#and that's on top of the fact I plan my own meals which I enjoy doing I go to art galleries when I want

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

Like not to be annoying but I feel like the constant growing up sucks childhood is so much better hang onto it rhetoric is a. inaccurate for many people??? and b. 100% gonna be really discouraging for kids who see it, they're going to think it'll all suck. But growing up is natural it's normal and there are so so many good parts of it and it feels right when you start hitting those ages like sure I still feel like a kid in many ways but I also don't in many ways and that's wonderful! There are few better feelings than the understanding of yourself that comes with experience, which comes with age.

[write-tama]

I need more of Francis Mosses x reader fluff tbh and I enjoy reading some of your works with him so here's my request: Reader is stressed about life, college or something of your choice and needed some comfort from him 🥺🤎 thank you in advance aaahshqhs 😭 (tbh I don't see much sfw works of Francis on this app, maybe I'm not searching enough?)

"rest a little-- for me at least.."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ francis mosses x student!stressed!reader

sypnosis ; reader and francis have been hard at work trying to achieve their ultimate goals for the future. but lately, reader has been burning themselves out, and its up to francis to help realize how tired reader is.

containing ; exhaustion, reader is a college student, francis works double shifts, francis and reader are high school sweethearts (in this au anastacha is not his daughter), francis is worried about reader, TOOTH ACHING FLUFF RAGH

author’s note ; eee thank u anon! also dw, i also experienced the same problem trying to find sfw for francis 😭😭 its lowkey the reason why i had to crawl out of my hiatus hole LOL but ya really hope u enjoy :]

04.15.24 | 1.4k words

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Five shots of espresso from the cafe across the block could not fix how fucking exhausted you were.

You and Francis have been together since your highschool days. You have always dreamed of going to college to become a forensic scientist to work in the police force for super interesting crimes— but holy shit— were you tired from the projects and the essays.

You haven’t seen Francis in a few days either, despite living in the same apartment. He’s been working shifts in the morning and night just to make ends meet while also saving up for a house that you two could buy together. It was exhausting, but it was all a part of the plan. You worked a little side job as well delivering papers early in the morning just as a quick cash grab, but that also meant you barely spent mornings with your boyfriend. It’s not like you guys had the time anyway. He had to work in the morning too, which made it all the more frustrating.

After finally reaching your apartment, you immediately kicked off your shoes and threw your bag to the nearest corner before flopping down on the couch. A loud groan rumbled from your throat, finally giving your exhaustion a voice. You looked up from the couch, too tired to even turn on the TV. From the corner of your eye though, you saw in the kitchen a pot on the stove with a bright yellow sticky note on the top of it. Out of curiosity, you lifted yourself from the cushions with all your strength before heading towards the kitchen.

You waddled over to the pot with a curious tilt to your head as read the sticky note:

You left for work before I could tell you, but I’m coming off my shift early today and I’m not working tonight. Here’s some lunch I prepared this morning. Love you honey, get some rest. -Fran

Your grin stretched from ear-to-ear as you opened the lid to be welcomed with the smell of fresh spaghetti and meatballs. You turned on the gas stove to heat up the food, and used a clean wooden spoon to stir the food gradually. As you did, you couldn’t help as yawns escaped your mouth. You thought about taking a nap after your meal, seeing as how later today you needed to take some notes for an upcoming exam.

Your need for success never gave you the permission to give yourself a break every once in a while. In fact, the only times you did take a break was when Francis was sick and he needed someone by his side to take care of him. Other than that, you were always academically focused. Every once in a while, Francis would voice his opinion, telling you that you shouldn’t be burning yourself out so fast, but it was your determination and your vision of a perfect future with him that fueled you. Was this safe for your own mental health? Absolutely not. But you were aware of the consequences, and you pushed yourself anyway.

You felt your body grow increasingly heavy. You quickly jolted your head up, not even realizing that your eyes were fluttered close and you had stopping moving your spoon for a few seconds. You shook yourself awake, quickly grabbing a plate and helping yourself to a serving. You made sure to turn off the stove as well before throwing the spoon in the sink and grabbing a clean metal fork to enjoy your meal. It was best to hurry on and sit down before you became a danger to yourself.

You placed your food down on the coffee table before curling up on the couch. Maybe some TV would wake me up, you thought to yourself. You picked up the TV remote and browsed through the channels, eventually settling on a random game show that was airing live. Feeling a bit more energized, you placed a pillow in your lap before resting your food on top of it.

After each bite you felt your eyelids getting heavy. Your body started slowly giving in, despite your protests. The host’s voice soon turned into muffles as you felt your head nod a little. Each time you felt yourself falling, you immediately jolted up, not wanting to succumb to your body’s need for rest. What you really needed to do was to finish those essays and projects, and to also greet your loving boyfriend once he comes back from work. Your mind started dragging along little plans on how you would be able to accomplish everything before sleeping, but without realizing, your eyes had fallen closed as you leaned back in the couch.

Francis came back home about an hour later, tired from his work. As he placed his work bag down, he barely realized that your bag was set in the corner as well. “(y/n)?” He began to call out, but as soon as he turned around, he noticed your sleeping figure on the couch curled up with your pillow and food next to you. “Oh, (y/n)..” he mumbled, smiling a little in amusement. Francis walked over you, noticing the running TV and the half-eaten food. He first turned off the TV, making sure to not make too much noise to wake you up. He took your plate as well and covered it with a napkin before storing it in the fridge. Once Francis made it back to the living room, he sighed in relief, noticing that you still haven’t woken up. He rolled up his sleeves before carefully sliding his arms under your body, being as gentle as possible as he carried you to the bedroom.

“Mm..” You mumbled, half asleep. “Franci..?” You croaked out, burying yourself into his chest.

“Mhm..” He hummed. “I found you asleep on the couch.. I’m just moving you to the bedroom if you don’t mind..” He chuckled a little. You groaned a little in response, tugging a little at his button-down uniform.

“No..” you protested. “I have work to do.. I have projects due soon..”

Francis laid you gently down onto the soft mattress. You sat up a bit, realizing that you were still in your casual formal clothes you wore for school. You looked over to Francis, who had changed out of his work clothes, but kept his undershirt on and threw on some pajama pants. “Franci, can you—”

“Here you go.” You looked up, not even realizing that he was already handing you your midnight clothes. His tired eyes gazed upon you, but even then, his eyes were dilated with genuine care. You smiled up at him before taking the clothes and changing on the bed, throwing your clothes in a corner.

You sighed a little as you straightened out your shorts, looking down with a wearied face. “You know I need to get back to work.” You quietly muttered. Francis looked at you with a frown as he stood over the bed.

“You can’t just keep working day and night.” He lectured softly. You scoffed a little before looking at him, only to immediately falter to his puppy-eyed look. “Just rest with me this evening, please, dear?” He asked, folding his arms behind his back as he leaned down.

Your face heated up, flustered at how desperate Francis seemed to be just wanting to have a few minutes ago. You smiled softly before reaching up and caressing his face with your hand. “You know I hate it when you look at me like that..” You whispered.

“Well, it's the only way to get you to agree.” He mumbled back, sinking into your embrace. The two of you were locked in eye contact as Francis slowly climbed into the bed. His hands straddled either side of you as you leaned back against the headboard. Gradually, his lips pressed against yours, and immediately you melted. Your hands snaked around his neck, holding him as close as you could. His touch filled you with the warmth you longed for so long after drawn-out lectures and pressure-inducing assignments. All you wanted was him.

He wrapped your arms around your waist before resting himself on your chest— a sigh escaping his nostrils. “I miss this.” he muttered. “When was the last time we got to hold each other like this?”

You ran fingers through his hair, carefully tugging out knots. “Only heaven knows..” You whispered back. The two of you enjoyed the comfortable silence. Only the faint hum of the lamp filled your ears as well as the occasional vehicle rushing down the road in front of your apartment complex. Your chest rose and fell as you breathed as Francis buried himself deeper into your embrace. “I-I’m sorry I’ve been a little difficult lately.” you apologized, feeling the guilt prick at your skin. “I’ve just been so stressed with school lately.. All I could think about is work and it's ruining us—”

“Please don’t apologize for that.” Francis was quick to cut you off. He lifted his head up and now sat up properly in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed a little as he looked at your gentle figure. “Please.. Just don’t. I understand you’ve been working so hard lately. I have been to. But this is all for our future, remember?” He grabbed your hand, holding it with both of his hands before kissing your knuckles. “Mmm.. I miss our evenings together too, I truly do, but what I’m concerned about is your wellbeing. You need to give yourself a breather every once in a while. At least promise me that.”

Your body felt weak with each work he uttered. Your head rushed with stars, remembering that its moments like these that make you want to work so hard. You want nothing but blessings for this man, because if anything, he was your savior. Tears pricked at your eyes, sniffling a little as you nodded your head.

“I promise..” You said in a shaky voice. A sincere smile curled Francis lips as he reached down to kiss your forehead.

Everything is going to be okay, you thought to yourself.

Everything is okay.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

thats it! hope you enjoyed :3 sorry i procrastinated on this for a while im def gonna clutch on up writing after school ends (which is end of april). lowk so glad this bc ive been stressed w college work as well so rereading honestly felt SO comforting 😭😭 but anyway ya--

reblogs, likes, even replies are soso appreciated and i hope you enjoyed this story :]

[sunderlust]

you left me no choice but to stay here forever (right where you left me)

masterlist

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader (hotshot journalist!reader) 

synopsis: you and jake have been best friends for years and eventually he becomes the love of your life - which makes it that much harder to cope when he starts pulling away with no explanation (based off right where you left me by miss tswift)

wc: 14k (yoo I think I actually may'd)

warnings: angst with a happy ending, explicit language, pining, supposedly unrequited love, kinda sad feels, reader wearing heels.

A shoutout to gretagerwigsmuse and @seasonsbloom - I wouldn't have gotten through this fic period, let alone begun writing in the first place without them. Please check out their writing, send them a sweet message or two <3

AGE SIXTEEN (pages turn and stick to each other)

This is not a date. 

On a crisp Wednesday in October - well, as crisp as it can get in Texas - you find yourself sitting across from your high school’s running back in a greasy booth at your town’s renowned pizza parlor. And even though he’s objectively the hottest guy in your grade - not to mention the fact that he’s kind, well-liked amongst your peers, almost too charming for his own good - there’s no way you would ever go on a date with Jake Seresin. 

For that matter, you’re not even friends. The only reason he’s even here is because you managed to pique his interest with the promise of a free meal in exchange for an interview for the school newspaper. So even though he held the door open for you and let you choose the side of the booth to sit in and even insisted on getting your favorite pizza toppings, you’re not going to let it distract you from doing your job.  

You had been invited to join the school newspaper team in August, but you had yet to write a story featured in the paper. By some stroke of luck, Newsteam President Joe thought you were ready to handle your own solo project: a profile on one of your school’s football players. And while you aren’t exactly thrilled to interview Westwood High School’s star running back you’re determined to deliver a moving, heart wrenching piece about #25 and the trials and tribulations of high school football that’ll have Joe reaching for tissues.  

No one needs to know that you’ve never even been to a football game in your life. 

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” you tell Jake briskly after your waitress walks away after passing you your drinks. You pull out the giant legal notepad you stole from your dad’s study and your favorite ten color shuttle pen, then push down the lever for dark blue ink - for your more serious projects. 

The boy in front of you nods once, stretching both arms out on either side of him to rest on the back of the booth, eyes darting around. “Sure.” 

“So...” you start, then trail off, eyes scanning the list of questions you’d meticulously drafted the night before. You decide to start from the very beginning: “What can you remember about the first time you played with a football?” you ask, and Jake shrugs his shoulders. 

“Blood,” he says simply, and you wrinkle your nose. 

“What? Blood?” 

“Yeah. I was six. My dad was trying to teach me how to catch the ball, and ma kept telling him to use the foam ones but he said they didn’t spiral as well. Ended up pelting a pigskin at me and clocked me right on the nose. I can still feel a bump here,” you briefly look up from rapidly transcribing to watch him idly rub the bridge of his nose with his index finger. 

You nod, scrawling down the details, mentally planning out how you could possibly fit this into an article and thinking of potential titles. Child gets pelted with a football and vows revenge. Becomes Westlake’s Star RB. Pathetic. 

“So you’ve been playing since you were six?” you try to establish a timeline. “Ten years?” 

“No. I joined a youth league when I was nine,” Jake corrects. He doesn’t elaborate. 

You sigh, tapping your pen on your legal pad idly, then another question catches your eye. “What do you enjoy most about football?” you flip over to a clean page and smooth it out, not missing the flash of incredulity on Jake’s face. 

“You kidding? No offense, but these questions suck,” he snickers, and your shoulders sag as you flip back to scan your messy notes. “Do you even want to be doing this little interview?” 

“Do you?” you throw back, angrily, nervously clicking your pen as you try and figure out how you’re going to salvage this meeting, reaching into the crevices of your mind to craft a less sucky, more thought-provoking question. 

The one thing you know about conducting an interview is asking the right question, one that will unleash your subject to go off on their own path and tell their story the way they want to. This way, you find that you get the most details, the most honest perspective. And so far, all you had from Jake was a stupid story about a childhood injury doesn’t lend itself to writing a tear-jerking profile. 

Jake’s smirk doesn’t waver and after a few moments of silence, he relents. “I was promised free pizza. What’s in it for you?” 

You sigh and rest your head back against the worn pleather of the booth seat, squeeze your eyes shut, tighten your grip on your pen as you deliberate his question. “Will you answer my questions if I tell you?” 

“If they’re better questions, yeah.” 

You shoot him a quick glare, then let out a resigned sigh and click your pen, setting it down on top of your scribbled notes. “First off, I hate football. Never even seen a game.” 

“Seriously?” Jake says and folds his arms together to lean in closer over the sticky tabletop. “We live in Texas. You’ve never even watched a game on TV?” 

You shrug ambivalently. “No, it never really caught my interest. I mean, what’s there to watch? Someone screams out a bunch of numbers and then you all just charge at each other to wrestle for five seconds while a stupidly shaped ball gets tossed around? And don’t even get me started on your weird scoring system-” 

“- It makes sense if you actually commit to watching it!” Jake defends hotly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking like he’s trying his hardest to fight a pout. “Why’d they even put you on this article? Doesn’t seem like you give a damn about writing football.” 

“I don’t,” you agree, sitting up straight and daring to look him straight in the eye. At this point, you don’t care how little you know about the stupid sport - you just want Jake to answer your questions so that you can go home and cobble together something, anything to show Joe that you can handle writing your own opinion pieces. “But Joe said if I write a great profile, he’ll print my story about the cafeteria workers.” 

Jake pauses, mentally chews your words. “Seems like he set you up, then, darling,” - your surprise at the sweet name is overtaken by the harsh reality check - “Seeing as he asked you to interview me when you’ve never even been to a game.” 

A wave of clarity washes over you. You didn’t think about it that way - that Joe might have intentionally put you on this project just to watch you struggle, so he could easily shut down your other ideas. You deflate, shrinking into yourself, and your solemn expression suddenly has Jake shaking his head and trying to backpedal.

“Look - hey. I’m sorry. I’m sure... Maybe he’s just testing you to see if you can write things out of your element. Isn’t that the mark of a good newspaper... writer?” 

It kind of makes sense, but the first reason hurts more, resonates with you, and opens the door for self-doubt to stride right in. With how hard you had to fight tooth and nail to even be offered a spot on the school news team, it’s easy to imagine they didn’t want to make things easy for you. Suddenly, you find yourself questioning your writing ability, wondering if you’re really cut out for this. You shrug. “Yeah, maybe.” 

Jake purses his lips, drumming his fingers again on the tabletop. “What’s the story with the cafeteria workers?” 

At this, you perk up slightly, straightening your back and halting your anxious pen tapping. “There’s just been lots of wages being cut, some layoffs early this year and now they’re being asked to work overtime and the supervisors keep changing the schedule around and giving them such a hard time for wanting to take time off. I think they let someone go because they wouldn’t come in when they had the flu. Can you believe that? Someone was literally sick and didn’t go to work in a kitchen where they could easily infect the whole school. And Sandra - you know Sandra the cashier? She told me they’re all planning to walk out in two weeks, which I think is really admirable - but honestly, I think they need someone to talk about their complaints y’know? Let their voices be heard?” 

You stop, finally realizing that you’d been rambling for the better half of a minute about a topic the star running back probably couldn’t care less about. But to your surprise, he’s listening intently, nodding encouragingly, looking contemplative. It’s weird - you’re not used to people being interested in what you have to say. 

It’s nice. 

“Sounds like you’re a lot more keyed up about this story than stupid football,” he finally says with a half smile, and you push down the warm feeling it ignites. 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat and shift uncomfortably, bashfully. “It’s just... It’s what I want to do. Write about real people and real events. Give the silenced a voice. Which I know, it sounds kind of cheesy and idealistic and quixotic - but I don’t care. I just want to make a difference. Maybe win a Pulitzer Prize, I don’t know.”

His eyebrows furrow - maybe he doesn’t know what a Pulitzer is - but he nods thoughtfully. “I mean... Don’t really know what quixotic means, but I don’t think you’re being cheesy. Speaking of cheese, though...” his eyes flit over your shoulder.  

Your waitress interrupts, setting down a large pizza with the toppings of Jake’s choice. He eagerly loads two slices onto his plate and continues his train of thought: “Tell you what: how about I give you a hand with the article? I’ll tell you what you need to know about football, at least.” 

“You’d do that for me?” you ask, and you’re honestly shocked he didn’t just brush off your whole rant about your hopes and dreams, amazed that he’s even offered to help. 

He shrugs and swallows the huge bite he’d taken. “‘Course - but in exchange, you’ll have to go to our games. You know, all my friends come to support me.” 

You first open your mouth to object to having to watch football - then close it, sending him an incredulous look. “We’re friends?” you ask dumbly. 

He shifts, looks the tiniest bit bashful, busies himself with the straw in his drink. “I mean... I’d like to be. Who knows, maybe you’ll be famous one day or you could help me with my English essays - ”

“- You want to be friends so I’ll cheer on you at games and tutor you for free?” you interrupt, narrowing your gaze.

But despite your tone being riddled with annoyance, despite the glare you’re now sending his way, Jake sends you an easy smile, serving himself another slice. “Nah, you just seem pretty cool.” 

-- 

By another stroke of luck, you manage to pump out a puff piece about Jake Seresin - something along the lines of how the first time #25 threw a football was the moment he resolved to never back down after the first hit, to wipe the sweat and blood from his face and keep pushing forward. Joe is more than impressed with the quality of your work - almost surprised, you annoyedly observe - and agrees to run the profile for the following week’s issue, just in time for Westlake’s playoff game. 

On Monday evening, you’re reviewing your interview notes with Sandra the Cashier at your kitchen table when suddenly, the landline rings. “Hello?” you answer, anticipating it to be one of your parents’ friends calling to gossip. The line is silent for a few moments, and you clear your throat to try again. “Anyone there?” 

Suddenly, Jake’s laughter flows into your ear. “‘Never back down’?” he quotes through a wheeze, and you hold back a smile, this time letting yourself feel the butterflies that come alive in your stomach at the sound of his voice. 

“You didn’t give me much to work with for your story!” you tell him with a small giggle. “So I managed to pull this together, and I’d say it’s a heart clencher - a tear jerker, even. Joe’s happy, at least.” 

“He gonna let you write that other thing?” 

“About the cafeteria workers? Working on it right now, actually,” you tell him, twirling the phone coil around your finger idly. 

“Well darling,” Jake says and you feel your heart skip a beat at the sweet name, at the sound of mirth filling his voice, at the memory of his smiling eye crinkles that involuntarily flashes in your mind. “I’ll hold onto this profile, hang it in my gym locker. But let me know when they print that union thing. I’d like to hold onto a future Pyoo-litzer Prize winner’s first ever real story.”

“Pulitzer,” you correct him, and despite your writing hand hurting terribly from all the notes you’ve been scribbling and the slight twinge of a headache from your eyes straining, your heart feels full as ever as you chat with Jake - your new friend -  into the late hours of the night.  

AGE EIGHTEEN (wages earned and lessons learned)

Almost two years later, you find yourself seated across from Jake at your town’s fanciest Italian restaurant. It’s been a while since your waiter has checked in to take your meal orders, but his absence easily slips your mind as the two of you gossip while munching on garlicky breadsticks that are way chewier than you’d like.

After a lull in the conversation, you take a deep breath. “How’s your mom doing?” you carefully ask, taking a sip of your coke to avoid tacking on more words, to fight the urge to add more useless attempts at hopeful sentiments.

Jake shrugs, unbothered, nonchalant. “She’s holding up.” 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he just drums his fingers on top of the white tablecloth impatiently, turning his head to glance behind him at the swinging door to the kitchen. “Have you... spoken to your dad?” you probe, and while Jake doesn’t react harshly like you expect, his hand momentarily freezes. 

“No,” he finally says. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk to him.” 

“Right,” you pause. “Do you think you ever will?”  

Jake heaves out a sigh and turns back to face you, idly chewing at a hangnail. Your fingers twitch and you hold yourself back from reaching out to pull his hand away from his mouth. “There’s not much to say, really. They were married, and now they’re not.”

You nod slowly, taking another sip of your drink, briefly lamenting the fact that it’s now just melted ice with a dash of soda. “How are your sisters?” 

Again, he shrugs. “Fine. I’m driving them around a whole lot. Kinsey won’t come out of her room, but that’s no different than usual. They won’t talk to him either.” 

He’s silent, doesn’t seem to want to say much else, instead tries to play off his nervousness by taking another large gulp of his drink and shifting his eyes to watch the Cowboys game playing on the tiny TV behind the bar. But you can tell he’s gotten himself worked up by the way you can feel his foot tapping impatiently under the table, the way he presses his finger harder into his teeth, by virtue of knowing Jake so well. 

So you change the subject. “Are we doing this every year now, then? A friendship anniversary?” you ask. 

Jake visibly relaxes, almost looking grateful. The foot tapping stops, and he pulls his hand away from his mouth to sling an arm around the booth and send you a signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Of course - gotta celebrate the day you learned about football - ” 

“- I swear, I’ll break your nose again with one later - ” 

“With your aim? Please,” he scoffs, a goofy smile breaking the moment he makes eye contact with you. 

You roll your eyes. “Plan B is always my fists. Anyway, how do you think we’ll even keep up every year while I’m at school and you’re at the Academy?” 

“I’ll visit you at Columbia - and before you say it, shut up. You’re getting in, Miss Pulitzer. As for the Academy... Depends on whether I even apply.”

“Why wouldn’t you apply?” you ask, even though you’re sure you know the answer, ready to pour out words of affirmation, tell him that there’s no way they’d turn him down. 

“Not sure if I’d get in,” - bingo, but he follows up with something that stuns you - “And I think I might want to stick around here for a bit. Take care of the family for a bit.” 

You’re not sure what to say to that, exactly. Because you were prepared to jump into a supportive best friend mode: reassure him that he’s a shoo-in, remind him of his accomplishments, deliver your long-winded ramble of uplifting words that’ll make your mouth feel like you’re chewing cotton by the end of it. But that’s not what Jake needs right now. 

“I don’t think your Ma would want you to do that, Jake,” you say quietly. “She wouldn’t want you to abandon your dreams just to take care of her.” 

He stretches his arms back, rolls his neck out hard enough so that his joins sound like crackling rice krispies in the silence. “She’d never ask me to. But I don’t want her to have a hard time, make her shoulder the burden.” 

“Knowing her, she wouldn’t want to unload anything onto you, Jake,” you tell him firmly, sitting up straight in an attempt to look more certain, strong. “You’ve wanted this for such a long time. Don’t let your dad ruin this for you - I know a part of you wants to stick it to him or something. But fuck that, Jake. If you put your dreams on hold, you’ll regret it. You have to do this for yourself.” 

“Yeah... I guess,” he trails off, still sounding uncertain, but a little less subdued. His hand lifts up and he’s again gnawing at the raw skin on his fingers.

“You’ve really gotta stop biting your nails, Jake,” you tease, hoping it’ll relieve some of the tensions that somehow returned, and he rolls his eyes. “If you want to keep your mouth occupied -” 

“- You offering? I tell you, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it -” 

“Shut up,” you snipe, feeling the heat rush into your cheeks at the suggestion. You shake off your embarrassment. “How ‘bout chewing gum?” 

“Hate gum,” Jake pouts. “Makes my jaw hurt.” 

“You’re such a baby. Lollipops?” 

“Charles would hate me,” he replies, and you internally roll your eyes at him calling his dentist by his first name. His sincere dedication to exceptional dental health and maintaining his teeth was sure to win him the best smile Senior superlative. “If your next suggestion is smoking -”

“- It’s not!” you glare. “How about toothpicks?” 

“You want me to roll a sharp piece of wood in my mouth? Sounds delightful,” he drawls sarcastically, and you scoff, turning your eyes to look up at the ceiling. 

“Better than sticking your fingers in your mouth all the damn time. What are you, two?” 

“I’m a ten, thank you very much.” 

“You’re insufferable,” you groan out, fighting back the urge to smile. “You won’t stay a ten if you rip your fingers apart though, Jake. You should give it a try. They have flavored toothpicks, too.” 

He ponders this with narrowed eyes, pulls his hand away from his mouth to lay it flat on top of the table to examine his cuticles carefully. “Think they have cinnamon?” 

“Probably. Would keep your mouth fresh too.” 

“Oh, the ladies are gonna love that,” he laughs, smiling so big now that his eyes crinkle  and it feels like someone’s opened a window in this dim restaurant, pushed the sun higher in the sky and bathed your whole body in sunlight. You laugh along with him, rest your elbows on the table to prop your head up and just look at him, appreciate him as a boy who offered to help you within the first hour of knowing you, a man who’s willing to give up his aspirations to care for the people he loves. Your best friend who stopped giving you butterflies a long time ago and now brings you a feeling of comfort, of warmth. Of home. 

Suddenly, Jake reaches across the table, palm facing up. You eye it carefully, slowly sliding your hand into his. “You good?” 

“Thanks for putting up with me for two years,” he tells you seriously. And you shake your head with a smile, can sense the emotions well up in your eyes, feel your heart beating faster. 

“Of course,” you breathe out. “Thanks for always supporting me.” 

“Always,” he parrots back. “Anything for a future Pew-litzer Winner.” 

You huff out a wet laugh, and the two of you just sit there across from each other, smiling like idiots until finally, with your vision slightly blurred and your hand still squeezing his across the table, you glance around for your waitress who has yet to make an appearance. “You wanna just... go get some pizza?” 

“God, yes,” Jake agrees, immediately moving to stand up. “Think we can find some toothpicks on the way?” 

AGE TWENTY-THREE (she’s still 23, inside her fantasy, how it was supposed to be)

The October after you graduate from Columbia and Jake’s graduated from the Academy, you visit him in Pensacola in a bar that’s packed to the brim with patrons in Navy-issued khakis. You find yourself in a booth across from Jake, snacking on greasy bar eats and nursing some shitty beers. 

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me to your date, Hangman?” a dark-skinned, intimidatingly handsome man in uniform leans against your table and looks down at you with a grin that could rival a hyena’s. You glance over at Jake, who rolls his eyes. 

“Coyote,” Jake says admonishingly, flips a toothpick between his teeth, but goes on to introduce you. “This is my best friend from back home.”

You wave awkwardly, pondering where his callsign may have come from - unless that was his birth name, in which you’d love to have a quick interview with his parents. Coyote raises his eyebrows and slides into the booth next to Jake, subsequently pushing him closer to the wall and rests both elbows on the table. “So you’re Jake’s friend? With all the articles?” 

You whip your head to look at Jake, who’s bearing a sheepish grin with his cheeks getting slightly pinker. His hand raises up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s nothing -” 

“- You should’ve seen him during basic - had all these things pinned up on his wall, always reading your letters at breakfast with a puppy dog face. Honestly thought you were his sweetheart or something- Ow!” 

Coyote’s rubbing his side where Jake elbowed him harshly, cheeks still red and teeth furiously gnashing down on the toothpick. Underneath the table, you can feel Jake’s leg start bouncing, and you shift your foot forward to lightly brush his, tap the side of his tenderly. He halts his movements. 

“He’s just a great friend,” you clarify, beaming at Jake, who seems slightly less tense with his jaw unclenched. “Anyways, is Coyote your callsign?” your curiosity gets the better of you, and you figure it might be a good chance to get the spotlight off Jake. 

“Sure is. Name’s Javy,” he smirks at you, then jerks a hand over at Jake. “Has he told you his sign?” 

“Yeah, Hangman. Which is stupid, because he honestly sucks at the game -” 

“- I don’t,” Jake hotly defends, sits up in his seat and crooks an accusatory finger in your direction. “You’re the one that does weird ass long words. No one’s gonna guess - what was it? Gerrymandering?” 

Coyote attempts to stifle a laugh, but you let a giggle bubble right out of you. “I like to use it as a learning opportunity.” 

“Here’s a word for you: buzzkill.” Jake retorts, and you scoff, holding back a smile, about to snark back when you feel your phone vibrate from your purse. 

“One second,” you pull out your Blackberry, glancing over the email from your coworker at The Washington Times and tapping out a brief response. 

“Hey sweetheart,” you hear Jake say and your heart skips a beat, a smile forming at the familiar name as you press send on your message. Your surging warmth is immediately extinguished as you look up from your phone and see that Jake’s not speaking to you at all, not even looking your way. Instead, he’s shifted his entire body to face a gorgeous woman who’s stopped by your booth and is currently looking at him with a sweet smile.

“Still on for Friday night?” she asks, and you envy how cool she sounds saying it, like there’s no doubt in her mind that Jake will say yes, against your better wishes. 

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it,” he replies easily, the dimple on his cheek popping out, deflating you further.

She flashes a quick smile at you as well - no malice or threat in it whatsoever - and you wonder if it’s that obvious that you and Jake are friends, that you’re not on a date even though you’d both been seated in this booth for the better half of an hour. 

Maybe she thinks you’re just here with Javy, who’s been watching the whole interaction with a smirk, eyes laser focused on you trying your hardest to keep your expression neutral. “You’re going out with Imani? What happened to Priya?” Coyote asks after the girl walks away, his pointed look at you unwavering.  

Jake shrugs. “She knew I didn't want anything serious. So does Imani. It’s just drinks and dinner and you know... whatever comes next.” 

They both share a chuckle and your heart clenches painfully. You’re no prude - you’re all in support of people having casual sex, and you’re glad Jake is forthcoming with these girls.  He’s not breaking their hearts, and they seem content to just have one night with him and be done with it. 

There’s just the tiniest whisper of anxiety that wonders if there’s something wrong with you for rarely engaging in hookup culture, for not feeling comfortable enough to have meaningless flings. The one time you took a step out of your comfort zone and hooked up with a stranger, your walk of shame felt like a daze - inside, you were empty, despondent. A part of you envies Imani and the mysterious Priya for being able to cast aside their emotions so easily, fall into bed with a stranger, step out the next morning without feeling like they’re missing a part of themself.

The little green monster in you also flares up at the realization that they’ll know Jake in a more intimate way than you ever will - in a way that you’ve only dreamt about a handful of times. Give or take. You’re not sure when you started seeing him in a different light, as more than a friend, more like the person you’d want to get old with and celebrate milestones besides the anniversary of you becoming friends - but it happened slowly, suddenly, then all at once. And now, your feelings just sit with you, tethering you to the impossible dream of knowing Jake as so much more. 

All this to say, you can’t be angry with Jake or any of these women. It’s not a crime for him to want to sleep around. You just wish you had the courage to tell him it’s not entirely victimless. 

“There’s quite a few girls back home who’d be shattered to hear this,” you tease instead, ignoring the way your stomach is dropping low, the way your appetizer is slowly creeping up your esophagus. 

Jake rolls his eyes. “Always been a heartbreaker, darlin’, it’s an occupational hazard.” he tells you and you agree mentally, idly picking at the basket of cold fries on the table. “You’ll always be my number one girl, though.” 

Ah, and the dream lives on. 

AGE TWENTY-SIX (time went on for everybody else, she won't know it)

“Happy tenth anniversary to a spectacular, intelligent, absolutely phenomenal woman,” Jake toasts, grinning across from you at Malatesta Trattoria in West Village. Jake had insisted on treating you in celebration of your new job at The New York Times - did the research and made reservations all on his own, took time off and everything. 

“Happy friendship anniversary to a guy who still forgets to pack his toothbrush,” you snicker, and laugh even harder when his look of pride quickly turns into a mock glare. 

It’s been a full year since you physically saw him at your last anniversary dinner - Jake had been away on a longer assignment in Lemoore, and you’d been busy churning out inflammatory political op-eds for The Washington Times and applying to jobs in the Big Apple. The two of you called pretty regularly, but this was officially the longest the two of you had gone without seeing each other. 

You thought it’d feel awkward, like you’d have to fumble to find your footing with him the same way you have to figure out how to balance when you put on roller skates, but it’s easy. The moment you stepped outside of your building to meet him, he’d rushed to lift you in a giant bear hug, like no time apart had even passed. And the whole night, the two of you chat about anything and everything- he fills you in on his assignment and about something he’s gunning for called Top Gun, and you tell him about an upcoming project covering creative renewal in Beirut - you both nod along as best as you can while the other speaks. 

After your plates are empty and cleared out and you both have determined that you’re too full for dessert (although, the ice cream calling your name at your apartment might have you singing a different tune later), you both stand up to exit the restaurant. 

The wine you had with dinner has loosened up your movements - typically, you have to move through the city streets with big strides and purpose - like you’ve got somewhere to be and you’re already ten minutes late. But with Jake, there’s no timetable, no place you have to hurry to reach. Right now, the only thing on your agenda is to stand next to Jake in the middle of the sidewalk outside of this fancy restaurant and appreciate the moments you have with him. 

And figure out how the hell you’re getting home. 

“You wanna call a cab?” Jake asks you with an arm wrapped around your waist to steady your swaying form, and you balk at the thought of having to pay a hefty fee just to sit still in a car and try to keep your spinning head from making you throw up. God, your tolerance has become abysmal. 

“We can just take the F train back to my place. If you’re okay walking?” you reply fuzzily, looking up at him with a messy grin. Jake’s sweet expression catches you off guard - hazel green eyes locked on you, his sweet smile etching a dimple deeper into his cheek, like Michaelangelo himself carved it. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you become all too aware of the feeling of his hand squeezing your hip, the warmth of his forearm around your lower back, the way his chest is just barely brushing your shoulder and yet still manages to heat you up from head to toe. 

And you know he’s only trying to keep you upright, probably just trying to gauge your level of drunkenness and assess whether you’re good to make the thirty minute walk plus subway ride to your home. But he doesn’t know that it’s not the three glasses of wine you had at dinner that’s intoxicated you this much, that’s made your mind feel lighter than air and your heart ten times fuller. It’s all Jake - Jake - who’s looking at you like you’re the only thing on his mind, the only person in the world, the only one who matters.

“Are you fine with that?” he asks, and the softness written in his features reminds you of all the times you’ve looked at Jake and found a new favorite thing to fall in love with. 

The very first time you looked at him - really looked at him - you fixated on the way his dimple poked out while you regaled him with a story about how you exacted revenge on your friend’s two-timing ex by pouring your entire yogurt cup on top of his head. The way he threw his head back with his eyes squinted shut and hands clapping together made you feel more enamored with him than ever, had you scraping the back of your mind for more stupid jokes to make him laugh that hard. 

Another time, you remember looking right at his nose and thinking about how much you wanted to plant a sweet kiss on the tip, found yourself wondering how it would feel pressed against your neck as you both drifted off for the night, and how the sound of his soft breathing beside you would be the most comforting, reassuring sound to fall asleep to. 

This time, you’re completely mesmerized by the way the streetlights hit the flecks of green in his eyes, the way his pupils look slightly dilated, the way his gaze darts down for a split second to your lips and right back up to meet your heated look. If you weren’t drunk you’d fall right into the moment, lean right in and press your mouth to his like you’ve always wanted to, let his perfectly brilliant teeth clash with yours. Maybe see for yourself if you can taste cinnamon on his tongue. 

But you are incredibly drunk right now, and that’s no way to kiss him for the first time. So you pull your head back ever so slightly. “I think I just need to walk off the alcohol for a bit,” you shoot him a sloppy grin, still managing to lose yourself in those fucking beautiful eyes. 

Jake’s talking, murmuring something low in your ear. “You sure? Those shoes look like they hurt.” 

You look down at your heels - and yeah, they’re fucking painful. These past few minutes of Jake’s inebriating presence has given you the briefest reprieve from the sharp pains shooting up your calves. You’re desperate to take them off - but you can’t recall when your last tetanus shot was. And even if you were up-to-date, no one could convince you that it’s safe to walk barefoot in the streets of New York. “No, I’ll make it. Need to walk off the wine.” 

“You wanna wear my shoes?” Jake offers and you scoff. 

“You wanna walk barefoot? What, do you think they sanitize and mop the sidewalks every night?” 

“I’m wearing socks!” he defends and you roll your eyes. 

“Still gross. Besides, you know what they say about guys with big feet?” 

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, looks momentarily stunned as his eyes dart to his shoes, then return to your face. “Big dick?” 

“Big shoes,” you deadpan. “And if I take one step in your big clown shoes, I’m faceplanting right on the sidewalk. You want that to happen? ” 

“Clown shoes?” he repeats to himself quietly with an amused smile, then shakes his head, finally relenting. “Fine. But if you get tired, I’m not carrying you.” 

“I’ll make it,” you insist. 

--

“Jake?” you say thirty minutes later after traversing up the subway stairs, stopping for a moment to bend down and massage your ankles. Jake stops, shifts the paper bag with leftovers from one hand to the other and places his free hand on your back. He looks down at you with concern. 

“Yeah?” 

You pause for a moment, wondering if he’d turn you down, deliberating if you even feel comfortable asking him for a piggyback ride for the five minute walk back to your apartment. But the aching toe cramp that you’re trying and failing to stretch out drowns out your insecurities, silences your fear that he wouldn’t be able to manage. You remind yourself that he’s been bragging about his new squat record for weeks now, anyway. “Can you carry me on your back? Please?” 

A sigh. Then, “Sure darlin’. Hop on.” 

You wordlessly reach to take the leftovers from him and he turns away from you, couches down low enough to let you clamber onto him. With an arm secured under each leg, he extends to his full height and lifts you up onto his back. 

“Alright?” he rumbles, and you nod wordlessly, wrap your arms around his neck and hook your chin over his shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut, and you breathe in his familiar cologne, some Tom Ford scent you’d gifted him a few Christmases ago. It grounds you, keeps your head from spinning even more as you relish the feeling of your ankles not supporting your whole body weight. 

You feel the alcohol hit for a second wave, completely demolishing your self-control, unleashing your thoughts to race limitlessly, to see no bounds. At this point, your head is close to mush, your limbs feel like they weigh twice as much, and you think you’ll never let yourself drink rosé again. But you’re certain of one thing. “I think you might be the love of my life,” you murmur sleepily. 

Silence. Jake doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t even say it back. So maybe you were too quiet, or perhaps you completely imagined saying it at all. 

Because it’s unlike Jake to let you have the last word. 

AGE TWENTY-EIGHT (I'm sure that you’ve got a wife out there, kids and Christmas, but I'm unaware)

“Have you ever thought about this?” Jake asks you, leaning back against his chair as he  watches the happy couple swaying in the middle of the dance floor to an Ed Sheeran song - not your personal choice, but the rest of the onlookers seem to be incredibly moved by it. This year, your friendship anniversary coincides with your old roommate’s wedding, and after much pleading (and the promise of an open bar), Jake agreed to fly out to be your plus-one. 

It surprised you how much you had to beg for him to come. At first, he had been hesitant, imploring you to attend the wedding instead of meeting him for your usual dinner. You didn’t hesitate to dismiss  that idea - it’s been twelve years of celebrating, and there’s no way you’re stopping now. Not when it already feels like Jake’s been pulling back for the past year or so: calling less often, answering texts hours after you sent them, sometimes not even replying to your articles with anything aside from a little thumbs-up emoji. 

At this point, it feels like this anniversary is all that’s tethering him to you. 

“Have I ever thought about my wedding?” you ponder. “Yeah, sometimes. Don’t think I’d ever spring for something as big as this, but -” 

“- No, no,” he interrupts, “you wouldn’t want to make a big fuss of it all, not a crazy big party and definitely not a five hundred person guest list. ‘Course I know that about you.” Jake smiles and shifts forward, leaning in close; you can just barely smell the sandalwood and vanilla musk of his cologne. He seems relaxed, finally looks content to be here - though you’re sure that’s all thanks to the top-shelf whiskey he’s imbibing. “I meant marriage, commitment, settling down. You think you’d ever want to do that?” 

You purse your lips, gaze still locked on the newly wedded couple, appreciating the matching expressions of adoration written on their faces as they twirl around their guests. “Of course. Just haven’t found the right person who’s ready to do that with me.” 

He scoffs. “What, like you’re struggling to find someone? You know, from the minute I walked into this banquet hall with you, I’ve counted maybe five death glares from interested parties.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” you snort, tilting your glass up vertically to catch the last few drops of champagne.

“Sweetheart, I’d never lie to you. In fact, I think the redhead over by the bar is still sending daggers my way. And she’s hot, so I’m kind of turned on by it,” Jake adds seriously, and you roll your eyes. “Come on! I thought you were going to give Tinder a shot earlier this year?” 

You snort again, this time feeling a little more jaded. “I did give it a shot. And all I found was guys holding up fish and finance bros asking for my snap. I don’t even have a Snapchat, Jake. What happened to just getting people’s numbers and having a normal conversation?” 

“It’s a new era, all this online dating stuff,” he replies, crossing one ankle over his knee and interlacing his hands over his abdomen. “But I see your point, maybe Tinder isn’t the best place to find your forever partner.”

“Don’t know why I even bothered,” you remark and look over at him, momentarily allowing yourself to appreciate the way his tux fits over him. “Maybe if we’re both still single by the time we’re forty, we get hitched,” you muse, only half joking. 

He chokes on his whiskey, coughing loudly with the liquor singing his throat. “Yeah, right!” Jake finally manages out with a laugh and teary eyes, and it feels like someone’s poured a bucket of ice water on you, wakes you up from the lighthearted banter you lost yourself in. 

“Okay,” you narrow your eyes, heart dropping at the rejection. “Don’t sound too eager. I’m not down on one knee here or anything.” 

“Sorry,” he apologizes but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He swirls around the remaining amber sea in his drink, slightly mesmerized by the mini whirlpool. “You know me though. Never settling down.” 

You know you should take the sign to drop the conversation, but his quick refusal and blasé tone rubs you the wrong way. “Why? Because of your parents?” you hedge, leaning in to get a better look at his face, which has slightly hardened in the dim glow of the bulb lights strung across the venue. The extra bubbly you’ve consumed pushes you to question him, to finally figure out why he’s so resistant to letting himself be loved. “I know you’re scared you’ll end up making the same mistakes as your dad, but you know you’re not like him. Not in any way.”

He grits out your name warningly, arching a brow and gripping his glass tight. You run the risk of it shattering if you keep pushing. But that’s the least of your worries; right now, you’re blind with hurt. How can he just dismiss you like it’s nothing? How can he close himself off so easily? 

“Typical Jake Seresin, you know?” you cut him off hotly, trying with all your might to keep your voice even through the haze of champagne. “Always so ready to let your daddy issues ruin your chances at happiness.” 

He glares at you, knocks back the rest of his drink without even grimacing, doesn’t meet your gaze. Crunches the ice bitterly. “Get off your high horse, sweetheart,” he finally says roughly. “Stop pretending like you know me.” 

You scoff, still not backing down. “You think after over ten years of friendship, I don’t know you at all?” 

Another shrug. His leg starts bouncing incessantly. “People change, darlin’. You certainly have.” 

You draw back, feeling like he just slapped you in the face. “What d’you mean by that?” you ask a little quieter, with a slight waver, still audible over Ed Sheeran’s ballad. Where’s he going with this? 

He groans again, turns to look at you, but you don’t quite recognize the expression on his face. It’s menacing, hardened, darker than the amber liquid in his cup. “We do our separate things, sweetheart. We call a couple times a year and meet up on the same weekend to do the same dinner and yeah, that’s nice. It’s great. But that doesn’t mean you know me as well as you think you do. Quit grilling me - I’m not just a sad story for you to write about.”

His words punch you in the gut, sock you in the ear, send blood coursing angrily through your veins. Part of you wants to tell him off, unleash your fury, make a scene in the middle of this reception hall. Another part of you wants to storm off and leave him behind, but you’re not sure if you want to face the reality that he might not follow, might not chase after you with apologies and promises to soothe the burn from his words. 

Slightly misty-eyed, you fight to reel your emotions back in, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you or make Jake feel like you’re guilting him. It feels an awful lot like using thimbles to catch roof leaks. Your strength comes back to you in slow, even waves: your heart returns to its normal pattern, your chest no longer heaves for air. 

“You can’t say things like that, Jake,” you tell him, your voice surprisingly steady, rock solid. “You’re my best friend, and you can’t speak to me that way.”

His jaw ticks, his expression remains unchanged. “Sure, right. Sorry.” 

The easy dismissal brings your anger back in a rush, yet gives you time to think about your next words carefully. “You’re such an ass, Jake,” you bite out, and maintain decorum, calmly push your chair back to stand up, send him a glare with all the furiosity you can muster before making a bee-line for the exit without looking back to see if he’s following suit. 

You dodge fellow wedding attendees, snatching champagne from a waiter with a platter before knocking it back and setting the empty flute back down and continuing to make your way to the exit. Over Ed Sheeran’s second ballad, you can hear Jake quietly calling out your name, his footsteps right behind you. 

As you burst through the doors, into the crisp outside air, you teeter for a few steps in your heels before leaning against a pillar, trying to contain your emotions, lest you say something silly or embarrassing or humiliating. 

“Would you just wait? Would you let me talk?” Jake’s hot on your heels as he steps over the threshold. 

“You’ve said plenty,” you throw back. 

“Come on, darlin’, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jake says behind you, closer now. 

“I think you made it very clear,” you grind out, turning on your heel and looking him straight in the eye. “You can’t smooth-talk your way out of this, Seresin. That might work on everyone else, but it’s not doing jack shit on me!” 

He throws his hands up in the air, shakes his head. You eye how his fingers are twitching, how he’s chewing the inside of his cheek. “What do you want me to say? I’m just saying we’re not the same people we used to be -”

“- That’s fine!” you gesticulate dramatically, too overwhelmed with frustration to let your hands remain still. “But you don’t have to be an ass about it! You don’t have to minimize our friendship like this! God, Jake, what has it been? Twelve years? Twelve years of loving you, supporting you, celebrating anniversaries -” You cut yourself off, realizing what just bubbled forth from of your mouth. 

Jake’s expression stays ablaze, but his spine stiffens, hands twitch twice before he clenches them, digging his nails into his palms harshly. You meet his heavy gaze, mouth slightly agape, mind running a million miles a second until it starts to decelerate, slows down gradually, then stops on one thought, one single thought alone. 

“I love you, Jake,” you say. Like you’re stating a fact, common knowledge for everyone and their mother. The sky is blue, the world isn’t flat, and you’re in love with Jake Seresin. 

He inhales, shaking his head, and looking down at the ground. 

You falter, furrow your eyebrows, wonder if maybe he didn’t hear you. “I love you, Jake,” you repeat, this time a little louder, taking a step forward, closer to him. “I’m in love with you.” 

Jake looks up, his face contorted into a look of pain, eyes void of its usual light. Inhales sharply. “I know.” 

You falter. “You know?“ the words feel like marbles rolling out; you can almost hear the tiny plinks as they hit the ground. 

“Yeah.” 

”…How long?” 

He swallows. “Since New York.” 

You’re transported back in that moment, a montage of scenes from your tenth anniversary flashing through your mind like you’re in a cinema. You remember the night’s end in a haze: his warm body next to yours as you stumbled to the subway, you gripping onto his arm tightly with every lurch of the train, Jake carrying you on your back and you saying -

“Oh.” You shrink back, and the realization he’s held onto this for two years hits you like a truck. Jake is silent, hands now shoved into his pockets as he awaits your next few words. “And... you have nothing else to say to that?” 

Jake lets out a pained groan. “Listen, darlin’, don’t get me wrong. I... care about you so damn much, but I can’t feel for you the way you want me to. We wouldn’t work.”

His words make you freeze and your anxiety screams out ‘I told you so!’ in a manner that echoes thunderously throughout your brain. This unrequited love is something you’ve always expected, always prepared yourself for, yet you never gave it much further thought to safeguard your heart. 

You’re rapidly accelerating through the stages of grief - next, your anger comes back to you. First, in small rivulets that trickle down your spine - then as a rush of agony that feels an awful lot like the crash at the bottom of a waterfall. Your eyes burn with the tears you refuse to let fall, your palms already stinging from how hard you’ve dug your manicure into them - but is it fair for you to be mad at him? For not loving you the way you desperately want him to? 

For the longest time, a small, tiny part of you hoped Jake would come around, decide to knock on your door, knock you back with a signature bear hug. That he’ll swear to be there always, love you the way you love him. 

After tonight, you reflect, it seems like that might never happen. And quickly, you surmise that you’d rather have one part of him than nothing at all. So as you finally reach the stage of acceptance, you vow to treasure every moment of friendship with Jake Seresin. 

“I understand,” you tell him, feeling like you’re miles away. “It’s okay.” 

“You sure?” His eyes still rake over you with concern. 

“Positive.” You do your best to plaster on the most reassuring smile you can. 

“Sweetheart -” 

“- Can we just talk about this later?” you interrupt, feeling defeated and embarrassed all rolled into one. There most certainly is more to the conversation - but all you want to do is prolong it for longer, preserve the fantasy in your mind that you can Jake are alright, that the past few minutes never happened. 

He closes his mouth, nods, pushes his hands deeper into his pockets. 

From inside, the music suddenly changes - still a slow ballad, but this time it’s Al Green, Let’s Stay Together. “I believe you stipulated that I had to dance to at least one song,” Jake holds out a hand, looking at you almost hopefully. As if the last few minutes hadn’t completely shattered your heart and sent the pieces flying away with the wind. 

“Ah,” you say, feeling a wave of exhaustion overcome you. “You go on ahead. Think I just need some more air.” 

Internally, your heart is deflating, sending slight tremors throughout your body. But you can’t have Jake know that, can’t have him feel even worse about this, won’t have him feeling an ounce of guilt for something so out of his control. 

Despite your best efforts to hold it all in, a small tear escapes and slides down your cheek as soon as Jake’s back turns, and you feel like you might have kicked a pebble that’s about to precipitate an avalanche.

--- 

Jake calls you up a few days after, initially sounding like he just wants to check in until his tone takes on a more somber note, and your heart drops to your stomach. “Listen, I know we had a little bit of a heated... discussion at the wedding. And I just need you to know I really, really, appreciate you. And I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want, but I just want to make sure we can still stay friends.” 

“Yeah, of course -” you stop yourself from readily agreeing, pause to reevaluate how you really want to take this moving forward. 

Jake is the love of your life. That much is certain. And you’re not sure how willing you are to push aside your feelings, pretend your confession never even happened, just to go on with the guise that you guys are simply friends. Just friends. Holding off on love in hopes that he’ll come around. 

If you’re being completely truthful, a part of you does feel empty without a person by your side, without a companion to walk through life with, without a partner to share all the moments of joy and despair and everything in between with. You’ve tried dating throughout the years - agreed to so many blind dates, worked up the courage to ask guys at the bar out. And somehow, you always run into the same problem. 

They’re not Jake. 

And it’s not like they’re not as funny as him, or as charismatic or charming or sweet as him. It’s not the fact that they gave you spearmint kisses when you’ve always craved cinnamon. It’s the harsh truth that no matter what, they always feel threatened by your passion for your job and your drive to succeed. Always find problems with you jetting across the world for different projects, and patronize you for saying you wanted to make a difference with your stories. 

One Tinder date even mocked you for aspiring to win a Pulitzer - you’d promptly excused yourself to the bathroom and never came back, instead ending your night with a long phone call from Jake, who was six hours ahead at the time but more than happy to console you. 

Jake’s always encouraged you, from the very first day at the pizza parlor to now. And the more guys you took a chance on dating, the less hopeful you felt about finding a future with someone as kind, as wonderful, as unwaveringly supportive as Jake. 

Maybe it’s time to let go of the pipe dream. 

“Actually, no. I don’t think I can move forward as just friends,” you rush out, and admittedly, it feels like you’re ripping off a bandaid but the sting feels more like an ache. “And don’t get me wrong - your friendship means the world to me. Even if you think we’re different people now. But it feels like nothing’s changed for me, Jake. I think for years, I’ve been holding onto the hope that you’ll come around and feel the same way. But after this past weekend... I think I need some space. Just so I can get over you, if you’re not changing your mind anytime soon.”  

Jake’s silent on the other end of the line - the only indication that he hasn’t dropped off is the sounds of cars rushing on the other side. A part of you hopes he’ll take the bait you cast with your final sentence, that at the very least, he’ll consider reconsidering. You don’t think you’ll get that lucky. 

“If that’s what you want.” 

“It’s not,” you quickly reassure him while blinking away tears, feeling numb. “And I don’t want to be cliche and tell you it’s what I need, Jake - because believe me, sometimes it feels like I need you like I need a Pilot G2 pen or the sun. But I can’t live like this. I can’t settle for just having part of you because that’ll be agonizing for me.”

Silence on the other end. “I hope you understand,” you quietly add. 

“I do, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” his voice is void of emotion. You try not to think too hard about it, try to transport yourself back to a better moment when he was right there in front of you with every feeling written on his tanned, chiseled face. 

Deep inhale. “Bye, Jake.”

AGE TWENTY-NINE (I cause no harm, mind my business, if our love died young, I can’t bear witness)

These gentrified tapas places are a menace to society. You shift uncomfortably on the cold, sad metal excuse for a barstool. This restaurant is noisy - glasses clinking together, patrongs cheers-ing to various occasions, champagne bottles popping open. Yet, the sound of the entrance dinging open is the only thing that makes you perk up, has you involuntarily glancing up hopefully in an attempt to manifest a familiar handsome pilot walking across the threshold to join you on your anniversary. But to your disappointment, it’s only a bunch of drunk bankers stumbling out. 

In the past year, you’ve found a number of ways to distract yourself from the pain of not having your best friend. As per Dr. Richard’s advice from your first therapy session, you tried your hardest to find comfort in solitude: catching films in the theater alone, wandering through new art exhibitions by your lonesome; you even attended a wine tasting in Brooklyn and ended up passing the time with a group of ladies who encompassed very similar energy to the Sex and the City Quartet (and you ended up getting some solid reassuring advice after you lamented your complicated friendship - Samantha’s carbon copy was all too ready to shit on Jake by the end of your tale).  

All in all, you’re content to be scoping out this restaurant solo, trying their featured cocktails and appetizers and people watching. You’re trying your best to convince yourself that you’re okay being where you are right now. The only thought that puts a damper on your night, sets your pride back a little is the realization that this might be the first October thirteenth you’ve spent alone in thirteen years. It shakes to your core, makes you flag down a bartender for a whiskey neat, but you calm down, take a deep breath, and let it out. 

Jake’s a different man, not the boy who sat in front of you in your beloved pizza shop with a crinkly-eyed smile, telling you “you’re just a cool person.” 

In the same way, you’re most certainly a different girl than the one who sat in front of him with a ten-color shuttle pen and bright eyes, one who was just grateful he’d seen a companion in you to begin with. 

You’re a strong, self-assured, career-driven woman now. You’ve been featured on a variety of articles ranging from the devastating 2016 US Presidential Election, to a Buzzfeed Guest Feature on what your favorite ink color said about you, to discussing culture and conflict in the Middle East. While Jake’s support from the very beginning was part of what motivated you, what spurred you on, you are the one who did all the hard work. You are powerful, driven, intelligent, sophisticated. 

You’re also drunk, and dialing a number you know by heart. 

“The number you have dialed is not available. Please leave a message or...”

After the beep, you steel yourself. “Hey, Jake,” you clear your throat, gripping your phone tightly in your palm and taking a deep breath. “I, uh... Just wanted to wish you a happy anniversary. Think it’s the first one I’ve spent without you in a while.” 

You pause, look around at the tapas bar as you try to gather your thoughts, wistfully eye the empty barstool next to you. 

“I know I said I needed some time before. And I’m glad you honored that - truly, from the bottom of my heart. Even though a part of me wanted you to change your mind and chose me over not having me. Does that make any sense?” 

Your eyes catch on the bartender who’s cleaning glasses with a towel a few feet away from you, catch him shaking his head slightly. 

“Do you mind?”you snap, and he at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. Quickly, he flashes you an apologetic smile before comically pretending to hear a patron calling out their order and dashing across the bar. 

You snort, shaking your head. “Sorry. Some asshole was just... Never mind. You would’ve hated this place, Jake. I mean, aside from nosy people, it’s got overpriced drinks with Edison lights hanging from the ceiling. And there’s no jukebox - they’re just playing top 40s hits over and over again. Like, this is the third time I’m hearing Shape of You and I got here less than an hour ago.” 

Again, you pause, feeling embarrassed at your incessant rambling. Debate whether to blab about what’s been plaguing your mind since you woke up this morning. “Sometimes I wish I never said anything and that we could’ve just stayed friends. I just don’t think that would’ve been fair to me - because I meant what I said, Jake. I’m in love with you. Even if we’re different people - I would’ve loved getting to know every version of you.” 

It feels like a breakthrough, saying the words out loud, realizing that things truly are going to be more different than they used to be. And for the first time, you don’t feel like you’re perpetually mourning a friendship, you don’t feel waves of anxiety that try to convince you that you conflated your friendship to mean more. You can breathe easily.

“I think I’ve realized that the person I am today is all a conglomeration, a constellation of every interaction I’ve had with other people. And for the most part, I am who I am because of our friendship, because of your presence in my life. So a part of me is finding it hard to let go of that and move on without you being so ingrained in me. But I’m trying. I’m going to therapy, at least,” you smile optimistically, wiping away the first tear you’ve let yourself shed today. 

“So rest assured, I’ll be okay without you, Seresin. In case you were worried. But no matter what, this day will always remain special to me. You’ll always be special to me.” 

AGE THIRTY (and it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong, I’m right where you left me)

You don’t realize it’s the day of your anniversary until you catch a glimpse of the date on your phone, realize why you felt like you were missing something the entire day. At first, it sends a wave of anxiety over you, makes your stomach swoop like you missed the last step on the staircase. 

But as best as you can, you remind yourself that taking on this special day alone is part of your healing process, that sometimes we create our own heartbreak through expectation, and that it’s just a matter of managing your hopes, assuaging your guilt, honoring your friendship by yourself for the second year in a row. 

It’s taken time, but you’ve made your peace with the fact that Jake won’t be playing as active a role in your future as you’d hoped. Maybe you two can just be the type of friends who send each other Christmas cards and call on your birthdays. Years later, maybe you’ll finally settle down and find someone who will support you just as well as Jake did, who will treat you kindly and see you as more than a friend to hold hands with from time to time and look at your lips sometimes and give you piggyback rides when you’re too drunk. If you have kids, maybe you’ll have Jake over to meet your family, oblige him to regale them with tales of your friendship, send gift cards for their birthdays and talk about his time in the Navy - if they’re interested in hearing about Uncle Jake’s career path. 

That’s all. You settle for keeping him in your footnotes, for cherishing the memory of who he used to be. 

Even if you’ll always be in love with Jake, that doesn’t mean you have to wither away waiting for him. 

-- 

In the middle of catching up on some editing and shooting out some emails from the comfort of your plush couch, your phone rings with a familiar name proudly displayed at the top. Immediately, you narrow your eyes, wondering if he’s remembered or if it’s some weird fluke that he’s calling you on today of all days.

“Hello?” you answer cautiously. 

“Hey, darlin’,” you hear Jake’s easy tone flow through the speakers, and despite all the growth you’ve endured, despite all the lessons you’ve etched into your heart, your brain turns to mush. 

“Hi Jake,” you force out, feeling as nervous as you did that day you interviewed him at the pizza place. At times like this, you wish you had your old landline from back in the day so you could coil the cord around your fingers idly, distract your nerves momentarily from the fact that this is the first time you’ve heard his voice in two years. “How’ve you been?” 

“I’m alright,” His voice is stilted, slightly muffled. Sounds just as easy as you remembered it, “Just... Remembered what today was.” 

“It’s Saturday.” The quip rolls off your tongue before you can think any better of it - and you cringe inwardly at how rude you must have sounded. “I’m sorry, that was...” 

But Jake’s chuckling on the other end, a delightfully warm sound, one that pulls a surge of pride from deep within your chest. “Yeah. You're not wrong.” 

And just as quickly, it fades into the awkward silence - the kind you never used to have with Jake. Mentally, you flow through all the happenings in this past year, think about where his Ma told you he’d been last. 

“How’s San Diego?” - “Can you buzz me up?” you both speak at the same time, and his answer makes you freeze, makes time suspend for a few seconds as if you’re floating outside of your own body. 

“I’m outside your building, I think. Unless your Ma sent me the wrong address, which admittedly, I’d deserve but - " 

“- You’re in New York?” you ask, still in shock, finally feeling in control of your muscles and limbs and words. Hurriedly, you scramble off your couch and swipe up your empty tea mug, then rush to your kitchen to deposit it unceremoniously into your sink. 

You hear the sound of a car horn beeping on the street echoing both in real time and on the line, further sending your heart into a frenzy. “Yeah - you do live off 65th, right? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to just pop in like this - ”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you breathe out, making your way to your front door with your phone still sandwiched between your ear and your hand. “I just... Wasn’t expecting company.” 

He snorts on the other end. “S’not like the Queen of England is coming. It’s just me.” 

“Somehow, I think that’s worse,” you muse, leaning against your hallway wall and hovering your finger over the button to let him in. If hearing his voice has put you this much on edge, you can’t imagine what it’ll do to you if you see him in person. 

“Maybe so,” Jake agrees, and you can practically hear the forlorn smile in his voice. “Mind letting me up, though? Just wanted to talk. In person.” 

The reality of the situation crashes down on you - that Jake’s practically been AWOL for the past few years, that your friendship has felt one-sided and exhausting to try and keep up with, that you spent your last anniversary alone and sobbing into your cellphone So a part of you wants to turn him down, hustle him out of your safe space - but your heart pounds rapidly with its demands for answers, your brain implores you to hear him out. 

Without a second thought, you push the button and hear the resounding buzz on Jake’s side, followed by a “See you soon, sweetheart.” The line clicks. 

Mind going a million miles a second, you turn to glance at your reflection in the hall mirror that you’ve procrastinated hanging up for months now. You level a determined look at yourself, brush some crumbs off your sweatshirt and smooth some flyaways before pushing your shoulders back, standing up tall and proud in an attempt to exude confidence. 

Three heavy knocks sounding out at the door immediately makes your look turn panicked, sending you stumbling over your feet as you reach to grab the doorknob and pull it open to reveal Jake Seresin standing in your narrow apartment hallway. 

Not even five seconds have passed and you’re already annoyed with him. He’s still mind numbingly handsome: tall as ever, blonde hair still infuriatingly shiny and soft, green eyes catching the dim evening light, glimmering back at you like gemstones. It makes your stomach swoop, brings the butterflies fluttering back into your chest from where you’d banished them.

Asshole. 

“Hey,” he greets, quirks up a corner of his mouth into a half smile that would normally have you swooning if you weren’t already frozen. 

“Hi, Jake,” you manage out, eyes raking over his figure just to convince your mind that he’s really there, actually standing just a few feet in front of you. Shaking away the doubts, you step to the side, gesture for him to enter your apartment. 

It’s not the sound of his footsteps that convince you, nor is it the brief brush of his arm as he sidles into  your narrow apartment hallway or the unreal sight of how he fills up the space and how his shoulders stretch from wall to wall. It’s the familiar heavy scent that hits you - tobacco and vanilla - which makes your cheeks flush, your heart skips a beat. 

He’s really here. 

Gathering your wits, you follow him into your cramped living room, grateful that you’d done some vacuuming and tidying up that morning in an effort to banish all the anxieties and ruminations that come with this special day. “Feel free to sit anywhere,” you find your voice, snatch up an oversized throw to make some room on the couch. 

He nods, turns around to assess your space thoughtfully before settling himself into the cushions.“I got your voicemail,” he tells you. “From last year.” 

Oh. It suddenly feels bitter, leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “You didn’t call back?” you hedge, immediately going on the defense. Instead of sitting down next to him, you elect to slide into the armchair furthest away from him, an attempt to shield yourself from him. An attempt to avoid making the same mistake twice. 

“I was going away on assignment the next morning,” Jake explains quietly, patiently. He meets your disbelieving look with somber eyes. It only slightly alleviates the pressure building in your chest. “And... honestly, I didn’t want to worry you. It was one of those missions. The kind I wasn’t sure I would come back from - like, where they’re telling us to call home and lay down all the cards.” 

You pause for a moment, absorb his words and feel a twinge of hurt upon the realization that you weren’t kept in the loop, that you never even knew you stood a chance at losing him. Before the emotions can rattle you too much and send you spiraling with anxious thoughts and what ifs, he explains further.. 

“I thought I would spare you the details, spare you from having to prepare to lose me. I was okay with that decision up until the moment one of my engines failed and my jet was going down - and the one thing that flashed through my mind was that I wouldn’t get to talk to you again, or see you, or how when you win your Pulitzer you wouldn’t be able to call me to tell me the news or how I wouldn’t be able to hang up the print of your winning piece next to your union one,” his voice is shaking slightly, and you know if you even attempted to reply your words would quiver just as much. In this moment, you’re trembling with your hands folded over your eyes to hide the tears brimming. 

It’s a mix of sadness and anger and disappointment and you try your best to hold off on the tornado, but it rips your soul to shreds the more you realize the gravity of the situation. “You’re fucking kidding me,” you grit out, pressing your lips together to barricade the sobs. Your hands are tightly wrapped around a throw pillow, squeezing and kneading out your frustration on it. You can barely stand to look at him.  “Took you a near death experience to call me? You think I haven’t already put myself through the fucking wringer after feeling so guilty for cutting you off just because you were too scared to love me? And you almost died?” 

“I’m sorry,” Jake repeats, at least sounding sincerely apologetic. 

“I appreciate that, Jake,” you reply bitterly, then defeatedly toss the pillow to the side. “When did you even get back?” 

His jaw tenses slightly and he sighs, and you immediately feel triumphant for successfully frustrating him, as petty as it sounds. “Few months back. And I’m sorry for not calling you. I wanted to as soon as I got back, but I wanted to say all this face to face. And it took some time for me to figure out my shit, but I’m here now, if you’ll hear me out?” 

All you can do is nod, purse your lips and let him say his piece - there’s no pressure to forgive him or fall into his arms. 

“I think you were right,” Jake continues seriously. You dig your nails into your palms anxiously. Under any other circumstance, you would have loved hearing those words from anyone else. Not now. Not Jake. “You were right to call me out when you said I was letting the fear of becoming my dad hold me back from chasing what I want.” 

As your anger slightly dissipates, you think back to that moment - about how those were just a few of the words you wish you could snatch up out of your past and make them disappear. Your breath hitches. “I was a bit harsh - "

“- But you were right,” he interrupts. “And I think that’s another reason why I shut down, because you know me so well. After all these years, I think you know me better than I know myself.” 

You nod, not sure what exactly to say to that. It’s not like you can explain to him that you were so incredibly taken by him, that you held onto his every word and agonized over interaction in hopes of really getting to know your best friend. 

Jake goes on: “And you have to know that my dad broke Ma’s heart like it was nothing. Married for twenty years, dated for five years, friends for another ten years. Even after you add all that up, it’s still not enough to keep them together. He still went for the first temp who waltzed into his office, still fucked with both of them for months on end. If my parents couldn’t keep it together, how could anyone else?” 

You’re stunned, frozen in shock before you manage to gather your strength, pick up your thoughts and hurl them right back at him. Screw this defeatist attitude he’s picked up. “You have to understand that’s the nature of some relationships, Jake. Sometimes they’re not meant to last forever, sometimes people change - "

You halt, feel a wave of déjà vu. The words on the tip of your tongue sound eerily familiar to something that’s replayed in your mind for the past two years, and a couple puzzle pieces start to fit together. “Is this why you were spouting all of this bullshit at the wedding? About us changing?”

Suddenly, he launches up from the couch, walks two steps across the room and pivots on his heel to walk the two steps back in an attempt to furiously pace. He groans out exasperatedly, rakes a hand through his stupid perfect blond hair. “I mean... Yeah. It made sense at the time,” he admits. Briefly, you wonder when his nervous tics changed in the past few years, when did he switch from bouncing his legs under tables to wearing a path into carpets? 

People change indeed. In more ways than one. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you tell him matter-of-factly, and there’s no sugar-coating your words anymore. He makes a sound, as if he’s about to feign offense, but you power through. “People change all the fucking time, Jake. How the hell are we supposed to grow and become better versions of ourselves if we stay stagnant? Where’s the fucking story in that?” 

You huff out a laugh, don’t even wait for him to reply before continuing on a rant. He’s stopped pacing now, is looking at you, but you’ve sprung up to your full height to look at him straight on, deliver your words as firmly as you can. 

“People change, Jake, especially when they’re in relationships - it’s a matter of adapting, supporting them and loving your partner through it. And like, let’s be clear: I’ve changed a lot, too. Physically and emotionally - but I’m okay with it because I realize it’s made me become someone my sixteen year old self would be stoked to meet. And not just because I live in the city or because I have, like, two Montblanc pens - but because I’m working on these stories and they fly me out wherever to interview people, and I know I haven’t sent my stuff to you in a while, didn’t think you’d still want to read it - ” 

“- I’ve kept up,” Jake interrupts. You stop in your tracks, tilt your head to the side as you process this. “I wanted to read them.” 

“You have?” you ask dubiously, doubtfully. Hopefully. 

“‘Course,” he affirms, sends you a reassuring smile and stands up straighter, takes a step forward. “I mean, not while I was overseas, I read up when I got back. I really liked that one about the Obamas’ portraits. Thought that was pretty cool. But the one about the grassroots movements for peace in Afghanistan got me thinking. Like, obviously I was assigned there for a while, but didn’t really consider other things happening there - Actually, I had some questions for you, but we can talk about it later...” 

“Oh. Sure.” You’re slightly shocked at the confession, at the small vision that flashes through your mind of Jake typing your name into Google and catching up on your stories, determinedly following your career even during the most unstable moment in your friendship. It sparks hope in you, sends a wave of hope crashing down on you forcefully. “Wow. I didn’t think you… That means the world to me, Jake.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, excitement reverting back to a somber contemplative expression. “I understand what you’re saying about change,” he says hesitantly, rocks back on his heels. “And I think I’m starting to understand what you meant in your voicemail about the... conglomeration stuff. Loving every version of me. Because I really feel the same way about you.” 

It’s ambiguous, a little mysterious, his words a little stilted and broken, and you replay his words over and over to try and dig up the meaning behind them. But he’s taking another step towards you - if you reach out, you can certainly reach up and run your finger across the small bump in his nose from that football all those years ago. Hold his cheek in your hand like you've always wanted to.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he’s saying, and it makes your heart thud a million miles a minute, makes you want to pinch yourself. “I can’t remember it for the life of me. But I think about the moment I realized it - when you said it to me four years ago. And I regret not saying anything back every fucking day.” 

Your heart stumbles, crushes up against the front of your ribcage as it tries to peek out at the man you’ve loved since you were seventeen. “Oh, Jake,” your response rolls out along with two tears down your cheeks.“ It’s okay - “

The scent of vanilla tobacco hits you first, then his chest as he pulls you into a giant bear hug that envelops you in a warmth that could put both the sun and Texas bonfires to shame. Your face is pressed into his jacket and he’s talking, saying something that you don’t really register until you tilt your head up and dig your chin into his firm chest. 

“I’m in love with you, sweetheart,” the words burst forth. His hand’s resting gently on the small of your back - the warmth of his palm radiates comforting heat through your body that only multiplies as he pulls you into him. You stabilize your hands on his shoulders, crane your neck to look up at him and map out every part of his face - from the small lines in his forehead to the slope of his nose to the slight redness in his cheeks. “It’s okay if it’s too late, if you’ve moved on. I just don’t want to lose you again, don’t want to risk not talking to you, can’t - ”

“Of course I’m in love with you, stupid man,” the words come to you as easily as breathing does. The smile that spreads across his face brings back your favorite eye crinkles, carves a dimple into the corner of his mouth, makes it feel like you’re bathing in sunlight. And Jake wastes no time, doesn’t even hesitate before he’s breathing out a question and you're nodding tearfully and then he's cupping both of your cheeks gently and surging forward to press his lips to yours.

--

Jake tastes like cinnamon, just as you’ve always suspected. Aside from that, nothing about the way you love Jake is predictable. Nothing is ever steady, nothing is ever expected. Every moment with him brings forth a new set of revelations that drives you crazy, tears you to pieces. And somehow, it’s all incredibly worth it, worth the brief heartbreak, worth the years of hoping and waiting for him to join you. Because in the end, he made it. In this moment, it feels like everything is just right.

[honeybcj]

after getting asked about my domestic rosekiller hc, i couldn’t stop thinking about it, so i’ve compiled a list. i could add so many more, so if anyone is actually interested in this maybe i’ll make another heheheh

- evan actually really enjoys cooking meals for the two of them, even if barty is an absolute nuisance in the kitchen. always stealing kisses and slapping his ass. stirring whatever is in the pot and pretending like he knows exactly what he’s doing (secretly he does know what he’s doing, but he loves when evan cooks for him, and evan is more than happy to indulge him <3)

-barty is a stress cleaner! he’s not always tidy, actually rather frequently he outright refuses to make the bed or will forget to wash his dishes, but then he goes and has one minor inconvenience and evan will come home to the couch on the other side of the room and the pantry reorganized by the color of each item.

-save water, shower together. there’s not a single chance you’ll find either of them showering on their own. they say it’s for the environment, but truthfully they are just severely connected at the hip, and barty wants any excuse to see evan naked

-evan will (and does) steal the same hoodie of barty’s anytime he is cold. might as well be part of his closet at this point. and before they actually started dating, barty would go out of his way to make sure it was clean every time evan came over even if it meant forking over four extra dollars worth of quarters and dealing with the bitchy lady at the laundromat (i did, in fact, include this hc in like smoke behind glass)

-i have it on good authority that for valentine’s day barty tried to bake evan a heart shaped cake (vanilla with raspberry jam and vanilla bean frosting), but he fucked it up real bad and forgot the LITERAL SUGAR but evan still plastered on the fakest damn smile and told him he was proud of barty

-evan is the early riser out of the two of them. that’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy sleeping in. but he likes to get up early, even on his slow days, so he can make breakfast just for barty (this goes hand in hand with the cooking one). breakfast is his favorite part of the day, and he likes to make sure barty does eat in the mornings instead of claiming that an energy drink is sustainable enough to start the entire day.

-barty is the night owl!!! again, not to say that evan won’t stay up late, but there’s more of a chance for barty to stay up literally all night long because he gets distracted by everything around him. in that case, more often than not, he can be found scrolling aimlessly on his phone in bed with one hand while the other strokes lazily at evan’s hair

-on more than one occasion barty has gotten so fucking high that he gets on his knees and begs evan to take him through the mcdonald’s drive thru because he will die if he doesn’t consume a ten piece nugget and a large sprite. evan just laughs at him and always, always, always takes barty through the drive thru. somehow they always end up with more than what they came for, and barty always shares his fries with evan even when he’s cranky.

-evan is a stickler for following plans. time management is his thing even if it means literally pulling barty by the ear to get the fuck up or hurry because he doesn’t have time to wait around or play with barty’s antics. barty teases him relentlessly, but it’s all in the name of love because he secretly loves seeing evan all riled up like that man WILL get hard over the smallest of fucking things he’s that far gone for evan.

-even though barty tries, he can never steal anything from evan’s closet because his stupid waist is TINY and no pants fit over his hips and all the shirts in his closet look like fucking crop tops on barty which he thinks is hilarious and LOVES to point out to evan anytime he tries to weasel his way into one of evan’s shirts

-evan is weirdly into teeth like he WILL go through a whole process with barty every morning and every evening to make sure they brush and floss. on more than once occasion, evan has even convinced barty to let him floss his teeth for him because he just wants to get his hands on barty’s precious teeth.

-both of them are actually super sentimental even though neither of them will admit it out loud. barty still has the ticket stub from the first film they went to see together. keeps it inside his wallet for memories and what have you. and the one time barty showed up with a bouquet of godforsaken roses trying to impress evan, evan kept one of the flowers, pressing it between his big ass books until it was preserved and dried. he still keeps it safe between the pages of the book, opening it on occasion to just smile at the silly little gesture.

[thedeviltohisangel]

Can you do a request for John Egan where a new recruit calls the reader “the major’s girl” in front of them both despite the fact that they aren’t together, just obviously in love with each other?

All The Things I Did (Interlude): A Feeling I Want To Get Used To

chapter 1 chapter 2 interlude 1 chapter 3 interlude 2 interlude 3

a/n: ok tooth rotting fluff. john egan is literally holding on by a thread. which also means my brain wants to put him through hell. if anyone is feeling devious and wants to talk about a spook/bucky disagreement please reach out. let me know your thoughts, interlude requests still open!

Cass was used to whispers and shadows. Sought comfort in them even. You’d be surprised what you learn when people think you’re not around. It was how she learned she’d been given the nickname of Spook. How she had learned Colonel Huglin was coughing up blood. It was also how she learned that, apparently, she belonged to Major John Egan. 

She was sorting through her mail at Mary’s desk when her ears prickled with the sounds of whispers coming down the hall. When she heard her name, she paused her sorting momentarily but regained herself. 

“...and then apparently he laid her down on top of the table and kissed her right there!”

“No! Lieutenant Cooper would never be so public.”

“Maybe Major Egan is driving her that crazy.” There was giggling that drifted away as they turned down a separate hallway away from Cass. It was not like her and John were trying to keep their burgeoning relationship a secret. He would bring her flowers every morning and they sat together in the mess hall for almost every meal. But they hadn’t been dancing at the base social club or kissed each other on the airfield for all to see. She was certain John would if the idea crossed his mind. Was certain he would do it right this very second if she asked. But she didn’t like being the topic of gossip. 

“Find everything you were looking for, Lieutenant?” The secretary came from around the corner and sat back at her typewriter.

“Yes, Mary, thank you.” Cass turned to go but stopped short, unable to help herself. “Mary, I do have a question for you. Were Major Egan and I a topic of conversation amongst the girls last night?”

“Lieutenant-” Mary, for her part, was blushing furiously. 

“I’m not asking because I’m upset. Just curious.” 

“I didn’t confirm or deny anything, promise ma’am. But the girls all have such a crush on Major Egan and they’ve noticed you two spending time together. And someone mentioned maybe seeing you two at the pub in town and before we knew it, we were planning your happily ever after.”

“Oh.” Cass’ words were catching in her chest. Her heart hammering at the notion that not only had people noticed the something between her and John but that they were writing their own fairytale of it. “Well, on his good days, I do suppose he has a certain Prince Charming quality to him.” They both giggled. 

“I promise, Lieutenant, it was just girls chatting.” Cass tapped the stack of envelopes on the desk a couple times.

“Thank you for your honesty, Mary. Enjoy the rest of your day, will you?” She slid her own pair of aviators over her eyes as she stepped out into the morning sun. “John, John, John.” Even the sound of his name put a smile on her face. Happily ever after indeed.

----

John was antsy. Gale was watching him with a toothpick between his lips. The rest of the boys were either dancing with a girl, talking about dancing with a girl or huddled together laughing over training stories.

“I don’t understand, Bucky. She said she wasn’t feeling like going out tonight. You shouldn’t be surprised she isn’t here.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be upset about it.” 

“Your pouting is ruining the night for the rest of them.” John scanned the room and they all seemed fine enough. 

“Where’s that girl we were looking at the other day?” Two younger men walked past Bucky and Gale and took a spot at the end of the bar. 

“James told me they call her Spook.” John’s eyes whipped to the side so quick it made him dizzy. “If she shows tonight, I’ve got to have enough of these to ask her to dance.” 

“I’m not sure, Robbie. That nurse I was dancing with said she heard Spook is Major Egan’s girl.” 

“Well, if that was my girl, I’d make sure there were no questions about it.” Gale readied himself to intervene in whatever was about to ensue.

“Alright, gentlemen, let’s get a couple of things straight.” John squared his shoulders and held himself to his full height. His threatening words were never able to make it out of his mouth as he watched the two plebeians in front of him look over his shoulder in both shock and awe.

Cass had decided that no one was going to wonder about John and her after tonight. The entire time he had been giving her all of him. Open and honest about what he wanted and willing to go at whatever pace she dictated. In return, Cass had interpreted their dynamic as him trying to find a crack in her armor. To expose the real her. She had been fighting to regain the upper hand. Barely treading water trying to work through the feels he stirred up. But she didn’t want there to be any ambiguity. For him or for anyone else. John Egan was hers. And she was his.

The whole room had gone silent, even the saxophone squeaking out a wrong note, as she stood in the doorway in a red dress looking like a pin up they would paint on the side of a fortress. It was slightly off her shoulder, John drooling over the sight of her bare collarbones, the fabric hugging every inch down to her hips before flaring out into a skirt. 

“Maybe this was a mistake,” she whispered to herself as her heels carried her over to the bar. She waved away the Coca Cola he went to place in front of her. “Something stronger tonight. A double.” It went down in one go, Cass afraid to turn around and face the crowd again.

“Cassandra Ann Cooper, you are the most phenomenally beautiful, gorgeous, angelic woman I have ever had the honor to lay my eyes on.” John had love in his eyes. That was the only way she knew how to describe it. And, God, if she didn’t think her eyes were showing love right back. 

“Thank you. I’m not used to all these eyes on me.” His eyes flicked down to the empty shot glass on the bar before flickering back to her. 

“We can get out of-” His hand was running from her bicep to her wrist to her hand, ready to whisk her somewhere far, far away if that is what she wanted. She shook her head.

“No. That’s the exact opposite of the reason why I came and wore this dress.” She thought back to the hyperbolic version of her date she had heard this morning. Thought back to Mary saying someone thinks they might have seen them. Cass worked in the shadows but she didn’t have to live in them. “Dance with me?” She grabbed his hand before he could answer, as if he would have ever thought to say no, leading him out onto the floor just as the band was beginning to switch to something slow. 

“Cass, not that I’m complaining, but did I miss something?” One arm wrapped and settled around the small of her back and the other held their interlocked fingers to his chest. 

“Have you noticed people whispering about us?” He thought back to the airmen at the bar.

“Yes.”

“I’m sure it’s my fault for not being as forward or open-”

“Cass-”

“-but I want everyone to know you’re mine.” She felt his heart skip a beat under her hand. “That is, if that’s okay with you.” Words failed him so he chose action. Afraid the word he felt and meant but couldn’t say would slip out.

John held her face between his hands and groaned at the first sweet release of her lips on his. Even with heels on, she pressed onto her tiptoes to get all of him. Cass gripped the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer and closer and closer. She could hear the whistles and the cheers but they were muffled by her heartbeat echoing in her ears. He kept her bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled away, Cass whining and chasing his lips for more. John obliged her with a laugh, a genuine and happy laugh, barely able to oblige her kissing antics around his smile.

“I’m holding onto my last strand of fucking sanity, Cass, but I’m yours. I’m fucking yours.” She smiled wickedly and kissed him again in the hopes of branding his words onto her skin. John lost himself in her easily. Easier than breathing. Easier than flying. Easier than singing the words to his favorite song while he drove down an open road on the perfect summer evening in Wisconsin.

“You’ve got a little bit of lipstick on, Major.” He looked downright sinful with his swollen lips and blown pupils and her red lipstick smudged against his skin. Cass nuzzled her nose against his sweetly, her eyes closing with the warmth of being with him for all to see. “Hey, John?” He kissed her forehead and held himself there.

“Yeah, angel?”

“I’m yours if you’ll have me.” He wanted to say something cool. Be suave and charming and impressive. 

“Never letting you go.” Instead he was truthful. They both just had to get through this damn war first. “Cass, I have to tell you something.”

“Can tell me anything.” She stroked her thumb over his cheek and kissed him again, insatiably high on her feelings for him. Cass knew the word to describe them. But she couldn’t say it. Not when it would devastate her.

“I lov-” His declaration was interrupted by Meatball’s barking as he ran towards them. She dropped to embrace him with a giggle, accepting his kisses and scratching behind his ears. “You’re a horrible wingman, Meatball.” John quickly recovered from his near declaration of his love for her. The word and the feelings that went along with it were simmering in his soul the past few days. He was desperate to tell her. Desperate for her to know the truth behind what she meant to him. John didn’t know how much time they truly had but knew they had to make the most of it. 

“Sorry, you were going to tell me something.” She stood back up and twisted her fingers with his. John brought the back of her hand to his lips as he shook his head. 

“Not important.”

“Everything going on in that beautiful head of yours is important to me.” 

“Don’t let Gale hear you say that,” he mused as he leaned in to kiss her again. Cass looked around and noticed they had been swaying to their own beat as the music had changed around them. “I told him I was jealous that he and Marge were able to create their own world whenever they were together.”

“I think we’ve created our own solar system, John.” One where she was the sun he revolved around. One where he hung the stars in the sky just for her. One where they could build a life together and live forever. 

“And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He let the way he kissed her and held her and danced with her express the words he had tried to say. Let the way he carried her back to her billet and brought her flowers the next morning, as he always did, express his promise for tomorrow. Wrote the words on a piece of paper and put her name on the envelope before tucking in his trunk. If anything happened to him, he wanted Cass to have it. Wanted her to know he was hers as long as he had known her. That he had dreamt of an after with her. That as long as he was here, that is what he was fighting for. 

John could only hope the universe deemed him worthy of having it.

[tubbybunnysblog]

Fattening together

A story partially inspired by my love @silliersage slowly fattening up for me

Chapter 1:The bet

I watch the clouds pass sipping on my milkshake feeling my belly jiggle as you drive. “Mmm slow down” I whine looking at you. My whimpers were met with a sharp slap to the belly “it’s not my fault you decided you wanted to have breakfast and stop on the way” I groan softly as you grip the top part of my belly “I was hungry…” I pout as you grope my upper belly, which is struggling to be restrained by my swimsuit cover. You laugh lifting the tight fabric over my bulging stomach so you can get a better grip. “You say that every time and yet it is never enough for you baby” I blush softly looking away. I huffed in frustration as I sucked down the rest of my milkshake. “Don’t worry tubby we’ll get you more at the beach. As long as this comes off.” You pull at my light dress which clung to my body like a sausage casing. “B-but my swimsuit barely fits, and everyone will be able to see everything….” You snicker at words as if that wasn’t the point. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you insisted on wearing a swimsuit from 20 pounds ago.”

I begin to pout again, every time I did my double chin became more noticeable. It was just a ring of fat hanging around my neck, you smile, reaching up your hand to caress it. “Pout all you want sweetheart that doesn’t stop the fact that you’ve gotten a little too big for that” I blushed slightly “It’s not my fault. You’re the one who’s been fattening me up.” You look over at me “oh really? So you haven’t been gaining weight because you’re greedy?” A chill runs down my spine. I knew that look you had an idea one that most likely would leave me bloated and begging for your attention. “Well, I mean you keep pushing food my way, stuffing me until I can’t breathe, telling me just one more bite.” You laugh darkly. “Well if that’s how you feel, why don’t we have a little competition hmm?” I raise an eyebrow “I’m listening?” You pull into a parking spot and look at me. “I will buy all of the food I had previously planned to buy you, except until you can admit that you are fattening yourself up with your greedy behavior. I will be eating it.” My mouth falls open as I stare at you. “And what exactly is this bet supposed to prove?” You smirk, grabbing my hand. “That you my love can’t last watching someone else be able to enjoy the food that you’re greedy gut wants.” I stare at you and laugh a little. “You know what you’re on but we have to have some type of prize don’t we?” A similar chill runs down my spine as you look at me with a devilish smile. “You’re right, if I win you have to take all of your calories for the next month by funnel and remember that’s almost 8,000 calories per day.” I bite my lip as you say, the number. I look away, taking a moment to compose myself, and think of what I wanted. I looked back at you and smile. “All right but if I win you have to keep eating until you’re half my weight” my smile turns cocky, as I see the color drain from your face. I was almost 600 pounds and my weight just kept going up. If you lost there was no way you’d be able to keep your slim figure.

You gulp heavily and take a deep breath “you know what? Deal.” You hold out your hand and we shake. “Prepare to lose.” I giggle as you help me out of the car. We make it our own perfect spot and you set up the chairs. I sit in my reinforced chair smiling at you. I watch you purchase food from five different places. They were my favorites: brisket nachos, cheese pizza, chili fries, a corndog and a huge plate of funnel cake. I bite my lip as you walk over balancing all five huge meals in your arms.“Better get to eating.” I smile as you sit and begin to eat. You start with nachos covered with thick cheese, and at least a pound of meat. You try your best to stay clean, but they were incredibly greasy. You keep catching my eyes staring at you. You couldn’t help but wonder if this is how I felt. You lean back in your seat feeling your belly already starting to stretch. You take a break from the nachos and move on to a thick slice of pizza. It was almost as big as my head. You fold it in half and take a bite. You chew slowly, shoving the slice into your mouth. You whimper as you finish the slice and go back to the nachos. I blush and slide closer. Something about watching you devour food drove me wild. I pull you close letting you rest your head against my chest “does it feel good?” You look at me trying hard to concentrate on chewing. “Yes…” you whisper weakly. I watch your eyes flicker down to your belly which is already bloating out. As much as the food made my mouth water, it was almost more addicting to watch you try and eat it all. I gently lift up your shirt and smile. “Well well look at this it’s so round” I giggle. gently rubbing my hand across it, like you would do. You moan quietly snuggling into my soft body. I smile as your firm belly pushes into mine like a puzzle piece. You had never eaten so much in your life and you were only 2 meals down. “I don’t think I can finish it all…” I kiss the top of your head gently.

“Here let me help you sweetheart” I slowly start to rub your belly with one hand as I use the other to lift chips to your lips. I learned a couple of tricks from your feedings. You whimper breathlessly, and they were like music to my ears. I hope you finish the nachos and I start pushing fries up to your face. You look at me with pleading eyes. You wanted me to just give up, but I wasn’t going to. I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t going to give up my chance. “Come on baby you got it.” In a way this experience proved that we were both right while I am incredibly greedy, I was using the same tactics that you would use to get me to eat you thought to yourself no wonder I’m so big. I pull you from your thoughts by kissing your bloated gut “How about we make a new deal?” I smile “you stop at the fries and I willingly eat the other two meals in turn we both take 4000 calories by funnel every other day for two months” You groan at the thought looking into my eyes “you’re on.” I smile softly and kiss your greasy lips. I gently feed you the remaining fries and begin to eat myself keeping a hand on your bloated belly. You moan out “I guess this means we’re both fattening each other up?” I smile from behind my corn dog. “Yeah, I guess so~”

[junipers-archive]

Happy Halloween

Word Count: 900

Includes: fluff, tooth rotting fluff really; about Spencer and reader on Halloween night enjoying whatever Spencer has planned!! (also ik its not halloween but in my head it always is.)

You hadn't exactly planned the night. In fact, you'd left it up to Spencer to decide how you'd spend you halloween together.

This of course landed you with tons of unanswered questions as you followed him out of the car, trailing behind him cautiously since he was known for acting particularly spooky near the holiday.

Meaning he was more likely to jump scare whoever he was with at the time.

This year you'd both agreed to dress up as Emily and Victor from the corpse bride, him because he had an affinity for Tim Burtons films and you because it had always been one your favorites as a kid.

However as your dress begins to drag, you get closer to what looks like the end of the parking lot, and you begin to hear carnival music you regret your choice of outfit just slightly.

"Spence where are we?"you question, stopping in your tracks.

He looks back at you, smiling, "Trust me?"

You take a few steps forward linking arms with him then, "Always."

As it turns out, you find he had taken you to Washington's "Spooktacular Carnival" event in one of the many parks nearby. As you entered you were both greeted by a Man dressed as Frankenstein who only grunted and pointed when you asked where you could get a map.

From there you both explored to your free will, first stopping at one of the many food trucks nearby to "aquire sustanacance for the spookiest night ever" as Spencer put it. You marveled at the food given to you seeing as it was halloween themed and your tacos looked as though they were somebody's guts and his burrito looked like the remains of someone's flesh.

Though provoking less than hungry appetites within you, you ate your meals and went on your way, stopping by a myriad of carnival-turned-halloween games,

such as "Witches brew" which involved you making your own liquid nitrogen ice cream,"The butcher shop" in which you both entered a pumpkin carving contest and the "Mummy's Demise" in which you happily wrapped your boyfriend in toilet paper, blind folded him and then guided him through a maze filled with 'ghouls and monsters of the undead'.

To say the least many games such as these drained the life out of you, which Spencer proudly stated was the "point of hallow's eve!"

Your favorite game over all though had to be the apple bobbing contest in which Spencer, being Spencer who was so dear of Halloween, dunked almost his entire upper-body into the barrel of water searching for the apples.

Completely forgetting, of course, that he had put makeup on earlier that night to maintain his "dead-ish" look.

After, if not console him on his loss in the contest but also appease your once more growling stomach, you bought some cotton candy for the two of you, which was needlessly to say, being advertised as the brains of the Walking Dead.

By the end of the night you had explored every inch of the carnival, winning the pumpkin contest and getting the two top prizes, a giant bag of candy, which Spencer took excitedly and a Sephora gift card, which you also accepted with glee.

The last stop, was as both of you had been referring to it all night "the big Kahunna", aka the Haunted House. The line was so long you both had decided to buy the tickets for the latest time, there was no avoiding it now. Both your scaredy-cat butts were about to be spooked.

"Y/n I know you're tired...we can just go home." Pleaded Spencer, but you wouldn't let him chicken out this late in the game.

So, you linked arms with him perhaps for the last time that night and stepped up, giving a woman dressed as The bride of Chucky your tickets while Chucky, which you assumed was her date, led you to the entrance.

To say the least you were jump-scared more than once going into the house with was decorated in an old Victorian fashion that gave you the creeps. As Spencer nervously racked his brain for facts to list off about the time era and how Halloween was celebrated in Victorian England, which you learned was throwing lavish parties including intricate rituals and everyone involved.

You however also learned that he is terrified of spiders more than any of the creatures that were popping out at you. And that you were more genius than your genius for bringing a camera in to record his reactions, earning you tons of footage of his albeit cute but equally laughable surprised face.

The haunted house led you guys through a series of rooms, including scenes played out of 'Frankensteins creation', 'Dracula's breaking', 'The Shining's' most origonal scene and more.

Some were even interactive which as Spencer thoroughly enjoyed, as you were more happy to watch the scenes play by.

In the end, you walked out covered in fake blood, spider webs and god knows what they threw at you, grinning like idiots. But never once had you felt un-safe with him beside you, still with your arms linked you walked back to the car together, hands filled with the trinkets and treats gathered that night.

Just before you got to the car he turned to you still grinning, kissed your temple and whispered "Happy Halloween".

[thefiery-phoenix]

GROUNDED TO REALITY (YANDERE DEKU X READER)

Hey everyone, guess who's back in business?!!!😏😌 So, I'll be writing from now on and I just hope my account doesn't get deleted like the previous one. I hope you guys enjoy and forgive me if my writing sucks, it's been a while. And also, guess who officially turned 17 today 🥳

You had a fondness and passion for books ever since you were a child. The feeling of just delving into a world of fiction, where life wasn't complicated and didn't contain the toxicity of the real world made you feel at ease and gave you a sense of serenity, a feeling of tranquility to be precise. You've often found yourself getting lost in the fictional world, disregarding reality at times. Was it a coping mechanism for you? You weren't sure, but your parents didn't like the way you always preferred your books and novels to things happening in real life. Your parents owned a multi million dollar business empire, you being the only child of theirs would be next in line to inherit their large and vast fortune. Your parents weren't pleased when you informed them about your future plans to become a writer when they wanted you to be moulded into the perfect young successor they thought you'd be

"You're not going to waste your time sitting and writing silly childish stories!" your father bellowed on top of his lungs. You hated the way every night would end in an argument these days ever since your parents caught wind of you working on a new novel. "They're not silly childish stories! If you don't know about what I'm doing you're in no position to judge me" you retorted and glared at your father. Your mother had an icy expression on her face as she set her fork and knife on the table with a rather loud clatter and spoke in a cold voice "Where are your manners? Is that how you talk to your parents?" You just grumbled under your breath and stormed off to your room and shut the door behind you, ignoring your parents yelling at you to come downstairs to finish your dinner

That however, was just a single incident on how your parents tried to control your life. While you wanted to take a course for writing and establish your name in the writing industry, your parents forced you to attend the entrance exam of UA Academy, the most prestigious academy for upcoming and rising heroes of Japan. You had no intention of becoming a hero, ever. Sure, you always fantasized about saving people and you've had plenty of experience on how to write the personality for a hero but that didn't mean you wanted to become a hero yourself. Your quirk was your lucky factor, which enabled you to shoot black crystal spikes from the ground, instantly piercing through whatever your target is. You managed to get into the UA Academy and you had to admit, it honestly wasn't that bad

Out of all the people you've managed to befriend, you felt more attached and closer to Izuku Midoriya, a literal embodiment of sunshine. He was kind, optimistic and sweet. He always made sure you took your meals properly and stayed hydrated whenever you were working on your novel. Whenever you'd tell him about whatever scene or plot you were working on, he'd listen to you with rapt attention, with a look in his eyes that you meant the world to him, because you did. What you had no idea about was the fact that he was starting to grow obsessed with you. He couldn't stop thinking about you day after day as time progressed. He loved everything about you, you said you weren't sure if you were ever going to end up with someone because of your flaws and frankly, it just broke his heart. Though he held your hands and comforted you, the thought and very prospect of you ever ending up with someone other than him made him livid

You were too busy in your fantasy world to notice his red flags and suspicious behavior like how he knew literally everything about you, your daily schedule and not to mention him getting absolutely territorial and possessive over you when someone else approached you for anything. You just brushed off his behavior which was something you shouldn't have done, little did you know, you'd end up paying dearly and gravely for this negligence of yours. As much as he loved and admired your determination, he really wanted you to take care of yourself as well. He could see the listless red bleary eyes of yours and the dark circles beneath your eyes, a result from your lack of sleep and self care. He chided you like a mother hen and made sure to feed you during the lunch period because clearly, you weren't capable of taking care of yourself properly and he saw himself as your protector

One day as a result of you getting a low score on one of your tests, your father, out of sheer anger and fury threw your book into the fireplace, burning your hardwork and letting it go up in flames. You could only stare in horror with silent tears falling down your eyes as you tried to salvage whatever you could though your hands were burning. "I can't believe I was ever going to hand over the company to a disgrace like you" your father hissed as he walked out of the room, however you didn't have the energy to fight back against him. The next day when you were unusually quiet, Deku noticed it immediately of course. He noticed everything about you, your moods and your thoughts. Upon asking you what was wrong and when you filled him in about the situation at home, he found himself growing angry at your parents. How dare they stop his beloved from doing something you loved?

He already had plans to take you for himself and with this information, it just sped up his process. He didn't want you suffering from all the toxicity of the society, you were an angel. HIS angel, who deserves to be free and happy, with HIM of course. So he did what he thought was right by drugging you and taking you in the middle of the night. When you woke up, you were surprised to find yourself in a room which wasn't yours. After you got to know Deku's real intentions, surprisingly, you didn't feel like fighting back against him. At first, he was confused. Perhaps you were playing some sort of trick on him to gain his trust but when he watched and observed your behavior for a while, you were suspiciously calm about the whole situation at hand

You were tired of being the perfect golden child that always had to obey the rules and make your parents proud which never gave you time to work on your writing. Deku just hugged you and told you that he loved you for being you, that you were perfect in his eyes. When he said he was proud of you and your incredible writing talents, that's when you broke down and softly sobbed into his shoulder as he gently caressed your head and rubbed soft comforting circles on your back. You'd be lying if you didn't dream about moments like this from all the books and novels you'd been reading

Deku was going to keep you grounded to reality, with him by clipping your wings so you wouldn't fly away from him, which is the last thing he needs. Don't worry darling, he'll take good care of you and you'll be able to write your books once more. You won't be able to publish them though, not even under a fake account because he's really paranoid about people finding you and taking you away from him. And besides, he also feels like your talent would be wasted on undeserving people who wouldn't be able to understand your feelings through your writing like he did if you published your works. As for your parents, he'd deal with them in such a way that they'll be begging him for death after he's done with them. Of course he won't tell you what he's done with them though, the last thing he wants to do is make you scared of him. He loves you, you know... just make sure you show him some love too through those forced cuddle sessions he enforces on you before he hides your books and writing material. He has done that before and will continue to do so till you eventually give him what he wants, so there's no fighting it

[miscellaneoussmp]

Something about Bagi makes my brain go brr. Here's some lost memories a brother and sister might share (cw/tw: blood/violence/death mention, general Cellbit fuckery. Singular mention of throwing up.)

Cellbit's hair was not that long yet, and he kept insisting as such. Bagi wanted to attempt to put his hair up so it didn't fall into his face when he was reading. The tiny argument didn't last long, as soon enough Cellbit was sitting in front of his sister, both sat on the floor. They were in front of the tiny television that also sat on the floor, which was currently on a news channel. The news anchor claimed that were no leads in the large string of murders in the area. Both siblings laughed at the television as if it were a comedy. It was obvious that it was them. If you looked at the clues, the ones they didn't leave. Maybe they just needed better detectives. Maybe the duo were better detectives.

Bagi couldn't sleep, and judging by the lack of snoring coming from Cellbit, neither could he. Their run-down apartment was only one bedroom, so they shared as they always have. Bagi laid on the slightly nicer double mattress, which sat on top of some wooden pallets they stole. Cellbit currently laid on the old worn-out twin mattress they still owned, which lay on the floor. Maybe that's why neither of them could get any sleep. Maybe it was the fact that their thoughts raced too quickly to get any calm. Cellbit finally noticed his sister staring at him and offered to go get them coffee. At three thirty a.m., the witching hour they joked, they both got their coffee. Bagi sat on the countertop while Cellbit just leaned against it.

Cellbit may not seem like it, but he does appreciate routine. Dinner was one of those routines, even though they ate at different times. It became easier for Bagi to eat second, as they could steal cash off whatever body lay cold at their feel and pay for her food. She didn't eat like Cellbit did. Bagi tried to eat like her brother did once, but that ended up with her throwing up into a dumpster in an alley not too long after she ate. She decided then and there to become vegetarian, though she never stopped Cellbit from eating the way he did. Maybe Cellbit just enjoyed the soft moment of cleaning up in the car afterward. Maybe he was relieved to know both of them could eat. Bagi's meal consisted of snacks from the gas station, and of course, Cellbit just had to steal a bit. She yelled at him, clearly trying not to laugh. He didn't try to hide his own laughter.

Bagi was never the best at running, but right now, she had to. It didn't take her long to realize that Cellbit wasn't behind her. They had been planning to leave the country together, but apparently police detectives are smarter than either of the two gave them credit for. The siblings were still better, though. It felt wrong for Bagi to be on her own. She never really had been alone before. She found comfort in the highly publicized trial. Maybe she also belonged in the courtroom. Maybe her brother didn't belong there. It really wasn't long without Cellbit, but seeing her brother again felt amazing. Escaping prison was just his style. It felt great handing him clothes stolen off some random businessman as she put full force down on the gas of the equally stolen car.

Cellbit couldn't believe he finally had a lead on this case that's been bothering him for a while now. Something about it made his brain feel itchy. Bagi had the same feeling as she looked over the evidence and information with him. The years of therapy had both of the siblings confident that weren't chasing something that wasn't there. The case lead had led to a cargo ship, and Cellbit was determined to check it out. Bagi stayed behind to work on a different case. Maybe it was fate. Maybe Cellbit shouldn't have taken a random case from somebody who wouldn't show their face. Bagi was alone again. This time, she was more used to it.

Bagi barely understands why she's on this (prison) island to begin with, aside from the fact she was chosen to come here. She really doesn't understand why this stranger (his name is Cellbit, apparently) looks a lot like her. Bagi doesn't appreciate the déjà vu she gets from looking at him either. Cellbit doesn't understand why this new member of the island (her name is Bagi) looks like him. He doesn't like the feeling of déjà vu he gets when she speaks. Maybe they knew each other before the island. Maybe they knew each other in a previous life.

[clumsiestgiantess]

Chapter 21 of The Other-world Universe; is promising to save an entire city of people from an apocalypse the smartest thing to do? No. Is it the right thing? Hopefully.

all chapters listed here

[Calm Before the Storm]

I woke up the next day with the immense relief that I had not rolled over in my sleep.  Yet when I yawned, I didn’t feel Erica's form shift on top of me.  My head shot upright in a mini panic attack as I searched for her, trying to make as little movement as possible.  I was a few seconds away from fully sitting up before I finally found her.  

Erica had — either intentionally or subconsciously in sleep — managed to slip her way into my bra, and was sleeping soundly in the center of my chest.  Bewilderment and relief flooded through me so suddenly, I nearly laughed aloud at the sight.  Heat already began seeping across my cheeks as I watched her snuggle against me.  I was slightly suspicious that this might have been her plan all along, but it was entirely possible that it was a mistake.  After all, she had no blanket, and her spot tucked between fabric and my skin had to be rather cozy.  I have to admit, I don't blame her for sleeping there.

For a while I lay in the field trying to get control over my furious blush, but soon I felt Erica stirring on my chest.  I quickly shut my eyes, pretending to have been asleep.  Obviously, I couldn't see her reaction, but I could feel her flinch slightly once she awoke.  There was a split second of confused crawling around before she gasped; the audible shock behind its sound convinced me that she had in fact not planned for this.

"Holy shit!" I heard her whisper faintly, "How the hell did I get here?"  I bit my lip, desperately trying to keep myself from smiling at her reaction.  Thankfully, I hid my bemusement quickly.  Erica slowly crawled out from the top of my bra, trying her best not to wake me.  As quickly as she dared, she clambered down my side to the ground below.  The echoes of her faint touch still danced across my skin long after she'd stepped away.

When I was certain she had moved further from me, I pretended to wake up.  Erica was sitting on my cast-off clothing when I opened my eyes, no doubt pretending that was where she'd slept.  "Good morning," I addressed her with another yawn, "Did you sleep well on my shirt?"  Even with the slight distance between us, I could see the massive amount of guilt written over every one of her features.  To hide this, Erica busied herself by looking for the top half of her own clothes, which had been tossed off into the darkness the night before.  "Uhh, yeah!  I enjoyed spending the night with you."  Even her voice sounded slightly off-pitch with embarrassment.

"Something wrong?" I asked her.  "No!  Nothing's wrong; I just.. I can't find my stuff."  "Mhm, sure."  My mocking tone gave everything away.  She turned to look up at me, eyes wide.  "You woke up before me, didn't you?" she accused, a bit shaken.  "I may have," I replied, sliding closer to her.  "I.. That was an accident, I swear.  I wouldn't have done that unless you were awake.  You know, in case you disagreed."  "Well.. I don’t think I am disagreeing with it."

For once, Erica became a blushing mess instead of myself.  She collected her things from the ground with flushed cheeks and an embarrassed smile, pressing them to her chest.  We had breakfast together, and Erica promised to come sleep with me at least once every week.  "To keep you company out here," she clarified, "Not because of, you know, anything that happened last night."  “Really?” I mocked a shocked expression, “That’s not the reason?”  Erica rolled her eyes, “Alright, that’s part of the reason.  It’s like.. a billion times more exhilarating making out with someone who’s building-sized.”

With a bemused chuckle, I finished my meal.  "Let's go see what everyone else is up to today, shall we?" I asked after we'd readied ourselves for the day.  "I'm supposed to be guarding the town, but lately I feel like I've just been slacking off."  "Alright," Erica agreed, "I'll go bother Ivan, then."  I smiled, shaking my head slightly.  Ivan is, to say the least, almost the opposite of Erica personality-wise.  I can easily imagine the havoc she undoubtedly thrusts upon him in the Cavern Town.  Usually, I was around to deal with her charisma myself, but I guess he'd been having to deal with it for the past few days that I’d been away.  

I held out my hand for Erica to climb on.  It was an unspoken rule that she would ride on my shoulder whenever we traveled together.  She stretched tiredly across its length before sitting up sideways, her back tucked against my neck.  With her settled in, I started off towards the town.  I couldn’t help but sneak a glance at her every so often.  Erica always seemed the most comfortable perched on my shoulder.  Half of me thinks it’s adorable, but my more reasonable half always reminds me of the times she nearly fell off.  Despite this, the former part of me always wins in the end, and I let her stay.

Reaching the valley of the Cavern Town, I checked in with the guards before anything else.  However, they were nowhere to be found.  Erica and I exchanged puzzled glances as I bent closer to one of the wooden structures.  Multiple large guns greeted me in response.

I flinched harshly, feeling Erica’s grip tighten on me as she was thrown backwards.  After a few tenuous seconds, someone recognized me.  “Get down!” a guard whisper-yelled at me, “There were giants spotted on the horizon to the west!”  My nerves spiked instantly and I dropped onto the valley floor.  If the scientists come back now, I might not be able to fight them off!  Sure, I have my new weapon, but I barely had time to practice with it yesterday.  I haven’t even put up a barrier around the town, either.  What if they attack it again?!

Worst-case-scenarios drifted through my head while I pressed myself to one of the mountains behind me.  They're here for the other-world people, not me.  I tried unsuccessfully to calm myself down, but I knew that wasn’t true.  In fact, they might've come back specifically because of me.  After all, I'd killed a few of them in my rage the last time we'd clashed.  

What if the scientists came to kill me?  I don't think I can fight any more than five of them at a time.  And I only managed to do that because I'd caught them off-guard.  What if they lock me away like everyone else — an oddity from a world that isn’t there?

Suddenly, I was startled from my thoughts by a whisper to my side.  "You're alright; it's ok,"  Erica comforted me, carefully laying a hand on my neck.  "The hazmat giants aren't here.  Just- Just calm down.. you're shaking."  I am?  I am.  I hadn't even realized that my shot nerves were vibrating my body with fear-induced adrenaline.  Try as I might, I couldn't get myself to stop.  My heartbeat pounded in my ears, and I was almost pulled into another downward spiral of worries.  Thankfully, Erica snapped me back out of it.  She tapped my shoulder lightly and I turned to see her.  With one small gesture, she slid into my awaiting palms.

I tried in vain to stop myself from shaking as I slowly brought her in front of me.  Despite that, Erica still wobbled in my cupped hands as she stood, reaching out to gently grip my face for balance.  Once she steadied herself, she stood directly in front of my vision.  "Focus on me, alright?"  My head was brought closer to herself.  "You'll be ok.  Just focus on me."  I listened raptly, trying to match my erratic breathing to her calmer breaths.  Her chest grazed my fingertips with every inhale as she leaned over them.  Erica’s concerned expression filled my view while she tried to take my focus off the possibly vengeful scientists.

Is this how Erica sees me? I wondered, watching her concerned expression inch ever-closer to my eyes.  Do I take up her vision like this when I get close?  It was strangely comforting now, but I could certainly see how overwhelming I would’ve been to her before we got to know one another.

I kept my gaze on her, though she only really fit into my view one eye at a time. Before long, a guard from the structure opposite us gave the all-clear.  I stood up with Erica grasped lightly in my clutches, gazing out at the horizon beyond the mountains around me.  “Where’d they go?” I wondered aloud.  “Must’ve been on the hunt for a different town,” Erica noted, “They know better than to mess with this one, thanks to you.”  I smiled down at her thankfully.  She met my gaze with such tenderness I nearly went in for a kiss before remembering where we were and deciding otherwise.

Together we made it the rest of the way to the cavern, where a small crowd had gathered outside.  I recognized Ivan immediately; he stood at the front, nervously shifting from foot to foot.  He flagged me down, but two vaguely familiar people stepped in the way before I could get to him.

Erica quietly explained from her spot in my hands that they were the co-founders of the Cavern Town: Isabel Ashford and Marcus Stoll.  She’d met them briefly when she’d been ‘kidnapped’ from the cliffside.  These were the same two people who’d negotiated the protection deal.  I knelt in front of them, letting Erica off shortly afterwards.  “Defender,” the kinder one, Ms. Ashford, addressed me as I settled cross-legged on the ground.  'Defender' is my nickname amongst some of the people living there; many of the guards called me by it.  

“The giants could have attacked us earlier, and you would not have been here to do your job.  The one thing we asked of you is that you protect our city as amends for destroying it.”  I nodded my head solemnly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.  I have no excuse.”  Silently, I shifted to feel the smooth crystalline structure embedded in my neck.  “However,” I continued, remembering why I’d wanted to return to the Cavern Town, “I might have a solution.  At least, I hope I do.”

With a slight flourish, I slid my gun out from behind me.  A murmur rose from the group of people gathered outside.  “I made and tested this yesterday.  Working properly, it’ll be able to create a protective barrier over your whole town.”  The shorter gruffer one, Mr. Stoll, was ready with multiple questions: How strong is the barrier?  What is it made of?  How deep does it go?  Would people be able to leave once it was put up?  Would they be able to breathe inside it?  Will I continue to stay in the valley after I've set it up?  All good questions; I answered every last concern until the two leaders reconvened and headed back towards the town to debate my idea.

A large number of Cavern Town residents stayed behind once they heard Erica tell me to demonstrate the barrier setting for her, including one of the founders, Mr. Stoll.  He broke away from the other founder and slunk along the edges of the crowd, watching me intently.  I pretended not to take notice, but I could feel him watching me.

After covering various pieces of land with green, glassy covers, I realized I’d yet to figure out how to take them down.  Oh no, please don’t make me recreate this thing again.  Ivan managed to slip through the crowd towards me as everyone gathered around to see the small barriers for themselves — walking through them and testing their strength with various objects nearby.  I watched them intently.  None of them were strong enough to cause much more than a strong ricochet, which worked out perfectly.  I didn’t need anything blowing up by mistake.

Erica surveyed everything from atop one of my knees while I sat in the midst of the crowd, trying my best not to get overwhelmed by the amount of small people surrounding me.  Once he’d made it to my side, Ivan called up to me, but I strained to hear his voice over the crowd and his distance from me.  Erica noticed my confusion.  “He asked if the barriers are really going to do anything, because it looks like they can’t!  Everyone’s just walking through them!” she yelled to me.  Ivan yelled at her and motioned for me to lower my hand to him, learning from Erica’s little gestures.

When my hand touched the ground, everyone around Ivan scattered as if I’d put down an explosive.  I tried not to dwell on the fact that everyone there seemed so frightened of me, or the fact that I had to pick people up just to understand them.  My height was quite the advantage in an apocalypse where ‘giants’ were invading, but it was such a hindrance for so many other things.  I want to help people.  If those same people are frightened of me, then are they really going to want my help?  A small sinking feeling arose in my chest.  These barriers better work…

With Ivan in my palm, I lifted him to my face.  “I didn't say any of that!” he told me, waving a hand at Erica.  “I asked if it was strong enough to keep giants out while still letting people through.”  Erica rolled her eyes behind his back.  “Hopefully,” I answered Ivan.  “there’s no way for anything besides your people and me to pass through one.  The scientists and whoever else tries to get in will be blocked, though I can’t exactly test it with the ‘giants’,” I confessed, “I did test it with a few different objects.  Nothing got through.”

“If they can’t get through it, won’t they try to dig beneath the barrier instead?”  I shook my head, “Even if they tried digging beneath it, the barrier will grow to cover anything they dig out.”  “Won’t it grow over the tunnels we make to get materials and things in and out, too?”  “Don’t worry, I thought of that.  The barrier will stay open around them so long as you make them before I put it up.  If you do it beforehand, the barrier will grow around the tunnels when it forms.  If you do it afterwards, like the scientists might try, it’ll sense that there’s a breach and grow to fill any gaps.”

Ivan seemed satisfied at that, and I let him off beside Erica. She gave him a teasing look and he said something to her. It was hard to tell sometimes whether those two were getting along or not, but Erica burst out laughing and Ivan grinned, so I guessed they were both fine. Before long, the crowd dispersed, leaving me, Erica, and Ivan behind along with a few stragglers.  I glanced around inconspicuously, trying to spot the founder who’d been watching me, but it seemed Mr. Stoll had disappeared along with most of the crowd.

By lunchtime, I was the only one left outside to patrol the mountains and practice with my new weapon — besides the other-worldians in the watchtowers, of course.  They came out in shifts, but there was always someone there occupying every lookout.  The others had left for the Cavern Town by then, hoping to find news about the debate and my idea. I toyed with my barriers, trying to seem like I knew what I was doing while the guards were watching.  Thankfully, I found that I had to hold my hand on top of a barrier and will it to stop existing if I wanted it to fall away.  The idea was somewhere in the back of my mind when I’d first created the crystalline bar. 

I’d just returned to the valley after eating lunch in my field when the founders returned.  Thankfully, they hadn’t arrived sooner, or they would’ve found me missing once again.  “We’ve come to a conclusion,” Ms. Ashford announced.  “You may place the barrier over the town, but only after we put hidden passages in place for our people.”  “Which means you stay nearby until they’re finished,” Mr. Stoll told me with a hint of distrust, “You will sleep right here in the valley, and return to your place in the field only after the barrier is up and functioning properly. Afterwards, I suppose we could cut back on your working hours so long as you make an appearance daily to scout for other giants.”  

The rules were fair enough.  I didn’t like the idea of sleeping in the slim space between the mountains, but it wouldn’t be for very long.  Erica had immediately complained once she heard about my sleeping in the valley.  However, I reminded her about her perfectly fine bed in the Cavern Town.  “At least you have an actual bed, and a house,” I said after she grumbled over the fact she couldn’t secretly sleep with me.  Erica mumbled a half-hearted apology before leaving for the town, yelling: “Steal a bed from your own world if you want one so badly!”  Before I could tell her that was a dumb idea, and the scientists would definitely be able to spot it, she’d vanished into the rocks.

With the plan underway and a full-time job taking up most of my time, the days blurred together quicker than I thought.  Erica would come visit me on the mountainside at least once or twice a day to keep me from getting too bored or too worried.  Ever since those scientists made their way along the horizon, I was anxious that they’d be back to take the town while it wasn’t protected by the barrier.  I trained with my weapon with every opportunity I got, which sometimes included late nights.  I didn’t sleep much anyways; the restricting space between the valley, and the potential to damage more of the mountainsides, kept me up.

Several weeks later, a few crude passages had been established.  They would be smoothed, tiled, and lit eventually, but they were solid enough in their current state to count as complete.  With crossed fingers, I pulled out my gun and shifted it into the fourth and final mode.  The whole town — which had really grown into a city — had to evacuate just in case something went wrong and the barrier somehow failed dangerously.

I was shocked at the amount of people that filed out of the gaping cavern in the side of the mountain.  I’d never seen the whole population in one place before.  Every day a scouting group would come back with various items and occasionally people in tow, but I hadn’t realized just how many other-worldians had settled there.  This has to work, I realized suddenly, Otherwise everyone here might not have a safe space to live anymore.  The scientists know all of this is here.  Why haven’t they come to take it yet?

With everyone finally out of the cavern, the founders gave the signal that it was completely empty.  With careful aim, I guided the barrel to the center of the hollow mountain and fired.  A firework-esque crackle resonated through the valley, making my hair stand on end.  Pieces of rock fell off the mountainside and exploded on the barrier’s face.  Small landslides tumbled dangerously close to the crowd, but I quickly swept them away with my free hand, blocking anything from falling too close.

It was a rather raucous creation, but once everything settled down, the barrier looked stunning.  Tension released from my taunt muscles as my plan fell into place, and I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding for days.  Soon, everyone from the Cavern Town returned inside — marveling at their brand-new protection.  I could hear the faint noises of celebration coming from within; cheers and music drifted through the barrier and the tunnels. 

As my reward, I was allowed to collect my things and return to the field.  The valley looked a bit more barren than usual without me in it.  I don’t know why I was so melancholy leaving it; I hadn’t liked sleeping there at all. Longingly, I watched the festivities from afar.  “If only I could actually celebrate my accomplishments with them,” I whispered, “but I bet everyone will get uncomfortable if I get too close.” I rubbed the bar on my neck unconsciously.  If only this thing worked how I made it…

Dark clouds rolled in on a strong breeze that smelled of rain.  I put up a barrier around my blankets in anticipation for the storm to come, then lay down and curled up in my empty patch of grass alone, left daydreaming about what I would be doing if I were other-world size with Erica and Ivan out celebrating.

The next morning, I woke up extremely early.  Too early. A storm had started up while I slept, and I was startled awake by a sudden downpour.  The sound of the rain pelting the barrier was horrendous.  For the whole city inside the other barrier, the sound was probably dulled by how full the hemisphere was with rock and machinery and patched-together houses.  For me in my almost empty barrier, the hollowness amplified the noise until it was impossible to sleep or even think.

I angrily took down the barrier and almost went to grab an umbrella from my own world before lightning suddenly streaked across the sky.  Shit, that’s close!  I hit the dirt, realizing that I was definitely the tallest thing in the field.  An umbrella would only make things worse.  If I got struck, I would probably just end up back in the basement rather than dying — just like what had happened on my very first day.  However, the electrical surge from an actual bolt of lightning, no matter how small, might be enough to knock me out.  At the very least, it would be tremendously painful.

Again I found myself hating my stupid living arrangements.  I was wet, my blankets and pillow were soaked, and I could barely keep my eyes open due to my early wake-up call.  The storm stopped a few hours later, but by then I’d stayed up for so long and was so soaking wet that I was already wide awake and shaking slightly with the cold.  I internally rejoiced when the sun came out, warming me up and drying me off a bit.

The whole field was practically underwater — flooded by the rain — so I took my meal to go.  I must’ve looked like an absolute mess.  The moment Erica saw me, she gave me a look that was equally pitying and slightly amused.  “You might want to borrow a brush from your world,” she chuckled, “You look like you were hit by a train.”  “Or a thunderstorm,” I grumbled, “I’ll be back.”  In a moment, I was in my own world.  

Thankfully, everyone was preoccupied with other things at the time, so I was able to get a hairbrush and a fresh change of clothes without anyone noticing me.  I stayed a bit longer once I heard my family making plans in the living room.  Soon enough they would come over to my room to bring me up to speed on their ideas, so I avoided them by taking a shower.  Minutes later, my dad yelled through the bathroom door that he and the others were heading out.  He offered to wait for me, but I turned him down.  I had to get back to the other-world.

With everyone gone, and myself finally pampered and warmed up, I took a moment to stroll through the house, marveling at how everything was just perfectly scaled to me.  Back in the basement, I packed a few extra items for my settlement — including a hairbrush.  When I went to put my things away, however; I got an ingenious idea.  Grabbing my blanket and pillow, I brought them into my world.  “I’ve had just about enough of being uncomfortable,” I grumbled.  

Taking them both into the field of strange energy, I gave them each special abilities.  I imbued the pillow with the ability to make it feel like I was sleeping on a mattress while I used it, and I imbued the blanket with the ability to be the perfect temperature at all times.  “There,” I sighed, placing them down.  “I’ll check on you later.  First, I’ve got to get back to the town.”

Erica was waiting for me in the same spot she'd stood before, milling around aimlessly, waiting for me to come back.  She did a double take once I re-appeared, then nodded.  "Yup, that's much better."  I rolled my eyes with a smile and gently scooped Erica up.  Or, more accurately, I’d barely reached for her before she scrambled up into my hand.  “Where are we going?” she asked, peering over my cupped fingers in excitement.

“Now that I have some time off, I was thinking of exploring the rest of the mountains over here.  I’ll get a lay of the land, maybe find another town.”  “Another town?” Ivan echoed.  He’d just stepped out of one of the new tunnels and overhead me.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea..  You’ll just terrify a bunch of innocent people.”  

“But I could help them!  I could give everyone a barrier just like this one,” I explained, gesturing towards the Cavern Town, now sealed off by an indestructible opaque hemisphere.  “You should wait until we know the barrier actually works before you do that.”  My brows furrowed in concern, and I knelt to see Ivan’s expression.  “You don’t think it’ll work?” I asked, slightly offended.  I’d worked hard to create something that would protect everyone from the likes of the scientists.

“All I’m saying is that we have no proof that it does work,” he reasoned, “I’m fairly confident it will keep the giants out, and so are most people, or else we wouldn’t have let you put it up.  But no one knows that for sure because no one’s ever tried to break in. You said so yourself that you couldn’t fully test it.”  I nodded, seeing the logic behind Ivan’s argument.  I wanted to solve everything desperately — to keep awful things from happening and to prove I wasn’t a part of such awful things myself — but not so desperate that I was willing to give false hope to people just to relieve some of the stress.

However, Erica scoffed in my cupped hands.  “And?  What are you suggesting?  Do you want us to lure some giants over to test it?” She asked sarcastically.  “No!” Ivan yelled, exasperation growing in his voice.  “We should know for a fact that the barrier keeps giants out before we go promising it to others!  If they’re depending on it to keep them alive and it fails, you’re going to be responsible for their capture!”  Erica was ready to quip something snide in return, but I placed my hand over her — holding her in an interlocking cage of my own fingers.  Again, it was hard to tell if they were getting along or genuinely fighting.

“Erica, let it go.  He has a point; we can’t go around giving out barriers claiming they can stop the scientists when we don’t know if they actually do.”  I could hear her grumble in protest, but her voice was too muffled by my fingers to understand.  “I’ll just patrol around the valley today.  Want to come with us, Ivan?”

He shook his head, “I have plenty of things to do in town.”  I nodded, watching him leave.  Was that an excuse not to come, or does he genuinely have stuff to get done?  Erica yelled something and I quickly released her.  “What did you say?”  “I said forget about him.  If he wants to sit around in the rocks, let him.  He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”  With an annoyed huff, Erica gave a running leap out into the open air before landing on my chest, clinging to the fabric of my shirt.  She clambered up to one of my shoulders and sat atop it — perched a dizzying height above the ground for someone as tiny as her.  

“Alright I’m set, let’s go,” she said as nonchalantly as if she’d got into a car rather than jumped over a deadly long gap.  Speechless, I glanced over at her with wide eyes.  She snickered and leaned back slightly, grinning at me.  “Something wrong?” Erica asked in an innocent voice.  I shook my head at her reproachfully.  “You’re crazy.  I don’t know how you get the confidence to do half the things you do.”

Erica thought silently as I meandered around the outskirts of the valley.  “Well, I know you’ll always be there to stop anything bad from happening,” she answered with a nonchalant shrug.  Of course I’ll always take care of her, but she she should still be at least a little self-conscious, shouldn’t she? It’s not just her I have to worry about anymore; it’s the whole town. The daunting reality had dawned in my mind watching the crowds of people outside the mountain, but now it had really settled in.

“We've.. stopped," Erica stated in confusion.  I could feel her edge forward slightly, trying to gauge my pensive expression from the side.  "Alexis?  Are you alright?"  A long sigh escaped my lips and I put a hand to one of my temples to massage it.  A slight headache had tormented me for the past few days.  The storm the night before had only worsened it.

"Yeah.  I'm just.. tired, I guess."  I sat down heavily on a flatter part of the mountainside.  "You haven't been getting much sleep in the valley, have you?" Erica asked, realizing how exhausted I really was.  "Well, there's that.  But I've also been so stressed with the whole 'this barrier better work because if it doesn't you might be leaving a few thousand people defenseless' thing too,” I added.  Erica patted the side of my neck comfortingly, I turned to her and she brushed a stray lock of hair from my face.  

“I know, love.  People talk in that mountain, too.  They know they have to rely on you…  It’s a mixed reaction, really.  All those people — I can’t imagine the burden,” she said softly.  “Even-” she paused, shook her head, then started again.  “I’m here.  I’ll help in every way I can, I promise.  I hate that this is happening to you.. to us, but I’m with you.  Even if I’m not physically fighting beside you.  Even if I really want to be…” Erica gave me a little pleading look and I returned it with a half smile.  “If you’re scared or stressed or anything, pick me up anytime and let me help you.”

“Thank you,” I sighed. Smiling softly at her, I reached up and stroked her arm, then carefully rested the pad of my thumb against the side of her head.  A rare genuine smile passed Erica’s lips as she closed her eyes, leaning into my touch.  “I didn’t get a lot of sleep-” I paused to yawn, “last night too, so you aren’t entirely wrong about the no sleep thing either. Stupid thunderstorm kept me up.”  “Then what are you doing carrying me around?” Erica asked incredulously, “Go and get some sleep, you big dork!”  “But, it’s not even dark-”  “If you’re stressed and tired, you have no reason to be up right now!  Go to bed.  No excuses.”

Sighing, I lifted Erica off my shoulder to get a better look at her.  She knelt in my palms, looking meaningfully up at me, gesturing for me to bring her closer.  The moment I bridged the small gap between us, Erica pressed a small kiss onto my cheek.  “Go rest,” she said softly, “You deserve a break, Alexis.”  I gave in — nodding my agreement as I headed back to the right mountain to let Erica off.  Leaving her and everyone behind the safety of the barrier, I trudged off to my things that I’d returned to the field.

When I flopped over onto my blanket, it felt like heaven.  I’d forgotten that I gave little powers to my bedding.  I spread out completely, enjoying all the room I had out in the field.  The tight walls of the valley near the Cavern Town had previously restricted my sleeping space — it had been close to claustrophobic.  Now I had all the room I could want, as well as my new more comfortable sleeping arrangements.  Though there were still plenty more hours of daylight left, I was asleep in minutes.

[makesometime]

another fic prompt for Diina and Star: he's just gotten to make his own name day, functionally--do / how would they celebrate it?

I would like to apologise for the fact that they don’t actually celebrate his name day here - I might write a follow-up to make up for it though <3

(T-rated, ~700 words, named female drow Tav, suggestiveness but nothing too saucy)

#

Astarion goes all out for her first name day in the city. He takes her out to dinner, wooing her with a sweetness that makes her feel all tingly, his touch never far from her even as they enjoy a delicious meal. 

Then, much to her delight, he takes them out of the city to Sharess' Caress, leading her towards the waiting twins with a smirk and a gallant nod to her companions. 

He chooses to simply watch them that night. He has no interest in partaking, knowing that their last time together was entirely not what he needed, despite his initial enthusiasm. 

But there’s something exhilarating about knowing he's there, enjoying, tracking the way she moans and writhes under the clever touch of her fellow Drow. She looks out through the darkness and finds his ruby eyes sparkling and amused as she cries out, which only heightens her pleasure. 

It is an incredible night. 

And it only leaves her with the urge to do the same for him. 

And while that urge doesn’t leave her throughout the months that follow, eventually they are less than a month from her own name day once more, and Astarion hasn't celebrated his own. 

“Darling.”

“Yes, my love?” He asks, not looking up from the day's paper. 

Diina smiles, sipping at her coffee. “When's your name day?”

He frowns, glancing up at her over the top of a headline espousing the benefits of some new mayoral candidate or other. Then he sets it down, folding it neatly and putting his hands on top.

“I don't…” He starts, looking almost upset. “I don't think I know?”

Diina makes a quiet, sad sound, skirting around the table to sit across his lap. She holds his face, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones. “Oh, darling. We need to give you a new one! You deserve a day just for yourself.” 

“I have those days all the time.” He says. “Frequently, in fact. Wealth and freedom rather ensure it.” 

Diina scowls, flicking the end of his ear and sitting back. “That's not what I mean and you know it. A day that I can spoil you. A day that I can take you out for a delicious meal and do whatever you want in bed after.” 

“Is that all a name day is?” He smirks, all pleased with himself when she tuts at him. “It sounds awfully familiar.” 

“Astarion.” Diina sighs. “You're being obtuse on purpose.”

“Me?” He gasps, a hand pressing to his chest in faux offence. “Never.” 

Diina pouts, just about resisting the urge to tweak his ear again. She loves him so much, but by the gods he can be frustrating.

“Well, I suppose we don’t have to…”

It’s Astarion’s turn to scowl, pinching the skin above her hip. “Don’t you guilt me into this, pet.” 

Diina grumbles, his point well made. “Yes, yes you’re right. Don’t let me force you into anything, darling.”

Astarion runs a finger along the line of her jaw, then takes her chin in a gentle grip. He pulls her in for a kiss that makes her feel a little better, at least, her hands clutching at the loose front of his shirt. She groans when he pulls back, not quite willing to lose him yet.

“How about we make it simple - I could just share yours?” 

“No!” She huffs out a frustrated breath. “It has to be for you. That's the whole point of a name day!”

“Fine! Fine. Consider my arm entirely twisted, my love.” He says, with a fond little eye roll. “The day after, then? A terribly indulgent two days for the Lower City's most beautiful couple.” 

She turns the idea over in her head for a moment, before giving a quick nod. “I like that. It gives me plenty of time to plan.”

“There.” Astarion says. “We solved the problem. Aren’t we efficient?”

“Terribly.” Diina grins. “What will we do with all our spare time?”

Astarion pulls her closer, running his nose along the side of her throat and taking a deep, hungry inhale of the scent of her skin. When he speaks, his lips tickle, sending a sweet little shiver down her spine.

“I’m sure we can think of something.”

[tapioca-puddingg]

Two, the Goddess of Kindness: A Drakengard 3 Analysis

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Yoooo. I'm back again. It's been a while since the last post. Been getting kinda busy lately. If you're new here, my name is Taro and I post memes and character analysis discussions. This is my Seven Deadly Sins/Seven Heavenly Virtues series for Drakengard 3. Be sure to check out the other analyses I did for Five, Four, and Three. Go ahead and leave a follow as well if you enjoy these discussions and would like to be notified when I post more! With that out of the way, let's get onto Two, the Goddess of Kindness.

"Throughout the endless war, the kind Intoner gathered up orphans across the land and cared for them. She didn't have any parents of her own, so she wanted to help others escape the misery that she herself had known. And through it all, her one true love was always at her side. This is the story of a certain couple. A couple that strove endlessly to support each other."

INTRO TO TWO

Two is the third eldest Intoner sister and the ruler of the Land of Sands. Her personality is a stark contrast from that of most of her sisters: Five being self-indulgent and self-centered, Four being wildly insecure and judgmental, and Three being unhinged and immoral. Instead, Two has a bright and cheerful disposition and is shown to be highly empathetic and kindhearted. And she also has a knack for cooking. She genuinely loves the orphaned children under her care, and she doesn't hide the fact that she is madly in love with her disciple, Cent.

NOVELLA

I know, I know, I'm going in a different order this time around. I just feel like it made more sense to go chronologically. Anyways, the novella takes place sometime before the events of the game, as per usual. Two, Cent and the children are living in the underground shrine that One tasked them with protecting.

On this particular day, she plans to make a home-cooked meal for Cent and the children. Cent wonders about which Intoner has the best cooking, and Two describes their individual cooking styles: Five cooks odd monsters and creatures that people normally wouldn't (and probably shouldn't) consume, on top of the fact that her meals tend to be unhealthy. Four's cooking is bland because she doesn't use any seasonings in her dishes for nutritional reasons. And Three doesn't bother chopping up vegetables and leaves them whole. So she decides that One is the best cook. Cent points out the how bizarre their cooking styles are and that thought never crosses Two's mind. This shows how she sees the good in people, but it also shows her naiveté. More on that later.

This story doesn't have anything to do with the main game. In my opinion, it just further illustrates who Two is as a person; a wholesome, kind young woman that truly cares about others. From her children, to her soldiers, to the citizens of the Land of Sands, she always does her best to help others.

TWO'S PROLOGUE & MAIN GAME

I'm combining these two into one section because both stories intertwine with one another.

So the first time we see Two is in the beginning of Drakengard 3, accompanied by her other sisters. The five of them fight Zero after she declares that she wants to kill them all and take their power. At first, Two seems happy to see her. But after they begin fighting, she tells Zero that she has to pack for a trip and that she doesn't have time to fight. Her tone of voice sounded annoyed as she said this, but that's my opinion.

At some point after her confrontation with Zero, she and Cent get tasked by One to clear out some monsters. They begin in the Land of Mountains and then go to in the Land of Forests. A lot of their dialogue is lovey-dovey banter, but here's some lines that stick out to me:

"If you say it, it must be true!" -Two to Cent

"Oh cent, you're so strong! You've got power AND beauty. You're just perfect!" - Two to Cent again

As well as this conversation:

Two: They seem kind of...weak and worn out.

Cent:  Well they ARE stragglers. Most are pretty badly hurt.

Two: Maybe we should try healing them. You know? Like we did with those orphans?

Cent: I'm afraid we can't do that, Lady Two. You understand why I did that right? Why I harnessed the power of your song? Why I used it to cure the orphans and strengthen our soldiers?

Two: Because you're kind.

Cent: ...No. I did it because I wanted them to protect you. And in order to do that, they had to be healthier. Stronger. I strove to forge them into a mighty shield for you, my lady. It had nothing to do with kindness.

Two: That's not true! You're super kind! You're my gentle prince!

These lines illustrate a major flaw in her character, and that is that she idealizes Cent. She blindly believes everything that he says (which is later confirmed by Zero) and refuses to believe that Cent did something that wasn't out of the kindness of his heart. It doesn't seem like she wants to see him as a flawed or less than innocent. And that kind of blind faith and loyalty can leave someone in an undoubtedly vulnerable position. But I suppose this is how one might view their partner in their first relationship, right?

After a short rest, Cent is informed by Decadus via letter that the Cathedral City is in danger. Two is immediately worried about the children, so the couple hurriedly make their way over there. They are forced to fight their way through their own soldiers that have gone berserk, but not without Two lamenting over their situation. Cent reveals that he used the power of Two's song when he healed the children and the soldiers, which is the source of this corruption. This devastates Two and she blames herself for this tragedy, but Cent tries to reassure her that this was all his doing.

As they make their way inside the Hidden Cathedral and fight through more soldiers and skulls, Two's mental state begins to deteriorate the further they go in. By this point, Cent is really trying (and failing) to get Two to calm down.

At last, they arrive at the final chamber to find a homonculus, which is an amalgamation of the corrupted children. Two is understandably hysterical as she realizes what this creature is. Unfortunately, the couple is forced to kill the homonculus. What makes this worse is the fact that the children are still crying out from within the creature. Which means that they're still semi-sentient.

"By the end of the battle, the Intoner's spirit had been shattered. The broken shards fell deep into darkness...doomed never to return. This is the story of a couple deeply in love. The story of a foolish couple. The story...of a couple ruined beyond repair"

Took the words right out of my mouth. Having to kill the children that she so deeply cared for broke her spirit beyond repair. And she couldn't cope. This event gives context as to why Two is in such a zombified state when we next encounter her in the main game. Zero also states that you need to have a strong mind in order to keep from being corrupted by the power of song (by the flower, rather). This explains why the soldiers all lost their minds. Two shows up briefly in Branch B, but, in my opinion, this marks the end of her story.

CENT

I just want to use this section to briefly talk about Cent. He's a tough nut to crack and hard to understand. I spent quite a bit of time internally debating about whether or not his love for Two was genuine. I wasn't sure if he was pretending to love her in order to keep her happy or perhaps he just wanted to use her power. After Mikhail killed Two, Cent was awfully calm about it. I would've expected him to fly into rage after the woman he loved just got killed in front of him.

Unrelated, but he also behaves differently around others as opposed to when he's with Two. When he interacts with Zero and her party, he has this air of pompousness to him and is obnoxious. Even in his novella, he still internally strokes his own ego.However, he's rather serious and protective when he's with Two.

The way he says "I'm just a big idiot right?", to Zero after Mikhail kills Two almost makes it seem as though he's purposefully playing the fool. As for what purpose that would possibly serve is beyond me. Despite that, he remains loyal to Two in Branch B and D, so it seems as though his feelings for her are indeed genuine.

COLOR THEORY (BLUE)

This segment is where we discuss color theory as it relates to the character. Two's main color obviously being blue.

Some positive traits of blue can include, peace, tranquility, honesty, reliability, trust, and intelligence. While these traits definitely are spot on, I perceive her more as a pink or an orange personality type. A pink personality type being known for its sensitivity and empathy, while orange being known for its passion and energy.

However, some negative traits include conservatism, sadness or depression, coldness or aloofness, fragility, and predictability. The positive traits are what she showed before the tragedy, and she identifies with some of the negative ones after the tragedy.

NOVELLA IMAGE

I don't think there's too much to say about the image. Two is being surrounded by the people that she loves; she's being embraced by Cent, her lover, with her dear children close to her.

THE FINAL SONG

Last thing I wanna talk about before I get out of here and that's her dance in the Final Song. Because she's an even-numbered Intoner, her movements are symmetrical. She's the only intoner besides Zero that dances to her own theme. The choreography for her dance is beautiful and passionate. Her movements are wide and kind of wild. Her arms always end up stopping in front of her chest, her heart. No matter where she moves, she always returns to her heart. After reaching her heart, she moves her arms outwards. It's like she's giving out her love and her compassion. Her undying love for Cent. And the love that she holds for her children. She was always willing to help others in need. She's a giver rather than a taker and her dance is a reflection of that.

TLDR/AFTERTHOUGHT

Two was a kindhearted, yet naïve Intoner who was in love with her protective and suave disciple, Cent. She was loved and admired by the orphaned children that she took care of. In an attempt secure Two's safety in the future, the disciple would end up inadvertently misusing her power. The couple grossly underestimated just how much power Two's songs had and suffered greatly for it, as well as the victims that were killed in the process. Two's mind never recovered from this tragedy.

Phew! And that's a wrap, folks. Seriously, thanks to everyone that has been supporting these posts. I appreciate that you guys give me the time of day. As usual, I encourage you to leave your thoughts and opinions below. Not sure when I'll start on One's analysis, but you can be sure that I'm gonna finish all the drakengard 3 ladies. This Taro signing off, and this has been my two cents (bah-dum-tss!). Until next time! 💙

[endlessly-cursed]

Completely, Utterly Happy (Judespar)

A/N: After a looong week of exams and finals, I finally had inspo and time to write an idea that was suggested by @cursebreakerfarrier who also happens to own Caspar Brokenshire, whom I borrowed for this small fic. 

Summary: Caspar and Jude enjoy each other’s company on their first morning as a married couple 

Word Count: 1.5k 

Rating: T, newlyweds stuff 

Jude Dubois –now Brokenshire—couldn’t tell at which time she went to sleep. She had been busy up all night… spending her wedding night with her now husband, Caspar.

When she started to flutter her eyes open, she could feel her husband’s kisses all over her bare shoulder as his strong arms snaked around her equally bare body, inhaling her fragrance mixed with his own after being linked for many, many hours. She slowly smiled as he kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear “Good morning, Mrs. Brokenshire.”

She spun around and smiled at him “Good morning, dear husband.” She kissed him, her hands on his now rather messy hair after being mussed many times while tangled on one another. He smiled at her, a lovesick look on his face as he kissed her nose, then both her cheeks, followed by the chin, forehead and ending up on her lips “I take yesterday was to your liking?”

He arched an eyebrow teasingly “The reception, being declared your husband, the afterparty or our wedding night?”

Jude pretended to think about the answer “Hmm, how about all of the above in that order?”

They both chuckled before kissing again “Out of a ten? A solid hundred.”

Jude smiled as she kissed him yet again, a searching kiss that started soft. Caspar begged her closer, deepening the kiss as he slowly came on top of her, one hand on the small of her back and the other on her caramel curls, inhaling her intoxicating essence, looking at her with devotion and adoration “You have never looked more beautiful than now, my Jude.”

She smirked teasingly “All naked, my hair and makeup a mess and with a tired look on my face?”

He smiled and pecked her nose “Exactly. I definitely will love getting used to this view.”

“I thought you were used to it by now.”

He stroked her cheek “The view I mean is you, being my wife, and yours for the rest of my days. Waking up, looking at you and knowing this is forever… that is what I look forward getting used to.”

Jude smiled broadly before switching positions and kissing him passionately, her hands on his shoulder blades, demanding him to be as close as their bodies would allow. Neither of them wanted to leave their bed anytime soon, and the Brokenshires were babysitting little Joseph as they spent this quality time as husband and wife, though to Joseph, he was already a father. Joseph was now his step-son by law, but a true son by heart and soul. He couldn’t believe it. Jude Thalissa Dubois was his wife, and his step-son was her son. It’d take him quite some time to take in the fact that this was his life now, and that perhaps soon they could give him a sibling… if Jude was comfortable with the idea, of course. This time, both agreed that this baby would be planned ahead, with their careers allowing them enough time for their children and time for themselves as both individual and a couple.

Suddenly, Caspar’s stomach roared and he broke the embrace in embarrassment “As much as I want you, Jude, it seems that my body demands some food.”

Jude smirked “And what about me? I thought you enjoyed having me as a meal.”

He laughed “I never said I didn’t, I meant that I either eat or my body won’t be able to satisfy you, and that would be sacrilege as a husband, dear.”

Jude laughed too, getting off him “Go, and while you’re there, do bring me green tea and a toast. Better to prevent than cure.”

He pecked her on the lips, he put on his pants and went to the kitchen, where he prepared himself his and Jude’s tea. On the kitchen, he stumbled on the photo of Joseph’s christening: Jude seemed to wear a simple beige gown, meanwhile Joseph, who was then a new-born, slept cutely while dressed in white with other decorations, both looking adorable.

Perhaps, when the time was right, they could make a photo of their son… or daughter! Either was fine by him, for they’d be his and Jude’s child, and he’d love it for that and more. With the toasts ready, the egg fried and the tea ready, he went back to the room, where Jude had put on his shirt. He looked at her, and if it wasn’t clear now that she was his –in the most respectful way—now there could be no doubt. There, on his apartment’s bed, with his shirt and his ring on her hand, it was clear that Jude was his wife in all matters. He gave her the requested plates and both started to talk about the wedding, commenting on the outfits, their favourite songs and reminiscence on Joseph and Caspar dancing together, a sight that Jude treasured as fondly as him.

He caught Jude staring lovingly at him “What? Do I have something on my face?”

She shook her head “No. It’s just… I know we’ve been here before. You and me, in this bed, sometimes at my place, having breakfast after… well, you know, and just talking, but now… I am not having breakfast with my boyfriend or fiancé, but my husband, and the man I love the most in the world.” She took his hand and kissed it “Right here, right now, in this instant, it is safe to say that I am completely, utterly happy and more madly in love with you than ever before.”

He sat her on his lap and kissed her hand as well “I could’ve never said it better, my love.” He fiddled with the corner of his own shirt and looked at her cheekily “Now… where were we before that embarrassing interruption?”

Jude pretended to think “I think I was about to do… this…” She took off the shirt, now forgotten on the floor before kissing him passionately.

He kissed her back, matching her fervour as he whispered “I love you, Jude.”

She smiled against his lips “And I, you, Caspar.”

Their lips locked again as they rolled on the sheets, the food completely forgotten as they basked on a marital bliss that wouldn’t leave for a very, very long time.

[turnipshepard]

Christmas was exceptionally rough this year.

My in-laws are one of these families where they make everything around the holidays far more difficult and over the top than it needs to be, and then they spend the holiday week so stressed out that they’re unpleasant to be around. I brought some gifts from Italy, just some Christmas candy we don’t have in the US that I thought the family might like. And my MIL was irritated/stressed that I brought something because Christmas dinner was already all planned out and it was Mexican themed. I said we could just put it out for people to take or send it home with people and she just got angry and put it in a cupboard. (I did end up putting it out and a few people did enjoy it 😊)

My in-laws have always hated us being vegan, and I don’t expect anyone to go out of their way to accommodate us, but this year was a new low. They were serving building-your-own turkey enchiladas and didn’t let us put beans and faux cheese off to the side so we could partake with everyone else. We had Trader Joe’s microwave enchiladas.

My husband’s uncle always creates a fun game for the family to play and this year he went way over the top and made like a chicken racing game with brackets for the kids and the adults. It took hours to play - parents with young kids were needing to leave partway through and we had to stop and adjust as people left. It cut into most of the time I have to connect with people, most of whom I won’t see for another two years.

There was an adult Secret Santa and a kid Secret Santa, which is fine, but apparently my BIL, who has managed it for years, also manages this huge spreadsheet to make sure that no one gets someone they got before. That’s so unnecessary! My family did Secret Santa every year growing up and it became a running joke that my cousin always got my dad. This is all just meant to be fun! Why is everyone making it so hard!

It’s just… for a group of people that say they are so focused on family, on being together, on celebrating the fact that the extended family still all gets together on Christmas (which it is!) they seem to go out of the way to make the get together itself about everything EXCEPT family. It’s about presents and making sure all the pairings are right. It’s about wacky games that are totally original and as crazy as can be. It’s about cooking fancy themed meals. And the energy that goes into all of that sucks everyone dry, and leaves no time for us to all just… catch up and connect with each other.

I really don’t want to do this anymore.

[tinyrebeldinosaur]

Responsible For A Food Delivery Whatsfordinner.Ie Budget? 12 Top Notch Ways To Spend Your Money

When it involves cooking, it is necessary to bear in mind that every person started someplace. I do not know of a bachelor who was born with a wooden cooking spoon and also prepared to go. There is a great deal of learning that have to be performed in order to come to be a prolific cook and then there is always space for improvement. Not just do you require to begin with the basics when it comes to food preparation but you practically require to begin again when discovering to cook a brand-new food such as Chinese, Thai, or Indian food.

10 Undeniable Reasons People Love Best Restaurants In Kilkenny

This means that at any type of given time in your cooking learning cycles there is fairly most likely someone someplace that is far better and/or even worse at food preparation than you. Take heart from this since even the most effective have poor days when it involves food preparation. There are many individuals that cook for various reasons. Some chef in order to eat as well as survive while others prepare due to the fact that they in fact enjoy the process of cooking. Some chef during times of psychological upheaval and also others cook out of sheer monotony. Whatever your factor for food preparation or finding out to cook you must constantly begin with the basics.

The first thing that you require to discover is what the various terms you will find in dishes actually indicates. There are several brand-new and also occasionally international sounding terms that you will certainly discover in common dishes. These terms can mean the difference in dish success or failing. You must have the ability to find a good area in any inclusive recipe book that clarifies the various interpretations for unknown terminology. If you aren't absolutely particular what is implied by "folding in the eggs" it remains in your benefits to look it up.

How Did We Get Here? The History Of Restaurants Bunratty

One more great little bit of guidance when it pertains to cooking basics is to attempt less complex recipes for some time and afterwards expand your perspectives to the extra intricate dishes that abound. The majority of recipes will certainly have a little note concerning their degree of trouble and also you can check out the recipe to see whether or not it is something you want preparing or positive that you can prepare. Keep in mind Rome had not been built in a day and it will certainly take quite a long time to build a reliable 'collection' of dishes to work into your meal planning rotation.

The good news is that when you have actually discovered the fundamentals of food preparation it is not likely that you will certainly ever before require to relearn them. This indicates that you can constantly build up and also broaden your cooking abilities. As you find out brand-new dishes and also enhance your culinary skills as well as talents you will certainly uncover that preparing your own meals from square one is a lot more rewarding than preparing packaged meals that are purchased from the racks of your neighborhood supermarkets.

10 Fast food Facts About Restaurants Near Me Open That Will Instantly Put You In A Good Mood

You will certainly additionally find as your experience as well as self-confidence grows that you will find yourself increasingly more typically improvising as you go and changing dishes to fulfill your personal choices. If you like basically of active ingredients or want to make a dish a little bit basically spicy in flavor you can make easy adjustments along the way in order to accomplish this goal. In other words you will certainly begin in time to create dishes of your extremely own. Which is something you won't always learn when it pertains to standard cooking skills for newbies but you would never ever discover if you didn't grasp those standard cooking abilities.

Cooking Indian Food in the house - Where to Start?

If you review my article, Curry - A Journey, released on the Curry page of this site, you'll know that my very first experiences of the meal were of the common variety which the British usually cooked as well as consumed when living abroad a couple of decades ago. You'll also recognize whatsfordinner Affordable dining that I then found "genuine" Indian culinary as well as made a decision that as I could not manage to eat in restaurants that a lot, I needed to learn how to cook the stuff myself.

5 Vines About Whatsfordinner.Ie Chinese Restaurants Ennis That You Need To See

My very first quit after that, was a neighborhood bookshop, where the choice of publications on Indian culinary was somewhat limited. Nonetheless, I struck lucky and uncovered a publication called Indian Cookery by Madhur Jaffrey - what a locate. Written in straightforward language yet with wonderful descriptive message and recommendations on what to serve with what, it was just what I had been looking for.

There was an impediment, nevertheless, which was the countless checklist of flavors, flavorings and also flavourings in the front of the book. I really did not understand where to start - I would certainly become aware of fairly a lot of them, having actually enjoyed a few TELEVISION programs on Indian cooking however, "assistance" I thought, "buying that lots of at one time is going to cost a fortune". If you're thinking the very same, do not panic. Sign in your shop cabinet. You probably currently have several of the items you will certainly require. For instance, look for black peppercorns, bay leaves, chilli powder (if you're already a fan of chilli con carne), ground ginger, nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon if you cook cakes or apple pies. Maybe you'll discover mustard seeds if you do your own pickling and sesame seeds if you make rolls or cook Chinese food. That just leaves a few basic active ingredients which show up in a great deal of Indian dishes - cumin, coriander, turmeric as well as cardamom. Usually you need ground cumin as well as coriander yet if you buy the whole spices, you can grind them as required (as well as they maintain longer in this way also).

The Ugly Truth About Where Vegetarian Restaurant Kilkenny Whatsfordinner Employees

The other point I did was to pick a fairly easy recipe to begin with and I simply acquired the seasonings I needed for that. The next time I wish to prepare an Indian meal, I selected another dish with similar components so I needed to just get a pair extra things. Quickly enough I developed an entire shop cupboard of the things I required and it didn't have had such a drastic impact on my budget.

Then there was no stopping me - I also understand some dishes by heart currently as well as you can do the same if you intend to.

You do not need unique devices for Indian cookery, although I would not be without my electrical coffee grinder (to grind seasonings) and it's nice (however not required) to have the standard recipes to serve your dish in. Other than that, you require a little bit of patience and it's enjoyable to cook with a buddy to ensure that you can share the cutting as well as grinding or have a person reviewed the recipe bent on you step by step so you don't go wrong between.

The flavours are terrific, a curry night is actually friendly, so go on, give it a try.

N

A

P

[survey--s]

631.

What was the name of the main character in the last book you read? "Boy" and Lettie Hempstock.

Do you own a pair of Disney pajamas? No, not anymore.

What are three of your favorite toppings for salads? The only salad I eat is Caprese - I can't stand lettuce or anything leafy like that - it makes me gag lol.

What was the last place you went out to eat? It was the local pub with my mum.

Do you have a lot of clutter in your home? I don't, but Michael has tons of clutter everywhere and it drives me insane. I honestly don't know how he copes.

What was the last pill you took? 💊 Ibuprofen, I think.

Are you happy with your current doctor? 👩‍⚕️ I don’t have a regular doctor.

Is there a bottle of Benadryl in your medicine cabinet? Nope. Do you take vitamins? When I remember.

Does your hair need to be washed right now? No, I had a bath a couple of hours ago.

What was the last thing you ate? I had a pizza and a cornetto last night. I haven't had anything to eat today.

Do you prefer pizza or hot dogs? 🌭 🍕 Pizza.

What is your favorite pizza topping? 🍕 Either a classic margerita with proper mozzarella, or a BBQ meat feast style pizza (as long as it's not spicy).

Is your dad a jerk? No, but he can be very blunt and straightforward which means he can be difficult to get along with. He's autistic like me and I think that means we clash sometimes as we're both very stubborn and neither of us like to admit when we're wrong.

What color are your fingernails painted? They’re not.

Is anyone in your family currently in the military? No.

What was the last thing you bought at the dollar store? I have no idea, I haven't been to one for about two years. Are prices of things going up where you live? Yeah, most definitely, especially food and utilities. Luckily we can afford things okay but we are having to cut back on stuff like meals out and takeaways as the prices are just ridiculous.

What color was the last carpet you sat on? Grey.

What is your favorite dog breed? Beagles, cocker spaniels.

When was the last time you wore make-up? 💄 Right now, but only a little bit.

What was the last thing you ordered at the last restaurant you went to? Fish and chips.

What was the last thing you wore that was pink? I'm currently wearing a pink t-shirt.

Name three people you know, if any, that currently live in another country. Brandi, Sarah, Hannah.

Name three people you know who are from another country (and what countries?) My parents are from Australia and the Seychelles and I'm currently cat-sitting for a couple who are from Kansas in the US.

What are your grandmas’ names? I'm not putting that on here.

If applicable, who lives across the hall from you? ...

Have you ever heard of “fairy hair”? (It’s tinsel in the hair that gets put in permanently…it’s like tinsel highlights.) No.

Have you found any gray hairs on your head? No. Neither of my parents went grey until their forties - in fact, my dad is nearly seventy and still has mostly black hair.

If applicable, how old were you when you found your first gray hair? ...

Do you think you will dye your hair when it’s gone gray? I don't know, my opinion on this changes every week lol.

Do you have a sister-in-law? Yeah, four of them.

Do you have a brother-in-law? Yeah, two of those.

When was the last time you went swimming? 👙 ☀️ About five years ago.

Do you own a bikini? No.

What color is your bike, if you own one? Pink and white, but I haven't ridden it for years and I'm actually planning to sell it sometime soon.

If you were a rockstar, what color guitar would you have? 🎸 Purple glitter.

What are three places you’ve been on vacation that you’ve enjoyed? Lake Louise in Canada, Sardinia in Italy and Zermatt in Switzerland.

Does your home have carpeted floors? Yeah, it's carpeted everywhere except the kitchen and bathroom.

What color was the last scarf you wore? I don’t wear scarves.

What was the last spicy thing you ate? I don't eat spicy food either.

Do you like sushi? 🍣 Meh, it's okay. I'll eat it but it's not my favourite.

When was the last time you had sushi? 🍱 Several years ago.

Can you see a box from where you are sitting right now? Yeah, there's a kitten sat in it lol.

Would you rather sing or dance? 🎤 💃 Sing, even though I'm not very good at either.

What color was the last sports bra you wore, if applicable? Black.

What is your nicest neighbor’s name? Tina, Chris or Dot. They're all nice enough, though.

Would you rather have a personal chef or personal house cleaner? Chef, for sure.

Do you have any zits on your face right now? Yeah, on my right jaw. I'm due my period so I guess that explains it but it bloody hurts.

Do you wear glasses or contacts? Glasses.

How many Britney Spears albums have you owned? Zero. I preferred Christina.

What was the first concert you went to? Spice Girls.

Do you like cheese? 🧀 I love cheese, haha.

What are three of your favorite things to sprinkle cheese on top of? Pizza, spaghetti and couscous.

What are three of your favorite bakery items? Croissants, doughnuts, chocolate chip cookies.

When was the last time you went to a bakery? 🧁 Thursday.

Do you prefer coffee or chai? ☕️ Coffee.

Do you know what “chai” means? Yeah.

What are three other names you like that start with the same letter as your name? Natalie, Naomi, Nicole.

What are three creative hobbies you enjoy? I'm really not a very creative person.

Is there a bag or basket of yarn somewhere in your home? 🧶 No. Do you ever wear skirts? No. I've always found them really uncomfortable - I prefer dresses. Do you ever find it hard to live in a world where nobody cares? No, generally I find it easier, to be honest. Would you rather have a tattoo of a skull or a flower? Flower. Have you ever had to take steroids? 💊 No. I've had to give them to the dog though.

What are three of the worst withdrawal effects or side effects you have experienced from a medication? 💊 Nausea, vomiting and dizziness.

What are three things you like about church? Nothing.

What are three things you dislike about church? Everything, really. Does your town have a horse and carriage company? Hahah no.

Who are three of the biggest jerks you know? Yeah, I don't really keep notes of things like that.

Have you ever met a Jason that you didn’t like? Yeah.

Have you ever had a friend named Sarah? Yes.

Did you go to school with a Suzy? No, but I know two of them now.

What was the name of the person who bullied you the most in high school Laura. Do you know someone named Matthew? No.

…Mark? Yes.

….Luke? No.

….John? No.

Have you ever been friends with an Ashley? Yes. A male Ashley, though. ….an Emily? Yeah - there were about five girls called Emily in my year at school.

….a Jessica? Yeah, in primary school.

….a David? Yeah, my ex was a David.

Have you ever dated a Matthew? No.

Who was the last person you remember hanging up on you? My mum, but not like, in a bad way.

How’s your heart? Are you wounded? 💔 She’s doing fantastic.

What was the last type of pie you ate? Banoffee.

Are you happy today? Sure, I'm happy enough. I'm tired/cold though.

What time did you wake up this morning? Just before 8am as I had cats to go and feed.

And last but not least, did you enjoy this survey? Sure!