#Oliver Sills

[dinnerboness]

[insanefemme]

Man, I miss him

He was so special

[hopefulomens]

HELL HEAH

I am in love religiously raised William wisp headcanons do you think he lost faith after he died? do you think he felt betrayed that he didn’t go to heaven or hell or anywhere? do you think his family tried to come up with excuses to stop him from losing faith? ‘This is is clearly a test of your faith’ ‘the lord has given you a gift’ ‘god has chosen you’

they probably hated all his paranormal bullshit and the stuff he claimed he saw. even after he died they didn’t want to believe him

[bussyslayer333]

it’s all about you

summary: 4 times Jake thought about marrying you and the 1 time he did.

pairing: jake seresin x girlfriend!reader

word count: 5.9k

warnings: allusions to smut throughout, mentions of alcohol, swearing, jake being whipped!! MDNI 18+

1.

“Cookies or Brownies?” you hum, rifling through your kitchen cupboards.

“Cookies, we’re not monsters babe.” Jake replies seriously from where he’s stood behind you, checking out your ass.

You snap back up with a cheer and the brown sugar you were looking for in tow. Jake quickly diverts his gaze in favour of not getting caught and decides that your fridge magnets are suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

His intense inspection of the little windmill stuck to your fridge has you snorting, quickly turned into a squeal when Jake pats your behind with a little more force than intended.

“Jake!”

“What?” He spins around as if to look for someone else who could have committed the offending action.

“You’re stupid.” You giggle, jutting your hip out to hit his own.

Jake reciprocates the action before finally picking up a wooden spoon and smacking it against his palm loudly.

“Where do you need me chef?”

“Fold the butter into the brown sugar,” you instruct, “softly.”

Jake rolls his eyes purposefully obnoxiously and sighs loudly, “I know.”

“Don’t make me remind you of cupcake gate.”

Jake’s attitude drops, “we agreed not to bring that up.”

“I play petty Seresin, now fold. Gently.” You sass.

Jake chuckles at your demeanour and gets to work, following your orders to complete the cookie dough.

Once complete and set to chill in the freezer, Jake goes to leave the kitchen but instead watches on in amusement as you pace around anxiously. After your third rearrangement of the trinkets on the window sill he interrupts.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

You sigh dramatically and throw yourself into his arms.

“I’m nervous.”

Jake snorts, “why?”

You pull back from where you face was smushed into his chest and pout, “don’t be mean. I’m scared they won’t like my cookies. Or me, for that matter.”

Jake’s thumb strokes absentmindedly over your cheek in an act of comfort.

“All kids like cookies. Fact.” He states, “and they’re gonna love you because they love me and I love you.”

“I don’t want to be their uncle Jake’s lame girlfriend who makes bad cookies.” You bite at your pushed out lip.

“You won’t be, now let’s bake these suckers.”

Jake pats your ass playfully as you bend down to retrieve the cookie dough.

“Put the oven on.” You order.

Jake mock salutes, “yes, chef.”

You run through about ten outfits before finally settling on what to wear, and as you brush through your hair once more, the doorbell goes.

You can hear Jake and his sister talking downstairs as well as the excited giggles of his nieces. When you finally descend the stairs Jake’s sister is smiling up at you.

“It’s great to see you again!” She gives you a one armed hug, the other holding the girls backpacks.

“You too!” You look down to where the girls are holding on to each of Jake’s hands, “and it’s great to meet you girls!”

The younger of the two immediately leaps forward and grabs onto your hand, “I’m Ellie, you’re pretty,” she singsongs.

You bend down and wipe at a smudge on her face, “Not as pretty as you!”

Ellie giggles determinedly and turns back to her mom to smile.

“Ellie, Olive, be good okay?” Jake’s sister nods her head to the two girls before looking back up to the two of you, “and thank you for looking after them on such short notice.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “you know it’s fine, now go have fun.”

“Thank you!” She smiles before kissing the girls on the heads and making her exit.

You look back down to the girls, Ellie is still clinging onto your hand with a smitten look on her face. Her golden curls are kept in two pigtails with small scrunchies. She’s adorable and can’t be older than 5.

When you avert your gaze to Olive, she seems to blush slightly. She is partially hidden by Jake’s large frame but you can still make out her blue eyes and long, mousy brown hair. She looks much older than Ellie, probably about 9 or 10. Much more reserved as well.

“It’s nice to meet you Olive!” You beam.

She nods in your direction, “hi.” It’s almost a whisper but you smile in acknowledgement anyways.

“Jakey I’m hungryyyyy,” Ellie drags out the “e” sound of her Y.

“Well that won’t do will it, Ellie bellie?” Jake teases, dropping Olive’s hand in favour of scooping Ellie up into his arms.

Olive chuckles awkwardly at the commotion and fiddles with the straps of her bag as Jake carries Ellie towards the kitchen where the cookies are almost finished. You can sense a small amount of anxiety radiating off of her, you were similar at that age. Never quite feeling in place. It suddenly becomes your duty to make sure she understands it’s okay.

“I love your hair, it’s so long!” You smile comfortingly at her, reaching out to fiddle with the ends.

She leans more into your touch and speaks quietly, “thank you, I- sometimes I think it’s kind of boring.” She shrugs.

“It’s really beautiful! I wish I could grow my hair that long,” you hum, inspecting the completely undamaged strands of hair.

Olive smiles up at you, “I just wish I could do more hairstyles with it.”

“I could braid it for you? If you would like that of course?”

“I would really like that,” Olive nods.

She lets you lead her upstairs where you sit her in front of your vanity with all your hair and makeup products. You watch fondly as she “oohs” and “ahhs” at the products on display.

“Tell me if I hurt you at all okay?” You question as you brush out her mostly untangled hair.

Olive nods in understanding, “can you do two french braids?”

“Of course!”

You sit in silence for a few moments as you brush and part her hair. You can feel her gaze on you from the mirror.

“You okay?” You hum.

“You’re really pretty, y’know? Way more than Uncle Jake.”

Her words make you giggle, “Your Uncle Jake is very handsome, why else would I be with him?” you tease.

She snorts, “I figured it wasn’t because he was clever.”

You try not to laugh too loud at her quip and bite your lip, “he has his moments.”

Olive rolls her eyes and mumbles “sure” and once calmed from your laughter you’re able to start on the first of the braids and talk to her more.

“How’s school?” You question absentmindedly.

“It’s okay,” she answers. Olive opens her mouth again as if to say something else, before closing it again.

“You can tell me,” you affirm.

“Promise you won’t tell Uncle Jake?” She asks.

“Pinky.”

She quickly intertwines her little finger with yours before beginning.

“There’s this boy,” she blushes as she sees a grin spread across your face, “he sits next to me when we do science, and he’s really cute.”

“What’s his name?” You ask, trying to keep your face neutral.

“Trey. But I don’t even think he knows my name.” She sighs.

“I’m sure he does, Olive, especially if he sits next to you.” You reassure her.

“I mean he only really talks to me to ask for help, but one time he told me he really liked my shoes.” She gushes.

“That’s a good sign Olive,” you confirm, “if a boy likes you he’ll make sure to compliment you, don’t settle for a boy who doesn’t make you feel special, promise me?”

Olive nods diligently, “promise.”

You make a little “aha” noise as you finish with the first braid and begin to move onto the second.

“Did Uncle Jake do that?” She ponders.

“Hmm?”

“Make you feel special?”

You nod your head as your fingers move nimbly through her hair, “he asked me out five times before I said yes.” you giggle in remembrance.

“Five?” Olive chuckles.

You’re not quite sure how to explain to Jake’s niece that you thought he was something of the manwhore before he finally professed his feelings for you.

“I wanted to know that he was committed,” you decide on.

“Uncle Jake really loves you. I heard him on the phone to my mom yesterday and-”

“Stop spilling all my secrets would ya?” Jake quickly interrupts, butting the door open with his foot.

Ellie is propped on his right side holding a plate of what you can assume are your cookies. She and Jake had long gone through the sheets of her My Little Pony colouring book and had decided to come find the two of you and share the cookies that were quickly depleting.

Olive giggles, “sorry Uncle Jake.”

“It’s okay kid,” he grins and plops Ellie down on your bed before coming to stand behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and pecks you on the lips quickly.

Olive and Ellie both pull faces and Jake laughs, “I thought that’s what you wanted to do to Trey, Ollie?”

Olive gasps, “how do you know? And no I do not!”

Jake taps the side of his nose teasingly. You roll your eyes and quickly finish off her braid, flipping them over her shoulders.

“Done.” You pat her head and hope her anger will diffuse.

“Thank you,” she smiles brightly at you, but returns to shooting daggers at Jake just shortly after.

“Cookies?” He offers up as a peace offering.

Olive still keeps up her impressive pout.

“I made them babe don’t worry,” you provide.

“Well in that case,” Olive reaches for a cookie and takes a hefty bite, her eyes widen considerably, “these are so good!”

“Thank you!” You smile, brushing at the crumbs that had accumulated on her cheeks.

“These are the best cookies ever!” Ellie proclaims from where she is now chowing down on another cookie.

“Hey! I thought we said no more?” Jake frowns in faux anger, plopping down on the bed next to Ellie.

“You said that, not me!” Ellie giggles.

“You got me there, bellie.” Jake sighs in defeat.

Ellie throws herself into Jake’s arms and gives her best puppy dog eyes.

“Can we watch a movie?” She pleads.

“You wanna watch a movie, kid?” Jake pokes Olive.

Olive looks to you and you smile, “Yeah,” she nods.

An hour later, you’re all squished onto the couch watching Frozen. Ellie is long past waking up and is spread out across the “L” part of the couch snoring quietly.

You’re tucked into Jake’s side and he’s fiddling with your hand, he hasn’t been watching the screen at all. Instead, watching your features and the way Olive will point out her favourite parts and songs to you. He particularly enjoys her version of “fixer upper” which he presumed might be dedicated to him. He enjoys even more so when by the time the film ends the way that Olive is dozing off on your shoulder and the way you’re stroking softly at her arm.

“They love you,” he coos into your ear.

“I’m glad,” you hum, “I really love them.”

“Olive is never like that with anyone, she’s usually so shy.” Jake explains, placing a kiss at your temple and then tucking your head under his chin.

“I was like that too when I was her age.” You murmur as to not wake the girls, “I hope she knows how special she is.”

“You’re gonna be such a good mom someday,” he whispers down at you.

“I hope so.”

2.

Jake had been waiting for what felt like hours. It was five minutes really. But when you had told him to go wait in the car he had expected you to be out much sooner than you were. And when you finally sat down next to him, he wasn’t all too pleased.

“Let’s go.” You hum, pulling down the mirror to apply a final layer of lip gloss.

“Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Yeah, why?” You turn, a crease forming in your brow.

Jake winces, unsure of whether to continue, “your skirt, it’s really short.”

“I guess so.” You deadpan.

A beat passes.

“Are you going to cover up?”

Jake watches as your face drops.

“Why would I do that?” You reply snappily.

Jake sighs and begins to pull his car out of the driveway.

“Because I don’t want random guys hitting on you all night.”

“How is that my problem?” You retort, anger bubbling up.

“I just don’t want them getting wrong ideas about you, that’s all.” Jake tries to reason.

“And what would those ideas be, Jake?”

Jake can sense your rising anger. He doesn’t want to be in an argument with you by the time you reach the Hard Deck. That leaves him approximately four minutes to diffuse the situation he has caused.

“Just forget I said anything, it’s fine.” Jake dismisses.

“No, I want to know what you mean.” You assert, arms coming up to cross over your chest.

“Can we just drop it?” Jake sighs after a moment, “I don’t want to fight in front of everyone.”

“We wouldn’t have to fight if you weren’t being a dick!”

Jake rolls his eyes and doesn’t dignify you with a response, angering you even further. When he finally pulls into a spot outside of the Hard Deck you turn to him and flick at his shirt that can’t have more than two buttons done up.

“You gonna do that up sweetheart? Touch revealing don’t ya think?” You spit snarkily.

With that you slam the door to the car and make your way inside without looking back. Jake watches as you beeline for Natasha and rolls his eyes when she shoots him a dirty look. It was only more ammunition for her general distaste of him.

It goes like that for the rest of the night. You avoid Jake like the plague, sticking to Nat’s side mostly near the bar top. Although, you always stay within Jake’s line of sight which is heartening for him.

Bradley seems to find the ordeal hilarious.

“What did you do to piss her off this time?” He taunts.

Jake grunts. “I told her that her skirt was too short and that she needed to change.”

Bradley’s eyes widen, “bagman even I know you’re not supposed to say shit like that.”

“Yeah, well I know that now!” Jake spits.

“Hey don’t shoot the messenger,” Bradley rolls his eyes, “just go say sorry.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She called me a dick.” Jake huffs.

“She’s not wrong,” Bradley offers.

Jake stays silent.

“You’re so petty.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Bradley and Jake stare at one another for a moment.

“Yeah, okay maybe,” Jake relents.

He sighs and averts his gaze back where you’re sat with Nat. You’re laughing so hard at something she’s said that you’re doubled over. You really did look beautiful, and Jake hadn’t even told you because he was too worried he was gonna get jealous and be a dick. Yet he still managed to do the last part.

“I hate when you’re right,” Jake admits, handing his beer over to Bradley.

Jake begins to make his way over to you, he’s going to apologise. However, he did not account for what was going to be quite the persistent obstacle.

“Hey,” a voice blurts from in front of him.

Jake catches sight of the owner of the voice, she’s tall and just a touch too blonde to be believable. She’s pretty, sure. But not you.

“Hey,” Jake replies absentmindedly, trying to make his way around her.

She steps in front of him again, blocking you from his view and tries to start up a new conversation.

“I’m Kendra, and you are?” She smiles in what Jake supposes was seduction.

Right now all he’s really trying to figure out is if your still at the bar or not.

“Jake.” He replies, hoping it will satiate her enough to move.

“Well Jake, it is great to meet you,” Kendra hums, sticking out her hand for Jake to shake.

Jake shakes it swiftly and goes to retract his hand, Kendra keeps it in her own grasp and plays with his fingers, keeping an awkward amount of eye contact with him.

“Look Kendra, I’m sure you’re a great girl but my-”

“I love your shirt!” She interrupts, “would probably love what’s underneath more.”

Jake cringes at her line and at the way her hand is now currently moving towards the excessive amount of chest exposed by his lowly buttons. Before she can reach skin, her hand is smacked away by red polished nails that Jake would recognise anywhere.

“Hey baby,” you whisper, before throwing your arms around Jake’s neck and smashing your lips into his.

Jake is all too quick to reciprocate, letting his hands fall to your ass only just covered by the tiny skirt that Jake has suddenly taken a distinct liking to. You pull back only to catch your breath, but instead catch sight of the seething blonde still stood uncomfortably close.

“We were talking!” She insists.

“He’s busy,” you cock your head to the side in faux apology, “sorry.”

She huffs and mumbles “crazy bitch” as she storms off, you pout to try and hold in your giggles. When you turn back to Jake, it proves useless trying to hold them in when you catch sight of his mouth smothered in your pink lipgloss.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Jake breathes out.

“I’m still mad at you,” you tease.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m a jealous dick, you just look so fucking good I didn’t want anyone else to see you.” Jake explains, hands caressing at the skin at the tops of your thighs.

You snort, “I think I’m the jealous one,”

“Good, I like a change of pace sometimes,” Jake pinches softly at your skin and lets a smile grace his feature at the way you squeak.

“Should we get out of here?” You whisper, hand trailing down Jake’s chest to where his hand is resting on you.

You guide his hand underneath your skirt slowly until Jake realises the lack of barrier between his hand and your cunt.

“Fuck, baby.” Jake hums practically into your mouth from how closely you two are stood.

You step away from him swiftly and bring his hand back into yours, pulling him towards the parking lot. Jake could cry from happiness.

3.

“If this is stupid you can just tell me, okay?” You ask from where you’re stood in front of a blindfolded Jake.

It’s his birthday today and you told him you had a surprise. He figured it would be a party, which he was thankful for but he couldn’t understand the point of the blindfold.

“Okay you can take it off now.” You instruct.

Jake all but rips the blindfold off and looks down at you to take in your attire.

“Jesus, baby.”

“Do you like it?” You question, giving him a little spin.

Jake’s mouth is agape as he watches the way you twirl, clad in the tiniest daisy dukes he thinks he’s ever seen and what can only be his flannel. The cream of your cowboy boots are subtle and suit you well.

“Like it?” Jake steps forward and shoves his hands into the small back pockets of your shorts, “I fuckin’ love it.”

Behind you, Jake can see his Stetson placed on the table, and behind that he can see into the garden where all of his friends are already drinking and chatting.

“You set this up, baby?” He nods to the glass doors.

“I had some help,” you shrug, finally moving out of his grip to grab his hat.

Jake extends his hand out for you to pass it to him, but is pleasantly surprised when you place it on your own head. He opens his mouth to speak, but your catch him before he can with a wink,

“I know the rule, cowboy.” You tease, placing your hand on his chest. “Consider it a birthday gift.”

Jake holds back a groan as you drag him outside to where he’s greeted by a chorus of “happy birthday”s and various other jokes about him getting old. It sort of shocks Jake at the amount of people there to celebrate, and he has to hold in a chuckle as he sees a number of your friends already beelining for the group of pilots nursing beers on the decking.

Bradley is quick to find Jake as the party gets into full swing, people chatting and music playing throughout the yard.

“You’re one lucky son of a bitch,” Bradley chuckles slapping Jake on the shoulder.

Jake has been staring at you for the last 10 minutes as you twirl around with Phoenix to the varied 2000s songs that have been on loop for most of the evening.

“Don’t I know it,” Jake boasts, clinking his beer bottle against Bradley’s.

You can feel a gaze on your back as you grind onto Phoenix whilst Nelly Furtado plays, not to your shock it’s Jake, head cocked to the side with a lazy smirk on his face whilst practically ignoring everything Bradley is saying to him. You can only giggle as Phoenix makes a teasing remark about him being whipped. She wasn’t wrong.

You make you way towards the boys slowly, smiling as you catch the end of their conversation.

“Whatcha talking about?” You goad, as Jake pulls you back against his chest already.

“You.” Bradley answers truthfully.

“All bad I suppose?” You bait.

“Oh the worst,” Jake fills in, pinching at the meat of your thigh playfully.

Deciding not to prod further, you turn in Jake’s grip to face him and plant a sloppy kiss on his face. It makes Jake laugh and Bradley mock gag, rolling his eyes and making his way towards Phoenix. Jake captures your lips with his a few more times, hands wandering dangerously low towards your ass before you pull away with a wink, and also slight fear of traumatising your guests.

“Patience is a virtue,” you remind Jake, he simply groans in response.

The rest of the night goes as such, Jake gets cornered into conversations, his eyes wander to you, you tease him some way or the other, Jake is left half hard whilst talking to an admiral. It’s uncomfortably delicious and Jake cannot wait for his last birthday gift.

At 1:30 AM, the only stragglers left are the dagger squad, drunkenly swaying around Jake’s backyard and singing horrific variations of “Slow Ride” to annoy him. It doesn’t even work, because Jake knows he has something so sweet waiting for him. However, his patience is wearing thin and considering these are the people closest to him, he has no qualms with speaking his mind.

“Alright, y’all time to get going,” he announces, herding everyone out.

Bob had been kind enough to offer to drive everyone home, and Jake was keen to take him up on it, helping Bob strap in their drunk friends with alarming efficiency.

“Hey! What’s the rush birthday boy?” Javy slurs as Jake buckles his seatbelt.

“He wants birthday sex!” Nat whisper shouts into Javy’s ear, with emphasis on the shout.

The truck erupts in whoops and crude hollers towards Jake and only Bob can offer him an apologetic smile.

“Good luck,” Jake pats Bob on the back.

“You too.” Bob replies with a laugh, eyes glancing quickly to where you’re stood on the porch, hip popped out against one of the wooden beams.

Jake all but sprints back to you, hauling you up into his arms, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. You move to place his stetson on his own head, but Jake stops you.

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you ride the cowboy, you gotta wear the hat.” He smirks, kicking the front door shut behind him.

“Seems fair.” You hum after a moment.

And when Jake walks into the changing rooms on Monday morning, taking off his shirt to reveal hideous claw marks down his back. No one bats an eye.

4.

Jake had experienced what one could only describe as a clusterfuck of a day.

To start off the day, his alarm hadn’t gone off, meaning he had to sprint to his car and run a red light on the way to work. What was worse than the impending ticket that he was going to receive was the fact that he hadn’t even been able to kiss you goodbye like he does every morning.

It set him up badly. Jake Seresin was never one for superstitions but you were clearly his lucky charm. Proved so even further by the way his concentration was lacking in the flight simulations he was running. Then when they were up in the air, Jake was missing every opportunity to shoot down Maverick, messing up every manoeuvre and just generally souring his already damp mood.

To top it all off, the pièce de résistance, when Jake finally made it back to the changing rooms, itching to change out of his sweaty flight suit. His bag was sat open, clothes sopping wet whilst two of the newbies stood guiltily next to a broken shower head.

He almost blew his lid. Almost. But then he pictured getting back to you, falling into your arms after this tragic day and finally being able to relax. So for once, Jake decided to keep his mouth shut. He picked up his sopping bag and silently stalked out of the room.

When Jake reached his truck and listened to the way his bag squelched as he set it down, he held in another groan of frustration. The sun was still beating down and his sweaty flight suit was clinging to him in all the wrong places. Deep breath in, clench the steering wheel too hard, deep breath out. It was a 15 minute drive. He could do that for God’s sake.

Jake’s 15 minute drive quickly became a 45 minute one when he found out the road he was supposed to be taking was closed due to a burst pipe. The sky was a dusky purple as he finally pulled up outside your house. Jake can see that the light is on in the kitchen as well as your figure moving around languidly.

Jake slams the car door probably too loudly and rushes to the door. When he opens it, Jake is greeted with the loud sounds of your 90s playlist blasting throughout the house, he can hear you voice - although somewhat out of tune - belting along as well.

It makes him smile, for the first time on that horrid day. Jake’s bag of damp clothes are forgotten by the door as he quickly shucks himself of his boots and makes his way towards the kitchen. He opens the door to the sight of you wiggling your hips to Santana whilst holding a spatula and pushing around some type of stir fry.

You continue your movements, but turn at the sound of someone entering, a large smile gracing your face once you realise who it is.

“Hey, handsome,” you preen, dancing your way towards him.

Jake can’t help but chuckle at you movements, but he quickly falls limp once your wrap your arms around his neck. His large arms wrap around your waist tightly, engulfing you in him. You take note of Jake’s subdued demeanour, and raise one of your hands to scratch at the hair at his neck just like you know he loves.

“You okay, babe?” you hum, swaying him slightly.

“Shit day,” he groans out, leaning further into your touch.

“You wanna talk about it?” You continue your ministrations.

“Later.” He huffs, “Just wanna be with you.”

Jake’s sweet words make you melt into him further, burying your face into his chest. The arms of his flight suit were tied around his waist, only his tight black undershirt covering the expanse of his chest. He smelt like a combination of jet fuel, sweat and his cologne that he’d hurriedly sprayed in the morning. It should probably be off putting but it was so undeniably Jake that it was addictive. You inhale again as you place a chaste kiss against his pec.

“Are you sniffing me?” Jake chuckles.

“You smell so good,” you can only groan out, smushing your face into him again.

Jake leans back and takes your face in his hands,

“I’ve not even showered, I stink,” he chuckles incredulously.

“You still smell so good,” you whine, lips forming a pout.

“That means we’re meant to be or something, my pheromones get you going huh?” Jake teases.

“Never say pheromones again,” you roll your eyes and wiggle out of his grip to lower the heat under the pan you were searing the food in.

Jake follows you diligently, arms wrapping around your waist so he can cling to you as you move about the kitchen. Once bored of your movements, Jake swiftly lifts you up to sit at the counter top.

“Jake!” You swat at his chest, “we need to plate up the food,” you remind him.

“It can wait,” he decides, leaning in to connect his lips to yours.

It’s what he’d been waiting for all day. The pillow of your lips on his, the way you melt into his touch. One strong hand caressing the side of your face and the other gripping at your hip. You rest one hand on his chest, the other at the back of his neck, guiding his face to yours over and over again. Jake feels like a teenager again, making out with his girlfriend on the kitchen counter top. Except his 16 year old self would probably lose his mind trying to figure out how he ended up with someone like you.

Once you’d let Jake’s tongue explore your mouth in a kiss that had lasted far too long, you finally pull back to catch your breath.

“You want food?” you question with a smile.

“Please,” Jake hums as you hop off the counter. He smacks at your ass you walk away from him, “I’m starving.”

You roll your eyes fondly, and get to plating up the food. Jake isn’t too keen on letting you out of his grip, so you sit in his lap as you eat, feeding him and yourself at the same time. It’s nice, his strong grip is comforting and Jake appreciates how eager you are to listen to his rant about his shitty day.

“I was missing you all day, baby,” Jake murmurs, kissing at the side of your neck.

“I always miss you, Jake,” you smile earnestly, “now go shower and I’ll wash the plates.”

Jake allows you out of his grip so you can stand and move back around the kitchen, he shadows you once again, moving in tandem with his hands never leaving you.

“I thought you were going to shower?” You question, placing the last dish in the dishwasher.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” he whines.

You sigh, holding in your smirk as you turn to face him. “You wanna shower together?”

Jake has never looked so giddy as he practically races up the stairs, shirt flying off as he climbs the steps.

“You’re insatiable!” You yell after him.

“Only for you!” He yells in return.

+1

“I’ve thought a lot about what I could say right now,” Jake clears his throat.

He’s not nervous. In fact he doesn’t think anything has ever been so clear in his mind.

“I think usually when people do these things they tell memories or defining moments about their relationship, but the truth is. Every goddamn moment since I met you, I knew this was the only possible outcome.”

Jake looks down to where your sat with your shared friends and family, you look like a dream really. He’d been antsy about not seeing your dress, but now he was glad he’d waited.

“Y’know she turned me down five times before finally agreeing to go out with me?” Jake chuckles into the mic he’s holding.

Laughter rings out through the guests but Jake’s gaze never wavers from you. You’re rolling your eyes at him with a smile on your face, letting out a giggle as Jake’s mom squeezes your hand.

“I don’t blame her, I was kind of a mess. I’d just been stationed back here on North Island, and Javy was my only friend because I was a dick.”

The dagger squad, raise their glasses in a cheers to Jake’s statement, cracking the room up again.

“I never thought Rooster would be sat at my table at my wedding, I’ll admit that.” Jake laughs out.

Bradley in return whoops and raises a hand in salute to Jake.

“He’s single by the way ladies,” Jake winks to your elderly grandmother.

“Anyways, as I was saying, total dick, with a lacking moral compass and even more so in my emotions. I was kind of betting on getting the mission done and going back to wherever the hell I was stationed and moving on. Then I ended up pissing off the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen by pouring a drink down her shirt, and she chewed me out worse than any admiral I’d ever crossed.”

“It was expensive!” You quickly yell out in defence.

“As you can see, I’m still making up for it,” Jake teases, “but from that moment onwards I realised I needed to get my act together. My pea brain was shocked that a woman would cuss me out like that, and I immediately fell in love with her. Which probably makes me sound crazy but seriously, being around you for five minutes makes you want to be a better person, and being around you for this long has made me a better man.”

Jake’s smile can only widen when your glossy eyes meet his, “Rooster once told me I was a lucky son of a bitch to have you, and as annoyingly as always. He was right. I don’t know how or why you agreed to be my girlfriend, and it’s a godsent miracle that I get to call you my wife. You’re the best person in every room - sorry everyone - and the most beautiful person always. I love you, which you already know, but I just wanted to say it again,” Jake exhales.

Jake raises his glass in a final toast, “to my beautiful wife, the new Mrs Seresin.”

Glasses clink around the room and Jake almost misses you beelining for him throughout all the commotion. Your arms wrap swiftly around his neck, pulling his lips against yours. You kiss him softly, before pulling back to whisper to him,

“You know I love you so fucking much right?”

“Of course I do, baby,” Jake hums.

“You’re the best man I know,” you smile, leaning in to his lips again.

Jake dips you as you kiss, feeding off of the theatrics as people holler. People are standing and moving towards the dance floor as he brings you back up, forehead pressed against your own.

“Do you know how hot it is that you’re my wife?” He smirks.

“Mrs Seresin does have a nice ring to it,” you decide.

“The best, actually,” Jake replies, as he’s dragged towards the dance floor by Javy.

a/n: jake is so husband coded it’s not even funny,,, like THAT IS MY MAN!!!!

@roosterforme ages ago we were talking and you asked me to tag you when i posted my jake fic, sorry it’s been eons hehe i hope you enjoy!!

pls comment, reblog, or send me an ask and tell me what you think!!

thank you for reading :))

- honey <333

[michelle-is-writing]

Concussions, Greg House

Word count: 1.7k~

Warnings: mentions of vomit, concussion, hospital rooms.

Arguing with your boss is one of the worst things you can do with your boss. For my boyfriend of almost a year, it was nothing new. Plus, in Greg's mind, there were worse things one could do with their time. Like argue with me, his girlfriend - that was much worse than arguing with his boss, according to him.

Still, that didn't mean that he could always get away with arguing with his boss. Especially around Christmas time when the hours were needed and he just so happened to be an asshole. Anyone could figure out why I was upset when he told me he was unable to get Christmas Day off. He just had to be rude to Cuddy the day before he asked, and because of it, we both have to suffer.

Despite him promising to call me almost every hour, I still felt lonely when it came to Christmas Day. I woke up without the love of my life beside me, and I'll be alone until he gets home around nine in the evening. When Cuddy told him she couldn't give up the hours, he was especially rude in response, therefore earning more hours to work that day.

Right now it's around eleven in the morning, and even though I've put on a Christmas movie and made myself hot cocoa, I still feel sad. I have no one to spend this great day with, and it sucks. Maybe a nice walk outside will help me feel better. It's cold and snowing, but I can always wear a heavy coat and boots - no biggie. Besides, I may even see a pair of cardinals flying through the white sky like a holiday card straight from the hallmark section, and it would make the weather all the worth it.

Slipping on my fuzzy black boots that Greg got me at the beginning of our relationship, I throw on my fleece coat before heading out front. The lights strung on everyone's apartment are lit up, and the people that have their Christmas trees in front of their windows have them lit up as well. The green and red bulbs are a nice contrast to the white snow that fills every window sill and yard, making it look almost like a floating blanket on all the little segments of grass. It's such a beautiful sight to see, but it makes me miss Greg even more. He's always pessimistic, but even he would be happy with the looks of everything.

Stepping off the steps and onto the pavement, I take a few steps forward, only to look up and see a pair of cardinals flying above me just like I wanted. I marvel at the beautiful red shade of the male next to the equally beautiful olive colored female floating next to it. When they find their mates, a pair of cardinals can never be separated as they are mated for life. The idea of such a thing makes you smile, but the idea of finding your own true mate? It feels nearly impossible.

I seem to find the cardinals very distracting as the next thing I see is the pure white sky above me as I feel myself slip, my arms and legs flailing to grab onto something as I fall backward. However, they don't, and I end up landing on my back with my head colliding against the ice I slipped on. Everything happens so fast that I barely recognize the pain rushing to my cranium or mine and Greg's elderly neighbor rushing toward me as concerned words flow out of her mouth. Despite wanting to respond, I can't, and instead, my eyes close as I feel myself slip into a vast sea on unconsciousness.

It isn't until I finally wake up once again that I register the pounding pain in the back of my head. It nearly makes my eyes roll back, but before I can even do that, I quickly lean over the edge of the surface I'm lying on and feel the contents of my stomach empty. I soon feel a pair of hands gently pull my hair back as I do so, my eyes clearing up enough to watch a nurse’s legs in purple scrubs quickly push a trash can in front of me to finish vomiting into. However, it doesn't take long before I’m done and I almost fall back onto the slightly stiff surface I'm on, a damp cloth wiping at my mouth once I do so. Flashing my eyes throughout the room, I recognize the bright fluorescent lights above me as ones used in a hospital room and the surface I'm on is one of the uncomfortable beds in a hospital room. Great.

Turning my eyes over to the source of the hand holding the wet cloth, I find it to be the man I've been wanting to see all morning, a worried look etched onto his face. I want to fling myself in his arms and hug him, but my almost drunken haze prohibits me from doing so. Instead, I languidly smile and tiredly reach a hand up toward him, to which he takes in his own hand with a small smile.

"How in the hell," he begins, his voice taking over the almost stuffy noise in my ears. Gently running his thumb against the back of my hand, he takes the damp rag away from my face before tossing it onto the lid of the biohazard bin a few feet away. "Did you get yourself a grade two concussion just by walking outside?"

"I didn't mean to," I defend myself, trying to sit up a little, despite the deep pounding in my head. Greg helps me, but not before pushing my head back against the pillows to angle my face upward. "I just wanted to go for a small walk, and see some cardinals maybe! I did, by the way, and man, were they beautiful."

"You seem to be doing better than I thought," Greg points out, hovering over me to look into my eyes with a flash light. "No confusion or seemingly dizziness," he lists off. "You just seem fatigued and dazed, which is to be expected. The good news is you don't have memory loss."

"Who are you again?" I quickly throw at him, earning a downcast face with a frown. I immediately laugh at his reaction while reaching up to take his face in my hands, but his hands catch mine before they're even halfway there. I really am tired.

"I would say you're also having some psychological disturbances, but it's nothing different from usual," Greg jokes back, making me laugh again. At this, he smiles, but continues on. "How bad is your head pain?"

"Compared to the constant headache you give me, it's nothing," I tell him, once again, earning an eye roll in response. I know he's wanting to throw playful insults back at me, but he's trying to keep the moment as serious as he can. Don't get me wrong, I understand how severe my situation is, but I just can't help but take the chance to banter with Greg like he usually does with me.

With a sigh, Greg sits back in the armchair beside my hospital bed before taking something out of his pocket. "You just had to hit your head so you could end up in the hospital with me today," Greg chides, holding the rectangular box in his hand as he stares at it. "I guess irony plays a huge part in life's never ending game of... slipping and falling on ice!"

With his sarcastic comment, Greg pushes the box toward me as I smile at him, my hand reaching out to take the box from him. "Open it," Greg tells me, scooting his chair beside me to be closer to my bed. Doing as he says, I shakily unwrap the green ribbon from the box before slightly struggling to open it, my hands trembling from being asleep for so long.

With the maroon velvet box now open, I gasp upon seeing the diamond tennis bracelet shining back at me with the bright hospital room lights causing each beautiful crystal to sparkle like a thousand pieces of glitter. "Oh my God, Greg," I mutter, my eyes flashing over to him beside me. "This is... beyond gorgeous."

Smiling, Greg lifts one of his hands to brush my hair away from my face before using the other to take the bracelet out of the box and secure it around my wrist. "Merry Christmas," He tells me, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "I thought you would like this."

"I-I love it, Greg," I tell him, looking over at him with a frown. "But I don't have my gift for you! They're at the apartment and-and I wanted to give it to you so bad-"

Greg cuts me off from my rambling, an almost flabbergasted expression washing over his face. "Are you kidding?" He sarcastically asks me, reaching over to take my now diamond covered hand in his. "You ending up in the hospital with me is possibly the best thing you could do today, as morbid as it sounds," Crinkling my face at him with amusement, I shake my head at his demented words as he continues on. "This means I don't have to do what Cuddy says and stay in here with you and watch I Love Lucy."

Just as he says this, Greg takes the remote from the side table and turns the TV on, flipping through the channels before finding the show mentioned seconds earlier. Glancing away from our intertwined hands, I smile at Greg as he turns to look back at me as well. "I love you, Greg," I tell him, receiving a smile back before he leans over once more and presses a kiss to my cheek.

Sitting back in his chair, Greg keeps my hand in his as we both look over to the TV and watch as Lucy banters with Ricky just as Greg and I did moments ago. At this, I smile and ignore the pain in my head as I enjoy the positives of today despite being in a hospital. My loving partner beside me, a beautiful diamond bracelet on my wrist, and I Love Lucy reruns on the TV in front of us. As long as I'm with Greg, it doesn't matter where I spend my Christmas - just as long as he's by my side, I'll be fine.

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Your prompt request #13 "not here... not now..."

In the midst of a battle between two kingdoms, you go into labor. While the city breaks into chaos, you try to escape while trying to deny the birth.

Female character can either deliver the child deep in the woods while on the run or hiding in the rubble, trying to keep quiet as she births her child.

You choose! And thank you for choosing to make an account for your wonderful work! Obsessed with your first fic! 🫶

Not Now… Not Here…

[This was one of the first asks/prompts I received and made me so happy to have created this side blog. Thank you so much Anon for your request and your kind words at the end. Hope you enjoy! 💜 Fpreg 2917 words & Beta’d by the wonderful @gravid-transluna ]

Marion stood by the open window in her bedroom, hands braced against the window sill, as she watched the billows of smoke and the sounds of screaming get closer and closer to home. Tensions had been building between Alleria and its neighbouring kingdom for many years and it had only been a matter of time before one of the Kings ordered their troops to attack. The battle had been raging for days… weeks now, with news from the frontlines making it back to the city as the wounded returned. Unfortunately for the residents in Alleria the battleground was moving ever closer towards the city, and for Marion this was even more unfortunate for she was currently deep in the throes of labour.

She gripped the wooden ledge below her window and bounced her knees and hips through the latest contraction.

“Mnnnnhhhhh… oh little one, you have a terrible sense of ti— ohhhhhh… timing.” Marion moaned softly, her hips swaying instinctively as the tightening coursed across her middle while the weight of the baby’s head filled her pelvis.

When the contraction had faded back into a dull ache Marion looked up again at the city slowly falling to the destruction of war. The smoke seemed closer than it had an hour ago, the battleground was heading right across the city in the direction of her home. The pains had started yesterday but were manageable back then - she could continue moving around and getting everything prepared for the birth. The war was far from the city at that point and it did not occur to Marion that she would not be safe to labour and birth here - Alleria had never allowed their borders to be penetrated before, but the invading Kingdom’s forces were too strong.

Marion held the underside of her heavy and tight belly, her thin olive green dress stretched around her enlarged middle. She had never given birth before but had helped in many a delivery around the town. It was a rite of passage for a woman to deliver her children - the men-folk would almost never be present while the labouring mother would be supported by female friends, family or neighbours.

Marion didn’t have any of those but she wasn’t phased to be doing this alone - she preferred things that way. However, as she looked down through her window at the empty and deserted street below, fear and panic began to claw at her thoughts. Perhaps she should flee the city as well. A loud scream and sound of metal against metal echoed through the streets. The battle was getting closer, she needed to leave. Now.

Grabbing a canvas bag Marion quickly threw some items inside; blanket, clothes, water, food. As she was frantically waddling around her small rented room another contraction hit out of nowhere only minutes after the last.

“Hoooooooo— oh fuck….” Marion doubled over and braced her thighs as the pressure and pain skyrocketed. Her pelvis was being pulled apart as the baby’s head shoved its way through, almost certainly at the top of her cervix by now. The immeasurable weight and pressure was overwhelming and Marion found herself grunting against it.

“Mnnghhhh!!!” Marion growled, but the sound was swallowed by a loud explosion coming from a few streets away.

“Ooooh… so— so low. Don’t come now baby, just a— a little bit longer.” She pleaded to her rounded belly, holding it with both hands as she straightened back up. Grabbing her bag of supplies Marion bolted for the door to the stairs at the back of the building. She had to get out of here, get herself far away from the incoming battleground before she delivered this babe.

The stairs were awkward and difficult to descend with her dangerously wide gait from an extremely low baby. But Marion eventually made it down to street level and looked around; there was no one left - everyone had already fled. She waddled as fast as she could in the opposite direction from the rising cries of battle, her hands holding up her taut and tensing belly as if her grip alone could stop her labour. Marion was too busy worrying about safe routes out of the city to realise the next contraction was fast approaching and when it struck she found herself dropping into a deep squat in the middle of the cobbled street.

“Grrrrrrrhhhhh….! Oh Gods… So— so much pressure!” She groaned, her bag of supplies slipping from her shoulder as she squatted and grabbed her knees. Instinctively she mooed and growled her way through the latest wave, each one seeming to strike with more ferocity than the last. Marion would be self-conscious making such a public display of her labouring but with the streets deserted she allowed herself to make whatever noises she needed to get her through the pain of childbirth.

Eventually it passed, but the delay in her movements meant the sounds of battle were only a stone's throw away. The harsh sounds of doors and windows smashing echoed off the buildings and Marion thought she could hear incoming heavy footsteps. If the owners of the heavy stomps were just of Allerian troops then she would be okay but, if they were of the invading forces there was no telling what they would do with a woman wandering alone on the streets. The clinking of swords colliding got louder. Both troops were getting closer. Marion could not get caught in the crossfire - she’d be as good as dead.

She ran, as fast as her wide legs could carry her, away from the brutal fighting. She barely made it round the corner down a narrow side street when she was forced to stop once more. Slumped against the brick wall, Marion curled around her hard belly and trembled as she struggled to stay upright. The heavy boulder of a baby’s head was right there, filling her birth canal with so much pressure she thought she might explode. There was no stopping the primal grunt that rattled her throat as every muscle seemed to contract and squeeze the baby towards its exit.

“Nnghhhhh!!!” She roared against the pain and it was immediately followed by a gush of warm liquid running down her thighs and splashing the beige cobbles underfoot. At the tail end of the contraction she felt it - deep in her genes an instinct was telling her to start pushing.

“No….” She whimpered. “Not now… not here… hoohoo-hoohoo…” Marion panted erratically, fighting against her body’s advancing labour.

When the contraction somewhat eased the mother-to-be staggered bowlegged down the deserted side street, the large head shoving its way through her cervix. She made it through to the next street over but Marion had no clue where she was going, no planned destination she was trying to reach. Instead she was just desperately waddling as far away as she could from the noise of battle. She thought she had more time to find an alternate place to give birth but the increasing weight and pressure between her legs was soon proving her wrong. Out in the open of this new street she doubled over against a shop window - palms flat on the glass, her hips jutting backwards and her heavy belly hanging towards the floor.

“Ohhhhhh… no, don’t push… don’t— mnghhh don’t p-p-push…” she chanted over and over, panting and sweating and shaking while the baby inside sank lower and lower.

Running and shouting and screaming could be heard from the end of the street. Marion, still caught in the midst of a powerful contraction, glanced down the road towards the sound and saw at least a dozen men rounding the corner. Their metal plated armour, the colours of their tunics, their pale faces - none of it was familiar. These were enemy soldiers. The labouring mother slipped around a corner to hide down another side street, her legs stuck so wide it looked like she was about to drop the kid any second. And it felt that way too. With one hand holding onto the wall, the other disappeared under her dress between her thighs. No baby yet, thankfully, but she was starting to bulge into her underwear.

Deep and gruff shouting echoed from the high street, the invading warriors were jeering and smashing everything in their path. Despite the continuing contraction, Marion shuffled a little further into the alleyway, into the shadows and tried to hide behind some broken wooden crates. The soldiers were shouting in a language she didn’t understand, but the tone of their rough voices were clear - they were winning this war.

One… three… seven… Marion looked through the gap in the crates counting the foreign soldiers as they stomped past the entrance to the narrow side street, the burly and primitive men kicking and smashing and destroying every single thing they passed.

The next contraction ramped up before the last had even faded away and Marion slapped a hand over her mouth to stop any sounds escaping. Her baby was insistent, desperate to be born. The pressure screamed at her to push and her stance instinctively widened, but as she moved her foot she kicked something hard and metal sending it tumbling across the cobbles with a clang.

Her heart stopped, her breathing seized. Marion’s eyes flared with panic and looked nervously through the gap in the wooden crates towards the entrance of the side street. There was no way that sound wasn’t noticeable, a second later Marion’s fears were realised when two strange looking men stood at the archway of the dark sidestreet, staring into the shadows looking for the source of the noise.

Push!

Marion stayed perfectly still, her hand squeezed over her mouth, her nose breathing as silently as humanly possible. She could not let them find her, Gods only knew what they would do to her, especially if they had conquered Alleria.

Push!

The contraction still tore across her body, her belly contorted into a solid, hard ball beneath her dress as it tried to deliver the child. The pressure between her thighs was making her eyes water, the weight was pulling everything downwards, and her vagina was starting to burn. And yet Marion remained still, not moving an inch.

Push!

The men were talking to themselves, grumbling incoherently in their foreign tongue, pointing and staring down the narrowed cobbled strip. Marion’s legs were trembling, her knees sinking, and as she held her breath in fear of discovery she realised too late that her body was pushing. Without instruction or permission the baby was shoved down the birth canal, feeling like it was seconds away from falling into her underwear. But she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop herself from bearing down. Behind her sweaty palm Marion’s mouth opened in a silent scream as she pushed and immediately could feel her labia starting to part beneath her clothing.

Oh fuck! Marion thought, trying to stop the impossible. Please don’t come out now!

She fought against her instincts for the longest minute of her life, desperately trying not to push and trying to stay silent. Eventually the strange men lost interest, deciding nothing was hiding down this side street, and continued to ransack the surrounding shops with their fellow soldiers. Marion slumped back against the wall when the soldier's departure coincided with the slight easing of the contraction. With heavy breaths quieter than a whisper, she tried to regain a normal rhythm in her lungs.

This baby could not be born now, here, it had to hold on for her to get somewhere safe. Away from the carnage of war and away from her foes. Then there was a sudden bang, a moving wall of heat, and a victorious cheer coming from the adjacent street - the enemy had started burning buildings causing a giant explosion.

Debris flew through the air, shards of brick and building raining from the skies and Marion spun around, curling around her bump, to protect herself and the baby. She staggered, bowlegged, deeper down the dark alleyway to try to get away from the destruction but with the contractions almost on top of each other she barely made four unsteady steps before she had to pause. The baby was right there, she could feel it. Her hand dived between her legs to check and felt with her fingertips the spherical shape between her folds peaking into her undergarments. The primal need to give birth took over once more and whether she wanted to or not, Marion found herself bearing down with the contraction.

This baby could not be born, not now and not here. If she could not stop pushing she would have to find another way. With her hand wedged between her thighs she clamped it firmly over the mass in her sodden underwear, and with a low grunt she was uncontrollably pushing against the palm of her own hand.

“Nnghhhh— noooo.. don’t c-come o-outtttt…” she growled, her body pushing ferociously and she could feel the head slip forward.

In the shadows Marion grunted and heaved and pushed. Against these efforts she tried to keep her palm over the emerging head to prevent it coming out any further. Her legs were wide and trembling, the heavy mass between her hips forcing her pelvis apart. It was hell, being stuck like this, her labia stretching around the emerging head, the desperate need to get this over with - to deliver this baby. The placement of her own hand proved futile, her body outright refusing to do anything that could delay or prevent the birth. Instead her knees buckled, sinking into a deep squat, and her free hand flew forward to brace her labouring body against the rough bricks of the dark alley while the other hand cupped the head of the incoming babe.

“Ohhhhh fuck…” her groans barely audible, all efforts going into birth. “Oh Gods… help me… it’s coming— it’s coming o-outtt!”

The hand at the apex of her thighs was supporting the head rather than stopping it from coming out. She gasped, sucking in a desperate breath, and leaned into the push giving everything she had into bearing down. She sobbed as the head reached a full crown in her underwear, its large shape undeniable and filling her small palm. The clothing was damp and stretched but she couldn’t remove them, both hands were occupied - one holding her upright in the squat the other holding the emerging head. “Grrnnnhhhhh!!” The low and primal groan of effort rattled the back of her throat and ever so slowly the head was born into her palm.

Smoke was filling the city, homes and shops were on fire, the enemy’s army was tearing her home apart. Loud and sudden blasts echoed down the alleyway, shaking the streets and buildings all around her. Marion fell forward, scrambling on all fours to get away from danger, all the while her baby’s head hung from her body filling her underwear. The rough cobbled street grazed and cut her knees as she crawled further down the side street, desperate to find some shelter. Fluids were leaking from her opening leaving a trail of damp in her wake. She found a door, indented slightly into the brick wall. She tried the handle but it was locked. A cry of fear and frustration left her lungs as she pounded and pushed against the wooden door.

The baby wasn’t waiting for safety or shelter, the next contraction was soon taking hold and she rocked on all fours in the alcove, humming an instinctual noise as the baby’s shoulders started to press against her opening.

“D-don’t…. No….” Marion panted and pleaded with her body.

But her hips sank backwards and she was uncontrollably pushing once more, grunting with every wave as her body worked on expelling the child. “Mnnnghhhhhhh it— it’s coming… I can’t— stop p-p-pushingggggg!!!”

Marion clawed at the door bringing herself up on her knees as the shoulders stretched her opening wide. The baby was waiting for no one and it was coming out right into her underwear. Her fingernails dug deep into the wooden door, her hips sinking towards the floor and she roared with the effort of bearing down, of pushing the baby’s shoulders out of her body. She could feel everything as it slipped out - one shoulder, the next shoulder, its arms and hands and torso as it emerged into her undergarments. Marion managed to prise her hands from the door and scrambled with her clothing to free the path for her baby to enter this world. Pulling the underwear down a few inches she grunted with the desperate final push and the baby suddenly slipped from her body into her hands.

“Ahhh oh Gods… you’re here, you’re out….” Marion gasped, pulling the newborn straight to her chest and sitting back onto her heels. “Hello little one.” The baby shifted and squirmed in her arms and released the softest cry of a first breath.

Exhausted, Marion turned and slumped against the doorway, babe in arms. The sound of crying soon travelled down the side street and footsteps approached. Fear filled Marion’s heart, the enemy was approaching and both she and her baby were defenceless.

“Oh my goodness, is that a baby?” Came a gruff voice above her. She looked up frightened, but when she saw the familiar uniform colour and the warm caramel skin of an Allerian soldier Marion let out a relieved sob.

“Come on Miss, I’ll get you and your baby out of here.” He said kindly.

[apomaro-mellow]

King&Prince 11

Steve had spent the rest of the day alone in his room. He had a feeling the only reason that happened was because the king himself had given an order to the kids not to bother him at all. Most of the hours he sat at the window sill, looking out onto the land that was supposed to be cursed.

But it was quite the same as the land he'd been raised on. What other lies had his family told about this place? About these people? There were still things Steve didn't understand. It felt like a puzzle had been formed with mixed pieces that no longer fit together.

He wondered how long his father took to make his decision to abandon him. Had he paced around? Had he weighed his options at all? Or had it been an immediate breath of relief when he was able to rid himself of his son? Then he thought about his mother.

She was always softer on him, but in the end never failed to side with her husband. Steve felt he couldn't begrudge her for that, but still wished to know if she argued with him even the smallest bit when he did this.

Steve thought he had known his worth. He might not be the son his parents wanted, but he was still a son. Still a crown prince, born and raised to one day rule. They had put so much work into him. They wanted to send him away, yes, but to be trained and come back even more prepared for his future role as king. They were tossing him away like it all meant nothing.

Well they could always make anoth-

He felt the burn of tears coming on before the thought even finished. They would, wouldn't they? They'd just start over with another child. One that they'd bring up right. They would forget all about Steve. They might even go as far as to strike his name from the record. What need would they have to remember him? He had accomplished nothing under their parentage. Nothing of note to them anyway.

So what was next then? What could he accomplish here? Suppose the king wasn't playing a trick and actually meant what he said. That Steve would be under his protection. What would he be allowed to do? What could he pursue?

Well, he made a pretty good pack mule. Maybe manual labor was in his future. Steve laughed to himself at that. From royal heir, to prisoner, to humble servant. He didn't realize how long he'd been in thought until it started to get dark around him. He turned away from the window, about to start getting ready for bed when he heard a tapping and caw.

There was a raven at the window.

Its wings flapped and it was carrying something in its talons, wrapped in paper. Steve looked at it warily and then the bird cawed again in what sounded like annoyance. Steve opened the window and the bird flew in, dropping its package onto the bed. The bird nudged it towards Steve with its beak.

"You brought that for me?", Steve asked.

The raven cawed.

Steve opened it up carefully and inside was a sandwich. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten much today. He then looked to the bird. "You must be one of the king's messengers?"

The raven's expression was unreadable, but then again he supposed most birds' were. Steve sat on the bed and reached forward to pet the top of its head then under its chin. The raven leaned into it like it was enjoying the scratches.

"You can tell your master...thank you. And here." Steve opened the sandwich and took out some of the meat. "Your delivery fee."

The raven took it carefully into its mouth, cawed at Steve, and then left out of the window into the darkening sky.

This felt like another olive branch. The king assuring him that he was safe here. Steve didn't know what his role would be, what he could accomplish or pursue. But he had the feeling that he might be given the time and the space to decide that for himself.

------------------------

The next morning, Steve got ready and was about to leave his room in search of breakfast only to find the king, fist poised to knock.

"Your Majesty?"

"Y-your Highness. Good morning. Didn't expect you to be up so early."

"I'm an early riser by nature", Steve said.

"Then you're just in time for breakfast."

Steve was led down the halls but this time instead of going towards the kitchens, they went into a different room. There was a grand table and at it Robin and Nancy already sat. There was the man from the ambush that Steve recognized but didn't know the name of. King Edward-no Eddie, his name was Eddie, wait, was Steve allowed to call him that? Safer to keep it formal for now. Anyway, the king took his seat at the head of the table.

The only open seat was at the other end, so Steve took it. Nancy didn't look too happy to see him but it wasn't so much that Steve worried about poison in his food. Breakfast was served and the other four mostly kept the conversation going while Steve sat silently chewing. They seemed to be discussing the proceedings of an event happening soon.

It reminded Steve of the festivities happening back home. People would be coming out more, having picnics, and the seasonal fruits that could be enjoyed now.

"So you're not even going to put a leash on him?", Nancy asked, getting Steve's attention.

Eddie grinned. "I'm rather certain his bark his worse than his bite."

"Care to put that to the test?", Steve asked with a raised brow.

"I'd advice against stepping into an arena with Eddie", Jeff said.

"I know I look like a wispy thing, but I can be a heavy hitter", Eddie said, twirling a fork full of egg around.

"I'll believe it when I see it", Steve said. One of the few things he was confident in was his ability to fight.

"I think your time is best spent tutoring someone less trained", Eddie said.

"...You mean Lucas?"

"You want him training Lucas?", Robin asked, jabbing her thumb toward Steve.

"Why not?", Eddie shrugged. "One couldn't ask for a better teacher than a prince."

Steve didn't think it was meant as a compliment. But something warm in his body swelled like it was. Right as breakfast finished, Nancy produced a sheet of parchment and walked it over to Steve, placing it in front of him.

"Your new schedule."

"You made me a schedule?"

"It was the only way she'd allow you free reign of the castle without a binding spell", Eddie said.

Steve had been looking over the assignments when Eddie's words sunk in. He looked up, feeling a mix of awe, confusion, and gratitude. "You're...giving me free reign of the castle?" Of his home?

Eddie smiled in a way that seemed more genuine. "I see no harm in it. Like I said, you're not a prisoner. Think of it as something like an exchange program. Princes travel abroad all the time, don't they?"

Steve looked at the schedule. He noted that each thing had someone with him, almost like a chaperone, sometimes multiple people. If Nancy was the one making this, he was sure it was intentional. But he understood. He hadn't fully proven himself as trustworthy. For the first time, Steve considered if he might kill Eddie if given the chance.

Would his father welcome him back with open arms then?

He shook off the thought, already knowing the answer. If he killed Eddie there was nothing good in it for him.

"When do I start?"

Part 13

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell @anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Stray ||

Gif by @briefcasejuice - full set here

Matt Murdock x gender neutral reader

Tags/warnings: fluff.

He enters through the living room window, careful to avoid knocking over the array of knick-knacks perched on the windowsill. He has a key of course but he just prefers this way. He knew from blocks away that you were deep in sleep, a smile hooking up his lip when he could hear your little snorts and snores.

His body is remarkably free of hurt and bereft of bruising for once, it had been a rare quiet night. He slides both his mask and shirt off, sitting on the edge of your couch to unlace his boots. He strips down to his black silk shorts, moving quietly on his bare feet as he pads into your kitchen to the fridge. He opens it, feeling along the containers on the shelves. Sure enough he finds there's a braille label that reads 'Matt' on one. He takes out the container, placing it on the counter and opening the lid a crack to investigate its contents. Tomato, garlic, basil, olives and oregano fill his nose before he puts it into the microwave for a few minutes to heat it up. You'd always leave some dinner for him if you thought he'd be out late and he loved you for it. Your pasta was the best.

He sits at the table eating straight out of the tub, more famished after patrol than he realised. He'll wash everything up in the morning but he walks around your apartment picking up and folding your hoodie over the back of the couch and tidying away some other detritus, putting his own clothes in a neat pile before heading to the bathroom to quickly wash and brush his teeth. You always left everything where he can easily find it, including a pack of Tylenol just in case.

When he slides into your bed he smiles softly as your arms immediately seek him out, wrapping around him as you snuggle your warmth into his cooler skin to equilibrate. You reply with a small hum when he kisses your forehead gratefully.

"Thanks for dinner sweetie." He whispers, and you mumble something half incoherent about lizards and he has to really stop himself from laughing at you.

Your fingers sleepily find his and he gently squeezes your hand, kissing the top of your head again.

"You're like a stray." He hears you murmuring into his arm.

"Hm?"

"... someone should adopt you." you continue, and he does let himself chuckle at that.

You feebly shove at his chest, waking up a bit. "M'not joking. Come 'n live with me."

Matt strokes his other hand down your arm, breathing in your sleepy scent. It's true that he could get used to this but you were just babbling.

"Shh, go back to sleep."

He can feel the brush of your eyelashes on his skin. "Matt, I wanna wake up every morning with you here like this."

His heart swells with the thought that you'd really want to take him in.

"What's there to talk 'bout? You don't wanna?"

"Let's talk about it in the morning sweetheart." is what he says.

He hears the small measure of hurt in your grizzly voice as you blink open your eyes in the dark. He puts his hand to the side of your face, thumb smoothing over your cheek. Then he captures your lips, slow and soft.

"Yeah I want to." He assures, and you smile and kiss him back.

"Good. S'settled then." And you nuzzle back close against him. "I love you Matty. I'll keep the sill clear."

Okay, his heart was definitely going to burst.

"Love you too, sweetheart. Thank you."

Matt tags: @saintmurd0ck @mindidjarin @castlesnchurches @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re @munsonownsmyass @hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief @murnsondock @stupidthoughtsinwriting @whistle1whistle @tea-and-wine @emiemiemii @imherefordeanandbones @m0nster-fvcker @creatingjana @echos-muses @lazyxsquirrel @messymissy @evilbubu @chvoswxtch

[theseshipsshallsail]

Summary:

“There’s no need to apologise,” Oliver tells him - when what he really wants to say is I’m here, I’m listening: please don’t suffer alone.

INTERMEZZO

A thunderous deluge batters their East Village brownstone when Oliver jolts into fitful consciousness; the red, flashing numbers of their digital alarm clock reading 2:27 a.m once he knuckles the grit from his swollen eyelids. Next to him, the mattress is empty - crumpled sheets already cool to the touch - but levering up on his elbow he casts about for his missing maestro: breathing a sigh of relief as he eventually spots him; limned by the bright neon awning directly opposite the casement windows.

“Elio…” he murmurs, instantly wary of his stiff demeanour.

He’s donned the teal-green Oxford Oliver wore to dinner - alongside a pair of loose, cotton boxers - but the shocking contrast to his ashen skin is deeply concerning as he haltingly turns towards him. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” 

Elio blinks - hollow and haunted - his pulse thrumming rapidly at his neck. “Couldn’t sleep,” he repeats, fingers drumming an abstract rhythm where they rest on the wooden sill. “Désolé… I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“There’s no need to apologise,” Oliver tells him - when what he really wants to say is I’m here, I’m listening: please don’t suffer alone.

An ugly gravity tugs at his chest, and Elio looks both torn and devastated as he bites his bottom lip; shivering - in part - from the harsh, December air. It’s a bit like being trapped underwater - the numbing helplessness that shrouds their moonlit apartment - but the news of Samuel’s hospitalisation was a bolt from the blue, and they’ve each been a bundle of nerves since their harrowing phone call with Annella.  

“Come to bed, huh?” Oliver urges, smoothing the covers in gentle invitation. “Your goosebumps will get goosebumps by that draughty pane.” 

It’s a simple enough suggestion - though evidently the straw that breaks the camel’s back - and Oliver curses the cruelty of the human condition when Elio sobs like it’s torn out of him; crossing the Rubicon in three loping strides to throw himself into his arms.

“I’m scared…” he gasps, chestnut curls tickling his nose as a car horn blares on the street outside. “My dad, Oliver -”

“- is strong as an ox,” he reassures quickly, kneading the bunched-tight muscles of Elio’s heaving shoulders, attempting to warm him up. “With access to some of the best doctors Europe has to offer.” The Policlinico di Milano is indeed a lauded institution. “You’re mom and Mafalda are with him right now, and there’s a direct flight to Malpensa leaving at noon.” Oliver swallows hard; reluctant to name the nebulous dread swirling beneath his ribs. “No matter the diagnosis, we’ll get through this, yeah?”

“But what if it’s serious?” Elio asks plaintively. “What if he doesn’t?”

A beat.

“Then we’ll find a way to get through that too,” he swears: much the same as they’ve weathered every storm these past sixteen years. “Together.”

“Together,” Elio repeats - voice devoid of all emotion - and Oliver makes sure to hold him even closer; whispering words of broken comfort amidst the gut-wrenching tears that follow. 

Notes:

Sorry. I know this isn't my usual festive fare, but I wrote this back in the summer when things weren't so great, and just rediscovered it on my hard drive. I'll get something lighter up for New Years, promise ❤️

[leonardcohenofficial]

as is tradition here are my top nine new-to-me watches of the year—in no particular order (l-r, top row to bottom row):

the african desperate (martine syms, 2022) not a pretty picture (martha coolidge, 1975) anatomy of a fall (justine triet, 2023) the girls (mai zetterling, 1968) network (sidney lumet, 1976) the year of the cannibals (liliana cavani, 1970) all the beauty and the bloodshed (laura poitras, 2022) straight on till morning (peter collinson, 1972) microhabitat (jeon go-woon, 2017)

i hit 150 total films and my continual goal of half of the films by women and nonbinary filmmakers, and still definitely need to keep up with deliberately seeking out films by directors of color! feel free to tell me your faves if you’ve seen any of these 🖤👀🎬🍿🎥

i'll tag @privatejoker / @wanlittlehusk / @majorbaby / @edwardalbee / @draftdodgerag / @lesbiancolumbo / @frmulcahy / @nelson-riddle-me-this / @firewalkwithmedvd and anyone else who'd like to share their top watches of the year!

full list of films for the year is included below, favorites are bolded in red:

Farewell Amor (Ekwa Msangi, 2020)

Hell Camp: Teen Nightmare (Liza Williams, 2023)

Blacks Britannica (David Koff, 1978)

New Year, New You (Sophia Takal, 2023)

Family Band: The Cowsills Story (Louise Palanker and Bill Filipiak, 2011)

The Color Purple (Blitz Bazawule, 2023)

The Apology (Alison Star Locke, 2022)

Close (Lukas Dhont, 2022)

Unintended (Anja Murmann, 2018)

Other People’s Children (Liz Hinlein, 2015)

Omega Rising Women of Rastafari (D. Elmina Davis, 1988)

The Gypsy Moths (John Frankenheimer, 1969)

Be My Cat: A Film for Anne (Adrian Țofei, 2015)

Insomnia (Christopher Nolan, 2002)

Chowchilla (Paul Solet, 2023)

Intimate Relations (Philip Goodhew, 1996)

Monument (Jagoda Szelc, 2018)

After Sherman (Jon Sesrie Goff, 2022)

Remnants of the Watts Festival (Ulysses Jenkins, 1980)

Network (Sidney Lumet, 1976)

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (Joseph Sargent, 1974)

Down Low (Rightor Doyle, 2023)

Our Father, the Devil (Ellie Foumbi, 2021)

The Zone of Interest (Jonathan Glazer, 2023)

Youngblood (Noel Nosseck, 1978)

Joy Division - Under Review (Christian Davies, 2006)

Being Frank: The Chris Sievey Story (Steve Sullivan, 2018)

Sun Ra: A Joyful Noise (Robert Mugge, 1980)

Fanny: The Right To Rock (Bobbi Jo Hart, 2021)

Depeche Mode: The Dark Progression (Alec Lindsell, 2009)

Kraftwerk And The Electronic Revolution (Thomas Arnold, 2008)

Blank City (Celine Danhier, 2010)

Oliver Sacks: His Own Life (Ric Burns, 2019)

Monster (Hirokazu Kore-eda, 2023)

Black Is Beltza (Fermín Muguruza, 2018)

Werewolf (Ashley McKenzie, 2016)

The Humans (Stephen Karam, 2021)

Relative (Tracey Arcabasso Smith, 2022)

The Believer (Henry Bean, 2001)

Lost Angel: The Genius of Judee Sill (Brian Lindstrom and Andy Brown, 2022) 

Animals (Collin Schiffli, 2014)

Scott Walker: 30 Century Man (Stephen Kijak, 2006)

Novitiate (Maggie Betts, 2017)

Hunger (Henning Carlsen, 1966)

Late Night With The Devil (Cameron Cairnes and Colin Cairnes, 2023)

The Stunt Man (Richard Rush, 1980)

New York Doll (Greg Whiteley, 2005)

The Iron Claw (Sean Durkin, 2023)

Your Fat Friend (Jeanie Finlay, 2023)

Scarred Justice: The Orangeburg Massacre 1968 (Bestor Cram and Judy Richardson, 2008)

Targets (Peter Bogdanovich, 1968)

Uptight (Jules Dassin, 1968)

Messiah of Evil (Gloria Katz and Willard Huyck, 1973)

Plastic Paradise (Brett O’Bourke, 2013)

You Hurt My Feelings (Nicole Holofcener, 2023)

Pretty Poison (Noel Black, 1968)

The Shout (Jerzy Skolimowski, 1978)

Shakedown (Leilah Weinraub, 2018)

Class of 1984 (Mark L. Lester, 1982)

Betty: They Say I’m Different (Philip Cox, 2017)

Beautiful Boy (Felix van Groeningen, 2018)

Anatomy of a Fall (Justine Triet, 2023)

Gimme Shelter (Albert Maysles, David Maysles, and Charlotte Zwerin, 1970)

The Beach Boys (Frank Marshall and Thom Zimny, 2024)

High and Low (Kevin Macdonald, 2023)

Brats (Andrew McCarthy, 2024)

I Saw The TV Glow (Jane Schoenbrun, 2023)

The Talented Mr. Ripley (Anthony Minghella, 1999)

Altered States (Ken Russell, 1980)

This Closeness (Kit Zauhar, 2023)

How To Have Sex (Molly Manning Walker, 2023)

American Commune (Rena Mundo Croshere and Nadine Mundo, 2013)

Look In Any Window (William Alland, 1961)

Private Property (Leslie Stevens, 1960)

We’re Still Here: Johnny Cash’s Bitter Tears Revisited (Antonino D’Ambrosio, 2015)

The Wobblies (Stewart Bird and Deborah Shaffer, 1979)

Last Summer Won’t Happen (Tom Hurwitz and Peter Gessner, 1968)

Goodbye Gemini (Alan Gibson, 1970)

Keyboard Fantasies: The Beverly Glenn-Copeland Story (Posy Dixon, 2019)

The Most Beautiful Boy in the World (Kristina Lindström and Kristian Petri, 2021)

The Passenger (Carter Smith, 2023)

The Boys Who Said No (Judith Ehrlich, 2020)

Synecdoche, New York (Charlie Kaufman, 2008)

Karen Carpenter: Starving for Perfection (Randy Martin, 2023)

...And Justice For All (Norm Jewison, 1978)

I Used To Be Funny (Ally Pankiw, 2023)

Badlands (Terrence Malick, 1973)

Straight On Till Morning (Peter Collinson, 1972)

The Same Difference: Gender Roles in the Black Lesbian Community (Nneka Onuorah, 2015)

Thanksgiving (Eli Roth, 2023)

Sorry/Not Sorry (Caroline Suh and Cara Mones, 2023)

Am I OK? (Tig Notaro and Stephanie Allynne, 2022)

Joan Baez: I Am a Noise (Maeve O’Boyle, Miri Navasky, and Karen O’Connor, 2023)

No Direction Home (Martin Scorsese, 2005)

Shutter Island (Martin Scorsese, 2010)

Water Lilies (Céline Sciamma, 2007)

The Strings (Ryan Glover, 2020)

The Crucible (Nicholas Hytner, 1996)

Woman of the Hour (Anna Kendrick, 2024)

The Platform (Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia, 2019)

Tabloid (Errol Mark Morris, 2010)

Will & Harper (Josh Greenbaum, 2024)

Miller’s Girl (Jade Halley Bartlett, 2024)

Give Me Pity! (Amanda Kramer, 2022)

Landlocked (Paul Owens, 2021)

Perfect Love (Catherine Breillat, 1996)

Not a Pretty Picture (Martha Coolidge, 1975)

Seeking Mavis Beacon (Jazmin Jones, 2024)

Renfield (Chris McKay, 2023)

Compulsion (Richard Fleischer, 1959)

An Angel At My Table (Jane Campion, 1990)

Longlegs (Oz Perkins, 2024)

Rare Beasts (Billie Piper, 2019)

Nightman (Mélanie Delloye-Betancourt, 2023)

The Changin’ Times of Ike White (Daniel Vernon, 2020)

The Substance (Coralie Fargeat, 2024)

The Year of the Cannibals (Liliana Cavani, 1970)

Fanatical: The Catfishing of Tegan and Sara (Erin Lee Carr, 2024)

The Loneliest Planet (Julia Loktev, 2011)

Marjoe (Howard Smith and Sarah Kernochan, 1972)

Witches (Elizabeth Sankey, 2024)

Angela (Rebecca Miller, 1995)

The Morning After (Richard T. Heffron, 1974)

Beach Rats (Eliza Hittman, 2017)

Last Summer (Catherine Breillat, 2023)

The Fits (Anna Rose Holmer, 2015)

Hold Your Breath (Karrie Crouse and Will Joines, 2024)

What Comes Around (Amy Redford, 2022)

Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father (Kurt Kuenne, 2008)

Priscilla (Sofia Coppola, 2023)

The Girls (Mai Zetterling, 1968)

Sweetie (Jane Campion, 1989)

Victim/Suspect (Nancy Schwartzman, 2023)

The African Desperate (Martine Syms, 2022)

Les Nôtres (Jeanne Leblanc, 2020)

A Sacrifice (Jordan Scott, 2024)

All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (Laura Poitras, 2022)

My Name is Not Ali (Viola Shafik, 2011)

Committed (Sheila McLaughlin and Lynne Tillman, 1984)

Chained (Jennifer Lynch, 2012)

The Hour of Liberation Has Arrived (Heiny Srour, 1974)

All Power To The People! (Lee Lew-Lee, 1997)

Night Moves (Kelly Reichardt, 2013)

Destroyer (Karyn Kusama, 2018)

Late Night (Nisha Ganatra, 2023)

The Year Between (Alex Heller, 2022)

Loved (Erin Dignam, 1997)

Girl In The Picture (Skye Borgman, 2022)

Microhabitat (Jeon Go-Woon, 2017)

Dear Ex (Mag Hsu and Chih-yen Hsu, 2018)

[lenoraah]

𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴

pairing - dennis hauger x reader

summary - reader and Dennis decides that even though they’re not together, they can still surprise each other on Valentine’s Day + named best friend action

a/n - this man doesn’t get enough love

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I am not letting you mope around on Valentine’s Day again, you understand-”

Olive pauses as she walks into the couple’s apartment. She thought that while Dennis was gone that Y/n would be moping around wearing one of his sweatshirts and scowling while eating a tub of ice cream.

“What is going on?” Olive is left with a dumbfounded look on her face as she sits down on the couch.

Y/n has a giant grin on her face as she grabs two cans of sparking juice out of the fridge while humming.

Olive holds in a breath as she looks around the living room. There is vase of roses on the counter and coffee table. The heart vintage heart shape snow globe that she had gotten the couple is sitting on the window sill next to the strawberry candle.

Y/n is wearing beige linen pants and a baby pink sweater with a heart on the middle. The expression on her face makes Olive open her mouth with no sound coming out.

“What?” Y/n asks as she reaches for the TV remote.

“Why are you so happy?” Olive replies as she squints Serendipity being turned on instead of 10 Things I Hate About You or The Notebook.

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day and I will not let it be ruined again just me and Dennis aren’t together.”

Oh wow.

“You know what, good for you.” Olive pats Y/n on the back before opening her drink.

“I know,” Y/n smiles as she leans against her best friend’s side with a sigh.

The two get the middle of the movie before Y/n’s phone starts ringing. The sound makes both of them scowl as Olive pauses the movie and Y/n answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi baby, where are you?”

The sound of Dennis’s voice makes Y/n smile like an idiot. She twirls a piece of hair around her finger and Olive rolls her eyes.

“Home, with Olive, watching a movie.” Y/n leans the couch as she watches her best friend eat popcorn whiling listening to their conversation.

“Okay, I left something for you in my nightstand drawer. I got it for you a couple-” Dennis gets cut off by someone speaking in Italian. “I got to go, love you. I’ll call you soon,”

“I love you too,”

Y/n looks at Olive with her mouth open just a little before the brunette shoos the y/h/c girl out of the living room and into the couple’s bedroom. Y/n waste no time running into her bedroom.

Olive unpauses the movie and keeps sipping her drink before hearing an excited shriek.

“What? What is it?” The brunette spins her head around as Y/n runs back into living room.

Y/n holds a stuffed bunny in her hands with a pout on her face. Olive squints to see the petite gold watch around the pink bunny’s arm.

“Olive, look.” Y/n shoves the bunny in Olive’s face and Olive nods.

“Yes, very romantic, now please stop reminding me that I’m single and that you and Dennis have one of the most cheesiest relationships I know of.” Olive teases as Y/n unclamps the watch and clasps it around her wrist.

“I know, I know, ugh he’s too sweet.” Y/n says as she notices the engraving on the inside of the watch. It’s her initials and his together. Oh, the cheesiness and sweetness at the same time.

“You did something for him right?” Olive ask as she watches Y/n admire the watch with the bunny cuddled against her chest.

“Um, duh.”

————————————————————————

“Delivery for- Dennis Hauger.”

“Uh, thank you.”

The delivery man raises an eyebrow as he hands the confused Norwegian a bouquet of white roses with a card attached.

“Long distance?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Dennis smiles as he thinks about Y/n.

He thanks the delivery man before closing the door and squinting at the roses.

What was happening.

Dennis leans against the counter as he gently lays the flowers in the marble countertop. He carefully takes out the card without untying the flowers.

He can’t keep but smiling like an idiot as he reads the letter.

Dennis sighs as he gently touches the petals of the roses.

Here he was, thousands of miles away from his girlfriend. Unable to be with her and hug her.

But you know what, they’re making it work and that was that. That was they needed. A little sprinkle of affection and love.

And they both know that they were going to have so many moments together. So many Valentine’s Day to spent together and so many holidays.

They both knew that.

Dennis smiles faintly as he reaches for his phone, just can’t wait to hear Y/n’s voice.

[dinnerboness]

no doubt this has been done before but it hasn't been done by me yet so

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

By the way, if you want to level up your chef vibes by about 5000%, you can buy a four pack of oil cruets for like $20, and then what you do is you pack each one with cracked whole spices and a fancy oil like olive, avocado, grape seed, cotton seed, etc. Set the bottles on a window sill in direct sunlight for about 24 hrs, and now when you want to season stuff, you just pour a lil fancy infused oil on it. Truly it was a small luxury when I bought them, but it has rapidly become load bearing to my mental health lmao

[oncethrown]

Steganography Cut Three

I am working on chapter 45, I just had an insanely busy spring at work and in life and a little writers block. This is sort of "get the juices flowing" prompt for me.

***

"Hey, babe," Oliver sighed when Percy walked in, looking up from the papers he seemed to have strewn all over their small corner table. 

"Hey," Percy responded. He hung his bag, crossed the flat and leaned down to kiss Oliver in greeting. "What's all this?"

"I askedPenny if she would take a look at my Tornados contract," Oliver waved a hand over the papers in front of him, which Percy could now see were covered in red ink. "And she… was extremely thorough. She wants me to go over these and meet her for coffee this weekend. How was your day?"

Percy picked some imaginary lint off of Oliver's shirt. "I lost my temper with the Memorial Committee."

Oliver touched the back of his hand. "You didn't make someone cry again, did you?"

"No. No one's brought up Dumbledore's Army again since what happened with Michael Corner," Percy said. "I'm gonna have a glass of wine, you want one?"

"No, thanks," Oliver tapped the rim of the mug in front of him. "I'm trying to get through at least half of this tonight"

Percy scritched his fingers against the nape of Oliver's neck softy before going to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of riesling. He stared down into it for a moment, then took a fortifying sip. 

"Oliver?" he called. 

"What's wrong?" Oliver replied immediately. 

"What do you mean 'what's wrong'?" Percy asked, going to stand in the kitchen doorway. 

"That's your "Oliver, I asked you to do the dishes and you didn't do it" tone of voice."

"I have an "Oliver I asked you to do the dishes and you didn't do it" voice?"

In response, Oliver shrugged, grabbed his wand off the table and waved it toward the sink, where the dishes began to do themselves. 

"It's not about dishes." Percy leaned against the doorframe. "My mother wants me to go to the Burrow this weekend to celebrate my birthday with my family." Percy gripped his wineglass with both hands. "And I would like you to come with me."

Oliver looked up from his paper work and leaned back in his chair. "Oh."

Percy shrugged, dropped one hand to his side and took another sip of wine. "Just a Friday night. Dinner. Cake. Wine. Bill and Fleur will be there, Charlie's even coming in from Romania. Ginny is bringing Harry. Ron's bringing Hermione."

"And you want to bring me," Oliver said. "As… your best mate?"

"I don't know," Percy said. He went back to the table and dropped into the chair opposite Oliver. He set his wine glass in the window sill where the condensation couldn't smudge Penny's careful notes. "Last year was such a… " he made a strangled noise, trying to indicate the chaos of a somber birthday party just weeks out from a huge battle that had killed one of his brothers and the bizarre unfamiliarity caused by years of estrangement. 

Oliver nodded. "Right. I know."

"I just… I really want you there. It's been great when you've come to dinners with me, and I was just so fucking relieved when my mother invited you to Christmas and I… everyone else gets to bring their partner, and it's my fucking birthday and I want you there. I'm not saying we need to come out to them, and I'll be exactly as careful as you ask me to be-"

"Percy… we're never that careful, and they all seem pretty oblivious," Oliver said. 

"Is that "yes, I'll come to your awkward adult birthday party?" Percy asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. He didn't want to guilt Oliver into coming with him. 

Oliver smiled at him. "I would love to come to your awkward adult birthday party." He cleared his throat and picked up his mug. "But I think we might need to discuss our long term plan here."

"You know I'd never ask you to come out to my family," Percy said immediately. Oliver was a celebrity, Oliver was an athlete, and Oliver's war record was a little more complicated than Percy's own. 

"I know." Oliver knocked back a gulp of tea. "But what do you think we happen if we did?"

Percy stared at him for a moment before his instinct to answer a question kicked in. "I… I mean…After the bed expansion charm thing at Christmas… I feel like Dad at least is pretending not to know. Mum has asked me about Penny a few times. But they… You know how it is in the wizarding world. People don't have the context to understand. Do they… How alien would it be to them to be like "I'm bringing Oliver becausehe's my boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend like that, four almost five years. Yes, I really am planning for it to be him and only him. Forever."

"Him and Roger Davies sometimes, on special occasions," Oliver smirked at him. 

Percy went red so fast at the thought of explaining the concept of an occasional recreation gay threesome to his mother he was sure he could feel his blood vessels stretching. 

He cleared his throat. "Mum was asking George and I about girls the last time we were over for dinner, and I don't know. I don't like pretending I'm single. I don't think I'm very convincing at pretending I'm straight. Hermione has to suspect. Fleur… might be able to find out for sure. She must know what it means if a guy is immune to the Veela whammy."

Oliver blanched for a second. "I never thought of that. Do you think she's ever tried it on us and we didn't notice?"

Percy shrugged. "I… I've lost contact with my family over way less important things than this. If they want to cut me off over being with you." He shrugged again, fighting to find the words he needed. "That's what's going to happen sooner or later anyway. It's more important to make sure that it doesn't affect your career. So… I guess it's up to you."

"Okay," Oliver said. He looked back down at his contract, then shuffled all the paperwork into a pile. "Fuck it. I'm gonna pour myself a glass too, let's… sort of game this out."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah, You're right. We'll have to talk about eventually, let's talk about it now." Oliver appeared with his glass of wine. "Also, Davies is going to be in London for work in a couple months, and maybe he'd want to help celebrate."

[littlefeather-wolf]

Naiche - Chiricahua Apache

Naiche 1856-1919

Naiche, the youngest son of Cochise, was born in 1856. His mother, Dos-teh-seh, was the daughter of Mangas Coloradas. As a young man he took part in raids on white settlers and in 1872 was with his father when he met Brigadier General Oliver Howard. This resulted in the establishment of the Chricahua Reservation in Arizona ... Taza, Cochise's older son, became chief when his father died in 1874. Two years later Taza died and Naiche became the leader of the Chiricahuas Apaches ... In September 1880, Naiche joined Geronimo and Juh in an attempt to lead their people from the San Carlos Reservation into the Sierra Madre. However, in 1883 General George Crook managed to persuade the Apaches to return to Arizona ... Naiche and Geronimo broke out again in May 1885. Once again General Crook was sent after them. Naiche lived in the Sierra Madre until he was caught by Crook in September, 1886. Natchez now joined the all-Indian "I" Company, 12th Infantry at Fort Sill, Oklahoma ... In 1897 Naiche worked as a scout for Captain Hugh Scott and the 7th Cavalry ... After leaving the army he moved to the Mescalero Reservation in New Mexico ...

Naiche died on 16th March, 1919

[pearlofamphitrite]

Radioapple fanchild headcanons (bc I really wanna draw fanart and write fanfics about them) :

•Personally I’d want them to have twins (one boy [Oliver], one girl [Rosabelle]) but not twins that look too alike.

•Oliver has more of Lucifer’s personality in regards to obsessions and speech patterns, but he also has Alastor’s quiet observational skills and behaviour reading. He’s knowledgeable about niche things that not many other people care about.

•Rosabelle has Lucifer’s quick temper and protective traits, but Alastor’s quick-wits and skilled use of language to get herself out of bad situations. She’s also a little goofy like Lucifer.

•They both have an appreciation for songs that Alastor listens to, and for the creations Lucifer gives them. (Rosabelle has a pile of her dad’s gifts in the corner of her room, while Oliver lines them up neatly on his window sill)

•Oliver has a set of black feathered wings, and golden and red deer ears. Red scale-like patterns run down his spine. He also has heterochromia (one red sclera, one golden sclera)

•Rosabelle has Lucifer’s forked tongue and white antlers (in some species they aren’t limited to the males). Fawn-like markings spot her back and upper arms. Her eyes are both as red as Alastor’s, but with slit-like pupils like Lucifer’s

•Oliver can shape shift like Lucifer and has a similar “pure form” to that of Alastor’s (his wings also become enlarged and bent unnaturally)

•Rosabelle has Alastor’s shadow abilities, and Lucifer’s horns and tail when in full form

•Both can harness and utilise holy light (it’s a bit more challenging for them than it is for Lucifer). Both have spent enough time around Charlie for her optimism to rub off a little onto them (they’re not as naive as her when they grow older tho) and they do believe redemption is possible

•Rosabelle is a sadist like Alastor, but instead of embracing it like him, she feels ashamed of it

•Neither of them like television (this was instilled into them by Alastor and enforced by Lucifer)

•Neither of them like heaven

That’s all for today but if I think of anything else I’ll add it on