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flowerandblood · 9 months

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The Pearl and the Sapphire (2)

[ modern! • Aemond x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, anxiety, angst ]

[description: As a representative of a large family-owned gemstone business, Aemond is attending a major jewellery event where jewellery makers from all over the world are exhibiting. One of them is the Baratheon family. Aemond is tasked with focusing on attracting new customers, but his attention is diverted by the youngest daughter of the eminent maker Borros Baratheon. Slow burn, bitchy, possessive and obsessive Aemond, lots of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request + my sweet @valeskafics)]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in modern times. The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Series moodboard: Aemond & Miss Baratheon

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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Working on costumes for their family's show at Crystal EXPO was the only thing that kept her from sinking into her grief and sadness after Cregan told her he felt he wasn't ready for a serious relationship yet. Although they had been together officially for several months, he had apparently realised that he was still attracted to other women and didn't want to deny himself from adventures with them.

Cregan was a handsome, warm and open men, constantly making her laugh. She met him when he came to their house to pick up an order for his father's jewellery shop and stayed for dinner with them. They immediately caught a great connection, found each other on Facebook and frequently wrote to one another.

She experienced her first time with him.

He was affectionate and gentle, took his time and gave her a huge sense of comfort, for which she was grateful. Before he even entered her he brought her to orgasm with his tongue, wanting to make sure she was definitely well moistened, and then with slow, gentle movements he took her on her bed in her bedroom, kissing her face tenderly.

Cregan was always frank and direct; she felt safe with him. However, she could see that at some point something was off, that something was wrong. One day she plucked up the courage to finally ask him what was going on and that's when he told her.

"There is a woman in my work. There is chemistry between us, but I would never hurt you or humiliate you with betrayal. However, the way I feel when I look at her has made me realise that I don't think I'm suited to a relationship with one person." He said and covered his face with his hands, his voice breaking as if he was about to cry.

She felt a tightness in her throat and stomach as she looked at him, sitting next to him on the couch, her hands clenched into fists on her lap.

"I'm so sorry. I like and appreciate you so much, I'm so comfortable with you. But…but I think I'd rather end this before I hurt you, you deserve better. Forgive me." He said and broke into sobs.

She stroked his back, feeling strange with the fact that she was the one who had to comfort him. She swallowed with difficulty tears that ran down her face.

He begged her to remain friends, to keep writing to each other, to keep in touch, but she said she needed a break and that she understood him. That she was grateful to him for telling her before he did anything bad.

Still, she felt pain at the thought that she wasn't enough.

She wasn't enough for him to want only her.

She didn't show in front of him how badly she had broken down so as not to further deepen his remorse, however, as soon as he left she called Royce and started sobbing into the receiver. Royce had finished work at his father's workshop early to come to her and spent the night in her room, just sleeping next to her and stroking her head.

He couldn't put his feelings into words, but he was always there for her when she needed him.

When she suggested to her father that their show this year would be themed and that she would sew outfits in which they would present their jewellery pieces he was delighted and kissed her forehead, teasing her skin with his rough beard. Her sisters were also thrilled that they would be able to perform in beautiful costumes at such a prestigious festival tailor-made especially for them.

Thinking about the show, planning everything and sewing filled her days between college classes making her feel better and better.

Once every few days she would get a message from Cregan telling her about his day, each time announcing at the end that he hoped she was doing well and that he was thinking about her constantly. On the one hand, she was glad that he hadn't forgotten her; on the other hand, she found it even harder to understand why they had broken up in the first place.

Months flew through her fingers and she didn't even know when there was only a week left until the whole event. Everyone was excited and had gone there early to prepare their stand. Royce poked her on the shoulder as they arranged the ruby necklaces made by their father on display.

"Have some fun. Pick out some rich snob and spend a nice time with him." He said, and she looked at him with pity.

"I don't think that would make me feel any better." She said amused, a wide smile on her face.

If it had only been about the adventure, breaking up with Cregan wouldn't have hurt her so much.

Before the show itself, she began to feel stressed. She and her sister looked beautiful, on the backstage she was still tweaking their hairstyles and tightening their gowns to make them look their best. Cassandra looked at herself in the mirror, turning with satisfaction.

"Great job, sister. I look like Marie Antoinette!"

Filled with euphoria and adrenaline, she remembered little of it when she and Royce stepped out into the middle, the lights directed at them so that she couldn't see the faces of those sitting around her. Her older brother's presence and smile gave her courage, she just looked at him to avoid distraction.

They knew the dance routines by heart and both had an excellent sense of rhythm, so dancing with him was a pleasure. She was frightened when she turned around during one of the moves and a blue glow flashed before her eyes.

What was that?

She turned again, falling into Royce's embrace, and they continued on for a while until finally the music ended and they moved into their final position. There was thunderous applause all around them. Royce took her hand and pressed it to his lips, placing a respectful kiss on her skin.

"I think you sold us perfectly, sister." He said amused, and she laughed lightly at his words, stepping closer to the audience with him to bow.

"We'll see about that yet, I'm curious…" She said and froze, seeing out of the corner of her eye a men looking at her with a look as if he wanted to kill her, in his left eye socket a large, sparkling sapphire.

Who is this?

She pressed her lips together, unsure of what to do, and blinked, reminding herself that she'd broken off in the middle of a sentence.

"…I'm curious if our father liked it." She said smiling again, bowing along with him, her brother's only response was "I'm sure he did."

She breathed a sigh of relief afterwards, when they returned backstage her sisters hugged her saying that it was a great experience and that they should do something similar next year.

She was glad that although they didn't always agree, this time she had the support of her whole family. Her father approached her in tears of emotion, saying that his works of art had never looked more beautiful and the audience was delighted.

For the first time since her split with Cregan, she felt happiness and warmth filling her body.

She and Royce decided to stay in their costumes at the banquet, wanting to draw attention to their father and their products. Borros thought this was an excellent idea and they entered the hall as a trio.

Indeed, they were surrounded by various celebrities congratulating them on their idea and workmanship, asking who was responsible for their attires and expressing admiration when her father boasted that his own daughter had sewn them.

"This is my greatest jewel." He said curtly. She felt embarrassed and looked away, feeling her cheeks burning.

She cast a glance around the hall and spotted from afar the man who had been watching her so demonically during her dance. He was looking at her again, but in the lamplight he looked less dark than she had originally thought.

He was tall, his light hair slicked back, dressed in a black turtleneck, jacket and trousers that perfectly emphasised how well built he was. His artificial sapphire eye sparkled, his scar stretching across the entire left half of his face aroused her curiosity.

She thought he was very brave and clever creating an asset out of his wound and smiled in his direction, wanting to show him that his appearance did not scare her at all.

She saw him tighten his lips and avert his gaze immediately, taking a greedy sip of alcohol from his glass, a mature woman in a long, tight gold dress was saying something to him, but he did not seem to be listening to her.

She wondered if they were together, but the age difference between them was striking.

Perhaps it was his mother?

When she finally pulled off all the layers of her gown in the evening and changed into a Tshirt she breathed a sigh of relief, feeling lighter. She got lots of messages on Instagram from people who found her after the show.

Once she had written them back she remembered the man she had seen during the dance and his disturbing fake sapphire eye. She asked her father at dinner if he knew who he was, and when he found out it was someone without an eye he said it was definitely Viserys Targaryen's son.

She knew that her father had turned down an offer from his grandfather to be their exclusive supplier. Her father, however, did not want to hear about it.

"They want to lock us in their golden cage, fill us with their paperwork and make us dependent. I'd rather be independent and pay more for the stones than let them put a collar on me." He told them then furiously, and none of them had the courage to contradict him.

She involuntarily typed the name "Targaryen" into a google search to read a little more.

She knew that Viserys Targaryen was his father and one of the main directors of the company, but who was Aemond? She clicked on that suggestion and immediately knew she had hit on it. The first thing that popped up was a newspaper article, so she opened it right away.

She felt an unpleasant tightness in her stomach reading it all. She thought that if she read such things about herself in newspapers she would be horrified and heartbroken. The realisation that their own employees were reporting them to the press to make a bit of money on the side seemed horrible to her, let alone trying to maintain any privacy.

She thought she was not surprised to see no satisfaction or joy on his face, as he had no reason to be happy. He looked as if he was prepared to take a hit from either side, but only now did she understand why.

She thought she felt sorry for him.

The title 'One-eyed heir to a fortune' seemed cruel and mocking to her, as if the absence of his eye was the only thing that defined him as a man. She remembered the sapphire he wore and felt a kind of pride in the fact that he had turned his weakness into strength.

She thought she would like to get to know him.

To see what kind of man he was.

The opportunity came the next day. She was just choosing her tea at breakfast when she heard someone stand down beside her and place his cup under the coffee machine. She glanced involuntarily to the side and saw that Aemond Targaryen in the flesh was again looking at her as if he wanted to murder her. Her lips twitched in amusement, a smile appeared on her face.

"Good morning." She said softly, curious to see if he would answer her, dropping a bag of Earl Grey into her mug.

"Good morning." He replied after a moment, lowly, languidly, with some kind of tension, pressing the button for a double espresso in a reluctant manner, the machine rattled and liquid began to pour out of it.

She pressed her lips together, not knowing if she should say something or if he felt like talking. She poured two teaspoons of sugar into her cup, waiting for his machine to free up so she could pour herself some water, and glanced at him again.

She swallowed loudly when she saw that his gaze had moved from her mug to her face again, looking at her as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

She lowered her head, tightening her lips, not wanting to offend him, amused that for some reason she had apparently also piqued his interest, which he had been unable to verbally articulate in any way.

She saw that at her gesture he tensed all over and with a swift movement grabbed his cup, apparently wanting to leave. Her heart pounded harder and she looked behind him.

"Your sapphire eye. It's beautiful." She said, and only when it came out of her mouth did she realise how pathetic it sounded.

She wanted to use it to say how much she appreciated his bravery, but it sounded like she, like everyone else, was only paying attention to that one thing about his whole person.

She felt ashamed.

She placed her cup under the vending machine he was using, stepping closer, feeling her heart pounding hard. He didn't walk away, he stood looking at her, his gaze almost burning her.

"Who made these for you?" She added, pressing the button that caused hot water to start pouring into her mug. He was silent for a moment, but didn't move from his place.

"The Hightowers." He replied coolly and she looked at him again, his gaze full of tension, dark and indifferent, there was a vast, black void. She swallowed loudly at the thought, lowering her gaze and nodded.

"The jewellery you were wearing at the show. Will it be possible to see it up close?" He asked uncertainly, with difficulty, and she looked at him surprised, not expecting him to say anything else.

"Yes, of course. At our stand, they will be on display along with other works of my father and brother worn yesterday by me and my sisters." She said softly, and he furrowed his brow, as if something she said had puzzled him.

They both flinched and moved away with their mugs when a man apparently also wanting to make himself a coffee stopped behind them.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, his gaze still fixed on her, piercing and disturbing, making her shiver.

Why was he looking at her like that?

"See you later." She said lightly, and he merely nodded.

She moved towards the table where her family were sitting, feeling that her legs were as soft as cotton wool, her heart pounding in her chest like mad, her cheeks were all red from the effort that this exchange of words had turned out to be for her.

She glanced from the corner of her eye at the table where he was sitting, saw that he had said something to the woman sitting opposite him, the same one she had taken for his mother, his expression one of displeasure.

They were arguing about something.

She shuddered when she saw him get up suddenly and move to the exit, leaving the woman alone. She swallowed loudly when the woman turned her gaze on her, as if accusing her of something, and then took her things and left as well. She lowered her gaze to her tea and began to think hard.

What if they weren't family or co-workers?

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought of Cregan. She involuntarily grabbed her phone lying on the table and unlocked it only to see two new messages from him.

She pressed her lips together, feeling the pain, not knowing what to do. She knew that he wanted to continue their friendship, that in his own way he still loved her, but she felt tears under her eyelids.

She thought maybe it would have been better if he had left her alone, instead of tearing her wound over and over again whenever she thought it had had time to heal. She swallowed quietly and wrote him back quickly.

She locked and muted her phone, then set it aside so that she wasn't looking at the display. Royce looked at her anxiously, but didn't want to broach the subject in front of his father.

After they broke up Cregan was his number one enemy.

She managed to distract herself from her gloomy thoughts when they started working on the stand, they were attracting more interest than ever. Their show had been a huge success and she felt a burst of pride.

They had several ancillary rooms with illuminated tables. On one of them she laid out the jewellery she had worn the day before and other items in which sapphires had been used, to show them to Targaryen when he arrived, as promised.

After a couple of hours, when she had just finished talking to a customer, Royce approached her and grunted, a clear embarrassment on his face.

"Listen… young Targaryen wanted to talk to our father, but he said he didn't want to see him. He came with his grandfather. I don't know what to tell them, they just came here. Will you talk to him somehow? You have a talent for diplomatic refusal." He said, scratching his chin, and she laughed under her breath.

"I'll listen to what he has to say and then politely refuse him. If he say anything interesting, I'll pass it on to my father myself, maybe then he'll take it better." She said lightly and her brother nodded, patting her on the back and said he would replace her.

She stepped out from behind the counter and that's when she spotted him, standing in front of one of their shop windows, watching her vigilantly from the side.

"Come with me." She said softly and heard him move behind her with an unhurried step.

She led him into the dark room she had prepared for him earlier and made him realise that whatever he had to say to her father, he would have to pass it on to her first.

He looked at her from across the room like a predator, frowning his eyebrows, clearly not expecting this turn of events. She could see that he was thinking about something strenuously, saw his tongue involuntarily hit the inside wall of his cheek.

"We'll talk on my terms." He said coolly, and she tensed all over feeling that he was not happy with what he had just heard. She thought he was going to tell her that he wouldn't talk about business and such big contracts with a child.

"Tonight at 7 p.m. You, me, wine and a hotel restaurant."

She felt her lips part involuntarily, her heart stopping for a moment. She blinked, wanting to see something in his face that would tell her he was joking.

What?

She swallowed loudly feeling that she hadn't answered for too long, his gaze grew darker, he turned his face to the side, tightening his lips, impatient.

"I… yes, of course." She choked out finally, not knowing what else she could say. He looked at her again then.

"Mmm." It came out of his throat like a murmur, his lips curving for a second into what she could call a smirk of satisfaction. He turned and left without saying goodbye, closing the door behind him.

She was tired and sleepy after a full day on the stand; however, she also felt a strong rush of adrenaline at the thought that she was about to meet him. She opened the wardrobe in her hotel room, scratching her head, wondering strenuously what she should wear.

This wasn't a date, was it?

It was official meeting, but she wasn't prepared for such an occasion.

In the end her choice was a black suede fitted knee-length dress with a white collar and long sleeves, deciding it was the most elegant thing she had.

She decided to leave the blue ribbon in her hair, not wanting to look like she was going to a funeral, and took her pastel blue clutch bag with her, throwing her phone into it, not looking from the morning to see if she had received any messages.

She was afraid to look in there.

She walked down the stairs to the ground floor, heading for the hotel restaurant. She had no idea why but felt her legs shaking with stress. She turned up five minutes early and was pleased to find that he wasn't late either.

He was sitting at a two-person table arranged at the very end of the room, gazing out the window, his hand outstretched on the table moving restlessly. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, black Tshirt and black trousers.

She felt ashamed that she had dressed like a girl for the end of the school year, but it was too late to go back to change into something more lightweight. When she stopped in front of him he flinched suddenly and looked at her as if frightened. He stood up and they both looked at each other uncertainly, not knowing how they should greet each other.

She thought that she certainly couldn't embrace him, however, as a woman, she had to offer something else. She held out her hand to him and he swallowed loudly before shaking it, his hand was large and warm. She sat down opposite him, putting her clutch bag aside, smiling at him, trying to hide how stressed she was. She saw his gaze escape to the side, raised his hand and nodded towards the waiter.

After a moment a young men, not much older than her, approached them asking what they wanted to order. She was silent for a moment and then saw that Targaryen was looking at her expectantly, clearly wanting to hear what she wanted to drink. She leaned quickly over the card and glanced at him uncertainly.

"Red semi-sweet wine?" She asked more than stated, and he nodded.

"We'll have the whole bottle, please." He added, and she swallowed loudly, wondering how long this conversation was going to be and why.

Was he trying to tire her out and muddle her so that she would eventually succumb and accept his terms on behalf of her father?

She twisted uneasily in her seat at the thought, sensing that he was watching her closely and feeling like he could see her cheeks burning.

"Why did your father refuse to speak to me in person?" He asked abruptly. She looked up at him and grunted quietly, rubbing her palms against her knees in an attempt to calm herself.

She had no intention of lying to him.

"My father doesn't want to tie himself to you for a monopoly on supplies. He wants a free hand in this." She said, looking bravely into his face. His gaze was so intense that she felt a tightening in her pit. He tapped his finger on the table top involuntarily, as if he was thinking about something.

"It's a condition for such good prices. We can change them, but then the prices will also go up." He said coolly, and she pressed her lips together.

"That's why in his opinion it doesn't make sense. Why should he engage with you if at the end of the day you will offer him the same prices as the others, and you will be more demanding and restrict him more?" She asked and shuddered as the waiter placed a glass in front of her and then in front of him.

She fell silent as she waited patiently for the boy to pour them some wine and smiled as she saw his hands tremble, she thought he had worked here for a short time. She shuddered and moved away when a few drops fell on the tablecloth right next to her clutch bag, Targaryen gave him a warning look.

"I'm very, very sorry." The boy said, and she and he reached for a napkin, but she was quicker and applied it quickly to the stain, looking at him with a smile.

"Nothing happened, thank you very much." She said softly. He nodded and apologised a few more times before walking away, taking the dirty handkerchief from her.

She glanced at her companion, he was sitting leaning casually against the back of the chair watching her closely with the same gaze she had seen on their show.

"What do you mean by 'restricted'?" He alluded to her earlier statement as if something about it frustrated him. She swallowed loudly at the thought, wondering how to explain it to him so as not to offend him.

"My father values freedom of action. Also the choice of materials to work with. He now works with who he wants and decides for himself what is best for him. He fears that your company, with lawyers deliberating over every comma in the contract, will arrange it so as to influence his decisions as much as possible." She said finally, saw that he furrowed his brow at her words.

"You think we're going to try to trick your father?" He asked with a note of irritation, and she threw him an impatient look.

"Can I trust you?" She asked suddenly and saw that he froze, his lips slightly parted. He clenched his jaw and began to play with his fingers extended on the armrest.

Silence.

"What do you mean?" He asked cautiously, she could feel her heart pounding. She sighed quietly, not taking her eyes off him.

"I mean exactly what I asked. Can I trust you?" She repeated, looking at him pleadingly, simply wanting to hear that he meant well and understood what she was saying. His lips twitched impassively.

"No."

She looked at him and blinked rapidly, unable to believe he had said that.

No?

So what was the point of this conversation?

"You can't trust me, just as I can't trust you. You will protect your father's interests and I will protect mine. There is no friendship in business or holding hands in the sunset light." He said dryly and lowly, looking at her as if he thought she was out of her mind.

She furrowed her brow, feeling humiliation spread across her face, felt a burning sensation under her eyelids, but did not allow herself to show anything more.

"I didn't know that to trust someone you had to be able to be friends and hold hands. I thought it was enough to be a decent human being." She said in pain and for the first time she saw something twitch in his face, as if an electric current had passed through him, his hand clenched into a fist.

She reached for her glass and took a deep sip from it, feeling the dryness in her throat, her heart pounding like mad. She saw him turn his face away, running his hand over his chin, impatient, apparently trying to calm himself down internally. He, too, took his glass and took a deep sip from it, setting it down with a loud clink of glass.

"I'm not a decent person." He said finally, and she felt a tightening in her throat, as if he had slapped her.

Why did she feel around him like she did around Cregan when he broke up with her?

"Nevertheless, I have with me the terms and conditions of our company written down on paper, without paragraphs written in small print. You can look them over and determine whether you want to pass them on to your father or not." He said a little softer, biting his lower lip.

"We can't be together, I'm not ready, I want to have some fun. But we can be friends, I want to know what's going on with you, I miss you."

She felt tears running down her cheeks in embarrassment, her lower lip trembling involuntarily at the same feeling of humiliation.

She saw his healthy eye widen in shock, his lips parted. He swallowed loudly, looking at her in disbelief, and wanted to say something clearly, but they both flinched when her phone began to vibrate in her clutch bag.

She wiped her cheeks quickly, wondering what she had actually been doing, and with a trembling hand opened her purse, thinking it was her father or Royce looking for her. She felt a tightening in her stomach and turned pale when she saw that she had four new messages from Cregan and three missed calls from him, including one incoming.

The phone vibrated in her hand and she didn't know what to do, so she dismissed the call, slipping it quickly back into her bag. Targaryen looked at her as if he thought she was about to faint.

"… Are you all right?" He choked out finally, clearly horrified by her condition.

"No." She mumbled at the same time bursting out laughing, making an essentially pathetic mixture of it, grabbing the bottle standing next to her and pouring herself a full glass of wine, struggling to hold back the tears that were once again pushing their way into her eyes.

She drew in a loud breath and took a large sip, setting the glass down, looking at her hands, trying to calm herself.

She saw that he moved uncomfortably in his seat, swallowing loudly, his fingers rubbing together quickly in a sign of his anxiety. She looked at him surprised when, after a long moment, he suddenly leaned forward, took a bottle of wine from her side of the table and poured himself a full glass, as did she.

For a while they sat and drank in silence.

She felt embarrassment at the thought that she had taken it out on him for what Cregan was doing to her.

Whoever Aemond Targaryen was at least he did not lie and tried to be honest when she accused him of false intentions towards her father.

He had said nothing for which she had any right to condemn him.

She swallowed quietly at the thought and looked at him.

"I'm sorry. Thank you for your honesty. Can I have these documents?" She asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

He looked at her for a moment surprised, then nodded and reached for the folder lying next to him on the windowsill. He leaned towards her handing it to her.

She took it from him and saw that he had placed his elbows on the table, remained bent over, being closer to her. She smelled the scent of his perfume and aftershave, a pleasant, intense, masculine smell that made her head spin.

"Go over it calmly. You don't have to rush. My grandfather really cares about this and is willing to wait and read your version of the agreement if you want to present us with one." He said in a slightly softer, calmer tone, and she smiled gratefully at him and nodded.

"All right. Thank you." She said and squeezed her eyes shut as she heard her phone vibrate again.

She took it out and turned the sound off, putting it back in her purse. She saw that he was looking in that direction, involuntarily running his tongue over his lower lip.

"Someone doesn't understand the word 'no'?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him surprised, not expecting him to dare ask anything private.

She could see that he too was surprised that the question had escaped his throat and swallowed loudly, waiting to see if she would answer him.

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed, not knowing how she would explain her situation without going into detail.

"In a way." She said finally, grabbing for her glass again, feeling that at the moment the one thing that could calm her down was alcohol.

"Mmm." Came out of his throat, he lowered his gaze for a moment, as if thoughtful. He reached for his glass and also took a sip of wine from it.

"Let's move to my room." He said suddenly, throwing her an intense, anxious look, and she felt a shiver pass through her.

Not a proposal, not a question.

A statement.

What was he planning?

She swallowed loudly.

What if he did something to her?

What if he hurt her?

It seemed to her that he saw all these questions on her face, because he pressed his lips together, playing with his glass in his hand.

"We can think together about what to answer to a man who won't let you alone." He suggested, lifting his gaze to her again, a challenge in his eye.

She swallowed loudly, playing nervously with her fingers resting in her lap, her heart pounding hard like crazy, the alcohol slowly humming in her head.

Have some fun, she heard her brother's voice in her head.

"All right."

_____

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258 notes · View notes

lovvecherrymotion · 3 months

Note

29 and 33 for Jance

29. First date? (Give as much or little detail)

anon ily for this.

i think their first date was pretty casual - they don't seem like the type of people to... make a big deal out of it? i could see them going out for a walk and enjoying the day together (holding hands if they feel brave enough - it's not something they haven't done before, but it feels a little more intimate now).

they check some small record store on their way back home and nace insists on buying jan a vinyl he really wanted (and jan will complain, but nace is having none of it - and seeing jan's adorable shy smile is more than enough).

the day probably ends with them cooking dinner together, just like they've done a million other times, except now jan steals kisses whenever nace turns over to look at him and nace gets to hug jan from behind, leaving a trail of kisses on his neck as he (tries) to wash the dishes after dinner.

turns out, the dishes can wait until tomorrow.

33. What is their wedding day like?

ANON, I LOVE YOU.

so i've talked about this a lot but...

they figure out a compromise between a big and a small wedding - turns out they don't even want to invite that many people, but they decide to splurge a little to make it look and feel really nice. it's a nice mix of family, old friends, esc friends... and everyone gets along well! (jere FINALLY comes to slovenia and they all joke about him needing a whole wedding to fly over)

their pets are involved in some way - if it's too stressful to involve them in the ceremony itself, i could see them having a photoshoot with them (imagine igor with a little bowtie 😭) just so they have a memory of the day with them.

bojan cries a lot. kris is also very emotional but he hides it better (i can see it getting to him when he's making a speech and he just looks at jan, someone he's known his entire life, and his heart is filled with love and fondness). jure has the most fun but at the end of the night he gives them both a hug and tells them he's never been so happy for anyone else. martin makes sure everyone remembers this only happened because of him (after all, he's the one who suggested nace to replace him).

their first dance is to astp. of course. what else could it be?

and their honeymoon is in japan.

this is a little bonus thing i came up with a few days ago actually and... putting it under a cut because this is already too long

something old - jan had a shirt he got from his older brother and replaces one of the buttons on his wedding shirt with one of the buttons on the old shirt he got him. nace gets a little piece of a plaid black and white shirt sewed on the inner part of his suit

something new - jan gets a new tie from kris (his eyes filled with tears and jan has to take a deep breath not to cry either). nace gets a new bracelet from his sister - it's silver and it has a little treble clef charm on it

something borrowed - jure has to give jan extra socks because he forgot his own socks on his wedding day somehow. nace borrows a belt from bojan because it just fits him better than the belt he had picked

something blue - they both get matching blue underwear for their big day. the giggle about it at the store when they pick it out but they both wear it

THIS IS SO LONG I'M SORRY I HOPE YOU LIKED IT! (i also have a moodboard but this is like. insanely long as it is)

#ask game #joker out #jance #janace #i'm sorry if it's annoying that i'm putting these in the tags 😭

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litlpawz · 6 months

Note

could we please have a moon themed moodboard ?! rahh thank youu !!!

Of course you can!!

REQUEST FOR: ANON

REQUESTS: OPEN AS OF 09/12/23

EXTRA NOTE: I DIDN’T MAKE THIS A LITTLE BOARD BCS IT WASN’T SPECIFIED SORRY IF THAT’S WHAT YOU WANTED!! FEEL FREE TO PUT IN A NEW REQUEST IF SO!!

#full moon #moon #moon moodboard #moodboard #age regression #agere blog #sfw agere #age dreaming #age regressor #sfw agedre #sfw little blog #sfw littlespace #sfw interaction only #agere moodboard #little moodboard

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takearisk-x · 3 months

Note

Dobnny microfic, i promised Hannah Kelce that I’d send you this. I hope to hear your thoughts. Hope I made you laugh, or feel like multishipping Dobnny 🥺 we are a small fandom but we are MIGHTY.

Dobby’s Confession- by Dobnny anon (should I publish and put it on ao3. Fuck what if I do a moodboard. 😳😳😳😳

Ginny had just came home to Grimmauld Place after six hours of grueling Quidditch practice. All she wanted was to shower and-

"Mistress Weasley, I’ve been waiting for you ever since Harry Potter has left to fetch some food from the grocery.” Dobby, her and Harry's elf friend, popped into the hallway of the abandoned Grimmauld Place.

"Hey Dobby, how are you? Did you find any trouble while Harry and I were gone?" Ginny asked him, knowing that Kreacher had tried to give the elf a hard time while they were away.

"Dobby is doing fine Miss Ginny. I just wanted to inform you that dinner is served in the bedroom tonight,” Dobby blushed furiously as he wrung his hands together.

Ginny blushed back, “Uhm, Dobby I think you have things confused I’m-

"Oh, but no, Mistress Weasley, the dinner is being served in the bedroom," Dobby insisted as he began taking off his sock and Ginny began to panic.

"Wait, wait, don't do that, Dobby. What I mean is... Oh, forget it," Ginny gave up, and sighed. She was going to have a serious talk with Harry about the elves when he got back.

"Dobby has a confession to make, it's been eating him up ever since he heard Master Harry say it," Dobby said as his ears began twitching.

"Harry said what?" Ginny asked.

"Master Harry says he is going to make you moan like a banshee.”

Of all things Ginny thought this was the last thing she would have expected to come out of the elf's mouth. She could only stand there dumbfounded as the elf continued.

"You see, Dobby heard you two the other night through the fireplace. When you were saying how much you enjoyed the feel of the tongue and teeth and then the way you were moaning and screaming. You sounded like you were having a really good time. Harry Potter seemed very proud of himself."

"I was not moaning," Ginny insisted, even though her cheeks were flaming red. "And Dobby, what I had with Harry, well, that is a private matter between me and Harry, and it's not appropriate for you to talk about it."

"Dobby is so sorry Mistress Weasley, but please do not punish Dobby, I just wanted to say that I can’t stop thinking of the words you spoke. It excited Dobby,” the elf confessed.

"You what?"

"Dobby wants to please his Mistress too," the elf said, wringing his hands.

Ginny was flabbergasted. This was by far the weirdest shit she had ever encountered, and she had dealt with a possessed fucked up diary back in first year.

"Uh, listen Dobby, you're a good elf, and I know that you are grateful to Harry and I for giving you freedom and clothes and a place to live, but I'm happy with Harry, and I don't want to do...well...whatever it is you're suggesting-

Dobby only giggled and shook his head. "Dobby does not understand how Mistress does not see the obvious. Harry Potter does not please her enough if she has to ask Dobby to please her."

"What? No, that's not what I meant. Dobby, this isn’t-

"No, Mistress, please I see the way you look at him. But you fail to see the fire in my eyes. Dobby has been watching you since Harry Potter and you moved in here, and Dobby likes the way you walk. And when you sit on the couch. When you read those magazines, and your lips part and your hand touches the page, Dobby smells the magazine every night.”

Ginny’s eyes widened, was that why Dobby always insisted on picking up her Witch Weekly magazine after she was done reading it?

"And you know what Dobby really loves? It's when you wear the tight t-shirts. The ones with the low neck and the high waist. The ones that make Dobby think about touching you."

“No, Dobby this isn’t right, have you lost your shit. Wait did Ron put you up to this because I told Hermione that he didn’t like the pasta she had made him the other day, and-

"Harry Potter has the magic hands," the elf interrupted. "And the magic tongue. But Dobby knows he can do better. Dobby wants to touch you, and he can.”

“Magic- what the fuck are you on about Dobby? Listen, I think I need to go and lie down for a while, and you can tell Harry-

"Oh, yes, Mistress, please let Dobby take care of you.”

“No! Absolutely fucking not.”

“Dobby even made us a ship name-

“What in the Merlin’s saggy left ballsack is a ship name? Never mind, I don't care, I'm just going to go now-

"Please, Mistress Weasley, please, let me take care of you."

"No, Dobby, this is just wrong on so many levels, and-

"It’s Dobnny!” Donny shouted before Ginny could leave the room.

"Excuse me?"

"That's our ship name. It's called Dobnny. Dobby and Ginny, see?"

"Oh, no, no, no," Ginny said, shaking her head and pointing a finger at the elf. "You listen here, you little nutter, there is no us. There is no ship. Or aeroplane, or even broomstick! There is no Dobnny. There is Harry and there is Ginny, and that's it. We are just friends-”

"And Dobby has the magic tongue."

"Dobby, there is no magic-

"Oh yes, there is. Dobby has been practising, and Dobby is sure that he will make you happy. Dobby can show you how he has been practising. On... on a carrot," Dobby squeaked, blushing again.

“WHAT THE FUCK! Is that why we didn’t have any carrots- no-no I’m not even going there, I think I’m going to vomit. Oh, god-

"No, no, no, it was just once, I swear. Just to practise."

"Just to practise, are you serious right now. Are you bloody kidding me," Ginny asked, exasperated.

Before Ginny could end the madness of this conversation, she heard a chuckle. Better yet she heard his chuckle, that git was in here.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU GET YOUR ARSE OUT HERE, NOW!"

She was going to murder him. He had obviously put the elf up to this. He was in the room the whole time, and she was going to make him pay.

She waited in silence before shaking her head, “fine, guess you’ll be getting real close to your left hand-”

“Oi!” Harry shouted, as he shook off the invisibility cloak, and stood there, his hair a mess, his eyes glinting, and his lips twitching with the hint of a smile.

Ginny couldn’t believe he was smiling. She was going to kill him.

“Why are you so angry, Gin? You don’t ship Dobnny?” Harry smirked, his hands were in his pockets as he slowly strolled up to her.

"This is not a laughing matter, Harry! It's not funny!"

“I know it’s not, for a second there I thought you were going to jump on Dobby’s offer when he said magic tongue and magic fingers.” Harry bit back a chuckle as he watched Ginny glare at him.

"Why are you such an arse!” Ginny rolled her eyes, and shook her head.

“Simple. You left told you mum that me and Ron-”

“Your Wheezy?” Ginny corrected making Harry roll his eyes this time.

“Careful now, you know how I feel about redheads.”

“Oh yes, I’ll make sure you stay clear off aunt Muriel, just in case you decide you like older women-”

“Oi! Don’t make me vomit”

TBC?

Scale of 1 to Dobnny OTP, what’s my rating?

🥺

I AM!!!!! SHITTTINNGGG

@corneliaavenue-ao3

#SCREAMING LAUGHING CRACKING UP #anon #answered #DOBUNNY

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callsign-phoenix · 2 years

Text

I wrote this for a lovely anon, I hope you like it!

It is a Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x female!reader imagine.

Thank you @callsign-fox and @imjess-themess for proofreading!

Warnings: I’m so sorry guys I really tried to make this as inclusive as possible, but since the request was reader wearing Bob’s clothes I’m sorry to say that it won’t be body type inclusive like usual, this fic is racially inclusive despite the moodboard suggesting otherwise

You had put so much effort into the way you looked for your second date with Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd.

The first date had been the most wonderful date you had ever been on and you wanted to make sure you were as appealing as possible when you saw him again.

You met in the afternoon and went to a coffee shop, drinking coffee and sharing cake.

You spent hours just talking to each other.

You took a walk through the city and when the sun set, Bob offered to cook dinner for you.

It wasn’t meant as a way to invite you into his bed and you knew that, which was why you felt more than comfortable to agree to it.

He drove you to his home and invited you in, it was just as neat and immaculate as the rest of him.

You ate pasta together and settled on his couch.

It was small but not too much so, it was a very comfortable grey material that relaxed you further.

He picked a very good red wine and you were happily drinking and chatting away when it happened.

Bob was just talking about an exciting chase in one of his mission when his hand caught on your wine glass, toppling it over so that the red liquid drenched the skirt of your dress.

You were both shocked by the way things had turned out.

After an initial shocked silence, Bob started apologising profusely, but you waved it off.

“Please don’t worry about it,” you tried to make him feel better.

You could feel the wine running down your skin and you tried to wipe it off with the rest of your skirt so it wouldn’t drench the couch cushions, and Bob was quick to provide you with napkins.

You could see he wanted to help, his hands darting out to do so but returning to his side when realised that the spilled liquid was in a precarious place on your lap.

He blushed crimson red, his cheeks and ears turning the shade of beetroots.

You laughed at his mortification and reassured him that everything was fine.

“I’m so sorry,” Bob repeated, and you smiled at his earnest, the way he repeated it over and over again showed that he meant it.

“Would you… I don’t own any clothing that would fit you well, but you could at least get out of the wet clothes,” he half-asked, half-suggested and you nodded gratefully.

“I’d love that, yes, thank you,” you replied.

Bob settled on grey sweatpants with an adjustable waistband and a white t-shirt which he used as undershirt below his uniforms.

He wanted you to be comfortable, and he chose the clothes that were made from the softest materials for you.

He cursed himself for the mistake he had made and for the discomfort he caused you with it until he heard the door to his bedroom open.

You were standing in the doorway wearing the clothes he had picked out, and Bob’s breath caught in his throat immediately.

His cheeks would have turned red had he not been red already and he had to take a few seconds to fathom a thought, any thought at all.

He hated himself for the way his eyes traced your body, finding that his clothes were too big in some places and not much too big in others.

He loved the way his shirt fell freely over your shoulders while your thighs were hugged beautifully by his sweatpants.

His mouth fell open slightly as he tried to think of what to say, seeing you smiling up at him shily and waiting for him to say something.

His eyes ran over your body again before he managed to keep them on yours, forcing himself to say something.

An apology left his lips, one of far too many that evening.

While he had trouble breathing before, his heart was racing and he was sweating slightly, and he forced his eyes away from you as he went on rambling apology after apology.

When he finally allowed himself to look at you again the bright smile on your face stopped his flood of words.

Your smile was bright and beautiful as you saw the effect you had on Bob, it gave you courage and you were happy because you felt like it showed he was reciprocating the feelings you had for him.

You almost felt giddy when you felt his eyes on you.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to stare, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me,” he said softly, gulping down his anxiety for looking back up into your eyes through his eyelashes.

“It’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as beautiful as you in my life.”

You were stunned by his revelation and honesty, but you couldn’t accept the compliment.

“I’m wearing sweats that aren’t even mine. But I made so much effort to look good in my dress, and you didn’t have problems talking to me then,” you chuckled, and Bob’s beetroot coloured ears turned a deeper shade of red.

“Well, you did. Of course you did! But you just caught me off guard with your natural beauty. You shouldn’t feel the need to try,” he mumbled, stunning you to momentary speechlessness.

You felt the heat in your cheeks spread further but the way he looked so vulnerable confessing his feelings to you, somehow sent a rush of bravery through you.

A tiny grin spread over your lips as you lifted your chin in an onslaught of confidence.

“Well, you should see me without clothes on then,” you stated.

His eyes went wider than the ones of the ‘in-shock’-emoji and a laugh jolted your chest in amusement.

After your laughter died down you almost felt bad about what you said, wanting to apologise for shocking him.

“‘I’m sorry,” you said, but Bob was quick to reply.

“It’s quite alright,” he countered.

You were both nervous and stood in a small silence before you came to a decision.

You moved closer to him, setting your around his neck to pull him closer, and carefully but quickly connected your lips with his.

Bob wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer after a moment of hesitation, deepening the kiss that sent new life through the both of you.

You hadn’t known that the suggestion for him to see you without clothes on would become reality so soon.

tagging: @wildbornsiren @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @hederasgarden @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @kyramaximoff @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @thelifeofthelifeofme @midget713 @dannyramirezwife @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bespinnn @softromantist @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @peaches-1999 @oliviah-25 @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @marvelandotherfandomimagines @natasharomanoffisbaebby @luckyladycreator2 @blue-aconite @tipsykeen @airedale17 @iangiemae @aprilfire18 @uwiuwi @princessofglitterland @ycarlii @teti-menchon0604

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x you #robert floyd #robert floyd x reader #bob top gun #top gun bob

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haenxn · 2 months

Note

advice to new moodboard bloggers?

hi anon!! I'm not a super experienced moodboard blogger myself haha, but ill try to give my best advice!

in no particular order:

ㅤ─∗─ interact and make friends!!! this isn't necessary but the moodboard community here on tumblr is so welcoming and kind. you'd be missing out on tons of fun people and interactions if you don't!

ㅤ─∗─ use hastags. this is assuming you're trying to gain followers! hashtags will help you reach those who aren't already following you. I suggest using relevant tags, like the subject of the moodboard (an idol and their group in most cases), colors, theme, and style. if you need help: looking at the tags others use is a great starting point! (and as a small side point: tumblr hashtags get less effective as you go down the list. so the first ones you'll put on will be most effective for getting on that tag and showing people who follow it, while the later ones will be less effective)

ㅤ─∗─ be creative! once again not strictly necessary, but having unique twists to your posts can help it stand out from others and draw them in. (at least I find myself interested when seeing a unique/creative moodboard) and having lots of ideas will help you keep posting.

ㅤ─∗─ try not to focus on numbers. this can be hard to do, and I fail at it sometimes, but not comparing yourself to others who have been here longer and have much more experience is important. it's rare to get tons of notes and followers early, so try not to focus on it. I think the easiest way to burnout is losing passion and thinking the worth of your board is tied to how many notes it has, which isn't the case!! there's some luck involved in the reach of your board, so it's important not to take the numbers to heart.

and finally the MOST IMPORTANT tip:

ㅤ─∗─ enjoy it!!!! enjoying creating moodboards and having fun doing it is the most important part of moodboard blogging in my opinion. it will help the longevity of your account and preventing burnout. making sure you create for yourself first and foremost is the easiest way to enjoy moodboard blogging and succeed, even if it's just personally. so I hope you can enjoy creating mbs and blogging for a long time anon!! :)

tysm for the ask, and I hope these tips helped! SORRY ITS SO LONG BAHAHS WOW ^^;

#ㅤinbox ◟ 。 ⁀ ☆#ㅤtips

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summerfrwrks · 25 days

Text

I'm so fucking devastated and there's absolutely nothing I can do to get back what I lost.

I use canva pro on my senior high school email cause it's for free.

They told us that after graduating shs, we have two years extra with it.

The expiration was last year... it didn't come. I went "oh my gosh!! maybe there's no gmail expiration!! i'll have my canva pro foreverrrrr~"

I got too complacent. I backed-up NONE of my projects.

They did an auto delete on ALL of us today. There was no one week warning. Nothing.

I don't know about the others but I lost. So. Fucking. Much.

I'm can't draw, I'm really more of a writer. But i LOVE to edit. I love making visual stuff. Putting things together, placing pictures and elements and playing with colors and font styles.

I lost a total of two AND a half years worth of stuff. A mix of stuff for uni, things i made for my parents, and most of all my personal projects.

Tons of presentations for classes (this goes back on grade 11 too,,,,, oh the memories)

Literally so much assignments?! Posters, presentations, AND EVEN MY FUCKING RÉSUMÉ

Moodboards on dozens of OCs (Layla and Dominic for Invincible, Devina for Elden Ring, Medina "DeeDee" for Trese, like 5 of my DnD PCs, Octavia and Marie for Nevermore, Lorena "Lorrie" for TOH complete WITH A WHOLE NEW SCHOOL I CALL MOONVEIL ACADEMY IT HAD A CURRICULUM AND CLUBS AND PRINCIPAL OC TECHNICALLY TOO)

Moodboard on the characters for my book (I got references for appearances AND outfits)

Presentations and notes on my ship AUs (mostly jaystephroy in the fashion industry, DnD style medieval fantasy, and this one 2004 movie with gerard butler)

Presentations and notes on my winx club reboot (so, so, soooo much fashion notes and references for the winx AND trix)

Presentations for silly fandom stuff that I was really excited to show to my friends and post here (potential of jaysteph as a ship, dilf ranking in invincible for that one anon, a very descriptive "what's in the bags" of cott seven, other rarepair ppts to get my friends to ship em GAH)

DnD templates for this campaign with my jhs friends (I had stuff printed out for my bard's SPELLBOOK and we could use so much of those edits for notes and extra character lore)

Personal stuff I made for myself (like that magazine style in landscape form about my life updates, a little modeling stuff I did to compile clothes inspo for winx club, this REALLY colorful and cute collages for my wallpapers)

Personal stuff I made for my friends (a couple of memes, birthday stuff, this really cute and sweet virtual scrapbook for "meet the members" with my college friend group)

TONS of invincible characters icon edits (they've been in there FOR MONTHS, the requests oh i am so sorry moots and anons)

A couple stuff i made for my mom and dad (they got to use them all so they're not wasted)

I'm just,,,,,, so sad I didn't get to back them up. I only posted some of them and sent even fewer wips to a few friends.

Honestly I think the biggest tragedy here for me is that I won't ever be able to recreate them. A lot of the texts and descriptions I made were written there DIRECTLY. I had lore. I had dialogue. I had details and stats.

Two and a half years of editing personal projects and assignments. Just. Gone.

There's absolutely nothing I can do to get any of them back. Now all I can do is grieve and hope that I can recreate them.

#tldr: just know im alive and safe and no one broke up with me or whatever i lost a shit ton of my creative personal projects AND résumé #gosh #baby's first vent post #like #i don't think i vent THIS much when i had to reboot my phone's system and lots a shit ton of photos and personal project notes even #or that time i found out i was the other woman when my situationship had a full GIRLFRIEND THAT'S ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS AND AN ICON AND AN AC #TUAL BEAUTY QUEEN #anyways yeah i am #just #ughhhhh #i don't know how i can heal with this major creative GAP in my being #summer.txt

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look-at-the-soul · 2 years

Text

A new chance - Emmett (AQP2) -Part 1

Request: Could you do something with Emmett immediately after where AQP2 ends? Maybe something where he’s back at the camp on the island and he’s getting his leg looked at? Maybe he meets someone on the island who helps him cope with everything? Something hurt/comfort or sweet? Few days ago I prompted something w emmett, so here's some idea > "I'm sorry I doubted you. I was wrong and you were right" + some angst and a final fluffy 😚 great sunday ♡ Anon I LOVED THIS IDEA, I really hope you like it! If you see this please let me know what you think, should I make this into a mini series?

It’s a bit long, I got too excited and couldn’t stop writing, the idea of using natural medicine had been in the back of my mind for a while, even though all natural remedies listed are real, but I highly recommend going to an specialist 🏥

And also lovely @zablife made this incredible moodboard 🥰✨🌿🪴 how gorgeous is that?! Thank you Lee you totally captured the idea ✨

Summary: After being hurt, Emmett returns to camp in poor condition. A doctor found a way to combine ancient medicine with modern knowledge.

Both have lost their love ones, both have been so lonely, but soon they’ll find out they have more in common than they ever imagined. Will they take this chance?

“Y/N! Y/N!”

You heard as you cleaned the supplies you just used with the last patient. The door flew open and three men and a girl entered with an unconscious body in their arms.

“Put him over here.” You pointed at the empty table you used for the checkups. “What happened?”

Gary, one of them explained how they found him at the radio station, they just knew his name was Emmett and the girl was altered and hurt, she communicated through sign language.

“I’m going to help you, alright?” But she answered with tears in her eyes pointing at the man on the table, she explicitly asked you to take care of him first.

He was attacked by one of the creatures, his leg seemed in such a bad state, that you were afraid you’d hurt him even more. You started by cutting in half the leg of his trousers, his shoes discarded already on the floor. After carefully cleaning the wound, you walked towards the counter to search for the leaves and ointment you’ve created to treat this kind of injuries.

You needed to know about allergies and other medical information before doing anything else, so turning to the girl, you showed her a bowl of clean water and bandages for her.

“Your dad’s going to be alright.” You assured her.

Reading her lips, she expressed: “He’s not my dad.”

“Sorry… what’s your name?”

She winced in pain as the cold cream and small pieces of different leaves touched her skin, covering it with a small cloth and then a bandage, you checked for other signs of pain in her.

“Regan.” She mouthed.

Squeezing her shoulder, you gave the girl a nod. “You’re so brave.” But she shook her head and looked in the man’s direction.

“Go and lay down for a bit, I’ll let you know when he wakes up.”

***

Taking a look at the man lying on your table, you found his breathing was returning to normal, so you decided it was a good time to check for his vitals, it was impossible to move your eyes from his face, the fringe on his forehead was a big temptation for you to move it away, there was a thick salt and pepper beard, the lines around his eyes reflected the worry and hard time he must’ve been through.

His arm flew in a self-defense motion simultaneously as a hurt groan, you fell to the floor, getting a hard hit in your back.

“It’s alright! I’m here to help you.” You tried to show your hands to soothe him. “Everything’s fine.” You whispered.

His heavy breathing worried you, not knowing if he was under a panic attack or an emotional collapse.

“I’m a doctor, you arrived injured, look at your leg.”

When he had finally calmed you were met by the most fascinating blue eyes, but it wasn’t just the color of his eyes, it was everything underneath them, everything that was right there at the surface, what the eyes could say that his voice couldn’t.

Lifting yourself up, you moved your hand to show him around.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

“Before I can continue healing your leg, I need you to answer a few questions.” Pointing a small lantern at his right eye you moved it from one side to the other to see his reflections. He nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Emmett.” You went on to check the other eye, looking for any sign of concussion.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

He seemed to think about it for a couple of seconds. “I was at the radio station, with… with Regan.” He frowned and tried to move abruptly.

Placing your hand on his chest, you could feel his heartbeat speeding up. “Regan is alright, she’s outside.” He looked at you with his big, bright eyes. “Are you allergic to anything? Food? Medicine?”

“No.”

His blood pressure was altered, as well as his heartbeat. Which was totally normal after the events of the day.

Turning around you started to create a mix of herbs and plants, then cutting some aloe to make it easier to spread on the skin.

He seemed to be in a good shape, but you had to ask him anyways. “Is there any illness that I should know of?” He shook his head. “Good, I’m asking you this because even though I’m a doctor, once I arrived at the island I started to make a combination of the traditional medicine we know with the natural medicine our ancestors used…”

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffed. “Natural medicine? That’s bull-”

But you cut him off by placing the mix over his open leg and then two big leaves of some water plants you cut that morning and tied it with some strips of palm tree making the knot a little bit tighter than you should, earning a painful scream from Emmett.

“If you don’t believe in it, fine, but I’m going to have to cut off your leg next week.”

You’ve been on the edge for a while, losing all your loved ones at the invasion, healing yourself in the woods until you were rescued and brought to the island. Emmett should be grateful you had medicine knowledge instead of mocking your treatments, closing the door angrily, you found Regan watching a draw one of the kids made, Lindsay came to you with an apple. Everything was so quiet now in the island.

You’ve been working nonstop since the attack started, initially you planned to take the day off, spend it at the other side of the island to forget about everything, but as you heard screams and cries you were forced to come back into the clinic to start helping people.

Sitting next to you on the steps, she asked: “What the hell was that?”

Making a face you took a small bite of the apple. “Don’t even ask, I feel terrible… but he laughed of my methods.”

“Oh crap… is he still alive?” A soft giggle escaped her.

“Of course he’s.” You rolled your eyes at her, walking towards the girl you let her know she could see him now and you’ll go and ask for some supplies for him. Taking a couple of minutes to get yourself calm you realized you shouldn’t hurt him like that, this wasn’t like you, it wasn’t right to treat your patients that way, but he shouldn’t have laughed your job off either. After some deep breaths you walked inside the house again.

Lindsay announced she had prepared him a small lunch, Regan had already been fed. “I’ll give it to him.” Your friend and collaborator in the small clinic gave you a worried look but you ignored it. She requested you wouldn’t kill him.

As you walked into the room, regret immediately ran through you, the pain was evident in his face and Regan looked worryingly at him. You instructed her to go out with the kids and as soon as she was out of sight, when you turned around to face Emmett, he was looking at you intensely thinking hard of what to say.

“I’m really sorry for the way I treated you earlier, I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on your wound… I’m sorry I hurt you.” You felt embarrassed by your actions.

It took him a couple of seconds to speak: “I shouldn’t have laughed at your practice, I guess I deserved that.”

“We started with the wrong foot.” You decided you would just keep your distance from him, he had every right to not believe in your practice but you would attend him like the rest of the patients you had. You told him you’d clean his leg and as you moved around, you could feel his eyes on you. “This is a mix of turmeric and honey for the cuts and wounds.” You announced. “Once is dry, I’ll clean it again and do another mix… any other pain you’ve?”

“My head hurts.” He admitted in a serious tone. “But if you’re planning on smashing me with something, I’d prefer to endure the pain, thank you.”

His sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed by you, but this time you just sighed and moved around. “Feverfew helps to reduce headaches… I like to combine it with lavender oil to speed the results.”

Still not fully believing this would work at all, but he took it from your hands and the small bottle with the roll on. You instructed him to rub it on his temples, forehead and behind his neck, then place two leaves of feverfew on his temples. “Of course you don’t have to, if you don’t want.”

After leaving him alone, you found Regan looking at the window.

“Can I help you with anything?” You moved the hair away from her face. “We can send people to get your family?” She nodded eagerly and through signs explained she knew the way to where her family was. “Perfect then, Lindsay can help you with that tomorrow, you must be tired… take one of the rooms upstairs to pass the night, everything you need is there.”

As you were about to leave to get more supplies, Regan touched your arm, her right hand moved to her lips and made an arch to the front. She moved her lips and mouthed thank you at you.

“You’re welcome.” Winking at her you took the basket and left the house.

Walking for over twenty minutes, you finally made it into the depopulated part of the island, this has been a common practice to refill the plants and herbs you would need during the week. Taking only what you needed, nature provided for everything you could use.

You’ve been able to help a lot of people since you arrived at the island, that was the main purpose of being a doctor, making them good, help them heal.

Constantly reminding yourself to focus on your task, the day would be over soon and tomorrow it would only one more painful memory.

But as you were collecting some plants, you couldn’t stop thinking of the man you were trying to help heal his leg, in his eyes you could see kindness, but also pain… real life changing pain, the one that tears your soul into a million pieces and you don’t know how you’re able to keep breathing, the same pain you knew so well. The one you dealt with every single day.

But today wasn’t an ordinary day… no, today your daughter Maddie would turn nine years old. She would, if you had been able to protect her when the invasion happened. The tears falling down your cheeks, your legs giving up to hold you anymore. The smell of wet soil filled you, the fresh leaves and dry nature hugged you while you cried. You missed Maddie every second of the day, you missed braiding her hair and answering her endless questions about everything.

Losing the track of time, it was dark when you returned the camp, the lights of the house were still on.

Lindsay and Regan were cleaning the table.

“We were worried about you, it’s late.” Your friend hugged you.

“Sorry, I needed some time out.” Looking at the floor, you couldn’t help your eyes watering again.

“What is it, Y/N?” You shook your head, unable to speak. “OMG, it’d be Maddie’s birthday!” She suddenly remembered, your shoulders started to shake violently and you tried to suppress a loud cry. “I’m sorry, forgot with the worry about the creature here, you must’ve had a terrible time.” Her arms wrapped around you and another hand comforted your arm.

Regan pointed at one of the rooms and you nodded taking deep breaths to calm down again.

Announcing you were checking on the patients you started the round, it was so hard to see people hurt, some had been terribly attacked. You would need to make a trip to the city to see if you could get any medical supplies.

“Dinner time.” Lindsay announced in the room. Emmett was transferred to one of the rooms prepared to keep people until they healed. One of them complained of the extreme pain on his shoulder, the bone could be seen. “I’m sorry the menu is limited, but we have a few snacks for tomorrow.” She tried to cheer them up.

Emmett thanked her and took the food.

“Does she treat everybody like that?” He downed the glass of water.

“She said she’s sorry, okay? And she got her hands full with the attack, there’s no one else that can help her here, besides…” but she stopped midsentence.

“What?”

Lindsay looked nervously around. “She lost her only kid and today it would be her birthday.” Y/N entering the room made eye contact with her friend and then looked at Emmett, but she walked to the first bed. Lindsay looked at Emmett and pointed at him. “I didn’t tell you anything.”

“Thank you for helping me here today Linds.” You thanked her. Emmett was studying your every move.

She smiled at you and like every night, she answered: “I’ll be back in the morning to give them breakfast.”

Applying the remedy one by one until you reached Emmett’s bed you tried not to look him in the eyes. “Tea, made of California poppy and holy basil for sleep, you can throw it away when I leave.” You were glad to see the wound looked good.

“Can you make it double?” He tried to soften his tone, instantly feeling relief as you applied the ointment on his leg.

“No, that’s the only dose per day allowed.” It could cause the patient to sleep for over three days.

You seemed distant so he didn’t try to extend the conversation or make any other light joke, he limited himself to watch you work as he felt bad for saying that earlier, now you moved around him with your head down and he didn’t know if it was because of your daughter’s birthday or his comment.

***

Lindsay and a group of people from the island went with Regan to get supplies and move her family to the island, so you took care of the clinic on your own while someone else helped you with the food.

The following days were pretty much the same, you entered the room, checked the patients vitals, took notes, cleaned the injuries, applied different ointments and oils, checked people’s eyes, but when it came to him, you didn’t do it. He’d been able to stand up and with the help of a crutch, he started to walk around, it was a big step and he could see his leg looked so much better now.

Soon, he was offering to help around a little; hold people, carry a few things, he should’ve been resting, but he insisted on helping you out.

“Y/N help me!” A kid stormed into the clinic, he must’ve been around five.

“What happened Wes?”

“I climbed a tree and got a splinter.”

You crouched to see the child in the face and gently examined the lesion. “Oh, it hurts?”

“No… but Mom told me she would scold me in front of everybody if I climbed it again.”

You laughed for the first time and Emmett couldn’t help but stare at you and even smile at the sound of your laugh.

“There’s a banana in the kitchen, bring it to me.” Wes reappeared in seconds holding the fruit.

“Now, this is for you.” You peeled the banana and handed it to him, then took scissors from a drawer and started to make cuts in the peel.

Emmett looked at the interaction in silence, you were wrapping it around his finger. Wes was holding more than three quarters of the banana between the insides of his cheeks.

“Come and see me after dinner.” You asked and ruffled his hair.

“Fankiu.” He expressed with his mouth full and ran off the clinic.

“Let me guess… that’s ancient medicine too?” Emmett crossed his bad leg over the other knee.

“Yes, the enzymes will soften the skin and-” Glanced at Emmett, then you shook your head lightly. “Why do I waste my time explaining you this?”

Emmett waved his hand at you standing up, he tried to reach you. “No, it’s okay that was… quiet fascinating.” Suddenly he was close to you, his intense gaze making you forget how to breathe properly.

Accidentally or not, his fingers brushed your arm, sending mini shocks through your body. Taking a step back you announced you needed to make the second round of the day with the patients. Avoiding looking into his eyes.

***

Emmett felt sick of listening to Howie’s story of how he invented a mini floating donut for the drinks at the pool for the seventh time, his leg still hurt, but the wound was completely closed by now.

Every time he tried to talk to you or ask you something about your medicine methods, you seemed to brush it off, trying not to engage too much in the conversation, and he had tried everything; where did you go to college, how long have you been living in the island, how did you learn so much about plants and their healing properties… but nothing seemed to work.

It was almost as if you were walking on ice around him and the more you tried to stay away from him, the more he felt being pulled in towards you.

One more time while helping you hold a patient’s arm, he tried some small talk only to be left right there with an apology hanging in the air waiting to be said.

Someone brought him a few things for saving her son, and even invited him to the fire they’d be lighting that night, every Saturday everybody got together to sing songs or share their stories around a big fire next to the beach.

At first, he refused the invitation, but then he thought it would be a good opportunity to talk to you. Of course, the crouch made it ten times harder to walk on the beach and by the time he made it to the fire he felt so tired, groaning he sat on an empty tree trunk, a man offered him some hot tea, perfect for the chilly night outside. Looking around, he found you a couple of meters away… you were smiling as you listened to whatever it was a woman was saying.

For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Was it just gratitude? Or some kind of spell you did with your herbs?

As you finally waved the woman goodbye, your eyes found his across the fire, only to look away seconds after that. He saw you touching the gold butterfly you wore around your neck, then you moved a lock of hair behind your ear and your eyes found him again.

Emmett raised his cup in your direction and you waved a little your hand.

Finding a hidden courage inside of him, he got up and walked towards you, crouch included.

“Can I join you?” You were surprised, but nodded anyways.

“So… they do this every weekend?” He forced himself to look away from your face.

“Sometimes.” You held the cup between your hands tightly. “Today was special to say goodbye to our leader.”

A couple of people wished you goodnight, some others left the fire in silence.

“Sorry I missed it, I wasn’t sure of coming.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I don’t know anyone but you and… you don’t seem to be comfortable with me.”

“Emmett…” Would you ever be able to tell him that his eyes reminded you of Maddie’s?

“It’s alright, I was a bit rude to you.” He put his hand over your arm and turned a little to face you. “My leg is much better… I’m sorry I doubted you. I was wrong and you were right.”

His words were honest, his apology genuine. “I should’ve trusted you from the beginning and-”

Maybe it was the moonlight, or the fire, or his words. Maybe it was everything, but you placed your free hand over his, still on your other arm. “It’s alright, no hard feelings… And I’m sorry too for not treating you gently.”

“That’s going to cause a permanent damage you know?” His voice sounded so different in the jokingly tone.

“You can sue me, if you want. There must be a lawyer around.” You followed him in the same lighted tone. “Thank you for your help in the clinic these days.”

“I’d prefer more of that tea you make to sleep at night as payment, thank you.”

Shaking your head you wondered why something so simple was making you smile more than you had since you arrived.

“It’s getting cold… should we go back inside?” You could feel his eyes on you at times, and when you looked at him, he would look in the opposite direction.

“Yes.” Helping him up he supported his weight on the crouch as the two of you walked back again into the house.

You walked at his pace, trying not to hurry him up, he was still in pain but he tried to hide it. He tried to be strong.

“What you did to stop the creature was remarkable.”

“Regan did the hardest part.” He should take more credits for it, but he was so hard on himself.

“I knew this would work…” You started to say while applying the ointment for the wound on his leg, it was healing fast. “Because I used it to heal myself first.”

Emmett looked at you with those expressive eyes full of questions.

“I was camping when the invasion happened, the creature leaves a burning sensation on the skin and sometimes I still feel like its tearing me apart over and over.”

He wondered where were you attacked, but he let you open yourself to him.

“Sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about this.” Your voice trailed off, standing up you tried to walk around the couch where Emmett was sitting, but he stopped you with both hands firmly on your wrists.

“I don’t, but you sound like you need to.” His eyes urged you to continue.

“I still remember that day, the images keep playing in the back of my mind.” Slowly you walked into the kitchen to place in the sink the bowl you used with him.

And that’s when he saw the scars the creature left on your back, starting from the back of your shoulder, across your back, the rest of it was covered by your dress. The permanent mark of your fight against the creature, the memory of survival.

Supporting his bad leg on the crouch, he followed you into the kitchen, not knowing what to do or say to make you feel better.

“I’m sorry about your daughter.” He whispered trying to comfort you.

Touched by his words, you nodded unable to say anything back.

But he was overwhelmed as well, he had learned to deal with his pain alone, bottle it inside, there was no one to talk to, no one to hold onto… Until now.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is… I was supposed to protect her!”

“You did your best.” Was he telling you that or himself?

Your tears were right there, threatening to fall any second. “How can you say that? You barely know me.”

“You remind me so much of my old self… and I keep blaming myself for not doing more for my son.”

His sincerity hit you hard. Understanding that you shared the same pain, that you went through the same.

Both of you lost a piece of yourself, your lighthouse, your reason to live.

Yet, every minute after the invasion felt like a new chance to start all over again.

Arms found their own way around each other, it felt so natural, so right. It was the most liberating hug the two of you had felt.

The comfort Emmett was giving you was something you couldn’t put into words. But truth is, without knowing, you were giving him pretty much the same.

***

Next part

A/N: what do you think? Would you like to see more of this story or should it just be a one shot?

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @theshelbyslimited @allie131313 @imichelle-l-rigby @datewithgianni @sloanexx @peaky-cillian @lespendy @cillmequick

#That’s what Cill said #cillian x emmett #emmett a quiet place #Emmett imagine #a quiet place fanfic #Emmett aqp2 #emmett x reader #Emmett x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy fan fiction #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #Emmett a quiet place two #Emmett a quiet place sequel

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imaginidol · 11 months

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Updated MUST READ intro!!

Current status as of 21 Oct 2023: SORRY I HAVENT POSTED ANYTHING YALL I AM BACK IN SCHOOLLL 😭😭😭😭😭

My writing tips here!! (What works for me)

I dont use y/n. unless explicitly asked for in a request, I try not to use pronouns for you, either, so you’ll be commonly referred to as “love, my love, dear,” etc. my smuts are all fem assumed! taking any bg requests :)! If I have no requests I’ll keep posting whatever stories I can come up with for now 😭💗 if you have questions about old requests/pt. 2 fics PLEASE ask! chances are I’ve put them in an indefinite pause or I may need motivation/reminders to finish them for you! this blog is YOURS :)

nsfw/sfw MUST READ!!:

for requests, I will post your anon question with a link to the fic, and the fic will have a link to your request. I would encourage you read the linked requests if you want a summary/idea of what the sfw/nsfw fic will be about! (I only just started doing this so my older stuff doesnt have my usual pattern of linking both requests and fics to each other, so this is more so for the newer ones)

I think I'll have an indented sentence at the start of any fics that DO mention nsfw (and any author's notes that i leave are usually written in blue, see example on top of this post); other than that i believe anything that doesn't explicitly have a warning for nsfw should all be pretty sfw.

Although I don’t normally post nsfw and most of my stuff is sfw, i do this for fun so i'm not gonna be too strict on what you can/can't request bc it all helps me learn how to write more anyway lol

Lastly I don’t have a master list, I just kinda post and call it a day 😭 but I believe you’ll find some ateez, exo, txt, taemin, monsta x, skz, enhypen, maddox, and maybe a few more that i can’t name off the top of my head 😭

here’s some of my popular fics :)

Sfw: Mingi • San • Hongjoong

Nsfw: Yunho: Table Manners • Hongjoong: The Dressing Room • San: Making Choices

moodboards: I.M • I.M 2

my personal faves: mingi (nsfw) • wooyoung (nsfw)• baekhyun (sfw)

Thank you for stopping by and being as delusional as I am <3

-ii

#kpop #kpop imagines

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lgg5989 · 2 years

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Church Encounters Chapter 20

We are back with a new chapter for you guys! I hope everyone likes it. I have conceded to put the read more link on this post bc its so long, if it doesn’t work please let me know, let’s all hope for no more appearances of rude!Anon on my blog.

This fic is written in collaboration with my bestie @barbiewritesstuff so be sure to give her a like and a follow! I hope you enjoy the moodboard, the previous chapters can be found on my Masterlist and the whole story thus far is posted on my Ao3!

Tag list: @roosterscock @sydneyhlove @mygyn @inky-sun

It had been two weeks since Jake left for deployment and you were beginning to worry more and more. Your doctor had been telling you that it wasn’t good for the baby to be so stressed all the time, but it was so hard not knowing what was happening over there, if his mission was going well, if he was sleeping okay.

To take your mind off things, Bob and Maria had offered to accompany you to mass and then breakfast afterwards. You felt Jake’s absence the most on Sundays. He wasn’t there when you woke in the morning, he didn’t have anything sweet to say about your outfit, and you missed his homemade pancakes more than you were willing to admit.

You had gone to mass early, Maria and Bob coming with you, because every Sunday, they prayed the rosary in the morning before mass began. You wanted to pray for Jake’s safe return home. Standing with Bob and Maria in your usual pew made you feel more normal than you had for the last two weeks. During the Our Father, Maria held your hand and when giving peace both she and Bob hugged you tight.

The new priest that had replaced Father John was a kind man. He was significantly younger, barely over 28 and his youthful energy and wonderful sense of humour had made this the best mass you had been to in a few years. The homily had been good too, Father Daniel clearly knew his audience and related that Sunday’s reading to the hardships of navy life and deployment.

You left church feeling slightly better, your worries a little lessened after seemingly hearing exactly what you needed to feel better. It also helped that Father Daniel came by after mass to speak to you.

“Mrs Seresin?,” he called out; running after you, dodging running children left and right to catch you before you turned around, curtseyed towards the altar and walked out of church, “Sorry to hold you up like that. I just wanted to say that I knew your husband had been deployed. I have met Jake before, he’s a lovely guy. If you need anything while he’s away, don’t hesitate to come to me,” he said, taking your hands in both of his and giving them a comforting squeeze. He gave you a reassuring smile which you tried to return.

“Thank you,” you replied, your voice small and wobbly.

“Here let me --” he started, bringing up his vestments to get something from his trousers. Once he got access to his pockets, he took out a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled his number down, “-- That’s my number. Don’t hesitate to call.”

Giving him a tight lipped smile, you took the slip of paper and walked off to find Bob and Maria. They were deep in conversation with Mrs Wilkinson, local florist and well-known town gossip. When you arrived, their attention immediately turned to you.

“All good to go?” Bob asked, raising one hand to wave at someone. You turned around to find Father Dan returning the gesture, shooting Bob a wink.

“You know the new priest?” you asked.

Bob hummed, “He helped with youth group Bible study sessions back when we partnered with the Sunday school for activities in the afternoons. He was actually one of the first friends I made when I converted. Dan coached me through a lot of things, especially when I got baptised. He’s a good teacher,” he explained

“I heard my name,” Father Dan said, clapping Bob on the shoulder with enough force that the man took a step forward to avoid falling over.

“Yeah I was explaining how we knew each other,” Bob said, giving his friend a warning look, clearly trying to stop him from saying something.

Father Dan gave him a shit-eating grin, “Yes, we’ve been friends for a while,” he said as innocently as he could manage, “Saw you praying the rosary before mass,” he noted, the corners of his mouth twitching, itching to stretch into a smile.

“Daniel, don’t,” Bob warned

“Don’t what?” Maria asked, smelling blackmail material from a mile away.

“Oh, nothing,” Father said, “You’ve put me in a nostalgic mood, I’m afraid. ‘Can’t help but think back on the last time I saw you praying the rosary…”

“Daniel, I swear I--” Bob started but Maria waved him off, she signalled for Father Daniel to continue.

“Did you know I taught Bobby how to pray the rosary?” he asked, both of you shook your heads.

“Okay, right, that’s enough!” Bob interrupted, grabbing yours and Maria’s hands and leading you out of the church to the sound of Daniel’s loud laughter reverberating through the building.

He kept a hold of your hands until you got to his car where he watched you get in, afraid you would book it back to the church to hear the rest of the story. You wouldn’t have dared but with the way Maria’s eyes darted around for escape routes, you were fairly certain she had at least considered it. She got into the passenger seat with a pout.

Bob drove you to a small independent coffee shop in town. It was a quaint little café, sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of San Diego, with its cute pastel wooden shutters, large flower pots hanging from the windows and adorably decorated windows. It looked more like something you would have expected to find on the fashionable end of Paris, than a side street of San Diego.

“It’s my favourite,” Maria admitted as she pushed the door open for you to enter, “They are the only ones to do decent coffee.”

“By decent, she means they serve way too strong coffee in cups the size of thimbles,” Bob whispered in your ear as he passed by you to scout out a table. Maria hadn’t heard his comment, too engrossed in the various pastries, sandwiches and salads on display to pay attention to her surroundings. So much so that she almost ran face first into a very disgruntled woman.

“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, whispering it to you like it was a state secret, “We’re thinking of getting them to do the cake for the wedding, but they do so many other nice things that I really can’t pick.”

“Oh yes! How’s wedding planning going?” you asked, eyeing a chocolate donut the size of your hand. You pointed it out to the person behind the til and ordered a decaf caramel macchiato while Maria explained her vision for the day.

“We’re thinking of a green and like champagne colour scheme? So it looks a little rustic but still classy, you know. I think most of our decor will be like fairly woodsey so it goes well with the theme. The only thing that won’t match is the cake. I’m not keen on the naked cake idea, but it’s the only thing Bob requested so it would be so mean to refuse him,” she said, “then, obviously I’ll be in white -- or champagne, I haven’t decided yet -- and I was thinkin like sage green for the bridesmaids?”

“Oh! I was going to ask if you wanted to be a bridesmaid,” she added quickly, “I’d like to have my future sister by my side.”

“Technically I’m already your sister,” you answered with a smile and a warm feeling spreading in your heart

“I don’t need to be reminded of our very complicated family tree,” she laughed, playfully rolling her eyes at you as she placed her tray onto the table Bob had chosen and gave him his matcha with almond milk, and his chocolate coated waffle before placing her own matcha and cannoli onto the table. You sank down on one of the comfortable chairs and took a sip of your drink.

“Anyway, what do you say about being a bridesmaid?” she asked.

“I don’t know… I’m really flattered, but I’ll have the baby and I don’t know how they’ll be. I don’t want to say yes and have to bail out at the last minute,” you said, leaving out the rest of your sentence, not wanting them to know that your biggest worry at the moment was to figure out a way to bounce back from your pregnancy.

“That’s fair,” she replied with a disappointed pout on her face, a second later, she stood up again, “I need the bathroom, be right back,” Maria said, putting her drink down and speeding off towards a small corridor next to the tills.

“I think I’m going to invite my parents,” Bob blurts out as soon as Maria is out of earshot, “Maria doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh,” you said, not really sure how to process that information. Bob looked at you expectantly though, so you forced yourself to say something, “Is Maria scared they’ll make a scene?”

“I think so,” he replied.

You thought for a moment before asking, “Do you think they would?”

“My dad would,” he said, “But I feel like I can’t not invite them, especially my mom. Technically, she never did anything to me.”

“She stayed with him while he hurt you Bobby,” you said rather sternly, “She picked him, that’s not doing nothing.”

“I guess,” he hesitated, “God gave me a lot of good things, and he gave me them… Maybe they’re not all bad?” he asked.

You recognised those words as the ones you had thought when you were making up your own wedding guest list. That nagging feeling of guilt, growing more and more overwhelming as the list grew and you resisted putting your mother’s name at the bottom of it.

“He didn’t give them to you, Bobby,” you said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm, “He gave you to them. You were the present, they must thank Him for you. Not the other way around,” you added, squeezing his arm.

“What about Ephesians 6:1?, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.” Bob countered, his eyes glued to the table.

Without missing a beat you shook your head before quoting back to him, “Ephesians 6:4, Fathers do not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them. Rather, bring them up with the discipline and instruction that comes from the Lord.”

“Alright,” he said, “Fair point…So you think I shouldn’t invite them?”

“It’s not up to me,” you replied. Bob shot you a look, “Fine. I don’t know what you should do. I obviously didn’t invite my mom, but you don’t have to do the same. Just do what makes you happy.”

“That is the most diplomatic answer I have ever heard. You should be president. The Princess Diaries taught you well,” he chuckled.

“I can’t believe you still remember that,” you said, laughing at him.

“I look like a moose,” he quoted, his hands held up behind his head to look like antlers.

“But a very cute moose. Make all the boy moose go 'WHAAAAA’,” you finished, sending you both in a fit of laughter.

“You know,” he said after a while, “I think I’m finally happy. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to move onto the next thing or get out of situations and I don’t think I’ve ever sat down long enough to realise I’m happy. I mean can you believe I’m going to marry Maria?” he laughed, “I mean not only is she smart, funny and drop dead gorgeous, but she’s also willing to put up with me forever? Tell you what, next time someone doubts prayer works, I’m just going to slide a picture of her over to them. That should do the trick.”

He took a sip of his drink, “And I have a family. One I love and that loves me, not because I can amount to something special but just because I exist. I don’t know when I started calling the Admiral dad, but man, he’s the only one that’s ever deserved the name. And Lizzie is … Lizzie,” he summarised, “She’s a powerhouse, she’s kind, caring, welcoming, warm. I never have to doubt that she likes and wants what’s best for me, because she’ll tell me. And I have no doubt that if anyone ever says anything bad about me, she’ll simply skin them,” he laughed

“Obviously there’s Pete, Matt and the girls, who are angels and I love them all,” he kept going, looking you right in the eyes, “And there’s Annie and Audrey, who, despite having met me twice, are already treating me like I’m their annoying little brother. I love it. I love the memes, I love the voice notes they send, and I love that I get a care package in the mail from them on a weekly basis containing nothing but cookies from that bakery they like.”

“And then there’s you. I’m so happy I got to be your friend, that you let me wallflower those shitty parties with you, and that you forced me to watch The Princess Diaries, Pride and Prejudice -- 2005, obviously -- 10 Things I Hate About You or even About Time, because I swear I became a different person after that film. I’m happy that you let me force you to watch Talladega Nights, Rush or even fucking Rodeo Rythm. But tell you what, you’re a better sister than you are a friend, and the bar is already pretty high. I just --” Bob wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. I’ve not always made the right choices, or been the right person. But fuck! I still get to marry the love of my life, I still wake up feeling loved and supported by friends and family. And I couldn’t tell you why the Lord decided to bless me like this, but I’m so happy He did. I’ve done a lot of growing up these past few years, I’ve changed so much and that is such a good thing. Everything I was, He made anew. He took me in like a lost little lamb, hurt and scared and he helped me find the people I was always meant to be with. He freed me from fear, doubt and loneliness and I am so glad that his mercy isn’t based on individual merit, because I think I’d be pretty low on the list,” Bob finished, his face showing the gratitude he felt towards the Lord for his new found lot in life.

“Bob,” Maria said softly, appearing from behind the corner, having heard everything. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder,“Jesus bared the cross for all of us, not just the saints. His blood washed our sins away regardless of who we are and what we have done so long as our hearts are repentant. Whatever you have done, or think you have done, is not and never will be too big for God to forgive. The Lord doesn’t put you in situations He cannot forgive you for, but he does put you in situations He can help you out of. He is good, He wants what’s best for you. He loves you, so much that he brought you to us so that you could finally feel that love for yourself,” she finished, a few tears running down her own face.

Maria pulled Bob into a hug and you felt a smile come across your face. The two of them were well suited and you knew that their marriage would be a long and happy one. Once the food had been eaten, you suggested having Bob over for the afternoon to keep you and Maria company.

Your mistake, upon taking in the rainy day, and suggesting you play board games, had been pulling out Monopoly. It had been three hours, and you were still playing. Bob had bought Boardwalk and Park Place before proceeding to load them down with hotels. Now, it was a gamble every time you rolled the dice on that side of the board, you could pass ‘Go!’ and receive your two hundred dollars, or you could land on Boardwalk and go bankrupt.

Maria let out a heavy sigh as she counted the money out, “six hundred, seven hundred, eight hundred, and fifty. Mr. Moneybags,” she said before leaning back on the couch with her arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t make a good investment at the beginning of the game,” Bob said to her, a shit eating grin on his face, “Don’t worry honey, I’ll be incharge of our retirement accounts,” he added, patting her on the thigh.

You laughed at the pair of them when Maria’s eyes flared and Bob’s grin shrank slightly.

“With your winnings, we won’t need retirement accounts,” she in a sassy voice, gesturing to the handful of fake money Bob still had clutched in his hand.

“I think we are going to need more than eight hundred and fifty Monopoly dollars for retirement,” he replied, tucking his money under the corner of the board before settling back on the couch, shooting Maria a wink.

Shaking your head, you picked up the dice and rolled, “Oh no!” you exclaimed, causing Bob and Maria to look at you with wide eyes, both of them immediately focusing on your belly.

“Oh my goodness, I’m not due for another two months,” you said, rolling your eyes at them, “What a shame!” you continued your dramatics from before overexaggerating the disappointment in your voice, “It looks like, Bob bankrupted me!” you said, a smile now firmly fixed on your face as you scooped up all your money and handed it to him, along with your properties.

“Hey! You can’t just quit!” Maria exclaimed, “You hadn’t even mortgaged those!”

“The pregnant lady can do what she wants,” Bob said, looking at his fiancee with a grin and victory in his eyes.

“How about the pregnant lady makes some dinner considering it’s now almost six?” you asked, trying to push yourself up from your place on the floor.

Bob rose from the couch, offering you a hand and pulling you up to your feet, “Do you need any help? We can pack this up-”

You laughed, “I think if you don’t let Maria win, you might not be getting married,” you answered him, “I’m fine, I’ll just be in the kitchen anyway, I can still watch you two play.”

“Alright,” he said.

“Let us know if you want any help?” Maria asked, since she had been living with you, she had seen first hand how quickly you could get tired in the middle of a task.

You smiled at her, “I will,” you said before turning and walking into the kitchen.

You turned on one of your and Jake’s favourite playlists before pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Tonight was roasted chicken breasts with baked vegetables, and rice. You preheated the oven and just as you hit the button to start it, your phone started ringing.

Your heart started pounding in your ears when you saw the number, BLOCKED, flashing up at you from the screen. Sliding the green call button to the side, you put the phone up to your ear, “Hello?” you asked.

“Is this a Mrs. Seresin?” a man asked, his voice gruff.

You tried to take a deep breath, expecting it to be Jake, the unfamiliar voice startled you, “This��this is she,” you forced out.

“Ma’am, I am sorry to inform you that your husband, Lieutenant Commander Seresin, is MIA,” he said bluntly.

You didn’t hear the rest, because at that moment, you dropped the phone. It clattered to the floor, or so you thought because you could see it there, but the only sound in your ears was the beating of your own heart.

“Y/n?” Maria called from the living room, “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the only thing that came out was a strangled sob. Your legs started to give out, and you sank to the floor, your arms wrapped around the little life inside you. Suddenly arms wrapped around you and you could hear again.

“Who is this?” you heard Maria ask.

Then, “I am his sister, Maria Seresin,” there was a longer pause before, “Who is your superior? Yes, your superior! How could you think it was a good idea to give a pregnant woman this kind of news over the phone?” she practically screamed. When you looked up at her, you saw tears streaming down her own face.

“You will be hearing from the Admiral, I guarantee it,” she said before hanging up the phone and sinking down next to you and Bob. She wrapped you up from the other side and whispered into your ear, “It’s going to be fine, I promise he is going to be okay.”

—

Jake knew a few things about the Indian ocean: it spanned over roughly 27 million miles, including the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea, it was about 12 thousand feet deep on average but with a deepest point at 24 thousand feet below water, and it made up about 20 percent of the Earth’s entire ocean volume.

What Jake hadn’t realised before crashing his plane into the middle of it, was how unbearably hot it actually was. The water temperature wasn’t too bad, having stayed at a cosy 75F since his plane went down, but the sun was unrelenting. He felt like he was on fire.

Although, considering the crash, he probably was. Or had been. It was day two now, with no news of the search and rescue team and Jake was starting to feel desperate. Not because of any real threat of starvation or dehydration, but because his brain had remembered that the Indian Ocean counted about 19 species of sharks and he swore he could see fins out of the corner of his eyes.

His arms stung where his flesh had been singed by the burning jet fuel that had circled the plane when it hit the surface of the water, knocking him out cold for a few seconds. That had been his saving grace, really, since by the time he had miraculously managed to open the canopy underwater, he was far enough down that the fire wasn’t boiling him alive as he swam right under the puddle of kerosene to safety.

His brain, unable to compute anything but the agonising pain of salt water on cuts, had grown quiet as he swam up, somehow finding a second to take in the scene. Away from humans, the water was clear. Fishes swam, dead leaves floated, and an occasional plastic bottle found its way to the fiery hell that had formed quite the considerable tower of smoke. Search and rescue might have found him already if he had stayed by the smoke, but Jake needed to survive and getting high off of jet fuel fumes didn’t seem like a good idea. It might have helped with the pain, though.

That had been day one, hour one.

It probably wasn’t the right time, but in all honesty, he couldn’t remember much. Thinking was hard, and telling time when nothing changed at all was something he had never had to do before. So hour one eventually blended into hour seven and Jake’s attempt to keep track was already beginning to fail. Ever since he had hit the water he had been praying the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Glory Be, any prayer he could think of was sent up. He prayed the Our Father when the sun rose and prayed the Hail Mary when the sun set and he just hoped that would be enough to remember what day it was. He knew one thing though, regardless of how much pain he was in, or how much blood he lost, he needed to come home to you.

Day two had just started or was about to end, it didn’t really matter. The only thing that mattered was that Jake was on the raft, and surviving seemed just a little more plausible. He was making baby steps back to you. Soon, he might even be able to reach for his bottle of water. He’d been taking small sips every few hours, trying to ration what little water he had left, cursing the fact that he had given Tiny some of it before the flight.

His head hurt so badly, and he couldn’t quite tell why. Was it the dehydration or the impact induced concussion? The dry mouth, lips and eyes, and mind numbing heat were telling him dehydration. The vomiting, confusion and large bleeding gash underneath his hairline was telling him concussion. Not that it mattered, since it wasn’t his only problem. Jake was fairly certain he had broken his leg, and considering his chest hurt he thought he might have broken a couple ribs too.

The sun went down on day two and Jake fell asleep for a few hours, waking up just in time to catch the sky turning from starry night to early morning. And so day three started.

He sipped his water and waited, feeling hot, in pain and slowly growing weaker. Ironically, as he grew weaker, his mind grew louder and soon enough, when he had no strength left to even shoo them all away, it felt like his mind was screaming. Still it grew louder and louder and louder, and then, nothing.

The world went dark for Jake as he hunched over the raft and fell into the water.

When he came to, he was on top of a mountain. Isaac and Abraham had just left, the leftovers of their sacrifice still on the altar, blood glistening in the sun. Jake stook a few hesitant steps forward, his leg dragging behind as he made his way to the edge of Mount Moriah. Before he could waddle his way there, a voice rang through the air.

“Jacob,” it called.

Jake looked around, trying to find who it belonged to, “Jacob,” it called again. He looked towards the sky and over the edge, but still he found no one.

It called him again, shaking the mountain and dropping him to the floor as if it was shaking the very foundations of the Earth.

“The pain you have been feeling cannot compare to the joy that is coming,” God spoke. The wind on Mount Moriah picked up, shaking leaves on trees and bushes so that they lay almost flat to the ground.

“Jacob,” He called again, “The ladder.”

“The what?” Jake called out but no one responded, “THE WHAT?” he repeated, his voice swallowed by a growing noise. It sounded strangely symmetrical and terribly familiar.

“THE WHAT?” he screamed, his voice rough with disuse and lack of lubrication. The wind whipped sand into his face, stinging his skin, and Jake closed his eyes.

“THE LADDER, CAN YOU GRAB IT?” someone replied, the voice of God replaced by a woman he had never heard before. Jake’s eyes flew open to reveal the Search and Rescue Helicopter.

Jake reached for the ladder and grabbed it, trying to pull himself up on it. A flash of pain tore through his body, emanating from his chest and he was forced to let go. He fell back into the water with a gasp, his lungs filling with ocean water. A hand reached down to pull him up but the world faded back to black before he broke the surface.

----

Your group on the floor was interrupted by the phone ringing again. This time you didn’t even move to reach for it, your body numb and your mind racing with the information, Jake was missing.

“Hello?” you heard Bob say, “Yes, we are with her,” it was quiet a moment longer before he spoke again, “I will let them both know, be safe.”

Maria brought her tear stained face up from your shoulder, “Who was that?”

“Your mom,” he answered quickly, “Her and your dad are on their way to the airport, they bought a ticket for the first flight out.”

You felt like you were in a trance, “Good, good,” you said.

“Are you okay?” Maria asked, her face full of concern.

Before you could answer, pain ripped through your abdomen and you hunched forwards letting out a groan, “Owww.”

“Oh my God,” Maria said, her eyes getting wide, “Is that?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, your teeth clenched together in pain, “It can’t be, it’s too soon.”

When the pain subsided, you looked at her, panic flooding through you, “My water didn’t break, they can’t be coming this early can they?”

You tried to stand up, but couldn’t, your centre of gravity too far off from your normal. Bob pulled you up gently and you felt fine for a few minutes before another contraction ripped through you.

“What do we do?” Bob asked Maria, as they both watched you sink into the couch, both hands clutching your stomach.

“Call Cyclone,” she said, pulling his phone out and pressing it into his hand, “Lizzie might know something, and he will definitely know about Jake.”

After only two rings, the Admiral picked up, “Hello?” you heard, Bob had put him on speaker phone.

“Beau, we need some help,” Bob said, his voice sounding more nervous than you’d ever heard.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeming totally calm as another contraction started at the bottom of your belly.

“What’s wrong?” you shouted at the phone, “Do you mean to tell me that you don’t know my husband is missing?”

The line was silent for a minute before he answered, “I made the executive decision not to tell you that…”

“Well that was dumb dad, because some fucking Rear Admiral called anyway and now I’m in labour, and I’m going to have this baby, and it’s too soon. How am I going to tell them about their father’s eyes or his..” you let out a grunt as the pain came to a peak, “His smile and how good of a man he was?” your question ending on a sob.

“What do you mean you’re in labour?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“I mean I’m in labour, how much more of an explanation do you need?” you yelled into the phone, sobs now breaking up your words.

“Oh shit,” he said, “I’m, we’ll, we are coming, be there in five minutes,” he stumbled out before the line went dead.

Bob and Maria were both looking at you, your breathing coming in shallow pants, “What? He may be the Admiral but he is my dad and I reserve the right to bring him down a peg.”

Bob just nodded but Maria scooted closer to you on the couch, “Honey you need to take a deep breath.”

As another wave of pain hit you, you thought that this is what hell looked like. It wasn’t fiery heat and torture, it was an early labour, for a baby who’s father may be dead. All you could think to do in that moment was pray, you fell to your knees from the couch, bending over as far as you could, and the first words that came out of your mouth were, “Hail Mary, full of grace…”

By the time you had finished the prayer once over, Bob and Maria had joined in. Your breathing calmed as you prayed and you felt the little one inside you settle at the sound of your voice, and your hands pressing gently to their feet. A loud knock on the door brought Bob to his feet and before you knew it, Beau and Lizzie were in the room, Lizzie kneeling in front of you on the floor.

“Are you alright? Labour? Did your water break?” she asked, her questions rushed and her eyes searching over you frantically.

You shook your head, “I’m not alright. I don’t know if I’m in labour. No, it didn’t break,” you answered before leaning forward and resting your forehead on her shoulder, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The house was silent save for the sound of your stuttering breaths. Lizzie pulled you to her, rubbing your back gently as she whispered words of comfort in your ear, “It’s going to be okay, they’re going to find him, I promise. You aren’t in labour, it's the stress, take a deep breath honey. There you go, now another one. Good job. Just close your eyes, Jake is going to come back, he is a strong man and he won’t leave you and this precious baby without a fight, you know that.”

The rest of her words were lost on you because at that moment, Beau decided to open his mouth, “I um, can we do anything?”

“You’ve done enough,” you said, your voice filled with venom, “How could you keep this from me? How long has he been missing?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said quietly, not elaborating on your other question.

“Dad, how long has he been missing?” you demanded more than asked.

After a moment of silence he answered, “Almost two days.”

“Two days?” you questioned, “I could have been praying for him for two days? I can’t believe…I’m…Oh my God…” you broke down into another fit of tears, who could survive in the ocean for two days alone?

Your hands were pulled away from your face, strong arms wrapping themselves around you, before your forehead met soft fabric on a firm shoulder, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have told you, but I couldn’t…what if something happened? What if we found him and then you didn’t need this stress. You thought you were in labour five minutes ago, I just wanted to spare you the stress honey, your body can’t handle it.”

You couldn’t find the strength to pick up your head, so into his shoulder you mumbled, “He’s my husband, the father of my child, the light of my life, I deserved to know, and I deserved to know much sooner than two days after you lost him.”

Beau couldn’t find an answer to that, his silence speaking louder than any words he could have spoken. You allowed him to pull you closer to him and he brushed your hair away from your face, “I’m so sorry honey, they are looking. I promise you, on my orders they are looking.”

Nodding your head, you tried to fight the tiredness that had overcome you, but against your will, your eyes drooped closed, and the world faded to black.

When you woke up a few hours later, you found yourself in your bed, the blankets draped over you carefully and a dark figure slumped in the corner of your room. For a second, you had forgotten what happened, the phone call, the contractions, Beau’s bullheadedness, but in the five seconds you had been awake, it all came rushing back to you.

You pushed yourself up to sitting in the bed, scooping up one of Jake’s pillows that you had stuffed into his favourite sweatshirt. Burying your nose into the fabric, you let out a quiet sob when his fading scent hit your nose, the notes of leather, whiskey, and pine were prominent and every now and then you caught a hint of vanilla. No matter how many times you had sprayed it with his cologne, it didn’t smell quite the same as he did and only this sweatshirt got close to feeling like Jake.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you had to choke back the instinct to scream. Pulling your head from the pillow you turned to find Isabella sitting on the edge of your bed, tears in her own eyes.

Without saying a word, she wrapped you in her arms and the two of you cried together. There was something almost Biblical about it, the mother-in-law comforting the daughter-in-law.

When you had run out of tears, and your breaths were coming in hiccups Isabella pulled back from you, her hands coming up to wipe your cheeks.

“He knew this was a risk when he took this job,” she said slowly, “But I am happy that he has such a strong wife to carry on in his absence, however short or long,” she paused, seeming to think, “I hope you know that we will be here for you, whatever happens, no matter what.”

You hugged her to you again, “Thank you,” you whispered into her hair, “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

When you finally let go of her, she brushed away the last of your tears before standing up, “Let’s go see the others, shall we?” she asked, holding her hand out to you.

“Okay,” you said, your voice rough from crying and disuse. You allowed her to help you out of bed and down the stairs, your belly no longer tingling with the pain of contractions.

“There she is,” Lizzie said, her face brightening at seeing your presence in the living room. Everyone was gathered around the kitchen table, Maria had a rosary in her hands and her lips were moving quickly. Bob was seated next to her, talking quietly with Father Dan. Giovanni was seated at one head of the table and at the sight of you and Isabella emerging from the hall, he got up and came over, wrapping you in a tight hug.

“Where’s dad?” you asked Lizzie, looking around for him, “I’m afraid I may have said some things I shouldn’t have…”

“I think you said everything he needed to hear,” Lizzie told you, her voice firm.

At that moment you heard a raised voice from outside, “I don’t care how long it takes or what kind of resources you are using, he is an asset of the US Navy, one that we have spent a lot of money on, and I expect you to find him, today,” Beau said, a note of finality to his voice, “And don’t think I don’t know that you went around my back Rear Admiral MacFarlane.” There was a pause before he continued, “Because the next of kin is my fucking daughter who is seven months pregnant, you think it was right to tell her that when she could have been home by herself?”.

You watched as Beau’s face turned red and for the first time since you had known the man, he lost his temper, “I don’t care if that isn’t in the rulebook! It fucking should be, no one should receive that kind of news alone, especially if they are carrying one of our sailor’s babies. Find Seresin and do it today.” He hung up the phone and in a stunt that made you laugh, threw it across your lawn. With his back at the house, he put his hands on his hips and turned his head up to the sky, letting out what you imagined was a very deep breath.

You excused yourself from the room and made your way into the backyard, walking up behind the Admiral.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry,” you said, scaring him.

He jumped, turning to you with one hand pressed over his chest, “You scared me, twice,” he said, walking towards you quickly and pulling you into a hug.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” you started but he cut you off.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have told you about Jake, I just wanted to protect you,” he said, “But you are a grown woman and you did have the right to know, and I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist as best you could, your belly getting in the way, “It’s okay dad, just help me get him home?”

“Of course, we are going to find him,” Beau said, rubbing your back.

You stood there for a few minutes before asking the question that had been plaguing your mind since you got the news that Jake was MIA, “What happened?”

You felt him sigh before answering, “Their mission was going well until Prince hung Jake out to dry, saving his own ass. Jake’s plane went into the Indian Ocean almost fifty hours ago,” he paused and you knew the next bit of information was going to be what worried you the most, “They had no report of a chute, but his life raft deployed because there was green dye in the water at his last reported location.”

“Why haven’t they found him yet?” you asked.

“His transponder isn’t working and the boat took almost an hour to get to the plane’s location. Those two things combined mean he’s drifting somewhere out at sea,” Beau finished.

You nodded, burying your head into his chest again, “Thank you, for working so hard to find him.”

“I would do it for any of them, but especially him,” he said, letting out a breath.

You stepped back from him and he took your hand in his, wrapping it around his arm as he escorted you into the yard to pick up his phone. The two of you walked in silence, him crouching to get the phone and then steering you both back towards the house. It was getting into late October, and the weather was cooling down quite a bit. You weren’t sure of the time, but the chill in the air made you think it was early morning.

When you reentered the house, you found everyone watching you expectantly.

“Yes?” you asked the room, looking around to see who would break first.

“We have an idea,” Bob started, “We want to recruit the church, well some of the church to start a prayer vigil for Jake, until he is brought home.”

Father Dan nodded, “We would send an email to the parish and then people can sign up to pray between certain hours so that there is someone always in God’s ear for his safe return.”

“I think that sounds great, in fact, I’ll take the first two hours,” you said as you made your way to the bookcase you had decorated to be your little ‘shrine’ to catholicism. On top of the table was your rosary, Jake’s was probably in his bag on the carrier and the thought made your heart clench. Pouring it out of the bag and into your hand, you made your way back into the living room and took a seat on the couch, beginning the first of many times around the rosary.

While Isabella and Lizzie were fixing breakfast, everyone in the house found some way to occupy themselves. Maria was cleaning, Bob was pacing the floor speaking quietly with Father Dan as emails from parationers rolled in saying they would help, and Giovanni was talking with Beau at the table, the two of them bent over a map of the Indian Ocean.

When your two hours of prayer were up, you almost didn’t want to stop. The repetition of the words was calming and focusing on finding Jake was keeping the rest of your worries about the circumstances of his accident at bay.

The day passed slowly, most of your time spent clutching a cold cup of chamomile tea to your chest while you sat in Jake’s recliner in the living room. Every now and then you would feel your little one move, like they were reminding you that you weren’t alone even in a room full of people.

As you started to nod off in the evening, a blanket spread over you, the chair reclined back, and Jeopardy playing lowly on the TV, Beau’s phone rang. He looked up at the room before picking it up, walking into your garage.

Immediately you were awake, getting up from the chair and standing in the living room. When he came back in, the look on his face made your heart race, he was happy.

“They found him,” he said, “He’s on a chopper now headed back to the boat.”

The relief that flooded through your system made your legs weak and you sat heavily back into the chair. You crossed yourself and thanked God, for bringing him back to you.

Beau’s face turned slightly less happy and you seemed to be the only one who noticed it, “What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice wary.

“They said he’s pretty severely injured,” he said quietly, “They expect several ribs to be broken, and he has a broken leg. In addition to that he is suffering from a concussion, severe dehydration, and sun poisoning. Once they get him to the carrier they are going to update me again on his condition before they load him on a plane back to North Island.”

The relief that you had been feeling was swept away from you in an instant, it was replaced with an intense worry and fear. Was Jake going to be the same when he came back? How bad are his injuries? At that moment, your baby kicked hard. You rubbed over its little foot, “It’ll be okay, daddy’s going to be alright,” you whispered to your bump.

Isabella voiced another question that you hadn’t the mind to think of yet, “When will we be able to see him?”

Beau paused for a moment before answering, “By my maths, I believe he will arrive back tomorrow. Depending on his injuries they may not allow visitors or they may want to perform surgery if something is bad enough so I can’t promise a time, but tomorrow he will be here.”

Everyone nodded along with his words, Father Dan asked, “Should I keep the prayer vigil up then? Just until he is home and through any surgeries?”

“I would appreciate that,” you said, a sad smile coming over your face.

Now that Jake was coming home, the relief felt through the house was refreshing, but you had your own worries about his injuries. That night, before you went to bed, you kneeled down next to it and thanked God for returning Jake to you. You prayed that he would recover quickly and you tried to keep the thoughts of what Beau had said about his injuries from your mind.

As you climbed into bed and turned out the lights, you mentally prepared yourself for seeing him the next day. By the time you fell asleep, you were hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst.

----

“ -- broken ribs, broken leg --” someone said, their voice sounding so far away, as if Jake was listening to someone speak through a thick brick wall, “ -- concussion and severe dehydration. His chances of survival are good, but recovery will be slow,” they said, becoming slightly clearer, “Physical therapy, and likely a skin graft surgery for the burn on his back.”

Jake coughed and silence fell over the room. He opened his eyes, eager to see you again, but the only people in the room were a greying doctor and a group of medical students, standing alert in their scrubs with a stethoscope hanging around their neck. They made him feel like a zoo exhibit.

“Mr Seresin, you’re awake,” the doctor said, moving towards him to check him over, “How do you feel?”

“Like someone tap danced on my chest,” he joked, his voice sounding strange as it passed through his bone dry throat. Speaking sent him into a coughing fit, the pain in his chest making him see stars with every movement. He gritted his teeth together and stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, hoping the pain would pass but it didn't diminish much.

The doctor looked at him, then pressed a button and a nurse appeared. They exchanged words and she left again, only to come back a minute later with a syringe. Jake felt his heart drop in his chest and he tried to fight back, two of the medical students held him back against the bed and she sank the needle into his arm. A minute later, his eyes fluttered closed again, not before seeing your scared face in the doorway.

“ -- Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgement on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practise the very same things --” a familiar voice read.

Jake’s eyes fluttered open, revealing Daniel lounging in one of the uncomfortable chairs by his bedside. He was wearing his regular clothes, a pair of black jeans and a white tee hidden underneath a half zipped up hoodie. The steady beeping of a machine to Jake’s right sped up as he looked around, desperately trying to find you.

The pillows piled high underneath his neck were making it hard to look around and moving his body was impossible but still he tried, straining as much as possible to look over any obstruction. He groaned and Father Daniel stopped mid-sentence. He closed his bible.

“Jake, it’s alright,” he reassured him, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, “She went home to shower, she’s okay. She’ll be back. We’re watching over you in the meantime, you can go back to sleep,” Daniel said and Jake didn’t struggle, falling back into sleep’s open arms as soon as the words had come out of Father’s mouth.

When he woke up again, Father was still there, speaking into the empty room as if it were a packed church, pacing around the room and rehearsing that week's homily, “Judgement is very prominent in today’s society. We like to judge people for who they are --” he started and stopped, fishing a piece of paper out of his back pocket and checking his script, “We like to judge people for what they wear, what they own, what they do. We judge people for how much money they have, what they do with it, what their jobs are. I will admit that I have been guilty of that sin. I have looked at celebrities and criticised their appearance, I have scoffed at teens when they tell me they want to be influencers, I have caught myself thinking that some of the citizens of this fine country must have gotten their driver’s licence in cereal box tops,” Dan paused, checking his piece of paper, “All of these, regardless of how mean or menial they are, are bad. All judgement is bad. But the worst one in my opinion is one I encounter daily, be it through seeing memes on facebook, or hearing it from the mouths of my parishioners, it is the judgement we cast over others for their belief or disbelief of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.”

“When we look upon others and judge them for the way they do or do not worship. When we look at their faith and tell them they are doing things wrong, when we look at their relationship with the Lord and think that they could do things better, we must remember that the standards we apply to them, the Lord will apply to us --” he continued.

“Most people do get their licences from cereal box tops,” Jake said, his voice raspy and hard to understand. Father Dan turned to him.

“Seresin, I have experienced your driving. That line was specifically directed at you I’ll have you know,” he joked.

“How dare you, I will have you know my instructor said I was a delight,” Jake replied, pulling himself into a somewhat upright position.

“Sure he did, you’re built like a mountain and you have the worst road rage I have ever seen,” Dan laughed.

“Bob,” Jake replied, Daniel paused, giving his retort some thought.

“Second worst road rage I have ever seen,” he acquiesced, “How are you feeling?”

“You know, I have never been so aware that I had ribs in my life,” Jake joked, wincing only a second later.

“No kiddin’... You want me to call a nurse or something? See if they can get you a pain killer?” Dan offered.

“No, but I want my wife,” Jake replied.

“I called her twenty minutes ago when you came to. She’s on her way. Bob’s driving though, so you can expect her to get here in a year or two,” he laughed, “We were taking shifts at your bedside so you wouldn’t have to wake up alone.”

“I can’t thank you all enough,” Jake said, accidentally shifting his weight on the pillows, “Shit, that hurts,” he winced.

“You’re going to need to watch your mouth when your kid gets here,” the priest chastised him.

“I got two months to kick the habit,” he replied, “How is she? Everything okay with her and the baby?”

“Everything is fine,” Dan said, “You sure you’re okay, bud?”

“I thought I was going to die,” he said, “I think God spoke to me.”

Father Dan smiled, “What was it like?”

Jake closed his eyes and tried to remember. As if projecting a film on the back of his brain the memory came back scene by scene. He felt the gravel of Mount Moriah underneath his boots, the stones sliding and rolling away as limped his way up the path. The sun was beating down on him as he walked but it didn’t hurt, it felt gentle and warming, almost like the setting Texas sun of his boyhood.

Jake remembered the vague understanding that he had crossed Abraham and Isaac on the path at some point, but the altar confirmed it. The stones were red with blood, seeping through the cracks and dripping onto the ground. Jake, before he could stop and think, reached for it, using it to pull himself forward. He leaned against the altar, turning his hand around expecting to see it slick with the ram’s blood but it was clean. His name was called, shaking him out of his reverie. The voice resonated through the air, cutting through everything as though the volume had been turned down on the environmental noise. Jake turned around, trying to catch a glimpse of who the voice belonged to.

There really hadn’t been a doubt in his mind about who the voice had belonged to. He felt the words in his bones, flowing through his blood, his body reacted to it like he had never been made to do anything else. He still limped his way to the edge of the mountain and looked down, seeing nothing but grass, birds and people. He raised his head to the sky, but the clouds gave nothing away.

The Lord called to him once more, sending a jolt through the earth that threw him against the ground. Jake braced himself for a wave of pain, but nothing came.

“The pain you have been feeling cannot compare to the joy that is coming,” God said, and Jake knew it was true. As true as the fact that you loved him, that he was alive, that your baby would be born, that his name was Jacob Thomas Seresin and that God was Good and speaking to Him.

The wind picked up. The breeze that had been making the air up on Mount Moriah pleasant and fresh grew stronger and stronger until it lifted earth and sand and spun it upwards into the sky. It blew until trees bent and leaves flattened. There were no more birds, no more insects, and soon the dust made it so that there was no more Mount Moriah.

“Jacob,” He called again, his voice swallowed by the wind, “The ladder.”

Jake opened his eyes again and blinked rapidly at the cool white light emanating from the large overhead lamps.

“It was…Everything,”he said, his voice a whisper in the room.

“What did he sound like?” Father Dan probed further, looking at him like his nephews did whenever they asked him to describe what flying was like, full of wonder and amazement.

Jake thought for a moment, “Hard to describe, really. Loud, I guess. Unmistakable? But gentle and reassuring at the same time. And just… I don’t know, inevitable. Like whatever he was telling me was certain, it would happen and I have no choice in the matter.”

Dan took a breath before speaking again, “Can I ask, you don’t have to answer obviously, but what did He say?”

“He said I’d be okay,” Jake replied, feeling strange about revealing His words. They had been spoken to him, and selfishly, he wanted to keep them for himself.

Father Dan smiled brightly, sitting up on his chair. He looked at Jake and let out a breathy laugh.

“Has it happened to you before?” Jake asked but Dan never had time to answer as just as he was about to, the door opened to reveal you. It felt like the world stood still, like the clouds parted to reveal the sunshine after weeks of torrential rain. It felt like taking a breath after diving underwater for too long.

“Hey,” he breathed.

“Hey,” you replied in the same tone of voice.

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Dan said, pushing Bob back out of the room before Jake could see more than the back of his hand pushing the door open further.

“I thought you had died,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you made your way towards him.

“Never,” he smiled brightly, “You’re stuck with me forever!”

Jake stuck out his arms to ask for a hug, you sat on the edge of the bed so as not to hurt him but he pulled you into him, ignoring the agonising pain he felt when you leaned into his chest to squeeze you close, “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you replied.

----

Almost ten days after Jake’s skin graft surgery, the doctors cleared him to go home. To help while he recovered, Isabella and Giovanni had decided to stay, stealing the guest room from Maria and banishing her to the sofa. She grumbled and groaned for a few days but whatever Jake had asked her to do in the nursery was taking up half of her day, the other half being almost solely dedicated to placing the finishing touches on the house, to get it ready for the wedding.

You hadn’t been in weeks now, but she had been all too happy to show you pictures. They had done some wonderful work. All bathrooms had been retiled, with new showers, baths and sinks installed. The bedrooms had been painted and carpet ripped out, and the kitchen had been gutted and changed from outdated to modern. In the livingroom and dining room, Bob had installed beautiful hardwood flooring. The garage, which could have housed two cars had been divided, one half turned into Bob’s very own workshop. All that was left was to finish the attic, which they would turn into Maria’s art studio, and buy the furniture, which she was more than thrilled about.

“I’m thinking maybe like, lots of white and light colours, so it feels very lit up. We have those beautifully large windows that show the yard, so I feel like we need to take advantage of that. But obviously I don’t want it to be too monotone? So I feel like we need a few pops of colour, you know?” She asked, leaning her head against the back of the sofa, “Did you guys have this much trouble decorating this place?”

“I’ll be honest, we had most of the furniture already and Jake painted everything in about a week. We got lucky, the house was in really good condition and the colours were pretty much what we wanted already,” you explained, rubbing your belly. Beanie had been making their presence known since Jake got home, sending their little foot into your tummy every few minutes. Recently though, their aim had gotten worse, and every other kick landed straight into your ribs. The only thing that seemed to improve it, was an extra large tub of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream and some belly rubs from Jake. Conscious not to let you eat too many calories, Maria had graciously offered to help you finish off your tub, and was now digging a spoonful out of her own bowl.

“So lucky,” she said, licking the back of her spoon, “I am so sore,” she stated, “I need a bath.” Maria stood up from her seat and left in the direction of the bathroom, passing her mother in the kitchen and her father reading the newspaper by the dining room table. It had been a quiet day, with everyone at home as rain poured down from the sky in thick droplets that left everything muddy.

Jake entered the room. The doctors had asked him to keep moving to a minimum and to sleep on his front, two instructions he ignored almost immediately but it didn’t seem to hinder his recovery all that much.His crutches ticked against the floor as he approached you. You lifted your spoonful of ice cream up to your lips but your tongue never tasted the sweet treat, as just as you were about to, Jake swiped the spoon out of your hands and ate it himself.

“Hey!” you protested but Jake crutched away as quickly as he could, the spoon still in his mouth. He made his way through the living room and then the kitchen, scaring his mother in the process.You followed right behind.

“Non correre con un cucchiaio!” she shouted after him. Don’t run with a spoon!

Jake laughed, “Non sto correndo!” he mumbled, I’m not running! Isabella rolled her eyes.

You followed him to the nursery where you finally got your spoon back, but before you could turn around and walk away, Jake pushed the door open to reveal what was inside. You gasped. It was beautiful, Maria had truly outdone herself.

The whole room was painted a crisp white. Even though the day outside was rainy, the brightness of the walls made the one window in the room shine with light. On the wall with the crib, there was a delicately painted mural. The wall itself had been painted a sky blue and a few puffy white clouds had been added to the atmosphere. A squadron of F18s was pictured flying across the top corner of the room, a two seater front and centre featured Dove and Hangman name inscriptions below the pilot and WSO seats. There was a smaller plane centred over the crib, its name place missing an inscription. The painting was realistic but also slightly animated, making it feel fit for a child’s room.

Turning your head, you spotted a changing table, painted a light grey to match the F18s, its knobs little bronze stars. Over it hung a canvas, on it in calligraphy was James 1:17, every good and perfect gift is from above.

There was a grey rug in the middle of the room and in one corner was tucked a white padded rocking chair. Over the back Maria had thrown the blankets that Nonna had made them. Once you had finished your quick scan of the beautiful room, you walked over to the mural wall, stopping next to the crib, you brushed your hand over the little F18 on the wall, “What…Did…is this what Maria…” you couldn’t find the words.

Jake came up behind you, he leaned his crutches on the crib before wrapping his arms around you, “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you said with a smile as Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. The two of you stood in a comfortable silence, Jake’s arms wrapped around your midsection, you making sure not to lean too far into him as he was standing on one leg.

Your bubble of peace was interrupted when Maria walked by in the hall, “Oh, so you showed her without me?”

Jake let out a quiet laugh, “I wanted it to be a private moment, I didn’t know how she was going to react!”

Maria just rolled her eyes, “I figure we can fill in the name spot when the little one gets here,” she said with a smile aimed at you.

“It’s lovely, thank you so much,” you said, “I don’t even know what to say to be honest.”

“I will take your speechlessness as payment enough,” Maria said with an excited smile before walking down the hall towards the stairs.

As Maria left, you felt a little kick from your stomach. You guided Jake’s hand over it and smiled as he rubbed a finger over their little foot. Standing in the nursery, with your newly returned husband, you found yourself disappointed that the baby wasn’t there yet.

Turning back into Jake, he hugged you as a few tears slipped from your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brushing your hair away from your face.

You let out a sigh before answering, “I just wish he or she was here already, I want to hold them and show them this beautiful room.”

“They will make their appearance when they are ready Princess, we just need to be patient,” Jake said, kissing your forehead.

You let out a laugh, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

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