#Mickey loves green eyes

[rayrayor]

New chapter up, double the fun as Karma nudges both Lip and Kash . And as always thank you Alice @darthvaders-wife for bringing pieces of my writings to life💕💕💕😁

[ian-galagher]

Hey Willow !

What do you think would have happened if Larry would have sent Mickey the link to the video of Shelly's arrest 10 minutes later? Who Ian have signed the papers? Would they be mad at each other that the other own thought they killed Paula? Would they still have a wedding party eventually?

Hello Anon 😁🧡

OOOOOOOOH! What a brilliant question!!

I think they would've gotten married that day.

That video would've come out eventually, and I think Mickey would've been petty enough to file for divorce. Likewise, Ian would've been stubborn enough to actually sign the papers.

The whole Byron or Barry or whoever thing would've still happened and there would've been a real marriage at the end of the road. (As if Mickey was ever going to pass up the opportunity to be a bridezilla!)

I actually like this version better 😂 imagine Ian getting on one knee: would you marry me Mickey? .....again?

And all the Gallagher's reactions!

Lip; thought you'd already gotten married? Like a week ago?

Or Debbie; what, again?! Are you sure?! Why bother, you're just going to divorce him again a week after anyway.

Ian: no, that was a mistake. This time it's serious!

Debs: we'll see... 🙄

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I FINALLY TOOK THE TIME TO DO THIS………. suchhhh a fun and cool picrew wowow!!!!

….. the flower theme wasn’t intentional i’m just very weak to flowers growing out of eyes :’3 and then it snowballed from there . the cat ears were intentional tho who do u think i am…

THIS PICREW IS SOOOOOCUTEEEE<333333 I WILL EAT YOUU<33

@mossmurdock i love u so much idk who i would've been if i hadn't done this wahhhh you are a life-saver<33333333

[vivwritesfics]

The Mug Situation

Bob Floyd and his wife are real fuckin cute

It had been Bob's wife's idea to invite the Dagger Squad for dinner. She loved Natasha almost as much as she loved her husband, thought Mickey was simply the best, and couldn't get enough of the rest of the squad.

Bob had been all shy and blushy when he asked them for dinner a week ago. They'd all tried his leftovers when he brought them for lunch, so they all jumped at the chance.

The next week was spent with Bob's lovely wife stressed out of her mind. Every day when she came back from work, she was a little late. She always came home with something; drinks (alcoholic and not), and ingredients for the dinner(s) she was going to make.

On the Wednesday, she was cleaning, on her hands and knees as she, quite literally, scrubbed the house. If Bob had known that this was how she was going to act, he would have recommended the group all go to dinner.

He pulled her up from the floor and kissed her softly, his hands cradling her face. "Relax," he said as he looked down at her, his gorgeous blue eyes staring into her own. "Breathe for me, bun."

She did just that, sucked in a deep breath as Bob continued to hold her. He watched her, made sure she was breathing before he held her cheeks and tipped her up to face him. "How're you feeling?" His thumb moved over her cheeks, fingertips comforting against her skin.

"Better," she said, leaning into his touch.

Bob looked at the kitchen around him. "Bunny, the kitchen looks great!" He said, voice chipper. "Think you can come and watch a movie with me now?"

Immediately, she shook her head. "Bobby, no. I've got more cleaning too do."

But Bob just shook his head at her. "I'll help you tomorrow," he whispered. "Come and relax with me."

She couldn't say no to Bob. He helped her to put away her cleaning supplies, took her hand and led her over to the sofa. As soon as Bob sat down, he pulled her on top of him and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

Bob made sure he kept his wife calm as they prepared to have the squad over. He helped her to clean, helped her to set up the kitchen table ready for their guests. The night before the squad were set to come over, Bob helped her to prepare the ingredients, ready to cook the next day.

And then the next day, seeing her in her green dress as she began cooking, Bob realised just how in love he was. There she was, preparing several different meals for his friends, catering to all different diets. He couldn't stop himself from wrapping her arms around her, pulling her back flush against his chest. He laughed when she pushed him away to continue cooking.

But then the squad arrived.

The Floyd's greeted them, welcomed them into their home. Bob took their coats while she got them something to drink (almost all of them accepting a beer from them. She took them through to the living room before disappearing into the kitchen to grab beers.

Things were easy while the squad were drinking beers. But then Reuben and Nat were asking for water. It was Bob that ran off to get the waters. He walked into his kitchen, pulled open the cupboards and searched for something to drink out of.

Oh, that was right. The Floyd's only had mugs. They didn't have drinking glasses, just a cute little collection of mugs. They'd had drinking glasses, but they'd broken them over the years, instead replacing them with whatever silly and funny mug they could find.

Bob filled two of their mugs with water and headed back to his squad. He passed Natasha the mug that said Pilot - Noun: someone who fucks about in planes for a living, and Reuben got the Man I Love Frogs mug.

"Uhm, Bobby," his wife said as she looked at the mugs he was passing to his friends.

He turned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Oh, turns out we haven't got any glasses," he said, more to her than anybody else. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

"Shit," she muttered, suddenly embarrassed.

Bob returned to the kitchen to get everybody else some water. He gave the chicken mug (set up to look like it would have chickens and their breed names printed on the ceramic, but, really, it was random names like Larry and Steve beneath each chicken) to Bradley, Javy got the 'You're my Lobster' mug, Mickey got the Tea-Rex mug, and Jake got the 'I Don't Like Sand' mug.

Bob sat on the armchair with his wife. He sat on the arm of the chair and put their mugs in front of them. His was the 'Star Paws' mug, with his favourite characters as cats.

And, for his wife, his Bunny, was the mug he wouldn't give to anybody else. It was a 3D bunny, with one ear flopping over to form the ear. He kissed his head and listened to Jake's story.

[harrygoeswest]

Friday Night

A Friday night gig featuring London, a Lime bike, and Harry Styles as your doting date.

992 words of fluffy nothing for the lovely @harry-on-broadway’s little fic challenge. I haven’t written anything Harry-related for a while so apologies if this is trash <3

~~~

It’s officially scarf weather, you decide, as you stand outside the Roundhouse one early October evening, scarf-less.

The temperature has dropped, you’ve pulled your winter coats out of storage, and your ears get cold on your morning walk to work now. Part of you is relieved—the heat was starting to bother you, make you lethargic and tetchy. Another part hates that flu season is imminent. But…Halloween.

Pros and cons, pros and cons.

While you wait, you watch the pedestrians idle on by, and the traffic creep past in that typical Friday night crawl. Commuting anywhere is hard. Commuting in London is like suffering in the fiery pits of hell. But this is what you signed up for, and in all honesty, something about the hustle and bustle of city living settles something in you, as strange as that sounds. You’d never been stagnant, and it’s hard to reach a point like that in a place that never sits still.

With a boyfriend that never sits still.

Speaking of…

A man on a Lime bike rings his bell as he passes by, and you can’t help the roll of your eyes. You watch as he brakes to a stop in the nearest bike park, and bury your nose beneath the warmth of your coat. Your eyes track his movements as he swings his leg over, secures the bike and ends his trip on his phone, before stalking in your direction.

He’s wearing simple grey wool trousers, one of his many Mickey Mouse t-shirts, and a navy shirt over the top with his black Vans. His hair is styled in this strange faux hawk, mullet type way again, that on anyone else you would hate. But on him…?

Nope. Not at all.

You take in a deep breath, anticipating that expensive cologne he always wears, and your mouth waters when it hits your nostrils. You release your inhale on a sigh.

“I think,” you start as he halts right before you, green eyes smiling downward into yours, “at this point, it’d probably be cheaper to invest in your own bike. You know?”

He purses his lips. “I’m giving back to the community.”

You bark a laugh. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

Harry grins, then leans down to press his mouth to yours in a chaste kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi.” You match his smile and kiss him back. “No bumbag today?” You jest, peering around his waist and hips for any sign of his ‘banana’ bag.

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, but it’s all in good fun. “Not today.”

You kiss your teeth. “Shame.”

He takes stock of you then, eyes roaming your bundled up frame. “Are you cold?”

“Just a bit.”

“Should’ve put a scarf on, baby.”

“I know,” you whimper.

“Ready for some food?” He points to the door of the restaurant attached to the venue.

“Yep.”

He saunters past you, snatching your hand up as he goes.

“Harry?”

He halts, turns back to you with a comically expectant look, and lowers himself at the waist until you’re eye-to-eye. “Yes?”

“Got the tickets?”

His expression freezes, and he does this nerve-wracking, panicky pat down of his chest, hips and backside before he relaxes, clicks a finger at you, and says, “On my phone. You can do that these days, you know?” And then pecks the tip of your nose with his lips.

You playfully whack him in the chest. “Fuck off.”

Inside, music is playing at an almost obnoxious level, only made worse by the fact that it’s one of Harry’s old songs.

You say old, because it’s just turned seven. “Aw,” you coo.

Tables upon tables are full of pre-gig goers grabbing a bite, talking loudly and boisterously. Thankfully, one of you was smart enough to book ahead, so when you speak to a host, you’re taken to one of only two free tables and handed over menus.

Dinner is spent sharing stories of your day, exchanging easy banter and casual affectionate touches. You steal food off Harry’s plate when he’s not looking, and he steals food off yours when you are looking without an ounce of shame. Once the bill is paid, you head inside the venue hand-in-hand.

You find a corner out of the way but with a good view from the balcony, and Harry glues himself to your back, arms wrapped tightly around you—taking up position for the rest of the night.

When the band starts, he bobs and sways with you in his arms, singing along to the words while his chin rests on your head. He dances more during the upbeat songs and leaves little kisses to your cheek and neck during the slower, sadder songs, but whatever his mood, he’s infectious, and you can’t help but join in.

At the end of the night you filter out into the cold October night air.

“Your place or mine?” He asks as you wander away from the crowds, his hand still clutching yours tightly.

You pretend to think about it. “Your bed is bigger.”

“That’s always your answer.”

“Then you should know better than to ask.” You give him a saccharine smile.

He pinches your cheek. “Your place is closer.”

“My place is a dump at the moment.”

“When have I ever cared?”

“You should care.”

“I really don’t, though. Mine isn’t exactly tidy either.”

You peer up at him, and he turns an indulgent smile on you.

“Fine,” he concedes. “We can go to mine, but we’re going on a bike.”

“The fuck we are. I’ll go home by myself in that case.” You start walking the opposite way, but Harry drags you back towards him with ease.

“The fuck you will.”

Then, right there in the middle of a still busy London pavement, he cups your cheeks and kisses you. And like the helpless fool you are, you let him.

“I’ll get us an Uber,” he says against your lips.

Your grin is triumphant.

~~~

Peace and love, friends :)

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Favorite

dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Summary: The Daggers meet your and Jake's baby girl for the first time and arguments over who will be her favorite aunt or uncle quickly follow.

Notes/Warnings: part of the Oh, Baby Universe, but can be read alone. Based on a suggestion from @tgmreader

Words: 1288

Between the ‘She’s like your clone, Jake,” from Nat, the ‘Is anyone else surprised Hangman beat us to the baby train?’ from Bob, and the offended ‘Wait, you two were hooking up and you didn’t tell me?’ from Javy, Jake is clearly exhausted. Not that he didn’t anticipate being worn out after introducing his daughter to his team, you both did, but the last forty-five minutes have far surpassed expectations.

Being confined in a room with the Daggers historically proves to have its drama—whether in the form of unnecessary argument or playful teasing—but with your new baby girl at the center of everyone's attention, drama has started to take on new meaning in the form of obsessively watching Eve as if she might start doing tricks or giving you both grief for not spilling every detail of your ‘sneaky, secret relationship’ before this moment. To your relief, though, they’ve steered clear of asking questions about your absence over the majority of the past year. They don’t push, knowing that information will be revealed with time.

“It’s just…” Mickey begins as his eyes snap back and forth from the baby to Jake, “...so weird.”

When you chuckle, Jake rolls his eyes. “It’s not weird,” he counters. 

“It’s pretty weird, man. You’re, like, a dad.”

“Lots of people are dads,” Jake says as he runs his knuckle down the cheek of the infant in your arms—his new little love. 

“Yea, but you’re the dad of Y/N’s baby.”

As Bradley snorts at the obvious, you look to Jake to check on the effect of Mickey’s unfiltered words. His eyes are on your face and you smile to soften the sudden twinge of uneasiness speckled amongst the various green flecks in his irises. 

Though Jake has expressed mental security in his place within the lives of you and your child, you fear what might occasionally be running through his mind. The last thing you want infecting his confidence is the consideration that maybe this situation is weird, that maybe he isn’t meant to be the father of your baby because he wasn’t intentionally chosen for that role. 

Eve wasn’t planned. You can’t change that. And the choices you made when you discovered your pregnancy are enough to have any man reasonably questioning himself. But there is no other man you want as your baby’s father. Jake is it. You’re pretty positive he was always meant to be it, because your brain refuses to picture another in his place. 

Jake’s stare breaks when Bradley starts to speak. “We all knew how these two felt about each other, even though they were doing nothing about it,” he says, shooting you and Jake a smirk so quick it’s barely acknowledged before he looks back to the group of pilots. “I promise you guys, once it fully sinks in, it won’t feel so wild that they accidentally made a tiny human.”

Nat’s head snaps up from Eve, but her finger remains wrapped in the infant’s smaller ones. “When, exactly, were you given enough time for it to sink in?” There is suspicion in her tone. Then her eyes go wide. “Did you already meet the baby?” she asks before turning to you and Jake. “Did Rooster meet her before the rest of us?”

As if sensing the shift in the room, Eve lets out a little whine and starts to wiggle in your hold. 

“Yes, Nat,” Bradley answers for you. You can feel the sass bubbling around him as his arms cross over his chest. “By a whole three days.”

“Three days matters,” she retorts. “It could be the difference that makes you Eve's favorite. The earlier the interaction, the better.”

“She’s only a few months old. You might still have a chance, Nat,” Reuben chimes from the sideline.

“Don’t bet on it,” Bradley snorts. His sass is so expertly conveyed you’re shocked his tongue doesn’t stick out to accompany his words. 

You’d scold him if not for the fact that these two often enjoy ruffling each other’s feathers when the opportunity arises. It’s all in good fun, but sometimes, depending on the topic, the teasing aspect goes over their heads. 

You suppose it’s flattering that being your child’s favorite is enough to cause a bit of an upset, but it’s wasted energy. Jake will be Eve’s favorite. The Father and The Favorite are not mutually exclusive, and you know in a room full of the people she loves most in the world, Eve will never fail to run straight into her father’s arms.

Nat, however, does not consider that inevitability as she carefully slips her finger from Eve’s to face the six-foot-tall brunet head-on. 

Jake mutters a curse, fingers rubbing across his forehead.

With his hands raised, Javy takes a step forward as if to prevent a physical altercation. “Alright, everybody take a breath,” he says. The winning, cocky grin that has tempted a woman or two or thirty is spread across his face. Then he points to himself. “I'm going to be the favorite. I'm her father's best friend.”

“I don't think that guarantees anything,” Bob says, only to receive a scowl in return.

It’s then that Mickey throws his own name onto the ballot. “You know, if we base this on entertainment value, she’ll obviously like me best. I’m the funniest.”

“Also the most irresponsible,” Reuben adds.

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Um, everything,” Nat clarifies as Bob nods in agreement. “For one, you’ll never be the babysitter.”

“If you were the babysitter you’d need a babysitter,” Bradley chuckles, patting Mickey on the back. 

Bob clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose. “That is very true; it would be chaos. What baby Eve here could use is a calming presence, and that’s me, so–”

“I’m calm,” Reuben interjects, pulling a scoff out of Javy.

“You also come up with insane ideas that make everyone miserable,” Javy says. “What are you going to do, have the baby compete in challenges only to suffer through two hundred push-ups if she loses?” he asks. “I think that’s grounds for immediate disqualification.”

Reuben’s response is drowned out by the additions of each pilot arguing their case for favorite aunt or uncle, and you’re too drained from the last hour to attempt untangling voices.

Jake sighs and shakes his head before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the living room, up the stairs to where Eve sleeps. You’re thankful that, at some point, despite the noise filling the room where your friends remain, your little girl managed to fall asleep. As you place her in her crib, you glance at Jake. 

He’s sitting on the loveseat on the opposite side of the room, one hand running down his face, the other reaching out for you. When you take that hand, he pulls you onto his lap, shifting around until you’re comfortable with your back leaning against the armrest. A palm draws a lazy line of warmth up and down your leg.

“You’re a trouper, Honey,” he says, eyes unmoving from your knee.

You chuckle. “It could’ve been worse.”

“We should’ve done it one at a time; single-file line. The last thing I wanted was for you to be overwhelmed.”

Sitting a little straighter, you reach up to cup Jake’s cheek and guide his face toward yours. “Jake, I wasn’t overwhelmed. I’m fine and so is Eve,” you promise him. “Besides, they’re my friends, too. I knew what we were getting into.”

Jake leans into your touch before turning his head to kiss your palm. “They’re all crazy,” he says.

“Yes, but they’re ours,” you reply. Then you nudge your head in the direction of the crib. “And now hers.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @roosteraloha @b-bradshaw @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[lemondoddle]

what happens when you type into the computer (BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS)

HELLO THE WEBSITE HAS UPDATED and different things happen when you type things into the computer on the screen. if a character/word isnt relevant the computer gives a red X. so far i've found:

stanley: takes you to an ebay search for brass knuckles, entering his name repeatedly will take you to various grunkle-related eBay searches until you get to bill's wheel of shame with much more to click

mabel: adds stickers to the set. you can keep hitting enter until the the room has been "fully mabelized"

ford/sixer: a case file on ford's extra digits

soos: a long set of notes about how soos is doing running the mystery shack

dipper: a note presumably from bill to dipper "informing" him that he can decode messages by staring into the sun. if you enter his name multiple times bill urges you to keep looking with words of encouragement as each note becomes progressively blurry and splotched with black until the entire notecard turns black

bill: this youtube video (and no it's not a rickroll)

gideon: an audio recording plays of gideon humming/scatting to the tune of "we'll meet again", ending with a whispered message of "i love you, mabel"

wendy: a note pranking you with the the 👌 emoji

mcgucket/fiddleford: the cotton eye joe music video

pacifica: a warning note about the book of bill mabel made her write

robbie: chat messages between him and thompson as they prepare to summon bill (as mentioned in tbob) with an image of their encounter

tad strange: the computer plays clips of bread being sliced set to jazzy instrumentals. this enables the glowing red button on the computer to turn green to switch the bread videos on and off at will

blendin: a message appears on the screen reading "time agent lost and presumed incompetent"

weirdmagedon: a newspaper page from the gravity fall's gossiper utilising the "nevermind-all-that-" act and stating "nothing happened" that day

axolotl: text onscreen appears: "you ask alotl questions"

T.J. eckleburg: text onscreen appears: "never mention that name again"

cipher: links to a wikipedia page about triangles

blanchin: pulls up a youtube tutorial on how to blanche vegetables

triangle: one half of a parenthesis appears on the computer ")", will also pop up with "tri harder"

dippy fresh: links to this image

mystery shack: links to a google search for confusion hill

gravity falls: text appears onscreen reading "never heard of it"

portal: text appears onscreen reading "portal.exe has been deleted. i bet you could build one"

theraprism: a notice sign appears- "in case of (coded words) do not use elevators" with a graphic of a person and a cthulu like monster on stairs

blind eye: an eye chart utilising the same string of letters- "WKHBOOVHH" that gets smaller each line, paired with blocks of color- the cursor turns into a "zoom in" tool that actually just makes the page blurrier with each click

creepypasta/horror: an entry on the urban legend "the always garden"- a liminal space/backrooms style restaurant anomaly

alex hirsch: links to a google search for flannels

toby determined: links to a google search for restraining order

dorito/chip: a dorito slowly enlarges on the computer screen and then becomes a jumpscare of a toothy bill, who periodically screams for a bit before the video finishes

love/boyfriend/romance: pulls up the parody romance novel, clicking starts an audio recording of the book

death: text appears onscreen: "life's goth cousin"

book of bill: text appears onscreen: "hide it under shirt during pledge of allegiance"

life: text appears onscreen: "life: 72% complete. now loading: death"

baby/lalala: an ultrasound of a baby bill in a womb and a message congratulating you

pines: text appears onscreen: "a good family tree"

weird: a video of weird al yankovich appears on the screen, he's confused and shouts for bill to get him out of there

waddles: links to a pig adoption website

mickey/disney: text appears onscreen: "rat.gif censored for your protection"

ducktective: text appears onscreen reading "ducktective stars in 'love, quacktually', coming to 'oi, it's the cockney channel innit?' this fall"

mason: a note from dipper about ford teaching him anagrams, plus a coded message with that technique

tyrone/clone: a picture of the janky dipper clone with a message that he's yours now

matpat/game theory: a video of matpat and a conspiracy board, he turns to say "hello internet, you're on... you're own... good luck" as he holds the book of bill

skeleton: text appears onscreen: "the one with the sword! he found you!"

scary: pulls up a parody goosebumps book "spookemups", clicking on it starts an audio recording of neil cicierega reading a section

divorce: pulls up a logo for "o'sadley's'"

music: enables you to click the dial, clicking the dial plays loud static

math: bill recounting an encounter he had with plato

conspiracy: a video of charlie day in a tin foil hat rambling about the website's previous state, holding the book of bill

okay that's enough from me, there's SO MUCH MORE that I just can't keep up with!! Happy searching!

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (ii) - pt 1 here!!

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : matt is still a grumpy ass but y/n can't seem to get him off of her mind.

warnings : idk uhhh matt’s rude but in a love hate kinda way 😋! also alcohol/drinking (i headcannon everyone 21+!)

mickey speaks : shes finally hereeeee and shes kinda long. im hoping to post more consistently!! luv u guys enjoy <3 ignore the fact that the pic above has a yt girl in it this story is for everyone i promise !!!! i just liked the little green vibe ok? ok.

THIS IS PART TWO GO READ PART ONE FIRST DUH!!!!

AND of course you see matt again.

only a month ago, you were introduced and forced to spend an hour of your time in close proximity to him, no matter his disinterest. yet, also, only a month ago, were you gifted with the cutest tiny tattoo that continues to surprise you a little whenever you lift your shirt before a warm shower.

it hasn’t bothered you nearly as much as you'd assumed - only disrupting your life with the caution you now take to avoid irritating the skin at your lower stomach. though some nights you grow lazy, you’ve maintained a very disciplined attitude of incorporating time in your morning and nightly rituals to ensure the tiny hello kitty inked on you is properly cared for.

contrary, your interactions with matt bothered you far more than you assumed. your sub-concious must've held onto your attempts to break past his careless attitude (that greatly opposed your own people-pleasing nature) just to pettily haunt you. but you've you forced yourself to get over it at this point. you just had to after one night, the week following your tattoo appointment (and after a long day of rude professors and pretentious customers blaming you for their own mistakes), you broke down to andrea:

you sniffle before your voice breaks again, "everyone's just mean. and- and i was so fucking annoying last saturday. it keeps playing over in my head. i'm so embarrassed and i just know he hated me, but i dont know why?! i thought i was nice enough. he could've just smiled or maybe just- i-"

andrea pauses from petting your head, "honey, you're not still talking about the guy who tatted you, right?" you look up at her from your head's soft spot in her lap with glossy eyes and a quivering lip.

"dre-" you choke.

"oh my god! no! y/n, you can't take shit like that personal. not everyone enjoys talking or happiness for that matter, you can't hold on to something like that. i promise he's not too hung up on it himself." she wipes away one of your pitiful tears.

and here he is, standing across the room from you at a party.

you definitely did not expect to see matt (who’s mild attitude was clearly fueled by socializing) in this scene but you guess that la parties are just like that. as long as you know someone who knows someone you’re easily in, that's how you tend to get into these events at least. though an insta stalk would tell you matt has enough clout to get himself in, he and his brothers have built quite the brand for themselves among la socialites.

once your eyes spot him over the shoulder of some guy who just introduced himself to you, they can’t seem to move. you watch as matt smiles for a photo with a few others. matt. smiles. okay, so maybe it was a you problem. he doesn’t hate everyone maybe just you.

though, your thoughts are denied as quickly as his face drops. he doesn’t even care to look at how the image may have turned out like the rest of the group. instead, his eyes opt to watching the people around him as he sips his weak drink.

great, now you’ve become the weirdo watching him watch other people.

until his eyes catch your cautious yet curious stare from across the room. your cheeks heat and you’re immediately shifting your eyes back to the man in front of you.

matt almost smirks at his luck. no fucking way the scared sweetheart he’d tattooed just a few weeks ago is here. he looks away when someone lays a hand on his shoulder to bring him back into the conversation. you're surprised that he continues to look back over to you after adding his input.

the guy finally acknowledges your disengagement with the story about his new motorcycle and turns to see what exactly you’re staring at. he sees matt and turns back to you, “you know him?”

“yeah. well not like know-know we only met once, he gave me a tattoo.”

“oh, cool,” he looks back over to matt and turns back to you once again, “is he bothering you?”

your face scrunches initially, “no, it’s fine.” you smile at him, not wanting to give him the impression that matt did anything but exist (which apparently is enough to capture your attention).

“good. wanna go grab another drink and tell me more about this tattoo?” a charming smile morphs on face and you nod your head easily, taking his hand and leading him towards the bar outside of this large home. and away from matt.

“two-” you look over to the man beside you, “wait is this an open bar?” you ask him genuinely and he laughs a little at your aloofness.

“yeah,” he nods.

“perfect, we’ll take two kamikaze shots pretty please!” you smile at the bartender who seems to be enjoying her night quite a bit and squeeze his hand when you realize it’s still in your own. he looks down at your attached hands then back to you.

you turn your body to face him more directly and lean up to his ear, cupping your hand and whispering, “i’m so sorry, i think i forgot your name.” you were starting to feel bad and just had to confess.

you lean back and bite your lip to hide an awkward smile, and he somehow smiles harder than he already was, “it’s-”

“ashton!” you hear a voice yell hurriedly and now some dark haired guy is pulling him away from you and repeatedly saying “code red!” in his face. and suddenly, without any indication he’d enjoyed your short lived time together, he’s gone.

you try not to sulk but he was an attractive guy with easy conversation, so you at least hoped to get his number by the end of the night.

instead, you’re left leaning against the bar hoping those shots come around soon. you decide to update your friends on your night:

Y/N

cute guy lefttttt :(

REMI

noooooo he was so cute 😫

Y/N

don’t remind me

ANDREA

where r you now???

Y/N

outside bar, im waiting on shots

Y/N

come find me💔💔

your head shoots up from your phone when three guys practically ram themselves into the bar near you, a few people around them laughing obnoxiously.

"god damnit, chris! we said we were going slowly!"

"shhhh. you are so loud, matt!"

“excuse me, can we get some water? none of the sparkles or bubbles and shit, just water, please.”

“next time i'm speaking for myself! what if i wanted the bubbles?”

you lean your head a little to get a full view of the three recognizable faces. chris, with his arms dangled over his two brothers’ shoulders clearly obliterated and slurring his words (but excited to be there nonetheless). a blonde one, you haven’t gotten the chance to meet yet, with two nose piercings and a commanding voice. and matt, with his signature pout, even poutier now that chris’ weight is causing him to hunch over slightly. you guess you were bound to run into them.

you wonder if andrea was right in saying matt hadn’t held onto your exchange. you wonder if when he saw you earlier he remembered you for your friendly smile rather than your annoying nagging. or did he even remember you at all? did he only look at you because you were staring him down first? okay, where the fuck are those shots?!

“no way!" you hear chris’ voice screech upon recognizing you from across the bar, "y/n!?”

you look over and see him shockingly excited to see your face again. you smile in an attempt to not allow your nerves about matt get to you. you are never one to deny a conversation after all.

“oh my god! hi!” you reply as chris unwraps himself from his brothers and moves closer to you.

“how’s your tat treatin’ you?” his eyes express so much excitement he reminds you of a little kid. you’re very flattered to see someone feel so much emotion due to your mere presence.

“oh, it’s still so cute, no regrets so far. i love it.” you smile and he nods while you’re speaking.

he turns around and sees his brothers and a few friends remaining in the other side of the bar talking amongst themselves. “yo, get the fuck over here! why are you guys so far?” he encourages them with a hand wave.

you wave as well, trying not to be a total stranger- even if you are.

the blonde guy leads them over and hands chris a glass of water that must’ve been waiting on him.

“cheers,” chris smirks and takes a sip before a disgusted look takes over his face, “gross. my god! why do they make this shit so bland?”

the blonde boy rolls his eyes in amusement, mumbling, "just drink it," before approaching you kindly. "hey, i’m nick by the way."

“y/n, nice to meet you! i met chris and matt when i got my tattoo done at your shop a while ago.” you explain kindly.

before nick can get another word in a female voice is squealing, “you’re y/n?! hi, i’m asha, i don't know if your remember but we talked on the phone that one time!” a tanned girl with soft cheeks and dark loose curls moves herself in front of the boys.

“of course i remember, how could i forget that insane frog story? it's so nice seeing you in person finally!” you gush.

suddenly chris is beaming, “aww wait guys this is so cute! i’m feeling like we should all hug!” he nods to his brothers who are quick to shake their heads no.

“i don’t think..” nick starts.

“nooo! let’s hug!” chris argues and opens his arms wide gesturing for everyone to hug him.

౨ৎ

after sharing a very drunk and messy group hug you all continue to talk until chris finally blurts, "i gotta go pee so bad guys, " he laughs, "but i need people with me because if i walk in on someone puking, then what? i'll die from my severe" (its not severe at all) "emetophobia and no one will ever know?"

you and asha (who you've found is actually so similar to you) both laugh at his crisis.

matt just breathes a laugh.

"chris, there’s no reason to go further with the fear factor when no one said they wouldn't come with you. i’m coming, so you're not gonna die, let's go." nick shakes his head.

“you don’t understand, nick i would be dead and covered in- i can’t even say it, dude,” chris’ voice fades as they walk away.

"wait, i'll walk with you guys inside! 'm... getting cold out here!" asha suddenly says removing herself from your side and waving goodbye with a drunk smile.

"it's not cold at all, she's trippin'" matt speaks watching her run and practically jump onto nick, causing the three laugh while leaving the crowded yard.

you just shrug and lean onto the bar again, making eye contact with the bartender who looks as if she only just remembered your existence but also seems to mentally question where the other guy went and how you managed to replace him that quickly.

"are you always so nice about everything?" matt questions, leaning his forearms on the bar, still looking at you.

"what?" you look over to him now, feeling almost sick at his proximity.

he mocks you with a high tone in his voice, "'it's soooo nice to meet you! it's soooo nice seeing you!' it sounds exhausting, to be honest."

"didn't realize having manners got you jail time," you breathe.

"and i never said it did."

"well, i don't have to be nice to you if it bothers you so much," you shrug.

"aw, sunshine, you'd do that for me? you're too sweet." he almost laughs at his own sarcastic comment.

you lick your bottom lip out of habit, "why are you still here? don't you have friends you should be ignoring?" you hope he can't tell just how frustrated he's making you.

“you must think you know me.”

“i know you don’t like me.”

“wrong, again.” he smiles and points his finger at you.

“oh, you just don’t like anyone then?”

he glances away before responding, “what's the fun in telling you?”

you huff in defeat, wanting nothing more than those shots right now. though your subconcious hopes the bartender continues to prioritize her flirting customers over you just so you can continue this addicting back and forth with matt.

"you know, that’s the thing with people like you. you think everyone owes you everything." he shakes his head.

"people like me?” you scoff under your breath, “matt, why are you still here?"

he can pick out the offense in your tone, "oh shit, that was true? i was fucking with you, sunny!"

"you don't know anything about me," you laugh and shake your head.

"alright there are those kamikaze shots for you! so sorry about that major delay, honey!" the bartender sets the shots in front of the both of you and smiles at you apologetically.

"don't worry about it, thank you!" you hand her a spare five dollar bill from your back pocket.

when she's gone you finally notice matt's widened eyes.

"what's up with your face, now?"

"you gave her a tip for pouring you some rankydank, fuckin' low level shots after you've waited long enough for her to apologize?" he seems genuinely shocked.

"she only makes money off of tips," you roll your eyes, picking the shot up and gesturing towards the second shot for him to take.

"that's all you," he raises his hands towards his chest.

"oh my god, do it, matt."

he shakes his head and points to you, "you take your shot, sweetheart."

"i knew you wouldn't, pussy," you say under your breath before smirking as you down the alcohol you've been craving since you first saw his face.

upon your insult matt is immediately taking the shot along side you. and just as both of your faces adjust to the taste, matt's phone begins to vibrate.

he grabs it and you attempt to hide your own curiosity by asking the bartender for a lime to suck on (not daring to ask for alcohol again because you simply don't want to be hung up at this bar for any longer).

"yeah, yeah still here," matt plays with his bottom lip and looks down at you with your mouth full of lime. he thinks you look pretty adorable, especially under the blush pink fairy lights hanging above the bar. "'kay, i'll be quick. alright, nick. i will. bye."

he puts his phone away and wipes his mouth, "that shit was fucking vile, by the way."

"okay, drama queen."

"mhm," his face falters back into his usual pout, "well i gotta go, but, um, nick wanted me to invite you to this get together thing we host at the warehouse, it's in like a month but, you know, come if you want." he shrugs.

"tell him of course i will, but only because he asked." you smile sarcastically.

౨ৎ

ANDREA - 12:39 AM

y/n where are you we are both so confused rn help

ANDREA - 12:45 AM

hellooo????

ANDREA - 12:47 AM

GIRL WE'RE OUTSIDE AND WE DONT SEE YOU TF

Y/N - 1:06 AM

WHERE ARE U GUYS RN I JSUT SAW TATTOO GUY AGASSN IM LOSUNG MY MIND JUST A LUTTLE BIT

Y/N - 1:06 AM

I WAS AT THE OTHER OITSIDE BAR IN THE FRONT(?) YARD!!!!! but its ok im gonba find u guys

౨ৎ

a few days later matt comes across your instagram story, forgetting he had followed you in the first place. it was a picture of you and your friends from the same night he had seen you again. it's a simple mirror photo where you're all smiling but besides your soft skin and cute outfit, matt's attention focuses on frank ocean's pyramids playing over the story.

you see the notification later that day when you finally get time on your phone:

matthew.sturniolo liked your story

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Epilogue

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, references to babies, swearing, extreme happiness and sappiness, talk of babies, talk of pregnancy, talk of PPD

Seresin Family Ranch, Clifton, Texas, Twenty-Two Months Later

The pictures from the day would be displayed on walls, tucked into photo albums and pulled out to coo over for years to come, and a few would even manage to make it into a country living lifestyle magazine. There were the typical shots, of course. The bride and bridesmaids getting ready, the best man and groomsmen standing around while drinking with the groom, the ivory lace dress hanging against the lilac walls of the home office that had been deemed Team Bride Headquarters. Reminiscers would talk about how sweet the groom’s surprise mimosa brunch was, and some would sniffle over the handwritten love letter that the bride had given the groom to read on the morning of their wedding, preserved so carefully between the plastic protective pages in the photo album.

What the photos wouldn’t be able to tell them, however, was just how excited and nervous the bride was on the morning of her wedding.

The day had dawned more perfectly than anyone could have predicted. The birds were chirping, the Sun was quickly warming the ranch landscape, and the men in the field outside her window were giggling like schoolgirls as they played a round of Dogfight Football, shirts versus skins. The two foam footballs were flying back and forth, and the old aviators were showing Javy’s high school football players how they played football in the Navy. Those boys had been recruited to put up the tents, set up the chairs, and decorate the new barn with all the décor that had been so painstakingly chosen, but Buttercup couldn’t bring herself to be mad about the delay. They were all having fun, they had several hours to put up the décor before guests began arriving, and, more importantly, Jake Seresin was looking particularly good in the morning light. She could see his muscles rippling under his sun kissed skin as he pretended the football in his hands was a grenade, pulling the ‘pin’ with his teeth and tossing it over his shoulder, sending Javy, Bradley, and Mickey to the ground with the force of the ‘explosion’.

“Ugh…” Natasha muttered, appearing at her side to stare down at the impromptu football game from Buttercup’s office window. “Remind me why they get to be outside playing football and we have to be up here, getting poked and prodded?”

Buttercup giggled and let her curtain fall back into place. “Hey, Jake offered you a spot on Team Groom. Don’t blame me for choosing Team Bridesmaid instead.”

Natasha scoffed. “Like I would choose that dickhead over you.”

Buttercup rolled her eyes and turned from the window, her eyes catching on the clock that hung above her desk. They were two hours from showtime, and she felt her nerves catch in her throat before sinking to reside low in her belly.

“Watch your language, Nat.” Buttercup’s voice was soft, but with a biting edge that spoke to her anxiety.

“Seriously?” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Oui,” Genevieve quipped, standing from the hair and makeup artist’s chair and sweeping towards them, looking like she had stepped out of the pages of Vogue. “I will not have my son picking up such nasty language.” Gen stooped to gaze down at six-month-old Mathieu, asleep in his Pack N Play.

“I hate to break it to you, girl, but your son has been hanging around ranchers, football players, and aviators since birth. If his first word isn’t a curse, I owe Mickey twenty bucks.” Natasha’s infectious laugh had a smile pulling at Genevieve’s stern frown.

“Non,” she replied with a loving look down at her son. “He will be soft-spoken. Like his father.”

Natasha’s voice dropped to a comedic whisper as she leaned towards Buttercup. “Has she even met Bob?”

This time, Genevieve couldn’t help her laugh. “Yes, I have met my husband, now stop distracting me. We have to get the bride dressed for her big day now.”

Natasha nodded, suddenly completely focused on her role as Maid of Honour. “Get over here, Buttercup. Let’s get you into this thing.”

Buttercup nodded and sighed before shrugging off her silk ivory robe, willing herself to relax as Genevieve and Natasha helped cinch her into the lacy ivory A-line dress. She looked…different. She felt different. Life on the ranch had changed her. She had loved her life in London, and she always looked forward to that quarterly week-long visit, but she hadn’t realized just how much it had taken out of her until she was looking at her old life from afar. The rainy weather, the big city, being asked to write and edit in a cramped office…it hadn’t been for her. She had made it work because she had needed the change, but she didn’t miss it. No, the Texan sun, the small-town living, the freedom to work and write from home made her feel more like herself than she had in years. And the man she woke up to every morning played a huge part in that.

She and Jake had started out living in separate rooms, but it hadn’t lasted long, especially since they often found themselves sneaking into each others’ rooms for some quality, private, adult time. But even when they were in separate rooms, she would wake up to find he had left a bouquet of flowers outside her door, or her favourite breakfast prepared in the kitchen. In turn, she left him little notes to find throughout the day. A scrap of paper in his Stetson that told him how much she loved him, a blue sticky note asking him out on a date stuck to his computer screen, a folded piece of paper under his pillow detailing how much she ached for him. Their marriage councillor helped them work through any remaining issues and communicate in a healthy way when they fell back into old patterns. Their family therapist helped the girls work through how they felt about everything, ensuring that they wouldn’t get their hopes too high in case things fell apart again. And they didn’t. Every day, their relationship grew and strengthened into something that couldn’t be shaken.

Six weeks after moving to Texas, Buttercup moved into Jake’s bedroom. Six months after moving into his bedroom, they dropped their marriage counselling to once every three months. Three months after that, Jake took her out to the gazebo, ate chicken parmesan with her under the stars, got down on one knee, and asked her to marry him. She had agreed through her tears, and they celebrated with 3 a.m. grilled cheese and a bottle of beer. And now, after almost a year of planning, she was about to become Mrs. Seresin again.

The ivory gown flowed around her feet as Geneveive expertly began lacing up the corset-style back and Buttercup held back her tears as best she could. She felt beautiful, worthy of standing next to Jake at the altar.

The door to the office opened and Abby and Charlie strolled in wearing their peach-coloured junior bridesmaid dresses.

“Oh my god…”

“Mum…”

Buttercup smiled tearfully at her teenage daughters. “Do you like it?” The girls had unfortunately missed out on wedding dress shopping because they had been at school while Natasha accompanied Buttercup back to London for a joint shopping/work trip.

“You look so beautiful,” Charlie sniffled, treading softly into the room to stand next to her mother.

“Like a fairy tale princess,” Abby tacked on, cuddling into her mother’s side and being careful not to smear her makeup on the light fabric.

Buttercup hugged both her girls close and smiled at them in the mirror. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you too, mom,” they chorused as a flash went off and Maryanne smiled at them from the doorway, lowering her phone.

The slightly older woman was already dressed in her rose-pink coloured bridesmaid dress and had been put in charge of wrangling the boys until the ceremony.

“Okay,” she clapped her hands. “Reuben has successfully trapped all the groomsmen in the cabin to get dressed. Javy’s football team have set out all the décor, Penny and Amelia are double and triple checking everything to make sure it’s just right, and the photographer is with the boys to get some candid shots. The officiant is here, the caterers are all set up, and the bartender is just arranging all their gear. DJ is in the barn and guests should start arriving in the next hour or so.”

Buttercup sighed in relief. “Maryanne, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Don’t worry, honey,” she smiled as she took a seat on the plush couch on the corner. “We’re all here for you.”

As Buttercup gazed around the room, she felt a rush of love wash over her. This was her family. She had both her daughters in her arms. Natasha was as close to a sister as she had ever had. She felt so blessed to have Genevieve as her sister-in-law, and Mathieu was the sweetest nephew she could have ever asked for. Maryanne had been her rock through the whole wedding planning process, and Buttercup was more thankful than ever that both Mickey and Reuben had been able to be home for the wedding. The whole Daggers Squad had been able to make it out to the wedding, and Buttercup knew that, within the hour, the ranch would be swarming with people from Clifton, friends from London, acquaintances from the book world, and Navy personnel.

Buttercup sniffled as she smiled at the women in her life. “I love you all.”

Nat squeezed her shoulder and grinned. “We love you too. Now let’s go get you married. Again.”

Jake gazed around the crowded barn as friends and family from around the globe ate and drank and danced, and he felt at peace. It was a strange feeling, especially when he was surrounded by people, but it only spoke to how much he had changed since he had first been called to Top Gun. Back then, he had been all about himself, screw anyone and anything that got in his way of being the best of the best. But he had changed. Falling in love, being a dad, getting divorced, and working his way back into his Buttercup’s life had altered him on a fundamental level.

Speaking of, his beautiful bride was sitting next to him, leaning against him while nursing a tall glass of bubbly as their friends tore up the dance floor.

“Have I told you today just how beautiful you are?” he murmured, leaning in to nuzzle her ear.

“Maybe not in words,” Buttercup grinned up at him. “But your tears while I was walking down the aisle definitely got the message across.”

With a low chuckle, Jake reached around and gave her thigh a quick pinch through the lace of her dress. “Brat…” He rubbed the spot, soothing the sore as he kissed her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

“Much better than the first time, right?” she giggled, placing her glass down to curl further into his side.

“I don’t know…” he teased. “I really liked that white sundress you wore in Vegas.” His smile grew as she scoffed and whacked him lightly on the chest. “But you deserved the big white wedding, and I’m really glad we were able to pull this together for you.”

“For us,” she corrected. “After everything we went through, we deserve a big celebration.”

“Mmm, agreed.” Jake nuzzled against her lips and kissed her softly, slowly. The crowd and the chatter and the music faded into the background as something inside of Jake settled. He felt lucky, so very lucky, to have her back in his life, and he would do whatever it took to keep her for the rest of his life. “I love you, Buttercup.”

“I love you too, Hangman.”

“Alright, you two, break it up.” Javy’s voice broke them apart and Jake rolled his eyes.

“Excellent timing, Coyote, as per usual.”

“Fuck off, man,” his Best Man chuckled. “You’re the one who put me in charge of making sure that y’all stayed on schedule. And it’s time for the bouquet toss. The DJ is gonna announce it at the end of this song, so I wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Shoot,” Buttercup sprang up and smoothed her dress. “Okay. Are you ready?” Javy nodded and she smiled so brightly at him that Jake melted. “Let me go get the other bouquet and I’ll get ready.” She bent down to kiss Jake softly before scurrying off to get the duplicate bouquet that she would be throwing.

“How you feeling, man?” Javy clapped Jake on the shoulder as they watched her go.

“Like the luckiest son of a bitch alive, Javy,” Jake returned the gesture as he stood. “What about you? You ready?”

“I’ve been ready, man,” Javy laughed. “I just hope it works out okay. Because if it doesn’t…” Javy flinched. “Shit man, that would suck for both of us.”

Jake laughed as his green eyes watched his wife trek to the middle of the dance floor. “It really would, man. But we’re not going to think like that. Thinking gets you killed, remember?”

Javy laughed and nodded. “It really does.”

“Alright, everyone, if I could get all the unmarried ladies onto the dance floor, please! It’s time for the bouquet toss!” the DJ called over the crowd, and the men dispersed while the ladies formed a loose ball behind Buttercup. All the ladies except Abby and Charlie, who ran over to the sweetheart table to hug their father.

“Hi honey.” He pressed a kiss to Abby’s perfectly styled hair. “Hey you punk.” He repeated the action on Charlie’s hair, still perfect but differently styled.

“Hi dad.”

“Hey old man.”

Jake rolled his eyes and hip checked Charlie. Some things would never change, and he loved that about his relationship with his daughters. Charlie would always be his little punk, always giving him a hard time and sassing him. Abby, on the other hand, was sweeter and more likely to curl up next to him to watch a movie. They were so different, and he considered himself to be blessed for getting to watch them grow up the last 22 months.

“You ready, Uncle Javy?”

“Born ready, girlies.”

Javy slowly walked to the edge of the dance floor as Buttercup pretended to throw the bouquet once…twice…before turning and handing it to Natasha, who looked like a deer in the headlights.

Buttercup hugged her friend tightly as she leaned in to whisper, “Just don’t break up with him this time, okay?”

Natasha’s face was the picture of confusion as Buttercup backed away to join her family at the sweetheart table…until she spotted Javy walking towards her purposefully.

“Don’t worry, Phoenix,” he murmured, a nervous smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I asked permission to do this at their wedding.”

“To do what?” she sniffled and hated herself for it. Natasha Trace did not cry.

“To do this…” Javy pulled out the green velvet box and knelt on one knee. “Natasha Trace, you are the biggest pain in my ass. You show me up in everything, you’re smarter than me, and, yeah, you were a better flyer than me. But all that makes me do is want to be better for you. I made a boneheaded mistake 13 years ago, and I have spent the past two years or so trying to make up for it. But I can’t wait any more. So, Phoenix, will you do me the honour of marrying me and putting up with my sorry ass for the rest of my life?”

Natasha couldn’t fight the tears as she nodded. “Yeah, you pain in the ass. I think I will.”

The crowd roared and cheered as Javy slipped the engagement ring onto Natasha’s finger. Charlie and Abby bolted away from their parents to congratulate their aunt and uncle while Rooster grabbed a few flutes of champagne from the bar and handed them to his friends.

Jake chuckled and picked up their own flutes, passing one to Buttercup before wrapping his free hand around her waist from behind and nuzzling into her neck.

“Did we make the right choice?” he asked.

“Oh yeah…” Buttercup sighed and leaned into him. “We put them through Hell. The least we could do is give him permission to propose at our second wedding.”

“Definitely makes it more memorable than the first,” he chuckled, watching Rooster, Bob, Mickey and Reuben hoist Javy up into the air. “No more shotgun weddings for us.”

Buttercup hummed, pressing her pink-painted lips to the rim of her glass. “That depends on your definition of shotgun wedding.”

Jake blinked. “What do you mean?”

Buttercup blinked back at him, joy and worry warring in her eyes. “Well, one definition is a last-minute wedding, one with minimal planning.”

Jake’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, that’s what I meant. I don’t care what kind of wedding they want; they’re not having an Elvis impersonator marry them in a Vegas wedding chapel. They deserve better. We deserved better too, but hey, at least you can drink this time.” When Buttercup didn’t speak, he felt worry begin to gnaw at his stomach. “Buttercup?”

With a sigh that rocked her body, she placed her glass down and turned towards him. “The second definition is when a couple gets married because the girl is pregnant. And��and I actually can’t drink this time.”

Jake blinked once…then twice. “But…you’re drinking right now?”

Buttercup shrugged shyly. “It’s sparkling grape juice. Unfermented. Non-alcoholic.”

Jake blinked again. “Does that mean…are you…are we…?”

Buttercup ran her hands over the lapels of his suit jacket. “I know we didn’t plan for this…but we haven’t exactly been careful either. And-and I know that you’re probably really worried that I’m going to relapse or something, but I’ve been talking to my therapist, and she recommended someone who specializes in PPD, so I booked myself an appointment and she’s going to help me make sure it doesn’t happen again. Or, if it does happen again, that I’ll have strategies in place to make sure it doesn’t get too bad and—”

Jake pressed a firm kiss to her lips, holding her tight and close as she melted against him. “Buttercup…” His voice was ragged from their kiss, but it held so much love and hope that she felt herself fall even further in love with him. “Are we having another baby?”

She sniffled and smiled at him. “Yeah. In about 8 months, we’ll have another baby Seresin running around the ranch.”

His smile was so bright that it was infectious, and Buttercup couldn’t stop herself from kissing him again.

“I love you so much, darlin’,” he murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” Buttercup giggled as she wiped her lipstick from his mouth.

Turning towards the dance floor, she saw their family weaving their way towards them. Bob had his arm around his wife, looking down at his son like he held all the answers to every question. Rooster was being towed along by Charlie and Abby, who had him by the hands as they dragged him away from the bar and towards the sweetheart table. Javy and Natasha were strolled behind them, looking so in love that it was almost sickening.

“Buttercup? Can we not tell them yet?” Jake wrapped his arms around her from behind and cuddled her close. “I kind of want this to be our little secret for just a little longer.”

Buttercup smoothed her hands over his arms, folded so tenderly, so protectively over her abdomen, and could think of only one thing to say. “As you wish, honey. As you wish.”

A/N: And that concludes As You Wish, a strange little Parent Trap x Top Gun Maverick AU with a stupid amount of The Princess Bride references. I just wanted to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for sticking with me through this fic. It's been my passion project for almost a year, and you all got me through it. Thank you for every comment, DM, reblog, and like. It means so much to me that you liked this story as much as I loved writing it. Much love to all of you! (Now someone cue up Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield so we can all jam out at Buttercup and Hangman's second wedding!)

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[whatthebodygraspsnot]

Mickey’s on house arrest for an eensy teensy crime (a total misunderstanding obviously - Mickey would never.)

At first he thinks he’s gonna go level ten batshit cooped up in their apartment. It’s not that he doesn’t like the home they’ve made for themselves, it’s just he’s a man who needs enrichment in his enclosure and everyone knows it.

Ian finds himself “breaking” things on the downlow so he can subtly float a “hey could you look at the ___ today? I think it’s busted” over their morning coffee. He's not coddling him, he just likes knowing Mickey will have something to do while he’s at work besides pace the halls and make trouble for himself out of sheer boredom.

The first week is rough. But by the next week, things have evened out considerably for Mickey. He’s clearly found a passion in something, because Ian will come home and Mickey’ll be outside on the balcony, more or less where he left him that morning. And he’s pretty sure it’s not the tomatoes he’s got potted out there.

Ian doesn’t wanna pry, especially since Mickey’s found something that works for him. But he’s a curious being. So when he comes home the next day, he decides to follow after the sound of his beautiful house-arrest husband on the balcony.

“Ha… Dumbass…”

“Who is?”

Mickey quickly turns to him as Ian steps out, joining him at the rail for a welcome home kiss.

Or…rather, Ian is kissing and Mickey is grumbling against it. “No one…”

“Mm?”

“Home early.”

“Yeah,” Ian smiles, glancing curiously at the green-space that the balcony overlooks, “got done pretty quick today.” There’s no one there. Just a couple squirrels darting around by the bushes.

Mickey nods, taking a long drag from his cigarette. 

He’s clamming up. 

Ian definitely struck something.

Silence floats between them, Ian taking the cig for himself. And he almost lets it go until it happens - movement, Mickey’s eyes darting to it down below.

Ian follows it. Hears himself huff a laugh as he watches a squirrel tear at lightning speed to the bush across the way. “Fast little fucker.”

“Gonzales…”

“Huh?” Ian turns to him. 

But Mickey refuses to meet his gaze. “Speedy Gonzales,” he says. Very cryptically.

And Ian…doesn’t know what to do with that. He chuckles, teasing, “What, you out here namin’ the squirrels, Mick?”

Another handful of seconds float by them in complete silence. Avoided eye contact.

…oh.

Wait.

Holy fuck, he’s out here naming the squirrels.

“You got somethin’ to say, wise guy-”

“No!” Wow - no - Ian doesn’t-… It’s just how the hell is he supposed to process something this endearing in such a short time span? “No, baby - nothin’ wrong with it.” Oh no, his house-arrest husband is cute?? “I mean, Speedy Gonzales - you really nailed it, ya know?”

Beside him, Mickey’s shoulders are starting to deflate from where they’ve ratcheted up in defense mode. Not all the way, but starting at least. Ian thinks they should probably leave it at that for now, but then miraculously, he’s talking again. “Got no fuckin attention span… Been lookin’ for the same shit he buried since Monday.”

Ian takes it in with a carefully constructed expression, “Oh yeah?” no smile to misconstrue or anything. “Where’s it at?”

Because Mickey knows, doesn’t he?

“Big tree,” he nods to it, “right side.”

Holy fuck, Ian is so in love with this man.

“Almost got it before you came out.”

“You think I scared him off?”

“Nah, he’s a real dumbass. Probably woulda dug two times and then ran off somewhere else.” And then, like he didn’t just make Ian’s heart absolutely rock hard, he turns to the door. “Fuckin’ starvin’ - you bring anything home?”

They have sandwiches and potato chips and Ian practically has to eat his hands to stop himself from asking more questions about his husband’s squirrels.

On Saturday morning, Ian joins him outside to water his tomatoes and then lingers, eager for any tidbits Mickey might drop on his own. 

In the grass below, a squirrel clambers over a pile of dirt and then begins a session of quick digging, bringing a smile of recognition to Ian’s face. “Hi Speedy.”

“That’s Rat Tail,” Mickey corrects from his chair.

Oh. Right. “How can you tell?” Ian asks stupidly. Because all it takes is one look with his own eyeballs to note the thinning end of this particular squirrel’s tail. “Ah.” Rat Tail. Got it.

And so begins the introductions, the two of them sipping coffee as Mickey leisurely explains the lore to him. Ian didn’t realize squirrels lead such a rich, fulfilling life, honestly. Who could’ve known? 

Mickey, of course, his feet propped up on the railing and his ankle monitor blinking away while he points out new characters seemingly every morning.

“That’s Scratch.” and “That’s Little Bitch.” and “Damn, I thoughtchya kicked the bucket, Rabies.”

Each name takes its place on Ian’s mental list.

“That one’s Allen,” Mickey says once.

To which Ian simply has to ask, the fact that he shares a name with their neighbor surely no coincidence. “What? Why?”

“He’s short ‘n ugly.”

“Got it.”

By the start of the next week, Ian feels caught up on the ins and outs of the squirrel lore. But just like with his husband, there’s always something to learn.

“Hey Mick, is that one new?”

Mickey flicks his eyes up from his phone, identifying the squirrel on the fly. “Nah, just hasn’t shown up for you yet.” Ah. “That’s Little Fucker.”

Ian nods. Interesting. “Are Little Fucker and Little Bitch related?”

“I dunno. Think they’re bangin’ each other, though.”

“Of course.”

Ian sees himself and Mickey in Little Bitch and Little Fucker.

Week Four hits, and Mickey is starting to wonder why he ever dreaded house arrest so much. It’s really not all that bad, especially when he’s got a caring husband who gives a shit about his-

“MICKEY!” comes Ian’s voice, fucking tearing through the apartment and launching Mickey into a startled fumble and ‘the fuck’ with his wet towel. “MICK GET THE HELL OUT HERE - QUICK!”

He’s dripping wet and ten seconds away from making a b-line to the gun drawer, but when he sees his husband’s face practically pressed up against the screen door, his look of sheer excitement is contagious.

“The fuck?” Mickey snaps, keeping the towel around his waist, “The hell are you out here-”

“It’s Speedy, Mick!” Ian beams, opening the door for him and pointing dramatically toward the green-space. “He’s getting it! He’s gonna get it, finally!”

Mickey shuffles over to the rail, the history that’s being made making his blood run hot when he sees it with his own two eyes, Speedy Gonzales digging frantically at the exact spot that he’s been too much of a dumbass to check for a whole month.

He and Ian grow deathly still. Wait with bated breath. 

And then��finally…after weeks of anticipation…

“Oh my god,” Ian grins, both of them watching Speedy Gonzales stuff the acorn into his mouth and then dart for cover under the bushes.

“Well whaddaya know - stupid fucker actually did it.” About damn time.

Beside him, Ian wrangles Mickey wetly into his side, processing the moment proudly. Silence may float between them, but it’s positively electric. Fiery. And when Ian glances down with him, Mickey knows the exact look in his eyes.

“You bricked up right now?”

Ian nods, swallowing thickly.

Speedy Gonzales is left to eat in peace as the two of them push their way inside, eager to celebrate the rush Little Bitch and Little Fucker-style.

[literalite]

marlo velasco for @rainymoodlet's rock of love!

hii formally introducing marlo after showing them in cas first lmao i'll stick all their info and some bonus pics under the cut :3

they're filipino, nonbinary (using they/them pronouns), and androsexual- for simplicity's sake they sometimes just say they're gay

traits: erratic, hot-headed, creative likes: alternative and metal music, competency, a good discussion, wellness, getting everything just right, being praised(.......), a good visual contrast, travelling, friendly competition, hard workers, vintage artwork, and of course tattoos fhgjhkjkl dislikes: modern decor, elitism, people who lack drive or who follow tradition, being told what to do, stupid questions, green eyes, makeup, phones or cameras or honestly most modern technology, softening their tone in any way, uncomfortable shoes

quick well that was a fucking lie bio:

only child to two very conservative parents, had a very testy relationship with them both throughout their teens and young adulthood. currently no contact with them both

learnt how to tattoo in their teens and joined a tattoo and piercing shop as an apprentice at 21. they met both their ex husband and their current best friend, risa there

married their ex at 25, was truly in love with him despite being deeply unhappy in other aspects of life

came out and began transitioning at 29, which strained their marriage as he tried and failed to accept their true self as opposed to the "woman" he had signed up for

he convinced them to try for having a kid in order to save their relationship shocker, that did not work so mickey was born

after three years they divorced- admittedly marlo was not a stellar parent and left mickey mostly in her father's care while they moved on from working at the original tattoo shop, eventually seeing their kid for only a weekend per month

at 35 opened their new shop Purgatory Tattoos with their best friend risa as co-owner

two years ago, they got a call in the middle of the night, from their ex who immediately started shouting down the line at them for "corrupting" their 11 year old into thinking that she's a girl. they immediately drove the few hours to go pick mickey up and filed for custody the morning after

marlo's relationship with mickey was initially understandably pretty rocky, with marlo being really awkward around their own daughter and mickey obviously being distrustful of them. in years since, they've grown a lot closer, with marlo now really appreciating the work it takes to raise a kid. they're still very anxious about being a "good" parent though, having totally lacked for any role models

has sort of dated around since breaking up with their husband, but hasn't been able to commit to anything serious what with their focus on keeping their business running and the residual sting of a long and painful loss both emotionally and financially from their ex

signed up for this at risa's insistence and also thinking that it'd be nice for mickey to grow up with a more stable and loving environment than they did

fun facts:

they're pretty much tone deaf but nevertheless enthusiastic about karaoke much to their neighbours' detriment

for their employees and apprentices, they're known as kind of a hardass, especially in comparison to risa, but being under their guidance improves skills x10

lactose intolerant but im not wasting a trait slot on that LMAO

used to have piercings, but took their facial ones out years ago because they'd all been done by their ex- all the holes have since closed up

has pretty much no social media presence aside from their shop's instagram account, on which they've got no photos of themselves, not even a candid in the background of a shot. doesnt know wtf a tiktok is even though mick keeps begging them to do dances with her?

can't imagine moving away from tomarang even though they love travelling overseas. a big goal is getting enough money together to take mickey on a big holiday abroad

here are some pics of them and their daughter, mickey! she's 13, trans, she/her pronouns. due to their long estrangement, mickey calls them "lo" instead of any other term

[ange1sang]

thinking about mickey who grew up in the horrors of the milkovich house looking at people who plant flowers in their gardens with disdain. they all live in the same shitty south side blocks, why plant flowers that will bloom for just a week or two and then go back to being sad-looking patches of dirt covered in withering, colourless petals? he thinks they're ridiculous for dedicating so much time to something so fleeting that could easily get pissed on by a neighbourhood dog or trampled by rowdy kids. he rolls his eyes at the makeshift gardens, convinced he'll never understand.

it's years later, and ian is struggling to get on his feet after a whirlwind moodswing. he's spent days and nights unmoving in bed, covers pulled tight around his freckled shoulders and green eyes dull no matter how the light hits them. mickey brings him coffee every morning even if the mug remains untouched, kisses ian's cheek and strokes a worried thumb against his temple each time he has to leave him. in the evenings he tells ian about his day, unsure if any of the information is even reaching ian at the bottom of the rut he's stuck in. as much as the whole process feels like pulling teeth, mickey persists, and folds himself around ian when he goes to sleep, nose nudging against the back of his neck as he prays tomorrow will be brighter.

eventually a brighter tomorrow does come. mickey comes home from a job and finds ian sitting on the couch, absently watching daytime television and holding the mug of coffee mickey brought him in the morning between his thighs. he looks up when he hears mickey walk into the living room - slowly, but he looks up all the same. the smile he gives mickey is small, tentative and apologetic. it's the best thing mickey has seen in weeks.

"hey mick," ian says, voice soft and croaky, and mickey can't help but grin.

"hey mister," he whispers, leaning down to kiss the top of ian's head and ruffle the red hair he's grown to love so much. "missed ya."

they spend the afternoon shoulder to shoulder on the couch, watching mindless television while mickey traces shapes against ian's thigh with his fingertips.

mickey realizes then that even if ian's smiles and joy were fleeting, even if their warmth only came around for a week once a year, he'd never stop putting in the effort to keep his boy afloat. ian's eyes, prettier and more vibrant than any flower petal mickey has ever seen, would be worth any blood, sweat or tears shed over them. no matter how long his next low spell lasted, mickey would take care of him and get him the help he needed, regardless of how difficult it might be.

he presses a kiss to a little constellation of freckles on ian's cheekbone and wraps an arm around his shoulders. after years of disdain, he thinks he understands the flower beds a little better now.

[gallafics]

soooo, i wrote something i’ve never really written before and something i think should be written more in the fandom for @galladrabbles this week with the lovely prompt of mine from @jrooc !!

—

“that fucker was your ex?” mickey snarled quietly.

“yeah. cheating asshole,” ian pants heavily into mickey’s mouth.

“don’t like the way he looked at you, touched you. could tell how bad he wanted you,” mickey bit at ian’s bottom lip harshly.

“well, he can’t have me…”

“yeah, why’s that?” mickey asked, thrusting faster, harder. “tell me why he can’t have you, ian.”

“f-fuuuuck,” ian mewled eyes rolling back as his husband hit his prostate again…and again.

“tell me,” mickey demanded, gripping ian chin tight, forcing green eyes to his.

“c—cause i’m yours, mick! fuckin’, all yours!”

mine. all fuckin’ mine.

[adrienneleclerc]

Matching Costumes

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Latina! Reader

Summary: when they attend Mickey's Not-So-Scary Halloween Party accidentally matching each other but being complete strangers

Warning: Spelling and grammatical errors, inaccuracy because of the hurricane and i never been to a Mickey Halloween party

A/N: Logan goes to Disney World with Oscar

Y/N was doing her makeup, putting the finishing touches to her Emily costume.

"Valeria, are you absolutely positive this costume looks good?" Y/N asked.

"Yes, oh my gosh, chill the fuck out. Anyone with half a brain cell can tell you're Emily from Corpse Bride. Even if they haven't seen the movie, they'd be like 'oh, you're the corpse bride', its that good. Now lets go, the party starts at 7 but i really want to go on the rides." Valeria said, she was dressed as Lydia Deetz from Beetlejuice

"Going 2 weeks before Halloween feels ridiculous." Y/N said.

"I wanted to go at Halloween but we're having a Halloween party with all los tios y primos. Are you going to make those Jack Skellington conchas you saw on TikTok?" Valeria asked.

"I mean hopefully i can make them, I have a friend that works at a Mexican bakery so hopefully she can help me make them. Mami, ya nos vamos a la fiesta, nos regresamos a medianoche!" Y/N called out before leaving the house.

Meanwhile, Logan and Oscar were in the car on their way to Disney World.

"You could have at least put on makeup." Logan said and Oscar rolled his eyes.

"Be lucky i put on the green color hairspray." Oscar commented.

"You can't even tell if you're supposed to be Betelgeuse or the Joker." Logan said, as he was dressed as Victor from Corpse Bride.

"Do you see the suit? I am obviously Betelgeuse. I just don't understand why we are going to a Halloween party if it's not Halloween yet. And at Disney World, are you serious?" Oscar asked.

"Maybe if you weren't in Brazil for the Grand Prix for Halloween, we'd actually get to spend Halloween together, but you're going to Brazil." Logan said. "Besides, you never been to Disney World, and as a Florid native and your best friend, I can't let that happen."

"You are absolutely ridiculous." Oscar said, shaking his head. Logan entered the Disney World parking lot after showing proof of tickets, once the car is parked, both men got out and readjusted their suits.

"Also, chief, the makeup was more so people don't recognize you in Disney." Logan said, as he pulled out the kit he used for himself, asking if Oscar reconsidered, he ultimately nodded and Logan fixed him up. "Now we are completely in costume, lets head inside."

"Please, I really want to show Lily everything, she's been dying to come here." Oscar said.

"Then just go to the Paris one." Logan said.

Y/N and Valeria got out of the car and started walking to the entrance of the park.

"The wig didn't move, right?" Valeria asked,

"Nope, you're good, and mine is fine, right?" Y/N asked.

"You're good. Let's go in, I am so excited." Valeria said. As they were walking and having a conversation, Y/N tripped, causing her to bump into the guy in the Victor costume.

"Oh my gosh, i am so sorry." Y/N said.

"No worries, are you okay?" Logan asked. "I like your Emily costume, did you make it yourself?"

"Oh, yes i did." Y/N said, looking down and dusting off her dress. "I tried to keep it as accurate to the movie as possible. And you're Victor, what a coincidence."

"Yeah, my name is Logan." Logan introduced himself.

"I'm Y/N, and Lydia over here is my bestie, Valeria." Y/N said, looping her arm with Valeria's.

"This is my friend Oscar." Logan introduced him and Oscar did the awkward smile and wave.

"That is a great Betelgeuse costume. Most people don't fully commit but i like that you did." Y/N complimented and Logan gave Oscar a shit-eating grin and Oscar rolled his eyes.

"You should join us! 4 is better than 2." Logan said.

"Sounds fun! A little Tim Burton group costume, love it." Y/N commented.

"It almost looks planned. Oscar, we need to go on some of the rides, they have changes because its Halloween." Logan said.

"Yeah, we need to hit the teacups." Valeria said.

"Sure, lets go, we have pver 2 hours to kill before the actual party." Oscar said.

"You're going to love it, i swear!" Y/N exclaimed before the 4 of thejm walked to get to some rides before the event started.

They saw the parade, met Jack and Sally, did some trick or treating, saw the Sanderson Sisters performance, overall enjoyed the Mickey Halloween party.

"It was awesome meeting you guys, we should hang out outside of costume tomorrow." Y/N said. Oscar looked hesitant but Logan spoke up.

"Yes, we should. Oscar is from out of town and he doesn't mingle much." Logan said,

"His accent made that very clear." Y/N said giggling.

"How about just you and Logan hang out." Valeria offered.

"If Logan doesn't mind, I am all for it." Y/N said. Logan made the first move and added his phone number to Y/N's cell, which was already unlocked. "Forward, I like it. It was nice meeting you Logan, you two Oscar, hope you're enjoying Florida, have a goodnight." The girls walked away.

"You are really going to go out with a girl you just met?" Oscar asked.

"A relationship has to start from somewhere, chief." LOgan answered and Oscar rolled his eyes.

"You're so annoyingly American." Oscar grumbled before they made their way to exit the park.

When Y/N got home, she texted Logan.

Hey Logan! It's Y/N, we should meet at The Monroe at 12pm.

It took a few minutes for Logan to respond.

Hi! Yes, the Monroe sounds great, see you then

Y/N clutched her phone to her chest and squealed because she actually set up a date with a really cute guy.

The next day, Logan was waiting outside The Monroe, fidgeting with his shirt, he hasn't felt this nervous in a while. He then saw a women his age walking towards the Monroe.

"Logan?" she asked.

"Yep, thats me. You look differet without the makeup." Logan commented.

"Yeah, Halloween things, you ready for our first date?" Y/N asked.

"This is a date?" Logan asked.

"Only if you want it to be." Y/N said.

"I definitely want it to be." Logan said and Y/N giggled at his eagerness.

"Then let's go in." Y/N said and Logan opened the door for her, placing his hand on her lower back to guide her. Going to Disney World that night was the best decision he's ever made.

The End

I hope y'all liked it! It feels good to write for our American boy again

[katsu28]

Congrats on 2K Kait!!!! And this celi is gonna be so fun, but don’t stress yourself out <333

☕️☕️☕️ I’d love a drink of “carefully initiating slight intimacy (like holding hands, hugging, etc.) since they aren't quite sure how far they could go with where they are” from List D with Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Thank you so much <33

may have strayed a little from the prompt but i hope you enjoy anyways!

jake "hangman" seresin x reader, 1.3k, join the celebration!

To make it extremely clear, you were not dating Jake Seresin. 

He was one of the most remarkable people you’d ever had the pleasure of being friends with, kind and funny and braver than most folks would ever admit, but no, you weren’t dating him. 

You really, really wanted to, though. You just weren’t sure if that’s what he wanted too. 

Sometimes you got the feeling he did, like when Nat had caught him staring at you from behind the rim of his beer and very loudly called him out in front of everyone for unashamedly ogling you. He’d vehemently denied any said ogling with flaming red cheeks, but you noticed him doing it again three more times that same night. 

Or when you went to the farmer’s market with him one Sunday morning and it was so crowded you were positive you’d lose him in the throngs of people. He slid his hand into yours that time, lacing your fingers together tightly as you tugged him to tent after tent. 

Sometimes you thought about how you weren’t all that slick either.

Like that time Mickey invited you to the beach with all of them, and you got so distracted by Jake’s shirtless chest during dogfight football you nearly missed the pass he’d lobbed you. It all worked out in the end though, because when Jake’s team inevitably won, he’d hugged you and spun you around gleefully. 

It was worth it to feel the press of his chest against yours. 

You found yourself looking for him everywhere you went, regardless of whether he was actually there or not. You’d like to run into him at the mundane places—grocery store, laundromat, coffee shop—just so you’d be able to spend more time with him.

But those were totally platonic, good friend things to do, right? 

Like always, your eyes searched for Jake as soon as you stepped into the Hard Deck tonight, scanning the packed bar for any sign of that telltale blond head of hair you wanted to see so badly. 

Today especially, because you’d had one hell of a day at work. Between spilling coffee on your shirt first thing in the morning, to your shitty boss lecturing you about an error that wasn't even your fault, to hitting the worst traffic imaginable on the way home, you could really use one of his special Jake pep talks right now. 

Much to your dismay, you spotted Rooster first, and although you did enjoy his presence, he wasn’t the man you were looking for. You made your way over anyways, greeting everyone as cheerfully as you could given your circumstances, still looking around for Jake. 

“Hangman’s getting another round, if you wanted to put your order in.” Nat informed you, nodding towards the bar. Lo and behold, there he was a head above the rest, broad shoulders helping you spot him almost immediately. You weren’t sure how you’d missed him upon first glance. 

You thanked Nat quickly, wasting no time in making your way over until you’d pushed up next to him at the bartop. Maybe a little too quickly, because your shoulder bumped against his arm a bit harshly, and his head whipped in your direction, probably an expletive at the tip of his tongue. When he saw it was just you, his expression did a complete 180, now a grin so big his eyes crinkled at the edges. 

“Was wonderin’ when you’d be showin’ your face around here tonight.” His smooth, Texas twanged voice had part of the tension dropping from your shoulders. He seemed to notice because his smile dropped a little bit and he tilted his head, regarding you with those pretty green eyes you always found yourself getting lost in. “Y’alright, darlin’?” 

“Yeah. Just…horrible day.” You sighed, drumming your fingers against the weathered wood. Jake raised an inquisitive brow, his invitation for you to talk about it. So you did, telling him every shitty little thing that happened since the moment you woke up to the second you pulled into the bar parking lot. 

As soon as you were done, it instantly felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders—not all of it, but enough to the point where you didn’t feel like you were about to burst into tears at any given moment. Jake’s eyes hadn’t left yours the whole way through, keeping you tethered to him with every slow nod and brow crease. 

“Sounds like you’ve had quite a time today.” He said quietly, sliding his hand over yours. His palm was calloused and warm, thumb rubbing along your knuckles soothingly. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. Wish I coulda been there for you, maybe knocked some common sense into your idiot boss.” 

“Can I just—can you hug me? I really feel like I need a hug right now.” You weren't sure if that was asking too much of him, considering you didn’t quite know where the two of you stood in terms of what you were to each other, but you had to ask. 

“Sure. Of course I can, c’mere.” Jake opened his arms for you as soon as the words left your mouth, letting you bury yourself against his chest like you’d done it a thousand times before. 

But really, you’d never hugged Jake before. Not like this, at least. A few brief greeting hugs, thank you hugs, celebrating your win at partners beer pong at a barbeque hugs—but you'd never felt so safe in someone’s arms as you felt in Jake’s right now. They were strong, circling around you tightly, one hand smoothing up and down the length of your spine slowly, the other cradling the back of your head. You felt like you could weather a storm and still be okay here. 

He smelled like laundry detergent and musky cologne when you inhaled, strong but somehow still comforting at the same time, and the cotton of his flannel shirt was soft against your cheek. When you were this close to him, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took, the way his breath hitched when you hugged him a little tighter than he’d expected. 

And you could’ve been wrong, but you swore you could feel his heart beating a little too fast. 

“Thank you, Jake. I really needed that.” You sighed, pulling away from him (a little too soon for your liking, if you were being totally honest). “Sorry if it was weird, I just—” 

Jake clicked his tongue, smiling at you warmly. “Don’t be sorry, darlin’, I’m glad I could help. You can hug me anytime, alright?” 

He licked his lips, clearing his throat before speaking again, voice a lot less confident than you’d ever heard it before. His cheeks were tinged pink too, maybe from the heat of the crowded bar. (Or maybe from you.) “And maybe next time you have a bad day, you can call me? We can go out for lunch or somethin’, help get your mind off the shitty things.” 

“You’ll be at work, Jake.” 

“The Navy does give us lunch breaks too, y’know.” He joked, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge. 

“It’s still clear across town. I couldn't.” 

“I’d be there in a heartbeat. I’d even take the damn jet if I had to.” 

You couldn't help but let the corners of your mouth lift up into a shy smile. “Pretty sure that's illegal, Lieutenant.” 

“But would you? Take me up on the lunch date?” Date. He said date. You smiled even bigger because Jake looked nervous, and he never looked nervous. You’d be lying to yourself if you weren’t enjoying the effect you seemed to be having on him right now. 

“I would.” 

“Good. I’m glad.” Jake gathered the beers Penny had set on the bar for him into his hands, shooting you one of those shiny, charming smiles that made you fall for him in the first place as he backpedaled towards the rest of your friends. “Maybe we can do a test run, say…tomorrow, noon? I’ll pick you up.” 

“I’d love that.”

So no, you weren't dating Jake Seresin. But maybe, just maybe, after a few lunch dates, you could be.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[alaskan-wallflower]

things i loved on my second reread of the outsiders since eighth grade (mostly the curtis bros because i love them)

ponyboy is fucking hilarious

darry looks ‘just like the curtis’ dad but acts the exact opposite’

darry instantly regretted smacking ponyboy

darry likes being teased by soda

soda ‘looks like a greek god’ (greek mythology hyperfixation went off + new art refs!!)

soda thoroughly enjoys the feeling of being in love

pony is the heaviest smoker out of the curtis brothers, soda only smokes to look tuff and darry is too proud of his body to smoke

darry is 6’2’’ and his muscles are like ‘oversized baseballs’ according to pony

soda’s nickname used to be pepsicola

soda calls ponyboy honey and darry calls him baby (i swear if i get an anon saying this is anything but platonic im gonna jump off a building)

soda had a horse named mickey mouse that he had to give away

pony and soda both cried at their parents funeral but darry just stuffed his hands in his pockets and wore a ‘helpless pleading look’

the gang refers to darry as superman

darry works two jobs and makes good at both

all three curtis’ have gigantic appetites and darry cooked two chickens before the rumble because of it

soda hates when his brothers fight

darry used to be super close to his dad

when darry saw ponyboy it was (supposedly) the first time pony had seen him cry in ages

the end of chapter 6 where pony got reunited with his brothers ohmygosh that was my favorite part of the whole book

even darry wouldn’t wanna get into a fight with dally

darry would be a soc if it weren’t for the gang

darry was voted boy of the year and was on a football scholarship

darry checks all of pony boy’s math assignments to make sure he’s doing them right

darry full naming pony when he caught him smoking in bed made me laugh

pony has almost red hair (another reason why i like the musical pony over movie pony)

pony hates most people with green eyes

soda has warm brown eyes that can go from happy and cheerful to blazing with anger in a second

darry would be really good looking if it wasn’t for his cold eyes

johnny’s scar goes from his cheek to his temple and it’s really hard to look at

darry is harder on pony than his parents were out of fear that pony’s gonna throw away the same opportunities that he had before his parents died

pony is a grammar police

soda is really bad at spelling

dally’s death was actually an assisted suicide (i didn’t catch into this when i was in eighth grade)

darry doesn’t like movies

two bit and steve got kicked out a church for horsing around once (i think it was them, idk)

darry and paul used to be best friends

ponyboy felt really bad because he didn’t think he asked for darry enough when he was sick

it was kind of implied darry feels that pony favors soda and vice versa

soda and darry tickle ponyboy out of bed in the morning