#I was thinking that it being a friday near the end of the month that there'd be a chance and LO

[raycatzdraws]

LU WIND BUT HE'S A ITTY BITTY HUMMINGBIRD

Slingshot Proficiency!

+bonus doodle drafts

[moonchildstyles]

complicated

y/n meets someone, only to find out that he's going to be her stepbrother

wordcount: 17.3k+

—————

(Y/N)'s mouth pinched as she looked at the aisles of wine before her. Knowing her Uncle Mick, he wasn't even going to have a sip, not when he had whisky in the cabinet instead. But, it felt wrong meeting his new girlfriend—fianceé, actually, as of last weekend—empty handed. She wanted to make a good first impression, especially since she hadn't made any serious efforts to come by and meet her until her uncle dropped the proposal on her. 

Truthfully, it was because of her uncle; he was a hopeless romantic who had told (Y/N) on more than one occasion that he had fallen in love with someone he'd just met in the years since his wife had passed. It was hard justifying taking time off from work and booking plane tickets for a short-lived relationship.

But, that obviously wasn't the case this time. He'd been raving about this woman—Anne—for the last six months. Enough so that he purchased a ring and wanted to marry her as soon as they could thread something together. And her Uncle Mick wanted her to be a part of the whole process—she was the daughter he never had, he'd said. 

So, even if he wasn't going to take a single sip of whatever rosé she picked out, she was going to do it anyway. She needed to get to know this woman and let her know that she was going to be welcomed with open arms into this small, but loving family. 

Perusing down the aisle, (Y/N)'s eye caught a bottle with a golden foiling around the cork. The label was especially pretty, printed in French with a year on it that would take at least a couple of minutes for (Y/N) to do the math on. It was pretty, and undoubtedly more worth more money than she planned on spending tonight. But, that was the point, she thought. 

She'd make more money, but her uncle wasn't going to get married again. (She hoped, anyway).

The only problem? It was on the very top shelf and nowhere near the edge. She wasn't going to be able to reach it unless she called for help from one of the employees wandering around here. They didn't particularly seem to be in the mood, though. She didn't blame them, what with this being how they spent their Friday evening, watching every patron come in looking for some liquor to kick the night off. 

Looking around, she wondered if there was anything around here, one of those pokers that many retail spaces used to get high up t-shirts off the top racks. She knew the idea was stupid before she even finished the thought, but she couldn't completely ignore the hope that fizzled in her chest. 

Okay, maybe if she stood on the tips of her toes and reached really hard, then jumped she could reach it. Yeah, she could try that. Hopefully, she would only be able to reach the bottle she wanted and not knock over the plenty of other ones lining the shelves. 

With her hand blindly reaching the top of the shelf, fingertips grazing the empty surface, (Y/N) readied herself to jump as high and controlled as she could. 

"Do y'need help?"

The stranger's voice knocked her out of her plan. At the end of the aisle was a man with curling brown hair looking at her with a pinch between his brows. He had a white button up covering his torso, a light blue cardigan slouching over his form. He didn't wait for his answer before he started towards her.

"Um," she started, dropping to stand flat on her feet, "Yeah, actually. Thanks." 

"Of course," he smiled, relief unstitching his brows. "'M happy I caught y'before y'jumped. I don't think that would have worked out like y'hoped." 

"Me neither," she laughed, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder, "But thank you. I was trying to reach the gold one on top." 

His smile was kind as he effortlessly reached for the bottle. (Y/N) couldn't help the way her eyes dropped over him, appraising every inch. Rings glittered on his hands, some with gaudy gems, others nothing more than brassy bands. The cardigan she had seen across the aisle was actually a knitted depiction of a cloudy sky, fluffs of clouds stitched into the material. His trousers were a warm brown, matching the belt cinched around his waist and shin of his shoes. As he reached, his hand had a cross inked between his thumb and forefinger. 

He was really cute. Really, really cute. In a real way, she considered if he was a model. Why a model like him, with a perfect nose and shattered green eyes, would be in the wine aisle of the liquor store of her home, she had no idea, but she was grateful for whatever circumstances put him here. 

Blinking away from him in hopes of concealing just how intently she had been staring at him, (Y/N) graciously took the offered bottle in his outstretched hand. 

"Thanks," she smiled, "Thinking now, I don't think my plan would have worked." 

The man in front of her settled in, hands in pockets as he gazed down at her. "Yeah? Rethinking the jump?" 

"Oh yeah," she laughed, "I think my bag alone would have knocked down an entire shelf." 

A short, breathy laugh fell from his lips. "Definitely. Would've ruined your night before 's even started." He gave a pointed look to the bottle in her hand. 

"Oh no, I'm just going to my uncle's house for dinner. He probably wouldn't have even noticed if I was soaked in wine with glass stuck in my jacket as long as he had food in front of him." 

The man hummed, giving a slow drag of his eyes over her form. "I don't know. You're hard to ignore." 

Her skin was decidedly warmer under his gaze. She couldn't bite back the grin that sparked over her features. 

"In a good way?" she chirped, blinking up at him as if he were the sun and she a flower. 

He had dimples. Her breath clung to her throat. 

"Only the best," he flirted, shifting on his feet as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He hesitated before reaching for the device. A beat passed as she let him read the notification, his lips thinning before glancing up at her. "I have to get going, but... I hope this isn't weird to ask, but could I have your number? Or whatever y'would want to share?" 

The man had come off so confident, approaching her without prompting. Lazily dragging his eyes over her with his hand shrugged in his pockets, entirely sure of what he could offer her should she take him up on it. But, now, asking for any way to contact her, he had struggled to find his words. She watched as he attempted to form the best way to ask for her number, a thin smile on his lips. 

She only nodded her head. "I can give you my number." 

The man before her brightened, dimples and bunny teeth on display. "Cool," he muttered, offering his phone up the same way he had offered the wine. 

Typing in her information, she glanced at him through her lashes. "My name's (Y/N), by the way." 

"Oh, yeah," he rushed out, breathing out a huff of laughter, "That's right—names. 'M Harry." 

"Nice to meet you, Harry," she smiled, passing his phone back, "Thanks, again." 

"Yeah, yeah," he grinned, looking down at the new contact on his phone. "Of course. I'll—um—I'll text you soon. Have a nice night at your uncle's." 

"Have a nice night," (Y/N) said, biting back her own grin.

Harry hesitated in his spot for a moment, looking at her with pretty green eyes and fluttering lashes before forcing himself to take off.

He only glanced back at her twice. 

—————

Sitting in her rental car, the drive to Uncle Mick's house mapped on her phone, (Y/N) took a moment in the silence. 

What kind of romantic comedy had she just found herself in? Giving out her number to random, pretty boys she met in the liquor store of all places. If she found out this had been a bad choice later, she would blame the cloud cardigan and the shades of green in his eyes. Anyone would melt when faced with those. 

Pushing the car into drive, (Y/N) allowed herself to wonder for a moment just how long she would have to wait for him to message her. She hoped she wouldn't have to wait very long at all before she had a chance to see him again. 

—————

(Y/N) felt out of breath as she approached the front door of her Uncle Mick's house, as if she had ran here instead of driven. 

The traffic on the way here had been humbling to say the least. And to think she called his place her hometown when she had turned into the wrong subdivision twice and was shocked every time another stoplight blocked what she remembered to be a straight path home. She could do another other than watch her arrival time drift further and further than the eight o'clock they had agreed upon. 

Clutching the neck of the wine bottle, (Y/N) figured thirty minutes late was better than not showing up at all. Despite having texted her uncle when she pulled up, she still pressed the doorbell. On the other side, she heard the clattering of overgrown feet with barking following shortly after. Flipper was awake, then. 

She was stuck outside for only a minute before the knob clicked and turned. Uncle Mick pulled the door open, smiling lips and crinkled eyes the first things she saw. 

"Hi, honey," he greeted, pulling her into a hug while Flipper went crazy behind him, "You made it." 

"Hi, Uncle Mick," she smiled, feeling suddenly emotional now that she was hugging him. It had been way too long since she saw him—the man that had raised her from the age of eleven. She hugged him especially tight at the thought. "I've missed you." 

"I've missed you, too. But you're here now, and we've got dinner warming in the oven for you." His kind smile only widened when he saw her gift in hand. "And you brought wine! Did I tell you this one was my favorite?" 

(Y/N) blinked. "Since when did you have a favorite wine?" she asked, passing off the wine as she locked the door behind herself. 

Her uncle shrugged, tipping his chin up in faux-superiority. "Can't a man change, (Y/N)? Or must I always drink acetone?" 

She let out a bubbling laugh as she followed after him, petting Flipper on his shaggy head. Trailing through the living room, she could see the lighting in the dining room, the chandelier that had gone unused for most of her childhood now lit at full power. A scented candle now dotted the coffee table, along with fluffy throw pillows and a knitted blanket on the sofa. 

The entire house seemed... softened. Eased into another phase of life that included delicate edges and soft-scented air. This woman must really be something to get Uncle Mick to take down his fish of the month calendar. 

Approaching the threshold, (Y/N) braced herself to follow after her uncle. She was going to have to start the night with an apology. 

Mick started the introduction, stepping aside when he said her name as if presenting her to a ballroom instead of his fianceé. 

"Sorry, I'm late. I—" 

Her words became stuck in her throat. 

Sitting in one of the four chairs at the small table was Harry. Cloud cardigan and all. 

What the fuck was he doing here?

"You alright, kiddo?" 

Blinking back to earth, (Y/N) nodded her head. "Yeah sorry," she muttered, forcing out a laugh, "I forgot what I was saying, as I was saying it." 

A round of laughter filled the room. Including Harry's. 

Making a point to avoid the end of the table that his chair sat, (Y/N) pointed her smile at the pretty, dark haired woman sitting right next to where her uncle had set himself up. 

"Sorry," she started, again, walking around the table to meet the woman halfway. "I wish I could have come around to meet you sooner. You must be Anne." 

(Y/N) had her hand outstretched to shake, only to be pulled into a warm hug. The embrace was soft and comforting, just like the effect she seemed to have on her uncle. 

"Don't worry," the woman, Anne, smiled, "Mick has told me all about your job, so I understand. Thank you for taking the time to come down and see us. It's wonderful to finally meet you." 

She had kind eyes, hazel with shatters of a familiar green. Just the reminder had a flush plucking at her cheeks, knowing who was sitting just behind her. 

"It's really nice to meet you too, Anne," (Y/N) smiled, hoping the natural turn of the conversation wasn't the one that this would take. 

Her hopes were shot down when Anne gestured behind her, her grin only widening. 

"(Y/N), this is my son, Harry. He's down visiting from work too." 

Harry. Harry was her uncle's—who was really like her father for all intents and purposes—fianceé's son. The man that would be as close to a bother as she could get as soon as this wedding happened, was the same one she had thought about going on a date with all during the drive here. 

He seemed to have the same shock running through his system as she stood from his chair. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Nice to meet you, (Y/N)."

Boundaries were maintained as they shook hands. Even if she was, unfortunately, taken aback by how large his palm was compared to hers. Warm and encompassing around her fingers. 

Matching his gaze, she could see the matching panic she was sure was also written on her face. They both felt that flirty energy in the wine aisle. They had only been cut off because they had somewhere to be—which happened to be the same place. 

Her name was in his phone with a pink heart emoji. 

And now they were just a wedding short of being step-siblings. 

"Nice to meet you, Harry." 

Forcing herself to pull her hand back, (Y/N) made the self-serving choice of looking towards her uncle. Whatever had conspired between her and Harry had gone unnoticed if the beaming grin on Mick's face was anything to go by. 

"I can help with dinner," (Y/N) offered, hoping for a reprieve in the form of the quiet kitchen, "You said it was in the oven, right?" 

"Oh yes, dinner," Uncle Mick laughed, "The lasagna is in the oven. Thank you, (Y/N)." 

That was all the permission she needed before scurrying off to the kitchen. She moved on robotic limbs to the appliance, but stopped short of pulling open the door.

Instead, she leaned over the stove, hands braced on the ledge. 

What kind of tragic comedy had she found herself in?

—————

"Goodnight, kiddo. Thanks for coming tonight." 

(Y/N) hugged her uncle that much tighter. She could hear the sincerity in his voice; this was about more than a dinner she had managed to make it down for. 

"Goodnight, Uncle Mick." 

Their embrace lasted a beat longer before she unraveled herself from his hold. Over his shoulder, she could see Harry having a moment with his mother. Seeing them side by side like that, the resemblance was so clear. Even down to the set of their teeth and the cheekbones. 

Especially when they smiled at each other like that. 

"Still on for breakfast in the morning?" Mick asked, fatherly affection painting his features. 

"If you can pick me up, yes," she conditioned, batting her lashes and beaming up at him. 

"As long as you're up and ready to go, I can make that happen." 

She pulled him into another hug to show her thanks. "I'll see you in the morning. Love you." 

"Love you too, kiddo. Get to bed so you don't keep me waiting." 

Heading towards the door, (Y/N) threw a glance over her shoulder, intending to wave to her uncle one more time, only to catch Harry following in her footsteps. Her lips thinned. She knew he was on his way out too, but she had hoped she was moving faster than him. Now It would be weird to rush out ahead of him and let the door slam in his face. Especially if this was now her soon-to-be stepbrother. 

Harry's pleading eyes met hers. Begging her to wait just a second for him. She supposed, even if she wanted to avoid it, they needed to talk about this at some point. 

Now, they both were waving goodbye to their respective parents. Final declarations of how nice it was to meet one another were shared, following them out onto the chilly stoop. Silence fell over them as the door sealed behind them. 

Just the two of them now. (Y/N) and her almost-stepbrother. (Y/N) and the guy she had just short of fantasized going on a date with only hours earlier. 

His steps slowed to match hers. 

"So," he started. 

She didn't offer any words. Was now when they acknowledged the obvious flirting they shared in the liquor store? Or were they going to save that for the wedding? 

"Kind of fucked up, huh?" 

At that, (Y/N) couldn't help but to laugh. The sound was surprisingly loud, breaking into the quiet neighborhood. 

"That's exactly what I was thinking," she murmured, coming to a stop next to her car. Daring to look up at him, she caught him already looking down at her. His eyes were just as pretty now as when she saw him for the first time that night. Before she knew her adoptive dad was marrying his mom. "Did you... You didn't know before, right?" 

A pinch appeared between his brows. "No. Had no idea. The last time I was down here was two years ago, when I helped my mum move."

"That's crazy. The last time I was here was two years ago, too." 

A rueful smile touching his lips. They were both having the same thought. 

If only...

"They seem really happy together, though," (Y/N) posited, knowing they were going to have to accept the terms of their newfound relationship. 

"Really happy," Harry agreed, glancing back at her childhood home, "'S been a long time since I've seen my mum that happy." 

"Same for my uncle." (Y/N) nodded her head, her smile thin when Harry turned back towards her. Whatever she had started knitting for him this evening, now needed to be severed. "It was really nice to meet you, Harry. Thanks for everything tonight." 

Faint dimpled dented his cheeks. "It was nice to meet you, (Y/N). Get back to your hotel safe." 

"You, too," she reciprocated, pulling open her car door. Harry took a step back, his hands in his pockets as his eyes followed her. "Oh," she gasped, "You should probably change my name in your phone, by the way. I think the emoji might throw some people off." 

At that, she was granted Harry's bursting laughter as she climbed into her car. She probably felt a little bit too much pride over that. 

Pulling out of her uncle's driveway and out into the street, she couldn't help but peek into her rearview. Though a part of her wanted to think Harry had his eyes following her, the other part of her was quick to send a reminder that that wasn't something she should want. Not anymore. 

While there wasn't anything serious that had conjured between them, the potential having been torn from their hands was enough to feel a little bit of loss. They hadn't even had time to mess it all up themselves. 

Now they'd never know. 

 —————

Tucked away in her cubicle, (Y/N) smiled at her phone. 

The group chat labeled Wedding Party complete with every floral emoji the keyboard had to offer was going crazy. But, she still went to the single message from Harry first. 

     I love my sister so much but I think I'm going to have to block her if she sends one more Pinterest board to my mum. This whole thing was supposed to be small and now we're looking at a gelato bar for the reception.

     There wasn't even supposed to be a reception.

She covered her mouth as if that would make the grin growing over it obsolete. She knew well what he was going through. For the first two months of this engagement, all talks of the wedding had been flippant, that the ceremony would happen when it happened. In a matter of weeks, everything had changed. There was now a joint bachelor and bachelorette party to plan. 

Harry had been her lifeline through this roller coaster. They didn't talk about the night in the wine aisle, never breaching the previous terms of their acquaintance. Instead, they had grown to be friends. Good friends. The kind of friends that had separate conversations outside of group chats. The kind that would send anything that reminded them of one another. They had inside jokes now. 

They were friends. Soon to be step siblings. 

(Though, even if it wasn't something she acknowledged, (Y/N) knew good and well there was a phantom following her any time she interacted with Harry. That phantom never let her forget that she was still attracted to him. Even if no action could be taken, she wasn't going to be able to forget him as the man in the cloud cardigan with the pretty eyes and freckled nose).

     I'm supposed to be figuring out a bachelor party and I think I would rather die than think about what my Uncle Mick would want to do on his last night as a "single man"

     I might just change my number actually and hope no one notices 

     Hahahahahaha

     And now we both get to be there for that last "single" night. Thrilling stuff! 

     You'd still let me have your number though, right?

She didn't want to admit how her cheeks warmed reading his texts. Maybe because it was something she wanted to see—though she'd never admit to as much out loud—, but she swore there was still that flirty undertone to the way he spoke to her. Like he wasn't quite over things like they were supposed to be. 

     Of course

     I'm scared you'll go crazy without it and I still need you for the actual wedding 

It was a small indulgence, telling him she needed him. While she wouldn't act like there was something astronomical that had been built between them, it was hard to ignore the fact that the more she spoke with him, it didn't exactly tamp down her feelings for him. 

     I know you do.

(Y/N) blinked at her phone screen. She could hear the words in his voice, that drawling accented voice. The way his eyes would have connected with hers had they been speaking in person. How there would have been a quirk in his lips, a reminder that this was very much a silly, lighthearted joke even if a part of her short-circuited. 

Ignoring everything else, (Y/N) typed out a lame, noncommittal response ("You wish lol") before locking her phone and placing it face down on her desk. The email in her inbox suddenly sounded a lot more appealing than they had only a few minutes prior. Even making the copies she had been putting off for the whole morning had suddenly been pushed up the to-do list. 

Anything to keep herself busy—too busy to think about Harry. 

She would be seeing him again soon because of the bachelor/rette parties that were coming up within the next month, and she needed to have her head on straight. It was embarrassing to be so distracted, caught up in someone she'd only met in person once. A total of maybe six hours had been spent together that entire weekend she had visited home, counting both the initial dinner and the brunch before the both of them were to jet back to their respective homes. Each of those hours had even been buffered by the attendance of their parents. 

And yet, here she was. 

Forcing herself out of her seat, (Y/N) made her way to the copy room. Everything was going to be okay, she reminded herself, fiddling with the blunt edge of her master copies in her hands. She was going to see Harry, be so clearly and readily reminded that she was going to be his stepsister for all intents and purposes, and every affection she held for him was going to dry up. All she needed was to meet him once more, and wipe away the liquor store meeting from her head. 

Everything was going to be fine. Perfectly fine. 

As long as she somehow figured out how to mash the idea of a fancy dinner for Anne's bachelorette party with a fishing trip for Uncle Mick's bachelor counterpart. 

—————

(Y/N) scrolled to yet another page of search results. 

If she saw any more party bus and strip club ideas for a joint bachelor/bachelorette party, she was going to scream. There was no way she was going to down shots and dance on a pole around her uncle and her soon to be stepfamily. 

There wasn't a single chance that she was the first to ever plan something like this for an older couple. Someone—one of the billions in the world—would have undoubtedly come up with an idea far before her. And yet, she was on the third page of google results, and she knew if she drifted to the fourth, she was done for. 

There had to be at least something nearby that could check the boxes for both sides of the honored couple. 

She was this close to booking reservations at a restaurant that had a claw machine for diners to pick out their "lobster" (looking at photos, it appeared to just be a handful of plastic lobster figurines based off of a cartoon). If Gemma hadn't already taken on so much with her mother, including planning out many elements of the wedding itself, (Y/N) would have just short of begged her to come up with something. But, that wasn't fair. She wanted to be a good soon-to-be sister and take something off of Gemma's plate, especially since she had apparently recently welcomed her first baby. 

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) rubbed her temples. She needed to focus and make a decision. The reserved weekend was only a handful of weeks away, and she needed to get these plans finalized before it was too late. 

At her side, her phone buzzed, the vibration scaring (Y/N) out of her skin for a brief second. 

Blindly reaching, she brought her phone up, effectively blocking her laptop screen. A text message had come through. From Harry. 

     Are you busy?

She sighed, lips thinning as she debated answering. While she was busy, the idea of being distracted sounded much more fun than looking at another aquarium dining space—complete with a tab that would take her months to work off. 

    Not really why??

With that, a call came through. Also from Harry. 

(YN) clutched her phone. She'd only talked to him on the phone once, and it was brief. He'd hadn't been able to reach his mother and needed quick directions to the brunch spot he met them that first weekend. She had barely talked to him, passing along the phone to his mother in the same breath as her greeting. 

Tapping her thumb on the green circle, (Y/N) accepted the call before she could think better of herself. It was just Harry, she drilled into her head. Just Harry—a friend and nothing more. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, you," was his greeting, his accented voice flowing through the speakers in a way that almost felt offensive. How dare he answer he as if he was just as happy to hear her voice as she was for him? 

"What's going on?" she forced out, hoping it sounded a lot more casual than she felt. 

Harry let out a sigh, the sound of rustling fabric audible in the background. "Nothing jus' trying to figure out m'plans for the stag weekend. Figured I'd call you since y'have all the answers." 

His tone had been teasing, lilting through a smile. He knew she had been struggling to figure out what to plan for everyone, but she hadn't revealed just how much of a problem she was having. The last time they had even really discussed the topic was a week ago, when she felt as if she had all the time in the world to thread something together. 

Today, after looking at the calendar and the countdown to the agreed upon dates, his poking didn't feel so funny. 

"Um, yeah," she muttered, running a stressed hand down her face, "I'm figuring out everything right now, and finalizing stuff. I'll let you know for sure when I can." 

A brief pause settled between them. 

"(Y/N)," Harry started, his voice decidedly gentle compared to the teasing a moment before. "Y'alright?" 

"Hm? Oh, yeah, sorry," she murmured, stumbling over her thoughts. "It's just been a little bit of a long week, so I'm really tired." 

She meant to finish on a breathy laugh, lighthearted even if she didn't really feel that way.  Instead, it came off as just a little bit sad. 

"Bad week? Or jus' a lot?"

"A lot," (Y/N) sighed, "But it's alright. I think once I get everything figured out for the party, I'll be fine." 

"If y'want, I can take over some things. I can make calls or set up reservations. Whatever y'need." 

A small quirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "That would  be really nice, Harry," she started, resigning herself to telling the truth, "but, I actually haven't picked out anywhere or decided anything yet. It's a lot harder to plan something that has the vibe of a fishing trip, but served high-class food. The closest I've found is this place with a 'lobster' claw machine." 

(Y/N) didn't have to see him to know he blanched at the idea, his scoff evidence enough that he was on the same page as her. 

 "Yeah , that might not be what mum's looking for," Harry laughed. (Y/N) wished she could see his dimples. "I can take a look around too, though. It might help to have some more eyes."

Her lips thinned at the idea. She was supposed to be taking this on by herself; Gemma and Harry had enough on their plate, it didn't feel fair to pawn any more tasks off. 

"I don't know," she mumbled, "You and your sister are already don't so much, I don't want to—" 

"(Y/N), 's alright. 'S just a couple of google searches, 's not a big deal," Harry interrupted her, his voice gentle, "'M getting a little worried about you." 

He ended with a breath of laughter, though (Y/N) found it hard to buy that he wasn't sharing a little bit of honesty with her. 

With her bottom lip between her teeth, (Y/N) blinked at her laptop screen once more. If she had to figure out how to reword "fancy fishing restaurant" one more time, she might explode. If anything, it would be nice to take a small break from attempting to make these decisions. 

"That would be nice, Harry. Thank you."

She could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again, "See? I told you, y'needed me." 

(Y/N) didn't even attempt to argue.

—————

Through bleary eyes, (Y/N) caught the time on her phone. One in the morning. The phone call with Harry had just hit over the four hour mark. 

"But, yeah," Harry laughed, cutting himself off with a small yawn, "I don't plan on going to any of my school reunions. I don't think it'd go over very well." 

(Y/N) let out a peal of laughter, the noise quiet and tired. "I think you should; it would be very funny, at the least." 

"Maybe," he hummed, "If I don't get arrested." 

"For something that happened ten years ago? I don't know," she countered, singing the syllables, "We'll only know for sure if you go." 

"Then y'have to come with me. If I get in any trouble, 'm making it your problem." 

It could be the late hour making her delirious, or the fact that she wasn't able to convincingly lie to herself at the moment, but it felt like something to have Harry casually make those future plans with her. 

"I'll be there," she cemented through a sleepy smile. 

A pause settled between them, the sound of rustling sheets audible through the phone.

"I should let y'go, (Y/N). 'S later than I thought," he drawled, "I didn't mean to keep you up." 

"No, it's okay," she insisted, "This was nice. Thank you for helping me—and hanging out with me tonight." 

I missed you is what she wanted to say. Just barely was she able to choke the thought back. 

"You've got me, you know that," he promised, "But, all of the confirmations and everything should go to you. If you need anything though, you can send them to me, I don't mind." 

"Thanks, H," she hummed, letting her eyes fall to a close. "I'll talk to you soon?" 

"Of course—I'll probably start bothering you first thing in the morning." He spoke as if his first text message wasn't going to be the highlight of her day. 

"That'll be nice," she let slip, incredibly warm with the tufts of her bedding fluffed around her, "And I'll actually see you in a few weeks." 

"That'll be really nice," Harry said, something running under his tone she was too tired to examine, "'M excited, (Y/N)." 

"Me too," she yawned. 

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," Harry drawled, tongue lingering over her name, "Sleep well" 

"Goodnight, Harry," she smiled.

There was a brief moment. A pause where neither of them hung up.

(Y/N)'s breath caught, suddenly so awake compared to just a moment ago. 

Then the call cut. 

Four hours on the phone with him, leaving with sore, smiling cheeks and drooping, sleepy eyes. 

In three weeks, she would see him again for the first time in months. Everything was going to be fine—and normal. 

—————

"To mum and Mick. Congratulations." 

Flutes of champagne were raised over a white-tableclothed table, sparkling and golden. Smiling faces were shared over the setting, blushing cheeks on Anne's face with an eye-crinkling smile on Uncle Mick's. The clinking of the glasses sounded in the quiet, reserved space before being brought to smiling lips. 

A wonderful way to end dinner. 

(Y/N) couldn't help but to meet Harry's eyes across the flute. He was already looking at her, bouncing his brows when he caught her attention.

She looked away first, cheeks warming. 

"Thank you, Gem," Anne smiled, voice sing-songing over the syllables. "I love you so much, you know." 

Gemma only smiled at her mother. That was definitely the third glass of champagne beginning to talk. "I love you too, mum. Just as much." 

Anne's eyes watered, glossing the already glazed look over her irises. "Both of you," she said, looking to her children, "The best, you are. I couldn't be luckier." 

Gemma shared a sly smile with her husband at her side as Harry opened his mouth to take on his mother's emotional reaction. Only for Anne to cut him off, turning her attention to (Y/N).

"And, you," she started, folding her hands over her heart, "I couldn't be more excited to have you in my family. Thank you for everything you've done for Mick." 

Though (Y/N) thought it was a little bit funny, the slur to Anne's words and the overly affectionate way she spoke to her, but she couldn't help but to match a bit of that emotion. It was nice to hear something so loving, and know that she would be there for her Uncle Mick when (Y/N) wasn't able to. 

"Of course," she smiled, hoping no one noticed the slight sniffle of her nose, "I can't wait to be a part of your family either. I know my Uncle Mick is very lucky to have you." 

It was then that Anne broke, letting out a stream of sobs. (Y/N) watched as her Uncle had his own soft smile on his face, amused at his bride's antics though there was a matching sheen to his eyes. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, looking at the guests in attendance. 

"Tonight was very special, you guys. Thank you," he smiled, complete joy in his eyes, "I think it's time we head home." 

Gemma was quick to agree, a gentle hand on her mother's arm. "Us too," she smiled, glancing at her husband, "It's time we get back and let the sitter go home." 

When neither Harry nor (Y/N) disagreed, no one hesitated to start getting up and readying for the journey home. Jackets were donned, and eyes were wiped. While Anne was busy with her children,  her hushed voice emotional, Uncle Mick came right to (Y/N).

"Thanks, kiddo. Really," he muttered, "This was perfect—and I doubt it was easy." He cast his gaze through the bow windows encompassing this private room.

Outside, the shining lake rippled under the moonlight, dock rocking in the waves. The elegance Anne had requested came in the crown molding and clean decor, while Mick's requests came through in the dock outside and the fresh seafood from the kitchen. How (Y/N) had overlooked this place through her searches, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't sure she would have been able to do this without Harry. 

"Harry helped a lot," (Y/N) specified, beaming up at Mick, "But I'm happy you liked it. I'm happy you're happy."

Seeing the way he looked over his shoulder at his bride-to-be, (Y/N)'s heart almost burst. How truly lucky were they. The perfect movie they made. 

"Love you, kiddo," Uncle Mick murmured, wrapping her in a hug, "You going back to the hotel?" 

"Probably," she nodded, "We're still looking for your suit tomorrow, right?" 

"Yeah," her uncle sighed, not entirely excited at the idea of the outfit, but willing to do what it took to make his soon-to-be wife happy. "I'll pick you up, okay?" 

"Thank you," she smiled, giving him one more hug. "Goodnight." 

"Goodnight," he smiled, dropping a kiss to the top of her head before departing. 

Anne was passed from her daughter to her almost-husband, happily falling into his arms with loose limbs. She gave a noncommittal wave to the group following after her.

Gemma was the next to depart, hugging (Y/N) and sharing her thanks for planning this part of the evening. Harry didn't attempt to take any of the credit, only watching quietly until it was his turn to bid goodnight to his sister and brother-in-law. 

Out in the parking lot, the pavement bathed in moonlight, (Y/N) rubbed at her thinly covered arms. 

Just she and Harry were left. 

"Tonight turned out really well," Harry commented, a dimpled smile on his face, "Good job, (Y/N)." 

She shook her head. "I just confirmed everything, and you know that. Thank you for getting this all taken care of." 

Harry shrugged, shoulders lifting though he kept his eyes trained on her. It had been like this for most of the night; his undivided attention had clung to her like a second skin. He came back to her every time. The end of every conversation was punctuated by his look to her face, gauging her reaction. It was thrilling, though the thrill was tempered from the fact that she knew she wasn't supposed to keen under his attention like that.

Looking out towards the water that had set the scene for the evening, (Y/N) could feel his eyes on her. She felt a bit crazy, her skin prickling under his attention. There was a large part of her that dreaded the fact that she had to head back to her hotel alone now. They'd barely had time to speak to one another as a group, let alone on their own. She doubted they would have a chance like this again for the rest of the weekend. 

Harry was her family now. Maybe some extra time with him was all she needed to officially understand that. Overwrite those previous flirty memories of him with something much more appropriate. 

That was why she wanted to keep the night going. That was why she opened her mouth, question on the tip of her tongue. 

"Did you..." (Y/N) started, carefully picking her words as she kept her gaze out on the lake, "Are you tired?" 

She could cringe at the sound of her voice tripping over her question.  

"Not really," he drawled, smile audible in his voice, "Are you?" 

"Not really," she repeated, daring to match his gaze. Her skin warmed when she caught him with his eyes already engaged on her. With the moon above draining the world of color around them, his eyes somehow still acted as a beacon, the green rippling like the lake. "Do you want to get a drink, or something?" 

His dimples were cast in shadow, denting his cheeks as his grin grew. "I think I saw a bar not too far from here when I booked this, if y'don't mind walking." 

While her dress didn't exactly agree with the weather, the chilly breeze kicking up the hem and casting goosebumps over her skin, there wasn't a single part of her that could find a reason to decline. 

"Lead the way." 

—————

"After you." 

Harry opened the door with a flourish, bending at the waist as he gestured (Y/N) through the doorway. It was entirely too dramatic, especially for the kind of bar he had taken her to. A peal of laughter left her lips.

The inside of the bar was much warmer than the chilly air outside, enough so that even with the thin jacket on her arms, (Y/N) started to sweat. After Harry entered behind her, the door closed, sealing behind them. 

The nautical bar was a drastic change to the restaurant they had just left. 

Fishing nets were strewn over the ceiling, filled with weather torn life-preservers, various starfish, oysters and clam shells. Sparkling pearls were dotted throughout. The walls were decorated with different portraits depicting sea-faring legends and the glorious ships they sailed. Creaky floorboards sounded under their feet, the lumber matching that that boarded up the walls and made the majority of the round tables of the bar. The bartop itself was a candy apple-red, sleek and only a little scuffed. The mirrored back wall of the bar was lined with liquor, reflected int the low light of the establishment, only a single bartender fixing drinks for people (Y/N) had no doubt were a mix of regulars, and people like she and Harry who were just looking for a drink after touring through the area. 

When a gentle hand landed on her back, ushering her forward, (Y/N) stiffened. Blinking behind her, she knew the touch came from Harry, though it still had her throat running dry just to see that it was, in fact, him looking out for her.

He cast his eyes around them as they slowly approached the bar, the whining floorboards louder than his voice, "'S a little different than the pictures online." 

"Yeah?" she smiled, following his eyes to the portrait of a fishing captain with a sopping beard and hardened eyes. Truthfully, (Y/N) worried that if she looked away and then glanced back at the painting, a skeleton or ghoul would be in his place. "I can't believe that." 

Harry let out a breathy laugh at her joke. Stepping to the bar, he didn't build upon their teasing, instead, pulling one of the vinyl stools out for (Y/N) to sit. Taking the proffered seat, she pretended to study the liquor bottles behind the bar instead of just how close Harry was now that he took the spot at her side. Especially when he settled in with his legs spreading, his knee touching hers. 

 "You kno—" 

"What can I get you two?" 

The gruff voice of the bartender cut Harry off unceremoniously, his tired eyes flicking between the two of them impatiently. 

"(Y/N)?" Harry murmured, letting her go first as if she was going to be able to concentrate when she heard the syllables of her name wrapped in his voice. 

"Um," she stumbled, looking at the bottles behind the barkeep as if it were a menu, "A—uh—a cosmo? Or just a vodka cranberry? Something like that." 

The bartender bounced his brows as he grunted. He must not have liked (Y/N)'s answer as much as she didn't. Harry's order went much smoother, even if he did have to wipe the sly smile off of his lips as he asked for a whiskey, neat. 

As soon as the man who could have easily been the subject of one of the paintings left them be as he started their drinks, (Y/N) hung her head in her hands. "Oh my god," she quietly groaned. 

Harry nudged her with his shoulder, ducking his head to conspire with her though she didn't really feel like he was on her side given the way he had to bite back his amusement. "It wasn't that bad." 

"Yes it was," she laughed, "I thought he was going to ID me and think it was a fake." 

He shrugged. "We've got time." 

(Y/N) let out a laugh, feeling a little less embarrassed as she turned to look at him, cheek cushioned by her hand. It was quite the feeling, to know that they really did have time. At least for tonight (after their parents joint bachelor/rette parties, of course). Then, she would come to her senses, and live the rest of her life with Harry as her legal sibling. 

"Right. We've got time." 

—————

"Harryyy."

"Yes?" 

"Harryyy."

"Yes, (Y/N)?"

"Harryyy—" 

Putting his hand out, Harry stopped her from spinning on her stool. (Y/N)'s singsong voice stopped right in its tracks when she saw him, warmth creeping up her neck, though she doubted it was from the alcohol. Even if there was a lot of that in her system. 

"What, (Y/N)?" he laughed, craning his neck as he crowded around her. 

"Do you think they'd let me do karaoke, even if there isn't a stage?" 

Another bright laugh left Harry's lips at her words. "I think there might be a little more missing than jus' the stage, but 'm sure we can work something out. You've got to ask first, though." 

Giving a slight incline of his head, (Y/N) followed to see him gesturing to the bartender. The one person in the whole room she was sure would immediately shoot down her idea. As if it wasn't a fun one. 

"H, you know he's going to say no." 

"I don't know," Harry crooned, "Y'should probably ask. He might like karaoke, too." 

A light could have pinged over her head. He really could like karaoke, he's just shy about it. It would only take a little bit of convincing, maybe even a song or two, and he'd be so on board. Should she start with a ballad or a—

(Y/N) felt someone crowd around her, static running down her back. Harry looked over her head, lips thinning. 

"Hey stranger." 

Blanching at the greeting, (Y/N) whipped her head around. Behind her was a vaguely familiar face. She couldn't place the name, but she knew this man. Even if he was a bit harder to recognize out of uniform.

And acting way more familiar than a waiter should. 

"Hi," (Y/N) answered with an owlish blink. 

The man paused, as if waiting for something more to come out of her mouth. Nothing did. 

He let out an awkward laugh, thrown off by her lack of response. "Wedding things over for the night?" 

Behind her, she could hear Harry shifting over his seat. Just that much closer to her, his knee brushing against hers. 

"For tonight, yeah," he answered for her, "Jus' getting a couple of drinks before going back home." 

The man hummed, nodding his head. He didn't pay much attention to Harry, only looking at him for as long as it took him to finish his words before he was stitching his eyes back to (Y/N). 

"You should've told me you were looking to go out tonight. I could have shown you the good spots." 

It was a bit childish the way she pouted at him. "This place is good," she countered. 

She wasn't going to let him speak bad about this place. Harry picked it and she was having fun. 

"Well yeah, but," he started, "There's a couple of other places that look a little more your speed."

"I'm having fun here," she insisted, reaching blindly back towards Harry, "He picked it. I like it." 

It was odd the way he looked at her. The way he followed her hand as she found his leg. He looked through her, searching for something more. 

"Aren't you..." he started voice trailing off before Harry stepped in. 

"I think we're alright for now, man," Harry said, "I think we're gonna head home soon, anyway." 

Whatever this man had been looking for before had been pushed to the wayside. Something a little too fast flash through his eyes for her to decipher, though the brown of his irises lacked some of the flirty warmth from before.

He decidedly ignored Harry, looking towards (Y/N) as if Harry hadn't spoken at all. 

"Let me buy you a drink at least," he charmed, dipping his head until he was level with her. "I can't lie, I was hoping that dinner wasn't the only time I'd see you." 

(Y/N) blinked. She opened her mouth to say something disjointed and a little too drunk back, only for Harry to pipe up.

"I think we're alright; the tip we left earlier should have been enough. Thanks." 

His hand landed gently upon her own where it sat on the cuff of his knee, warming her skin.

That searching look was back on the man's face, gaze locked on their hands. 

"I thought... Isn't she your sister?" the man blanched, scoffing. 

"Actually," (Y/N) hiccuped, "I'm his stepsister. But, not even that, if you want to get specific. His mom is marrying my uncle, so it's, like, legally even less than that." 

(Y/N)'s bubbling didn't make much sense, but it didn't appear that this man was listening anyway. He only looked towards Harry, as if he was the one that was attempting to argue these details. A frown tipped her lips.  

"We're alright, mate." 

The man paused for a moment. Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath, "Weird," before stalking away. 

Her brows knitted together as she watched him leave to haunt a different corner of the bar, a group of people she hadn't noticed before welcoming him in with conspiratorial glances and whispered voices. 

"Sorry," Harry muttered behind her, causing her to whirl on the stool to face him, "I should have asked if you..." 

She canted her head at him. She was too drunk for things to not be spelled out. "What?" 

He let out a short laugh, dropping his gaze from hers as he knuckled at his nose. "I... Did y'want to talk to him? I didn't mean to get involved if y'were..." 

"No," (Y/N) shook her head, "He was being annoying. Was he from the restaurant?" 

There was a line holding Harry's shoulders that seemingly was cut loose then, dropping the lines of his body into something much more relaxed. "He was, yeah. Can't remember his name, though." 

"Me neither!" she blurted, reaching towards him with her hands landing on his shoulders, "I thought I was just really drunk, so that's nice to—"

As if on command, she suddenly stumbled from her stool, falling into him with a gasp. Harry didn't hesitate before his hands landed on her waist, steadying her with a tight grip. Her heart bounced around her chest as she came down from. Looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, she saw him already watching her, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

"Y'alright?" he asked, a pinch between his brows. 

"Yeah, sorry," she answered, simply, melting into him despite being more than capable of settling into her own spot once more. He was too comfortable, too warm, too everything she had been thinking about for months now to move on. And she was too tipsy to know better. "Thanks for catching me." 

With her cheek pressed against his chest, Harry's hold on her shifted until he had his arm around her middle. The other waved down the bartender. 

"I think 's time we get y'home, love." 

"No," she whined, "We just got here." 

The laugh he let out rumbled underneath her cheek, warming her further from the sound alone. "Maybe a few hours ago. You've got a big day tomorrow anyway, y'need to sleep." 

"Maybe," she sighed, eyes fluttering to a close as Harry handled their tab. "Are you coming tomorrow? For the suits?" 

"No," he murmured distractedly, "'M going home tomorrow, remember?"

"But you just got here," she argued, suddenly offended at the idea of airports and planes and flight times. What was the point of any of that if that meant Harry would be miles and miles away from her again? 

"I know," he smiled, standing from his spot with a guiding hand on her back, "But we'll see each other again soon, okay? I'll make sure of it." 

She didn't doubt his promise. If Harry wanted to see her, he would make it happen. 

(Y/N) could only stare at him with stars in her eyes, warmth simmering under her skin. 

They had time, she reminded herself. Even if just tonight. 

—————

"C'mon, (Y/N). Gotta help me, love." 

"Okay." 

"Love, you've gotta stand up on your own for a second, 'kay? Jus' until I get the door open, then I can help y'again." 

"Okay." 

"(Y/N)." 

"Hm?" 

Harry sighed, the curve of his lips audible. Looping his arm tightly around her waist, he continued attempting to get the keycard to her hotel room to work, all while she clung to him, almost sliding down his body now that he wasn't devoting all of his attention to steadying her. 

She was too tired. How could he expect her to stand up on her own when she was so tired she almost fell asleep on the way here? It was unrealistic. Especially when he was offering his body as her crutch; he was warm like a blanket, firm yet forgiving at the same time. The perfect kind of pillow. 

A faint technological beep came from behind her. Harry fiddled around for a moment before he was clutching her again. 

"C'mon," he murmured through an amused smile, guiding her inside though she didn't bother to turn around and face forward with her steps. Instead, she let Harry do the heavy lifting, getting her through the threshold and letting the lumbering door click to a close behind them. 

Her hotel room was small and rudimentally furnished, stiff carpet under their feet. When she had checked in, she hadn't thought much of the space. Now, through bleary eyes with Harry holding her so carefully, it was the prettiest, coziest, most comforting place she'd ever come to spend the night in. 

Her clothing was still strewn out of her opened suitcase, the lamp on the side of her bed turned on with the television streaming the default channel for the hotel. A normal, sober part of herself would have felt a bit embarrassed at the sight of her panties hanging out of her luggage, knowing Harry would no doubt spot it. But, she wasn't normal or sober. She was drunk and clinging to Harry like a lifeline. 

"There we go," Harry mumbled, depositing her on the edge of her bed. He stood before her, running a hand through his hair. "Y'gonna be alright?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, looking up at him with what she was sure were hearts in her eyes, "Are you?" 

Harry laughed. His smile, dimples and all, was more intoxicating than any mixed drink could hope to be. "I think I'll be alright, (Y/N)." 

She canted her head as she looked up at him, taking in the rumpled collar of his white shirt, now sporting a smudge of her pink lipstick. "Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" 

His lips thinned as he gazed down at her. "Yeah. I do." 

Her lips puffed into a pout, wandering hands reaching for the hem of his shirt. "When am I going to see you again, then?"

"I don't know," he answered, lips into a lopsided smile, "Before the wedding, hopefully?" 

"Just hopefully?" she whined, using her grip on his shirt to tug him down until he was forced to flop onto the mattress at her side. "I thought we'd see each other more when we found out... everything." 

Harry only let out a heavy sigh. His eyes glanced around her face, searching through the planes of her features. "I know." 

(Y/N) laid back on her bed, suddenly hit with a weight that she had avoided thinking about for the last few hours. She could feel Harry's eyes following her.

"I don't want to be mean," she said, speaking quietly in the empty of the hotel room, "But it kind of sucks, right?" 

A beat passed. 

"What do y'mean?" His voice was strained. She didn't need to look at him to know that he knew what she meant. 

"Like," she started, matching his gaze, "You know. Everything. I'm happy for them, but... We get along so well, you know? At least I think we do." 

A small quirk tugged at his lips. A sad curl. "We do, don't we?" 

"I think we would have had a lot of fun," she smiled, biting back a yawn. 

"Aren't we already?" he asked, falling back to lay beside her. 

This close, (Y/N) was able to see the details that had made her heart race all those months ago. The shatters of green in his irises. The sprinkle of freckles along his nose. The scar on his chin. The uneven stubble shadowing his cheeks. 

"Yeah," she exhaled, tone dreamy. She reached for him, her fingers grazing over the warmth of his cheek. "I just—I thought, when we met...I thought it would be different for us." 

Harry didn't say anything. His eyes fluttered closed as she touched his face, fingertips grazing over the lines of his features. Touching his cupid's bow had her heart hammering in her chest.

"Didn't you?" 

When Harry blinked his eyes open, he matched her gaze unabashedly. "I did." 

Reaching up to grab her hand, he laced their fingers together and pulled the bundled limbs to his chest. "But, we're alright like this, don't y'think?" he murmured, that sad smile back on his face, "At least we never had a chance to mess anything up." 

She knew he was attempting to spin her thoughts into something hopeful. That they would be happy and partners in crime together like this for the rest of their lives. And it would be okay. There would never be a need or even a thought for anything more. 

But, all that stood out to her was that they never had a chance. 

(Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth, a well of emotion crashing behind her ribs. "We never had a chance." 

"Oh, (Y/N)," he crooned, collecting her in his arms until her cheek was cushioned in his neck and his arms were a comforting cage around her waist. 

She melted into him, reveling in the warmth of his hold and the blocks of muscle making up his body. There was so much softness to him, with the way he touched her, the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her. So much she could have gotten to know, she thought. There were always going to be parts of him that she wouldn't know.

"I miss you already," she whispered. 

"You know I've got you, love. 'M always here." 

"Not in the way I want." 

It was bravery in the form of alcohol and the lack of eyes on her face that made it so easy for the words to slip out. Though it didn't feel so right when his hands on her back paused. 

It felt even worse when he started disentangling himself from her hold, the phantom of his arms lingering around him. He slowed when he caught her eye, his own a bit sad to match the own on his lips. 

"I know," he whispered, "Me too, (Y/N). But, we're going to be alright. Like this, we're going to be okay." 

She didn't stop him when he left her hotel room, the door clicking behind him. He will be on a flight tomorrow, leaving her once more.

Hopefully, he had said, that they would see one another before the wedding. Though, in the silence of the suite, (Y/N) didn't have to be sober to know she had been a mistake, speaking so blatantly. The hope he had shared that they would see each other again before the wedding was no doubt diminished. 

Blinking up at the texture of the ceiling, she sighed. 

What the fuck had she done?

—————

"My uncle said he can pick me up from the airport, so that should be fine." 

"Good, good," Gemma mumbled, "And you're staying with me and my mum or did you want your own space for the week?" 

"I mean," (Y/N) mused, "I was going to leave it up to you guys. I can get a room somewhere if you want family time, or whatever you want." 

"Well, you are family now, (Y/N). You're more than welcome to stay with us. I know my mum would enjoy getting to spend time with you." 

(Y/N) wanted so badly to glow at the thought of being welcomed into a family like the Styles'. She had wished for years that she would somehow find out she had a long-lost sister or any sibling at all to spend her days with. 

Instead, she was grateful this was only a phone call, so Gemma didn't catch the way her lips tightened at the idea of being considered family to someone she had attempted to kiss the night of her uncle's bachelor dinner. 

And been promptly rejected by, of course. 

But, she was over all of that, she reminded herself. Just like Harry was. 

"I think that would be a lot of fun, Gemma. Thank you," she accepted in a way she hoped was gracious. 

"Mum's going to be so excited to hear that," Gemma bubbled, "That works out perfect, too, since I think Harry and Michel are going to stay with your uncle for the week. Keep up the whole tradition thing, everyone all separate." 

(Y/N)'s lips pinched that much more at the mention of his name. She could still feel the way the emptiness of her hotel room settled over her when he had left. Nothing was more sobering than that, she found.

"Yeah," (Y/N) chirped, "It's cute."

Gemma let out a bubbly laugh, "Exactly. Okay, so I'll get with mum and figure out all of the little things we still need to do before the wedding, and I'll let you know as soon as I know!"

"So exciting! I can't wait." There was a part that really was very excited and was looking forward to seeing her Uncle Mick get married, eager for him to be happy again after experiencing so much grief the years prior. There was another large part of her that could wait a little longer; wait a few more months, or even a year before she saw Harry again. At least long enough for her to have forgotten that night at the bar, and have a new boyfriend. 

Gemma chattered a bit more, thinking out loud as she ticked things off her list. (Y/N) was fine being her sounding board, nodding and humming where needed before sharing a quick goodbye. 

Locking her phone, (Y/N) was left in the quiet of her apartment. It was a little too close to the silence at the hotel room, the experience at the forefront of her mind. 

Pursing her lips, she gripped the edge of her countertop. She was going to see Harry again, in just a couple of weeks. 

Should she text him? Attempt to clear the air before even seeing him? 

No, it was bad enough that she had scared him off, she couldn't be the one to reach out first. Months after, even. If he wanted to talk to her, he would have by now—even if only to clear the air. 

It was times like this that she wished she had siblings. If she had a brother or a sister, she wouldn't be walking into this whole thing by herself. Despite her Uncle being there, his wedding wasn't exactly the setting to let him know that she'd attempted to go out with his new wife's son—the one that would be her stepbrother for all intents and purposes.

Legally, though, she corrected herself. Stepcousins.

(Y/N) sighed. That still didn't sound very good, especially not when she usually just considered her uncle her dad, no matter what she called him. 

Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. (Y/N) flinched back at the noise before reaching for the device. 

On the screen she had a single notification. A text message from a friend. 

Mitchell Row-Lund

     How was the phone call? Do you have to room with that guy? 

Staring at the message thread, an idea came to mind. It wasn't a good one. (Y/N) could even field an argument about how it is actually a stupid idea. But it was an idea, nonetheless.

Gemma did say she still had a plus one available. And, it wasn't like Mitch had anything going on, she knew that for a fact.

Plus, he knew some of what was going on with Harry, sans many details, but enough to understand why it was a very big deal that she couldn't go into this alone. Uncle Mick would enjoy seeing him too. 

Ignoring the text, (Y/N) called Mitch's contact instead. It only took a couple of rings before he picked up. 

"Hello?" 

"Mitch, are you busy in, like, three weeks?" 

"(Y/N)..." 

—————

"Are you sure you girls don't need help with anything?" 

Gemma whipped around from the stove where she was spreading the different layers to the lasagna. She gave her mother a glare. 

"Mum," she reprimanded, "We're fine. You're supposed to be relaxing." 

"I know, I know," she sighed, "But, I don't mind helping. I can—" 

"No," Gemma cut her off, abandoning her post at the stove to escort her mother back to the glass of chardonnay waiting for her in the living room. "Your only job is to answer the door when the boys get here, and watch your show." 

Anne hmphed, casting a playful roll of her eyes only where (Y/N) could see. A huff of laughter left her lips as she watched the mother-daughter duo argue before Anne relented to actually being taken care of for the night. It was sweet, the kind of banter and familiarity they had between one another. It reminded (Y/N) of the relationship she had with her aunt. It was nice to know that her Uncle was marrying into a family like this. 

"When will she learn?" Gemma joked when she reentered the kitchen, casting a very familiar roll of her eyes towards (Y/N). "It's like pulling teeth to get her to relax." 

"She's too sweet for her own good," (Y/N) said, continuing the chopping of the vegetables for the side salad. 

"Her biggest flaw," Gemma sighed, shaking her head. 

"I can hear you!" 

Anne's shout from the living room drew laughter from both of them. 

"Then what did I say?" Gemma shot back, giving (Y/N) a look like watch this.

A pause. 

"I don't know, but I know you're whispering!" 

Gemma lifted her brows like see. It was enough to pull another peal of laughter from her. It was already shaping up to be quite the night. The last one before the wedding, before Mitch would be in town and the first time she would be forced to speak in a confined room with Harry since arriving. 

She had been lucky enough to avoid being alone with him, the activities and rooms having been too busy to catch more than a single glance of him before rushing through. It was the nice part about Anne and Uncle Mick wanting to uphold a bit of tradition, the bridal party and groomsmen being separated as much as possible during this last week. 

(As far as (Y/N) remembered, she thought it was only the night before the ceremony where this distance mattered. She wasn't going to correct anyone, though).

But, tonight had come and her sanctuary was on a timer.

In Anne's cozy dining room, there was nowhere to hide from Harry. Especially not when this evening was considered a family dinner. 

(Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth as she kept her eyes on her hands, attempting to focus on the strokes of the knife and not anything else. Especially not the time. 

That did seem to work against her, though, when the knock on the door took her by surprise. She hadn't had time to brace herself, school herself into someone who didn't care about whatever happened tonight. 

Her throat bobbed when she heard the sound of Anne's front door opening, a familiar set of voices sounding from the stoop. 

Gemma practically beamed as she slid the pan of lasagna into the oven before rushing out to meet her husband, who also had her daughter on his hip. (Y/N) lingered back, listening to the sounds of the stitched together family. 

This time tomorrow, her uncle would be married and she would have two new siblings. One of them being the man she could hear right now cooing to his niece. 

Wiping down the knife and placing it off to the side, (YN) ran a stressed hand through her hair. Seeing her uncle would make her feel better, she thought. She'd start there. 

"Hey kid," her uncle murmured when he caught sight of her. His creased eyes lit up as she stepped into his hug. "How are you?" 

"I'm good," she smiled, making sure her eyes stayed stitched on his face with not even a peek over his shoulder, "How are you, though? Tomorrow's the day." 

(Y/N) could see light practically dancing through his eyes when he cast his own gaze behind himself, where the cooing of a baby and her fawning audience could be heard. "Excited. Really excited." 

"Good, good," (Y/N) smiled, suddenly feeling a bit choked up. She wondered if this was how he was going to feel when she had her own wedding (fingers crossed, anyway. She needed to find a partner first before considering a wedding.)

"The lasagna has a few more minutes in the oven, but (Y/N)'s salad is almost done. Harry, you can set the table." 

Perking up at the sound of her name, (Y/N) regretted it as soon as she heard Harry's only a moment later. Gemma was playing the role of gracious hostess, though it didn't appear she could turn down the opportunity of bossing her little brother around. 

Though, it didn't seem like he minded much at all. Harry only gave a beaming grin to his niece before poking at her stomach and making his way towards the dining room.

For the first time since walking through the door, their eyes met. 

(Y/N) felt her throat run dry. The last time she saw those shatters of green, the intensity of his gaze turned in her direction, he had been telling her that there wasn't any room for what she wanted with him. That they were going to be okay—whatever that was supposed to mean. 

All after she had so clumsily fallen all over him, even attempting to kiss him.

Harry only cracked a small, polite smile. Not a single dimple or crease on his freckled nose appeared. 

"You made a salad tonight?" Uncle Mick asked her, ripping her back to reality, "And you still have all your fingers?"

Turning to face him, (Y/N) plastered a smile on her face, playing into his small joke. "Barely. Gemma had to sew my pinky back on, but I think it should be better by tomorrow." 

Her uncle let out a boisterous laugh at her jest, none the wiser to whatever had passed between her and Harry only a breath before. 

This was going to be a long dinner.

—————

"Dinner was wonderful, ladies. Thank you." 

Uncle Mick handed out praises to the women at the table, though Anne was quick to shrug it off. 

"It was all the two girls," she insisted, "I was quarantined to wine-and-couch duties." 

(Y/N) didn't have to peek under the table to know that her uncle had squeezed his bride's hand. All she needed to see was the affection that painted his gaze as he looked at her. "Well deserved," he muttered to her before looking to where (Y/N) and Gemma were sitting side-by-side, "Thank you two, then. Everything has been amazing." 

Gemma gave a similar reaction to her mother, shrugging it off with a shy smile on her face. "Of course. It's the least we could do for the happy couple, right?" 

She gave a look to (Y/N) the shadow of dimples in her cheeks. Too much like Harry, (Y/N) thought. She still made sure to nod and smile along. 

"I'm happy everyone liked it," (Y/N) interjected, hoping she sounded more present than she really felt. Especially when she could feel eyes on her—eyes she had been pointedly avoiding all throughout the meal. 

Anne stood up, beginning to collect dishes from the mats around the table. "I can start cleaning up, and—" 

"Mum, no. I thought Gemma told you that you're not supposed to be doing any hard work tonight." 

Harry's clear voice had (Y/N) blinking, her spine stiffening as she kept her eyes on her soon-to-be aunt. 

She scoffed at his words. "Doing the dishes in my own home is far from hard work, Harry. You kids—" 

"Anne," Uncle Mick piped up, a gentle hand landing on her arm, "Let them take care of this. There's still some time before I think we call it a night, and there's wine still in the bottle." 

(Y/N) watched as Anne's eyes softened, features flourishing into a gentle smile. 

"Oh alright," she relented, "Just for tonight. And, maybe tomorrow." 

That was (Y/N)'s cue to begin collecting the dishes herself. Gemma had done the hard work by putting together the main part of the meal, and deserved a moment with her child and husband. Besides, the quiet of the kitchen and task of taking care of the dishes was what she needed after being on edge during dinner. 

"I've got it, then," she offered, beaming a smile to her Uncle, "You guys go relax for a little while." 

Arms laden with china and silverware, (Y/N) took to the kitchen while the rest of the family moved onto the other room. A heavy breath left her lips. 

She fixed her eyes to the faucet as the sink filled with warm water, soap bubbles forming on the surface. 

Truthfully, she knew there wasn't any reason to be so nervous, so stiff, all night. It wasn't like Harry was going to speak about that night out in the open—if he wanted his family to know, he'd had months to expose the facts before now. But, he hadn't. 

It was a bit pathetic to admit given the fact they had never even so much as kissed, but seeing him felt a lot like running into an ex. Embarrassing, seeing as he had seen her more vulnerable than she felt comfortable showing. Nerve-wracking, as she wasn't sure what kind of reaction she was going to get from him. And a bit heartbreaking; it was hard to see him knowing there was such a definitive line in the sand. 

As if there wasn't always one there, (Y/N) reminded herself. The second they made it to her uncle's house that night, there was always goin to be a barrier between them. 

Flicking off the faucet, she got to work cleaning off the dishes. From the living room, she could hear quiet coos from a sleepy baby, and slight laughter amongst a family sharing memories. 

That was enough to have the line holding her shoulders taut to give. A family. Everything her uncle deserved. 

"Want help?" 

(Y/N) practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of the deep, accented voice suddenly joining her in the space.

 Whipping her head around, she saw Harry lingering in the threshold of the entrance to the kitchen. He had a short smile on his lips, the ghost of dimples in his cheeks. 

Not a real smile. Something polite to be offered to someone he didn't really care to be talking to. 

"No, I'm alright,"(Y/N) answered, just as tight. "Thanks, though." 

"Are y'sure?" he pressed, taking a cautious step inside the barrier of the tiles, "I could dry while y'wash. It'll cut the time in half, or something like that." 

She let out a huff of laughter at his attempt to lighten the mood. She was sure she wasn't the only one feeling a touch of the tension that had gathered. 

She figured she couldn't really continue to avoid him forever. 

"If you really want to," she relented, letting a genuine, though small, smile curl her lips. 

Harry took her words as the invitation needed, crossing the room to join her at the sink. The damp dishes had begun to accumulate on the towel she had laid out at her side. He moved with familiarity through his childhood home, finding another dish towel before pushing up the sleeves of his warm brown sweater. 

Just like the first time she had met him, (Y/N) couldn't help but trace her eyes over the cross tattooed on his hand. Seeing the sleeves of his shirt pushed up, she got a view of what she remembered wondering hid between that cloud-cardigan those months ago. 

A bare-chested mermaid. A nightmarish beetle. A collection of tiny sketches around an anchor at his wrist. 

"So," he started, wiping off the first dish in the pile, "I've barely gotten a chance to talk to y'since we've got here. How have y'been?"

She nodded absently, swiftly turning her gaze to the soapy basin. "I've been alright. Just busy getting the final details figured out with your mom and sister. How about you?" 

"Same," he murmured, "'S all gone by so fast. I can't believe 's already tomorrow. I feel like we were jus' meeting for the first time." 

He meant for the comment to be something lighthearted. They could bond over the passage of time, right? It was easy to nod her head and laugh, tell him that yes, everything had gone by so fast. But she was excited, nonetheless. That his mother was a wonderful person and she couldn't wait to welcome her into their small family. 

Instead, (Y/N) was only able to manage a small smile. 

"Yeah. Crazy." 

Crazy that it really had only been months since she met Harry while perusing wine for her uncle, thinking he was just a handsome stranger. Someone she could see herself going on a date with. 

Now, he was going to be as good as her stepbrother. The revelation left a sour taste in her mouth. 

A beat passed. 

"(Y/N)," Harry started, one of his rings clinking against the plate in his hand, "If y'want to talk about—"

She shook her head. She didn't need to revisit that night. Especially not right now, while washing his mother's dishes in her sink. 

"I don't," she insisted, "Sorry if I'm being weird. I just... I was worried I had scared you off or something, since we haven't talked. But, I'm fine, really." 

"You didn't. Scare me off, I mean," Harry answered, the words coming out in a rush as if a reflex. The pile of damp dishes were forgotten for the moment as he turned his attention to her. "I jus' wanted sure if y'wanted to talk to me after... everything."

"Don't worry about it," she answered, sidestepping just how much she wanted to hear anything from him in the time that had passed since the night at the bar. That she wanted to know if he still even tolerated her. "Everything got a little complicated, so it's probably best we didn't—don't. You know?" 

Harry's expression seemed to solidify at her words. Unmoving, unchanging, though something seemed to leave from his eyes. 

"Yeah," he agreed, a single nod of his head. He waved the cloth in her direction, nonchalant. "We've got a while to figure everything out as long as tomorrow goes well, right?" 

"Right," (Y/N) laughed, a little less rigid. While it wasn't the outcome she may have wanted (that was one where he came in on a flying steed, hearts in his eyes, and unwavering conviction in his feelings for her. Or at least trying it out with her), it was the best outcome she could have predicted. 

They finished the dishes in silence.

—————

(Y/N) clapped, tears in her eyes as she watched her uncle plant a kiss on his blushing bride. The white of her gauzy dress made Anne's skin glow that much brighter, sweet pink and a warm bronze. 

They were now man and wife as the officiant announced, allowing them on their way. 

Falling back into her role as dutiful bridesmaid, she followed after Gemma as the procession to the reception began. Glancing at Mitch, she caught him biting back a smile. She knew he would have something to say about her sobbing two seconds into the ceremony. 

Getting out of the chilly garden and into the reception venue was a needed transition. (Y/N) hadn't even realized her fingers were turning to icicles until the heat from the hall wrapped around her. 

It was quiet in the space. Only a select few of the venue staff milling about as they made the finishing touches on the reception space, and a newly knitted family were present. Much like herself, Gemma had tiny tears in her eyes as she reached for her daughter from her husband's hip. Harry had his mother wrapped up in a long hug.

It was her uncle that brought her attention away from the embrace. He murmured something to her, the words a bit garbled through his thick throat before he had her in his arms. 

(Y/N) didn't hesitate before she was reciprocating the hold. She tucked herself against his chest, feeling just as safe as the day he had told her that she was going to be taken care of now that he was there. The memory only made her snuggle that much closer to him. 

"Congratulations, dad," she whispered, choking up hearing the title she only rarely used. She knew it had the same effect on him when he clutched her tighter, a shuddering breath wracking his chest. 

"Thanks for being here, kiddo. Love you." 

"Love you, too." 

All too soon, her uncle was whisked away to take photos with his bride, the photographer eager to capture the moments with that blissful glow on their faces. Family shots had been taken prior to the ceremony, when everyone's makeup and hair were in perfect condition, leaving (Y/N) a moment alone for the first time that day. 

It wasn't until she was putting on her false lashes that she had heard Harry had brought a date. She knew that there was no reason to have any kind of reaction to that revelation, especially since she had also invited Mitch. And yet, there was still that sour, churning feeling in her stomach.

While it wasn't a thought she nurtured or had the guts to admit, there had been a lingering hope in her that maybe, with everything twisted up and complicated, that there could be something worked out. That Harry was so unhappy with the distance as she was. 

But, he had brought a date. Someone serious enough to invite to a family wedding, though not serious enough to mention to her when they were washing the dishes the night before. 

That was fine. He could do whatever he wanted, just as (Y/N) was doing. 

And neither of them were going to be heartbroken. Least of all (Y/N).

—————

"Are you sure that's his date?" 

(Y/N) only grumbled through her spoonful of gelato. That counted as the third time Mitch had questioned Harry's choice of plus one. And the third time (Y/N) thought she made it abundantly clear that she wasn't interested in speaking on the details of the coupling. It was bad enough explaining to everyone that Mitch was just a friend instead of a boyfriend, he didn't also have to rub it in that Harry had brought a real date. 

"(Y/N), don't get mad at me," Mitch warned, casting his eyes over her head towards the dance floor, "I'm just asking. Because he's barely talked to her all night." 

"Well, that's rude of him, then," (Y/N) cemented, taking another bite of her birthday cake gelato. This dessert had been Gemma's idea—about the same cost as a cake, but many more people could eat from the bar and there wouldn't be a handful of leftover slices that the family would be forced to take home. 

"Will you still think that if I tell you it's been because he's too busy looking at you?" 

She glared at Mitch through furrowed brows. "Right." 

"I'm serious," he hedged, bouncing his brows before tipping his head towards her, urging her to look at her back. "If you turn around right now, you'll see." 

"Just because he's looking at me, doesn't mean anything. He's my brother now, Mitch." 

Reaching for his drink, Mitch didn't look very believing in the story she was spinning. "I would be a little nervous if I had a brother look at me the way he is right now."

 "What does that mean?" 

He knew he had her then, a crooked smile on his lips. "Look for yourself." 

Giving in, (Y/N) pretending to stretch in her spot. She pasted an easy smile on her face as she nonchalantly turned to look over her shoulder. 

There, on the dance floor, with his niece on his hip, Harry's cheeks flushed. He quickly looked away, having been caught by (Y/N) as he gazed at her. His date was fluttering around, speaking to Gemma and her husband with an easy smile on her face. She was familiar with the family—more familiar than (Y/N) would think a new girlfriend would be. 

But, that wasn't any of her business. 

Turning back to Mitch, she attempted to look as if nothing she saw had even sparked a train of thought in her mind. 

"That doesn't mean anything." 

"Right," he drawled, sly smile on his face. "And, he's not coming over here, right now." 

"What?" (Y/N) bubbled, suddenly at attention. Her cup of gelato created in her tightened grip. Whipping her head around, she stopped in her tracks, expression dropping. No one was walking over to their table—let alone Harry. 

A burst of laughter came from her date. 

"That wasn't nice," she said, fighting back her own laughter. Truthfully, while it was pathetic how easy it was to get her to react, she knew if the tables were turned, she wouldn't be able to contain her giggles at Mitch's desperation. 

He shrugged. "It was funny, though." He took a long sip of his drink, ice clinking together. "If you're so jumpy, I don't know why you haven't gone to talk to him at all." 

"Mitch," (Y/N) started, finally abandoning the remnants of her gelato, "It's just not the right time. You already know everything, so." 

"So what? He obviously wants to at least talk to you. Just put him out of his misery." 

(Y/N) shook her head. "Even if things weren't complicated, he brought a date, Mitch. I don't think he's really dying for my company." 

"So?" he repeated, raising his brows, "You brought a date, too. And it's me." 

She could only roll her lips between her teeth. She wasn't going to examine the point he was making. 

"I'm going to get a drink." 

—————

(Y/N) felt entirely too accomplished when Gemma's daughter burst into another round of laughter at the shapes she was throwing on the dance floor. It was easy to make her laugh now that she knew what made the little girl giggle, but it still felt like an all star achievement every time a bubbling peal left her heart-shaped lips. 

"Auntie (Y/N) is just so silly, isn't she?" Gemma babbled to her daughter, equally delighted to hear her having so much fun. The later the night went, the more and more of a miracle it was that she hadn't grown fussy and in need of a bedtime. 

Just as she was about to make another uncoordinated movement, a gentle hand landed on (Y/N)'s shoulder. She saw the gleaming diamond ring adorning the fourth finger first, already knowing who it belonged to. 

"Could I cut in, girls? Sorry to ruin the fun," Anne asked, her beaded gown trailing behind her as she beamed at her granddaughter, "It's my turn to dance with Aunt (Y/N)." She paused, glancing over. "If that's alright, anyway." 

"Yes, of course, of course," (Y/N) bubbled off, "We'll just finish our dance battle later." 

"I'd watch out if I were you," Gemma teased, "After a snack, this one is going to run you out of town, I'm afraid." 

"I'd like to see her try," (Y/N) played along, narrowing her eyes despite the smile attempting to take over her mouth. 

Gemma walked away with a laugh, taking her daughter back to her husband. A happy little family, they were. 

"I can't believe you're still at it," Anne laughed, swaying along to the music with (Y/N), "I can barely handle standing in these shoes, and you've been dancing like nothing." 

(Y/N) lifted the hem of her dress, showing off her socked feet. "I took my heels off hours ago. I got through one dance before I had to make a choice." 

Anne let out a boisterous laugh. The champagne bubbles from the number of toasts recited throughout the night had seemingly had their intended effect. From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) could see both her Uncle Mick and Harry looking in their direction, affectionate smiles on their faces. 

"I'm just happy you're having a good time," Anne crooned, blissful smile stuck to her features, "I was getting worried." 

A furrow pinched (Y/N)'s brows. "You were? Why?" 

A heavy sigh left her lips. "I told Mick I wouldn't say anything," she started, casting her eyes to her new husband, "But, I've just been worried about you and H." 

(Y/N)'s movements lagged in time to the music. "Me and Harry?" 

"Don't tell him I told you," she rushed out, "But, he said there was something? I can't remember exactly what he said, but he just seemed really upset when I told him you were bringing a date, and when I asked what was wrong he just said it was complicated, or something like that. I could tell something was going on last night, but I didn't want to push." 

In so many words, Anne was laying out her mother's intuition. Despite neither she nor Harry divulging any secrets, Anne had been able to pick up on the words between the lines. 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, her grip on the skirt of her dress tightening. 

Anne chewed on her bottom lip before speaking again. "I know it's not any of my business, you kids are adults and can do whatever you want—or don't want. But, I think you should talk to him. If it's complicated in the way I think, I want you to know that... It's okay. Complicated things happen all the time, but that doesn't mean it has to be impossible." 

Champagne was a hell of a drug. 

"Right," (Y/N) answered, a tight smile on her face. "Thank you, Anne. I think I need some air, I'll be right back." 

Before much else could be said, Anne's brother popped in to steal her away for a dance. The heavy subject she had just dropped on (Y/N) was forgotten, instead excited to chat with someone new for the time being. 

That left (Y/N) to swiftly creep out of the venue and into the garden that had previously been fashioned into an elegant aisle for the ceremony.

The chilly air she had been eager to get out of earlier now felt like a balm on her skin. In so many words, Anne had basically given permission for (Y/N) to do whatever she wanted when it came to Harry. Despite the marriage that had just connected them as family. 

It was both freeing and heavy as she stood in the garden. 

Freeing to know that even from someone both removed but so close to the situation, she didn't think (Y/N) was catastrophically insane or unnervingly gross for even considering Harry as someone. 

Heavy to know that they hadn't been quite as undercover as she hoped. Not everyone would agree with Anne's ruling, and (Y/N) dreaded the idea of finding out just who could be on the opposing side. Including Harry and the date he brought tonight.

The music from inside seeped through the open windows. As if reading the mood from even out here, the DJ had switched to a slow song. The singing violins and melodic voice of the singer floated around (Y/N), making it that much easier to be a bit melodramatic as she trailed her finger of a wilting cornflower, the hue matching the color of her dress. 

"There you are." 

(Y/N) didn't have to turn to know who had joined her in the garden. The voice alone was enough to have her spine straightening, goosebumps sparking over her skin. 

She offered a quiet smile to Harry as she dropped her hand from the flower. "Here I am," she said, "Is everything okay?" 

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets. A wilting periwinkle flower went lopsided in his breast pocket. 

"Yeah, jus' saw y'with mum and then y'disappeared. I wanted to make sure y'were alright." 

"I'm fine," she offered, "It got a little stuffy in there, that's all." 

"Well," he started, moving towards her until his toes were just on the edge between the patio and the garden, "Y'missed our dates sneaking off together." 

(Y/N) blanched at the information. "Are you joking? I'm so sorry, oh my god. I'll find Mitch right now, I can't be—" 

"No, no," Harry laughed, "'S fine. Sarah's been asking me about him since he got here anyway. I know it was only a matter of time." 

"Oh," she sounded, settling at the information Harry was sharing, "So Sarah's not...?" 

Harry shook his head. "She's a friend I've had for years. Mum loves her, so she was coming whether or not she came as m'plus one. This way she got to pick where she sat." 

(Y/N) laughed. Half from the practicality of this woman's choices, as well as a wave of relief that ran over her. So he hadn't brought a date tonight. Only a friend that was seemingly much more interested in (Y/N)'s date. 

"Mitch is just a friend, too," (Y/N) clarified, pretending as if she didn't hear Anne's voice in the back of her head as she offered the information. 

"I was hoping you'd say that. Otherwise, I was going to have to follow them and beat him up or something." 

"No need," (Y/N) sighed, "He'd be sad if you did that, anyway. He thinks you're cool." 

Harry's eyes brightened. "Really?" 

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," (Y/N) warned, biting back a smile, "He only said that when I told him you put together the music list for the DJ. He thinks you have good taste." 

"Well, he's not wr—" 

"I had to break it to him that you think frosé is better than actual rosé. I think he's still coming to terms with it." 

Mock offense took over Harry's features. "How dare you? I told y'that in confidence." 

(Y/N) shrugged, a playful smile painted on her lips. "I had to save him the trouble of finding out on his own. He never would have recovered." 

Harry shook his head. "'S not even that bad, I don't get it." 

"Coming from someone who thinks frosé is the best wine offering, that makes sense." 

He playfully nudged his shoulder against hers, shaking his head. A beat passed between them, the muffled voices from inside spilling out into the courtyard. 

"I saw y'talking to mum," Harry started, switching off the subject with the tease falling out of his voice, "Looked a little intense." 

She hoped he didn't catch the way her spine stiffened. "It wasn't anything serious," she lied, "Just got a little emotional with everything." 

When Harry didn't immediately answer, (Y/N) chanced a look in his direction. He already had his eyes trained on her, shatters of green examining her features with raspberry lips rolled between his teeth.

"What?" 

"She didn't—" Harry started, cutting himself off before reorienting himself, "It wasn't about anything complicated?" 

(Y/N) blinked. Had their conversation really been that loud?

"Harry, I didn't tell her anything," (Y/N) insisted, "She said she just had a feeling, but I didn't—I don't know how she knew—"

"I told her," Harry piped up, dropping his eyes to the grass at their feet, "Kind of. She could tell something's been going on, and she asked once. She thought I didn't like y'or something. I jus' told her it was complicated, but that must have been enough." 

He let out a huff of laughter though she was sure neither of them were feeling particularly humorous at the moment. 

"'M sorry if she made y'feel uncomfortable or anything. She jus' wants me to be happy, and—"

"She told me it was okay." 

Harry went silent at her admission. Raspberry lips rolled between his teeth. 

(Y/N) waited, a breeze playing with her dress. 

"She said it was okay? That... whatever she thought was happening between me and you, was okay?" 

(Y/N) nodded. 

She watched as the very corners of his lips turned upwards. 

"Your uncle said the same thing." 

A furrow had (Y/N)'s brows pinching above her pointed gaze. "When?" 

Harry's lips stretched into a full smile. "Jus' now." 

It took a moment to process the fact that Harry was telling her this information with a grin on his face. Nothing polite and short. A real, dimple-baring, nose scrunching smile. 

He was happy. He was happy to hear this news. 

That whatever had started those months ago was okay. Whatever that meant for them. 

"This is good," (Y/N) whispered, voice melding with the music from inside the venue, "Right?" 

There was a part of her that wanted to close the distance between them. Crush the grass under her socked feet and cup his jaw between her palms. To slot her lips between his and kiss him. To do the one thing she had been holding back from since that first dinner at her uncle's house. 

But, she needed to wait. She wasn't going to have another moment like that in the hotel room. If Harry wanted her, he was going to have to say it, otherwise she was staying rig—

Taking the leap for her, Harry closed the distance in one long stride. He gently took the line of her jaw in his hands, tipping her head up until the tips of their noses were touching. The length of his lashes were only a breath away from tangling with hers. 

"Really good," he breathed, waiting for her.

That was all she needed to hear before she was stretching to the tips of her toes, pressing her lips to his. 

Harry steadied her with his hands on either side of her face, guiding her into this first kiss. He took her bottom lip between his two, his kiss lingering and sweet. The only urgency came from the fact that they both knew just how long they had waited for this moment, though there was no reason to rush through it. 

She could taste the pistachio gelato he had earlier in the night, alongside the sweet wine served by the bar. With each tip and tilt of her head, she felt the tip of his nose grazing hers, the scruff of his chin against her own, the soft give of his mouth. Reaching up, she bundled her fingers into the lapels of his jacket, keeping the lines of their bodies close together. 

(Y/N) no longer felt the chill in the air, consumed by the feeling of Harry's kiss. This was worth waiting for. Worth the complications, and the uncertainty. Worth bringing Mitch to a family wedding just for him to disappear with someone else's date. (Something she was going to expect a thank you over, if he and Sarah worked out past a hookup). 

Harry drew away first, though only far enough to rest his forehead against hers. Blinking her eyes open, she found him already looking at her, half-lidded with blown pupils.

"'M sorry," he murmured, the fullest points of his lips grazing her own, "About the last time. I should have—I didn't want to leave, I jus'—" 

"It's okay," (Y/N) whispered, puckering her lips to give him a delicate kiss, "I get it. It hurt at the time, but I understand. Everything was just too much then." 

A slight quirk angled his lips. "Complicated, right?" 

(Y/N) couldn't contain the small huff of laughter that fanned from her lungs. "Exactly." 

Tipping his chin, Harry sealed his lips to hers in a lingering kiss. His hands on her jaw slid down, following the line of her arms until he reached her hands. 

"We should go back inside." 

Lacing her fingers between his, (Y/N) made no move to head back inside the venue. 

"Do we?" 

A light danced through his eyes. Casting a glance at the party going on behind them, Harry tightened his hold on her hands. 

"I think we could wait a little longer. Don't you?" 

All (Y/N) could do was attempt to kiss him through her smile. 

—————

thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and if you have any fun ideas or requests of your own pleaseee send them in!

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

extra 1: proposal ‘a few years had gone and come around...you looked at me, got down on one knee’

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 wc: 4.7k notes: based on this request 🫡 sorry this took forever, i took a break from writing for a bit (writing 80k+ words over the course of a month alters your brain chemistry tbh). i was gonna link the proposal and the wedding together but decided to split them just so i could get something out for y'all! soooo trust that the wedding oneshot will be in the works soon and other slice of life snippets. if there's anything you wanna see, feel free to request! i'll get around to it when i have the time & my inbox is always open for yaps 🙂‍↕️as always i hope y'all enjoy!! 🫶

NOVEMBER 13, 2028

The first week of their postseason vacation couldn’t have gone any better. After a successful last year with the Sparks and the Wings respectively, Tess and Paige needed the time out of the country, away from basketball and other people. For four years, they’d spend up to six months away from each other training, playing, or travelling – it wasn’t much different from what they were used to in college, but they were nearing their five year anniversary and if Tess was being honest, she loathed only having Paige for half of the year. They planned to spend the first two full weeks of the offseason in Naples, Italy, where Tess had grown up – completely alone with plenty of time to relax after a grueling championship contending season.

So the first week was amazing. They flew in on a Monday, ordered room service and promptly fell asleep after dinner, far too jet lagged and exhausted after hours of travelling. On Tuesday, Paige treated her to breakfast in bed: delicate pastries and fruits and savory meats, then they toured an art museum – the Sansevero Chapel Museum. Tess was pretty sure Paige spent more time staring at her than the actual art they’d paid to look at, but she wasn’t going to complain. She enjoyed Paige’s attention more than she liked to admit. On Wednesday, Tess showed her around the inner workings of the city and the street she grew up on. Paige even met some of her extended family, such as her paternal grandparents and some other cousins. Tess’s family welcomed Paige in with open arms and made sure they stayed for lunch. They spent the rest of the day walking around the city hand-in-hand with Tess sharing childhood stories as Paige listened intently. On Thursday, they visited the San Carlo Theatre – coincidentally enough, they were performing an opera of Romeo and Juliet, which endlessly amused the both of them. On Friday, Paige decided she wanted to try every pizza place that Naples had to offer, and Tess didn’t really have the heart to say no to her. The weekend was spent lounging around, walking around the city some more, and visiting the beach, although they quickly gave up on that endeavor because it was entirely too cold.

Then the second week rolled around and Paige’s entire demeanor changed. When Tess woke up on Monday morning, shirt and underwear haphazardly thrown on after a long night, Paige was lying silently next to her, hands folded over her stomach. She was staring at the ceiling fan like it held the answers for whatever existential question she’d been pondering. Paige and silent were two things that never ended well when they were mixed together. The last time Paige had been eerily quiet had been after New Year’s in 2024 – that was a month of dread and panic that Tess never wanted to go back to, so she rolls onto her side, gazing at Paige.

“Do you ever think the trees are trying to communicate with us but we’re too dumb to understand them?” she asks seriously, watching five different expressions cross Paige’s face before she settles on amusement, laughing quietly.

Paige finally cranes her head over, her face softening when she locks eyes with Tess. Her hair is unruly, a mess from the night before, mascara flaking and her skin littered with marks. Tess is certain she’s never seen anyone more beautiful than Paige and she’s certain she never will. Even after almost five years together, Paige still makes her heart beat like she’s a teenager with a crush. “What happened to ‘good morning?’” she jokes.

“Not a good morning when I wake up and you’re social distancing,” Tess grumbles indignantly, pointing at the space in between them. “What happened to, I don’t know, ‘loving your girlfriend?’”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Paige croons, her tone teasing. She rolls Tess onto her other side, curling an arm around her abdomen, her fingers lacing together with Tess’s over her navel. She rests her chin just above the crown of Tess’s head, sinking into the pillow. “Better?”

Tess hums, content, her hair raising at the feel of Paige’s skin against hers. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” she asks.

Paige huffs out something akin to shocked laughter. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

“Paige, we’ve been together for almost five years,” Tess states. “You think I don’t know when something’s on your mind?” She twists the ring on Paige’s thumb as the blonde falls silent, thinking. “I don’t want you to ice me out,” she admits. “We said we wouldn’t do that. If there’s something wrong –”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Paige says quickly. She squeezes Tess’s hand, craning her head to press a gentle kiss on her temple. “Nothing’s wrong. Believe me. Everything’s perfect. Just…a big moment for us right now.”

“Free agency?” Tess asks, turning around in Paige’s embrace to face her fully after adjusting her arms. Paige’s face looks torn, uncertain – free agency has to be what’s weighing on her now, right? They’ve had this conversation numerous times, especially late at night after rough games when they’re missing each other and the distance feels like a burden. They’ve done this before, which is what Tess clings onto – they’ve been hundreds of miles apart in college but it’s so different now that they’re in the league and that they know their future is with one another.

“Free agency is up there,” Paige confesses after a while, frowning. “We don’t gotta talk about it right now. This is our vacation.”

“We say that every time,” Tess says softly, trying to start a conversation, not an argument. That’s been one of the biggest points of growth with Paige over the past few years. Tess is often too quick to jump to a conclusion, to get into her head about a situation or however Paige must feel about something. They’ve had these growing pains discussions numerous times, learning to be patient and trust each other more and more. Tess searches Paige’s features. “You and I both want to play ball. You know I don’t mind competing against you, but…I don’t like the distance, either. So, what do you want from whatever team you’re interested in?”

Paige hesitates, but Tess stares at her imploringly. “A younger team,” she says. “Lots of people are retiring. Stewie, BG, Sloot, Natasha. I wanna go to a team that’s gonna be together for a while, be a championship contender. I wanna be closer to you, too.”

“Okay,” Tess says, feeling slightly relieved – she and Paige are in agreement on that much. She wants longevity, a team that’s reliable, where she can settle down. She’s been stubborn on keeping up her apartment lease in LA just because she didn’t want to purchase anything permanent that wouldn’t have both hers and Paige’s name on it. “Do you have a team in mind?”

“I’ve talked to some people, yeah,” Paige says. “Have you?”

Tess nods. Paige’s thumb finds her jaw, tracing the skin there absentmindedly. “Say it on three?”

“On three,” Paige confirms. “One.”

Tess swallows. “Two.”

Together, they both say “Three,” and then –

“Valkyries,” they say at the exact same time.

The tension melts from Paige’s shoulders immediately as Tess breaks into peals of laughter. Paige shakes her head fondly, tucking her chin into the crook of Tess’s neck to hide the blush on her cheeks. “Okay. So we’ll sign with the Valkyries if they reach out to us during free agency.”

“Don’t think there’s gonna be an ‘if,’” Paige says quietly. “I talked to Azzi and she said Natalie was very interested in us. They recently got some crazy salary cap increase so I think their plan was to splurge on us, make it hard to say no. Pretty sure they also got Kiki and Ayoka to resign, so me, you, Azzi, Kiki, and Ayoka? Playoffs, easily.”

“Oh, so you think we’re starters?” Tess asks teasingly.

“You think they’re gonna drop a couple million on bench players?”

Tess shakes her head fondly, but presses her lips to Paige’s hairline, unable to keep the smile off her face. “I can’t believe we’ll be playing together next season,” she murmurs, feeling Paige tighten her arms around her waist. “After kicking your ass for nine straight years –”

“That is not what happened,” Paige interrupts, smushing her finger into Tess’s cheek. “2025? Ring a bell? UConn natty?”

“I recall a lot of things from that night but a natty was not one,” Tess states. “I remember you coming to my hotel room, and –”

Paige slides her hand across Tess’s mouth, shutting her up, but her eyes are slightly wide. “Don’t,” she says softly. The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to hold back laughter. Tess rolls her eyes and she pushes Paige’s hand off of her. “Does this mean we gotta start apartment hunting now?”

Tess hums. “Maybe a house?” she suggests, watching Paige’s reaction carefully. As her words sink in, a smile grows unabashed on Paige’s face.

“You wanna buy a house with me?”

“Paige,” Tess says, a little indignant. “Duh?” Paige’s expression turns unbelievably tender, her smile softening. Tess quirks a grin of her own. “I’m thinking of something permanent, you know? Settle down, finally? Stay with the Valkyries until we’re, what – 40 something, Diana Taurasi style. Retire in the Bay. We’ll have our house, maybe four bed, couple baths. Us, maybe a kid or two, guest room for our friends. We’ll probably be coaching somewhere, collecting our rings when we’re old and washed up.” Tess swallows, realizing the gravity of what she’s just said. “I mean, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“Tess.”

“Hm?”

“Shut up.”

Before she can respond, Paige’s fingers are curling around her neck, pulling her in closer until their lips meet, and kissing her with a softness and a gentleness that hasn’t disappeared after so many years together. Tess can’t help but smile, feeling the promise, the agreement, that Paige presses against her. When she draws back, Paige’s smile is wide, her teeth showing and the corners of her eyes crinkling. “I want that with you,” Paige murmurs, just so that there’s absolutely no confusion. “Lemme put a ring on it before we start talking about kids, yeah?”

Tess narrows her eyes dramatically. “You need to hurry it up, then,” she says. “I won’t wait around forever.”

Paige lifts one of her hands, kissing her knuckles with a coy smile. “Trust me. Gonna make it worth your while, baby.”

Tess honestly should have known that she had another trick up her sleeve, but she was too lost in the moment to overthink her words. So she acquiesced, giving into the deep, lingering kiss that Paige pressed into her lips, letting herself sink further into their bed and reveling in the way Paige’s lips danced across her skin.

The rest of the week passed with little interruption or further weirdness. Paige did seem a little nervous at times, though the moment never lasted too long, so Tess didn’t think much of it. She and Paige continued to make the most of their time in Italy. They had a private couple’s painting event, where Paige, for whatever reason, painted the two of them as stick figures driving around in a basketball shaped car (she’s lucky that Tess is in love because otherwise…God help her). Paige booked them in with a renowned Italian chef who taught them how to make homemade pasta and various sauces, which went as well as one could expect – that is to say Tess was just endlessly distracted by the way the veins in Paige’s hands protruded as she kneaded the dough.

Then, on Friday the 17th – Tess’s birthday – Tess woke up to Paige’s lips on her face and an assortment of brunch food. They indulged for the better part of the morning, not leaving the bed until the afternoon until their spa appointment. Paige had declared that she “deserved to be pampered” and who was Tess to argue against that? The resort masseuse and the nail techs were incredible at their jobs and Tess left the appointment feeling incredibly refreshed. Her birthday dinner was at an upscale restaurant in the heart of the city and Paige gifted her another charm for her bracelet – this time in the shape of the Italian peninsula to remind her of their time here.

Saturday the 18th was different – there was a palpable shift in the air. She woke up a little past eleven in the morning, alone, which was concerning in and of itself because Paige is rarely awake before she is. Paige is a chore to get out of bed in the mornings and always has been. She’s the CEO of “five more minutes” or “come cuddle” which, Tess will admit, has only become more endearing over the years, but right now, all it does is worry Tess after the conversation they had earlier in the week about free agency.

She hardly has the time to overthink it too much because Paige is shuffling back into their room, sporting an insane case of bedhead and a slight smudge of toothpaste lingering on her bottom lip. The blonde grins at her, easing her nerves instantly, and she presses one knee into the bed as she leans over Tess’s body, planting a kiss onto her lips. “Good morning!” she chirps, which is the next indicator that something is up.

“Good morning,” Tess says, honestly a little confused. She wipes the foam off of Paige’s lip. “What’s gotten into you?” she asks suspiciously.

“What, I can’t be happy?” Paige raises a brow, leaning in to kiss her again. Tess stops her with a hand to her chest.

“Okay, now I know you’re being weird,” Tess states. “You woke up before me. You got out of bed and attempted to make yourself…somewhat presentable, when the first thing you do in the morning is beg to be the little spoon for a little while.” As she speaks, Tess smooths out the mess on Paige’s head, frowning slightly. “You’re too happy right now. And you keep trying to distract me. So, you’re plotting something. What’s going on?”

Paige huffs dramatically, leaning away from Tess. “Nothing’s wrong, ma, swear,” she vows. Tess narrows her eyes at her, studying her features closely, but all she can make out is an anxious earnestness and unequivocal love. Paige cups her cheek as she kisses her temple gently, moving her mouth to her ear to whisper, “Everything’s perfect right now. Trust me, okay? Just wanna make you happy.”

“You do,” Tess affirms. Paige’s words soften the tension in her shoulders. Maybe she is overthinking again, which isn’t unlike her. Paige has never given her any reason to doubt her words, not in the near five years they’ve been together. She owes it to Paige to have more faith in her, in them.

A smug look crosses across Paige’s features as she pokes Tess in the cheek obnoxiously. “I know.” Tess rolls her eyes fondly as Paige leaves the bed fully. “Now get dressed. This is our last day in Italy and we got shit to do. Can you do my hair?” Tess meets her eyes through the mirror, raising a brow slightly. “Please?” Paige adds.

“I’ll house train you one day,” Tess mumbles, though she knows Paige is basically a lost cause at this point. Her girlfriend smiles at her and all of her faux annoyance washes away in an instant as Tess presses a kiss to her cheek, beginning to work on her hair. Paige gives her free reign to work and Tess elects to leave Paige’s down in natural, loose waves. Then, they get dressed – Paige dons a baggy pair of black cargos with an oversized white sweater and matching white sneakers. She doesn’t forget her chain or the various rings on her fingers, which makes Tess contemplate telling her to cancel their reservations for wherever they’re going so they can spend the day in bed (again – but that’s no one’s business but their own). Tess herself dresses in white sneakers, a pair of light-wash blue jeans, and a patterned sweater that she’d stolen directly from Paige’s luggage – the very sweater that Tess claimed made Paige look like an art teacher.

Once they’re ready to go, Paige leads her hand-in-hand down the busy streets towards a restaurant. They indulge in a late lunch, cracking jokes, sharing stories and optimism for the future – Paige wants an outdoor court built at whatever house they’re buying (possibly the least surprising thing Tess has ever heard), and Tess’s only real complaint is that she doesn’t want to live in an obnoxiously huge mansion. As long as the house has what they need and they have their family, then there’s not much else that Tess wants.

After lunch, they arrive at a private pottery making class, which takes a good few hours out of their day. Paige looked absolutely silly with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and covered in clay, and Tess is sure that the only thing that stopped them from initiating an all-out clay war was the elderly woman who was carefully instructing them. Eventually, their creations start taking shape – a vase for Tess and a lopsided mug for Paige, and while they get fired in the kiln, the instructor talks them through the history of Italian pottery and ceramics.

Tess had thought the pottery class was their last stop on the day, but Paige had something else planned. “It’s a secret,” she claimed, but she seemed a little more nervous than she was earlier that day, which did little to quell Tess’s sudden anxiety until Paige pressed her lips to her knuckles. “Trust me.”

And so she did, allowing Paige to lead her down the streets once more in the fading daylight. The sky was lined with streaks of pinks, oranges, and a dimming yellow. Tess knows she says it a lot, but in this light, Paige looks absolutely radiant – the sharp lines of her face softened by the gentleness of the sky, the blush on her cheeks heightened by the chill in the air. Her palm was warm against Tess’s, rough in some places and smooth in others, but Tess loves every inch of Paige just the same.

Finally, the two of them stop in front of an unassuming door, one that Tess had never seen growing up here. Paige’s nerves seem to return tenfold as she pauses. Tess watches her face contort as if she’s battling some internal decision. She squeezes their linked hands, feeling the relief that exudes from Paige’s body, and the blonde smiles tentatively. “You first,” she states, resting her free hand over the door knob. Tess gives a confused, yet trusting nod, as Paige opens the door and ushers her inside.

The breath is all but sucked from her lungs as soon as she’s indoors. The lighting in the room is dim, but Tess can see nearly everything. The rose petals creating a path for them, the flickering of candles strewn about, but the part that truly captures her attention are the polaroids that hang from the ceiling on thin twine strings. The one closest to the entrance are incredibly new, selfies of the two of them from the week before, a picture of Tess and Paige swept up with Tess’s extended family. There’s a solo shot of Tess grinning at the camera for Paige, dolled up in her birthday dress and holding a glass of wine.

Paige doesn’t say anything – she doesn’t have to. She rests her palms over Tess’s hips as she guides the both of them forward, allowing Tess the time to properly look at all of the pictures. As they walk through the room, which Tess figures was an art gallery given the abstract paintings on the wall, the pictures get older and older. There’s a photo of the two of them from the WNBA finals, confetti sticking to their sweat-slick bodies as they embraced in the middle of the court. There’s a photo of them at the Olympics holding up their matching gold medals. There’s countless shots of them sharing the basketball court, as rivals, and part of Tess can’t help but get choked up because they’re not going to be rivals on the court after this vacation is said and done. After nine years, she finally gets to play with Paige, as teammates, and she’s not sure if there’s anything in the world that could possibly top that feeling.

Their WNBA memories filter out, leading to their college ones. There’s one of the two of them from the national championship, displaying the two of them staring at each other – Tess on one side of an half-empty court, Paige on the other swarmed by her teammates. The pride reflected on Tess’s face is evident in the photo. There’s a bunch of other memories, their February game, holidays celebrated with each other, their summer of 2024 world tour, and photographs of them from when they were “pretending.” Tess spots herself perched on Paige’s lap during the first Thanksgiving she spent with the extended Bueckers family, arguing over Fortnite with Paige as Paige’s siblings watched on in amusement. There’s countless FaceTime screenshots, back when the two of them were truly getting to know each other, selfies from their Bose trip that changed everything, and finally, as they’re nearing the end, the photographs melt into their initial soft launch photos, that damned coffee shop and Paige’s less than subtle appearance. But the last photo isn’t like the others. The rose petal path has led them to the back end of the art gallery, still illuminated by the soft lighting. The last photo is framed. It’s of the two of them shaking hands after the first game they played against each other on February 8, 2021. That date has stuck with Tess for a while now. If you’d told her younger self in 2021 that she’d be here, now, with Paige Bueckers, she wouldn’t believe you. But now? She can’t think of anything more fitting, more obvious than her and Paige.

With tears brimming her eyes and wrought with nostalgia and gratefulness, Tess turns to meet Paige’s gaze, but she’s already looking at her. She always is. Paige looks extremely nervous, but there’s a spark of determination that Tess knows all too well.

“We met almost eight years ago,” Paige states, her voice soft as her shaky hands reach out for Tess’s. “In Gampel. We played against each other and I learned so much from you – I just didn’t have the courage to talk to you, and I regretted that for months. Then, two years after that, in May of 2023, God sent you to me again. It was awkward, and unconventional, and I thought you didn’t like me –” the two of them share a watery laugh, “–but I knew I had to make the most of it. Of us. I wasn’t gonna let you get away from me, not again. So we fake dated. I just wanted you in any way you’d have me. I was happy to just be your friend. But as time went by, I fell for you, and…” Paige smiles at her. “I was scared at first, but part of me knew it was gonna happen. You’re a competitor, you’re stubborn, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. You get me, always have, and me falling in love with you was real. We’re real. I’m so thankful for what we have, for you, and knowing that we’ll be playing together next season is everything I’ve wanted for nearly eight years. I can’t wait to do this with you. I can’t wait to build a life with you. On New Year’s Eve in 2023, I told you my resolution was building something permanent. I’ve kept that promise, but I’m gonna amend that to say my resolution is to build something permanent with you.”

Paige releases her hands, exhaling, and Tess almost chokes on a sob when Paige carefully drops down to one knee, her hands reaching into her pocket to produce a small ring box. Her hands shake as she opens the top, revealing the gold engagement band and a stunning, sparkling diamond, minimalist yet beautiful in the way Tess prefers her jewelry. But the ring doesn’t hold her attention for too long. She gazes down at Paige, at the tears beading at her waterline, the clear anticipation and nervousness and unfiltered love in her eyes. Tess watches a soft smile spread across Paige’s face as she finally asks the question she’s been waiting to hear for years. “Tess Kennedy, will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

Tess doesn’t even have to think about it. She sinks down across from Paige, throwing her arms around her neck and pulling her in for a bone-crushing hug. “Oh my fucking God,” she murmurs, not even feelingly slightly ashamed as she soaks Paige’s sweater with her tears. Paige wraps her arms around her middle, pulling her close tightly as she laughs.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes, Paige,” she stresses, barely resisting an eye roll when Paige’s face lights up, simultaneously melting with relief. “I told you I wanted to marry you almost four years ago. You really thought my answer was gonna change?”

Paige huffs, amused, as she slides the ring onto Tess’s finger. The candlelight reflects beautifully off it. The ring is gorgeous but Tess can’t keep her eyes off of Paige, whose eyes shine with tears and gratitude. “Just wanted to hear you say it.” Her tone is gentle but also a little smug. “Tess Kennedy wants to marry me,” she sing-songs.

Tess rolls her eyes fully as she and Paige stand up. “You literally got down on one knee and asked, you jerk,” she retorts, reaching up to cup Paige’s cheek and brushing away one of her tears. Her voice is soft despite her words, which makes Paige laugh as she grabs Tess by her wrist and presses a kiss to her open palm, her smile bright and fully enamored. Then, a realization dawns on Tess and she groans, pressing her forehead into Paige’s shoulder. “Oh my God. Is this what you were so nervous about last week? Not free agency?”

Paige laughs, a sound straight from the belly as she wraps her arms around Tess’s shoulders. “I didn’t lie. I was a little nervous about free agency, but I was a lot more nervous for this. Knew you’d say yes – you’re in love with me and shit –”

“And shit?” Tess asks, shaking her head.

Paige nudges her. “Just wanted to make it perfect for you,” she admits, all teasing gone from her tone. “Told you I had to make it worth your while.”

“It was perfect,” Tess says honestly. “You could have asked me anywhere, anytime, and I would say yes. I love you. But I did really like the pictures.”

Paige pulls back to grin at her. “Thought you would,” she murmurs, leaning down to kiss her gently. “I love you, too. Is it too early to call you Mrs. Bueckers?”

Tess pushes her away with a hand to her chest, affronted. “For the record, we’re hyphenating,” she declares. “Mrs. and Mrs. Bueckers-Kennedy.”

“Might not fit on the jerseys,” Paige goads.

“We’re gonna win the Valkyries a couple of championships,” Tess says. “They’re going to have so much money they’ll figure out how to get our names together on the jerseys.”

Paige smiles again. “That works for me,” she says, softer this time. She presses her lips to Tess’s again, pulling her flush against her body, enveloping her in a warmth she’s content to feel for the rest of her life. Tess grins against her, but Paige responds with a smile of her own, not minding, only holding her tighter.

She doesn’t know how to explain it – this overwhelming happiness. She’s engaged – oh my God, she’s fucking engaged; her parents are going to lose their mind – and she has everything she’s ever wanted. That much was true years ago when she had her natty wins and her girlfriend, but now? She has her fiance and the promise of a future together, on the same team, in the same house in the Bay, and all she really knows is that she can’t wait to walk down that aisle whenever the time comes.

[spookykoolkat]

kinktober | grateful - j.m.

kinktober day nine - cockwarming

pairing: joel miller x plus size!reader

wc: 2.17k

summary: being joel's girlfriend meant you saw sides of him no one else ever saw. one of them was how he just loved to be in your presence, to feel you, to touch you — to be buried inside of you.

warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS ARE NOT WELCOMED!!! NO AGE = BLOCKED. mentions of violence and sexual violence *if you blink you will miss it it's not a main theme!*, mentions if blood, dirty talk, p in v, cockwarming, slight somno.

an: gosh im so behind on this but i WILL catch up. i have a concert tmrw im very excited! also this one is very short, but i still love it 🥹

reblogs, likes & comments are so very appreciated i love u guys 🥹

⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧ °｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧

YOU DIDN'T KNOW WHAT it meant to be in a relationship – with joel. somehow, years after you got lost with the group you’d traveled with for months, you ended up in the midst of a bunch of men on horses pointing their guns at you. 

one of them being joel, and his brother. you were cut up, bloodied and bruised, in the freezing winter with hardly anything on. you remembered looking around you at the men that circled you, your hands raised but just barely because you had a stab wound on your left shoulder, crying. 

“please, i, i can leave just, please don’t kill me, i’ll go,” you cried frantically. 

every thought was going through your mind right now. you were half naked, shivering and near frostbite basically, the only thing warming you up would be the blood pouring from your wounds. there were only two things that could happen. 

they’ll trap you, have their way with you, then leave you for dead. or, they shoot you because they think you’re infected. 

“please don’t hurt me, i’m, i’m not infected, i swear.” you sobbed, looking down at your knees that felt numb being buried in the snow. 

you heard a shuffle, then something hit the floor, and the crunch of snow under a pair of boots. until you saw them right in front of you, and the person lowered themselves down to your height. 

the man tilted your chin up with his glove-covered fingers, and made you look at him. 

“you ain’t got nothin’ to be scared of, come on, we’ll get ya some clothes,” 

and that was it. joel was the one who kept you away from the men that stared you down like a piece of meat that day, he kept you away from tommy, who kept telling him it was a bad idea. but quickly referenced when he and ellie came into town, and they took them in like nothing. 

he kept you safe. and he let you stay with him for the time being, until you managed to find a job down at the local bar. then, the two of you kind of went your separate ways. you found a little house at the corner that tommy told joel to give you, and managed to live by yourself for the year you were there. 

joel didn’t want you on patrol routes, or to forage for things that the town needed. he needed you safe, even when he wasn’t there. 

you hadn’t talked to joel, but he managed to come to the tipsy bison every friday, sitting at the bar by himself and watching you. 

“you know,” you start as you are cleaning the beer glasses and wiping down the sticky table after closing. joel was the only one still there. 

“you come here every friday, ever since i started working here, but everyone i’ve ever heard from tells me you like to drink alone. in the comfort of your own house,” you said, wiping the bar down in front of him. 

“jus’ makin’ sure you ain’t in no trouble over here,” he mumbled behind his last drink, downing the rest of the mahogany liquid. he did a subtle look down your shirt as you wiped the bar down in circles, watching your cleavage come into view. 

you just chuckled. “i think i’ll be okay. i promise you’ll be the first one i go to if i need help.” 

that made a small smile tug on his lips. 

“let me walk ya home,” 

so he did. except he didn’t leave after that. that night, the two of you drank a little more at your place, and things got a little heated. in the midst of stretching you out for the very first time, he was whispering things you would’ve claimed were little nothings, but seemed as if he was declaring his need for you. 

“fuck baby, tell me, whose pussy is this? who else is stretchin’ ya out like this?” 

“pretty fuckin’ girl, i swear i’ll fuckin’ kill for ya, won’t let nobody come near ya,” 

“you ain’t leavin’ me, darlin’. this pussy is fuckin’ mine,” 

and you never did, and he always kept his promise. four years later, after him being the one to fix your wounds and give you clothes, a place to stay — you lived with him. ellie ended up being able to take patrol routes occasionally, moving into a small house with dina. she was even glad he had someone to look after him, to take care of him as he cared for everyone. 

joel had just came in towards the end of the night from patrolling with tommy, mumbling about how he’s sort of an idiot. you could barely hear his banter from your bedroom, ears perking up at the sound of the door opening and slamming closed.

“baby?” you called out from the bedroom as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed himself a beer. his eyes searched for you in the darkness of the living room, until he ended up walking to the back hall to the room you both slept in. 

his face softened, giving a little smile as he walked over to you and plopped on the bed next to you. the force almost made you drop the book you were reading, so you dog-eared the page and put it on the table as you turned to curl into him. 

“you smell like outside,” you said as you crinkled your nose. 

“fuckin’ tommy, stressin’ me out. he wanted t’ stay longer for maria just in case but it was a fuckin’ ghost town, nothin’ was even there, but he’s fuckin’ stubborn.” 

you just sighed and let your face rest on his chest as his arm threw over behind you, rubbing the side of your body. “well, you’re home now.” 

he sighed, taking a swig from the beer and moved to put it on the bedside table. he just threw his head back, used his forearm to cover his eyes and breathe in and out. you just looked at him, a little empathetic. 

you started to kiss his chest, the one with the dirty shirt he wore to patrol and up his body, to his neck and jaw. with the movements, you swiftly swung your leg over one side and straddled him, making his arm move and his head tilting down to get a look at you. 

you just watched him, watching you, and smiled as you sat directly on his groin. 

“i know you’re stressed, but,” you started and rubbed over his tummy and pecs, “i need you.” 

you said with lust in your eyes, and he just smirked as he watched you reach under his shirt to feel the warmth of his body. 

“my baby needs me, ‘s that right?” he asked lowly, his voice sounding raspy and gruff. his hands rested on the width of your hips, loving the way you were so curvy and plush for him.

you just nodded, and moved to where you could unbuckle his pants and try to shimmy them down with his help. after you got his pants and boxers to his knees, you spit in your hand and gripped the shaft of his half hard cock. 

“i love you,” you said as you started to feel him harden in your hands, his own hands moving to the tank top you had on and yanking the fabric down to see your breasts. 

“you know i love you, baby,” he said and reached to play with your heavy breasts, tugging your nipple and playing with both of them so he could watch them peak. 

“i’m just real tired, honey,” he started as he felt your grip on his cock soften, and watched your face turn with disappointment until he grabbed your face and made you look at him. 

“you wanna help me out, darlin’?” he asked and you nodded with your eyebrows furrowed, “alright then, come lay down right here,” 

he patted the side of the bed that you slept on, and you let go of his cock before pouting and sliding down to the side next to him. you faced the opposite direction, facing the wall as you heard him get up and start taking all of his clothes off before sliding under the blankets with you. 

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby, such a pretty fuckin’ pussy you have,” he said in your ear as he pulled you flush to his back, gripping your asscheeks before pulling one cheek apart from the other, feeling the wetness you gathered at your cunt. 

“always so wet f’ me, always so good to me,” he breathed on your neck. he felt your legs move apart so he’d have more access, and he just smiled, kissing on your shoulder. 

you didn’t know what he was planning on doing until you felt him guide the tip of his fully hard length up and down your cunt, still using one hand to move the thickness of your ass so he’d have access to your juices.

“joel,” you whined and moved your hips back to his, and finally felt his tip slip inside of you. 

“please,” you begged as he stretched you completely, feeling full even as he’s halfway. 

he lifts the blankets to watch you take him from behind, watching how his cock the was lathered with your juices as he thrusts softly into you before he bottoms out completely. 

but he doesn’t move, and instead kisses on your shoulder before going to your back, kissing there and wrapping his arm around your waist to rest on the fat of your tummy. 

“wait, joel i-” you started before he just squeezed your breast, leaving his hand to rest there. 

“mm-mm, we’re goin’ to sleep,” he said, but the feeling of his cock being buried inside of you was too distracting. you couldn’t sleep. 

“but joel,” you whined, your hand resting on top of his as you felt the heat of his breath against your neck. 

“go to sleep, i promise i’ll give you want you want baby, jus’ let me feel you like this, yeah?” he asks and you involuntarily moan a little, your movements of trying to fuck back on his cock failing. 

“i love feelin’ you like this, sweet girl. could be buried in this fuckin’ cunt for years,” he whispered as he squeezed your tit again, “you fit me so fuckin’ perfectly,” 

“i love when you fill me up, joel,” you whispered ss you hugged his arm, leaving kisses on it and making joel smile against your skin. 

“aw, my baby, loves when i just keep you on my cock, just so i can feel you. love when you keep me warm inside that little fuckin’ cunt,” he growled and you whined, trying to squirm and get some movement in. 

he just holds you tight, not letting you move. the feeling of his cock filling you to the brim made your cunt clench, and he groaned at the feeling. you felt like you were suffocating, practically feeling his cock in your throat as he just laid there behind you and kissed your skin. 

“go to sleep, baby. i promise i’ll make ya cum over n’ over til’ i gotta leave,” he said, and your heart skipped a beat at the proposition.you knew he was telling the truth, because he’s done it before. 

he’s made you soak the sheets before it even hit six in the morning, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and ravishing in it. the best thing he could ever do with his time is watch you fall apart because of him, and make you feel good. 

so, you fell asleep with him still inside of you, feeling the dull throb of his cock and your cunt mixed together, the feeling of when he would move to pull you closer because he slipped out of you a little bit. 

he craved you, even in his sleep. 

and the next morning when he woke up, he was still buried inside of you and looked at where you two connected, seeing the pool of your arousal leaking onto him, and on the bed. 

so he kept his promise, and used the newfound arousal you built up to slide out of you, and slide right back in. until you woke up, and tightened on his cock as he fucked you awake. 

joel was obsessed with you, and that meant if he could have you sitting on his cock while he did his day to day things, he would. and he’s tried. but feeling you soak him, squeeze him and cry out for him made him feel a whole other type of gratuity. 

you were grateful he was the one that took you in, he was the one that cared for you and protected you, and he was grateful that you let him walk you home that night, grateful that you only trusted him and not anyone else. 

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TAGLIST

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[lesbian-for-arthur-morgan]

Middle Class Lady Who has the Gang Sneak in Her Window

"The gang falling for a woman of a higher class and a father that doesn't approve of them so they usually sneak through their window to be together" @livingdeadgirly​

Genre: Fluff - some angst if you squint (Fem Reader uses she/her pronouns) Featuring: Arthur, John, Dutch, Javier, Charles, Sean, and Sadie Warnings: Mentions of guns, outlaw type of stuff

AN: I'm so sorry these took me forever to write! if some of them seem a little out of character please ignore it and pretend they aren't :D ---> Requests are open! Check out my guidelines if you have any questions

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Arthur Morgan:

Your father owned his own saloon which gave him an incredible insight into the type of men who frequented his establishment. He thought of this as a blessing once you started growing older and wishing to be courted, he could keep an ear out for anyone that he deemed unworthy for you.

Unsurprisingly, anyone who frequented the bar was not someone your father wanted anywhere near you. Especially when it came to an outlaw by the name of Arthur Morgan. The two of them had a long-standing feud (actually it was your father who hated Arthur and Arthur was too busy being infatuated with you to notice).

The first time Arthur was seen speaking to you in front of the saloon, your father came barreling through the doors to usher you inside. He instructed you to never speak to him again. Of course you didn’t listen.

Months go by and Arthur has made an extreme effort to get as close to you as he can without your father’s knowledge. The two of you will just so happen to go to the same general store at the same time every Friday by ‘accident’, you just so happen to run into him when you take your horse for a little trail ride to exercise, and every once in a while you both somehow end up behind the theater at on show nights by some strange chance of fate.

After a while, you’re so sick of having to keep your interactions short and sweet and secret in the public eye (lest anyone witness it and run off to tattle to your father). You write a quick letter to Arthur one day asking him to meet you at the side of your house at midnight.

When he gets there and you’re nowhere to be found he’s beyond confused; it’s not until he hears a sharp whistle and looks up to see you waving at him from your second story window that he understands your plan.

“The things I do for you, woman.” He grumbles with a smile and begins hoisting himself up the tree conveniently located right by the window.

You’ve already got the window open as he reaches the top and you begin helping him crawl inside. Now Arthur is a large, bulky man he isn’t exactly as nimble as he might have been once upon a time. You can barely contain your giggles as he lumbers into the room ungracefully and nearly face-plants into the rug on your floor.

“I ain’t had to do this since I was a boy,” He smiles down at you once he steadies himself as you grin up at him widely.

“You’re still young enough to climb through a lady’s window yet, Mr. Morgan.” You tease.

It’s the first time the two of you have ever truly been alone since you met and the tension in the air is palpable. Arthur looks between you and your carefully cleaned and decorated bedroom, then down at his dirty boots on your rug and worn denim pants. He was the complete opposite of you - he didn’t deserve to ruin your space with his grimy life and clothes.

“What you thinking about, Cowboy?” You place a hand on his cheek and turn his head to make him look back at you. He’d confess a few of his doubts, not trusting himself to tell you that he doesn’t deserve you flatout, and you’d shake your head and lead him over to your bed and have him sit down.

You’d kiss him and quiet his thoughts, allowing your actions to say more than words ever could and from that moment on he’d find himself climbing up a tree every other night.

Your father didn’t figure it out ever, even though Arthur and you were hardly ever quiet.

John Marston:

You were the most beautiful person that John had ever seen in his entire life. You were walking in the middle of town with some man nearly twice your age and John figured you were married to him - some lady victim to a man with money and a ring.

John fantasized about swooping you into his arms and saving you from a life of excruciating monotony. He’d tell the old man to kick the bucket, maybe rob him of whatever cash and valuables he had on him, and let you live your life free with him.

When he overheard you refer to the man as your father John felt absolutely giddy. He took his hat off and tried to smooth his hair down as he moved to approach you and introduce himself.

Your father watched the outlaw walk up to the two of you with a skeptical eye. He was hoping the cowboy would walk past you, but he stopped right before you and held out his hand to you. “John Marston, Miss….?” He prompted.

Your father shut it down immediately. He was so incredibly unamused that he stepped between you and John and shoved his arm down. He told John to basically get lost, but John ignored him and kept his eyes on you.

It was like love at first sight.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his and couldn’t hide the growing blush that heated your cheeks as he ever-so-slightly smiled at you. A small smile that disappeared as your father demanded his attention.

“Now son you get out of here before I get angry. I don’t want you anywhere near my daughter, you got that?”

John wanted to laugh at his vague threat. Who did this guy think he was? John put both hands up to show he meant no harm and took a few steps back.

“Didn’t mean nothing by it, sir,” He shrugged, “Was just being friendly.”

Your father scoffed saying he didn’t want any of John’s kindness and neither would you. You caught John’s eye while your father was speaking and mouthed ‘sorry’ with a sweet smile.

John was smitten immediately. He may seem like a big tough outlaw, but the guy is secretly a huge soft romantic. He was already envisioning your wedding and the type of house you two would build together in the middle of the prairie where no one would bother you and you could leave your respective lives.

He may have been getting ahead of himself.

Your father dragged you away and into the general store, John went off to finish a few more errands. He didn’t think he’d actually ever see you again until the moment he went back to his horse to ride back to camp.

He felt a quick tap on his shoulder and there you were looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

From that moment on the two of you had to meet in secret - away from the watchful eye of your father. John took to sneaking in your bedroom anytime he got the inclination to see you (which was a daily occurrence tbh).

He’d take a stroll around the house to make sure your father’s room lights were off and see if yours were on and you were still awake. Due to his frequent visits, you were always up late waiting for him to call on you.

It was all fun and games until he’s waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to climb back out of your window before your father woke up to find him lounging in your bed. That would be a messy scene.

Dutch Van Der Linde:

Dutch thought he was too old to have to worry about meeting parents and getting the approval to see the lady he fancied. He was an old dog; he liked younger women of course but never the type who were of a higher social standing than him and needed that.

Then he met you.

You swooped into his life with your pretty dresses and sweet words and you didn’t want him at all at first. It made him want you even more.

It’s no secret that rich men are corrupt and willing to meet with anyone to make a quick buck. Your father met with Dutch to provide some intel about a train full of valuables and treasures that were interesting to both parties involved. Your dad wanted a cut of what was on that train provided the Van Der Linde gang robbed it.

Your father wasn’t a good man. He enjoyed money a little too much, and saw you as property more than his daughter. He was overprotective of you - to the point that he refused to ever let you out of his sight for even a second.

You went to every meeting between the two men and at first didn’t give a damn about Dutch. You thought he was handsome, but not the type of man you’d ever be interested in. Not until your father warned you to stay away from men like that.

He even went so far as to comment that he didn’t like the way Dutch looked at you. It fueled something inside of you. The idea of rebelling in such a way. Dutch was attractive, he had money, an exciting life, and most of all it would piss your father off if you courted the gang leader.

The next time there was a meeting between the three of you, you bat your eyelashes and laughed at Dutch’s jokes a little too hard.

Dutch bid you farewell by kissing the knuckles on your hand, and you loved the way your father basically had smoke coming out his ears at the action.

Your father didn’t bring you with him the next time he went to a meeting with Dutch. He locked you in your room, and only unlocked the door to check on you before bed that night.

You were pouting and writing a long sob-story in your diary when you heard a soft tap on the glass of your window.

You pulled back your blinds to see Dutch crouching in the dirt by your window with a wicked grin on his face.

“Can I come in, Darlin’?” He cooed with a sweet voice. You opened your window immediately and he ducked through the frame.

“You didn’t come with your father today, he said you didn’t want to attend the meetings anymore.”

You explain that you’ve basically been kept a prisoner in your room all day since your dad was convinced Dutch was trying to steal you away from him. You grumble out a few curse words after you explain and roll your eyes.

“What if I am tryin’ to steal you away?” Dutch whispered, his eyes dark and sparkling in the lamp light. You didn’t realize how pretty he was.

You bite your lip and smile, trying to keep on a tough act at his words. It’s no use, though. He’s charming, it’s why he is who he is.

“Maybe I’d let you,” You reply in a sultry low tone.

That’s all Dutch needed to hear. He helped you pack a small bag of items to bring with you and he brought you back to the camp where the gang was staying.

On your bed, you left a note telling your father you were running off with a man. Shortly after that Dutch mailed out a post saying he didn’t want to do business with your father anymore. It was all settled.

He stole you away to join him at camp, and that’s where you stayed.

Javier Escuella:

You met Javier by chance one night when you were being harassed by a local lawman after a night out at the theater. Javier rushed to the alley when he heard your shouts ordering the man to stay away from you.

Javier saw red and let his instincts take over him. He grabbed the man by the collar of his very nice shirt and used it to throw him to the mud.

“The lady asked you nicely to leave her alone. Now, I won’t be so nice if I have to ask. So, tell me, do I have to be the one to request you leave her alone?”

The man scrambled in the mud, splattering it on his dress pants and coat, as he picked himself up and ran away.

Javier introduced himself and offered to walk you home. You were a little wary of him at first, what with the guns at his belt and the knife at his thigh, but he assured you that he was not a threat. He just didn’t want you risking getting harassed again on your journey to your house.

You took him up on his offer and as he dropped you off at your front door you gave him a quick, shy peck on the cheek and asked if he wouldn’t mind coming to visit again in the future.

Javier is a blushing bumbling mess but somehow finds the words to agree and see you again later on in the week.

From that point on, this man spoils you in every possible way. He brings you flowers, fine pelts, jewelry (don’t ask where he got it), and little poems he writes or likes just so that you have a little piece of his heart.

Does your father care about all of that? No. He just cares about Javier’s status as an outlaw, a killer. He’s heard the rumors about the Van Der Linde Gang and he refuses to allow one of the members anywhere near you.

Javier is willing to do anything to see you, though.

You started leaving your windows perched open during the warm summer nights, and a low whistle alerted you to a person sitting right outside the glass. Your curtains were fluttering slightly with the wind and so all you saw was the shadow of a figure causing your mind to think of the worst scenarios possible.

You drew a knife from your vanity and clasped it in your hand ready to call for your father, but you heard a familiar voice lowly call out.

“Mi amor?”

You let out a sigh of relief and pulled the curtains back fully to see Javier smiling at you with a bouquet of wild flowers in his hands. “I wanted to see you and I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You asked him to wait outside while you barricaded your bedroom door with a stool, then opened the window wider for him to duck inside.

At first he didn’t really know what to do with himself, he planned to give you the flowers and have a quick kiss before needing to leave -  he did not expect you to usher him inside.

You took the flowers from his hands and placed them on your dresser next to the box of trinkets and gifts Javier has given you before.

You sit on your bed and make a spot for him to sit beside you. He isn’t really sure what the gentlemanly thing to do is in that situation, but just to be safe he sits on the floor by your feet. He’s gazing up at you as if you were the moon itself and doesn’t even try to hide the way his breathing quickens every time your eyes meet.

It becomes routine for him to visit you nearly every night and wait for you to barricade your door before allowing him in. Eventually he gets more comfortable and feels better about sitting next to you on your bed - though he knows it was not the proper thing to do.

He really wanted to court you the proper way, but with your father being so hesitant to know him outside of his status he had to be a little lenient on conventional courting methods.

Charles Smith:

Charles has been sneaking into your room for years.

You were childhood sweethearts, but your father had hated the relationship from the moment you expressed any sort of soft feelings for the boy.

When he first started sneaking in, it was just because your father didn’t want you to be friends. You and Charles were inseparable, so he’d sneak in when he could to read your books and play with your toys while your father was at work.

As you grew older, your feelings grew too.

You developed a strong crush on Charles and he was completely oblivious to it. At first, since you didn’t know how to express your feelings, you pushed him away and told him to stop visiting you.

Charles was crushed when you essentially told him to get lost. He couldn’t understand what caused your change of heart - he figured maybe your father had finally gotten to you and you realized you were too rich, too pretty to be his friend.

Charles stopped climbing through your bedroom windows and started only seeing you in public spaces or whenever you took your horse out for a ride.

Eventually, though, even those interactions dwindled and Charles stopped seeing you altogether.

It broke you when you didn’t speak with Charles anymore. You thought it better that way. He couldn’t find out your feelings for him - especially since you were certain he didn’t feel the same way.

Years go by, you stop seeing Charles even in fleeting moments. You heard he ran off and was living alone in the wilderness.

It was your fault, you thought. You pushed him away during his time of need and now there was no way of knowing what became of him. Whether he was alive or dead.

You grow older, your heart growing cold and calloused, and you never really recovered from the hurt you put yourself through.

One night, you’re a passenger on a train taking you deeper into the west of America when there was a loud commotion at one end of the passenger car you were in.

You put down your novel and see a group of masked men with weapons demanding valuables from every patron they pass by. They were slowly moving down the aisle, approaching where you were sitting at an alarmingly fast pace. You couldn’t think of a way out of the situation without giving away every last bit of money you had on you.

That is, until one of the masked men gets to you and instead of the harsh demands and pointed threats you expected to hear, you hear your name being whispered softly.

You look up, skin ablaze with fear and eyes watering. Through your tears you can see a familiar set of dark brown eyes peering down at you as if you were a ghost.

“Ch…Charles?” You squint. You questioned if it was just a mirage, a trick of your brain due to fear, but there was no doubting it. Those were Charles’ eyes.

He softly grabbed you by the arm and helped you out of your seat.

“Come with me,” He whispered as he pushed you through the aisle towards the exit. “I promise nothing will happen to you.”

It was stupid, but you blindly agreed as he led you out of the train and onto the dusty earth.

Charles and you caught up as the rest of his posse finished robbing the passengers of the train. You learned that he had been taken in by the Van Der Linde gang and was making a living as an outlaw. After seeing what you did on the train, that part of his story checked out.

You caught up with him as well, you informed him of your father’s fate and how his will left everything to you. How you regretted pushing him away as a teenager and how you wished he could forgive you.

“I never even hated you for it,” He said softly, “There is nothing to forgive, it’s how the world is sometimes. Cruel.”

You tried to explain your feelings at the time, but the embarrassment of it never let you fully explain.

Charles offered to take you home, but you wanted nothing more than to continue catching up with him and learning about his new life, his new family. Charles took you back to camp, and you ended up staying there with him for a few weeks. (For a fee of course, as Dutch had so cleverly thought up)

Your feelings for Charles rose to the surface once again, and you weren’t sure when or if there would ever be a time to explain how madly in love with him you were.

Sean MacGuire:

The first time y’all met was when he was sneaking through your window late one night.

Dutch had given Sean a vague plan about robbing a local lawmaker’s house while the man was scheduled to be two towns over for some political business. Dutch figured it would be a quiet, simple mission to grab some extra loot and not worry about being caught.

Sean paced around your house a few times after midnight the day your father left, and when he didn’t see any lights on or movements he figured it was safe to go in.

He checked a few key points of entry, but the windows on the ground-floor were locked and he didn’t want to risk leaving any evidence of there being a break-in for when the lawmaker came back.

Sean noticed that a window on the second floor was open the tiniest sliver, he’d be able to use a dagger to wedge it open wide enough to slip his hand in and open it fully.

He climbed up some vines growing on the side of the wood paneling and pulled his dagger to wedge it open. Once he got himself inside, he turned towards the window to close it.

His entire body stiffened when he heard the metallic click of a pistol being cocked from behind him.

“Now I’ll only say this one time, Mister, you need to get outta here before I blow a hole in you and make a mess all over these clean floors.” The threat was serious, Sean knew that, but he couldn’t help but perk up at the sweet sound of your voice as you told him you were going to shoot him if he didn’t leave.

He put his hands up, dropping the dagger he had, and turned to face you slowly. The house was dark. Shadows danced across your face and shielded your eyes making you look lethal with the gun pointed at his chest. Sean thought you were beautiful.

“I mean no harm, Miss. Just business ‘s all,” Sean gave you a toothy smile which only made you narrow your eyes.

You told him you were going to give him one chance to leave and he’d only stay if he had a death wish.

Sean wanted nothing more than to stay with you and use whatever methods he could to woo you, but he was familiar with the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice. He was scheduled to meet the gods above if he didn’t slip back out that window and into the night.

After he left, he was already planning the ways he could meet you again - under more favorable circumstances of course. He decided to visit you the next day with a peace offering and a smile.

Once dawn broke over the horizon, painting the world in a golden orange light, Sean was already up and out of camp heading to your large house on the hill.

He knocked on the door and you answered after a few minutes. Your hair was messy from sleep and your nightgown was covered by a long robe that was hastily thrown on to save your modesty.

“What the hell?” You grumbled and looked at Sean as if he had grown three heads. “Either you are the stupidest man on the planet for comin’ back here, or you truly do have a death wish. If it’s the latter give me a second to grab the gun.”

Sean was in love immediately.

“I wanted to apologize for last night. I never woulda thought ‘bout stealing from a man with such a pretty woman living under his roof.” He handed you a small box saying that it was a piece offering. Inside was a large silver coin and a note that said ‘thanks for not shooting me’.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, but pocketed the coin and note nonetheless. You invited him in, but warned him any funny business would not end favorably for him. He only shot you a coy smile and promised that he was only coming as a gentleman, not an outlaw.

The two of you grew as friends at first but once things seemed to grow more romantic, you had to start sneaking around and avoiding your father finding out about the relationship and how it started.

Sean was glad he got the practice sneaking in your window that first night, though, because it was common practice while the two of you had to keep your romantic relations a secret.

Sadie Adler:

Sadie was a shell of herself when you met her.

She was still mourning the loss of her husband and trying to become accustomed to her new life as a member of the Van Der Linde Gang when you stumbled into her one day.

She was just starting to get back on her feet and was at the tailors in town when you strolled in with your fancy clothes and styled hair.

She wasn’t intimidated per say, but she felt a little inadequate in comparison. What with her ragged hand-me-downs from Miss Grimshaw and her few coins that she saved to buy a new linen shirt - you were like royalty compared to her.

You approached her first at the tailors. You asked if she had been in town long as you didn’t recognize her, where she came from, where her husband was (assuming she was married). Sadie didn’t know how to answer all the questions you threw in her direction.

You broke down her walls, though. You bought the shirt that she wanted and even invited her to tea with you at your house to talk about what had been plaguing her the last few weeks.

She didn’t want it to help, but Sadie could physically feel the relief flood her chest as she stopped holding on to her emotions and let them flow freely. A friendship between the two of you grew quickly and rapidly.

Then, it grew to be a little more.

Sadie had been working on jobs with Arthur and gaining her confidence back. In doing so, she finally got the nerve to kiss you goodbye one night when she was getting ready to go back to camp.

She gazed at you nervously after she did it. She couldn’t figure out what your expression meant - whether she went too far, or if you even liked her back in that way.

Tears slipped from your eyes as you looked up at her and grabbed her cheeks, shoving your lips against hers. Her kiss was sweet and gentle, but yours was aggressive and needy. You didn’t realize she felt the same way about you, and knowing that she did created a swell in your heart that never went away.

After your first kiss, you had to keep your relationship on the downlow. Your father knew that the two of you were friends (he hardly liked even that), if he found out that y’all were girlfriends he would separate you for good.

Sadie came up with the plan to visit you during the day as a good honest lady of society, but at night she would climb up through your window to enjoy spending time with you as a partner instead.

Friend by day, girlfriend by night.

Sadie slipped through your window every other night, quieter than a shadow when she came in. Sometimes you’d turn around and she would just be getting in and it would make you squeak a little as it startled you.

She kissed you to keep you quiet when that happened, though (teehee)

Sadie would spend hours with you at night. You’d help her brush her hair when there were missions she was on that took days and she wasn’t able to care for her locks. You’d let her borrow your nightgowns if she ever wanted to stay and relax in your bed until dawn.

The two of you would hold each other and talk until the mourning doves sang their melancholy songs in the early hours of the morning.

<><><><>

[shares-a-vest]

Pineapple Breath & Onion Boy (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.2k | Rated: T for Flirtatious Banter/Suggestive Language | cw: Mild reference to Period-Typical Homophobia (if you squint - Eddie is just conscious about being affectionate with Steve in a public space), Food Mention, Inferred Smoking (Eddie is playing with a lighter)

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Pizza, Contemplating the Future, Side Clarkson, Pet Names, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Lightest Angst in the first half

Note: Working on my drabble yesterday had me rudely confronting myself with a Drafts. Buuut it gave me the motivation to come back to this one! Yay writing!

-🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕🍕-

Eddie leans back on one of the faded red plastic chairs outside Gino’s Pizzeria and flicks his cigarette lighter.

He then turns it off, then back on again. Then off again… Anything to distract himself from the desperate grumbling in his belly – a feeling that has grown painful now that he can smell pepperoni wafting outside.

The chair gives a warning wobble beneath him, the back legs of the thing holding his weight as he looks up at Steve, who looks all cozy in his cream-coloured corded sweater and maroon jacket. Even if he is standing there with his arms folded and a frown knitting his brows as he looks on down Main Street.

Wayne and Scott had disappeared in that direction a few minutes ago, trekking down the block to fetch their Chinese takeout, while Eddie and Steve waited for their pizzas.

Pizzas plural. Because Eddie refuses to partake in Steve’s new and frankly, disgusting preference for pineapple.

It has been their little quartet’s Friday Night routine for a couple of months now and Eddie thinks he must end up looking the same each and every time: staring up at his boyfriend. Steve looks pretty as a picture as his eyes glisten under the streetlight and his breath puffs out in a feint cloud in the crisp night air.

He looks a dream, really.

Not that he ever looks anything less, thank you very much!

Eddie knows Steve is lost in some thought, the kind that pinches his brows together and downturns his mouth into a mindless pout rather than one that is truly grumpy.

At least Eddie thinks it’s all that before Steve sucks in a breath and sighs, deep and wistful as his beautiful hazel eyes grow bigger.

That look makes Eddie tip forward in his chair with a sharp snap. He shoves his lighter back into the breast pocket of his leather jacket, frowning himself now as he tilts his head to the side, hoping to catch his boyfriend’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

He is met with silence for a moment before Steve gives a soft and wistful sigh.

“You think when we’re old, we’ll be like Wayne and Scott?” Steve asks, still looking down the street.

“Jesus Christ, no!” Eddie scoffs, “I don’t plan on gettin’ old.”

Steve whips around and looks down at him with an even deeper frown and, yep – that’s a Worried Pout.

“What?” he near whimpers.

Eddie jumps up, groaning a little as his back pangs with deep regret over him tilting back on that stupid rickety chair. He waves a hand nonchalantly.

But Steve doesn’t budge. He looks hurt.

Eddie steps into his personal space and offers a small smile - one that he knows will showcase his dimples and make Steve melt like mozzarella cheese.

“Y’know what I mean,” he clarifies, “I do not intend to become some old fart, whose idea of a good time is going on a fishing trip while his boyfriend collects frogs.”

Steve somehow tightens the fold of his arms as he looks him over.

“Eddie, you like looking for frogs,” he retorts, his brows easing up a little, “Anyway, don’t you think they’re cute?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Oh, here we go.”

“I mean it,” Steve defends, “Scott gets home from school and putters about for a while. Then, he finishes up some work exactly one hour before Wayne walks in the door. And then, they go about deciding on their takeout order – even though they always get the same thing! And when we get home, they’ll eat in front of the television, Wayne will clean up and then they watch the TV until Wayne starts to doze off and they go to bed.”

He finishes up with a sigh and looks back down Main Street again, appearing a little sheepish now as if he got a little too carried away with his longing there for a moment. It’s a look that tightens something in Eddie’s chest – one that makes him step even closer.

Or at least as close as he should get to his boyfriend out on the main thoroughfare of Hawkins.

He sucks in a breath and looks ahead too, wanting to kiss that look off Steve’s face.

But for the moment, he settles for a bump to the shoulder.

“We’re gonna be all that one day, aren’t we?” he says just above a whisper.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, upbeat but nonetheless quiet.

Eddie leans in, “Follow me, sugar.”

He tugs on Steve’s jacket sleeve and promptly spins on his heel to disappear around the corner of the building. The dumpsters behind the local pizza shop aren’t the most romantic of settings – but sue him for having a Rolodex of potential public makeout spots at the ready.

Eddie can feel Steve’s warm breath on his neck as they reach the far end of the building, sending a shiver down his spine. He turns to lean against the wall and palms around for any part of Steve to come along with him.

Steve crowds him against the building and as soon as he pushes them flush together, Eddie becomes all too aware of how whisps of his hair stick to the cool brick behind him. He gasps.

“Oh, no! What if I lose my hair!” he shrieks.

Steve grumbles, insulted, “What if I lose my hair?”

“Wha-cha – Stevie!” Eddie splutters, “My hair is just as important as yours!”

Steve smirks and reaches for his hairline, brushing back his bangs. He scrunches his nose.

“Hmm,” he hums with closer inspection, “It’s looking okay… for now.”

Eddie hisses at him.

“Get your damn dirty paws off-a me,” he grouses. Eddie flicks his bangs back into place with an exaggerated hmfph before he straightens up and snakes his arms around Steve’s middle, pulling him tighter still, “Steve, I promise as I stand here before you, behind the hallowed halls of Gino’s Pizzeria – ”

“ – Eddie, the owner’s name is Frank.”

“Fine! Frank – he of bountiful cheese and delicious tomato sauce. I do declare that I will still love you, even if I turn into a balding old grump with a permanent frown and bad knees.”

“And will you still love me if I become a middle school teacher, all chipper and cheery?”

“Meh, that wouldn’t be so bad,” Eddie shrugs.

“What if I grew a moustache?” Steve grins.

“That’s taking it too far!” Eddie practically shouts, squeezing the air out of his boyfriend in the process.

Steve gives a wheezing giggle as he runs his thumb and index finger over the soft stubble he has above his plush top lip. Eddie captures the mocking digits in his own hand and bites down, earning a wicked whine.

Steve shivers and gives a warning, “Edward…”

“Now,” Eddie begins, lowering the register of his voice, “Ravish me!”

Steve leans forward and presses the most chaste of kisses to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll ravish you later,” he pulls back and winks.

But Eddie recoils, nearly knocking his head back against the pizzeria’s brick wall.

“When you have pineapple breath?” he spits with a dramatic grimace.

“Says you, Onion Boy.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, “We’re both stinky.”

The rusty bell of the pizza shop’s front door sounds and Eddie is sure Wayne and Scott have already made it back, always more efficient in calling ahead with their own takeout order.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve smiles, lacing their fingers together.

[marvelslut16]

Field Day

Prompt number: 27 "Let me remind you"

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Teacher!Bucky x teacher!reader (no use of y/n)

Rating: T(een)

Word count: 1.1k+

Warnings: Swearing, a stupid hr policy based off a policy at one of my jobs, a horny woman at work, I think that's it.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been ages since I posted a fic, and this is 2 days late late. I really really want to participate again this year, but I have 2 jobs now and I have some other important things happening this month, so I won't have much time to write. But without further ado, here is day 1!

“Let me remind you that we aren’t allowed to date coworkers,” you sigh, as Peggy tells you that you should finally give into your work crush and go on a date with Bucky.

Bucky is the sweetest soul you have ever met, he’s a little shy but once he warms up to you he’s just a giant teddy bear who will do whatever he can to make your life easier. He’s been your work crush for about a year now, when he switched from second to fourth grade, the grade you teach. Now you have department meetings together, teach science labs together, and go on field trips together. His sweet personality and the forced proximity made it impossible not to develop a work crush on him.

“Technically we can date coworkers, it’s just frowned upon,” Peggy tries to play devil’s advocate, hoping that her friends will finally get over themselves and go on a date. 

“Oh yes, Bucky and I can date so long as we report it to HR the moment we go on a date, and they can still decide to fire one or both of us,” you roll your eyes and give your best friend a look before turning back to the playground to watch the kids. “Isn’t that why you waited to start dating Steve until he went to teach at the military academy.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Peggy giggles, just as Bucky lets his kids out his classroom door to join yours and Peggy’s for field day. 

“What are you two gals talking about,” Bucky saunters over to where you're standing near enough to the playground to see the kids, but far enough from them that they can’t hear what you're saying. 

“I was telling her that she should start packing her lunch instead of going out on Wednesday and Friday, much healthier. And obviously, she called me on the fact that Steve sends me lunch from restaurants most of the week,” Peggy smoothly lies. It’s a decent enough fib, but if you were Bucky you wouldn’t believe her. 

So where did you end up getting stuck for field day?” you ask Bucky, he was sick the day of sign ups no doubt being stuck with the worst job. 

“The dunk tank, damn Stevie leaving the school and leaving me with this stupid job,” Steve always volunteered to do the dunk tank, and now that he’s gone the entire staff quickly snapped up every other position. “What do you have this year?”

“The inflatable obstacle course,” you grin widely, you’d been petitioning the PTA to allocate funds to rent one for field day for the past three years now.

“I told you you could convince those parents to let you rent one, and the kids are going to love it!” you can’t help but blush at his praise. 

“Third times the charm,” you give him a small bashful smile.

“I’m in charge of dodgeball in the gym,” Peggy cuts in, reminding you that you aren’t alone and have an audience of almost a hundred kids as more classes spill out of their rooms.  

Soon enough the three of you go your separate ways and get field day started. Like every year, the day flies with minimal complaining from the kids, lots of laughing, and just a few scrapes and bruises. The kids all loved your addition to the course this year, all cheering in excitement when they get to your station. Before you know it your class is back at your station and field day is wrapping up, so you take the kids to the refreshments table to grap a dixie cup off gatorade and a cookie. 

“Oh dear god,” you murmur under your breath, catching Peggy’s attention as she walks up to the table with her class. 

Bucky’s also walking up to the refreshment table sopping wet, black t-shirt and basketball shorts clinging to his rock hard physique. Bucky is an attractive man, anyone who disagreed was either lying or blind, so this wasn’t a new revelation to you by any means. But knowing he has abs is one thing, but seeing his shirt clinging to them is a completely different one. Your heart starts to hammer harder and harder the closer he gets to you, damn Peggy had to get in your head about your crush earlier and you’re on the edge of  throwing caution to the wind, and yourself at him. 

“What were those rules again,” Peggy whispers, giggling in your ear. 

“Can’t remember,” your voice trails off just like your thoughts. It’s unreal and unfair that Bucky could be as nice and as drop dead gorgeous as he is. No man could ever live up to him, and you pity everyone that dares to try. 

“Only one person dunked me, and it was one of yours,” Bucky says gruffly, the twinkling in his eyes gives away his humor and pride in the student.

“One of mine?” you grin from ear to ear, your own pride showing at your student. One of your little fourth headers was able to dunk him, when the older kids couldn’t. “Who was it?”

“Me!” Brayden, your secret favorite student, hollers from behind you.

“Way to go Brayden!” you exclaim, the rest of your class cheering as you give him a high five. 

“It was hilarious,” Luke, one of Bucky’s students pipes up. “We were at the human wheelbarrow station next to the dunk tank and we saw everything! One minute he was on the seat, and the next he was coming up from the water coughing on it.” 

“Are you okay, Mr. Barnes?” you giggle, turning to look at him. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes on his, something the other female staff aren’t doing themselves. 

“I will be, once my ego heals,” your two classes laughing at his joke. 

“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I’m making my chili that you love so much,” you ask Bucky when the kids are out of hearing range. Peggy stares at you wide eyed, it’s like she can hear your inner monologue, in awe of your bravery and taking this chance. 

“I would love to,” Bucky has a soft smile on his face, like he’s sensing that everything is about to change for the better. Fuck HR, and fuck this job if it keeps you from being happy and with the man of your dreams. As long as you have Bucky everything will be okay, and you’ll both land on your feet eventually, even if it means finding a new district. 

[lucy90712]

Buff- Gavi

For the last few months Pablo has been working really hard in the gym pretty much since the day he was allowed to do more he has been working on his strength. We have a gym set up at home and every morning Pablo gets up and works out before he has to go and do his specific training at the training centre. Some mornings I'll join him but I never work out properly as I just end up staring at him as his muscles flex while he lifts weights. For the last few weeks I haven't been working out with Pablo as I've been back at uni so I have classes in the morning and on the weekends I have essays to write. I know he likes when we workout together but I've just been too busy in the mornings but I promised him this weekend that I'd join him on a run. 

Today however is Friday and luckily it's my day with the least amount of classes I have two but I'm done by 2 which is better than 5 or 6pm. I have a break between my classes so I used that time to get some assignments done so I have a free weekend. Once I'd finished my work I decided to give myself a break and just scroll through social media but I nearly dropped my phone when I opened Instagram. The first thing on my feed was a video of Pablo from training and my god did he look good his arms were huge and he wasn't even flexing he was just walking. I know he's been working hard but I haven't noticed just how much it's been paying off until right now. Of course I loved the way he looked before but my god does he look amazing now I feel like if anyone saw me right now I'd have literal heart eyes after seeing that video. 

Trying to focus in my next class was near impossible all I could think about was Pablo and getting home to him so I could see his arms in person. Usually this is my favourite class and I spend the whole time writing notes but today when I left all I had written was the date and the topic of the lecture so I'll have to look back at what was actually said another day right now though I just want to get home. I never drive to uni as it's just a nightmare to park but the bus has never felt slower than it does right now and I wish I'd driven here. 

When I finally made it to the house after a long bus journey and a walk I saw that his car was already back in the driveway which is exactly a what I wanted to see. As soon as I opened the door I heard Pablo get up and make his way towards the door, to my delight he had a sleeveless shirt on so I could see his arms for myself. He came towards me looking for attention but my hands went straight to his arms to feel them. They even felt different I could feel the muscles tensing under my touch which was honestly fascinating as before Pablo wasn't the most muscular guy he was strong but never to this extent. 

"What are you doing?" He asked 

"Just enjoying your muscles I saw you in training today and your arms looked so good" I said 

"Thank you" he said getting a little shy 

"Seriously when did you get this muscular you look so hot I couldn't focus in class as I was thinking about how good my boyfriend looks" I said 

"I'm glad you like them" Pablo said getting even more shy as he doesn't know how to react to compliments 

He let me enjoy his arms for a bit longer before he took hold of my hands and pulled me into a hug. The next thing I knew he'd picked me up and carried me to the sofa so we could cuddle because as much as he doesn't know how to respond to compliments he is definitely very affectionate. We talked about our days he told me about training and how much he's enjoying finally being back with the other guys and I told him about my classes all while he played with my hair and I watched his arms while I was talking. 

We chilled for a while before Pablo suggested we go for a swim in the pool as it's really hot outside and because I was sweating just sitting down I agreed. He got ready much quicker than I did as I had to tie my swimsuit on and put my hair up so it doesn't get too wet as I just washed it. When I made it back downstairs Pablo was leaning on the edge of the pool waiting for me the way he was leaning really made his biceps pop. This man is definitely going to be the death of me he just looks so good and the way he was looking at me nearly made me melt. I joined him by sitting on the edge of the pool with my feet in the water, Pablo then moved to lean his arms on my legs while he just smiled up at me. His smile started out sweet but then he had that mischievous grin on his face which is never a good thing it only ever means he has a plan that he knows I'm going to disapprove of. 

His little plan quickly became clear when his arms went around my waist and pulled me into the pool. He was nice enough to not let me get my hair wet but I still got water in my eyes because I wasn't ready to go underwater. When I recovered and could see again Pablo had hold of me to keep me out the water so I wrapped my legs around him so he couldn't dunk me in the water again at least not without going underwater himself. This didn't last long though as Pablo started to tickle me which made me let go of my grip on him which allowed him to pick me up and throw me in the water over and over. I would've shouted at him for doing that but I actually had a lot of fun and every time I was out of the water I could hear him laughing which made getting my hair wet a lot better. Eventually he stopped and held me to his chest so I could get my breath back. 

"Are you just trying to show off how strong you are now" I joked 

"Well you liked my arms so much I thought I'd show you what I can do now" he said 

"In that case I'm very impressed maybe I'll have to join you in the gym just to watch you get even stronger" I said 

"You do that anyway" he fired back 

"Hey I work out too" I said 

"Be honest you do the bare minimum to look busy thinking I don't see you staring" he said 

"Ok you're right but can you blame me the view is always great" I said 

"My view is pretty great too when you do squats" he teased 

"You stare at me when I do squats?" I asked 

"Of course how can I not I also stare at your pretty face when you stretch on the floor I just like to take in what's mine" he said 

"Aren't you the cutest I like to look at your pretty face too" I said 

That's when he got all shy again so to deflect the attention off of him he pushed me against the side of the pool and kissed me. If complimenting him is going to get me cuddles and kisses like this I might just have to do it more often.  

[nataliesfirefly]

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader

a/n: hello!! this is my first fic i've ever uploaded so i'm pretty nervous, and i don't even know if anyone will read this but i thought i would contribute to the farleigh fics (also i'm obsessed with him)! this will be on an ongoing serious (hopefully) and i have a pretty interesting plot planned so stay tuned! i hope you enjoy and please leave feedback!!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: slight language

part 2, part 3, part 4

You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the eccentric summers at Saltburn. It was rich and sultry, it felt free, like all your problems disappeared, like the world didn’t exist outside of the dreamy castle and neatly trimmed hedges. It was just you.

Well, you wish it was just you. You loved Felix’s family, they were always so kind to you. At this point, you were almost part of the Catton family in a way. Every summer, you traveled to Saltburn after a long and exhausting year of school. It was like a reward, you got through the year, so now you get to kick back with the rich people. But the Cattons just had this way about them. They were so out of touch, sheltered in their little rich lives, never having to work for anything just because of a title.

You certainly weren’t rich. Felix convinced you to apply to Oxford University with him, although everyone knew he was going to get in automatically due to the immense amount of wealth his last name carried. You spent countless hours in secondary school making sure to get amazing grades, throwing away your social life and free time. You ended up top of your class, earning a scholarship to Oxford. 

It didn’t pay the whole tuition, but it helped, allowing you to have an average job to make some extra money before your first year. Now, it was your second year at Oxford, and you were comfortable.

For Felix, his time at Oxford was never exhausting or difficult. He preferred to spend his time partying, or at the pubs, drinking with all his friends. He never had to worry about his grades or schoolwork, because he didn’t have a scholarship to keep.

He always berated you for staying in every Friday and Saturday night, claiming that you always have your nose in some textbook. You didn’t like partying anyways, and you told him that.

“Please, just come out of your dorm for once. It’ll be fun, promise.” He used to beg, standing in your doorway. But you never ended up going, so finally he just stopped asking.

Besides, everytime you went out somewhere with Felix everyone assumed you two were dating, which earned you many cruel glances from almost every girl in the vicinity. You only saw Felix as a friend, a brother, in a way. He was always very empathetic despite his out of touch perspective on reality.

There was just one person you absolutely hated seeing every summer. Farleigh Start. Ever since you and Felix became friends, he hated your guts. You had no idea why. Maybe it was because you were the only other American around, since you grew up in the states before moving to England in your early teens. However, you couldn’t figure out why that would cause a rivalry between you two.

At Oxford, he always made fun of you for trying so hard. He just didn’t get it. He had everything given to him on a silver platter, a privilege of being close to the Catton family.

You tried to ignore him, but every single sarcastic or petty remark from his mouth made your blood boil with a rage you had never felt before. You couldn’t avoid him, because wherever Felix was, there was Farleigh. But at Saltburn, it was worse. You were forced to always be near him for two whole months and see that annoying little smirk on his face whenever he insulted you.

As you begin to organize your things in the guest room, you hear the shuffling of footsteps by your open door. You glance up from your suitcase, crouched on the floor, narrowing your eyes to see who is in the hallway. 

It’s Farleigh. Of course it is, you think. He stands at your doorway, leaning against the frame, his curly hair adding to his height. He has this stupid grin on his face, like he’s about to say something to insult you.

“I had a feeling you were here. Everything just felt… annoying.” He has a cigarette in hand, taking a drag from it after his sentence. “Can you not smoke in my room, idiot?” You stand up, pressing a hand to your forehead in annoyance.

“Calm down. It’s not gonna kill you,” He crosses his arms and chuckles at you. “Afraid of a little smoke?” He teases in a mocking voice. “No, I just hate the smell. Get out, you’re taking up space.” You wave your hand, gesturing for him to leave as you approach him, ready to slam the door in his face if needed.

“Oh, I think you’re the one taking up space.” He lets out another breath of smoke, causing you to cough as it practically falls right in your face.

“Alright. Funny. Now leave,” You glare up at him, your brows furrowed in frustration. He scoffs and finally turns on his heel, walking down the hallway to Felix’s room, you assume. “So boring,” He mutters under his breath, but you heard loud and clear.

You decide to ignore his last little comment, groaning and closing the door, returning to your organizing.

A little while later, a knock sounds on your door. You climb off of your large bed and swing the door open, greeted by Venetia.

You both squeal and she immediately wraps her arms around you, nearly knocking you off of your feet. You and Venetia have become very close, and she’s almost like an older sister to you. 

“Welcome back,” She grins, pulling away from the tight embrace. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” I reply, playing with a strand of her blonde hair. “Well, it’s been since last summer.” You two tried to stay in touch by texting or emailing every once in a while, but it was difficult with how busy you were.

“Yeah, I guess so.” She jumps on your bed and sits there like she’s waiting for you to tell her something. 

“What?” You ask, giggling at the way she’s looking expectantly at you. “Have you found a boyfriend yet?” She questions, smirking mischeviously. “No! No, I don’t have time for that.” You shake your head, hanging up a dress in your closet.

“Oh my God, you’re killing me! You say that every single time. Have you ever heard of, like, a hook-up? One night stand?” She exclaims. “That doesn’t take any time at all. No commitment. Just trying something out,” Venetia throws her hands up.

“Well, I don’t want to right now. I have no interest in it.” You return to your suitcase, grabbing a pair of shorts and folding them, desperately hoping to change the subject. 

You had experience in the things Venetia spoke about. Your first year at Oxford, you certainly lost control of a few things. You were just being young and dumb, confused and curious about what these college boys had to offer. It never brought you any real pleasure, just a distraction and a story to tell your girlfriends the next day at dinner.

You’d never had a real, long-lasting relationship either. It just didn’t interest you, especially since you were so focused on doing well in school and keeping your scholarship. Venetia stills insists on finding you a boyfriend or matching you up with a stranger.

“Look, I made that mistake my first year. Random dudes. I could’ve gotten an STD or some shit,” You throw the folded shorts into a drawer. “But it was fun, right?” She chews on one of her nails, watching you pace around the room.

“No. Not really. They didn’t do anything for me. Most of the time I was half asleep.” You shrug nonchalanty as Venetia laughs loudly. “Damn. Well, then you just found the wrong guys.”

“Then where do you find the right ones?” You ask, whipping around to face her. She shrugs. “I don’t know, they just kind of… flock to me. Like birds.” There’s a pause of silence before you both burst out in laughter. “Yeah, whatever.” You roll her eyes although you know there’s some truth to that statement. It was always effortless for her.

“I’m gonna find you someone. Trust me. You deserve the best of the best,” She grins and stands up, stepping out of your room. “I’ll see you at dinner!” She calls over her shoulder as she starts down the hall.

Dinner feels like nothing has changed. You all sit around the dining table having casual conversations about school and gossip while enjoying some traditional English food.

Unfortunately, you’ve been sat right across from Farleigh. You can barely glance up from your plate without catching one of his cold glares. You spaced out for a moment and as you zone back in, you realize the topic has shifted to relationships and dating.

Felix nudges your arm, pointing his fork at you. “What about you?” You glance over to him. “What?” You ask, unsure of what he’s questioning.

“Have you got a boyfriend yet?” He replies, tilting his head. You feel the rest of the table staring you down as you try to think of an answer. 

“Uhh, no. Not yet.” You lower your head down, hoping your hair will hide your reddening face.

“She’s incapable of that,” Farleigh interjects quickly. “I mean, it’s never been easy for her.” He chuckles slightly, amused at himself. You raise your gaze to him, trying not to show how his comments just affected you.

“Farleigh, don’t be rude.” Elspeth shoots him a glare and shakes her head. Felix pats your shoulder. “It’s alright, really. All the guys at Oxford are dicks anyway. Don’t deserve someone as kind as you,” You can tell he pities you and is trying to make you feel better.

You look back to Farleigh. “Farleigh, I don’t remember the last time you dated someone. When was it, like, two years ago?” You tilt your head tauntingly and wait for his reaction, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I didn’t know you paid so much attention to my love life,” He shoots back. He’s skilled at hiding his reactions and it kills you. 

“It’s just so bleak and desperate it’s hard not to notice it,” You pucker your lips to demonstrate fake sadness. 

“Alright, you two. Calm down,” Felix holds up his hands, shaking his head.

“I think that she’s just focused on school right now. As she should be, I mean, that’s why you guys are there. To get an education.” Venetia quickly comes to your rescue, seated on the other side of you.

“Right. Right, I agree.” Elspeth adds, nodding aggressively.

Your eyes meet Farleigh’s again, and this time its an even sharper glare with that familiar taunting and mocking vibe. You feel yourself burn up with rage. You try to hold eye contact with him but you end up glancing away due to the heat creeping across your face.

Later that night, you are walking through one of the many dark hallways of the mansion. You still get lost sometimes, despite the many summers you have spent here. You stop to glance out a window, marvelling at the vast courtyard and landscape beyond, pale moonlight shining down and casting large shadows.

You continue walking quietly, attempting to get back to your room, but for some reason you realize you are on the other side of the house. These hallways have never been easy to navigate, especially at night. You curse under your breath and shake your head, continuing in the same direction.

You pass a door that is slightly ajar, and out of curiosity, you pause and take a few steps back. You peer through the crack, and you swear your heart drops to your ass when you realize this is Farleigh’s room.

He’s sitting on his bed, reading a book. You’ve never seen him so peaceful. His face is relaxed, instead of the usual scowl or sneer. After a moment of you staring at him, Farleigh suddenly closes his book and reaches over to place it on his bedside table, causing him to glance in the direction of the door. He looks away, then looks back, doing a double take as he seems to notice your presence.

Fuck. You wince as you step back from the door, trying to make up your mind on whether you should try to escape or just deal with the repurcussions of your creepy behavior you didn’t even mean.

But your legs won’t seem to obey what your brain is telling them to do. You are just frozen, stuck in place as Farleigh opens the door all the way. 

There’s a moment of silence as he stares down at you, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, well, well. Look who showed up at my door,” He crosses his arms in amusement, a smug smile across his face. 

“I got lost. That’s all.” You run a hand through your hair while shaking your head. “And does getting lost also consist of watching me from outside my door?” He tilts his head. You shake your head quickly.

“No. That’s not what I was doing. Don’t flatter yourself,” You look back up at him and roll your eyes. 

“Right.” Farleigh nods, not looking very convinced. “Never took you for a stalker.” He adds with a taunting smirk.

You let out a sigh of exasperation, turning away and facing the long stretch of the hallway. “Okay, I’ll be going now.” You raise a hand to wave before starting down the hall. “Goodnight!” Farleigh calls after you in a singsong voice, making you clench your fists in anger.

You didn’t really remember when the hatred between you two started. You did remember, however, the evening you two met.

It was your first summer at the Saltburn estate, and you were still in secondary school. You were extremely nervous since you had to be on your best behavior around these rich people. What were you even supposed to say? Or do?

You and Felix arrived together that afternoon, and after a tour of the mansion from Felix and an hour or so to yourself, you were going downstairs for dinner.

You walked in to the dining room, standing close behind Felix, before taking a seat at the long table next to him.

A tall boy with dark, curly hair sat on the other side of you. You looked over and smiled at him. You assumed that this was Felix’s cousin, Farleigh, since Felix had shown you a few pictures of them together.

He looked expensive. His jewlery, his clothes, the overall aura surrounding him seemed rich. It made sense, since he was considered a member of the Catton family. Felix informed you that his father paid for Farleigh’s education and everything else as a way to say sorry for whatever family drama had happened. You couldn’t remember the long story.

“Farleigh! This is my new friend from school,” Felix said as he introduced you. You offered a small wave.

“So you must be the cousin I’ve heard so much about,” You said. Farleigh glanced at Felix with a confused expression. 

“She’s American?” He asked. Felix nodded and nudged you to continue talking. “Yeah, I grew up in the states. I moved here when I was thirteen,” You explained. Farleigh just stared at you, expressionless.

“Cool,” He said nonchalantly, as if he didn’t care about anything you just said. “So, are you two dating?” He asked, gesturing to you and Felix.

“Oh- No, no. Just friends,” You chuckled and Felix did the same after sharing a quick glance with you. You really were just good friends, you got along well, but no one believed it.

“Right.” Farleigh scoffed and rolled his eyes. Felix leaned in slightly and muttered, “Ignore him.” You couldn’t help but turn back to Farleigh.

“So, how did school go for you this year?” You asked with a smile. “Alright, I guess.” You could tell he was annoyed by your questions as he sighed and looked around. 

“Okay, be a dick, then.” You muttered, giving up on trying to make conversation with him. At this, he sat straighter and turned to you. “And what are you, some scholarship kid? How did you get into a school like Westminster?” He furrowed his brows and his tone became harsh.

“Oh, by being smart and passing the entrance exam. Not everything is achieved with just money,” You replied back, maintaining your composure effortlessly.

“And you would know that,” He responded in a lowered voice, but you heard loud and clear.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the rest of the family sat down at the table, meaning dinner was about to commence. All you could do was shoot knives at him with your eyes and hope he would notice. This was going to be a long summer. 

The next day you sit with Venetia on the grass by the lake. She convinced you to come out with her to tan, and you figured it might be good for you considering how pale your skin is from staying indoors all the time. You hardly ever got any sun besides walking around on campus, but right now you were enjoying the warmth.

You lean back, using your forearms for support against the grass. You still feel a bit self conscious since you can’t remember the last time you wore a bikini this risqué. 

“Why don’t you wear stuff like this more often?” Venetia asks, turning her head to face you. “You look like a model, seriously.” She grins and takes a sip of her drink.

You shrug. You glance out at the lake and admire the way the sun reflects off the surface, all the little ripples and overgrowth of leaves near the side. 

“There they are. Hey, you two!” You perk up at Felix’s voice. You sit up a bit to look over your shoulder, but your excitement is soon diminished when you notice Farleigh walking next to him. You quickly turn your attention back to the lake.

You feel someone’s presence behind you. You throw your head back, looking up to see Farleigh peering down at you.

“You actually got her to go outside for once? Shocking,” He chuckles. You follow him with your eyes as he walks closer to the edge of the lake with Felix. “Leave her alone, Farleigh.” Venetia replies in an agitated tone.

A few moments later, Felix is taking off his shirt and tossing it to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair, then promptly jumps into the lake. Farleigh follows suit, and you know you shouldn’t be watching. But just like last night, you can’t take your eyes off of him.

Your eyes trail down his back, and you notice his muscles flexing as he takes his shirt off. You subconsciously bite your lip, then remember it’s fucking Farleigh. You mentally curse at yourself before peeling your gaze away, trying to focus on anything but him.

For some reason, you can’t shake the image of a shirtless Farleigh from your mind. You wished he had turned around so you could see the front of him, or even– No. Stop! 

You decide to go inside before your thoughts get the best of you. You stand up abruptly, causing Venetia to look up at you.

“Where are you off to?” She asks, lowering her sunglasses. “Uhh… I’m just really hot. I’ll see you later,” As you start back, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder to see if Farleigh is watching you go.

You catch his gaze, and despite the heat, you shiver as his eyes trail up and down your exposed body. You can’t explain why your heart starts racing or why you want him to keep watching you. You hate him. You hate him, but you’re so curious about what it would feel like to have his hands on your waist or in your hair. You hate him so much, but you wonder how it would feel to be underneath him, completely under his control.

But you hate him, right?

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter One

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 20.4k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hello everyone, this is Dana! This is the first complete chapter of Trouvaille, an introduction to the story and several characters. I have been working on this story for a long time, so I am overjoyed to share it with others. If you'd like to be added to the taglist for the next few chapters, don't hesitate to ask, I'll gladly add you. Any comments, questions, and feedback is lovingly received, and thank you for reading, and please enjoy!

Next Chapter

Although it was Friday, the hands of Y/N’s watch moved as if stuck in honey, hours ticking by painfully, and her patience was wearing thin. Today was her last day at her job. That morning, while sipping a cup of tea wrapped up in her quilt in bed, she had stared out the window absently as she frequently caught herself doing, fog rolling through the tall grasses of the back yard and filling the sky with stormy colors. The morning of her last day of work was like any other, planned to the minute, methodical, and solitary. Routine, she found, drove her crazy, but she wondered what exactly she would do after it’s upheaval – was it back to school, helping her mother out at the library, applying for a job at the smoothie bar, starting a ghost hunting crew? Endless possibilities boggled her even more than repetitive routine, she didn’t have a plan, and it was somewhat freeing. 

The veterinarian hospital she worked at was located in the heart of Boston, and saw near-constant foot traffic. When she arrived in the morning there were nothing but appointments to attend to, animals to check in, bags of kibble to sell, and of course, the odd surgery or two. Her position, specifically, was the on-staff exotics veterinarian, and often trained her colleagues to treat animals that weren’t cats and dogs. 

She was in the midst of her last examination, one that would likely end in surgery for a broken wing. It was getting late, there were only a handful of her colleagues left in the building, and she still had to talk to her supervisor about her leave. Y/N had chosen to word it as “taking a leave” rather than formally turning in resignation papers, as much as she was leaning towards a complete change of career. There was a chance after a few months of indulging herself in new directions that she’d come running back to the hospital.

Squinting, Y/N skimmed the clipboard containing information about the parrot she was currently treating, taking care not to touch his injured wing when she wrapped the bird in a towel for better handling.

“Lex, I need the radiograph up on the screen, please. Watch out for his beak!” Nimbly, Y/N turned the agitated bird away from the young lab tech before he nipped at her elbow. “He’s a biter, not that I can blame him, after what’s happened to his wing,” adjusting the towel around the Macaw, Y/N glanced at the large screen above the observation table. Eyes scanning the radiograph with practiced precision, she realized that the fracture was not something that could be mended with tape and time. A door closing and the sound of metal rolling in a tin alerted her of the presence of the tech she was most proud of training, a young man named John.

“John? Oh, John, thank God you’re back, did room 103 have the IM pins? I want this parrot to be stabilized as quickly as possible. I don’t think he is used to being handled,” Y/N explained, struggling to keep the bird's large beak away from her ears. Vaguely, Y/N heard Lex slip from the room, likely running to the next room for another emergency radiograph. John, his blue eyes drooping in concern, slid the tray of IM pins across the observation table while clicking his tongue. 

“Poor guy. What happened?” John asked, chest heaving with the effort of running down the veterinarian hospital halls. His creamsicle colored scrubs, an undoubtedly sunny wardrobe choice, was littered with sunset orange sweat stains and spots of animal drool as he reached across the table for the patient file. He let out a low whistle at the accident report as Y/N decided one IM pin would be plenty to get the fractured bone to realign once more.

“Wing caught in cage door? That can’t be right, especially with the size of the fracture,” John exclaimed, smooth features pulling into an incredulous expression. Eyes flicking up to the parrot, Y/N’s eyebrows knit together in frustration, John hurriedly washed his hands in the sink and pulled two pairs of latex gloves from the box next to the sink. It was the unsaid in the report that raised suspicion; how, exactly, did the bird get its wing stuck in the cage door himself? It was more common, in fact, for Y/N to treat animals that were abused; things were rarely accidents, when it came to exotics. 

“Are you ready for surgery? For the size of the bird and the fracture, I estimate we’ll be working for about three hours before he can be brought to recovery,” Y/N slipped a clean mask over her face, adjusting the frameless plastic goggles so they don’t fog, before carefully ensuring John had a hold on the parrot. John grunted in assent, likely just as bone-tired as she was. 

Rider, she faintly remembered, was the parrot’s name, as she watched white suds circle and filter down the drain. Once her hands were dry and the gloves snapped over her wrists, she felt the numbing sensation of dropping into total concentration. In a way, that was the best part of her job; the quieting of her brain for the length of a surgery, distracted by the methodical procedures, the pressure to work against the clock, and above all – the importance of helping the animal. 

Perhaps it was selfish, in a way, to crave the escape from her inner monologue considering her line of work, but some people had meditation and some people were joggers. Certainly, every sane person needed an outlet for serenity to make sense of the rest of the chaos infecting their lives. Sometimes, Y/N even believed she had combined her serenity with vocation, her work and her respite intimately entwined. Other times, at the bottom of a nondescript bottle with her friends, she grew nauseous at the rigidity of it all. 

“Prepare the K-wires, let’s get started,” Y/N declared, pulling the operating light over the table. John grunted in response, Y/N smoothing a hand over the parrot’s crown in a practiced soothing manner. 

“We’ll get you all fixed up, Rider,” Y/N whispered to the Macaw, the eyes of the parrot boring into her in a way that made her feel exposed. 

“So, does this mean we can finally call it a day?” John asked raggedly, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. The air outside of the operating room felt significantly fresher, the bright lights by the employee lockers snapping Y/N out of her surgical reverie. Peeling the sticky gloves from her hands and tiredly tossing them into a nearby trash can, she nodded. 

“All done, John! You can go ahead and get out of here. It’s Friday night, after all – I just have to talk to Dr. Davies before I can go myself,” Y/N smiled warmly at John. While he was one of the newest vet techs, over the past seven months at the office he had managed to surpass all of the other techs in surgical skill. 

Frowning slightly, John paused before reaching for his book bag. “Are you going to discuss your leave?” He inquired softly. 

Y/N sighed heavily. While she had enjoyed training John, and found significant fulfillment in her profession, the past few months had felt more and more draining. Being an exotics veterinarian was one of the hundreds of things she had dreamed of as a child. She had excelled in school, graduating close to the top of her class, and had even landed an amazing position at her current animal hospital fresh out of university. For the first year, Y/N saw herself at Harbor Animal Hospital long-term, aspiring to be like the incredible Dr. Tia Davies, her boss and mentor. 

As time went on, Y/N felt a sadness well up inside of her as she treated animal after animal. The world had become a cruel place full of neglect for animals, especially for the exotics she cared for. When she was a little girl, her grandparents took her to a traveling circus every summer when it came through Boston. It was there, where she watched beautiful parrots soar, elegant leopards slink through elaborate obstacles, and giraffes stand tall in all of their glory that Y/N first dreamed of working with such beautiful animals. To help them, specifically, as she grew up and realized the types of trials and tribulations the circus animals went through in order to perform, was one of her biggest desires. 

Fresh from college equipped with rosy lenses, she believed she could make a difference – but all she found was the revolving door of the hospital, each animal’s case more soul crushing than the next. Abuse, neglect, abandonment; these were the things that kept Y/N staring at her ceiling at night, waiting for sleep that would never come. She couldn’t help but notice the uptick in her anxiety and the dark circles rimming her lower lash line as time wore on, desperate to love her job again. At twenty-four years old, she ultimately came to the conclusion that in order for her to help animals in a way that mattered, she needed some time to sort out her personal feelings. 

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, raking her hand through her hair, “I just don’t know if I can keep this up, John. I’m running on empty and I just can’t shake this feeling – oh, I don’t know – of heartbreak? I just feel like I need time to regroup. I can’t afford to have my personal feelings negatively impact the animals,” she explained, corners of her mouth turning downwards. 

John nodded thoughtfully, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. He was yet to feel this way, and was generally more optimistic than Y/N, but he saw how depleted she had become over the months. She prayed that he would not end up like her; the hospital desperately needed him. 

“Well, Y/N, I’m really going to miss you around here. Hopefully the new exotics vet is just as patient as you are,” he said gently, placing his hand on her shoulder. Y/N appreciated the fact that he didn’t plead her to stay, or press the subject too hard. “Call me when you decide to come back. I’ll be waiting for you with your favorite Starbucks order!” 

With that, Y/N gave John a hearty wave as he pushed his way through the doors to the employee parking lot. She would miss him, certainly, but she had wrestled with taking a leave for months before she decided John was ready to take her place until Dr. Davies could find a full-time replacement. 

She opened up her locker, pulling down the picture of her posing at a cocktail party with her friends Ben, Laura, and Alice, the magazine clipping of Keanu Reeves as John Wick, and her bag of toiletries for when she worked late, shoving all of the items into her canvas tote bag. Simply clearing out the locker made her feel lighter in a way, albeit a tad guilty. She thought about some of the patients she saw regularly, such as the sweet elephant seal she treated at the Boston Aquarium, and felt the guilt rise up in her stomach even more. But she had already decided; she was no help to any creature in her current state. 

Setting off down the hall towards the office where the doctors kept patient files and keys to the pharmacy and lab, Y/N took one last look at the polished linoleum floors, the pastel walls, and unflattering fluorescent lights guiding her way. She knocked twice on the closed door, all of the other staff and techs gone for the day as the rapping sound echoed about the empty clinic. 

“Y/N, I’m assuming that is you? Come on in,” Dr. Davies’ sweet voice called, muffled by the sound of a medical mask. Pushing the door open, Y/N hiked her tote bag up further on her shoulder in determination.

Dr. Davies, or Tia, as she insisted everyone call her, was a kind woman in her mid-forties. She wore purple rectangular glasses and had frizzy graying hair, and looked something akin to an art school aunt. Tia always wore chunky, funky jewelry and colorful scrubs, which she had mentioned “brightened up the place”. 

“So, have you made your final decision?” Tia looked up over her glasses, setting the folder she was holding down on the desk. She stood, smiling fondly at Y/N. Swallowing down even more guilt, Y/N nodded. 

“I’m sorry, Tia. I just feel like I’ve…” Y/N trailed off while looking at the floor, at a loss for words that accurately described her feelings. 

“Hit a wall? Been emotionally drained?” Tia suggested helpfully. Eyes shooting up to meet Tia’s, Y/N’s confidence returned after she registered the understanding look on the doctor’s face. 

“In a way. I still want to help animals, and that will never change. Lately, I feel like I haven’t been able to help enough. In a way that matters. The world is… the world is so awful. To these animals, to humans–”

“–to hybrids?” Tia added encouragingly. 

Hybrids!

“Oh my God. Hybrids! I knew I was forgetting something about my schedule today!” Y/N exclaimed, blood draining from her face. 

“Oh Y/N, I remember you telling me about your plans to go with Ben and Roy to a hybrid shelter this week. Is that today?” Tia rounded the corner of the desk, grasping one of Y/N’ wrists tenderly.

“Uh, yes– it is– Ben is going to kill me. I’m supposed to meet him at Government Center in half an hour. I’m so sorry, this couldn’t have come at a worse time,” Y/N gasped out, furious at herself for forgetting such an important meeting. Her timing never seemed to be perfect. 

“Listen, Y/N, relax. It’s alright, I just wanted to let you know that my old colleague from Chicago has agreed to take your position until you return,” Tia reassuringly squeezed her wrist. “Or, if you return,” she added, a twinkle of some kind of knowing in her eye. 

“Oh, that’s such good news,” Y/N exhaled, thrilled Tia could find a replacement so quickly, a weight lifted off of her shoulders.

“I have no doubt that you will continue to help animals, you’re like me in that way. You’re young, and like me, you may have to take time to truly figure out where you fit in to make the best difference,” Tia continued, a warm feeling of kinship spreading through Y/N. 

“Tia,” Y/N mumbled in a watery manner, eyes filling up a little.

“I want you to call me, at least once a month, or whenever you need me. I’m here for you. Besides, knowing you, you’ll come up with some new venture that I absolutely need to be a part of. I’ll lend any knowledge I can,” Tia released Y/N’s wrist, opening her arms for an embrace. Now, Y/N truly had tears running down her face, burying it in Tia’s shoulder. 

“Now, get going! If you want to make it to Government Center in thirty minutes, I suggest you run the yellow lights,” Tia released her, winking. Y/N wiped a stray tear from her cheek, squaring her shoulders. 

“Thank you, Tia, for everything. I’ll call you,” Y/N affirmed, taking one more look at the kind doctor. She hurried from the office, the newfound source of anxiety of being late quickening her step to her car. 

As she launched out of the clinic, she took a deep breath in, the air free from the scent of rubbing alcohol and pet fur. While Boston city air was certainly tainted with cigarette smoke and exhaust, the light perfume of black-eyed susans studded along sidewalks filtered through pleasantly. Invigorating her, she squashed down the dread of her evening plans. 

While Y/N was well-versed in the subject of the animal kingdom, hybrids were always a source of puzzlement to her. Hybrids, a part of modern life long before her birth, were created specifically for human enjoyment in large labs, factories, and even dilapidated basement operations. When her parents were in their twenties, the price to own your own hybrid was an astronomical fee, and only the elite were photographed with hybrid companions at fundraisers and derbies. 

As the “wheel of progress” turned, hybrids spliced with large animal DNA became workhorses in many parts of the industrial USA. Hybrids working on logging plants, mining, and even construction, was faster and cheaper labor than hiring humans – an abysmal fact. In more recent times, almost anybody could adopt a hybrid, for better or for worse. Of course, the nasty sort of animal abuser found even more enjoyment tormenting a hybrid, one who could potentially fight back and feel human fear. God-wealthy “hunters for sport” lined up at fancy hybrid shelters to pick out bear and prey hybrids for their sick hobby, according to recent news headlines. 

For the most part, Y/N avoided the topic of hybrids. Although her family had money, there was never a hybrid within their home. This, she did consider odd, simply due to the fact that a large part of her family’s wealth came from her father’s revolutionary studies and practices on hybrid heart surgeries as a cardiologist. He had treated thousands of hybrids and truly cared for them, in a similar way that Y/N cared for her exotics. Her mother, on the other hand, loved hybrids, and even ran a bookclub out of the library she worked at specifically for adopted hybrids. 

Y/N chewed on her lower lip as she contemplated her relationship with the beings, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she waited out a red light. The radio murmured about the weather comfortingly, however, she could still feel the nervousness eating away at her stomach. It’s not like she had never talked to a hybrid, plenty of her parent’s friends had one or two. However, she couldn’t ever shake the feeling that like actual animals, hybrids could sense things about her that humans could not. In an all-knowing, exposing way. 

She blasted through the last yellow light, spotting the bright gold kettle that served as a giant Starbucks sign next to Government Center, and miraculously found a street parking spot nearby. Y/N was only ten minutes late, but in Ben’s mind, she might as well have been an hour late. Taking a quick peak in her rearview mirror, she pinched her cheeks to bring some life back into her complexion, ruffled her hair, and hastily shoved her wallet and keys into the pocket of her lavender scrubs. 

The sun was starting to set as she scuttled towards the entrance of Government Center, dreading the humidity and musty smell of the MBTA station. Ben and Roy told her to meet them inside of the station, where the couple met after Roy’s office hours. Stumbling over a cobblestone in her clunky clogs she wore to work, she cursed loudly as a pack of college students giggled at her outside of the Starbucks. Giving them a passionate Boston-style middle finger, she straightened up when she heard her name. 

“Y/N! Jesus Christ, over here!” Ben’s sharp voice cut through the Friday night rush hour traffic. Whirling around, she noticed Ben’s perfectly coiffed head of red hair, one of his Gucci loafers tapping the sidewalk impatiently. Behind him, sitting sheepishly on a fountain ledge, was his fiance, Roy. Y/N all but ran over to the two of them. 

“Shit– I’m so sorry I’m late– I got caught up in surgery and had to talk to my boss about the leave, plus the traffic, I swear, these Emerson students walk into the street on purpose,” Y/N heaved, right hand clutching her pounding heart. Roy chuckled lightly as he stood from his perch, hand smoothing over the back of Ben’s tweed suit. 

“I texted you this morning to remind you about tonight! Scatterbrain,” Ben scolded, his annoyance tempered by Roy’s gentle hand. Y/N always thought Roy was the best thing to ever happen to Ben. 

Ben Alpin was Y/N’s childhood neighbor, and although he was four years older, they were attached at the hip all throughout their youth. Ben was an amazing friend to have growing up; he was outgoing and sharp of tongue, always protective like an older brother. Considering Y/N had no siblings, Ben was the closest to one she ever had. They had gone to separate high schools, where Ben had flourished in leadership programs and dominated student council. He had always jokingly said that “money was his dream”, but Y/N knew that what he really wanted was to be a leader of some kind. He had eventually gone to Harvard Law, and was now a successful business lawyer. So successful, he was able to afford a brownstone on Beacon Hill – in the end, Y/N supposed he did indeed achieve his dream of money. 

Ben had met Roy Heath at Harvard post-grad, Roy being a new professor of architecture attending a leadership seminar Ben was hosting at the university. As far as personality, the two balanced each other out so well it was almost cosmic. Incredibly patient, calm, and easy-mannered, Roy could de-escalate a classic Ben meltdown in seconds. Y/N adored Roy, he had become a dear friend to her almost as quickly as he entered her life. He often helped her work on her house on the weekends, which offered her not only someone to reach high areas of the ceilings with a paintbrush, but a grounding presence to bask in. The two planned on getting married in less than a year, after Roy published his current thesis. 

“I know, I know… I even replied to your message! Just goes to show how absolutely fried I am these days,” Y/N complained, smacking her face against Ben’s chest and squeezing his midsection until he wheezed. Patting her back, she felt his chest rumble in amusement, surprisingly not as angry as she thought he’d be for her tardiness. 

“It’s okay, Y/N, you were barely even ten minutes late. I doubt ten minutes will determine whether or not there’s a hybrid for us,” Roy reassured her, stooping low to give her a brief hug after she let go of Ben. The latter scoffed, intertwining his fingers with Roy’s, before rolling his blue eyes. “I found three shelters online the past few months, so we’ll see which one is lucky.”

“Don’t forget that seedy one over in Downtown Crossing. That’s our last resort,” Ben added. Ben, ever the realist, had been forwarding articles about hybrid scarcity to Y/N for the last six months. For some reason, the supply of hybrids could not keep up with the growing demand of those who wish to adopt. Y/N suspected the worst – sport hunting was growing in popularity. She did not vocalize her opinion to the couple. 

“Let’s get going. The first one is right up the street by that sucky Irish pub,” Ben declared, pushing a graying-brown curl behind Roy’s ear affectionately. They were nauseatingly adorable, Y/N thought. 

Setting off, Y/N told the two all about how she asked for her leave, what she planned on doing while she had time off, and of course, her house. Stopping at a crosswalk, Ben looked at her inquisitively. 

“So, any luck finding roommates for that big old creepy house of yours?” He asked, an eyebrow arching up into his hairline at the absurdity. Y/N pouted, yet another situation she found kept her awake at night. 

Her maternal grandparents, the very same ones that took her yearly to the circus as a kid, lived in a gorgeous Stick Style Victorian manor outside of Boston when she was growing up. It had been in her family for generations, built in the 1860’s for some wealthy judge and his wife. Y/N loved the house more than anything, its hundreds of nooks, crannies, passageways, and secrets made her giddy like a child every time she went home. She had moved into the home after college, when her grandparents became too old to live on their own. They lived with her mother and father down the street, but Y/N couldn’t bear to leave the beautiful Victorian empty. The house itself would have been part of her inheritance, so she figured why not move in immediately after college?

What she didn’t realize was that her grandmother was a bit of an antiques hoarder, and her grandfather didn’t like to “fix what ain’t broke”. Meaning, the last time the place had any kind of repairs or facelifting was in the sixties. Y/N had her work cut out for her between scraping linoleum off of the kitchen floor and managing the several acres of trails and gardens on the property. Additionally, the place was gigantic – with 10 bedrooms, she could have a convent of nuns move in with her. It was this reason, (certainly not the fact that she could really use someone who could operate a ride-on lawnmower) that she had been asking around her pool of friends if they were looking for a place to live. She hadn’t found any luck. 

“Don’t remind me of that. Seriously, my head’s going to explode. I’ve been asking around for months, I’ve even told people they could pay me three walnuts to live there,” Y/N groaned, following the couple across the street. Roy was practically pissing his pants, face red with glee. 

“You know, Y/N, Roy spends enough time there hauling out your grandma’s chair collection, he should move in.”

“Hey! Working on that house is hands-on experience for me. It’s not very often architects get to work freely on a Victorian,” Roy nudged Ben with his shoulder, having to lean down six inches. The sight made Y/N snort. 

“I’m just going to throw in the towel. Maybe I’ll get five cats and they can have the run of the place,” Y/N said thoughtfully. At least with cats, she wouldn’t have to worry about a roommate filling her old home with modern Ikea decor. 

“Oh, yeah, really solidify your granny status with that. Sexy,” Ben teased, head craning backwards to give her a cheeky grin. She stuck her tongue out at him, pointing beyond his nose to the sign in front of him reading Hattie’s Hybrids. 

“Okay! This is the first one, let’s all say a quick prayer to whoever’s listening… Oh, I’m so excited, Ben,” Roy was practically bouncing, the perfect picture of an excited father. Or, potentially soon-to-be father. 

Roy’s excitement was short-lived. Pulling on the door handle, Ben realized the shop was locked up. Cupping his hands and pressing his face into the window, he frowned. 

“The lights are on, but the place looks deserted! I swear, I checked the hours online and they’re supposed to be open,” Ben exclaimed, puzzled. 

“Right here, honey,” Roy sighed, tapping a taped-up sign on the window.

We do not have any hybrids at this time. Please check back in the upcoming weeks.

“What?” Ben’s voice pitched upwards, scanning the paper. “Great. The next shelter is three blocks away. I’m going to need a drink.”

“After we check out the next two shelters,” Y/N warned, knowing how rowdy Ben could get on a Friday night bar crawl. Ben shook his hand twice, yeah, yeah, before following Roy down the sidewalk to the next location. Feeling a touch of exasperation that Hattie’s Hybrids couldn’t save her from a whole night of traipsing around the city, she closely tailed her friends in search of the next place. 

“Fuck! I needed that,” Ben slammed his shot glass down on the crumbling wooden bar, holding up his finger to the bartender to leave the bottle of tequila behind. 

The next two shelters Roy had found were similarly locked up and deserted, which caused Ben to fly into pissed-lawyer mode. 

“How do these people even make money? I can’t understand why there doesn’t seem to be a single shelter in the city of Boston with hybrids. Where are they all?” He continued, pouring himself another shot. Roy looked discouraged, nursing a Budweiser and rubbing slow circles along Ben’s lower back. 

Y/N was similarly distressed. It was getting late, she had been in surgery most of the day, and all she wanted was to crawl into her bed. Instead, she found herself slumping around the humid city, already buzzed off of a stiff gin martini, like she was in grad school again. Mostly, she felt bad for her friends – all they wanted was to have a family together. Swirling an olive around in her glass, she hummed. 

“So I take it, we're off to the ‘seedy’ place,” Y/N encouraged, taking the last sip of her martini. They had ended up in a bar in Downtown Crossing anyways, so at least she wouldn’t have to walk up the hill towards the State House again. Ben grunted.

“Please. If those three places were shut down, I doubt the last resort is harboring a miracle. We’ll go for shits and giggles, the hot dog cart is by there anyways. I’ll have to do more research before we find our little one, Roy…” Ben trailed off sadly, downing his third shot with a shake of the head. 

“It’s alright, honey, we’ll do it together,” Roy affirmed, a sweet smile spreading across his face. Y/N felt her martini rise in her throat at the purity of it all. 

Slapping down a fistfull of cash, Ben rose from his stool, rolling his shoulders back. 

“Come on, granny, last stop before you can race back to the Haunted Mansion,” Ben helped Y/N up from her seat, leading her to the exit. 

The last shelter was less than a block away from the bar. Ben swore when the hot dog cart seemed to have shut down for the day. Roy was busy gaping at the flickering lightbulb outside of the last shelter, which had a chipping sign that simply read HYBRIDS. The door was propped open with a wooden block, the lights were on, and there was a man hunched over a cellphone at the front of a store. 

“Holy–” Roy clamped a hand over Ben’s mouth, probably trying to save him from a bad first impression. Y/N was just as floored as her friend, staring dumbly at the shabby storefront, barely registering Roy pushing Ben into the shelter. Scrambling after them, Y/N entered the building. 

The place was entirely gray. The walls, the tin desk with an ancient register, the old guidebooks lining dusty shelves, all radiated a depressing emotion. Even the man behind the desk, still watching a noisy pre-season Patriots game, had dull gray hair and a sagging complexion. Stifling a smirk at how out of place ritzy Ben looked, Y/N pressed a hand over her mouth as she sifted through a rack of hybrid-specific clothes that were about as old as she was. Roy cleared his throat, standing before the desk, Ben uncharacteristically silent as the man grumbled with annoyance, peering up at the three of them. 

Setting his phone down, the man stood arthritically before painting on a customer-service smile. 

“And how can I help youse today?” Y/N nearly snickered at the man’s Quincey accent, alcohol making her a little giddy, until she realized this man just might be the saving grace of her Friday night. “We’re havin’ a sale on them jeans over there,” the man pointed to the rack Y/N had steadied herself on.

“Uh, okay, good to know. Actually, we’re here to potentially adopt, if you have any hybrids available, that is,” Roy took the lead, Ben’s eyes glazed over as he stared at a cobweb on the ceiling. The man made a noise of understanding in the back of his throat, grabbing a key ring from the desk drawer. 

“Got just one, follow me,” the man motioned to them with a finger, unlocking the door at the back of the shop behind a shelf of books. Roy looked a bit disheartened, the chances of the lone hybrid at the shelter being a child slim to none. The trio stepped through the threshold anyways, the back room filled with what could only be compared to empty jail cells sans doors, the scent of cleaning products heavy in the air. Y/N was shocked by Ben’s continued silence, analyzing his stony expression as they reached the back of the room. There was a slim hallway to Y/N’s right, dimly lit, but they did not go down that way.

“Got this one in about two hours ago. She’s the smallest of her siblings, apparently… too hyper for them fancy shelter’s customers, or so’s I’ve been told by the person who dropped her ‘ere. Name’s Daisy, up-to-date on her doctor’s visits, guaranteed,” the shopkeeper rattled off, scratching the back of his head. He stepped to the side, allowing Ben and Roy to peer into the chamber Daisy was in. 

Sat on the little bed in the corner, engrossed in a colorful picture book, was a little girl about four years old. She had beautiful white blonde hair, long white lop ears sprouting from her crown, and was wearing a sundress with strawberries on it. She looked very well taken care of, a teddy bear clamped under her arm and hair neatly brushed. One of her ears twitched at the sound of the man’s voice, large chocolate eyes darting upwards. A tiny, toothy grin stretched across her precious face as she jumped up from the bed, book clattering to the floor. 

“Oh my gosh!” Ben gasped delightedly, the little bunny hybrid gathering a fistfull of his pant leg. Y/N was flabbergasted at the sight of such an angelic little girl in such a drab, depressing place. How in the hell did nobody adopt her?

“Hi! Hi, you’re here! They’re loud…” Daisy practically vibrated with energy, shaking the material of Ben’s pant leg excitedly. Her eyes darted down the narrow hallway Y/N had spotted moments before, one of Daisy’s ears lifting in that direction. 

“She’s beautiful! I can’t believe it – we were looking for a child just like her! Ben, what do you think?” Roy was so happy, his face was entirely pink as he bent down to say hello. The hybrid seemed to not have an ounce of shyness in her body, thrusting her teddy bear into Roy’s hand and telling him the bear’s name. 

“I think that this place was harboring a miracle after all,” Ben said in a disbelieving tone, simply glowing at Roy and Daisy’s interactions. She was chattering on about her morning, what she wanted to eat for dinner, and her new book. 

“I don’ think she’ll be here for very long,” the shopkeeper called from next to Y/N. He looked like he was aching to get back to his Patriots game. “If you wanna adopt, I suggest you do it tonight.”

“What breed is she? How old, and how much, and where do we sign?” Ben asked rapidly, blushing furiously as Roy picked Daisy up when she stretched her arms out to be held. Y/N could hardly believe the events unfolding in front of her; she knew that the couple was prepared to adopt that very night, but she was sure they wouldn’t be able to find what they were looking for right away. Suddenly, she felt like she was intruding on a private moment, no matter how close she was to Ben and Roy. 

“Uh…” the man pulled his eyebrows together, checking a clipboard velcroed to the wall. “She just turned four. Lionhead rabbit, the fancy Latin name ‘ere too if you want it. Adoption fee for her…” looking thoughtfully at Ben’s Gucci loafers, the man smirked. Y/N turned away, feeling ill from her martini, stalking off slightly down the mysterious hallway. “... $2,500. I’ll print up them papers in the office.”

Slinking down the short hallway, Y/N took a deep breath. Daisy was like a gift from some cosmic entity, and it almost seemed too good to be true. She felt warmth spread through her chest as she thought about the spare room in Ben’s townhouse, already decked to the nines with children’s toys and furniture. Daisy would want for nothing, and it was as if Ben and Roy had already fallen in love with her. Dragging her fingertips along the cinder block walls, she made a surprised sound at the heavy metal door a few feet away from her. Further down the hall, there was a normal wooden door left ajar, an office, from the looks of it. Humming, she turned her attention to the safe-like door, a big red sign nailed to the left of it. The sign read: Exotics and Aggressives - Do Not Enter. 

Now that sign certainly caught her attention – all she had to read was Exotics before a happy sensation flooded through her. Giddy, she began to rise on her tiptoes to peek through the small square window of the door, when she heard a throat clear behind her. Startled, she whipped around, guilt painting her features as the shopkeeper eyed her suspiciously. 

“I wouldn’ get too close to them, if I were you, young lady,” the man said, hands on his hips. “They’ll take off your arm in a second.”

Arching an eyebrow, Y/N’s curiosity was piqued even more with this statement. The man sighed, pointing at the window. 

“Go ahead, take a look. They’re all vicious, the jaguar bastard bit me yesterday,” he muttered, tenderly rubbing a bandage on his left forearm. Staring at the man, as if to decipher if he was egging her on or not, Y/N turned back to the window, finally peering in. 

The room was large, but all divided by iron bars, like giant cages they would keep big animals in at the clinic. At first, she had to squint to see anything other than iron, but then she let out a startled gasp as her eyes focused. 

She counted four hybrids, fully shifted into their animal forms. First, her sight landed on a gorgeous, albeit underweight, leopard, laying on its side, asleep. In the cell next to it was what appeared to be a coyote, turned away from the door and shaking like a leaf in the corner. 

“My God,” Y/N whispered, taking in the third animal, a black jaguar, most likely the one that had bitten the shopkeeper. It was asleep, breathing labored, as blood oozed from a jagged cut on his side. 

Anger welled up inside of her, beginning to turn to the shopkeeper in wrath, before her breath was cut off by the sight of the final animal she could see: the biggest Northwestern wolf she had ever seen, and it was staring right back at her. Undoubtedly a male, the wolf’s amber eyes bored into hers, ears swiveling forward in alert and teeth baring immediately. The creature’s expression sent shivers down her spine, even as he was laying down in his cell separated by the heavy door Y/N was pressed against. Unable to tear her gaze away from the wolf, she forgot all about her bed calling her name, about Ben and Roy, and about Daisy. 

“Who are they?” Y/N asked, eventually breaking eye contact with the wolf. Looking at the shopkeeper, who had pulled out his phone to check on the Patriots, didn’t even spare the door a glance. 

“Bunch o’ bastards. We get the unadopted hybrids that are found wandering the streets, the ones that are rejected by other shelters, sometimes from circuses or zoos if they stop doin’ what they’re supposed to,” he replied, sounding bored. He began to walk away, heading towards the office, when Y/N pulled herself away from the door to urgently grab his wrist. 

“Wait! I– oh,” she let go of his wrist, blushing in embarrassment. “What’s going to happen to them?” Y/N asked, fearing the worst. The man scoffed, beginning to get annoyed with her questions. 

“Listen, lady, I’ve got a guy from Manhattan coming in tomorrow morning to pick up them animals. He’s offering seven G’s for all seven of em’... for hunting or something, I don’ really care what for. It’s payday tomorrow. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to send that rabbit on her way with your buddies so I can finish the game in peace,” with that, the man stalked to the office, muttering something about “women”, the sound of a stuttering printer filling the hallway. 

Affronted, Y/N felt her heart begin to race, thinking about the beautiful leopard being hunted down, and the chances of the injured jaguar living past tomorrow evening. Feeling more ill than ever, the disgust for the world she lived in infiltrated every cell of her body. She peeked back into the room once more, immediately searching for the other three animals, but could not strain her eyesight into the far hidden corners of the room. A pained wheeze came from the jaguar, tail limply beating the floor. She looked at the wolf again, but to her surprise, he had turned around from her view and curled himself into a ball. Her heart sank, palms sliding down the door. If she didn’t feel powerless to help animals before, she certainly did at that moment. 

“Y/N? Where did you go?” Roy inquired, voice raised. She blinked rapidly, ears picking up Daisy’s childish giggle, and huffed sadly for the seven hybrids behind the locked door. While her heart was breaking for them, she wouldn’t allow herself to dampen her friend’s spirits on such a wonderful night for the two of them. 

She stiffened as the shopkeeper brushed past her, a packet in hand, grumbling in her direction. Curling her lip up in a snarl of disgust, she begrudgingly followed him, glancing at the metal door once more. 

“The papers. Let’s sign em’ up front, come on, now,” the shopkeeper grunted, stepping into the light of the main hybrid holding room. Roy still had Daisy on his hip, his face confused as it landed on Y/N. She brightened up in the best way that she could, smiling sweetly at Daisy, who had begun to sleepily nod her head against Roy’s shoulder. Ben held her teddy bear and picture book, pacing around the space she was in as if to check for any other of her belongings. 

“Sorry, guys! I had to run to the bathroom in the back,” Y/N lied, watching the shopkeeper carefully to see if he would rat her out. He rolled his eyes disinterestedly, already making his way to the storefront. Roy easily bought the lie, trusting and easygoing, face dissolving into understanding. She felt rotten about the deception, but she would feel even worse if she robbed her friends of the happy glow around them with the news of the exotic hybrids only feet away. 

Ben straightened up from where he was crouched over by the bed Daisy had been sitting on, face a touch melancholy. 

“Honey, is this all that you brought with you?” Ben asked Daisy, brushing a strand of hair away from her cherubic face. She cracked an eye open, peering at Ben’s outstretched hands holding her teddy bear and book. Nodding twice, she buried her face into Roy’s neck, sleep threatening to pull her under. Ben tutted, a look of adoration on his face. 

“I think she likes you, Roy,” Ben whispered with glee. “Let’s go sign the papers and get her home,” Ben took Roy’s free hand, flashing a brilliant smile towards Y/N, face clear of all stress from earlier. She trailed after the new family, no longer filled with exhaustion from her eventful day, but instead was consumed with cyclical thoughts. 

She felt dazed as she watched Ben smoothly sign his name on the papers, eagerly pushing them towards Roy once he finished, nearly tossing the packet off of the tin desk. The shopkeeper went back to his game on his phone, yawning, as Ben excitedly joined Y/N at the front of the store. 

“Can you believe it? Y/N, what are the chances?” Ben gushed, fingers fumbling along the bookshelf stocked with the hybrid guidebooks. Digits dancing along the spines, he carefully selected one while scratching his close-cut beard thoughtfully. The book was specific to hybrid children. 

“I can’t believe it. I also can’t believe it’s this easy to adopt – I mean, there’s no interview? Or background check?” With this statement, Ben turned to look at her curiously.

“Well, I know that the other shelters have at least one quick interview, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Ben said slowly, sensing something off about Y/N’s countenance. “Besides, look at this place. Sadly, I don’t think Belichick over there is very concerned with who walks out of here with a hybrid. What’s up? Why do you look so upset?” 

Y/N shook her head, spotting a rabbit hybrid booklet and pulling it off the shelf for Ben. Her fingers paused, noticing a thicker book for wolf hybrids a couple of spines over. She snapped out of it, sensing Ben’s probing gaze, and handed him the booklet with a grin. 

“I’m not upset, that martini just made me feel a little sick. I think today has just been a little crazy,” Y/N explained. Ben softened at her response and her offering of the booklet, pulling her into his side tightly. 

“I haven’t thanked you yet for coming along with us today. It means more than you know, having you be here for this,” Ben confessed, squeezing her once. 

“Always,” Y/N replied, tears threatening to fall for the second time that day. He let her go, lifting the books in the air, heading to the register to pay the final fee before they could leave with Daisy. 

“That’ll be $3,000 even – with the tax an’ the books,” The shopkeeper punched numbers into the noisy cash register, cursing as the sport’s broadcaster announced a foul from his phone. Ben handed him his thick black credit card easily, and with the flimsy bag for the books in hand and credit card securely back in his wallet, the four left the dreary shelter without any complications. 

Unlike when Y/N left the clinic earlier in the evening, exiting the shelter and breathing in the nighttime air offered no relief to her current anxiety. Roy was busy ordering a cab for their ride back to their townhouse, carefully shifting the sleeping bunny hybrid on his hip. Ben was busy blathering on about what he should whip up for Daisy’s dinner, or if he should call in some takeout. Y/N tried to steady her breathing, checking her slim wristwatch for the time. It was only 9 PM, but it felt like midnight. She considered leaving her car in the spot seven blocks away in favor of jumping on the Red Line, but wasn’t thrilled about a ticket likely being tucked under her windshield wiper come morning. 

“Guys, I’m gonna get going. My car’s a little ways away, so I should start walking now,” Y/N piped up through Ben’s cooing at sleeping Daisy, both men turning to face her. 

“Do you want me to walk you to your car? I can order another cab for myself after,” Ben offered, ever protective and concerned for her walking alone at night. She shook her head lightly, reaching out to stroke the back of Daisy’s head. She was irresistible and her hair was impossibly soft, and Daisy leaned into the touch even in her sleep. 

“No, no, don’t worry about me. I have a taser and a knife. And my clogs are heavier than they look, for kicking some nuts. You guys should get home as soon as you can, settle her in,” Y/N said slowly, trying her best not to wake the child. Ben looked like he wanted to protest, but was cut off by the pulling up of the cab Roy ordered. Y/N pushed him towards the passenger side door, eager to spend some time thinking on the walk to her car. 

“I’ll call you in the morning to check in, and I’ll even come and stop by tomorrow if you want, and ask my dad to schedule a check-up for Daisy,” Y/N offered, opening the doors for both of them. Roy gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, mouthing a thank you sincerely, carefully maneuvering his way into the backseat. 

“Thank you, Y/N. Text me when you get home,” Ben hugged her once more, folding himself into the passenger seat and closing the door softly. Y/N waved as the cab drove away, waiting until it turned the corner before sparing another glance at the shelter behind her. Brushing a sticky piece of hair from her forehead, humidity pressing down on her, she set off down the street to her car. 

It was close to four in the morning, and Y/N was putting away gin seltzers like it was her new job. Sweat rolled down the back of her neck, the air conditioning units she ordered not to be installed until Monday morning, as she bent on all fours scraping a hideous high-gloss varnish off of the landing on the grand staircase. Sleep evaded her after she arrived home from the shelter, even after a cooling shower and a bite to eat. Instead of tossing and turning in her bed, she decided to get thoroughly drunk, get a chunk of housework done, and pass out watching Ghost Adventures reruns on the couch in the parlor room. 

Wiping sweat from her brow, Y/N leaned back on her knees and let the grip and pull scraper clatter to the floor. She had a metal playlist on, numbing her thoughts, pulsing through her little wireless speaker as she worked. The Tiffany lighting fixtures in the foyer were dim and flickering– they’d have to be replaced soon— making her eyes strain in effort as she fumbled for her drink. Greedily, she gulped down the last few swigs of the botanical liquor from the condensation-coated glass, bobbing her head at the sound of Corey Taylor’s passionate vocals. Metal was one of her favorite genres, the heaviness and noise of it clearing out all intrusive thoughts; and it just sounded so damn good. Feeling too tipsy to continue scraping varnish, she assessed her work. She had gotten half of the staircase stripped, muttering curses about her grandfather’s foolish decision to defile beautiful oak planks with period-inappropriate glossy varnish the whole time she worked. 

Y/N, with the help of her mother and Roy, had made significant progress restoring the mansion for the past two years, but there was still much work to be done. The kitchen and the bedrooms were her first priority, especially when she thought she’d have roommates moving in. Roy had painstakingly gutted and designed a new kitchen for the home, one that would flow well with the old-world charm of the place but with modern comforts. Y/N had fond memories of tossing Budweisers back and forth to him last spring as they peeled lemon yellow wallpaper down from the crumbling 50’s style kitchen. 

The bedrooms weren’t too difficult to restore; some had water damaged ceilings, others had horrifying The Conjuring-esque wallpaper, and a couple were stuffed to the windows with old junk her grandmother collected at antique shops around New England. Grandmother’s antique collection was good for one thing— free furnishings for the home. Her mother even helped her crack open the basement door, leading to a pretty grim, unfinished and wasted space, totally transforming it into another whole bedroom and rec room for art projects or exercising. 

Y/N’s paycheck pretty much went entirely into the home, an amount set aside for food and essentials, but every penny she put into making the home beautiful again was worth it. The bedrooms were stately and comfortable, the kitchen spacious with marble floors and sleek appliances, and most of the unused items her grandmother had held onto that were broken or just plain ugly had been donated. She still had her work cut out for her with the rest of the home and the grounds, but all of the work she had accomplished had turned out beautifully. 

Wobbly, she stood, grasping the railing of the staircase gingerly (considering if she applied pressure, the whole thing might clatter to the floor), empty glass in her free hand and speaker tucked under an armpit. A Deftones song began to play, making her giggle in delight, descending the steps slowly to avoid scuffing her hours of work. It was a challenge, considering the low lighting. 

Traipsing through the hallway past the parlor and dining room, she reached the kitchen, lit up beautifully with brand-new stained glass fixtures. Roy’s work took her breath away every time she enjoyed a cup of coffee in the refurbished breakfast nook, and even tipsy she had to pause and admire the space. Setting the speaker down on the island, Y/N yanked the fridge open for more seltzer and gin, swaying her body to the gnashing guitar. She swore that this would be her last drink, collapsing heavily on a barstool at the island, mixing her drink sloppily and taking a hearty gulp. Cutting through the music, the grandfather clock in the hallway clanged noisily, scaring the wits out of her. Suddenly, she was aware how alone she was on a Friday night, drinking at four in the morning and tip-toeing around the house like there was a ghost about to pop out of the dining room.

Glancing around, she began to feel unease, noticing all of the space around her and how empty it truly was. It was a shame, really, that a large family wasn’t taking up the ample space, but she had always planned on either having one herself or substituting family for roommates. At times, when she was by herself in the home, she felt lonelier and more on edge than ever. It’s not that she was exactly afraid of ghosts, but it was an old home and she had watched many horror movies that involved a single woman in a creepy house.

Staring deeply into her glass, her mind went to the place she prayed it wouldn’t – to the seven hybrids left at the shelter. A sharp pang of sadness shot through her like a bolt of lightning, the glass loosening in her grip as she straightened up in her seat, music suddenly making her head pound uncomfortably. Slapping the off button on the speaker aggressively, she groaned loudly, the sound echoing throughout the hollow halls of the house. Fisting her hands through her hair, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. 

Come morning, when she would peel herself out of bed and cradle an AlkaSeltzer to her chest in the bathtub, those seven hybrids would likely be loaded into some kind of horse trailer to their imminent doom. Chased, hunted, humiliated and killed, all for sick enjoyment. She felt booze crawl up her throat, foolishly washing it down with another sip of the same poison. Perhaps a few of them would get away, but perhaps not. And the ones who didn’t, maybe the injured jaguar or the malnourished leopard, what would become of them after their deaths? Would they be left in the woods, would they be stripped of their coats? Blood rushed to her face, heating up her entire body with the beginnings of a panic attack. 

“Fuck! What the hell is wrong with me?” Y/N exclaimed, standing suddenly. She began to pace around the kitchen, calming herself in the best way she could for her panic. The thought of the hybrids dying became unbearable, even if she hadn’t even seen the other three that were tucked in the corners of that dark back room. Practically tearing her hair out, she stared out the glass door to the backyard patio, full moon illuminating the foliage. Without thinking, she tossed on her light denim jacket she’d left hanging on an old hatstand, and hurried out into the backyard. 

Crickets chirped as she sucked a deep breath in of cool nighttime air, collapsing on one of the lounge chairs near the door. Counting her breaths as she focused on the hazy stars in the sky, gentle wind rustled the willows beyond the pavingstones of the patio. Familiarly, her fingers dove into the pocket of her jacket, finding the lighter and carton of menthols her cousin had smuggled to her from Rhode Island. It wasn’t a healthy habit, but Y/N had carried on the drunk distress cigarette tradition she had picked up with her friends in college whenever she felt the urge. It was a small rebellion. 

Flicking the lighter, cigarette balanced between her lips, she took a cathartic drag, closing her eyes as she exhaled. She felt a calming, minty sensation blanket her immediately, the sounds of nature refocusing her thoughts. Smoke curled and danced in the air, and she tried to make out shapes in the forms. Humming, she craned her neck backwards, taking in the imposing height of her house, and froze with the cigarette dangerously hanging from her mouth.

The mansion had 10 bedrooms. It had a small guesthouse that needed some work, a library room, numerous nooks and plenty of bathrooms. Vast grounds with trails, gardens, and water. A kitchen for a family on TLC reality show, multiple lounge rooms, two towers, even. Y/N had plenty of space, plenty of loneliness, and money.

An idea so crazy enough for her to flinch to a stand, knocking the cushion off of the lounge chair, struck her like a freight train. She could adopt all seven of the hybrids. Laughing, a sound that was akin to Gollum from the absurdity of the thought, she stuck the cigarette into the ancient outdoor ashtray. If she was a touch more sober and sane, she’d take a couple Benadryl and sleep her fantastical thoughts away. 

Marching out to the yard, she took a better look at the house in the moonlight. Only her bedroom, the kitchen, and the foyer she was working in less than a half hour ago was illuminated. Y/N imagined the whole house lit merrily, string lights on the patio twinkling with use and the picnic tables set for a beautiful summer cookout. The image in her mind almost tore a sob through her chest, because that was what the house was always for; for family and celebration of life. 

Ben had always teased Y/N for lacking the logical mind of someone who was a medical professional. Y/N had always chalked it up to her hippie mother and her fantastical side of the family, straight out of Practical Magic. If Ben was there at that moment, he probably would have forced her into the shower with her clothes on to sober up. 

Sober or not, Y/N figured that she would have dreamed up this solution in a cold-sweat that night in bed. As soon as she had the thought of having people to come home to, the house warm with life, her mind was made up. Besides, she couldn’t let them suffer so terribly at the hands of some hedge fund manager’s trigger happy son, it went against her very oath she swore to help creatures of any kind. Hurriedly, she made her way back into the house, switching on her coffee maker, and made a beeline for her bathroom to freshen up.

Y/N was still chuckling to herself, bumbling down the hallway to the master bedroom in a gleeful manner. She’d already come up with a plan to undermine the Manhattan man’s plans to take the hybrids away, and it was so delicious, she could hardly believe she came up with it four gin seltzers in. 

Her bathroom was still outfitted with fixtures from her grandparent’s heyday, the bathtub, toilet, and sink all an off-putting swamp green, but even that couldn’t dampen her spirits. Scrubbing her teeth violently, she used her other hand to shimmy out of her “restoration sweatpants”, nearly toppling over in the effort. After splashing cold water on her face and spritzing some body spray from her head to toe, Y/N raced into her bedroom, rummaging through her dresser for a pair of linen pants and a clean tee shirt, throwing everything on and checking the time on her illuminated alarm clock. It was now almost five, and she would need to leave as quickly as possible to get to the shelter as soon as it opened. 

She guessed that dealing in cash would be more tempting to the greedy shopkeeper, and she was prepared to hand over a significant sum. Her grandfather kept a three-foot tall safe in the master closet for his coin collection, and it was there that Y/N kept cash for everything from buying period appropriate curtains at some Jamaica Plain estate sale to unlikely hostage situations. Turning the lock combo with urgency, she cracked the safe open, grabbing a stack of bills from the top shelf, and slammed it shut. She tucked the band of bills into her tote bag, dangling from the post of her bed, and left the bedroom swiftly. 

Returning to the kitchen, Y/N filled the largest to-go coffee cup she had with the piping hot coffee she had brewed, burning her throat by finishing what was left in the carafe. Thankfully, the drinks she had consumed were spaced out enough so she wasn’t drunk, just tipsy, something she could get rid of quickly with the coffee and adrenaline she had running through her veins. Besides, she had about two hours to completely sober up and find her way to the shelter. She pulled up the app to order a cab to the shelter, not irresponsible enough to drive in her condition, and turned off all the lights in the kitchen on her way out. 

Stepping out the front door, Y/N locked the heavy deadbolt and ran down the steps of the porch, latching the gate at the front of the property when she reached it. The sky was still dark, but a little greyer with the slowly rising sun, and the mansion looked dreary and deserted. Smiling wistfully, she supposed this would be the last time she would see it look so sad. 

Y/N waited on the curb for her cab, sucking down scalding coffee with her tote bag on her lap. She felt like she was carrying a Fabergé egg, the stack of $100’s laying heavily in her lap through the canvas bag. A little voice in her head told her she was absolutely nuts for what she was about to go through with, but she ignored it entirely. 

What she had wanted all along was to have some kinship; especially with her friend’s lives going off in different directions. She knew that Ben and Roy would always be with her, but with the adoption of Daisy, they would have their hands full settling her in and raising her as a family. Laura was busy with her own young family, and Alice had her cat and full-time job at the newspaper. Everyone seemed to have something they could go home to, and Y/N wanted that, too. Additionally, without her job, she had ample time to care for the hybrids, to fill the hours with friendship rather than longing. She was not oblivious to the challenges that would come with the adoptions, considering the shopkeeper had mentioned the hybrids weren’t exactly friendly, but Y/N was prepared to handle all of the hiccups in order to give them a safe home. 

The cab she ordered rolled down her sleepy street, headlights cutting through the oppressive humidity. Jumping up from her perch on the curb, she jogged to the passenger’s side and crawled into the car. Buckling in as the young man pulled away from the end of her driveway, she took another swig of her coffee and felt the remaining alcohol haze slip from her body like a spirit. Y/N’s heart was racing, the whirlwind of events and lack of sleep making her feel like a floating head. Even so, she knew that her mind was made up, despite the fact that she hadn’t even met the hybrids yet. Thankfully, the young man driving her to the shelter only exchanged a “good morning” with her before following his navigation into the city, leaving her to eagerly go over her “plan”.

The cab dropped Y/N off right in front of the shelter, which was to open any moment. She bounced on her heels, scanning the sidewalks for anyone dressed in a suit or hunting gear waiting nearby. The shopkeeper hadn’t mentioned what time exactly the Manhattan man was to pick up the hybrids, however, Y/N wanted to beat him to the punch as soon as the shop opened. Sneaking a peek into the window, she noticed the same man from the night before counting the register serenely. Before she could stop herself, she began to knock on the glass, making the man jump a foot into the air in surprise. Registering Y/N’s face with great surprise (and annoyance), he ambled to the door and turned the lock. 

“Now, why’re you here? Tell your buddies I don’t do refunds,” he threatened, looking Y/N up and down. She imagined her appearance, purplish dark circles from her all-nighter, holey Black Sabbath tee, and hair wild with frizz. Likely, she looked like an undergrad student the night before a final exam. Y/N pulled the door open determinedly. 

“I want to adopt those hybrids in that back room,” Y/N blurted out, the shopkeeper’s mouth hanging open in shock. 

“What? Lady, are you insane?” The man sputtered, hobbling after Y/N as she marched to the door leading to the back. 

“All seven of them. I’m prepared to adopt them all, now,” Y/N confirmed, arms crossed as she waited for him to unlock the back door. The man looked angered, hands on hips. 

“So, you are nuts. Didn’ I tell you I got that guy from Manhattan picking them up today? He’ll be here in an hour or so,” The man made no motion to open the door, leaning against the register and wiping limp gray hair from his eyes. 

Frustrated that she was not being taken seriously, Y/N reached into her bag, slamming the band of bills on the counter. The shopkeeper swore colorfully, flinching away from the large stack before grasping for it. 

“That’s $70,000, count it. I’d like to adopt those hybrids. All of them,” Y/N enunciated. Her plan had unfolded; making a counter offer to the Manhattan man, way too tempting to refuse. 

“Holy shit. I don’t care if you’re crazy, lady, you’ve got ‘em,” the man wheezed, already leafing through the stack of money greedily. “Never liked pricks from New York anyways,” he mumbled, a greasy smile spreading across his face. 

Tucking the bills in his back pocket, Y/N stepped aside impatiently as he unlocked the back door and led her to the slim hallway. The room was unchanged from just a few hours ago, the scent of Clorox even stronger. She was relieved that the shopkeeper had taken the money – there was no backing out now, and there was no chance of the hybrids being shipped away to their doom. 

“So, how do you wanna do this?” The shopkeeper asked, the two of them standing before the metal door to the hybrids. Freezing, Y/N stood still like a statue; she hadn’t thought that far. How would she get the hybrids home without a bus of some kind? What if they didn’t want to come with her, or didn’t like her? She didn’t even know their names, ages, or gender. Feeling a little silly, she hoped that her generous payment for the hybrids would butter up the shopkeeper enough to help her out with logistics.

Normally, people prepare for an adoption of a hybrid; including reading up on their habits and behaviors, buying a suitable wardrobe, and making sure the pantry is filled with foods for them to enjoy. Y/N had gone off half-cocked, and all she could offer the hybrids was shelter and their pick of a bedroom, for now. Their personalities might clash, they might reject her completely, and it would be hard for the hybrids to trust her right off the cuff. Not to mention, the hybrids were completely shifted to their animal form, and it was unlikely they even had a single set of clothes with them. Unlike Daisy, Y/N didn’t think they’d have books or pretty sandals that they’d be ready to walk out the door with. The thought formed a pit in her stomach, but she couldn’t be too upset with herself. The opportunity came as quickly as a summer storm, and she would not have been able to prepare for seven whole individuals in seven days — let alone in 12 hours.

“I suppose I should meet them first,” Y/N offered, wringing her hands. The light was off in the room, so she wasn’t able to see through the window on the door. “As for transportation, I’m not quite sure…” she trailed off, trying her best to look in need of assistance.

“You’ll probably have to make a couple of trips. Some of ‘em don’t get along, so start with the ones that don’t gnash their teeth at you. I got a buddy with a van I can give a call,” perfectly pleasant now, the man even gave her a toothy smile, using his comically large key ring to unlatch the deadbolt of the door. “My name’s Gerry, by the way.”

Putting a hand up to stop Gerry for a moment, she looked at him sternly. 

“Why is the jaguar injured?” She demanded, giving his bandaged wound a pointed look. Gerry followed her gaze, scoffing. 

“That wasn’t me, swear. Damaged goods aren’t good for business. He was dumped ‘ere that way,” Gerry replied, pushing on the door. Y/N was appalled, about to ask for more information, but Gerry had already begun to push the door open.

 The door gave a deafening groan, which was followed by a series of feline hisses and deep grunts of an animal Y/N couldn’t place. Squaring her shoulders, Y/N followed Gerry into the room, his fingers fumbling for the lightswitch and flooding the room with fluorescence. Her eyes adjusted for a split second, blinking rapidly as they darted around the room.

The hybrids were still shifted. She caught sight of the jaguar, first, side still injured and lying in the same position he was when Y/N spotted him the night before. The coyote was curled up on its cot, blearily eyeing her and the shopkeeper, and the underweight leopard in the cell next to it was sitting closely to the bars separating them all, staring right at Y/N. 

Standing a bit taller, she turned to get a look at the left hand corner cell she couldn’t see, trying not to look intimidated by the sight of a very large elk. The elk grunted loudly with the eye contact they made, the sound she could not place moments ago identified. Nodding thoughtfully, Y/N swallowed, stepping closer to the right side of the room, where she curiously sought out the remaining three hybrids – the two unidentified, and the wolf.

Her eyes registered the vibrant orange coat of a red fox, head inquisitively cocked at the sudden intrusion of the room. It jumped down from its cot, sticking its twitching nose through the metal bars. She had always loved foxes, and practically squealed upon seeing the perceived friendly action. Gerry backed up slightly, once blocking the furthermost cell on the right, pale in the face. 

“That one… you might need a bus, if he doesn’t shift,” he said weakly, inching towards the hallway. Y/N tore her eyes away from the fox to see what he was referring to, and gasped softly. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed, coming face-to-face with the largest bear she had ever seen in person. He must have been at least 10 feet tall if he was standing on his hind legs, and would make even the most experienced animal caretaker wary. Recovering quickly, she wondered what kind of bear he was, far too big to be a grizzly, and was embarrassed that she didn’t know right away. 

“So, they’re all yours. I’ll get them papers ready and call Murphy about the van. We’ll work out who’s going with you and when I come back with the goods. Clipboard with information is on the wall next to the bear,” the Gerry called, already inching out to the hallway. He looked anxious to get the hell out of dodge, to the recesses of the office. Stunned, she watched him leave, various sounds of confused animals making her feel overwhelmed all at once. Y/N closed her eyes briefly, composing herself as best she could, before turning to the center of the room. Feeling eyes boring into her skull, she looked for the source, but somehow knew who it was already. 

The wolf, standing in a defensive position, eyed Y/N with an intensity that made her feel like her skin would melt off. It made her want to shiver, but she knew that she had to maintain a cool head in order to establish a trusting relationship with the hybrids. Not exactly sure what to do, especially because all of the hybrids were shifted, she cleared her throat, wincing at the sound cutting through the room. 

“Uh, hello. I’m Y/N,” she began, her voice a tad scratchy from her hot coffee earlier. “This is probably pretty strange to you all, considering we haven’t met before. I was here last night? My friends adopted a child here, and I happened to take a peek through the window.”

Scanning the room, most of the animals were watching her carefully. The jaguar was still on his side, but his ear was flickering, so she knew that he was listening. She continued, slowly reaching for the clipboard as if not to startle the bear that was crammed into his tiny cell. 

Not noticing before, Y/N realized there was a little bathroom by the elk’s cell; she thought that the hybrids could shift and change before they left together. It would be much easier to get back to the house if they were in their human forms, as well as more comfortable, considering the size of each hybrid. They weren’t house cat hybrids– most of them were apex predators. 

“Well, Gerry told me last night that there was a man coming in from Manhattan to adopt you all,” pausing when she heard a loud rumble coming from the bear. She figured the hybrids were clued in with their fate, acute hearing most likely picking up most happenings at the shelter. “And I guess I just… Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. All night. One thing led to another and I found myself coming back here, so I want to apologize for lack of preparation on my part,” Y/N scratched the back of her head sheepishly, realizing she was rambling. Deciding to cut to the chase, she bit the bullet.

“I… I’m adopting you, all of you. Instead of the Manhattan man,” she announced, clutching the clipboard to her chest. A symphony of growls and noises of surprise filled the room, however, Y/N was not to be discouraged. The deed was done. 

“I just left my job last night. I was an exotics veterinarian, I worked on the other side of Boston. My home has plenty of space, so I have been looking for others to live with anyway. And, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me yet, but I promise I just want to give you all a home to be comfortable in,” Y/N summed up her best elevator pitch of herself and her plans.

The coyote had jumped down from its cot, getting closer to Y/N as it could behind the bars, its yellow eyes assessing her very closely. She heard low growls coming from the wolf. Perhaps it would take a few days of convincing to get him in particular to the manor. Her first priority was hopefully bringing the jaguar with her at the very least, so she could treat his injuries and prevent further harm and infection.

It came as no surprise that the hybrids were wary of her, considering the place they had landed in. There was no way for her to tell what kinds of tribulations they had all gone through. Every day, there were articles about some of the disgusting things that happened to stray hybrids; they were forced into unpaid labor, adopted by sexually abusive owners, bought to be hunted. Just as she had no knowledge of them, they had little to go off of her own character by the state of the world.

There was a folding chair against the wall near the door, so Y/N dragged it to the center of the room slowly, the sensation of being inspected from all angles making heat rise to her cheeks. Lowering herself onto the chair, she smoothed down the first page of the clipboard. 

“Okay…” she mumbled to herself, scanning the page. The sheet had pertinent data relating to species, heights, measurements and weights of both animal and human forms, as well as age, gender, and name. The first sheet was the leopard’s. 

“I want to get you all out of this place as quickly as I can, but I’ll keep coming back until you’re comfortable enough to leave with me… so, you’re Yoongi? 28, male,” Y/N tilted her head towards him, what sounded like a rumble of acknowledgement came from the hybrid. She flipped through the other 6 pages slowly. So they’re all male, Y/N thought, understanding why some of them didn’t get along. Finding the page she was looking for, the jaguar named Seokjin, she studied his stats. Y/N wasn’t leaving the shelter that morning without him. 

“Seokjin,” Y/N murmured, memorizing his measurements so she could buy at least one set of the decrepit clothes up front for him to change into when he shifted. Eyes flickering upwards, she noticed Seokjin had turned his head at the sound of his name, still laying on his side but finally looking at her. He was beautiful, but had an expression of sadness about him. 

“So, I was thinking, since you’re injured, it’s probably best if you come with me today. I can treat your injury, I have all of the supplies at home to mend that wound in a flash,” Y/N speculated, maintaining eye contact with Seokjin. The hybrid wheezed, which was better than growling at her, so she took it as either resignation or feeble consent. Maybe it was resignation, or the hybrid was in so much pain he couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“Hmm… so, I get the feeling that a few of you will need some time before you come with me, but I’d love to take a couple more of you with me today, yeah? Don’t worry – I’m signing the adoption papers for everyone today, so nobody else will come and take you God knows where. Anyone willing to take the leap and get out of here?” 

Y/N was met with silence, which made her want to crawl into a hole. Not ready to give up yet, she stood, making a slow circle around the room. She avoided the wolf, who was still regarding her with hostility, as well as the bear and elk that backed away from her as soon as she approached. She would not try to engage with the hybrids that wanted nothing to do with her yet, it would be counterproductive in earning their trust. Yoongi had slunk back to his cot as she passed by his space, disinterested. Y/N bit back a chuckle, sensing he would be a bit of a character when she got to know him. Not today, then. 

Circling back to the fox, who was still poking his face through the bars, Y/N grinned. 

“You don’t seem to hate me, huh?” Y/N wondered aloud, consulting the clipboard for his name. “Hoseok! How ‘bout it?” 

The fox blinked, pawing the ground. She registered the reaction as a green light to consider him one of the ones leaving with her today, making her feel utterly elated. 

“Alright! Any other takers for today?” Y/N inquired, starting to feel mirthful. A pitiful whine came from across the room from the coyote. She remembered his name from the sheet already, he was Jimin. 

“Jimin, right?” Y/N crossed the room at a glacial pace, smiling at the quivering hybrid so as not to frighten him further. He looked like he’d rather travel to Mordor than spend one more second in that shelter, so she made a mental note to bring him along that day as well. “Well, three out of seven for today is more than I was expecting, so that makes me happy,” Y/N breathed, a smile stretching across her face. Jimin’s ear fluttered, sitting shakily on his haunches in expectation. 

“Alrighty, I’ve got all of the certificates, ‘ere. Just need your signatures. Murphy’s on his way,” Gerry bustled into the room, holding a stack of paper and a fountain pen. Again, he made sure he stayed far from the cells, not sparing a single glance to the hybrids. Y/N felt acute dislike for the man, but needed to remain cordial so he would allow her to return for a couple days for the others. 

Walking away from Jimin, Y/N reached for the papers, adding them to the clipboard. Gerry watched her with mild interest as she sorted through the certificates, uncapping the pen. Aware of the hybrid’s stares more than ever, she signed her name carefully seven times, officially sealing the deal. The hybrids were safe, and she could breathe a little easier.

“I’d like to get some clothes from up front for them, for the ride back,” Y/N handed the pen back to Gerry, tucking the clipboard close to her side. Gerry nodded, scuttling out of the room, beckoning to follow. 

“I’ll be right back!” Y/N assured the seven pairs of eyes on her. 

Back at the front of the shop, she studied the measurements of the men, deciding to just pick up a set for all of them. She would take them all shopping for things of their own style when they settled in later that week, the thought of enjoying a day at the outdoor mall with seven new companions filling her with anticipation. 

The clothes were just as plain and dated as they were the previous night, and there was not much to pick from, but thankfully all of the sizes she needed were available. She selected various tee shirts in colors of cream, gray, and olive, as well as seven pairs of thin black sweatpants. Adding a pack of socks and underwear to her armful of apparel, she hummed, lamenting the quality. In little cubbies, there were even shoes that she could buy, so she had Gerry haul seven pairs to the front of the store. 

“Murphy’ll be here in ten minutes. He’s over in Chinatown. How many you takin’ today?” Gerry asked her, hanging up the phone he had been shouting on while Y/N was choosing clothes. 

“Three. I’ll be back tomorrow for the others. I might have to impose on Monday, as well,” Y/N explained, heading back to the hybrids. Gerry waved in acknowledgement, whistling and loading the boxes of shoes on a dolly to cart behind her.

Reentering the room with the stack of clothes, Y/N grunted as she piled everything on the folding chair. Seokjin had managed to roll over, head weakly lifted as he watched Y/N rip the pack of socks and underwear open. She squealed as the socks burst out of the plastic bag, catching her off guard, quickly apologizing as a startled growl came from the wolf on her right. He was definitely going to be a tough nut to crack. 

Divvying up the clothes according to who they were for, she neatly folded them into piles as quickly as she could, depositing each pile in front of the hybrid they were intended for, easily accessible through the wide iron bars. Gerry had wheeled the shoes to the mouth of the room, his key to the cell doors on the top box as per her request, but went no further inside the room himself. Y/N could still hear him whistling at the front of the store, to the tune of Money, Money, Money by ABBA. Muttering about his inconsideracy, Y/N placed the shoeboxes in front of their new owners as well. 

“So! I’m sorry you weren’t able to pick these yourselves, but we can go out next week or whenever you’d like to pick out clothes that are your taste. We could even order some clothes online if you’d prefer,” Y/N apologized, arms coming out to hug her midsection. She was starting to feel the fatigue of staying up for longer than 24 hours, and was running purely off of fumes at this point. 

“Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin, the ride home should be here any minute. I’ll wait for you up front, and let you change,” Y/N urged gently, sensing the eagerness to leave in both Jimin and Hoseok. She felt the need to say more to the other hybrids, a bit crushed that she’d have to leave them for some time.

“The rest of you guys, I’ll be back first thing in the morning like today. I’d love it if you’d all come with me tomorrow, but we’ll talk about it then,” she turned to the elk, Jeongguk, the clipboard informed her, and admired his beautiful antlers with a wistful smile. Keys in hand, she slowly approached Jimin’s cell, unlocking the door but keeping it closed, before doing the same to Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s. A large part of her wanted to unlock all of the doors, but she didn’t want to risk an altercation between the remaining hybrids when she left for home.

With that, she gave a little wave, and retreated back to the storefront. Her heart began to race, wondering what the hybrids looked like when they shifted, how their voices sounded, and what their personalities were like. She couldn’t wait to actually hold a two-sided conversation with them, feeling like she was talking to herself for the past half hour, and paced back and forth in front of the window as she waited for Murphy’s van to pull up. 

Tempted to add some guidebooks to her list of purchases, Y/N thought the better of it as she noticed the outdated materials. Her mother would be able to find what she was looking for at the library, that is, when Y/N told her about the hybrids. Blood draining from her face, she realized that nobody in her life even knew what she had just done. Grinding her teeth, a part of her basked in the feeling of having a secret just to herself, for now, even if it wouldn’t be for long. She wouldn’t even be able to put Ben off come evening. 

Deciding to cross that bridge when she got to it, she jumped a foot in the air as a car noisily honked outside. Checking the window, a rusted mint green VW Microbus was double parked in front of the shelter. A sandy haired older gentleman was waving at her, mouthing her name and pointing to the backseat. Frantically, she ran out the door, approaching the vehicle. 

“You’re Y/N?” The man confirmed, scanning her face expectantly.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for coming out like this,” Y/N leaned into the passenger window. “I’ve written my address down for the GPS, I’ll come back out with the others,” handing him a scrap of paper that came from the sock package, she tripped her way back into the building, bewildered. She almost fell over as she collided with another body, hands reaching out to steady her by her biceps. 

“Whoa, there,” an unfamiliar voice exclaimed, immediately releasing her upon her recovery of footing. Looking up, Y/N felt her cheeks flame as she registered the man’s face. 

The first thing she noticed were a pair of clever mocha colored eyes, widened in surprise. Second, of course, where the red fox ears were crowning glossy strands of mahogany hair, ears turned back flat against his head. His golden skin contrasted unfairly well with the olive tee shirt he had donned, and all at once Y/N felt overwhelmed and embarrassed. 

“Hoseok?” She breathed, face on fire. Of course he had to be good looking. Backing up a foot, resisting the urge to fan herself, she watched as a cheeky grin appeared on Hoseok’s face. Starting to say something, he was swiftly cut off by the sound of a dragging foot behind him, stepping to the side in alarm. Trying to shake off her astoundment, she pulled her eyebrows together, peering around Hoseok’s frame for the source of the sound. 

The two other hybrids inched towards the front door, the taller’s arm slung around the other’s shoulders for support. Gasping, Y/N moved forward to help, noticing blood seeping through the cream colored shirt Seokjin had put on. 

“Oh, Jesus, can I please help you out?” Y/N hesitated reaching out, not wanting to touch someone without permission. Seokjin’s head of wavy raven hair was bobbing, skin an ashen color, and she forgot all about her previous state of fluster. It must have taken a lot of effort for him to shift and change, his energy waned to nothing.

“I don’t think he can hear you, entirely, Miss,” a rugged voice piped up: Jimin. Balking at the title, Y/N glanced at him with concern. Overgrown blonde hair covered his eyes, a concentrated grimace across his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ve got him,” Jimin assured her, his hand firmly gripping Seokjin’s wrist over his shoulder. 

“O-Okay–” 

“I’ll help you get him in the back, let’s go,” Hoseok cut her off urgently. Leaping out of the way, Y/N suddenly felt out of place as she watched Jimin drag Seokjin out of the shelter, Hoseok jogging out first and pulling the van door open. She didn’t miss the way Jimin tipped his head back, filling his lungs with fresh morning air, and Hoseok’s stiffened posture loosening up the moment his feet touched the sidewalk outside of the shelter.

“Gerry, I’ll be back in the morning. First thing!” Y/N yelled into the recesses of the shop, not caring if he replied or not. 

Out on the sidewalk, she bit at her nails nervously as she watched Jimin shift to get a good hold on Seokjin’s shoulders, Hoseok grasping his ankles and hoisting him up. Seokjin groaned loudly, head rolling back, his sweaty face screwed up in pain. Y/N felt her heart break, the same way it did whenever she saw agony written all over someone’s face, and vowed to find whoever did this to him and slap them with Ben’s most aggressive lawsuit, or maybe claw their eyes out. 

Hoseok bared his teeth as he hauled Seokjin’s lower body into the van gingerly. Waiting for Jimin to lift the rest of him into the van, Hoseok sat in the back seat with Seokjin’s legs dangling over his lap. Jimin had to maneuver Seokjin’s chest and head so it was propped up on his thighs, all three of them cramped in the back, breathing laboriously. 

“Aw, hell, is that blood?” Murphy exclaimed, twisting his body to eye Seokjin’s bloodied shirt. 

“I’ll pay for any damages, can you just take the fastest route?” Y/N shot back as she slammed the passenger door, buckling up. Murphy sputtered, looking at her like she had two heads, but obeyed by throwing the van in drive and shoving AirPods in his ears. Adjusting herself so she could face the backseat, she scanned Seokjin’s face, his eyes closed and breathing shallow. His face was positively angelic, however, marred by the shadow of pain, and he was definitely feverish judging by the sweat dripping from his hairline.   

“So… where do you live?” Hoseok asked, his cadence a bit awkward as he tried to sit as close to the edge of the seat as possible. Y/N cleared her throat, tearing her attention from Seokjin’s face, returning Hoseok’s gaze. 

“Outside of the city, in a wooded area by a lake. I live in my grandparent’s old house,” Y/N answered, squeezing her fists as she prayed Murphy’s driving was as fast as her’s. Hoseok half-smiled thoughtfully, looking out the window curiously as buildings rolled by. Sunlight caught gold flecks in his irises and the rich red of his hair. 

As conversation halted there, Y/N started to plan out the mid-morning: she would have to roll out her grandfather’s old wheelchair for Seokjin, find the best place to treat him, show the other two around the house, and hopefully sneak in a nap somewhere along the way. Later that night, she wanted to order a few more sets of basic clothing for the hybrids until they could make it to the stores – after all, she didn’t know when the wolf hybrid would want to even be in the same room as her. She’d probably have to order some groceries, as well, there weren’t enough items in her fridge and pantry to feed everybody. Pulling out her phone, she kept track of all of the loose ends to tie up that night, ignoring missed texts from Ben crowding her lockscreen. She’d have to call him later, as well, and she wasn’t looking forward to it, luckily he was probably preoccupied with Daisy. 

“Miss? You said you’re a veterinarian?” Jimin piped up after a stretch of time, brushing his hair off of his face. His eyes were a shocking shade of yellow, round and clear as a spring morning. Swallowing hard, Y/N nodded.

“I am. I worked with exotic animals, like parrots, lizards… I even treated a giraffe at one point. Though, hybrids, I have not treated before…” Y/N trailed off, unnerved by Jimin’s intense eye contact. He seemed significantly less jittery now that he was shifted into his human form, which was relieving. “But, I know that I’ll be able to help Seokjin, for sure– and my father can come by, as well. He specializes in hybrid cardiology.”

Jimin’s sandy colored ears pricked up in interest, with this, his shoulders relaxing an inch. Interestingly, the three hybrids had no animosity between them, seemingly, as Seokjin was passed out, and Y/N wondered which ones didn’t like each other. She wondered if Laura, the master of conflict resolution in her friend group, could swing by in the future and give her some tips. 

“Hybrid cardiology?” Hoseok repeated, an eyebrow raised. Nodding enthusiastically, Y/N cringed as Murphy took a sharp turn off of the highway towards her town. 

“He went to school for cardiology, because my grandfather on his side passed away from congestive heart failure quite young. He eventually became part of a group study that practiced surgical procedures for hybrids when my mother was pregnant with me, for some additional experience. My mother told me that he enjoyed working with hybrids so much, and that the field had so much improvement to make, my father focused his studies on hybrid cardiology from then on. Up until a year ago he had a practice in Boston, now he’s semi-retired— he can still access his office and do examinations,” Y/N explained. Her father had helped trailblaze heart surgical procedures for hybrids, and would love the news of Y/N’s spur-of-the-moment adoptions. Another phone call to add to the list.  

Hoseok and Jimin listened to her carefully, and while she was grateful they seemed to express at least a little interest in her life, she was absolutely dying to know more about them. Sadly, she knew that it would take a lot of time to get close enough to ask personal questions, and knew better than to pry right off the bat. While they didn’t say more than a few words compared to her ramblings, it felt nice to have someone listen.  

“I’ll have to go back to the shelter tomorrow to pick up the others, as I’m sure you heard, but you’re welcome to come with me into the city again then! Maybe we can stop at a drugstore on the way back so we can pick up toiletries and snacks,” Y/N offered hopefully. Jimin opened his mouth and closed it, eyes flicking downward as if he was conflicted. She began to backtrack when she remembered how anxious he seemed at the shelter, internally scolding herself.

“Sure, I’ll come with you,” Hoseok replied quickly, flashing a lovely smile. Overjoyed, Y/N returned the grin, admiring just how pretty his smile was – after all, it was the first time she saw it in its entirety. 

“Jimin,” Y/N continued, not wanting to put him in a tight spot, “If you’d like, you can write me a list and I can pick up whatever you need. It’s a good idea to have someone stay with Seokjin while he comes down from his fever, and you can settle in.”

Biting down on his thick lower lip, Jimin looked both alleviated and a touch guilty, a peach blush dusting his cheeks. 

“If that’s alright, Miss, I’ll watch over Seokjin for you,” Jimin answered, hand reaching up to tug at something on his head that wasn’t there, as if he had an imaginary hat on. The action was odd, Jimin slightly frowning as he realized his fingers grasped air. Pretending not to notice, Y/N turned the right way in her seat as the familiar library building passed by, her mother’s car parked out front; they were almost home. 

“Oh! We’ll be there soon!” Y/N exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. She stole a glance at Seokjin, who was fast asleep, oblivious to the chatter between the rest of them. Hoseok was locked in on the scenery of the town, small shops she grew up around zooming by, beautiful August flowers studding the storefronts. The fall festivals would be coming up in less than a month, and bringing the hybrids to the events would be a blast. Thinking of the hayrides, harvest stands, and apple picking filled her mind, now that she finally had time to attend the festivals. 

Murphy pulled out an earbud, snapping gum between his teeth. 

“Next street over?” He yelled, earning a gravelly moan from Seokjin. Y/N had the feeling Murphy was a bit hard of hearing. 

“Yes, yes,” Y/N waved, directing him where to park. She’d have to unlatch the gate and blast into the house for the wheelchair.

Murphy crawled to the end of the street, Y/N tapped her foot, watching her neighbor’s old Victorians pass by. The hybrids in the back seat were quiet, the only sound in the van coming from the GPS. Finally pulling up in front of Y/N’s house, the last one on the dead end street, she breathed a sigh of relief, unfastening her seatbelt. 

“This is it!” Y/N announced nervously. She hoped that they would like the house, that it wouldn’t be too old and scary looking to them. If the hybrids held any opinions on the exterior, they kept them to themselves, ears alert as they both leaned towards the window to take a look. Admittedly, the view of the house was pretty obstructed by the large willows planted in the front yard, but the shapes of the roof peaked over enough to get a glimpse. Debriefing Hoseok and Jimin on her plan to retrieve the wheelchair, she had them wait in the van while she ran into the house.

Jimin and Hoseok maneuvered Seokjin as gently as they could into the leather wheelchair. Murphy honked his way down the street as he left, and thankfully none of Seokjin’s blood seeped into the seats of the van. Y/N insisted on pushing the wheelchair despite Jimin’s protests, Seokjin still fever dreaming and mumbling incoherently. She had to take the hybrids in the side door where the wooden ramp fashioned for her grandfather’s wheelchair led into the kitchen. 

“This place is huge,” Hoseok observed, getting a better look at the building once in the backyard. Looking back at the two hybrids trailing behind her, Y/N noticed Hoseok’s mouth hanging ajar, eyes roaming over the windows and steep eaves of the roof. The house was pretty imposing, painted dark shades of maroon and gray, but it was light and airy inside, something she knew the hybrids would love. 

“Yeah, it is. I used to get lost in some of the nooks and back staircases when I was really little, my dad got me Barbie walkie talkies for Christmas one year when it became a frequent problem,” Y/N chuckled at the memory. “Back when it was new, a wealthy local judge had it built for his wife. They had six children, so it has more bedrooms and living spaces than the average Victorian.” 

She eased the wheelchair over a bump in the pavingstones, finally back to the patio where she had only been hours ago. It was almost impossible to believe where she was now compared to just a short time ago.

“Looks like you’ve got some real nice grounds in the back here, Miss,” Jimin added, bright eyes sparkling as he took in the fauna in the backyard. Y/N froze as she attempted to unlock the kitchen door, casting Jimin an embarrassed look. 

“Thank you, Jimin, we can walk around the trails tonight if you’d like – and I can show you my poor landscaping skills! And please, you can just call me Y/N,” she insisted, smoothly yanking the sliding door open. She heard him sputtering, along with a snort from Hoseok. 

“We made it! Okay, so I’ll give you guys a proper tour after I treat Seokjin, but this is the kitchen,” Y/N gestured about the room, the mid-morning light warming the room pleasantly. Thankfully, she had cleared away her gin glass from last night before she left that morning, so the kitchen was absolutely spotless and ready for dinner. Hoseok whistled lowly, skimming a palm along the granite island. With the restaurant-sized refrigerator, multiple ovens, beautiful cooktop and walk-in pantry, Y/N was more excited than ever to reignite her passion for cooking and baking now that she had others to share food with. 

Pressing on, Y/N wheeled Seokjin towards the hallway, opting to put him in the nearest bedroom to her’s until he was well enough to pick one for himself.

“Either of you like to cook?” Y/N wondered aloud, slow footsteps behind her flooding out into the hallway. Cringing as soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that the possibility of them having access to a kitchen could be slim. Stupid! 

“The only thing I can make is a hamburger,” Hoseok said mournfully. So far, he had taken her completely by surprise, and her anxieties were quelled. Y/N laughed heartily at this response, looking forward to teaching him and the others how to make a few other staples in the future instead of lamenting over their pasts she didn’t even know about yet. Jimin even allowed a small chuckle to escape, with this, the mood light despite the circumstances. 

Passing through the foyer, by the dining room and parlor, they arrived at the bedroom, which was once where Y/N stayed before her grandparents moved out. It still had her large bookcase filled with all of her favorite books and encyclopedias, a small geode collection lining the desk, and her old wardrobe filled with clothes from her teenage years. When Seokjin got better, she’d have to clear out space on the bookshelf and the wardrobe. Acting with urgency once more, she pushed the wheelchair into the sunny sage green room.

“Let’s get him onto the bed,” Y/N switched into vet-mode, pulling the comforter on the bed back and easing Seokjin’s sneakers off. Hoseok and Jimin pulled Seokjin up by his armpits, heaving him onto the queen-sized mattress, moans of protest coming from the jaguar hybrid. The two stepped back as Y/N rounded the bed frame, getting a good look at Seokjin’s face. 

His fever had spiked, hairline completely soaked, skin pale and blotchy pink. Breathing shallowly, Seokjin’s eyebrows were scrunched together in pain. Bending over to grasp for the medical kit Y/N placed there earlier, she placed it on the bed, sorting through the items she’d need right away. She pushed damp hair off of his forehead, using the back of her hand to check his temperature, cursing at the ovenlike body heat coming off of him. 

“Jimin, do you mind wetting a cloth or two with cool water for me in the bathroom just there please? There should be some face cloths in a basket on the sink,” Y/N asked, pointing to the ajar door to the un suite. 

“O-of course,” Jimin stuttered, hastily crossing the room and disappearing into the bathroom. Y/N took Seokjin’s pulse at the base of his throat, which was thankfully thrumming strong against her fingers. Taking a deep breath, she carefully lifted the hem of his soiled shirt to reveal the wound on his right side. 

A series of healed scars littered the hybrid’s body, standing out against his damp skin. He was bruised in several places along his torso, shades of purple and green mottling around the site of the open wound. It looked like he had taken a few years of beatings or had fallen off of a ladder judging from the damage. Gritting her teeth, she examined the cut, which was miraculously uninfected, but still dribbling blood. The wound was not a puncture, but wide enough to not be able to mesh together without treatment, likely the reason it was still bleeding. Her fingers gently grazed the bruise by the site, Seokjin flinching even in his stupor. The wound was not deep enough to require stitches, but it was gnarly enough for butterfly bandages and gauze. She would have to periodically change his dressings, making sure an infection wouldn’t set in, but there was a lot less she had to do than she originally thought. 

“Here you go, Y/N,” Jimin returned, making the effort to drop the earlier “Miss” title, three cloths wrung out and rolled up in his outstretched hand. In the other, he had even filled the glass for the toothbrushes with more water. Looking up to him with a grateful smile, she set the glass on the nightstand and placed a cloth over Seokjin’s forehead gingerly. Feeling him still looming over her, if she should need anything else from him, she set the cup of water on the nightstand carefully. 

“Thank you, sweetheart, why don’t you and Hoseok sit tight on the couch until I finish up and I’ll show you around. I’m sure you’d love to settle in and relax,” Y/N said, using another cloth to begin swabbing away dried blood from Seokjin’s chest. Jimin had gone pink, mouth opening and closing again, before hurrying over to Hoseok already sitting on the green couch when the latter cleared his throat in amusement. Y/N fell into silence, searching her kit for some bruise cream. 

“Where’re you from, Jimin? That accent of yours certainly isn’t Bostonian,” Hoseok questioned, crossing an ankle over his knee. Loading up a piece of gauze with disinfectant, Y/N pretended she wasn’t listening to their conversation as she worked, hand pressed lightly on Seokjin’s chest so he wouldn’t flinch off of the bed due to the stinging sensation.

“I’m from southern Montana, my family is still there. I worked on the Yellowstone Park ranch,” Jimin answered easily, Hoseok making a hum of acknowledgement. “You?”

“Ah… I’ve been to so many places over the years, I can’t say that I remember where I was originally. Could have been London, might have been Paris. Around the time I was 17 I was brought to the States,” Hoseok said vaguely. Y/N had the feeling he was leaving out certain pieces of information purposefully, the tone of his voice genuinely surprised someone had asked him a personal question. Arching a brow, she applied the bruise cream on all of the spots she could see on Seokjin, hoping the cooling properties of the formula would ease some discomfort brought on by the fever. Hybrids healed faster than humans, so Seokjin would probably be able to get out and about by tomorrow afternoon, but she wanted to make sure he felt better as soon as possible.

The site of the wound cleaned, Y/N began to carefully place butterfly bandages on it. Her eyes felt like they were beginning to cross with fatigue as she fastened the last one by a rib, balling up the paper wrappings and stuffing them in her pocket. All she had left to do was cover the bandages in gauze and tape, and monitor his fever periodically – the thermometer she had pointed at Seokjin’s forehead told her his fever wasn’t something that required medications.

“So, a ranch? What, were you a cowboy?” Hoseok continued, preventing Jimin from asking a question first. Jimin sucked his teeth in annoyance, crossing his arms and leaning away from the fox hybrid. The sandy fur of Jimin’s tail stood on end, a defensive though uncontrollable action.

“You could call it that if you want, but we were ranchers. Mainly, we managed the cattle, trained horses, and maintained the park’s wildlife. I wasn’t Clint Eastwood,” Jimin grit his teeth, the words coming between them. Jimin must have gotten a remark like that hundreds of times to warrant that reaction, which made Y/N hide an involuntary snort as she taped down the gauze rectangle on Seokjin. 

Hoseok was laughing freely, his eyes squinting in humor while Jimin fumed on the furthest spot of the couch away from him, ears flat against his hair. Frowning, Y/N felt too bad to leave Seokjin in a shirt soiled with sweat and blood, so she straightened up and walked across the room to the wardrobe stuffed with her teenage garb. She was very into baggy band shirts in high school, so she knew that there would be at least one in the drawer that could accommodate Seokjin’s wide shoulders. 

“Good lord, I’m sorry, Jimin. I wasn’t expecting you to react like that,” Hoseok wiped a tear from his eye, sighing happily. Contrary to his unwillingness to reveal much about himself, Hoseok seemed completely at ease between the two other hybrids and Y/N herself, his body language relaxed as he slouched on the couch. Jimin mumbled back, Y/N not quite catching what he uttered. She grasped her largest shirt, an ancient Good Charlotte graphic tee from Warped Tour, cringing hard from the memories that came flooding back. 

Back at Seokjin’s side, she used the tiny pair of scissors in her kit to cut away the soiled shirt, pulling it off of him like a paper doll. 

“Hoseok, can you please help me sit him up for a second?” Y/N removed the cloth on Seokjin’s forehead, sliding a hand under his shoulder blade to lift one side. Hoseok jumped from the couch lightly, watching as Y/N held the back of Seokjin’s head so it wouldn’t roll backwards. Moving awkwardly, Y/N eased the well-worn shirt over his head, his rounded black ears popping up cutely as they passed through the neck opening, thanking Hoseok as he pulled Seokjin’s left arm through the hole. Straightening out the shirt, embarrassed of the print, Y/N and Hoseok gently laid him back down. She pulled the covers up over Seokjin when he began to tremble, the fever chills setting in. Lastly, Y/N replaced the cloth on his forehead with a new one, and supplied a bottle of water from her tote bag to leave on the nightstand.

“That wasn’t too bad, luckily. Another day or so in that shelter, he would have gotten an infection,” Y/N used a finger to swipe a lock of hair from Seokjin’s eye, smiling in satisfaction with her work. He looked far more comfortable, cozy, even, now that his fever was being managed, even humming in his sleep with the comforter pulled up to his chin. 

“Ready for the tour?” Y/N tore herself away from Seokjin, rubbing her eyes as she approached the other two hybrids. 

“Are you tired, Mi– Y/N?” Jimin asked, quickly covering up his habit for titles. Grimacing, Y/N drew the curtains partially closed in the room to keep it from heating up in the afternoon sun. She definitely looked tired, her eyes swollen, watering, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror by the wardrobe.

“Just a little bit! I’ll probably take a short nap after I show you around. Staying up all night isn’t as easy as it was when I was nineteen,” Y/N admitted, almost fainting at the thought of sinking into her bed for an hour or two. “Let’s let Seokjin get some rest, I’ll check on him before I nap myself.”

Leaving the door halfway open, she motioned the two hybrids out into the hallway. 

“Straight ahead here, that’s my bedroom. These two doors here on the right are coat closets,” Y/N pointed out their immediate surroundings, moving forward into the foyer. “This is the front entrance! It still needs quite a bit of work, as does most of the house, as you can see with the half-stripped staircase…”

Hoseok made a circle around the foyer room, looking closely at the cloudy stained glass windows, pausing by the staircase. 

“What’s that door, there?” He questioned, pointing to the door down to the basement. 

“That’s the basement! My mother and I just finished renovating it, want to check it out? I suppose you took a peek into the dining room and the living room we passed by earlier, so all that’s left on this floor is the old office, the yellow and blue bedrooms, and the sunroom. You can take a look as you please, later,” Y/N opened up the basement door for Hoseok, switching on the lovely new lights her mother hung up. 

In an effort to make the basement less horrifyingly haunted looking, Y/N’s mother painstakingly helped her paint it in bright creams and soft green, making sure there were plenty of light fixtures and lamps. Y/N took the lead as Hoseok and Jimin followed her down the carpeted staircase, the scent of paint still vaguely lingering in the air. 

“Over there, my mother put in a little gym area.”

The right side of the basement had a mirrored wall, an exercise bike, and a rack of dumbbells. The full bathroom was over there, as well, complete with a little sauna room, something her mother had splurged on for Y/N’s last birthday. It hadn’t gotten much use, with Y/N’s extended hours in the past months, but she had a feeling that was about to change with her newfound free time. Hoseok whistled, an apparent quirk of his, smiling widely at the stereo system mounted on the wall. 

“On that side is a nice new bedroom, what was once a storage room for my grandmother’s junk collection. There’s even a little window in there by the ceiling that was hidden behind some old, crumbly drywall,” Y/N slid the pocket door open, which offered privacy from the gym, letting Jimin and Hoseok get a good look. 

The bedroom had a nice set of rosewood furniture, keeping it on theme with the rest of the home. A large dresser, a desk, queen sized bed, even a space heater tucked away for wintertime. It was one of her favorite bedrooms, artistic painted wallpaper stenciled in by her mother’s hand. 

“This is beautiful,” Hoseok breathed, fingers skimming the cream quilt. She watched him admire the painted ivy on the wall, tail swishing as he walked the width of the room.

“I’ll relay the message to my mother,” Y/N crossed her arms in amusement, leaning against the doorframe. Jimin had gone to examine the sauna, excitedly, his shoes making hollow thuds as he walked around in it behind her. “You want this room?” 

Hoseok’s head snapped up, catching Y/N’s bemused expression, before tilting his head in contemplation. 

“Can I think about it?”

“You absolutely may, there’s a lot more to see,” Y/N affirmed, bringing him back out to the stairwell. Jimin was already waiting for them, flicking his overgrown hair out of his eyes again. She’d have to make appointments for everyone to get a haircut next week, her list of to-do’s becoming longer by the second. 

“Onwards!” Y/N marched up the stairs and wincing, legs screaming in distress. Jimin made a choked sound as he hurried after her, Hoseok lingering for a moment longer before he followed. 

The three ended up on the second floor after taking a blast through the remainder of the first floor. Jimin took a liking to the blue bedroom by the sunroom, overlooking the backyard. Y/N could tell he wanted to claim it when he sunk into the royal blue velvet chair by the window, but refrained from pushing it on him until he saw the rest of the place.

The hybrids followed her through the library, the dusty billiard’s room and family room, and the two tower rooms. They didn’t seem to jump on the opportunity to be on the higher floor, even the pink, lavender, and sunset orange rooms with smaller windows than the tower rooms didn’t get them as excited as they were previously. Y/N was wilting with exhaustion, patiently answering questions about art on the walls or books on shelves, but with the tour of the house done, she knew that she’d be crawling into bed any moment. 

“Any decisions?” Y/N pondered, trudging down the stairs. Met with nervous silence, Y/N sighed lightly, giving the two an encouraging look when they arrived back in the foyer. 

“I’m partial to that blue room, over in the back…” Jimin stared at the black and white tiled floor, voice soft. Y/N wanted to grab the both of them and insist that this was their home now too, and deserved to pick the room they wanted the most, but getting them to believe that would take time and even more patience. 

“It’s yours,” Y/N confirmed, hoping Hoseok hadn’t wanted the same room suddenly. Jimin perked up, shuffling his feet, and giving her a nod in thanks. They both gave Hoseok an expectant look, while he stared at the basement door. 

“Hoseok?” Y/N giggled, his ears swiveling back in embarrassment when he caught their looks. “Did you think about it?” 

“I think the basement is calling his name or something,” Jimin teased, surprising everyone else in the room. Perhaps it was payback from Hoseok’s earlier jabs. 

“Am I that obvious?” Hoseok exclaimed, nudging Jimin with his shoulder. Jimin blushed, eyes squinting in mirth. He had a gorgeous smile, and it was so nice to see the two of them get along amicably with their teasing. 

“So, Jimin will take the blue room and Hoseok the basement room? Is that right?”

The two nodded, still smiling from their little moment. A chorus of angels sang hallelujah in her head, finally able to get some rest now that the room choices were squared away. 

“Do you need anything from me before I get some sleep? I’ll be up to make some late lunch, but please feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you want a snack,” Y/N insisted. 

“I’m alright, thank you… but you should really get some sleep. We’ll be fine,” Jimin reassured her, Hoseok agreeing with a hum. Grinning gratefully, Y/N began to head towards the hallway. 

“Well then, I’ll leave you two to settle in for now. I’m just going to check on Seokjin, first,” she gave them a little wave, watching as Jimin set off towards his room with a skip in his step and Hoseok waved back animatedly. 

Shaking her head with a chuckle, she slid into Seokjin’s room quietly, eyes adjusting in the low light. She could hear his steady breathing, and upon closer examination Y/N saw that he was still fast asleep. Gently, she rinsed another cloth in the cool cup of water, swapping it from the warm one on his forehead. Seokjin mumbled in his sleep as it draped over him, his ears fluttering against the pillow. 

Leaving him, Y/N set an alarm on her phone to wake her in time to make the food mid-afternoon, stumbling down the hallway. The list on her phone grew lengthy, bullet points reading: open up seven hybrid-specific credit cards, call friends and family to break the news, order cell phones, schedule haircuts… all of which she would tackle later that night. 

She strained her ears for any sounds of the other two hybrids, but all she heard was the wind blowing willow branches against the windows of her bedroom. Deciding to take a nice, cool shower after her nap, she closed her door, stripped to her underwear, and collapsed into her bed. Her lights were out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, but she already felt like she was floating through a dream.

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

[fanfreakinfiction]

My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers

Chapter 2: Trying to Understand

Ch. 1 | Masterlist 🖤

4.3K words // Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles finding certain words. Reader is pregnant!

Summary: How can Din understand and respect your plans without being apart of them? He tries to help, but your stubbornness rivals that of a Mandalorian.

Tags: SLOW BURN, Some fluff, made up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, lots of relationship building in this.

Warnings: mention of child loss and grief.

A/n: Alright so let me explain Illa-ishi real quick because I never want to get the wrong idea across. Illa-ishi are mainly single mothers who birth at the lower pool of the Mountain of Mothers. The reason why Illa-ishi give birth at the lower pool and pass away, isn’t the gods punishing them for being single mothers. The journey up to the lower pool when a mother is in the throws of birth is so rigorous and difficult without the help of their partner that many perish from exhaustion. By the time they make it up the cliff to the lower pool some do not even have energy to give birth which is why there are skeletons in the bed rolls. Please comment or ask me questions if anything is ever unclear! Also I know this is a shorter chapter than Ch. 1, I initially wanted this to be a two part series but I found I have more to write than I thought. Anyways, enjoy this soft chapter! I will update this series every Friday.

Standing in the pool, you felt his hand on the right side of your waist. He'd carried you from the spot near the cliff into the shallow end of the hot spring and set you down into the water as if you were sacred. Paralyzed by the sudden display of kindness after the last months spent alone, you felt the cold metal of his helmet lean heavily on the back of your head.

A slow fear crept up from somewhere deep inside the traumatized confines of your heart, the fear immobilizing you to his actions just as they'd done the night he paid for your company. Frozen in place, thoughts of him pushing you into the spring and drowning you flooded your mind. Then you felt his left hand rest on the small of your back, leading you to think he'd take you again as he'd done in the expensive room back on Tatooine. You'd worked in that brothel for years and saw the desperation of men in need, the aftermath of what they'd done to women they had no emotional attachment for.

Just as you started to form a plan of action against him, you heard the softest noise from behind. It took maybe thirty seconds for the sound to register within your mind – he was crying. The strangled sound of a sob left the static of the modulator on his helmet, which was then followed by the most sincere "I'm sorry" you'd heard since the day your father had sold you.

For a moment, you just looked ahead at the milky waters of the spring and the steam swirling around you. The small green baby that the Mandalorian had brought with him sat nearby the shallow end of the pool, gazing into the water below, his small hand chasing the steaming swirls that rose into the air. You felt the life within you stir, your contractions coming inconsistently now, almost as if your body was confused. The warmth of the leather-clad hand on your right side tightened slightly as you heard one more sob break over the roar of the waterfall.

In a show of cosmic irony, you couldn’t help the small but sad smile that graced your lips as you trailed your bandaged right hand up to lace your fingers over the back of his hand, and you spoke, “Don’t cry.”

His sobs seemed to quiet, as if he hadn't expected your touch, your reassurance. The tension in his grip lessened. After a moment of his head resting on the back of yours, you assumed he regained his composure as he slowly pulled away. Shyly, you looked over your shoulder and offered a small tearful smile to his visor before turning your attention back to the spring. Taking careful steps forward, you found a place to lower yourself back once more into the murky depths. You moved to sit where your back was resting on the jagged rock wall.

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw him standing in the same spot. His hands were frozen in the air where they’d rested on your body, until he slowly clenched his fists and lowered them back to his sides.

He stood like a statue just looking at you, his weight shifted to his left, the grey of the flightsuit around his knees now a dark grey from the spring's water. The edge of his grey cape touched the surface of the spring, wetting the frayed and somewhat burned seams.

You felt an awkward discomfort as his helmet seemed locked in your direction. It really made you uneasy that you couldn’t tell where his gaze was or what emotion was on his face. Was he happy? He had cried… you had done the same when you found out.

“You-”

“What’s-”

You both spoke over one another in unison, causing a blush to creep up your neck as you looked away. As if some unseen force felt the tension in the air, the small green child, enamored with the steam of the spring, fell face first into the warm water.

“Grogu!” The Mandalorian’s voice bordered on panicked as he moved from his stiff position to where the child had fallen in. In a swift movement, the Mandalorian had grabbed the child by the tan robe he wore, pulling it to the surface within seconds of the splash. The child blinked his large eyes frantically as he let out some displeased grunts. Holding the child above the water now, the Mandalorian looked the child over and then moved to hold him in his arms. “We’ve talked about this…” The Mandalorian sighed as he looked at the child. You couldn't help the smile that graced your face.

"Does it get into problems?" You spoke carefully as you tried to remember the words in basic.

Being on your homeworld was the happiest you’d felt in years, and slipping back into Kith, your native language, was like putting on your favorite dress. But coming out of Kith back into basic was proving challenging; maybe the Mandalorian spoke Huttese, which you knew almost as well as basic.

“Yeah…he does,” the words fell in a resigned huff from the man clad in silver as he held the now dripping child.

“Oh…Is he…your child?” You asked slowly as you gauged the man’s reaction. Your eyes flicked from his helmet to the water covering your belly where your hands fidgeted under the water. Anxiety filled your thoughts as you waited for his response.

After a painfully long silence, the Mandalorian sighed and shifted to set the green child on the ledge of the spring nearby and sat next to the child, leaving his covered feet in the spring. Adjusting his cape as he sat, he turned to run a gloved hand over the child’s tan robe before speaking in your direction.

“It won’t look like him…if that’s what you’re asking,” he said dryly, and your head snapped in his direction, studying him for a moment before you thought he might be trying to joke. A smile graced your lips as you moved in the water to slowly approach him. Your right hand held onto the spring’s rocky wall as you moved towards him and the child who fidgeted with a metal object around his neck. Within a foot of the child, you looked the soaking baby over with a cocked eyebrow and critical eye before turning to face the Mandalorian.

“He is…” you paused, trying to find the word in basic as you felt a rush to do so, “…c-ute,” you sounded out the word slowly and looked up at the man sheepishly as the child made a surprised “eh!” sound and smiled toothily at you.

“Basic isn’t your first language?” It was almost not a question from the Mandalorian, and you couldn’t help but feel a hot embarrassment from his tone.

“No,” you said as you turned away again, caressing your belly under the water, “I am Kith.”

“I am Mandalorian,” he said, and you thought he might be patronizing you.

“I see and know,” you retorted back as you shot a soft glare his way.

A sound emanated from his helmet, and you thought it might be a sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he started to say as he reached into his bandolier for something. “I am Mandalorian, but I am different from other Mandalorians. I am bound by a creed.” He pulled out a piece of paper as he spoke, and you recognized the paper immediately. “The Mountain of Mothers…” he spoke again as he unfolded the pamphlet. “You’re here because you believe in this?” He asked as he looked over the paper.

You eyed the pamphlet that Don Mai must have so generously forced into the bounty hunter’s hand. Your eyes trailed from the pamphlet back to his helmet, and you nodded your head yes.

“I understand,” he says as he looks over the pamphlet, the child next to him suddenly taking interest as well. “The creed I believe in… it is my responsibility to take care of foundlings.” His helmeted gaze shifts slightly from the pamphlet to the child next to him.

“Found-i-ling?” you repeat the word back to him slowly in confusion.

His head turns to look at you, and he hands the pamphlet to the child who plays with the paper.

“Foundling,” he confirms with a small nod. “Children who are adopted by my people, warriors of Mandalore… This is the Way.”

Your gaze moves from his to the child next to him, and you nod.

“He is found-i-ling,” you say in confirmation as you nod your head toward the green child.

The Mandalorian nods in confirmation, and you see his hands clench the edge of the rock.

“And you…” he starts, “you are also my responsibility...”

You hated that word. Responsibility. Such a long word that was so often thrown in your face as a guilt tactic. The foreman who your father had sold you to made sure you always had responsibilities.

You were no more than eight when your father had sold you to the greasy man on Tatooine, and your life had been work ever since. The foreman wasn’t completely cruel; there were masters on Tatooine that were far worse. You had a bed, food, and even a bath. The foreman protected you from disgusting prying eyes of patrons who thought you were merchandise and not just a helping hand. But he also worked you to the bone, washing pillows, washing gowns, sewing gowns, steaming tapestry, cleaning the rooms, making meals, fixing the building, making errand runs – your responsibilities.

“No,” the word fell from your lips as if it were law. The Mandalorian’s head tilted towards you as if he didn’t hear you.

“Yes. You are my responsibility,” he repeats. “This is the Way.”

“No.” The word was slightly more harsh coming out as you turned to face him now. The sun had finally fallen behind the sky, and you were almost surrounded in darkness as you stared him down.

You could sense his hesitation, the momentary lapse in response, but the Mandalorian was resolute. “It is the Way. We take care of our own. The Creed guides me, and I cannot abandon my responsibilities.”

The weight of those words hung in the air, the silence stretching between you. The cold grip of your past life clawed at your heart, and you couldn't bear the thought of being bound by another's expectations. You had yearned for freedom, for a chance to shape your own destiny, and here, in the darkening solitude of the hot spring, those dreams seemed to be slipping away.

—

Your face was starting to turn pink from the heat of the spring as the word left your mouth. Din sat there staring, or truthfully, he was glaring at you from under his helmet. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say your stubbornness made you more a Mandalorian than it did a Kith. He battled with himself; this was not a place he wanted to be.

Din had always been careful when it came to his intimate business. When he and Xi’an would mess around, he would always pull out even though he knew she had an implant. He’d never actually finished inside anyone before, not until he’d taken you. To ease his guilt, he had told himself it was because of his inebriated state, but he knew by the time he’d slowly stripped you in that warmly lit room, the Corellian Whiskey had worn off. Maybe it had been because you were the first virgin he’d ever taken, the tightness of your heat on his fingers like a Dathomirian witch's call. Maybe you were a witch, which is what he was trying to understand, trying to learn more about you.

His eyes had scanned the pamphlet now being crumpled by Grogu’s hands. He realized the Mountain of Mothers was a sacred place, much like the living waters on Mandalore. The stubborn part of him wanted to scoop you from the spring and carry you back to his ship to take you to Mandalore, but he couldn’t do that. You were too close to birth and he really had no place to interrupt your plans… plans he hadn’t been a part of. The dark parts of his mind reminded him.

"What is your plan?" He found himself asking you. He watched as you looked up at him from your spot beneath the comforting spring waters, your brow furrowing. You had placed your right arm on the surface ridge of the pool and had laid your head down to watch Grogu.

"I will rest here," your voice sounding tired, your hair damp from the steam as you offered a sad smile.

"For how long?" He asked next, watching your face carefully to gauge your emotions.

You shrugged and looked down at your belly. "Until Noona arrives.”

Please. Kriff. Please don’t let Noona be the name for this child, his child. He cringed internally.

"Noo-na?" He repeated back, trying to hold down the unhappy tone of his voice. You nodded your head as if he was an idiot.

"Noona," you said with a nod. "Or… Baby."

He breathed a sigh of relief, just Kith for baby.

"Then what?" He asked as Grogu stirred next to him, clambering up into the Mandalorian's lap, leaving a trail of water and the now soggy pamphlet behind as he climbed.

"We rest," you said sadly.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he was getting frustrated with this beat around the bantha approach.

"After you rest?" His voice sounded a bit more terse than he intended. He watched as your head snapped up at him in annoyance, feeling confusion at your sharp reaction.

"We rest," you replied back, matching his terseness.

"For how long?" He gritted his teeth.

You splashed the water as you threw your hands up slightly and glared at him. "Forever!" You shouted back at him, and confusion laced his face.

"I don’t understand," he replied, as Grogu pulled at his bandolier from his lap, a sign he was getting hungry.

A moment of silence lapsed as your gaze slowly traveled to the skeletons surrounding the pool, now shrouded in darkness. You sighed as you looked at the remains mournfully and then slowly back to your belly.

"Illa-ishi come here to rest, forever," you said.

The skeletons and bone fragments all made sense in his mind now, and it made him sick.

"What?" His voice was laced with confusion and a hint of anger.

Before he could register the emotions swirling in his chest, he was already standing up in the water. Grogu, sensing the shift, looked up warily at his father. The Mandalorian glanced over at the pack leaning against the black jagged rock next to your bedroll, and he moved towards it out of the water.

—

Your heart raced as you watched the Mandalorian abruptly leave the spring and walk towards your pack and bedroll. You watched with bated breath as he set down the green child next to your pack on the ground and knelt down to your bedroll.

"NO!" You shouted as you watched him start to roll the bedroll back up. You quickly moved from your position in the water, walking carefully towards the edge. In an instant, he was moving in front of you, leaving the small child behind. It frightened you to see the speed at which he moved, the menacing aura he gave off as he moved to bend down, eye level with you.

He rested one hand on his right knee and the other hand on the ground next to him as he spoke.

"I am trying to understand your culture, but I will not allow you both to die here," his voice was menacing and sharp, bringing tears to your eyes.

"We are meant to die here," your words came out laced in pain and fear as you tried to stare him down. His hands balled into fists as he stared back at you.

"Why," he asked, and you could tell he was angry, and it wasn't fair.

Why was he angry when he had played no part in the last months?

You instantly felt remorse at that thought.

Throughout your whole pregnancy, you wouldn't allow yourself to think ill thoughts of him, afraid they might pass into Noona. Really, it wasn't his fault. You had no way of contacting him.

After your night with him, you'd taken your cut from the foreman and bought transport off of Tatooine. You spent weeks hopping planets and seeing different worlds, grateful for the credits you'd saved over the years, but even more so thankful for the six thousand credits that bought your freedom.

When you found out you were pregnant, you'd been staying on the mining world of Gorse, visiting the moon Cynda known for its illustrious thorillide crystal mines. You felt as if your freedom was snatched from you once again.

You knew this meant you were destined to be Illa-ishi and knew you'd be birthing a dead baby at the lower pool. It hurt, and you felt it wasn't fair, to you or the life inside you. A life that wouldn't exist outside of your own body, which is why you hadn't even bothered seeking out the Mandalorian.

Besides, all you had to go off of was the sigil on his pauldron, and since the Empire decimated Mandalore, it was impossible that you could find him again. Most Mandalorians had gone into hiding, and being already two months pregnant, there wasn't enough time to try and figure it out. You had accepted that you would be alone, that you were Illa-ishi, and that you could only enjoy the months ahead while Noona grew inside you.

You had traveled back to Kith in your fifth month of pregnancy and taken up work alongside Don Mai, the self-appointed mayor who graciously offered you a job in the fuel station. But soon your time was up, and you'd started your journey three days ago with the accepted belief that you'd never leave the Mountain of Mothers.

Still, the rational part of your mind sympathized with the man staring you down. You honestly believed you wouldn't see him again, and yet here he was. You knew that Kith was a planet along the outer rim, and nobody cared to understand your culture. Your people were not warriors like Mandalorians, nor powerful witches like Dathomirians. Your people were peaceful and slow.

Don Mai had a point about one thing, "People need to see the wealth of culture we have here. Kith would want the galaxy to know of the sacrifices he made for his wife."

—

Your eyes searched his visor, and he watched as you struggled internally. For a moment, he felt shame at his tone because it elicited a glassy look in your eyes, but he was angry. Not angry at you but more angry with himself. He sat eye level with you, waiting for your explanation when he heard a sigh leave your lips.

“Illa-ishi do not make it to the upper pool to give birth,” Your words offered little to soothe his confused anger. He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued, “Illa-ishi die at this pool with our babes, as a price for our solitude.”

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You truly believed you would die here, along with the life he helped create. He rose from the crouched position as he looked down at you in the now looming darkness.

He studied your face for a moment before his eyes drifted lower to your full breasts and belly. A twinge of pride at the sight of you was quickly extinguished by the look on your face. You looked sad, like you didn't want to believe what you did, like some part of you wanted to make it to the upper pool. Slowly he extended his right hand down to you before he spoke, “You are not alone, not anymore.”

—

Helping you from the pool carefully, he watched the steaming water rush off your body, leaving droplets all around you. A shiver quickly rushed through you, and he cursed himself for not being more prepared when he left his ship. He didn't even bring Grogu a snack. He stood in front of you, unconsciously zoned out as he tried to think of his next steps.

He didn't realize how uncomfortable you'd become by his gaze until you moved your hands to cover yourself in shame. Your face was flushed pink, and he realized you assumed he'd been standing there staring at you like some teenage boy. He felt a rush of embarrassment; he normally never spared a thought for anyone, never cared what they thought, but for some reason, he really didn't want you to think ill of him.

"Get back in the water," his voice was low, and it almost startled you.

He saw the look of confusion on your face, and he sighed audibly. "Just… you'll be warmer in the water until I can make a fire," he said reluctantly, and he watched your eyebrows shoot up.

"A fire?" You almost sounded excited.

He nodded as he moved to help you situate yourself back into the water.

The green child cooed from his spot, now sitting on your bedroll as he watched. After situating you back into the water, Din looked back to Grogu; he could tell he was getting hungry and tired.

"I need to go collect wood. Would you… just make sure he doesn't get into trouble?" The Mandalorian hesitated to ask you for anything, but he knew Grogu would just inhibit what could be a quick task. He watched your face as you glanced up at him from in the pool and behind him to the child.

"Yes," you said, almost so quietly that he strained to hear it.

"I won't be long," he told you as he stood and immediately walked over to the edge of the cliff to make his way back down toward the forested area.

Left alone with Grogu, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. The Mandalorian had been harsh, distant, and mysterious, yet he had also shown moments of compassion and care. You watched the child as he cooed and played with his small, metal pendant, seemingly unfazed by the ordeal.

—

The thought of a fire excited you after three days of eating cold food and sleeping on the cold ground. Maybe if Noona was tired and not ready to come, you could actually enjoy your last night of sleep. Surely Noona would be here tomorrow?

"Rissi, Noona?" (Right, Noona?) You spoke to your oddly calm belly. You thought back... when had your last contraction been? After the Mandalorian had shown up, but that had now been almost two hours ago.

You felt unease rise up into your throat.

You only felt this afraid once during your pregnancy, and it was when you hadn't heard Noona's heartbeat at the small makeshift medical office in the fuel station. It wasn't until you and Don Mai had realized the medical droid's radar equipment had malfunctioned that you found peace.

But now you could feel the panic and no peace. A part of your mind was whispering that Noona was already gone. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you started moving frantically towards the shallow part of the pool. You rested your left hand on the soaked fabric of your dress as you clambered towards the edge of the pool.

"Pessi Noona... Pessi!" (Please baby, please.) you whispered frantically as you tried to feel anything. The rock floor of the pool felt harsh under your bare feet, and you slipped a little at one point, causing you to stumble.

From your right, you could hear the small green child make a grunting noise. Pushing yourself up in the water, you felt your breath quickening with panic as you moved out of the water. Tears were coming hard, and you couldn't stop the sobs that came from your mouth.

"Pessi a Noona! Pessi! Pessi!" You cried as you made it from the pool to the harsh gravel-covered surface of the rock surrounding the pool. Looking down at your belly, you pressed your hands rather harshly to feel. You could make out two lumps at the top, maybe knees? You couldn't be sure.

You felt a tugging on your dress, and as you tried to look down past your belly, you caught a glimpse of a green ear. The small green child tugged fervently on your dripping gown.

"Noona a nissa movissi" (baby is not moving), you tried to explain to the small green child who you could hardly see. You sobbed and tried to move toward the bedroll. Through your tears, you heard the small child behind you as his feet pattered softly on the rock behind you. You moved to sit on a rock nearby, lowering yourself to the ground, you planted your feet and caressed your belly.

"Pessi Noona, gividas sotissi" (Please baby give me something), you cried as you continued pressing frantically, trying to get Noona to move or kick, anything.

You felt the lightest touch on your arm as you sat and hyperventilated. Looking to the left, you saw the small green child look at you curiously. His large brown eyes were full of so much emotion, something you couldn't place. Before you could make another sound, you felt the edges of your vision begin to fade.

Maybe this was it... the last moment with you and Noona... would the Mandalorian come back and disturb you? You didn't want to leave the Mountain of Mothers, you wanted to die here with Noona, stay here with Noona, forever…

The last thoughts flashed in your mind before you felt yourself succumb.

"Rest," a small voice whispered through your mind.

[huuuuughes]

Mine. - Jeremy Swayman

Summary: Jeremy comes over to beg for your forgiveness, and things quickly take a turn... but not for the worst.

Word count: 3.3k (its short ik im sorry)

WARNINGS: Daddy kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, bad writing??? idk this is porn OKAY READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. pls dont read if you're under 18 thank u!!

Note: i wrote this awhile ago for goalie week and then a bunch of stuff happened and i kept forgetting to post it bc i started my first full time job a month ago and its kicking my BUTT. anyways thanks for reading :)

You could hear your phone going off from across the room. It was Friday night and the end of a very long work week. Your boss was driving you up the wall and your personal life didn’t seem to be going much better. Your friends were good, you just didn’t get to see them as often as you wanted due to just being adults and everyone having their own full time jobs. 

The one person who was supposed to make your life easier, better even, was the one currently blowing up your phone. You knew exactly who it was, but he deserved to sit there and stew for a while. But as you looked around your apartment while trying to decide what show to numb your mind with, you noticed things of his strewn everywhere. You didn’t live together, not yet anyway, but based on the amount of things you had at each others’ places, you may as well have. 

Your work involved working with many different clients, and making their dreams come true. You were a travel agent, and your boss didn't exactly adhere to the typical 9-5 schedule like a normal job. If you were awake, she expected you to be able to take care of the problem. 

You had already decided long ago that men didn’t always think with their brains. Jeremy was jealous, but of what you had no idea. Did you have a lot of clients who were men who wanted to surprise the lady in their lives? Yes. Did those scumbags also try and make a move on you sometimes? Also yes. But you were a professional, and always conducted yourself as such. As much as you wanted to, it wasn’t your job to fix someone else’s insecurities. You could tell Jeremy that he didn’t need to be jealous until you were blue in the face, but you didn’t know when he was going to get it. You weren’t broken up, but you’d told him you needed a minute for him to calm down. It had been a few days at that point, and you couldn’t deny you were also getting antsy. He may be a stupid guy sometimes, but he was yours.

After what had to be the millionth time of your phone going off with a DING of a text, you made yourself get up off the couch. The last message you had read:

Sway❤️: I know I’m stupid. I need you to know I’m sorry. Can I see you, please? 

After the stressful week you’d had, you wanted nothing more than to feel his familiar warmth around you. The moment he was near you it was like the noise around you calmed down to its lowest level. 

Y/N: I’m at home, you know where to find me. 

Sway❤️: I’m on my way, be there in 20. I love you. 

The next twenty minutes were going to kill you. Your apartment was already cleaned, because you liked to clean when you got anxious as mess only made you more anxious. Your doorman would recognize Jeremy and send him up when he arrived, so you didn’t need to even get up to let him in. He had his key, he knew exactly where to find you. 

After an eternity, at least what felt like one, you heard the familiar sound of a key in the lock. He quietly took off his shoes by the door, and locked it behind him. 

“Babe?” He called out, already walking toward the living room where you sat. 

“I’m in here!” You called back. Relief washed over you when you saw him, but you didn’t get up and go to him. He had to earn you back the way you deserved. 

“Where should I start?” He asked, sitting down in a chair only a few feet away from you. 

“How about how you shouldn’t act jealous of my stupid clients? Or any man that I’m ever with that isn’t you? Do you really think I’m that crappy of a person that I would EVER cheat on you?”

“I know I shouldn’t, I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that because you’re the best person I’ve ever known, but-“

“BUT WHAT JEREMY?” You screamed, and you know it came out louder and meaner than you wanted it to. He recoiled a little bit but didn’t lose his energy. 

“I’m stupid. I’m a stupid guy, who knows you are way out of my league. It sounds like a dumb excuse, but I’m so scared of losing you. I want you, I want to love you, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. But you’ve seen the league, you’ve seen what this life can do to relationships and what it turns people into. I don’t want anything bad to happen to us. I know this isn’t the life you signed on for. I think about you being at home alone and I hate it.” He looked defeated and like he meant every word he’d said. 

“You can’t lose something you already have.” You wanted to close the space between you so badly. 

“You still want to be with me?” You got up and walked to the kitchen as he asked, putting away the wine you’d gotten out so it wouldn’t spoil. He followed closely, less than a few steps away. One giant step and he’d be able to close that space. 

“I wouldn’t have told you to come if I didn’t. You just needed to listen, and you weren’t hearing me. You don’t have to be jealous of anyone, that isn’t who I am.”

“I hear you loud and clear now. And I’m not jealous, you’re just mine.” The tone in his voice shifted to another one you recognized. 

“I’m yours huh?” You said it like you were challenging him because it sounded like he thought he already won. He should be fighting for you and showing you what that means. 

“Do you need a reminder?” He closed the space, so his forehead rested against yours. You could feel his hot breath on your face, breathing in time with you. Without warning, you pressed your lips against his with a new hunger behind you. You’d missed this heat between you, the raw need to have each other right in that moment. 

His hands explored your body, finding their way to your ass and lifting you up onto the counter. It was cold against your legs, the shorts you had on weren’t very long and you felt every inch of cold countertop but you didn’t care. His lips left yours with a moan and began making their way down your neck. You could feel how wet you were already getting, responding to his touch so quickly. You reached for the hem of his shirt and motioned for him to take it off. He complied in earnest, his mouth immediately returning to you.

Lifting your shirt up and over your head, your breasts became exposed for him to devour. He licked around your nipple, biting it and chasing you to arch off the counter while letting out a scream. Your nails were digging into every spot on him that he could reach. Momentarily he kissed your mouth again, bringing his still covered cock against your center. You could feel it hard against you, the friction only giving you the slightest relief. 

“Please daddy, please I need-“ You tried not to beg but the torture was killing you. 

“Tell me you’re mine and I’ll give you exactly what you want. Tell daddy who you belong to princess.” He whispered in your ear, continuing to kiss around your neck in the spot he knew you liked. 

“YOURS. I’M YOURS!” You needed relief or you were going to go insane. 

“Now was that so hard baby?” He asked. You didn’t even have the time or energy to reply as he pulled off your shorts in one big motion. 

“No underwear? Even better.” You attempted to push his head toward your swollen clit, but he wouldn’t go faster than he wanted to. He kissed and bit your thighs, leaving marks where he knew no one could see. You’d have those marks there for weeks. Each kiss he got closer until you finally felt his tongue brush against your clit. You shivered as he began to devour you, your thighs clenching around his head not wanting him to escape.

He pulled back but only for a moment, instructing you to lick the fingers he was putting in front of your face. You did as he asked, and he resumed going after your pussy. In a new move, he inserted his fingers into you as he continued eating. His tongue was licking in time with his fingers as they pumped in and out of you. He was hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know was there.

“Holy shit don’t stop, don’t stop PLEASE.” You were writhing on top of the counter as he struggled to hold you in place. He knew you were so close to your high, edging you just along that fine line. You’re burning up and he knows it. His other hand reaches up and pinches your nipple before grabbing onto your breasts like they were his lifeline. 

You cursed him silently for having hair you couldn’t grab onto, but you pressed his head as if it could go further into you. His tongue quickened its pace, matching his fingers. You could feel your orgasm building and it was right there, all you needed to do was let go. 

“Let go baby girl, cum on my face for me..” He whispered against your clit,  and what came out of yours was a series of expletives that you didn’t care to understand. He could taste everything you were giving him, not stopping as you started to come down. Every nerve ending was on overdrive and he held you down against the counter. The wave of your orgasm rolled over you, your heart pounding in your chest. He didn’t let a single drop of you miss his mouth, and you saw his smile looking up at you as you tried to catch your breath. 

He stood up without breaking eye contact, and undid his own pants. He made sure all remaining clothes of yours were off, nibbling on your ears and down your neck as he did so. In a move of complete trust, he picked you up off of the counter and carried you down to where he knew your room was. His lips found yours again and suddenly your lungs were struggling for air but you didn’t care. Your arms were hooked around his neck as he walked, kissing him like your life depended on it. 

Setting you down on the bed, he laid you down on your back, and stood back to marvel at the sight of you. 

“You look… “ his brain was struggling to find the right word, “fucking stunning.” 

“And you have too many clothes on… sir.” You put yourself up on your elbows, looking down at his boxers that for some reason, had remained on. You didn’t need to let him finish what he was going to say, you needed him to do something more than speak. 

“Sir?” He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to you. 

“Did you like that?”  You knew he did but it was your way of teasing. His mouth was on yours before you could process his next movements, placing one hand to your side to balance himself and the other knotted in your hair, pulling your head back so you were looking up at him when he pulled apart. You didn’t even realize that his boxers were already off, as you felt his cock brush against your leg and pussy. 

His hand left your hair and explored your leg, getting closer to its destination. His face was so close you could feel his hot breath on your face and his fingers glided over your folds, but so lightly it sent a shiver up your spine. You could hardly catch your breath but you were dying for him to touch you, to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You wanted him to hear you. His hand remained on your pussy, his fingers becoming soaked.

“So fucking wet for me baby.. did you miss me?” He quickened his fingers and began pumping them inside you. The feeling of his fingers wasn’t enough, you needed more and a whine-like moan escaped you. You whispered a response to him, and it spurred him on. 

“Please Jeremy please, please I need you inside me..” 

“That’s not my fucking name, not in here. In here I own you, isn't that right princess? Do you want me to be gentle?” You nod no, but that isn’t enough for him.

“Use your words princess.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“Don’t be gentle!” You tried pushing his head towards your core again, but he remained looking at you with his fingers teasing you. He added another, stretching you from the inside. You gasped and scratched your nails up his back. 

You gasp again, as you feel him part you with two fingers and put his tongue against you again. He wasn’t done tasting you yet.

“Please baby, I need your cock. Please!” Your mouth couldn’t move fast enough and you didn’t even care that he had reduced you to a begging mess beneath him. Your hips wanted to grind, needing more friction. You could feel your release building again as he sucks on your clit. It was right there, you could feel it as you clawed at your sheets trying to grab onto something but there was nothing. 

Your legs spasmed around his head as your release flooded over you and he ate you once again. 

“So fucking wet for me, you’re so stunning baby girl.” He kissed his way up your body and aligned himself with your entrance. He isn’t gentle as he slams into you as he kisses your mouth like you’re the only thing keeping him alive. 

You’re left begging for air as his head drops down, ducking your nipple into his mouth. 

“Oh god, oh fuck..” you cry out as he wasn’t holding back. He slammed into you over and over, bringing his hand up to find your clit. As he fucked you he was playing with your clit again, causing your wetness to pool onto the bed. Every single nerve you had was on fire, and only he could put it out. 

“Tell me you need it, tell me how bad you want you want my cum.” The hand not on your clit slowly moves up your body to the bottom of your throat and locking his hand around it. Not putting too much pressure, but enough to lightly choke you. Both of your hands gripped his arm as  you felt his cock filling you and his thighs slapping against yours. His speed was increasing and so was the hunger in his eyes. 

“Oh fuck, fuck daddy please I need your cum I need you so bad..!” 

“You are mine, your orgasms are mine, everything about you is mine.” Without warning he withdrew from you, earning a desperate moan. Quickly he flipped you over into your stomach, pulling your hips back so you were on your hands and knees facing away from him with your ass in the air waving him in like an invitation. 

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He whispers into your ear from behind you. He places kisses on the spot in your neck he knows drives you crazy, running his cock along your folds at the same time. He pushes into you again and holds back nothing. Jeremy grips both of your hips with his hands and brings your hips back to meet each one of his thrusts. The sound of his thighs hitting your ass echoes throughout the room, reaching spots inside you that you didn’t know he could. 

You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, you collapsed into the bed as he fucked into you. 

“So fucking tight princess, this pussy was made for me.” His nails scratch down your back eliciting a loud string of moans. His thrusts become more erratic and he brings his hand up, then down to smack your ass as hard as he could. The scream you made encouraged him more, and you could feel a third orgasm building.

“Fuck daddy, please I’m right there I need to cum daddy please..” You didn’t know how he had gotten that many out of you, but you could already tell he was determined for more. 

“That’s it baby, cum for me, cum all over my cock..” He brought his hand around as he leaned into you to tease your clit some more. You were right there, you pushed back to meet his thrusts to get yourself over the hill and the relief washed over you. You moaned out his name, begging for him to fuck you harder and faster. 

He loved seeing his length go in and out of you, taking all of him so well. Spreading your legs to give him a better angle, his cock continued hitting that spot inside you. He slaps your ass again, and again. You cry out, knowing his release was close behind. His hands wrap in your hair and pull you back, making you arch towards him. 

“Fuck yes baby, you like it when I fuck you like this? You ready for my cum?” He chases his release just as badly as you want it from him, feeling him trying to reach his high. You nodded in response to him, not being able to form any more words. The only sounds coming from you were moans of encouragement, it felt like you could be on cloud nine. 

“FUCK!” He screamed as he pulled almost all the way out, slamming back in and releasing his load into you. Jeremy almost collapsed onto you, but he brought you into his arms as he pulled out of you as his cum slowly leaked back out. You knew he thought it was the hottest thing ever. Both trying to catch your breath and come back down to earth, he pulled you in once you laid down so that you were on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat going a million miles a minute inside his chest, but it brought you a sense of calm. Your person was back where he belonged, he had finally heard you. 

“I love you.” He finally spoke but he still sounded out of breath.

“I love you too.”

“No, you don’t understand. I love you, I really love you. THIS is what I want. This body, your perfect fucking curves. Every minute of every hour of every day, I want you. Not just your body, I want all of you. I’m sorry I was so stupid. I can’t promise you that I won’t make stupid choices sometimes, but I can promise to be better for you every day.”

“Jer-“ You attempted to stop him, you knew he was it too. 

“Please let me finish. I want to make you feel good, I want to be the person you want to come home to every day, I want to be the person who pushes you to be the best version of yourself and make you feel like the queen of the world. You’re it for me, there is no one else. I’ve spent my whole life doubting myself and chasing this dream I couldn’t even describe. But I can see it so clearly now, and I know that dream is you. And I want to be able to have forever with you, if you’ll have me.” You took a moment to absorb his words. 

“You have to make me a promise okay?” His eyes gleamed at you, like you were holding up the moon just for him. 

“Anything, you name it.”

“Promise me forever. There is no past anymore, there is only us and the future we make together. I want us to help each other be better. Okay?”

“Okay. How about we start forever now?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[detectivestucks]

Friday Night Fights

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader

Summery: Work is getting stressful and during your weekly hang with Kakashi he finally unleashes all of that stress on your body.

Warnings: NSFW, Hard Dom Kakashi, Degrading, BDSM, Body Piercings, Squirting, Oral, Unprotected Penetration

Word Count: 5.7k

Anon Ask

Running the metal ball along the roof of your mouth, you play with your tongue piercing while you think. You’re reading over the files your team gave to you for revision. It’s near the end of the fiscal year and you are desperately trying to concentrate. Now that you were a team lead, you had more responsibility than you wanted. You really only took the promotion for the pay. Looking over at the stacks of paper in each corner of your desk, you remember how fun it was last year when you were a normal agent. Responsible for nothing and just having fun working with your two friends.

Three years ago you started at your current job. During your training class you made fast friends with Rin and Kakashi. The three of you spent all of your breaks and meals together. After the second day, you exchanged numbers and made a group chat specifically for your inside jokes about management. Then by the end of your first week your trio started a weekly ritual of hanging out every Friday for what you dubbed ‘Friday Night Fights.’

Each week you rotated who’s house you went too. The host being responsible for the evening’s food. The other two, responsible for the entertainment. Usually it was a movie or some kind of game. One of your favorite nights was when the three of you played twister. Rin had to reach her right foot to red and ended up sweeping your leg causing you to fall on top of her and accidentally hitting Kakashi’s face on your descent. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him more angry than when he thought his handsome face might’ve been blemished by your loss.

“Relax pretty boy. Women like scars”

Eventually though, life caught up with you. Kakashi switched departments and you got a promotion within your current one. Rin found a job in her field and you saw her less. Now she only comes to Friday Night Fights once a month, if that. Most of the time it was just you and Kakashi. The games became less frequent and Netflix began to take its place. The vibe shifted from wholesome fun to a flirty standoff between the two of you. Unsure if you want to cross the line from friends to more, even though you were definitely slipping down that slope already.

The last few weeks Friday Night Fights was essential for both you and Kakashi cause work was such a pain. The end of the fiscal year was upon you and there was a lot of pressure to close every project your team had been working on. The final profit report was due and your budget for the next year had to be submitted and reviewed.

Kakashi’s department was just as bad. It didn’t help that he was always going toe to toe with his boss cause she never did the projects correctly and always relied on him to fix it for her. She refused to listen to his advice ahead of time and only seemed to need his opinion a week before anything was due. The helplessness drove him mad.

“She literally dropped the same stack of reports on my desk that I told her last week needed to be itemized! Now I have to sort through two hundred accounts and pull up the breakdown of the services rendered by next Thursday!”

“Why don’t you come back to my department?”

“Cause I don’t wanna lose the pay. It’s not like they’ll give me a team lead role after a year of being in another department.”

“True. Maybe you should just take Val’s job.”

“Seriously. She makes me wanna choke someone out. How did someone so irresponsible become a senior manager anyways? It pisses me off.”

“Nepotism probably. Or maybe she slept her way to the top.”

“Har har. Wish I could sleep my way to the top.”

“Have you seen yourself? You definitely could.”

Kakashi shoots you a look. “Val’s manager is a guy.”

“And you could turn ‘im.”

Kakashi playfully smacks your ass while you finish cooking in the kitchen. You were craving strip steak so you splurged a little this week.

“What’s the occasion anyways?”

“The occasion is called self care. Work sucks this month and we still have a week to go. I wanna treat myself. Just count yourself lucky that I included you.”

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t have shared.”

“I don’t know, I’m a pretty selfish person.”

“Oh please, you're literally the nicest person at the company. You can’t say no to anyone.”

“Hey! I can say no.”

“Psh, yeah right. You’re a textbook people pleaser. That’s why you’re so stressed.”

“Maybe I’m stressed cause my best friend is making wild accusations.”

“Wild?! Hello Y/N, meet delusion.”

“Fuck off!”

Kakashi slaps your ass again before pushing himself off the counter to go look for plates.

“Can you grab the fancy napkins out of the towel drawer?”

“You wanna use cloth napkins?” he says in an almost mocking tone

“Yes. It’s been a shitty week. I wanna be fancy. Sue me.”

Kakashi nearly rolls his eyes as he grabs the restaurant quality napkins from the drawer. You wanted to be fancy yet he knew for a fact you wouldn’t be eating at the table. You plate the meal and grab your ‘fancy’ glass of boxed wine before heading to the living room.

The two of you sit on the couch and eat the potatoes and steak while Kakashi turns on “10 Things I Hate About You.” He always was a sucker for chick flicks which was one of your favorite parts of his personality. You find yourself leaning against him after your plates have been discarded to the coffee table, cleaned of their contents, napkins on top.

Near the end of the movie Kakashi gets a text. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and the title of the sender says ‘Val my Boss’ ‘Bitch’

Come in two hours early on Monday to get started on those invoices

Kakashi closes his phone without responding and throws it down on the couch.

“Everything okay?”

“It wants me there two hours early on Monday”

“That sucks! She’s the worst.”

“Fuckin sick of her”

“On the bright side, you get overtime pay.”

Kakashi scowls at you. “Did I ask for your opinion?”

You nuzzle into him some more. “I was just trying to cheer you up. You don’t have to be annoying about it.”

Something in Kakashi snaps. He turns to grab you. Fingers closing around your throat, “Don’t call me annoying. Didn’t anyone teach you that name calling was rude.”

In your surprise, you felt a jolt of excitement between your legs. You let out a little whimper and the sound was so gratifying that Kakashi lifted his fingers lightly just to regrip your neck and squeeze harder. He shifts his weight so he is fully facing you, leaning inches from your face.

“Maybe I need to teach you some manners.”

You silently nod as you look at him, eyes getting lost in his, excitement coursing through your body. He pulls you forward by your neck and kisses you, immediately shoving his tongue in your mouth. You moan. Your hands fly up to his hair, lightly pulling at the soft tresses. Kakashi mounts you, straddling you so you can’t run from him, not that you would. One hand on your throat, the other behind your head, pushing your face against his.

The heat between you had been building for the better part of a year. You had been imagining this moment for a while but never did you picture him choking you. It must’ve been your lucky day cause the choking was leaps and bounds hotter than any scenario you had imagined.

You push your tongue past his lips and rub your piercing along his inner gum line. Kakashi groans into your mouth, gently nibbling on the muscle between his teeth. You playfully flick the ball of your piercing along the roof of his mouth. He squeezes your neck harder and leans back.

“Shit Y/N, that’s fucking hot.”

He goes back to sucking on your bottom lip while you nibble on his upper one, each getting toothy with the other, slowly starting to pull on each other’s hair more with each passing second.

Suddenly it occurs to you that you might be ruining your friendship and things could be weird after this. You don’t wanna lose your best friend.

“Wait Kash, should we be doing this?”

Kakashi leans back, taking his hands off of you. For a millisecond you regret your words. You want this. You want him. Why the fuck did you stop it? But then you see him reach for his belt buckle and you exhale. You see him undo the clasp, pulling it out from the loops of his jeans.

“I’m so sick and tired of women telling me what to do.”

He wraps the belt around your wrists and tugs at the excess length, lifting your hands up and behind your head, elbows bent at the ears, his arm behind your back as his other hand comes up to your jaw. In a menacing tone he smoothly leans in to give you a piece of his mind.

“How about for once, one of you shuts up, and do what I tell you to do for a change?”

The question nearly knocks the wind out of you. You can feel your underwear soak. The sternness in his voice made you instinctually slip out the words,

“Yes sir”

You part your lips and he's back at them, playing with your piercing before you push it back into his mouth to keep running the metallic ball along his interior. You really were a textbook people pleaser.

The hungry moan from his mouth falls into yours. You want nothing more than for him to spend hours here in this very position but it’s not up to you. It’s up to him to decide how long you are to receive his lips. Which to your disappointment, is not very long.

He gets up off of you and yanks on the end of the belt so that you are forced to lie down on the couch. He slips his hand out from under your back but your body weight on the end of the tether keeps your hands in position. He’s on top of you once more and you can feel his erection through his pants. Your eyes shift down to gaze at the bulge when he distracts you.

Kakashi reaches for the hem of your tight tank and pulls it over your head so that your face is trapped under the fabric. He pulls up your sports bra allowing your chest to fall out of the support. You hear his growl as his eyes fall on your tits. To his excitement you’ve been keeping a naughty secret from him. Each peak lay trapped between two black cones. You had pierced your nipples as well as your tongue.

“Oh I’m gonna have fun with you.”

Oh gods I hope so…

Kakashi dragged his tongue tantalizingly slow over each bud. They were more erect than usual from the hauntingly beautiful man kneeling over you. He lapped at your right nipple, letting his lower lip catch on the jewelry earning a gasp from you.

“F-fuck Kashi.”

Grabbing your breasts with both hands, Kakashi went back and forth sucking on each peak, tugging on your piercing, then blowing cold air on the wet tip before switching over to the other. Your back arched up towards him involuntarily. You wished you could have watched him play with you but instead you were trapped in your own shirt waiting for Kakashi to let you see.

When Kakashi started biting down on your nipples you moaned loudly at the pain. He was enjoying your piercings too much. They already made you more sensitive on a daily basis and now he was out to torture you for his own fun. You started to squirm under him and he slapped down on your tit.

“Ah”

“Be still”

He barked, but he didn’t actually want you to be still. He just wanted to see your internal struggle. He wanted to wreak havoc over your body the way his bitch of a boss was wreaking havoc over his life. For once he was in control and he loved it.

You rubbed your legs together, the arousal you felt was too much. You craved relief.

“Kashi” you whine

“Fine slut, here.” he switched your legs so instead of being under him they were wrapped around his waist.

“Grind on me and make yourself cum.”

You obey, glad to get some alleviation from the flood of need consuming you as his muscle continues to glide over your peaks, tugging and rubbing on the black hardwear. The sensation in your nipples tingling down to the nerves between your legs, rubbing heavily on Kakashi’s lap. You push into his clothed erection, creating heat from the friction. You feel the desire building as you get reprieve where you need it. Little gasps and moans generate under the shirt, as your core works to roll your hips up and down on him.

“Mmmm, keep going little slut. Show me how much you want to get fucked.”

He tugs particularly hard on your nipple as you try to reply

“Gahhh! Yes sir.”

He wished he could see how your face scrunched up as he played with his new favorite toys but there was just something so sexy about you being trapped in your shirt. It made him want to take advantage of you. Like you were some pathetic weakling, waiting for him to destroy you.

You grind more desperately, feeling close to a release. Kakashi begins to mark your chest while his fingers pinch and play with your nipples. He was driving you insane. Your mind clouding as your hips frenzied up and down along the bulge in his pants. Breath becoming labored as you frantically chased your orgasm.

Kakashi released his lips from your skin, satisfied with his artwork but fingers still playing with your tips.

“That’s it. I know you’re close. Show me how much you want me to stuff you.”

“Yes! Yes sir, yes!”

Kakashi was so tempted to grab your hips and finish the job but he held himself back. There was plenty of time left to manipulate you. This was you earning it. To keep his hands busy he brought one back up to your neck, bearing down on your windpipe while the other found the belt, giving it another tug to keep your hands under your shoulder blades.

You slowed your strokes making them big and heavy, tugging your lips through your pants and soon he could feel you shiver against him.

“Did the little slut make herself cum?”

“Mhm” you whine under your shirt.

“Good job” he praises with another swat to your chest.

Kakashi begins to rip down your pants, spitting on your pussy before giving it a wack of his palm. He then pulls the neck of your shirt above your face so that it is still binding your arms together but now you can at least see.

He stands up and begins to shed his clothes. You watch, mesmerized by his towering figure. His work at the gym was yielding mouth watering results and you couldn’t stop yourself from gawking. You wanted to lick between each muscle and leave bruises all along his abdominals the way he marked your tits.

“Lets put this mouth to better use, hmm?”

You nod, looking up through your lashes at him.

“On your knees, whore. Now!”

You slide off the couch to stand up on your knees before him. He pushes your head down to his balls for you to collect them in your mouth. You stick your pierced tongue out to pull them into where they belong while Kakashi strokes his freed boner violently.

You fit both orbs in between your lips and suck, running your pink muscle all over them, massaging them with the stainless steel ball resting at the center of your tongue.

“That’s right. You’re nothing more than a good mouth for sucking on my nuts.”

You hum in agreement and feel Kakashi’s balls tighten as you do. “Fuck, just a perfect little slut. Yes you are.”

You loved his praise. Your eyes closed as you savored the taste of him. He ripped his balls out of your mouth and replaced it with his pink tip. You looked him in the eyes while you worshiped it. Giving light kitten licks before wrapping your lips around it. That’s when you noticed. He had been keeping a kinky secret from you too. Your lips run over a dydoe piercing on the top rim of his mushroom head. Your eyes widen.

“You like?”

You nod your head keeping him inside your mouth. You suck and begin prodding at his slit with the tip of your pointed tongue before rubbing it with the ball in your mouth. Kakashi shivers from the feeling.

You start to take more of him in your mouth, keeping your tongue out so that the round stainless steel end massages his shaft as you bob up and down on him. You can feel the small silver studs adorning his rim rubbing the back of your throat and you can’t wait to know how they feel inside your empty cunt. But you don’t get to enjoy these musings for too long. Kakashi places both hands on the back of your head and starts ramming himself down your throat. You choke and he holds you there. Keeping you down on him. The drool in your mouth starts spilling past your lips.

“That’s a good girl. Keep my dick in your throat.”

Your face was turning bright red as you waited to breathe. Finally he pulled you back. You gasp and pant, swallowing what oxygen you could before he was shoving himself back in.

“Eyes open, I want you looking at me.”

You obey as he bullies your throat. His hands in your hair tilting your face up so he can gaze down on you. Drinking in the feeling of power, having you down on your knees before him.

“You gonna be a good little slut and service my cock, right?”

You try to say yes but it comes out muffled. “Huh? What’s that? I couldn’t hear you.”

You try again but he deliberately starts thrusting in and out of your mouth. “Speak up if you have something to say.”

You try to say yes again but now he is freely fucking your face, ramming himself down your windpipe, while he pushes your head towards him. Hissing from the feeling of your tongue ring at the base of his shaft. He had never thought about how that stupid little steel bar in your mouth could be so useful to him. Now he may never stop thinking about it.

“Good girl.” he coos, “Don’t forget to look up.”

You try but then he pushes himself extra far and your eyes snap shut as your core tightens. You think you’ve had about all you can take when he finally pulls you off of him and spins you around so your face lays on the couch with your feet planted on the ground, displaying your holes to Kakashi’s leering eyes.

He immediately goes to swat at your lips dripping with arousal. The sound of impact is loud as you cry out.

“This cute little pussy is for me, ey?”

“Yes!” you cry.

You want him in you so bad. You need to feel him fill your hole the way he filled your mouth. You are eager to feel just how good his piercing rubs your walls. You wiggle your behind, asking for him to enter.

“You think you deserve a reward for taking my cock in your mouth so good?”

“Please sir”

He brings the palm of his hand down hard on your rear. “You don’t get rewarded for doing the bare minimum.”

Your skin stings from the blow but then it’s washed away from his tip prodding at your entrance. He teasingly enters only half way, stroking you lightly before pulling out and striking you with immense force again. As you cry he reenters you, deeper than before. Stroking in and out hearing your moans before he pulls out again and strikes with even more force. You feel like your skin is burning when he plunges in all the way. He thrusts in and out quickly making you sing before he rips out of your tightening hole to strike you several times. He repeats the brutal process, taunting you.

“You think you’re special just cause you can take a dick? Ha! You’re just a little whore.”

You reply with cries and screams, noises falling out of you from the beating.

“You think you’re special cause I chose to shove my dick in you? Think again slut. You’re just a toy for my pleasure.”

Your skin felt like it was on fire. Your knees grew weak from the game. It felt too good but he was edging you. Giving you pleasure but pulling out and hitting you before you could get off.

He unwraps your wrists and finishes taking off your shirt and bra. He throws them across the room and loops the belt around your neck, tugging on the end like a leash. Your fingers desperately reach up to the leather.

He holds onto the belt while shoving himself into you, taking you from behind like the little sex doll that you are. He rails through you pushing your organs aside while tugging hard on the belt, letting it constrict around your throat as your back bows. Nothing but grunts make it past your lips as the backs of your thighs collide with his hips. With his free hand he keeps hitting your plush behind, watching the ripples wash over your skin.

Your hands find their way to the couch cushions for support but he doesn’t like that. No, you’re not helpless enough like that.

“Spread your cheeks”

“Yes sir” you whisper

You reach behind you and spread your fingers before sinking them into the flesh of your behind, tugging outward so Kakashi could get a full view of your puckered rear and his wide girth gliding in and out of your labia. He groaned at the sight of your beautiful submission. Reveling in the feeling of how much tighter he had to hold the leash now that more of your weight was resting on your neck.

You choke as he wraps the belt around his knuckles. A reminder that you are no longer in control. At work you were in charge of so many daily operations but at this moment you were at Kakashi’s mercy. You were relieved of any choices. Your current master made them for you. Even the choice to breathe had been stripped away and that thought made juices squelch around his member invading your silken cavern.

Kakashi thrusts into you, abusing you, taking out all his pent up frustration on your body. He sees your starting to go limp and lets up on your tether, opting to grab you at your elbows instead. The improved grasp on your body allows him to slam in more forcefully and hit you even deeper than he did before.

Now that the tension had fallen from your neck you were able to properly breathe again. You begin screaming from the new depths of Kakashi’s dick in your slit. Feeling how his ring was massaging you in his assault, dragging along your walls as they squeezed around him.

As much as he savored the sounds of your surrender, he couldn’t have your neighbors checking in on you so he grabbed one of the napkins from the coffee table and stuffed it in your mouth, gagging you so as to muffle your cries. You couldn’t help how noisy you were. The stimulation was just overwhelming.

Thinking it couldn’t get more intense, he shoves you forward so your knees fall onto the couch. He grabs your hair and pushed your face onto the back of it, while reaching around your waist to begin rubbing your swollen bud. He begins stroking again and you feel yourself unravel. Your hands go to grip the couch again when he yanks on your hair to bring your ear close to his mouth.

“Did I say you could let go of your ass?”

You shake your head and bring your hands back behind you. He shoves your head back down and says,

“Grab your elbows. This ass needs some punishment.”

You whine, knowing your bright red skin can’t handle any more spanking but that isn’t your decision to make. You fold your arms behind your back and hold onto your elbows, bent over the back of the couch, your erect nipples grazing the upholstery. He lifts a foot onto the couch, posed as Captain Morgan so as to keep himself inserted as he brings his hand down on your cheek. He feels how you clench up in pain, straining around his girth. It eggs him on as he continues spanking your backside. You flinch and cry but he knows you like it. He feels how you drip. Slick coating your inner thighs.

“Only a whore would enjoy this so much. Tell me, are you a whore?”

You scream into the napkin as he brings his hand down again.

“Answer me!”

You try to scream ‘yes’ but the fabric has you silenced. He snatches it out from between your teeth as he strikes you again.

“Yes!! Yes I love it sir!”

He shoves the napkin back in, satisfied with your answer.

“Fuckin knew it, filthy slut”

With a final slap he pulls your hips back so you’re lined up along the edge of the couch. He stands behind you, one hand digging into your hip, the other still tangled in your hair, burying your face into the back cushion of the couch.

He drags in and out of you slowly, taunting you. Each time coming out to the tip so your ridge feels the metallic studs tug at it. Then he buries himself up to the hilt, pushing in just a little more when he’s flush against your rear. Satisfied moans come from your chest.

He drops the hand on your hip and brings it back to your clit, rubbing circles around it. You squeeze around him and flinch. He leans down,

“Do you like when I rub there?”

“Mhm” is all you can say before he releases your hair to take hold of your hips. He starts driving in. Both hands now placed on the flesh of your waist, pulling you back into him harshly with each thrust. He gains speed, the momentum causing his balls to crash into your clit, replacing the work his fingers were doing. Your face melts into a pleasured expression as you feel that coil of tension, that had been building since his earlier edging, on the verge of snapping.

His brutal pace left his sack crashing into your clit relentlessly. Your face bounces against the cushions until you finally release. You spray as you shake, graffitiing the couch with your fluids, the tingling warmth of the orgasm radiating from your cunt.

Kakashi pile drives into you, not letting you rest, allowing his balls to continue slapping into your swollen, wet clit as you spray, making your jerk violently. He grabs your hips tighter, keeping control of your body so he can continue to pound into you. You scream and writhe, trying to escape his grasp, almost letting go of your elbows to push him off.

Your sensitivity was all consuming and he didn’t care at all. You were a toy, a fleshlight, poised to service him. He was going to take advantage of how tightly your walls were bearing down on him, even if it was uncomfortable for you.

Your cries fell on deaf ears as Kakashi sank himself into you. He pushed you forward on the couch more, making room for him to kneel behind you. He brought up one knee and lifted your leg to rest on top of it, spreading you when you were already too tender to take any more. The new angle deepened his access, allowing him to push your diaphragm out of the way as he chases his pleasure.

You were brilliant. Your sweaty slick covered body contorted to his every whim. The look of your fucked out face turning around to plead with him for mercy where none would be granted. How the napkin was wet around your lips from the drool collecting in your mouth. The bright red on your ass cheeks from taking a beating by his hand and the perky peaks of your tits, rubbing along the couch’s fabric. The cones of your piercings, threatening to snag, tempting his hands to toy with them again.

One hand planted on your hip, controlling the pace, while the other reached up and began groping your chest. He was obsessed with your nipples. The piercings were too enticing. As much as he loved the current position, he needed to see your tits.

He withdrew from inside of you with a loud squelch and pulled you down to the floor, your bare back making contact with the area rug below. You brought your knees up near your arm pits, holding them spread as Kakashi sunk his tip past your folds, stroking in and out of you passionately while his hand roamed the surface of your chest, playing with the bars piercing your buds. You make doe eyes at him as he does, making him smirk with pride. Maybe this is his new Friday night ritual with you. You spread your legs while he plays with your tits.

He bends his head to give them both a harsh suck before he adjusts your legs to go over his shoulders. You hands wrap around his neck as he starts to slam into your corridor. You scrunch up from the intensity. Your head burying into Kakashi’s neck before a particularly cruel snap of his hips had you flinging your head back, nails sinking into the skin at the base of his head, your back arching off the carpet before he leaned forward, bending you in two. He was close to finishing, pounding feverishly into you. The last of his stress melting away as he wrecks your pussy, shredding the inside, rubbing it raw, filling it with his precum. His anger turns to pleasure. Teetering once more on the brink of orgasm. He leans in even more and you fall over the edge, gushing around him, cum dripping from your folds and down your ass crack. Your mewls are muzzled by the napkin still stuffed in your mouth as mascara runs down your sweaty tear soaked cheeks. You are the picture of wrecked and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Just as he’s about to burst he rips the napkin out of your mouth and grabs a fist full of your hair to drag your face to his cock so he can shoot his heavy load down your throat. You stick out your tongue and hollow your cheeks to pull as much cum from his shaft as you can, feeling it rhythmically spring to the back of your throat. His salty taste filling your mouth.

When he’s done, you hold the suction and bob your head some more. He flinches but you grab his waist, getting revenge for his earlier brutality after you squirted. He fists your hair and pulls back forcefully.

“Nice try slut.”

You smile up at him, feeling fully fucked out. Smiling back down at you, he kisses your face. He pulls you up but only to push you back down on the couch so he can lay on top of you and sloppily make out while he plays with your nipple piercings some more. You sleepily wrap your arms around him, drained from his pounding. 

“I’m spending the night.”

“Yes sir.” you whisper in your ear.

“Don’t get me riled up again. I don’t think you can take a second round.” he murmurs into your ear before kissing your temple. You ignore him and wrap your legs around his waist, grinding against him with your bare sex.

Stopping you before he gets carried away, he stands up and throws your body over his shoulder like a nap sack. He hoists you up to your bathroom to shower. 

After turning on the water he fingers you under the spray, pinning you against the wall and toying with his new obsession. Your already very weak knees are unable to hold your weight as they quake in pleasure. His digits bury themselves inside you, scoping out the damage done by his length minutes prior, feeling how he tore and scratched you. 

After making you cum a third time, fourth time total, he washes himself off. Then scrubs down your weakened form, being extra gentle around the rug burn on your back as well as your very bruised and beaten bottom.

Turning off the water and drying you both, he pulls your exhausted body to your bedroom, grabbing panties and a fresh tank top from the top drawer of your dresser. You slowly and sleepily put them on as he goes to get his briefs from the living room. When he returns he sees you try to put on pajama pants.

“Absolutely not.”

You stop in your tracks as he strides over to swat at your hand. He kicks the bottoms aside for the crime of trying to hide your beautiful body and takes posession over your mouth. Kissing you as he guides you backwards onto the bed. You climb in together and pull the covers up over your bodies while you wrap your leg over his hips. You sleepily grind on him with your eyes closed, sucking on his face, feeling wiped out from how he ravaged you.

He tickles your ear as he whispers, “You realize you’re not allowed to wear bras anymore.”

“I’m not?” you dreamily ask between kisses

“No” he replies with a pinch to your nipples through your shirt. “I need to see these at all times.”

“I can do that”

“Good slut”

You laugh into his mouth, continuing to kiss him. Excited for next Friday.

Masterlist

[dreamerchildunofficial]

[Hey, what's up nerds! Happy new year!!

Came on to say I'm really close to starting this back up, but it's gonna be a little different in universe time wise. At least, different in terms of tracking it to our world time. One of the main differences is that Frisk's world is no longer going to line up with ours hour by hour. I still don't know how I'm going to track their time yet and when I'm going to say the loop resets again, but they are no longer on Mountain Standard Time and probably not even going to experience an hour being as long as an hour in real time.

Second difference is how long it's been for us doesn't match up with how long it's been for them. While it's been I think two years by now?? for us, I'm picking this up right where I left off for them, so only a few months worth of loops have passed for them (I forgot how many exactly, I need to refresh on that).

I can't really think of an in universe explanation for why the desync in time, so uh, time distortion shenanigans. The time loops were feeling extra temperamental lately, idk lol

Important follow up for starting this again, I'm going to try to aim for every other Friday and/or Saturday, hopefully starting this week, I'll be available to role play. And maybe I'll be able to answer one or two random asks throughout the week. That said, I'm only going to be awake throughout the night, so uh, is anyone going to actually be on between the hours of 9pm - 8am Eastern Time? 😅 I can try to wake up earlier on both Fridays and Saturdays, and I can try to go to bed later on Saturday mornings if no one is going to be up that late, but I'll probably only be able to stretch it by a couple of hours. Otherwise this may end up being like a game of telephone tag or whatever where we keep missing each other, which I'm fine with but would take some extra thought as to how to work out the beginning and end of the time loops.

Last thing: When I start this up again, I'm going to follow up on the last thing that was done (I think it was the conversation with Sans which... I am so sorry for that cliff hanger), and then I'm going to move away from plot for a little while because there's some fun non plot related asks that I haven't answered yet that I want to get to, and I want Frisk to have a little rest with what's been going on with them :3

Thank you all for sticking with me, and I'll just leave this poll here before I go to bed :3 lol]

[enviedear]

save the date ⟶ james potter

DESCRIPTION ⌙ after an innocent suggestion that james potter is horrible at relationships, he feels inclined to prove you wrong. PAIRING ⌙ james x fem!reader CW ⌙ mention of food, eating food, petnames WORD COUNT ⌙ 2.3k

❛ ֪ ׂ shenanigans? is that what you call your love life? ֪ ׂ ❜

join my taglist | request | masterlist

for the second time this month, you’re spending your friday evening trying to drone out an argument. hilariously large and bulky headphones sit upon your ears— and yet you can still make out the aggravatingly grating noise.

if you’d known being james’ roommate would have entailed you hearing multiple fights from different girlfriends, you may not have signed the lease.

may not have— because a rent controlled apartment in the city is far too good to pass by.

truthfully, you felt a little bit bad for james. he was so good at picking gorgeous, captivating women. you could never fault his taste, no, you faulted his ability to be a boyfriend.

take this instance, a disagreement that started over dinner plans, only to devolve into a full blown argument. over what currently? you’re not exactly sure. but by the way the woman was yelling at him, you were sure he had said something stupid.

seconds later you can hear her huff, slam his door, walk down the stairs, and leave the apartment.

slowly, you remove your headphones, the noise of your music now being the only thing you can hear. you wait, looking expectantly at your door.

almost on some cue, james opens your door with a counterfeit smile on his face, “any plans tonight?”

you roll your eyes at him, “let me guess? non refundable dinner reservation and two tickets to the movies.”

he walks into your room, plopping down on your bean bag chair, “act nice or i’ll take sirius instead.”

you ignore him, “be honest, what did you do this time?”

“absolutely nothing.” he grumbles, shaking his head.

you didn’t believe him for a second. you’ve known james for four years now and you’ve lived with him for two. you knew in your soul that he, despite trying, always managed to do something.

he had a strange ineptitude for romance. it was as though he couldn't make it a week before his stupidity turned from endearing to unbearable.

he sighs, "she kept asking me if i had anything planned for our date— and i didn't want to ruin the surprise, so i just kept saying no. 'no, honey, i figure we'd wing it.' fuck— i didn't think it would blow up like that."

you gape at him, "but you did tell her, right?"

he shrugs, "by the time i thought to she was already leaving."

this was james, unable to keep a relationship purely because of his own doing.

"you're going to end up alone." you chuckle, fiddling with your phone to turn off your music.

james is silent, so you go on, "i'm saying this from a place of love, but you're horrible at relationships. almost criminally bad at them." your finger points at him, mocking.

he glares at you, tousled curls falling into his eyes, "i am not."

you grin, "yes— you are."

he ignores you, plopping down onto your bean bag, "and still i get more dates than you," he pauses, muttering out, "brat."

"you do not!" you don't mean to, but your voice comes out childishly.

james finally rids himself of his frown, smirking, "fuck's sake, calm down." it takes everything in you to not pelt him with whatever's near you. he has such a chuck-worthy grin.

it was often that the two of you would have these petty disagreements. mostly due to the close proximity of sharing the same space, but sometimes, you honestly didn't understand why both of you were so worked up.

you get off of your bed and squat down to his level, "i'm so close to throwing you out."

he smiles, and lazily pulls you down with him, "i didn't mean it, don't be mad."

you narrow your eyes, despite the grin on your face, "you're temperamental, potter."

he chuckles, eyes now closed, "and you're wrong."

you hum, arm touching his, "about what?"

he looks at you, "'bout me. that i'm bad at relationships."

you almost laugh at him, because if there was one thing you knew as fact— it was that james had a ninety-nine percent fail rate.

so you're easily coy when you speak, "oh, then please, prove me wrong."

your tone is playful, but james' eyes make you pause. he looks eerily\ honestly, determined.

"with pleasure." he says simply.

you don't say anything after. not for a few moments. you try instead to ignore the strange tightness in your chest at his words. wordlessly, you rise from beside him and open up your closet door.

"what time is this reservation?" you ask, subtitling watching his face brighten.

james smiles, "you'll come?"

you shrug, "i'll never turn down money spent well."

he laughs, "and you think my funds are best spent on you?"

there's a mischievous glint in your voice, "aren't i always the best cause."

he feigns annoyance at you, but goes to leave your room so that you can change. as you watch him go, and note the way his dress shirt hugs the curves of his toned back. often, you’d catch yourself admiring him. it was silly, but despite your usual chagrin of him and his antics, you found him so beautiful.

you’re barely concentating on the clothes he's wearing now, thinking instead to the half-awake version of him from last night, wearing only his plaid boxers and leaning against the fridge, a glass of water in his hand, eyes half-lidded.

and then, the james you so often see after a shower. his face flushed, hair tousled, and towel always riding just low enough.

of course, you noticed him and you tried not to lie to yourself about it. you found him attractive, sure, but that was all. you knew there was nothing else there, and you’d be an idiot if you let your mind even think there was.

putting your fascination with him to the side, you scour your closet for something presentable. reaching the back of your closet before finding anything, a flowy little number you had apparently hidden from yourself for god knows how long. you inspect it, and slip it on once you decide that the small wrinkles at the bottom of the skirt are inconsequential.

you do your makeup in the bathroom, james butting in often to try and hurry you along, "how many coats of mascara more? can we please leave?"

you shush him each time until you're finally ready, "there— see? that didn't take so long did it?"

he rolls his eyes, "felt like bloody years."

you chuckle, opening the door for him, "i don't even think i reached an hour, you brat."

he jingles his keys in your face, his assortment of keychains slapping against each other, "play nice."

it's safe to say you do not 'play nice' for the entire duration of the car ride. you take immediate ownership of the radio instead, queuing all your favorite songs. james protests for five or so minutes before shaking his head with you and singing along.

the restaurant he's chosen is a suedo-modern fusion steakhouse— horribly expensive— and you can't help but feel a little out of place as you step inside. james, however, seems right at home. he greets the hostess by name and leads you to a private booth in the back.

as you sit down, you eye him, "what?" he asks, sipping his water.

"how often do you come here. i mean, they seem to know you." you're smirking, finding it quite funny.

james shrunches his face, "no, actually, my parents have insisted on eating here for my past six birthdays."

you hum, "i forget mommy and daddy are wealthy, you should really advertise it more. as an incentive." you're kidding of course, james reeked of rich kid. in the nicest way.

he gestures at you with his butterknife, "you think i haven't pulled that? c'mon honey i'm not completely daft."

you chuckle, taking a sip of your own water. watching as james continues, dwelling into a story about work. you've already heard it but you'd feel wretched to tell him. so, you listen, watching his brown eyes and strong use of his hands with each adjective used.

you've almost blocked everything but him from your sense when the waiter returns, placing down an appetizer you're sure the two of you didn't order.

you look to james, who's in the middle of placing his order. he sends you a wink.

you fumble through your own order, cursing yourself for not looking at the menu more thoroughly.

"do you even know what that is?" james asks when the waiter walks away.

you roll your eyes, "yes james, i'm well aware of the french word for fish."

he shrugs, "can't hurt to make sure." there's a pause, "d'ya like the wontons?"

your face morphs into a smile, "you ordered this?"

"yeah when i made the reservation, don't feel too special." he's got a shit-eating grin on his face, freckles more prominent in the overhead light.

you tease, "i'll remember this next time you're in need of my assistance."

he leans back, feigning innocence, "hey, i'm just trying to create a memorable dining experience."

the conversation continues to flow, easy and familiar. it doesn't surprise you, how comfortable you are with james, even when he's being his usual cheeky self. the food arrives, and you both enjoy the meal, trading bites and sharing stories. it's one of those moments when you forget about the world outside and just relish in the company of a friend.

as dessert arrives, james leans in a bit closer, his tone shifting to something more serious. "you know, i appreciate you putting up with my shenanigans. not just tonight, but all the time."

you raise an eyebrow, a playful grin on your face, "shenanigans? is that what you call your love life?"

he chuckles, but his gaze is sincere, "yeah, that and everything else. you've been there for me, and i don't say it enough, but i'm really grateful."

you feel a warmth in your chest at his words, and for a moment, the playful banter fades away. "you're not so bad yourself, potter."

he smiles, a genuine one this time, "i'd hope so."

an hour passes by, and you're both lost in conversation when you realize the restaurant is beginning to close up. with a sigh, you both gather your things and leave. the night air is cool as you step outside, and you find yourselves walking down the quiet streets back to his car.

as you stroll, james looks over at you, his expression soft, "you know, i might not be great at relationships, but i've always liked what we have. you're more than just a roommate to me, you're like my confidant, my partner-in-crime, and my closest friend."

you feel a flush of emotion at his words, a mix of happiness and something you can't quite put your finger on. "you too, potter. just don't let it get to your head."

he grins, slipping his hands into his pockets, "wouldn't dream of it."

the two of you continue your leisurely walk, the city lights casting a warm glow around you. it's a somewhat quiet night, but the silence is comfortable, the kind that comes from years of shared experiences and unspoken understanding.

as you approach the car, james stops and turns to you, his gaze searching yours, "you know, i might be awful at relationships, but there's one thing i'm certain of."

you raise an eyebrow, curious, "and what's that?"

he opens his car door, soft smirk on his face, "i'm pretty sure i've already found the best thing in my life."

your heart skips a beat, but your eyes roll, "smooth, potter. really laying it on thick."

he chuckles, a hint of nervousness in his eyes, "i mean it, though." he proceedes to give a light shrug before getting into the car.

you chuckle and follow him, "you're insufferable."

he smiles, turning to head to you, "you can say whatever you want, but you know deep down you love me."

you slide into the passenger seat and playfully roll your eyes, "maybe i just have a high tolerance for insufferable people."

james starts the car, and as he pulls away from the curb, he glances at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "ah, so you're admitting it now, are you?"

you laugh, shaking your head, "i said high tolerance, not undying affection."

he grins, focusing on the road, "well, that's progress, i suppose."

the drive back to your apartment is filled with lighthearted banter and comfortable silences. when you finally arrive, you both step out of the car and make your way to the entrance.

as you approach your apartment door, james turns to you, a playful grin on his face, "you know, i have another surprise for you."

you raise an eyebrow, curious, "oh really? and what might that be?"

he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box, presenting it to you with a flourish, "ta-da! a box of chocolate-covered strawberries, your favorite."

you take the box with a surprised smile, "well, well, james potter, you're really pulling out all the stops tonight."

he chuckles, "just trying to prove that i'm not a lost cause in all things romantic."

you open the box and take a strawberry, popping it into your mouth with a satisfied hum, "i have to admit, this is a step in the right direction."

james grins, looking almost proud of himself, "i'll take what i can get."

you both head inside, and as you settle back into your apartment, you can't help but reflect on the evening. despite his usual antics and relationship mishaps, there's a side of james that you've come to appreciate more and more—a side that values your friendship and makes an effort to show it.

as the night winds down and you both prepare for bed, you find yourself sitting on your respective beds, sharing a comfortable silence. you glance over at james, who's focused on scrolling through his phone, and you can't help but feel a sense of contentment.

"hey, potter," you speak up, breaking the silence.

he looks up, raising an eyebrow, "yes, my dear roommate?"

you smirk, "you know, you might be onto something with this whole 'proving me wrong' thing."

he grins, setting his phone aside, "oh, am i winning you over, then?"

you shake your head, a teasing glint in your eyes, "let's not get ahead of ourselves. but maybe, just maybe, you're not as hopeless as i thought."

james leans back, looking satisfied, "i'll take that as a victory."

you both exchange smiles, and in that moment, you're reminded of why you agreed to be james potter's roommate in the first place. despite his esoteric personality, he's genuine and loyal, and always there to bring a smile to your face—even if it's through exasperation.

with a smirk you get up, making your way upstairs before calling out, "I'm free this Sunday, might as well give you a second date."

[embrosegraves]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕦𝕚𝕕𝕠 𝕋𝕠 𝕄𝕪 𝕃𝕦𝕚𝕘𝕚

Alessandro Fusaro x Fem!Reader (she/her) Where taking your niece to a race has an unexpected, very stressful (but eventually very welcome) outcome.

Warnings: None! Maybe some brief talks of the dreaded emotions!! (also probably some bad Italian translations 😅)

Ember's Notes: I really hope you like this one @pear-1206 because I actually loved writing it so much oml 🫶🫶

(I left it kind of open ended so if there’s a decent demand for it, I can write a part two that focuses mainly on the pairing)

For as long as you could remember, your family had been staunch Ferrari supporters. You had been part of the Tifosi for your whole life. It was something that you had found so much joy in, being able to cheer and root for the same team as the rest of your family. Which is why you had asked your younger brother if you could take your 7 year old niece, Gianna, to the Imola Grand Prix. He had told you a few months ago that he was trying to get Gianna to be a Ferrari fan (a fan of motorsport in general) but it was turning out to be tough work.

Originally your father had planned to take you with him, but given the circumstances, he had told you to take Gianna. So you brought it up to your brother and his wife. Your sister-in-law had been worried that something might happen to Gianna (and you of course) but she swiftly agreed to let you take her daughter when you promised to facetime every morning and every night that you were away. All that was left to do was to tell Gianna that she would get to spend a whole weekend with her Zia Y/n. [Auntie]

A few weeks have gone by and it was finally time for you to introduce your niece to the world of Formula One. You hoped that she would have fun, especially given just how excited she was when her parents told her about the trip. You desperately didn’t want that excitement to have been for nothing.

“How long will we take this weekend, Zia?” You heard her ask from the backseat of your car, your beloved 1959 Fiat 500. Your car had been another thing that Gianna was excited about for the weekend, as you usually only drove it around on special occasions.

“We’re going to be here all weekend, Bambina. Nonno was kind enough to get us passes into the garage for the whole weekend.” You told her. [Baby] [Grandpa]

“Are we going to meet important people?” She asked, twiddling with her thumbs timidly. You became worried as this was so far away from how she usually was.

“Mmm, I’m not sure Fiore. Why? Are you nervous?” [Flower]

“Un po’” [A little bit]

Your heart melted and seized simultaneously. You reassured her that being nervous was normal, because she had never gone to a race weekend before. Wanting to see her smile again, you offered to teach her about who was who in the paddock as soon as you settled into your hotel room. Gianna quickly agreed and was back to her vibrant, excited self in no time.

Walking into the paddock on Friday morning was a feeling that you would happily get used to. Gianna had asked if you could try and get there earlier than all the drivers. When you asked, she told you that she still wasn’t 100% confident about who was who, despite spending well over an hour the night before looking up pictures and matching them to names. Gianna said that by getting there earlier than the others, the two of you could find a nice spot somewhere near the entrance where you could point and tell her who was walking through.

Thinking about it, you couldn’t fault her logic. So here you were bright and early. You had arrived with enough time to buy some breakfast and find a nicely shaded spot where you could settle in while you waited. Gianna had insisted that you both sit at a table that was both directly opposite the paddock entrance and under a rather large tree. Sitting down you gave Gianna her breakfast, a freshly toasted bacon and egg croissant, and made sure that she was drinking enough water from her Cars themed bottle. Similarly you also began to eat your own croissant while you sipped your scalding hot coffee.

Gianna spoke to you about what she was most excited for this weekend while you both ate. Occasionally someone would walk through the entrance that she recognised. You were surprised just how often she had noticed someone that you mentioned the previous night. So far she had pointed out some drivers, a few of the team principals and the occasional mechanic or engineer.

When Hannah Schmidt had walked through though, Gianna had nearly fallen off her seat as she pointed and told you that she had recognised and remembered the iconic woman. Said woman had heard Gianna excitedly cry and she had smiled and waved at your niece as she walked to the Red Bull garage.

You smiled when you noticed that Hannah had waved at Gianna. Happy that this trip was definitely living up to what you had promised your niece. Seeing that the two of you had long since stopped eating, you packed away your rubbish and cleaned up the area you had been sitting.

“Should we walk around for a bit, Gigi? Stretch our legs a little?”

“Yes please, Zia.”

So you packed away your things and threw away your rubbish in a nearby bin. You held Gianna’s hand and walked around for a bit as you didn’t need to be in the garage for a little while still.

Walking around the paddock with your niece made sure to point out all the things she thought were interesting. You were giving her little tidbits of information throughout the whole walk, about a bunch of things that had to do with motorsport. Granted most of the information was directly about Ferrari but hey, you were trying to induct a brand new member of the Tifosi.

Unbeknownst to you, just as you were starting to tell Gianna about the extensive history of Ferrari, a member of the Scuderia Ferrari media team had strolled past you and had heard you speaking about Enzo Ferrari. They had quickly turned around and you found yourself being approached by a small media team no less than 2 minutes later.

“Hi, I’m Sophia. I’m part of Ferrari’s media team, I was just wondering if we could film you answering some Ferrari related questions for a youtube video?”

Having not expected this change of events at all, but also knowing you wouldn’t get another chance, you agreed to let them film you. So long, of course, that they didn’t get Gianna’s face in the shot. As they started to set their equipment, you gently kneeled next to your niece and asked her to stay within a few metres of you so that she wouldn’t get lost.

“Te lo prometto Zia!” [I promise Auntie!]

“Bene.” [Good.]

As you stood up they told you that they were ready to film when you were. Giving them the go ahead they pressed record and started asking you questions. First general questions about Formula One but soon they started to ask more obscure questions about Ferrari specifically. You smiled and gave as many answers as you could. Which was a lot. Later when the video would come out, a lot of people would comment that had you not introduced yourself at the beginning they’d’ve thought you were related to Enzo himself.

The questions had ended after almost twenty minutes. Sophia had apologised because she wasn’t aware how long that would take but you assured her it was no problem at all. You readjusted your shoulder bag and went to grab Gianna’s hand, only to not see her where she was supposed to be standing.

“Gianna?” you called, trying not to panic. She was right beside you, where could she have gone?

“Gigi?! Fiore, this isn’t funny!” you tried to call out again. “Zia’s getting really worried!”

Having already excused yourself from the media team next to you, disregarding their shocked and worried looks, you quickly started walking around trying to find your niece. Walking towards the end of the paddock you kept calling out for her, hoping that someone would take pity on you and help you look. Thankfully you had taken a “fit check” photo with her this morning, meaning that when you went up to people asking if they’d seen her, you could show them a picture of what she was wearing that day.

Too many people had said they’d not seen her at all for you to be comfortable. You were starting to get frantic when another 10 minutes had gone by. There was no way you were returning home without your niece. You’d turn into Liam Neeson if you found out that someone had taken her. Speed walking past the Ferrari garage, you finally heard the sound you had needed to hear.

Gianna’s giggles.

Letting her giggling lead you to her, you ended up in the garage where you needed to be for the beginning of the practise sessions. Looking around for Gianna, you noticed that one of the mechanics was crouching down but not facing the car at all. Walking closer you finally saw that the mechanic was entertaining you niece, whose face was lit up with the biggest smile you had ever seen.

Emotions washed over you like a tsunami. She hadn’t been taken. Tears welled up in your eyes at the utter relief you felt finally knowing that she had been safe the whole time.

Rushing over to her, you quickly scooped her up into a hug, wrapping your arms around her tightly.

“Gianna! Mia cara ragazza, non hai idea di quanto fossi preoccupato! I thought someone had taken you away and you were lost forever! Sono così felice che tu stia bene!” By now your tears had begun falling down your face. [My darling girl, you have no idea how worried I was!] [I’m so glad you’re okay!]

“Zia! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to break my promise but someone pushed into me and I fell and when I got up again I couldn’t see you and then I bumped into Alessandro and he asked me why I was crying and so I told him that I couldn’t see you and that we were supposed to go to the Ferrari garage for practise so he made sure I got here without anyone else pushing me!” She rushed to tell you everything that had led to this moment. You finally let go of her, moving your hands to stroke the hair away from her face. In the back of your mind you noted that she had bumped into Charles Leclerc’s head mechanic, but that could be focussed on later.

“It’s okay Principessa. You found help, I’m proud of you. I was just worried when I couldn’t see you, that's all.” You said, finally able to wipe your own tears off of your face. “Did you say thank you to Mr. Fusaro?”

Alessandro decided to cut in before Gianna could tell you that she had indeed said thank you. “Please, there’s no need for thank you’s. I didn’t want her to get more lost or upset.”

Standing up, you gently placed a hand on Gianna’s shoulder as you faced the man in front of you. “I must insist, you just saved me from a horrible phone call with my sister-in-law.”

You both chuckled a little as you spoke. He brushed you off again saying he loved hanging out with Ferrari’s biggest little fan.

“Zia, he has a tattoo! It’s so cool!” Seeing Alessandro get a bit bashful when your niece spoke made you curious, but you decided to not bring a lot of attention to that.

“Does he?” You said. Of course you already knew. Being part of the Tifosi for as long as you had, Alessandro’s Guido tattoo was common knowledge. Funnily enough it was one of the questions Sophia had asked you. Which ferrari mechanic has an iconic tattoo and what is the tattoo? It was your favourite question to answer as it allowed you to bring up your precious Fiat 500 that you had named Luigi after the Fiat from the Cars movie. It technically also allowed you to bring up your own tattoo which was, again, based on Luigi from Cars. Not that you did bring it up. You’d never hear the end of it from your father.

“Uhuh! It’s a red Guido from the same movie as yours!” Trust your innocent niece to blurt to all Ferrari that you also had a Cars themed tattoo.

Alessandro was now less bashful and more intrigued about your tattoo.

“The same movie as yours?” He asked.

You chuckled and continued to smooth out Gianna’s hair as you faced Alessandro. “Yeah, a few years ago, maybe a month before Gianna was born, I got a tattoo of Luigi from Cars. In a pale red instead of the usual yellow.”

Gianna nodded her head quickly and began to excitedly tell him all about how the first movie she had ever watched with you was Cars and how it had become your thing together.

All too quickly time caught up and it was soon time for Alessandro to go back to work. Gianna had deflated a little at the knowledge but she perked up again when Alessandro had said that he would try and talk to them again after both practise sessions had finished.

“After all,” he said, kneeling in front of her but looking up at you, “I’d love to get to know you better.”

I actually love this so much (When I get back home, I'll be making a new masterlist for the non-drivers that I'm gonna be writing for) ((also, while i’m away from my computer i’m gonna be typing up some dusty requests and maybe some drafts as well on my phone so please excuse any irregular formatting i’ll try and fix them before i post them))

this is also being posted a lot later than i initially thought it would be. i had planned for it to be posted before Monaco but 😅 (also something will be coming for the monaco race but i want it to be perfect so it might be a while before that comes to light)