#every time they find something new wrong with me

[cjlouwho]

Sick of It

in which Tommy gets sick, and he and Buck head towards making up.

The first time Buck gets a call from a number he doesn't recognize, he ignores it.

He does the same the second time too.

The third time, he waits for it to go to voicemail so he can block it.

“Why don't you just answer?” Hen asked, annoyed by his grumbling. “Might be something important.”

“No. Someone gave my number to a debt collector and I've been dodging calls for a Victor Fornell all week. It's nothing.”

He'd barely had time to block the number and resume his search for new bread recipes when Bobby was walking out of his office and calling out to him on the couch.

“Buck, Captain Dominick just called me.”

The name got Buck's attention fast. He stood. “The captain at 217? Why? Wh- What's wrong?”

“Calm down, Buck. Tommy didn't show up for work today and Dominick couldn't get ahold of him. You heard from him lately?”

“N- No. No, I- Was Captain Dominick the one trying to call me?”

Bobby nodded. “Apparently, Tommy put you down as his emergency contact a few months ago. Like I said, could be nothing,” he repeated, noticing Buck's heavy breathing, “it's just not exactly like him to not show up.”

“No,” Buck agreed. “No, it's not. Um, Boss, I-”

Bobby held up a hand to stop him. “I'm not stopping you,” he said, “but I also don't want you going alone. Chim,” he said, glancing around Buck to see all the others paying close attention, “why don't you head out with Buck and see what's going on?”

Chimney nodded, getting up and heading for the stairs. “Let me grab my bag and keys!” he called out to Buck. “I'll meet you at the car.”

Buck already had his phone pulled up to Tommy's name, typing out a text to ask if he was okay. He sent one text, then another, then another.

“Eddie, ha- have you talked to him at all? Since we, um, since the breakup?”

Eddie shook his head. “He broke up with you,” he reasoned. “I figured that's the end of that.”

“You're joking.”

“You're my best friend, Man, I wasn't gonna take his side.”

“Eddie, you've gotta b-”

“Okay, okay,” Bobby interrupted. “Buck, you need to get going.”

Buck turned his phone toward Bobby, eyes pleading. “He... He's not answering me, Bobby.”

“Go.”

*****

“His spare key is in one of these,” Buck said, lifting up rock after rock in the flower bed at the front of Tommy's house.

“We could try knocking on the door first, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck replied, waving Chimney off. “Try it. I'll keep looking.”

Chimney knocked three times, then waited. Called out Tommy's name, and knocked again.

“Maybe he's out?” Chimney suggested just as Buck found the fake rock.

“His car is here, Chim.”

“Could've gone for a walk.”

“When he's supposed to be at work?”

“Just trying to be positive here.”

Buck unlocked the door and entered slowly, afraid of what he might find. “Tommy?!” he called. “T- Tommy, it's Evan.”

“And Howie!” Chimney added. “You here, Buddy?”

They waited for an answer, then continued on into the house when they didn't get a reply.

It was dark inside, the only light filtering in through a couple of open windows.

It was messy too, which was unlike Tommy. He was always so put together; had a space for everything and liked it that way.

But now there were half empty glasses on the kitchen counter, dishes in the sink. Take out containers were on the coffee table in the living room.

There was also a ridiculous amount of plants on every available surface.

“I think Tommy might have you beat in the breakup grief department, Buckley.”

Buck ignored him in favor of calling for Tommy again. “Tommy! You here?”

“I'll check the garage,” Chimney said, he and Buck splitting up to cover more area. Buck headed down the hallway, tilting his head a bit when he noticed a light shining from underneath the bathroom door.

“Tommy?” Buck felt anxious in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. As he neared the bathroom, he heard a weak groan, and then the sound of someone shuffling.

Every horrible thought ran through his head in a matter of seconds. What if Tommy was hurt? What if someone had tried to murder him? What if that was the murderer on the other side of the door right now?

“I'm coming in!” he exclaimed, shoving the door open as he braced himself for whatever was waiting on the other side.

And there was Tommy, lying on the bathroom floor. Not murdered, but definitely not okay.

“Oh my God,” Buck breathed out. “Chimney, in here!”

Buck knelt down beside Tommy, who was curled on his side, eyes clenched shut, practically vibrating with chills even as sweat covered his face.

“Tommy, what's wrong? Wh- What happened?” he asked, resting a hand over Tommy's forehead. He was burning up.

“I- I passed out, I think,” Tommy replied, teeth chattering. He managed to turn his head enough to look up at Buck. “I- Why're you here?”

“Doesn't matter. Chim!”

“I'm here, I'm here,” Chimney said, rounding the corner. “Whoa! Whatcha doin' on the floor, Tommy?” he asked, managing to keep his cool far better than Buck.

“I'm really... I'm okay, guys.” Tommy's weak voice betrayed his words.

“Don't think that's true, Man. Buck, mind giving us a little room?”

Buck nodded, pushing the hair off Tommy's forehead before standing and moving to the doorway.

Chimney knelt beside Tommy, putting on a pair of gloves before beginning to look him over.

“You fall?”

“K- Kinda. I felt like I wa- was gonna puke, so I was l- l... leaning over the toilet. Then I must've passed out.”

Chimney began to feel around his head and neck. “Can you tell me the year?”

“2024.”

“Your name?”

“Tommy K- Kinard.”

“And where are you right now?”

“Ugh,” Tommy groaned, a look of disgust on his face. “My bathroom floor.”

“Alright. I don't think you've got a concussion, but there's definitely something going on.”

“Ya... Ya think?” Tommy deadpanned.

“There's that humor we all know and love. I need to look you over, Bud, but I'm gonna have to move you a little. Can you turn to me a bit so you're laying flat?”

Slowly, Tommy turned, briefly glancing up at an anxious Buck before closing his eyes. “Hurts,” he grunted.

Carefully, Chimney began to feel around his abdomen. “Tommy, you still got your appendix?”

Tommy shook his head. “No."

“What first brought you into the bathroom?”

“Had t- to pee.” He sucked in a shaky breath, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “Then puke. Then I mu- must've passed out.”

“Mm.” Chimney felt around Tommy's midsection, stopping when Tommy practically jerked away from him. “You been having pain in your side?”

“Mhm.”

“What about your back and/or groin?”

Tommy curled back in on himself, lying sideways on the bathroom floor. “Yeah.”

“Chim?” Buck spoke up from the doorway. “What is it?”

Chimney raised a finger at him. “One second.” He turned back to Tommy, pulling a infrared thermometer out of his bag and pointing it at Tommy's forehead. He whistled when the temperature popped up. “Quite the fever you've got there. Tommy, does it hurt when you pee?”

Tommy managed to glare aback at him.

“It's important, Bud.”

“Mmm,” Tommy groaned. “Mhm. Yeah, i- it does.”

Chimney nodded. He placed the thermometer back in the bag and rested a hand on Tommy's shoulder. “I believe that you, my friend, have a kidney infection. A pretty bad one at that. How long have you been hurting for?”

“Few... Few days. Not this bad though.”

“I'm gonna call for an ambulance. Infection this bad might've gone into your bloodstream. Buck's gonna stay with you while I wait outside for the ambulance, okay?”

“It's really,” he had to stop as a wave of chills came over him. “Really no problem.”

Chimney rolled his eyes, standing and turning to Buck. “I'm afraid he might be close to septic shock,” he whispered. “He's gonna keep fighting against going to the hospital though, however weak he might be. Talk some sense into your man while I put the call in.”

“He's not my-” Chimney pushed past him and headed down the hall, “man.”

Buck moved back into the small space next to Tommy. Hesitantly, he reached out, his hand hovering over Tommy's arm. He'd touched him before, when he was checking for a fever. That had been in a rush, without much thought.

Now, he wasn't sure. Wasn't sure if he was allowed to touch.

He pushed the thought aside as another almost violent wave of chills overcame Tommy.

“It's okay,” he soothed, running his hand up and down Tommy's arm. “It's okay. Chimney's got an ambulance on the way.”

“I think... I just n- need to rest. I- I'll be okay,” he tried to insist. “It's n- nothing.”

“Tommy, it's not nothing. You're crying right now.” Buck leaned forward, gently running his thumb across Tommy's cheek, wiping away a tear. He'd never seen him like this before, and it was terrifying. “Do you wanna try to get up? Would it be more comfortable to wait on th- the ambulance in bed?”

“Don't think I can. Everything gets t- to dizzy when I move.”

“Okay. That's okay. Here, why don't I...” Buck's voice drifted off as he maneuvered Tommy and himself into a better position. One where Tommy's neck wasn't awkwardly angled down in a way that was sure to cause him more pain later.

By lifting Tommy's head slightly (and slowly), Buck managed to slide between him and the bathtub. He straightened out his legs, one on either side of Tommy, then gently rested Tommy's head on his stomach.

Tommy, still on his side, unconsciously curled his hand around Buck's thigh, gripping onto his pants.

It was quiet for a bit, then, “Ev- Evan?”

“I'm here, Tommy,” Buck answered quietly, running his fingers through Tommy's unkept and sweaty curls, softly massaging his head.

“It r-” his voice was cut off by a jerk, chills prickling up all over his body, “really hurts.”

“I know. Help will be here soon.”

“I- I tried to ignore it.”

“I can tell. Not sure that was the wisest choice.”

The side of Tommy's mouth managed to lift into a small smile, but as soon as it was there, it was gone, a grimace taking over.

“Maybe... Maybe I j- just need t- to sleep it off.”

“Well, you can sleep it off at the hospital.”

“I don't... I don't think I-”

“You're going to the hospital, Tommy, whether you like it or not,” Buck interrupted, matter-of-factly.

Tommy jerked again, a little whine slipping out as he curled in closer to Buck. “I- I'm sorry,” he said, nearly whimpering. “I'm sorry.”

Buck wanted to cry. Tommy- big, tall, strong, Tommy- looked so incredibly small right now. Like a scared child, afraid he was going to get in trouble for being sick.

Buck held him the best he could without hurting him. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Tommy.”

*****

When Tommy woke up, it was to Buck by his side. He was sitting in the visitor's chair, his head resting on the bed next to Tommy's thigh, their hands intertwined.

It made Tommy's chest ache. He wanted Buck there, wanted him to stay, but he didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve him.

Not anymore.

Tommy wiggled his fingers a bit. He didn't want to startle Buck, but he also thought it'd be best to wake him up.

Buck's head popped up quickly. He let Tommy go, using the back of his hand to wipe away the little bits of drool running down his chin.

“Good morning,” Tommy said, grinning over at him. “Or afternoon?”

“Night,” Buck informed him, causing Tommy to glance toward the window. A drawn shade blocked any potential view.

“I don't... I don't really remember getting here,” Tommy admitted.

“You, uh, you passed out in the ambulance. You'd wake up every once in a while, but you were kinda out of it.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed. “Long day.”

“That was two days ago, actually.”

“Wow... Long week then, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

After a beat of awkward silence, Buck suddenly stood. “You thirsty?” he asked, pointing over toward the tray table. “I- I can fix you a cup of water.”

“Sure,” Tommy answered. “That'd be good.”

Buck nodded, but didn't move. He stared at the water, making no effort to actually go over and get it.

“Um, Buck?”

“The doctor said twelve more hours and you'd have been a dead man.”

Tommy closed his eyes, readying himself. He knew where this was going. “Buck-”

“What were you thinking, Tommy? You had to have been in pretty bad pain for a few days, at least. You should have gone to the doctor!”

“I know.”

“Or you could have at least called me, or Eddie, or Chimney. Somebody! Let someone know you were sick.”

“They're not my people to call, Buck.”

“Stop calling me that, and don't say that! I don't own them, Tommy, you could have called!”

“Are you really fighting a dying man right now?” Tommy pouted, wincing as moved himself up the bed slightly.

“You're not dying anymore,” Buck corrected, “and yes, I am! Seeing you like that, Tommy, it was... it was terrifying. The idea of you not being around i- is terrifying.”

“I'm sorry. Really, I am. I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't,” Tommy paused, taking a breath. “I didn't really think about calling anyone. It's not what I do when I'm sick. You just power through, you know? I figured I'd get better. Absolutely did not plan on passing out on my bathroom floor. Would have brought a pillow and a blanket with me, made things a little more cozy.”

Buck rolled his eyes. “You're using humor as a defense mechanism.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Is it working?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Tommy sighed, but gave Buck a smile. “Listen, um, thank you for coming and everything. I'm gonna be fine though, so you can-”

Buck's face fell instantly. “I swear to God, if you're telling me to leave.”

“Buck-”

“I told you to quit calling me that! To you, I'm Evan, and I'm not leaving you! I don't know what it is about me that makes you think that that's what I do, but it's not!”

“Evan-”

“And I'm also sick of everyone telling me what I should or shouldn't do, so jot that down!”

“Evan-”

“And I'm sick of you acting like you're not worthy, or whatever the hell you're doing, because it's not true. And I also know you're doing worse than I am with our breakup, which I didn't think was possible! I saw your place, it's a mess! So don't you-”

“Evan!”

“What?!” Buck yelled.

“Why don't you sit down and we'll talk, okay?”

Buck eyed him curiously. “Really?”

“Mhm.” Tommy patted toward the chair beside his bed. “I think we both need it.”

Buck stood straighter, puffing out his chest. “Y- Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He went to sit, but Tommy stopped him before he could.

“But,” he said quickly, “could I get water first? I actually am thirsty.”

“Oh, damn it!” Buck exclaimed, eyes widening. He hurried over to the tray table, pouring a glass of water and grabbing a straw. “Sorry about that,” he said with a little laugh. “Got distracted, you know, yelling at you.”

“It's fine,” Tommy assured him. “I probably deserved it.”

“Oh you definitely did.” He shooed Tommy's hands away from the cup as he brought the straw up to his mouth. “Just sip, I'll hold.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They were both silent for a few seconds while Tommy drank, and then. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“I- I want to be here, okay? I need you to know that.”

Tommy stared up at him, giving him a nod. “Okay,” he replied. “I want you here.”

[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!

[linearities]

ᅟᅟᅟ☆ ｡⁠ UNDER THE MISTLETOE ～ !!

a mistletoe hanging above your bed? surely your roommate is just getting into the Christmas Spirit... right?

pairing: roommate!seonghwa x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT!!! +18 MINORS DNI!!!! oral (fem receiving), pussy drunk seonghwa, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cursing, kinda perv!seonghwa (?), not proofread!!!

notes: why hello there my loves :3 it's been a long while since i've written smut so please forgive me if this is bad :/ merry (late) christmas and happy new years to all of you!!!!

taglist form. · masterlist.

divider here.

you should've suspected something when you got home from work and found a mistletoe hanging above your bed. you thought it was just a cute little detail your roommate did, a cheeky little thing as a lot of others he had a habit to do. sliding into the christmas spirit, you know?

walking inside the apartment, seonghwa was quick to take your bags and help you out of your coat, even going as far as kneeling in front of you to help you take off your shoes. you found it suspicious, yet didn't say anything, knowing that sometimes he'd go overboard on the pampering and all of that, catering to your every whim. according to him, he just wanted to "be a good roommate". you shrugged the thought away, letting him guide you to the bedroom, chuckling as soon as you saw the garment hanging on the wall.

"what's this?" you asked, looking at him with a playful undertone in your voice. he shrugged with that cheeky smile of his, looking at you with soft pleading eyes as he brought his hands to the first button of your blouse. "fuck it, why not?" you thought, nodding at him in encouragement. slowly, he started unbuttoning your blouse, taking his time popping every button. you could hear his breath hitching as the fabric slid off your arms, falling on the bed.

in your defense, you had always found seonghwa pretty cute, and having him undress you like that after a long fucking day of work was almost a dream come true. he was that boy who's jacked and kind Sabrina Carpenter had talked about, so you wouldn't complain at all. he laid you on the bed, softly brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

"you're so beautiful…" he murmured, admiring your features like you were his dream come true. his christmas miracle, "can i kiss you? since we're under the mistletoe and all?"

that got a giggle out of you, and you nodded, joining your lips in a sweet kiss. it was christmas, after all. what could possibly go wrong? except his kisses grew hungrier, greedier, and his hands slowly started to roam over your upper body. you held his wrists, breaking the kiss to properly look at him, only to find pure and raw adoration and desire in his gaze. where the fuck did this come from?

"hwa, i don't know if that's a good idea-"

"please," he interrupted you, burying his face on the crook of your neck, "i promise i'll be good for you." you sighed softly, thinking about it. again, what could go wrong? it was just harmless fun between roommates, under the excuse of a mistletoe.

little did you know you were in for a long night.

"tasting so good, my christmas gift," seonghwa groaned, your legs hooked on his shoulders as he kept relentlessly making out with your pussy, licking, sucking and kissing your clenching core like it was his death row meal.

you, on the other hand, already had tears in your eyes, coming out of your third orgasm of the night. you couldn't get him out of you at all. you had pushed him only to have him place your legs on his shoulders. you had tried to crawl away, only to have him grab you by your hips and drag you closer, burying his face on your sweet cunt again. seonghwa was completely pussy drunk, pushing you over the edge again and again and again until you were a shivering mess, whimpering and sobbing in overstimulation.

"hwa… hwa, f-fuck, 's too much… too much…" you cried out, hands on his head trying to push him away, your protests falling in deaf ears since he was too far gone to even register what you were saying, murmuring praises on how good you were for him, how beautiful you were, how sweet you tasted, how divine you smelled.

"so perfect f' me… so sweet… so wet, so tasty…." he kept praising, not even realizing how your legs were shaking and ready to give out.

he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you, only stopping when he was satisfied, your clit swollen and your legs spasming on his shoulders. sweet little kisses trailed up your body, worshipping your soft skin in pure adoration. his eyes roamed over your face, admiring your fucked out features and the tear streaks on your face.

"so beautiful…" he murmured, peckering his sweet little kisses all over your face, capturing your lips and making you taste yourself on his tongue.

"you're insane," was the only thing you could get out, panting and sweating under him, "and a pervert."

he giggled, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck, "don't act as if you didn't enjoy it."

that earned a smack on his shoulder and a chuckle out of him, "shut up."

"merry christmas to you too, roomie," he murmured, laying on top of you and pecking your lips.

"merry christmas, seonghwa," you chuckled, wrapping your legs around him and finally surrendering to the feeling, allowing yourself to relax under his weight.

hi hello it's your girl meggie :3

if you read until the end thank you so much i literally love you mwah mwah mwah

merry christmas and happy new years, babes <3 gonna bring more treats to y'all soon, just you wait.

xoxo, meggie.

[essiemclaren]

watch me win

in which lando was paid to fake date y/n!

pairing: mean!lando x reader

tw: super mean/rude lando and ofc angst

day 2

lando's text with the bros

lando's text with the reader

Life is unpredictable, but for Lando Norris, there was always a backup plan. He didn’t need to waste time stressing over what could go wrong; his mind was always three steps ahead. Quick moves, sharp thinking—that’s how he kept control. So, when he asked her out for Saturday, it wasn’t because he liked her. Far from it. He didn’t even find her interesting enough to care. She wasn’t some elusive beauty that had him tongue-tied. No, Lando asked her out because he was helping a buddy out, someone too spineless to handle their own situation. She was a tool, a temporary convenience to get what he needed.

Right after their day 1 of meeting, Lando... Oh, Lando instantly knew the way she clung to every word he said, the desperate way she hung on to each fleeting moment of attention—Lando could practically see it. She was that type, the one who’d find validation in any scrap of it, always eager to be the center of someone’s universe. It wasn’t even a challenge; she was a walking cliché, all wide eyes and innocent smiles, pretending she was so much more than the attention-seeker she really was. And Lando? He was just playing along, a momentary distraction, a little fun to help out his friend.

Nothing personal.

She wasn’t anything special—just someone who’d fall for the smallest gestures, starved for a taste of something that made her feel wanted. Lando didn’t mind giving her that. He knew she'd eat it up, desperate for it, clinging to the idea that this meaningless gesture somehow meant something more.

And for day 2? Since he asked her out for Saturday, he’d get a brand new motorbike—a sleek, custom bike, the kind that screamed luxury and power. Because why not take advantage of the situation, turning a simple play into something even more valuable than her fleeting attention?

Saturday

lando's text with the reader

lando's text with the bros

lando's post on x/twitter

After the whole thing was over, Lando leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips as he replayed the night in his head. Did he regret it? Not for a second. She missed her precious dinner party, but that wasn’t his problem. He couldn’t care less. Her disappointment was just a footnote in his evening, barely worth a second thought. What mattered was the new ride waiting for him—shiny, powerful, and all his. He’d played the game, entertained her for a bit, and now he had what he wanted.

He didn’t regret a thing. Not for a second.

--

a/n: Hey everyone! I’m sorry this chapter is shorter than usual – I’ve been super busy, but I hope you understand! I really enjoyed writing this part and I hope you did too. I hope you’re all having a wonderful holiday break! Please let me know what you think about this chapter – your feedback means a lot. Again, happy holidays, take care, and I’ll be back soon! xx

-essie the elf 🎄

taglist: @5sospenguinqueen @bluethperson @mayusaatma @mountvesuvu @styl1shl1v @hotgirlslikemax @creamsteam3 @kravitswhore @issi-loves-dynamic @llando4norris @sunlithearts @osclerc @hurtblossom @miiaex @somerandomf1fan @nataliambc @saachiep81 @ironmaiden1313 @s-awturn @c4tc0re @dannyleclerc @lexiecampos @loloekie @idontknowanythingsblog @grovelingmen @cchewhaz @linneaguriii

[no-144444]

prison, not a promise- l.norris

summary: lando proposes and it doesn't go as planned...

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He genuinely thought you would’ve been the woman he married. He believed that the moment he got down on one knee, you would’ve burst into tears in front of him and said yes. 

He’d never expected that. 

People (understandably) thought you were fucking crazy. Who would say no to Lando Norris? Who would give up the chance to be rich and famous forever, to have one of the most sought-after men on the planet forever? 

Well, those people didn’t know what it meant to be ‘loved’ by Lando Norris. They didn’t see the constant fights and beratings. They wouldn’t know about the fact that you hadn’t felt like yourself for an entire year. They didn’t know about the sleepless nights, sitting there and wondering, hoping that you were enough. They didn’t know that an engagement ring would've been a prison, not a promise. 

You both walked into his apartment, silent. You hadn’t said ‘no’, saying ‘yes’ while in public just to keep up appearances,  but Lando knew, the second you two got in the car, you weren't happy. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. You allowed yourself to lean into him one last time, be his one last time. That was the Lando you fell for. The one that hugged and kissed you like no one else would ever matter to him, the one that looked at you like you held up the stars just for him. You never expected the honeymoon stage to last forever, but these fights weren’t normal. He ripped apart your character, your appearance, anything, just to make you feel as upset as him. You\’d been together for 4 years, and the problems started when he became Max’s rival.

“Lando, we’re not happy,” you started, feeling his hands drop from your waist. You turned around to face him. “At least, I’m not. I do everything you ask of me. I cook and clean, I dress up nice, I follow you around the fucking world and I gave up my dreams so that you could always have me at races. Now, all we do is fight. I’m fucking sick of it, alright? I’m tired of the fact that you either don’t love me anymore, or you don’t respect me, and I’d like to thank you for the 3 wonderful years we had before this year, and give you back your ring. You deserve someone less ambitious. You deserve someone paper-cut to be a WAG, Lando. I’m not that girl,” you sighed tearily. “When you find her, I suggest you tell her that you can be mean, you can be selfish, and you can be forgetful, but the trade for that is the sweetest man on the planet once the anger wears off. I’ve been around angry men my entire life, and I will not marry one. I’ll grab my things tomorrow. Goodbye Lando,” you brushed back at him, placing the golden engagement ring in his hand as you passed him by. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You left Monaco with all of your belongings, and went back home. You bought an apartment, and started your new job as a college professor. Before Lando you had been the best mathematician in the world. You had offers from every college from every college, but you chose the one closest to home. You didn’t think about Lando for months. You focused all of you attention on your students, all of your life was spent around numbers. You were finally happy. For the first time in a long time, you felt appreciated, you felt beautiful, and you felt happy. 

“Y/n,” the British accent you knew so well made you physically cringe. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Is it a mathematical problem?” you asked, not turning around as you sorted through papers. 

“Not really?” he chuckled. “Please just look at me.”

You slowly turned around and looked at him. He looked like shit. 

“I won,” he smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile. “I’m the Champion of the World.”

You held out your hand to shake his. “Congratulations.”

He took it with a frown. “I’m quitting F1.”

You stopped in your tracks when you heard that. “Why?”

“I did something really fucking stupid two years ago, and i need to make it right,” he admitted. “Y/n, I’m sorry. There’s no one else for me. You’re it. You’re my person, you make me feel so alive, so happy, so free, and I couldn’t even imagine what life would be like without you. Then I lived it. And it sucked. I know I’m an asshole, and I know you’re probably much better off without me, but I’m begging you, just let me back in your life, please? I’m falling apart without you baby.”

You stared at him. “Lando, I’m not asking you to stop racing because of me-”

“I did,” he smiled. 

“I’m not taking you back,” you insisted. “You made me feel like a shell of my actual self for a year, and I held on because I knew you needed a punching bag so that you wouldn’t take it out on the people around you. I don’t miss you. I don’t love you. I don’t want to see you.”

His face fell and he was quiet for a moment. “So I’ve really fucked it up?”

“Yeah, now get the fuck out of my lab.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅ A few months went by and the 2026 season started, and Landow as still on the grid, shocker. You didn’t care, he was a fucking asshole who didn’t deserve your time or companionship. You hoped he would choke every race start (which he did), get outperformed by Oscar (which he did), and loose to the WDC to Oscar (which he did). Karma.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

girlfriend?

spencer reid x fem!reader

the people have spoken (the 8 votes on my poll) so here!!!

no use of y/n

fluff and maybe kinda sorta comfort??

summary: reader wonders why exactly she's not spencer's girlfriend and he's more than happy to play along

warnings: reader is younger and has never had a boyfriend, mention of roommate, awkwardness??, new relationship, kissing, reader uses physical affection to distract spencer, "i'm fine" no you're not!!!, insecurities and simply spencer being a cutie

my very first time writing fanfiction and posting my writing!!! please give feedback

After a long day of daydreaming and a rather upsetting conversation with my roommate, I've come to realize that I'm technically not Spencer's girlfriend. I mean, he's never asked me to be. Of course he's sweet and we've kissed several times but he's never formally asked. I've never had a boyfriend so I just assumed that one or two dates ultimately meant together. Apparently that's not right. Maybe I'm overreacting and maybe I'm not cut out for this dating thing but why hasn't he asked? We can hardly go a day without seeing each other. Doesn't that mean something? Maybe I'm insane because that's highly likely, too.

Although anticipating it, I still jump when he knocks. The door opens and it's clear that he came straight from work, his messenger bag on his shoulder. Like every other day, we walk straight to my bedroom and he leaves his satchel on the same old cushioned chair.

Spencer places his hands in his pockets, his eyes floating over me dubiously.

"Are you alright?"

Well, that took all of three seconds.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I answer, fiddling with my pajama shorts' strings. There's no way I'm turning psycho-not-even-girlfriend on him because he hasn't defined our relationship. Because of the chance he doesn't want me to be his girlfriend, that's a conversation I'm not having.

His eyes narrow and he steps closer. "You're fidgeting, avoiding eye contact... not to mention that you've hardly spoken to me since I've got here which is just... not you at all. You always talk."

"Hey!" I frown.

I watch as his hands come up to hold my face and I begrudgingly look him in the eye only to find concern. "Did I do something?" he asks softly.

My head shakes in his hands. He drops them. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He notices the emphasis, following me when I go to sit on the edge of my bed. I'll never get over how out of place Spencer looks in my room.

His eyebrows raise as he looks down at me. I feel like I'm in trouble. "But I did something apparently."

"Nope," I hum simply, pulling him down by the tie to mush our lips together with little grace. The reciprocation was fleeting, his mouth briefly opening only to move away as fast as it came. "See? I'm fine," I grin unconvincingly.

"You're a terrible liar. Tell me what's wrong," he sighs, stuck between worried and annoyed.

He steps back, eliciting a whine from me. My eyes drop and I figure that I might as well dance around it since I'm a terrible liar. Picking at the loose string on my comforter, I murmur, "do you... um... you like me, right?"

Confusion draws his eyebrows together. "Of course I do. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Honestly, I'd be crazy not to. What told you I didn't?"

"I'm not your girlfriend," I whisper pathetically, eyes never leaving my fidgeting fingers.

I can practically feel the realization hit him. A shaky breath that never quite becomes a nervous laugh leaves him before he responds gently, "I haven't asked you to be. Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

My head finally lifts, a slight frown on my lips as I nod.

"Will you be?"

My eyes go wide and I freeze. "What?"

He laughs softly, walking a few steps closer before crouching down to my level. "Will you be my girlfriend... please?" he asks politely, a tiny smile on his face.

I nod eagerly before I can do anything else. When words do come out, they're frantic like I can't get them out fast enough. "Yes! Yep! Mhm. Please."

This time, when I kiss him, he doesn't hesitate or pull away, he smiles, hands finding my face and brushing away any stray hairs. A thought occurs and I break the kiss, thumbs brushing his cheeks. "So... why didn't you ask before?" I ask almost absentmindedly.

He swallows and very gently mutters, "I didn't know if you'd want me to be your boyfriend."

I can feel my heart melting as I press a soft peck to his mouth. How did he not know? Isn't the way I'm constantly nervous obvious to him? I'm not exactly good at masking anything.

"Of course I did. I do. And now you are my boyfriend so how about that?" I smile and he does too.

"I'm glad," he laughs.

"Me too."

[lumosou]

୨୧ — Fred Weasley as a boyfriend. 𖦹 + ★.

ꕤ — Character(s) ; Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader.

ꕤ — Discretion ; Suggestive more towards the end but nothing too graphic, still read with mindfulness and take care!! Lots of fluff and loving as always <3

ꕤ — A/n ; I can’t believe we’re almost at 100 followers 🥹 I appreciate every single one of you guys endlessly, i’ll never get tired of saying it or expressing it. Thank you and I love you! 💕 This was also mostly made because of this anon, thank you for giving my brain something to work off of <3

; masterlist.

Fred Weasley loves like he lives—big, bold, and impossible to ignore. He’s the boyfriend who fills every corner of your world with him. He’s the one shouting your name across the courtyard just to catch your attention, tossing an arm over your shoulder like he’s claiming his rightful place beside you, or slipping a joke into your ear that’s just filthy enough to make your cheeks burn. He loves the reactions he pulls from you—the laughter, the eye rolls, the way you bite your lip when you’re trying not to grin.

But Fred isn’t just chaos and jokes. He’s thoughtful in ways you never expect. He remembers the smallest things—the way you take your tea, the book you’ve been wanting to read, the fact that you always shiver in the library, no matter how many layers you wear. You’ll find a steaming mug waiting for you, a new bookmark slipped onto your desk, his scarf draped around your shoulders with a casual, “What? You looked cold.”

He’s relentless when it comes to making you laugh. Bad mood? Doesn’t matter. He’s already performing some ridiculous skit, pulling faces and dramatic poses until you’re crying with laughter. And when you call him insufferable, he just grins wider, tugging you into his arms with a smug, “Yeah, but you love me for it, don’t you?”

But Fred also has a quiet kind of love, one he doesn’t always know how to express in words. It’s in the way his hand finds yours under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly. It’s in the way he pulls you closer in crowded spaces, tucking you against his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And when it’s just the two of you, his head resting in your lap, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your knee, he looks up at you with that crooked smile that feels like it’s just for you.

He’s protective, though he’d never admit it outright. If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, Fred’s already stepping in, his arm slung around you, his grin sharp and warning. But later, when you’re alone, he pulls you close and presses his lips to your temple, murmuring, “Nobody messes with you, got it?” like it’s a promise.

And then there’s the way he loves you in private—the way his teasing turns into something deeper, something that leaves you breathless. Fred lives to see you flustered, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs something absolutely filthy, his hands wandering over your body like they have every right to be there. He’ll pin you against the wall, his grin lazy and wicked as he whispers, “What’s wrong, love? Cat got your tongue?” But the moment you pull him closer, your hands tugging at his shirt, his bravado falters.

Fred kisses like he means it, like he’s pouring everything he can’t say into you. His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, his lips sliding down your neck with slow, deliberate intent. He’s not shy about telling you what you do to him, either—his voice low and hoarse as he groans, “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

He loves watching you fall apart under his touch, the soft sounds you make driving him to the edge every single time. His hands are everywhere—your thighs, your hips, sliding up your back as his body presses yours into the mattress, pinning you there like he never wants to let go. And when you say his name, breathless and desperate, it’s over for him.

After, Fred is impossibly tender. He tugs you into his arms, his chest rising and falling against yours, his lips brushing over your temple as he murmurs, “You’re amazing, you really are.” His fingers trace lazy patterns along your back, his voice soft as he jokes, “Gonna need to rest up, though. You’ve absolutely ruined me, love.”

Fred loves big, messy, and completely. It’s loud and unapologetic, but it’s also quiet and steady in the ways that matter. His love isn’t something he hides—it’s something he gives, freely and unconditionally, because to him, there’s no other way. You’re his, and he’ll never let you forget it.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

[azuredawn81]

not the time | nico hischier x ex gf!reader

❅ summary: nico misses his former flame, even though their relationship wasn't great.

❅ pairing: nico hischier x reader

❅ content: angst

❅ word count: 2.3k

❅ prompt: ex-miss - new found glory

❅ warnings: none

❅ tags: @verycoolusername1 @tomskookie @dream-girl06 @skepvids @devilinpradaheels @lolatokki @captainhuggys @camiesully

❅ note: not proofread

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙₊⋆ ͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Everything that could have went wrong went wrong this year

Nothing recently has made me wanna stand up and cheer

Everything you haven't said has finally come back to you

the year had felt like a cruel joke for nico hischier, a series of missteps and missed opportunities that left him wondering how everything had unraveled so quickly. sitting in the quiet solitude of his living room, he couldn’t help but replay the moments that had gone so catastrophically wrong, each one stacking on top of the other like a house of cards.

it wasn’t just the missed passes on the ice or the nagging injuries that had kept him off his game. it was the off-ice moments, too—the small, meaningful gestures he’d tried to make that had somehow fallen flat. the texts left unanswered, the arguments over things he couldn’t even remember now, the way her eyes had grown colder with each passing day.

every textbook sign of a failing relationship was there. they barely spoke and when they did, it was insults and jabs that did nothing but lacerate each other’s hearts. the only thing keeping them together was making up, when nico pulled her close under the covers, when she covers his face in whatever flavor of that sweet, sticky lip gloss she was wearing that week.

it wasn’t just the relationship that haunted him—it was the way nothing seemed to balance the weight of it all. there had been no big wins, no triumphant moments to make him forget the sting of it. even the holiday season, a time he usually loved, felt hollow this year. the tree was up, the lights twinkling, but they brought no comfort.

then there was the silence—her silence—that gnawed at him. y/n hadn’t said much when they parted ways, but her absence spoke louder than any words could have. it was as if every unspoken thought, every doubt she’d harbored, had come rushing back all at once, as loud as a breeze. he could feel them now, weighing on him, making his shoulders droop.

he wondered if she felt it, too—the regret, the what-ifs, the unspoken words hanging between them like unfinished business. or maybe she’d moved on without so much as a second thought, leaving him to carry the burden alone.

nico sighed and leaned back in his chair, letting the soft glow of the christmas tree fill the room. the year had been a disaster, but he couldn’t change that now. all he could do was sit with the weight of it, hoping that next year would be kinder.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Now, it's not the time

Now, it's not the time

I know you never liked any gifts I gave to you

the words echoed in nico's mind, a reminder that now was not the time to relive everything—now wasn’t the moment to dig into the wounds of a year that felt like a lifetime of missed chances. but it was hard not to, especially as the holiday season made memories pile up like snow.

he looked over at the small, carefully wrapped gift sitting on the coffee table, a 1963 copy of the bell jar, her favorite novel. it was the last one he’d picked out for her, a last-ditch attempt to make things right, to show her that he understood what she wanted, what she needed. it had felt like the perfect present at the time, something personal and meaningful that would finally break through her walls. but the gift had never made it into her hands. the argument, the silence, the coldness between them had been louder than any gesture.

"now, it's not the time," he had muttered again and again. they fought too often for him to find the time to give it to her, and he wasn’t sure if they’d make it to christmas.

he clenched his jaw, willing the words to lose their power, but the hurt was still there, raw and sharp. there was no magic fix to erase the past, no easy way to undo the mistakes he’d made. he had wanted to give her something special, something that would make her smile again, but instead, all he had left were the memories of her discontent.

the truth settled in heavily. he knew she never liked any gifts he gave to her. nico chuckled bitterly, his fingers brushing the edge of the present. it felt like a cruel joke now, this carefully selected gift— wrapped with care, picked out with the best of intentions—like would never measure up to her expectations. she’d never shown excitement when unwrapping anything from him. no warmth in her eyes, no genuine appreciation for the thought behind it. it was as if the material things never mattered, and yet, he couldn’t stop trying to show her he cared with the things he thought would impress her.

one year, it had been a watch, made by his opa back in switzerland —something elegant but simple, a reminder that time was precious and she was a part of his family. he remembered how she had glanced at it, then looked away, barely muttering a thank you before moving on. his opa spent weeks handcrafting it, making sure it was exactly what he thought she'd like. but instead of being grateful, she had seemed... indifferent, like the gift was nothing more than an afterthought.

another year, he had gotten her a year pass to the jazz club down the block —what seemed like a good gift for a music connoisseur like her. he had hoped it would spark some light in her eyes, maybe reignite the connection they once had. but when she opened it, there was no smile, no sign of recognition. just a quick, distracted look before it was set aside.

the more he thought about it, the clearer it became: it was never about the gifts. tt was about something deeper—something that neither of them had been able to articulate, something he had tried to fix with presents, when what they really needed was to fix the space between them.

nico shook his head, feeling the weight of his realization pressing down on him. but there was no relief, no simple answer. just the stark reality that, in the end, none of the things he’d tried had mattered. it was never the right time for any of it, and now, it was too late.

the holidays, once a time he cherished, now felt like a constant reminder of everything that had gone wrong. the music, the decorations, the familiar traditions—they all seemed empty now. everything was a reflection of what had slipped through his fingers.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

This holiday is overrated

It turns out the way I expected

This holiday is one to forget

Another year, this time I'll regret

That I spent too much time and money on you

nico stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he paced across the room. the holiday decorations, once so vibrant and full of life, now felt like nothing more than empty symbols of a time that had only brought him disappointment. the snow falling outside seemed to mirror his mood, the world outside blanketed in a cold, lifeless white.

"this holiday is overrated," nico mumbled, shaking his head. he had always loved christmas—the joy of giving, the warmth of family, the sense of togetherness. but this year? this year felt like a cruel parody of everything he once cherished. the joy had been replaced by a dull ache, the traditions now tainted by the ghost of what had been lost. and, worst of all, he was alone. jack had gone to visit his parents, as with dawson and timo. it was too short of notice to make it to switzerland.

the expectations had been there, of course. he had hoped—desperately—that the holiday season would somehow heal the wounds, that a fresh start would come with the turn of the year. but everything had fallen apart exactly how he had feared. it wasn’t the grand gestures that had broken them, but the slow unraveling, the unspoken words, the things left unsaid. no amount of twinkling lights or festive cheer could mask the cracks that had formed.

his heart sank as he thought about all the effort he had put into this moment, how he had tried so hard to make everything perfect for her. he’d picked out the gift, planned out the evening, and imagined how it would go—how everything would finally fall into place. But instead of the joyous occasion he’d envisioned, he was alone, staring at the remnants of a failed year.

"this holiday is one to forget," he said, his voice barely more than a sigh. he could already feel the regret creeping in, like an old friend showing up uninvited. the missed opportunities, the wasted time—he had poured so much into something that had slipped through his fingers. each moment spent trying to make it work, trying to fix things, felt like a bad investment now. he leaned against the window, watching the snow blanket the world outside as thoughts whirled around his head like a blizzard. how many times had he told himself that this year would be different? how many times had he convinced himself that she would appreciate the effort, that things would get better if he just kept pushing forward?

his thoughts turned bitter, and he let out a short, frustrated laugh. "i spent too much time and money on her," he murmured, looking down at the gift he had picked out so carefully. he had thought it would show her how much he cared, how much he was willing to give. but in the end, it felt like it had all been for nothing. time, energy, money—he had spent it all, and for what? a cold silence and a hollow goodbye.

the weight of it all settled heavily on him, and he sank back onto the couch, rubbing his face with his hands. the holiday season, meant to be a time of renewal and joy, now only reminded him of his own failure to fix something that had been broken beyond repair. he had given everything he had, and in return, he had nothing but memories of a love that had slipped away with the passing days.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Why do I only remember the bad times we had?

I guess everything we do does reflect

Everything you wish, you said has finally come back to you

nico's gaze remained fixed on the cold window, but his mind had wandered far away, slipping back into the past with painful clarity. as he replayed the moments with her—what felt like a lifetime ago—he couldn’t help but wonder why, despite all the good times, it was the bad ones that kept resurfacing, each one more vivid than the last.

it was a question he had been grappling with for months, ever since things had started to unravel. the late nights spent arguing, the silences that stretched between them like chasms, the moments when it felt like they were worlds apart, even though they shared the same space. it wasn’t that the good times hadn’t existed—they had, in flashes, in small, fleeting moments when the world felt right. but those memories, for some reason, seemed to fade into the background. the laughter, the tenderness, the quiet moments where they were just two people in love—all of that had been swallowed up by the weight of the bad.

why was it so hard to remember the good? maybe it was because the bad times had left scars, sharp and undeniable. the argument over something small that turned into a full-blown fight, the misunderstandings that piled up like bricks in a wall, the things they both said out of frustration, each one ringing louder than the apologies that followed

his actions, his words, her reactions—everything had built up to this moment. the missteps, the things left unsaid, the moments where they had both failed to reach each other. maybe they had tried, in their own ways, but the constant disconnect had worn them both thin. they were no longer the people they had once been, and that reality had crept in slowly, unnoticed until it was too late to change.

her words, the things she had never said outright but had let slip in the heat of the moment, had come back to haunt them both. the unspoken resentments, the desires that were never voiced, the doubts that had simmered beneath the surface—all of it had festered, growing stronger with each passing day. and now, here he was, left to deal with the aftermath.

the silence in the room felt suffocating, and nico stood up, pacing again, as if the movement could somehow ease the weight of everything he was thinking. he had spent so much time trying to understand her, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the answer wasn’t as simple as he wanted it to be. there was no one defining moment that had broken them, no single misstep. It had been a slow, gradual drift, with both of them caught up in the day-to-day, lost in the cycle of routine and misunderstandings. now, all those things they had failed to say, all the feelings left unexpressed, were crashing down on him. the words she hadn’t said were the loudest, ringing in his ears like a constant reminder that they had never really been on the same page.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

This holiday is one to forget

Another year, not another year

so, he did what he needed to do. he went on his phone and blocked her. on instagram, twitter, her phone number. deleted her contact. texted his sister and said he had a gift for her, since she loves to read.

I hope you spend it alone

[spencerwayne-todd]

Keeping up with the Waynes, Christmas special, part 2

(Resolution to the slight angst last part, happy ending!)

(Christmas morning, Wayne Manor)

Damian: NO!

Tim: YES!

Damian: CLEARLY, IT SAYS "DAMIAN" ON THE TAG!

Tim: CLEARLY, IT SAYS "DRAKE"!

Alfred, taking the present: Clearly, young sirs, it says "Duke". I believe master Dick is to blame for this atrocious handwriting.

Dick: Hey! My handwriting isn't that bad!

Steph: Except that it is, and nobody knows whose gift is who's because of it.

Dick: Et tu?

Steph: Something in that sentence was wrong.

Cass, walking over to Bruce: Dad. Gift.

Bruce, taking the present: Aww, Cassie.

*Bruce opens it to find a handmade navy blue scarf with his initials sewn into the corner*

Bruce, tearing up: Did you make this for me?

Cass: *nods*

Bruce: *hugs her while crying*

*Crash*

Bruce: Dick! Be nice to Jason!

Dick: NOOOO! You can't make me!

Bruce: Alfred can.

Dick, sitting down: Touché.

Jason: It's his fault. Milk chocolate is not better than dark chocolate. It's not a hill you need to die on.

Dick: How terribly dull for you to live your life without any hills to die on.

Jason: I have plenty of hills I'd die on.

Dick, raising his voice and standing on a couch arm like a stereotypical orator: You! on your vast, flat, barren plains of compromise, acceptance, and accommodation-

Jason: WHO'S COMPROMISING??!!

Dick, even louder: BARREN PLAINS! BARREN, WHILE I REIGN SUPREME OVER THE LUSH, ROLLING HIGHLANDS OF INCREDIBLE OPINIONS I HAVE ELECTED TO STAKE MY ENTIRE IDENTITY ON!

Jason: *Starts running at Dick*

Dick, quickly, as Jason tackles him off the couch: THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH ALL THE FUCKS I GIVE ON SELECT TOPICS!

*More Crashes*

Bruce: Ok, let's continue with the presents!

Damian, unwrapping a present from Selina: A bell?

Selina: Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.

Damian: Oh, I am aware. I've created a robot that rings 40 bells 80 times per hour.

Duke: Oh, no.

Damian: I've been running it nonstop for three years.

Bruce: Tired Dad Sigh (TM)

Damian: Soon, all of the angels will have wings.

Tim: Oh, god.

Damian: Heaven's hierarchy is in shambles.

Duke: No

Damian: The chorus weeps

Bruce: Please stop.

Damian: God knows I'm coming for his throne.

Me: OK! That's enough. August! You haven't opened anything.

August: Oh, sorry! I was reading this news article.

Bruce, hopeful that one of his children is normal: Oh? What is it?

August: "Spiders blamed after broken siren played creepy nursery rhymes randomly at night to UK townsfolk."

*Bruce visibly loses all hope*

Steph: Could any word in that headline get any more terrifying?

Me: Probably. Multi-legged horror hamsters, anyone?

Damian: *raises hand*

Bruce: *Lowers it*

*All the gifts were opened, food had eaten, and Christmas movies put on the TV as the family gathers to watch in the living room. Jason notices Spencer's absence and goes to their bedroom, finding her sitting on the floor. He closes the door and leans on the frame*

Spencer, facing the fireplace: Jay, I- we need to talk.

Jason: I figured. You never leave Christmas movie night.

Spencer: Two months ago, I was on a mission in Rome. While on that mission, I was stabbed, as you know, and I was severely injured.

Jason: I remember.

Spencer: What I haven't told you is that I found out later that I was pregnant. The wound cost me the baby and any chance of having more. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before. I just didn't know how.

*Jason walks over to Spencer, and sits down behind her, pulling her into his arms in a back hug.*

Spencer, sighing: How long have you known?

Jason: Gideon sent me the file last night.

Spencer: You must be furious.

Jason: No. I understand. I do wish you had told me before, but I understand why you didn't.

Spencer, scoffing quietly: You do?

Jason, pulling her closer: You were scared. You knew that it would hurt, and you didn't want to imagine what might happen. You knew you could trust me, but could you trust me? Would I be comforting or would I lash out in anger and drive a wedge between us? You told yourself "That's silly! Of course he won't be angry at me!" But, what if I was? Would you be ok? Would we be ok? Emotions are so hard. Why can't everything just go back to normal?

Spencer: Every single one of those thoughts have been on replay in my head for the past two months nonstop, in that exact order.

Jason: I know. But you don't need to be scared. It hurts, but it's going to be ok. You can trust me with your whole life and all of your secrets. I promise you I will never lash out at you. I will always be here to comfort you. I'm not angry at you. You're going to be ok. We're going to be ok. Emotions are hard, but you're stronger than the hardships you face. It's ok if nothing is normal. I'm here for you. I love you.

Spencer: I love you, too. *kisses Jason* I think we'll make it in time for the second movie.

Jason: Wonderful plan, love.

(@august0bone)

[spellwell]

secrets - dick grayson

dick grayson x reader one shot

fluff; sfw

warnings; none. characters may be out of character, this is my first time writing for them and I haven’t seen young justice in a while. Not edited well lol

universe: young justice

summary; Dick likes you, and you like Dick, it’s obvious. The only people that don’t seem in on it, are the both of you, the rest of young justice seems to have a plan to fix that.

By this point, you and the group of now nearly young adults have gotten quite close, you could even say they are like family. Every member seems to have their own very special relationship with you that has grown over time and nothing has quite as much value as that. Your relationship with Dick how ever, is probably the closest connection you’ve ever had. From the very start you took to him, finding his humor and opinions fit just right with your own, and everyone else has seemed to notice that as well. M’gann has always pushed the idea of you and Dick being more than friends, which you’ve admitted liking the idea of. Alas, your nerves have created a large pool of anxiety to sit at the bottom of your stomach at the simple idea of conveying your feelings to him.

“He obviously likes you back, in love even!”

“You’re nervous for no reason, what if someone else comes along? Don’t you want to secure him?”

“If you don’t tell him me and Conner will!”

“Oh come on y/n, why don’t you believe me?! He totally wants you!”

You’ve heard it all really, her begs and pleads, trying to reason with you to just gain the courage and tell him. Little does she know, it isn’t that easy and over time she’s seemed to give up. You’re not sure why you have such a hard time believing he would feel the same way, Dick is just so special and the chance that he doesn’t feel that way can’t be taken.

Other than that, everyone is very open and honest with each other, maybe even too open some times. That’s why their behavior’s have been… odd the past few days. Whispering, huddling, and glances to the side have made you question if there’s something wrong, but when you’ve asked they all say everything is fine and not to worry. Little did you know, they had a plan to fix this on-going back and forth between you and Dick.

“I actually can’t stand you, quit winning!” Aqua-lads laughing could be heard over Wally’s moaning and groaning. “Maybe if you were better at this game, you’d win.” Mg’ann walks over to you with a sheepish grin, motioning with her head over to the boys arguing on the couch. “How many times have they played this game today?” She asks, causing you to sigh and shrug your shoulders. “Today, you mean in the last week? Kid’s never going to win.” You both laugh and walk over to the couch, standing behind it to watch the boys start their new match. You could care less about the game, but watching Wally squirm always makes you laugh.

Conner makes his way into the room after a while of watching them argue, after Wally of course loses again. “Won’t you go a little easier on me dude, seriously it’s not even fun any more!” Conner throws his arm around the Martian next to you, rolling his eyes at the childish behavior. “You still wouldn’t win, if it’s not fun anymore how could you keep playing it? I could hear you shrieking from my room.” Wally whips around and shoots Conner a deadly look, one that seemed to not phase the super boy. “Oh yeah? You try beating this fish freak then!” Conner gives his girl friend a small peck on the cheek before hopping the back of the couch and taking a seat next to the boys. They began a new game and started at it, tension filling the room. “I don’t wanna be in here when Conner wins.” You said, walking off with a chuckle. Your best friend follows behind you, both of you heading back to the kitchen to snack on the grapes you’ve been picking at for the last hour.

Days like this, no missions, no jobs to do, tend to bore you all but the boys arguing always make the days go by faster.

The base announces that Robin has finally arrived, making you sigh in relief that there’d be someone to break it up when Wally finally loses his mind. “What did I miss?” His voice rings through the kitchen, making you smile. You turn to see him, his usual comfortable get up that he wears when he’s not actively Robin. “A whole lot of nothing.” You sigh out as he walks over and pops a grape in his mouth. You had gotten the green ones because you know they are his favorite, “green, my favorite.” He grins, walking over to the couch after stealing a few more. “Robin!” Wally yells with a grin, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his best friend arriving. “You’re here! They’ve been kicking my ass 1v1, you gotta jump in!” Dick takes no time hopping on the couch and grabbing a controller making you roll your eyes. All these boys do are play games in their free time, or spar with eachother when they are tired of that.

A few hours later, they decided they had enough of the silly games and wanted to eat. Being the good team mate and friend that you are, you decided to cook them something, feeling extra nice. They all sat on the couch, chatting and giggling while you slave away in the kitchen. You were left with your thoughts and the sound of bacon sizzling on the pan until Dick appeared behind you, watching the bacon cook. “Hey.” You nearly jump out of your skin, turning to see a chuckling Robin. “Scare you?” He said with a smirk, a gleam shining from his iconic sunglasses. You roll your eyes and softly smack him across the arm, “no.” He chuckles to himself again, grabbing the tongs from the counter and flipping a few pieces on the pan that needed it. “You can go sit down if you want, y/n.” A small blush threatens to crawl onto your cheeks, but your pride won’t let it. Dick is the only one that ever offers to help you cook, and you’ve always found that so sweet. “No, we can do it together.” You said, smiling up at him which he quickly returns.

As the bacon cooks and you listen to Dick talk about his day before arriving, you notice the racket from earlier had subsided… too much. From the kitchen, you look over to eye your friends on the couch who seem to be whispering like they have been for the last week. What on earth? Why do they keep doing that? Since when do we keep secrets? You decide to ignore it and focus back on what Dick is saying, along with the food that he just finished up. “Come get it!” He yells from beside you, turning off the stove and walking the pan over to the table. You find yourself forgetting the whispering, and instead begin to think about how sweet Dick truly is to you and the rest of the team, but especially you. Wally comes rushing in, everyone else following behind. “Thanks Rob.” He says with a grin before sitting down to munch and crunch. Everyone else takes a seat, including you. “Don’t thank me, thank y/n.” Dick said with a sheepish smile, taking a seat across from you and Wally.

Kid smirks to himself, leaning over and giving you a small peck on the cheek. “Thanks, y/n.” This is the first time he’s ever done something so flirtatious with you, besides his usual boyish humor. A small blush does creep onto your cheeks this time, a gulp attempting to swallow your confusion. “Yeah, no problem.” Dick seems to eye Wally, like he was also confused on why he did that but it was left at that, dinner commencing.

After everyone talked and ate, you decided that sitting and watching a movie would be fun and relaxing. The movie carried on normally, how any watch fest with the team would until Wally’s arm seemed to drape over your shoulder loosely half way through the movie. To be honest, you didn’t even notice it at first, until you felt him scoot a little closer on the couch. That was when you felt the weight of his arm, even a little tug to get you closer. Just like the behavior at the table this confused you, and flustered you at the same time. The feelings you have for Dick have never been something you’ve had for Wally, and you never thought he liked you like that either. You felt a pair of eyes staring into your forehead, which by investigation was Dick, who had a look on his face at what you assumed was the arm around you. No body else looked over or said anything, like this was normal and the movie is just that good, which it’s really not. You also let the arm thing slide, that was until about ten minutes later, you feel Kid’s hand begin to rub circles onto your upper arm. “Wally? What are you doing?” You ask calmly, scooting away a tad and glancing his direction. “Yeah Wally, what are you doing?” Dick’s voice comes from the other side of the couch, laced with irritation. “Oh I’m sorry y/n, am I not allowed to touch you?” Wally asks, softly, ignoring Robin. You go to open your mouth and respond but another voice cuts you off. “No. You’re not.” Dick’s voice sounds even darker than before, a look of disgust on his face. Wally’s lips turn into a smug smirk, his arm leaving your shoulder. “You’re not y/n, why not let her answer?” He says, now turning to you. Everyone’s eyes seem to be on you, some looks of intrigue like they want to know the answer and others just enjoying the show it seems. “Her answer is no.” Dick responds again before you can speak, but it isn’t like you knew what to say. Dick stands up and walks over, taking a quick seat on the other side of you. “What’s your sudden interest in y/n, huh? What makes you think she’d want you?” Wally smirks at him, that usual snarky little face he gets when he knows he has started something. “Why do you care so much, Rob? Jealous?” The idea of him being jealous makes a blush appear on your cheeks for the second time tonight. He tuts his lips at Wally’s question and sits back, arms crossed. “No.” This makes your heart ache a bit, but you decide to sit back and watch the screen again, happy to see everyone else finished with that conversation and do the same.

-

That night had ended, and the next day comes, starting like most days, until it got later and someone was missing. The night before everyone had decided to sleep there, but you watched as Dick left early, not saying a word to anyone. You know him well and this is very much unlike him, but no body seemed to bring it up.

After worrying about it all day, the base announces that Robin has arrived, making everyone who is currently sitting on the couch, look over in the direction he’s expected from. He comes in, seeming a bit more like himself as he starts talking to everyone about something Bruce was telling him this morning.

Wally had been normal all day, no incidents happening like yesterday, which makes you even more confused about the whole thing.

“Do you want to cook again, or are we ordering food?” M’gann asks, clearly having food on the brain. “Let’s give this babe a break and order something.” Wally says, motioning over to you. Babe? Why is he flirting with you? You go to tell him to knock it off honestly, you don’t get why he’s flirting with you, but M’gann and Conner interrupt, going on about what to order. You notice Dick go quiet after this, as do you. Wally’s hand comes down and rests on your knee, your eyes quickly darting down to it. Another pair of eyes seem to do the same, Dick’s eyes. He gets that same expression as he did last night, but this time he also looks… sad? Before you can move his hand, which you were about to do, Dick quickly stands up, but only you seemed to notice. His fist quickly made contact with Wally’s face, making him fall back into the couch. It was so quick, and it definitely caught everyone’s attention. “Hey!” Wally yells as he presses his hand to his own face, which was probably on fire. “You fucking knew!” Dick yelled, fists clenched. “You’ve always known how I feel about y/n and you have the nerve to go after her- in front of me!” Your face goes into shock, completely taken aback by what he said. “How dare you.” He says very seriously, but sadness laced his words. Before anyone could speak he storms off, in the direction of the room he stays in when he’s here. The room goes silent, eyes all quickly darting away from eachother. “I’m sorry, I set this up, I didn’t know he would get so upset.” M’gann finally spoke, making everyone look in her direction. “He wants to kill me.” Wally sighed, shoulders falling in defeat. You feel very confused and now borderline frustrated, finally you speak. “What’s going on?” You say, tone confused but firm. “What did you do?” You say, looking at M’gann. “It wasn’t just her, we planned it. We wanted one of you to confess your feelings so we set it up to make Rob jealous and confess, we didn’t know he would freak out on him.” Conner said from next to her, a guilty look painting all their faces. This has all been so confusing it just now hits you that, Dick likes you back.

“You have to go talk to him, I’ll take the beating for it later.” Wally says with a small side ways grin, making you sigh, a flustered feeling coating your stomach. “Okay…” You said softly, going to stand and walk in the direction he went.

You took your sweet time, feeling nervous, what do you say? A solid knock on his door is all you have the courage to do, but he doesn’t respond. You stand there for a moment, frozen in fear before you build up the courage to do it again. “What.” Is all you hear, flat and hurt. “Can I come in, Rob?” You say softly, hand on the door. It stays quiet before you hear a shuffle and the door open. You push your way in softly, seeing his figure stand next to the door, closing it behind you. “Do you really want Wally?” He asks, in a point blank tone, an expression you’ve never seen on his face. Your eyes widen in surprise, an answer stuttering out. “What? No.” You could tell from his eyes that he actually cried a bit, making you feel worse. “He- he didn’t mean it! It was just to get one of us to admit we like eachother.” His eyes now widened, picking up on the fact that you just admitted to feeling the same way he did the whole time. “So you don’t want him?” He asks, face softening much more than before. You shake your head, twiddling your fingers down at your waist, “no, I want you.” His eyes seemed to light up instantly, a grin appearing against his will.

“Yeah?” He said, a grin also quickly appearing on you as well. “Yeah.” It seemed like he’d never make a move, nervousness still covering his face so you move in closer and grab his jaw, gently placing a kiss on his lips. It doesn’t take but a second for you both to melt into each other, his hands coming to hold your waist. He pulls at you to come closer, a hum of satisfaction leaving his lips. This led to some more long awaited kissing, both of you clearly relieved to finally have what you’ve always wanted. He pulls away eventually, looking down at you with admiration in his eyes and swollen lips.

“I totally knew you’d want me and not a guy who sucks at video games.”

- end

thanks for reading, if you enjoy this please leave a request for more or any other interaction you’d like.

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love, spell.

[itsjustemily]

The Wilds AU-Megop

Orion felt his plating quake, which was the first sign that something was wrong, because he shouldn’t feel the cold. His functions would slow, perhaps stop until the warmth would return, but he wouldn’t know that until the notifications for the emergency shut down protocols overtook his HUD. The next sign came a few days after, when he felt the exhaustion set in, which wasn’t so abnormal if it weren’t for the fact that he had slept for nearly two days straight. Primus help him when Ratchet found out and commed him, nearly pleading for him to secure a spot on the next ship leaving the island and come back to the mainland, even sending Rodimus to try to convince him to leave to old stone hut. The young apprentice truly did try his best, telling Orion he would be able to come back once spring returned, that D-16 would feel better knowing he was safe. The mention of his old friend likely would have been enough if Rodimus had left the thought to fester in his mind, but Primus bless him, Rodimus never knew when to shut up. When he mentioned the violent storms that were coming from the south and the increase of bounty hunters, Orion’s thoughts traveled further to darker territories. Thinking of all the possibilities that his friend may have not even made it safely to warmer climates and caused him to rip away his transmitter. ‘I made a promise.’ Is all he would say when Rodimus asked why. All he could do was help reinforce the hut and prepare it for the harsh winter ahead of him before he bid his friend goodbye, promising to come back for him the moment the ocean and winds had calmed enough. Orion nearly had to push his worried friend onto the boat, waving goodbye before vanishing from the site of others, not wanting to face their grief and disappointment.

The first true frost Orion woke up to had left his limbs stiff and sore, feeling like he had been rusting away for ages as he sat up to start a fire. The duel tone grays in the sky seemed to dull the once vibrant island when he walked outside. The path before him was so familiar that he let himself wander while his thoughts trailed through memory and worry. The first time D-16 had brought him here, Orion had been so excited that he hadn’t noticed how close to the edge he was, until the dirt below his foot crumbled away and he was sent floating down the river. D-16 still hadn’t let him live down the fact that he had to chase him down and pull him out of the water, before taking Orion to the cliff sides to watch the passage of large cargo ships and fliers performing their aerials. They went there often to sit and trade stories, D telling Orion about the island and Orion telling D about the mainland, both discussing, arguing, and dreaming endless summer days away.

“One day, I’m going to transform into a flier and go far away from here” D said once.

“Oh yeah? And go where, there isn’t anywhere to go besides to mainland. Everything else is either too far or uninhabitable.” Orion replied.

“I’ve been watching every season, everyone who can fly goes in a different direction than all the ships that take everyone to the mainland. There’s more out there, Iacon isn’t the only place for us and I’m going to find a new place for us. When I do, I’ll bring you with me.”

“How? I’m not built to be a plane, I’ll likely transform into a truck and have to get a job doing transport.”

“Is that what you want to do?” D asked.

“I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing.” A moment of silence had past, “I would like to work in the Hall of Records. There’s so much information to learn from there, yet only certain classes are allowed, unless you have a worker’s pass. Imagine what could be learned and shared. Hey, maybe I could find some old datapads with maps downloaded, that way you aren’t flying aimlessly across the sea.” Orion said, tapping his hand on D’s shoulder.

“But that brings us back to your original problem, how are you suppose to come with? I may be the stronger of the two of us but I can’t carry you the entire way.” D said, giving Orion a light shove.

“Ha, guess I’ll just have to follow you on a boat, once I make enough to buy one.”

With a blink Orion realized he walked all the way to the familiar cliff side, the ocean’s chill making the tremor of his plating even worse as it sunk down to his protoform. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, he slowly made his way back to the hut, the fire long having gone out along with its small solace of warmth. He only sighed, not having the mental strength to try and relight the charred coal and ashy remains of what organic plants he could find, and sat down next to the recharge slab. Reaching over he grabbed a blank data pad he had managed to swipe the last season when he had returned to Iacon, he gripped the pen in his numb hands as he tried to write. Recording the memories from last night, the things he did that day and reminisced about what would be when D-16 returned. As he wrote his mind drifted again to the last time he saw his dear friend, the excitement in his eyes when he came to tell him that he finally got his cog, that he had gotten to touch the skies above them.

“It was amazing Pax! That feeling it was so-and the way everything looked and the sheer freedom of it all!” D-16 exclaimed, gasping still as though he hadn’t caught his breath from the flight back from Iacon and shaking Orion by his shoulders.

“I’m happy for you buddy, this is exciting. Imagine what you can do now with this ability, what you can prove to the council and everyone in Iacon.”

“I’m not gonna carry you across the ocean, Pax. I’m still learning how not to lose my balance when a wind current hits.”

Orion laughed, “No, I mean about us, all of us. How many Cybertronians called you crazy because you said you were gonna transform into a flier? You’re the starting point for a big change, I can feel it!”

“Yeah, right, like how you had a feeling you could transform without a cog?”

“We agreed to never mention that.” “Or how you had a feeling, the organic food we found was perfectly safe for us to eat, cause ‘What’s the worst that could happen’.”

“Ok ok, you’ve made your point.”

“Oh, or how you had such a strong feeling Elita-1 would agree to-”

“Alright, sometimes I have bad ideas.” Orion said, quickly covering D-16’s mouth, his face flushing blue.

D-16 chuckled as he took Orion’s hand from his face.

“So are you back for good or will they send you to Iacon.” Orion asked after a moment of peace.

“I was given a few days here to practice my flight. My new mentors say the changing currents from the ocean winds will help me gather my strength and endurance. After that I have to immediately go back to study the flight pattern for when winter comes in a month.”

“That’s...not very long.”

“Yeah, this may be the last time we see each other for a couple months.”

“Well, at least it’s not forever. Soon I’ll have my own cog and we can still travel to new places, just like we planned.”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait to then.”

“Just make sure you come say good-bye before you leave.”

Orion hadn’t noticed that he had dropped the pen as he rested his hand on the data pad, his helm and spark felt heavy as he remembered that good-bye. Oh, how he wished it had never happened, that he never told his friend that he’d miss him and promised to be waiting for him on the island when he came back. He wished he never hugged him tightly till other fliers to him to get moving. He wished he never ran after D even as he took to the skies till he reached that stupid cliff-side and watched him disappear into the horizon, only looking back briefly before turning away to steel himself. ‘I’m sorry D, I think I may have broken our promise.’ He thought to himself before letting his optics power down.

*****

Rodimus looked up as a loud roar echoed in the sky, similar to that of a number of jets and planes coming up from the South. With a strike of realization, he dropped the bow he was practicing with and ran as fast as he could to the old stone hut. He wasn’t sure what to expect, having never really spoken to the former miner before, but he could only imagine the worst if he was a stubborn as Orion Pax. Looking up once more, he could see a silvery-gray jet deviate from the rest of the fliers, making a sharp dive towards where he knew the hut was. Nearly tripping out of the bushes he came face to face with a large mech, D-16, who stared at him very confused and almost angry as he stepped away from the doorway holding up a blaster.

“Whoa whoa whoa, I’m a friend! Friendly! I knew Orion!” Rodimus shouted, throwing his servos up.

“Where is Orion Pax? What do you mean ‘knew’!?” D-16 asked, his own confused thoughts making his anger worse.

When Orion hadn’t responded to his initial comm, he had briefly wondered if he was still too far away or if maybe his friend had overslept from residual cold in the city. It was when he had tried the second, third, sixth, fifteenth time when the island was in sight and he still hadn’t even picked-up the signal of his transmitter did he begin to worry. He knew his friend was clumsy, but with how close he was with that medic nothing would have stayed broken for long. When he saw their usual hang-out spot and saw he wasn’t there he flew as fast as he could to his old home, praying that Orion forgot the big return or was maybe by some grace of Primus being responsible and trying to earn his own T-cog. But even as he landed carefully outside the quiet, now reenforced hovel and looked inside to find it empty did he now begin to think maybe his friend never came back at all, choosing to stay in the company of others. Turning quickly at the sound of rustling leaves and seeing an unfamiliar young looking mech only made his thoughts swirl worse.

Rodimus sighed and thought for a moment, trying to think of the best way to explain the situation to someone who had clearly already developed their own ideas. Eventually, he simply dropped his servos and walked towards a small dirt trail he hand made by walking it many times, turning to D-16.

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” He said before walking away.

D-16 hesitated for a moment, looking back into his house before putting away his weapon and following the mech. The walk wasn’t far, but secluded enough that it almost felt peaceful, if not somewhat remorseful. He didn’t have time to wonder why when they reached the end of the trail and he felt his spark drop at the sight of a grayed and still Orion Pax, lying on a slab of quartz and stone with bits of moss blanketing the ground around him.

“I found him in the hut. He refused to leave the island and froze to death writing down his days while he waited for you.”

“…..Why? Why didn’t he go back to the mainland!? WHY IN PRIMUS’S NAME DID HE STAY!?” D screamed, grabbing Rodimus in a crushing grip.

Rodimus was silent as he tried to hold back his own emotions, “It,” a quick breath, “It was my fault. He was determined to keep this promise he had made, even though we all told him that he wouldn’t survive here and I think he was almost convinced and then I told about the storms that had happened. He then refused to leave no matter what I did and all we could do was pray he would survive just enough that Ratchet could save him. I snuck onto the very first ship that was coming here so I could meet up with him as soon as possible but he was already gone.”

By the end of his explanation, tears had already fallen from his optics, having to remember finding his friend cold and motionless.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want him to die. I swear I was trying to help him.” He cried.

D felt his anger quickly melt away into shock as Rodimus spoke. Orion stayed? During the winter, fully aware of what would happen. All over that stupid promise they made. Almost instinctively he rested his servo on Rodimus’s shoulder in an awkward attempt to comfort him.

“Let’s-let’s go back, I want to read what he left and you can catch me up on the rest.” He said.

Rodimus nodded and walked back to the hut. D-16 lingered for a moment, walking over to cradle Orion’s face.

“I wish you had left, but you never turned your back on your word. That’s something I knew I could always count on when it came to you...and one of the things I always loved about you.” He leaned down and kissed his forehelm, “Til all are one. And don’t worry, I’ll watch out for your friend.”

He gently patted his face before stepping away from his past, forcing himself to face his new future.

[fairy-verse]

Alright... Fea Reaper... let's think about it.(　ﾟ 3ﾟ")~🎵

The world is riddled with mysteries big and small, and the fairies of Fairy Island are no strangers to the odd and fascinating of their quaint little world. They need not travel far to see something strange, feel something peculiar, or smell something otherworldly. Though they are so accepting of much of it, there are some instances where even they feel unnerved, be it a hybrid that they do not understand, or something else entirely that is beyond their comprehension.

They pride themselves on knowing more than the Big Folk, but there is much they, too, do not understand, and even when they have someone they may ask for answers, they’d be hard-pressed to feel enlightened by the conversation as riddles turn them around in circles. Infuriating.

Reaper, named so by his mother who passed far too soon, is a fairy many will avoid. He is shy, drawn back, velvet voice so softly spoken you’d hardly be able to hear him, and so unnerving to other fairies. His proportions seem a little off, though except for his too-long fingers, few can properly put a name to what they find wrong. Reaper just is wrong in all that he does, all that he is. His gaze feels void and all-knowing, his tall lanky figure looming despite his attempts to hunch and make himself smaller, his wings are wrong, wrong, wrong. He is wrong.

He weeps silently, emitting no sound as he caresses his cheeks; self-soothing. His hands, so cold and shimmery white, have a fatal touch. A winter fairy may survive a moment of contact with him, but as those hands touch them, they’ll begin to feel cold, so very cold, and all warmth and life begin to ebb out of them, like a breath stolen in the winter wind.

It is not Reaper’s intent to harm others, but he cannot control what powers he’s been cursed with. He does not know where they come from. Not from his mother, who had always been so careful and sweet, but rarely had she spoken of his father, always wishing to change the subject.

“He would have loved you, my faerling. He would have loved you.” Rarely would she say more than that, and Reaper understood it as a fact that he was dead, long gone before his birth, but the look in his mother’s eyes hinted at something different, yet she never elaborated; never explained. Had she wanted to wait until he matured? Had she hoped she’d die before the time came? Before he demanded answers? He’d never know, because she was gone. She was gone, and so was the knowledge of whom his father was and who he’d been.

Reaper’s accursed life must be from his father. How could it not be? He’d left and he’d never come back, never even as much as thought about Reaper and his mother; surely. Perhaps he’d known what Reaper would become, known that his bastard faerling would become a monster in every sense of the word. He must have known that it was his fault. It was his fault. It was his fault that Reaper was this way, and Reaper hated him. He hated him.

Oh, how easy it is to blame those who are not present to defend themselves, and Reaper must weep, because he wishes he knew why he was like this. Why? Why?!

“You bring forth a new life, knowing it will be accursed, and you flee from it like all else does, Father,” said Reaper, silvery tears trickling over shimmering bones, so beautiful and fair. “And you named me Reaper, Mother. You knew of what I was, what curse I held, and you named me accordingly before you, too, fled from me.” Dryly, he chuckled and sunk further into the snow surrounding him. He could not feel the cold.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Fallen

Kelly Severide x Reader

"I can walk" "You've proven you can fall too."- in which Kelly doesn't hate you like you think he does @desimarie12

Since the first day you walked into firehouse fifty one as a new hire paramedic the ongoing feud between you and Kelly started. You tried to be understanding at first, you were replacing someone they lost, someone who according to Gabby had meant a lot to Kelly. Your understanding only went so far. After the first month passed and the best you ever got out of the squad lieutenant was a grunt if you happened to say excuse me if you were trying to get to the coffee pot? You wouldn’t actively try to kill him but you may render aid to a stray dog over him if they were both hurt at the same time.

The most infuriating thing of it all? Kelly was the most good looking guy you’d ever laid your eyes on. Easy smile and blue eyes that would stop any woman dead in her tracks and watching him be so at ease with every other member of the station house just made you feel like you would always be an outsider. 

You were helping Gabby to restock the rig and she asked you to grab some supplies from a closet inside that was just past Boden’s office. You knew where everything was by now, you’d been at fifty one for over six months. Everyone had welcomed you in and you felt like part of the family by then, well most everyone.

You hopped out of the back of the ambulance and headed inside, shooting Matt a smile when he held the door open for you when he was on the way out. “Thanks Casey” he nodded “Of course” 

You headed for the closet and walked in, quickly finding what Gabby needed and turned to head out but not before running smack into a bare chest which nearly caused you to drop everything in your hands. You felt hands on your waist, steadying you and was about to thank the owner of them when you looked up to see they belonged to Kelly “Christ have mercy” you groaned and he grinned “What’s wrong sweetheart? Can’t even keep your balance walking through the hallway? How do you take care of patients?”

You shook your head, trying to ignore the urge to let your eyes roam across his chest. Why the hell was he shirtless when it was January anyways? “You do talk a lot for a man whose life would depend on me if you got hurt”  he took a step closer and you could feel the heat coming off of him and smell his body wash still fresh from the shower “Are you saying you wouldn’t save me?”

He was close enough you had no choice but to crane your neck to be able to continue looking him in the eye and not be staring directly at his chest “I’m saying I’d do it but I wouldn’t be happy about it. You’ve been a pain in my ass since I got here. I know you don’t want me here. You haven’t hidden that fact but do not act like I’m incapable. You and I both know that isn’t true”

You stepped around him and headed back outside to the bays but stopped and looked over your shoulder “And put on a damn shirt, it’s thirty degrees outside and you’re walking around looking like you’re a stripper instead of a fireman” he grinned slightly “Are you calling me hot?” you shook your head “Of course that is the only thing that would stick in that thick brain of yours”

_____________________

When you got back outside it must have been written in your expression something was wrong because Gabby raised an eyebrow “Did Kelly start again?” you shrugged “It doesn’t matter” she sighed “I’m telling Matt. This is getting insane. It’s been over six months!” you shook your head “No! It’ll just get worse if it looks like I got you to tell on him. I don’t know what I did to make him hate me so much besides replacing Shay on the rig and it’s not like I tried to defile her memory or anything. The position was open, you needed a partner!”

She reached a hand out to rub your knee. “I don’t think he hates you, he just…” she laughed “Kelly’s an ass at times sweetie” “Oh really? I never would’ve known!” you laughed and she grinned “Just keep throwing it back at him. It keep him on his toes and it’s fun to watch for the rest of us when you catch him off guard” you winked at her “Oh I will, believe me”

A call blared out for a three car wreck requesting fire, rescue squad and the ambulance. You cut your eyes up at her and smirked “Oh yay” before you both hopped out of the back of the rig and ran to the front, hopping in amongst the chaos of everyone running to the trucks.

You cursed when you slid on the ice again and heard Capp giggle right before he fell flat on his face. “See?” you laughed, walking past him. Luckily it seemed most of the injuries sustained had been superficial but considering the thin layer of ice that had settled in different areas on top of the snow just clearing the scene was proving to be tricky.

You felt yourself slide and tried in vain to keep your footing. One foot went one way and one went the other and you ended up skidding down the small embankment and landing right at the feet of none other than the rescue squad’s lieutenant, you would have rathered the fall had killed you.

He looked down at you and a small smile slipped onto his face “Falling for me sweetheart?” you glared at him from your position on the ground “If I could get up without falling I’d kick your ass Severide” he laughed and leaned down, slipping one arm under your legs and the other under your neck, holding you against his chest before calling to Cruz “I’m taking our little spitfire paramedic back up so Gabby can make sure she didn’t hurt herself” you glanced down and realized he had different boots than you, of course he did.

“I can walk Kelly” you argued and he nodded “I know this, you’ve proven you can fall too. So for once don’t argue with me and just let me get you back up” you really didn’t want to fall again so you sighed then nodded. He tucked you against his chest and grabbed the rope to walk up the embankment while holding it.

_______________

Once he was on solid ground you expected him to put you down but no, he carried you all the way to the triage tent Gabby had on a cleared patch. “Dawson, your partner took a spill. Make sure she’s ok. She hasn’t tried to kill me in the last five minutes” 

He sat you down on the stretcher and winked at you “Be careful” you shook your head “Why? Because you want the pleasure of killing me?” his eyes trailed from your face down your body and considering you were currently covered in snow you felt yourself warm from embarrassment “Kill you? No. I could think of a few other things I’d rather do” 

He turned to walk away while your mouth was still dropped open from shock. Gabby looked from his retreating back to your face before she cracked up laughing “That explains so damn much!”

Once the scene was clear and everyone was back at the house you set out to find Kelly, hopefully alone. You ended up finding him on the roof with Matt’s help. He turned around when you stepped out of the door and smiled “I see you’re walking all on your own, I’m proud”

You shook your head “What the hell was that at the triage tent?” “What?” he asked and you waved your hands around “I could think of a few other things I’d rather do” 

He shrugged and let his eyes rake over you again and you were grateful you’d had the presence of mind to change before seeking him out “I wouldn’t wanna kill you over other things” you shook your head again “You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me! You’ve been an unbearable ass to me sinceI got here and now, what? You want to sleep with me?”

He took a step closer to you and you shivered feeling the heat coming off of him “When you first got here, yeah I was an ass because Shay was still a very sore spot. Then the longer you were here the only time I could get your attention was when you were pissed at me or else you ignored me all together so I took what I could get. If I could change how I acted when you got here, I would but I can’t” you laughed lightly “What the hell Severide?” 

He took another step closer which put his chest nearly touching yours “So, do you want to kill me?” you cut your eyes up at him, a grin slipping onto your face “Well, now that I know there’s other options..maybe not so much” his eyes fell to your lips so you laughed “Dammit Kelly just kiss me and get it over with” he shook his head “You really are a romantic sweetheart” before crashing his lips into yours.

[lqveharrington]

hi! Congrats on reaching 2k! Can I request a Vox x Reader with the song “The tortured poets department”?

TTPD | V.

summary: You were working on a script for Valentino when Vox decided it was the perfect time to bitch about Alastor leaving them.

pairing: vox x demon!reader

includes: angst, cursing, fighting, anger issues, reader is alastor's sibling, talk about suicide, manipulation

a/n: it's been a hot minute since i wrote for him (rules for celebration here!)

From the minute you met Vox, you knew he was an enigma. He was the embodiment of an egotistical, charismatic, and manipulative demon. The way he found a way to bitch about a new intern yet still make love to you every other night had your head spinning. It was like he was always in self-destruct mode and it was all because of your stupid brother.

You didn't think Alastor would betray Vox with just the snap of his fingers, but he disappeared faster than you realized what was happening. Vox was ready to kill every demon that presented themselves to him, but you were able to calm him down enough. You just didn't know how much longer you could stay with how fast his mood swings happened.

"Doll, what are you doing?" Vox appeared by your side and peppered kisses to the back of your neck, eyes darting toward the typewriter you were currently fixated on. His eyes flashed to swirls at the old piece of technology.

He knew you loved using the typewriter, you've known what it was since you were well and alive. But that specific typewriter wasn't yours. It was your brother's. Every time you used it, Vox's anger and temper and absolute hatred for your brother doubled. How could you so blatantly use that typewriter when he had the best laptops in all of hell?

"I'm typing up a script for Val's newest film idea." You murmur and start a new line, the typewriter making a small noise in the process. "He said that his actors have been slacking a need an actual script to follow."

"Uh-huh." Vox's claws found its way down to your shoulder, gently squeezing like a silent threat. He watched you slowly stop writing and snapped your fingers to hide the typewriter once more.

You turn and meet his eyes, finding them burning with annoyance. Furrowing your brows, you stand and walk over to the bar in the penthouse, pouring yourself a whiskey. Vox followed your movements, the electricity from his fingers intensifying with every silent minute that passed.

"What?" You scowl and felt your own eyes flash red. "I am bothering you by being in your presence?"

Vox glared at you and made quick strides to your, hand grasping your jaw and tilting it up to meet his eyes properly. "Are you trying to piss me off today?"

"Is it working, your highness?" You spit out and gasp when he throws the glass cup to the wall, the pieces shattering and scattering across the ground. "What the hell is your problem today?"

You looked between his eyes before he pushed you into the granite counter, his lips meeting yours in urgency. He kicked your legs apartment and slotted a leg in between, chuckling into the kiss when you adjusted your hips.

You couldn't tell how long you were there for, but by the time you were done, the clock read an entirely different time. You meet his crazed eyes as you adjust your clothing, biting your bottom lip. This was all too familiar to you, but something felt wrong. It felt like he did something wrong and tried to justify the action by making you forget.

"You're driving me crazy." You whisper and push him off of you, rubbing the palms of your hands into your eyes. "I don't get it."

He squinted at you and crossed his arms, knowing you were about to go on a whole tangent about how he needs to be reprimanded and kept in line despite him being an overlord. Every time you reminded him about it, it felt like pounding nails into his head over and over again. You treated him like dog that needed to be kept in line.

To you, it felt like your already dead heart was going to explode. All he did was complain and complain until he was able to get it out of his system by using you. It was like torture. You had to hold him and get his emotions in check by practically decoding him, allowing him to blow his fuse until he fully reset.

"Am I missing something? Or are you just using me as an outlet because Alastor left?" You whisper out and spin the ring around your middle finger. Vox had gotten you that ring when you first began dating, promising that you were going to be his forever. But you never felt that ring move across to the one that truly promised forever.

"That demon is the fucking worst and you know it." Vox hissed and adjusted his cuffs, finding them more interesting than your broken state. "He caused nothing but—“

"He's my brother, Vox!" You argued with him and snapped your fingers, images of you and Alastor together appearing around the room. "And you know damn well that he was your best friend."

Images of Vox and Alastor began to appear as well, causing the him to glitch. This was the first time you've pulled up pictures of Alastor during an argument of yours. Vox intended to get rid of all of all pictures of Alastor in the tower, but of course you figured out a way to make them appear.

Images from decades ago flashed across the room, Vox’s eyes twitching in annoyance. The colors swirling as if he was ready to manipulate you, but you were quick to snap on your blue-light glasses.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You shout as the items around you began to float from the energy being emitted from your anger. After all your years of knowing the power-hungry demon, he never tried to hypnotize you.

Vox's stare became daggers and he grabbed your wrist, the images disappearing within seconds. "You're the one who always wants to treat me like a fucking animal. Like I might go wild if you don't keep me in check."

"Because you will." You breathe out and glare at the screen above you. "You lash out at every sinner you encounter because you feel the need to. I get it, your an overlord. But this isn't a fucking porno Val wrote, it's real."

He looked between your eyes and held his stare, grip tightening around your wrist. Vox squinted at you as if you were going to back down but you weren't. You wanted to laugh in his face and complain about every single thing he ruined in your afterlife. Starting with how he reduced you from such a powerful being to a pretty doll that did all of the Vees bidding.

"You told Val and Vel that if I ever left you like my brother did, you would double kill yourself." You pull his hand off of you and step back, watching red lines appear across his screen. "Do you know how crazy that is? We're tortured, Vox. Like a song written about fucking idiots."

"Who else is supposed to understand me?" He waves his hand in the air, the lights in the room flickering in chaos. "He left you too."

Your face fell. You knew Alastor left you. You knew that. But hearing it from someone changed the trajectory of how you viewed his absence. He had left you to deal with the rest of his shit — the rest of his baggage. He left you with no note, no goodbye. Just an empty room in the tower. And for the past couple of years, left you with a shitty fling that would take his anger out on you.

"Fuck you." You spat out and slammed the door to your shared flat, the items rattling before settling.

Vox watched the door for a good second before throwing another glass cup, glaring at the typewriter you left sitting on the counter. Just like your brother, you left the typewriter. The stupid, fucking typewriter.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[fharzai]

To be crushed between Alrik and a hard, creaking table was a euphoric experience Fharzai never thought achievable. He couldn't move, could only breathe in the scent of their sex and sweat, rendering the endless pistoning into his guts a devastation he would not soon forget. Each thrust made an intense impact, and each impact reverberated through Fharzai's body without any excess movement allowed to lessen the blows. He was made to come to terms with the upper bounds of Alrik's power and could only return it with frantic kisses of his own.

Every noise that thundered from Alrik's chest into his body felt like a declaration, every harsh grasp on his hair or flesh felt like a promise. Every blast of cum that surged deep into his hole felt like a cannon exploding inside of him. Months of dream fondling and whispered desires released in a flurry of passion, one that made the waiting worth it. He thought the witch had shown him everything he could offer in their shared dreamscape, but Fharzai was proven wrong. The noises he made as Alrik filled his ass to the brim would make even the most courtesans blush, for his release came from receiving the fertile warmth that had built up from the giant balls currently crushing his taint. Whatever fluid remained in his swinging cock got pumped out and added to the puddle on the floor beneath him, finally exhausting Fharzai so that he went completely limp beneath Alrik.

Dazed from getting so thoroughly seeded and plugged, he hadn't even realized how tightly he'd been clenched around Alrik's giant-sized length until he felt every inch drag out of him one last time. A sloppy, suction-y pop! signified their separation, and Fharzai's twitching gape was left grasping at air once Alrik withdrew. The druid trembled and groaned, finding it hard to remember how to exist without a massive dick in his ass, the feeling of emptiness only made better by the sensation of geyser-like loads sloshing around his insides. He was by far too sensitive to feel a tongue lap at whatever leaked out, twitching and mewling as Alrik overstimulated him. Still, the lewd moan he let out when their mouths connected and Fharzai could taste them both on his tongue showed that even in his obliterated state, too much was never enough where the witch was concerned.

Fharzai was in no state to do much but be held and carried, the sting of Alrik's heavy-handed spanks bringing a smile to his face as he was laid down gently. "I love you too, more than I should've allowed myself too. I've fallen for you in a way I should've stopped a long time ago," Fharzai says warmly, his fingertips lazily stroking over Alrik's tattoo-covered arm. Even now, he had to mind himself. Fucked sensless as he was, it'd be too easy to let slip something that could impact Fate. Alrik was that important to the pattern, he could see it as clearly as he could see the truth of what the witch's heart contained. There was no coming back from this, Fharzai was positively tethered to this era thanks to Alrik. Hearing the hoarseness in the witch's voice brought a grin to the druid's face, he'd never forget how that throat felt. "If you want to apologize for something, apologize for not fucking me right through that table. Perhaps a goal for next time?" he responds before biting his lip, his own voice hoarse from all the wailing. Once his body soaked up all that ogre seed he was just fertilized with, he'd probably be ready for his next load. "The marks you left on me prove how you feel. Each one will be cherished, but each one will be healed. I'll need to go into the dream realm to recover, and once I do my flesh will be a blank slate for new ones to be added. You are … quite the man, Alrik Hart."

Skin to skin, their heartbeats intertwined. Alrik splayed his body against Fharzai's as rampant ministrations transformed into something more desperate.

Each brush of Alrik's lips fell against Fharzai's with a mournful plea, as if to say: please don't leave. Alrik's hand slipped over Fharzai's and drew it over his lover's den of rampant curls; palm-to-palm, his fingers intertwined with the man beneath him. Another silent cry carried on a groan that flourished from Alrik's barrel chest and landed against the ridges of Fharzai's tongue. This was to say: I can't become what you'd leave behind.

Alrik's body stilled despite how his body begged him to ravage and rampage. Countless miles through the wasteland, he'd traveled through blight and cold; outrunning magi, beasts, and darkspawn. Scaled the palace to feel the heat of Fharzai's walls closing around him as if to lock him in. As in all things where the witch was concerned, Alrik's dark eyes were intense and focused. The gray hues of Fharzai's stare held universes, breaths were drawn together with the untamed emotion surging within him.

Deeper, harder, holding fast.

Rough hands clenched a bit tighter, threaded fingers and a stable grip held Fharzai's hip with reverent devotion. Belied strength tied one to the other as a rough grunt juxtaposed the tenderness of the moment - another, and then a third. Beyond dreams and sewn into tender flesh, a rough-hewn garden tilled and fertilized, Alrik felt the entirety of his great frame quiver.

With a final, shallow, consuming thrust, Alrik fucked the last of his seed into Fharzai's blasted hole. A spasm rippled from the top of Alrik's spine to the balls of his feet, his leg quivered and nearly buckled before a lazy grin spilled across his lips. Slowly, carefully, and uncommonly tender, Alrik withdrew from Fharzai to kneel for the druid once more. The languid draw of his tongue against the devastation he'd reaped drew what little of himself had escaped; a gift he brought back to Fharzai's tongue as he passed it between them.

"I love you."

It spilled from Alrik's lips before he could identify the source but that did nothing to belittle the sincerity. He'd said those words scarcely; when he was a child the witch had taken them entirely for granted, believing that love was the sort of resource that never ran low. Fragile and finite, it wasn't until what he'd known of it was torn in two that Alrik came to understand the nature of the weakness something like love could invoke.

Alrik punctuated this by brushing his fingers through Fharzai's hair as his body rode out the aftershock of his orgasm. Cock firm but limpening between his thighs before his sweat-soaked frame stood to full height and an affectionate hand drew itself across the other's abdomen. Fharzai's study lacked a bed but the chaise would do better than the table as Alrik gathered him into his arms and laid the druid down with measured care. He noted the fingerprints he'd left behind and knew that each would leave a bruise, a sheepish smile bloomed as he stroked one. His voice was still hoarse when an apology fell from his lips, "Sorry about these.'

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

Kinned Jim Kirk a lil too hard and now I have 500 million allergies