#and i don’t feel like I’m going to collapse while washing dishes

[wool-string]

+productivity, mood, and social skills

-insane acid reflux

[goldengalore]

Neglected

A househusband!Harry fic.

Summary: Harry has been feeling neglected and unappreciated by Y/N, and she doesn’t realize it.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: angst, smut (sub!harry, soft dom!reader)

A/N: I woke up at 4am one morning with the urge to write this. Also listened to Tolerate It by Taylor Swift for more inspo!

***

In all the years that Harry has been married to Y/N, he has never felt neglected by her. Sure, there have been instances where her schedule became too hectic for them to spend much time together, but even then, her love and appreciation for him could be felt through her actions.

Lately though, that hasn’t been the case.

Work has been stressing her out, he can discern that much. And while she has never been one to let work stress affect her personal relationships, this past week has brought out a different side to her. A side that makes him feel small and invisible.

When she comes home, it’s like she wants nothing to do with him. She heads straight upstairs, telling him she’ll be down for dinner later. During dinner, she’ll ask their daughter, Savannah, about her day but won’t ask him. After dinner, she’ll go back upstairs without acknowledging whether the food was good or not, even when he cooks her favourite dishes. He’ll wash up in the kitchen and go up to their bedroom to find her already asleep on her side of the bed—or pretending to be asleep, it seems at times. If he tries to cuddle up to her, she’ll shrug him off and shift further towards the edge of the bed with her back to him.

He’s beginning to wonder if he unwittingly did something to upset her. Or maybe it’s all in his head. Maybe he should just suck it up. Surely, this won’t last forever and she’ll be back to her normal self soon enough…

It’s Friday now. He hopes that with the weekend on the horizon, Y/N will be in a much better mood when she gets home.

“Hi, lovie,” he greets her when she walks in through the door. “How was your day?”

She releases a heavy sigh as she slips off her heels. “Shitty, but at least it’s over, right?”

“Sorry to hear that.” He attempts to give her a hug, but it doesn’t last longer than a second before she pulls away with a tight smile.

She heads to the kitchen, dropping her bag and keys by the stairs along the way. He follows her like a lost puppy. Grabbing herself a glass of water, she collapses onto one of the dining chairs and chugs it down.

At least she didn’t go straight upstairs today, he thinks to himself, grasping for a silver lining.

She rolls her neck from side to side and rubs the back of her shoulder, wincing a bit. Harry moves to stand behind her. Shifting her hair over to one side, he starts massaging her neck and shoulders. He holds his breath, expecting her to brush him off, but instead, she reclines in her seat while he carefully presses his thumbs into the nape of her neck.

“Work has been such a pain lately,” she admits.

“I know. Could tell you’ve been stressed out.”

“It’s this new boss. She’s impossible to work with. She puts unreasonable deadlines on everything, expecting us to finish these huge, complicated tasks within days. Then, when people like me try to speak up about it, she’ll publicly shame us in front of the whole office and pile on even more work so that— Ow! Okay, H, you’re pressing too hard.” She reaches behind her to push his hands away.

“Oops. Sorry, love.” Fuck. She was finally opening up to him about why she’s been acting so cold, finally giving him more than just one-word responses or vague explanations, and he ruined it.

“It’s fine. I’m going to go take a shower.” She stands up.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing her hand.

She turns to him with a look of mild annoyance.

“Um, wh—why don’t I run you a hot bath?”

“Sure. Not too hot though, okay? I’d like to not burn my skin off.”

He chuckles at the comment, pretending that it didn’t sting a little. “Yeah, of course.”

He runs the bath and checks the temperature of the water multiple times while Y/N undresses in their bedroom. He’s about to check for a fourth time when she enters the bathroom in her white robe, which she hangs up on the wall hook. She settles into the tub and closes her eyes. Meanwhile, Harry watches from the doorway, wishing he could get in there with her and be close to her.

“Do you want me to stay?” he offers tentatively. “We can talk more about the stuff you’ve been dealing with at work.”

“Ugh, no, I don’t even want to think about work.”

“Oh. Well, we can chat about something else to get your mind off—”

“I’m not really in the mood to talk.” She opens her eyes briefly to look at him. “I’ll be down for dinner later, okay?”

Translation: Don’t bother me until dinner.

With a hollowness in his chest, he shuts the bathroom door and returns downstairs to the kitchen.

***

“Daaaaad?” Savannah calls to her father from the dining table, where she has decided to do her homework tonight.

“Yeeeees?”

“Can you help me with my homework?”

“Be right there.” He turns down the heat on the stove before walking over to his daughter, leaning over her to take a look at what she’s working on. Math. His worst enemy.

“I don’t understand this question,” she says, pointing to a lengthy word problem on the page with several multiple choice options.

He reads and rereads it a few times before attempting to solve it in his head. It seems easy enough… Until he realizes that the answer he came up with isn’t even one of the options. He asks Savannah how her teacher taught her to approach questions like this, and her explanation only confuses him even more. Math was tough when he was in school, but the way they teach it nowadays boggles his mind.

“I’ll go see if your mum can help.”

He heads upstairs to check if Y/N is done with her bath and finds her sitting at the foot of their bed in her robe, brushing her hair. The sun is setting outside. Its warm, amber glow spills through the curtains and falls across one side of Y/N’s face, casting a shadow on the other. She looks ethereal in this light, like a goddess, and he feels unworthy of her presence.

“Babe? Savannah needs help with her maths homework,” he tells her.

“Can’t you handle it?”

“I mean, I’m trying, but we both know how useless I am at maths,” he answers with a smirk, but she doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Harry, it’s grade school math, not rocket science.”

His face drops. “Well, yeah, but I— Never mind. I’ll figure it out.” He turns to leave but pauses in the doorway, turning back around to face her. “Y/N, are you… Are you upset with me? Have I done something wrong?”

He instantly regrets asking. Y/N closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“No, H, I just need some time alone,” she states slowly. “Like, is that too much to ask? I can’t even have a second alone without you getting clingy and thinking I’m mad at you? It’s exhausting.”

His heart cracks for what feels like the millionth time that night. Clingy. His wife thinks he’s clingy. It’s not the first time he has been called that word. But it is the first time he has been called that word by her. And God, does it hurt like a dagger slicing through his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before leaving.

He tries his best to help Savannah with the question, ultimately resorting to Google where he finds the solution posted on some forum a few years ago.

“Daddy, are you okay?” asks Savannah once her homework has been sorted.

He raises a brow at the odd, adult-like concern in his daughter’s voice. “Yes. Why?”

“You look sad.”

He forces a smile. “I’m not sad. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, of course. But I’m fine.”

She squints her big eyes at him suspiciously, drawing a genuine laugh out of him.

Kissing the top of her head, he says, “I’m going to finish making dinner, but let me know if you need anything else.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

That little token of appreciation means so much to him, he gives her another kiss on the head.

“You’re very welcome.”

***

Harry feels numb at dinner. His appetite is nonexistent. The food that he himself cooked with love and care tastes bland and flavourless to him. He has long zoned out on the conversation between Y/N and Savannah, which is completely unlike him, as someone who prides himself on being a good listener.

“H, you okay? You’ve barely touched your food,” comments Y/N. It shocks him that she even noticed.

“Daddy’s sad,” Savannah blurts out.

Y/N frowns, studying him from across the table. “Sad about what?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” He stares down at his plate and changes the subject. “Does anyone else feel like the pasta sauce is missing something? I followed the recipe to a tee and still messed it up somehow.” He shakes his head, frustrated with his inability to get anything right today.

“No, it’s perfect,” says Y/N. “As always.”

She’s praising him. So why does he feel like crying?

“Where are you going?” she asks as he pushes his chair back and rises to his feet.

“I have a headache. Going to lie down for a bit. Just leave the dishes in the sink. I’ll take care of it later.” He places his unfinished plate on the kitchen counter and leaves.

Tears are flooding his eyes before he has even reached the top of the stairs. By the time he gets to the bedroom, they’re spilling onto his cheeks. He doesn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, he just climbs under the covers on his side of the bed and lets his pillow soak them up.

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed before he hears Savannah’s voice down the hall, telling her mother goodnight, and then moments later, the light creak of the bedroom door opening, followed by Y/N’s footsteps approaching the bed. The mattress dips behind him.

“H?” she says softly.

“Hmm?”

“You still awake?”

He clears his throat and tries to keep a steady voice as he replies, “Yeah. You need anything?”

“No, just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“Do you need anything from me? Painkillers? A cup of tea?”

How about kisses? Or cuddles? Or any kind of attention that doesn’t involve you glaring at me like I’m a waste of space? he answers in his head, but out loud he says, “I’m fine. Thank you, love.”

“You know, you keep saying you’re fine and I don’t know if I believe you.”

He doesn’t respond.

She places a hand on his arm over the covers. “Look at me.”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he emphasizes stubbornly.

“Can you please look at me?”

He sighs. A part of him is tempted to snap at her and tell her to leave him alone, to hurt her the way she hurt him, but he doesn’t have it in him to do that. In fact, the last thing he wants right now is to be left alone. What he really wants is to be held by her, to be told that he is loved and appreciated and wanted.

When she gently tugs on his arm to make him turn around, he doesn’t resist. Her eyes scan his face, taking in the tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

“Oh, honey.” She brings a hand to his cheek. He’s been so deprived of her touch that he leans into it immediately. “Did I do this?” she asks with guilt-ridden eyes which suggest she already knows the answer to that.

“I feel like I can’t do anything right by you lately,” he says. “I just want to spend some time with you when you get home, but you never talk to me and you shoo me away any time I try to come near you. I don’t know what I did, but lately, I feel more like an annoying pest that you have to tolerate than your husband. And maybe that makes me clingy or whatever—”

“That does not make you clingy,” she interjects, shaking her head adamantly. “I’m sorry I called you that, and I’m sorry I made you feel this way. I’ve just been under so much pressure at work. That’s no excuse for how I’ve been treating you, but I need you to know that it has nothing to do with you, okay? You haven’t done a single thing wrong.”

He sniffles. “Really?”

“Yes, baby. The only reason I’ve been pushing you away is because I come home with all this pent-up frustration and I don’t want to take it out on you by accident… But it looks like I’ve been doing that anyway.” She wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and kisses him tenderly. “I’m sorry, honey.”

She gets under the covers with him and guides his head to her chest, tangling her fingers into his hair. He nuzzles his face close to her breasts. She apologizes again and reassures him that he’s the best husband she could have ever asked for, that she still looks forward to coming home to him at the end of each day, that she loves him more than words can ever explain.

Her delicate touches mixed with her comforting voice telling him everything he needed to hear soothes his aching heart. They cuddle in silence for a while, their legs intertwined with each other. Y/N shifts around a bit while keeping him close to her. When her thigh brushes up against his crotch, she freezes.

“Are you hard right now?”

“Fuck, um… yeah?” he mumbles into her chest nervously, his face growing hot.

She giggles. “Well, let’s take care of it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, you deserve it.”

She sits up on the bed beside him, while he lays on his back, gazing up at her, melting when she gives him a warm smile. Her hand disappears under the covers, making its slow descent into the waistband of his shorts. He gasps when she gropes him through his briefs.

“I don’t think I’ll last very long,” he admits.

“That’s okay. Been a while since we’ve done this, huh?”

He nods, gulping as her fingers trace his bulge. Although he sometimes touches himself when he’s home alone during the day or in the shower, it’s never the same as when she does it. The orgasms lack the intensity he craves.

“My poor baby,” she coos, using her other hand to scratch the top of his head. “I haven’t been taking proper care of you. We’re going to fix that this weekend.”

She suddenly removes her hand from his shorts and takes off her shirt, revealing her braless torso. The sight of her gorgeous, round breasts makes his mouth water before she even invites him to suck on them. Moving his head into her lap, he wraps his lips around one nipple and swirls his tongue around the taut flesh.

Her hand ventures back into his shorts, this time slipping into his underwear. Instead of wrapping her whole hand around him, she uses only two fingers and her thumb, running them along his length in slow, gentle strokes that make his body shudder with pleasure.

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know that? Nothing you do for me goes unnoticed, I promise you,” she says.

The reassurance brings tears to his eyes again but happy ones this time. She wraps the rest of her hand around his cock, picking up the pace and pressure of her strokes. He thrusts his hips into her hand desperately as his orgasm builds. She tells him he can come whenever he’s ready, but he tries to delay it for as long as possible until he can’t any longer. Then he lets himself go, his moans and grunts muffled by her breast.

“There you go. Good boy.” She coaxes the last few drops of come out of him.

He rests his head in her lap afterwards, dazed and breathless, hoping that she’ll let him lay there a little while longer. Luckily, that’s exactly what she does, only moving to rest her back against the headboard to make herself comfortable while keeping his head in her lap, her fingers in his hair. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

***

Thank you for reading! For more househusband!Harry and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[mavrintarou]

[4:38 PM] Oikawa Toru [3]

Thank you for your patience <3

Warning: angst, healing and future complication

Second part Fourth part

.

After ensuring Mateo’s fever had subsided, Y/n kicked Toru to get some sleep. She saw his hesitation; did he not trust her with his son?

Y/n responded with a deadpan expression, her tone tinged with sarcasm. “Oh, don’t worry. I promise I won’t just take off with him,” she said, her words laced with irony.

Toru shook his head, his expression filled with disbelief. “No, no, that’s… I trust you,” he muttered, looking visibly exhausted. “I just… I can’t wrap my head around this. Why would you care about us?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, surprised by his response. “you were the one who came to my unit,” she reminded him.

Recalling their initial encounter, Toru nodded slowly. “Yeah… you’re right,” he acknowledged.

“I have a weird sleep schedule anyways, so I’m used to being a night owl.” Y/n turned her attention back to Mateo, who suckled his pacifier in her arms. “I’ll watch his fever, so go rest.”

He inhaled like he had more things to say but nodded, “all right, but wake me up at any time, got it?” She saluted him, and he smiled before turning his heels towards his bedroom. He left the door cracked ajar so that Y/n did not feel uncomfortable entering his room if needed.

Y/n and Mateo sat together, swaying and waltzing to the melody of her old concerto videos playing on YouTube. The city night of Tokyo glowed below them as they gazed out from the window. The soothing music and gentle rhythm lulled Mateo into a peaceful slumber, his head finding a comfortable spot against Y/n’s chest.

Y/n’s gaze shifted toward the TV as the familiar sound of a solo violinist filled the room, and her heart began to race with anticipation.

Kim Woojin.

As the video continued to play, Y/n realized with nostalgia and sadness that it was their concerto performance from four years ago.

It had been a while since she had last spoken to Woojin, particularly after he had proposed to her.

Despite their history, she had made the difficult decision to reject his proposal.

.

Y/n sat across from Toru in awkward silence at his kitchen table.

She woke up to the smell of delicious food and immediately was hungry. The thought of food was pushed aside as her mind focused on getting Mateo’s fever down.

Toru set a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and fruits before her. He pushed a freshly squeezed glass of orange juice toward her while sipping on some tea.

“Thank you,” she muttered, still feeling dazed.

Mateo was in Toru’s arms, being fed with a bottle.

I need to go, she thought, chowing down her food.

“I won’t kick you out, so you don’t need to inhale your food,” Toru said softly, setting the bottle on the table and shifting Mateo upward to pat his back.

Y/n narrowed her eyes at him for reading her mind. “I appreciate the breakfast, but I have other things to do today,” she lied; she had nothing to do now that she was taking a break from the piano world.

“Mateo and I can’t thank you enough for whatever you did to eliminate his fever.”

Y/n nodded, finishing the last of her strawberries. She stood up and began picking up her plate to take to the sink when Toru stopped her. “Your hands are full; this is the least I can do.”

She ended up washing the dishes before she said goodbye.

“I’ll be away the next couple of days. I used your TV to search for some of my old videos on YouTube last night, and it seemed to have put Mateo to sleep.” She sighs, “hopefully, it’ll work.”

Toru smiled, “thank you, Y/n. Truly.”

. .

Y/n returned four days later.

Traveling across multiple time zones took a toll on Y/n’s body, making it difficult for her to adjust. Exhausted, she managed to take a quick shower before collapsing into bed. She fell into a deep sleep, unaware of the passing hours until evening.

Glancing at the clock on her phone, Y/n groaned in frustration. She despised the disoriented feeling that often accompanied traveling, as it disrupted her entire day.

Opening her fridge, she was greeted with empty shelves.

Sighing, she returned to her room to change her clothes to go out.

She returned an hour later, complete and with some groceries. She exited the elevator and looked at the opposite door for a second before entering her unit.

. .

[Aoba Josei High School]

Y/n couldn’t stop smiling like a fool.

She and Toru have plans to stop by the bookstore after school to pick up the latest manga volume to In Your Heart. A series that he took an interest in after he found her reading it.

Toru also wanted to treat her to ice cream.

Y/n has yet to tell Toru that she couldn’t resist and read beyond the chapters online and find out what happened next.

The main character, Lina, is a well-known pianist who returns home after being abroad for many years. She runs into her first crush from high school, Nikko, and they reconnect, falling in love with each other once again. But Lina has a secret…

Y/n has been giddy, wanting to blurt about the spoiler she discovered; Toru will be so shocked!

She placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart, which seemed to flutter whenever she thought about Toru. Unable to ignore it any longer, she realized she was just like the many other girls easily charmed by his captivating personality.

A persistent voice in the depths of her mind constantly urged caution, reminding her to be careful. However, her heart was experiencing emotions she had never felt before, and it was impossible for her not to desire more.

.

Y/n followed behind three unknown girls as they led her outside the school building. She was annotating her notes when three girls approached her desk.

“We have something to say to you; follow us.”

They turned the corner behind the gymnasium, and Y/n hesitated until one of the girls stepped out, “come.”

Finally, when they were out of earshot, the girl Y/n perceived as the leader stepped closer and swiftly retrieved something from her pocket. She forcefully brought it to Y/n’s face, making her flinch in surprise.

“Watch this.”

The video began playing, starting shaky and at a weird angle toward four boys.

She immediately recognizes Toru and the other three boys he is often around with, Hajime, Takahiro, and Issei.

“How is it going with Y/n?” Issei inquired, kicking his feet onto his desk.

Toru shrugged his shoulder. “I think it’s going good; she’s warmed up to me.”

“Yeah, we can tell; I’ve never heard her talk to so much before.” Issei laughed mockingly. “What did you do? Woo her?”

Toru snorted, “my charm was enough for her to open up to me. How much more do you need for me to win the bet?”

A hand slapped the back of Toru’s head; Iwaizumi Hajime growled, “you made a bet? That’s the bet you guys were talking about?”

“Toru said he could get any girl to fall at his feet; Y/n is totally at his feet.” Takahiro laughed, digging into the inside of his pocket before slapping a few bills in front of Toru. “It’s just a bet; it’s not like Toru said he would get her to fall in love with him. He just needed to open her up; no harm done.”

“But still, you made a bet on her.” Hajime pointed, “that’s still a shitty thing to do, Shitty-Kawa.”

“Chill, Iwa-chan,” Toru rolled his eyes, “I only said I’ll get her to fall for my charms, which she did. I didn’t say anything about dating her and dumping her. If anything, I helped her open up to a man, a future man for herself, so she should be thankful I helped her up for her.”

Issei leaned forward before Toru, “do you like her?”

Toru shook his head, “no, she’s cute, but I don’t like her. Her stuttering is cute, but personally, it’s a turn-off.”

Hajime swore, “you’re an asshole. Did you pretty much use the girl to help your grades?”

“Yep!” the two other guys answered. “That’s why he had the top scores in the class, and now Oikawa has the grades to apply to colleges.”

The video ended.

Words were sealed, and Y/n could only look pitiful.

“We thought you should know the truth.” The girl stuffs her phone back in her pocket. “Whatever you decide to do is up to you.” They turned to walk away.

“W – wa – ait,” Y/n whispered; they turned to look over their shoulders. “Th – thank y – ou.”

.

Toru found himself glancing back at Y/n’s empty seat.

It has been day three of her absence, and their teacher has not said anything about her absence like she would with other students.

She also hasn’t responded to any of his messages after her last message to him canceling their plans to go to the bookstore and grab ice cream afterward.

“Class, I have an announcement to make.” The teacher tapped her pen against the chalkboard to get everyone’s attention. “One of our classmates, Y/n…” she paused to inhale sharply. “She will no longer be in this class as of today. Can I ask a volunteer to clear Y/n’s locker and deliver her possession?”

Toru stood up immediately, “I volunteer.”

After school was out, when Naomi approached him, Toru rushed to gather his items to leave.

She looked seriously before asking quietly, “can I talk to you for a bit?”

Toru nodded before following her. She stepped off to the side, away from the crowd rushing to leave.

He noticed Naomi eyeing the bag of Y/n’s items, mainly a pencil pouch, a few notebooks, and small stationary items. “I can take those to Y/n.”

Toru frowned; his grip tightened around the handle of the bag. “It’s okay. Utada-sensei asked me to drop it off, and it’s on my way home, too, so I can swing by.” He paused, watching Naomi before asking, “did something…happen to Y/n?”

Her eyes turned cold, “shouldn’t you know best? Since you made that bet on her?” She wanted to laugh in his face when his eyes widened. She held her hand out, but Toru made no move to hand over the bag. “Face it, you’ve been outed, Oikawa; I hope you won a good chunk of money.”

Naomi took a step forward, she was tall for a girl, but she wasn’t as tall as Toru, but her stance was taller than him. “If I had not promised Y/n, I would have punched you.” She reached to snatch the bag out of his hand, leaving him behind stunned.

.

The end of the school year came in a blink of an eye, and before Toru knew it, he was only two days away from graduation.

Everyone has congratulated him for getting scouted and accepted to join Club Atletico San Juan, a professional team in the Argentina Volleyball Federation. It is beyond his hopes and imagination, and he is still processing it.

He would immediately leave for Argentina right after graduation.

He knows he’s happy and proud of himself.

But there was something heavy on his heart.

Toru has been sitting on the bench at one of the local parks near his home, waiting for Y/n.

If she does come.

He had texted her earlier; you probably don’t want to see me anymore, but I would like to explain myself. Can we meet at the park by our house in 30 minutes?

His knee has been shaking nervously. Doubts plagued his mind: What if he couldn’t effectively convey his message? What if he stumbled over his words? The fear of choking on his words weighed heavily on him.

His head snapped up the moment he felt the spot beside him shift. “Y/n…” She doesn’t spare him a glance, staring straight ahead. “All I can say is… I’m sorry.” There is no emotion on her face. “I got accepted to play for a club in Argentina, and I’ll be leaving soon, but I couldn’t leave without saying I’m truly sorry. I own up to all my mistakes, my actions of hurting you… I don’t even know how to make up for hurting you.”

Tears pricked his eyes, but he berated himself for even considering crying. How dare he shed tears after showing no remorse when agreeing to the bet? Deep down, he knew the situation was complex, but he believed it was better not to make this worse any further. “I’m truly sorry,” he managed to say, his voice filled with regret.

Y/n stood up, and Toru’s eyes followed as she turned her heels to stand before him. She exhaled softly and then smiled.

Toru blinked, eagerly awaiting her response, hoping for any words to escape her lips. He braced himself for the possibility of her expressing hatred or refusal to forgive him. However, she remained silent, to his surprise, not uttering a single word.

She just stared at Toru for a second longer before she dropped her head and turned her heels, walking away.

. .

[Present day]

Y/n woke up feeling drowsy; she couldn’t tell if the sun was rising or ready to set.

Closing her eyes, she found herself once again immersed in memories of her high school days. Since the day she reconnected with Toru, her dreams seemed to be plagued by images of the past. It reminded her of the pain he had caused her, urging her to be cautious about getting involved with him again. However, part of her wonders if these dreams were a form of closure she needed, a way to finally put the past behind her.

The last encounter Y/n had with Toru occurred just before he departed overseas. Discovering that she had been nothing more than a bet to him left her reeling, and she needed space to process her emotions. Over time, she managed to move on and let go of the hurt caused by the bet.

In hindsight, she realized she should have trusted her instincts and knew it was too good for someone like Toru to genuinely want to be her friend.

However, his hurtful comment about her stuttering pierced her heart the deepest. That remark cut deep, lingering her thoughts and intensifying the pain caused by the ordeal.

For the longest time, she had accepted her speech impediment as a flaw, and her parents had encouraged her to seek professional help. However, she was always too nervous and shy to take that step. It was easier for her to remain silent; she had grown accustomed to that.

Reflecting on her past, Y/n realized that Toru’s presence in her life had sparked a newfound confidence in her speech. She developed a strong desire to communicate with him, which motivated her to study diligently and practice speaking sentences slowly to overcome her stuttering.

“M – mom… and d – ad…,” Y/n inhales sharply, interrupting the silence at dinner. “I… I want to go to – to O – Osaka School o – of Speech….”

The specialty school didn’t operate like public schools. After much consideration and approval from the principal of Aoba Josei, they allowed Y/n to graduate early so she could immediately start her classes at the specialty school.

Y/n decided to temporarily set aside her passion for piano to focus entirely on improving her speech. With dedicated effort and determination, she witnessed a remarkable process in a short amount of time. Her speech had improved tremendously, surprising her expectations.

For the first time in her life, Y/n experienced an unparalleled excitement about engaging in conversations. Her new confidence had been uplifted, inspiring her to discuss all the topics she had been too afraid to broach in the past.

Even years later, her stuttering only resurfaced in rare instances when she found herself overwhelmingly nervous. With her progress and confidence, her speech impediment became a distant memory, only appearing in the most intense moments of anxiety.

And recently, since she ran into Toru again.

Y/n lifted her head at the sound of her door chime. Grabbing her phone, she sees the notification that someone is at her door.

Toru and Mateo.

She exited the bed and ran her fingers through her hair before shouting, “coming!”

“Hey,” Toru greeted as soon as she opened the door, “we wanted to see if you would like to join us for dinner at our place. Mateo and I would like to treat you to dinner for being so kind to us.”

Her gaze met Mateo’s, and for a brief moment, he seemed taken aback before recognizing her. A look of excitement spread across his face, and he energetically pumped his chubby arms. She smiled sweetly at him before answering, “sure, give me ten minutes to change, and I’ll be over.”

.

Toru left the door ajar, allowing Y/n to enter without hesitation. She scanned the room, searching for the baby, and Toru directed her attention to the living room.

As she stepped inside, her eyes fell upon the adorable sight of Mateo sitting amidst a scattering of toys. When he saw her, his chubby arms started flapping excitedly, causing him to lose his balance and fall backward.

Y/n couldn’t contain her laughter as she hurried over to him.

“Don’t mind him; he’s in the phase of wanting to be held all the time. Don’t fall for it.” Toru’s voice echoed from the kitchen. Despite the warning, Y/n couldn’t resist the adorable charm of Mateo’s longing gaze.

“Hi, Mateo!” she cooed, clapping her hands to get his attention. Mateo’s face immediately lit up with excitement, clearly indicating his desire to be picked up. Y/n gently maneuvered him into a sitting position, but as soon as she did, he clung to her with a surprisingly firm grip, refusing to let go. “All right, all right, I’ll pick you up,” she chuckled, giving into his pout. Mateo nestled comfortably against her chest, his eyes gazing at her with awe.

She leaned in to kiss his chubby cheek, “so glad you’re feeling better.” She reached to comb his mop of dark brown hair and brushed it behind his ears, “your hair is getting long.” Her thumb rubbed his earlobe, and he let out a yawn. “Are you tired?”

She stood up and cuddled him against her chest, rocking him gently.

“Don’t cave in, Y/n… or else you’ll make it hard for me.” Toru groaned from the kitchen.

Despite Toru’s comment, the genuine smile on his face betrayed his words. Deep down, he harbored a secret appreciation for any interaction between the two.

Toru knows he can only do so much to fill the vacancy of a mother figure for Mateo, and he often wonders how it would be if Mateo had a mother figure in his life. Though he was still too young to understand it now, eventually, he would question why he didn’t have a mother like other kids his age.

Until that day arrives, Toru will assume the roles of both mother and father and will do his best to explain the situation when Mateo is old enough to understand. He won’t hide anything, but he will do his damn best to protect his son from anything and everything.

Being thrust into the role of a single parent, Toru found himself starting from square one with no prior knowledge or experience in caring for babies. The prospect of raising a child was entirely foreign to him, leaving him feeling utterly clueless and uncertain about where to begin.

As Mateo’s due date approached, Toru’s anxiety consumed him, and self-doubt crept into his thoughts. The weight of being the impending responsibility began to overwhelm him. Questions raced through his mind. Could he genuinely handle caring for a baby on his own? What would this mean for his volleyball career, which demanded so much time and dedication? Amid his uncertainty, the idea of putting the baby up for adoption crossed his mind as a potential solution. These distressing thoughts clouded his judgment and added to his growing panic.

As soon as Mateo was placed in Toru’s arms in the quiet sanctuary of a separate room at the hospital, a profound shift occurred within him. In that tender moment, as he gazed into his baby’s eyes, Toru realized he couldn’t abandon this innocent life. This was his baby, his flesh and blood, and he felt an overwhelming surge of love and responsibility inside him.

He no longer wished to beg Lucia to reconsider or plead for her to stay for the sake of their child. He wanted her to leave, to have no part in their lives. It was clear to Toru that he and Mateo were meant to face the world together, forming an unbreakable bond as father and son.

“Your noo – noodles will overcook at this point….”

Toru blinked, seeing that he completely ignored the pot of overly boiling ramen. “Oh shoot!” He quickly turned off the stove and glanced at Y/n, holding Mateo in her arms as they looked at him with the same confused look.

“You might be right; it’s a little overcooked.”

Y/n shrugged her shoulder and turned her attention to Mateo. Smiling, she told the baby, “it’s okay; I like soft ramen.” As if Mateo knew what she meant, he smiled widely at her.

Toru smiled too, his heart soft like his ramen at the sight of his son and Y/n smiling.

.

Y/n leaned back against her seat, groaning. “I’m so full.”

She thought he was only making home-cooked food; it turns out he ordered other food, which was delivered. Toru’s family-size kitchen table was filled with different dishes.

“Why did you get so much food?” She complained that she was full but continued adding to her plate.

Toru held a sleeping Mateo in his arms and ate with one hand, “well, I didn’t know what you like, so I got a variety of things.”

“Toru, if you knew me – you would know I’ll never say no to any food.” She bit into a piece of batter squid and sighed, “this is so delicious too.”

“I would like to know more about you.”

Y/n blinks, allowing those words to sink in. It was a simple yet significant statement that carried the weight of curiosity and a genuine desire to understand her better. 

Toru observed the rapid whirl of thoughts in Y/n’s mind, realizing the gravity of his words. “I mean as in a friend,” he clarified, his voice filled with sincerity. “I want to be your friend again if you allow it.” His heart raced as she set her chopsticks down, causing his anxiety to spike. “Please, I’m sorry if I made this uncomfortable. I didn’t intend for it to be – “

Y/n’s words carried a sense of maturity and willingness to let go of the past. She assured him, “whatever happened between us years ago, it’s in the past. I don’t hate you.” Taking a moment to compose herself, she dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I’m glad you’re bringing this up because… I didn’t know how to address it.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “I won’t ask why I was a bet, but I want to know if you ever regretted it.” Her question hung in the air, reflecting curiosity and the need for closure.

“Yes,” he admitted, his response soft, almost a whisper, as he nodded. “Every day.”

Toru’s gaze bore into Y/n’s, his eyes reflecting guilt. It was a look she had noticed ever since reconnecting with him. 

“I forgive you.” Y/n said in a heartbeat. Her words carry the power of absolution. A soft smile graced her lips as she continued, “so, let that burden go.” Though her words were simple, they meant everything.

She offered him her forgiveness and the opportunity to release the weight of his remorse and find solace.

With a profound sense of relief, it felt like the heavy burden on Toru’s shoulders had finally lifted.

His head dropped as he took a deep breath, mixed emotions washing over him. Setting his chopsticks down, he wiped the tears from his eyes. His voice barely above a whisper, “thank you.”

For so long, Toru had carried the weight of his past actions, believing that he deserved any punishment or consequences that came his way. He had run away, thinking it to be an act of cowardice, choosing to pursue his career in another country. But the burden became heavier with each passing day, month, and year.

He quietly carried it, not making a fuss, as he believed it was the price he had to pay for his foolish behavior.

Through time, Toru recognized the impact Y/n had made on his life, despite the relatively short period they had known each other. Her kindness had touched his heart, a realization that slowly dawned on him. That was all she had ever offered him throughout their encounters: genuine compassion.

Even after all this time, her influence lingered within him, a constant reminder of the goodness he had encountered in her presence. It was a testament to the power of small acts of kindness and the lasting impact they could have on a person’s life long after the moments have passed.

“Toru,” he looked up, “forgive yourself so you can be better and do better.” Her eyes drop to the deeply asleep baby in his arm, “do it for Mateo.”

And you, he said to himself.

“Okay,” he nodded, “please continue to eat; I didn’t mean to ruin the atmosphere.”

“I’m going to gain so much weight, thanks to you.” She teased, “but I’m really full; I can’t even eat even if I want to.” She stares at him for a split second, “thank you for dinner; everything was delicious.”

“Thank you for joining us,” Toru smiles at his son, “even if this guy is rude and sleeps during dinner.”

He met her gaze, reading the curiosity in her eyes, and something within him shifted.

For the first time, Toru felt a sense of pride in sharing his and Mateo’s story. It was no longer a source of shame or regret but evidence of their resilience and the love they built together.

“Are you wondering where his mother is at?”

Y/n looked at Toru with a gentle and understanding expression. She wanted him to know that he had a safe space to share his story, but she also respected his boundaries and understood that some things might be challenging to discuss. With a soft smile, she reassured him, “only if you feel safe and comfortable sharing.”

Her words were warm and sincere, letting Toru know he had someone who genuinely cared about him and his experience. Toru felt a wave of gratitude wash over him, realizing he had found someone who could truly understand and accept him, flaws and all.

“Of course,” He adjusted Mateo in his arm, “I was in a long-term relationship with his mother, her name is Lucia, and she is a pretty well-known model in San Juan. We both agreed and understood that our main priority was our careers.” He glanced down and rubbed the cheek of his son. “Mateo was not in either of our plans, and it scared the shit out of me when Lucia told me she was pregnant. I had no time to think about it and had to decide either my career or my child quickly.”

Toru’s mind had been consumed by the thoughts of his future, torn between his passion for volleyball and the responsibility of becoming a father. He had spent countless nights wrestling with his desires and aspirations, questioning if he was still finding fulfillment in the sport that had once been his everything.

He prayed for a sign that indicated what path he should take. During this time of deep contemplation, he learned about the life growing inside of Lucia, and Toru couldn’t help but see it as a sign that he had been desperately seeking. In an instance, his priorities shifted, and he knew deep down that his child would always come first.

The thought of being a father and having a little person who would look up to and rely on him filled him with a sense of purpose and determination he had never experienced before.

He realized his love for volleyball would always be a part of him, but being a loving and dedicated father was the most important role he could ever play.

“I was ready to retire or take a long break from my career, but Lucia wasn’t on board; she was unequivocal that she didn’t want the pregnancy, and I convinced her not to terminate the pregnancy and that I’ll take full responsibility of him.”

He gazed up at Y/n, marveling at how her soft eyes still held the same affectionate gaze for him. He had grown accustomed to seeing the disappointment in people’s eyes so much that he had forgotten the warmth and comfort she brought into his life. Despite the disapproval from his closest friends and family, who believe it would be more convenient for both of them to end the pregnancy and avoid any commitments, he finds himself questioning their perspective.

But Toru was firm on his decision.

“For the entire pregnancy, she remained out of public eyes and out of work,” he opted out of disclosing how he had paid a hefty amount of money to support her lavish life during the nine months. Thankfully, Toru continued his career for another season and signed another contract with brand-name sponsorships. “I checked in with her daily to ensure the pregnancy was going well.” There were times Lucia wouldn’t respond to him, annoyed he was always bothering her when there was nothing new. “Mateo was born two weeks earlier but was the size of most newborns.”

Y/n asked, “Lucia didn’t want anything to do with you two?”

Toru shook his head, no longer sad when asked that question. “No, she didn’t want him from the beginning, and as soon as she could, she demanded a cesarean section to get him out of her.” He winced as he observed the heartbreak etched across her face. “Please don’t be sad,” he murmurs, trying to offer reassurance. Deep down, he believes this unexpected turn of events might be a disguised blessing. Though she chose not to be in the same room as Mateo after his birth, Toru felt a surge of determination as he cradled their child in his arms, making a silent vow that they would find a way to make things right.

“I’m proud of you, Toru.” Y/n quietly said with a heartfelt smile.

.

“Thank you for dinner and,” she lifted the bag in her hand, “sharing some of the leftovers.”

After their heart-to-heart talk, they realized it was close to 11 PM. Y/n began cleaning up as Toru went to set Mateo down for the night.

Toru rubs the back of his neck, “no, thank you for joining us,” and for everything.

Silence hung in the air to the unspoken words that lingered between them.

Her eyes locked onto his, filled with relief. “I want you to know that talking tonight has brought me so much comfort,” she confessed. As she moved to open the door, ready to leave, he called out her name, causing her to pause in her tracks.

Glancing back over her shoulders, she met his gaze and patiently awaited his words. Toru hesitated momentarily, holding his breath before he mustered a barely audible whisper, “can I… hug you?”

A flicker of surprise sparkled in her eyes, quickly replaced by a warm smile that reached her lips. Setting her bag down, she stepped forward, guided by an unspoken understanding. She nestled herself into his open embrace, her arms enveloping his waist tightly.

It lasted mere seconds, yet within that brief hug, it felt like they had encapsulated a lifetime of emotions, comfort, and understanding.

It was a simple act, but it held immense significance for two wounded souls searching for peace – a much-needed embrace for two broken people.

Y/n pulled away; her cheeks tinted pink as she rushed to grab her food and slip her shoes on. “I’ll s – see you around. Have a good night.” As she turned the doorknob to his unit, her movement abruptly stopped. Surprise ran through her veins as she looked at the towering figure standing before her unit, his gaze fixated directly on her. “Woojin?”

“What are you doing over there?” Woojin stepped forward and froze, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you know him?” Y/n looked over her shoulders, seeing Toru staring straight at Woojin.

The atmosphere is tense, and to add to that, she hears Mateo’s cry at a distance. “Go – I know him. He’s… a friend.”

Toru looks down at Y/n, “you sure?”

“Of course.” Swiftly, she placed a hand firmly against his chest, using her strength to push him back into his unit. With determination, she closed the door, creating a barrier between them. Turning her attention to Woojin, she gestures with a subtle nod, silently conveying her invitation for him to follow her into her unit. 

. . .

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @rukia-uchiha-98 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @anejuuuuoy @tooruchiiscribs @mommyourcall420 @haikyuubiggestsimp @lilguycoded @random-734 @ghostlyneckoaftoad @abdce12345

[lexsssu]

Good Little Girl (Marshall Lee)

TAGS: Mashall/F!Reader, Original child character, parenthood, fluff Ao3 ver.

“Mishael Linus Abadeer, get your sorry butt down here already before your dinner gets cold!”

“Jeez, I’m coming down already, Ma”

“If you don’t hurry up I’ll eat your portion of fresh strawberries, kid~”

“Dad, don’t be so unfair when you already have your own portion!”

“Not my fault if you’re a slowpoke”

A handsome dark-haired youth flew into the humble dining room hurriedly, seating himself at his designated chair and clutching the small bowl of strawberries to his chest as if they were a priceless treasure. His skin had a grayish hue to them, pointed ears peaked from his ebony tufts of luscious hair while a pair of sharp fangs poked from his lips. The scowl he wore didn’t make him look menacing, but rather even more attractive than he already was in the first place.

“Now, now, now. Stop teasing our son already, Marsh. You know how he gets when it comes to his strawberries and besides, aren’t you already too old to be competing with him over food?” You stifled a laugh as you raised an eyebrow at your husband who merely grinned, shrugging in response.

“It’s survival of the fittest, babe. If our own kid doesn’t understand that then he doesn’t deserve the plump and juicy fresh strawberries you’ve painstakingly grown, picked, and washed straight from our garden”

The vampire king wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, landing a quick kiss to your hair as your preteen son gagged at the public display of affection. “No spawn of mine will grow up ungrateful to their beautiful, amazing, spectacular, wonderful mama~”

Dinner passed by without much fanfare aside from the playful teasing your family generally engaged one another with. Though mainly it was just Marshall being the big bully that he was, something Mishael had already grown used to ever since he was young.

While you washed the dishes, you spotted your son fumbling with his phone as he floated back up to his room. A bright smile lit up his face as a tinge of red gave his cheeks some much needed color and contrast from the grayish hue he’d inherited from his father.

“Lemme guess, he’s probably hung up on Fiona & Evan’s kid...Evie, right?”

Years of being with Marshall had trained you to anticipate his sudden appearance at all possible times that you didn’t even flinch anymore when you hear his voice and feel the warmth of his breath on the back of your neck.

“Mhmm, he’s got it quite bad from the looks of it. Kinda reminds me of another lovesick vampire I knew back in the day…” The corners of your lips quirked upwards in a smile as memories of a time not so long ago flashed in your mind like a cinematic movie.

“Whaddya mean you ‘knew’ back in the day? I’m still very much YOUR lovesick vampire until the universe itself collapses and time ceases to exist, thank you very much”

Placing the last plate upon the dish rack, you wipe your hands dry on the dry dish cloth before gingerly taking the raven-haired male’s face into your hands and pecking his nose. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, my bad little boy~”

A tender looked slithered its way onto the hybrid’s face, snaking his arms around you until your front was pressed flush against his own. You both floated a few feet off the ground, arms around your waist and your own around his neck as you stared into each other’s eyes.

Marshall Lee had his fair share of relationships over the course of his immortal life, but none had ever enamored him the way you do. None had ever made him want to come home so desperately, even if you were the one who gave him all the freedom he wanted to go off on adventures while waiting patiently for him. His once cold, unbeating heart felt the warmest, the liveliest as long as he was with you.

“Forever’s a long time, ‘ya know? But I’ll be more than happy to let you feel why being MY good little girl is worth it~”

[fairykingjing]

Trafalgar Law X F Reader- Do Barmaids Belong with Pirates part 2

Summary: @augustanna asked for a part two of Do Barmaids Belong with Pirates? so I whipped something up!

Warnings: characters arguing? Not much of any warning needed I don’t think.

WC: 725

It had only been a couple of days but you already felt at home on the Polar Tang. You were becoming familiar with the layout and you were learning everyone’s names. Law insisted that you needn’t worry about chores or the likes yet, but you didn’t want special treatment for being his girlfriend, so you helped out wherever you could. You were currently in the kitchen helping Bepo and some of the others clean up dinner, when Law popped in.

“Hey, we need to have a chat about the other day,” Law started bluntly.

“What about it, captain?” Bepo asked. “I thought everything worked out. You got the girl, didn’t you?”

“I’m still not happy with what happened, and you all got lucky that it did work out, but that’s not what I’m referring to,” Law answered. “I can understand that people get nosy, but listening at the door and spying on our conversation is not okay. I am a doctor after all, and privacy is of upmost importance.”

“Oh, that…” Bepo said nervously. “We just wanted to make sure she was okay, I mean you were pretty pissed off earlier.”

“I wasn’t pissed off at her though. I was angry at the rest of my crew. Besides, you couldn’t even try to hide the fact that you were listening,” Law sighed. “Just… don’t do it again. Seriously. And respect mine and the crews privacy. The door was shut for a reason.”

“Yes, captain Law,” Bepo sniffled. He returned to washing the dishes. Law turned to you next.

“And what do you think you’re doing, love?” he asked disapprovingly. “I thought I told you not to worry about chores until you had some time to settle in.”

“I know,” you whined. “But I don’t want special treatment! Just let me do some dishes or mop a floor.”

“We did accidentally kidnap you,” Penguin chimed in. “I’d say that calls for special treatment.”

“Stay out of this, Penguin,” Law snapped. You started to speak, but he turned and spoke to you first. “I know you’ve been sneaking around the ship trying to make yourself useful, and I know you don’t want special treatment, but I just want you to take it easy and adjust a little more. It’s only been a couple of days.”

“Sorry for trying to help,” you retorted.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to help,” he explained with a sigh. “I just want you to stop trying to do so much.”

“I’m not even doing that much!” you defended.

“Wow, sounding like an old married couple already,” Shachi laughed. Everyone chuckled at that, and you couldn’t help but to laugh along too. Law tried to keep his composure, but even he had to crack a smile.

“Okay, okay, fine. You can help with the dishes after meals, if it’ll make you feel better,” Law conceded.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at him. “Was that really so hard?” He let out yet another sigh. He seemed to do that a lot, though you couldn’t understand why. You turned around to help finish up the kitchen, but it was already done.

“Oh well, guess you’ll have to come relax for a while,” Law smirked.

“Hey! I thought you said you’d let me help!” you protested.

“I said you could help with the dishes, I didn’t say there would be any left for you to help with,” he laughed. You accepted defeat, deciding to follow Law back to his room. He collapsed on his bed and you were quick to follow. He pulled you into his arms and into a hug. “Why are you so stubborn?” he asked. “Just let me take care of you.”

“I don’t get taken care of, I take care of everyone else,” you answered shyly. “I’m not used to this.”

“Well you better get used to it, okay? Because I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “I love you.”

You froze at his words. He loved you? Did the crew put something else in his drink? You still found it hard to believe a pirate like him would ever love a barmaid like you, but he was showing you time and time again that he meant every word. So, you would have to believe them. A smile spread across your face as you finally spoke. “I love you, too.”

I hope you enjoyed!

[cacoetheswriting]

pearl: november & december 1984

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 3.6k chapter summary: when life throws you an unexpected curveball, the person who's there for you the most is one you wish wasn't — so you get your wish, but only after completely altering your friendship.

content warnings: best friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, angst, minor character death, loss of a parent, grief and grief management, emotional hurt / comfort, self-doubt / insecurities, use of pet names - if i missed anything, pls let me know!

pearl masterlist

December 1984

Winter was a lot harsher this year compared to last.

Starting as soon as mid-November, it brought with it grey musky clouds, dark days and even darker nights, along with a snow storm worse than The Blizzard of 1888. It was the sort of cold that could freeze the blood of those who did not or could not take sufficient care to be warm.

The season was never your favourite. This year it was even more unbearable and it had nothing to do with the weather — which the news reported was only supposed to get worse.

Early November, while off living your best life at college, you got a call no kid ever wishes to receive. 

Your dad had worked as a police officer ever since you were born. Even as a kid, you were smart enough to deduct his job was not of the safe variety. However, he’d reassure you endlessly that Hawkins, Indiana was by far the most boring town in this country and nothing bad would ever happen to him — that’s why you moved here in the first place.

Until it did.

Jim Hopper rang to break the news. You don’t remember exactly what he said, just that there was an incident at Hawkins Lab and unfortunately your dad didn’t make it. 

“I am so sorry, kiddo.”

You were calm, collected. At least you pretended to be for the sake of your mom. 

You packed a small bag, told your roommate you had a family emergency, and hopped in the car your dad let you keep when he dropped you off back in August. You drove all night in complete and utter silence. Every single part of your body felt numb and your mind was replaying every single conversation you held with the parent you just lost, yet you didn’t cry.

The tears hadn’t come until after the funeral ceremony. 

You were washing up some of the dishes after the wake while your mom was being consoled by Karen Wheeler. Entirely too focused on the cool stream of water, you didn’t realise someone stood beside you until they spoke.

“Let me help you, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s offer broke you. Him being there broke you. 

You immediately turned off the tap and wiped your wet hands against the silk material of your black dress before collapsing into his frame, no longer strong. The metalhead wrapped his arms around you instantly and the two of you were completely still as you sobbed into his shirt.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he muttered in a soothing tone, “Let it all out. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

That day was the last time the two of you spoke. 

For the remainder of the month, after you had gone back to school, you didn’t call him or send the letters you had been writing.

Ignoring him was one of the hardest things you had ever done 'cause not a day went by where you didn’t think about Eddie Munson and your last moment together, but the thought of losing him like you lost your dad was just too overbearing. You figured if you put some more distance between you two, should the worst happen, it wouldn’t be as painful.

The logic was flawed, you knew that. It was also perhaps the most selfish thing you had ever done since Eddie done nothing wrong.

One could argue however, you did all of this as a result of your grief. Consumed by all of these uncharted feelings around losing your dad and simply weren’t thinking clearly. There was just one problem. Eddie would never believe that. He knew you too well. 

Which is why, your whole body was quivering with anticipation as you knocked on the trailer door.

You had prepared an apology speech, rehearsed it all night plus during your drive here. Although, now, as you stood waiting in the snow, you were second guessing everything.

“Forget it,” you mutter to yourself and are about to turn, walk away, when the door swings open.

Eddie gapes at you with his big brown eyes, surprise gracing his features. He sizes you up, wondering why you're here after all this time apart, then proceeds to adjust his posture before stepping to the side. It’s a form of an unspoken invitation you accept with grace, albeit hesitantly. Once inside, you can hear him close the door with a gentle thud. He walks around you and slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” you say eventually, nervously meeting his gaze as you unwrap the scarf from around you neck.

“Hey,” Eddie repeats. No nickname, no emotion.

You swallow your breath. “H-how are you?”

He scoffs. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, although one you definitely deserve. 

“Seriously? We don’t talk for over a month and that’s the best you can come up with?” Eddie sounds mad. He is mad.

“Right, sorry,” you reply and momentarily chew on the inside of your cheek. “I-I honestly just wanted to come by and explain myself. If you’d let me, that is.”

The metalhead exhales softly. He lets his shoulder slouch, relax a little, and opens his mouth to say something when a knock on the trailer door interrupts him. He glances at the clock on the wall and his reaction causes you to think it’s a client, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom, giving him a few minutes to conduct his business.

You're certainly not trying to listen to his conversation. In fact, you turn the tap on just so you can focus on the sound of running water instead of his conversation, but the paper thin walls of the trailer make it nearly impossible not to eavesdrop.

“Thanks again for lending this to me,” a preppy voice you don’t really recognise speaks, “You were so right, perfect record for getting high,” the girl chuckles and your stomach twists ‘cause unfortunately it seems you couldn’t have been more wrong about this being some sort of deal.

“No worries, darlin’. Glad I could be of service,” Eddie’s charming. You picture him smiling, most likely towering over the girl who came to see him and your heart aches. 

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Well, I came by to give you that tape back and see if you’re free this Saturday. My parents are out of town and…” You force yourself to fizzle out the rest of that sentence. You did not want to be thinking about him with someone else right now — or ever. 

When a soft slam indicates the girl has most likely left, you re-emerge from the bathroom. 

Eddie doesn’t look at you. Not at first anyway. He places the item he just received on one of the kitchen counters and leans his back against another.

As you open your mouth to begin your rehearsed apology, your focus unintentionally darts to the item now next to him. Whoever said curiosity killed the cat was a hundred percent correct because the moment you register what album that girl was referring to, you go stiff.

“What the fuck, Eddie.”

The metalhead is confused by your words. He raises a brow in your direction but realisation only dawns on him when you snatch the tape from the counter and lift it in front of his face. Janis Joplin’s Pearl.

“Why would you give this to some random chick?” You question, hoping he can detect the hurt in the tone of your voice.

But Eddie only shrugs as if it’s no big deal. 

“You gave it to me. It’s mine now. I figured I could do whatever I wanted with it.”

“That wasn’t the point of me gifting this to you. How dare you pawn it off onto some girl who you most likely just wanna have sex with?!”

That causes him to stand straight and take a step towards you. 

“I don’t get why you’re so upset by this. You are the one who iced me out when all I ever did was be there for you. I figured if you could disregard our years of friendship for no apparent reasons and with no communication, I can lend a stupid tape to someone.”

“I had my reasons—”

“Yeah, maybe,” Eddie interrupts, “But you never shared them with me. I called you every fucking day after you went back to college! The list of pathetic excuses your roommate has given me, if she ever bothered to pick up the phone you clearly forgot how to use, is long enough to fill a goddamn novel!”

“That’s literally why I came here this evening! I want to explain and get back to where we were before!”

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

Something inside you snaps in that moment.

“My dad died, Eddie!” You shout, tears starting to trail down your cheeks, “God, I am so fucking sorry that his death and how I chose to grieve losing a fucking parent was an inconvenience for you! I am so fucking sorry that your ego was bruised when I didn’t pick up the phone or return your calls while my life was literally falling apart at the seams!”

He’s taken aback by your sudden outburst, mouth half-open as if he doesn’t know what to say next. It made sense that he doesn't. In all the years you've been friends, you have never raised your voice at him. The two of you didn’t argue, ever, because there was never a reason to.

“You have every right to be annoyed with me for icing you out, I’m not trying to take away from that," you continue, slightly calmer, “But handing out a tape that literally means the world to me since it reminds me solely of you, is a fucking stab in the back. Especially knowing now your intention was to hurt me.”

You chuck the cassette at Eddie’s chest. He catches it, not breaking the hold he had on your gaze.

“You may not see it that way and you may even think I’m dramatic or over reacting. That’s fine too. What you don’t get to do however, is give me shit about how I chose to handle my dad’s death because that’s not fair,” you sob that last part, voice breaking.

Eddie’s clutching onto the tape.

There’s an agonising moment of silence. You're not sure how long it lasts. A minute, perhaps, or ten. During that time, your eyes remain locked with Eddie’s and you can feel your heart breaking. You wonder if he feels the same and then you wonder if hoping he did, made you a terrible person.

“So where do we go from here, huh?” Eddie asks, monotone.

Apparently your lack of rebuttal was all Eddie needed, because after another moment of heavy silence, he states: “Perhaps… Perhaps space is exactly what we need.”

Earth shattering, his words.

“That’s the conclusion you’re coming to?” You probe, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your winter coat.

He nods. “We clearly forgot how to be there for one another.”

You realise then that nothing could have prepared you for this. Pushing Eddie out of your life these last few weeks wasn’t going to make losing him any more bearable. If anything, it only hurt more.

Chewing down on the inside of your cheek in a lame attempt to prevent the floodgates opening further, you reach for the inside pocket of your coat and retrieve a small stack of envelopes, tied together with a green bow.

“Here,” you say blankly, devoid of any further emotion, “I meant when I said I came here to explain myself, but if you believe being apart is for the better, I guess I don’t owe you anything.”

He slowly takes the envelopes out of your grasp and you adjust your hold in the process to make sure your fingers don’t brush against his.

“These are all the letters I wrote you while we didn’t speak. Read ‘em, burn ‘em, do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t give a shit anymore.”

Your exit is swift. Not like it matters because Eddie doesn’t bother chasing after you.

After starting your car and glancing at his trailer one last time, you drive off completely heartbroken because Eddie was no longer your Bobby McGee. He was not your best friend and apparently you meant nothing to him.

November 1984

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s question remains unanswered for approximately forty three seconds while you try to gather your thoughts. The carpeted floor of your childhood bedroom is oddly comforting, so in a way, right this moment, you're doing relatively okay.

Eddie’s next to you. His hand is on your thigh which he squeezes gently every so often, probably to check if you're awake since your eyes are closed.

After your breakdown in the kitchen, Eddie practically carried you upstairs, away from the pitiful looks of everyone gathered in the living room. He carefully sat you down on the floor, just under the window, and opened it with ease. Who knew? Fresh air was all you apparently needed.

But how were you really doing? Not good, would be the simple option. Not good, would tell him all he needed to know and it would also be the honest answer ‘cause how else are you supposed to be doing hours after burying your dad.

“Better,” you lie.

He stiffens next to you, meaning he didn’t exactly believe you.

“Sweetheart—”

“Why are you calling me that?” You ask, finally opening your eyes and immediately turning your head to look at him.

Judging by the expression on his face, he’s taken aback by the sudden change in topic. He doesn’t say that though.

“It’s just a nickname.”

“No, it’s not," you protest, almost in a scoff. “That’s not what you usually call me, so why do you keep calling me that?”

Eddie frowns. “Seriously, sweetheart, don’t read too much into it. It’s really just a nickname.”

Unsure of why you're so on edge and why his new pet name has irritated you so much, you stand. Even with the open window, the room suddenly felt really stuffy. You place your hands on your hips, only to cross them across your chest, then quickly uncross them again.

“That’s not what— It sounds like you’re taking pity on me. Like you think I’m weak and you need to baby me or some shit.”

Eddie’s now up on his feet too. He towers over you, one hand on your shoulder while the other cups your face, and for a split-second, you're a little calmer.

“You’re overreacting.”

You were a little calmer. Eddie’s attempt at dissolving the situation only made you feel worse and so you free yourself from his grasp and take a step back.

“Prove it.”

His brows string together. “What?”

“Prove it,” you repeat. “Kiss me.”

The silence is overbearing. You knew the request was idiotic, yet it’s like your mouth had a mind of its own and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled like coffee. Worst part was, you didn’t even feel bad for putting him in this awkward position.

“I-I… I'm not going to do that.” Eddie says eventually. “It’s been a really emotional day, an emotional week, and you’re in your head, which is understandable, so let’s just—”

“Don’t tell me how emotional it’s been, Eddie. I know how emotional it’s been,” you practically snap at him, frustration levels rising. “Downstairs, there is a room full of people acting differently towards me because of what happened. I-I can’t have you being one of ‘em, Eddie. I need you to treat me like you’ve always treated me.”

“And I am.”

He reaches out for you, but you pull back from his plea.

“No, you’re not.”

That must’ve been the breaking point for the metalhead because right in front of your eyes, his demeanour changes completely. As does his tone of voice.

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me ‘cause it’ll make you feel better or what’s the deal here? ‘Cause what I’m failing to understand is how is asking me to kiss you going to prove that I’m treatin’ you any different? We don’t— That’s not what we— Fuck!”

He sighs and runs a hand through his messy locks in frustration. That’s when you see it. A certain melancholy behind his chocolate-like gaze that you've only ever witnessed on a few rare occasions.

In retrospect, you should’ve stopped then. You should’ve said sorry and put this entire conversation to bed. You should’ve instead asked him to join you on the rooftop for a smoke or asked him to take a nap in your bed. You should’ve said literally anything else other than what you said next.

“So you don’t want to kiss me?”

Eddie clenches his jaw. Suddenly you feel like you're suffocating. The entire room is spinning, only Eddie is still and staring right through you. His soft expression hardened, almost displaying betrayal.

“Not like this.”

His voice is a mere whisper and for a brief moment you're not sure you even hear him correctly. You open your mouth, but no words come out. You're frozen. Dumbfounded.

The metalhead clears his throat. “I-I should go,” is all he says before walking out of the room and you force yourself to shake awake, hurrying after him.

“If not like this, then how?” You ask, but he ignores you, approaching the stairs. “Eddie, please.”

He stops. Eyes closing momentarily at the soft plea which just escaped your lips. He chewing on the inside of his cheek, debating what to do next 'cause either way, your relationship will never be the same.

“If not like this, then how?” You ask again, only softer, while closing the gap between you.

Eddie looks at you then. He scans every inch of your face as your hands hesitantly settle on his chest. He's sure you can feel his heart hammering, just as he can feel the unsteady beating of yours. And so he thinks how much he loves you and how he wanted to tell you that anyway in a few short weeks.

“Fuck it,” he mutters and dips his head lower, his lips crashing against yours in a yearning kiss.

He tastes like cigarettes and the mints he indulges in to try and cover up the tar on his breath — intoxicating. His hands cup your face, firmly pulling you in closer with every passing second, as his body pushes into yours, causing you to stumble backwards until you hit a random wall.

The kiss is fuelled by pent up tension, a desire you both shared but didn't want to admit in fear of ruining the best friendship you've ever had. It's a dance of fire and ice. Both of you are aching for even more, yet wanting nothing more at the same time. However, since that line was now crossed and there's no going back, Eddie gets braver and bites down your bottom lip and as you gasp against his mouth, he slides his tongue in with ease.

You feel elated as his tongue explores your mouth, hands squishing your face while your fingers tug at his shirt. The kiss is perfect. This moment is. He's perfect.

But then you think how you landed in this situation and a ping of guilt rushes through you. Shit.

Your fingers splay flat across his chest and you open your eyes, suddenly pushing him away. Eddie feels the pressure and breaks the kiss, pulling his head back slightly, gaze dropping from your eyes to where your hands are then back to your eyes.

You look panicked and his heart sinks.

He drops his hold on you and takes a step back. He opens his mouth to say that this is what you wanted but if he crossed a line than he's sorry, unfortunately he just doesn't get the chance. In the blink of an eye, you disappear back into your room, slamming the door shut.

December 1984

The sound of the car engine starting makes Eddie flinch.

He's holding onto the unopened letters completely speechless and his heart is aching because all he has ever wanted was to make you happy, yet instead he hurt you.

Deeply.

All because his feelings were hurt; thinking back to the kiss you shared.

A kiss that should have been heaven, and instead ended like hell. The feeling of your lips against his invades Eddie’s thoughts at the best and worst of times. And the image of you disappearing into your room without a word… that haunts his nightmares.

But at the end of the day, his love for you is ever present. If not stronger. Just because you pulled him in, then pushed him away twice as fast, that didn’t change how he feels.

He unfortunately had to be a prick about it. ‘Cause he has no self control, no self respect, and hurt people, hurt people.

So he debates running after you, following you home so the two of you could maybe finish this conversation on a better note. Yet, something within him is holding him back.

Your words, "I don't give a shit anymore", are ringing in his ears and the letters are heavy in his grasp. He glances down at them and chews on the inside of his cheek, shuffling through the stack as he wanders towards the couch to sit.

He’s not really sure what he’s expecting to find out. What he reads though, is deeply personal and the further down the stack he gets, the guiltier he feels.

With the letters still in his grasp, Eddie is back on his feet in a flash. He doesn't bother throwing on a jacket, in his mind there is no time 'cause you love him just as much as he loves you and he fucked it up.

He hastily reaches for the keys to his van and the scarf you left behind. Unfortunately, the stupid piece of shit car doesn't start and the rational part of Eddie's brain knows it's the icy conditions, the engine block probably froze over, however he also can't help but feel this is karma.

Jesus Christ, he runs a hand down his face and exhales. He is such a fucking idiot.

pearl masterlist | main masterlist

thank you for reading <3

[ladylooch]

We know lio is becoming a simp for sav. And David is going to be a simp for Mack.

Can we have something simp from David ? Anything domestic really.

-👢

Timeline wise, Mack and David are officially dating here.

Fast fingers type on the keyboard of Mack’s laptop as she continues to work on her in depth spotlight on the Nice region of France. She reminisces on her weeklong trip enjoying expensive glasses of French wine, eating gourmet meals with decadent desserts, and of course the incredible, turquoise waters off the coast.

“Fuck. Ow.” Her bubble of France pops like a Champagne cork.

Mack glances up, seeing David shaking his right hand before putting it back up to steady the dilapidated top rack of her dishwasher. At some point while Mack was gone, the rack fell off from the inside wall. Everything had been bent to shit after that and while Mack had submitted a maintenance request, they told her they wouldn’t be able to come out until next week. Mack had mentioned it in passing to David via text, annoyed with the prospect of a week's work of hand washing dishes. A half hour later, he showed up with some tools.

“You good, babe?” She asks.

“Yeah.” He answers with a heavy sigh. “This thing is melted to shit though, honey. I’m going to have to go get a new track and some wheels.” He slides out from the dishwasher, showing her what he is talking about. “It must have touched the heating element when it fell.”

“That seems like a fire hazard.”

“Yeah, you can see black marks in there. There probably was a little fire. But it was still running so there was water to put it out.” He tosses the collapsed parts to the side, then pulls his phone out. “Gotta do some research to figure out what size we need.”

“I don’t want you spending your day off fixing my dishwasher.” Mack shakes her head. He chuckles, tossing a hand over his knee as he looks up at her from the floor.

“You know I love doing stuff for ya.”

“Yeah, but I have a maintenance person for this. I want you to do things that no one else can do for me today.”

“And I will. After I get back from the hardware store.” He stands, walking around the island to kiss her lips. “You stay here and keep looking beautiful.” He tucks some of her hair back behind her ear. “You are stunning today. Missed you, hon.”

“Missed you too.” She murmurs back, then tugs his shirt down so he will kiss her again. He wraps an arm around her back, then nuzzles their noses together, before grabbing his jacket from the couch. He shrugs it back on as Mack watches with a cheek on her bent knee.

“I’ll grab some coffee for you when I’m out too. You want a sandwich too?” He must be thinking about her favorite coffee shop and deli combination a few blocks down from here.

“No. Just coffee.” She muses back, feeling deeply infatuated with this sweet, considerate man.

Mack knows David will be coming back with a sandwich for her anyway, just in case she changed her mind since he left.

[undercoverbisexualfrog]

Foot Clan Incorrect Quotes 3

Holy fuck it’s been a while since I made part 2

Anton: If I make you breakfast in bed, a simple "thank you" is all I need.  Anton: Not all this "how did you get into my house" business. 

Baxter: Goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out Xever's birthday invitations.  TC: Well, what are they supposed to say?  Baxter: "Xever's birthday".  TC: So, what do they say instead?  Baxter: "Xever’s bi".  TC: TC: Works out either way.

Anton: Capitalization is the difference between "I had to help my uncle Jack off a horse.." and "I had to help my uncle jack off a horse.." 

Anton: I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay right?" and watch the look of terror on their face.  Baxter:  Baxter: I like you. 

TC: Do you have a self-care routine?  Ivan: "Keep going bitch" said to myself in different accents.

Anton: Throw lamps at people who need to lighten up, and throw handles at someone who needs to get a grip!  Ivan: Throw a refrigerator at someone who needs to chill!  TC: Throw scissors at someone who needs to cut it out!  Chris: Throw a clock at someone who needs to get with the times!  Xever: Throw matches at someone who needs to get fired up!  Baxter: Throw a brick at someone to kill them. TC: Where is everyone?  Xever: Anton had a nervous collapse, Ivan is looking after them, Chris is trying to kill Baxter, so I’m in charge.  TC: Oh my god!  Xever: I know, right?

Chris: Baxter won’t wake up, what do I do?  Ivan: Did you try kicking them?  Chris: Yes.  Ivan: I’m out of ideas.

Ivan: How is the most beautiful person in the world?  Anton: *blushing* I—  Chris, butting into the conversation: Xever is perfect, thanks for asking.

Baxter: *Plays Slender: The Eight Pages*  *Jumpscare*  Baxter: *Jumps back* OH SHIT, IT'S A WHITE GUY!!!

Anton: This food is too hot... I cant eat it.  Ivan: You’re very hot, and I still eat you.  Everyone at the table: *silence*  Chris: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING!  Baxter: One dinner... I just want ONE DINNER! 

Anton: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Chris will and will not eat.  Ivan: Grass? Yes!  Anton: Moss? Yes!!  Ivan: Leaves? Ohh, yes!  Anton: Shoelaces? Strange but true!  Ivan: Worms? Sometimes!  Anton: Rocks? Usually nah.  Ivan: Twigs? Usually!  Anton: Baxter's cooking? Inconclusive!  TC: How did you… test this?  Anton: You just hand them stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if they eat it, they eat it.  TC: ... I don’t know how to feel about this.  Baxter: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

Ivan: I have the sharpest memory here - name one time I forgot something!  Chris: You left me, Xever, and Baxter in a Walmart parking lot at 2am a day ago.  Ivan: I did that on purpose, try again.

*The gang responding to being stabbed by a sword*  Chris: Rude.  Baxter: That's fair.  TC: Not again.  Ivan: Are you gonna want this back or can I keep it? 

TC: Today, Baxter took my phone, and in five minutes, they sent high resolution close-up photos of Chris to the following people: Xever, Ivan, Anton, the neighbors, the bank, my accountant, San Diego Blood Bank, and Shake Shack's text bot. 

TC: Do not come over to my house. If the house is on fire you may knock once, if I don’t answer assume I set the fire and I want to burn to death.

Chris: Talk dirty to me, baby~  Xever: The dishes.  Chris: Wh-  Xever: They’ve been there for 4 days and it’s your turn to wash them. You still haven’t cleaned them and I have asked you to do so several times.

TC: How the hell did you crash the car?!  Anton: So I was just driving today, right? And my navigation told me to go straight.  Anton: I was like "woah, that's homophobic". Instead, I went gay. And, THAT'S when I got into an accident.  TC: ...  Ivan, with a proud smile: And THAT'S who I'm in love with, ladies and gentlemen.  Xever: I warned you.  Xever: I'm perfect.

The gang's thoughts on stabbing*  Anton: Would never stab anyone.  Chris: Would stab someone in retaliation.  Baxter: Yells "I won't hesitate, bitch!" first.  Xever: Would stab without warning.  Ivan: Would stab as a warning.

TC: Time for plan G.  Xever: Don’t you mean plan B?  TC: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.  Anton: What about plan D?  TC: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.  Ivan: What about plan E?  TC: I’m hoping not to use it. Chris dies in plan E.  Baxter: I like plan E.

Anton: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like-  Anton, to Xever: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual.  Baxter, to Ivan: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire.  Chris: There are two types of people.

Xever: Baxter is not a morning person. Or a night person. There’s really only about seven minutes a day you are fun to be around.  Baxter: The best part is you never know when they’re coming.

Anton: What if Cinderella was a baking slave instead of a cleaning slave, and her name was Mozzarella?  Baxter: Don't ever speak to me again.

Chris: Do you ever think? Because I do not.

Baxter: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to TC and Chris’s convo?  Anton: Me. I'm in the laundry basket.  Xever: I'm in the washing machine.  Ivan: I'm in the closet.  Anton: We accept you Ivan. &lt;3  Ivan: No I'm literally in the closet.  Anton: Love is love. <3 

Ivan: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new gun.

Baxter: ARE YOU-  Xever: Fucking.  Baxter: KIDDING ME?! YOU-  Xever: Fucking.  Baxter: IDIOT!  Chris: …What was that?  Xever: TC banned Baxter from swearing, so I’m helping them out.

*Everyone is playing a board game together*  Chris: I will put 'A' down to make 'A'.  Ivan: I will add onto your 'A' to make 'AT'.  Xever: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT'.  Baxter: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC'.  TC: *flips the board*

Anton: Pros and cons of dating me.  Anton: Pros. You'll be the cute one.  Anton: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

[canofspooks]

DannyMay Day 20 (Nasty Burger)

Summary: Five years after the series takes place, Danny feels like his life is at a dead-end. Stuck in Amity Park, working at the Nasty Burger, while the rest of the world moves on without him.

Words: 937

Danny tossed his keys onto the counter and looked around at the dimly-lit apartment. Dirty dishes from the last couple of days were strewn around. Cleaning right after getting off of his last shift at the Nasty Burger wasn't exactly his idea of fun, but if he left it any longer he might get ants, and then he'd have a real problem.

Get changed first. Then dishes.

He trudged into his bedroom and worked the shirt of his uniform over his head. Then came his binder, which was less cooperative. He grunted and twisted around awkwardly until he was finally freed, then tossed the garments into the growing pile on his desk chair.

Home sweet home. Danny threw on an old t-shirt that hadn't been washed in days. Dishes first, then laundry. Or, dishes first, then sweeping, then - the list of chores went on. All he wanted to do was collapse onto the bed.

He indulged himself enough to flop onto the covers and stare at the ceiling until the nagging in his mind overtook his desire to stay still. He combed through the apartment, grabbing dirty dishes from odd places they'd stayed hidden for who knows how long. He grimaced, lifting a coffee cup off a copy of his resume he'd left laying out on his desk. A dark ring stained it, meaning he'd have to print it out again if he wanted to bother continuing his job search.

He couldn't keep working at the Nasty Burger forever.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Tucker.

Danny gritted his teeth into a fake smile to hopefully encourage any semblance of life to return to his voice as he picked up.

"Hey Tuck, how've things been?"

"Pretty alright. You've never been out of the country, right?" Tucker asked.

"... Weird question to lead with. Unless we're counting Phantom business, no. Why do you ask?"

Tucker made an excited squeal so loud, Danny had to pull the speaker away from his ear. "I got an interview with Lockheed! Or, I'm going to. They need to make sure I'm not associating with terrorists or whatever. They take their shit seriously. They're testing for drugs I didn't even know existed!"

"Wow, you're really going up in the world, huh? I'm happy for you, man." Danny moved away from the coffee-stained resume and dumped his dishes in the sink.

"Thanks. I just can't believe it's really happening. Right out of college, too. I can't believe my luck."

Danny idly began tidying up the room, throwing old pizza boxes in the trash and tossing laundry in a seldom-used hamper. The chair was an easier shot from his bed.

"It's not luck," he assured Tucker, trying and failing to toss loose pens into his desk drawer. "You're a smart guy. You're probably better qualified for the job than half of the people applying for it."

"I mean, you're right, but I'm trying to be humble here, Danny. Anyway, how's Amity? I heard it was a cold week."

"It's the same old, same old. Dash broke up with another chick and he's making it my problem every time he gets a lunch break." Coming in when he knew Danny was the only one on-shift, bugging him with small-talk, complaining about every little thing wrong with his order. Dash was far from the worst customer - even the former bully had some level of common human decency. The older folk, less so.

He'd find a new job eventually.

"Jeez, I don't know why you put up with Dash. With Phantom, you could fuck with him so hard."

"Yeah but then he's in a bad mood, and he takes it out on me."

Tucker sighed. "I'm not suggesting anything, but Phantom's a pretty good get-out-of-jail free card for most situations. Permanent solutions."

"Tuck." All the playfulness drained from his voice in an instant.

"Sorry, sorry. That was bad. Um, maybe you could move out here? I could always use a roommate. There's pretty good job opportunities out here."

Danny felt the weight of the last five years weighing on his body. He dragged the hamper over to his room and dumped the clothes from his chair into a messy pile… vaguely inside the hamper. That gave him enough room to sit and spin around in the chair until he could think of the words to say.

Please.

It would be so nice.

"You know I gotta say no. Amity needs Phantom."

The pauses between their responses were slow, and measured. Tucker tested the waters, more assertive than before. "Amity can figure itself out, alright? If there were enough ghost hunters there to mess with you when we were in highschool, then they can spend their time hunting the ghosts who actually matter."

"I can't-"

"- Think about it. All I'm saying is, the offer's out there. I miss hanging with you."

A sad smile pulled at the corners of Danny's lips. He wiped away a tear with his palm. "Talk to you later, Tuck. Thanks."

"Alright… call me if you need anything."

With a click, he hung up. Danny sank down into the chair and looked up at the ceiling.

Amity didn't need Danny Fenton anymore. Jazz, Sam, Tucker - everyone in his life who meant anything had moved on. Promised to keep in touch. Tried, he'd give them that. It was hard to keep in contact when the rest of the world was moving so fast and here he was, stuck for the last five years in a dead-end town because it needed Phantom more than anything he was worth on his own.

Maybe that would have to change.

[aristobun]

“ Starling, you home? " a voice calls through the open window in the kitchen, alerting her immediately as she rushes in.

" Sheldon? " she says, unsure it is him until she gets closer and recognises those all too familiar dark shades he’s wearing.

" Can I come in? " he asks, though nothing about his tone tells her that this is just a passing visit. Something sounds off.

" Of course you can, " she answers, drying her hands off on the towel after having washed all the dishes from breakfast.

Helene sets the towel back onto its little hook and walks over to the door, unbolting it and holding it wide open for him to enter the kitchen. She wasn’t going to ask him why he hopped the fence instead of using her front door because knowing the man as she did, he probably had a good enough reason.

" Can I get you a drink? Are you okay? " she asks, eyes set on the dark shades, bothered by the fact she can’t read him too well while they are covering his eyes, because that is usually where all of his emotions lie and are most readable.

" I’m fine.. but a drink would be good. You got that strong stuff I had last time? " he suggests, reaching a hand out as though he was going to collapse or stumble.

" I’d never toss it if I knew you might be back again, Shel, " she chuckles softly, feeling a sense of relief when he grins.

Helene was used to engaging in conversation with him when there was no barrier between them, so the sunglasses were very quickly becoming a bother. Biting her lip as she poured him a fairly generous glass of an aged tequila, she manages to ask him why he insists on wearing his shades indoors.

Sands takes the offered drink from her hands with a genuine smile and has a fairly large gulp of it before navigating around with his free hand for a moment to grip the tables edge. Given he was seated on a chair already without much trouble, she’s now beginning to wonder all the more what is going on.

" Sheldon? " is all she says, his name being the only question necessary in that moment to indicate she’s confused on top of feeling an overwhelming sense of concern.

Helene steps forward, coming away from the counter again, her own drink in her hand which was a simple glass of water given how she didn’t particularly want a hangover the next morning. Her brows furrow as she sits across from him, hand reaching out across the table to make a grab for his shades.

" I wouldn’t, Helene, " his voice stops her in her tracks before she can even start to slide them down his nose.

" Why not? " she asks, curiosity now piqued.

" ..trust me, " he offers, a slightly crooked smile given as he downs almost half the tequila with his next gulp. " I need a place to stay for a while. Would you be able to set me up? " his words silence her for a moment, but she soon nods.

" Yea, no problem.. but, Shel? What’s going on? " she insists on knowing far more information than he is willing to provide, but all her prying seems to do is cause irritation for him.

Sands finishing the remaining alcohol in his glass and stands from his chair, somehow completely stable on his feet even though it took him no more than 3 minutes tops to finish the drink she had given him. That, too, surprised her.

" Better to not ask questions you don’t want answers to, " the same old song he always sings leaves him, now irritating her as much as her questions had been bugging him.

Helene slams her hand down on the tabletop then, standing and coming around to where he is before reaching her hand up again, but this time with such speed that he can’t begin to stop her. Yanking down the shades away from his eyes, hers immediately widen in fear, the shock evident.

Looking at the damage, she wondered how long he had been walking around like that, hoping it wasn’t so recent that he’d decided to clean up any sign of it happening before actually making his way, somehow, to her house in one piece.

" Shel, what the fuck?! " she almost yells in her state of panic.

Sands grunts his response for now, bending and feeling for the dropped shades on the ground before placing them back where she snatched them from so the sight could no longer grace her with its presence.

" Another time, " he simply says, raising one hand as though to say he does not want to talk about it right now. " I’m tired. "

" Shel.. " she starts, only to silence what may come out of her mouth after that should it further annoy him. " I don’t know what happened, or why, but I’m sorry. "

" Yea, thanks, " he answers, no smartass smile following his short bursts of conversation anymore.

Helene notices the drop in both the atmosphere and his mood now she has discovered the secret he had tried to keep. There is a very crystal clear sign that she feels badly about pestering him, but she would rather know and help, than not.

" Come on, " she says, hand offered right in front of his own, which he senses immediately and so, grabs it with his gloved fingers so she is better able to direct him around the house. " I have a spare room and it’s only ever me here, so.. " she adds.

Sands follows her steps even as she holds onto his hand as a guide, his heightened sense of hearing allowing him to evade bumping into furniture or tripping on rugs as he listens to the sound of her footsteps in front of him.

" Helene? " he calls to her, softly, unsure.

" Yes, Shel? " she asks, stopping beside the bed of the spare room and waiting for him to finish, before she can help him map out the room before leaving him to sort himself out.

" Thank you— " he simply says, just a hint of those infamous smiles slipping through the broken cracks now.

Sands, while she is still holding onto his hand, keeps her close for a moment longer as his free hand raises and he finds her face. Though his palm is clad in leather, the gesture would be well received, because he knows those little things about her and was thankful that he did, especially now.

" You’re wel.. " she begins to say, only to be cut off by his lips directly invading hers, but the invasion she deduces does not bother her in the least, as she allows herself to kiss him back.

[whackmewithwhump]

completely unwhump related vent under the cut I just need to write this out to process and if you have suggestions or advice it would be welcome

okay so for the past couple of years I’ve been helping out an elderly woman (mid 80s) who lives across my street. it started with about an hour around dinner time every day— lifting heavy pots, washing dishes, doing trips up and down stairs for her to grab her things. she paid me minimum wage for my time, and it was honestly lovely. she’s eccentric, and has a lot of particularities but she liked me and it was a nice lil change of pace and change of scenery.

during this time I was really struggling with my chronic illness. I was losing weight rapidly, wasn’t diagnosed, wasn’t treated, and getting weaker but I liked helping her, partially cause again, it was nice to get out of the house (this is during Covid) it was nice to have a friend when I was so limited due to my own illness, it was nice to help her, and selfishly speaking, it was nice to feel like I was still contributing. It felt good to make a little money and help someone when otherwise I was really struggling feeling useless. my friends had all just graduated and were getting grown up jobs, or moving out, or pursuing further education but my life was on hold. but helping her gave me some purpose.

flash forward and she fires the PSW she had for a while. tbf she was a bitch, and deserved to be fired. however, due to her eccentricities and sensitivities she rejected all other PSW candidates and asked if I could also take on the role of cleaning her entire house every other week, helping her with groceries the weeks I wasn’t cleaning, and doing her laundry. it was a lot for me, but I decided to do it, cause she didn’t have anyone else, and I could make a little more money.

over the years I have had I think three near fainting incidents at her house. two were resolved I think by my mom coming over and bringing me juice, but one ended up with collapsing on my neighbour’s lawn, my dad having to drive a van over (even though our house is about 30feet away) and carry me into the van to get me home, and when it couldn’t be resolved ended in a hospital trip. I’ve also gone in so much pain that I went to help her and then afterwards went to the ER, where even IV morphine didn’t touch my pain. but I still prioritized seeing her before receiving care. (this is not me trying to make a hero of myself, this is not healthy behaviour on my part, I really need to set boundaries and take care of myself, this is not cool and cute of me it is a problem). I’ve also been in the hospital and not told her and gone straight to her place afterwards. If I make a commitment to someone or something, I just take it pretty seriously even when sometimes I should deviate from it.

Fortunately, my health is finally improving but I am not back to 100%. My recovery time is faster after doing activities, I’ve been getting out more, I’m starting to have a little bit of a life again, but I still definitely have limits.

Recently she injured her leg. We don’t know how, but it’s been pretty bad. And suddenly I am at her beck and call. I’ve been over there morning noon and night, helping her up and down stairs, on and off the toilet, doing meals for her, cleaning, transferring, the list goes on. I am on my feet a lot of the day, visits that are supposed to be brief go on and on. I really really struggle with standing still for very long, more than walking, and much of what I’m doing there involves standing for long periods of time. Because she wants me over there so often and every single day, I don’t have any recovery time so everything is just compounding. I am in so much pain myself, and I am exhausted.

Today my mom came over because I have a hard time advocating for myself and we chatted with her and kinda explained that the current increase is hard for me, and she’s not receiving it the best. The manipulation has suddenly been turned on and it’s like— she’s telling me that I’m tired because of my physio and I shouldn’t do so much physio, and I just need better shoes, or I’m in pain because of the floors at MY house, or blah blah blah— she also thinks I shouldn’t go back to school in the fall cause I’m not healthy enough, which frankly isn’t her business— she can be concerned, sure, but obviously there is an ulterior motive. She wants me around for another year to take care of her. She also suggested that I stop doing things that are too fun because I might get overexcited and wear myself out. LADY. I am 23. My early 20s so far have consisted of trying not to die of starvation and taking care of an elderly woman, and now that I’m finally feeling a bit better I just want to literally go for walks and look at animals and volunteer at the wildlife rescue. I’m not even gonna stop helping her, I just can’t be her full time caregiver. Because I’m 23. I’m not related to her. I’m not qualified to give the care she needs. I’m not healthy enough.

She also whipped out the “I think it would be easier if I wasn’t around” and it’s like, ughh, let’s not talk like that. I genuinely do love her. I often half joke that my best friend is an 86 year old, and she really has become one of my best friends. This injury though which is only like a week or so old has just put way too much pressure on me. Ive never had any tension with her until now, or really even any frustration. I know she’s scared, and I know I’ve become one of her safe people, but physically and mentally I can’t do this much for her. I feel so trapped, and I know she’s manipulating me a bit but it is kinda working because the issue is I do like her outside of this new incident. Because I care about her even though I know she’s being kinda slimy, it still makes me feel bad. She does genuinely need help it just can’t be from me to the degree that it is.

And even though she wants me to not return to school she’s gonna be in for a rude awakening when I do. plus my family just wants to yell at me for being too much of a pussy to stand up for myself bruh idk but my health is already taking steps back and I can’t do this shit anymore but she just can’t get it through her head

[greenorangevioletgrass]

Rooster × actress!reader blurb week!!!!! I'm *very* interested in the blurb that goes with the Bruce Springsteen song (my dad and I love blasting Springsteen in the car) - previously not into rooster anon

aaah thank you guys so much!! this song is such a classic, and i would like to apologize in advance for bringing you Angst, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! ALSO! @shipping-not-sailing basically co-wrote this, she has a brilliant mind and the day she starts posting her fics will be the day y'all DIE an epic death <333

warnings: language, an argument, angst, allusions to trauma & trigger response, hurt/comfort, but they're fine i promise!!!

***

The first time you and Rooster fight (and really fight), he’s terrified it was the end.

He doesn’t even remember how it started. He’s had a bad day at work (a minor mistake that cost him an earful from his commanding officer), and now he’s getting another earful from you about slamming doors or stomping through the house or… something. The words are coming through, and he knows you’re right, but his head is pounding and his hands are going numb from the way he clenches and unclenches and he can’t take it anymore—

“Look. I hear you, okay? But you didn’t have to talk to me like I’m a child. A normal conversation would’ve been nice. Fuck knows I could use some of that today.”

The words aren’t cruel or threatening. Neither is the tone of his voice. But maybe it’s the way he grits it out through his teeth, or the way his muscular frame looms over you, imposing on your space in his little kitchen.

Or maybe it’s just the fact he looks so… angry.

It all happens so fast. The way you flinch back. Your shoulders tensing up. The flash of terror in your eyes.

Fuck.

“Sweetheart, I—”

You back away before he can touch your arms, hands tremulous —fearful, almost. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. It was my fault,” you recede, moving away to the other side of the counter.

It doesn’t make any sense to him. One minute, you were dead sure that you were right, and then suddenly, you’re withdrawing from his touch and scurrying away from him so desperately. What has he done?

“I gotta, uh…” you look away, avoiding his gaze at all costs. “Dinner’s in the fridge. I’m going to bed.”

You turn on your heels, padding quietly upstairs while he stands frozen.

Every forkful of his dinner, delicious as you might’ve made it, feels like swallowing a boulder, and he has to constantly remind himself that he needs to eat, and you need to be alone for a moment. Both of you need time to cool off. So he finishes his meal and washes the dishes, wipes the counter, although every second feels like his reality is crumbling apart.

He survives an agonizing 22 minutes before he decides to climb up the stairs. The wood under his shoes creaks a little, and it grates in his ears over the quiet hallway.

The door is closed and he knocks. Softly. One, two. No answer. He knocks again. Once. He prays you don’t lock him out, because he might just collapse then and there. His knuckles grip the handle until they turn white, and when he turns it…

A sigh of relief as it gives and opens.

And there you are, curled up under the covers, wide awake, barely glancing as he walks through the threshold. As he makes his way over, and sits on the edge of the bed. He really shouldn’t be surprised to see your face tear-stained, your eyes distant, but it crushes him anyway.

“I fucked up, didn’t I.”

It doesn’t sound like a question, and you don’t make a peep to answer. Then again, your non-answer is an answer enough, no?

“I’m sorry.” He places a hand on the bend of your knee, over the sheets. Soft. Pleading. “I had a bad day, and that’s still not an excuse. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

You turn away upon hearing the crack in his voice, a sorry attempt to hide your tears. As if that’s still even possible.

His heart aches, but he offers it anyway. “Do you want me to take the couch tonight?” Please don’t make me go. 

You pause for a moment, oh god she actually wants me to, before you eventually shake your head. He doesn’t know what’s worse; sleeping on the couch, or in the same bed knowing you hesitated before letting him in.

“Go shower and come to bed. It’s been a long day.”

He doesn’t know if it’s meant for you or him, or both, but your hand rests over his for a moment, soft and gentle and familiar, and he relishes in what little he can get.

There’s no time to waste. He gets out of his uniform as soon as the bathroom door clicks closed behind him, wasting no time lathering and rinsing and drying and dressing himself. As if afraid you’ll change your mind.

When he emerges from the bathroom, though, he is surprised to find you sitting up against the headboard, knees brought up to your chest. A little frown etched between your brows, the million thoughts visibly running through your head.

“Hey.” he smiles a little, slipping into his side of the bed. Close enough, while giving you as much space as you need. As much space as he can.

You straighten up, bracing yourself to speak your mind. “I am sorry, too.”

“Sweetheart, it’s not your fault—”

“No, listen to me.” you take his hand, firmly this time. “I’ve been in… certain situations that has fucked me up and,” you clear your throat, feeling it catch as memories come rushing in, “...made me react this way. It’s an issue, I’m aware of that, and I’m working on it. And I’m sorry I rattled you.”

He stares at you, silent. Confused. Upset. Not at you, but on behalf of you. For the first time since he’s known you, he sees you breaking at the cracks, trying so hard to keep it together. When you don’t have to. Not with him.

Not when he’s hanging on by a thread as it is.

“We’re gonna work through it together, alright? You don’t have to do it alone.” He kisses your knuckles, holding it like his life depends on it (it does.)

Your face crumbles, and tears come melting down your cheeks again. “I’m so tired…”

And in this exact moment, he breaks down, too. Please don’t end this I love you so much don’t make me go…

“Can we just go to sleep?” you whisper quietly, and he breathes again. Snagged and ragged and aching, but he’s breathing. “We’ll work through it tomorrow, but right now, just— please?”

“Of course, sweetheart…” he wipes your wet cheeks with his thumbs, nevermind that his own vision is blurred with his own tears. “C’mere. I got you.”

It’s almost… strange now, to feel you melt into his arms again. He keeps replaying the way you tense up when he reaches out to you. Thinking about what had happened to you, and who did it to you, and how could they get away with doing such an awful thing to someone as tough and intelligent and kind as you.

And that now, he’s added himself into the list of people who hurt you.

“Try to sleep, okay?” you gaze up at him, cupping his face with one hand. Mirroring his gesture earlier, thumbing away the trails of tears absently. Kissing his cheek and burying your face in his chest, the way you always sleep when you’re with him. “I love you.”

With his arm wrapped around you, nose buried in your hair, he eventually falls asleep as he replays this gentle reminder in his head over and over.

We still have tomorrow.

[barbiewritesstuff]

Church Encounters: Chapter 14

-- Ayy we're back down to normal chapter sizes!! Let's see how long that lasts lol.

This fic was written in collagoration with @lgg5989 who will be posting this on her tumblr and her AO3. She also made the lively moodboard below!

Comment and reblogs are super appreciated!! Also we are open for blurb requests!!

Previous chapter

Taglist: @acarboni21 @unsurebuttrying @dempy @peaches-1998 @bbooks-and-teas @roosterscock @positivelyholland --

Jake let out a sigh, “I don’t know about this one either.” 

You had to agree with him, while the house was beautiful, it was nothing compared to the hardwood floors and beautiful porch of the house you had seen a month ago. The one you had been outbid on. With heavy hearts the two of you had kept looking, but nothing you found had the beautiful front garden and the perfect porch, let alone the windows for each bedroom. 

“Maybe we can go look at another?” you asked him, taking his hand in yours as the realtor showed you out. 

Jake shook his head, looking down at his phone, “The team wants to get together tonight, and we are a little further from base than usual. We should probably get heading back or we won't have time for dinner beforehand.” 

Looking down at your watch to check the time, you agreed with him, it was already six and your stomach was starting to feel rather empty, “Let’s go back to my place then, I bought the ingredients to make that pasta dish you like, with the spicy sauce.” 

Jake grinned at you, “That sounds delicious, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, but I wanted to,” you said. The last few weeks had been long, looking at houses after training and hops left little time to spend together, with friends, or for sleeping. You and Jake were thoroughly worn out, and every moment you could find to spend together and relax you were going to take. 

Climbing up into the truck, you settled into the seat and laid your head back against the headrest. The afternoon sun was settled over your lap and it was working to make you sleepy. As Jake drove towards the highway, his hand settled on your jean clad thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles on top of the fabric. 

“Why don’t you nap?” he asked, “I’ll wake you up when we get home.” 

Giving him a sleepy smile you said, “I will, under the condition that you take one while I’m cooking or we will both be tired tonight.” 

“We will see,” Jake shot back, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. You knew that he wouldn’t nap, but you hoped that maybe you could convince him to. 

The last time you were at Penny’s she gave Jake an earful over his handling of the situation with you and Dylan but he was slowly working his way back to being her favourite patron. 

Your eyes drifted closed, your hand settling over Jake’s on your leg, and soon you were asleep, your head resting gently against the window. 

—

Jake gently woke you up when you arrived home, and you led the way inside. He collapsed on your couch, turning on the TV, “Do you need any help baby?”

“No, I’ve got it. You just take a nap,” you called back, washing your hands at the sink before pulling out ingredients for the cajun pasta. 

As you moved around the kitchen, pulling a pot and a beat up skillet out of the cupboards you heard the sound of something drop to the floor. Quickly stepping into the living room, you found the remote control on the floor, having fallen from Jake’s sleeping grip. Smiling to yourself, you returned to your cooking. 

You put the pasta on the hob, letting it boil until cooked to your liking. Sticking a lid on top of the pot, you moved onto the chicken. So as not to wake Jake up, you cut the breasts to guarantee even thickness instead of pounding them like you usually would. You generously seasoned the meat before oiling up the skillet and searing the chicken. Turning down the heat, you busied yourself with setting the table. 

Once done, you cut up the chicken breasts into strips and placed them under a cover to keep warm. Using the same skillet, you sautéed the garlic in butter, adding diced tomatoes once ready. To finish off, you added cream, some more seasoning and some parmesan cheese. Bringing the sauce to a simmer one more time, you added the pasta and divided it into two bowls and some food prep containers. Until you and Jake were married, or at the very least living together, you didn’t trust him to be eating well on his own. 

You woke Jake up by gently shaking his shoulder and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He groaned and grumbled, but swung his legs off of the sofa and groggily made his way to the table. Before handing him his bowl, you topped it all with one diced chicken breast. Jake, apparently famished by the house hunting, demolished his plate in ten seconds flat, going in for thirds before you had even finished your first serving. 

“I think I need a shower,” Jake said when you both finished tidying away the dishes and wiping the surfaces, “Do you mind?” he asked. 

You shook your head, too engrossed in scrubbing away a stain ingrained into your kitchen counter. Since you and Jake had gotten engaged and had started to look for houses, you had grown more paranoid about the state of your apartment. You had made a note of every dink in the wall, cracked paint job and every bump or broken item when you first moved in, eager to retrieve your deposit once you moved out. In that spirit, you spent the last three weeks repainting, cleaning, scrubbing and brushing various parts of your home.

Jake chuckled as he brushed past you, stopping just long enough to hug you from behind and kiss your cheek. 

By the time the stain had been vanquished, Jake had come out of the shower, dressed and shaved. He poured himself a generous cup of coffee and finished the job of cleaning up the kitchen while you got ready, changing from your jeans and tshirt into a pink maxi dress and sandals, and applying a thin coat of tinted lip gloss. 

“Shall we?” you asked, Jake stood up from the sofa, downing the rest of his coffee in one go. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, sounding tired.

Looking him over you decided to offer him an out, “Jake, we don’t have to go,” you assured him.

“No, I know, but I miss the guys and I need to do something other than work and inspect unsafe staircase bannisters, you know?” he smiled, “I’ll be okay. Maybe you can drive though?”

He handed you the keys to his truck, dangling them in front of you with a sleepy, playful smile. You drove to the Hard Deck where Jake immediately ordered a coffee, a redbull and three packs of sugar and proceeded to mix them all together under the horrified gaze of all patrons except Coyote.

Rooster sided up to the two of you, “House hunting not going well?” he asked, grimacing as he watched Jake mix the dark contents of the mug together. 

“What? We used to do that before exams at the academy. It doesn’t even taste that bad,” Jake tried to justify, taking a big breath and downing it all as fast as he could. Then, he turned back to Penny and ordered you a Sex On The Beach and a Vodka Redbull for himself. 

“Hopefully you’ll still be alive to buy that house,” Rooster said, eyeing Jake as he downed the Vodka Redbull before ordering a beer. 

Jake let out a laugh, “I’ll be fine, nothing I haven’t handled before.” 

Rooster raised an eyebrow at him without saying anything, he glanced at you before glancing back at Jake. You read the look in his eyes and knew that he needed to talk to Jake about something, probably your sister. Annie had been texting you about him and she was on the fence about taking the next step and trying to make long distance work. 

You politely excused yourself from the bar, pulling Coyote with you, “Let’s start a game of pool before everyone else gets here,” you suggested to him. 

When you left, Rooster took your seat at the busy bar. Coyote racked the balls and you broke them. Every now and then glancing over to the conversation happening between Jake and Rooster. 

—

Jake looked over to Rooster, the look on his face showing more of his emotions than the man probably wanted, “Be careful around her, she’s perceptive.” 

“Yeah, that was a little scary. She just read me like an open book,” Rooster replied. 

Jake let out a full belly laugh, when he was done he replied, “But that’s why I love her.” 

Rooster nodded, “I need some advice.” 

“What’s up?” Jake asked him, taking a sip of his beer to clear the over sweet taste of sugar from his mouth. 

Bradley sighed before speaking, “It’s this thing with Annie. We have been texting back and forth but she doesn't want to commit to anything and I just, I’m not sure what to do.” 

Jake looked at him for a minute while he thought, “Well, I do have some insight into the family, but I don’t want you to use it against them.” 

“I’m not here trying to get a quick fuck Jake, if I was, I would be picking up any one of these girls in this bar,” Bradley said, sounding a bit frustrated, “I really like her. I just don’t know what I need to do to get her to trust me.” 

“Have you asked her?” he suggested. 

“Well, no,” Bradley said, lamely, taking a sip of his own beer. 

“I’ll tell you some of what I know, but you just need to talk to her. Annie is no bullshit, she will tell it to you how it is,” Jake said, thinking back on the times she called him on his bullshit in the months leading up to his proposal. 

Bradley nodded, looking at him expectantly. 

Jake sighed, “They’re very religious, man. She wants a man who can commit to that not only for her but for their family.” 

“Yeah,” Bradley said, looking a little lost, “I’m christian, well I used to be, still am in some ways, it’s just complicated.” 

Jake looked him over, “If you can figure that out, I think she will give you a chance, but you have to prove to her that you’re worth it. From what Y/n has told me, Annie has been hurt in the past. She took the brunt of their mother’s burdens after their dad died and she’s had a few shitty relationships. She needs a rock. If you aren’t willing to be that for her, then I’m not sure she’s going to give you the time of day.” 

“Okay,” Bradley said, nodding along with Jake’s words. 

At that moment, Bob took the seat on the other side of Jake, “A water for me please Penny.” 

Jake nodded at him, “Bobby, how are you-” 

“Bobby?” Rooster asked, sounding confused. 

Bob looked at him past Jake, realisation dawning on his face, “Oh shit, he doesn’t know, does he?”

Jake laughed, “Well Bradshaw, you’re just finding out all kinds of information tonight, Bob and I are friends.” 

Bob nodded, “I was even invited to Christmas,” he said proudly. 

“You’re also dating my sister, but that’s another story,” Jake said with a small chuckle. 

Bob gave him a false offended look, “Would you really rather it be anyone else?” 

“I mean no, but I’m going to have to really do some mental blocking when the two of you get married,” Jake said with a grimace, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Bob, when did you get a girl?” Rooster asked, sounding even more confused than before.

“Just after family day,” Bob replied, “I took her on, and I quote, ‘the cutest date of her life’,” he explained, taking a sip of his water with a smile on his face.

“Bobby, I love you man, but you better be fucking waiting for marriage,” Jake said, trying to keep a straight face. The two men burst into laughter, glancing over at Rooster.  

“You mean Coyote wasn’t just joking at your promotion?” Bradley repeated, sounding astonished that Jake could keep it in his pants. 

Jake and Bob laughed harder at the look on his face. When they had finally caught their breath, Jake explained, “Yeah, my family, and Y/n’s, we’re fairly religious. You’re supposed to save it for marriage ya’ know.” 

Rooster snorted, “I see you dropped the ball on that.” 

“Well, we can’t all be perfect,” Bob cut in, trying to take the spotlight off Jake. 

“So Annie–” Rooster started. 

“I won’t speak for Annie,” Jake cut him off a little more gruffly than he meant to. 

Rooster nodded, looking down into his beer glass, a thoughtful look on his face. Before Jake could break the silence that had settled around them, his phone rang out from his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that it was the realtor. 

“I’ve got to take this,” he said, getting up from the bar and walking outside.

—

“So, you and Hangman… How long have you been buddies?” Rooster asked, turning his glass on the coaster.

“I mean, we were civil by the end of the uranium mission but we only started hanging out, like, properly when I joined the church, so about…two years ago? Maybe a little more? We lived together for a while last year when I was between leases,” Bob explained.

“And you never told us?” Rooster said, confused.

“Look, I tend to keep shit quiet about my church involvement. What I do on Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays is no one else’s business, really,” Bob said, staring at his water. 

“I’m not saying that as an attack on your church involvement, dude,” Rooster replied defensively, “I’m confused is all. One day you guys are cold as ice towards each other, now you’re friends and I’m just finding out y’all were best friends all along. I’m starting to feel like I don’t really know you,” he added.

“I’m sorry. I don’t love talking about it,” Bob said, growing quiet and more reserved. He was usually a pretty open person, happy to chat and laugh with anyone interested enough to try and break through the shy interior. The only subject he had trouble with was his religion, having kept it secret for so long that talking about it felt a little like signing a death certificate. Still, Rooster was a friend. He was looking for an answer Bob might know. He took a deep breath in, “My dad’s shit. He’s church of England, and I am not, so keeping it secret is kind of just survival.”

“I’m sorry,” Rooster said quietly.

“What was the advice you needed, I might be able to help. I know Annie too,” Bob said, “Not very well, mind you, but I know who had a hand in raising her. That’s gotta count for something.”

“Well, I got my advice. I just -- I don’t know how I can work on the execution,” Rooster sighed, stretching his arms upwards and crumpling back into a crouch as he leaned against the bar.

“What’s the problem? Like, the whole problem, not the ‘it’s complicated’ stuff you told Jake,” Bob asked. 

“Wow, I’ve never seen you this…” Rooster thought for a moment. Bob’s entire demeanour had changed. He stood tall in front of him, appearing more confident, more self-assured. Rooster had never heard Bob talk with this much authority. He tried to find the right word but when he couldn’t he just stayed quiet for a moment.

“My dad was religious. I was too for a while, and then as I got older, I started getting angrier and angrier at God. I mean He’s this being of immense power and knowledge. He could have saved my dad,” Rooster said, growing angrier by the word, “But he didn’t. He let my dad fucking die. And He let me and my mum pick up the fucking pieces. He let us live with the gaping hole of pain that now permanently follows me around. The dad-shaped hole in all of my fucking experiences,” he continued. Bradley breathed in deeply a few times, “I’m not sure I stopped believing. If I stop, then there’s no Heaven, and if there’s no heaven, it means my dad is just dead in the ground in a military cemetary in California,” he paused

“But I don’t think I can forgive. And I sure as fuck cannot worship,” Rooster said, tipping the bottom of his beer back into his mouth and swallowing. He raised a finger at Penny, five minutes later, she slid a full pint of beer in front of him. Rooster picked up the glass, tapping Bob on the shoulder before leaving to find an empty booth somewhere private. 

“You’re not going to talk?” Bradley asked when Bob stayed silent.

“I’m thinking,” Bob replied, “You should talk to Cyclone. He’d do this better than me,” he sighed before steeling himself and adding, “I’m not going to ask you to ‘forgive God’. I’m not even going to try and ask you to talk to Him, because clearly you’re not interested. But, I am going to ask you this: are you mad at the Lord because you want someone to blame, or are you mad because you think He’s responsible?”

“What’s the fucking difference?” Rooster spat out.

“Do you believe your father was killed by God, or are you still grieving and trying to find a way to use up the feelings without working through them?” Bob clarified.

Rooster let out an angry laugh, “What are you, my shrink?”

“Did I strike a nerve?” Bob asked, “Because I’ll tell you what I think it is. I think you’re blaming the Lord because you don’t want to think it is that easy to die. You want to think that somehow, somewhere, the Good Lord made a mistake and your dad died. The Good Lord doesn’t make mistakes,” Rooster opened his mouth and Bob raised up a hand, “The Good Lord doesn’t make mistakes, people do. We do every day, we put the wrong shoes on the right feet, we turn left instead of right. We call kids by the wrong name, we write the wrong date on checks. We forget rent, our wallets, our keys. We press on the gas pedal instead of the break, we drive sixty in a thirty, we do drugs, we drink alcohol. We make mistakes. A million every day. At some point, a mistake was made and your dad died. And I am sorry,” Bob continued, 

“I am sorry that it happened to you and I get what you’re feeling. I do. I understand the feeling of paralysing pain, of agony. But it is not the Lord’s fault. The Lord has opened the gates of Heaven to your father, not out of guilt or shame. He has done it because your father lived an honourable life. He was a good man,” Bob kept talking, “Rooster, I don’t want to talk out of my ass here, but your dad was religious, he believed in the Goodness of the Lord. He is standing there with Him, looking down at you, looking over everything you do. Do you think he blames the Lord?”

“No,” Rooster answered quietly.

“I think you blame the Lord because it’s safe. Because He understands your pain and He will forgive you for everything you have thrown at him. But I don’t think that’s necessarily a good thing. I think it’s easy to get used to that. You can’t blame the Lord forever, you can’t pick the easy route for the rest of your life. At some point, you’ll have to work through those feelings, may as well be now,” Bob finished in a gentler voice. 

Rooster stayed quiet for a few moments, contemplating what Bob had told him.

"Rooster, God didn't stop my dad from putting me through a fucking window at Christmas. I could be mad at Him for that, or I could forgive and move on. I've picked moving on. It doesn't mean I trust my dad, or that I like him, it just means that I don't have to live with the pain of it all. Being mad at the Lord isn't going to change things much, it'll just make me miserable. It'll just remove my most important support system," Bob said, "I'm not trying to force you into anything, but, if you ever want anyone to talk to about that kind of stuff, you know who you can come to," he added. 

Bob stood up from the booth and walked up to the bar, leaving Rooster to finish his drink by himself.

—

“Hello?” Jake said into the phone, slipping his sunglasses on to block his eyes from the evening sun. 

“Lieutenant Commander Seresin, I have some good news for you,” the cheery voice of the realtor said. 

“What’s that?” he asked her, rubbing his hand over his face, there was no way he was looking at another house today no matter how perfect she said it was. 

“Well the house that you and Miss Y/LN put an offer on is available again. Since you two had the next highest offer, the owner is wanting to accept it if you are still committed to it, that is,” she said, her voice questioning. 

“Absolutely, we will sign the paperwork today if that is necessary,” Jake rushed out. You were going to be so excited. 

She let out a small laugh, “I don’t think that will be necessary, but I will let them know and we will be in touch again on Monday to start the paperwork process.”

“That sounds great, thank you so much,” Jake said, ending the call and rushing back into the bar. 

“We got the house!” he shouted, looking for you at the pool table. You looked at him with your jaw dropped, “Are you serious?” 

“As a heart attack,” he said, excitedly. 

Jake laughed as you dropped your pool cue and rushed across the bar, jumping into his arms. He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug and spun you around. Pressing a kiss to the side of your face he whispered in your ear, “They’ll have the paperwork ready Monday.”

He heard you let out an excited squeal before he placed you back down on your feet. He guided you back to the bar, buying another round in celebration. 

—

Since Jake got the call that you had the winning bid on the house, things had been moving very quickly. You had signed the papers for the house, it was inspected, the mortgage company agreed to loan you the money and then, it was yours. The day that you and Jake got the keys, the two of you drove there together after work.

Jake held your hand as you walked up to the door, slotting the key into the lock, you turned your wrist, hearing the flick as the deadbolt turned open. You reached for the handle, but before you could reach it, you felt Jake’s hand on the back of your knees. Jake suddenly picked you up, bridal style, and you let out a small shriek, “Jake!” 

You could feel him laughing against you, “What baby? I thought I was supposed to carry you over the threshold?”

Now laughing with him, you smacked his chest lightly, “You know that’s only on the wedding day, Jacob Seresin.” 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before using a hand to open the door. He walked through it with you cradled in his arms, placing you on the ground only once he had shut the door behind him. 

Letting out an excited squeal, you ran a little further into the house, hearing Jake laugh behind you, “I’m sorry I’m just so excited! Can you believe we got it?” you asked him. 

“I can’t baby, but I’m glad that we did, gotta make sure we thank the Lord come Sunday,” he said, his voice a little lower as he came up behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

The house was perfect, and it came at the perfect time, your lease was about to end, and Jake had been living month to month for the last few months while the two of you had been looking. 

That first night, you helped Jake move his stuff into the house, the earlier he got out of his apartment the better. Eventually Rooster and Bob showed up to help and after only making a few trips to his apartment and back, all of his stuff was at least at the new house. He took your back to your apartment late that night, giving you a kiss on the doorstep before leaving to go home. You were sad that you couldn’t stay there with him that night, but Catholic couples did not sleep in the same bed before the wedding, and you didn’t want to tempt yourself into something you or Jake couldn’t resist. 

The next morning started early, which you were not a fan of, but the excitement of moving into your new house made things a little easier. After three cups of coffee, and a shower you invited Jake over. He arrived wearing one of the work out shirts you got him at Christmas and a pair of basketball shorts. 

“I like that shirt,” you said as you opened the door, “Whoever bought it for you must have really good taste.” 

Jake laughed, “My amazing fiance got it for me, she’s wonderful,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips as he made his way inside. 

“It’s not our usual affair this morning, but I did try and whip something up,” you said, making your way into the kitchen. The yoghurt parfaits were the best that you could do with all of your cooking utensils packed away. You had thrown the rest of the fruit you had in the fridge on top of some blueberry yoghurt and some granola that had been in the pantry. 

Jake took a seat at the table, moving the box that was resting on top of the table to the floor, he accepted a parfait from you, “Thanks baby, we could have just gotten some McDonald’s you know?”

“Jacob Seresin, when we are married you are going to be able to get out of the gym with all of the healthy food I’ll be feeding you,” you said, taking the seat next to him. 

He let out a laugh, “I don’t know darlin’, your cooking is the best I’ve ever tasted, I might just eat more of it.” 

You just glared at him before scooping up some of the yoghurt on your spoon and taking a bite. While Jake’s belongings could be moved all in one night, the same could not be said for you. You had more furniture and more just general belongings than he did which meant more boxes. The two of you were going to have to have a yard sale once the move was over to try and sell off some of the duplicates that you now possessed. 

Your move had taken the whole day, and by the time you were done, you didn’t feel like doing anything but going to bed. Jake called in a pizza to be delivered and the two of you ate it sitting on the floor in your living room, watching the TV that was plugged into the wall but not yet on its stand. When the exhaustion overtook you, you laid down, your head resting in Jake’s lap. Soon you were asleep, the last thing you remembered was Jake manoeuvring himself out from under you and placing you gently on the couch. 

—

On Sunday, after mass, the team had come over and helped to move most of the bigger furniture to its rightful places. What would be your and Jake’s room had his large king sized bed in it and the guest bedroom was set up with your smaller full size bed. Over the next week, you and Jake had been slowly unpacking box after box until the house started to resemble a home. 

You brought in the last boxes of the night from the garage, bidding goodnight to everyone but Bob as you tidied the last bits. Eventually, the three of you settled on the couch with beers and sodas. Suddenly the doorbell rang, the sound echoing through the still mostly empty house. Jake stood up with a grin and went to open the door, returning a few minutes later with a large cardboard box. 

“We got a delivery,” he said.

“Who’s it from?” you asked, confused as to who would send you something so soon after moving. 

“Us,” Maria replied, jumping from behind Jake. You stood up to greet her, but Bob got there before you, engulfing Maria in a bone breaking hug that she happily returned, “Sorry for the surprise, but Jake thought it would be fun,” she explained, hugging you tightly.

“I just wanted to see your reactions,” Jake defended himself, “Mainly Bob’s though,” he added, shooting his friend a wink.

“Did I disappoint?” Bob asked with a grin, sitting down on the couch and pulling Maria next to him, raising an arm so she could cuddle close.

“Are you guys not going to open the box?” Maria asked, giggling when both you and Jake suddenly remembered the entire point of the charade. 

Jake fetched a knife from one of the boxes in the kitchen, handing it to you so you could cut through the duck tape in one smooth motion. You opened up the package and gasped as you saw the content. Before Jake could reach you, you pulled out the quilt, the end catching on the box and making it fall with an empty thud onto the hardwood floor.  It was huge, definitely big enough for Jake’s King sized bed. 

“Did Nonna make that?” Jake asked incredulously, looking at the intricate details his grandmother had delicately sewn onto the quilt. Each square was filled with hearts large and small, the blue, tan, and white fabrics were the exact colours that you had picked for the wedding. She had quilted it free hand, and the pattern that flowed across the surface was also filled with small heart shapes all touching together. The detail was exquisite and you couldn’t believe that something so beautiful had been made in only a few months. 

“Uh huh,” Maria agreed, not having heard a word her brother had said and yet still, somehow managing to give the right answer. She was gazing into Bob’s eyes, completely lost to anything happening around her. 

Jake glanced at you with a grin, “Oh my god,” he mouthed, “We weren’t that bad, were we?” he whispered.

You looked back at the two people behind you, “I think we might have been worse,” 

“Have been?” Jake asked in mock outrage, “Are we not -- Are we not in love anymore?” he continued, his voice going up an octave. You burst out laughing at his antics, snaking one arm around his waist and hugging him from the side.

“You’re silly,” you said.

“You’re not answering my question, Y/n,” he laughed, wrigging away from your embrace, “no hugging until you answer.”

You laughed, “We are, you goof, we are so very in love,” you replied.

“Okay, okay, good. I feel better now,” he smiled, swinging his arms around you and hugging you tight. Jake rested his chin on top of your head for a second before moving his head so he could kiss the middle part of your hair.

“So, what do you guys usually do on Friday nights?” Maria asked once she managed to rip her gaze from her boyfriend.

Jake hummed, “We usually go out for drinks with the team,” he said, his voice muffled by your hair. 

“Ooh, that sounds fun,” she replied, not so subtly hinting to her brother that she would very much like to meet his friends, after having heard so much about them from Tony and her father. 

“Alright then,” Jake said with a sigh, “If you think you can handle it.” 

“You know I can handle it bambino, can you is the real question,” Maria said, rising to the challenge of her brother’s baiting. 

You and Bob laughed at their ridiculous teasing. 

“Let’s go you two,” you called, grabbing Jake’s keys from the hook by the door. You climbed in the passenger seat, pushing the keys into the ignition. Jake got into the driver’s seat only after putting on his Texas Longhorns hat. 

He opened the garage and pulled the truck out, grabbing your hand in his as he steered it on to the road and towards the Hard Deck. 

Looking back every now and then, you noticed the slight stubble across Bob’s chin and how long his hair had gotten over the leave you all had been on. His hand was entwined with Maria’s and the two of them both had grins splitting their faces. 

As Jake pulled into the bar, you noticed Rooster’s Bronco sitting in the lot, as well as Phoenix’s Monte Carlo. Opening the door and climbing out, the four of you made your way into the bar. As soon as you stepped inside, Bob started receiving strange looks. His dishevelled appearance and Maria on his arm were both things people wouldn’t expect from the clean cut Robert Floyd. 

“Bob! Who’s this fine lady? Didn’t know you had a sister,” one of the younger Top Gun pilots, Rebel, said, “What’s up with the stubble? You trying out for a version of Brokeback Mountain?”

“Rebel, show some respect,” Jake said, stepping in to defend Bob, “That’s my sister, and she’s dating Bob here. Who are you to talk about Brokeback? They should have made Ennis your callsign.”

The whole bar roared with laughter, Rooster coming up behind Rebel and smacking him on the shoulder, catching the pilot off guard. Nodding at you and Bob, Rooster stuck his hand out to Maria, “I believe that makes you Maria then,” he said, shaking her hand, “I am Rooster, or Bradley, whichever you prefer.” 

“I see Jake has told you about me, hopefully only the good things,” she said, giving her brother an evil side eye. 

“Actually not, Bobby here likes to brag about his wonderful girlfriend,” Rooster said, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. 

Maria gave Bob a slight smack on the chest before pressing a kiss to his cheek, whispering something into his ear that the rest of the group wasn’t privy to. Bob’s ears turned red and he cleared his throat, “Y’all wanna play some pool?” he asked. 

Jake caught Bob’s eye suspiciously, “Sure, Bobby, you gonna start the game?” 

“Nah, my lovely lady here said she wanted to take on these Navy boys for bragging rights, and free rounds for the night,” he said, making eye contact with Rebel. Jake let out a slight laugh before Maria elbowed him in the ribs, making him grunt. 

Rebel let out a laugh, “I think we can take her, what do you say Duke?”

“I say you have a deal there, little lady,” the larger man said, reaching out to shake her hand, “Who’s going to be your second?”

“I am,” Phoenix’s voice said from behind you, “Any lady who is willing to take on the likes of you two must be damn good,” she said lower than the two rookie pilots could hear. 

Maria turned, giving her a smile, “Maria, you must be Phoenix.” 

“That I am,” Phoenix said, “You’re even prettier than Hangman here, I didn’t think it was possible.” 

Maria laughed, “I like you already Phoenix.” 

The group made their way to the pool table, Jake excusing himself to the bar with a smirk on his face. Maria racked the pool balls and let the boys call solids as they broke the grouping. Rebel managed to get three balls in before scratching the cue ball. Maria placed the ball on the table and proceeded to sink every stripe on the table in one go. When she looked up, the confused faces of Rebel and Duke were worth the free drinks they were all about to receive. 

“I’ll let you boys call it, which pocket do you want the eight ball in?” she asked, winking at Bob from her place at the table. 

Rebel’s jaw snapped shut, and he picked the hardest shot for her to make, there was a solid ball in the way of her and the eight. Maria lined up the shot, jumping the cue ball over the solid before sinking the eight ball in the pocket he called. The, “What the fuck?” that came out of Rebel’s mouth was worth her trick. 

Maria gave the men an innocent smile, “Well boys it looks like that’s drinks for our group for the night, or you can play again? This time we could wager a little money, what do you say? A grand?” 

Rebel shook his head, “No, no, that’s alright. If I had realised that all Seresins were pool sharks I wouldn’t have taken this bet either.” 

Maria laughed without humour, “That’s what you get for underestimating the little guy, honey. Maybe next time you’ll think twice.” 

The rest of the night passed quickly. With Rebel and Duke picking up the tab, you, Maria, and Phoenix had a good night, dancing together as a group on the dancefloor. You even thought that when a slow song came on you saw Coyote ask Phoenix for a dance, but Jake swept you up in his arms so quickly, you couldn’t be certain. 

When the night was over, and the four of you returned home, Bob and Maria made their goodbyes on the front porch. Jake stood near the door, flicking the front porch light on and off when ten minutes had passed and she still wasn’t in the house yet. 

You weren’t going to say anything, but her lips looked awfully pink for someone who was just saying goodnight. Bob’s scruff must be a little rougher than it looked. 

Maria settled into the couch as you and Jake made your way upstairs. He pressed a kiss to your lips, pushing you up against the wall and his hard frame. After a moment kissing you heard Maria call from downstairs, “Alright you two, don’t think you can interrupt my kissing and I won’t do the same to you.” 

Jake let loose a laugh, and you joined him, “It’s my damn house,” he called back, “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“You wanna bet?” she asked, a threat present in her voice. 

“Alright feisty pants, text your boyfriend, we are going to bed,” Jake said with a disappointed sigh, pressing one last kiss to your lips before letting you go and making his way into the guest bedroom. 

That night you slept like the dead, the unpacking from the day before tiring you out more than you had thought. Morning came early for you, and with Maria and Jake both still asleep, you decided to spend it unpacking a box you were saving for yourself. 

You crept down the stairs and started the coffee pot. Pulling the box you had left on the counter the night before towards yourself, you cut the duck tape that held it closed. Inside were religious books, a few spare bibles, a crucifix, the house rosary, a picture of Jesus you had bought sketched in oil pastels from a local artist, and the prayers of your and Jake’s confirmation saints. 

Pouring yourself a cup of the brew, you made your way to the short bookshelf you had placed near the front door. You placed the box on the floor carefully and brushed a few misbehaving hairs off of your forehead before beginning to unpack it. You hung up the prayers on one side of the mirror and the canvas and crucifix on the other. You lined the shelves with the different books and trinkets that were in the box, before finally hanging the rosary over Jesus’ head on the crucifix. Taking a step back, you bumped into something solid and warm. 

Jake’s hands wrapped around your waist, holding you against him, “It’s beautiful,” he said quietly, not wanting to disturb Maria. 

“Do you think so?” you asked him, you were honestly a little worried about what he would think of it.

“Absolutely, I love it,” he said, “It just needs one more thing I think.” Letting go of you, Jake took the stairs two at a time. You heard a little bit of rummaging in his bedroom before he made his way back down, a small photo frame in hand. It was a picture of the two of you from the night of his promotion. It had been taken during one of the slow dances they had played that night. You were looking up at Jake like he had hung the moon just for you. He was looking at you like you were the only woman in the room. 

You placed the frame on the table, making a little room for it near the elephant figurine your grandmother had given you. 

“You’re right, that’s just what it needed,” you said, smiling at him in the mirror. Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms around your waist once more. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, swaying gently with him, just enjoying his embrace, when you were interrupted by a groan from the couch. 

“Me and Robby are definitely not that bad,” Maria called from her place on the leather sofa. 

You and Jake laughed before he let go of your hips, taking your hand instead he led you into the living room as he said back, “No, you’re right, you’re much worse.” 

[mackenzielovee]

heyy! can you do an angsty one where rafe and the reader are “friends,” for a long time, they’ve been in the same friend group and she’s been with love with him for a while now, and he knows and uses that for his advantage. she always does stuff for him, help him whenever he needed and more, and he treats her pretty badly/rudely in return. their friends (top n kelce,) always try to tell him to stop and more and finally she’s had enough she confronts him and show how much he was actually draining her, and he acts like he doesn’t care but he does realize what he was doing, but meanwhile he’s reflecting on his actions, y/n is getting closer to jj? thanks lol the end is up to you. love u and ur fics <3

a/n: hi love! im so sorry it took me so long to write this. I hope you love it!! it took me forever to finish hahaha but i loved writing it!

Warnings: swearing, underage drinking

my writing

pretty damn lucky - rafe cameron

You sigh as you pull Rafe's fresh sheets from the dryer, breathing in the scent of the detergent mixed with the scent of him. He and the boys had way too much to drink last night, which resulted in Rafe getting sick all over his bed when they got home. You had stripped his sheets immediately and put them in the wash, then made a makeshift bed for Rafe on the floor with all of his blankets.

He had grunted at you in return for all your work, collapsing down on the floor and passing out before you could even say goodnight to him.

You had washed the sheets once again this morning when you woke up, then stuck them in the dryer and waited on them.

Topper groans on the couch as you pass him on your way to Rafe's room. You stop and chuckle, watching as he hesitantly opens his eyes.

"Oh, fuck," Topper grumbles as he sits up, clutching his head.

"I think you guys brought the bar home with you."

He glances up, eyes meeting yours, and groans. You laugh and step over to him, taking a seat on the couch beside him.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask him.

"Yeah, a time machine. Don't let me drink so much," he whines, collapsing back down on the couch. You stand, letting out a laugh.

"Water and aspirin. Got it."

You walk up the stairs and stop in front of Rafe's bedroom door, knocking on it lightly before you peak your head in. He's still laying on the floor, but you can't tell if he's awake or not. You stop inside, warm sheets in hand, and close the door behind you. He grunts at the noise, but it's not enough to make him open his eyes.

"Hey," you say to him, "I washed your sheets. How are you feeling?"

Rafe moves on the floor, opening his eyes only enough to see you, then rolls back to his initial spot and closes his eyes again.

"Just put the sheets back on, I want my bed."

You sigh and nod your head, stepping over to his bed to start making it. You watch him as you work, laying on the floor, mouth parted slightly and eyebrows furrowed as he tries to focus on not throwing up again.

"Okay," you whisper once his bed is made, "Come on. I'll help you."

Rafe allows you to wrap your arms around his torso, helping him stand from off the floor. He leans all his weight on you as you two stumble over to his bed, then he collapses onto it. You cover him with his comforter and then fix his hair so it's not sitting in his eyes anymore. He doesn't say anything at your movements.

"I'll get you some water and some medicine. Be back in a minute," you whisper to him. He just nods as best he can.

You hurry back down the stairs, rushing past Topper and into the kitchen. You grab two water bottles out of the fridge and then rifle through the cabinets until you find a bottle of aspirin. As you walk from the kitchen to Topper on the couch, you stop in your tracks.

"Topper," you say, your voice authoritative, "Where is Kelce?"

Topper laughs, which is how you know it's bad. You hadn't noticed that they were one friend light when they stumbled in last night, mostly because you had been too worried about Rafe to be concerned with where Topper and Kelce crashed.

"He fell down outside last night. I'm pretty sure we just left him there."

You sigh loudly, handing him a bottle of water and aspirin as you swear and rush to the front door. As you approach, you can already see him, face up in the Cameron's new flower bed that Rose had worked so hard to make perfect. You open the door and rush to Kelce, annoyed with the boys for not even telling you he was out here.

"Kelce?" you question, stirring him awake, "You alive in there?"

Kelce sits up, as if you'd awakened him from a dream, and glances around. He looks at you and then down to the clothes he's in, and you watch as his eyes widen.

"Those motherfuckers did not leave me out here," he gasps.

"Kelce, I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were out here-"

"I'm going to kill them - ow."

He tries to stand up, but the throbbing of his head makes him fall back down into the dirt again. You grab onto his arm and try to help him up, noting how you do most of the work. When he's finally upright, you brush off the dirt from his back and then lead him inside.

"Shit," he mutters, "My stomach. I'm gonna need to eat."

"I'm on it," you tell him, leading him into the living room and placing him on the couch next to Topper.

"Hey, man," Topper greets, "Rose sure will be happy you observed the flowers so...closely."

"Shut the fuck up, Top," Kelce snaps, reaching over and punching Topper in the chest. He groans at his head and sits back again, making you laugh.

"All right," you declare, picking up the aspirin and water bottle for Rafe, "Eggs? Toast? Bacon? Sound good?"

Kelce nods his head and Topper looks at you, already looking better with the water and medicine in his system.

"Hey, thank you, Y/N. For always taking care of us," Topper smiles at you.

"Yeah," Kelce agrees, "I'd still be lying in a bush outside if it weren't for you. Thank you."

You smile at them and shake your head, "Of course, boys. Back in a minute. Kelce, don't kill Top. Please."

Kelce grunts, telling you he's still debating if he will or not. You laugh and then rush back up the stairs, hoping Rafe is still alive up there. You knock softly on his door when you reach it, not wanting to just bust in on him.

"Rafe?" you say when you walk in, seeing him laying in the exact same position he had been when you left him.

"What took you so long?" he grumbles.

"I'm sorry," you say, sitting down beside him on his bed, "You guys left Kelce outside and-"

"Do you have the aspirin or what?"

You sigh and nod, handing him the pill bottle and a bottle of water. He sits up, hair messy and eyes only half open, and pours three pills into his hand. You stare at him, observing his sharp jaw line and his soft skin, and you can't help but wonder what it would be like to be able to feel him. Touch him. Love on him the way you've been dreaming about since the day you met him.

"Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

Rafe swallows the pills, then brings his eyes up to meet yours, "That breakfast place I love. Why don't you go pick us all up something? Card's in my wallet."

He lays back down, which is his way of excusing you from the room. You just nod your head and grab his card out of his wallet.

"And move the seat back in my truck when you get back. I always hit my head when I get in after you."

"All right," you say quietly, wishing he'd at least say a 'please' or 'thank you'.

You take orders from Topper and Kelce, then hurry out to Rafe's truck. You have to move the seat way up in order to drive the truck, and you make a mental note to move it back when you get back to the house.

You pull up to the restaurant and climb out of the truck, fumbling with the keys and your purse and Rafe's card, too wrapped up in yourself to notice the blonde boy standing about five feet from you.

"Damn, I didn't expect someone as pretty as you to hop out of that truck," JJ smirks at you, watching your eyes shoot up to him.

You smile, "Hi, JJ."

"How are you?" he asks, cheeky look on his face.

You set your hands on your hips, keys and card tucked between your fingers, as you observe what you're wearing for the first time. You'd snuck one of Rafe's Kildare Island shirts from his dresser last night and had on jean shorts underneath.

"Y'know," you shrug, "You like this place, too?"

"Ah, little pretentious, but the food's acceptable," he teases, "You eating alone?"

"No. Just picking up food for Rafe and his friends."

"What, are you his assistant or something? Tell Cameron to pick up his own food," JJ huffs.

He'd never tell you, not wanting to upset you, but he's hated watching you run around the island as Rafe's bitch since you met him. JJ's been dying to hang out with you, even asked you a few times, but you always say no because you're on some sort of mission for Rafe.

"It's just a breakfast order," you reply, starting to inch toward the restaurant.

"Just a breakfast order," he shrugs, "Just getting him a beer every time he asks, just following him around like a lost puppy, just-"

"Okay," you stop him, "I'm a big girl, JJ. I can take care of myself."

You turn and start to walk away from him, trying to brush off his 'lost puppy' remark. He groans loudly, which is enough to earn your attention back.

"Prove it," he yells out, making you turn, "Tonight. There's a thing down at the beach. Meet me."

You start to shake your head, but he steps toward you and stops you. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, messing it up even more than it already is.

"JJ-"

"Come on, Y/N. Take the Kook chains off for one night. Please. Rafe can do his own dishes and get his own drinks."

You sigh, glancing down at your feet before back up to him, "Maybe."

"Ah- you know what? That's better than a no. I'll take it."

You nod at him, trying your best not to smile too wide, then point to the building. You start to back off, but you keep your eyes fixed on the blonde boy.

"What time? You know, if I decide to come."

JJ smiles wider than he had the entire conversation, "Seven."

You smile back at him, then turn and walk away before you can get even more wrapped up in this boy.

"What the hell took you so long?" Rafe questions as you walk through the door with several bags filled with food.

"Sorry," you sigh at him, "Got caught up."

Kelce and Topper stand up and step to you, taking the bags from you. You thank them quietly, watching as Rafe rolls his eyes and stands from his place on the couch.

"Yeah, never mind the fact that I'm starving to death," he mutters.

"Rafe, come on, man," Topper smacks Rafe on the chest, trying to get him to chill out.

"Yeah, quit being a dick," Kelce tells him.

Topper starts to unload the food from the bags while Kelce leans down and gives you a friendly kiss on the cheek. You smile gently, glancing up to see Rafe watching with his jaw clenched. You try to put distance in between you, but Rafe doesn't seem to care about your efforts.

"Thanks for running to get it, Y/N," Topper smiles to you.

"You're welcome."

"Did you put my seat back, at least?" Rafe asks you, swiping his car keys from the counter where you set them.

"Yes, of course," you reply.

"Of course," he mutters, "You never do."

"Rafe," Kelce says authoritatively, holding his hands out to his sides as if to ask what the hell he's doing.

"I'll fix you a plate," you tell Rafe, setting a hand on Kelce's arm as if to thank him.

Rafe exhales loudly, then steps away and back into the living room. Kelce rolls his eyes at Rafe, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You make Rafe a plate, a little bit of everything, then follow Topper into the living room to take it to him.

"Quit being an asshole to her, man," Topper mumbles to Rafe, slapping him on the back of his head.

"Don't fucking hit me," Rafe growls at Topper.

"Here you go," you hand Rafe a plate. He takes it from you without a word or a glance, inspecting the food you've given him.

"Where's your plate, love?" Topper asks you as Kelce sits down beside him, "I'll make you one. Sit down."

"No," you say quickly, earning the attention of all three boys, "I'm not staying. I gotta get home, I kinda have plans later,"

"What plans?" Rafe asks, judgment present in his voice.

The boys watch the look on your face and Topper and Kelce immediately erupt into fits of laughs and hollers.

"Boy plans, huh?" Kelce smiles at you before he shoves bacon into his mouth.

Your face flushes as you stand in front of them, glancing at Rafe to see his reaction. His jaw is clenched tightly and he's stopping eating all together.

"Who's the lucky guy, Y/N?" Topper snickers.

"It's not a big deal, you guys."

"Why am I jealous right now?" Kelce teases you. You look over at him and roll your eyes, hiding your smile from him.

"What plans?" Rafe repeats himself, raising his voice. Your eyes shoot over to him, watching his expression.

"Um, I'm going down to this thing at the beach," you say, looking down at the floor. Rafe sets his plate down on the coffee table in front of him, not wanting his food anymore.

"Are we invited?" Rafe asks, already knowing the answer. He just wants to make you say it.

"I- it's not my thing," you stutter, "I'm just meeting some people."

"Who?" Topper asks through his food.

"Uh, JJ Maybank and his friends-"

Rafe scoffs, interrupting you, "You're ditching us to hang out with Pogues?"

"I'm not ditching you, Rafe," you frown.

"Funny, that's the way it looks."

"It's just a few drinks on the beach, why are you getting so bent out of shape?" you question, watching as Topper and Kelce squirm, growing more uncomfortable.

"Bent out of shape? " he repeats, voice as if he doesn't believe you just said that, "You're the one driving across the island for shitty ass beer-"

"It's not like I was asking your opinion on my plans-"

"No, no, you were just informing us that you have plans to fuck JJ Maybank, understood."

"Rafe-" you start, but stop when Kelce sits up straight in his chair and speaks.

"What the fuck, Rafe?" Kelce stares at his best friend, "Why are you so mean to Y/N all the time? She doesn't have to hang out with us every day, and honestly, I wouldn't if you treated me the way you treat her."

"Oh, fuck off, Kelce, you don't know shit," Rafe waves him off.

Topper glances at you, then over to Rafe and speaks up as well, "He's right, Rafe. You're an asshole to her. And not just today, but a lot lately."

Rafe sits back on the couch and crosses his arms in front of his chest, rolling his eyes.

"You two don't know anything," he huffs, "Y/N and I are fine."

"Actually," you say, earning Rafe's complete attention, "I don't think we are."

He stands up now, stepping over to you and grabbing onto your wrist, "Let's discuss this in private."

You glance at the boys, trying to offer them a silent 'thank you for trying', then allow Rafe to pull you into the guest room down the hall. He slams the door once you two are inside, then runs his hand through his hair before he speaks.

"What the fuck are you doing, embarrassing me in front of the two of them?" he scoffs.

Your mouth falls open at how that is his main concern after you just told him you have doubts that the two of you are okay. Your heart sinks, watching as he paces the room. You watch the way his jaw is clenched and how his eyes are frantic as he tries to figure out how to fix things with the boys.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly.

Rafe seems to not hear you, "Jesus, now the two of them are gonna be up my ass about you for the rest of the day."

"Rafe-"

"And what the hell is up with you partying with JJ Maybank? Do you not realize how that could look, you hanging out with him?"

"Oh, my God!" you yell, not being able to take any more of his bullshit, "I don't give a shit, Rafe! I mean, seriously. I spent my entire night last night and my entire morning taking care of your ass. Because I care about you. And now, I say I want to do something for myself, and you act like I'm being selfish? Are you kidding me?"

"Oh, please," Rafe shakes his head, "You're always taking care of us, don't act like you're all noble."

"I'm not trying to be noble. I'm trying to tell you how I feel-"

"Well, I didn't fucking ask, all right?" he yells.

You frown and step back from him as if his words struck you across the face. He reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying his best to control his frustration.

"Rafe," you choke out, feeling your emotions as they rise up, "I care about you so much. But, I can't keep walking on eggshells around you. I have done everything you've asked me to do, I've been a good friend to you and I-"

"You what?" he growls at you, stepping forward and grabbing your shoulders.

"I love you, you asshole," you whisper, watching the way his eyes soften at your words, "I love you. But I'm drained. I'm exhausted. And I'm sick of being treated like some bitch who just follows you around and hopes you'll throw her a bone."

Rafe stares at you for a moment, and for the first time in a long time, you genuinely cannot tell what he's thinking. After a few seconds, he releases your shoulders and lightly shoves you away from him.

"You should leave," he says, staring at the floor.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you gotta get ready for your big date night, right?"

You laugh sarcastically at his comment, feeling stupid to have expected him to say anything different than that. He sets his hands on his hips and sighs, not bothering to look up at you. You lick your lips and take a deep breath, debating whether or not to stay and fight with him. For him.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you say.

His shoulders fall but he doesn't look up, so you turn and walk out of the room. Topper and Kelce are standing right outside the door, shocked when you suddenly emerge. You roll your eyes at them, not surprised they had been listening. They don't bother trying to stop you, because honestly, they'd leave Rafe, too.

You rush out of the house and slam the door behind you. Topper usually drives you home, but you don't bother to go back inside and ask. You can walk, it's not far.

As much as you love Rafe, as much as you'd kill to be with him, you can't condone the way he's been treating you. You know that you deserve better, just as Topper and Kelce have been reminding him. Better is exactly what you plan to have.

The beach isn't terribly busy when you arrive. You know by the time the sun sets completely, it will be packed. You spot JJ's blonde hair towering above almost everyone on the beach, watching as he laughs with his friends and tips a red cup against his lips. You walk over to him before allowing yourself to hesitate and think about leaving again.

Your fight with Rafe had completely drained your energy, and if you didn't feel like getting completely drunk to forget about it, you'd leave. JJ spies you as you approach and grins widely, starting over to you.

"No fucking way," he smiles, "Can't believe you showed, Mrs. Cameron!"

"Ha ha," you grumble, shaking your head and trying to hide a smile.

"How'd you escape from the prison that is Kook land?"

You roll your eyes, reaching up and taking the cup from his hand. You gulp it down before he can even object, and when you look up at him again, he's staring at you with his mouth wide open.

"Okay. Got it. Drinking, no talking," he reaches down and takes your hand, leading you over to the keg.

"Lots of drinking," you mutter, watching as JJ pretends he didn't hear you.

JJ grabs two beers from the guy handing them out and hands one to you, returning his hand to yours. You start to walk back over to JJ's friends, but he pulls on your hand to keep you where he wants you.

"What are you doing? Don't you want to hang out with your friends?" you ask him.

He shakes his head, "No, I'd rather figure out what's going on with you."

You sigh and take another long sip of your beer, avoiding his eyes on purpose. Although you and JJ hadn't hung out a lot, he still seems to be able to tell that you're bothered.

"It's not a big deal," you say.

"If it's bothering you, it is," JJ insists. His eyes are wide as he looks at you, and you can't help but notice how he hasn't taken one sip of his beer.

"JJ-"

"It's Rafe, I can tell. Did he hurt you?"

"No," you furrow your eyebrows, unsure of why he would even ask that. JJ just nods his head, tightening his grip around your hand.

"All right, then what?"

You give him a small smile, grateful that he's pushing so hard to try and figure out what's bothering you. You've never really had anyone do that before.

"We just got into an argument. But, it's fine-"

"Y/N-"

"I came here to have fun with you. Please don't make me spend the whole night talking about Rafe."

His eyes soften as he stares down at you. You watch as he takes a deep breath, then licks his lips and nods his head. You give him a small smile, watching as he shamelessly return it.

"You're right," he speaks after a minute, "Who needs that asshole, anyway?"

You nod, although you're hesitant to talk shit about Rafe like that, even after everything. JJ squeezes your hand once again, then tugs you toward his friends.

"Come on, let's party."

JJ pumps you full of beers, at your request, and laughs every time you attempt to get him to dance with you. His friends all watch as JJ finally gives into you, standing up as you tug on his hand and allowing you to lead him upright.

You can feel the alcohol rushing through your body as JJ spins you around in the sand, laughing at how much you're loving it. His friends cheer the two of you on, and by the time the song ends, you're completely exhausted. You collapse into JJ's chest and he wraps a strong arm around you, holding you up.

"I didn't realize I'd had so much," you tell him, slurring your words a bit against his chest.

"That's all right," he laughs lightly, "I'll take care of you."

JJ leads you back over to the log the two of you had been sitting on and helps you sit down, smiling when you lean your head down on his shoulder.

"You're nice to me," you tell him.

JJ laughs at your drunken state, pressing his cup to his lips once more. Say what you will about JJ Maybank, but never call him a lightweight.

"You deserve to be treated nicely," he fires back.

"You really believe that?" you ask him, not noticing your eyes fluttering closed against him.

"Of course, Y/N," he whispers, moving his face so his lips graze against the top of your head, "You know, there's a lot more out there than just Rafe Cameron."

"You don't know him like I do," you say quietly.

"You're right," he scoffs, "Nobody else would defend him."

"I'm serious, JJ. He's sweet and caring and protective-"

"And rude, and unkind-"

"JJ," you sigh, "I mean it. Underneath all the bullshit, he's a really great guy."

JJ's silent for a second, then you feel his body tense slightly under you. His friends are all in their own little world, to notice, but JJ isn't.

"Well, that really great guy just showed up to the party."

Your eyes shoot open and your head comes off of JJ's chest as you glance around, trying to steady your vision as you look around to see what he's talking about. When your eyes meet Rafe's, he looks upset. He's watching you and JJ like the thought of you two together actually, physically breaks his heart in half.

Topper and Kelce stand behind him, pushing Rafe forward to you. You stand up, with the help of JJ's hand steadying you, which you immediately let go of when you stand up straight. You tears your eyes away from Rafe long enough to glance back at JJ, asking him silently if it's okay if you go to him.

"Go on," he gives you a sad smile, "Tonight was fun. But, you know, I'm not the type of guy to chase after some other guy's girl."

"JJ-"

"Go, Y/N. You love him. I can tell."

You start to object, but close your mouth when you realize you have no defense. He's right, you know he is. You give JJ a little smile, then turn back to Rafe. The asshole, your asshole, who looks ready to put your heart back together again.

He starts to you and you to him, but he covers way more ground than you given that he's stone cold sober. He can tell you're having trouble standing, so he reaches out and offers his arm as soon as he's within range.

"Hey," he says quietly.

You wrap your cold hands around his arm, steadying yourself and absorbing his warmth. You take a deep breath, inhaling his familiar, heart wrenching scent and letting it fill your lungs.

"What are you doing here?" you question him.

"I- uh, I need to talk to you."

"Why? So you can yell at me and then tell me to leave again?" you spit before you can even think about it.

Rafe clenches his jaw and moves his eyes from yours, glancing around the beach as he considers what the best thing to say is in response.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"It's fine," he shakes his head, speaking too fast to actually mean it, "I deserve it. I was an asshole. I came here to apologize."

You nod your head, doing your best to keep your eyes on his and not trailing all down his body. He's wearing the snapback you love on him, and he has on the shirt the two of you bought together at the mall on a trip.

"You may," you tease him, giving him a small smile and hoping to get one in return. You get it, thankfully.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to ever make you feel second rate. You have been so good to me and I know I don't deserve it-"

"It's okay," you stop him, reaching one hand up to stroke his cheek. His skin, his soft skin under yours feels like heaven to touch. You know the alcohol is the only reason you're not putting up a larger fight.

"I wasn't finished," he smiles widely.

"Well, what can I say? I'm a sucker for that hat," you tease.

His grin only widens as he stares down at you, pulling you into a hug before he can even think of it. His arms wrapped tightly around you make your heart rate speed up to a dangerous level.

"You promise we're okay? Maybe we should talk again when you're sobered up-"

"I'm fine," you lie.

Rafe reaches up and cups your face in his hands, staring down at you intently. You stare back, unable to break away from his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Good, because I've got something to tell you."

Rafe watches as your lips part, wanting to question him but unable to find the right words. He smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before he continues.

"I love you, too," he whispers.

You blink rapidly at him, trying to figure out if he really just said those words to you. You shake your head and squirm out of his grasp, taking a deep breath as you look at him.

"You mean that?" you ask him.

"Yeah," he nods, swallowing nervously, "It took me half the day to realize it, but the thought of you down here with JJ literally made me want to kill him. And I'm sorry that I haven't realized it sooner. I was just scared of my feelings, I guess, and I just thought if I pushed you away-"

"You don't have to explain," you stop him, "I just can't believe you feel the same way about me."

"Who wouldn't? Topper informed me today that I happen to be the luckiest guy to walk the face of the earth because I'm loved by you. And I guess, I don't know, it made me recognize my feelings."

You smile, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him. He hugs you back without thinking twice, pulling you close and breathing you in. After a second, you pull away, and feel him tilt your chin up to meet his eyes.

"I don't know, I'm feeling pretty damn lucky right now," you whisper.

Before either of you know it, he places his lips gently on yours. His hands move themselves to your cheeks once again, pulling you closer to him. You both can hear Topper and Kelce hooting and hollering from yards away, which makes you laugh against Rafe's lips.

"I regret bringing them," he says against your lips, laughing along with you.

"You should," you agree, standing on your tip-toes and kissing him one more time.

"Can I take you home, now? Please?" he asks, voice impatient.

You bite your lip and nod, allowing him to give you one last kiss before he brings a hand down to yours, wrapping his fingers through it. He turns you toward the boys, the oh-so happy boys, and leads you away.

Away from the beer. Away from JJ. Toward your future, together.

Tags: @hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams

*if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist at any time, please send me an ask!

[kirieshhhka003]

CONGRATULATIONS FOR 1K💞💞

can I ask for “Put me down! I can walk!” from the fluff prompt with abbacchio please?

A/n: thank you baby!!🧡 and yes, I’m studying medicine and I’ll be using all this anatomy names in my writings, im not sorry for that

Pairing: Leone Abbacchio x gn! Reader

Prompt: Put me down! I can walk!

Warnings: none

1k followers event

Event status: closed

Damn, your knee hurts as hell. Thanks to your clumsiness and “happy” coincidence you stumbled over a small crack in the concrete, falling with all your body weight on your left knee. Your boyfriend who always takes things way too seriously than they really are insisted on going to hospital, just to make sure that there’s nothing too serious with you. X-Ray showed that there were no fractures, but your ligamentum cruciatum anterius is slightly sprained

So that means that you have to move your leg as little as possible, so your injury heals faster and you don’t make situation worse. Your got your knee bandaged and Abbacchio carried your traumatized body to his car bride style (which you resisted vigorously) to drive you both home. Leone stopped by the grocery store, leaving you alone in the car for about twenty minutes, but he got you your favorite marmalades and chocolate, so you quickly forgave him

You spent the rest of the day lounging on the couch, watching tv and mindlessly stuffing your face with sweets. What can be better? Your incredibly handsome boyfriend was serving you throughout the day, complying with your every smallest whim. But you quickly got bored. God, because of your “graceful” collapse your date with Leone hadn’t even started! You two came out of your apartment and a few minutes later on the way to the mall your fuckup happened, so you both left without new clothes

The sun finally comes down, delicious dinner cooked by Leone is eaten and it’s finally bath time - your opportunity to finally take a walk around your apartment. You stand up from a big couch quietly, so that Abbacchio doesn’t hear and accompany you in the shower, heading slowly to the bathroom. You hear clattering of plates as blonde man does dishes and you slip soundlessly past kitchen, making your way to the point of your destination

You let out a sigh of relief when Abba doesn’t hear you. God you feel like a little thief, trying not to get anyone on eyes while doing another crime. You undress fully, adjusting the water to the temperature you’re most comfortable with, struggling a little while getting into bathtub. You sit yourself comfortably (well, as much as it’s physically possible) with your injured leg propped up on the edge of a bathtub, wetting your skin and hair

You open your favorite lavender body wash, applying small amount of it on your skin and rubbing it gently, soft foam engulfing your form. Then it comes to hair routine - this new shampoo is scented really strange, you can’t define what it smells like, but you definitely like it. You gently card your fingers through your soaked hair, spreading the product all over your scalp, massaging sensitive skin with soft touches. After second wash you apply hair balm on the few last centimeters of your hair, letting it sit for five minutes, then washing it off

You turn the water off, carefully climbing to the edge of a bathtub and sitting on top of it, looking around for your towel, which seems to be nowhere around. You sigh heavily, swearing under your breath, then calling loudly so that your boyfriend hears you:

- Leone, can you bring me a towel? - you shout, waiting patiently for the man to come. Soon you hear footsteps getting closer on the other side of the door, and the next moment it opens silently, revealing a tall man holding a huge fresh towel in his left hand

You don’t even try to cover up - you’ve been living together for too long to be shy around each other. Leone approaches you in a few steps, standing right in front of you, wrapping you up in a soft thick fabric. His strong arms lock up around your smaller form, picking you up with ease, carrying you to the bedroom

- Oh, come ooon. Put me down, I can walk! - you grumble, annoyed by Leone’s overprotectiveness that starts getting you on nerves. He treats you like some silly kid! You pout your cheeks, eyebrows are furrowed together as you frown on the men

- Maybe you can walk, but I think your knee has different opinion, dumbass. Moreover you’re all wet, you wanna get s cold? Go on, but I’m not gonna babysit you then, - Leone replies in the same manner, slightly annoyed by your brattiness. God, sometimes you do act like a literal child!

Blonde male finally makes it to your shared bedroom, sitting you on top of the big soft bed and pulling back from you, walking up to the huge closet and picking up fresh clothes for you. Leone then comes back to you, handing you a pile of gently folded garments, watching with interest how you gradually dress yourself up in soft comfy home clothes (he bought this suit for you because it’s so fucking pink, almost makes his eyes water, and when Abbacchio first saw it in the shop he just knew you’d love it)

- Gosh, Y/n, you can’t even dry your hair properly. Are you really an adult? - Leone mocks, taking a wet towel from you and starting to gently rub your head with it, gathering all the excess water from your hair. You just comply, sitting still and letting your boyfriend fret over you

He flicks your forehead softly with the tips of his fingers once he’s done and you wrinkle your nose at this, trying to smack Leone’s ass in response but he successfully dodges your attack. Man gives you another light flick, but this time on the tip of your nose, teasing you more and laughing smugly at how helpless you are, not being able to fight back. He turns around heading to the bathroom to hang your towel out to dry, and you’ve already made a mental note to revenge him later, maybe by kicking him “accidentally” a few times in your sleep

[lgg5989]

Church Encounters Chapter 14

Hey guys! Thanks to everyone for your continued support of this fic, @barbiewritesstuff and I are having a great time writing it. She is posting this on her tumblr as well so jump over and give her a like or a comment. We have had a few requests for side drabbles and stuff about these characters and we will be happy to answer them! Just send us asks :)

You can find the previous chapters on my Masterlist, and you can read the whole series so far on my Ao3! I made the moodboard, I hope you enjoy it! :D

Comment on my post or @barbiewritesstuff’s post to be added to the tag list.

PS. If Glen is reading this, do you like it so far?

Tagging: @roosterscock  @sydneyhlove​

Jake let out a sigh, “I don’t know about this one either.” 

You had to agree with him, while the house was beautiful, it was nothing compared to the hardwood floors and beautiful porch of the house you had seen a month ago. The one you had been outbid on. With heavy hearts the two of you had kept looking, but nothing you found had the beautiful front garden and the perfect porch, let alone the windows for each bedroom. 

“Maybe we can go look at another?” you asked him, taking his hand in yours as the realtor showed you out. 

Jake shook his head, looking down at his phone, “The team wants to get together tonight, and we are a little further from base than usual. We should probably get heading back or we won't have time for dinner beforehand.” 

Looking down at your watch to check the time, you agreed with him, it was already six and your stomach was starting to feel rather empty, “Let’s go back to my place then, I bought the ingredients to make that pasta dish you like, with the spicy sauce.” 

Jake grinned at you, “That sounds delicious, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, but I wanted to,” you said. The last few weeks had been long, looking at houses after training and hops left little time to spend together, with friends, or for sleeping. You and Jake were thoroughly worn out, and every moment you could find to spend together and relax you were going to take. 

Climbing up into the truck, you settled into the seat and laid your head back against the headrest. The afternoon sun was settled over your lap and it was working to make you sleepy. As Jake drove towards the highway, his hand settled on your jean clad thigh, his thumb rubbing soft circles on top of the fabric. 

“Why don’t you nap?” he asked, “I’ll wake you up when we get home.” 

Giving him a sleepy smile you said, “I will, under the condition that you take one while I’m cooking or we will both be tired tonight.” 

“We will see,” Jake shot back, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. You knew that he wouldn’t nap, but you hoped that maybe you could convince him to. 

The last time you were at Penny’s she gave Jake an earful over his handling of the situation with you and Dylan but he was slowly working his way back to being her favourite patron. 

Your eyes drifted closed, your hand settling over Jake’s on your leg, and soon you were asleep, your head resting gently against the window. 

—

Jake gently woke you up when you arrived home, and you led the way inside. He collapsed on your couch, turning on the TV, “Do you need any help baby?”

“No, I’ve got it. You just take a nap,” you called back, washing your hands at the sink before pulling out ingredients for the cajun pasta. 

As you moved around the kitchen, pulling a pot and a beat up skillet out of the cupboards you heard the sound of something drop to the floor. Quickly stepping into the living room, you found the remote control on the floor, having fallen from Jake’s sleeping grip. Smiling to yourself, you returned to your cooking. 

You put the pasta on the hob, letting it boil until cooked to your liking. Sticking a lid on top of the pot, you moved onto the chicken. So as not to wake Jake up, you cut the breasts to guarantee even thickness instead of pounding them like you usually would. You generously seasoned the meat before oiling up the skillet and searing the chicken. Turning down the heat, you busied yourself with setting the table. 

Once done, you cut up the chicken breasts into strips and placed them under a cover to keep warm. Using the same skillet, you sautéed the garlic in butter, adding diced tomatoes once ready. To finish off, you added cream, some more seasoning and some parmesan cheese. Bringing the sauce to a simmer one more time, you added the pasta and divided it into two bowls and some food prep containers. Until you and Jake were married, or at the very least living together, you didn’t trust him to be eating well on his own. 

You woke Jake up by gently shaking his shoulder and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. He groaned and grumbled, but swung his legs off of the sofa and groggily made his way to the table. Before handing him his bowl, you topped it all with one diced chicken breast. Jake, apparently famished by the house hunting, demolished his plate in ten seconds flat, going in for thirds before you had even finished your first serving. 

“I think I need a shower,” Jake said when you both finished tidying away the dishes and wiping the surfaces, “Do you mind?” he asked. 

You shook your head, too engrossed in scrubbing away a stain ingrained into your kitchen counter. Since you and Jake had gotten engaged and had started to look for houses, you had grown more paranoid about the state of your apartment. You had made a note of every dink in the wall, cracked paint job and every bump or broken item when you first moved in, eager to retrieve your deposit once you moved out. In that spirit, you spent the last three weeks repainting, cleaning, scrubbing and brushing various parts of your home.

Jake chuckled as he brushed past you, stopping just long enough to hug you from behind and kiss your cheek. 

By the time the stain had been vanquished, Jake had come out of the shower, dressed and shaved. He poured himself a generous cup of coffee and finished the job of cleaning up the kitchen while you got ready, changing from your jeans and tshirt into a pink maxi dress and sandals, and applying a thin coat of tinted lip gloss. 

“Shall we?” you asked, Jake stood up from the sofa, downing the rest of his coffee in one go. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, sounding tired.

Looking him over you decided to offer him an out, “Jake, we don’t have to go,” you assured him.

“No, I know, but I miss the guys and I need to do something other than work and inspect unsafe staircase bannisters, you know?” he smiled, “I’ll be okay. Maybe you can drive though?”

He handed you the keys to his truck, dangling them in front of you with a sleepy, playful smile. You drove to the Hard Deck where Jake immediately ordered a coffee, a redbull and three packs of sugar and proceeded to mix them all together under the horrified gaze of all patrons except Coyote.

Rooster sided up to the two of you, “House hunting not going well?” he asked, grimacing as he watched Jake mix the dark contents of the mug together. 

“What? We used to do that before exams at the academy. It doesn’t even taste that bad,” Jake tried to justify, taking a big breath and downing it all as fast as he could. Then, he turned back to Penny and ordered you a Sex On The Beach and a Vodka Redbull for himself. 

“Hopefully you’ll still be alive to buy that house,” Rooster said, eyeing Jake as he downed the Vodka Redbull before ordering a beer. 

Jake let out a laugh, “I’ll be fine, nothing I haven’t handled before.” 

Rooster raised an eyebrow at him without saying anything, he glanced at you before glancing back at Jake. You read the look in his eyes and knew that he needed to talk to Jake about something, probably your sister. Annie had been texting you about him and she was on the fence about taking the next step and trying to make long distance work. 

You politely excused yourself from the bar, pulling Coyote with you, “Let’s start a game of pool before everyone else gets here,” you suggested to him. 

When you left, Rooster took your seat at the busy bar. Coyote racked the balls and you broke them. Every now and then glancing over to the conversation happening between Jake and Rooster. 

—

Jake looked over to Rooster, the look on his face showing more of his emotions than the man probably wanted, “Be careful around her, she’s perceptive.” 

“Yeah, that was a little scary. She just read me like an open book,” Rooster replied. 

Jake let out a full belly laugh, when he was done he replied, “But that’s why I love her.” 

Rooster nodded, “I need some advice.” 

“What’s up?” Jake asked him, taking a sip of his beer to clear the over sweet taste of sugar from his mouth. 

Bradley sighed before speaking, “It’s this thing with Annie. We have been texting back and forth but she doesn't want to commit to anything and I just, I’m not sure what to do.” 

Jake looked at him for a minute while he thought, “Well, I do have some insight into the family, but I don’t want you to use it against them.” 

“I’m not here trying to get a quick fuck Jake, if I was, I would be picking up any one of these girls in this bar,” Bradley said, sounding a bit frustrated, “I really like her. I just don’t know what I need to do to get her to trust me.” 

“Have you asked her?” he suggested. 

“Well, no,” Bradley said, lamely, taking a sip of his own beer. 

“I’ll tell you some of what I know, but you just need to talk to her. Annie is no bullshit, she will tell it to you how it is,” Jake said, thinking back on the times she called him on his bullshit in the months leading up to his proposal. 

Bradley nodded, looking at him expectantly. 

Jake sighed, “They’re very religious, man. She wants a man who can commit to that not only for her but for their family.” 

“Yeah,” Bradley said, looking a little lost, “I’m christian, well I used to be, still am in some ways, it’s just complicated.” 

Jake looked him over, “If you can figure that out, I think she will give you a chance, but you have to prove to her that you’re worth it. From what Y/n has told me, Annie has been hurt in the past. She took the brunt of their mother’s burdens after their dad died and she’s had a few shitty relationships. She needs a rock. If you aren’t willing to be that for her, then I’m not sure she’s going to give you the time of day.” 

“Okay,” Bradley said, nodding along with Jake’s words. 

At that moment, Bob took the seat on the other side of Jake, “A water for me please Penny.” 

Jake nodded at him, “Bobby, how are you-” 

“Bobby?” Rooster asked, sounding confused. 

Bob looked at him past Jake, realisation dawning on his face, “Oh shit, he doesn’t know, does he?”

Jake laughed, “Well Bradshaw, you’re just finding out all kinds of information tonight, Bob and I are friends.” 

Bob nodded, “I was even invited to Christmas,” he said proudly. 

“You’re also dating my sister, but that’s another story,” Jake said with a small chuckle. 

Bob gave him a false offended look, “Would you really rather it be anyone else?” 

“I mean no, but I’m going to have to really do some mental blocking when the two of you get married,” Jake said with a grimace, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Bob, when did you get a girl?” Rooster asked, sounding even more confused than before.

“Just after family day,” Bob replied, “I took her on, and I quote, ‘the cutest date of her life’,” he explained, taking a sip of his water with a smile on his face.

“Bobby, I love you man, but you better be fucking waiting for marriage,” Jake said, trying to keep a straight face. The two men burst into laughter, glancing over at Rooster.  

“You mean Coyote wasn’t just joking at your promotion?” Bradley repeated, sounding astonished that Jake could keep it in his pants. 

Jake and Bob laughed harder at the look on his face. When they had finally caught their breath, Jake explained, “Yeah, my family, and Y/n’s, we’re fairly religious. You’re supposed to save it for marriage ya’ know.” 

Rooster snorted, “I see you dropped the ball on that.” 

“Well, we can’t all be perfect,” Bob cut in, trying to take the spotlight off Jake. 

“So Annie–” Rooster started. 

“I won’t speak for Annie,” Jake cut him off a little more gruffly than he meant to. 

Rooster nodded, looking down into his beer glass, a thoughtful look on his face. Before Jake could break the silence that had settled around them, his phone rang out from his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw that it was the realtor. 

“I’ve got to take this,” he said, getting up from the bar and walking outside.

—

“So, you and Hangman… How long have you been buddies?” Rooster asked, turning his glass on the coaster.

“I mean, we were civil by the end of the uranium mission but we only started hanging out, like, properly when I joined the church, so about…two years ago? Maybe a little more? We lived together for a while last year when I was between leases,” Bob explained.

“And you never told us?” Rooster said, confused.

“Look, I tend to keep shit quiet about my church involvement. What I do on Wednesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays is no one else’s business, really,” Bob said, staring at his water. 

“I’m not saying that as an attack on your church involvement, dude,” Rooster replied defensively, “I’m confused is all. One day you guys are cold as ice towards each other, now you’re friends and I’m just finding out y’all were best friends all along. I’m starting to feel like I don’t really know you,” he added.

“I’m sorry. I don’t love talking about it,” Bob said, growing quiet and more reserved. He was usually a pretty open person, happy to chat and laugh with anyone interested enough to try and break through the shy interior. The only subject he had trouble with was his religion, having kept it secret for so long that talking about it felt a little like signing a death certificate. Still, Rooster was a friend. He was looking for an answer Bob might know. He took a deep breath in, “My dad’s shit. He’s church of England, and I am not, so keeping it secret is kind of just survival.”

“I’m sorry,” Rooster said quietly.

“What was the advice you needed, I might be able to help. I know Annie too,” Bob said, “Not very well, mind you, but I know who had a hand in raising her. That’s gotta count for something.”

“Well, I got my advice. I just -- I don’t know how I can work on the execution,” Rooster sighed, stretching his arms upwards and crumpling back into a crouch as he leaned against the bar.

“What’s the problem? Like, the whole problem, not the ‘it’s complicated’ stuff you told Jake,” Bob asked. 

“Wow, I’ve never seen you this…” Rooster thought for a moment. Bob’s entire demeanour had changed. He stood tall in front of him, appearing more confident, more self-assured. Rooster had never heard Bob talk with this much authority. He tried to find the right word but when he couldn’t he just stayed quiet for a moment.

“My dad was religious. I was too for a while, and then as I got older, I started getting angrier and angrier at God. I mean He’s this being of immense power and knowledge. He could have saved my dad,” Rooster said, growing angrier by the word, “But he didn’t. He let my dad fucking die. And He let me and my mum pick up the fucking pieces. He let us live with the gaping hole of pain that now permanently follows me around. The dad-shaped hole in all of my fucking experiences,” he continued. Bradley breathed in deeply a few times, “I’m not sure I stopped believing. If I stop, then there’s no Heaven, and if there’s no heaven, it means my dad is just dead in the ground in a military cemetary in California,” he paused

“But I don’t think I can forgive. And I sure as fuck cannot worship,” Rooster said, tipping the bottom of his beer back into his mouth and swallowing. He raised a finger at Penny, five minutes later, she slid a full pint of beer in front of him. Rooster picked up the glass, tapping Bob on the shoulder before leaving to find an empty booth somewhere private. 

“You’re not going to talk?” Bradley asked when Bob stayed silent.

“I’m thinking,” Bob replied, “You should talk to Cyclone. He’d do this better than me,” he sighed before steeling himself and adding, “I’m not going to ask you to ‘forgive God’. I’m not even going to try and ask you to talk to Him, because clearly you’re not interested. But, I am going to ask you this: are you mad at the Lord because you want someone to blame, or are you mad because you think He’s responsible?”

“What’s the fucking difference?” Rooster spat out.

“Do you believe your father was killed by God, or are you still grieving and trying to find a way to use up the feelings without working through them?” Bob clarified.

Rooster let out an angry laugh, “What are you, my shrink?”

“Did I strike a nerve?” Bob asked, “Because I’ll tell you what I think it is. I think you’re blaming the Lord because you don’t want to think it is that easy to die. You want to think that somehow, somewhere, the Good Lord made a mistake and your dad died. The Good Lord doesn’t make mistakes,” Rooster opened his mouth and Bob raised up a hand, “The Good Lord doesn’t make mistakes, people do. We do every day, we put the wrong shoes on the right feet, we turn left instead of right. We call kids by the wrong name, we write the wrong date on checks. We forget rent, our wallets, our keys. We press on the gas pedal instead of the break, we drive sixty in a thirty, we do drugs, we drink alcohol. We make mistakes. A million every day. At some point, a mistake was made and your dad died. And I am sorry,” Bob continued, 

“I am sorry that it happened to you and I get what you’re feeling. I do. I understand the feeling of paralysing pain, of agony. But it is not the Lord’s fault. The Lord has opened the gates of Heaven to your father, not out of guilt or shame. He has done it because your father lived an honourable life. He was a good man,” Bob kept talking, “Rooster, I don’t want to talk out of my ass here, but your dad was religious, he believed in the Goodness of the Lord. He is standing there with Him, looking down at you, looking over everything you do. Do you think he blames the Lord?”

“No,” Rooster answered quietly.

“I think you blame the Lord because it’s safe. Because He understands your pain and He will forgive you for everything you have thrown at him. But I don’t think that’s necessarily a good thing. I think it’s easy to get used to that. You can’t blame the Lord forever, you can’t pick the easy route for the rest of your life. At some point, you’ll have to work through those feelings, may as well be now,” Bob finished in a gentler voice. 

Rooster stayed quiet for a few moments, contemplating what Bob had told him.

"Rooster, God didn't stop my dad from putting me through a fucking window at Christmas. I could be mad at Him for that, or I could forgive and move on. I've picked moving on. It doesn't mean I trust my dad, or that I like him, it just means that I don't have to live with the pain of it all. Being mad at the Lord isn't going to change things much, it'll just make me miserable. It'll just remove my most important support system," Bob said, "I'm not trying to force you into anything, but, if you ever want anyone to talk to about that kind of stuff, you know who you can come to," he added. 

Bob stood up from the booth and walked up to the bar, leaving Rooster to finish his drink by himself.

—

“Hello?” Jake said into the phone, slipping his sunglasses on to block his eyes from the evening sun. 

“Lieutenant Commander Seresin, I have some good news for you,” the cheery voice of the realtor said. 

“What’s that?” he asked her, rubbing his hand over his face, there was no way he was looking at another house today no matter how perfect she said it was. 

“Well the house that you and Miss Y/LN put an offer on is available again. Since you two had the next highest offer, the owner is wanting to accept it if you are still committed to it, that is,” she said, her voice questioning. 

“Absolutely, we will sign the paperwork today if that is necessary,” Jake rushed out. You were going to be so excited. 

She let out a small laugh, “I don’t think that will be necessary, but I will let them know and we will be in touch again on Monday to start the paperwork process.”

“That sounds great, thank you so much,” Jake said, ending the call and rushing back into the bar. 

“We got the house!” he shouted, looking for you at the pool table. You looked at him with your jaw dropped, “Are you serious?” 

“As a heart attack,” he said, excitedly. 

Jake laughed as you dropped your pool cue and rushed across the bar, jumping into his arms. He wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug and spun you around. Pressing a kiss to the side of your face he whispered in your ear, “They’ll have the paperwork ready Monday.”

He heard you let out an excited squeal before he placed you back down on your feet. He guided you back to the bar, buying another round in celebration. 

—

Since Jake got the call that you had the winning bid on the house, things had been moving very quickly. You had signed the papers for the house, it was inspected, the mortgage company agreed to loan you the money and then, it was yours. The day that you and Jake got the keys, the two of you drove there together after work.

Jake held your hand as you walked up to the door, slotting the key into the lock, you turned your wrist, hearing the flick as the deadbolt turned open. You reached for the handle, but before you could reach it, you felt Jake’s hand on the back of your knees. Jake suddenly picked you up, bridal style, and you let out a small shriek, “Jake!” 

You could feel him laughing against you, “What baby? I thought I was supposed to carry you over the threshold?”

Now laughing with him, you smacked his chest lightly, “You know that’s only on the wedding day, Jacob Seresin.” 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before using a hand to open the door. He walked through it with you cradled in his arms, placing you on the ground only once he had shut the door behind him. 

Letting out an excited squeal, you ran a little further into the house, hearing Jake laugh behind you, “I’m sorry I’m just so excited! Can you believe we got it?” you asked him. 

“I can’t baby, but I’m glad that we did, gotta make sure we thank the Lord come Sunday,” he said, his voice a little lower as he came up behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

The house was perfect, and it came at the perfect time, your lease was about to end, and Jake had been living month to month for the last few months while the two of you had been looking. 

That first night, you helped Jake move his stuff into the house, the earlier he got out of his apartment the better. Eventually Rooster and Bob showed up to help and after only making a few trips to his apartment and back, all of his stuff was at least at the new house. He took your back to your apartment late that night, giving you a kiss on the doorstep before leaving to go home. You were sad that you couldn’t stay there with him that night, but Catholic couples did not sleep in the same bed before the wedding, and you didn’t want to tempt yourself into something you or Jake couldn’t resist. 

The next morning started early, which you were not a fan of, but the excitement of moving into your new house made things a little easier. After three cups of coffee, and a shower you invited Jake over. He arrived wearing one of the work out shirts you got him at Christmas and a pair of basketball shorts. 

“I like that shirt,” you said as you opened the door, “Whoever bought it for you must have really good taste.” 

Jake laughed, “My amazing fiance got it for me, she’s wonderful,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips as he made his way inside. 

“It’s not our usual affair this morning, but I did try and whip something up,” you said, making your way into the kitchen. The yoghurt parfaits were the best that you could do with all of your cooking utensils packed away. You had thrown the rest of the fruit you had in the fridge on top of some blueberry yoghurt and some granola that had been in the pantry. 

Jake took a seat at the table, moving the box that was resting on top of the table to the floor, he accepted a parfait from you, “Thanks baby, we could have just gotten some McDonald’s you know?”

“Jacob Seresin, when we are married you are going to be able to get out of the gym with all of the healthy food I’ll be feeding you,” you said, taking the seat next to him. 

He let out a laugh, “I don’t know darlin’, your cooking is the best I’ve ever tasted, I might just eat more of it.” 

You just glared at him before scooping up some of the yoghurt on your spoon and taking a bite. While Jake’s belongings could be moved all in one night, the same could not be said for you. You had more furniture and more just general belongings than he did which meant more boxes. The two of you were going to have to have a yard sale once the move was over to try and sell off some of the duplicates that you now possessed. 

Your move had taken the whole day, and by the time you were done, you didn’t feel like doing anything but going to bed. Jake called in a pizza to be delivered and the two of you ate it sitting on the floor in your living room, watching the TV that was plugged into the wall but not yet on its stand. When the exhaustion overtook you, you laid down, your head resting in Jake’s lap. Soon you were asleep, the last thing you remembered was Jake manoeuvring himself out from under you and placing you gently on the couch. 

—

On Sunday, after mass, the team had come over and helped to move most of the bigger furniture to its rightful places. What would be your and Jake’s room had his large king sized bed in it and the guest bedroom was set up with your smaller full size bed. Over the next week, you and Jake had been slowly unpacking box after box until the house started to resemble a home. 

You brought in the last boxes of the night from the garage, bidding goodnight to everyone but Bob as you tidied the last bits. Eventually, the three of you settled on the couch with beers and sodas. Suddenly the doorbell rang, the sound echoing through the still mostly empty house. Jake stood up with a grin and went to open the door, returning a few minutes later with a large cardboard box. 

“We got a delivery,” he said.

“Who’s it from?” you asked, confused as to who would send you something so soon after moving. 

“Us,” Maria replied, jumping from behind Jake. You stood up to greet her, but Bob got there before you, engulfing Maria in a bone breaking hug that she happily returned, “Sorry for the surprise, but Jake thought it would be fun,” she explained, hugging you tightly.

“I just wanted to see your reactions,” Jake defended himself, “Mainly Bob’s though,” he added, shooting his friend a wink.

“Did I disappoint?” Bob asked with a grin, sitting down on the couch and pulling Maria next to him, raising an arm so she could cuddle close.

“Are you guys not going to open the box?” Maria asked, giggling when both you and Jake suddenly remembered the entire point of the charade. 

Jake fetched a knife from one of the boxes in the kitchen, handing it to you so you could cut through the duck tape in one smooth motion. You opened up the package and gasped as you saw the content. Before Jake could reach you, you pulled out the quilt, the end catching on the box and making it fall with an empty thud onto the hardwood floor.  It was huge, definitely big enough for Jake’s King sized bed. 

“Did Nonna make that?” Jake asked incredulously, looking at the intricate details his grandmother had delicately sewn onto the quilt. Each square was filled with hearts large and small, the blue, tan, and white fabrics were the exact colours that you had picked for the wedding. She had quilted it free hand, and the pattern that flowed across the surface was also filled with small heart shapes all touching together. The detail was exquisite and you couldn’t believe that something so beautiful had been made in only a few months. 

“Uh huh,” Maria agreed, not having heard a word her brother had said and yet still, somehow managing to give the right answer. She was gazing into Bob’s eyes, completely lost to anything happening around her. 

Jake glanced at you with a grin, “Oh my god,” he mouthed, “We weren’t that bad, were we?” he whispered.

You looked back at the two people behind you, “I think we might have been worse,” 

“Have been?” Jake asked in mock outrage, “Are we not -- Are we not in love anymore?” he continued, his voice going up an octave. You burst out laughing at his antics, snaking one arm around his waist and hugging him from the side.

“You’re silly,” you said.

“You’re not answering my question, Y/n,” he laughed, wrigging away from your embrace, “no hugging until you answer.”

You laughed, “We are, you goof, we are so very in love,” you replied.

“Okay, okay, good. I feel better now,” he smiled, swinging his arms around you and hugging you tight. Jake rested his chin on top of your head for a second before moving his head so he could kiss the middle part of your hair.

“So, what do you guys usually do on Friday nights?” Maria asked once she managed to rip her gaze from her boyfriend.

Jake hummed, “We usually go out for drinks with the team,” he said, his voice muffled by your hair. 

“Ooh, that sounds fun,” she replied, not so subtly hinting to her brother that she would very much like to meet his friends, after having heard so much about them from Tony and her father. 

“Alright then,” Jake said with a sigh, “If you think you can handle it.” 

“You know I can handle it bambino, can you is the real question,” Maria said, rising to the challenge of her brother’s baiting. 

You and Bob laughed at their ridiculous teasing. 

“Let’s go you two,” you called, grabbing Jake’s keys from the hook by the door. You climbed in the passenger seat, pushing the keys into the ignition. Jake got into the driver’s seat only after putting on his Texas Longhorns hat. 

He opened the garage and pulled the truck out, grabbing your hand in his as he steered it on to the road and towards the Hard Deck. 

Looking back every now and then, you noticed the slight stubble across Bob’s chin and how long his hair had gotten over the leave you all had been on. His hand was entwined with Maria’s and the two of them both had grins splitting their faces. 

As Jake pulled into the bar, you noticed Rooster’s Bronco sitting in the lot, as well as Phoenix’s Monte Carlo. Opening the door and climbing out, the four of you made your way into the bar. As soon as you stepped inside, Bob started receiving strange looks. His dishevelled appearance and Maria on his arm were both things people wouldn’t expect from the clean cut Robert Floyd. 

“Bob! Who’s this fine lady? Didn’t know you had a sister,” one of the younger Top Gun pilots, Rebel, said, “What’s up with the stubble? You trying out for a version of Brokeback Mountain?”

“Rebel, show some respect,” Jake said, stepping in to defend Bob, “That’s my sister, and she’s dating Bob here. Who are you to talk about Brokeback? They should have made Ennis your callsign.”

The whole bar roared with laughter, Rooster coming up behind Rebel and smacking him on the shoulder, catching the pilot off guard. Nodding at you and Bob, Rooster stuck his hand out to Maria, “I believe that makes you Maria then,” he said, shaking her hand, “I am Rooster, or Bradley, whichever you prefer.” 

“I see Jake has told you about me, hopefully only the good things,” she said, giving her brother an evil side eye. 

“Actually not, Bobby here likes to brag about his wonderful girlfriend,” Rooster said, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. 

Maria gave Bob a slight smack on the chest before pressing a kiss to his cheek, whispering something into his ear that the rest of the group wasn’t privy to. Bob’s ears turned red and he cleared his throat, “Y’all wanna play some pool?” he asked. 

Jake caught Bob’s eye suspiciously, “Sure, Bobby, you gonna start the game?” 

“Nah, my lovely lady here said she wanted to take on these Navy boys for bragging rights, and free rounds for the night,” he said, making eye contact with Rebel. Jake let out a slight laugh before Maria elbowed him in the ribs, making him grunt. 

Rebel let out a laugh, “I think we can take her, what do you say Duke?”

“I say you have a deal there, little lady,” the larger man said, reaching out to shake her hand, “Who’s going to be your second?”

“I am,” Phoenix’s voice said from behind you, “Any lady who is willing to take on the likes of you two must be damn good,” she said lower than the two rookie pilots could hear. 

Maria turned, giving her a smile, “Maria, you must be Phoenix.” 

“That I am,” Phoenix said, “You’re even prettier than Hangman here, I didn’t think it was possible.” 

Maria laughed, “I like you already Phoenix.” 

The group made their way to the pool table, Jake excusing himself to the bar with a smirk on his face. Maria racked the pool balls and let the boys call solids as they broke the grouping. Rebel managed to get three balls in before scratching the cue ball. Maria placed the ball on the table and proceeded to sink every stripe on the table in one go. When she looked up, the confused faces of Rebel and Duke were worth the free drinks they were all about to receive. 

“I’ll let you boys call it, which pocket do you want the eight ball in?” she asked, winking at Bob from her place at the table. 

Rebel’s jaw snapped shut, and he picked the hardest shot for her to make, there was a solid ball in the way of her and the eight. Maria lined up the shot, jumping the cue ball over the solid before sinking the eight ball in the pocket he called. The, “What the fuck?” that came out of Rebel’s mouth was worth her trick. 

Maria gave the men an innocent smile, “Well boys it looks like that’s drinks for our group for the night, or you can play again? This time we could wager a little money, what do you say? A grand?” 

Rebel shook his head, “No, no, that’s alright. If I had realised that all Seresins were pool sharks I wouldn’t have taken this bet either.” 

Maria laughed without humour, “That’s what you get for underestimating the little guy, honey. Maybe next time you’ll think twice.” 

The rest of the night passed quickly. With Rebel and Duke picking up the tab, you, Maria, and Phoenix had a good night, dancing together as a group on the dancefloor. You even thought that when a slow song came on you saw Coyote ask Phoenix for a dance, but Jake swept you up in his arms so quickly, you couldn’t be certain. 

When the night was over, and the four of you returned home, Bob and Maria made their goodbyes on the front porch. Jake stood near the door, flicking the front porch light on and off when ten minutes had passed and she still wasn’t in the house yet. 

You weren’t going to say anything, but her lips looked awfully pink for someone who was just saying goodnight. Bob’s scruff must be a little rougher than it looked. 

Maria settled into the couch as you and Jake made your way upstairs. He pressed a kiss to your lips, pushing you up against the wall and his hard frame. After a moment kissing you heard Maria call from downstairs, “Alright you two, don’t think you can interrupt my kissing and I won’t do the same to you.” 

Jake let loose a laugh, and you joined him, “It’s my damn house,” he called back, “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“You wanna bet?” she asked, a threat present in her voice. 

“Alright feisty pants, text your boyfriend, we are going to bed,” Jake said with a disappointed sigh, pressing one last kiss to your lips before letting you go and making his way into the guest bedroom. 

That night you slept like the dead, the unpacking from the day before tiring you out more than you had thought. Morning came early for you, and with Maria and Jake both still asleep, you decided to spend it unpacking a box you were saving for yourself. 

You crept down the stairs and started the coffee pot. Pulling the box you had left on the counter the night before towards yourself, you cut the duck tape that held it closed. Inside were religious books, a few spare bibles, a crucifix, the house rosary, a picture of Jesus you had bought sketched in oil pastels from a local artist, and the prayers of your and Jake’s confirmation saints. 

Pouring yourself a cup of the brew, you made your way to the short bookshelf you had placed near the front door. You placed the box on the floor carefully and brushed a few misbehaving hairs off of your forehead before beginning to unpack it. You hung up the prayers on one side of the mirror and the canvas and crucifix on the other. You lined the shelves with the different books and trinkets that were in the box, before finally hanging the rosary over Jesus’ head on the crucifix. Taking a step back, you bumped into something solid and warm. 

Jake’s hands wrapped around your waist, holding you against him, “It’s beautiful,” he said quietly, not wanting to disturb Maria. 

“Do you think so?” you asked him, you were honestly a little worried about what he would think of it. “Absolutely, I love it,” he said, “It just needs one more thing I think.” Letting go of you, Jake took the stairs two at a time. You heard a little bit of rummaging in his bedroom before he made his way back down, a small photo frame in hand. It was a picture of the two of you from the night of his promotion. It had been taken during one of the slow dances they had played that night. You were looking up at Jake like he had hung the moon just for you. He was looking at you like you were the only woman in the room. 

You placed the frame on the table, making a little room for it near the elephant figurine your grandmother had given you. 

“You’re right, that’s just what it needed,” you said, smiling at him in the mirror. Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head, wrapping his arms around your waist once more. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, swaying gently with him, just enjoying his embrace, when you were interrupted by a groan from the couch. 

“Me and Robby are definitely not that bad,” Maria called from her place on the leather sofa. 

You and Jake laughed before he let go of your hips, taking your hand instead he led you into the living room as he said back, “No, you’re right, you’re much worse.”