#and then finish sorting holiday stuff

[navybluetriangles]

.

[gatheryepens]

So I’ve kind of been MIA…….so I thought I’d give some updates on my life

[todayisafridaynight]

ITS NOT BLUE. im mixing red and pink dye.!!!! im so excited :) you'd never guess what my favourite colour is.... and maybe you could draw arakawa and kirby together like u did with joongi and kirby :3? i don't know! i don't think that suggestion actually helps. or more streamer ichi. i don't know!

Red was my second guess :) sounds like a fun combo regardless !

A cute idea to be sure, but the thought of opening a canvas is just kinda tirin rn 😷 i should have something ready to go next saturday at least :) hopefully :)

[marlynnofmany]

In the interest of not derailing this already-long-and-awesome thread, here are some more details! (Paging @sparrows-corner and any other interested parties.)

So in my first semester of college, I took an Intro to Psychology class. I didn't expect anything special; it was just one of those general education courses that everybody was supposed to take at some point. But it turned out amazing.

What the general public didn't know at that point was someone in the college administration had screwed up and forgotten to assign a teacher to this class. Until a week before class. When several students emailed to ask why that detail was missing in the online listing.

The administration panicked, scrambled for someone-anyone-omg-who-can-drop-everything-and-teach-this-class. They called recently-graduated owners of Masters Degrees in teaching.

They found Sandy.

She was qualified and available, and much older than the average recent grad, with the confidence to go with it. This was still a daunting task, though, and she agreed on one condition: that she team-teach the class with a friend of hers who was still working on finishing his degree.

Having no other choice and seeing no real problem with this, the administration agreed. And thus was born the most glorious educational comedy act in my entire academic career. The two of them were a delight. They knew all the stuff they needed to teach, and they knew a great deal more, and they delivered lectures in a way that had everyone paying eager attention. It was great.

This friend, by the way, was awesome in his own right. While Sandy was a curly-haired white lady around middle age, Wayne was a black guy who (1) dressed in impeccable suits and (2) had cerebral palsy.

I think a lot of 18-year-old minds were quietly enlightened about a few things just from watching these two banter back and forth, one with joints more wobbly than the other. Wayne told a memorable anecdote at one point about stopping by a grocery store in sweat pants instead of his usual classy wear. The cashier asked some gentle question about what he spent his time on, assuming that he had some sort of carer following him around. The expression on her face when he told her that he taught college was one I'll never forget, and I didn't even see it.

Anyways, at the end of this semester, the two teachers asked a few of us smart kids if we wanted to be TAs (teaching assistants) for the next semester. Since most of us had already become friends during the make-a-group-and-discuss-things portions of the class, this sounded like a party that would look good on our records later. And it really was.

I TA'd for that class a few times in a row, with my buddies and the two very cool teachers. We met up outside of class for holiday parties and everything.

And, since this was during the time the Lord of the Rings trilogy was first coming out in theaters, we all dressed up in costume and went to an early screening together.

Wayne drove. His handicap placard meant we got to park at the front, which was pretty awesome.

Now, I'd met people before who knew more LotR lore than I did, but they all paled in comparison to Sandy. As I said in the notes on that other post, she shared some stories of her youth with us. When she was fourteen, she ran away to join a hippie commune. She already knew fluent elvish, and she used that to help the commune's drug-runners stay out of the clutches of the cops, by translating their drug notes into a language the cops couldn't read. With a start like that, it was unsurprising that she still knew elvish now, along with all sorts of fascinating deep lore.

She had a limited edition book that looked shockingly expensive. She made beeswax candles for all the TAs as holiday gifts, with our names written on them in elvish. I still have mine somewhere.

I haven't heard from any of these lovely people in a long time, since college moves on and so does life, but I will treasure those memories forever. I hope Sandy and Wayne and the others are doing well. They deserve the best.

[roselites]

one more afternoon / jake "hangman" seresin x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah, just… paper cut.”

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

“Thanks for the diagnosis.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do!”

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

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

“Mooooom!” you wailed.

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

“She called me a buttface!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t like it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

“Nice one,” you threw back.

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

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

“Well, you look great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That cow,” Julie put in.

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

“Well, we’re not!” Mike said.

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

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

“Dude, neither did I!” Mike crowed.

“What? You never said anything!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I don't like the guy either.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” you warned.

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

“Seresin, what the hell!”

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

“Oh, didn't you?”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

Well, perfect for Amanda, if not for you.

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

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“I know it’s your favorite part.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you're bridesmaiding?”

“It’s hardly flying F-18s.”

“I think Amanda would disagree.”

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

“Out of her mind,” Jake enounced.

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

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

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

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

“That hardly seems fair!”

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

“Stop it!” you complained.

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

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

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

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

“It is not the same.”

“How come?”

“It’s just… not.”

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

“You don't have to…”

“Nope, it's done, it's retired!”

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

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

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

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

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

“There she is!” he cackled.

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

“Seriously?”

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

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

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

“What was wrong with him?”

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

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

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

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

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

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

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

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

“I beg your pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really, what's that?”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

Literally. You were handling the flowers, after all.

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

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

“All of them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And it’s just the rehearsal dinner.”

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

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

His face went still. “What, no.”

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

“It must've been subconscious.”

“Subconscious, my ass,” you shot back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just messing with you, you would say.

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

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

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

Jake followed your gaze, watching them alongside you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I am.”

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

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

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

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

He stopped.

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

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

“Hey!” you laughed.

“I’m kidding, kidding!”

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

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

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

“Having fun?”

“Absolutely. So, so much—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you always do that?”

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

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

“I’m making what weird?”

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

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

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

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

“Dork.”

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

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

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

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

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

“Look at that schmuck.”

“Jake…” you warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gee, thanks.”

“For the sake of our friendship.”

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

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

“Flying lessons?” you shot back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

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

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

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

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

“Pretending you have lint on your dress.”

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

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

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

“Oh, be quiet!”

“You’re an 8.”

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

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

“Okay, well…”

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

“You’re not funny, Seresin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

But boy were you dreading it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, it was…”

“The Super Trouper? Groom’s choice.”

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

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

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

“About last night…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We can do that,” Jake replied.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“See you on the other side?”

“You bet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you look terrible.”

“Now I know that’s a bald-faced lie.”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His very muscled arm…

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

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

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

“What, I am nice!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Both true.”

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

“Don’t I know it.”

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

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

“Oh, really?”

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

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

“Go on, then.”

“Your eyes are green.”

“Now you’re just stating facts.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not even the groom.”

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

“But everyone else…” you trailed off.

“Everyone else. Including you?”

“Especially me.”

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

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

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

There was no undoing this, but still you tried.

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

“It’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There are, like, fifty open seats.”

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

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

“No.”

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

“Why not?” you demanded.

“Why not? Because I don’t want to.”

“And is what I want—”

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

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

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

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

“How about what?”

He grinned. “Cabbage.”

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

“Because you’re adorable. Beautiful.”

“Like a leafy green?”

“Yeah, like a whole salad.”

You laughed. “That makes no sense.”

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

To be bold. To follow through.

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

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

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

“A little… A lot, actually.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

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

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

Wasn’t that what love was all about?

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

“Is that an issue?”

“Why, is it an issue for you?”

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

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

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

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

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

Babe, the luck is all mine.

Man, you loved weddings.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving: Christmas

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Menor

It's not often that Eli gets to have all three of you in the same place, not with you off travelling the world for your tennis, practically in a different country every month.

But the winter months is one that she can almost guarantee you'll be home for.

You finish your tennis season on a high, lifting the trophy at the WTA Finals before you spend a few more weeks in Poland with your training team coming up with a rough schedule of what you want to compete in next year.

But you're home now which means that Eli has all three of her daughters in the same country. Which also means mandatory days out together on the run up to Christmas.

It's easier to get you sorted than Alexia - still playing football every week - and Alba, still teaching as the schools haven't gone on holiday yet.

You're back in your childhood bedroom and seem to delight in sleeping the day away and only getting up around two in the afternoon to migrate from your bed to the sofa.

Occasionally, you roll out of bed early in the morning to take part in some sponsorship commitments.

Your tennis season has been nothing short of extraordinary this year and you've somehow become Nike Tennis' golden girl along the way with all of your tennis gear bar your racket being supplied by them.

Like how now, you and Alexia are wearing the exact same Nike shoes as you all walk through the Christmas market together.

"Mami!" You complain over the noise of the crowd," Mami, make them stop!"

Somewhere between the stall making handmade Santas and the stall with fresh paella, Alexia has gotten you into a headlock and is none too kindly ruffling your hair while Alba pinches your cheek between two fingers.

"She started it!" Alexia yells back.

"Alexia," Eli says with a sigh," You are thirty years old-"

"Yeah, Alexia!" You butt in," You're old."

"No, y/n, that's not what I meant," Eli tries to correct you but she's interrupted yet again.

"Yeah, older than you!" Alexia says," Which means you're meant to do what I say! Listen to your elders!"

"Oh? So you're elderly now? Maybe you should sit down, Ale, and rest your old back!"

You shove her off of you, stamping on her foot before taking off down the street.

"Hey! Get back here!" Alexia yells, taking off after you as she forces her way through the crowd.

Alba shakes her head in mock disapproval. "You know, Mami-"

"No, Alba," Eli says," I will not only buy you stuff tonight. Stop trying to get your sisters in trouble."

Alba shrugs. "It was worth a shot."

By the time Eli and Alba catch up, you and Alexia have forgotten whatever argument you've been having in favour of nosing around some of the stalls together.

Somehow in the time it's taken for Eli and Alba to return, you've both gotten cups of hot chocolate with caramel sauce and marshmallows along with little Christmas ornaments to hang on the tree.

"Must you two spend so much money?" Alba complains as she points at the little paper bags that Eli hadn't even noticed.

"It's not our fault that we've got a lot of it saved up."

Alba rolls her eyes. "It's exactly your fault! You don't have to keep winning so much in prize money."

You shrug. "It's not my fault I'm good at what I do."

"It's your fault you're not spending it on me," Alba says, tongue poking out of her mouth.

"If I buy you stuff, will I get sister points?"

Alba doesn't even have to think about it. "Yes."

You grin. "What do you want?"

Eli sighs. "Alba, please stop exploiting your little sister's goodwill."

"Yeah Alba," Alexia butts in, her own tongue sticking out," Don't exploit our little sister."

"You do it all the time!"

"I'm allowed to!"

"Girls," Eli says wearily," Please stop exploiting each other."

It's a weak request, one that Eli knows will be ignored but she has to at least attempt it, if only to look like a good mother in a crowd of strangers.

She easily tunes out the bickering of the three of you as she turns to the hot chocolate stall and buys herself a cup of it.

You and Alexia have good taste, she can give you that because it's delightfully creamy and Eli takes a long gulp before turning back around.

She's not surprised that the three of you have disappeared.

In all honesty, she's surprised you all stuck around for so long.

Usually, the three of you go off by yourselves the moment you step into a market. Eli's kind of been a bit antsy for you to all disappear. She does her best Christmas shopping when none of you are around.

"Alexia!" You complain," Hurry up! Alba's saving us a spot in line."

"But..." Alexia pretends to stumble, making herself seem suddenly weak and weary. "I...I don't know if I can go on! You know, with my old bones!"

"Alexia, you're so dramatic!"

She grins. "Yes."

"Come on!" You say," I want to go on the drop ride!"

"You always want to go on the drop ride!"

"Exactly," You say, pulling her more forcefully than before," Because it's tradition! Don't ruin tradition!"

Alexia laughs, finally having stopped digging her heels in to throw her arm over your shoulder.

"You know I'll never break tradition."

[l4mbh3art]

Eat the batter

In which you just opened a cute little bakery on the same street as Sevika’s Apartment building. She originally went there to check out what you sold, but when she saw you in your pink cute apron wrapped around your perfect body, she knew she’d be a regular.

Cw: Sevika & hyperfemme blk coded reader, ditzy/oblivious!reader, yearner!sevika, slowburn, eventual smut, Strangers to lovers, chubby!reader, cursing (obv), slight modern!au, barely proofread

THE PROLOGUE

May, 16th 7:30 am

You had just got the keys to your bakery yesterday, well it wasn’t one yet. You still had to put your pink sign up along with your shop hours, decorate the inside and outside, and get a menu.

Luckily for you, the last tenant left a shit ton of baking utilities behind so that saved you a bunch. You were happy with the place, wasn’t too big or small and in a perfectly populated area.

Your bakery was right on the corner of the street, the parking being in a little area between it and another store that you couldn’t remember the name of. You wanted to make a cute sign that said “sugar spell parking here!” But you’ll work on that when you had the time. Right now you had to finish grocery shopping for the bakery and pick up some paint from the store.

So far your day has been smooth, no harsh traffic and your outfit coordinated perfectly with the weather. You rung up all your items at the self-checkout, your cart looked like you were shopping for some sort of holiday. You squealed as your card went through, silently thanking your parents for giving you a bit of money to start you off for rent, the bakery, and some supplies.

Your parents always supported your dreams, even when they couldn’t afford it. So you made it your goal to make something out of yourself, for them. They paid for your culinary arts, helped with the down payment on the bakery and even helped you find a cute little house by the shop. You made sure to check in with them at least once a week, updating them on your progress and letting them know their money was going to the right place.

You pushed your cart out to your car, you popped the trunk then proceeded to place the groceries inside of it, closing it shortly after. You pushed the cart inbetween a parking spot then jumped in your car.

Next stop: hardware store. Someone had told you that this store had really good exterior and interior paint so that’s why you were here. You haven’t made any friends yet so you’re honestly going off of luck that this person is stirring you in the right direction.

You walk into the store, the smell of wood stain and fresh paint flooded your nostrils. You grabbed a small cart before going to the paint section. “Looking of anything specific?” A low voice said behind you, your head whipped around to see a staff member, a bit taller than you and had curly hair. She was wearing a band shirt with the neck hole cut out paired with baggy jeans, clipped to the jeans was a heart shaped carabiner with what you assumed was her house keys.

You smiled at her as you immediately picked up what she called you for. “Do you have any pink paint? Like baby doll pink?” You asked as you tilted your head to the side, watching her eyes drift from yours to your double Venus necklace. “Yeah follow me, nice necklace by the way.” She smirked as she showed you where the paint was.

You parked your car in the employee parking of your bakery. You grabbed all the stuff you brought as you opened the car door, then shutting it behind you. You brung all your things inside and got to work, painting the walls of your bakery a soft pink, then following it with green vines that sprouted out flowers.

You wrote your menu in the 2 blackboards above the counter and display, using pink and white chalk for the items and their prices. You used other colors to draw little doodles and flowers, making the design almost childlike. You smiled to yourself as you watched the bakery come together, the 1950 styled seating all the way to the porcelain teacups and plates pulled everything together. You called your parents to check in on them, telling them about how opening day was tomorrow and how much you got done, you could hear your mom squeal over the phone.

You giggled, excusing yourself to hang up as you needed to put up the groceries. Your parents quickly complimented your work before briefly hanging up. You smiled to yourself as you took the rest of the groceries to the kitchen, putting everything in their respective spots. You wiped down the counters and mopped the floor then closed up the kitchen.

You took the same pink paint from inside the bakery and brought it outside, along with a ladder so you could paint the exterior. You started from the roof and worked your way down, changing the songs in your playlist every so often. You let the paint dry before adding finishing touches, like the flowers that worm their way inside the bakery. You set up your shop light before calling it a day, going back inside to put your things away then locking up.

You got in your car and drove home, a nice little house with 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and a basement. It actually wasn’t that far of a drive from the bakery, you could walk there if you wanted to since it was only 15 minutes away by feet. You let out a big sigh as you opened your house door, tossing the keys on a table you had by the door. You walked to your room, throwing your body on the bed tiredly. Today was a long day but you were glad you got a lot done, especially since your grand opening is tomorrow.

You called your friend Emma from back home to tell her about your day, propping the phone up as you got undressed. “So tell me more about Home Depot girl~” she teased as you changed out of your skirt and into some leggings. “There’s nothing about her really, she was just nice and I’m pretty sure she was hitting on me.” You said smiling, digging for a shirt in your closet. “Didn’t she compliment your necklace? She was totally hitting on you.” You just rolled your eyes at her antics, finally picking up your phone and laying down on your bed.

“Whatever em, I’m not that interested anyways. I mean i have a whole bakery to manage now.” You said stern but gently and Emma just giggled. “C’mon, you know that would be a piece of cake for you. Get it?” She joked and you just chuckled as you rolled your eyes once more. “That’s enough, I’m hanging up.” You smiled. “Call me when you get ready to open tomorrow! I wanna feel like I’m there!” She said excitedly as she remembered your grand opening. “I will, love ya” “love ya more!” That’s the last you heard of her before you hung up, sighing as you put your phone on the charger. Tomorrow was gonna be a long day..

[natlovesls2]

Home For The Holidays

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: minimal swearing, no use of y/n, use of alcohol,

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.3k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: Charles refuses to let you spend another holiday alone

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆ ꙳•̩̩͙

As the season wrapped up you were left in this state of limbo, you felt useless, unsure of what to do with yourself. Sure, your work wasn’t really over, but it wasn’t like you’d be traveling almost every weekend like you'd grown accustomed to these past months. And with Christmas rapidly approaching the feeling of dread only grew. It wasn’t like you had the time to plan a trip back home to be with family, not with all the postseason content you had to plan and post. 

You held the camera up as you recorded the last video of Charles and Carlos before the break, smiling as they answered whatever questions needed to be answered. “All done,” you ended the recording, “Thank you for your cooperation this season, I know how annoying this stuff can be.”

“It's not a big deal, it's all part of our job,” Charles said with a polite smile, he had become a reliable friend during your time as the Ferrari social media manager. You had grown to truly trust one another. 

“Right, well, have a good break and happy holidays,” you waved to them as you walked away from the two of them, mumbling to yourself about work. 

“What are you doing for the holidays this year?” Charles asked as he caught up to you, slightly scaring you. 

“Jesus, you nearly gave me a fright.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he pressed on, anticipating your almost obvious answer. It had been the same for all breaks in the years you had been working with Ferrari. 

“Staying home and working, I’ve got postseason stuff to finish up,” you sigh, running a hand over your face, “I didn’t have time to plan anything else.”

“You never do.”

“That's not true, I visited my parents during the summer break this year,” you defend yourself, knowing that he was right. It was no secret that you were a bit of a workaholic who struggled to have a good work-life balance. 

“I have a proposition for you,” he said bluntly. You raised an eyebrow at him, silently urging him to continue, a little frustrated with the fact that he was holding you up. “Why don’t you spend the holidays with me?”

“Charles,” you began to protest, letting out a sigh at his proposal. 

“Before you say no, just hear me out” Charles quickly cut you off, not allowing you to deny his proposal just yet. “You're planning on spending the holidays alone to work, right,” he did wait for your answer, “Why rot your days away in your apartment? Imagine: mountains and snow.”

You opened your mouth to speak but was quickly interrupted by charles. It was as if he could recognize the look of protest on your face. “You haven't even listened to my whole proposal yet!” he exclaimed, taking a deep breath before continuing, “ please, don't say no, I just don’t want you to spend another break alone. It's not good for you. I have a chalet in the alps, we can spend the days doing whatever you want– drinking hot chocolate, exploring the area… skiing– whatever you want,” he desperately tried to get you to agree. 

‘Fuck it’ you thought to yourself as you ponder the possible outcomes, “Sure.”

Charles smiled as you accepted his proposal, shaking your shoulder with excitement, “perfect, you're going to have the best time of your life. I’ll make sure of it.” 

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

You’d been in the chalet for a few days and to say it was a bit awkward was an understatement. It was clear that Charles was attempting to make your experience pleasant but was failing to make some sort of connection, not that you were being of any help. 

The place was cozy and definitely had a holiday charm to it that kept you in an agreeable mood. There was a fireplace in the living room area that kept the temperature inside toasty despite the egregious amount of snow falling outside. A christmas tree sits in the corner, nicely decorated and lit with those warm lights that would remind anyone of their childhood. 

You'd spent the morning editing some of the videos you were supposed to upload during the break, only getting up from your spot on the living room floor to make a cup of coffee. The front door opened and you heard the noise of Charles stomping the snow off of his boots as he entered. He has been off skiing or something, you weren’t entirely sure– too wrapped up in your own work obsessed world to ask. Though you were certain he had spent the entire time trying to find something you could do together, desperately wanting to bridge the uncomfortable space between you. 

“Still working?” he asked, sitting on the couch next to your spot on the floor. You could feel his hesitance as he reached for the laptop and closed it, “You need a break, and I won’t allow you to argue. All you’ve done since we arrived has been work.”

You sighed, resting your head against the coffee table, “Alright.” 

Charles almost looked surprised at how easily you had given up, almost expecting you to put up some sort of resistance. Regardless, he seemed pleased with himself, glad to have gotten you to agree to take a small but needed break. “Good, come on, I'm going to make us some hot chocolate,” he said, nudging you so that you'd follow him to the kitchen

You get up, stretching your back and letting out a sigh as it cracks, “That actually sounds really good, I'm sorry for being such a horrible guest,” you apologize as you follow after him. 

He waved off your apology as you entered the kitchen, “You have nothing to apologize for; you’re not used to spending breaks with people, I get it.” Charles prepared two cups of hot chocolate, topping them off with marshmallows and candy canes, handing a mug to you, “Drink up,” he gestured to the mug in your hand, “It’ll warm you up.”

“You got anything strong I can put in here?”

Charles raised a brow at your question, a small smile forming on his face. “There's a bottle of rum in the cabinet somewhere,” he rummaged through the cabinet, pulling out the bottle, pouring a shot or two into both drinks. 

 You took a sip of your mug, sighing contentedly as the warm liquid passed down your throat. He smiled at you as the look of annoyance left your face, quickly being replaced by a look of peace. “This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen you.”

“Yeah, well if you pass the bottle I’ll be even more relaxed.”

A few more drinks later and you were visibly more relaxed, the conversation between you flowing comfortably unlike it had the past few days. 

“Why’d you invite me to spend the break with you?” you asked, placing your drink on the counter. 

“I invited you because I actually really like you,” he drunkenly confesses, reaching out to fix a strand of your hair that had gone askew. 

“Yeah, but we can’t really do anything about it– not smart since we work together.”

Charles places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer, resting his forehead against yours, “We can pretend we can, even if it's just during the holidays,” he whispers, placing a quick kiss to your lips. 

“Maybe,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. 

The rest of your time in the chalet was devoted to exploring the ‘relationship’ that you knew would be short lived. The days blurred together as you spent hours sharing kisses and lounging in bed together. And when the holidays came to end you were forced back into the professional relationship you had before. Occasionally, you noticed a look of reminiscence in Charles' eyes as you filmed him but knew that nothing would ever come of it– at least not until the next holiday.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙ ˚₊⋆ ꙳•̩̩͙

read more: December Shorts

*ੈ✩‧₊˚note: so sorry this took me so long to upload, December has not been my month. That being said, I hope it was at least okay, and thank you for reading

[snickerdoodlles]

one of my most formative fandom experiences was a comment i had gotten on a fic i wrote for a halloween themed fandom event.

this was for a manga/anime, so the fic was a general ghost story obviously set in Japan. the beginning of it involved a pizza delivery and while writing it, i had spent like 30 minutes just double checking tipping customs and the types of pizza they serve and even fell down a wikipedia rabbit hole looking up the history of pizza in Japan.

now, i just like the research part of writing, i do stuff like this because i have fun doing it. and while i was writing this particular fic, i had laughed at myself for my 30 minutes of googling that amounted to 2.5 offhand lines in a 3500 word fic. i didn't think anyone would care about or even notice those particular details except for me, especially since none of them were relevant to the ghost part of this ghost story.

except, when i had sent this fic to a Japanese friend, the first thing she said to me about it was "OH MY GOD YOU GOT THE PIZZA RIGHT"

and that was the moment when it had really clicked for me. what had just been 30 minutes of effort on my part had become a moment of relief for her. my friend was far more used to reading ethnocentric fic that ranged from unintentional ignorance to outright superiority against part of her culture (the original story's culture no less). and even with the "innocent" ignorance (heavy quotes on that) far outstripping any outright maliciousness, that's still so many people saying her culture was not worth learning about. the pizza in my story was a small detail, but i had cared enough to put in some effort to check it. and for her, coming from a fic experience where her norm was bracing for hundreds of inaccuracies born of ignorance, especially at that time after a flood of stories centered around "Halloween as a cultural holiday in the US" premises instead of the "Halloween is a commercial gimmick in Japan" reality, seeing someone put in some effort even for minor story details meant something to her.

this also throws me back to the discourse that arose in a french show fandom a few years ago because there were a lot of fic authors that wrote 'dollars' instead of 'euros'-- but when people brought this up as a prevalent issue across the fandom but an easy one to fic/watch out for, many of these writers instead pushed back to complain that they were posting stories for free and it wasn't that big of a deal. which really upset a lot of people, but then this upset was met with a new wave of indignation that people needed to 'get over it' because they're writing fic ~just as a hobby~. but, even if 'dollars' instead of 'euros' wasn't a big deal, by digging in their heels about the issue, they were saying "your culture isn't worth even five minutes of my time or effort."

I've been thinking about these things lately because the ethnocentrism in Thai drama fandoms is...staggering. just over the turn of the year, there were waves of Christmas fic for Buddhist characters. and just. Christmas in Thailand is a tourist thing at best. sometimes a pop culture gimmick for international audiences or maybe an offhand high school thing to blow off steam between midterms. it's not a cultural thing. and even if a character is a part of the Christian minority, a Christian Thai's holiday customs and culture are going to be vastly different than a Christian's customs in the Americas or Europe. and while the Christmas fic is at least finished for now, I'm already bracing myself for the Easter fic wave that also seems to pop up for Thai dramas. it's so frustrating to see this sort of cultural overwrite all the time, especially since most Thai drama holiday works aren't about Thai holidays.

but the thing that really got me bristling about all of this again was i saw a post the other day where op said that they weren't going to write [thai drama] fic because they don't know much about thailand.

what an absolutely appalling statement to make.

google is right there. wikipedia is free. you don't even have to leave tumblr or AO3 to learn more because there are Thai natives in fandom who write essays to explain common elements of their culture. hell, even just watching these Thai stories and considering the values and messages imparted by the narrative framework and story lens tells you something about that culture. the audacity to look at a culture different from your own and say "this is not worth my effort or time to learn anything more about," are you kidding me?!?

the messages and values of a story tell you about the writer's values, which are going to carry their cultural values, beliefs, and biases. Thai culture is going to be heavily relevant to any Thai story, even the ones that aren't explicitly about Thai culture/customs/etc. (hell, Thai bl/gl as a genre alone-- just the fact that queer Thai writers are making these stories in Thailand's current political climate is highly political, even the "fluffy" ones that don't seem to make outright political statements.) to approach any story like it was made in a vacuum is to remove the writer(s)' culture and values and to overwrite them with your own.

especially because this is fandom. these are the lowest stakes to learn! it sucks to see people say things like "but i'm scared i'll get something wrong" and hold up that fear as a shield to justify their ignorance. no one's expecting anyone to get every detail right, especially not for a culture that isn't theirs, just make an effort to learn something new about it. pick out something that caught your eye as different to learn more about and see where it leads you.

and for the record--making a mistake trying to broaden your horizons is a far, far better thing to do than to superimpose your culture on everyone else's because you're scared to confront your ignorance.

edit: check out this reblog thanks

[kei-kinda-writes]

S/O from the support course!!

TYPE: Headcannons, includes: How you meet, How you end up together, and general/extra

CHARACTERS (separate): Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Ochako Uraraka

WARNING: Mentions and references to some of the final battles and events from the series but nothing too big

SHOTO TODOROKI

How you meet:

100% you two met after the sports festival most likely getting help for redesigning his hero costume!!

Assuming it took awhile to choose the designs probably met and had lunch together several times and grew closer

Although lunches were mostly focused on his costume once in awhile would turn into small talk and getting to know one another leading to exchanging numbers

Once finished his costume out of habit started sitting with you

Definitely ended in an interrogation from Midoriya, Ochako, and Iida after he kept on going missing during lunch to sit with you

Grew closer always sitting with one another during lunch and after over text

How you end up together:

Probably went to his friends for help about his feelings 

either one of them or he let it slip one lunch and did not realize

Two ways this ends up playing out

Either one: You ask him about it and the two of you talking about it over text that night and putting a label on it (not entirely sure)

Or two: You completely ignore it and he ends confessing like wayyyy later

Either way most likely required pushing from Ochako, Iida, and Midoriya

General:

Will find the smallest errors about his costume just to visit you

If you were to have a sketchbook or journal of some sorts for coming up with designs would put little doodles on the pages ex. smiley faces, cats, maybe even to stick men and heart with ‘us’ in it

If anyone asked about his costume he would (even if not related whatsoever) proudly talk about how you helped him make it

Asked you about whether or not the five wieners kid was right

Always hanging out in the weekend and during lunch due to not sharing any classes

Share bits of each others lunches

Getting close with Midoriya, Ochako, and Iida since you all end up sitting together during lunch ^^

Also with everything that went down in terms of his family situation and other stuff in the first year it’s likely you don’t get together till your second or third year

KATSUKI BAKUGO

How you meet:

Came along with kaminari or kirishima when they were getting costume improvements and met you

You guys were sorta friends for awhile but you weren’t entirely close

Maybe you were the one to propose the idea of his support item in the Shigaraki fight (I forgot what it’s called)

Or he came to you asking about it since you were always doing Kaminari and Kirishimas stuff and you were likely the only support course student he knew and could request it from

Building off that idea it’s probably the only way you guys became friends, I’d imagine you’d end up closer much later in the school year rather then the beginning

You’d end up getting closer as you two worked together on the piece likely meeting after school most times

Potentially gave you a compliment for your work

How you end up together:

It wouldn’t be until you guys are in your second or third year because of your late start

That’s cause I think Bakugo would be someone who very much likes to take his time with relationships

The whole confession was likely a letter on a special holiday probably because he was nervous he’d mess it up and letters are easier

That likely resulted in talking it out over lunch he had set up for you two

Took you to a secluded area not too far from campus with some food he made and you guys put a label on your relationship :))

General:

checks up on you whenever your working outside of school hours and brings you food

Doesn’t yell at you as much as he does at others

NO. MATTER. WHAT. He will always get his costume repaired by you, absolutely refuses to let someone else do it <- this has ended up in several incidents

Recommends you to his friends, 100%

Probably takes you out to lunch to catch up with eachother every once in awhile

Would reluctantly listen if you ramble about costume and support item ideas

building off that he’d probably listen and give his own ideas maybe if you were working with another student would give you feedback on what to add

IZUKU MIDORIYA

How you meet:

You meet around halfway through the school year

Could only be when Hatsume was out sick and he needed repairs on his costume

Either that or Hatsume recommends him to you when she’s busy during school festival

Past then whenever he ended up needed adjustments with his costume and went to visit Hatsume he’d talk to you and check in on you

After some small talk you’d end up exchanging numbers and getting to know eachother better over text

Probably hang out once or twice and invites to join him at lunch! :D

Eventually he starts turning to you and Hatsume for costume adjustments and repairs and you guys slowly grow closer

How you end up together:

Midoriya probably has talked to Uraraka for help

However he’s probably too shy and flustered to confess in person so there’s one of two scenarios

1: he goes to ask Uraraka for help and ends up texting you instead

It ends up a complete incident but you guys talk it out and end up together

OR

2: similarly to bakugo he gives a letter of some sorts and you guys talk about it in a secluded area

You guys likely don’t end up together until your second year though if I’m thinking realistically especially with his dedication towards one for all and being a hero

General:

quirk rambling and analysis together

Study dates :D

Daily good morning texts and stuff since you don’t see eachother super often

Movie dates in each others dorms where you watch documentaries about quirks or all might

Sitting next to eachother during lunch

Maybe he joins you in the support course lab and does his homework or something while you tinker and such :))

Probably lots of time just spent quietly doing work together

Bringing eachother food when either is working for awhile is a 100%

OCHAKO URARAKA

How you meet:

Costume improvements!!!

Specifically working together on her wrist bands, likely took awhile to figure out but you guys ended up close in the end and exchanging numbers!

For the first ‘trial period’ of using them I bet they got tangled often and she’d use that as an excuse to come visit you

Probably got closer over text and it became a very nice friendship

And she would always turn to you about her costume

How you end up together:

Confesses in person, I think she’d prefer to do it face to face even if she’s all anxious and flustered

I think you wouldn’t end up together until your third year due to the events of the final battle

At your grad party she probably took you aside for a a breather and you had a talk

Boom boom and boom you both come back to the party grinning and holding hands and you’re together :))

Very quick and easy but I’m sure her confession was well though out and heartfelt

General:

Eating Mochi together :D

Matching bracelets and stuff if that’s your jam

Building on that you would make them together and everything it would be sweet

Craft and art dates

Walks around the campus together on weekends to catch up with one another

Same as Todoroki if you had a notebook she would doodle in it

Gives you notes with silly drawings since you can’t hang out often!!

Asks for ideas on support items for her costume

I think she’d be fascinated by your work and would end up watching you lots of the time after school

When she changed her hair 100% came to you and you guys figured it out together (probably ended calling in someone else to help though)

Thanks for reading!

Side note: lmk if there’s any other characters you’d like done, I had lots of fun. Additionally apologies if there’s any typos, things don’t make sense, or the characters feel as though they aren’t properly done!

[deadlynavigation]

Season’s Greetings

Warnings: swearing. reader has straight hair in this one.

Author’s note: yall when i tell you school has been kicking my ass. like i expected a challenge but this is just straight evil. anyways, so so sorry for literally no writing these past three months. i’m going to work on stuff i swear.

(Addams Family Masterlist)

(Full Masterlist)

“Cara mia, it’s barely November.”

No response.

“Amore mio?”

Still nothing.

“Y/n.”

A muffled “here!” comes from the pile of christmas decorations scattered on the floor. Wednesday slowly walks over to where the little voice emerged, taking in the garlands and ornaments that spring from half-opened, dusty boxes. He carefully sidesteps the multiple throw blankets and pillows strewn about, admiring your eye for such things whilst also trying to recall where he hid the matches and gas. Vinyls, unlike the decorations, are placed neatly on the sofa, one already removed from its case and sitting on the record player waiting to be played. Finally, Wednesday reaches the small bump in the mountain of holiday cheer.

Your head pops out. “Need anything, baby?”

Wednesday has to place a hand over his mouth to contain his smile. You do this every year, and it somehow becomes even more endearing to him. “Halloween was yesterday, cara mia.”

“...Ok?” You fail to grasp his point, blinking up at him as innocently as possible.

“We have months to do all of this, Y/n.”

“Time is ticking, baby. We gotta get a head start on this.”

He sighs, dropping onto his knees and accepting his fate. “Then you must need help, if we’re running on such a tight schedule.”

Your eyes dart from the dried flowers you’d been fiddling with to his face, which, although rare, held no signs of deception or teasing. “You’d really help? You’re not just fucking with me?”

Wednesday chuckles, reaching up to brush back a piece of your hair that had fallen loose in the chaos. “Of course, cara mia. It’s important to you, is it not?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“Then I shall help.”

Hours later, Wednesday isn’t regretting that promise in the slightest. Or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself. He’s sorted through pounds of decorations, had dozens of arguments over what to trash or keep, and gone back down to the basement at least a dozen times to grab even more boxes. It’s now past midnight, and he can clearly see your eyes drooping.

“Amore mio, perhaps it’s time to put this away for the night,” He murmurs, reaching for the ornament you hold and gently pulling it away. It’s placed right back in its box, set on top of the pile for tomorrow.

You try to conceal a yawn, reaching for the ornament. “But we’re so close, baby. Just a couple more minutes, we could finish.”

“See, normally, I would agree with you,” Wednesday smirks, memories of last night running through his head, “but you’re exhausted, cara mia. What type of partner would I be if I didn’t chase you up to bed right now?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, pushing at his arm with no real intent. He snatches the opportunity, grasping your arm and bringing it up to his lips. Kiss upon kiss is imprinted on your skin as Wednesday moves from your wrist to your shoulder and back down again. He takes his time, holding eye contact with you as he kisses every individual vein of your arm, appreciating each little indent and bump, even burying himself into the warmth of your shoulder once he draws close enough.

“M’still not tired. Your tricks don’t work on me, baby.”

He snorts, face still tucked safely into your shoulder. “Of course not, my love.”

You almost let your eyes flutter shut at his voice, but remembering all the work that must be done, you shoot awake almost instantly. “No, baby, I mean it–we gotta finish this.”

“And we will–tomorrow. Let me take care of you, Y/n. Let yourself rest.”

You stare at the back of his head for a moment, narrowing your eyes as you run through your options. One: stay here, fall asleep on the floor, wake up with a broken back. Two: let Wednesday take you to bed, where you’ll then end up sleeping for at least fourteen hours. Three: refuse through yawning fits and insist that you’re perfectly fine to handle breakable decorations at one in the morning.

Only one of those options will end up working. You’re still in denial about which one it may be.

Wednesday can practically feel the gears turning in your mind and eventually tires of it, rising from your neck and standing. “Come on, amore mio. Time for bed. I will hear no more of it.”

“Okay,” you grumble, because as much as you’d like to stand your ground, you can feel the exhaustion creeping through your body. It becomes much more apparent as you step forward, legs half-asleep and shaking from the hours spent crouching in uncomfortable positions. “Carry me?”

Wednesday looks down at you, shaking his head. “As if I would allow anything else, Y/n.” With that, he scoops you up, adjusting for a second before maneuvering around the scattered decor and into the foyer. You bury your face in his neck, all too eager to be surrounded by warmth after the sunset brought frigid temperatures into your home. Wednesday plants a short kiss on your hairline before climbing the stairs, steadily guiding you both into the master bedroom.

He stops, and you realize it’s an indication that you’ve reached the bed and have to get down. You cling to him, refusing to jump down.

“Cara mia,” Wednesday cooes, pressing another peck onto your head. “How are we supposed to get ready for bed if I’m carrying you the whole time?”

“You’ll figure it out. I have confidence in you.” Your words are barely there, fading with your sleepiness. Your grip on his clothes slackens, and that’s the final straw for your partner. He gently lowers you onto the pillows, quickly spreading a blanket over your form.

“As much as I appreciate your reliance on my strength, I cannot live up to those expectations,” Wednesday laughs, strolling into the adjoined bathroom to quickly brush his teeth and rinse his face. The splashes of water reach your ears, spurring you to blearily rise and join him over the sink.

“M’tired,” you mumble, grabbing your toothbrush. You run it over your teeth for a time most dentists would consider unacceptable, rinsing and flossing afterwards to make up for your rush. Wednesday smiles softly, handing you your cleanser after you’re done.

“You coat your face in chemicals, I’ll worry about your hair.” He leans down, laying a cold kiss on your collarbone before getting to work. The brush glides through your hair as you rinse your cleanser off, reaching for a serum as Wednesday reaches for the soft little elastics you seem to prefer for nighttime. He combs his fingers through your hair, watching in fascination as the color catches the soft copper lights of the lamps in the bedroom. Over and over again, he watches it fall from his fingers and envisions a future where he combs through your graying hair with weathered hands. Yes, he’ll sleep well tonight with that in his mind.

He’s knocked from his train of thought as you plop your moisturizer back onto the counter, finished with your routine and now just waiting on the braids you were promised. Wednesday smiles sheepishly, kissing the back of your head as an apology before getting started. He manipulates the strands with expert fingers, years of practice on his sisters and mother proving useful.

“M’sorry I yelled at you about the mistletoe. You wouldn’t have known where exactly I wanted it, that was my fault.” You lean back into his chest as he works diligently, the motions lulling you to sleep.

“Amore, I would hang the moon and stars for you if you asked. The mistletoe will go exactly where you need it tomorrow.” He holds back a laugh as he recalls the argument, a five-minute long discussion involving door frames, rulers, and a silly little piece of the plant.

“I’m also sorry for the wreaths. I didn’t even know we had that many.”

“It’s ok, Y/n,” Wednesday whispers as he ties off on a braid, moving to the next one without jostling you from where you practically lie on him. “We all have passions. You support mine. These next two months, I will support yours.”

It’s quiet for a minute, both of you too content to break the silence. He finishes the second braid quickly, trying to get you both into bed before you end up in a heap on the bathroom floor.

“There we go, amore. All done, you did so well for me.” Wednesday rubs your arms up and down, trying to rouse you from your almost meditative state.

“Bed?” You whisper, rubbing an eye while trying to stay attached to him.

“Yes, come on.”

“What time is it?”

“Late,” Wednesday whispers back, checking the clock on your nightstand. He’s right–it’s almost 1:30 in the morning, an hour that he isn’t sure qualifies as late or just incredibly, wickedly early.

You fall into bed, rearranging the pillows until you can comfortably lie on them. Once Wednesday climbs in next to you, you forsake them, instead nuzzling right against his chest as he pulls you into him. It’s so warm and familiar that you fall asleep almost immediately, all the caffeine, disagreements, and upcoming holidays forgotten.

Wednesday almost laughs at how quickly you managed to fall asleep, proving him right that the decorations were a matter for another day. He’ll have to rub it in your face tomorrow, but for now, he envelops you with his arms pressed tightly against your back and dreams of many more holiday seasons to come.

[sundarksposts]

'what a fool'

Author's note:

hello! i never thought i'd be writing again but here i am.

i would like to clarify, i'm used to writing angst so probably most of my stories are gonna be angst and underlining that this is just a story! also, i'm sorry if i'm not good at writing. this is my first time back after 7 years.

warnings: alcohol consumption, angst, swearing, make out (stuff), and i don't want to make harry the bad guy here but it's just a story!

Photos credit thanks to Pinterest.

i'm sorry if there are some mistakes because English is not my first language.

Part 2

btw, enjoy!

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

It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon. You were at the Sidemen Studios, where you had been working for almost a year.

You still couldn’t believe that you were part of one of the biggest YouTube groups in the world as their camerawoman. You had your parents to thank for putting you through film school and James, your best friend since college, for helping you land this job.

You and James were in the studio, chatting about the upcoming holiday trip with the entire staff and the boys.

"Are you excited for the trip?" James asked as he carefully packed his precious camera into his bag.

The two of you had just finished filming Sidecast with Simon, Harry, and Ethan. You weren’t scheduled to work today, but James messaged you, needing an extra hand since John couldn’t make it due to a family emergency.

"I’m so excited! This is my first work holiday trip, and I still can’t believe it!" you said, feeling giddy.

"I still can’t believe the boys have time for this trip. They’re so busy with their schedules, and I thought the trip was just for the staff” James said.

You glanced at the blonde boy sitting on the Sidecast set. He was talking with Simon and Ethan about something, but you couldn’t stop stealing glances at him.

"You’re drooling” James said in a low voice, chuckling. You quickly turned away from your gaze and rolled your eyes at him.

Nobody knew you had a crush on Harry except James. No one was supposed to know that you had a crush on your own boss, but you had to admit, it was hard to ignore your feelings when your boss looked that good.

"And you’re annoying” you huffed.

You had to stop this feeling before it got any deeper. You knew your place you were a nobody to Harry. Even though he knew you and the two of you always had playful banter, there was no way he would ever reciprocate your feelings.

James smiled before letting out a loud giggle. The boys stopped their conversation, now looking at the two camera staff with curious expressions.

"what's so funny, mate?" Ethan asked.

Great. Now all three of them had noticed.

You mentally slap your forehead before turning to the three Sidemen.

“Nothing, nothing! Just having a conversation with Y/N” James quickly answered, brushing off their curiosity.

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“Have you guys packed yet?” Simon asked, snapping you out of your thoughts though your eyes still lingered on Harry.

The set lights are still on, and you still can’t get over his features his sparkly blue eyes, his toned build, even though he’s hidden beneath his blue Sidemen hoodie, and his pink lips.

I wonder if he’s ever washed that hoodie? you mused to yourself, noticing he’s been wearing it for days now.

"Yeah, yeah, we’ve packed, but Y/N here still has some things left to sort out” James answered.

You quickly snapped out of your daydream at the mention of your name. “Uhhh, y-yeah. There are still a few things I need to pack, but I’ll be fine” you replied.

Ethan and Simon shouted, “Nice!” before diving back into their conversation.

Meanwhile, Harry lingered for a moment, glancing between you and James before eventually returning to the discussion.

"fucking hell" you muttered while James just quietly giggled.

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

It was the morning of your trip, and you were waiting for James to pick you up from your apartment. You double-checked everything, making sure you had packed everything you needed for Greece.

It was going to be a sunny holiday, so you made sure to bring plenty of sunscreen, moisturizer, and lip balm you didn’t want to dry out while you were there.

After zipping up your suitcase one last time, you heard the doorbell ring. That’s gotta be James, you thought as you walked to the front door.

James appeared in your line of sight and… Harry?

You froze, completely taken aback. What is Harry doing at my apartment?

“Hey, sorry we’re a bit late” James said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Someone texted me last minute, asking for a ride to the airport while I was already on my way here” He glanced at the blonde haired guy beside him.

"Wha—wha—wha—what do you mean?!” Harry sputtered, looking at James, clearly annoyed. “I told you last night I needed a ride! I can’t drive, and getting an Uber or taxi to the airport would’ve been a hassle!”

You giggled at the two of them bickering as you grabbed your suitcase and slung your camera bag over your shoulder.

“It’s fine” you said, dragging your suitcase along. “It’s not like we’re gonna be late to the airport anyway. Plus, I was just double checking to make sure I didn’t forget anything” You quickly patted your pockets, confirming you had your passport.

James rolled his eyes, fully aware of your crush on Harry. Meanwhile, Harry flashed you a smile, the cutest one you’d ever seen, and you had to admit, it made your heart skip a beat.

“See? Y/N doesn’t mind! No need to fuss” Harry said, grinning. “Do you need help with your suitcase?”

You nodded, thanking him. What a gentleman, you thought.

James rolled his eyes again but chose not to say anything. He couldn’t believe you had bought Harry’s excuse so easily.

Honestly, why had Harry even asked him for a ride? He could’ve easily gotten a lift from Tobi or Simon, or Ethan, let’s be real, he could more than afford an Uber.

James liked Harry as a friend, but he didn’t want you getting your hopes up. He knew you too well, and the last thing he wanted was for you to think, even for a second, that maybe, just maybe, Harry liked you too.

The three of you walked to James’s car, loaded your suitcases into the trunk, and got in. You took the passenger seat in the front, while Harry settled in the back.

The ride to the airport was… interesting. That was the only way you could describe it. At one point, Harry asked a question so unexpected that it left both you and James in fits of laughter.

“Are you guys dating?” he blurted out.

You and James exchanged a look, then turned to Harry, then back to each other before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

"No, boss. We’ve just been friends for a long time” you answered, using the nickname you always called the Sidemen.

Harry had told you before that he didn’t like it, but you kept using it anyway because you found it funny, and, deep down, you were pretty sure he secretly liked it too.

After an hour long drive, the three of you finally arrived at Heathrow Airport, where the rest of the group was waiting at the meeting point. Josh had already been asking about you guys, wondering why you were late.

Seeing the flood of messages in the group chat, you, James, and Harry broke into a run, weaving through the crowds.

When you finally reached the meeting point, you spotted the boys, the camera crew, and a whole bunch of other people.

Your eyes landed on Kirsty, and you made your way toward her to say hi. Meanwhile, Harry joined the boys, and James went over to Kon.

"Kirsty!” you called out, rushing over to hug her.

You and Kirsty had grown close quickly, both of you being photographers and often the only women on set made it easy to bond.

“Y/N! I missed you!” she said, hugging you back.

The two of you immediately started chatting about how excited you were for the trip. But before you could get too deep into the conversation, Ethan’s voice cut through the noise, addressing an unexpected guest.

“Where were you, Bog? We’ve all been waiting for you. I thought you were gonna ask me to head to the airport with you,” the ginger-haired man said, looking at Harry, who was busy tying his shoelaces.

"No, I didn’t want to burden you. I know how far it is from your place to mine, so I asked James for a ride, and we picked up Y/N along the way,” Harry explained.

The boys exchanged confused looks. This was unusual for him.

“So, was your prediction correct?” Simon asked, a teasing edge to his voice.

You frowned. What prediction?

You tried to focus on what Kirsty was saying, but multitasking was proving difficult.

“Nah, they’re just mates,” Harry replied casually.

Ah. So that’s why he was asking about my relationship with James.

You tried not to seem like you were eavesdropping, but curiosity got the better of you. Glancing over at Harry, you caught the subtle smirk on his lips as he said it.

That was weird, you thought.

After everyone had gathered, you all walked to the check-in counter and then to the boarding gate, waiting for your flight to be called.

You and James decided to grab some food, and before long, the boarding announcement came.

Everyone made their way to the plane, quickly found their seats, and soon, you were taking off, leaving behind gloomy London for sunny Greece.

On the plane, you thanked Josh for giving you a window seat. He had asked everyone on the crew about their seating preferences, and he made sure to accommodate them.

To ease your nerves about flying, you and James ordered some alcohol, hoping to relax a bit before landing.

"Wish we could do this every day,” you said, sipping your drink.

“We do this every day, just without the drinking at work,” James chuckled.

You giggled at his remark.

While James was scrolling through the in-flight entertainment, you noticed Harry making his way to the toilet.

You gave him a small wave, and he returned it with a subtle nod. That tiny interaction was enough to send butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Four hours later, the Sidemen and the production crew finally arrived in Greece.

The sun, the ocean, and the beach were already calling your name, and you couldn’t contain your excitement, you were finally on a well deserved break.

All of you had arrived at the villa, and you couldn’t stop admiring the breathtaking scenery.

Ever since you left the airport, you’d been taking nonstop videos and pictures, eager to capture every moment.

While Josh spoke with the villa owner, you noticed Harry standing in the lobby, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone.

An idea popped into your head taking a candid picture of him. It won’t hurt, right? No one’s going to see it anyway.

You discreetly snapped the photo, and to your surprise, it turned out great. Smiling to yourself, you decided to keep it private.

“Okay, guys, gather around” Josh called out, explaining the room arrangements and today’s itinerary.

You learned that you’d be sharing a room with Kirsty, which made you even more excited for the trip.

After the small announcement ended, you walked over to Kirsty. “Are you sure you’re okay sharing with me? I know you’d probably prefer to share with Kon,” you said, watching as Kirsty snapped pictures of the boys for future reference.

“God, no! I’d much rather share with you than Kon,” she laughed. “He snores in his sleep, and I actually want to get some rest on this vacation. I need some me time.”

You felt relieved knowing you had someone to keep you company other than James.

As the two of you made your way to your assigned room, you started unpacking while chatting about random things just classic girl talk. It was nice to have a girl friend in this kind of situation.

Out of nowhere, Kirsty smirked. “So, do you have a boyfriend?” You chuckled at the unexpected question. ‘Why is everyone asking me that today?’ you thought, shaking your head.

“I haven’t found the one, and honestly, I’m too busy as it is. Being in a relationship would just be a headache,” you said as you changed into fresh clothes after your shower.

Kirsty nodded in understanding. “I feel you. It’s hard to date someone outside of our work unless you’re working with them.”

You agreed with her.

As the day went by, everyone got ready for dinner. You took tons of pictures of your food, the restaurant, and your co-workers for yours and the Sidemen Instagram.

After dinner, Tobi mentioned that some of them were heading to a club and asked if you wanted to join. You said yes, and now, you were all on your way.

You couldn’t wait to have a few drinks and dance to the music. Spotting Harry, you smiled at him, and he returned the gesture. “Are you ready to go?” he asked, adjusting the sleeves of his Childish hoodie.

God, he can even pull off a hoodie, you thought, nodding. “I rarely get a chance to go out back home, so this should be fun,” you said.

The two of you kept talking, laughing easily as the conversation flowed. Harry’s gaze lingered on you.

Your blue floral sundress, your wavy hair, the way your red lipstick stood out under the soft lighting. He smiled, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You could feel him staring.

By the time you arrived at the club, you were already feeling a little buzzed, whether from the alcohol at dinner or from talking with the blue-eyed boy, you weren’t sure.

Without a word, Harry took your hand, guiding you through the crowded venue toward the table. His touch was warm, and for the first time, you realized how much you liked it. You didn’t want him to let go.

And for a while, he didn’t.

"I’m going to order us a drink. What do you like?” Harry asked. “Vodka and Coke, please" He nodded before making his way to the bar.

As he walked away, you felt a pair of eyes on you, grinning like a Cheshire cat. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. “He’s just being nice” you mouthed to James. He simply shrugged, sipping his drink and bobbing his head to the music.

A moment later, Harry returned with your drink, placing it in front of you. “You like vodka?” he asked, settling into the seat beside you. “Yeah, I do. But I like it with soda so it’s not too strong”

He nodded, taking a sip of his own drink. The conversation flowed easily as you both drank, the music pulsing around you.

"Sambuca’s here!” Simon yelled, handing out shots to everyone. You were given three. You didn’t like Sambuca, but for the culture? You had to.

Harry and you took the shots together, the strong taste making you wince. The warmth spread through your chest, and you could already feel the alcohol kicking in.

“You wanna go to the dance floor?” Harry asked, leaning in slightly so you could hear him over the music.

You nodded, and before you knew it, he was taking your hand again, leading you through the crowd.

The music was loud, the bass thumping in your chest as the two of you danced and sang along to whatever song was playing. He didn’t let go of your hand, not until you were facing each other in the middle of the dance floor.

Harry was awkward when it came to dancing, but with the alcohol running through his system, he seemed a little more confident.

The two of you were lost in the moment, just enjoying the night being young and carefree in another country.

You threw your arms around his shoulders, jumping up and down to the beat, and he chuckled at your antics, shaking his head but letting you do your thing.

After a few songs had played, the two of you returned to the table, taking sips of your drinks. You were thirsty after all that dancing.

“I didn’t know you could dance like that” Harry sniggered, amusement clear in his voice. You laughed, waving your hand dismissively. “I rarely go out. Please don’t judge me.”

Both of you chuckled before making your way back to the dance floor for round two.

This time, you spotted Simon, Josh, Tobi, and Ethan dancing together, clearly having a blast. As you and Harry approached, the four of them cheered.

“How are you enjoying tonight, Y/N?” Ethan asked, noticing you and Harry together.

He raised a curious brow, he hadn’t seen much of Harry tonight, and now, it was clear why.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced between the two of you, teasing the youngest of the group.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I’m loving it! Thank you for the opportunity, boss!” you yelled over the music, which was loud enough that you could barely hear yourself. Ethan laughed, nodding before turning back to the others.

You leaned toward Harry. “I’m going to the restroom for a bit." His fingers were still loosely wrapped around your hand. He nodded, letting go as you slipped away, while he made his way over to the boys.

You left for the toilet, but as you walked, you suddenly tripped and fell. A sharp pain shot through your ankle, and you groaned.

Great.

What a way to ruin a night out, you thought, wincing as you tried to stand. Slowly, you limped your way back to the table, hoping no one would notice.

As you arrived, you saw Josh, Harry, and Kon sitting together, drinks in hand. “Uh, boss, is it okay if I leave early? I just tripped, and my ankle kinda hurts” you asked Josh, who was just about to take a sip of his drink.

“Oh no! Are you okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Do you want me to get James?” Kon offered, already looking around for him.

You quickly shook your head. “No, it’s fine. I can tell he’s enjoying his night. I’ll be fine going home alone.” Josh frowned.

“No. Someone needs to go with you.”

Before you could protest, Harry raised his hand. “I can go back with you” You immediately shook your head. “No, you don’t have to, Harry. Just enjoy your night”

But he was already finishing his drink. “No, we need to make sure you’re okay” he insisted, taking your hand.

You sighed but didn’t argue as you waved goodbye to Kon and Josh before letting Harry guide you out of the club.

On the ride back to the villa, you still felt tipsy, and you still couldn’t believe you had tripped. “How’s your ankle? And how did you even trip?” Harry asked, his voice laced with concern.

You giggled. “I tripped and fell. I think I’m drunk” you admitted, laughing at yourself.

Harry shook his head, chuckling.

When you arrived at the villa, the silence was almost eerie. The only sounds filling the air were distant crickets, making it clear that you two were the first ones back. Harry opened the front door and held it for you.

“Thanks” you murmured as you stepped inside.

Before you could take another step, Harry’s hand found your arm, steadying you as you wobbled slightly.

“Do you want me to take you to your room?” he asked. You shook your head. “The night’s still young. There’s some alcohol in the fridge. We could hang out in the living room” you suggested with a giggle.

Harry raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright, but only if you promise not to trip again” he teased, guiding you carefully to the couch.

You plopped onto the sofa while he disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with two drinks, handing one to you before settling down beside you.

“Thanks” you said, taking a sip.

As the alcohol buzzed through your veins, you suddenly realized just how close he was. His arm draped casually around the back of the couch, fingertips barely brushing against your shoulder.

And for some reason, you didn’t mind one bit.

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure he could hear it. The air between you grew heavier, the faint buzz from the alcohol mixing with the tension in the room. You hated awkward silences, but this? This wasn’t just silence—it was charged, electric.

You didn’t even realize you had been staring at him until Harry smirked. “What are you thinking in that head of yours?” he teased, his voice low, amused.

Your eyes widened. Shit. Busted.

Your face burned as you quickly turned away. “Uh, n-n-nothing!” you stuttered, desperately hoping he’d drop it.

But he didn’t.

Instead, you felt a gentle touch on your chin, guiding your face back toward his. Your breath hitched as you found yourself staring into his piercing blue eyes, now just inches away from yours. “You know you can tell me, right?” he whispered, his gaze locked onto yours.

Your throat went dry.

Oh, you were in trouble.

Somehow, a sudden wave of courage washes over you. Your heart pounds, but for once, you don’t care. You forget that he’s your boss. You forget the risks, the consequences. Fuck it. You’re on holiday.

“I want to stay with you” you whisper, your voice barely audible. Harry freezes for a moment, as if making sure he heard you right.

Then, without hesitation, he kisses you.

The taste of alcohol lingers between you, but the kiss grows desperate, needy. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and heat floods through your body.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms and carries you to his bedroom. The door clicks shut behind him.

He places you gently on the bed, hovering above you, his blue eyes searching yours.

“Tell me you want this” he murmurs.

You nod. “I do”

That’s all he needs to hear. His lips crash onto yours again, and soon, hands are exploring, breaths are mingling, and soft moans escape between kisses.

You trail your lips down his jaw and neck, and a deep groan rumbles from his throat.

The world outside fades away as you both get lost in the moment, tangled in sheets, until the first light of morning peeks through the curtains.

The soft chirping of birds filters through the open window, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the villa.

Beside you, Harry sleeps soundly, his arm draped over your waist, snoring softly. He’s snuggled into you, his breath warm against your skin.

You smile, your mind still reeling from last night. Did that really happen?

Carefully, you slip out of bed, making sure not to wake him. As you quietly gather your clothes and dress, reality begins to sink in.

I slept with Harry. I slept with my boss.

And as if on cue, a dull ache pulses from your ankle. Right. I was supposed to ice that… but how could I remember when I was too busy forking my boss?

Suppressing a groan, you tiptoe out of the room, shutting the door gently behind you. You make your way to your own room, pushing the door open to find Kirsty still fast asleep.

Sighing in relief, you quickly change into more comfortable clothes before grabbing your phone. The screen lights up.

30 missed calls from James

10 missed calls from Kirsty

7 missed calls from Josh and Kon

5 missed calls from Simon, Tobi and Ethan

Shit.

Everyone had been looking for you. The sheer number of missed calls on your phone made your stomach churn. You felt bad, really bad, but what were you supposed to say? Sorry, I was too busy sleeping with Harry? Yeah, not happening.

You groaned, throwing yourself onto the bed, hoping to catch a little more sleep before facing the inevitable interrogation.

But just as your body starts to relax, you hear a rustling from the other side of the room.

You freeze.

Maybe if you stayed perfectly still, she wouldn’t notice—

“Y/N?”

Shit.

Your heart pounds as you squeeze your eyes shut, pretending to be deep in sleep. You don’t move. You don’t even breathe too loudly.

Silence.

A few seconds pass, then a minute. You don’t hear anything else. Maybe she bought it. Maybe she went back to sleep.

You exhale slowly, relief washing over you. You were still exhausted, still sore, and the last thing you needed was Kirsty’s questions right now. But you needed an excuse. fast.

You did got enough of sleep and wake up at the same time as Kirsty. And she did asked you question of where you've been but you just said to her that you got lost and ended up somewhere far away.

As much as you were relieved that Kirsty didn’t push further, a part of you knew she didn’t fully believe you. But you were grateful she let it slide.

For now.

You focused on packing your things, trying to ignore the lingering thoughts of last night. The way Harry’s hands felt on you, the way he held you close.

You shook your head. Not the time.

Kirsty sighed as she zipped up her suitcase. “I can’t wait to just get home and sleep for a whole day”

You forced a small laugh. “Yeah, same”

But deep down, you weren’t sure you were ready to go back to reality just yet.

Both of you packed your things as you're already prepared to go home yet you feel heavy hearted. you don't want to return to your reality yet. you heard a knock on your door and yelled, "it's open" and revealed James who's been worrying sick.

"Where were you? We tried to called your phone but you didn't answer it" he yelled like a worried father.

You grabbed his hand and dragged him to the hallway and close the door so Kirsty won't hear both of you.

"I was with Harry. On his bed" you whispered. James let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Are you serious?” he whispered, eyes wide with disbelief.

You groaned, still hiding your face.

“Yes, James. I know, okay? You don’t have to freak out”

“Freak out?” he hissed, lowering his voice so Kirsty wouldn’t hear. “Y/N, you literally just slept with Harry. Your boss. One night in Greece, and you’re already moving mad.”

You peeked through your fingers, glaring at him. “I know! I don’t need a lecture right now" James sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So what now? Was it just a one-time thing, or…?”

That question made your stomach twist. You wanted to say it was just a drunken mistake, a heat of the moment thing. But when you thought about the way Harry had looked at you, the way he had held you.

“I don’t know” you admitted softly. “But I don’t regret it”

James’ expression softened, but he still looked concerned.

“Look, I’m not judging you. I just, be careful. If the boys find out, especially Josh, things could get messy”

You nodded, knowing he was right.

“I just need to act normal.” James gave you a skeptical look. “And do you think Harry can act normal?”

That was the real question.

As you and James made your way downstairs, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and anxiety. At least James knew now, and he wasn’t mad, just concerned. But the real challenge would be facing Harry and pretending like nothing happened.

The dining area was already bustling with the boys and crew, everyone chatting and eating. You spotted Harry sitting with Simon and Ethan, looking as relaxed as ever.

When his eyes met yours, there was a brief flicker of something in them, something only you would notice. But he quickly went back to his conversation like nothing had changed.

James nudged you slightly. “See? If he can act normal, so can you”

You took a deep breath and nodded, sitting down with James and the others. “Morning,” you greeted, trying to sound casual.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Ethan teased. “Where the hell did you disappear to last night?”

You laughed nervously. “Got lost on the way back. Had to call Harry to help me find the villa.” You could feel Harry glance at you, but he didn’t say a word.

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Lost? In Greece? Y/N, we were literally a few streets away from the club”

“Yeah, well, alcohol does that to you,” you shrugged, stuffing a bite of food in your mouth to avoid more questions.

Simon smirked. “You and Harry, alone in the middle of the night? That’s suspicious.”

Your stomach dropped, but before you could say anything, Harry rolled his eyes. “Relax, Minter. Not everything is a conspiracy.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. James leaned closer and whispered,

“You two are so obvious.” You kicked him under the table, making him yelp.

James, being the good friend he was, quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway! What’s the plan for today?” Josh sighed “We have a few hours before our flight, so we’re just chilling. Maybe a last walk by the beach if anyone’s up for it.”

You nodded, pretending to be focused on your breakfast, but you couldn’t help sneaking a glance at Harry. He hadn’t looked at you once, which was unusual. Was he regretting last night? Was this his way of pretending it never happened.

You focused on your food, chewing slowly as the conversations around you carried on. You could still feel Harry’s presence beside you, his phone acting as a shield between the two of you.

Why was he being like this? Last night, he was holding you close, whispering sweet things against your skin. Now, he couldn’t even look at you.

You sighed, pushing your plate away as you lost your appetite. Kirsty, who had just joined the table, noticed and nudged you. “Not hungry?” she asked.

“Just tired,” you lied, offering her a small smile.

After breakfast and free time, everyone gets ready to head to the airport. As James helps you walk, you spot Harry. You know you need to talk.

“Wait a minute, James. I won’t be long,” you say. He nods, sensing that you need to clear the tension with Harry. As you approach, Harry is still on his phone, busy with God knows what.

"I told James," you whisper to him. Harry looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “What did you tell him?”

Is he for real?

“About where we were last night. That we spent the night together… in your bed,” you murmur, lowering your voice so no one else can hear.

He looks puzzled. “But we didn’t do anything last night. I don’t remember anything—I was so pissed,” he says before turning and walking off.

You’re stunned.

You can’t believe what you just heard. It feels like you’ve been punched in the stomach. The ground beneath you might as well open up and swallow you whole.

Was he really that hammered that he didn’t remember anything?

James walks over to you and nudges your arm. “Well?” You shake your head, trying to blink away the tears welling up in your eyes. “He said he doesn’t remember,” you whisper, but James hears you loud and clear.

His expression shifts to shock, disbelief washing over his face. He clenches his jaw, fists tightening at his sides. For a moment, he looks like he wants to march over to Harry and punch him, but he knows that would only cost him his job.

James reaches out to comfort you, but you flinch away.

“I need some time alone” you mutter before limping toward the car, your ankle still aching from last night.

James watches you walk away, then turns his gaze toward Harry, who is laughing at a joke Ethan just made completely unaware of the damage he’s just caused.

Y/N feels embarrassed. Of course, he just thought it was a one-night stand. Who did she think she was? She was no one.

The entire ride to the airport, she sulks in silence, trying to hide her sadness and confusion. Was he really that embarrassed to admit he slept with her?

The journey home feels like hell. James stays by her side the entire time, offering quiet comfort as they sit together on the plane.

It isn’t until Y/N puts on a sappy romantic movie that the tears finally spill, her emotions too heavy to hold back any longer. James doesn’t say anything. He just lets her feel, lets her grieve whatever it was she thought she had.

Yet even with his support, she still feels like trash.

Oh, what a fool she had been.

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

Author's note: Oh my gosh! it's a long one. I'm sorry it's not good. Please let me know if you guys want part 2 because I already have some ideas for it. And i'm sorry I never wanted to let Harry to be the bad guy but again it's just a story.

i stayed up until 4am to continue to write, reviewing and finally posting this story.

i hope you guys loved this story!

Anyways, I love you guys and take care! x

[dewdropdinosaur]

Smutmas Day 5 - Stuff Your Stocking

Alastor x Reader

(Third Person POV) Summary: You are in a brand new relationship with Alastor, so it concerns you when he dips out of the annual Christmas party at the Hotel. Only when you go to check on him do you find the reason for his disappearance...and his hard-on. Warnings: P in V sex, outfits(Stockings), established relationship, biting kink, cuss words, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Requested by the beautiful and my internet wifey @kewpikayo

The holiday event at the Hazbin Hotel was nothing short of dazzling. Strings of colored lights bathed the grand ballroom in a warm glow, and the faint scent of cinnamon and pine mingled with the faint sulfur of the underworld. Guests of all shapes and sizes mingled, their laughter and chatter blending harmoniously with the jazzy holiday tunes being performed on stage.

Charlie had outdone herself organizing the event, and the staff—though reluctant at first(ahem..Husk)—had embraced the festive cheer. Y/N stood near the refreshment table, her eyes scanning the room. The outfit she'd chosen for the evening, a festive red mini skirt paired with thigh-high stockings and a cozy sweater, had drawn more attention than she'd anticipated. It’s not like she was the skimpiestly dressed in Hell but no matter. While different from her usual attire, the skirt had shrunk in the wash, the thigh-highs an attempt to cover the skin that would have been more bare. 

But she couldn't help noticing that one particular demon seemed distracted.

Alastor stood near the edge of the room, cane in hand. His typically sharp grin was absent, replaced with a contemplative expression as he watched the revelry from a distance. Y/N's heart twisted in concern. They'd only recently begun navigating the uncertain waters of their relationship, and she couldn't help but worry that something was bothering him.

Gathering her resolve, Y/N made her way toward him. Alastor turned slightly, catching her approach out of the corner of his eye, and his face did something unexpected—it softened, then quickly morphed into his more common unreadable smile. What she couldn't see was the way his fingers tightened around his cane or the way his mind raced as he caught another glimpse of her outfit.

Y/N tilted her head. "Alastor? Are you okay?" she asked softly.

He chuckled, the sound a touch higher-pitched than usual. "Oh, my dear, I'm quite fine. Just stepping away to enjoy the ambiance. These sorts of festivities can be a tad…much, don't you think?"

She frowned slightly. “Too much? I thought you loved entertaining."

His crimson gaze flicked to hers, and for a moment, he seemed to lose his usual composure. "Oh, I do, but there are... distractions tonight," he admitted vaguely, the smile never leaving his face.

Before Y/N could press him further, possibly asking whether it was the strobe lights or Angel’s very loud Italian singing, Alastor turned and began walking toward one of the quieter halls. Concerned, she decided to follow. 

"Alastor, wait!" she called, hurrying after him. Unfortunately, the polished floor was slicker than she'd anticipated, and as she tried to catch up, her footing slipped.

"Y/N, what are y—!" Alastor began to ask, but he didn't have time to finish. She collided with him in a flurry of movement, and before either of them could react, they ended up on the floor in an unexpected heap. Y/N was sprawled atop him, her hands braced against his chest, while Alastor lay beneath her, utterly speechless.

The world seemed to freeze. Y/N's face flushed a deep crimson as she realized the position they were in. "Oh my gosh, I—I’m so sorry!" she stammered, trying to push herself off him.

Alastor, for once, was at a loss for words. His usual confidence was nowhere to be found as he stared up at her, his cheeks tinted a rare shade of pink. "Y/N," he said finally, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "while I appreciate your enthusiasm, might I suggest a less... dramatic approach next time?"

Despite her embarrassment, she couldn't help but laugh, the sound breaking the tension. "I didn't mean to tackle you!" she protested, finally managing to scramble to her feet and offering him a hand.

Alastor took it, his long fingers wrapping around hers as he allowed her to help him up. His grin returned, though there was a slight nervous edge to it. "Perhaps it was fate," he teased, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. "Or perhaps the hazards of such an outfit? It’s positively... eye-catching."

Y/N blinked, realization dawning as she noticed his lingering gaze. Her cheeks burned hotter than before. "Wait... was that why you walked away? My skirt?”

Alastor coughed into his hand, his usual composure faltering once more. "Well, my dear, it would be remiss of me not to notice such a... striking ensemble.”

Her laughter rang out again, this time more genuine. "Alastor—,” she said, though her voice carried an affectionate lilt.

"Ah, but you adore me for it, do you not?" he replied, his grin growing wider as he offered his arm. “Now my dear, I do believe you owe an apology for cascading on me to the floor.”

“Oh, of course. I am so sorry, Al—“

“I did not mean with your words, cher.” Leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a more sinister octave, Alastor’s words spoke with an interesting promise. “Though I would not mind your noises.”

With a quick snap and a misting of green static, the pair appeared in Alastor’s room. Y/N’s hands came to grip the lapels of her boyfriend’s suit jacket, attempting to ground themselves after the sudden transport. No matter how many times they did it, Y/N could never get used to the sensation. 

The large king-sized bed lay promisingly in the center of the room, red and black linen sheets draped softly around the surface of the mattress. Small embroidered details lay within the pillowcases and bed skirts, though barely visible. Fitting for someone with Alastor’s aesthetic. Taking the hint, Alastor walked their bodies to the king-sized bed and laid Y/N’s down on the sheets. Now with back flush against the mattress, she wasted no time in capturing her lips to his, amazed by the darkened desire that lay within his eyes. 

Clawed fingers traced down the fabric of her skirt, fiddling with the hem before sliding it off her legs along with her underwear. Raising her hips in an attempt to help him also with her stockings, Alastor pushed her back down on the mattress. Breaking from the kiss for a quick moment, voice laced with a nearly untraceable growl, he spoke.

“The stockings stay on, my dear. You look ravishing,”

Working his way down, his face ended between her thighs. His eyes widened at the glittering slick that painted her hole. His hot breath on her already weeping cunt made her shiver in anticipation. Moaning at the sensation, Y/N brought her lips to kiss and nip at the corner of Alastor’s collarbone. They had never ventured this far in their relationship, and by all means, Alastor had never really brought up the idea of being intimate. But it was needless to say, the current predicament excited her to no end. 

Without warning, Alastor hoisted her legs up on his shoulders, unbuttoning his pants in a quick move. Carefully, as if it would cause him to bust just at the sensation, he massaged the tip of his cock against her hole. Squirming at the stimulation but not allowing a moment to think, Alastor sunk into her warm cunt with one stroke causing Y/N to bite Alastor’s neck accidentally at the sudden intrusion. 

“Fuck, cher—“

“Gosh, Al, you like that?” Y/N’s tone wasn’t harsh in the slightest, if anything, it was absolutely debauched at the thought her boyfriend liked to be a bit. Made sense considering his life choices but still. Her hands came to tangle themselves at the nape of his neck, tugging softly as Alastor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and his thrusts became short and sloppy. 

“That’s it, darling~. Go on, you can do it—“

Her body acted on command, letting out moans of sobbing pleasure as her release hit like a freight train. Not mere seconds later did he find his own high; cumming hard into her tight cunt, enjoying the way her spasming pussy clenched around him with want. The room was silent save for the sound of soft squelching and heavy breaths, each allowing the other a moment of rest. 

Soon, Alastor slowly pulled out, already missing the warmth from the moment before. After conjuring a towel and cleaning both of them up, Alastor tucked himself back into his pants and extended a hand to his lover.

"Now, shall we rejoin the festivities? I believe I owe you a dance—one where you promise not to trip us both."

[heartmix]

on top - logan howlett

Pairing: Logan 'wolverine' Howlett x fem!reader

Word Count: 900+

Warning: logan and scott bickering, the usual

Twelve Fics of Christmas - Decorating

A/N: Very rushed, oops

Masterlist / Marvel Masterlist

Once the clock struck 12, Thanksgiving was over, and everyone was in Christmas mode. The once bedridden, full-of-turkey kids were now up and bouncing around, talking about decorating the mansion. Even though all of them were supposed to be asleep, well past their bedtime, you adults decided that since it was fall break, why not let them stay up? 

All the kids begged and pleaded to get a start on decorating the mansion because before you knew it "Christmas day would be here." So with the approval from Charles, you all agreed to the kids' wishes. Everyone went off to do their separate holiday festivities. The younger kids were in one of the classrooms making paper snowflakes and garlands, the older boys helped get the decorations out of the attic, while Rouge somehow convinced Logan and Scott to cut down a tree in the middle of the night. How she convinced them was beyond anyone's belief. 

You were tasked with giving directions as to where everything would go. As the boys came down with the containers of stuff, you sent them off into different areas of the mansion that would best suit the decorations. You didn't want to micromanage too much, so once they were in the right room, you let them go as crazy as they wanted to. 

"These are the ornaments for the tree," Bobby said showing you all the sparkly ornaments that filled the box. 

"Let's go wait in the living room for the guys to return with the tree, I think Rouge is also waiting to decorate it." You smiled at the boy helping him carry one of the boxes. 

While waiting for Logan and Scott to return, no doubt their fighting is keeping them out longer, the three of you started to sort the tree decorations. One pile for the ornaments, one for the lights, and the last was the finishing touches like the star and tree skirt. You all fell into light-hearted chatter when you suddenly heard the loud voices of Logan and Scott. 

"Turn to the left you idiot." 

"You're leaving a mess in the hallway!"

You and Rouge couldn't help but laugh knowing this would happen. Suddenly you saw Scott back holding the trunk of the tree while Logan came in holding the top of it. Scott was right they're leaving a huge mess, one that you weren't going to clean up.

"Here's your tree." Logan gruffed out clearly irritated, but when does he not look irritated?

"You guys are the best thank you!" Rouge's sweet voice filled the room making Logan let out another grumble.

After setting up the tree Scott made his way to clean up the mess from the tree, grumbling about needing space from Logan. As Bobby and Rouge started to string the lights on the tree you saw Logan trying to sneak out, no doubt wanting to go back to his room. Before you could even think, your hand wrapped around his wrist preventing him from taking a step further. 

"You don't want to stay and help us?"

"I'm not good with this kind of stuff bub."

"What, you can't hook plastic onto a branch?" You teased and for a moment you saw the corner of his mouth tuning up. 

"Don't want to mess up what you guys have going on."

"Please, just stay. It'll be fun." At one last pleading, and one look into your eyes he couldn't help but cave in.

"Okay, If it looks ugly that's on you."

Squealing with excitement you pulled him over to the tree missing the way Rouge gave Logan a smirk. Before he knew it, you were shoving a shiny plastic red ornament in his hands gesturing for him to put it up. 

When Rouge hung the last ornament, the four of you stood back admiring the "hard" work. The pretty colors of red and gold that decorated the tree were a sight to see, it even pulled a small smile off of Logan. 

"Last but not least the star." You smiled carefully taking the glass topper out of the box. 

"Wanna do the honors?" Turning to the teenagers you found them already settled on the couch looking tired. 

"I'm too comfortable, you do it."

"How do you expect me to get this on the top?" You wondered out loud to really no one in particular. 

With not much time to contemplate a solution, you suddenly felt yourself being lifted into the air and there you were eye to eye with the top of the tree. Looking down you saw you were sitting on top of Logan's shoulder. It was there you saw a smile on his face motioning you to put on the topper. With one last look and a faint sight of a blush, you placed the topper carefully onto the tree. 

"Beautiful." You heard Logan mumble looking straight into your eyes. He'd bicker with Scott forever if that meant he got to see that smile of yours. 

[poolverine-holiday-big-bang]

Poolverine Holiday Big Bang Sign Ups

Hello friends, the interest in this has been off the charts, which makes me unbelievably happy! The fact people are interested in an event I want to run literally is such a good feeling. So, allow me to open sign-ups officially! Keep in mind, this will be my first time running an event, so if you have questions or concerns, message this blog or my main blog. Click the title of this post to sign-up now!

Current Stage: Sign-ups open~

The (tentative) timeline:

Sign-ups begin: June 13th Sign-ups close: July 18th Fic ideas submitted by: August 1st Claims begin: August 5th Claims close: August 20th Teams decided: August 25th Check-ins: September 15th, October 13th, November 10th Posting date range: November 21st through December 31st All pieces should be posted before the start of 2026~!

FAQ, rules, and other info below the cut! It got long, but it should have all the answers you need. If anything isn't answered, once again, message me on this account or on any other social media!

People on this blog are: Noa (event runner): @ufohoaxes Rowan (event helper): @k1ng-r0wan Zai (event helper): @jabberpool Garnish (event helper): @that-final-garnish

FAQ

Q: What is a big bang? A: A big bang is a collaborative event between artists and writers! Wristers submit a fic idea and then artists get the chance to pick ideas they want to work on. See the rules for more specifics on how that works.

Q: Who can partake in this event? A: Anyone! Beginner artists or newbie writers to veteran creators who've done this before. Any and all talents are welcome to join, the more the merrier!

Q: How do I join? A: Once sign-ups officially close, I will reach out to everyone who filled out the form personally with a link to the Discord server created specifically for this event. Be sure you've allowed messages from people who don't follow you when that time comes so you don't miss the invite~!

Q: What happens after I join the server? A: You'll be assigned accordingly, as either a writer, artist, or beta. You'll be free to chat amongst each other in the server until pairings are created! Once you have your partner, you're free to work on your piece. You'll have your own channel in the server to communicate, that only you and your partner will have access to. Please do not discuss your pieces outside of the server!

Q: Is NSFW stuff allowed? A: Yes! You have the choice to draw NSFW pieces or write NSFW fics, there will be a question about if you're 18+ when the sign-ups do open. All ages are allowed, but everyone will be sorted accordingly when we get to that point. If you're worried something you might write might not be allowed, just send me a message!

Q: Can I be both an artist and a writer? A: Truthfully, I wouldn't mind if you were both! But it will depend on the answers in the sign-up form for me to determine this.

Q: What's the theme? A: Of course! The theme! The theme is holidays. Any holiday, any celebration, even the most obscure ones. National donut day? Sure! Talk like a pirate day? Absolutely. Put Barbie in a blender day? If that's what you choose, so be it! Just make it's a concept you're happy with.

Rules

1.) First and foremost, no AI allowed. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero. If you're caught using AI, you will be banned from the event.

2.) Writers have a 5,000 word minimum. Please include the holiday you chose in the fic idea submission! You can go above that, that's just the very least amount of words. If this doesn't work for you, or if your fic is 4,620 words, send me a message and we'll work it out! I'm here to help you out, so don't be afraid to message me on any social media!

3.) Artists have a one fully finished art piece minimum. If you're willing to do more than one piece, you might be tasked with more. Just fill out the form accordingly.

4.) Poolverine is the main focus here, however, Spideypoolverine, Cablepoolverine, etc are allowed! As long as Poolverine is in there somewhere, it's totally good to go!

5.) You will be asked to include tags when your fic submission is, well, submitted! If you're worried something might not be okay to write about (such as a specific kink or theme), the most likely answer is yes. I will let you know if what you submit to write crosses a line, but I sincerely doubt that will happen. Just message me if you're concerned.

6.) For claims, how it will work is artists will be given all the summaries of the fic submissions, they will pick their top 5, and from there, it will be randomized which one you get. This way, it's not first come first serve, and it's fair to people in other timezones.

7.) Platonic works are okay as well, it doesn't have to be romantic if you don't want it to be! Just be sure to have fun.

Miscellaneous Stuff!

This is my first time running an event, and if this goes well, I'm open to running more events. I will listen to all concerns, questions, and comments intently. Please feel free to reach out to me on ANY social media, they're all listed on shinycelebi.carrd.co, I will answer everything accordingly. This event is run with fun as the main goal, and any feelings I have towards things have ZERO impact or influence on how I will run it. Thank you for your interest, and thank you for allowing me to do this

Noa ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[w2soneshots]

Ibiza -W2S

words: 1.2k+

warnings: alcohol consumption.

summary: you spend the day on a yacht while your boyfriend and his mates film hide & seek. You deal with his mean drunkenness. Then when you get back to the villa you take care of him.

notes: this is based off of this request!! I think drunk Harry’s hilarious😭. Don’t forget to reblog! Enjoy this extra lone one💓✨

Liked by gkbarry_, ksi and 561,308 others

y/username: Ibiza 2024!🌴🍹🌺☀️💘

Tagged: @wroetoshaw @behzingagram @faithloisak @taliamar @freyanightingale

-comments-

wroetoshaw: 🔥🔥

faithloisak: you cutie

taliamar: stunning girl🫶🏼

y/nfanpage21: pahaha the second pic😭

user31096420: another iconic sidemen holiday

user91837410: she's so fit

A few days ago we arrived in Ibiza. It was initially just going to be the boys because they were planning a few sidemen videos. But they decided that there hasn't been a proper holiday with everyone for years since, Ethan and Faith had Olive, Me and Harry got married, as well as Simon and Talia so we cleared our schedules and booked tickets.

We're here for a week and plan on doing as much relaxing as we can but the boys still need to film their videos. Today they're filming a hide and seek on a huge yacht. We're all staying in a massive villa that's really close to the sea line. "Morning." Harry yawned. My sleepy face curved into a content smile. "Good morning." I whispered before kissing his soft lips. Harry wrapped his arms around my torso. "Do we have to get up?" He dug his head into my neck. "Yes Haz. The boats booked for eleven." I replied. He groaned.

Eventually I got him up and we began getting ready. I pulled on a bikini that wouldn't give me offensive tan lines, since I'm planning on laying in the sun all day. Then popped on a cute cover up. Once I'd sorted my hair and covered myself in suncream I headed downstairs where everyone was sat eating breakfast. I said "good morning." then grabbed a plate of fresh fruit along with a smoothie.

After breakfast we all collected the last of our things then just as the taxis pulled up we left. Harry helped Ethan get Olives stuff into the boot while I carried the baby for Faith while she clipped in the car seat. It's only a ten minute drive so we were soon being dropped off at the dock. The day before yesterday we spent a few hours on a smaller boat but today (since they're filming a video) the yacht is massive. The crew also flew in yesterday to film this video so they met us here.

We were told not to grab our things from the taxis because the staff on board would get it for us. When we got onto the yacht we were immediately given drinks and a quick toor. The woman brought us up some stairs. "And these are the tanning loungers." Me and the girls looked at each other with a smile. "This is where I'm going to be spending the rest of the day." Talia joked, but she was being fully serious and I felt exactly the same.

The boys wondered off to film the intro for the video and all four of us girls lay down on a lounger, while Olive slept next to Faith in a little travel cot under one of the large umbrellas. I chatted quietly with Talia, Freya started reading her book and Faith soaked up the sun. We could hear the boys screaming, shouting and laughing as they filmed. Vik was the seeker and wasn't doing the best job which was obvious from what we could see from the top deck, but I'm sure that will make the video even funnier.

Once Harry, Ethan and Josh had been found we caught them peering up at us quite a few times. "You all look like creeps you know!" I shouted. The girls laughed from beside me and the boys faces turned a bright shade of red. "You just look too good in that bikini babe!" Harry shouted back sarcastically. I smirked with a shake of my head. Then returned to tanning.

After almost three hours the boys finally finished filming so we had some lunch. As the day went on we jumped into the sea, played mafia and just sat around enjoying each other's company. Everyone began actually drinking as it started to get later. Accept me, Faith, JJ and Tobi because I had had like one or two but really couldn't be arsed with a hangover, Faith needed to look after Olive and JJ and Tobi don't drink.

y/username just posted a new story!

I sat next to Harry as he swayed back and forth slightly. "You alright?" I asked. He was clearly very drunk. "What? Oh. Shut up I'm fine." He replied. I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. I looked around the group, all eyes on us. I burst into a fit of laughter. "Alright big man I think it's time you get to bed." I tried to help him stand. "No!" He shouted. I sighed tiredly. "Here. I'll help." Tobi got up from his seat. We decided to all call it a night so left the ship and got taxi's back to the villa.

"Here you go mate." JJ murmured as him and Tobi lay an almost asleep Harry on our bed. "Thanks boys." I smiled as they walked out with a quick "good night." I pulled Harry's clothes off, leaving him in just his boxers. Then I placed a glass of water on his nightstand, along with some paracetamol for his hangover. Thankfully Harry usually isn't physically sick when he has a hangover so there was no need for a bucket. After I took a quick shower I slipped into bed, next to him.

The next morning I got up decently early to make everyone breakfast. Faith was already downstairs since Olive had been awake for quite awhile and she didn't want to wake Ethan up since he was hungover and he woke up early yesterday for Olive. "Good morning you cutie." I greeted Olive in my high pitched baby voice, that seems to just appear whenever I'm around animals or babies. She giggled with the sweetest little smile.

"Morning." Faith also smiled as I sat down next to her on the couch. "So last night Harry seemed to be a little..." "mean." I finished her sentence. "Well yea." She breathed out a laugh. "He's a mean drunk. It really doesn't bother me to be honest. I find it hilarious." I chuckled. "I'm glad, I was a little concerned." "The first time we went out together it was a bit of a shock to the system but over the years I realised that it's just how he reacts to alcohol."

After a good chat with Faith I headed back upstairs to check on Harry. I slowly opened to door to see Harry front down on the bed with his face turned towards the door. I walked towards him and squatted in front of him. "Harry." I whispered as my hand gently stroked his face. He groaned. "Have some paracetamol love." I grabbed the pack from the nightstand. "My head hurts." He slowly opened one of his eyes. I smiled at him "I know. Sit up for me."

He pushed himself up and turned over so he was sitting against the headboard. He took the tablet along with almost the entire glass of water. "Was I mean?" He asked quietly. I laughed "Uhm... I've had much worse." He groaned as he covered his face with his hands. "Sorry." He mumbled. "Don't be. You were completely gone with the fairies." I said sarcastically. He chuckled but then winced, probably from the pounding headache. "Go back to sleep. I'll have breakfast downstairs when you're ready." I quickly pecked his forehead. "You're too good to me." He replied as he returned to his previous position.