't. He knew better than to hide an injury from his battalion and knew it was, more often than not, the type of crucial information that could make it or break when it came to keeping them alive.

But the thing was: they were going home.

The fight was over for today and he was lying on the passenger seat of Alfea's military jeep and trying to keep from wincing every time they hit a bump on the road. And because he hadn't exactly spoken aloud about his ribs, Andreas wasn't exactly paying much attention to the road.

It felt good going home after a successful mission, knowing his comfortable bed, warm shower and, most importantly, painkillers waited for him. There was no need for him to bring the mood down by complaining about sore ribs.

Hell, even Andreas was acting like a person for the first time in months! He had one hand on the steering wheel and the other arm was hanging out of the window. He was still partially covered in blood, but he was whistling under his breath, more relaxed than Saul remembered seeing him in far too long.

They hit a pothole and Saul's good mood flew out of the window at the same time as he bit down his lip to stop a sharp cry. Maybe it was more than sore ribs. Maybe the fucking asshole could drive with a little more care.

"Really?" Saul said bitterly, hunching forward and taking two large breaths. It felt as if his lungs were shrinking, if that was possible. Like he couldn't get in enough air.

"I'm starving. I wanna get there before sundown."

"It's going to be easier to get there if you don't ruin the wheels."

"Got your panties in a twist darling?" Andreas bit back, switching hands on the steering wheel to plant his paw on Saul's back in a friendly way.

Saul didn't even feel the hit. He waited for the force, but what he felt was horrendous hot pain. The whole world went white for a second and when he opened his eyes again Andreas was eyeing him curiously and a little... shocked.

"Aye, just a touch and you're already rolling eyes?" He raised his eyebrows and Saul looked out of the window and raised his middle finger. Even that hurt like a bitch.

"Bite me."

"Buy me dinner first."

Saul scoffed, tried to muster up an equally sassy line, but he was in far too much pain to think and exhaustion was taking him under quickly. He carefully slid lower on his seat, threw his good arm over his eyes and stretched his legs, "wake me up when we get there."

Andreas didn't answer.

He woke up several hours later with the movement of the jeep stopping. Except that when Silva raised his head and blinked to situate himself he realized this wasn't Alfea. Something akin to dread set in his stomach and he turned his head carefully, noticing the empty driver's seat.

"Andreas?"

"Oi!" His best friend poked his head from the back of the jeep and circled it, rubbing his hands together to produce some warmth, "I got good and bad news, which one you want first?"

"Tell me we're not stranded. Tell me you didn't ruin the fucking wheels."

Andreas shrugged, "Okay, I only have good news now."

"I hate you."

"I didn't see the Sleeping Beauty offering to drive," Andreas pointed out, squinting at him. Nevertheless, he looked a little flushed, running his fingers through his beard in a nervous tick that he did when he knew he had messed up big time. Saul really wanted to punch him.

"What are the good news?"

"I saw a cabin not long ago, before the car- You know. Maybe ten minutes ago?"

"At what speed were you going?" Saul groaned, trying to do the math. Andreas drove like a maniac, so if he was going at his regular speed... Ten minutes ago was actually many many miles ago.

He considered not going. Letting his stupid friend go alone to the fucking cabin and just sleeping on the car, but sadly the jeep had zero insulation and with the sun gone and the sky growing quickly pitch black, the temperature was dropping dangerously.

"Get our swords, I'm getting the bags" Andreas answered instead.

Their swords were in the backseat and the moment Saul turned around to grab them, the whole world vanished in a monumental wave of pain. Definitely not just sore ribs.

He tried to breathe through it, choked and started coughing, which only made the pain get worse and worse-

"You good?" Andreas asked when Saul finally got out of the car, holding the two heavy swords and leaning forward while panting.

"Something's on my throat."

"Here-" he threw his water canteen to Saul, who grabbed it with clumsy fingers and took one large gulp, only to immediately spit it out and cough.

"Andreas!? This is... VODKA!"

"Yeah-" Andreas grabbed the canteen forcefully from him, "good human vodka you just wasted, thank you very much. I figured it might help with that chill of yours."

"Everyday I'm grateful you're a soldier, not a doctor" Saul said bitterly and together they started to walk the miles ahead of them.

They didn't speak much. It was late and they were both exhausted, but Andreas had fully slipped back into defense mode, eyes and ears cautiously studying the darkness and waiting for any suspicious movement. Saul was doing his damn best not to cough, not only because he didn't want Andreas fussing over him, but because every time he did cough it felt like he was being stabbed with a hot knife.

He had broken out in cold sweat and started seeing little black dots when they finally arrived to the cabin. It was dark and no one answered when Andreas hit the door with his huge fist and yelled, so instead the man took a step back.

"Help me take it down."

"Just-" Saul leaned forward, hands on his knees and tried to take in a breath, "just kick near the door handle. Don't take down the door."

Andreas grumbled something under his breath that could've been an agreement or an insult, but Saul didn't hear as he went in a coughing fit once more.

When everything came back into focus he was on his knees on the cold grass and Andreas' huge hand was on his back, thumping softly but only managing to make Saul let out a cry.

"Stop- STOP!"

"What's fucking wrong with you?" Andreas asked, voice thick with annoyance and worry.

"I-" Saul rasped for air and leaned even more forward, resting his forehead on the grass, "my ribs-"

He didn't even finish the phrase before his friend was undoing the harness around his chest and tugging on his sweater, unbothered by Saul's little groans.

"Fuck me."

"That bad?"

"Definitely broken", Andreas scoffed, grabbing the back of the sweater and pulling Saul up instead of half folded into the grass, "with our luck you probably pierced a lung and is dying."

"I want to be cremated" Saul dead panned, letting Andreas throw his good arm around his neck and hoist him up, shouldering most of his weight.

"No way brother, we're going to bury you right next to me after Farah murders me for letting you die", Andreas moved his hand to Silva's belt loops, "why didn't you say anything?"

"We were going home... To the infirmary. What was the point?"

"I wouldn't have made you walk on fucking broken ribs, that was the point." but what he actually meant was that he'd have driven better and they wouldn't be in this situation at all.

"It was not-not-notHIGHK-" Saul choked with the word and started coughing again, knees buckling under him. Something hot filled his mouth and he spat it on the cabin's porch, touching his lips and gasping when his fingers came back red.

Andreas eyed the blood and let out a frustrated groan, picking Saul up bridal style now that his legs had fully given out, "don't you dare die on me, Saul."

"Tell Farah-"

"That you love her, gotcha."

"No, that I died because you drive like a psychopath."

Andreas snorted and kicked the door behind them, locking outside the howling wind and probably the possibility of Saul actually dying on his arms.

"Shut up or I will punch you in the ribs."

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