#gives time for old polls to finish up before moving on to new ones

[sanji-outfit-tourney]

Best Sanji Colour Spread Outfit Part 1 Round 4

[rosie-read-that]

one more afternoon / jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary: your brother's best friend pays a visit to his texas hometown, and in spite of your resolution to get over your (slightly embarrassing) childhood unrequited crush, you can't help but admit that you're still down bad for jake seresin.

content warnings: f!reader, alcohol use, oblivious reader can't take a hint

word count: 14k (you told me not to apologize for long fics, so here it is, i present it without apology!)

author’s note: hello, all! i wanted to have this out by thanksgiving, but i got hit with a stomach flu and then with a regular flu, so it took me this long to finish it. i hope the wait was worth it 🫶 the title is taken from a song by maggie rogers. as promised, the next one will be a short (i mean it this time!) and spicy holiday-themed one for all the tyler owens lovers 💓 thank you so much for voting in the poll that got this baby written.

“Did you hear the big news?” Your dad bustled into the shop with his arms full of greenery, grunting as he set the bundles wrapped in newspaper into a bucket. At the counter, your mom paused her accounting and fixed your dad an eager stare. She loved news. “Jake’s coming home for the wedding!” he announced. He brushed his hands off while yours fumbled over the order forms. A few slipped out of sequence and fluttered down to the floor. You bent to pick them up, hearing your mom’s sigh of delight.

“Oh, that's wonderful news! Dinah will be so pleased, and Amanda, too. She was worried Jake wouldn't manage to get leave. You know how much she adores him.”

“Well, she's not the only one. Mike’s ready to throw a whole goshdarn parade in his honor.” The forms retrieved, you busied yourself with putting them back in order. Your dad laughed. “I haven’t seen the kid that excited since the day Gilly was born.”

“Ow!” You stuck your finger in your mouth, the taste of blood making you wince.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” your mom asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just… paper cut.”

She came to your end of the counter. Taking your finger in her hands, she moved it this way and that, squinting at it through her glasses before she dropped a kiss on your head. “Mm, I think you’ll live.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis.”

“Don’t sass me!” she joked. “I’ll call Mike. Maybe we can all throw Jake a nice big barbecue, spend some time together like the old days.”

“He’ll probably be busy with wedding stuff,” you pointed out, mumbling around your finger.

She shot you a look that said spoilsport. “I know Jake, he’ll make the time. Besides, he’ll be walking with you at the wedding, won’t he?” Mom must have taken the shock of surprise for disappointment, because she smacked a hand against her forehead and said, “Oh, sorry! Me and my big mouth!”

It took you a moment to realize she wasn't talking about Jake.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, making a half-hearted attempt to sort through the forms again. Your parents looked at you skeptically. “I’m fine! Josh and I are practically ancient history.”

Dad, bless him, took your word for it, or at least pretended to. He picked up the bucket of sage bundles and took it into the back, but your mom hovered, stroking your shoulder, cloyingly sympathetic. It was clear she wanted to say something but was afraid of how you’d react. Knowing her, she’d give you that hangdog expression all day until you gave her permission to spill the beans, so you gave a deep sigh and turned to her with a look that said, “Alright, let’s have it.”

“I heard he’s bringing Mia to the wedding,” she blurted out. “Amanda was livid. She said she would disinvite him if you wanted—”

“Mom, I hope you told her that wouldn't be necessary.”

“Of course I did! But she said it was a standing offer.”

Oh, bother… Amanda was a sweetheart, if not a little overeager. As much as you appreciated everyone’s tact, it was also part of the reason why you still felt some awkwardness when you thought about Josh. Any time your friends or family brought up your ex, they looked at you like they were expecting you to fall to pieces, especially after word started going around that he had moved on to someone else. No matter how many times you insisted that they could refer to him normally and not as “him” or “you-know-who,” they thought you were being a brave martyr about it, pretending to take it better than you were for the sake of maturity.

“It’s not like that,” you explained for the thousandth time. “Josh and I are fine. And Mia…” Okay, so part of you did want to bash her over the head with a waffle iron. Still… “Nothing untoward happened. We were already broken up when they got together.”

“Well yeah, but after only a month,” your mom scoffed. “That’s hardly enough time to get over a six-year relationship.”

You shrugged. “Maybe some things are meant to be, and some… aren’t.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She hugged you from behind. You grimaced as she squeezed you tight and made cooing sounds. “You don’t have to be so civil about it. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I know, Mom, thanks.” You patted her hand.

“Anytime.” You thought that would be the end of embarrassing conversations you didn't want to have, until she clapped her hands and said, “Look on the bright side - it’ll be good to see Jake again! For him to meet the baby - and won’t the wedding pictures be just darling? He’s so handsome! I know you’ll look just fabulous together…”

-

It was as much cliché as it was ancient history. Jake Seresin - tall, tan, broad-shouldered, with a thousand-watt grin and a starring place on the high school football team - had been your crush since the moment you realized boys were more than just smelly, disgusting nuisances. Hell, you'd liked him even before the letterman jacket, around the time of his first growth spurt, when he’d come back from a summer visiting his aunt and uncle in California. From the porch steps, you'd seen him running into the yard to throw ball with your older brother, Mike, and your stomach had flopped and then flipped, and then flopped again. Looking back, Jake - a mere mortal - had an awkward phase just like everyone else, but you didn't see it at the time. To you, he was the dreamiest guy since you wore out your family’s Titanic VHS trying to feed your preteen fantasies of being Rose romanced by DiCaprio (before the ship went down).

Anyway, Jake’s awkward phase didn't last long. By the time he was a sophomore, he was playing on the junior varsity team along with Mike. Your sports-mad, overly enthusiastic dad gave them his blessing to turn the barn into their own personal gym, and while you complained about the unfairness of the world and the preferential treatment given to male athletes, you did find excuses to “run errands” and “pass through” so you could see Jake, shirtless, glistening with sweat. It didn't take long for Mike to notice. As a preteen, you weren’t exactly known for your finesse. While, in your opinion, you were doing nothing more than offering the boys a little lemonade - like Mom asked you to do - Mike would go back to the house for dinner and declare for all and sundry that he’d “appreciate it if you didn't salivate all over Jake like a peeping tom.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do!”

“Mom, I swear it's not true! He’s making it up. You’re making it up, you buttface! You just don't want me hanging around—”

“Why would I want you hanging around? We’re training! You’re a kid, you're a safety risk!”

“Mooooom!” you wailed.

“Honestly, Mike, don't call your sister a safety risk. You're hardly grown yourself.”

“She called me a buttface!”

“That’s true. Sweetie, don't call your brother a buttface at the table, it's not polite.”

“Fine. I’ll call him a buttface later, like he deserves.”

No further comment was made about your crush on Jake on that occasion, but over the years it became your brother’s weapon of choice when he wanted to knock you down a peg, and “I’ll tell Jake you have a big fat crush on him” was a surefire way to get you to do whatever he wanted.

Once, you went down for a glass of water after you were supposed to be in bed and came upon Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.

“—it’s a harmless little crush,” you heard her say. “We all had them at that age.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Of course you don't. She’s your daughter and you're finally working out that she's not going to be a little girl forever.” There was a pause. “You don't have to worry, Stan, I’ve given her The Talk.”

Ew, gross, ew! You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Yes, you remembered The Talk and you didn't want to have it ever again!

Your face heated as you knelt on the stairs. Hearing about The Talk in relation to you and Jake made you think about the stuff you’d seen at your friend Tessa’s house on the TV one night during a sleepover. You had stared at the screen, titillated and kind of horrified at what the actors were doing, the way their bodies moved and the sounds they made. Once the scene was over, you turned to each other and burst into nervous giggles, knowing your parents would blow a gasket if they knew what you’d seen. Not that you understood it. You knew how babies were made, but you didn’t understand what sex was supposed to be.

And your dad was worried about you having it? With Jake?

“He’s a good kid,” your mom gentled. “He knows she's too young for him - I’m not even sure he's aware that she likes him. Even if he is, he treats her like Mike’s kid sister. She’ll grow out of it.”

“If you say so, hon. But God as my witness—”

“She’s gonna have a boyfriend at some point.”

“When she’s eighteen,” your dad declared, “and not a moment sooner!”

You padded back to your room. It wasn’t news, but hearing that Jake thought of you as a kid dealt a heavy blow to your self-esteem. From then on, you resolved to play your cards closer to the chest - you might not be able to help the way he made you feel like your insides had turned to melted goo, but no one else had to talk about it behind your back like you had some sort of disease.

Unfortunately, playing it cool was one of the hardest things you had to do during high school. As it turned out, Jake and Mike were actually pretty good at the whole football thing. Around the time they made varsity, you zeroed in on the fact that girls found their athletic prowess to be sexually irresistible; they were crazy about them - and crazy about Jake in particular.

You watched as he winked and blew kisses at a train of girlfriends while he was out on the field. He leaned against their lockers, turning the charm up to eleven and brushing strands away from their cheeks, saying things like, “Pick you up at six?”

When he got his first truck - a beat-up old Chevy that he bought off Don Amberley by working shifts at the hardware store - you’d peer around your curtains at the sound of his horn. Sometimes Mike would take a while to leave the house, and Jake would turn his head to kiss the pretty girls in his front seat as a way to pass the time. The shy ones laughed, warding him off with a light push against his chest, while the bold ones closed their nails around his shirt and pulled him even closer, all but straddling his lap. You watched with bated breath as he put his hands on them, green with envy, wondering what it would be like to have his attention, not as his best friend’s little sister but as an actual girl.

Your suffering lasted a whole calendar year, after which Jake went off to college, then joined the Navy, and while time made you realize that you needed to move on with your life and stop making up scenarios about a white picket fence and two-point-five children, you never forgot about Jake, who in your mind - and despite your best efforts - remained the measure to which you compared every other guy.

It wasn't just his ridiculously handsome good looks, though having the body of a Greek god and a smile that made your toes curl didn't hurt. He had helped you when you’d scraped your knee roller-blading, letting you lean on his shoulder and fetching the bandages from the downstairs powder room; he joined your mom in the kitchen to do the washing-up when he stayed over for dinner, saying, “ma’am, I insist,” which earned him funny looks from Mike, but it never swayed him into doing things differently. You liked that he’d earned his first truck, got good grades, was a loyal friend. To you, Jake Seresin was the full package and then some - what more could anyone want? And while you had long accepted that he would make another woman very happy someday, the way in which your family teased you about your “little childhood crush” never failed to put your stomach all in knots. There was nothing little about it. In fact, it had now lasted well into adulthood and you had a feeling it would never fully go away.

-

Dad was right. Michael insisted on being part of the airport welcome wagon, cringey sign and all. He even stuck Gilly in an adorable pilot’s costume. Your sister-in-law sent you looks the entire way and, like a saint, restrained herself by only once making a comment about “your brother’s true wife.”

You sat in the backseat, trying to will yourself into being less nervous. Maybe it was your guilty conscience; for some reason, you kept thinking about all the times you’d imagined him in bed, or in the place of one of your boyfriends when you were doing couple-things. Be cool, be cool, you kept telling yourself.

By the time you parked at the airport, you thought your poker face was pretty flawless. After helping Julie wrestle the baby things into the stroller, you made your way through the chaotic mass of people coming and going through the Barbara Jordan terminal. The weather was good. Jake had texted your brother to say that he’d landed safely and was waiting to deplane, and Mike, vibrating with excitement, was trying to stake out a place in the Arrivals hall that would show his dorky Welcome Home, Hangman! sign in optimal light. Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing to be seen with him. You kept apologizing to the people he elbowed out of the way, as if to say, “Move aside, I was here first, bud!” But it did strengthen your resolve to be chill because at least one of you had to be.

Finally, you spotted a familiar face in the line of passengers spilling into the hall. Like something out of a romcom, Jake Seresin spotted Mike standing in the crowd, dropped his duffle bag, and came bounding into his arms. They talked over each other between laughter and bro-y exchanges, while Julie snorted through her nose and even Gilly sputtered and snuffled. You could take the boy out of Texas, it seemed… but back home he was still sixteen around friends.

Jake turned to you and smiled. “Hey, Cabbage.”

“Please, don’t,” you said, feeling awkward about the old nickname.

“Come here, bring it in.” He held out his arms, grinning, and there was no conceivable reason why you’d say no, so you steadied your nerves and stepped into them. He wrapped his arms around you. He smelled just as good as you remembered him - better, even, because a memory could never be as good as the real thing.

“You’re so stiff!” Jake pointed out, squeezing you tighter.

“No, I’m not.”

“What am I, your creepy uncle?” He looked down at you, then over your shoulder and spotted the baby in Julie’s arms.

His smile lit up his whole face and you felt your heart twist against your ribcage. You let out a breath when he let you go, trying not to fixate on the way his hand brushed against your shoulder as he did so, a slide that seemed to linger.

Fondness - that was all it was, you told yourself. He’d known you all your life and he was fond of you.

He turned his attention now to your little niece.With something like awe, he said, “Michael, you old bastard…” Then, “Sorry, little lady - you must be Gilly! Hi! Hi there, it’s your Uncle Jake! Your not-at-all-creepy Uncle Jake…”

“Nice one,” you threw back.

He grinned wider, saying, “Julie, how are you?”

“About as well as can be expected with a teething baby.”

“Well, you look great.”

“Liar,” Julie replied, but his comment made her stand a little straighter.

He let Gilly grip his finger in an attempt at a handshake. Being a sucker for attention, she wiggled her body in her mother’s grasp and held her arms out to the smiley stranger, wanting to be carried. Jake was thrilled. He bounced her in his arms the entire way to the car, asking about the wedding, his parents, how Amanda was doing, which of their friends he could expect to see on Saturday afternoon. Mike stuck to him like glue, carrying Jake’s bag for him and answering his questions. You were certain he’d send Julie to the back so Jake could ride shotgun, but instead, he loaded Gilly into her baby seat and Jake touched you on the elbow, saying, “I can take the middle seat.”

“You don't want the window?” you asked, your arm tingling. He had slipped on a pair of sunglasses once he left the terminal and he looked like a movie star, all golden skin, slicked-back hair, and a hint of stubble on his jaw. You had no idea how you were supposed to survive a 90-minute car ride when just the sight of him made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“I want to sit next to my goddaughter. You get her all the time,” he pointed out and ducked into the car.

Helpless, you climbed in after him and pulled the door closed. In the back of the SUV, there was no way for your bodies not to touch. By necessity, your arms and thighs pressed together, his body solid and warm. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself by squirming away even though your heart was beating double-time and you were at a loss as to what to do with your hands.

Thankfully, the car started moving, and by the time you made it onto the highway you had almost gotten used to the feeling of his muscled forearms and the smell of his cologne. You were focusing on the passing landscape as he made small talk with Mike and Julie, so it caught you unawares when he turned to you and said, “So - it seems we’re paired up for the wedding. I’m sorry about you and Whatshisface, by the way.”

Here we go… “I know that you name his name, Jake.”

“Do I? Persona non grata. I must have erased him from my memory chip.” He was grinning like the cat who caught the canary, and there was something about the twinkle in his eye that made you glare daggers at your brother, who was looking suspiciously blank-faced sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my God, Mike, what did you tell him?”

“Nothing! I just said you two broke up and that he’s with Mia now.”

“That cow,” Julie put in.

“Okay, time out!” you called, doing the motion with your hands. “As much as I appreciate this show of familial solidarity, it’s really not necessary. Josh and I are cool.”

“Well, we’re not!” Mike said.

“Then be cool, Mike! And you!” You wagged your finger in front of Jake. He stared at it like it was the most amusing thing in the world. “You just got here. Do you really want to spend the rest of the week picking fights that have nothing to do with you?”

Evidently, the answer was yes, but he raised his hands in a facetious show of surrender. “Hey, I never liked the guy.”

“Dude, neither did I!” Mike crowed.

“What? You never said anything!”

“I’ve always said that - haven’t I, babe?”

“Mike, you say a lot of things,” Julie drawled.

“…including the fact that I never liked the guy! Him and his beady little eyes—”

“He gets hay fever!” you defended. “That’s not his fault!”

“—and the fact that he stayed in the apartment—”

“I wanted to move out! Julie, a little help here?”

“Hey, I don't like the guy either.”

“What?” You were flabbergasted. You thought that everyone liking Josh was the whole reason why they felt communally betrayed by the breakup. Now they were acting like the spearheads of an anti-Josh conspiracy? “Are you seriously telling me this six years after the fact? You went to games with him!”

“Wait, you went to games with Josh Spritzer?” Jake balked, his voice going up an octave while Mike went red in the face.

“I was in a dark place, man. Julie was pregnant and you weren't around… It was a case of the pre-baby blues!”

“I feel like you just admitted to cheating on me. Josh Spritzer?”

“Hey!” you warned.

“I mean, I guess it’s all a matter of taste, sweetheart…”

“Seresin, what the hell!”

“…although God knows I never knew what you saw in him—”

“Oh, didn't you?”

“Hey, I love you all sooo much,” Julie piped up from the passenger seat, “Jake, I’m happy you’re here, but will you all shut up so Gilly can sleep?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Though Jake sobered up, the provoking glint remained in his eyes. Once more you were aware of his closeness and the heat of his skin.

“Unbelievable…” you said underneath your breath, crossing your arms, your reward being another one of Jake’s dazzling smiles.

-

When you arrived, the reunion was as rowdy as you expected. About two dozen Seresins and their closest friends and family had convened at Jake’s childhood home. Amanda cried when she saw her favorite cousin coming towards her, and she excitedly introduced him to her husband-to-be, a bookish engineer named Christian who came from a small family and seemed as flattered as he was overwhelmed by all the attention.

Dinner was served outdoors, buffet style. The backyard was strung up with twinkling lights and music played from a pair of speakers stationed at the back porch. The air was festive and full of hope; it was easy to get caught up in the pre-wedding bliss when you were well-fed, your glass never empty, the company some of your most loved people in the world.

Josh - thank God - was not in attendance. He was supposed to walk down the aisle with you. Your save-the-date and wedding invitation had arrived labeled with his name along with yours, the assumption being that of course your long-term, live-in boyfriend would be your date. After you’d broken up, Amanda had to reshuffle her arrangements to keep you as one of her bridesmaids, the only upside being that Jake’s uncertain attendance made him your perfect partner.

Well, perfect for Amanda, if not for you.

At some point in the night, after speeches had been made and dessert served, Jake took the seat next to you to chat with his great-aunt Sandy and her boyfriend, Clyde. The apple pie came courtesy of Mrs. Seresin, who had the best recipe in the county and probably the entire state of Texas, in your limited and yet eager opinion. You demolished it with aplomb and once you finished, Jake pushed his plate towards you, the crust untouched. “Have at it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“I know it’s your favorite part.”

The fact that he remembered made you feel sixteen again, watching him come home from university, crushed at knowing that he had a whole life you didn't know about, people he knew who were probably far more interesting, sophisticated and self-assured. He joined the Navy, and then moved out west while you stayed behind in your hometown, stationary while he took to the skies.

He had always been nice to you, for all that he enjoyed teasing you and even making fun of you on occasion. But that didn't mean you would ever be anything more to him than his best friend’s sister, someone he indulged in the same way as Amanda.

You excused yourself from the table, picking up plates as a pretense to head inside and get a few moments to yourself. This was exactly the reason why you hadn't wanted Jake to come home. Selfishly, in your heart of hearts, you had prized your own comfort above Amanda’s happiness, which made you feel like a Grade-A jerk, but you weren't ready to confront the way he made you feel after all this time. How could you explain to yourself, let alone anyone else, that you were holding out for a fantasy you’d had since you were young?

Suddenly, the presence of everyone you’d known and loved all your life felt oppressive rather than a source of delight. You poured yourself a glass of wine from one of the open bottles on the counter and went out to the Seresins’ front porch. From there, the sounds of the party seemed far away and you let out a sigh of relief. You sat on the ledge with your back to one of the vertical beams, watching the night breeze move the branches on the trees and the clouds which obscured the waning moon. Gradually, your mind slowed its pace and you were able to enjoy the song of the night critters mingled with the distant music of someone - probably Clyde - strumming his guitar.

Your repose was broken by the screen door opening and then clattering shut behind you, making you turn your head to see Jake coming outside, just a touch sheepish but for the most part his usual Jake-self, out of his jacket and carrying a bottle of beer.

He lowered himself beside you, and after a moment’s silence, said, “So, how’ve you been? Aside from Whatshisface.”

You shot him a warning look. If he was bringing up Josh, it was only to tease you like he’d done in the car and you weren’t in the mood right now to be the butt of a joke - not when you felt so vulnerable about what he was to you. (Dammit… and of course this has to be a wedding.)

“What,” he said, gently cajoling, “I can’t ask?”

“About my personal life? You never used to care.”

“In high school, I don’t think I was supposed to care. And afterwards—”

“Afterwards, Hangman got a little too full of himself,” you quipped.

“Hey… that's… actually pretty accurate, I’m not gonna lie.” He took a swig of beer, laughing as he said it. The porch light threw his features into sharp relief and you gave yourself permission to look at him - really look at him - for the first time since he returned.

Setting aside that he was gorgeous as ever, he seemed less carefree than you remembered, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He appeared, well, like a grown-up, for lack of a better word. You wondered whether you were being unfair in making assumptions when you had both changed so much in the last decade, as people tended to do. He wasn’t just the dream guy in your head; he was so many things in his own right, and he was here with you, wanting to talk - and maybe trying to get to know you on an even field.

If only that wasn't another reason to love him.

“You seem different,” you said, hoping your voice wasn’t giving you away.

He looked at you for a few breaths, the corner of his mouth tipped up but the rest of his face serious. Then he shrugged in mock humility with a “What can I say, greatness suits me.”

“Idiot…” You shook your head and let out a snort, though on the inside you felt full of champagne - fizzy and bright because he was with you.

“How's the shop going?” he asked after a beat.

“Pretty well. We’re doing the flowers for Amanda’s wedding.”

“And you're bridesmaiding?”

“It’s hardly flying F-18s.”

“I think Amanda would disagree.”

“Well, it is her wedding,” you pointed out, “she’s—”

“Out of her mind,” Jake enounced.

“She’s excited,” you corrected even as a montage ran through your head of all the times Amanda had texted the wedding party’s WhatsApp group to say that “a catastrophe” had occurred or that today was the worst day of her life because “the linen photos do NOT reflect the true shade. I wanted SAGE green - doesn’t this look laurel to you?”

“She’s my cousin,” Jake went on. “In fact, she’s my favorite cousin - which is how I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’s the biggest bridezilla this side of the Mississippi. To being wedding buddies,” he said and held his beer out towards you, “’cause God knows we’re gonna need it.”

“Wedding buddies,” you said, and clinked your glass. You waited until he had a mouthful of beer to say, “So, how’s your love life these days?”

“O-ho!” He nearly choked. “We are not doing that.”

“That hardly seems fair!”

“Age before beauty, Cabbage: I still get to make a few of the rules.” Watching your face work into a grimace, he laughed. “You really do hate when I call you that, don't you? Look at you! It's like a full-body cringe!”

“Stop it!” you complained.

The unfortunate nickname started back when you were a kid and had a penchant for a particular Cabbage Patch doll, which, in hindsight, seemed like an emotional support object, thank you very much. You carried it around until you were forcibly parted during Kindergarten - hence, Cabbage Patch, which in time shortened itself to “Cabbage.” It was cute when your mom said it, but Jake?

“You don't seem to mind when Mike calls you that,” he replied.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ve seen Mike in all sorts of undignified situations. It evens the playing field.”

“I’d say we've known each other almost as long.”

“It is not the same.”

“How come?”

“It’s just… not.”

“I’m getting nothing else out of you by way of an explanation, aren't I? Fine…” he dramatically sighed. “I guess I’ll stop calling you Cabbage.”

“You don't have to…”

“Nope, it's done, it's retired!”

“Thank you,” you said, a little embarrassed.

From the backyard came a round of applause as Clyde finished his song. Jake smiled at you, then leaned close with a devilish glint in his eye. “Are you sure you're okay with the whole Josh thing? We can always make it our mission to make him insanely jealous.”

You scoffed. “Please, he would never buy that. You and me? He’d see right through it.”

“I want you to know that your lack of faith in my abilities is deeply, deeply hurtful. I’m just saying! You haven't seen me in action!”

“Oh, I’ve seen you in action, alright…”

“There she is!” he cackled.

You hoped the laughter meant he’d missed the note of jealousy in your voice. “Besides, I don't care about making him jealous,” you said with a shrug. “He and Mia are good together.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… Okay, look,” you sighed, “the only reason I’m telling you this is because you're not them, so I’d better not hear a word from Mike about anything I’m about to tell you. Deal?”

He nodded, and mimed zipping his lips closed for dramatic effect.

“There’s just… no sob story about it,” you began. “By the time it was over, it was almost a relief. And honestly? If it hadn't been for our families, we would've broken up ages ago.”

“What was wrong with him?”

By the look on his face, it was like he expected you to say he had a funny snore or that he chewed too loudly or had an extra head. If only the truth were that tangible. He wasn't mean to you, didn't cheat. But he wasn't Jake. He didn't make you excited to wake up in the morningz

“By the end, we were more like roommates than boyfriend and girlfriend,” you explained. “I mean, when it happened, did I want to claw Mia’s face off, knowing she’d been angling for an opening for years? Of course I did. But that was more about my pride than anything. I wasn't heartbroken. I’m not,” you insisted. “But telling them that would feel like ruining Christmas. They're having fun slinging mud on my behalf.”

“And maybe just a tiny part of you enjoys it?” Jake asked.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed. “Do you really think I’m above a bit of harmless spite? Hell, I practically wrote the playbook. But what you said - about your pride being hurt? That goes for him too, you know. He doesn't have to buy the whole thing, he just has to see you moving on. Trust me, it’ll hurt.”

“Maybe I don't care enough to hurt him.”

Jake studied you, his eyes shining in the warm glow. “You really have grown up,” he said at last. “I, on the other hand—”

“Oh, come on. Jake, you’re all talk, always have been.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The summer before your junior year,” you pointed out, “you spent nearly all of it replacing Will Delonge’s wooden fence and you told no one about it. The only reason I know is because Mom found out—”

“Your mom finds out about everything,” Jake lamented.

That she did. “You helped Arn McCallister with his math grade,” you added. “You asked Gina to dance at the Winter Ball when her friends made that bet—”

“Some friends,” he interjected. “I swear, Fiona Brussaurd still scares the shit out of me. What, were you keeping tabs on me all through high school?”

“Everyone was keeping tabs on you all through high school,” you confessed. “You were Jake Seresin, Hometown Hero. You still are. You could probably get away with murder.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. If you weren't mistaken, there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks, but it might have been the beer he finished, or a play of the light. “Actually, I can’t. Semper Fortis, remember? You can't fly planes in prison. Besides, I am way too pretty for that uniform.”

“And you always do that,” you replied. “Try to throw people off the scent of you being an actually decent guy. But I know the truth,” you pointed out. “You have a tell.”

“Really, what's that?”

Over the course of the conversation Jake had angled towards you without your notice; now, your knees were touching and his upturned mouth was close enough to kiss. Your heart was racing in your chest, and yet his gaze was like a challenge - don’t back down, he seemed to say, and that was all Jake. He was exhilarating, just by being himself.

You dared to draw even closer, as if whispering a secret. “Mothers love you.”

“Maybe I’m just really good at pretending.”

“Take the hit, Seresin. No one is that good.”

Smiling, he nudged your knee and leaned back on his hands, sitting with you until the first early-nighters began to leave.

-

Amanda Seresin was two years older than Jake. Her dad, Jake’s uncle, passed away when Amanda was fourteen, and ever since, Jake and his parents had taken her and Dinah under their wings. Jake was the closest thing she had to a brother, and though he was younger, you knew Jake was incredibly protective of her and his aunt, so you were determined not to ruin his wedding experience by being a lovestruck weirdo.

After your time together on the porch, that might prove difficult for you. But this was about Amanda. She assigned you to be his date, and you were going to be a professional about it.

Literally. You were handling the flowers, after all.

“These are a little tall, aren’t they?” your mom asked, fretting over the tulips at the center of one of the guest tables. “I asked for measurements, but now that they’re here…”

You glanced at your watch. “We have time to fix them.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, mom, all of them. Let’s take them into the kitchen, then we can rush up and change before the cocktails start.” You knew she wouldn’t have a speck of peace if she didn’t get them trimmed. She would fret and fuss, and probably commit floral kidnapping crimes when it all got too much. She liked everything to be perfect, especially for the people she loved, so you ignored the time crunch and your watch yelling at you that it was 4:35, twenty-five minutes before guests were due to arrive for drinks and canapés, and, signaling for your dad to help gather up the centerpieces, you rushed into the venue’s kitchen and started trimming down with the nearest pair of garden shears.

Your mom breathed a sigh of relief when the task was done and a few of the earliest guests offered to help carry the vases back to the tables, giving you enough time to head upstairs and put on the blue dress you’d brought in a garment bag.

So you were fussing about your looks… That didn’t mean you were not chill, it just meant you wanted to look nice… for Amanda. For the photos. It had nothing to do with Jake Seresin at all.

By the time you made it down - finally, and a little late since you spent more on it than usual perfecting your makeup - there were about sixty people on the lawn, nibbling on pulled pork sliders and mac-and-cheese bites, mini tacos and bacon-wrapped dates. You spotted your dad grabbing one of everything and your mom pulling on his sleeve, probably to hiss, “Pace yourself, hon.” She had a glass of champagne in one hand, more as a prop, since half of her attention was spent surveying her work as if anticipating one of the centerpieces to go up in flames.

Knowing her, she might have packed a tiny fire extinguisher in that glittery, silver clutch.

You stifled a laugh, grabbing a plate and a few of the canapés from a passing waiter. The rehearsal dinner was a much bigger affair than the barbecue Jake’s parents had thrown for close friends and family the night before. You knew Josh would be in attendance (probably with Mia) and so would a lot of your high school crowd. Letting out a sigh, you threw your shoulders back and tried to look relaxed, exchanging greetings as you mingled with the growing number of guests. It was a beautiful night. God must love Amanda, as He should, because the weather was balmy in a pleasant way, warm enough that the ladies could throw off their wraps and show off their dresses, the men leave their jackets draped over chairs.

The venue was a little bed and breakfast with a sprawling back patio and hedges that grew around the property, gracefully unkempt, with magnolia trees in bloom. You said hello to your old History teacher, a small, soft-spoken woman with a gray bob and tortoiseshell glasses dangling on a chain. In turn, she had taken personal interest in Amanda, Jake, and then you - she was the whole reason Amanda went into teaching, and you heard Jake mention once that he wouldn’t have joined the Navy if not for her. Sometimes, you felt a little self-conscious about not having more to show for your education, but Ms. Beauchene never made you feel like your life choices were a disappointment. She popped into the flower shop on occasion, pleased with her paper-wrapped bouquets, and no matter what, without fail, you’d ring her up and she’d say with full honesty, “These are going to make my week,” before she walked out humming.

You were glad Amanda included her in the rehearsal, especially when you spotted Josh walking in with his arm around Mia’s waist. Excusing yourself, you made for the bar and ordered one of the signature cocktails, Amanda’s favorite blackberry bourbon smash, and downed half of it before turning back and making small talk as if your life depended on it. Strangely enough, it wasn’t the sight of Josh that had you feeling like the inside of your brain was crawling with ants. It was Mia. You hated the thought of her seeing any kind of weakness in you - that she might take in your appearance and think that your hairdo was messy or that your eyes looked a little dark, and assume from it that she’d left you a human wreck after her little victory.

Without a doubt, Mia had attended the Fiona Brussaurd School of Mean Girls, and the last thing you wanted to do was appear like the lesser creature. So when your family began to fuss under the pretense of “casually” making conversation, you swatted them away, feeling grateful when dinner was announced and everyone could retreat to their neutral corners.

You chose to sit at a table with a few old school friends, one of whom was also in the wedding party, and to avoid the meaningful looks Julie had been sending you all evening, you sat with your back to the rest of the guests, enjoying the hour of relative peace and reminiscing, the view of an ornamental fountain set with warm lights, and your plate of pan-seared sea bass and cheesy potatoes. Gradually, the music shifted from sit-down easy listening to dancing tunes, and the people at your table began seeking out partners or joining those already on the lawn who were spinning and jiving in every available space.

Soon, you were alone at the table. You leaned back in your chair, enjoying the breeze against your face. If you closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of music and laughter, you could almost forget all the drama with your ex…

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw Jake and his movie-star grin. The butterflies started banging around your stomach again. Forget the tulips, you were the one with your nerves all in a tangle tonight.

“Hey, stranger - ’nother drink?” he asked, offering you another of the bourbon cocktails. He had a rocks glass in his other hand, and without waiting for an invitation he took the chair next to you, throwing his arm across the back of yours.

You replied, “Yes, please,” trying not to melt into his touch. Nuzzling against him like a cat would not be chill, you reminded yourself, even if he did look incredible with his open dress shirt collar and the little peek of his chest made you feel like a Victorian with the vapors.

He lounged in that casual way of his, attractive without trying. “These things really go on forever, don't they?”

“And it’s just the rehearsal dinner.”

“What happened to getting married on a Tuesday while everyone’s at work?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you just quote Runaway Bride?”

His face went still. “What, no.”

“Yes, you did!” you exclaimed, setting down your drink and straightening in your seat. Jake looked mildly panicked and was doing his best to look innocent, which you found absolutely hilarious. “Oh my God, are you a closet romcom man?”

“It must've been subconscious.”

“Subconscious, my ass,” you shot back.

“She looks happy.” Jake tipped his head towards Amanda despite the fact that she was behind you both, out of sight, and clearly being used as a way to change the subject. “You know the guy?”

“You met him yesterday,” you said. And I know what you're doing implicit was in your tone.

Jake shrugged, an expert at deflection. “Yeah, but it's hard to tell what a guy’s made of from a single meeting.”

Deciding that the accusation of Romcomitis would go unanswered on this particular occasion, you tested the limits of his cool under pressure, pretending to deliberate before you played along with the conversational shift.

“D’you want to hear the absolute worst thing I can think to say about him?”

Jake went battle-ready, poised to hate the guy. You watched his shoulders and the set of his jaw change, and it made you want to touch the side of his face and kiss the frown away, laughing as you did.

Just messing with you, you would say.

It would be so easy. Maybe the fantasy was clouding your judgment - along with your third cocktail of the night - but you could feel in your body that being with Jake would be as natural as breathing.

You looked over your shoulder, watching Christian lean into Amanda to whisper something into her ear.

He had his hand on her arm and looked a little spooked, probably because one of the Seresins’ honorary aunts, Jackie, who was known for her tell-it-like-it-is comments, no matter how indiscreet, was walking away. Poor guy. Amanda giggled at whatever he said and stroked his hand, whispering back words of reassurance. Their demeanor together was easy, full of shorthand. And Amanda did look happy - so happy that it made you a little jealous, pleased as you were that she had found her person.

Jake followed your gaze, watching them alongside you.

“He's a little dull,” you explained. “But in a good way. He mellows her out.”

“Amanda? That sounds like an impossible task. But I can see it…” He cocked his head. “I think.”

You turned your eyes back to your own table. Jake was fiddling with his glass, watching the amber liquid swirling around the oversized iced cube. He looked pensive, a furrow appearing between his brows that, in another life, you would have stroked away.

He shook his head and raised the glass to his lips. “You don't realize how much you've missed…”

Before you could think about it, you had your hand on his arm. “Hey, no one's keeping score.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Then don't,” you insisted. “You do what you've gotta do - we all know that. Your parents know it, Amanda knows it. She’s just happy you're here.”

You could tell that, as much as he appreciated your words, they weren't enough to sweep away all the moments he hadn't been around to see. It didn't matter that Jake loved flying planes, that he was proud to be one of the best naval aviators in the service, and wouldn't change his career for the world. He was still in a position where he had to ask you what Amanda’s future husband was like. He had missed his goddaughter’s christening, had to rush out of Mike and Julie’s wedding five years ago… He’d made an oath, and for as long as he wore the uniform, his first commitment was to something other than his family. Other than himself.

He spoke his next words quietly, almost to himself, just for you.

“You know, the thing about flying is that when you're up there, nothing else matters. It can’t. All of your focus, all of your faculties, your energy… they're in the air. Meanwhile, all of this real life… the thing we’re meant to be safeguarding for everyone else, it doesn't stop, and when you land right back in the middle of it—”

He stopped.

“Yeah?” You were hanging on for the rest of it, eager for these little pieces of Jake that you stored up even after he was gone.

“I mean, it feels like yesterday since I left for college, signed up. Now Amanda’s getting married, Mike’s having kids, you are having just the worst luck of the year…”

“Hey!” you laughed.

“I’m kidding, kidding!”

“You’re sounding like an old man, Jake. You're thirty-two - pull yourself together. Jeez! Who knew Top Gun would make you so existential? Is that why you're self-medicating with classic romantic comedies?”

“If you ever tell Mike, I swear to God—” He pointed his finger at you, and you pinched it in two of yours, earning a chuckle and a childish attempt at a thumb-war game that was interrupted when the bride herself came up behind you and threw her arms around you both with a “Hey, you two!”

“Mands!” Jake exclaimed, craning his neck to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Having fun?”

“Absolutely. So, so much—”

“You big fibber,” Amanda threw back. “Why are you here? Go dance!”

“Can’t. I’m keeping my date company, and a gentleman never abandons his date. It’s in the rules.”

“Good thing I know you're not a gentleman. You're in my wedding party!” she said. “It’s up to you two to set a good example for the other guests.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall we?” He offered you his hand, throwing Amanda a look that said, See? I’m following orders.

She smiled back, giving you room to rise from your chairs and circle round. With her arms crossed, she watched as you found an open space, making sure you’d followed through before seeking out her next victims.

As bad luck would have it, the song switched from something uptempo to an Ashley Monroe ballad, romantic strings and all. “Has anybody ever told you/ that when you walk into a dark room/ the light of a thousand moons surround you?/ Yeah, there's just something about you./ Has anybody ever told you?”

It was stupid, but the words felt so real with Jake’s hands on you that you were worried he’d be able to read your mind or see on your face that you meant every sentence. You tried looking anywhere else, at the other couples, the catering staff picking up empty glasses, at your mom fluffing a perfectly decent bouquet, anywhere but at Jake.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” you asked, eyes darting nervously at being caught red-handed.

“Tense up like I’ve got the plague,” Jake said. “You’re making this weird.”

“I’m making what weird?”

“We’re dancing!” He pressed one hand against your hip, the other into your lower back. “Just dance!”

“By which I’m sure you mean, ‘just follow my lead’?”

You didn't mean to sound so prickly, you were just panicking and trying to throw Jake off the scent. This does not constitute playing it cool, you scolded yourself. But instead of taking it badly, Jake laughed as he stared down at you.

“If you like. Or I can follow yours if it makes you feel any better. Here, you can put your hand on my waist - but leave room for Jesus.”

“Dork.”

“There we go,” he cajoled, swaying with you in time to the beat. “Letting you insult me seems to really get your engines going. We should analyze that.”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“I don’t know, do I?” He cackled out loud at the dark look you sent his way, stroking your back in a way that meant absolutely nothing, but which you felt all the way down to your toes. “You make it too easy,” he added.

Jake’s sense of humor made it hard to stay self-conscious. Eventually, you eased into the dance and you were almost sorry when the song switched to something a little more upbeat that didn't require him to stand so close to you. Still, he twirled you in a circle and brought you back into the solid curve of his body, showing off.

Then, out of nowhere, his face worked into a scowl as he spotted something a few yards to your right. You turned your head to see what it was, so lost in the moment that it took a few seconds for you to register that Josh was dancing with Mia, quite well, actually, to the Texas Tornados.

“Look at that schmuck.”

“Jake…” you warned.

“What? It’s just an observation, I’m not saying it for your benefit.”

“She looks incredible,” you sighed. On anyone else, the dress she had on would make them look like a costume disco ball, but on Mia it looked modern and chic, showing off her body and matching well with a slicked back bun and dangly earrings.

Jake’s shoulder rose and fell beneath your hand. “If you say so. She’s not really my type.”

Are you serious?  “Jake, just about every woman is your type.”

“I’m sorry, are you slut-shaming me right now? In this political climate? I could have you canceled for that.”

“Ha-ha,” you said in response. “I mean, look at her, she is objectively a 10 - don’t say you wouldn’t. Hell, I would if I were inclined that way… Don’t!” You pinned Jake with a warning stare, cutting off the joke that was on the tip of his tongue and dying to come out.

“Well, I wouldn’t now,” he said instead.

“Gee, thanks.”

“For the sake of our friendship.”

The word made you tense up again - not on purpose, it was an automatic reaction you wanted to take back as soon as you went stiff all over again. And it didn't escape Jake’s notice.

“What?” he questioned, cupping your shoulders and shaking you a little as a gag. “Oh my God, have you ever thought about taking up yoga? Meditation?”

“Flying lessons?” you shot back.

“Hey, don’t knock it. Compared to you, I am a very chilled-out person.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit that he was right. No matter what was going on inside Jake, he knew how to keep a calm exterior. You’d always admired that about him. With the exception of your dad, your family wasn't known for its cool under pressure. Even Mike could be a bit of a basket case. That’s why he and Julie worked so well together.

You sighed again, wondering if you’d ever find your own version of Christian or Julie, someone who fit with all of your wonky parts and made you feel, regardless of circumstance, that everything would turn out okay.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” You looked at Jake, startled by the remark and the heat rushing into your face. He was dead serious. The levity you saw in his eyes had nothing to do with his tone, which was kind but not pitying. And you knew Jake would never say something like that if he didn’t mean it. “Not that it’s a competition,” he tacked on, “I’m just saying… don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure he’s eating his heart out right now.”

“And how would you know a thing like that?”

“Because he hasn’t stopped looking at us for the last sixty seconds.”

Your gaze drifted off to the side before Jake took your chin in his hand, his touch gentle and yet firm.

“Don’t look!” he chided. “Jesus… That’s recon 101 - I’ve got your six, you keep dancing and pretend we’re not talking about him, you amateur!”

“Sorry! You’re so bossy!” you grumbled, fighting off another blush.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

The word zinged through your body along with the killer Jake Seresin dimpled grin, and to make matters worse, he twirled you again, laughing when he brought you to rest your back against his chest. Josh froze when he saw you, spotting Jake’s hands on your waist. But you couldn’t care less - you were breathless, with Jake’s mouth close enough to kiss, reminding you of his knee nudge on the porch and his arm beneath your hand.

For a moment, you could almost believe that he was flirting with you for real. If you turned your head, would he accept the press of your mouth against his? Would he push you away or pull you in closer, regardless of your families watching and Josh staring, almost open-mouthed, like he couldn’t believe Jake fucking Seresin would give you the time of day?

Before you could make a choice, the song ended and Jake released you from his grip, keeping a hand on your back as he herded you away from the dance floor and to the bar, where he ordered a beer and asked if you wanted something. If you answered, you weren’t aware. You felt not in control, your stomach all in knots and the memory of Jake’s touch seared into your skin. A part of you still wanted desperately to kiss him and the other wanted to rush into the B&B and burst into tears from sheer confusion. Meanwhile, Jake seemed perfectly fine, chatting with the bartender on duty and leaning against the counter as he dropped a few bills into the tip jar.

“What are you doing?” you asked when you felt him touching you on the shoulder.

“Pretending you have lint on your dress.”

“Hey! On the dance floor was one thing, but I am not aiming to make this entire weekend about making my ex jealous. Any high school dude-vendetta you have against Josh should be addressed on your own time, you psycho. Besides, he’s never going to actually buy it.”

“Alright.” Jake threw up his hands, lowering the charm down a few watts. Your drinks were set down on a pair of square cocktail napkins and you took up yours, a fizzy gin thing with lemon that made you wonder whether you shouldn’t have stuck with bourbon to avoid going around with a hangover on Amanda’s wedding day.

Jake went on. “But I’m really not liking all this negative self-talk, you know. Mia might be a 10, but at most he’s, like, a 6…”

“Oh, be quiet!”

“You’re an 8.”

“What?” The alcohol either rushed up to your head or evaporated completely. How the hell did Jake manage to say things that left you completely dumbfounded and without a single intelligent thought in your head? And he did it with a smile! This one was purposefully subdued as he waved around with the beer in his hand as if making a profound point.

“You’re way out of his league. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed?”

“Okay, well…”

“You’re blushing!” he remarked. “That’s adorable.”

“You’re not funny, Seresin.”

“Hey, I joke about a lot of things, but I don’t go around handing 8s to just anyone.”

“Oh, look, they’re bringing out coffee.” The needle was tipping firmly towards the need to escape, though it wasn’t that serious - you knew it wasn’t; Jake had a tendency to be a flirt and he usually didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes, it could even be amusing to play along, to get swept up in his wit and the light of his attention. But you didn’t want to play. And you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his company because you weren’t. You loved every precious second you got to spend with him, knowing he’d be off to California soon and that the next time you might see him could be months or even a year from now.

Getting your hopes up would be a mistake, and you were dangerously close to doing it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He touched your elbow gently. You wished he couldn’t read you so well. Or that he could read you better, and see what you had been trying to say to him for years but were too scared to utter.

You did your best to smile. “Nothing’s wrong. You don’t have to hover all night. Go, take a load off, have fun.”

“I am having fun,” he said, frowning. “Aren’t you?”

“I was. I am,” you corrected, frustrated with yourself for not taking it better. For not being cool and together and the sort of girl who took charge and damned the outcome. She would’ve kissed Jake when she had the chance. She would have shown up to California. Hell, she would’ve made her move ages ago instead of pining, pathetically, and letting twenty years go by.

That’s what Mia had done. And that’s why she had her dream guy - your former guy - while you were exactly in the same position, too tongue-tied to take a shot.

“Just… can you give me some space?” you blurted out, your frustration bleeding through.

The hurt in Jake’s expression was there and gone in a lightning flash, but you’d seen it and you felt terrible about it. Before you could say anything to make it better, he’d replaced it with a devil-may-care smile.

“Got it,” he said, his voice a little tight around the edges. “Well… I’ll make myself scarce. Holler if you need me.”

With that, he took his beer and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to weave your way through oblivious partygoers to find the nearest ladies’ room, where you locked yourself in a stall and tried not to ruin your makeup with the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

-

Hindsight was a bitch. The next morning you were sure you’d overreacted, made a fool of yourself and created a potentially awkward situation now that the wedding day was upon you and you had to take his arm, in - you glanced at the digital clock on your nightstand - five-and-a-half hours, and walk with him down the aisle wearing a smile for the sake of the photographers.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands and calling yourself every name in the book.

Jake had promised to be your wedding buddy and then sweetly kept his word, and what did you do in response? Completely freak out, you scatterbrained nincompoop.

As penance, you threw yourself into the arrangement of the reception flowers, channeling your mother while you directed the staff this way and that, trying not to think about Jake and the mortifying apology that awaited you. It was the right thing to do - not only to clear the air but because he hadn't deserved being chewed out in a momentary panic, and you knew you wouldn't feel right with yourself if you didn't take the blame and say your mea culpa.

But boy were you dreading it.

“You should head out now, Cabbage,” your mom advised around eleven o'clock. “Dad and I can handle the rest and you should be with Amanda, spend some time with the girls before the big event.”

“Are you sure you don't need help with the aisle arrangements?” A cowardly attempt, but you did it anyway.

“We’ve got it,” Mom repeated, turning you around and all but shepherding you into the parking lot. She waved you off with a “have fun,” and you couldn't help your brain’s internal response of “fat chance.”

All the way to the B&B you kept rehearsing what you might say to Jake when you saw him, but by the time you pulled up and found a free parking space, you were sweating, physically and metaphorically, and thinking that, maybe, if you listened to TED Talks rather than Dateline, you might have an enlightened response to your current dilemma.

You fetched your bagged bridesmaid's dress from the trunk of the car, along with your makeup bag and hair tools. You’d have to use the shower before you started getting ready, but you were looking forward to get-ready champagne and a throwback playlist. Anything to feel more like your normal self and less like a silly teenager who couldn’t talk to boys.

You went up three flights of stairs to reach the bridal suite. From both sides, you could hear music spilling out into the hall, an ABBA classic clashing with Brett Young. Automatically, you placed your hand on the doorknob leading towards bouncy 80s pop only for it to turn and spring open, revealing Jake with an undone bow tie hanging around his neck.

It could be that your mouth sprung open, not expecting to see him that abruptly and without giving yourself your planned thirty-second pep talk.

Your mind went blank. All you could do was stare at him like an idiot as he pointed across the hall and said, “Bridal suite’s that way.”

“Yeah, it was…”

“The Super Trouper? Groom’s choice.”

“Are you sure it wasn't yours?” The joke spilled out of your mouth, landing awkwardly to your own ears. But Jake smiled anyway, glancing down as he let the door close behind him. 

He rubbed the side of his freshly shaved cheek. “I’m headed down to the front desk, by the way. I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You deserved that. So instead of cringing down into the floor - which was what you really wanted to do - you took the hit and said, “I didn’t think you were.”

“About last night…”

“I’m sorry for flying off the handle. I’m just… a little stressed,” you cut him off. It was an understatement, and not totally honest, but it was the best you could do without getting into the embarrassing particulars.

From the groomsmen’s side, Britney Spears followed ABBA, singing, “Oops, I did it again,” which seemed perversely apropos and just another reminder that you were a puppet of fate. Presently, you had to be paying for God knows what sin - probably calling Mike a buttface all those years before.

“Hey, I get it. I wasn’t trying to be clingy,” Jake went on.

“You’re not! You’re a good friend… Thank you.”

It pained you to say it, but you figured now was as good a time as any to face facts: you only had a few more days together, and you didn't want to spend them all wasting what you had, wishing it would turn into something else. Friendship with Jake was good enough. He was kind and loyal and honest; hell, anyone would be lucky to have him in their corner.

Maybe what you needed was a little gratitude. It was a wedding day, after all. Your friends and family would all be gathering in a few hours to celebrate Christian and Amanda and they had chosen you to be a special part of their most important day. How cool was that?

“Can we just not talk about Mia and Josh today?” you asked, hefting the garment back up your shoulder. “I want to focus on Amanda and make sure she has a nice time at her wedding - get drunk but not sloppily so, take a few pictures, dance a bit, not feel like everyone’s waiting for the Jerry Springer shoe to drop?”

“We can do that,” Jake replied.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“See you on the other side?”

“You bet.”

He went down the hall, turning right and bounding the carpeted stairs. You watched him go with a sigh, deciding that it was hard to be a grown-up and lovelorn at the same time. The two things were so incompatible - liking someone, loving them even, felt utterly undignified.

Nonetheless, you could breathe a lot easier after clearing the air. With the apology out of the way, you threw yourself into full bridesmaid mode, squeezing into the cramped bathroom with five other women in customized robes who were curling, straightening, powdering, talking, fighting for counter space, gasping at gossip, and being an overall flurry of chaos while the bride reigned over all, putting in comments through the haze of hair- and setting spray.

The air in the room was joyous, with a smattering of nervous energy mostly provided by Amanda.

Once dressed in your different styles of champagne satin, the bridesmaids focused on making sure Amanda was ready for her starring role. You took turns doing up the buttons on the back of her wedding gown, and when Dinah popped in to give her a pair of diamond earrings she wore to her own wedding, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. “Do not let my mascara run!” Amanda urged, prompting Carrie, the maid of honor, to jokingly rush forward with a folded-up Kleenex and dab at her eyes.

The groomsmen left for the wedding venue first, piling into a shuttle after yelling well-wishes through the door. Fifteen minutes later you followed suit, with Ali O’Rourke pouring canned cocktails into plastic cups and filming the journey at the same time as her phone blasted Taylor Swift (“But none of the breakup songs!”). In twenty minutes you were at the botanical garden, arranging the first look through a comical series of shouts and mimes partially obscured by a tall bush and caught on camera by the couple’s videographer. Once Christian had gotten the memo to stand there, at the edge of an ornamental pond but with his back to the azaleas, you pushed Amanda in his direction and waved her on, giving whistles and catcalls when he dipped her into a kiss that was very un-Christian-like and all the more romantic for that reason.

Once the wedding party photos were done, it was time to head inside and wait for the guests to arrive. You found that, like Amanda, you were feeling a little jittery now that patience was all that was required. From the double doors to the altar, it was a fairly long walk and you were worried that your heels would sink into the grass or that you would fall flat on your face. Luckily, you weren’t the only one with that fear. Amanda’s coworker, Lucy, who had never been a bridesmaid before, had a minor freakout, and talking her down helped you allay your own fears, as did the liquid courage courtesy of Ali’s dress having pockets.

(Amanda: “I don’t remember reading that on the website.”

Ali: “That’s because you didn’t. I had it tailored.”)

At last, the wedding coordinator called for everyone to take their places and Jake came towards you, looking smart in his tux. At the rehearsal dinner you’d heard Mike asking, “So, where’s the dress uniform?”, to which Jake replied, “And upstage you?” Well, uniform or not, you were sure he could upstage anyone. To you, he was the handsomest person in the room, and you were in danger of saying so until Jake beat you to the punch.

“Look at you, you clean up well!” he remarked.

“And you look terrible.”

“Now I know that’s a bald-faced lie.”

You laughed. Humble as always. You were glad to see that all the awkwardness between you had gone, in no small part because of the excitement over the ceremony. A sudden hush came over everyone as Harriet signaled for the doors to be opened. Jake held out his arm. “Shall we?” he said, echoing his words when he asked you to dance.

This time you were ready for it. No matter what, in this particular moment, you and Jake were allies - wedding buddies, he said - and instead of overthinking things or making a mountain out of a molehill, you were resolved to enjoy it.

You took his arm and faced forward. The first strains of music began. Showtime, Harriet mouthed, while at the altar Christian turned to meet his bride.

-

The ceremony was over in the blink of an eye, followed by a drinks reception and a sit-down dinner punctuated by toasts that ranged from the humorous to the downright sentimental. Now that Amanda had clipped up her train, she seemed more relaxed than she had been in the morning, and it made you feel like you could let down your hair, so to speak, and enjoy the party underneath the light-strewn tent.

The guests were eager to dance. Without letup they moved through classic wedding standards and modern dance hits to country reels and the obligatory playing of “Mr. Brightside,” a moment which Sandy and Clyde stole with their enthusiastic head-bops. You couldn't remember the last time you danced, or laughed, half as much, and even the appearance of Josh and Mia couldn’t steal your good mood. As long as they kept to their side of the tent, you could pretend they weren't there and if Mom or Julie sidled up with a comment in defense of your honor, it was easy to point a finger to your ear as if to say, “What? I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!”

Jake kept close for the most of the night, leaning in close and making funny comments about the hidden goings-on - who was putting the moves on who, who was sneaking mini cupcakes into their purse, who got carted off to the indoor area after over-imbibing and nearly causing a minor dancefloor traffic incident.

Maybe it was all his Navy training, but for a guy’s guy Jake had an uncanny eye for gossip, and you said so, winning a laugh and another request for your oath of secrecy.

“I hate to tap out before Great-Aunt Sandy,” he said halfway through the Jailhouse Rock, “but do you want to take a breather? I feel like I’m getting a stitch in my side.”

“You? Sheesh, Hangman, you're really letting yourself go,” you chaffed. “What'll the higher-ups think when you get back to San Diego?”

“Well, if they really want to replace me, I’ll send them Aunt Sandy’s way.” He led you outside, where you promptly balanced one foot at a time trying to unclasp your heeled sandals while Jake watched, snorting before he took pity on you and let you lean on his arm.

His very muscled arm…

Inwardly, you sighed like one of the Bimbettes from Beauty and the Beast, but hey, you’d behaved yourself all day; you were allowed to have the occasional impure thought.

With a little sound of triumph, you managed to remove your shoes and held them by the straps, walking on the grass in your bare feet. You had a pair of flats in your purse, but that was somewhere inside and, anyway, the ground felt good against your tired arches. You’d been dancing for over two hours and needed the break.

“How do you even stand in those death traps?” Jake eyed your shoes as if they were hand grenades, which amused you to no end seeing as they’d cost you a small fortune precisely because they claimed to be comfortable.

“They’re not so bad,” you replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t need them if you weren’t so tall.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shrugged, keeping your face deliberately blank. “It’s a free country.”

“Wow…” Jake huffed through a laugh, “you are incapable of just being nice to me.”

“What, I am nice!”

“In a backhanded-compliment sort of way, sure.”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Jake, you’re the biggest 10 at the wedding’?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but we’re getting warmer,” he said with a toothy grin, entering a path bordered by low hedges leading to the pond where the first look had taken place.

The lights from the wedding reception lit the way, along with the small solar-powered fixtures planted in the ground, but for the most part the darkness was a respite from the sights and sounds of the packed tent. In a way, it made it easier to talk to Jake, ignoring your history, feeling like a girl who’d been asked on a walk by someone who wanted to spend more time with her.

You laughed, leaning into the role of interested flatterer. You were walking backwards, even daring to place your hand on the front of Jake’s shirt, trusting him to lead the way and keep you from tripping into a bush. “You’re an incredible dancer,” you put in, going full Bimbette. You might have batted your eyelashes, and your voice took on the dreamy girlishness of Marilyn Monroe, which only gave Jake the giggles as he tried to maintain his yes, I am all the things composure. “You look as good in a tux as you do in your Navy uniform.”

“Both true.”

“You’re funny and smart, and soooo interesting.”

“Don’t I know it.”

You gasped, stopping in your tracks to place your hands on his cheeks. Jake was smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep his lips pressed together. “You’ve got a face like an Old Hollywood dreamboat.”

He nodded solemnly, the slight clearing of his throat the only indicator that he was on the verge of breaking character. “You’re not the first person to say that, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm, does that surprise you? Do you disagree?”

“Of course not, this is the Jake Seresin Appreciation Hour.” You draped your arms around his neck. Maybe it was the cocktails or the distant wedding music making you bold, but Jake didn't pull away and you were only pretending - at least, that was your justification when you felt the weight of his hands on your hips.

“Go on, then.”

“Your eyes are green.”

“Now you’re just stating facts.”

“Fine, but you’re being a very picky subject!”

“I’ll have you know,” he scoffed, “Jake Seresin Hour was not my idea. You don’t get to institute it and then complain when I point out your lazy reporting.”

Lazy reporting? You were ready to duke it out over that and he knew it, his eyes alight with the challenge, head cocked to see what you’d come up with next. Your back hit the trunk of a live oak and you felt the adrenaline in your veins mixing with the alcohol and a sheer attraction that wouldn't be kept at bay. You wondered briefly whether this was what flying was like - a full-bodied, present physicality, all instinct, every move stretched taut and your nerves like live wires.

Jake glanced at your mouth and it left you breathless. Little wonder, then, that the next words out of your mouth were half confession, half part of the game.

“There’s not a single person at this party who isn’t head-over-heels in love with you.”

“Not a single one?” Jake argued. “Not even the groom?”

“Not even the groom.”

“Well, obviously, we’re not including my relatives in that.”

“But everyone else…” you trailed off.

“Everyone else. Including you?”

“Especially me.”

It’s just a game, it’s just a game. The thought kept clashing in your head with the urge to say “kiss me” and he was standing so close, with his body half pressed against yours, solid and warm, realer than any lust-fueled fantasy you could’ve come up with in the dead of night, the party forgotten with him as your only view, and you kept thinking, Maybe he wants me to. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe I should do it - what would be the harm?

The answer to this final point was obvious, and yet he was hard to resist. His fingers brushed against your waist, the touch feather-light enough that it might have been in your imagination except for his forehead pressed down to yours, his heart beating steadily beneath your nervous hand.

Without debating it further you pulled him into a kiss, shutting your eyes against any possible consequences as you memorized the taste of his mouth, the weight of his hands sliding down your back, the heat of his breath. You pulled away, mortified by your lapse in judgment and the obvious proof of feelings which you now couldn't take back.

There was no undoing this, but still you tried.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I’m… I’m drunk… I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I’m… I’m gonna go.” You slid past him, holding your breath, willing him not to follow after you or try to stop you from fleeing. Your body felt like it was short-circuiting, blazing with need and then doused in icy-cold regret and horror at your own actions.

So he had flirted with you. That didn't mean he wanted to kiss you; it certainly didn't signal any romantic interest that merited you throwing yourself at him and telling him, of all things, that you loved him!

You went back to the party, picking your purse up from behind your chair and forcing a smile when people stopped you to chat, making excuses and saying you had to go to the bathroom. Inside, you moved past the lobby and straight out to the drive, where the hired shuttle service was taking guests in no state to drive to and from a few local hotels.

The driver asked if you were ready to leave and you said yes, feeling mildly guilty for staging an Irish goodbye, but there was no way you could go on pretending for the rest of the night, let alone face Jake. You prayed that everyone would be too busy having fun to notice your absence, and if not you would apologize profusely tomorrow at brunch, claiming a headache or exhaustion or anything else that might obscure your bad decision-making and propensity to lose your shit around Jake.

You were let onto the bus, the sole passenger as the driver turned on the engine and radioed his boss to say he was en route to the B&B. Just as you were relaxing into your seat, Jake came bounding up the steps, giving the driver a cursory nod just before the doors closed behind him and the vehicle began to move.

“Can we talk?” he asked, sliding next to you and dropping his jacket in his lap.

“There are, like, fifty open seats.”

“But you’re sitting in this one,” he said with the ghost of a grin. You would've rolled your eyes if you weren’t busy wishing you could teleport to literally anywhere else.

You faced forward to the other cars on the road, watching their taillights shine as you moved into nighttime traffic. “Can you do me a favor? I know you’ve done a lot of them over the past couple of days, but can you just forget that ever happened?”

“No.”

Aghast, you turned your head to see Jake looking maddeningly smug, not to mention relaxed, while he was invading your personal space and driving you to the brink of mental collapse.

“Why not?” you demanded.

“Why not? Because I don’t want to.”

“And is what I want—”

“Completely irrelevant,” he finished for you. “Besides, you kissed me, remember?”

“I don’t. I’ve wiped it from my memory chip.”

With a smile, Jake leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips that was almost chaste, except for the brush of his tongue against your lip and his fingers cupping your chin in a hold that was teasing and gentle, and undeniably thought-out.

“How about that one?” he asked, pulling away just enough to view your reaction.

“How about what?”

He grinned. “Cabbage.”

“Ew! Why would you call me that right now?” you exclaimed, scooching back into the window.

“Because you’re adorable. Beautiful.”

“Like a leafy green?”

“Yeah, like a whole salad.”

You laughed. “That makes no sense.”

“It really doesn’t.” But it did. Like so many other inside jokes, you knew exactly what he meant to say. It made you feel all warm inside, especially because there was no trace of subterfuge in his handsome face, and you knew he’d never be cruel enough to lead you on. He followed you, he thought you were beautiful, and he was here trying to convince you not to take the kiss back.

To be bold. To follow through.

“If you want to keep being friends…” he began.

“You and Mike are just friends, Jake. I’m the kid sister with a massively pathetic crush on you.”

“Maybe I have a crush on you too,” he said, looking you straight in the eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little… A lot, actually.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

In front of Pleasant View the driver pulled on the brakes, and Jake laced his fingers through yours as he dismounted and put a twenty in the tip jar, stopping in front of the entrance to face you with a question hanging, unspoken, in the air. If you let this opportunity pass you by, he would let you do it without a word, taking the gentleman’s way out and stopping his pursuit under the assumption that you had no interest in being with him, or in seeing where this new thing between you might go. But if you said yes…

The possibilities flashed through your mind, as frightening as they were wonderful. Everything might change. Everything would, there was no doubt about that. But change wasn’t always a bad thing, and if you had someone holding your hand along the way?

Wasn’t that what love was all about?

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Jake pointed out.

“Is that an issue?”

“Why, is it an issue for you?”

You shook your head, trying to contain the nervous joy in your chest. “Maybe you should take me flying sometime, teach me the ways of classic Hangman chill.”

“Just name the time and place,” he promised. “I’m ready when you are.”

Instead of second guessing, you took him at his word.

You reached up and kissed him fully on the mouth, sighing when he pressed you flush against his chest and carressed the nape of your neck. There was no predicting the future; that part would always be like navigating blind. But Jake was worth the risk. If nothing else, he was the sort of man who made you want to try, who took chances, and made you laugh through the terror of uncertainty.

In that moment, being lifted off the ground, physically swept off your feet by the man you’d loved since you’d first contemplated what love could be, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. And the best part? From the look on Jake’s face, you knew the exact thought running through his head:

Babe, the luck is all mine.

Man, you loved weddings.

[greynatomy]

the one that got away

alessia russo x reader

second part to regret. had a lot of fun writing this and might do more polls if i can’t choose for myself again. also, ignore how many times rory’s age is asked. didn’t realize how many times i wrote it in.

part 1

———

“Gather ‘round girls!” Jonas’ voice brings Leah back to the present.

Everyone comes together at the middle of the gym, waiting for what Jonas is gonna say.

“Just wanna welcome everyone who was in Australia back and also our ACL squad. We’re all glad to see you all up and running.” Everyone cheers and claps. “Now, I wanna welcome our new signing, Alessia Russo.” Alessia walks towards the group awkwardly, not wanting to trip.

“Hi.” She gives a small wave.

“Don’t be shy Lessi. We’re all friendly.”

“Yeah! We don’t bite!”

Over the course of the week, Alessia gets situated with the team and the dynamics, learning how to play with her new team.

“Mrs. Russo, someone’s been calling your phone. It’s says there’s ten missed calls.”

“From who?”

“Amore Mio.”

Everyone’s attention is now on Alessia, all curios about the girl’s significant other, judging from the name that the trainer said that was shown on her phone.

“Hi, love. What happened? So, she’s fine. Yeah. Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I love you. See you later.”

She gives her phone back to one of the trainers, telling them to inform her if you were to call again.

“What was that all about?” Katie asks in her usual loud voice.

“Oh, sorry. My daughter got hurt at preschool.”

“Wait. Hold up! Daughter? You have a daughter?” She didn’t know who asked, but saw the rest of the team walking closer to her.

“Uh, yeah.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s three now.”

“And I’m guessing you didn’t carry cause you’ve not really took a break from football.”

“Nope. Won’t be carrying any babies in me. Freaks me out a bit, but my wife happily did it.”

“So you have a kid and a wife and none of us knew about it?”

“No one really knows. We wanted to keep it to ourselves. I didn’t want the public knowing and plastering their face in the media yet, and we like our little bubble.”

“Not even Tooney knew?”

“Oh, Tooney knew. She had to give the best friend talk and all that. Wanted to know her opinion before anything turned serious and now we’re four years strong, three of them married.”

“So, when do you think we’ll meet ‘em?”

———

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Not really, but have to be. I’ll be seeing a lot of her more since you’ve transferred.”

“It’s been five years too, she’d probably moved on, yeah?”

“Don’t know Lessi. I hope so. Now let’s get little princess dressed.”

“I’ve already dressed her, babe. Just waiting on you.”

You looked at her skeptically.

“You? Dressed Rory?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alessia asked, offense written on her face.

“Nothing bad, Less. Just, you turn her into a mini me every time.”

“And she loves it every time. I love when the two of you match. My favorite girls.

“And when this baby pops out of me, no doubt he’ll be a mini you.”

“I won’t be outnumbered this time.”

———

“Sorry, I’m late. Kid ran away while I tried getting her in the car.” Alessia explained, walking to where everyone was gathered in the backyard.

“You’re fine. Now, who is this little one?”

“Wanna say your name bubs?”

“I Rory. I dis many.” She says holding up three fingers.

“Woah. That’s a lot of fingers.” Your daughter giggles.

“Did that wife of yours come?”

“Yeah, she probably went to the—”

“—Sorry. I had to go to the washroom. It’s nice to meet you all. Name’s—”

“—Y/n.” Leah finishes, shocked, voice shaking.

“…Hi, Leah.”

“You two know each other.” Katie asks, intrigued how the skipper knew you.

“Uh, yeah. We used to be close friends.”

“No. She was my wife.” You could’ve heard a pin drop from how silent everyone was.

“Okay. Woah. There is a lot to unpack here.”

“And they can do it privately.” Alessia intervened.

“You know about our history.” Leah turns to Alessia, hurt all over her face. She was close to the girl, being on the national team together and the whole time she was in a relationship with her ex-wife.

“Of course I do. She’s my wife.”

The dinner was pretty awkward for a bit after the interaction. Rory have been playing with some of the other girls, you staying by your wife’s side getting to know her teammates.

Eventually, Leah got the courage to go up to you.

“Hey, uh, do you think we could talk?”

You look up at her, seeing the nervous look on her face.

“Sure. Honey, help me up.” Alessia grabs ahold of your hand and the other on your arm to stabilize you. “Let’s go inside.”

You go to little sitting area in the corner of the living room, away from everyone, but not out of sight. There was a couple seconds of silence, very awkward silence.

“Are you just not gonna say anything?”

Leah apologizes. “Uh, how’ve you been?”

“Doing pretty good.”

Another awkward silence.

“I’m sorry. I don’t really know what to say. I’ve had five years to practice what I was gonna say to you if I ever would run into you, but it just slipped my mind. But I guess I wanted to apologize and say that I took you for granted. I don’t deserve your forgiveness at all for being distant, lying to you about where I’ve been doing or going… for, uh, cheating on you. I’ve hated myself the second it happened.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“What?”

“Why’d you do it? Was it something I did that made you go to another that you should’ve gone to me for or—”

“—No! God, no! You did nothing wrong, it was all on me. I don’t really have an explanation as shitty as it sounds.”

“It’s been five years and I do forgive you. I think I forgave you the moment I met my wife. I needed to close the door on our relationship to be able to truly love her how she should be loved, so I forgive you. Doesn’t mean that I’ll ever forget. But you are forgiven.”

“Thank you.”

Before anyone can say anything else, your daughter runs to you, climbing into your lap.

“Hi, Mommy.”

“Hi, baby. You having fun?”

“Yeah! Stephy and Kya (Kyra) pway with me.”

“That’s so sweet of them.”

Leah watches your interaction with your daughter, a sad smile on her face.

“How old is she?”

“Hey, Rory. This is Mama’s teammate Leah. Can you tell her how old you are?”

“I free!” She holds up three fingers towards Leah.

“Woah! You’re so big! And you have a little sibling on the way. Can I ask how far along you are?” The question directed towards you.

“I’m five months along. It’s a boy.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you! Well, it’s been great catching up with you Leah. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

Leah watches you walk away, your daughter on your hip, towards your wife who was chatting up with a few teammates. She watches Alessia grab Aurora from you, giving you a smile and a kiss, seeing the love you two have.

Maybe in another life, one she hadn’t screwed up on , that could’ve been you and her, but she was just glad that you have someone who lived you the way you deserve to be loved.

Now, that she got everything out of her chest, she would be able to move on, but you’ll always be the one that got away.

[blu3-ja3]

Hello! I based this off of my own experience with both my parents being active duty for most of my life. I'm also here to say that I'm almost completely finished with cleaning out my drafts I just have one more to post and then I'm going to start on the winner for the poll! Be patient my lovelys it's coming!

O'Connor is excited, not only is everyone bringing their families in for a little on base celebration of the holidays, she also gets to introduce someone to her team. The only one who knows about it is Laswell, she's the one who introduced them. But still O'Connor is bouncing up and down with excitement, helping Soap wrap the presents that'll be handed out. Price allowed them all one day to get family gifts and their secret Santa gifts. O'Connor got Soap and was very much excited to give him his gift, a small portable water color set, a new sketchbook, new pigmented pencils, and a new kneaded eraser.

The first to arrive were the MacTavish sisters and their kids. Blair is the old, a tall girl with dark ginger hair and the signature MacTavish blue eyes, her little girl took after her almost a carbon copy just with a darker olive complexion from her father. Ainsley is the second oldest, she has a wild curly mop of dark brown hair and dark blue eyes, but her laugh is just like Soap's full bodied and contagious, her two boys are cute little devils they're smart like MacTavish. They're both curled hair, one blonde and the other brown, both have dark brown eyes and freckles. Grace is the one closest in age to Soap but she's still older, she has a lighter brown color to her short hair and the same dark blue eyes. If you set the two of them together they both act the same, and both have the mischievous streak. No little ones that O'Connor knows of but she doesn't really ask nor cares.

As soon as the sisters walked into the smaller hanger they were on top of Soap, all hugs and smiles. As soon as Ghost entered the room the three children were in him instantly babbling away. Once the girls were done with their brother they made their way towards Ghost, giving hugs and helping with the kids. O'Connor could feel the smile on her face and knew it would be there for a while tonight.

The next to arrive were Roach's Aunt and Uncle, his mother's brother and father's sister. O'Connor knows this is all the family Roach has left but even they seem a bit distant from the boy. Roach hugs his aunt and gives his uncle a firm hand shake, they chat for a bit and Roach seems happy. But the boy absolutely lights up as Samuel walks in with a man, woman and three small children much younger than Sam, trailing behind him. He greets them and waves over his family as they all begin to chat. O'Connor relaxes into her soft smile again. Ripley and Boogs immediately run off to play with the small horde of children around Ghost.

Gaz had gone to pick up his family from their home and they only appeared a short time after Sam and his family. Adia Garrick is a beautiful woman, she a bit taller than O'Connor with her hair wrapped in an intricate purple fabric and is wearing a matching kanga. Gaz is the exact image of her, Mrs. Garrick is followed by a young girl and boy both in their mid teens, the twins. The girl has beautiful locs decorated in beads and the boy has similar hair to his brother if Gaz didn't cut it short. Gaz begins showing his siblings around and Mrs. Garrick approaches Price and begins talking with him while Gaz is away.

Nikoli and his family show up next, his oldest hovering closer to the Garrick twins and the two younger join the tiny horde of children that are currently playing with the dogs. Nikoli's wife waves to O'Connor before going to set something on the table of food that Gaz and O'Connor spent most of the day preparing. O'Connor felt a bit of anxiety tinge her mind, silently waiting for Laswell to arrive.

Just as O'Connor started to feel a pit in her stomach Kate arrived with Sarah on her arm, O'Connor moved to greet them before she could think. Then she sees her and her heart leap from her chest, the same way it does every time O'Connor sees Quinn. The short brown haired woman looked to her with her gorgeous hazel eyes and O'Connor's heart skipped a beat. It didn't take more than a second for Quinn to throw herself at O'Connor and they held each other for a long time. It has been a while since they've seen each other and even longer since they've been in the same room.

Quinn works closely with Laswell and when Kate learned of Quinn's preferences she began to play match maker. O'Connor was hesitant at first but as the months went on and her fondness grew she couldn't help herself. The two have been together for about two and a half years, Laswell suggested that O'Connor introduced the team to Quinn at this event. And while this isn't the first time they've physically seen each other it's been a while. A million and one things have happened to both of them and of course O'Connor wanted to introduce her cailían to her team but there was never a good time.

Now though it was a good time because everyone was staring at them as they held each other. Kate was just smiling at them, her head gently laying against her wife's. Nikoli held his wife in his arms. Gaz was whispering to Roach both sets of eyes on them, Ghost gently squeezed Soap's hand, and Price just smiled. But O'Connor was focused solely on the woman in her arms.

Eventually everyone settled down and made introductions. They all ate and chatted, joking and regaling each other with stories. Eventually they moved to giving their families gifts and their secret Santa gifts. The children tired themselves out playing with the tired dogs. Ghost lost the small army of children following him around. Everyone said their good byes and good nights. Tomorrow the team has off and they'd get together with their families one last time and then the weekend would be over and it was back to life as normal. But they held to this small piece of normality and held it tight.

COD Master List

[zombeebunnie]

Trembling Essence:💙Background + poll results💙

Hello hello and welcome new followers! :]

Firstly I just want to say a very big thank you to everyone that participated in the poll I did last week, I was really surprised but happy with the results and responses! This will help me a lot moving forward! :,] If you missed it and would like to say which route you preferred feel free to comment!

Anywho, this week mainly focused on art practicing again but I did work on the game and managed to get my bearings even more!

Here is the new background for the start of the game:

This took a long time to draw up since I sketched out the background instead of looking at references this time. Once I got a basic idea of how I wanted it to look it felt.. too empty and flat. At first I couldn't figure out why until I added more shrubbery and grass. After that I started adding the trees and then added a few more to give it depth and adjusted some of the coloring. So far the immersive symbolism I'm going for is slowly coming together! Since it just finished raining where you're located I tried to give the background the illusion of looking tolerably humid but slowly getting colder over time with a hint of decay in the distance. This is a better look of the dreary foreboding atmosphere compared to the "fairy-forest" from last week. >:,] It took a while but I also added a parallax effect here and optimized the images to save space. I kept getting an error when it came to the middle ground so I had to find and fix the problem which delayed things. I don't have a video to show it in action but maybe next time. I do want it to be known again that these automatically happen and don't follow the cursor. :,,]

Here's a sneak peek of the new choices you can do when you're in this area now. >;]

This part required a lot of brainstorming before I figured out how I wanted the explorative part to go. This was originally going to go a different way completely but a particular day caused me to just scrap it and start everything over. I have a very solid idea on how I want all of this to go better than ever so I can't wait to show some of the new areas! I didn't expect this background to take as long as it did to draw up but hopefully next week I'll have more done!

Progress doodle layout:

Since certain endings are being changed I thought it would be cool to animate a progress layout to visually show how everything is going! It shouldn't take too long to finish this section up since I already have a foundation laid out.

Noah's sprite sheet update:

As far as Noah sprite sheets goes, it's still in sketch mode and I haven't messed with them yet since I've been practicing. :,,]

There are some old drawing prompts I wrote down and sketches that I'm still doodling up behind the scenes so hopefully I can get to them at some point with some attached lore. :,]

Q&A / Ask box is still open:

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask here please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

Thank you to those who have sent in asks after everything got reset! I'll try to get to them when I can along with the ones that come to mind that got deleted. I just need time to answer since I like to respond with doodles/drawings as practice. :]

Overall that's everything I have to share so far, thank you guys for your continued encouragement and support through all of this, I wholeheartedly appreciate it! :,,]

[macawritesupdates]

Writing Update 9/26/2024

Got some writing news for this one! First of all... THE FIRST CHAPTER of the Historically Inaccurate sequel is now officially in the works! It has been fully outlined and going to get ahead on chapters for it before posting <3 This one will go live when a few other fics finish up!

LONG FIC UPDATES: JUJUTSU KAISEN THE YUUJI FILES: Nearly done and it is going to be posted soon! Hoping to finish next chapter tonight and edit it tomorrow! CAREFUL WHAT YOU JOKE ABOUT: New chapter soon! Also getting a lot work done with it and eager to get it going again now that I've restructured the story for the outline

BROKEN IN THE WAYS NO ONE SEES: No chapter in the works and will be updating soon! Trying to rush this one done as per the votes in the poll. Just three more chapters to get out! CAN'T HELP A CUDDLE: A super spicy chapter is inbound...I think readers are going to be loving the update, or I hope so at least! SPOUSE WANTED: New chapter in the works and it is going to have the spice at last.... THE MALEVOLENCE OF LOVE: This next chapter scares me as it is the reunion chapter and I am not ready for it... Going to give it time to marinate for sure. TWO GRANDSONS: I write the chapters when I need something nice and fluffy in my life ; w ; WHO'S A GOOD BOY: Slowly but surely it is in the works c: MIRRORED LIVES: One day....one day... LONGFIC UPDATES: MY HERO ACADAMIA JEALOUSY IS NOT A GOOD FRIEND: Good progress for the next chapter! UNSUNG HEROES: Want to write it SHO bad! AHhh! Need to make time to work on it... A RUT TIME OF IT: On the backburner for now c: ONE -SHOTS

Pull Me Along if I Can’t Move Forward: Deku/Bakugo fic that is still slowly getting done! Hope to get some more progress done!

Heatwaves and Curses Don't Mix: A pwp fic of Nobara/Yuuji/Sukuna that is getting close to being done <3

Once Upon a Blob: Sukuna, now Blobkuna, has a plan to get his body back and it involves the old fairy tale cliche of love's true kiss. Chaos ensures.

And That's When I knew It (Might change the title though!): A silly Uraraka/Kirishima one-shot where something horribly embarrassing happens and feelings are had (and spice XD) Rituals of Ascension: ABO in the Heian era involving bitching and just pwp ....

FICS TO COME Exploration: ABO modern Sukita fic where Sukuna might have a kink he doesn't want his cousin to know... mostly multi-chapter pwp :b

Unnamed: Kugikuna fic because I'm in a mood to write something for em... Culturally Inappropriate: THE SEQUEL! It is in progress currently and getting excited! It is going to be another emotional roller coaster covering the Culling Games after Historically Inaccurate

We Wretched Few: Fleshing out the idea and preparing it for pre-producting Law Meets Disorder: Slowing down on it as I work to get it mapped out properly, but it is in the works for pre-production!

The Dragon Story: I am worldbuilding so much for this one...debating if I might try to manga page draw it? We'll see...

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday

Welp after this week, there will be one more week of Sard’ika Sessions. I’m kinda proud that after next week, I’ll have actually completed a series. A great way to start the new year. 😆 This week is session five so we’re almost done Space Buddies! Thanks for sticking with me this long. I appreciate you all. ❤️

As for an actual preview of something, I decided on two things, one is from a pending new series with Dave York (Nerdie, you never finished the old one.) One doesn’t dwell on the past and we move forward!

An email comes Monday, a member of your new department would like to meet with you, give you materials to prep before starting the job. Seems fine, legit if you will. You did check with your old manager to make sure and they assured you that this Dave York is who your contact is. You weren’t sure if you should dress casually or business like for this meeting. It was your week off, you decided to wear your favorite dark green long sleeve button down dress with black flats. A mix of business and play if need be. Hair tied up and a tight bun with your favorite bright pink lipstick, may not have been business but you liked it, that’s what mattered. York had emailed you and told you to meet you for brunch, at least you’re getting food.

The second is a second helping of Mr. York! There were a few Pedro men on the brain but Dave came out ahead and maybe, just maybe I’m finishing my first Dave York series. 😘

“No. Not right now. Just let me…Fuck.” Dave whispered to himself. Her concern and confusion were understandable, but he didn’t care. “You want to know how I really feel about you. What I really think Peach? Fine.” He placed his bloody hand on the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. She didn’t react at first, but her fingers found their way into the loops of his cargo pants. It could have been the frustration at not really saying what they meant or that they had just been arguing but as their tongues danced, they crept toward the bed falling onto it and laughing at how absurd the situation was. It was then that Kiara initiated the kiss this time, grabbing Dave’s shoulders and pinning him under her. But after a few more make out sessions they both fell asleep in their clothes. Greeted by the sunlight of a new day.

I may also be marinating some more WIPs:

Frankie (haven’t decided if subby Frankie will be back or another Frankie will appear. He’s like a Pokémon - gotta catch ‘em all!)

Joel (might be Joel & Layla with them being sweet, might be a darker Joel I thought about in the QZ. My mood will determine that.)

Din (which Sard’ika ending soon, I do plan on one or two epilogues and working on one of four Din WIPs)

Santiago (haven’t written for the man but I do have bullet points and Tom slander 😆)

Dieter (Weddings 101 with Dieter shall continue! Daisy will be back and so will Oscar for more beef. In case you haven’t voted on the poll for chapter 4, click here.)

Well all, I talked a whole bunch. Dave and I have appointments to keep and to use these sheets and gasoline. ⛽️ Yes will wear a mask, you never forget THAT smell. 👃

No pressure tags: @saturn-rings-writes @megamindsecretlair @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @trulybetty @maggiemayhemnj @fhatbhabie @theywhowriteandknowthings @frenchiereading @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @javierpena-inatacvest @goodwithcheese @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @morallyinept @pamasaur @perotovar @chronically-ghosted

[harringtonstilinski]

Always The Babysitter - Chapter Two: The Weirdo on Maple Street ; Teaser

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Olivia Henderson(OC) (eventually) Word Count: 623 Warnings: none A/N: Hi, friends! It’s been a while, and I know I’ve left you hanging and I’m incredibly sorry about it. We’ve done a poll on when I should start posting and the majority of y’all said ... STRANGER THINGS DAY! I hope this continues to make y’all excited for this series. If you are, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

“You okay?” Steve asked.

I hummed, and looked up at him. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Looking back at the sliding glass doors, I sighed. “Sister instinct is kicking in. I wanna make sure she’s okay.”

Before he could give his answer, if he even wanted to give me an answer, we both turned at the sound of someone squealing. My question was answered before I could even think of the question; Tommy pushed Carol in the pool, who said, “Oh, my god. What the hell, Tommy?”

He jumped in after her as Steve put his arm around my shoulders, guiding me slowly to the edge of the pool before pushing both Nancy and I in. When I came back up for air, I looked at Steve, and watched as he jumped in.

When he surfaced, I splashed water at him, exclaiming, “I’m gonna kill you!”

He splashed me back, and it felt like old times; us playing in the pool… before he remembered that Nancy was in the pool, too. As they were having their fun, I got out, announcing that I was going to get us all some towels.

After I had gone inside to retrieve the towels, I wrapped up in mine, checking on Barb, who seemed to be doing okay.

“I just… really want to go home,” she said.

“I’ll take you home, don’t worry,” I said, rubbing her arm. “That is after I put on some dry clothes.” I chuckled, but it didn’t seem to reach her ears, so I walked to the back patio, putting the towels on one of the chairs.

When everyone else got out and wrapped up in their towels, we headed back inside, where Carol said that she was freezing, and Tommy mentioned that Steve’s parents had a fireplace in their bedroom.

“You’re cleaning the sheets,” Steve said. Walking to Nancy, he asked, “You alright?”

She answered that she was as he walked over to me.

“I’m sure you can still fit in the clothes you left here,” he said.

“I haven’t really grown since freshman year, so I think I might,” I chuckled.

Steve and I went up to his bedroom when I heard Barb holler for Nancy. I’m not sure what they talked about, and to be honest, I really didn’t care. I just wanted out of these freezing ass clothes.

I looked around Steve’s room as I walked in, smiling a little to myself. “Hasn’t changed a bit.”

Steve shrugged. “Eh. There’s a new poster.”

“Doesn’t count,” I said, moving to the dresser drawer that had my clothes in it. I grabbed a pair of pants, not really feeling the shirts I had in there. I closed that drawer and went to the closet, turning on the light. “I’m borrowing a shirt.”

“You never returned my others,” he said.

I turned my head, seeing him standing at the open closet door. “Give a girl a break. They’re comfortable.” Since my undergarments were soaked as well, I went back to my drawer, grabbing a bra and a pair of panties before moving back to the closet to change.

Once I was finished, I walked out, seeing Nancy looking at Steve with bedroom eyes, taking off her shirt. “Nice,” I whispered, quickly walking out of the bedroom. Going to the kitchen, I was fully intending on making myself a glass of water and a quick sandwich to eat before taking Barb and Nancy back home.

As I was eating my sandwich and sipping on my water, I noticed that the lights flickered on and off. It was more of a blink and you’ll miss it type of flicker. What’s crazy is I thought I heard screaming, but I guessed that was just my imagination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! i hope y’all liked this, and it got y’all excited for always the babysitter. i’m working as hard as i can on it. again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Note: stranger things day is going to be lit this year! i’m so freaking excited! gives me a little over three months to get the rest of the series written, proofread while drafting and then posting! i’m so excited!

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​​ @stixnstripesworld​​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​​ @quanticobae​​​ @mischiefandi​​​ @kellyashcroft​​​ @lauren-novak​​​​

Always The Babysitter Taglist: none yet!

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on July 15, 2023

[itsalwaysdark]

is 22°F (-5.55556°C. i guess i couldve just said -6° or something but the degrees are so big in celsius for all i know -6°C is like. -7°F. thats a joke. i checked snd its 21.2°F. which is not very big at all and is in fact less than a fahrenheit degree. sorry....) very cold or am i just a baby. ngl i forgot the sentence i was saying before i opened the parenthesis so i had to read the beginning again. which was fine bc it was 2 words long. not super difficult to read

*i went out in short shorts and a tshirt earlier to take out the trash. and shoes. it was not that bad i was out rhere for like 10 minutes or something (trashcan froze shut) but that also was like maybe an hour or 2 ago so maybe it was a bit warmer. Still below freezing but i was fine really never fear it was honestly nice. and im a baby with cold normally.. perhaps i shrimply have been inoculated to it)

**think it isnt cold but you arent gonna be rude abt it i used to hate on quotev Yall remember quotev? i used to see so many self harm images on that website. being 11 was so crazy moving on but they used to do that all the time OR itd be the fav color question (which every quiz had and they acted like it was like the worst thing ever ppl would put it and be like IM SO SORRY .... i say they. i did this). omg another thing abt the color question is theyd never have every color it used to make me so mad like how tf do you have a favorite color question and GREEN isnt there. GREEN!!!!!!! whatever. anyways but what theyd do was theyd have a like theyd say rhe color but then theyd append something to it and its like Well msybe i just like the color. itd be like

black.... like my soul.....

green bc i love natures and trees i typoed tres. i love natures and the number three but ONLY in Spanish

pink bc im a girly girly hirl girl girl pink pink bc im a girllllllgirlygirlish girl wjo looooves pink bc im a girl. bc girls like pink

and its like well maybe i like green but i dont fw trees that much. I do fw trees for clarification mad frespect for trees lets give it up for trees. but i dont see green and im like oh i like this because its trees i like green bc its like green and its been my favorite color since i was a baby its a certified connor fact green is my favorite color and elephants are my favorite animal. and i dont remember why originally those were my favorites but they are so i like to see them bc they are bc 2 year old me fucked with green and elephants or whatever. fucked up that ts3 didnt have a favorite animal section but ig that wouldnt rly come up in game the way food does. still sad bc as a kid like the things you ask ppl abt r like Whats your name and your favorite color and your favorite animal and how old are you. not rly in that order i think usually it was name age and then the other 2 r interchangable. and that was all. when in devils did this post get so long.... just scrolled up to finish the poll and theres a lot of words on here. i honestly dont think this can be attributed to the monster for a second i was like maybe its bc of the monster but i think maybe all my posts just r like this bc i love the sound of my own. ummm. fingers hitting my phone screen. bc i dont talk aloud while posting Unless im blogging in front of annie or lampstie bc then its a performance. you understand . but they arent here rn this ones just between me and you ALSO i kind of want a mikes hard i had like 1 on new years and then 1.5 on whatever day that was and i kind of want more but there r no more which honestly is pretty twisted. but the alcohol has to be locked up because of gestures and for some reason asking for alcohol from my parents closet feels more shameful than asking for weed NOTTTT BC THERES ANYTHING WRONG WITH DRINKING ALCOHOL LIKE ITS FINE just everybody treats me like i was na alcoholic when i wasnttt i drank like. once or Maybe twice a month and b4 i moved to wa it was like always with everybody else except for those times but that doesnt count. I didnt drink responsible i do have a habit of overdrinking but i think its just bc it brings out my beautiful and shining personality. and i only halfway blacked out once and like my eighteenth birthday had a lot of shit going on can you rly blame a man. real connorheads remember the first thing i did as an eighteen year old and maybe they will have a little shrimpathy for me. i neeeeeeed to stop saying shrimpathy. this post got away from me a little bit

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

please please a part 2 of that gamer!geralt au, them doing something like Q&A

Nonie, I hope you know what you signed up for. This got out of hand lmao. like 2.4k of Q&A kind of out of hand. 

Warnings: swearing, talk of drinking to excess, kinda spicy questions, lil kisses, idk how but I meant for this to be goofy and horny and it got kinda soft? what’s new?

____________

“Holy shit,” Geralt sat staring at his phone as he mindlessly stirred pasta.

“I swear to god, if you found a way to burn noodles-” Jaskier turned away from the blender to wave a wooden spoon covered in pesto puree.

Geralt shook his head and held his phone up to him, scrolling through the replies to a tweet as he did, going on for ages as Jaskier’s jaw slowly got closer to the floor.

“What are those for?!”

“I put up a poll for a boyfriend Q&A or a game review and not a single person has voted for the game review.” Geralt was still scrolling through questions people wanted answered as he watched Jaskier’s face go from shock to confusion to a smug grin. 

“They love me,” he sang, kicking his heel up as he turned back to the pasta sauce.

Geralt rolled his eyes and started screenshotting some of the less invasive questions, shaking his head and muttering, “Course they do.”

-

Geralt pressed record, waited a moment, and heaved a dramatic, long-suffering sigh, “You guys literally didn’t even give me a choice on this one,” he reached off frame and scruffed Jaskier, plopping him down on the couch with him. 

Jaskier didn’t stay where he was put for even a moment, using his momentum to bounce up onto Geralt’s lap with a shit-eating grin, “Oh? Are we rolling?”

Geralt dropped his forehead to Jaskier’s shoulder, stifling a laugh, “This is gonna be a long one.”

“Yeah, it is,” Jask agreed, then turned to the camera, stroking Geralt’s hair, “My fans want more!”

“OH-kay,” Geralt manhandled Jaskier to sit next to him which earned him a pout and a leg draped over his lap as he continued his intro, “I’ve got a bunch of questions from twitter. I didn’t even have to confirm which video we would do, you guys just went straight for the kill. I picked a few, Jask picked a few, neither of us knows which ones the other picked.” he turned to see Jaskier wiggle his eyebrows at the camera, “Why am I thinking you picked the raunchy ones?”

The brunet pretended to be offended before he smirked, “Only a few.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he nudged Jask with his shoulder and opened up his phone to his screenshots, “Okay! First up is AdamSandlersBitch, nice name. They asked what Jaskier’s favorite gaming console and game to play is.” he turned to Jaksier with raised eyebrows.

His boyfriend cringed, “My.. my phone? I don’t know? I play a lot of Candy Crush while I listen to podcasts?”

Geralt smiled sweetly, “Wait what about Stardew Valley? I thought you started that?”

“I did!” Jaskier brightened up for a moment before he deflated again, “But I got confused and then the ADHD made me bake cookies.”

“Those were good cookies. I’ll play with you if you want?” Geralt’s normal ‘streamer dude’ persona melted away while he played with the rips on Jaskier’s jeans. 

Jask leaned forward and kissed his temple, “I’d love that.” 

Geralt blushed, even after years, Jaskier’s affection still caught him off guard. 

“Mkay! My turn!” Jaskier flashed his devilish grin and read, in his most obnoxious voice, “Dwn2Clwn said ‘do you two live together? Have you said ‘i love you’? And who tops?’”

Geralt’s mouth twisted into an upside-down U as he stared at Jaskier in muted surprise, “Honestly, not as bad as I expected.”

Jaskier looped his arm around Geralt’s, “I’m starting off easy.”

Geralt let his mock-disapproving gaze linger just a bit before he answered, “The living together is kind of new-like a few months. This one said ‘I love you’ on, what? The fourth date? Fifth?”

“Fourth.”

“No, it was the fifth, Eskel locked himself out on the fourth. Remember?”

“Shit you’re right,” Jaskier gave the camera a stern look, “In my defense, we’d been friends for a good four years before this. I wasn’t just confessing my love to a tinder date - though I have done that before.”

Geralt nodded, “That was very amusing.”

Jaskier tapped his nose, “Don’t avoid the last part, darling.”

Geralt huffed and stared down the camera, and, in the most matter of fact tone possible, said, “We switch. Compromise, folks. Can’t have one person doing all the work all the time.”

Jaskier nodded sagely, patting Geralt's chest, “We got a pow-”

Geralt clamped his hand over Jaskier’s mouth, 100% sure he was going to say ‘power bottom pillow princess’, “Nope. I’ll get demonetized for that.”

“But not who tops?” Jaskier asked through Geralt’s fingers.

He just shrugged, “I don’t make the rules.”

Jaskier tapped his phone and raised his eyebrows, telling him to move to the next question. 

“Mis- Mischanication? Shit I hope I said that right, Mischanication asked, ‘would you ever get a pet together?’ We did! Her name is Roach and she’s a little shit! I told Jaskier not to feed her, but he did, now we have the snuggliest, crankiest cat I’ve ever met!” 

Jaskier had gotten up to pluck Roach from her perch on the windowsill when Geralt had read the question and plopped down with her as Geralt finished his proud speech, “She’s not a little shit! She’s just delicate! Isn’t that right, darling?”

Geralt scratched under her chin and cooed, “You are a nasty little dragon baby, aren't you?! Just a little garbage child! Yes, you are. We love the tiny demon beast.”

“Geralt!”

He snickered and kissed Jaskier’s hair, “Next question, love.”

Jaskier grumbled something about positive reinforcement as Roach scampered back to her cat tree and he unlocked his phone for his next tweet, “This darling wants to remain anonymous,” Geralt gave him some serious side-eye at that, “they said ‘I think I’m in love with the flower twink, where can I find one of my own?’”

Geralt frowned at the camera and pulled Jaskier onto his lap, holding him close and snuggling into his chest, almost growling, “Hands off.”

Jaskier giggled, brushing Geralt’s hair out of his face as he talked to the camera, “You heard the man. Unfortunately, I was not mass-produced and I’ve been spoken for.”

Geralt looked up at him with what could only be called suspicious puppy eyes, “You picked that one just to sit in my lap didn’t you?”

“Yes. And because I want to change my socials to ‘flower twink’.” 

“Do it,” Geralt kept Jaskier on his lap as he swiped to his next question, “Eggsfuckingsuck - heh, my dad hates eggs- Eggsfuckingsuck says, ‘what is the most embarrassing thing you’ve caught each other doing/saying?’ Oh boy, do I have a story for you!”

"Oh I couldn't say the thing but you can tell this story!?" 

"...you have a point... Check my insta stories. I'll put it there after I post this." 

Jaskier nodded, ever so pleased, and turned to the camera, "Our dear Yennefer of sorceryglammour once beat Geralt at trivia night when the theme was 'video games'." 

“We did shots before we went to the bar and she goaded me and Lambert into a chugging competition before the round started. I’m telling you, she planned this. Yen is ruthless.” Geralt desperately tried to justify his defeat but Jaskier was having none of it. 

“She’s mostly harmless, plus I have video evidence from that night. You weren’t that far gone.”

“Pull it up! Let’s settle it.”

Jaskier patted Geralt’s head like one would a toddler, “I’d have to get my old laptop out. Later, darling.”

Geralt had a smug look on his face, “That means he doesn’t have it anymore.”

“Next question!” Jaskier squeaked, not at all changing the subject. 

Geralt shrugged, “If you admit I won that one.”

“It’s not a competition!” Jaskier laughed, looking down at him with that stupidly smitten look on his face.

“Hmmm…” Geralt tilted his chin up defiantly, “if you say so.”

Jaskier kissed him, lingering a little bit more than could be considered chaste, “I do.” 

Geralt looked up at him, batting his eyelashes, “Fine then, next question.”

Jaskier handed him his phone and he read it off leaning his head on Jaskier’s shoulder, “CountryBumpkin42 asked if we play any instruments. I play the recorder very poorly, but Jask plays everything.”

“Not everything, but yes, I could cover a Trans Siberian Orchestra song if I had a pedalboard with enough loop settings.” Jaskier preened. 

“And more,” Geralt added, counting on his fingers as he spoke, “In this house alone he has two pianos, three different types of guitars, a drumset, a violin and fiddle, a flute and piccilo, an oboe, a mandolin, a lute, bongos, saxophone, clarinet, tambourine, trumpet, and xylophone. Did I get them all?”

Jaskier glanced from side to side with a guilty look, “Ah… no, I bought a bass sax that showed up last night.”

“Oh, did Thursday at 3 decide they wanted to switch after all?”

“Yeah! She got the third chair as a freshman on a loaner instrument! I’m very proud!”

Geralt seemed to remember they were recording and turned back to the camera, “J teaches music at the university and does private lessons.” 

“It’s how I can afford such a pretty trophy boyfriend,” Jaskier teased, ruffling Geralt’s hair and earning a little chuckle.

“Mkay, what do you have next?”

Jaskier smoothed Gearalt’s hair back down as he read the next question, “3R4108F6!J asks if we have any cute nicknames for each other.”

Geralt’s eyebrows nearly flew past his hairline, “J has a new one for me almost every day.”

“Its true,” Jaskier nodded, “I am a slut for cute nicknames. This morning was Ger Bear, one of my faves. I called him Thumbs for a bit, I lovingly call him Dumb Fuck rather often.”

“And he is Dip Shit, it’s balanced. I usually just shorten names? Jask or J is usually it, right?” Geralt asked, shifting so Jaskier was sitting on the couch between his legs and they were both turned out toward the camera but very much still cuddling. 

“And when I’m being childish I get Alfie. But Geralt is much more deliberate and specific with his nicknames. It’s a bit of a friendship level up when he uses nicknames.”

Geralt frowned at him, “I do that?”

Jaskier giggled, “You never noticed?”

He tilted his head, giving Jaskier a quizzical look, “Not at all.”

Jaskier cupped Geralt’s cheek, “You’re so cute.”

Geralt blushed again, leaning into the touch just a tad, “Who’s turn is it?”

“Yours,” Jaskier hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“Okay,” Geralt blushed even more, “I had this one as an alternate, but uh, Yen asked what we’d name our first kid?” 

Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s shoulder and hummed as he thought for a moment, “I always like Blake or Spencer, but I seem to remember you saying something about old world traditional names?”

Geralt nodded, absentmindedly running his fingers up and down Jaskier’s arm, “My grandma was hoping each of us boys would be a girl and wanted mum to name us Cirilla every time. I quite like it, but I’m rather open as long as I don’t know someone with the name. I really like Eric?” 

“Oo, I like Eric.”

“But you like the neutral names.”

“I do, but it’s your hypothetical kiddo too.”

Geralt gave him a little squeeze, “There’s time for that later. What’s your next one?”

Jaskier snorted when he looked at his phone, “What are your guys’ love languages?”

Geralt just looked down at Jask, completely entangled in his arms, then up to the camera, “I’m gonna hazard a guess at physical touch.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s a safe bet,” Jaskier giggled, “I haven’t taken the quiz in years, but I was that and gifts.”

“Oh, yeah. Physical touch and words of affirmation. I got like a 0 on acts of service and gifts, but I really like giving gifts.” 

“Mhm, yes you do,” Jaksier wiggled his eyebrows, then turned to the camera, “I also had no idea you could have different giving and receiving languages till I met this one.”

Geralt nodded then turned to him with a slight frown, “you know I really thought your questions were going to be more graphic.”

“Oh, honey I saved the best for last,” Jaskier winked. 

“Fuck me,” Geralt grumbled before reading off his last question, “Cali852 asked what we did for Pride.”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up, “Oh Pride was fun. We watched the parade, of course, then Yen did our makeup and… and where did we go after that?”

Geralt looked like he’d been waiting for this, “We went to a club, where you ordered three kamakazis, knocked them all back, danced for twenty minutes, then I took you home.”

“N-no… we went to the beach, didn’t we?”

“That was the year before. We were going to go to the drag show at our regular bar too, but someone had just finished grading finals and went a little too hard.” 

Jaskier grinned, “Speaking of finals, time for the last question. I had a different one in mind but if the thing I cant say from earlier would get this demonetized then that defintitelyi would. So we’re going with ‘what is the wackest placy y’all banged?’”

Geralt snorted, “Shit who knows anymore?”

“Well there was the boat?”

“Or the train?”

“Nah, too standard. What about the cabin?”

“Heh, no I think your o-”

“I don’t have tenure darling,” It was Jaskier’s turn to slap his hands over Geralt’s mouth, “The answer is a dilapidated structure my parents still try to call a cabin out in the foothills.”

Geralt laughed and pulled his hand away, “Okay, that can be the answer.”

“Is that it? Now we just say bye?” Jaskier looked between Geralt and the camera.

Geralt shrugged, “Yeah. You wanna say the thing?”

Jaskier wiggled with a little pride and excitement, “Don’t forget to like and subscribe! Bye Fuckers!”

They both waved for a couple seconds before Geralt got up and turned the camera off. He popped out the memory card and was going to immediately start loading it onto his computer but Jask hooked his finger through a belt loop as he walked past and tugged him back down. 

“I’m tired. Snuggle with me.” 

Geralt hummed, “We just snuggled that whole time.”

Jaskier heaved a dramatic sigh, “I know and this is exhausting. I don’t know how you talk to a camera all day.”

Geralt stretched to set the chip on top of his laptop before collapsing back on top of Jaskier who had stretched the length of the couch, “Are you making fun of me?” he teased. 

Jaskier cupped his face between his hands and pulled him up for a deep kiss, “Oh never.” 

[dameronology]

love in the time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno} - 2/5

summary: your kid has taken a liking to marcus moreno - and frankly, so have you {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing, mentions of divorce & very brief mentions of his wife’s death 

i don’t normally update series this quickly but this was originally one imagine that reached about 11k words lmao so it’s all written, just being split up. i’ve also decided it’s gonna be 5 parts instead of 3, cos i reread the ending and realised i was not done by a longshot. enjoy!

- jazz

Mondays. You hated ‘em.

Everything just seemed so...amplified. The peace and relaxation of the weekend was over and everyone had to go back on the grind. The traffic always seemed worst, the clock seemed to tick backwards and you just wanted to be at home, in bed. After an incident involving the dog, a toaster and a small pan fire, you were already running twenty minutes late and you knew in your soul that your child’s shoes weren’t on the right feet. That, and also he was wearing a Chewbacca onesie to school. It had been a compromise. As in, he was refusing to go to school unless you let him wear the damn thing. It was a compromise. You’d lost. 

On the bright side, the past weekend had been the best you’d had in a long time. Jack had spent all of Saturday afternoon at the Heroics headquarters and he was so worn out, he’d slept through all of Sunday. Marcus Moreno must have a been a fucking wizard, because you’d been trying to tire the kid out for five years. You made a mental note to do something in return, though you sensed there was nothing on God’s green earth that could possibly amount to babysitting the world’s most exhausting child for six hours. You were allowed to say that, because Jack was your world’s most exhausting child and you wouldn’t have changed him for anything. 

‘New week, huh buddy?’ You glanced at Jack in your rear view mirror. He was sat on his booster seat, legs dangling back and forth and a power ranger action figure in his hand. ‘A fresh start.’

‘Can we listen to the song from Cars?’ Jack ignored your comment.

‘You gotta try and behave yourself this week. You’ve seen what happens to people who do follow the rules, right? They get to go work at the Heroics-’

‘- I wanna listen to the song from Cars!’

You wanted to have a deep conversation. Jack wanted to listen to Life Is A Highway. That was...actually, it was exactly how you’d expected that to go. It wasn’t that off of the time you were trying to explain your divorce to him and he’d interrupted you to demand that you put Toy Story on. 

‘Sure thing, kid.’ You rolled your eyes, reaching across to hand him on your phone. ‘D’you know how to spell it-’

Your sentence was cut off by the sound of guitars blaring from the speakers. At least he could work out Spotify.

By some miracle, you managed to make it the school with a few minutes to spare. Because most people had dropped their kids off earlier (see: on time), the lot was pretty empty. That meant you could once again dump your car without regard for the painted white lines -- who had time to park properly on a Monday morning? That was for people who had their shit together.

Leaping out the car, you almost cursed when you tripped over your heels. You didn’t have to wear them, but since you’d started working in a managerial role at your office, you figured it made you look a little more professional. And what was the harm in being a few inches taller? It made you feel powerful.

‘C’mon, J.’ You pulled open the back door, helping Jack leap out the car. 

‘You know, I’m starting to think you can’t park your car at all.’

‘Marcus!’ Jack practically flew out the car, his tiny body suddenly jolting with excitement. 

‘Morning, buddy.’ He replied; he then moved his brown eyes to gaze at you, offering a smile. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, how you doing?’ You greeted him. ‘I don’t normally see you here in the mornings.’

‘Yeah, I normally drop Missy off at the front but it was one of those mornings, you know? She was taking a little more convincing than usual to go in.’

‘My kid is in a Wookiee onesie and backwards Thomas the Tank Engine shoes and you have the audacity to ask me if I know those mornings? I am those mornings.’ You replied.

Marcus chuckled. ‘I think it’s a look. I especially like the Lightning McQueen sunglasses.’

‘Do you have a super suit?’ Jack asked. ‘Can I try it on?’

‘C’mon, Jack. You’ve already managed to get a tour of the HQ.’ You ruffled his hair. ‘And we gotta get going to school.’

‘But I wanna ask more questions.’ He muttered. ‘I have over a hundred.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ You murmured under your breath. ‘But school is more important.’

‘I don’t wanna go anymore.’

‘I let you wear the onesie. That was our agreement, remember?’

‘All good superheroes have to get an education.’ Marcus reasoned. ‘And if you go in, maybe I can show you my suit at some point?’

'Okay!’ Jack grinned. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a quick hug, before peering up at you with a toothy smile. ‘See ya later!’

He turned on his heel and ripped his backpack from your hand, suddenly speeding up the path and towards school. Had...had that just happened? For once in your life, had you not had to wrench him from the car and wrestle him through the school gates? Move aside, Harry Potter, because Marcus Moreno was the new wizard in town. You might have been a little jealous that he was so good with your son but at the same time, it made you like him even more. He was the first parent at the school that had leant into Jack’s wild tendencies. And, whilst you tried not to think too much about it, even his own dad had struggled to do that. It made your heart warm a little. 

‘You are seriously my favourite person.’ You chimed, leaning back against your car. 

‘Kids with character are way more fun than kids who are well-behaved.’ Marcus replied.

‘I spent forty-five minutes scraping string cheese out the USB port of my computer yesterday, but sure.’ 

He chuckled. ‘No, I’m serious. I don’t encourage Missy to misbehave but she does get herself into some situations. I choose to see it as a testament to her intelligence rather than disobedience.’

‘I refuse to believe for a second that Missy ever misbehaves.’ You shot back back. ‘She seems so well-behaved.’

‘What you see in the parking lot is not a reflection of our whole lives.’ He reminded you.

‘Right, because despite appearances, I’m actually a very put together parent.’ You snorted. ‘But I get what you mean.’

‘I gotta get to work now, but it was good to see you.’ Marcus pulled his car keys out his pocket. ‘I was serious about that suit thing, by the way. He saw my katanas on Saturday.’

‘Katanas?’ You spluttered. ‘My kid managed to start a fire last week out of nothing and you want to give him katanas?!’

‘Maybe I can show you how to use them.’ He flashed you a smile. ‘And then you can pass on the knowledge.’ 

‘That’s probably an even worse idea.’ You shook your head with a laugh, pulling open your car door. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘You as well. Have a good day, pretty lady.’

--

Did you stop thinking about your exchange at any point during the day? Absolutely not. In fact, you’d already written an email to the local deed poll office to change your legal name to Pretty Lady. 

No, but in all seriousness, you’d been a little giddy about it. Had he been flirting? That didn’t seem like a long shot. You got on well, you’d hung out a bit over the weekend and not to toot your own horn, but you were by no means bad looking. Tired and a little frazzled, sometimes? Yeah. But anyone would have been lucky to have you and you were doing a better job at recognising that, especially since your divorce. 

You were almost ecstatic when it got to 4PM and you hadn’t received a single call from Jack’s teachers. That meant that he had behaved, and what Marcus had said had worked. Because you worked past his finishing time, he usually went to the after-school club till you could come to collect him - it had been a lifesaver, especially since you couldn’t always leave early. He usually came home with some kind of weird arts and crafts. Last week, it had been an unidentifiable item made of dried macaroni and glitter. He’d placed it pridefully on the old fireplace in your lounge. 

After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you headed out the building. Your office was right in the city centre and not too far out from the school. It was a nice place to be; your lunch hour, when you could head out to a street cart and eat your food in the local park, was usually the highlight of your day. It was when you could exist just as you. When you were at work, you were in charge on your entire department. When you were home, you were a parent 24/7. That time to yourself was vital.

As you were heading to your car, your phone began to ring. Your heart almost jumped out your chest when you saw Marcus’ name - he hadn’t called you before, only texted to sort out the previous weekend’s plans with Jack. You quickly organised yourself (he couldn’t see you, dumb ass) and cleared your throat.

‘Hey, everything alright?’ You brightly greeted him.

‘Hey! Are you out of work now?’

‘Yeah, I’m literally just leaving. What’s up?’

‘Look, I hate to do this but I’ve had an emergency at work - superhero related, you don’t wanna know - and I’m not gonna be out for hours.’ Marcus sounded stressed. Yeah, I feel that you thought. ‘Would you be able to pick up Missy and possibly have her for a few hours? If not, that’s totally-’

‘- I’d be glad too!’ You interrupted him. ‘I owe you one anyways for the weekend. And this morning, actually.’

‘You don’t owe me anything.’ He sounded surprised that you’d even imply it. ‘But I will definitely owe you for having Missy.’

‘Hey, it’s cool!’ You insisted. ‘Do you want me to drop her off at yours later?’

‘I can come and collect her if you text me your address?’

‘Perfect.’ You smiled. ‘I’ll see you later then?’

‘You’re a lifesaver.’ Marcus said. ‘I’ll text Missy to let her know to find your car instead of mine. I would ask for your plate number, but your car is...’

‘...bright red, covered in dents and hard to miss?’ You finished his sentence.

‘Exactly.’

You’d been in the same situation before; pulled between work and parenting, with Jack stuck at school and an important meeting that felt like it was never ending. It was hard to get a sitter on such short notice - or afford one, sometimes - and it was just another one of the million, stressful situations that single parenting could get you into. If you could help Marcus even a little bit, of course you were going to. You knew he’d do the same for you. Heck, he had done the same for you.

Jack and Missy were both chatty on the way home. Given that she was a little older than him, her conversational skills were strikingly better. It was nice to ask someone about their day and not get where are my Cheetos? as an answer. From what you gathered, she hated science class, enjoyed gym, and her favourite subject was lunch. That didn’t come as a surprise to you - her dad was a literal superhero and probably encouraged physical activity.

(You’d seen his arms, okay? They were more than enough to go on. I digress).

The only thing that made you wish you’d had a little more notice on having her for the evening was the state of your apartment. The place wasn’t bad; you’d lived there for the better part of eight years, and it was crammed with soft furniture and millions of blankets, as well as photos of you and Jack and his questionable art projects. It was just that you hadn’t done the dishes that morning, there was a mountain of shoes by the door and the pancakes from the previous night were still stuck on the roof.

Missy barely blinked an eye; the minute she saw your dog, she’d abandoned her bag and was playing with him. 

‘Hey buddy!’ She grinned. ‘What’s he called?’

‘That’s Oppy.’ You replied, hanging your jacket up. She didn’t need to know that it was short for Optimus Prime. No guesses on whose idea that had been. 

‘He’s so cute!’ Missy continued. ‘I’ve been asking dad for a dog for ages but he won’t budge.’

For some reason, that surprised you a little. Marcus might have been the leader of a super-hero team and a public figure, but you could tell he would do anything for his daughter. You knew because it was the same for you with Jack. He might have ruled your whole life but you would have hung the damn stars in the sky for him if he asked 

‘They’re a lot of work.’ You reasoned. ‘I have to wake up every morning at 6AM to make sure he gets a walk. Then there’s the matter of-’

‘- mum! Optimus Prime pooped in the bathroom!’

‘The matter of that.’ You murmured under your breath.

The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly. You fed the kids some leftover takeaway and between the dog and Netflix, they were easily entertained. Jack seemed to take a liking to Missy, which was good because it meant he wanted to sit with her the entire time instead of bouncing off the walls. She had the same patience as her dad, especially when he asked her a million questions about superheroes. It took her twenty minutes to convince him that Batman wasn’t her uncle, and a further fifteen to make him believe that she hadn’t met Captain America. 

Jack had asked you a few times about whether or not he would get siblings. Of course, it would be different to any interactions with Missy because he would have been the oldest, but it did get you thinking. You were finally in a place where you were moving past your former relationship and healing from the wounds. Time wasn’t much of an issue either - you’d had Jack when you were young and barely out of college. You couldn’t possibly imagine having any more kids right now, not when it was just the two of you, but in the future? You’d never rule out meeting somebody new. If anything, you were hopeful. Your first relationship had been your only one, and it had ended badly. You wanted to experience love for what it actually was, and not what you thought it was supposed to be. 

Not long after 7PM, there was a knock on your door. By that point, both Missy and Jack had passed out on the sofa with Star Wars playing quietly in the background. It had been her idea to watch it - she had good taste. Marcus had clearly done a good job.

‘Hey!’ You greeted him as you pulled open the front door. ‘Come in quick, it’s fucking freezing out there.’

‘Thank you.’ Marcus came inside, dusting a few snow flakes out his hair. ‘Seriously, I can’t say it enough-’

‘- it’s fine!’ You shook your head, offering him a smile. ‘Missy’s been great. She’s really chatty and it was nice to have a coherent conversation with someone that isn’t about Paw Patrol. But was everything at the office okay?’

He was quiet for a minute. ‘Yeah. We uh, we lost someone. A hero.’

‘Shit, man. I’m sorry.’ Your voice fell quiet. ‘You wanna come in? You look like you could probably take a moment.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course! Missy and Jack are both asleep on the couch anyways.’ You pointed through to the living room. Marcus leant over to have a look, smiling slightly at the sight. 

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’

He took a seat at the kitchen counter. Your old bar stools were a little old and wobbly, but Marcus didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he admired the place. It was cluttered as hell and filled with useless, old items - cook books you didn’t use, random magnets, assorted toys - but it was nice. His house always felt a little cold and clinical. He’d moved a lot over the course of Missy’s life and now that he was retired from the field, he’d sworn to her that their current house was going to be permanent. Whether or not it felt like home was another question entirely. 

‘I would offer you a drink but all I have is..’ you paused, opening the fridge. ‘Nesquik, vodka or apple juice.’

‘You know what? A Nesquik doesn’t sound too bad.’

‘I like your thinking, Moreno.’

After quickly fixing up the two drinks, you slid into the seat beside him and handed him one. You had never in a million years imagined a situation where Marcus Moreno would be in your kitchen drinking chocolate milk, but here we were. It had clearly been a long day for him and you had enough of those to last a lifetime, so you knew how it felt. Coming home after a day that had beat your ass into the ground and having to put on a brave face for your kids was difficult at best. 

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ You gently asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll be okay - it just always fucks me up a bit.’ Marcus murmured quietly. ‘Hits a little too close to home.’

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that you knew what had happened to his wife. You knew why he’d retired, and why he and Missy had moved away from their original city six years ago.

‘Sorry, that was too deep-’

‘- it wasn’t!’ You quickly cut him off. ‘I’ve had random women come up to me at pick up time and say they’re sorry to hear about my divorce. People I don’t even know. So really, after that, nothing is too much.’ 

He smiled slightly. ‘They always say they’re sorry but why would you bring up a subject if you have to apologise for it?’

‘Exactly!’ You replied. ‘Especially when I’ve moved on. It’s been a year.’

‘It’s the same with me. Missy and I miss her everyday but we don’t mope about it. We just...we look back with fondness on the good memories we have. You can’t move forward if you’re stuck in the past, no matter how much it sucks.’

‘That’s...that’s wise.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘S’pose that means I should take down the dartboard I have with my ex’s face on.’

‘From what I’ve heard, he seems like he should have more than a dart board.’ Marcus snorted - then he froze. ‘Wait, not that I’ve heard stuff, I mean...I don’t listen-’

‘- Marcus!’ You whacked his arm. ‘It’s fine. One of the other kid’s mums started telling me about the terrible divorce someone was going through but she realised she was gossiping to the one who was going through it.’

‘I don’t know how much of what I’ve been told is true, but it sounds like it was bad.’ His hand hovered over where yours was rested on the counter. 

‘The rumours pretty much get the gist of it.’ You replied. ‘But we were talking about your thing, so I don’t wanna take away from that.’

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He finally moved his hand, fingers gently curling underneath yours to intertwine them. ‘If even half of the whispers are true, he sounds like an asshole. You and Jack both deserve better than that.’

Whatever people had said, it had sort of covered the gist of it. You’d married too young and had a kid too young - your ex had been a terrible husband and an even worst husband. He’d chastised Jack for being...well, being Jack. He’d stay out late with his friends, spend money on things neither of you needed and tried to make you take the blame for it all. After giving him a few too many chances, you’d finally reached breaking point and kicked him out. Filing for divorce and taking on being a single parent was single-handedly the hardest and bravest thing you’d ever had to do. In a way, you were glad you’d done it when Jack was still so young - he didn’t really understand any of it, even when you’d try to explain it in child friendly terms.

‘I think people judge me for it a little sometimes.’ You confessed. ‘They see me struggling but they know I made the choice to separate from him, like I brought it all on myself.’

‘That’s bullshit.’ Marcus plainly stated. ‘Parenthood isn’t a dependent thing based on whether or not you’re still married to the other parent. It’s unconditional and permanent.’

‘I should tell him that, but I also don’t want him back in our lives.’

‘I know it’s none of my business, but he doesn’t deserve Jack. He’s one of the best and brightest kids I’ve ever met.’

‘Thank you. I’m glad he doesn’t seem like a complete lunatic.’

‘He doesn’t deserve you either.’ Marcus continued. ‘Again, I might be out of place saying this but you are...you’re amazing. I was a wreck when I was suddenly on my own and you’re still holding everything together and working your ass off.’ 

‘You’ve noticed?’ You quirked an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, in passing.’ He admitted. ‘I remember I once saw you carrying three separate science projects at once and then Carol made a passing comment that you were on your own and...I just kinda admired you from afar.’

‘You, Marcus Moreno, admired me?’ You blinked at him in disbelief. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘I wish I’d had my shit together half as much as you did when I lost Missy’s mum.’ 

‘But the difference is you didn’t have a choice in your situation. I chose to boot his dad out-’

‘- you gotta stop discrediting yourself.’ He shook his head. ‘And stop blaming yourself. You did what was right for your kid and that is the most admirable thing of all.’

‘You really think so?’

‘I know so.’

The conversation slowly drizzled away, leaving you two to just look at each other. It was hard to tear yourself away from his brown eyes - there was a lot going on behind them. Fear, pain, anguish, admiration. He was one of the most mind-blowingly impressive people you’d ever met; single dad, superhero, electric car owner. He probably didn’t have a mortgage too and that was kinda hot. You were none of those things and yet, here he was, with you, managing to connect on a level that you never had with anyone. Both of your situations were tough, but they’d brought you together. 

Marcus Moreno was pretty fucking fearless (came with the job, you figured), and he wasn’t afraid to make the first move. He slowly inched his head forward and in return, you gravitated towards him. Your lips met halfway in a soft kiss, his hands moving to firmly hold your waist as he pulled you closer.

You almost stumbled out your chair with the movement, but his grip on your hips meant you didn’t slip. Instead, he placed you up on the counter, standing up as he did. It took you a moment to adjust to the position, but with your legs resting on either side of his, you could reach forward and lean on him. You had one hand tangled in his hair and the other on the back of his neck -  you’d surprised yourself with that. It had been months since you’d kissed anyone, but you weren’t as rusty as you thought. 

‘Oh my god, is the superhero gonna be my new dad?!’

Marcus suddenly jumped backwards at the sound of Jack’s voice. He was stood in the doorway, post-nap hair covered by a lopsided Chewbacca hood. His eyes were like dinner plates, even though he was grinning from ear to ear. 

‘Uh...’ you glanced between him and Marcus. ‘We were just...we were...’

‘I had something in my eye.’

‘He had something in his eye.’ You quickly agreed. ‘But now it’s out, so Marcus is gonna go home.’

He knew you didn’t mean it rudely - it was more of a desperation thing. The longer he stayed, the more questions Jack would come out with. Missy could have overheard too and that would have been twice as much to explain. So really, the sooner he got out, the better.

‘Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll grab Missy.’ Marcus said, scratching the back of his head. ‘Thank you again for looking after her.’

‘You don’t need to keep thanking me.’ You shot back. 

He disappeared into the living room for a moment, reemerging with a sleeping Missy in his arms a moment later. Your eyes met again, and he gave you a soft smile.

‘I’ll call you.’

‘Yeah, sure.’  You nodded. ‘See you, Marcus.’

--

True to character, the next hour was spent being pelted with questions from your over-curious son. He didn’t shut up once when you were bathing him and he got even louder when you were reading him his best time story. On the bright side, you’d managed to get him to change out of his slightly manky Wookiee onesie and into a clean Buzz Lightyear one. Normally, you would have argued that he couldn’t live in pyjamas, but if it kept him quiet? It was a price you were willing to pay. 

‘Night, kiddo.’ You pressed a kiss to his forehead, switching on his nightlight. ‘Remember our deal, yeah? If I buy you a Happy Meal tomorrow, you won’t mention what you saw to any of your friends?’

‘You said library was bad.’

‘No, it’s bribery.’ You corrected him. ‘And do as I say, not as I do.’

‘Sounds bad, but okay.’ He sleepily murmured. ‘Night.’

‘Night.’ You stood up, flicking out his bedroom lights.

‘Wait, mum!’ Jack suddenly sat up, as though he’d remembered something. ‘You never said no.’

‘No to what, buddy?’

‘When I asked if the superhero was my new dad.’

Well, fuck. 

taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @lyanna-the-giantsbane @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles​ @bitchin-beskar​ @comphersjost​ {message me to be added!}

[nostalgiabones]

Finding Out // C.H

So, this is the first blurb in my new ‘second baby’ series! Following on from the responses I got in this poll, I decided to do this as a series of blurbs rather than one big fic. Thank you to everyone for sharing your thoughts! I don’t have a solid plan for this series yet so there’s still plenty of time if you want to have any input. I’m basically going to do a pregnancy and baby series! As always, feedback is appreciated so please let me know what you think💕

Word count: 3.3k 

Warnings: pregnancy & sickness (nothing graphic!) 

“Baby…”

Calum’s gentle touch on your arm rouses you from sleep, his fingertips lightly running up and down your wrist. Your eyes flutter in response, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when you take in your surroundings. You’re in bed, in the middle of the afternoon, tucked up under the duvet with Mara asleep in your arms. Calum is perched on the edge of the bed, wanting to make sure you’re feeling okay after falling asleep for a few hours with Mara.

It wasn’t often you fell asleep with Mara during her nap. Additionally, Mara didn’t usually nap in your bed; she’d be in her own bed, in her own room, down the hall. Yet today, she had wanted just one story to settle her, and with your own eyes ladened with tiredness, you decided to read to her in your bed. The plan was to move her when she fell asleep, yet it seems as though you didn’t make it that far. It was becoming less often that Mara would nap, now that she’s almost four; only sleeping during the day when she had been unsettled the night before. 

“What time is it?” You murmur, careful not to move and jostle Mara – even though it’s time she wakes up too. Mara stretches, pushing her hands against your arm as she wriggles before settling again. “I didn’t even mean to fall asleep.”

Calum chuckles at your confusion, taking your hand in his own and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“It’s nearly 4,” He replies, his free hand brushing Mara’s curls away from her face. She leans into his touch, a sigh slipping from her lips as she snoozes. “I thought it was about time Mara woke up. We’re in for some fun later if she sleeps any longer.”

You nod in agreement, knowing she had already slept too much. You move the arm that’s wrapped around her, rubbing your fingertips up and down her back to wake her. She yawns and rubs her eyes, realising that she’s still snug up against you, and that she slept in your bed. “Hi mama,”

You smile at her words, her voice heavy with sleep. She sits up and notices Calum is there too; holding her hands out for him so he’ll take her. He lifts her up, standing up from the bed and sitting her on his hip as she wakes up a little more. It melts Calum’s heart to see you nap together – reminiscent of the days where the two of you had no responsibilities, where you used to spend whole afternoons asleep together, sometimes waking up when the sun had gone down. It makes him realise how different things are now. “Hi, little moon. Someone had a good snooze with mum, huh? Is your tummy ready for some dinner?”

He chats to her absentmindedly as he takes her downstairs, giving you a few moments alone to come round from your unexpected nap. Sitting up, you notice how your body aches with fatigue, your lower back twinging as you stretch. Thinking nothing of it, you re-make the bed, before joining Calum and Mara in the kitchen.

The familiar scent of Mara’s favourite pasta flooded your senses; one that you’d usually enjoy too, yet it makes your stomach turn as you enter the kitchen.  Calum notices the scrunching of your nose as it hits you, wondering what caused it.

“You okay?” He murmurs, his hands resting on your hips as you stand in the cradle of his hips. You nod, taking quiet deep breaths through your nose to stop the sick feeling creeping up your throat. Mara was unsuspecting, the sight of you and Calum close in the kitchen not unfamiliar to her. “What is it?”

“I think it’s the food,” You reply, that being the only thing you can think of that’s making you feel queasy. Calum’s warm palms rub up and down your back as your hands rest on his chest. “I’m okay, though. I might just be coming down with something.”

“Mmm,” Calum replies, raising an eyebrow in suspicion of you. The fatigue and sickness are all signs that he’s seen before; specifically, four years ago. “We’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

“I finished,” Mara calls out, your attention diverted from Calum to your sweet daughter sitting in her chair at the end of the table. The plate in front of her is clear and Calum has already covered the rest, saving it so she can have it for lunch tomorrow. You’re grateful that it’s no longer in the room, not wanting to get sick in front of Mara. “Can I go play?”

You nod, helping her down from the table, accepting the sweet hug as she wraps her arms around your legs. “You have an hour until bath time, okay? I’ll come play with you soon.” 

“Okay.” She responds, running off to the lounge where most of her toys end up throughout the day. Calum’s eyes follow you as you clear up after her; you feel him watching you, like he knows something is going on.

“Stop looking at me like that,” You tell him, without even looking at him. You know the look he’s giving you. It’s a knowing one. He knows the thought has crossed your mind too. “I’m fine.”

He chuckles, taking Mara’s plate out of your hands so he can take over cleaning up. He brushes a kiss to your pouty lips, before setting the dishes down in the sink. “Go see Mara,” he murmurs, followed by another kiss. “We’ll talk about it later.” 

***

“Is mumma okay?”

Mara’s question takes Calum by surprise as he brushes through her unruly curls, following her bath. Her cheeks are rosy from the heat of the bath and the warmth of her pyjamas, perched on the edge of her bed as he gets her ready to go to sleep.

Calum tends to forget how old Mara is – how she’s not a baby anymore, and how she’s much more intuitive than he realises. She knows when something is different – always a curious child, much like he was, always asking questions when she thought something wasn’t right. He didn’t want her to worry though. He’s almost sure of what’s going on – that you’re not sick, and he doesn’t want Mara to lose sleep over it.

“Why do you ask, baby?” He replies, although he already thinks he knows the answer. Bath and bedtime is usually a joint effort; yet tonight Calum has sent you to relax early. He knows you won’t unless he forces you to, and he doesn’t want you to overwork yourself, especially if his suspicions are correct. Mara notices your absence though.

“She said her tummy felt funny earlier,” Mara informs him, looking down at her hands as she talks. Calum hums in acknowledgement, setting the hair brush down on the side of her bed as he gets her attention. Gently tiling her chin to look at him, he notices her big brown eyes are filled with worry, and it makes his heart ache.

“Listen to me, sweetheart,” He murmurs, settling her in his lap so he can reassure her. “No worrying, okay? She’s fine, I promise. I’m sure she’ll be in to say goodnight any moment now.”

Mara nods, trusting of him – he knows he hasn’t settled her completely, yet he hopes that once you say goodnight, she’ll feel better. He feels bad telling her that you’re fine when Mara has heard otherwise, yet he doesn’t know how else to explain why he thinks you’re sick. Not until he’s sure, anyway. “Are you ready to get into bed?”

He’s cut off by you joining them in her bedroom; the night light illuminating the room in a soft glow. She hadn’t quite overcome her fear of the dark; still needing the golden light from the lamp to reassure her that there was nothing lingering in the shadows. Mara’s eyes light up at the sight.

“There’s my sweet girl,” You greet her, kneeling next to where she’s getting into bed. “Are you ready for some sleep? Mumma is ready to go to sleep too.” 

It’s something you say to her most nights, that you’re going to bed, so she doesn’t feel as though she’s missing out on any fun with you and Calum. Yet tonight it makes her more anxious, that you’re going to bed because there’s something wrong. 

“Does your tummy still feel funny?” She asks, tucking her bottom lip between a teeth -- a sign of her nerves. Her sweetness makes you smile yet you can’t help but feel bad that she’s worried. You help to tuck her under the duvet, pulling it up around her shoulders so she’s snug in the bed. 

“No baby, I feel better now.” You reassure her, though not completely true. It’s not something you want her to worry about either. Mara seems satisfied with your answer, shuffling down in her bed so her head is on the pillow. You rub your pointer finger over her cheek, watching as her eyes grow heavier and flutter as she looks at you. “Have sweet dreams, okay? We’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Love you, mama,” She murmurs sleepily, snuggling into the bed as you kiss her cheek. Calum follows, brushing her curls out of her face and giving her a goodnight kiss.

“Love you, baby. You know where we are if you need us, okay? Duke is here too,” Calum assures her, gesturing to the sleeping dog curled up on the foot of her bed. It’s where he slept most nights, wanting to be near Mara -- sometimes ending up under the duvet next to her. “Sleep tight.” 

You leave the room and pull the door to so she can sleep, knowing you and Calum have an interesting night ahead. 

“So,” Calum begins, leading you to your bedroom, where you had previously been curled up watching Netflix. You sigh as you sit on the edge of the bed, looking down at your slippers to avoid his gaze. He knows where Mara got that habit from. “You’re thinking the same thing as me, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You feign seriousness, taking a deep breath before looking up at him, a knowing smirk on your lips. “But when I napped earlier, the smell of your cologne on the pillow nearly made me throw up.” 

Calum raises his eyebrows -- another occasion reminding him of this time four years ago. He’ll never forget the time he came home from the studio and wrapped you in a hug, your face buried in his neck, but only for a second before you nearly threw up all over his shoes. He’d had to use something other than his favourite Calvin Klein fragrance for the remainder of your pregnancy, and he feels as though he’s about to have to do the same thing again.

“Do you still have those spare tests in the bathroom?” 

Your mind wanders to the stash of spare pregnancy tests in the bottom drawer of the bathroom cabinet, kept there always ‘just in case.’ It turns out to be pretty handy that you have them now. You nod, but make no effort to move from the bed in order to take one, and Calum wants to know what’s on your mind.

“Talk to me, honey,” Calum prompts you, sitting down next to you, his arm around your waist. You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, trying to avoid his cologne once more in the worry of it turning your stomach. You sit for a moment, trying to work out what you’re feeling before articulating it to Calum. “What are you thinking about?”

A second baby was something the two of you had discussed; you weren’t necessarily trying to get pregnant, but you weren’t trying not to, either. You just hadn’t expected it this fast, and your mind wanders to the sweet girl sleeping down the hall.

“I’m nervous.” You reply, wringing your hands together in anxiousness, and Calum tries to soothe you by taking one of your hands in his. He links your fingers with his, gently squeezing to keep you grounded. “What if Mara doesn’t want us to have a baby? She’s so used to it just being her.” 

Calum nods, and he’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind too. You were so settled as a family of three, always focused on Mara, yet you both know you always planned to have more than one child. 

“She’ll adjust, baby. It’s going to be new for us all. She has plenty of time to get used to the idea, and we can help her with that.” Calum replies, his hand rubbing up and down your arm as he speaks. “She’ll be so excited. You’ve seen how interested she is in talking to Luke about their baby when we see them.”

He’s right -- with Luke and his wife getting closer to the arrival of their first baby, Mara had taken a great interest in everything to do with her pregnancy. She had many questions whenever they visited, each time wondering when the baby would arrive. Her concept of time was something she didn’t quite understand yet. ‘Soon’ seemed to be her least favourite word. 

“I love how we’re doing this and we don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet,” You chuckle, followed by a laugh from Calum too. He pulls you a little closer and kisses your cheek, a smile on his lips.

“I’ll be very surprised if you’re not.” He replies, and you know he’s right. There had been little signs here and there; mainly the sickness and how tired you’ve been, along with a few other symptoms similar to that of when you were pregnant with Mara. You both recognise the signs. “Should we go find out for sure?”

You nod and follow him to the bathroom, closing the door behind you, as not to wake Mara. You go into the drawer and find the tests, pulling one out so you can use it.

“You’re really gonna watch me do this?” You ask, seeing as Calum had no intention of leaving the bathroom.

“I’ve seen worse things.” Calum replies, met with you rolling your eyes. “I’ll look away.”

He chats to you to take your mind away from your worries as you take the test. “Can you believe it’s been four years since we last did this?”

It doesn’t feel like four years. It barely feels like any time at all since you brought Mara home from the hospital. 

“Well, if you don’t count that one time after Mara’s first birthday.” You retort, Calum’s eyes widening at the memory before he laughs. That time you had definitely not been trying to have a baby. The test had been false, but you went through the motions all the same. 

“Oh yeah,” He murmurs, getting distracted by playing with his hair in the mirror. The bleach blonde look was starting to grow out, the dark roots no longer concealed. He made a mental note to get a haircut, not like he had more important things to think about in the moment. His attention is diverted by the sound of you running your hands under the sink, watching as the three minute timer began on your phone. 

“And now we wait.” 

Calum takes your hands in his once more and tries to get you to look at him, even though both of you are pre-occupied by the white stick next to the sink.

“Stop worrying,” He murmurs, like he can tell how fast your mind is racing. He knows it’s a big adjustment, that it’ll change your lives forever, just like Mara did -- yet he finds himself much less terrified than he was four years ago. “Whatever happens, we can handle it. We always do, don’t we?” 

You nod, feeling much better with him by your side. You think about how Mara will react -- will she be happy or upset? She’s so caring towards Duke, so you can’t help but think about how great of a big sister she would be. The thought of introducing a new baby to her makes your heart ache a little, just hoping that she would be happy. 

Time seems to stand still as you watch the clock on your phone -- the longest three minutes of your life. You press your face against Calum’s t-shirt, knowing that if his cologne did make you sick, you were in the right place. You’re both snapped out of your thoughts when your phone buzzes against the marble counter.

“I can’t look,” You tell him, facing away from the counter. As nervous as you are, now that you’ve thought about another baby, you know you’ll be disappointed if it’s negative. 

“Do you want me to?” Calum asks, and you nod, wrapping your arms around his waist and hiding your face against his shoulder. He picks the test up off of the counter and looks at the result, your heart pounding in your chest when he lets out a deep sigh. 

Pregnant. 

Calum pauses for a moment, his gentle touch on your lower back the only thing grounding you in the moment. 

“So... which room should we make into the nursery?”

You clasp your hand over your mouth, tears instantly slipping down your cheeks. Calum pulls you towards him, setting the test back on the side and wrapping both of his arms around your waist. He rests his head on your shoulder, his lips brushing the bare skin exposed from your jumper falling out of place.

“Really? I’m really pregnant?” You ask through tears, cupping Calum’s face in your hands so he’s looking at you. You see a shine in his own eyes, unshed tears just sitting at his lash line at the thought of your family expanding. Flashes of your pregnancy with Mara flood through his mind, as well as glimpses of the past four years of being parents. He can’t wait to do it all again. 

“Yeah, baby,” He chuckles, his tone laced with disbelief too. “Mara’s gonna be a big sister.” 

There’s so much on your mind, you don’t know where to begin. “Should we tell her?”

Calum shakes his head, one hand moving to rest on your stomach, your bump non-existent. His heart skips a beat at the thought of your bump growing and your body changing again, all to accommodate another baby. He knows it’s very early days and he doesn’t want to tell Mara until you know everything is okay. “I don’t think we should yet, honey. Let's at least wait until you see a doctor? Just so we know for sure.”

He sees a flash of worry in your eyes. He’s forgotten how scary pregnancy is; how you feel like everything is out of your control, yet you want to do everything you can to protect the baby at all times. 

“Don’t,” He murmurs, knowing where your mind is going. He cups your face in his hand, his thumb gently rubbing circles over your cheek. “Everything is going to be fine. We just need to be sure, okay?”

You nod, agreeing with his words. You reach up to peck his lips, savouring the serene moment of joy with him his fingers still absentmindedly brushing over your stomach. “Well, how should we celebrate?” 

“I just don’t know,” Calum chuckles, thinking for a moment. The word celebrate has a different meaning now that you’re parents; it used to mean getting dragged to a bar with his bandmates and not returning until the early hours, and then spending the following day in bed. Now, you’re lucky if you find the time to go out for dinner. “I think we should go all out. Ice cream in bed and Netflix?”

“Sounds like a plan,” You reply, brushing your lips against his once more. “But if you get ice cream on the sheets, you’re washing them tomorrow.” 

He shrugs his shoulder, nodding as he speaks, “fair enough. I’ll get the ice cream. I’ll meet you in the bedroom in 10.”

***

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[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1024 - Initial Thoughts

Happy Volume 100 Day! Indeed, Volume 100 officially comes out today, it's a shame we didn't get more of those We Are One segments (just like the Nissin noodle commercials) but it wrapped up nicely

There's also a chapter to deal with though so let's get to it

Spoilers for Chapter 1024, Support the Official Release too!

I forgot to mention the special Popularity Poll colour spreads last time but here's our middle one mainly involving the Straw Hats, Vivi, the remaining Supernovas, Bon, Merry, Woop Slap (seriously how?) and some villains (Crocodile, the rest of Moria and Enel). Sneaky bit of Sabo on the side too who'll be fully displayed in the next spread

Oh Usopp, your braggadocios scamp you. He's spreading Fear of God by claiming some recent KOs are due to his Conqueror's Haki

Also claiming to have defeated 2 of the Tobi Roppo...I mean he contributed at least, maybe word it like 'I fought two of the Tobi Roppo and I'm still standing'

Plus he's riding a very unimpressed Alligator SMILE atrocity XD

Horsealina chan (aka Speed) is back to protect sweet child Tama, as it turns out the KOs are from Big Mom's Conqueror's Haki who's fighting on this floor, which must mean that Law and Kid are taking it to her

Also it's still worth applauding that Nami, Usopp, Speed nor even Tama have succumbed to BM's Conqueror's Haki

Luffy's status is still unknown to the crew though, and Nami does seem a bit nervous about it when asking Franky

Franky's right though, no news is good news because if Luffy was defeated or dead he'd be paraded around by the Yonko

Franky is also making motions to move Nami and Usopp with him to the performance floor, so the crew's gonna be converging soon

Some Heart Pirate action too as they fend off any attempts at enemies intervening on Zoro and Sanji's fight with King and Queen, seems like Law they don't like to be told to do stuff by the Straw Hats either

Everyone's bouncing from the Third Floor too thanks to Maria's arson attempts

Out in a blaze of Yohoho is Brook carrying Robin, but no you're not cremated just yet, need to be ashes for that

Look at Robin so peaceful, as Brook guards over her and also is eager to know how things are going

He calls Jimbei who's on the Fourth Floor with Kid's remaining crew, didn't know Kid has a feral female crewmate

Trust Jimbei to be concerned about the big picture of Kaido, but he also mentions how people are fleeing the castle, is it because of the fight in the Performance Floor or because we've reached mainland?

Showing Kawamatsu defending the line does make me think the former

But back to Yamato vs Kaido now, looks like some parent/child attack tennis

Since we can't avoid it now I know the Vivre Card Databook is saying that Yamato is female but since Yamato is identifying as Oden and was still canonically called Kaido's son I'm gonna continue to use male pronouns for the time being. Don't read too into it okay or leap at me for using the wrong pronoun because it's a can of worms right now and I don't want to be part of it

I mean, come on Yamato it's not like you expected Kaido to take it easy on you when you're trying to stop one of his endgame plans

Flashback time! And that's where the Dragon statue used to be...

Kid Yamato is precious, and also has Conqueror's Haki

Kaido all about not winning any Father of the Year awards, he's been starving Yamato, says if he wants to be Oden then he'd be better off dead, then threw him in a cave for a month

Yamato isn't alone though, there are three master swordsmen samurai in the cave too

And now he entices them, with a serving of food for one and a load of swords to fight over it

And the twisted cherry on the bastard cake: 'But I thought you were Oden', was there ulterior motive though? Oden would be able to inspire the Samurai right? I guess not for his own gain though given how he's treating Yamato

The Samurai grab the swords, but they hand Yamato the food: Samurai don't get hungry...unless they're Kin'emon and Momo, like how Kunoichi don't get hungry unless it's Tama

Full on Tama vibes from Kid Yamato eating their first meal in ages, I see that Oda

Dang then one of the Samurai just cut the chains off of him

Since I was given away on spoilers (like seriously guys use the 'Keep Reading' thing, it's the best way to hide spoilery stuff for those who don't wanna be spoiled) this must be Ushimaru, and he does look like those old Zoro pictures

He also now has an eye injury, but he feels disgraced, probably because he was captured rather than killed

Look at this little baby who is probably 5 foot tall hiding behind Oden's journal and doesn't know how to read yet

Looks like Yamato had 3 Dads, all of them Samurai, who taught him to read Oden's journal so he could fanboy more

10 Days pass and Yamato is weakening, seems like the Samurai feel that Yamato will need to be in the fight

Ushimaru though with the Shimotsuki crest on his back has had enough of prison, the Samurai are busting out and in turn giving Yamato freedom from the cave too

Amanowato, I feel like that's important, but the only thing I can find is a special dance (Amanowato Mai) that's performed on the day of the Annual Festival - October 15th...which is a Friday so maybe...

Back to the present and Yamato asks the tough questions, what right does Kaido have to steal freedom?

But Kaido makes a usual cruel response, there are no easy answers

And then we conclude with a clash of Thunder Bagua

Whooof, lot in that chapter huh?

We've got collective chaos with the Straw Hats as they do as expected begin to converge towards the performance floor, perhaps for the final hold off before Luffy and Momo arrive.

Oda though must've known that we were hoping for a Zoro flashback, because he then gave Yamato one instead XD It was cool to see some supportive people in Yamato's past, but while Yamato4Nakama fans will point that he now has a link to Zoro via Ushimaru we also have to note that Yamato's backstory may not have enough tragedy to be a Straw Hat (I'm joking in this btw, Carrot doesn't either unless the Dukes die but Zoro and Usopp's backstories aren't so tragic either)

Yamato giving me Tama vibes when a child is interesting, I do wonder why we have gone that route other than adorableness, but you can see where his strong admiration for Samurai lies too. Wonder how he got Oden's journal so young though

But yeah, no break which is good, I have a feeling though we'll get one next chapter after the colour spread is finished, 1025 could be setting something up big so Oda can pass out for a few days till giving us fire once again

[mandyjpwood]

When I Was Your Man- Chibs

Chibs POV:

Everything. Everything reminded me of her. Of my Y/N. I slowly opened my eyes and stretch out in the bed that I use to share with her. It feels to big without her beside me. I take a moment to compose myself before getting out of bed and getting dressed.

I make my way to kitchen and start to make a pot of coffee. As I am waiting for it to brew, I turn to look at the kitchen table. Y/N use to sit there every morning, drinking her coffee and reading the news to me from her phone. Even if I didn’t want to hear it. I sighed, reaching over and turning on the radio to distract myself. As the music begins, I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a sip. Just than I hear it. I hear the song that breaks my heart a little more. Our song. The first song that we ever danced to. Y/N always loved dancing. I would always catch her dancing around the house while she was cleaning or making dinner. Even when we were at club parties, she would always be dancing. I wish I would have danced with her more while I had the chance. I finished my coffee quickly, shut off the radio and headed towards the door.

I pull up to TM, turn off my bike and noticed a few of the guys sitting outside on the tables. I walked over and heard them talking about a party. I took a seat beside Jax. “What is this about a party?” I asked looking at him. He laughs “The party we have every Friday night.” He answers. I shake my head “Shit. Is it Friday already?” Tig leans over and slaps my shoulder “Losing track of time old man?” I hated when they called me that. Y/N never called me a old man. I am a bit older than her yes, but she never cared. She loved me for me. Now she is gone. “Is Y/N coming?” I look back at Jax. I shrugged my shoulders. “I have no idea. I haven’t seen her in awhile.” They seem to drop the topic after that. But I don’t blame them for asking. She is a part of the family. “Juice said he was bringing a date.” Jax said. Tig began laughing along with Bobby and Opie who sit down at the table. “How the hell did Juice get a date?” Opie asked, still laughing. “She is probably something he got from the Jellbean.” Bobby answered shaking his head.

The day went by in a blur, and before I realized it, I was sitting at the bar, having a whiskey with the party in full swing all around me. All my mind kept doing was replaying the last time Y/N was here at one of the parties. Thinking back on it I realized that I completely ignored her that night. And it wasn’t the first time. I was too busy hang out with the guys, telling stupid stories and watching the girls dancing up on the polls. All she wanted was some attention for me, but I was being selfish. After that night, it didn’t take too long for her to leave. But I can’t blame her. My pride and my ego drove her away.

I was brought out thought when I heard the people around me getting excited. I moved around in my seat and scan the room to see what was going on. And there she was. Y/N. she was standing at the door, smiling as the guys made their was over to her. All I could do is sit there. I couldn’t believe she was really here. I was about to get and go to her, but stopped when I noticed. Y/N’s hand was wrapped tightly in Juice’s.

I slumped in my seat. I should have known that she would have moved on. She was such a strong, amazing women who could face anything. I guess it just hurt to see it. And it hurt that it was with one of my brothers. I looked back over to where Y/N and Juice were and saw they were headed to the bar. I looked away, trying not to be noticed by them. They didn’t seem to notice as Juice asks for two beers. I sneak a look over at Y/N and she looks amazing. Her smile is large and bright. Like when I first met her. She looked so happy as she smiled and laughed with Juice.

Then it happens. She looked over and noticed me. Her smile drops when her eyes meet mine. She gives a small smile before Juice turns to see what she is looking at. His eyes meet mine and he nods in my direction. I nod back and he turns back to Y/N. I than hear it. That song again. Our song comes on. Juice leans in close and whispers something that had Y/N smiling. She takes a hold of his hand and they move out onto the floor to dance. Juice pulls her close and the start to move to the music.

I turn away, back towards the bar I drank my drink back quickly until the glass was empty. I couldn’t be mad at either of them. I was the one who messed up and let her walk out of my life. I get up out of my seat, and headed towards the door. I turn back and take one more look at Y/N. I should have treated her better when I was her man but now she is happy dancing with Juice. I turned back to the door and walk out into the night with my broken heart.

[writingsfromhome]

Bad Timing I(.5)

A/N: This is the sort of backstory to Harry and you, I think it can be read on its own if you want, or before you read the first part too. It’s angsty af, but it has some death and sensitive topics jsyk. I tried to keep it concise but it got a little wordy as angst does. xx

Part 1

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

About 12 Years Ago:

“So are you coming to that party or not?” My roommate asks. She was one of the first people I’d met last year when we started uni and even though we came from different backgrounds we remained friends over the last year, even choosing to room together again. She got me to open up and find the extroverted part of me that was able to enjoy uni outside of academics.

“Ugh, I’m volunteering for the voting booths for the rest of the week. Maybe if I can make it?”

“You’re actually doing that?” She scrunches her nose. “I don’t get it. You’re just way too nerdy to be my friend.”

“And yet you loove me,” I squeeze her against me and she laughs. “It’s my mom, she said I had to do at least one extracurricular so I could meet friends this year.”

“You already have friends,” she points to herself, and with her came her group of friends that’d quickly taken me in last year.

And my mom doesn’t like that I hang out with you, I think. She thought we partied too much even though my grades stayed decent. “She wants me to have nerdy friends too, I dunno. They’re helping me pay my tuition until I get a job so I kinda have to play nice.”

“Parents suck,” my roommate flicks through her closet. I agreed, this was just something I would get through to get through. Then they would leave me alone for the rest of the year.

Little did I know the person they’d partner me with at my polling station was someone who would be in my life for the next decade.

“I’m Harry by the way,” he’d said after we received our orientation and assigned the building we were going to babysit the votes in. “Second year.”

“Me too! I’m Y/N. What’s your major? I’ve never seen you around.”

“Law--well I haven’t decided if it’s law but that’s what I’m in right now.”

“Really? Law?” I was openly judging, he just didn’t seem the law type.

“Well what are you in?” He demands.

“Business,” I cringe.

“Really? Business?” He has a cheeky smile on, one that would become familiar to me.

“Well, you just don’t seem like the law type. They’re usually more uptight, dress way too smart for me.”

“I know, it’s like, we’re not even in the courtroom yet,” he joins in and it makes me laugh--how he could poke fun at his own people. That’s when I knew we would get along fine, and I actually looked forward to the next few days getting to know him better.

“I’m definitely telling my mum about you, she’s been begging me to make friends outside of my circle. I’ll tell her I’m friends with a law student.”

“So we’re friends already?” We’d reached our booth and began setting up the partitions. He takes over when I set it up wrong.

“Obviously,” I say. “I actually like you which means you’ll have a hard time getting rid of me.”

“I’m alright with that,” he grins and I notice the laugh lines that are brought to life as he does. It somehow made him seem more genuinely.

We spend the rest of the time swapping stories, classes, rants. We check student IDs and hand out voting cards in between but it doesn’t feel like a drag anymore. At the end of the day, I invite him to the party my roommate was going to with our friends. If he was going, maybe I would too. He seemed like he might be fun at a party.

“Er,” he suddenly seems nervous. “I’ll have to ask my girlfriend, she wanted to hang out tonight.”

“Well bring her too!” I say excitedly. “Is she law as well?”

“No, she’s in the arts.”

“I like her already,” I push. “Bring her, my friends are fun you’ll learn how to have a good time.”

“I know how to have a good time,” there was the flash of his dimples again. “Text me the address.”

And thus began a friendship for the next four years, partying together, studying together (trying to), and hanging out in each other’s rooms. We would set each other up with other friends, double dated, went out for sunrise-hikes, and took long drives at night when we had to blow some steam off from being over-stressed, over-studied uni students. Our friend circles overlapped, the fabric of our lives eventually bleeding together. We were made of the same fibers, sticking together even after uni, when our friends got more serious about their careers. When they moved out of the country or to another city, we made sure to rent places close enough that we could still see each other often. And somehow, in the new chapter of our lives, without the partying and our other friends to buffer, we became closer than before.

We cared for each other--we didn’t deny that ever. And somehow that platonic love turned romantic as we depended on each other while we navigated adulthood. I can’t exactly pinpoint where things changed, but one evening our relationship was changed forever.

7 years ago:

“She literally wants me to stay until 7, and she was offended when I said no! I’m not even getting paid for that!” I was bitching to Harry about my shitty job.

“That’s bollocks” Harry shrugs. “Just say you’ve got family obligations or something.”

“I said that the one time she wanted us to come in on a weekend and she gave me shite work the following week! I just...I can’t afford to lose this job Harry.”

“That’s shitty, I’m sorry.” He takes the last swig of his beer. “Want another one?”

“I haven’t even finished this one,” I moan at my now warm beer that I’d been nursing for the last hour, too busy ranting to drink it. “It’s getting late though I should head home before it’s dark. Don’t want that nutter that hangs around my building to harass me again.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Harry suggests. He lived a 15 minute walk from me.

“No no,” I get up and take our dirty dishes to the sink. “I didn’t even ask about you, how was your day?”

“Same old,” he sighs against the counter. “I feel like I don’t fit in, everyone my age is finishing their law degree but I don’t think I want to.”

“I knew from the day I met you, you weren’t destined for the courtroom.” I pull him into a comforting hug. “Do what makes you happy, or what doesn’t make you want to say fuck it and quit your job to hibernate.”

“You really know the perfect thing to say,” Harry chuckles but he pulls me tighter against him. I stroke his back, reassuring him he’d be alright in the end.

“Y/N-” he pulls away to say something but freezes mid sentence. I raise an eyebrow but he’s still, staring at my face.

“Harry?” I ask, but he continues staring. “Hello? You alright?”

“Yeah,” he breaks into a sudden smile. That was weird--I make sure he’s okay before letting go.

Before I leave, I kiss Harry’s cheek goodbye--I was never shy in the affection I gave my friends and Harry’s bummed mood needed extra affection tonight. But what I don’t expect is for him to catch me before I pull away, staring intently into my eyes. The lighthearted energy between us disappears instantly as it dawns on me, how close we were, the unspoken feelings in his eyes, the hesitation before he presses his lips to mine.

I kissed him back then, barely understanding what was happening, before pulling away. I give him a smile but that’s just what he sees at the tip of the iceberg, underneath my mixed feelings churn away. My best friend just kissed me, and I wasn’t totally mad about it.

“It’s getting dark I-” I say as Harry says, “Sorry was that okay?”

We laugh awkwardly, neither of us sure what to do at this point. We decide to ignore it instead.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Harry lets me go and opens the door for me. “Watch out for the neighbourhood nutter yea?”

I stand in place, feeling the fibers of our friendship unraveling but feeling hopeless in mending the tear. “Take care Harry.”

I high tail it out, my thoughts going at an impossible rate as I sort out what happened. And we try to ignore it the next couple weeks,

We hadn’t made it official then, too nervous to face what this meant about our friendships. It was only at my sister’s wedding, that I realised what was wrong between us. I’d been mourning our old friendship, and avoiding him in the weeks since the kiss. But what I didn’t realise was that our friendship had been changing over the last year anyway, and getting drunk on champagne and dancing with Harry, while my sister celebrated the happiest day of her life, made me realise there was a cause for celebration here: a new chapter in our lives.

A couple days later, after a stressful day at work, I’d taken the tube to his flat and waited for him outside. He was surprised to see me there, not saying much except to open the door and let me in. As soon as he’d closed it, my lips were attached to his and we’d let our bags drop, coats, and any piece of clothing between us. After that night, we didn’t even try to deny how we felt about each other.

“I didn’t think I could ever be this happy,” he’s whispered to me after. I thought he’d fallen asleep but his whisper in the dark made me grin to myself. “Are you awake.”

“I am. Awake and happy.” I turn to face him, giggling. “Who knew this could feel so right.”

“Our first kiss was quite wrong though wasn’t it?” Harry says and it makes me laugh.

“That’s why I needed to do a redo,” I tease. “Can’t leave you to plan anything.”

“It wasn’t planned I swear, I was trying to be spontaneous.”

“Let’s not try ‘spontaneous’ again then,” I kiss him in the dark. He pulls me snug against him, I never knew how safe it felt. The safest I would ever feel, wrapped in the warmth with my best friend and now something else.

It was a good few months, testing the waters as our relationship underwent a transformation. All of our friends were supportive, but we never missed the glances between them. Apparently, they were waiting for this to happen. But as sweet as those first few months had been, finding out my mum was sick with a timeline was devastating. I came apart at the seams but Harry stayed through it all, holding me together. He’d proposed then, wanting my mum to be part of the ceremony. We had a small wedding, intimate but still magical. It was bittersweet, the amount of love and happiness I felt towards Harry and our loved ones around us as he said I do and as he took my arm and swept me across the dancefloor. But the amount of sadness crushing my chest kept me from being the weightless bride I always thought I would be.

Through it all, Harry stayed by my side. While we were hopeful, the day our hopes were dashed, the days and weeks I mourned. When my sister and her husband came to stay with their crazy toddlers and Harry kept them entertained giving my sister and I time together. I thought he was perfect, that I’d lucked out.

That lasted a few years, 3 and a half to be exact. There were months leading up to our split and we could point to a bunch of things that could’ve led to it. a) him wanting kids, and me wanting to wait or b) long hours we worked as we changed careers and tried to make our way up or c) how hard getting pregnant actually was. Maybe I pushed him away, or he didn’t love me enough to try and make it work.

I think I lied to myself, avoiding the tension creeping into the relationship. The tired excuses and time spent apart, the lack of usual affection, or casual conversations. I was an idiot, I realise every time I think about the end in retrospect. Maybe if I caught on earlier I could have fixed us before we fell apart. Maybe I could have saved us.

“There’s someone coming in Tuesday morning to fix the broken washer, will you be home?” I ask, still in bed and scrolling through my phone. I hadn’t meant to be up this early but Harry woke me as he got up and I couldn’t fall back asleep.

“No,” Harry responds, his back to me as he ruffles through the dresser. “I’ve got a thing that morning.”

“Well I’ve got to go in early Tuesday-I thought you might be home.” I say. I hear an edge to Harry’s voice but I try not to focus on it. He’d been a little cold all weekend and I was scared to think what it meant.

“You couldn’t be bothered to check in when you confirmed the date?” Harry asks harshly.

“I...guess not.” I put my phone down and wait for Harry to turn, maybe I could read his expression. Maybe he was stressed. “Harry?”

“What?” He turns, but he looks at me with no emotion. No stress, no frustration, not even anger. It’s the lack of emotion in his face that cause my eyes to prick with tears. Harry raises his eyebrows and I shake my head, untangling myself from the sheets so he doesn’t see any tears. I rush to the bathroom but forget to close the door out of habit.

“Y/N,” a kinder Harry appears by the doorway. His face has smoothed out the harsh lines, his eyes hesitant and cautious.

“What’s happened with us?” I blurt out. “Why are you so cold all the time? Am I doing something wrong?”

Harry’s face falls and he walks towards me but doesn’t touch me. “It’s nothing like that. It’s...I don’t know. We should talk.”

He reaches his hand out but I flinch away. “Did you meet somebody new or something? What are we talking about?”

“Let’s not do this here. Right now.”

“Why not!” I finally had enough. “I’ve been walking on eggshells for months Harry! I don’t know what’s wrong and I keep waiting for you to bloody tell me!”

“This isn’t working!” Harry raises his voice to compensate for mine. I’m immediately silenced by the volume, and then the words sink in.

“Is there someone else?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, his gaze on the hanging vines by the window. My heart drops into my stomach like a boulder, and I find it hard to breathe. I clutch the porcelain sink and ask in a surprisingly even tone, “Harry. Answer me.”

“What we have, Y/N...it’s dysfunctional.” He says quietly, meeting my eyes. “It doesn’t matter if there’s someone else, we’ve been fighting for months. Things aren’t the same between us-”

“Who is she?” I ask. I needed to know.

“That’s not relevant,” he shuts my question down quickly. “I’m sorry Y/N, I...I don’t want to hurt you. I care about you, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t,” I’d pleaded. “We can go to counseling, talk it through-”

“I can’t Y/N.”

“Because of her.”

“No, because this isn’t good for either of us.” He’d walked up to me, cradled my face. “We’re not good for each other, not like this.”

“Who is she?” I yank his hands away.

“She’s...it doesn’t matter, I swear nothing happened between us Y/N. Knowing who she is isn’t going to help this situation--”

“It is! If it weren’t for her, you’d be willing to work on us--to see a future. You...Harry how could you do this to me? To us?” The tears come with no control. “You’re moving on before we’re even over. How are you giving up on us like that?”

“I’m not!” his voice booms in the tiled bathroom. “I’m not bloody giving up on us! I tried Y/N, so many times. I tried! You just keep pushing at me to be someone I’m not and-”

“I can say the same thing about you!” I throw the brush in my hands into the sink. “We were good! And you got it in your head you wanted a baby even though we’re young, oh my god Harry you kept pestering me to change my mind even though I told you I needed time!”

“It’s not like we could have a fucking baby anyway,” Harry says bitterly before realising what he’d said. “Shit-”

“There you go,” I mock. “I knew it. I knew you were holding that against me. And that,” I jab my finger into his chest. “Is what’s made you so moody, so mean and why we’re always fighting. You held it against me.”.

There was absolute truth to what I said. Last year, Harry had brought the baby topic up. I’d told him we were only in our mid-20s, we had a lot of time, and we still had a career to establish. But he would bring up the topic often enough that I’d given in.To make him happy. And months went by, trying for a baby. Went we finally went to our doctor, she’d told us why it was so hard, it could take us years she’d said.

Harry came home that day dejected, and left me feeling like a failure. I think it tore us up.

“You wanted a baby so fucking bad and when I couldn’t, it made me feel like a complete failure. And I told you that! And you did absolutely nothing to make me feel better. You held it against me, Harry! You didn’t even try to tell me it was okay.”

“It’s not so fucking simple,” he says, his cheeks flushed pink. Maybe it was anger, or maybe it was embarrassment from being confronted with an ugly truth.

“It is. And now you’ve upgraded to a newer model, maybe her version comes with a fertile womb.” I take the cheap shot.

He doesn’t say anything though. And I don’t know why that hurts more than knowing he’d fallen for another woman while he was still married to me. My best friend in the whole world had just broken my heart into a million irrevocable pieces.

“It’s a bunch of things Y/N,” he finally says. “That’s just part of it. We’re not...we’re just not working!”

“Did you even try to make it work?” I ask, swiping my sleeve across my face. “Did you ever think how I felt? How you made me feel Harry? You’ve been slipping away from me without talking to me-” I break off. I couldn’t speak through the heartbreak, the thunderstorm of grief threatens to consume me and my sobs are the only thing that manages to come out.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Harry tries to place a hand on my shoulder but I jerk away, moving to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “Y/N...”

“Just go,” I say through the tears.

“We can talk more about this later-”

"Just go,” I say louder.

Harry’s phone rings again from the bedroom and he sighs. But he leaves me, crying on the bathroom floor. The sadness that was always in my peripheral consumes me. I’d carried this sadness for a long time--ever since I found out my mum was sick, the sadness plagued me. I’d neatly packed it up once I decided to move forward with my life like my mum would want me to, but now it comes back tenfold, marrying the grief of losing Harry like this. And I stay on the floor crying my grief away for hours, eventually crawling into bed and sleeping the daylight away.

When I wake, it’s 6 and Harry isn’t home. I take that as a sign and get up to pack up a few things. I call my sister who still lived in London then, and crash on her couch, staying there for a few weeks and ignoring any call or text from Harry. When I need to go back, for my things, I find him sleeping on the couch with the TV on, something I always found endearing. But I can’t afford to dwell on how much it hurt seeing him like that.

He must have woken from the noise because when he finds me, he tries to stop me and tell me that we still needed to talk.

“About what?” I ask, just tired now. Too many tears shed and too many hours laying awake thinking about the exact moment we went wrong.

“Us,” Harry looked tired too. He was probably throwing himself into his work with nothing like me to hold him back, I think bitterly. His girlfriend had probably already been to our house--his house.

“What about us?” I barely look at him as I begin folding away all my clothes.

“I don’t know,” Harry sits on the bed. “Don’t you want to talk?”

“I’ve got nothing to say, do you?”

Harry sighs, “I don’t know.”

“Nice talk then,” I say, shoving the rest of my things in just so I could get out.

“I just want you to know I care about you Y/N, I don’t want to hurt you.” He says as I pack.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. If you cared about me, and you didn’t want to hurt me you wouldn’t have done this to us.”

“I wasn’t trying to--I didn’t mean to go and fall for someone else-”

“Just stop,” I cut him off. I couldn’t hear it, how the man I loved fell for someone else. I couldn’t break down here. Again.

He said he cared but it didn’t feel that way. It hurt more than I wished to admit. He knew what I’d been through and he still betrayed me, tossed my heart like it was replaceable. The cut he left in me ran deep.

As I leave he tries to talk to me, but I barrel past him. He still reaches for me and pulls me into a hug, I struggle against him but he’s too strong. He wraps me in his arms until I go still but it’s too much. A sob escapes me, and this time he lets me push him off and leave, my bag banging into my hips every time I take a step. As soon as I got into my Uber, I can’t stop crying. There was an infinite pool of tears where Harry was involved.

3 years ago:

My trust and my heart had been been lost in the war between Harry and I. It only took him a month to mail my divorce papers which sat collecting dust on my dining table until he showed up at work one day and demanded I sign them by the end of that week. I’d taken the day off the day I mailed those in, mourning the end of something that was once so safe and beautiful.

When a close friend calls me on a warm July afternoon, I don’t consider her warning that I shouldn’t check Instagram. That I still had Harry’s friends on my list. I open Instagram before she can tell me why, and see it. Harry was getting married, again. To the woman he gave up on us for. I try to zoom in on a picture without liking it, she was pretty...and blonde. She looked familiar--probably from his office. It didn’t take him long.

It was like someone had taken a retractor to the wound I thought had finally scabbed over. The physical proof that Harry had moved on is just the salt on the wound.

I cry myself to sleep that night.

2 Years ago;

The guy in front of me drones on about his job, mansplaining to me how a mortgage worked as if I wasn’t in finance myself. I excuse myself to use the restroom, checking my phone to see a text from my sister. She’d moved to Scotland this year, to where her husband was from, and I’d missed her terribly in the last year.

A little birdie told me your demon-ex just got divorced 🥂

I stare at the screen, chest feeling tight. I felt vindicated somehow, but I also felt a small bit of sadness. What a fuck-up.

Good for him I had texted back. A part of me wanted him to hurt the way he hurt me.

I went back to my date with a renewed enthusiasm. I’d ordered more wine and got so drunk he was actually interesting enough to take home.

About 1 year ago

“Y/N,” a voice from my past says, one that haunted me some nights. I turn as I exit the shop I was just in. I blink at the sight before me, Harry in a vest and hat. He realises what I’m staring at and laughs awkwardly. “I’m in uniform.”

“You’re...police?” I look up to his face finally. He hadn’t aged a day, although the hat he wears makes him look a little silly.

“Yeah I joined the force uhm...almost 4 years ago now...law didn’t really suit me.”

I know what he was doing, trying to find a baseline to have a conversation. But he was dead to me, and I didn’t want to invite him back in when I was finally forgetting about him.

"Seems like you dropped a lot of dead-weight four years ago.”

I watch his face fall as he realises I wasn’t going to pretend to be friendly.

“Seems that way to you,” he says cautiously. “But that’s not how it happened.”

I shrug. “So. I heard about the divorce. Must’ve been hard being put through that.”

I knew I was being petty, obviously I never got the closure I want (according to my therapist) and I wasn’t over him hurting me the way he did (also according to my therapist). This was how I got my peace, and it wasn’t the best version of me but it was the only one I knew how to be right now.

“Yep,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “So, are you seeing anyone?”

He knew I wasn’t, I don’t know how but the way he stoops to my level I know he knows I hadn’t had a long term relationship since him.

“Not at the moment,” I say awkwardly. “Just focusing on my job...trying to get this promotion.”

“Sorry,” he seems to shake off whatever had come over him. “That was...nosy, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Having him be the bigger person sets something off in me, like there was an anger-bomb inside my mind where he lived and knowing that he was doing okay enough to be able to be the bigger person disrupts this calm I was trying to keep.

“Maybe you shoudn’t have stopped me to ask anything at all. We don’t have anything to talk about anyway.”

I turn around and start to walk away but he catches up, “I wasn’t trying to upset you-”

“Well you have a way of doing that. Please just leave me alone Harry.”

He huffs beside me, “After all this time, can’t we just bloody talk like two adults?”

I freeze and turn to him slowly. He seems to sense this was the wrong thing to say because he takes a step back. “After all this time? Are you serious? I was the one you left behind Harry when you went off to lives your best lift Harry. We’re not living the same life, and we’re not coming from the same bloody place. Don’t fucking patronize me and ask me to talk to you like an adult when you bring out the worst part of me. I meant what I said: I want you to leave me alone. And you know what, if we ever run into each other again, just don’t even talk to me. Pretend you don’t know me. I want nothing to do with you.”

He opens his mouth but his partner calls him from the shop’s entrance. He stays silent, letting me go. As soon as I turn the street corner I rush the rest of the way to the tube, collapsing into a seat and trying to sort out my breathing. It was a shitty feeling, knowing someone was going to be in your life forever because you shared so much history that even when that part of your life ended they were still there. There was so much apart of me, around me, that reminded me of him. And it felt so lonely carrying that around. I wanted to be done with him, I wanted my heart to purge him out. But it couldn’t stop carrying him around everywhere I go.

[sweetchup]

A Helping Hand 2: A Check Up

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 6,500 (Holy Cannoli!)

Warnings: Hospital, Medicine, Cursing, sexual innuendos, mentions sexual assault, Angry Irish lady and Shalnark being a shark.

Author Note: Ahh I’m so glad I finally got this done. Actually when I woke up the morning after I got half way, I check the polls only to find out Family 2 had totally surpassed Helping Hand 😨 (which was way in the lead the night before). I guess Family 2 is next haha😋. Also I hope @lvndrhwis​ and @meromelodi​ enjoy because you two have been waiting for a part 2 for a while 💕💕💕.

<—(Pt.1) / (Pt.3)—>

“Doctor (l/n), oh there you are. Patient 104 and 122 is in need of a check up today in order to determine if they are allowed to be discharged.”

“Okay. Let’s see.” Your hand quickly grabs the paperwork from the nurse. You skim the paper quickly before giving it back to him, “Yes I’ll get that done sometime after I check the files of patient 66.”

The bright bleach white walls burn your eyes as you finally make your way into the intensive care’s central office. You’ve mentioned countless times to management that they need to get dimmer light bulbs in here, but they just don’t seem to want to listen to you. Stupid higher ups.

But that didn’t exactly matter right now, you could deal with that problem later. Ever so sluggishly, due to lack of caffeine and sleep, you walk over to one of the many metal file cabinets decorating the room. The freezing cold surface of the metal gives you goosebumps as you skim your hand down its surface. After passing two drawers you find the one you were looking for, named “R-W”, and open it up.

“Let’s see… Shalnark Ryuseih’s progress report, where did I put it?” You mutter under your breath, your diligent and quick fingers skimming back and forth between the many files trying to find it. Occasionally you pull a file out, only to put it back when you realize it’s not the one you were looking for. Where in the world is that file? It definitely shouldn’t be hard to find, not that many people have first and last names that either start with R-W. Actually you shouldn’t say that, there are some pretty unusual names out there. Like, Shooter, Slayer, Twinkle, Zi … wow... names can be pretty much anything nowadays.

“Ah!” Finally you had found the file, it had just been tucked into the wrong place. Opening up the yellow thick file paper, the first thing you see is the newest report given from PT and rehab sector. Reading it, you can’t help but allow a small smile to force its way onto your face.

You’ve been incredibly busy lately which has led you to not having much time to stop by on Shalnark. The only times being to make sure he falls asleep and to bring him food and meds since he doesn’t trust anyone else but you with those things. You had truly felt sad not being able to hang out with the smiley dorky man. Though, at the same time, a tiny bit of you on the inside was relieved not spending as much time with a sadistic mass murder.

But, all in all, you were just glad that even in your absence he has been making good progress. Shal had even recently moved to being able to walk around with crutches, a huge step forward for him (pun intended), and being able to messily begin to write the alphabet. You actually should go see him right now to tell him how pleased you were before checking on other patients.

That idea was soon lost though as the central office door was busted open, breaking your train of thought.

“Ah! (Y/n). There you are!”

Looking up from the file, you see Mal, the Front Desk women of the Intensive Care unit, and… a man you don’t recognize?

“Jeremiah, This is Doctor (L/n). (Y/n), this is Jeremiah. He has been transferred here from Abagail Union Hospital, Two cities away.”

The brunette male flashes you a charming smile as Mal introduces him, which you return with a small one of your own. In a welcoming gesture, you stick out your hand and you two share a quick hand shake; giving quick hello’s.

As your hand retracts you couldn’t help but feel…. off? Everything seemed okay but you couldn’t help but feel as if something was off, like as if the room changed somehow. It felt oddly familiar like you should know what it was… right? But, what exactly was off?

“I’m sure you remember this (y/n), but Jeremiah has never been a part of an intensive care unit before so management was hoping you could show him the ropes.”

Ah… That’s what it was, you had forgotten that management dropped another chore for you to do. They must be out for your throat or something.

“Of course!” You give Mal a wave as she leaves the room and Jeremiah in your hands. You quickly turn away from the man and put away Shalnark’s paperwork. Though, you can’t help but don’t want to put the file away, it was as if your hand was physically fighting against you letting it go. You let out a sigh and a small frown. Sorry Shal, I promise I’ll visit you tomorrow. Finally, your hand lets you put the file away after making that promise. But you still can’t help but feel as if you are physically hurt by your action.

You hear an awkward cough behind you and you turn back around.

“Sorry about that. Now let’s get you started right?” You say as enthusiastic as you can muster. You still are low on sleep and Caffeine after all.

“Yes of course, Doctor (l/n).”

“Please, just call me (y/n). It makes me feel old when people refer to me as Doctor.”

Jeremiah lets out a chuckle. “Okay, (y/n). Lead the way then, I’m glad you’re the one showing me the ropes”

Though, even with the cheerful small talk you have with Jeremiah as you two exit the room, you can’t help but hope you haven’t forgotten anything else.

Afterall,.... that strange feeling hasn’t left yet.

————🚨📱🚨————

“So, then…. hahaha….my sister said, ‘Fuck you I’m gonna do whatever I want’.” Suzanne explains to Jez and you as the three of you walk down the long and busy corridor. Small bits of chatter and talk from other people bouncing off the walls through the hallway

The two ladies let out a giggle as you end up almost choking on your drink. “Oh god. I swear everyone should know it’s common knowledge that whenever someone says that, nothing ever turns out well.” You explain letting out a sigh at the end.

“I know right!”

“Yep and that’s exactly what ends up happening next.”

“Oh god What happened?”

“Right after she finished her sentence. She ends up falling off the curve and landing face first into a huge muddy puddle. Like I’m talking huge.”

Jez lets out a gasp while you break out into a huge chuckle. “In her new satin dress?!” Jez says stunned.

“Yep! It was expensive too.”

“Well, it serves her right for— Oh crap.” You cut yourself off as you suddenly remember something. You quickly check your watch and begin to back step your path. It was time to bring Shalnark his food and meds. He would get so pissed if you forgot or was late. “I’m sorry I forgot to do something, I'll be right back.”

You finally turn around, almost bumping into someone as well, and begin to sprint down the corridor towards the lunch room. You can hear Suzanne and Jez let out a laugh.

“Don’t keep us waiting (y/n)! You-know-who is going to be sitting with us for lunch!”

“Yep and it would hurt if you miss out on him. Especially with how close you have gotten to him in the last two weeks.”

“I have not!” You shout back while turning around to glare at them; earning strange looks from doctors, nurses and patients around you as you do so. Their stares and whispers cause your cheeks to flare up in embarrassment and you let out a squeaky apology as you go back to scurrying to the lunch room. All the while you hear Jaz and Suzanne laughing getting louder and louder. Curse those two.

You haven’t gotten that close to Jeremiah. Sure, you’ve been helping him out every day since he joined the team two weeks ago. Along with the fact you practically spent every minute of your work day with him… okay, maybe they were correct. Maybe you and Jeremiah have gotten a little close but you didn’t feel anything for him, right?

You picture Jeremiah in your head. Yep.... just as you thought. Nothing.

Though at the same time…

As you thought about or are with Shalnark. There was this feeling; something ever so strange. It wasn’t in just one place either, it reached from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and fingers. First, it usually starts with your face feeling hot and, if you are able to see yourself, your cheeks are a light red flush shade. Then you can feel those... those butterflies? Yes, butterflies, in your stomach along with an ever so faster heartbeat. On top of that there were also other things that happened depending on the situation. The tingly feeling in your fingers when they accidentally brush his. The ghosting feeling of his hand prints and arms along your body the next day after he held you the night before. And finally, the one that drives you insane, when your eyes just lock onto his lips while he’s going on and on about whatever electronic or game thing he’s been interested in recently and you just feel that desperate need to just lean over and kiss him.

“(Y/n)!”

All of sudden you come out of your thoughts and realize you are standing right in front of Lara, the head worker of the canteen. She’s giving you a weird look and holding her hand up in your face. It seemed like she had been trying to get your attention for quite a bit.

“Are you okay, Lass? Your face is as red as Santa’s big red ass. Ya’ better not be driving any sickness or crazy mutating bullshitting disease into my canteen. Ya’ hear me!?”

“A-aa. I-I’m not sick, don't worry. I was just… Just lost in my thoughts, you know?” You scramble your hands around to help explain. How embarrassing… Shalnark is your patient and you are his doctor. It's part of your job that you keep a professional relationship with him,a hospital isn’t the place to fall in love. Plus what are you thinking having such feelings for a man that has ruined the lives of so many others.

Your explanation about why your face was red didn’t help though as you see Lara, being the cheeky leprechaun looking woman she is, flashing you a mischievous smile.

“Lost in your thoughts, eh? What type of thoughts are we talking about here~ Doctor (l/n)~.”

“N-no not those thoughts la—“

“Oh really? I swear I saw your face get a little bit more red just now~” Lara teases, poking a freezing cold finger to your burning cheeks. You quickly slap her finger away and attempt to explain.

“I-It’s because I’m embarr—“

“Ah. Ah. Ahhh~ I know a liar when I see one.” Lara leans over the counter and puts a hand to block the side of her mouth as if she’s sharing a super duper big secret with you. “Was it about Mr. BDE?”

“Mr. BDE?” BDE? What does BDE stand for.. is this another tiktik trend I don’t know about? I swear I told Lara a thousand times I’m never joining that cult like app.

“She's talking about the male patient you always come with or without to grab food for. The blonde one.”

Startled by the sudden new voice, you turn around to see Clara, another canteen worker, with her usual emotionless face watching you two converse.

“Well I guessed that. I was just confused about—“

“Well it should be hard to guess now! Especially now that you’ve been spending so much time with…” Lara let’s out an exaggerated gag and you only roll your eyes. You look towards Clara for help and thankfully she decides to be kind enough by grabbing you some food. “Ugh... Mr. SDE”

•

•

•

“M-Mr. SDE?” What is with these weird nicknames Sara is dishing out?

“She’s talking about the new doctor Jeremiah.” Clara shouts over to you two. You spare a glance over and see that she’s filling the tray full of Shalnark’s most liked foods. Even being nice enough to add a birthday cake flavored pudding cup. You aren’t sure exactly why but Shalnark is obsessed with birthday cake flavored foods. Though at the same time it makes sense, only the worst of the worst and monsters like birthday cake flavor.

“Well I have to spend time with Jeremiah. It’s my job to help—“

“How dare you (y/n)!” You look back over to Sara to see her sulking in the corner. What in the world? “I can’t believe ya’ betrayed your one true husbando like that.”

“WILL YOU STOP CUTTING ME OFF!?” you shout at the top of your lungs, about to go over and clobber Sara on top of the head. Though you are stopped by the fact that Clara has brought you Shalnark’s food. “Thank you, Clara. This is much appreciated unlike something else.”

You give one last glare at Sara, causing her to scramble away to the kitchen. Finally you can just leave and begin the long peaceful walk to Shalnark’s room.

“Ah wait. (Y/n)” Clara calls out as she remembers something.

“Hmm?”

Clara leans over and whispers something in your ear. You feel your face heat up and you start to shake with anger.

“OH, SO THAT'S WHAT ‘BDE’ MEANS. SARA GET YOUR BUTT BACK OUT HERE!”

————🚨📱🚨————

It was peaceful in Shalnark’s room, the only noise being the clicking noise of the keys on his laptop as he was coding something. Though that is soon disturbed as a sudden knock comes at his door.

“Come in.” Shalnark calls, not even bothering to look up to see who is coming in. The door opens with a soft whoosh and Shalnark suddenly surrounded by the aroma of warm cooked food. His stomach growls as a reaction and he hadn’t even realized that he was practically starving up until now. How long had he been messing around with his computer? 2 hours? No that wasn’t right.

Checking the clock in the corner of his computer screen he realizes it’s been more than 9 hours since he’s started.

Hearing the clicking noise of the door shut up, which snaps him out of his thinking, he looks up to see you are there. Though, he can’t clearly see you as you are faced away from him as you closed the door shut.

“Why hello there Doctor~. What do—“ His singsong tone is stopped as you finally turn around; giving him a good look at you. “oh wow (y/n) what happened to you?”

“O-oh it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Huh? But it looks like you got in a fight somehow.” Shalnark muses, his bright green eyes observing you closer as you make your way to his bedside. It seemed pretty obvious to him you had gotten into some sort of complication, especially with your unusually wrinkled clothes, a light sweat glistening your skin and the messy state of your hair.

“Oh no, not at all. It’s just been a busy day that’s all. So I haven’t had the chance to constantly keep myself neat.” You lie as you sit in the chair next to the bedside, not wanting to exactly explain to Shalnark why you had to chase Sara around the canteen with a rolling pin in hand. As you place the tray of warm food on Shalnark’s lap, you feel a ghost-like touch on the skin of your face.

You flinch away at the strange feeling, but a sturdy hand grabs the back of your neck that stops you from moving any further.

“Sit still (y/n).” Shalnark says. You look towards his face as he flashes you a wide smile and reaches with his other hand to your hair. You normally would stop Shalnark from touching you like this unless absolutely needed but decided it wouldn’t hurt to allow him this time.

Honestly, for a man that was considered by so many as a demon or the devil himself, he looked like a true saint in this moment while he was concentrating on fixing your hair. From his sunny hair shining like pure gold strands to his delicate soft pale skin looking like sculpted marble, He truly looked like something not of this world. It also didn’t help that the sunlight from the afternoon sun bounced off his features giving him an ethereal glow. “There you go. Oh wait...”

Your snap out of your daze as you feel shalnark put something in your hair. Suddenly, the ever so soft scent of a sweet, possibly vanilla or candy-like, scent fills your senses. Shakily, and almost hesitantly, you reach up a hand to feel what was put in your hair.

“Ah ah ahh. You’ll knock it out of place if you do that.” Shalnark teases as his hand stops yours from touching the item. He gives you an extra cheeky smile as he cheekily interlocks his fingers with yours.

“O-oh sorry.” You mumble shyly out. Crap, you feel your face begin to burn up. In a quick decision to try and save yourself, you turn your head away from him to act as if you are grabbing some medicine to add to his food. Thankfully, you soon feel your blush dial down quickly and you grab the right pill bottle to pop the right dosage into his food.

Turning around and mixing the medication in, you finally turn your attention back to Shalnark. You confusingly blink a couple of times at him. What in the world?

“Shal…. Are you catching flies with your mouth or something?” You say as you continue to look at Shalnark. You were extremely confused at why his mouth was slightly opened.

Shalnark raises an eyebrow at your comment but his happy mood doesn’t seem to be faltered in any way. “How rude (y/n)! I’m your patient shouldn't you be helping me eat?”

“Exactly what are you trying to get at?”

“I thought you were smarter than this (y/n).” Shal says in pout, “I’m telling you to feed me.”

“Not happening.” You deadpanned causing the blonde man to pout even more in front of you.

“Awww but why not?!”

“You have two perfectly good arms, Shalnark. I…” You trail off at the end as you lock eyes with Shalnark. You recognize that glint in his eyes. Oh great you had made the mistake of letting your guard down, exactly why did you compare him to a saint before?

“Huh? Doctor that isn’t very nice of you. I struggle even writing my name but you think I’m ready to try something as tough and painful as attempting to hold a weighted spoon. I find that cruel and it would be such a shame if—“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. ‘It would be such a shame if unfair treatment and unkindly behavior gets reported to management.’” You recite the rest of his words. Afterall, this isn’t the first time Shalnark has attempted to be manipulative in getting special rights from you or other staff. You especially wanted to strangle him the time he went too far. Also known as the time he really dug into a poor nurse in training when she wouldn’t give him rights to his electronics. The poor girl ended up running out of the hospital bawling and never showing up again.

“Soooo….. you’ll help me?” Shalnark says in a sickly sweet tone, as if he didn’t just threaten you.

“Yes, yes. I’ll feed you, you Manipulative asshole” You answered, monotoned, all the while grabbing the tray from off his lap and getting a spoonful of the lunch food.

“Oh? Are we using big girl words now, Doctor?” Shalnark teases. You aren’t looking at his face but you bet you could practically hear his smile growing by the second.

“Yes I am.” You take the filled spoon and put it to his lips, “Open up.”

•

•

•

You feel your hand begin to shake. Not from holding it up but from your increasing anger. Shalnark's smile had just grown more as he continued to keep his mouth shut and refuse to open it. You could even swear you could hear the petty asshole internally making fun of you.

“Say ah?”

Nope. That didn’t work as he continued to refuse to open up.

“P-P-Please open up?” You say out, trying your hardest to not lose your cool.

Jesus Christ. You were just about ready to chuck this lunch tray in Shalnark’s stupid handsome face. But you knew that would only mean Shalnark had won. Afterall, you too could play this game.

Even if it didn’t look like it, you could tell Shalnark got confused as you suddenly placed the tray down on the table next to you.

“Shal.” You say, catching his attention. The blonde hair man could feel himself suddenly struggle to breath as you softly place a hand on his shoulder and lightly lean your top half against his. With the close proximity of you two he could even smell the faint scent of what was believed to be the shampoo you use.

Shalnark let out a loud gulp as he attempted to calm down his racing heartbeat. He watches for what feel like hours as you bat your eyes at him and make eye contact. “Open up, pretty please.”

Finally, with mild hesitation, Shalnark opens his mouth, giving you the opportunity to feed him. Hahaha, suits him right. You win~

You give him a couple spoonfuls like that before what you are doing finally hits you. You desperately and quickly back away. You are supposed to be professional. He’s your patient. Not someone you can flirt with or your boyfriend. A patient.

Your actions today have crossed a line. You don’t even deserve to call yourself a Doctor if you act this way while on duty.

“I apologize. That was extremely unprofessional of me.” You say embarrassed; unable to meet his gaze.

Shalnark feels as if his heart is clogged up in his throat as he watches you. He’s never felt this feeling before. He’s actually never felt any of this domesticated stuff before. From the nice feeling of being safe and loved in your arms that sometimes makes him want to cry tears of joy to the bubbly feeling in his stomach when he hears your ever so pretty laugh fill up the room. This was all so strange to him. Yet he can’t stop himself from wanting more of it; more of you. He truly is a very greedy man.

Ever so carefully he reaches a hand out in an attempt to grab yours. His fingertips were just about to ghost your skin as he finally spoke.

“(Y/—“ The door suddenly bursts open, cutting off whatever shalnark was about to say and causes him to quickly retract his hand. “(Y/n)! There you are.”

Looking to the door you see Jeremiah standing there, somewhat leaning on the doorway. “Oh…, are you busy right now?”

“A-ah I’m just about finished up. I just needed to help give Mr. Ryuseih his food and meds.” You explain, giving Jeremiah a small smile. Thank goodness he hadn’t walked in any earlier.

“Oh really? You need help?” You watch as Jeremiah walks closer to you. He goes right next to you, practically almost touching you, and grabs the tray on the table. “Ah it’s already been partially eaten? Does this patient not want to eat?”

“No. I was just offering to help feeding him to help him sinc—”

“Well that’s not needed. Mr. Ryuseih has perfectly good capability over his hands and arms so he can feed himself.” Jeremiah explains. Placing the plate on Shalnark’s lap. “Plus it’s your lunch break right now and as a doctor of the intensive care unit it’s important you eat.”

“Yes but, it’s also my duty to help patients. Shalnark—”

“You mean Mr. Ryuseih.” Jeremiah says; cutting you off.

“Huh? What do—“

“(Y/n),... I’m going to tell you this because I care about you as a fellow doctor and a friend. There’s been some rumors popping up around the office about yours and Mr. Ryuseih’s.... relationship.” Jeremiah explains, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. You can practically hear your heart pounding out of your chest at this point. “Relationships between staff and patients don’t go against our contract and are allowed but…, as you know, they are regarded as highly inappropriate. So, if management does get a wind of these rumors it could have some consequences.”

“But-t it’s not like that. I’m just making sure that Shal—“ Jeremiah cuts you off as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“(Y/n), for both your sake and along with your patient,” Jeremiah gestures to Shalnark, who is unusually not smiling like usual. “I would suggest dialing down on the friendly… interactions. You know?”

“I-I—“ You feel dread and this pressure just all around as you struggle to form your thoughts into coherent sentences.

“It’s for the best, (y—“ “I would suggest that you quit cutting her off.”

Both of you are surprised as Shalnark suddenly speaks. You are extra stunned as you have never heard Shalnark speak in such a serious tone before.

“Pardon?”

“I said ‘quit cutting her off.’”

There’s a long pause before Jeremiah lets out a sigh. “You are right. I apologize for being so rude (y/n), I only meant to help you. Not to make you feel bad.”

Jeremiah gives you a pat on the back and a small smile. “I’ll be taking my leave. I hope this doesn’t deteriorate our friendship in any way.”

You do want to forgive Jeremiah since it seems like his intentions were to be helpful. But, from stress and shock at everything being told, you can’t speak. It is even starting to feel hard to breath in here. What’s going on?

“Calm down.”

Suddenly, a soothing voice enters your ringing ears and you are being pulled down into a safe embrace. Originally it felt nice but now you slowly begin to realize who it is holding you.

“S-s-shal-l-l. N...o…” You struggle to even get out the simplest of words, not even considering the struggle it is to even attempt to move.

“(Y/n) he’s gone. No one is here but you and I. Don’t worry about that. You need to calm down.”

As Shalnark says that, you realize the cotton shirt beneath your face is damp. You were crying. Maybe even full on bawling and you hadn’t even realized it. Were you going through some sort of panic attack? Or possibly a state of shock? You didn’t even know.

Suddenly, the sweet sound of whistling fills the room. You feel yourself unintentionally focusing on the soft tune. Then, ever so slowly, after a little bit of time you can feel yourself relaxing and slowly coming back to the world around you.

Shalnark ever so softly puts one of his hands on your back. Running his fingers in careful, almost methodically, circles and shapes. He really wanted to strangle that guy. No, he wanted that asshole to feel the pain of hell and back. But, what was with that feeling?

Something was off about the room when the guy entered. Yet, Shalnark just couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was.  

That’s what was pissing him off the most.

————🚨📱🚨————

“Mr. Ryuseih.” A nurse calls but Shalnark can’t hear her. He’s too far into his own thoughts, trying to figure out what in the world was that strange feeling yesterday afternoon.

Was it just the mood of the room? No, it affected (y/n) and I too much to be just the ‘mood of the room’.

“Mr. Ryuseih.”

Was it just tense aura?... No, that isn’t it either. I would be able to tell right away. Along with that, when he was left alone with me later to help with my crutches I didn’t feel that feeling again… It has to be something to do with (y/n). But, what exactly?

“Mr. Ryuseih!”

“Huh?” Shalnark snaps out of his thoughts as he realizes a nurse is on the side of his bed holding a pair of crutches.

“It’s time for morning PT and I’m here to make sure you whippersnapper make your way there safely. We better get going unless you want to be late, mister.” The nurse scolds, shaking her finger.

“Oh. Apologies.” Shalnark says, grabbing the crutches from her. “Let’s get going.”

Now… where was I. So I had just figured out it had a connection with (y/n). But what? Revenge? No, (y/n) hasn’t let a patient die under her care yet and all major surgeries are mostly by high class surgeons so she wouldn’t be involved if someone did end up dying without her knowledge.

Could it be me? Something to do with me? No, he had plenty of opportunities to end me especially with the weak state I am in now. Espec—

A scream rings down the hallway causing everyone to look over. Everyone was curious about what had caused the scream but no one was as curious as Shalnark. Especially when he felt that all too familiar feeling. What had Jeremiah done?

Wait a minute…

Shalnark eyes widen as he finally is able to see the scene. A nurse was huddled on the ground while a man stood in the doorway. It wasn’t Jeremiah causing that feeling. It was someone else. But how and why?

“Viv! What happened?” A doctor shouts, coming to the nurse’s aid.

“H-h-h-he” The nurse stutters out, struggling to make a coherent sentence. The next words made Shalnark’s stomach drop. “He molested me. He put his hand up my-y…”

A gasp resounds around the hallway and the bodyguard swoop in to grab the man for questioning.

“How awful… Hey! Mr. Ryuseih where are you going?!” The elderly nurse shouts, now realizing shalnark was making his way as fast he can, with crutches, down the opposite way of the hallway. The way that was in the direction of the Intensive Care Unit.

All the while Shalnark was cursing himself out. How could he be so stupid and have forgotten? It was the Nen basics. Bloodlust is based on someone’s intentions to harm another person. That strange feeling all along was Jeremiah’s bloodlust. Jeremiah’s intention to assault (y/n). Intentions which changed the usual feeling of harmful aura.

Shalnark finally makes his way to the front desk and slams his hand down, startling Mal who was cleaning her glasses.

“Where’s doctor (l/n)? I need her immediately!”

Putting on her glasses, she looks up at Shalnark. “D-Doctor (l/n) had to leave early today.”

“Huh!? How come?”

“She wasn’t feeling well. It seemed like she had drank some bad milk in her coffee.”

“Bad milk?—“ “Hey blondie! What’s up with ya’?” A loud voice cuts Shalnark off.

Shalnark angrily turned around to see…. a leprechaun like women?

“My good friend (Y/n) will be back tomorrow. No need to cause a ruckus. Ya’ can tell her whatever you want tomorrow~~” She says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Shalnark cringes. He could tell she must be an enhancer with such a strong grip. Wait, a moment…did she just call (y/n) a friend?

A lightbulb goes off in Shalnark’s head.

“You don’t understand. I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

“Hmm? How come?”

Shalnark leans over and whispers in the lady’s ear.

“Oh hell nAH! Mal!” The lady screeches, startling the poor women again, “Where’s that Donkey Ass Doctor?!”

“D-D-Donkey Ass Doctor…?” Mal recites, confused.

“She means Jeremiah.” A monotone voice calls from behind Shalnark. Swiveling his head around he sees a blank face woman. She bows at Shalnark, “I apologize for Lara. I’m Clara, her Co-worker.”

“Clara you don’t understand! (Y/n) is in danger! She’s—” Lara shouts.

“Calm down and explain, Lara. You babbling isn’t getting us anywhere.” Clara coldly says causing Lara to freeze. Carefully, due to her being careful not to piss Clara off, Lara softly whispers what’s going on in Clara’s ear. Suddenly, Clara turns her ice cold gaze to Mal, “Where. Is. Jeremiah?”

Poor Mal. She’s already having to start off the day with a bad morning.

“J-J-Jeremiah is helping (y/n) going home.” Everyone's heart dropped.

“What?!” Lara barked out.

“I-I-It’s because H-he felt bad because he’s technically the one that made her coffee-e which got her sick. T-they just left a couple of minutes ago-o, they should be making their way to the parking garage.

The puzzle piece finally clicked in Shalnark’s head. This was likely not Jeremiah’s first time doing this. So probably the reason he transferred here was to get away from suspicion from a previous assault case. When he got here he decided to have (y/n) as his next victim and was trying to get close with her. But, he couldn’t do that with me. (Y/n) spent her breakfast, lunch, and dinner breaks with me and, based on what’s going on, he was unable to use his usual method of drugging his victims’ food or drink.

But, because of what happened yesterday, she decided to spend breakfast away from me. Giving him his opportunity.

“Mal, call security! (Y/n) is in danger. Let’s go blondie!!”

“O-okay!” Mal says, quickly pumping in security’s number into the telephone.

Shalnark snaps out his thoughts as Lara pushes him into a wheelchair.

“Hold on tight!!” She shouts, grabbing the handles and pushing Shalnark through the exit doors of the intensive care unit.

Lara with Clara in tow rush down as fast as they can down the hallway. Shalnark held tightly onto the arm rests of the wheelchair, afraid for his life, as Lara was barking for people to get out the way.

“Crap,” Lara suddenly mutters. Stopping dead in her tracks as they reach the humongous parking garage, “Hey Clara! How are we going to find them in the parking garage?!”

“Use En idiot. We can split up to make it faster so you go to the right side of the parking lot while I go to the left side. Just try to find (y/n)’s or Jeremiah’s aura.” Clara says, quickly running off to the left entrance.

“O~ K~”

Shalnark can’t help but bite his lip in frustration. He felt totally useless in this situation. Sure, he could use En to help find (y/n) but he still hasn’t gotten his special ability back and was also physically weak. He was practically utterly dead weight if Jeremiah put up a fight.

“Ughhh nothing on the first floor!” Lara groans in frustration.

2nd floor…

3rd….

4th….

Come on (y/n) where are you?

The last and 5th floor…. nothing… They were too late. Shalnark looks to the ground in defeat and anger.

“Lara!!” Shalnark looks up at the sudden loud call.

Looking off in the distance from where he heard the call, he sees that Clara had found Jeremiah and was struggling to keep him pinned to the ground. Lara quickly runs over to aid Clara, leaving Shalnark alone.

Slightly struggling, Shalnark is able to slowly wheel himself over to Jeremiah and the black car he’s being pinned outside of. Deciding to look through the windows, his eyes scan the inside of the car and he holds his breath as he is finally able to see you. Only to release it when he realizes you are, thankfully, perfectly fine and just asleep. It looked like they had just gotten there in the nick of time.

Thank goodness...

————🚨📱🚨————

“Why the hell are ya’ here?” Lara shouts, catching the attention of people in the hallway as she begins to shake you around.

“L-l-Lara calm dowwwn” You say between breaths, you feel as if your breath has been knocked out of you. Literally. It also didn’t help that the hallway around you was getting more and more hard to make out as you get more and more dizzy.

“Lara.”

Lara pauses as she hears Clara's cold tone. Quickly she pulls her hands off of you and scurries backwards. “And you.”

You freeze as Clara turns her ice piercing gaze to you. Oh, crap crap crap.

“You should be at home resting. You literally were so close to getting assaulted yesterday. You shouldn’t be working after a day like that. You need time off.”

“Well actually Management ordered me to take two to three weeks off with pay. So I’m not here to work.” You explain, rubbing the back of your neck due to the pressure of Clara’s gaze.

“I don’t buy that. You—“ “Wait, hold up Clara. She might actually be telling us the truth.” Lara says, cutting off Clara and also pointing at your clothes. You blush lightly as they examine your outfit.

“You dressed pretty nicely today, (y/n). How come?”

“Y-yeah. Well I wanted to give this to you two in appreciation of my gratitude.” You mumble, slightly embarrassed. Opening up your big hobo bag, you hand an item to each of them.

“Strawberry ShortCake!” “CCCCAAAAROOT CAKE!” Lara and Clara shout together in excitement. Practically drooling as they examine their gifts. You swear your friends followed their stomachs more than their brains sometimes, though, at the same time, it makes sense since they work in the canteen.

Clara gives you a little bow. “Thank you (y/n). But you didn’t really have to get us anything.”

“Yeah (y/n)!! I mean you are such a sweetheart to give us gifts! But ya’ didn’t have to, we were just doing what friends do.” Lara bawls, giving you a bone breaking hug.

“Careful Lara, you’ll break the other cake she has.”

“Other cake?”

Lara sneakily looks into your bag to see that there was indeed another cake in the bag. The cheeky leprechaun girl looks up and gives you a smirk. “Oh ho ho~ looks like (y/n) is also going to say thanks to Mr. Prince Charming.”

“Shut up Lara.” You groan, pulling your bag away from her clutches. You turn away from the two and begin to walk down the hallway to Shalnark’s room. “I-I have to go. Enjoy your cake you two.”

Your face turns a bright red as you feel a hard slap to your behind. “And I’m sure Shalnark will enjoy your cake as well~~”

“LARA FROST!”