#grabbing people by the shoulders and going. You Are Talking About A Twelve Year Old.

[monstrsball]

defending mabel pines online isn't enough i need a gun

[lovers-rck]

you want to get better at kissing, so you ask your friend ellie to give you some tips

fluff ? i guess. modern au

☆

"how do you kiss someone?"

ellie looks at you "what?"

"do you have some tricks?" you asks

the past few months had been rough, the cold winter burned the cheeks of everyone, red noses and big scarfs were the last fashion tendency in campus. for the last few days you were drown in warm and cozy clothes, swimming through hot chocolate and watching christmas movies.

today wasn't the exception. after your last class of the day, you went to ellie's dorm and you both watched a movie in her laptop, ellie handing you her cup of hot chocolate every once in a while.

"what? no" she replies

"then how do you do it?"

"why are you asking me that? you kissed people before"

you roll your eyes "yeah, when i was like twelve years old" you make a disgusted face at remember that "he licked all my face"

ellie laughs

"i dont know. i kiss like everyone else"

"all the girls in my class talk about how you kiss them"

ellie furrows her eyebrows "i kissed one of your classmates?"

you roll your eyes "it would be easier to answer who you didn't kiss ellie"

"what is that supposed to mean?"

"i don't know" you shrug "do you have some tips for me?"

"avoid the excess of tongue"

"ellie!"

"okay sorry!" she says, thinking "i don't know. im not an expert"

"you kissed a lot of girls"

"so?"

"that means that you know something i don't!"

"how to flirt maybe"

you throw a pillow in her face, your cheeks getting red in anger "forget it"

you place your eyes in the movie again, seeing scenes and hearing dialogues but not really paying attention. you were swimming in a pool were the water was made of thoughts and questions.

"i can show you" you heard ellie say after a couple of minutes.

you swim to the top of the pool, getting out. "what?" you replie

she shrugs, her eyes still on the movie "only if you want"

you watch the laptop again, trying to process ellie's words.

"wouldn't that be weird?" you asks

"it doesn't have to be" she says and in her stomach a bunch of butterflys fight eachothers "it's for educational purposes"

you laugh softly, your fingers playing with the seam of your sweather "okay"

ellie finally looks at you "yeah?"

you nod, a funny smile resting in your face "okay" she says and moves the laptop away, making space as she taps her lap "here"

your eyes go wide "what?"

"what? i thought you wanted me to show you"

"yeah" you say "i just didn't know i have to sit in you"

"oh" she says, her cheeks getting red "you don't have to. sorry"

you nod slowly. an awkward silence sits between both of you.

after a few seconds, you start to move towards her. she offers her hand and you take it. your knees swim in the sea of blankets as you follow the path to her body.

your mind is fuzzy when you sit in her legs, her hands resting in your hip "okay" you sigh

"you okay?" she asks, looking in your eyes some answer

"yeah" you nod "you are warm"

ellie laughs and her vibrations resonate in her body, making your body shift slightly. you hold back a whimper with the faint suspicion that you shouldn't feel that way.

"im gonna kiss you now" she announces, you nod "just follow my lead"

"follow your lead" you repeat, your hands in her shoulders "got it"

ellie grabs your face with a soft grip, moving it gently to her lips.

you take a deep breath when for the first time ever she places her lips over yours. she leaves them there for a couple of seconds, warming your own before continuing. you feel her other hand caressing your waist over your tick hoddie.

ellie's kiss is soft and sweet, her lips moving against yours with such tenderness. you try to follow her, frustrated with your own inexperience "relax" she murmurs "no one is rushing us"

you try to relax. you direct your hands towards her neck, unconsciously caressing her skin with your thumb and gaining a few shivers on her part. you laugh softly, breaking the kiss as ellie laughs too "you got me there" she says, her breath hitting your lips "you want to keep going?"

you smile against her lips as you realize that you both were talking in whispers, like children sharing a secret "yes" you whisper, and this time you start the kiss.

you feel more confident now, opening your mouth a bit. ellie takes that as an invitation and turns the kiss in something deeper, moving her hand to your jaw.

you shiver as you kiss her back the same way, this time more hungry, less delicate. ellie handles your face the way she wants, moving it to the side to deepen her assault on your mouth.

you feel your breath getting louder as the seconds pass, her grip getting stronger in your body. you shift in her lap, your chest against hers , chasing that proximity and more.

the moment ellie slips her tongue in your mouth you moan softly, breaking the kiss "sorry" you murmur, completely embarrassed

"too much?" she asks, placing a strand of hair behind your ear.

you shake your head "i just didn't expect it" you replie "what should i do if someone wants tongue?"

ellie ignores the needle of jealousy that pinch her at thinking about someone else kissing you "it's up to you. if you like kissing with tongue and the other person too then go ahead"

"i don't know if i like it" you make a face "it's kinda weird"

on impulse, ellie replies "do you want to keep trying?" you look at her "to see if you like it, i mean" she adds, awkward.

you hide a smile and nod, feeling ellies mouth the very next second, wasting no time.

this time she does the tongue thing again and you decided that you like it. it's all wet and warm, and a bit weird at first, but ellie plays with your mouth in a way that makes you melt.

her hands navegate over the waist of your hoddie, trying to move you closer to her. you hug her by the neck, your fingers ghosting over her hair.

in the kiss, a weird feeling invades you. you feel weird, weird of kisssing your friend like this, of being sitting in her legs, of liking it. ellie grabs you and touch your face and kiss you and when she touch the exposed skin of your hip you realize that this wasn't a practice anymore.

"ellie" your murmur with agitated breath

and she understands, leaving your lips "sorry" her lips are red and swollen

you make an awkward smile and get off her lap, instantly missing her warm essence. you see how ellie plays with her fingers, nervous

you watch the laptop, the movie still on. outside is snowing. you feel warmth in places that you shouldn't.

"how did i do it?" you ask playfully, trying to lighten the atmosphere

ellie catch your intention and shrug her shoulders, making a funny face "i had better"

you laugh and push his shoulder lightly, pulling the blankets off her bed "i say the same thing"

"yeah, i bet that boy from when you were twelve kissed you better" she jokes and you throw a pillow to her face one more time.

[estell-allary]

Inferno of love

Relationship:romantic💚

Pairing:Clarisse La Rue x fem!hades!reader

Warnings:swearing,kissing,established relationship,name calling,kinda a make out sesh?!NO SMUT!

A/N-this is after capture the flag wear clarisses spear breaks from Percy and Clarisse is raging and upset so she sends all her siblings out of her cabin And you come in and comfort her and it turns into a little more if you get what I mean😉No but they literally just make out and Clarisse calls you angel as a nickname bc I think it’s cute(this is also inspired by the song lay all your love on me by abba)

The blue team won.Again,you were glaring at a annabeth for snatching the flag from right out from under your noses but nothing could be done now,what’s done is done,your glaring was rudely interrupted by matty,clarisses half-brother,oh yea where was Clarisse?you were about to ask the boy who was huffing and coughing his lungs out from running to you before he started talking,

“H-uhh-hey!um Clarisse is throwing a tantrum ‘huff’ in ou-our cabin we need you to calm her down..”he said still huffing and taking breaks from talking every few seconds.

“Damn is she taking this years loss that bad..kinda thought she would be used to it by now,I mean it is the third year in a row”you said in a puzzled voice before matty spoke again, “what?no-well kinda-but no she’s fuming about her spear.”he said looking at you like it was obvious

“What about her spear?”you spoke up again in a more serious voice furrowing your brows.

Matty looked at you for a few seconds even tho it felt like centuries “wait you don’t know”he said his eyes widening,even tho it wasn’t a question, he stayed still like he was waiting for a answer, “Matty.”you said louder drawing a few looks from people around you “What.Happened.To.Clarisses.Spear.”you repeated.

“T-the new kid”he said and grabbed your arm and started leading you back to cabin 5..“oh gods”

“Oh gods”you repeated at the sound of Clarisse yelling at her siblings to get the fuck out..you weren’t even there yet!at the sound of her voice you subconsciously picked up your speed,you now dragging matty,forcing him to speed up to.

By the time you arrived at the ares kids cabin the last of them walking or more like sprinting out to avoid clarisses wrath most of them looking annoyed and muttering stuff about her not owning the cabin but to scared to say anything to her face,you knew that she’s been trying to get the blond twelve year old to admit his faults in lying about the Minotaur but Jesus getting this mad..I mean you get where shes coming from,the kids kids like a stick but then again..fear can make you strong.Like really strong.

Before you walked into the cabin you told matty to go with his siblings so he doesn’t get yelled at by Clarisse and he obeyed in pure fear from the last time Clarisse yelled at him for spilling juice on you(she also soaked his socks in juice to get back at him dispite your pleas)

You walked into the cabin with one goal in mind help Clarisse even if that means help her in different ways then intended..

You saw her siting on her bed on the second floor directly next to the window.

“Clarisse..you alright my love..”you said startling the girl making her head shot up and grab her now Broken spear.Once she realised it was you she relaxed a bit placing her wreaked spear down.

She huffed out a sigh before responding,not answering your question “hey angel..”she said motioning you towards her and you obliged walking towards her till you were standing between her legs,her spreading them wider so you could be closer to her.

She layed her head down on your chest wrapping her hands around your waist and pulling you against her further.

You kissed her forehead stroking her tight curls that were now tangled up in a hairband that she put it in for capture the flag.Your hands started to untangled her curls 1 by 1 lightly tugging her hair,while Clarisses hands went to your shoulders as she began lighting kissing your neck, her hands playing with the straps of your amour to loosen them.

You slowly removed the hair band out of her hair as to not hurt her as she took off your chest amour,she placed it next to her and moved her hands from your shoulders to your waist,pulling you to her as she leaned back on the bed,making you straddle her thighs and lean down towards her face.

‘Don’t go wasting your emotion,lay all your love on me’

Your hands went from her hair to her shoulders tugging at the straps of her armour but she spoke “uh uh,not today the snotty brats will be coming back soon angel”she said moving your hands back up to her hands“please..”you whined at her trying to convince her that you two could be quick and won’t be caught but she cut you off by kissing you on your lips sloppily.

You moaned as she slipped her tongue into your mouth and gave her roots little tugs making her groan out your name and pulling you Flush against her.

‘Don’t go sharing your devotion,lay all your love on me’

You broke apart for air and before you we’re about to kiss her again someone came running up the stairs and pushing the door open before you and Clarisse could push away from each other,being caught in a very awkward position,you straddling Clarisse with your hands in her hair and her hands placed on the plush of your hips.

And worse it was one of her younger half-siblings,the poor boy looked traumatised,running out the room when Clarisse threw a pillow at him yelling at him to get out and fuck off.

Safe to say you and Clarisse got into a lot of trouble,and got stuck on cleaning the stables for four months.

But it was worth it to be with your girl.

‘Cause everything is new and everything is you’

A/N:I actually had a lot of fun making this because I could imagine Clarisse yelling at her siblings like she owns the cabin and there just renting it😭anyways but my request are open btw so just request what you want and I’ll try to do it💚

[prettypinkporkchop]

Hey love request again-

Seth x reader where his imprint thinks he only loves her cause the imprint bond, but he tries to explain it’s her he loves. Like some long angst then fluff…or whatever 😘😘

You bang against Seth's bedroom door. "Seth Clearwater! Open up!"

He opens it, shirtless and his hair in a mess. "What? What is it?" He grabs your waist and looks over you.

"Can you stop?" You shove his hands off of you. "Stop being nice to me! I refuse to become subjected to this forced bond!" You yell.

He stares at you blankly. "How'd you get in my house? I.. lock the door."

You lift up the key that he left in your house.

"Oh.. right. Can we please talk?" He gently touches your shoulders.

You shake your head. "No. Leave me alone. You don't love me, Seth. It's the stupid bond." You back away.

He steps closer. "Y/n, I love you. I loved you before the bond." He says.

You don't know what to believe. Way back when you both were younger, you'd just see him around town. You both got along and became acquainted. But when his father died, everything changed. Now, you BELONG to him. But... it's forced. He doesn't love you?

"You're lying." You whisper.

"If I was, would I have tried this hard?! Do you remember how I flirted with you so bad when we were kids?" His eyes water. "If I could go back and ask you then and not be so shy, I would."

You breathe out a shaky breath and shake your head. "God, this can't be real." You run your fingers through your hair.

He brings you in a hug. He holds onto you and rubs your back to calm you down. He has always done this while you were upset. But now is not the time.

You push away and look at him. "I'm gonna go home."

----

You're at the beach, sitting with Leah. You watch as the wolves laugh with their imprints. They seem so in love, but you believe what your mind is telling you.

"You know, it's not what you think. Seth does love you." Leah says.

Leah has been a good friend of yours. She doesn't talk much about what's between you and Seth. But sometimes she will vouch for him. He is her brother, so you understand.

"How would you know?" You turn your head to face her.

"Because before dad died, you were all he talked about. He was a twelve year old that swore he knew he loved you." She starts laughing. "The universe only told him he was right."

You look down and then look at the water where Seth and Quil wrestle.

---

You walk down the sidewalk to the bar with your new friend, who is your coworker. She seems cool, so you agreed to go to the bar with her. You figured it'd be a good opportunity to get your mind off of Seth.

You both walk inside, and you see a bunch of people. Some are sitting and drinking. A lot are walking around, visiting, or dancing to the blaring music.

Blake gasps as she notices a guy at a seat. "Hubba hubba." She chuckles.

"Eh, I thought this was a girls' night!" You whine.

"It sure is." She winks.

You end up drinking alone. Blake is dancing with the guy and had just forgotten you were there.

"Care to explain why a beautiful woman like you is by herself tonight?"

You look up from the bar table and see a man sitting beside you. He has a half smile on his face. He's tall with pale skin and blue eyes. His hair is in a military cut. You look at his wrist and see an army bracelet. Hmm.. a military mam.

"Uhm, I'm just being ditched." You giggle and sip your drink.

"Hey, sir? Can I get a shot of whiskey?" He asks the bartender. He turns back to you and nudges you. "Who ditched?"

You nod your head to the dancing people. "My friend. She found a guy."

He laughs and then takes the shot that is handed to him. "I think you just found your guy." He winks.

You get a random flash image of Seth in your mind. His face is looking at you like he did a few years back when you told him you don't want to be a part of the bond. His face breaks your heart.

You feel guilty. And the thought of being with this guy tonight is grossing you out.

"No, I'm not looking for anything." You smile.

"I respect that. Want to just drink and chat?" He smiles back.

"Sure." You turn to the bartender. "Hey, sir. May I get another (your drink)."

He nods his head and gets your drink for you.

"So, I'm guessing you're in the army." You look at his bracelet.

"Yeah. I'm home for the week. I don't really like serving." He takes another shot.

"How come?" You sip your drink.

"I miss home a lot. I uh, also don't want to serve a government that doesn't care about us." He smiles.

"I see. I still believe you have a good heart for joining." You reply.

"Pfft. I joined for the free schooling. I plan to become a cop. A good cop."

You drink more and more... and then more. Blake left with that guy. You and this guy you learned to be Tyler have been getting drunk by the minute.

"I just, I'm so over my life. I'm exhausted." You slurr and drop your head on the table. You're thinking of Seth.

"Fucking tell me about it." He agrees.

Your phone starts ringing and you answer. "Helloooo."

"Y/n? Where are you?" It's Seth. He's panicking.

"I'm okay. I'm at the bar." You groan.

"Damn it.." He hisses and then hangs up.

"Who was that?" Tyler asks.

"My..." You think carefully of what to say. "It's complicated." You sigh.

"Gotcha." He says.

After a few minutes, Seth barges in. He walks to you and gently takes your hand from the table.

"Hey!" You call out.

"Dude.'' Tyler says. He tries to grab your arm so your hand leaves Seth's hand.

"Let her go, man. She's my girlfriend." Seth says.

"No." You slurr and stand up. You stumble out the door.

Both guys follow you. You step over the sidewalk and bend over. You're about to blow.

"Who even are you?" Seth asks.

"Tyler. Who are you?" He asks.

"Her boyfriend, Seth!" He responds.

"I didn't know she had a man." He replies.

You throw up.

"Shit." Seth runs to you. He rubs your back and pulls your hair back. "It's fine. It's okay." He whispers.

God, his touches. The way he treats you. You feel so bad. He has been like this toward you since before all of this. Maybe you do believe him...

You collapse on the ground and in his arms. You breathe hard. "Seth.. can you take me home?" You ask.

He takes you to your house and you stop at your front door. He stands next to you while you fumble for your key to unlock the door. You find it and look at him. He looks back at you:

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You ask.

"Because I'm hurt." He responds.

"Me too. I'm mad at myself." You open your door.

You both walk in, and he goes straight to your bathroom. You hear him running the shower. You go in your room and drop your stuff on the bed and take off your jacket. Seth walks in the room.

"Are you sobering up?" He asks.

"A bit." You smile.

"I've got your shower going." He says.

"Thank you, Seth." You walk over to him.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face down. He wraps his arms around you and smiles.

"Do you believe me?" He asks.

"Yeah. I love you."

His smile widens, and he slowly leans in. You hesitate but go in for it. You both kiss. It's slow and soft. This is the first time you two have kissed. You feel that chemistry. You feel... like this is all you've ever wanted and needed. He pulls away and places his forehead on yours.

[doiliedaze]

Bloodlust: part one

Pitfighter! Vi x Stripper! reader

Warnings: none in this part

Genre: fluff ish cause no real angst yet???

A/N: i was listening to strictly for the strippers by sexyy red so enjoy!! Vi is depressed and impulsive but she’s trying her best.

───────┈ · ·

Sounds of bottles popping, folks hollering, and ass thumping. That’s my typical atmosphere ‘round 11:30. I’ve only been stripping for three years, and I’ve learned a couple things.

Save your money

Get a buddy

Your real name is earned

Never sleep with your clients, this is fantasy

My stage name is Wisp. I got it when I auditioned based on how I move around the pole.

Recently there’s this new hardass that’s been coming to the club. She’s broad, covered in tattoos and has a chip on her shoulder. I avoid these types…but I can’t avoid her.

Think whatever you want about strippers but most of us are decent people tryna make it especially in Zaun.

I walk onto the floor getting what I can before I have to go on stage when I hear her whistle at me.

I roll my eyes fighting a little smile. I will admit she is beautiful but her attitude isn’t. Eventually I’m called onto stage. It never gets old when you are announced on stage. The crowd calling for you, the base thumping and the first moment you touch the pole and you whirl in the air…magic everytime.

The theme of the night was whimsical whores, I know subtle right.

No matter the lighting, fog of weed or anything else I see her through the crowd, heavy blue eyes watching me. Towards the end of my performance my heart was racing almost. She felt closer? She usually stays towards the bar and stares but this time she was closer to the stage.

The song fades out and I get off stage collecting my money when I feel someone hit my ass. Before I could react my new regular is picking fights. One fight, starts twelve here so I scurry off stage and change so I can leave early.

Outside I catch my breath and I see her get thrown out yelling and cursing when she makes eye contact with me. I don’t enjoy when customers get in my business it never ends well. She walks over to me, everything about her looking heavy. Her lip was bleeding and there was a cut under her eye. “You okay?” She said softly might I add.

“Yes but don’t do that again.” She tilt her head and scoffed at me.

“Is that how you say thank you?”

“Why am I thanking your drunk decisions?”

She rubbed her face like she was fighting to say something and just muttered a sorry. She’s obviously drunk and probably wanted to help, before she walks away I grab her hand and she snatches it away. “I just want to know how you’re getting home…”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not leaving you alone till you let me take you home.”

We stare at each other for thirty minutes until she starts leading the way. Is this dangerous? Obviously! However I’d feel better knowing she’s home safe.

She slows down so I can walk next to her. She smells like wood and blood, not sure if that’s her natural scent or because of tonight. I see some of her tattoos peeking out, they look so intricate.

Her voice broke the silence letting me know we’re here. I thought it looked okay on the outside but my gods it was horrible on the inside.

“Have you ever cleaned or is this the aesthetic you’re going for?”

She side eyed me so I stopped talking.

“I’m barely here so I don’t see the point in caring.” She mutters as she takes off her jacket.

I swallow thickly when I get a view of her back, instinctively I want to touch it but I won’t.

“Like what you see doll?”

“No and don’t call me that, it’s wisp to you.”

“Doll suits you better” she walks towards me, there’s a sadness in her eyes like she’s done this before.

“What’s your name?” I say abruptly trying to change the conversation. She catches on and leaves some space in-between us, “it’s Vi.” She was ashamed to say her name. Then it all started clicking for me.

Vi lays on her makeshift bed and I stare at her crumbled form, “I’ll let myself out…”

“Can you stay?” She whispers, her voice so soft I almost missed it.

You shouldn’t get this close to anyone in the lanes just because they have shit going on, we all have shit going on…but sometimes people need help and I have a hard time saying no to helping people.

I lay behind her and slowly wrap my arms around her. Vi flinched slightly but she was tryna relax. I rub her hair a little trying to comfort her as I hear her sniffle. She grabbed my hand and just lays it across her instead. We stayed like that till we fell asleep.

My downfall has always been my heart let’s see where that gets me.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: im trying not to be corny whilst writing this so I hope y’all enjoy!! I love strip club based stories so there will be more stripper! reader. I’m gonna try to make part two longer and add angst but I suck at writing angst so we’ll see (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

Taglist: @manfuckthisimout

(Dividers- @dollywons)

[seraph-of-the-mikayuu]

Beginning of the fanfic I'm writing where Tang Bo has also reincarnated! I'm pretty much rewriting the novel, but with Tang Bo! Leave comments if u think it should go on ao3 with the rest of it!

It's quite long right now, but I hope you enjoy!

Being reborn into the Tang family to a body around 7 had to have been just his luck. If Tang bo knew that reincarnation was what would happen after death, he would have been more prepared. With the surprise of being alive again, he pushed that aside to train as much as possible in his hidden weapon techniques. The elders were useless and all the techniques they lost during the war, Tang Bo was steadily trying to bring back.

Long nights left unwanted thoughts to arise, of how he was truly alone in this world. Cheongmyeong was dead and so was everyone he once knew. The fact that when he asked about the war and someone said Mount Hua was in a decline was more than proof his old lover was dead. Tang Bo had decided to try and sneak glances at Mount Hua to maybe try and keep them from closing completely, that was the least he could do.

This all led to Tang Bo putting on a dark cloak and accompanying Tang Gunak and a few of his ‘brothers’ to see if the divine dragon was truly a problem. Something about a merchant’s son from Mount Hua had beaten two of his brothers and the divine dragon had mentioned the secret technique of twelve daggers. He vaguely remembers spilling all the secret techniques of the Tang family to Cheongmyung.

In reality he wanted to check the one with the name of his old love if he's honest. The news of Mount Hua starting to climb back up by the hands of one kid wasn't that big of a deal to Tang Bo. Even beating all second disciples of Zhongnan. Sure he was happy that Dosa Hyung-nim’s sect was growing back but the name of the kid changed everything. There was a slight flicker of hope that what happened to him happened the same to Cheongmyung.

He watched the Tang family’s lord talk, mostly spacing out. There was a tingling sensation on his skin. He was honestly excited to meet the Divine Dragon. Maybe it would be him. Tang Bo has nothing to lose in this, there's no point checking but the idea that he might have reincarnated made him giddy.

A voice quickly snapped him out of his daze, “Hey, old man. You've got a really weird personality.”

Tang bo knew that voice, he looked up immediately and as if the heaven was playing jokes on him, the bright blue sky made him look heavenly. The face was too similar, the nose, the grin, the expression, the voice. There was no mistaking it. It had to have been. How lucky was Tang Bo.

The rest of the conversation was muffled as he stared right at Cheongmyeong.He had landed near Tang Bo, his back was turned towards him as he spoke to the head. Tang Bo had ignored the pressing qi from Tang Gunak, moving closer to Cheongmyeong reaching out to grab his shoulder before he was startled by the sudden yell.

“ENOUGH!!!!”

Four people ran and placed themselves in front of Cheongmyeong as if defending him from Tang Gunak, Tang Bo gritted his teeth and took a step near the Tang Family head so he could see Cheongmyeong’s face. It was the same as he remembered all those years ago.

Bows from all four Mount Hua disciples, all at the same time, was honestly kind of impressive. The front one was wearing white compared to the rest so he must have been the eldest. The words of him being the Righteous Sword actually fit this kid well. He was quite handsome and he spoke like a melody.

The Righteous Sword mumbled about taking punishment for Cheongmyeong's actions. It honestly made Tang Bo snort in laughter but, that must have been strange to everyone else since they all turned to look at him as if just noticing him.

“What's so funny? Something you want to share?” Cheongmyeong stopped talking as soon as they met with their eyes. An indescribable expression clouded his face, eyes seemed to be glassy as if he was looking at a memory. Everything went silent, you could hear a pin drop before Cheongmyeong's face changed to anger.

“...bo-ya, wait..?”

“Dosa Hyung-nim?” Tang Bo said hesitantly as if testing the waters, that anger seemed to spike as Cheongmyeong clenched his fist. He started walking forward towards Tang-Bo, a smile on his face but it was obvious to everyone that he was mad.

“-you!” The Disciples quickly placed themselves in front of Cheongmyeong again to stop him from beating up an unknown Tang member

“Hyung-?” The Righteous Sword looked at Tang Bo then at Cheongmyeong and then back. Even Tang Gunak hadn't said anything yet, “What's your name?

“Tang Bo, it's nice to meet other Mount Hua disciples,” He slightly bowed his head before looking back up,”and you?”

“Baek Cheon, it's an honor as well” Baek Cheon turned around to Cheongmyeong, “You know him?”

With gritted teeth, Cheongmyeong stared right at Tang Bo, “Yes, I do. You guys can talk later” he turned towards Tang Gunak

“I agree, it's time to truly test what I came here for. I intend to see whether you are truly devoid of substance or unfathomable in its depth”

Watching the two of them walk away from the group, the killing intent from Tang Gunak only seemed to increase with every step. Yet Tang Bo didn't feel nervous or scared because he was more excited to speak with him after Tang Gunak got defeated. It wasn't that he thought of the head like the elders. If anything Tang Gunak felt like Tang Bo's grandson and nothing negative, really. Just that he knew with Cheongmyeong, Tang Gunak would put up a good fight with his hidden weapons but the fight's end was already set in stone.

Tang Bo glanced at the four standing near him and smiled before speaking, “Baek Cheon, was it? I see you're more impressive than your rumors state”

It was obvious by the red tip of the other person’s ears that being nice was the right choice

“-Ah thank you, it's just strange that you were once friends with Cheongmyung. The way you referred to him caught me off guard” Baek Cheon spoke with a fluidity that would charm anyone. He truly was fit for his title.

“Enough with the pleasantries, I'm sure we’ll be seeing each other much more”

It was as if all rigid movement bleed from Baek as a strained smile stayed on his face, “Oh? Why's that?”

That sentence made him chuckle. There was no way he was just gonna let Cheongmyung run off around without him by his side. His attention was brought to the other three standing behind Baek Cheon watching the so-called spar. If Cheongmyung was helping them then it would be nice to get to know them all.

“And you three are?”

“Yunjong”

“.. Yoo Iseol”

“Jo Gul”

Tang bo perked up when he heard the last name, “Jo Gul..? Ah, you’re the one who had fought two of my siblings and won. I’m curious to see your strength as well if the spar doesn’t take too long.”

“Yes, that was me.. although I hope that there's no hard feelings but, what do you mean not take too long? Do you already know who will win?”

“None at all and… yes, it's clear who will win this battle” That wasn't a lie, the two that got beat had no relation to him or importance. Seeing the Tang Family this weak did make him a little annoyed but that wasn't the fault of the disciples in front of him. Jo Gul put his hands on his face sighing,”So it’ll be for nothing-”

Tang Bo snapped back towards Jo Gul, raising his eyebrow “What do you mean? Dosa Hyung-nim is going to win”

Everyone's attention was quickly brought back on the spar as Cheongmyeong was pushed into a sticky situation. The dagger going right at his face caused Jo Gul to yell out only to be held back by Baek Cheon. Screaming and yelling about murder. The sight of Cheongmyung catching the dagger with his teeth made him smile as he brought his attention to Jo Gul who had calmed down.

“Eighth strike, you have two left. Make it count.”

Watching the rest of the two attacks was strange, it was like watching a memory. The movement of Cheongmyeong was almost the same as back then. Watching him jump and swing his blade right at the shoulder of the head of the Tang family, Tang Bo had started walking closer. The duel was done and decided. It was only when something shone from the corner of his eye as it flew through the air landing and planting itself into the side of Cheongmyeong's stomach.

Tang bo was the first who made it to Tang Pae, immediately grabbing the arm that had thrown that forsaken dagger. With a quick move, the arm snapped, a scream pierced the air as Tang Pae crumbled in front of him.

“..how dare you-.. who do you-..” He felt anger bubbling up to the surface, his grip tightened no doubt causing the broken bone to rub against each other. He swiftly grabbed a dagger and with one quick movement went to end the life of that pathetic-

“TANG BO!” He turned towards Tang Gunak who was looking right at him, “Tang Pae will deal with the consequences” Tang Bo dropped Pae's hand before walking over to where Baek Cheon had lifted Cheongmyeong up to bring him back to the Tang estate.

---------

Waking up for Cheongmyeong felt like he was swimming through a deep ocean, there was someone talking to him. It was muffled but he recognized the voice just couldn't place who.

He blinked slowly as he sat up, a tingling of pain near the side of his hip. Immediately the four on the ground were the first thing he noticed. He scoffed but a small smile threatened to break through on his lips. He truly cared for the four and it was nice to know they were the same.

“Dosa Hyung-nim?” That very word repeated through his head as he searched the room for the one who was responsible. There by the closed door was someone he thought he would never see again. Memories pushed to resurface of that last meeting between the two.

[]

“Will you marry me?”

“Ask that again when I bring you to the medics! Just- wait”

“Dosa, will you marry me”

“...” Cheongmyung desperately grabbed onto Tang Bo’s clothes, dipping his head down to the others face before placing a gentle kiss on Tang Bo's lips, “of course I will”

Tears dripped down Tang Bo's face as his smile widened. It took every energy left in his body to smile. Cheongmyung shakily cradled his lover to his chest. Tears flowed from his eyes before he screamed and screamed and screamed until his throat was torn. There is nothing he could do except promise to end this war.

[]

He carefully got off the bed and walked towards Tang Bo, his fist tightened into a fist as he walked closer to him. A smile on his face but, he definitely wasn't happy.

“‘Dosa Hyung-nim’ that's it? Just ‘Dosa Hyung-nim’. Did you want to die again today? Did you think I would be so happy to see you, I would forget that you broke your promise”

“Ah! Nonono Come on don't-” Tang Bo waved his hands as he backed up from Cheongmyeong who was quickly approaching.

“I didn't think it was actually you! Being reincarnated is strange by itself and you too I just- Wait! Don't hit me!” Tang Bo continued to ramble before he felt a tight grip on one of his wrists before he was pulled into a hug.

“Shut up, brat” Cheongmyeong mumbled as he hugged his lover, Tang Bo took a second before hugging Cheongmyeong back. A smile slowly making its way on his face, he could feel the way the other trembled and shaken with fear. It only made Tang Bo hug him tighter, tears running down his face. He could feel how his lover gripped his clothes desperately as if trying to find out if he was truly here. Tang Bo never thought he would see Cheongmyung again.

It only lasted a few seconds but felt like eternity to Tang Bo. He looked Cheongmyeong up and down when they let go. The Pink eyes he loved were glassy and sad. Tang Bo cupped Cheongmyeong's face placing a kiss on his cheeks then to his forehead then to his nose and at last his lips. He truly looked similar to his past life even though Tang Bo had never met him when he was a kid, he could definitely see the resemblance between the two.

He had wanted to stay in that hug forever. It was the first time since he reincarnated that he felt not completely alone in this.

“If I knew you were so clingy. I would've jumped for the chance every time!” There was one swift movement as a fist hit his head, Tang Bo reached up rubbing the top of his head before throwing his arm over Cheongmyung’s shoulder bringing him closer, it wasn't hard to notice the pink decorating his cheeks from this close “Come on I was just kidding”

“You never knew when to shut up” Cheongmyung scoffed before glancing back at the four by the end of the bed, Tang Bo used his sleeve to rub his eyes from the tears earlier.

“Oh! By the way, the way they protected you was kinda sweet, ripping cloth out of people’s hands to do it themselves. Eventually the current head had to press pressure points to safely get them to sleep. It's nice to see other people can manage to put up with y-”

WHACK

“Owowowow, Dosa Hyung-nim- why are you so mean? You don’t understand how hard it is to stay here. The elders try to control everything and they’re relying on poison, againnn. Tang Gunak has my daggers also so it's not like I can get those back and they made rules that the disciples aren’t even allowed to leave the sect without permission”

“Yeah yeah” Cheongmyung waved him off before blinking for a few seconds and looking back at Tang Bo, “Your family has always had that rule, you just didn’t listen”

“Oh right..”

Cheongmyung looked around before walking towards the door and opening it, “Aren’t you gonna take me to see Tang Gunak, Bo-ya? I would rather get this robbe-” He coughed before finishing his sentence, “compensation dealt with”

Tang Bo dragged his feet as he walked alongside Cheongmyung, “Can’t it wait? They don’t exactly know I’m here, ‘checking up’ on you and wouldn’t you rather go get some alcohol and just relax”

Cheongmyung rolled his eyes and took a step forward with Tang Bo hanging off the side of him. He never minded the physical touch from Tang Bo since it wasn’t like non harmful physical touch from someone was common in his past life other than his Sasuk and Tang Bo.

It wasn’t long until his eyes immediately locked on the person they were just talking about. Tang Gunak was walking this way and was only a few steps away. Tang Bo from next to him, let go of Cheongmyung with a grumble but suddenly grabbed Cheongmyung's arm and dragged him back into the room.

“..huh?”

Tang Bo opened up the window inside of the room as he pulled Cheongmyung with him. Sliding easily out of the window.

“Come on! You can always talk to him later, let's go to our favorite drinking spot!”

With a smile, Cheongmyung followed along where Tang Bo led him. It was a forgotten path filled with weeds but he knew every step of it like muscle memory. At some point in the stroll, their hands intertwined. Whether it was Tang Bo who started it or Cheongmyung. Neither would answer, only knowing that they walked side by side together.

When they got to the pavilion, it was dusty and cracked by the weather. Nothing like how it had looked 100 years ago. But it was better than nothing. The two sat down across from each other just like they used to.

“You better have actually brought alcohol if you wanted to drag me all the way out here”

“Yes, yes” Tang Bo set down two bottles, out of his robe, placing both on the table in front of them with a smile. Almost right after he pulled out a small wooden box and slid it over to Cheongmyung who had already poured himself a drink.

“Hm? What's this?” When he opened it, the first thing he saw was a green stone. It was surrounded by yellowish gold. Cheongmyung immediately looked up at Tang Bo. His hands shook as he tried to come up with a clear thought.

“I had them prepared a long time ago and I had already asked Cheong Mun first of course!,” a gentle smile replaced the look on Tang Bo's face, “if I'm being honest, this was the place I had wanted to ask you. When I was reincarnated, I checked and they were untouched in the spot I had left them. So I'll ask you again, this time at the right time”

Cheongmyung held the box tightly in his hands, yet gentle as if the ring would break with a touch from him. His brows furrowed in thought. Listening intently to Tang Bo.

“Will you marry me, Cheongmyung, the 13th generation disciple of Mount Hua?”

For a second, everything went quiet. Cheongmyung slowly stood up before moving around the table. Before Tang Bo could react, he grabbed Tang Bo to bring him closer before pressing a kiss to his lips. He licked his lips after they parted and he finally answered, “Of course I will”

Tang Bo pulled Cheongmyung back towards him, hands gripping the uniform he wore. As he was desperate just to have the touch of the other. Kiss after kiss after kiss, when it calmed back down. Tang Bo looked at Cheongmyung’s face with a slight chuckle, his cheeks were red and his lips were slightly swollen. It was a beautiful sight.

Flustered by all the attention that Tang Bo was giving him, he looked away mumbling, “What about your ring?”

“It's similar to yours, just a different stone!” He pulled out another small bow and opened it up, Tang Bo was right. The ring was the same but the stone was a deep pink.

“Look, it matches your eyes” He held it up to Cheongmyung’s eyes before reaching across the table and grabbing the ring he had made for Cheongmyung while using his other hand to grab Cheongmyung’s hand. He carefully slipped the ring on his middle finger and then on his own with a huge smile. The ring was a little big but not enough where it would fall off for both of them.

Tang Bo poured two cups of the sake he brought and pushed on the Cheongmyung, who had sat down next to him

“To celebrate?”

“To celebrate.”

They both brought it to their lips, taking a large gulp before Tang Bo flopped over onto Cheongmyung.

Resting his head on the other’s thighs as a pillow. Looking up at Cheongmyung who was looking down right at him, his hair falling to the side and tickling Tang Bo’s cheeks.

“You sure seem to get comfortable fast. There’s still alot to decide, you know.”

“All of that can wait! I’m busy with my husband”

Cheongmyung’s cheeks flushed pink at the word Tang Bo used,

“What? Are you flustered because I called you my husband?”

“...”

“My lover. My husband. My friend. My partner. My true love”

BANG

Cheongmyung pushed his hand to push Tang Bo off his lap, as he fell, his hand was brought up to cover his mouth. His cheeks burned redder at the very second.

“Ow-! You’re so mean”

----------

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 2.4k ➠ warnings: cursing, explicit pre- and post-coitus descriptions (no smut but this one is definitely 18+, minors back off. you do not need to read this one to understand the rest of the series, i promise), implied unprotected sex (wrap it up, y’all— also reader is totally on birth control i SWEAR it’s just not TALKED ABOUT) ➠ genre: fluff, some minor angst, mature (as said in the warnings, 18+, minors stay out! if you skip this one, you will still understand the rest of the series), established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (after garbage goal, before saltwater smiles) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i thought i was done with these two but they really do have me in a chokehold y’all 🤧 ➠ series masterlist

“I’m baby again?” He asked, his eyes sparkling hopefully.

“Oh, my Sungchannie,” you sighed, climbing onto his lap. His hands immediately found their natural place on your waist, looking up at you like he was holding the entire universe between his two palms. You looped your arms around his neck, the cool metal of your bracelet resting on the bare skin of the back of his neck. “You’re always going to be my guy. Don’t think one disagreement is going to free you. You’re stuck with me.”

“I love you so much,” Sungchan sighed, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

“Gross, you’re all sweaty,” you half-heartedly pushed at his bare chest pressed against your back, scooting forward to try to get away from the uncomfortable feeling of your hot skin sticking together. “Let me go.”

He just wrapped his arms around you tighter and pulled you back to him, a playful growl in his throat. “Say it back and I’ll consider it.”

“You’re such a loser,” you sighed, turning your neck to be able to peck the tip of his nose. “I love you, Channie.”

“I love you more, baby.” He connected your lips, earnestly slipping his tongue into your parted mouth. “Love you so much… can’t wait to marry you…” He breathed out between pants, cupping your cheek with one hand as his other traveled down the front of your body again. “And have the most beautiful babies with you… love of my life…”

You squeezed your eyes shut as his words stabbed you right in the chest, turning your head and rolling away from his grasp. “Sungchan, we’ve talked about this.”

There was pain and confusion on his features as he watched you sit up at the edge of the bed. He scrambled to follow you up, sitting next to you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders, pecking your temple. “I know what you said—the migraines are genetic, you don’t want to risk passing them on. I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” You sniffled, feeling tears rise in your eyes and a lump start forming in your throat. “Kids…”

“Baby, I want kids with you, because I love you.” Sungchan grabbed both your hands, squeezing them tightly. “And I mean—would it really be the worst thing for them to possibly get migraines? If they were even half as amazing as you in every other way?”

Your hands went limp in his as you stared him down. “Sungchan. Think about how you feel every time I have a migraine, and you can’t do anything to help. How useless you are. Now picture how you’d feel if our kid had one. Our baby. Twelve, ten, eight years old. Sobbing in your arms because it hurts so bad, begging you, their dad, to make it stop, just make it stop, but you can’t. And I can’t. Maybe they get the nausea part of it too, and they’re throwing up, and they get dehydrated and we have to take them to the ER because they can’t hold anything down and their muscles are cramping up and everything hurts so bad. What if they have to get brain MRIs, Sungchan? Imagine them being all alone in that machine, nobody to hold their hand. Not to mention— I can’t take any of my medications from the day we decide to start trying, while I’m pregnant, and while I’m breastfeeding. So in addition to everything I’d have to go through being pregnant, I could have migraines four or five times a week for… over a year? Two years? But hey, maybe they’ll get my smile and your eyes, at least, right?”

Sungchan’s eyes were brimming with tears, and he swallowed thickly. “I get it, I get it…”

You shook off his hands, standing up and wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling too cold sitting naked in your bedroom. “I have to go shower… I’m sweaty and have… cum dripping out of me.”

The shower that was usually cramped when the two of you were packed in there together felt oddly big now as you washed up by yourself, harshly scrubbing at your skin. You stared blankly at the water droplets running down the tiles long after you’d finished washing up, standing there as the water turned lukewarm, until it was freezing cold and you were forced out shivering. Turning the spray off, you grabbed a fluffy towel to dry off with, stepping out into the still-steamy bathroom.

You stopped at the vanity, the foggy mirror looking too empty without Sungchan filling it up from behind you, distracting you from your skincare routine under the guise of “helping.” You could hear him still moving around in your bedroom, and part of you wished you didn’t have the sick feeling in your stomach that you did every time you fought so you could pull him in and do his skincare too. You loved your quiet, silly nights when you got to put a fluffy character headband on him and apply a face mask and rub in various moisturizers and the like all while listening to music and sitting in his lap, exchanging pecks on the nose every so often.

It was a rarity when you and Sungchan did anything more than lightheartedly bicker about stupid, inconsequential things—you were sure you could count the number of real fights you’d had in five years on one hand and have extra fingers leftover—but every time you did, it made you feel like you were going to be sick, and you always lost your appetite.

Something sitting on your vanity next to all your bottles and creams caught your attention. Your fingers graced over the corded blue and orange bracelet, tracing the five familiar beads fondly. 27JSC. It was a memento now, of his collegiate hockey career, and the bubbly beginnings of your relationship in your last year of undergrad. As your lives changed, the token no longer coordinated with your professional office wear you had to don day in and day out, something that you thought would have made your clingy boyfriend pout. But instead, he had excitedly gifted you the bracelet you were wearing now, a dainty and stylish silver chain, with five small silver letters—27JSC.

You still put the old bracelet on every so often, when you were invited back to watch the big games along with the other graduated players. The first home game of the season, league rivals, and of course the championship series.

You finished your after-shower skin routine and cautiously treaded back out to the bedroom, towel still wrapped tightly around you to protect you from the cold air. Sungchan was no longer in your bedroom, and you could hear him ransacking the pantry. While you lost your appetite when you fought, Sungchan was the opposite, very much an eat-his-feelings type of guy.

Without hesitation or another thought, you grabbed a pair of panties and shorts from your side of the drawers and a t-shirt from his side, the top covering pretty much all of your bottoms. You stopped at the dresser after getting dressed, grabbing the top and taking a few deep breaths. The image of Sungchan with tears in his eyes flashed in your mind again, and you shook your head. You hated that you had done that. But the conversation that immediately preceded those tears replayed in your mind, and your fingers gripped the furniture tighter. Had he really not listened to you the first time? Did he think he could change your mind about it or something? You wouldn’t wish this on your worst enemy, how could he ask you to risk giving it to your kid, the one person you were supposed to love more than anybody else? More than him? It just struck you as a total misalignment of values... something you needed to talk about more, make sure you really understood where his head and his heart were at.

With one final deep breath, you pushed the bedroom door open wide, and walked out towards the kitchen hesitantly. Sungchan had his hand stuffed in a bag of chips, and you saw several other containers of snacks strewn around on the countertops. As he spotted you, he didn’t bring the handful he had just grabbed out, instead dropping it back in and wiping his mouth with the side of his palm.

“Hey...” You said quietly, stopping at the threshold between the kitchen and living room. “Are you ready to talk? Or do you want some more time?”

“I can talk, yeah,” he nodded, setting the chip bag down. “Let me uh, let me wash my hands and put all this away, then we can sit wherever you want. Kitchen table, couch.”

“Okay.” You gave him a small smile, turning back around to head into the living room. You sat down on one of the central cushions as you heard the sink running, then the crinkle of bags being rolled back up.

When Sungchan finally joined you again, he didn’t sit as close as he normally would’ve, but it wasn’t an awkward amount of distance. Just enough to allow you two to focus on the topic at hand.

He wrung his hands over his lap, offering you a nervous smile. You decided to go first.

“I shouldn’t have called you useless, I’m sorry,” you apologized sincerely, remembering the hurt that had come across his face as soon as the word left your mouth. “That was… just mean of me. You’re not useless. It’s easier to get through the migraines when you’re with me, you make me feel less alone and that makes a big difference.”

Sungchan offered a hand out palm-up in the space between you, and you set yours atop it. He squeezed your hand, his always much bigger and warmer than yours in comparison. “Do you remember that Halloween party? Before we started dating, when you had asked me to stay with you during that migraine.”

“Of course. It was... you were great. I fell for you before I even knew it.”

“The next morning, when we were sitting on Jeno’s bed in that nasty fucking frat house—”

That earned a chuckle from you, and Sungchan smiled bittersweetly, running his thumb over yours.

“—you were telling me about how you just wanted your pain to be real to somebody, because after so long, the word ‘migraine’ had sort of lost all meaning to the people around you. I let that happen to me, too. I was dismissive of all your pain and was even willing to put it on a hypothetical child of ours for a selfish reason. I’m so sorry for doing that to you, for making you feel like that, for becoming one of those people. I’m so, so sorry.”

You brought a hand up to stroke his cheek, his face more manly now than it had been on that Halloween night he had just described. “I forgive you. And I hope you don’t think this is the end of the kids conversation for us. I love the idea of starting a family with you, too. I think you’ll be a great dad. I just… Chronic migraines have a genetic component and I can’t stand the thought of passing on this kind of pain to my kid. You understand that, right? Please tell me you get that?”

“Yeah, of course. And I didn’t even think about you going off your meds either. God, I’m so sorry.” He leaned his head into your touch. “You’ll be the best mom. And I know that because you’re already making the best choices for them and they don’t even exist.”

You smiled softly at that. “I… probably could’ve been less… vivid earlier. It was a bit harsh.”

“No, I needed a reality check. A good slap out of the post-nut haze I was in.”

“Yeah, because you would’ve enjoyed a real slap,” you snickered, pulling on his ear gently.

He pouted at you. “Are you kink-shaming me?”

“No, just teasing you, baby.” You pinched his chin and wiggled his head back and forth.

“I’m baby again?” He asked, his eyes sparkling hopefully.

“Oh, my Sungchannie,” you sighed, climbing onto his lap. His hands immediately found their natural place on your waist, looking up at you like he was holding the entire universe between his two palms. You looped your arms around his neck, the cool metal of your bracelet resting on the bare skin of the back of his neck. “You’re always going to be my guy. Don’t think one disagreement is going to free you. You’re stuck with me.”

You leaned down to sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting and sucking a mark into his skin. He immediately groaned, his hips pushing up into yours and his hands gripping onto you with a bruising strength.

“Nowhere else I want to be, than right here with my girl.” He was already breathing heavily. “God, so obsessed with you, baby. Could stay here and make love to you all day every day.”

“‘Make love?’” You repeated with a giggle, kissing a trail up his neck until you were sitting up straight again, looking him in the eye as you asked, “Not fuck my brains out?”

“Can do both at the same time,” he grinned, scooping you up in his arms bridal style. “Fuck your brains out lovingly.”

You let out a squeal of surprise, throwing your arms around his shoulders as the couch went out from under you. “Gah! Maybe your post-hockey hobby shouldn’t have been weightlifting. You scare the hell out of me every time you do that, Channie.”

“You love it and you know it.” He shook his head at you, looking pointedly at where your hands were gripping his well-defined shoulder and back muscles.

“I’m invoking my right to remain silent.”

“Don’t be too quiet.” He dropped you gently onto the many pillows at the head of your bed, immediately climbing over you. “We don’t have a baby to wake up yet.”

“Slow your roll, you haven’t even proposed,” you teased, sliding down flat on your back, grabbing his collar to bring his lips down to meet yours as you did.

“I’m— mmh— working on it,” he promised between kisses. “My girl deserves the best. Need it to be so special.”

“You’ve been saying that for almost a year,” you reminded him, pulling insistently at his shirt hem.

He obediently yanked his sweatshirt off, tossing it to the side before locking his lips with yours again. “Impatient?”

“To marry you? Mm, maybe,” you hummed, running your hand appreciatively up and down his pecs and abs. “Aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” he moaned just at the thought, latching onto your collarbone. “I’d elope with you right now if you asked me to.”

He paused for a half beat, as if waiting to see if you would, then continued on when you didn’t. “I’m going to make it perfect for you, baby. Promise. Anything for my girl.”

“Well in the meantime…” You reached a hand down, palm out with your fingers spread, and Sungchan immediately laced his fingers with yours. You brought your linked hands up above your head, smiling down at him. “How about you fuck your girl’s brains out lovingly?”

➠ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

[jaidens]

And If She Grabs For Your Hand And Drags You Along She Might Want A Kiss —

pairing [s] : nick ‘goose’ bradshaw x fem!reader

warning [s] : mentions of : kissing | goose does not die in this he's alive (I'm delusional) | this is shoer and I dont know how to write anything because its late

a/n [s] : requests are open! for dal <3 @daltopia

The sand and sun is warm against your skin as you set down everything you need for the beach. Your fourteen year old Bradley is carrying most of the weight, hoping to help his mother. He has a gentle sprout of a mustache on his upper lip, and a good build of muscle from being in football from ages four to fourteen. “Mom! Is Dad coming today?” Bradley asks you while running up behind to take the chair off your back. “Umm, he should be. I called him before we left so we'll see.”

Bradley was raised very well and respectful as he tells you to sit down as he puts up the tent and chairs for you. You smile at him before pinching his side and telling him to go play in the water. “Nah, Mom. I'm gonna tan for a bit then play football. The guys are coming here around like, 12.” Bradley is setting up a small towel and his insulated water bottle next to him and lays on his back. Bradley looked like his father from the tip of his hair, to the bottom of his toe: was Goose.

His long legs sprouted early, pushing him up to 5'10, then at 6’1 he traveled around like he owned the world. You're reading a book while you attempt to relax through sounds of screaming children and drunk adults at twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Soon, you begin to space out while reading, passing a few pages without realization.

Suddenly, tickles of kisses and hands against your thighs were Nick. The tickling of his mustache is prominent as he whispers out your name and runs against your side. You lean your head back against his shoulder and his arms wrap around your body with a gentle tug and a squeeze. “Nick! It tickles!” You say as he rubs his head against yours.

One thing you loved about Nick was his love for PDA. It didn't matter when, unless around important people, he was loving and kissing on his beautiful wife. Bradley groans at the sight of his parents practically making out behind your book. “GET A ROOM!” He shouts as he runs to the splashing water and kicking his feet.

You pull away with a quick laugh and stare at your blond husband. With a blue Hawaiian shirt on, a bare torso, and his tiny swimsuit to match with the blue. “How was work today?” You ask and play with your ring that's clad on his ring finger. You are sure if he took the ring off, the skin underneath would burn your eyes from whiteness. “Gooood! Mav almost got grounded, again.” Goose says as he lays back against the sand. His Ray-Bans are on the lower part of his nose while he throws a ball in the air.

“He always does. I'm glad your day was good. Bradley was talking to this cute girl today, I'm excited for him.” You gossip and Nick sits up and laughs. You're messing with his hair that's longer upon the top, twirling a couple pieces around.

“I missed you,” Goose says. Your hands fall underneath his ears and you kiss his lips softly. His mustache tickles your upper lip as he deepens it.

“Later, love.” You giggle and he chases after your lips jokingly. “Swear, honey. Tonight I'll give you something extra special, okay?”

“Yeee-hawww!”

[charkyzombicorn]

It was a stupid thing to forget. Usopp knew that. It was a monumentally stupid thing to forget, but he had.

Luffy and him were skimming the ocean a bit away from the ship, because wind was strong so Sunny was moving fast and scaring the fish. It was normal, Usopp was always dragging one of the crew around while he swam because people just couldn't swim as fast as him. Then he saw a bigger fish a bit deeper down. He told the human on his back "Wait here, I'll be back in a sec" and bucked away and into the ocean in less than a second, diving deeper and deeper after that huge fish - it was bigger than he thought, and further down. Usopp wrestled with the fish he could barely get his arms around for a second before giving up and forming himself fully into a seal to bite at the fish until it stopped moving. He changed his upper half back to grab the fish again before looking up to swim back, expecting to see kicking human legs just under the surface, like he did every time he left Nami from where he was carrying her for a second.

But Luffy was gone. Because Luffy can't swim.

Usopp took way too long looking for that bright red cartigan, and swimming them both back to the ship so Luffy could get the water beaten out of his chest. Usopp distanced himself once he saw Luffy breathing again, because he didn't think someone that almost drowned their partner and captain should eat and chat with everyone else like nothing happened.

So he took Franky's watch, took his dinner plate and went up to camp in the crow's nest.

Then Luffy came up, filling the room with noise before he even got the trapdoor open, ignoring how Usopp was sitting on the floor under one of the windows, wallowing, immediately sitting so close next to him that their shoulders touched and going on about a joke Brook told him that he forgot half of on the walk from the galley to there, as if he hadn't almost died because of Usopp, completely ignoring the slight rasp his voice still had from all the coughing as he rambled on and on.

"I didn't mean to." Usopp blurted, and Luffy stopped talking so suddenly it made the room feel empty. "I forgot you couldn't swim."

Luffy stared blankly at him for a second before snorting. "Usopp's a little dumb, huh?" He said, and from anyone else it would be an insult.

"I guess I am." The sniper responded.

"I haven't been able to swim in twelve years." His captain told him, and Usopp said nothing. "You've never seen me swim." Not entirely true, in Usopp's dreams where he grows old with Luffy, they always swim side-by-side. He supposed in hindsight that that couldn't actually happen.

But Usopp the liar nodded anyway, and Luffy was quiet again for another minute.

"You wouldn't have liked how I swam. Shanks always said I looked stupid." Luffy said finally, and Usopp looked up at him for the first time that conversation. "Gramps didn't teach me the kitty puddle or anything, just threw me in the water every time I beached myself until I learned to keep my head above water. I basically just flailed around."

Usopp leaned his head to clunk into Luffy's next to him. "I wish I could have seen."

"I could flail around on the floor?"

"Pfft-- No. I think I'm good for now."

Luffy leaned a little more into Usopp - head to head, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. "I won't ever be able to swim, you know. Even if I want to and you want me to. I can't."

Usopp knew, objectively, that that was true. It still made him sad that some of his favorite dreams would never come true.

"Does Usopp need someone that swims?"

Of course he didn't. Maybe. Possibly.

"No." Usopp said with the same confidence he used for any lie he told.

Luffy leaned even harder on Usopp, until he ws halfway in his lap. "Then I'm happy." He said, always eager to believe Usopp.

Usopp sat in the quiet of the crow's nest while Luffy drifted off on his shoulder, and wondered.

[bellesdreamyprofile]

chapter 9 - 1950

CECE MARTIN

"I've also finally learned how to play the guitar, because my daddy let me take some classes. He first wanted me on the piano, since it's apparently more 'ladylike' than the guitar. Anyways. You know the song I told you about? That's all right? I was thinking the song could be guitar only? It's not completely ready yet, because I was thinking you could add your personal touch to it. I can't wait to show it to you. My step siblings, my stepmother, my daddy and I are gonna visit you in Tupelo! Isn't it exciting? Like I said in the other letter, I'm not planning on leaving you again. We can finish the song together and we can finally be a duo! We have to think of a name—"

"Cecilia, please tell you ain't writing to that boy again?", I dropped my pen at my daddy's voice. I looked over my left shoulder and found him looking at me from the door, nothing but a disappointing look on his face. I gulped and made up a lie.

"I-I was writing to my mama—"

"You're stuttering, Cecilia.", he stated the obvious. "That means you're lying. Quit behaving like a child, when you obviously ain't one no more.", I hated the way he said those words. Lecturing me for something so innocent, for doing something that brought me peace and comfort. 

Writing to Elvis has been like writing into a journal. An activity that relieved me from the stress that's brought into my day to day life. The stress is very subjective. What's stressful to me is definitely not stressful to my daddy. I know that as a twelve year old there is no way that my life has reached a stressful point yet, but I feel like the pressure and expectations that people have of me, are what cause that heavy feeling at the end of a day. 

That feeling of being too much and being not enough at the same time.

However, knowing that I'll be seeing Elvis, his family and my mama in less than 24 hours gives me comfort. I've packed extra heavy, because I won't be leaving Tupelo again. I was planning on staying with my family.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your destination is only ten minutes away. Please remain seated, until—"

I silently squealed in my seat at the announcement. That was it. I was going to be finally home. I would be reunited with my mama and Elvis and I are going to be spending some quality time together. Again. Though the thought of being apart for so long made me slightly angry; but the excitement was unmatched.

"You excited to see your mama, Cece?", Matilda asked me. I remembered the way she used to talk to me and seeing that we're now civil to one another, I'm glad for how far we've come. I understand that me joining the family all of a sudden must have not been easy on them either. Though there is someone who still hasn't accepted it fully.

"She's excited to see that boy from her letters, Tilly. Her mama is the last person she wanna see now.", Clara leaned against Matilda to look at me. I rolled my eyes at her words and looked out of the window.

"It's none of our business.", she said. "I'm actually quite happy we're somewhere else for a change. The California heat was killing me."

Clara raised an eyebrow. "I'd say it's the perfect weather. We've got the beach—", the two of them kept bickering about Mississippi and California as I gently closed my eyes at the feeling of the warm sun on my skin. 

I thought of our small house and my first encounter with the Presleys, smiling a little at the memory. My thoughts moved on to Elvis, the Little Prince and his treehouse. I wondered if it was still intact or if he even used it anymore, since Elvis was no little boy now. I quickly thought of his age and felt my cheeks warm up at the realization that he was now 15 years old. 

He must be really tall now. And a high school boy. He's probably in that phase where boys get all gross and stuff. What if he doesn't wanna be my friend anymore?

What if he doesn't want to sing anymore? 

"Let's go.", we rapidly stood up and grabbed our bags before getting out. People seemed in a rush today, making me wonder if everyone was excited to get home too. We dodged some carts and quickly moved to the luggage section, now waiting for ours. My father caught sight of his and moved to retrieve it. I looked at Matilda, who smiled at me and then at Clara, who was mindlessly chewing her gum.

Matilda moved closer to me. "Who's the boy you've been writing to?", I froze at the sudden question. "You don't have to tell me. 'm just a lil' curious.", she quickly added, making me breathe out.

"He, uhm, he's just my friend.", I said, smiling a little. "We met when my mama and I moved in the neighborhood.", I continued and chuckled under my breath at the memory of meeting Elvis for the first time.

"He must be that good for you to be smiling like that.", she nudged me with her elbow as I felt my cheeks redden at her assumption.

"He's just my really good friend...", that was the first time I had said that out loud and it definitely felt different than when I admitted it on paper.

Matilda smiled, noticing me deep in thought. "Tell me about him.", she said, making me look at her in surprise. "Only if you'd like.", she added once again. I smiled at her kindness and sighed, wondering where to start.

"Well, his name is Elvis.", I initiated, blushing a little for no reason. 

Matilda nudged me again with her elbow. "Uhh, never met anyone named Elvis. Alright, alright. Continue."

I laughed a little at her words and agreed with her. "Me neither. Anyways, Elvis is two years older than me. His hair is brown and his eyes are blue.", I finished and looked at my stepsister, who had a huge grin painted on her face.

"What?", I asked, since it seemed like she wanted more.

"Oh, c'mon, Cece, tell me about his personality. By what you just said he sounds delicious—"

"Tilly!"

"Okay, okay, sorry. But, what about his hobbies? What is he like?", I raised an eyebrow at her questions.

"Why the sudden interest in someone you never even heard of?", Matilda scoffed at my words.

"Ah, is it a crime if I wanna know more about the boy you've been writing non-stop to?", she asked, crossing her arms on her chest. I blushed, shaking my head.

"It's not non-stop.", I muttered under my breath, failing to fight back. Matilda grinned and looked at me expectedly.

"So...?"

"The last time I saw him was... Four years ago.", I concluded as sudden realization hit me. "He's probably changed by now... But, uh, Elvis was my best friend. Always helped me out, always made me laugh... He actually taught me how to read.", I said, feeling a knot in my throat at the memories I shared with Matilda. Though when I looked at her, her smile was soft and kind, encouraging me to keep going.

"He read me The Little Prince in his treehouse and his mama made the best cookies."

"He a mama's boy?"

"Oh, yeah.", I laughed at Matilda's question, glad that my sad blanket was lifted off of our conversation. The love that that boy felt for his mama was like no other. He had no shame in showcasing it either and that was something I always admired.

"Elvis always wanted to sing and dance. Like for real. And we, uh— We made this silly pact many years ago. That we'd sing together as a duo.", I revealed, though I shook my head at how silly and childish it sounded.

"Well, I don't know how your man sings, but girl you've got the voice.", she laughed, patting my shoulder. "When daddy ain't home I can hear ya sing in your room. And you've got a beautiful voice."

"Wow. I-I don't really know what to say.", I stuttered out and looked up at her. "Thank you.", she just winked at me and let her eyes wander around the airport. The buzzing noise, the rolling of the suitcases and the chatter from the people, weirdly brought me peace. I also took notice of the people rushing out with their heavy suitcases. Where was ours, though?

"I know you're writing him letters, but, uh, does he do the same? Like, do you ever get an answer from him?", Matilda's words made my thoughts still. I'd been writing for four years and for four years I never received an answer from him. I couldn't say it didn't hurt, because it certainly did. I considered him to be my best friend and someone I looked up to. To this day I wonder if he was hurt by an action I had no control over, but something in me kept telling me that Elvis wouldn't believe his first instinct. Something in me kept telling me that he knew the truth. Very deep down.

"Uhm, no, he never replied to my letters, no. Why do you ask?", I looked at her and noticed her carefully look around, before she turned back to me.

"Listen, I-I don't know what I saw the other day... But—", Matilda looked around again, making my brows furrow.

"What?"

"The other day... I was looking for some supplies— for school you know, and I walked into daddy's office and found a box.", her voice quietened. "I-I took it, thinking it's the things I needed and found some closed envelopes. Stacks of them, Cece. Now, I-I don't know if those are—"

"Elvis' letters.", I concluded lost in thought. She looked around again.

"I-I don't know for sure... But if those are from Elvis..."

"He's been writing back.", I finished, feeling the lump in my throat and my feet particularly heavy.

"GIRLS!  Your bags!"

The drive to Tupelo was mostly silent. My daddy was driving and sitting in the passenger seat was my stepmother Naomi. 

She was a genuinely kind woman who married a man she didn't know was already taken. It wasn't her fault since my mama was the other victim that fell for my daddy's tricks. Either way, Naomi and I never really hit it off. We were civil to one another, of course, however she knew nothing of my silly dreams or my favorite color. And that was okay. I didn't need to feel that close to her. I didn't want my heart to replace my mama with her.

I was sitting in the right seat in the back, beside me was Clara and on the other end was Matilda. My eyes wandered out of the window in a daze as Matilda's words kept ringing in my head. Stacks of letters. Stacks. How could I have doubted Elvis even for a second? He cared and wrote back. My thoughts shifted in an other direction. How have I never asked my mother if he had been sending me anything? I didn't know whether I should bury the sudden anxiety and anger and to live in the moment or face my father and his lies.

I sighed as my fingers toyed with a bracelet I received for my last birthday. Though the more I looked at it the more I hurt on the inside. Small pearls with little details of gold. I glanced at my father and then back at the piece of jewelry. As my mama was fighting everyday to give me a safe and happy childhood, my daddy was off with another woman in search of a better future for himself. And himself only. I know it was wrong to think of someone in that way — especially when it's a parental figure, but he kept proving me wrong all over again. The lies, the scolding, the commanding. It was overwhelming.

"Daddy?", Clara called, making me blink quickly and readjust in my seat as I was slouching uncomfortably.

"Yes, darling?"

"Are we there yet? I'm bored.", she pouted, making me roll my eyes at her whiny tone.

"Seems like we're pretty close.", he answered with a chuckle. "Cecilia, anything you recognize?", for the first time a question was aimed at me. I sighed and looked out of the window. The sight made my heart burst as happiness started to invade my body. The familiar houses Elvis and I would walk past to get to school, the trees that seemed to touch the infinite the sky and finally at the end of it all: my little home.

"Yeah, I know this path.", I smiled a little as I took notice of a new house.

"Ew, why are these houses like this?", more words that made me lose hope in humanity.

"I think it's lovely.", Matilda nudged me with a small smile, which I gladly returned. I moved my gaze once again and noticed we were in front of my childhood home, though something felt off — despite the endless peace radiating from it. Once the car was parked, we walked out and were immediately welcomed by curious stares.

"One bag each, c'mon girls.", my daddy said, but something didn't feel right. It was too silent and no smell of freshly made cookies lingered in the air. I immediately made my way to the Presley home, knowing that my mama was having her coffee with Gladys. I knocked, taking notice of my sweaty palms. I quickly wiped them against my cotton dress and looked back at the door, knowing more.

"Ain't that my Cecilia?", I turned around at the sound of my name and smiled at Alberta. Gladys and my mama joined her little book club a long time ago, however I never had the chance to properly get to know her. Mostly because Elvis and I ran off as soon as we were finished with our homework.

"Alberta?", the woman smiled back and walked towards me, pulling me into a welcoming hug.

"Oh, child.", she patted my head. "How long has it been? Ten years?"

I chuckled at her. "Four years I think.", she pulled away, but kept holding my hands.

"Four years and you're a woman.", Alberta smiled, making me reciprocate sweetly. "Look at you.", she complimented again.

"You're too kind.", I blushed. "You still look the same. Still beautiful.", she laughed at my words and swatted me away.

"Lil' ol' me. What can I say... Though I have been using a new product for my skin and—"

"Cece? You there?", I looked to my right and noticed Matilda approaching me. She smiled at Alberta and extended her hand.

"Hello ma'am, my name is Matilda.", Alberta looked at me and then back at my stepsister.

"Ain't no way— You're sisters?", her gasp made me laugh a little.

"She's my stepsister, yeah.", I winked at Matilda. "Anyways, Tilly this is Alberta. Only the owner of the best book club in Tupelo."

"Hi darlin'.", she shook her hand. "So y'all visiting ol' Tupelo, huh?"

"Well, actually we're here for my mama."

"And Elvis.", Tilly added, making me blush a little.

Alberta smiled and then looked at the Presley door. "Oh, lawd.", she said lowly and pressed a hand to her forehead.

"Oh, Cece, your mama is not home? You think she's here?", I nodded at Tilly's words.

"Should be here with Gladys drinking coffee.", I said and knocked again.

"Oh, child, you ain't telling me you know nothing.", I turned around and noticed Alberta's face fall. My heart broke a little at her words.

"Know what?", Tilly asked for me as my words seemed caught up in my throat.

"Well... Mr Presley got a promotion last year... In Memphis.", and those were the words that made my eyes well up with salty tears. "The Presleys moved... And your mama chose to move along."

I looked down and sighed, not letting my tears roll down. 

I was stronger than that.

"She thought you were never gonna come back to her."

I'm not so strong anymore.

"I'm sorry sweetness.", Matilda wrapped an arm around my shoulders and nudged my head with hers.

"I thought your mama was writing letters to you, darlin'", I nodded and brushed a tear away. 

"She never mentioned Memphis... Maybe the letter got lost in the mail or something... I-I don't know—", more tears fell down as my throat closed at the heaviness of my words.

"It'll be okay, Cece.", Matilda murmured. "We'll find them."

And I was alone all over again.

A/N: thank you for reading! hope you're enjoying the story so far! I hope you've had a good start into the new year xx

index chapter 10

[oh-surprise-its-me]

I watched some rodeos today so that means I desperately need to write about 20 year old non pilot Jake being a cowboy and terrifying his New York dads. (Here’s prequel to this fic)

-

Chris, David, Wolfman and Lucas are all up on the fences watching. They all are used to this kind of thing. Oh the joys of growing up in Texas.

Tom, Ron, and Hollywood are in the stands. They all keep flinching when people get tossed. Tom’s nails are digging into Ron’s arm. He gasps every time someone lands wrong. He can’t believe they let their kid do this.

They’re in Vegas. All things considered a fun trip. They all took vacation time for this. Promised that if Jake used his fake ID they won’t call him on it. This is the final day of four for the rodeo.

Jake’s good. Too good. Ron can’t stand to watch him most days. Terrified that their kid is going to slam his head and not get back up.

Lucas promises him that he’ll be over the fence first before anyone else can be. Ron supposes an ER nurse is better then the paramedics they’ve got on ground.

-

Jake is hopping in place. He can feel the energy of the stadium, he watches them put the bull in the corral, Hell Maker is his name. Jake slides his helmet on and climbs the fence. He settles on the bull.

He hears the announcer.

“And now. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. He’s one of the best twenty year olds competing he’s got a real chance at winning this Frank.”

“You’re so right Shawn. His father rode in Texas circles, Chris Seresin is in the crowd tonight. We’ll remind y’all listeners that the Seresins have a long history in riding rodeo.”

Jake shakes off the nerves. He knows he’s best. He can make it twelve seconds. Has to.

-

As he’s flying through the air it’s in slow motion. He made it nineteen seconds. He beat the records in place. Jake is going to make his dads buy him so many drinks tonight.

He slams into the ground. He tucks and rolls. He leaps up and takes off for the siding. Makes it over right at the bull slams into the wall.

Suddenly Jake is being held in the air. He shrieks, David and Wolf have him on their shoulders. Chris and Lucas are standing grinning up at him. Chris opens his arms and Jake jumps down and into them.

“Baby you did so good. I’m so proud of you.”

Jake sees his pa and tata make their way over to him. He’s surrounded by everyone suddenly. He’s so overwhelmed. He has to blurt it out now or he’s going to explode.

“I think this is going to be the last pro competition I do. Gonna go to med school.” They all stare at him for a second. “I’m not going to stop riding. Just no more getting thrown off intentionally.”

Ron is the first to react. “Chickie thank god.” He scoops Jake into a hug. Tom hugs him from the side. Chris plucks the hat off Jake’s head and kisses his hair.

He’s then passed to all of his uncles. Lucas looks like he might cry. He holds Jake’s face for a second. “You’ll be incredible.” Jake grins at him. “Wanna be a nurse like you. Help people.” Lucas lets the tears go down his face now. David loops his arm around his neck.

Jake is grabbed by Hollywood and Wolfman, Holly is grinning at him. He passes over two hundred bucks. “What the fuck?” Wolf blushes. “We made a bet on which career you’d follow. Decided you’d get the money no matter what happened.” Jake laughs. He grabs the two of them into a hug.

A photographer comes over and asks to take a photo of Jake with his dad. Chris smiles and agrees. Women still practically faint for him at points. Ron and Tom smile at the two of them. Jake is every bit his dads son.

Jake ends up getting a trophy. He’s proud of it but is even more proud of the money he wins at slots two nights later. All of them insist he cheated. He didn’t he’s just lucky.

-

In his thirty’s he talks Bradley into going to the rodeo, Bradley thinks it’s insane that Jake’s dads let him do this. Jake points out Mav and Goose had Bradley up in planes when he was definitely too young.

Bradley leans over while they watch the kids rodeo, “our kids are never doing this.” Jake stares at him. They’ve barely talking marriage. Fuck, Jake wants kids with Bradley. He flushes, “okay. They’re learning how to ride horses though.” Bradley nods. He presses a kiss to Jake’s head. “Anything you want sweetheart.”

[harringtonstudios]

council.

plot: even with the world turned on it's head, somehow you find your way to Alexandria, and back to Daryl Dixon who seems to have a role in determining your fate. (set around s9)

word count: 5.8k of pure fluff divider credit: @firefly-graphics

note: hi i'm back! let me know your thoughts <3

Judith Grimes is a saint at the age of twelve. 

Her gunfire gives your group an opening while being surrounded by a herd of the dead, allowing a quick getaway. The herd seems to surge as you run off into the dense woods, rapidly growing in size and volume. The groans and scrabbling still make your skin crawl, even all these years later.

When you finally reach the clearing, Judith is standing there, casually leaning against a tree and you laugh. She gives you a stern look back and it feels like you’re talking to someone much wiser than their years on Earth, someone who knows more than you could ever possibly hope to. She’s calm and collected, even as she holds a warm pistol in her hand. 

Magna jokes about child soldiers, about artillery training. It stops being a joke when she whispers to you, “What kind of people would let a child go out on her own with those kinda weapons?” 

That’s when you notice the number of weapons Judith holds. There’s the obvious gun, another smaller one hidden on her belt. The sword, sheathed, hanging carelessly over her shoulder. The knives tucked in her jacket pockets. The brass knuckles that seem too big for her hands, poking out of her jeans. 

It’s odd. But before you can protest, the rest of the group is following little Judith Grimes to her people. 

There’s an argument. And then another one. And then a third. 

Judith’s people don’t want you, just like you and Magna don’t really want them. The rest of the group seems to disagree, Connie throwing you harsh looks as Yumiko angrily mutters rationalizations to Magna. Luke’s been attempting small talk with a few of the others, but there isn’t much to be said. 

You’ve been thrown out of camps, been raided, left places. Done it all pretty much, and you can agree with Kelly and Magna when they emphasize, “We don’t know these people.”

“But they’re trading! There’s communities,” Yumiko stresses.

“We know what happens to places like that,” you mumble and one of Judith’s people gives you a look-over warily. 

The sun starts to melt into orange light, and Judith promptly stands up on the wagon they’ve been using and declares, “If they don’t come back, I won’t either.”

Luke smiles at her. 

Her group groans simultaneously and someone mutters, “Michonne won’t like this.”

You peek at Kelly, who gives you a shrug and Connie who signs, Good.

Magna is scowling, but you don’t really expect much from her. She’s trouble personified and with Yumiko so attached, hard to control. Anything you say earns you lectures from Yumiko, rants about privilege and the new world and using old biases. You hold your tongue a lot around the two of them, especially when it concerns Magna’s quick temper, or her ability to start problems with a facial expression, or the way she cannot help herself when she sees people’s things sitting around unguarded. 

“Okay,” you say.

They make you give up your weapons almost immediately. There’s a protest from Magna, as expected, but then Yumiko’s reaching over and grabbing the knives from her sheath and everyone shuts up for a while. 

You watch them pocket Connie and Kelly’s slingshots with a chuckle and anger starts to burn quietly in your chest. 

The wagon isn’t too big, and even though half the group goes to ride in the car, it’s stuffy sitting in the back. There’s tension radiating off of Judith, off of the others now that you’re actually on the way to their compound. Luke’s rambling about some instrument he saved a couple years back and you’re politely pretending to listen while taking in your surroundings. 

There’s a path they seem to be following, avoiding the easy highways that your group has been traveling on the past few weeks. You wonder why they’re roaming around in the woods instead of on the clear streets, but then there’s a bump in the road, everyone jostles out of their seats and the thoughts fly out of your mind as you try to keep yourself steady. 

Judith’s smiling when you all settle back down, her eyes mischievous as she says, “We’re close to home.”

“What’s home called?” Luke asks. 

“Alexandria,” she proudly announces, voice strong and head held up high.

The gates loom in the distance as soon as you get closer. It’s nightfall now, the sky too dark for you to be comfortable. Even in the wagon, you feel exposed and the lack of weapons makes you uneasy. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the apocalypse where you haven’t had a weapon of some sort on you. Hell, there hasn’t been a day since you were fourteen that you haven’t carried defensive items. At that time, it’d be pepper sprays or sharp keys, and then eventually an assortment of smaller accessible weapons, knives, brass knuckles. 

You hadn’t held a gun before the infection took over, but you’d held plenty of crossbows and other hunting instruments, so the learning curve hadn’t been complex. A true Southern girl down to the bones, good with weapons, excellent at tracking, and a survivalist’s wet dream in the horrible Georgian woods. 

Finding the right group had been easier for you than most. You’d stumbled upon Connie and Kelly during the main evacuation and quickly decided to stick with them. They’d been living in an apartment building right outside of Atlanta, and while the entire Georgian population started to rush into the city center, you three packed Connie’s Jeep and started driving into the outskirts. 

Quickly, the decision to leave Atlanta had proven itself. Within days, the city had become a massive hotspot for zombie activity, with the dead surrounding all major buildings. The streets were filled with screams and gunfire, sound radiating all the way to the countryside. 

You’d picked up Luke along the way, who’d been walking down the side of the highway grappling with heavy bags filled to the brim with instruments. He was a breath of fresh air in the immediate chaos, bringing positivity to your little crew. He’d also helped discover the shack you had holed up in for the first month, hidden partially by a thicket of bushes. It was a storage shack, evident by the various kitchen appliances stacked on top of one another and random boxes.

Your skills had proven useful instantly, with foraging and setting up various weapons that you’d tossed into Connie’s car. A week or two in, you’d been able to start canvassing the area, discovering other people camping out in different locations.  

At first, your instinct was to approach the others. People had set up tents, lit up fires, and would spend hours chuckling and conversing with each other. But the longer you spent observing them, you noticed a couple of red flags. They were almost always hostile to outsiders, edgy about their own supplies, tempers rising quick. People weren’t necessarily nice out here. 

Stumbling upon Yumiko had been a complete accident. You’d been observing one of the other groups, carefully leaning high up in a tree. As soon as the sun started to set, you’d jumped off and started the walk back to your own camp. A few feet in, you’d heard a whimper and quickly moved to see a woman lying on the ground, cut on her head, bleeding profusely. 

After a quick inner debate, you’d lifted the woman and then dragged her alongside you back to the storage shack. Kelly had called you, “Fucking crazy!” and Connie had thrown over worried looks before scribbling on her notepad Bit? 

You’d shaken your head no, and then locked eyes with Luke, who clearly knew you hadn’t checked the woman at all. He looked stunned at the blood, but then Connie had plopped the first aid kit onto a table and handed you a rag to wipe off the excess blood. 

Quickly, the three of you had gotten to work, with Kelly applying pressure and Connie focusing on the cut itself. Once the woman had been cleaned up, and bandaged to the best of Connie’s abilities, you did a scan, shifting aside her shirt to make sure she wasn’t bit. 

After ten minutes of laying her down on the makeshift beds you’d created out of rugs, she came to, eyes fluttering all around. 

“Magna?” she had asked in a distinct accent, voice croaky and dry. 

You passed her a water bottle, one of the few left from the original supplies, and quickly gave her an introduction, “I’m Y/N. I found you by the trees with a really bad cut. We fixed you up and brought you someplace safe.” 

“Did you bring Magna?” she had asked, slowly sitting herself up. 

“You were alone,” you murmured, walking over to balance her. 

“That’s impossible,” she scoffed and then put the water bottle down before attempting to stand up completely. 

“You can’t go anywhere. It’s already dark,” Kelly stated as you said, “You can find this Magna tomorrow. You need rest.” 

It had taken some more back and forth to convince her, but begrudgingly she had agreed to spend the night. That’s how you’d become fast friends with Yumiko. 

Magna had come along a couple of days later, found hiding out in some creek area by Luke when he went to the water source you all used to shower. She was brash and loud, almost angrily so, as if you’d done something to personally offend her. She was also one of the best fighters you’d seen, easily taking down some of the roamers without missing a step. 

Yumiko had come up to you that night and stated, “She’s coming with us. It’s not up for discussion,” and that had been that. 

There’s a council already seated at the head of the room as you slowly walk in. People are milling around, with awkward smiles holding cups of warm chocolate while awaiting the meeting to begin. Someone offered you one as you walked in, but the uneasiness in your stomach was already twisting and threatening to come out without any drinks involved. 

In less than a day, a council was prepared to decide on whether or not you and your friends would be allowed to stay here. 

You hadn’t cared initially, been through too many camps to feel secure in one and been around too many people to feel comfortable around others that weren’t your family. But Alexandria was different. 

They had crops, and a watering system attached to a fully functional windmill. A doctor with a stocked medicine cabinet. Communication with other communities for trade and information exchange. Even a small jail cell, serving a purpose in this upside down world. 

It was incredible, almost a replica of a town in the olden days, before electricity and telephones, a place lifted directly from history books. 

In the night, the group had come together and discussed options. The consensus had been clear, five out of six had voted to stay in Alexandria. 

And so the mission had changed. Instead of asking for your weapons back and petitioning to leave, you were going to fight to stay. 

This was an issue of itself. Alexandria seemed extremely wary of outsiders, to the point where you’d been thrown outlandish looks from the residents and heard multiple hushed conversations about “the new people.” 

The leader, Michonne, had been angry at your arrival. She’d scolded Judith, yelled at the people who’d gone on the trip, and then proceeded to instruct you all to leave in the morning. Somehow, she’d been reminded of the ominous Alexandrian council, of voting rights, and you’d almost giggled hearing that. God, you hadn’t heard the word vote for almost ten years. 

The rest of your group fills in, shuffling behind you. The atmosphere's palpable, tense where you all stand, council poise and alert, while the rest of the Alexandrians calmly chat in the background, as if this was just another normal day.

“Everyone take your seats,” a man pronounces. 

The council has eight seats, seven of which are full. There's an empty space right near the middle, and you focus all your attention on it, trying to stay neutral as people shuffle around papers. 

“Where’s Michonne?” you hear Aaron ask. 

Before anyone can respond, the door behind you opens and closes with a slam. You choose not to look over, keeping yourself steady and calm. If your anxieties start flaring up, this could be a disaster. 

“I’m filling in for her. Gave me permission. She’s going out,” a low voice grumbles out. 

His body comes into view, dressed in all black, closely resembling a combat outfit. He pulls the chair out and then sits himself down.  

Your focus shifts to his face, calmly inspecting the new addition to the group. His hair is long and dark, covering up almost all of his features. He’s unidentifiable, beard poking out, colored with a mix of soft gray and black. 

“Alright, this council will now be hearing out,” the pastor starts and you tune him out. Yumiko’s dealing with this entire ordeal, the only one with professional law knowledge. If there was anyone to impress, or anything right to say, she would know it. 

As you keep your eyes set on the stranger in front of you, his hand rises, sweeping his hair back from his face, giving you a clear view. 

Your breath catches in your throat. There’s no way the man in front of you is who you think he is. It seems more than impossible, but there are those striking blue eyes, that birthmark right by his lip. 

Daryl Dixon is sitting less than three feet away from you and it feels like you’ve just been tossed into tidal waves. 

The story starts like this. You’re sitting in first grade with band-aids on your knees, eating orange slices. There’s a boy standing in the front of the class with chocolate smeared on his mouth and a grin, missing his two front teeth. He’s new, joining your class in the middle of the school year and you immediately start chanting his name with the rest of your class as a welcome, twenty six-year-olds raising their fists in the air, screaming, “Daryl! Daryl!”

A couple of weeks later, he trips and falls hard during recess. There’s tears in his eyes and his hands are scraped completely. You watch from the other side of the playground in silence as the other kids laugh. The next morning, you beg your mom to pack another brownie to give to, “the broken boy,” and she laughs. He smiles shyly when you plop it on his desk. 

In fourth grade, he brings a postcard to Show and Tell. There’s a big cartoon peach on it and scribbled writing on the back. He passes it around proudly explaining how his older brother traveled all across America in the summer. When the postcard comes to you, you see the words “little shit” in messy handwriting, and GEORGIA written in big block letters. During reading hour, one of the boys loudly whispers, “We live in Georgia. Your brother didn’t go anywhere stupid,” and Daryl pushes him so violently, his chair topples over. 

You don’t really talk to Daryl until eighth grade. Over the years, he’s gotten much quieter, reserved where he used to be outgoing, restrained where he used to be emotional. He blends into the background, and you kinda forget about the boy who used to start fights and scream when you were younger.

It’s an accidental friendship, starting after a group project that involves too many markers, awkward conversations between kids who’ve never talked to each other, and a presentation where it’s painfully obvious that everyone is a little too nervous.  

It turns out he likes the same bands as you, writes you notes during class with song lyrics and stories, starts knocking into your shoulders during lunch before giving you a quick smile as he heads off to the back of the cafeteria. 

He doesn’t have many friends, but then neither do you, and it’s easy to talk to him as you walk home together after school. You have no idea where he lives for a couple of years, just know that it’s somewhere in the same direction as your place, and so every day after last period, you wait by the fountain on the first floor for him, a routine. 

In high school, he shows up with bruises. It’s not uncommon, almost every guy gets into fights after classes, big crowds gathering by the parks, but he always walks you home right after school, and you know he isn’t fighting with the other kids. You ask him once, and he throws you the harshest look you’ve ever seen and tells you to, “Shut up.” It never gets brought up again. 

A week into sophomore year, he comes to school with a cast on his right arm. He can’t take notes, or even hold his backpack properly. His fingers look weird, and he winces when you touch the cast, but still laughs when you sign it with a stupid message in red Sharpie. He passes his unit tests with extremely high grades after using your notes, and then offers to buy you a milkshake one afternoon for all your help. You let him steal your cherry as you both sit on sticky leather booths in the local diner, discussing the latest music on the radios.

Junior year, you start dating around. It’s not fun at all, there are all these rules it seems like you have to follow. The boy doesn’t want you to hang out with Daryl, he likes it when you wear red lip gloss, wants you to dress in certain outfits. It ends pretty quickly after a date where he takes you to the movies and then tries to reach up your shirt in the dark with his sticky hands. You throw your soda on him before leaving the theater, and then spend the rest of the weekend crying in your room. Daryl shows up at your doorstep on Monday morning holding a cup of shitty coffee and lets you rant the entire walk to school. 

He’s your best friend until you go off to college and he ends up staying in that shitty town. You try to keep in touch for the first couple of months but it’s hard and then you’re busy with classes and trying to figure out a career and he’s calling you telling you about how he needs to bail his brother out and it all just feels like you’re living in two completely different worlds. One summer you come home and he has a splint on his left pointer finger, stitches on his cheek, and grease oil under his nails. He tells you that he hates living and you so badly wish you could take him away, hide him with you in your dormitory, and show him everything you’ve learned.

The next summer, you travel to California and don’t think about him once. Time and distance scrape away years of friendship. You can't remember ever having a fight with him, or a big blowout to end it all, instead the phone calls become shorter, the letters become far and few and one day, he seems to just fade into the background.

The council asks for your names and Kelly elbows you hard in the arm, breaking you out from the trip down memory lane. You look at the pastor, murmur out your full name, and then immediately feel the heat of his eyes on you. You don’t look over, unsure of what to even say or do. You’re on trial somewhere he belongs, waiting on the mercy of his people, standing in front of him after the world’s become living hell and you’ve lost everyone. Finding him feels bittersweet.

The pastor asks a few more questions, but there’s a pit growing in your stomach and the feeling is overwhelming. You nod along with the others, pretending you’re still paying attention. It’s hard to even decipher the words when it feels like your brain is being scrambled, when your heart is aching and thudding against your chest. 

There seems to be a problem and the only way you notice is Yumiko’s fiery eyes turning towards you, slightly damp with threatening tears. 

They need a break. She signs over, and it’s clear she has more to discuss with the quickness of her hands. 

You follow her out of the building, feeling those damned eyes trail you all the way to the door. 

“We need to gain their trust,” Luke starts, leaning against the side of the wooden building. His voice is calm, and so is his demeanor, but you watch his fingers shake slightly. 

“That’s impossible! They clearly have an issue with outsiders. It’s not our fault or our business. Let them kick us out,” Magna raves, pacing back and forth. Her eyes are a little too wild, lips bitten raw. 

How do we get them to trust us? Connie signs with a worried look, furrowed brows. 

“We have to answer their questions. Properly,” Yumiko grits out, throwing a glance your way. 

“I’m sorry, listen I’m just not feeling the best honestly. This is way more than we bargained for,” you murmur, just as you feel a hand clasp your shoulder from the back. 

Time seems to stop. The others are suddenly clearing their throats, straightening out and eyeing the stranger with awful suspicion. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. 

Daryl Dixon’s hand is on your shoulder and suddenly, you’re in high school again, walking home after a long day. 

“Hey,” you almost whisper, turning around to face the boy who’s so clearly grown into a man. 

“Ten years and all I get is a hey,” he scoffs out, and even with the scraggly beard and the shadow of his hair reaching his shoulders, that mirth in his eyes burns as bright as it did in the past. 

“Hi,” you offer, laughing just a little. Everything feels incredulous, like a fever dream coming to life. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, and this time the joy disappears, a darkness taking over that’s new and unexpected. His eyes scan over your friends before returning to yours.

You shrug after a minute of silence. There isn’t a real answer to give him and your brain can’t come up with anything witty in lieu of a response. 

There’s an awkward cough from Luke right before Yumiko gestures at Daryl and says, “You know him?” 

“I used to,” you murmur, and you see him nod in agreement. You know who he used to be, but this new Daryl with his scars, his stories, he’s someone else now. The apocalypse changes a person in more ways than one. 

“Can you help us?” Yumiko asks, voice clear. She’s not one to beat around the bush, but even you’re a little surprised at her blunt words.

“I’m not really on the council,” Daryl mutters, hand going up to rub at his head. 

“Can I talk to you somewhere in private?” you ask, interrupting Yumiko from saying something else. 

There isn’t much you can do, but Daryl knows more than he’s letting on, you can tell just by the way his voice wavers a little, the way he avoids your eyes. It’s clear he doesn’t trust the others, might not even really trust you, but even if it’s a shot in the dark, you have to take it for their sake, for a future. 

He nods, “I can take you to my place.” 

You fall into step with him, walking into the middle of a deserted road towards a line of suburban houses. It isn’t like before, he has a different type of walk, stealthy and intentional, not like those afternoons when he’d bump hands  with you, trip over his own feet with a backpack slung over his shoulders. 

He’s a stranger to you in the most unusual way. You can still tell when he’s lying, still understand the different emotions he expresses through those eyes, can even recognize when he’s uncomfortable just by the set of his shoulders. But now his voice sounds hoarse, his clothes fit differently. He doesn’t speak as much. 

He reaches a driveway and then glances back over just to watch you follow along. There’s a car parked on the asphalt, and the garage shutter’s slightly cracked open. Bending down, he grabs the shutter and pulls it up. 

There are tons of cardboard boxes inside, scribbled on hastily with Sharpie. The space seems infinitely smaller with the lack of space, and you step in, unsure of where to stand. 

He steps in, and then turns around and pulls the shutter back down, blanketing the space in complete darkness. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles and then there’s the sound of footsteps, a crashing, and finally the tinkling of a chain. 

The light flickers on, a single lightbulb hanging from the garage ceiling. There’s a few boxes tumbled over, items scattered over the floor. 

“You good?” you whisper, voice feeling unused and nervous.

“Mhm,” he grunts, furthering your unease. He doesn’t seem keen to start a conversation or even keep talking, and you’re supposed to be here securing a future home for your friends, your family. How are you going to convince a person who doesn’t care to be convinced? 

“How long have you been with these people?” you ask. If there’s a place to start, it might as well be the beginning. 

“Long before we found this place,” he says while crouching to sweep up the miscellaneous items into their boxes. You watch as he picks up baby bottles and blocks, simple things you haven’t seen in months. 

Before you ask another question, he murmurs out, “Look I don’t know what I can do. Michonne doesn't want you guys to stay. Told me I couldn’t trust the rest of the council to kick y'all out, told me I’d have to push for it.” 

“Do you trust me?” you breathe out, question falling from your mouth before you can stop it. 

“I did,” he says, looking up from the floor, eyes meeting yours as he finishes his sentence, “I don’t know if I do now.” 

“Okay,” you settle down onto the floor across from him. He’s back to picking up items, avoiding you as if that’ll somehow make you disappear. 

“Daryl,” you start and he freezes, “We’re good people. We didn’t come here to start fights, we didn’t even mean to come here. Judith saved us, and if this entire vote is going to lead to us getting kicked out back on that empty road, tell me now. I’d rather break their hearts than give them hope.” 

“Where were you?” he whispers, interrupting your proclamation, voice so small it’s hard to understand what he’s saying. His shoulders are hunched in, and his head’s facing the floor. 

You don’t need clarification on his question, “Atlanta. Connie and Kelly saved me. We had a rough couple of weeks before we found the others and then we just figured out how to survive. Kept moving.” 

There’s pain building in your throat now, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. The past hasn’t haunted you before, but seeing Daryl in this way has unlocked all the ghosts you’ve buried. 

“Merle’s dead,” he mumbles out with a sniff. 

You let the tears take over then, sitting on cold concrete under yellow light across from the person who’d known you more than you’d known yourself. 

Merle was a piece of shit anyway, and you’d spent more nights than you could count letting Daryl rant about his shitty behaviors, his useless quips, his abuse hidden under the guise of being a “big brother.” These tears aren’t necessarily for him, but more for the years gone by, for the loneliness, the loss of the people you used to be. 

“I made it quick,” Daryl barely gets out before his breath hitches and then you’re moving your hands over to where his are shaking. 

You grab his hand, let your fingers fall in between his, and squeeze. He looks up and your heart breaks. Daryl’s older and scarred, his beard fuller but right now all you see is the kid who begged you not to leave him behind, who spent hours in the woods with you shooting crossbows, who held you tight as you sobbed through heartbreaks and disappointments. 

“You can’t leave again,” he says, squeezing your hand back after you’ve both cried out your tears a few minutes later. 

“I won’t,” you wishfully murmur, leaning your head against his. 

He wipes his face and clears his throat, “I’ll talk to Aaron. He’ll understand the best out of all them.” 

You nod. Aaron’s kind, has been since the herd had you surrounded, and although he was frustrated with Judith, he hadn’t yelled, hadn’t argued and fought. Marks of a good man. 

“You need to answer their questions honestly,” Daryl continues, dropping your hand before standing up. 

“Okay,” you softly echo. 

“And pay attention,” he mutters, dusting his jeans off as he walks toward the garage shutters. 

You let out a laugh. Of course Daryl would know you hadn’t listened to a single word that was said over the past hour. 

You walk ahead of him this time, towards the building with the council, towards the people holding fate in their hands. The crowd’s mostly dispersed with people filing in again and Magna stands by the doorway, teeth gritted. 

“Where the fuck did you go?” she bites out and you resist the urge to deck her in the face. 

“I was talking to Daryl,” you reply and out of the corner of your eye, you watch him walk back into the hall. 

“So are we good to stay?” she asks and beneath the cruelness, you can feel her nerves. 

“He said he’ll try. We just need to be honest with them and answer everything,” you say while turning to walk inside. 

“Great. So he’s fucking useless,” she huffs and you stop mid-walk. 

“We’re all doing our best Magna. Why don’t you clean up your fucking act and try for once in your life?” you spit out, tired of her dramatics and her consistent ability to piss you off. 

She doesn’t respond, instead following you inside where the rest of the group is already huddled up by the front of the room. The council’s almost fully seated, with the exception of Daryl and Aaron who seem to be  talking by one of the windows. 

“Anything?” Luke asks, perking up at the sight of you. 

You shake your head slightly, “Gotta get this council to trust us.” 

“Great,” Kelly laughs, rolling her eyes before furiously signing over a conversation with Connie. 

Yumiko gives you a soft smile, “Hey, at least you tried.” 

The council starts the session back off with a bang. Immediately, Magna is questioned about her prison tattoo and the hostility in her reaction doesn’t surprise you at all. The sudden calmness a second later does surprise you though, the way she breathes out before explaining the tattoo and her past in front of a room full of people. She’s cleaning up her act, just like you asked and you throw her a smile after she finishes.

The council’s wrath comes for Yumiko next, then Luke and then finally falls on you. The pastor takes a look at his notes on the table and then questions, “How many people have you killed?” 

It’s a weird question to start with. The rest of the group were asked about walkers first, but you push away the uncomfortable feeling and answer, “More than the rest of them. Maybe over seventy.” 

“People, not walkers,” one of the council squeaks out. 

You glance around before your eyes settle on Daryl’s guarded gaze. He nods imperceptibly and you continue with your answer, “I’ve been protecting my group from the start. We’ve run across dangers and people with bad intentions. In order to keep them safe, I would do whatever it took. I can’t give an exact answer, but if it came down to it, I would kill for my family.” 

“Would you kill us?” Aaron asks and you bring your eyes over to him. He seems content with your answer and curious. 

“To save them,” you say, and a murmur breaks through the crowd gathered in seats behind. 

The pastor holds his hands up, “Silence please.” 

You wince. 

Daryl licks his lips quickly once as if making a split-second decision and then states, “Y/N is good people. We all want to be loyal, save our families. It’s the only way we survive now. I would do anything for my family. I’d kill for them and I wouldn’t need a reason to do it either.” 

The pastor throws him a harsh look and you quickly mouth a thank you. Aaron coughs and once the attention is on him again, he explains, “Daryl’s right. I would kill for every single one of you. I have killed for you. These people are strong, but they’re alone. They don’t have our resources, our safety, our support. We can give them that. I have seen no credible threat from this group and I motion for a vote.” 

Magna scoffs under her breath and your eyes widen at her. Here’s what everybody has been fighting for and she still seems to have a problem. 

Luckily, the council doesn't seem to hear it. The pastor taps his hand once and then voting motions begin. 

You close your eyes tightly as the sounds of “Aye” and “No” fill the room, blurring together into a cacophony of noise. You don’t want to see the faces of these councilmembers as they choose whether you stay or leave. 

“The votes have been cast and with 5-4, the Ayes have it. This group will be allowed to stay in Alexandria,” the pastor exclaims, with a tone of  hesitation. 

Your heart beats against your chest, the pulse jumping throughout your body. You open your eyes to see Connie and Kelly hugging, Yumiko glancing over at Magna with joy in her eyes and Luke’s wide bright grin. 

Kelly grabs you, and quickly the small hug becomes a group one, your family surrounding you. You bury your face in Yumiko’s shoulder and let out a burst of new emotion as hands squeeze at you. 

“You did it,” Yumiko whispers into your ear, her tears dripping onto your cheek. You sigh at her affirmation, let the hug ground you back to Earth. 

As you take a deep breath, you lift up your head, connecting your own eyes to those beautiful blues. He has the faintest hint of a smile on his face, mischief written in his irises. He’s here, and he’s alive and this time, you won’t ever dare to leave him behind. It’ll take some time before you can claim him as your best friend again, but with that look in his eyes, you know that he’ll always have your back, no matter what. 

[ninacytosis]

For the time lost

Summary: Zuko wants to erase every reminder of his past mistakes, and Katara will take him on a journey to, quite literally, heal both of their scarrings.

Contains: Angst, Fluff, Katara has burns scars from Aang's first attempts to firebend, Katara tries to get over her resentment towards the FN, Zuko doesn't hate Azula.

Dear reader: I hope you enjoy it! <3 Let me know if you want me to continue posting.

Find chapter one here.

Find chapter two here.

┊┊┊┊☆┊*🌙*┊☆┊┊┊┊

Chapter Three

To Katara’s surprise, his scar looked pretty much the same as before. After greeting her, she got a look up close and searched for a different color, texture, or size. Maybe it was smoother? Her thoughts kept meditating on this new information while she followed Zuko through the palace.

Zuko stopped walking and turned to her. “You're so quiet today... Not complaining, though" he smirked.

The place was a bit different from the last time Katara visited. The walls, once filled with portraits of the former Fire Lords, were left with paintings of birds and rodents; some pieces were pale and ill-looking, and, to her surprise, others were unbelievably adorable. Every part of the palace seemed to be made with such delicacy, it made her wonder how much respect people had for the royals. The marble floor felt like floating through the hallways.

“How old is this place?” she asked Zuko.

“Maybe two hundred years old” he replied, with a doubtful tone. “But every now and then it got redecorated. My mom was really into gardening, so there were a lot of floral decorations until I was like twelve.”

“I guess you’re into hawkpards” she smiled. “I’ve seen like five paintings of them so far”.

“Oh, yeah… We got a lot of those in the back garden. Oh, I got to show you the turtleducks in the front!” He grabbed her shoulder. “They’ve grown so much since you last came”.

They both rushed to an open space in between the castle. It wasn’t a front garden technically, but Katara didn’t want to ruin the moment. He was so excited to take her there. And the turtleducks were beautifully bathed in the golden sparks of the setting sun.

“The little ones were born by the end of autumn”.

Her eyes followed the furry little guys as they approached Zuko’s feet. He seemed annoyed, yet patient, while their little peaks pinched his pants. He proceeded to sit down and surrender to the attack. Now the turtleducks looked at him expectantly, Katara guessed that they were pet recurrently by him.

“No treat today,” he said, in a high-pitched voice. “But we got visits. Greet Katara!”

She chuckled. Zuko’s silliness always got to her, she could tell he was comfortable if she paid attention and saw through all his awkwardness. The water that had golden sparkles some minutes ago, was now in a purplish tone, the sky was getting darker. Two guards walked in their direction with small lamps in their hands. She imagined they lit them up themselves. How cool that must be.

“The visitor’s room is ready, my Lord” one pointed out.

Katara guessed both the guards were about thirty. By the looks they gave to her, she guessed they still weren’t used to having waterbenders around. To even see them as allies. She tried to convince herself some progress had been made. Some years ago, it was hard to tell if the Fire Nation guards saw her as human. Now they’re just weirded out, she can’t really blame them. She’s feeling odd herself, trying to turn off her flight or fight mode. Trying to hold eye contact with them, because she doesn’t want to seem snobby. Trying to look at Zuko, to remember nothing bad will happen. Weirdness is progress. Weirdness is not cruelty.

“I’ll take her, thanks for letting me know” he replied. “You can go now”

With a small flame in his hand, he led her to one of the upper floors. It was a pretty place, but it felt so empty. All she could hear were their steps and the whispers of the guards. Probably they talked all night to avoid getting asleep.

"My Lord" she tittered.

"Oh, shut up" he sighed. "I can still hear Toph laughing about it."

They arrived at her room. Katara noticed a penguin plushie on her mattress. She turned to Zuko and scrunched her face. After seeing her funny covers and blue walls, she realized what he was trying to do.

“I thought it would feel more like home” Zuko whispered. “Is it too corny?”

“I love it” she giggled.

“Come here” he asked her. Katara walked to the window and saw the moon rising from mountains.

“Now, that’s too corny” she mocked. “Thank you, I feel like I’m royalty too”.

“Well, technically you are a royal of the Southern Water tribe” he squeezed his eyes.

She rolled her eyes. If she was a princess, her “castle” was a giant whale skeleton. But she couldn’t complain, it felt more sacred than most homes. And it showed her people’s historical resilience, something that would transcend centuries more than her desire for a fancier house. For a second, she feared she spent too much time in her mind and ignored Zuko’s presence.

“We’re such a diplomatic friendship” she whispered. Zuko laughed, still looking through the window.

“You know, back at the garden, I noticed you were a bit shaky” he admitted. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure” she nodded.

“Do you find it scary to come here?”

“Of course not” is what she would’ve answered to most people. Four springs have passed since the war, and even in the war, she wasn’t the type of person to hide from Fire Nation guards. It would be unlike her to fear a threat that it’s not even there. And as much as it didn’t make sense to her or anyone else, she felt her heart race when a guard looked at her for a little too long, she lost her breath when a firework sounded a little too loud. She was afraid.

“I… think so, Zuko” she answered. “Sorry if it sounds ungrateful, I don’t mean to show prejudice towards your people. I bet your guards are highly honorable and your friends here are nice. But it’s hard to see these walls and walk through this city without getting a bit sappy, you know?” she sat on the floor. “I think that’s why I usually don’t come here often”.

“I know what you mean. Well, that’s one of the reasons it’s so hard for me to go to the South” She leaned her head. “I’m ashamed, for my nation, my ancestors’ actions, and my own. I see all the empty houses and the little kids in your town and it makes me feel so unworthy of being a king.”

He covered his face with his hands and sat next to her, both on the cold wooden planks. Katara caressed his hair, gently, not really sure how to say what she thought of Zuko. At least, she didn’t know how to deliver it in a way that convinced him that he was a good person. A compassionate, caring, noble person. She put her head on his shoulder.

“You are not your father, Zuko” she mumbled. “And the Water Nation’s door will always be open for you. Not only on the North, by the way”.

“About that… I know all these traveling to the North might seem weird to you”.

“You’re Zuko, you’re always weird” she bumped his arm.

He disapprovingly shook his head.

“Anyways, I thought I should tell you I went there to get rid of my scar” Zuko stood up. “I’m so tired, you probably are too. I’m going to my room.”

“So you’re just gonna drop that bomb and leave?” Katara raised her eyebrow.

“We can talk tomorrow. I promise” he walked to the door. “Good night, Katara.”

[atmilliways]

Wrong On The Money (49)

part 49 of ?? | 691 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

“So let me get this straight,” Steve is saying, and Eddie snorts at the phrasing. You know, before he can remember that he’s supposed to be in the doghouse. And that he isn’t a fucking twelve year old.

There's an image in this one.

49.

It’s not fair. It’s confusing. Eddie is supposed to be in trouble here. Steve had paid him (in theory, at least) not to talk about his sexuality, and Eddie has just admitted to telling two whole people anyway.

But Steve’s conversation with Wayne has hit him square in the chest. He has butterflies in his stomach for fucks sake, because he’s never had a lot of family, never had a lot of permanency—and this feels like it could be both.

“So let me get this straight,” Steve is saying, and Eddie snorts at the phrasing.

You know, before he can remember that he’s supposed to be in the doghouse. And that he isn’t a fucking twelve year old.

It takes a second, but then Steve smirks. Eddie wants to kiss him on his handsome, mole-speckled face. “Okay, smartass, let me see if I’ve got this right. You’ve told two people, and I’ve told none.”

Here it comes. Sobering, Eddie nods and mentally braces himself. He’d talked to Jeff and Wayne because he’d needed help, needed a sounding board in order to process the mess he’d gotten himself into. . . . There had been reasons, he hadn’t done it frivolously or to anyone that would spread it around. Does that matter, though? He’d still done it. At the very least, he should have admitted that to Steve before now, once they’d called a truce. Now those two times feel a lot more like breaking Steve’s confidence than anything else, and that shit breaks people up all the time.

They’ve only been boyfriends for a goddamn day—kinda lame that that’s a personal record for him, at twenty, but all highs have to end sometime.

Suddenly Steve’s arm is around his shoulders, trying to tuck some of the hair back from his face. “So . . . it sounds like I could really use your expertise, man. Can you help me figure out how to tell Robin?”

Oh. Oh.

Eddie is so gone for this guy and this one-problem-at-a-time way he thinks. The fact that this is somehow Steve’s main takeaway kind of makes him want to cry, because what did he do to deserve this?

The answer, really, is nothing, because he doesn’t—but maybe he can. What Steve seems to want in a partnership is to be steadfastly, relentlessly there for each other. Eddie can do that. He wants to do that.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, blinking hard against another explosion of his inner butterfly population. “Of course I’ll help, Stevie. What do you need?”

-

Ten minutes later, after sending Steve to go grab the new dice from his room, Eddie taps the last item on the list with his pen and turns to him on the couch. “Okay, so these are our options. And here—” he holds up Steve’s D20, a bright sunny yellow in the center of his palm “—is our very own and far more compact Magic 8 Ball. Very useful for making difficult decisions. You pick which choice is evens and which is odds, and then you roll. Simple as that.”

Steve takes the die from his hand. “And this one’s got more sides, so that’s good, right? Better chances for picking the best one.”

Eddie’s face scrunches as he thinks that over. “I’m not sure that’s right. . . .”

“Sure it is,” Steve replies confidently. “It makes total sense.” Which, okay, Eddie is pretty sure he’s talking out his ass. But he watches Steve’s profile, noting the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek even though he sounds relaxed and smooth.

Robin loves Steve. The fact that it’s one hundred percent platonic is irrelevant; she won’t hate him for keeping this from her. Pissed off is far more likely, but it won’t last. It’ll be rooted in concern for Steve’s well-being.

What’s of more concern is how she’ll react to Eddie’s poor life choices. If she doesn’t want anything to do with him once she knows, where does that leave them? Steve keeps insisting it will all be fine, but Eddie gets the feeling that he’s trying not to think about it too hard.

The D20 drops towards the coffee table for the first roll.

-

[ID: A notebook page with two headers at the top, "Evens" and "Odds," both underlined multiple times. The next line reads "Before Dustin" (circled) and "After Dustin," with a note in parentheses below noting "(has to happen sometime or he'll have a TONE)". The next line reads "Together," "Just Steve" (circled), and a write-in for a non-existent third column that reads "Just Eddie." This third option is crossed out in a different color pen with "NO. :(" scribbled beneath it. The next line reads "At Family Video" and "Off the clock" (circled), with two bullet points beneath the former that read "Pros: has to keep it professional" and "Cons: ammo from candy display and Returns." The notebook is on a wooden surface, one end of a purple BIC lighter to the left and a bit of crumpled foil wrapper to the right. End ID]

[bellaiswriting]

The Adventures of Alex & Jake

trigger warning: this story contains depictions of violence, suicidal ideation, attempted murder, talk of murder and suicide, and may contain other such mature themes. proceed with caution.

I can’t stop staring at Jake’s pulse. It’s the spot right under his jawline, near the jugular. His freckles extend down over it, but that’s not what makes it fascinating. I’ve lasted three months, twelve days, and seventeen hours without taking a bite. It might be a record, I don’t know. I’ve never had a roommate while in this state before.

“Alex? Hey, Alex!” Jake waves his hand in front of my face.

“Mm?” I tear my gaze away to meet his, the clear blue of his eyes nearly as captivating. Shit.

“Were you even listening? I said the house is haunted!”

That catches my attention. “Um. What?”

“When I woke up this morning, my closet was open. I know I closed it before I went to bed!”

I fiddled with my hair for something to do, not entirely sure what to make of this assertion. “Maybe you opened it in your sleep or something.” I start to braid the shoulder-length strands before unbraiding them. Braiding, unbraiding. Braid, unbraid.

Jake gives me a withering look that rivals those of my sister. “I think I’d know if I did that.”

“You’d be asleep though, so . . . how would you know?”

“That also doesn’t explain the cold spots!” Jake leaps to his feet, bounding over to the doorway of the kitchen across from me. He stands with his hands on his waist. “Right here! Every time I walk through here, I get cold! Don’t you feel it too?”

I shake my head. Then again, I don’t really feel cold anymore. Or warm, for that matter. Ever since my transformation, I don’t feel shifts of temperature in the air. Only when I touch another person do I feel warmth. People ask me all the time why I wear black and long sleeves all the time, especially in the summer. But I don’t feel the heat. The sun doesn’t warm me anymore. Nothing warms me.

Except blood.

“It’s an old house. My dad got it cheap. So . . . it’s probably just drafty.” Shit, my gums ache. I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them tightly.

Jake looks at me skeptically. “Okay, what about the giggles?”

I stare back at him blankly. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“The giggles! When I take a shower, sometimes I hear giggling! It’s creepy!”

He covers the front of his pants with his hands. I hate that now I’m also thinking of him in the shower. I shake my head to banish the thoughts.

“I think you watch too many horror films.”

Jake opens his mouth to protest further when there’s a knock on the door. I feel my shoulders sag with relief. Finally. Jake’s expression brightens and he rushes to the door, flinging it open before I even have a chance to stand.

“Abigail!” He flings his arms around my sister in a hug, as she struggles to step into the house with him clinging to her.

“Hello Jakob,” she says with a faint smile, patting his blond curls lightly before detangling herself and holding the transit container of blood out to me. “How’ve you been?”

“He thinks we have a ghost,” I say as I quickly take the container and bring it with me to the kitchen. I don’t bother to listen to what Abigail tells him, quickly removing a couple blood bags from the container and storing the rest in the fridge. I know I should grab a mug or something, but I’m too thirsty. The taste of sour iron fills my mouth as my gums start to bleed, my fangs pushing out from their hidden sheaths. It’s painful, and even after a year I haven’t quite gotten used to it.

I sink them into the first blood bag, closing my eyes as the liquid rushes into my mouth. It doesn’t taste good, but it’s satisfying. It’s the only thing that makes the ache go away, and I quickly drain both bags, tossing the now empty sacks into the trash. Only now do my ears pick up what’s going on in the next room.

“Have you tried talking to the ghost? Maybe it’s friendly.”

I roll my eyes, stalking back into the living room. “Don’t encourage him, Abi,” I complain as I collapse back onto the couch, no longer enticed by either of their heartbeats.

Abigail gives me a faint grin, as Jake goes off into another rant about cold spots in the house and strange noises in the night. She used to be younger than me, but now we’re the same age. Physically, at least. In another year, she’ll be a year older. It still hasn’t quite sunk in that she’ll grow old, and I won’t. I don’t like thinking about it.

She’s been my best friend our whole lives. She was the only person I called after I got attacked and woke up alone and covered in my own blood in my dorm room bathtub. She was the only person I told when the cravings started—when the changes started. She took a volunteer position at the blood drive specifically to steal blood for me, which I didn’t even ask her to do.

She convinced me to keep Jake when he came to me, insisting that I could use a friend who was like me. Who was different.

I have no idea if there are other beings like us in the world. Obviously, there’s the bastard who turned me, and the one that bit Jake, but how many others are there? People consider us a myth, a campfire story, a legend nobody thinks is real. I can barely believe we’re real, and I’m living proof. Well, un-living proof. Ha.

But ghosts? Ghosts can’t be real too, right? If ghosts are real, why didn’t I become one when I died? Before that . . . thing got to me.

“Well, if there does end up being a ghost, call me, okay? I’ll want to hear all about it,” Abi says to Jake, giving him a soft smile.

Jake beams, and I grumble under my breath, annoyed by the entire thing.

“Will you come to my soccer game this Saturday?” Jake asks hopefully as he picks up the container from the floor next to me and walks Abigail to the door.

“Only if you promise to win,” Abi says with a wink.

“I always win!” Jake exclaims, a complete lie. But it makes Abi laugh, so whatever.

He flops onto the couch next to me once she’s gone, picking up the Playstation controller he dropped earlier. As he pulls up the menu, he glances sidelong at me.

“You feeling less grumpy now?”

I grunt in response, closing my eyes. Now that I’m full, I can feel the relaxation settling deep. I always get sleepy after drinking. I guess that’s natural for a predator. The anxiety for the hunt, the sating, the rest, the thirst. It’s an endless cycle.

“You’re coming to my game, right?”

“I always do, don’t I?”

“Yeah, but not because you want to.”

I open my eyes to frown at him. “Why else would I go?” I don’t enjoy sports. I never have. I don’t see the point in flinging your body around for the entertainment of others. Plus it looks exhausting.

Jake shrugs one shoulder, no longer looking at me. “It just seems like you hate it. You always just stand off to the side and don’t talk to anybody.”

“I don’t like talking to people.”

“I know but . . . these people are my friends. Can you at least try?”

“What’s the point? It’s not like any of them can really get to know me.” I’ll only be putting them in danger. Or they’ll freak out as soon as they find out what I am. I thought Jake had the same misgivings, but apparently not. “You’re not worried about one of them getting close and getting hurt?”

Jake doesn’t answer for a moment. “It’s better than being alone all the time,” he says, smashing the buttons on his controller.

“I’m not alone. I have you.” I say the words before I can catch myself, but the small grin that curls Jake’s lips makes it worth it. A warm feeling fills my chest, from the inside out.

I didn’t know it could do that.

[siempre-bucky]

take the day

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: After his training flight gets canceled, Cyclone gives Jake the rest of the day off, allowing him to play hooky with his son. Or Jake Seresin has bad parents and will do anything for his kid's happiness.

wc: 2k

A/n: I saw this tiktok once and it was of a boy asking his mom if she was having a good day with him and ahhhhh I knew I needed to write a dad!Jake fic.

Jake had been waiting for this day all month, a beautiful shiny new plane was ready to be tested. He set many reminders on his phone, the test’s title written in red ink on every calendar.  It was a mistake on Cyclone’s part for the boost Hangman’s ego had when he got the phone call. He smiled at the sun peeking in through the blinds, this was going to be his best ride all year. The blond gathered the thick manual off his desk and started to make his way to the door, only to be stopped by his superior. “The test’s been canceled for today,” Cyclone told him evenly. 

It felt like a punch to the gut; hopes and dreams were crushed in a little temporary office. Jake’s face only slightly fell, his nose twitched and his lips dipped into the smallest of frowns. “Understood, sir,” he responded formally. 

“Take the rest of the day. You deserve it, Hangman.” 

The door shut with a soft click of the lock and Jake slumped back in his chair in unison. Taking the rest of the day off seemed like such a foreign concept, did Cyclone of all people smile as he said it? He furrowed his eyebrows and let his eyes fall to the framed pictures on the old oak desk. He could call up Javy, grab a drink after the other man finished—his eyes continued to scan—he could find you and haul you into the supply closet like all the times before. He passed the wedding photo and let a smile grow on his lips as he looked at the photo of his son on his best friend's shoulders. 

“You’re sulking,” you giggled as you opened the door, closing the blinds before making your way to him. “It’s a good look.” 

Jake rolled his eyes and shifted in his seat, his arms finding their way to the sides of your waist, pulling you into his lap. You touched the medals on his khakis and smiled fondly at his wings. "He wants me to go home," he said, still astonished. 

An amused snort came from you, your lips tugging upward into a smile "Whatever will you do?" You sighed dramatically, emphasizing your teasing with a playful roll of your eyes. 

Jake smirked and flashed his eyes towards the door before kissing the side of your neck. "We could find a closet," he hummed, "just like old times." 

"No way! Not with Cyclone and Warlock running around."

Fine, he thought, pressing his back against the chair. "Well, I was thinking…" Jake suddenly paused, hesitation creeping up the back of his neck. 

Sick? The boy's not sick, he can stay at school. Jake was twelve and had appendicitis. 

Back in my day, we powered through. Are you cryin'? Pathetic, Jacob. Get out of my damn truck and get to class. Jake was fifteen and just lost his beloved grandmother. 

"...nevermind, darlin', I'll just go home. Sleep a bit." 

You carefully stroked his well put together hair, being mindful of the gel that kept it together. "Jake," you scolded, "talk."

He swallowed the lump of displeasure and forced his green eyes to look at your reassuring face. "I was thinking about takin' Luke out of school early. Do some errands, spend some time together before you get off." 

There was a small pause that Jake took note of immediately. He watched your face for every slim movement, any indication that it was a terrible idea. Then you smiled. 

"Oh, Jake," you chuckled, "he'd love that, baby." 

Jake's nerves subsided and the unknowing tight grip he had on your waist softened. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah."

—

Luke's eyelids drooped, green eyes barely focused on the board in front of the class. His science teacher droned on—he wouldn't be able to tell you anything he learned from that class. His head started to slowly slip off the hand that was holding him up. 

"Luke Seresin.” The door opened, and a frail older woman scanned the seventh-grade science class. The boy in question looked up, shyly raising his hand. The woman sighed, “Pack your things,” she instructed, “you’re leaving early.”

 Suddenly, he was much more awake. He slid off his chair and grabbed his books, ignoring the various faces of his classmates. Placing his backpack around his shoulders he hurried over to his teacher to get his homework before following the woman. 

The gears of his mind started to turn. He rarely got to leave early, most of the time it was you coming to pick him up for a doctor's appointment. Luke grimaced at the thought of the upcoming dentist appointment. Was that today? He hoped it was his Uncle Javy. Luke loved when his uncle came to pick him up and play hooky when he was on leave. 

Luke took a deep breath as he walked up to the large wood doors separating him from the front office. His jaw was slightly clenched, praying that it wasn’t the dreaded cleaning. The door clicked as the middle schooler pressed the bar, opening it. 

His eyes looked upward to the figure standing at the front desk, politely making small talk with the receptionists. His eyes widened as the frame and accented voice clicked in his mind, “Dad!” Luke gasped. The familiar tall muscular frame with tanned skin and a sweet smile turned to him. 

Jake chuckled at his excitement and outstretched his arms for him, playfully grunting as his son ran into his stomach. “Hey,” he laughed, cradling the back of his head. 

"What are you doing here?" 

Jake let his happy face falter, "Your ma said you have a dentist appointment," he lied. 

Luke's face fell instantly, the sound of a drill echoing in the back of his mind and making his teeth hurt. He grumbled and threw his head back but allowed Jake to usher him outside the school. "Do I have to go?" He whined. 

"There's no appointment, son. Don't need those ladies giving me funny looks," Jake explained, checking behind him to make sure no one could still hear him. 

"Then wh-"

"Thought we could go to the hardware store and then the auto part store," Jake hummed, tilting his head side to side. 

Excitement bubbled in Luke's stomach, a bright smile spreading on his face. "Then burgers after—from the diner on the beach?" He asked with a light tilt in his tone. 

Can we get lunch on the way home, dad? 

We have lunch at home. Money doesn't grow on trees, Jacob. How dare you ask me that. Jake knew his family was loaded, there was even an expensive bottle of scotch in the backseat. 

Jake lovingly stroked his son's hair, forcing the memories away, and made sure he would forge new ones in his son. He playfully scoffed and kept moving him along towards the truck, “Well I guess we have to,” he said happily. 

— 

Jake looked through the streaks in the glass, silently judging the two men playing football in the sands technique. He shook his head and took another bite, witnessing an easy throw being missed. It wasn’t even three o’clock yet and he was exhausted from the boy with enough energy to power the city. He smiled fondly at how Luke would walk up and down every aisle of the part store and ask questions, even sharing the bits of knowledge he picked up about his dad's truck. The toothy grin and bright eyes made the exhaustion all worth it. 

Luke peered up at his dad as he ate his burger. "Dad," he started in between bites. He swallowed and spoke again, a sliver of caution in his tone, "Are you having a good day with me so far?" 

A jolt went through the aviator's heart, and then another when he caught the sight of Luke's green eyes looking at him with all the hope in the world. 

Validation. 

A part of him hated how much this day was turning out to be a bitter trip down memory lane. Jake gave up asking his dad about things when he was fourteen, the grumpy one-worded answers, tightened grip on the steering wheels and deep frowns were enough. Disappointment chipped away at Jake until he was able to build armor strong enough to deflect the demeanor. He wouldn't let that be Luke, he wouldn't let his eyes grow dim and shoulders slump like his own. 

Jake leaned forward and smiled, "I'm having the best day with you, son." 

The boy shifted happily in the red faux leather seat, his smile growing miles wider. "Cool," he laughed lightly before starting on his small pile of thin fries. 

They ate in silence until Luke saw the jukebox sitting in the corner and begged his dad for a couple of quarters. The boy gleefully ran to the large red box with a clenched fist full of coins and scanned through the old songs, his tongue poking out in concentration. A smile broke out onto his face as he finally found the song he was looking for and pressed the cream colored numbers.

"Slow ride?" Jake whispered to himself, looking around at the speakers attached to the wall. 

"I know you liked this song," Luke reminded him cheerfully as he returned to the booth. 

"Your mom hates it," Jake chuckled in return. 

"But why? You play it all the time." 

"I had our DJ switch our first dance song halfway through at our wedding," he reminisced, "she never fails to remind me." 

Luke loved hearing stories about you and Jake before you had him. They weren't the rehearsed stories his pops and grandma told to keep their image in pristine condition. Jake told him everything that was age-appropriate, you two were mostly an open book with him. 

"Kinda like how she tells everyone she's the better pilot." 

Jake's eyes narrowed and his lips became pressed in a tight line. "Now that's what we call a lie, son. No one is better than your old man." 

Luke smiled and gulped down the last of his meal, "I believe you—just don't tell mom." 

"Scouts honor," Jake mock saluted and laughed. "Why don't we head down the beach?" 

Luke gasped and hurried out of the booth, "Can I play in the water? I have my gym clothes in my backpack!" 

The blond nodded, and followed him out of the booth calmly, throwing a few bills on the table. Luke grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door, even refusing to let go as they walked to the truck. 

—

The sun had just begun to go down when Luke finally emerged from the water and Jake put on his sunglasses to block the sun’s glare. “You still not tired?” Jake questioned as he balled up a towel and threw it at the kid's face. Luke yelped and ripped it off and began to wipe the water off his face. 

He dropped to his knees and continued his work on the sand castle he abandoned. “Nope!” he laughed, reaching for his plastic bucket. Jake slumped further in his beach chair, allowing his eyes to slowly close, listening to Luke’s commentary and the smell of the ocean lull him to sleep. 

Jake figured only five minutes had passed when the roar of planes woke him up. It was nice while it lasted, maybe Cyclone was right… he needed to take the day. He opened his left eye and watched Luke look up to the sky, looking up at the Navy planes in the air. When he was younger he’d wave at them, asking if the pilot was you or his dad, but now as he grows older he just stops and looks up at them fondly. 

“Do you think mom’s having a good day?” He asked, his gaze focused on the plane zooming above the clouds 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself!” A new voice entered the space that made both the Seresin men perk up. Luke was the first one to jump up from off the ground, racing right into your embrace. “You have salt all over you,” you giggled, bending over to kiss his forehead. 

“Dad let me play in the water! Oh, oh and we got food at the diner,” Luke started to ramble until he saw the other person step onto the sand. “Uncle Javy!” You were finally able to breathe as your son let go and ran up to his favorite person. 

Jake walked over and wrapped you up in his arms, letting you nuzzle into his strong chest. “Good day?” you asked, humming in contentment. 

You felt Jake put his chin on the top of your head, nodding. “The best,” he answered, watching Javy hoist his son over his shoulders and walk him to the water and throw him into the wave. “Remind me to thank Cyclone.” 

“Look how happy he is,” you sighed happily, Luke’s infectious laugh making its way to your ears. Jake held you a little tighter. “You make him happy.”

Jake wanted to scoff and tell you that you didn’t have to lie, that he was a subpar father, and that Luke would run as soon as he turned eighteen as he did. He didn’t remember smiling like that, having a family love a kid as much as they all did the boy with matching green eyes being thrown into the ocean. “Yeah, I guess I do.”