#good noodle board
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What if The Yellow Lizard Class has a good noodle board like the one in Spongebob Squarepants? Blue Spider and Pink Toad have good noodle boards too.
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@gusubound replied to your post “"Mobei. Stop stepping on dudes!"”:
lwj vc: i'm taking a sticker off your "good noodle" board >:C
There's only one noodle that matters to me, and those are the ones i pull. by hand
#gusubound#crack#i havent actually read the airplane extras but mbj making noodles for sqh lives rent free in my brain#he would take this good noodle board quite literally
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I love memes about my state because they're always 100% accurate like yeah there really is nothing here and everybody who lives here and doesn't live here hates this state with a passion. Glad that's a universal understanding.
#i kinda want to make this a challenge#like if you can guess what state im talking about ill give you a gold star for your good noodle board
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today was kind of so bad actually LMAO
#sometimes there is something freeing in sitting down at what u wish was the end of the day with still one more responsibility#and being like. damn u know what? today was actually horrible#a little freeing#weight off the shoulders#don't have to keep pretending anymore LOL#anyways. took a 2 hr round trip bus ride just to buy a stupid poster board#had to work a 5 hr shift where a good 3 hrs were a consistent rush#got home#had to do an orchestra audition#turns out i had the WRONG audition sheet. had prepared a piece i didn't need to and just didn't have two of the pieces that i DID need#got so flustered over him asking for excerpts i didn't have that i did really abysmally#and now i've gotten back home. eating dinner at 9:30pm#and i still have to decorate this entire stupid fucking poster board all by myself bc i have to be at a club fair for 6 hours tomorrow#god. GODDDDD#made myself some fucking noodles. that's nice at least
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Good question:
In the United States, many jails and prisons can and will charge you money for every single night that you spend imprisoned, for the entire duration of your incarceration, as if you were being billed for staying at a hotel. Even if you are incarcerated for years. Adding up to tens of thousands of dollars. What happens when you’re released?
In response to this:
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So.
You’re getting charged, like, ten dollars every time you even submit a request form to possibly be seen by a doctor or dentist.
You’re getting charged maybe five dollars for ten minutes on the phone.
Any time a friend or family tries to send you like five dollars so that you can buy some toothpaste or lotion, or maybe a snack from the commissary since you’re diabetic and the “meals” have left you malnourished, maybe half of that money gets taken as a “service fee” by the corporate contractor that the prison uses to manage your pre-paid debit card. So you’re already losing money every day just by being there.
What happens if you can’t pay?
In some places, after serving just a couple of years for drugs charges, almost 20 years after being released, the state can still hunt you down for over $80,000 that you “owe” as if it were a per-night room-and-board accommodations charge, like this recent highly-publicized case in Connecticut:
Excerpt:
Two decades after her release from prison, [TB] feels she is still being punished. When her mother died two years ago, the state of Connecticut put a lien on the Stamford home she and her siblings inherited. It said she owed $83,762 to cover the cost of her 2 1/2 year imprisonment for drug crimes. [...] “I’m about to be homeless,” said [TB], 58, who in March [2022] became the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit challenging the state law that charges prisoners $249 a day for the cost of their incarceration. [...] All but two states have so-called “pay-to-stay” laws that make prisoners pay for their time behind bars [...]. Critics say it’s an unfair second penalty that hinders rehabilitation by putting former inmates in debt for life. Efforts have been underway in some places to scale back or eliminate such policies. Two states — Illinois and New Hampshire — have repealed their laws since 2019. [...] Pay-to-stay laws were put into place in many areas during the tough-on-crime era of the 1980s and ’90s, said Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology at University of Southern California who is leading a study of the practice. [...] Connecticut used to collect prison debt by attaching an automatic lien to every inmate, claiming half of any financial windfall they might receive for up to 20 years after they are released from prison [...].
Text by: Pat Eaton-Robb. “At $249 per day, prison stays leave ex-inmates deep in debt.” AP News / The Associated Press. 27 August 2022.
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Look at this:
To help her son, Cindy started depositing between $50 to $100 a week into Matthew’s account, money he could use to buy food from the prison commissary, such as packaged ramen noodles, cookies, or peanut butter and jelly to make sandwiches. Cindy said sending that money wasn’t necessarily an expense she could afford. “No one can,” she said. So far in the past month, she estimates she sent Matthew close to $300. But in reality, he only received half of that amount. The balance goes straight to the prison to pay off the $1,000 in “rent” that the prison charged Matthew for his prior incarceration. [...] A PA Post examination of six county budgets (Crawford, Dauphin, Lebanon, Lehigh, Venango and Indiana) showed that those counties’ prisons have collected more than $15 million from inmates — almost half is for daily room and board fees that are meant to cover at least a portion of the costs with housing and food. Prisoners who don’t work are still expected to pay. If they don’t, their bills are sent to collections agencies, which can report the debts to credit bureaus. [...] Between 2014 and 2017, the Indiana County Prison — which has an average inmate population of 87 people — collected nearly $3 million from its prisoners. In the past five years, Lebanon’s jail collected just over $2 million in housing and processing fees.
Text by: Joseph Darius Jaafari. “Paying rent to your jailers: Inmates are billed millions of dollars for their stays in Pa. prisons.” WHYY (PBS). 10 December 2019. Originally published at PA Post.
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Pay-to-stay, the practice of charging people to pay for their own jail or prison confinement, is being enforced unfairly by using criminal, civil and administrative law, according to a new Rutgers University-New Brunswick led study. The study [...] finds that charging pay-to-stay fees is triggered by criminal justice contact but possible due to the co-opting of civil and administrative institutions, like social service agencies and state treasuries that oversee benefits, which are outside the realm of criminal justice. “A person can be charged $20 to $80 a day for their incarceration,” said author Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology and a faculty affiliate of Rutgers' criminal justice program. “That per diem rate can lead to hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees when a person gets out of prison. To recoup fees, states use civil means such as lawsuits and wage garnishment against currently and formerly incarcerated people, and regularly use administrative means such as seizing employment pensions, tax refunds and public benefits to satisfy the debt.” [...] Civil penalties are enacted on family members if the defendant cannot pay and in states such as Florida, Nevada and Idaho can occur even after the original defendant is deceased. [...]
Text by: Megan Schumann. “States Unfairly Burdening Incarcerated People With “Pay-to-Stay” Fees.” Rutgers press release. 20 November 2020.
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So, to pay for your own imprisonment, states can:
-- hunt you down for decades (track you down 20 years later, charge you tens of thousands of dollars, and take your house away)
-- put a lien on your vehicle, house
-- garnish your paycheck/wages
-- seize your tax refund
-- send collections agencies after you
-- take your public assistance benefits
-- sue you in civil court
-- take money from your family even after you’re dead
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Orc boyfriend with what he thinks is a tiny, smol mate who's so smol, so delicate, so sweet... They're actually pretty firmly built for a human, while a bit short, along with being stubborn and sassy and ready to bite heads off for their adorable XL size boyfriend.
I've got so many orc stories going right now, but you know I'm not mad about it ^_^ I love Orcs <3 There are so many different ways to write them. I have another couple of Orc asks I'm working on, as well 🥵
Orc (Cedar) x thick f reader
Word Count: 5K
Tw: sfw orc fluff, some brief descriptions of battle, brief mention of sa, size difference
More monster fluff here
“Put the stick down, sugar. We’re not going to hurt you.”
You scoffed at the soldiers circling you, their eyes dark with lust.
“We just want to have some fun,” another said, his eyes drifting over your shapely hips. “Don’t you owe us a debt of gratitude for rescuing you?”
You squeezed the iron fire poker that you had gripped in your hand.
“Rescuing me? You didn’t get your rocks off burning down the damn village?”
“It was a strategic maneuver,” the leader of the armored men said with an oily smile. “We are here to liberate you.”
“By assaulting me?” you snapped.
There was not a doubt in your mind that the second you lowered your weapon, they were going to drag you into some dark corner and act out all of the sick thoughts they had echoed on their faces.
Your King’s soldiers weren’t good guys. When they heard there was an Orc camp nearby, they couldn’t be bothered to attack it directly. Instead, they burned down your village. They said it was to prevent them from resupplying.
It was true you did business with the Orcs, who were technically your enemy, but they never acted like enemies. While big and quite scary-looking, they paid in gold and were always polite to the women running the shops. You never felt the least bit unsafe alone with one, and occasionally, they’d help you out with things that needed done– fixing roofs and cartwheels. The men of the town had all been conscripted for the war, so it mostly the ladies keeping the village afloat. The soldiers had made a whole lot of children and the elderly homeless.
“Come on, sweetie, this game is getting tiresome.”
One of the soldiers dared to approach you, and you didn’t hesitate a second, swinging your poker and smacking him so hard in the head that his helmet crunched. He collapsed on the broken boards that had once been the floor of your little noodle shop.
“Now that’s a crime!” the leader barked.
He waved to his accomplices.
“Get in there and restrain her!”
Their eyes fell on the collapsed soldier, and they looked between one another, trying to sort out who was next to get a whomping.
You flexed your wrist, preparing to swing at whoever came at you next, when you heard the heavy steps of an Orc approaching. The soldiers were too inexperienced to know what that sound meant. You’d heard them approach every day at dinner time for several months. It wasn’t until he was shouldering his way through what was left of your door that they took notice.
“The enemy approaches! Your swords!”
The Orc you knew as Ash, wrinkled his brow and let out a lilting call to gather his brethren. The ground rumbled as more heavy feet ran towards you.
Wood splintered, and what remained of the ceiling creaked as they tore the walls away, making more room for a fight.
Faced with five nine-foot Orc barbarians armed with axes almost as big as their bodies, the soldiers tried to run for it. You screamed as they threatened to trample you, trying to force their way through the back wall, but they never reached you.
The Orcs didn’t need to draw their weapons, grabbing every soldier and smacking them against the ground until they stopped moving—a gruesome way to die, but practical.
When the danger was crumpled into a wet gnarl of bones and metal, their eyes turned to you. Ash said something to his friends in their own language before he stomped across the room and plucked you up like a kitten, cradling you in his arm.
“Hey, What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Quiet, little one. You’ll give us away.”
You puckered your lips at him, annoyed, as if the stomping of five tons of muscle was quiet. When you tried to wave your poker at him, he plucked it out of your hand but didn’t drop it, tucking it instead in his belt. He said something else to his friends before turning to split away from them.
You had no reason to panic. The Orcs had never harmed you, but being taken away from the group put frightening thoughts in your head, and you instinctively started screaming.
The Orc sighed, sounding tired, when four more soldiers came skidding around a corner, swords in hand. You looked up at him apologetically, smacking your hand over your mouth to stay the scream that didn’t want to stop.
He set you on the roof of what was left of a building and pat you on the head, a gesture that you read as “stay” before pulling out his axe. You weren’t going anywhere, even if you wanted to. The drop was fifteen feet down, and the stairs were just charcoal at the base of the building.
“Attack!” the leader of the soldiers shouted, but their moves in their heavy metal armor were slow. Ash swung his arm in a sweeping stroke that sliced four of them in half where they stood. The other one, eyes wide with horror, turned tail and ran.
Replacing his axe, he picked you up again and headed into the woods. This time, you had enough sense to keep quiet.
You’d never been to the Orc camp before, but you heard it before you saw it. The brassy sound of a grinder and hammers on metal rang through the trees, blended with the shouts of the Orcs in their language. There were lots of huge tents and fires spotted here and there. The camp was buzzing with activity. Orcs ran around shouting at one another, some gathering weapons, some sending groups in the direction you came. You recognized many of them as some of your customers. They often came in groups and hauled away vats of the noodle stew you sold.
A few Orcs waved at Ash but didn’t pay you much mind as he carried you to the nicest-looking tent. It had a banner outside of it with a gold bear embroidered into the fabric. Ash set you on the ground at the door and handed you your poker before patting you on the back, indicating you should go in.
“What’s in there?” you asked.
He said something in Orcish that you didn’t understand and walked away. There were too many other giants around to attempt an escape, so you pulled aside the fur covering the door and peeked inside.
“Hello?”
Your question was returned with a deep voice, smooth as a glassy pond.
“Enter, little one.”
Taking a few steps inside, you were faced with what you could only describe as the most handsome Orc you’d ever seen. His skin was a deep olive, and his hair fell over his shoulder in a long, dark sheet with small braids here and there. His tusks were large, but they seemed only to highlight how well his lips were formed. His features were harsh and defined but not unattractive, with a straight nose and deep-set gold eyes. The only thing you could point out as a flaw was a dark scar from his forehead to the right corner of his jaw.
You assumed the Orcs were blunt tools, sprinting into battle with no real plan, but this one was sitting at a high table examining maps with a book in his hand.
“I’m…I’m not sure why I’m here,” you said, brandishing your poker, though you didn’t feel like you were in any particular danger.
“I asked Ash to fetch you,” he said without looking up. “You’re the noodle shop woman.”
“My name is (Y/N), not “noodle shop woman,” and I don’t have a shop anymore. The soldiers burned it.”
He put his book down and turned his gold eyes to you.
“That’s why you’re here.”
“I don’t understand.”
His eyes drifted over you before they settled on the poker you were still holding up.
“You were feeding most of the camp. If there’s no shop to visit, you can make noodles here.”
You blinked up at him.
“Oh…Am I your prisoner?”
He chuckled.
“If you’d like to go back to your people, I won’t stop you, but judging how they burned down your village without hesitation, I think you’re safer with us.”
You had to admit that made some sense, but you still weren’t buying it.
“I can’t stay here with you!”
He tipped his head, the corner of his lip twitching up slightly.
“Why is that, little one?”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“First of all, I’m NOT little, and second, an Orc camp is no place for a lady.”
A shudder that had nothing to do with fear shot down your spine as his eyes moved over your body. He crossed the room, scooping you up, and setting you on his table. Your feet dangled far from the ground.
“What- What are you doing?” you snapped, waving your weapon at him.
“My neck was hurting from looking down at you. You’re very short.”
The sparkle in his eyes told you he was teasing you, which drew heat to your cheeks.
“Maybe compared to you. You’re unnecessarily large. What are you doing with all of that muscle? Are you going to arm wrestle your books?” you pouted, eyes drifting to the massive bicep peeking out of the fur vest he wore.
He laughed out loud, gracing you with a wide smile.
“You’ll fit right in here.”
You raised your nose at him, trying to look unconvinced.
“Where will I even sleep? All of your tents are big and drafty.”
“Since you’ve declared your intention to court me, I wouldn’t mind if you slept here.”
“Declared my intention to— Where did you get that idea?”
He flicked a fingertip at your poker.
“In the old days, Orc females came to their males' tent and threatened them into submission with their favorite weapon.”
Your cheeks burned like hot irons, and you almost dropped it.
“Well…I’m not trying to court you. It’s for protection.”
He snorted at you but nodded his head.
“If you say so, little one, but it will be much warmer in my tent if it’s drafts you’re worried about.”
“I don’t even know your name. Ash called you something in your language. I didn’t understand…”
He examined one of the feet you had dangling over the edge of his table. Compared to his big hand, it was tiny.
“Cautalin, it means something close to general in your language, but you can call me Cedar. That’s what my mother named me.”
Your eyes traveled over his barrel chest and thick arms.
“Seems about right,” you said, finally setting your poker down.
He picked it up, looked it over, and tested the weight in his hand.
“Not a bad choice,” he said. “Light but effective.”
You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, feeling cheeky.
“Do you feel like submitting?”
You watched a flicker of heat ignite in his eyes, and he slowly set it down.
“Come on, let's get you to bed, killer.”
He picked you up again, walking you over to a large pallet covered in furs.
“This is your bed.”
He gave you another smile.
“We’re in the middle of a battle; I won't be sleeping tonight. It's all yours.”
Though you weren't quite sure about sleeping in his bed, weariness overtook you at the sight of the comfortable, cozy furs, and you crawled in, wrapping yourself up to your chin in blankets.
He put your poker next to you and blew out the candle, slipping out the front flap as you dozed.
—
You woke to yelling, but not the sound of battle. Crawling out of your furs, you picked up your poker and peeled out of the flap Cedar used as a door. Another Orc you didn't recognize was the one yelling, and Cedar had his arms crossed, looking bored.
Your eyes drifted to about twenty women, elderly, and children, cowering in the chilly morning air, their faces streaked with soot from the fire.
“They’re our enemies!” the strange Orc barked.
“Really, Asvoth? Are you really afraid of a handful of children and their mothers?”
“This is a war camp, not a nursery.”
“It's my camp, not yours. They stay.”
“I outrank you. I can take your command.”
Cedar snorted.
“Yet the King hasn't trusted you with a unit of your own. You're nothing more than an errand boy with a fancy title. Any of these children could take your job.”
Asvoth’s face turned a deep forest green from both embarrassment and indignation. He yanked the sword he wore on his back to his hand. Without thinking, you hopped in front of Cedar, waving your poker at the intruder. You had no idea why, a fact you only considered after you’d already put yourself in harm's way. Still, you'd made your move so the only thing to do was follow through.
“You heard Cedar! We’re not leaving! Get on if you know what's good for you!”
Asvoth sprung forward, dropping his sword toward your head. Your eyes squeezed shut, preparing for pain, but there was only the clang of metal. Opening one eye, you glanced up to see Cedar’s axe blocking the other Orc’s blow.
There was a moment when you thought Asvoth might overtake him, but Cedar’s muscles weren't all for show. He shoved the other Orc back, and he toppled over, landing on his butt in the dirt. His sword landed in front of the children with a CLANG.
“Woah!” the little ones cheered, circling around it like it was a strange animal.
A few of them tried to pick it up, but it was far too heavy, making their eyes pop even wider.
Cedar nodded at him, and a pair of Orcs from the camp dragged Asvoth up by the collar of his tunic, pushing him towards the forest.
“I'm reporting this!” He shouted over his shoulder as he stumbled towards the woods.
Cedar waved a hand at one of his Orcs, beckoning him closer.
“You and Orin follow him and make sure the King gets our side of the story, not his.”
When the situation seemed settled, Cedar looked down at you and patted your head.
“Thank you for your protection, little suitor,” he said with a smirk.
Your cheeks blew up in flames, but you puffed your chest and looked at the children watching Ash pick up the abandoned sword. They hopped around him like little bunnies, begging him to teach them to use it.
“I have no idea what you mean! I’m here to make noodles! Point me in the direction of my kitchen! These little mouths are probably hungry.”
He chuckled, but guided you with a large hand on your back to a large tent filled with whatever food supplies they had rescued from the village. You wrinkled your nose at the primitive workspace, but there were enough flour and eggs to work with. You were surprised to find someone had stuck in a lower table, perfect for your height. After washing your hands in a water basin, you got to cooking.
“What are you still doing here?” you asked Cedar, who had plopped down in a chair and was reading a book.
He smiled.
“Reading.”
You blinked at him, putting your floury fists on your hips.
“Are you surveilling me? I’m not going to poison you all! I have to eat this too, you know.”
He tipped his head to the side, his gold eyes sparkling in the makeshift hearth.
“The sound of cooking is soothing. I liked to study in the kitchen while my mother cooked when I was a boy.”
You looked him up and down.
“I can’t imagine you as a child.”
You thought for a second, tapping your chin.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an Orc child, actually.”
He looked back down at his book, shifting in his seat to get comfortable.
“You will,” he said as he flipped a page.
Your brow wrinkled at that nebulous statement, but you knew everyone was hungry after the long night, so you got back to work.
By midmorning, you had a stewpot big enough to feed an army filled with noodles, vegetables, and what little bit of venison the Orcs had been able to hunt between the battle.
“All done,” you said, clapping your hands and creating a puff of flour in the air.
Cedar got up and shouted something to his men, and two Orcs appeared to carry the big vat into the central circle so it could be served. You felt a sense of satisfaction when all the bowls were passed out and the children, tired humans, and bloodied Orcs were eating. The mothers spoke quietly between one another, while the children could hardly sit still, their big eyes following the Orcs every movement.
“Here.”
You looked up to find Cedar holding a bowl out to you. A grumbling stomach had you accepting it, and he patted the seat next to him for you to sit down. The two of you ate quietly for a moment before you asked him a question.
“What are you going to do with all of us?”
“Hmm?” he asked.
“Well, I mean when the battle is over. We have nowhere to go. Our town is destroyed.”
He looked at the children who, after scarfing down their bowls, were engaged in some game with Ash.
“I was hoping you would all return to our capitol city with us. That’s where we live when we’re not fighting.”
Your eyebrows jumped.
“To the Orc city? We’re humans. Don’t your people hate us?”
He shrugged.
“There are some weak minds who reveal their own fragility with their hate, but the rest of us like your kind. This whole war started because we wished to create allies amongst the humans.”
“What? The soldiers said you attacked!”
He chuckled.
“Your king has a very effective propaganda engine. That’s probably the only thing about him that is effective. We sent a delegation party to him to discuss our interest in mingling with you humans. You all are prolific; despite your size, you’re a sturdy bunch. We thought marriages would bolster our numbers and strengthen your stock. Your King attacked, and we were forced to defend ourselves. The force that attacked us was decimated, and he declared war.”
“You mean…you wish to mate with us?”
His eyes slid down to you, and he gave you a sharp nod.
“Is that so surprising?”
You thought about it for a moment.
“I don’t know…Maybe a little. You’re so strong. You’re not afraid we’ll diminish you?”
His thick hand cupped your chin and rubbed some flour away with his thumb. Your heart raced at his touch.
“Size is not what makes us strong. Our strength lies in our unbreakable bonds. Your King will be defeated, not because his forces are less than ours, but because he orders his men to betray his own people.”
He nodded towards the children, who were playing chicken fight on Ash and another Orc’s shoulders.
“They will remember it was men who burned down their village, stole their fathers from them, assaulted their mothers and Orcs who took them in, fed them, and helped them smile again.
“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed.
His smile widened.
“I will remember you took up arms to protect me against an enemy twice your size. You belong among the us.”
Suddenly the wool dress you wore was much too hot.
“I should go wash these before the next meal,” you squeaked, grabbing his empty bowl and scurrying away.
Once safe in the kitchen tent, you pressed your hand against your chest, trying to still your heart. Why did Cedar make you feel so fluttery? You’d never felt this way around anyone before. You usually kept to yourself and steered clear of romance. It had to be the battle, you decided. You were still hyped up from the night before. In a day or so, you were sure it would pass.
Dunking empty bowls in ice-cold river water helped cool your thoughts as you tried to focus on what to make for dinner. The Orcs stocks were pretty hefty, but they and the children ate a lot. You’d noticed many of the parents tipping some of their bowls into their little one’s, making sure they were fed properly in case the next meal didn’t come.
It saddened you it had to be this way. What horrible person decides to burn down their own citizens' village? Who was the King even protecting you from? Not the Orcs, that’s for sure.
A loud rabble outside dragged your attention away from the dishes, and you picked up your poker before peeking your head outside.
A few Orc scouts were speaking in rapid Orcish to Cedar. When they paused, his eyes immediately looked around for the children and frowned before he spoke to you all.
“The human King has sent reinforcements. They will close on our camp by nightfall.”
The mothers all gathered their children to their skirts, looking weary.
“Women and children to the kitchen tent! We will keep you safe, but you must stay hidden!”
You made way as a small stampede of humans rushed past you, many pushing their children to hide under the table.
“What’s happening?” You asked Cedar as people and Orcs rushed around.
He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, looking disturbed.
“Someone ran back to your King with a story that we’d kidnapped you, not taken you in from starving in a burnt-down village. We will win this fight, but then we will have to make the journey back to the capitol. They will keep attacking if they think you’re within their grasp. Do you think you can explain this to your people? We don’t intend to take anyone by force, but I wouldn’t trust the King’s soldiers.”
“Yes, of course. Whatever you need.”
You hurried back to the kitchen, where the humans were muttering to one another.
“Should we flee to the forest?” Isla, the former town candlemaker, asked. “Can we depend on the Orcs to protect us?”
Another woman scoffed.
“We can’t trust anyone. These Orcs are kind now, but they’ll sell us out at the drop of a hat.”
Linda, a quiet woman who worked as a weaver, whimpered.
“But we’ll starve in the forest alone. Word is the King’s men have raized every town for fifty miles!”
You inserted yourself into the conversation, holding up your hands.
“No one needs to escape to the woods. The Orcs are going to take us back to their capitol to keep us safe.”
Linda squeaked in horror.
“The Orc capitol?! Where they can enslave us?!”
“They have no plan to enslave you. Don’t you want your children to be safe? We will be safe behind their walls!”
“Or…when the King takes the city we’ll all be hung as traitors!”
“Shawna, don’t put that in her head. Linda, we’ll be fine. I trust Cedar.”
You paused on that thought, realizing not only was it true, it didn’t make any sense. You’d only just met him. Your conversation was interrupted by the shouting of men outside.
“We’ll talk about this later,” you hissed, “Here, take this.”
You armed the humans with whatever haphazard weapons you could find, mostly butcher knives and skillets.
Outside, you could hear the clang of weapons and the squelching sounds of metal piercing flesh.
“What's happening?” Linda asked, trying to get around you so she could peek out of the tent flap.
“Stay back!” You barked. “If they see us, we’re in trouble!”
You could tell she was losing it, hopping from one foot to another, her hands getting slippery on her knife.
“No, no, no,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to go with the Orcs. Even a human monster is better than them!”
Before you could grab her, she skipped through the doorway, running wildly into the fray. The other humans gathered around you, their opinions spilling out like loose marbles.
“What is she thinking?!”
“Linda, come back!”
“Let her go, she’s nuts.”
You clenched your jaw, squeezing your iron poker.
“She’s scared. I’ll go get her…you all stay put!”
Before anyone could stop you, you darted after her, trying to catch sight of her red skirt through the mess of armour-clad humans and massive Orcs. The King had sent a much larger force than the one that had burned down your village. The battle around you was brutal. You almost slipped on a puddle of blood, your eyes frantically searching for Linda.
You found her pointing her knife with shaking hands at a human soldier.
“What are you doing? I’m a human, too!”
“The King ordered you all dead!” he snarled, raising his sword at her. “No witnesses! Come on, do your duty to the kingdom, and die quietly!”
Panicking, you launched yourself at him, whacking him with your poker as you barreled into him. The two of you went down, metal clashing as you fell and dropped your weapons. Both of you scrabbled for purchase in the blood-soaked earth. You could hear Linda screeching beside you as you tried to overpower the soldier. His armor, now slick with mud, made it impossible to get a hold of him, and he triumphantly dragged himself to his sword, clumsily grabbing it by the blade and flinging it in your direction. You saw the metal flash in the firelight before pain exploded between your eyes, and your vision went black.
—
“Please tell me she’s not dead,” you heard Linda’s voice from far away.
Isla scoffed.
“You’d better hope she’s not, Linda. This is all your fault!”
“I'm sorry!” she simpered, “I made a mistake! I thought the soldiers were here to free us!”
“Free us from what? A good meal and a safe place to sleep?”
You dragged your eyelids open, vision blurry for a moment before it cleared.
“What…what happened?” you murmured.
“She’s awake!” Isla gasped.
You felt her cool hands against your cheek.
“Take it slow, here; have some water.”
She pushed a tin cup into your hands, and you wet your palette with a few sips. Looking around, you were surrounded by the humans, all looking very concerned.
“Is everyone okay?” you asked.
Isla smirked, and the other women tittered a bit.
“Thanks to you, I suppose. That chieftain or warlord or whatever saw you get knocked in the head and went berzerk. He killed most of the soldiers all by himself.”
Another woman poked her head out of the tent.
“She’s okay! You guys can untie him!”
“Untie who? Is the battle over?”
Isla nodded.
“Yeah, all the soldiers are dead. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up so we can move the camp before the King sends anymore. Can you believe he ordered them to kill us? I guess so he could claim the Orcs did it and get more support for the war.”
She smirked at you.
“And as for who's tied up, your Orc friend thought you were dead. The others had to tie him up so he wouldn’t go on a rampage. He was ready to storm the King’s stronghold! You ought to see the ropes they had to use…thick as your waist!”
You heard the roll of stomping feet, and Cedar burst through the tent flap. His hair was wild, and his tunic was red with blood. He fell to his knees in front of you, holding his hands as if he couldn’t decide if you were safe to touch.
“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully prodding the bandage you had wrapped around your head. “That monster didn’t do any permanent damage, did he?”
“She’ll have a scar,” Isla said, “but I think she’s fine.”
Cedar’s face lightened, pulling you towards him, his big arms wrapping around you.
“Thank the goddess,” he sighed with a heavy breath. “I thought they’d taken you from me.”
He cupped your cheeks between his palms when he finally let you go.
“You are so stupidly brave, little one,” he gasped, eyes wet. “You have more honor than your people deserve.”
Behind him, Isla waved the women out of the tent, leaving the two of you alone. Not used to so much intimate attention, your cheeks warmed, and you weren’t sure where to look.
“I just didn’t want Linda to get hurt,” you muttered.
He gave you an odd smile, scooping you out of the cot you’d woken up in.
“Once I get you to our home in the capitol, I’m going to have to keep you locked up for your own safety,” he said, patting your head.
You looked up at him from where you were tucked, leaning on his bicep.
“Our home?”
He grinned at you, counting on his fingers.
“First step to Orc courting: Threaten your desired with your weapon. Done. Step two: Allure them with your cooking skills, cooking or hunting something delicious. Done. And the final step: Display your honor through a grand act of bravery. Done! You’ve effectively and thoroughly seduced me, little one! All that’s left is to take you home!”
He tipped your chin up with one thick finger and dipped his head to press his lips against yours. Your whole body felt like it was made of butterflies, every nerve flickering with excitement. Despite being covered in blood and mud, his kiss tasted like honey and sage. It felt like a warm cup of tea on a chilly morning. Your eyelashes fluttered shut and you sank into his warmth, despite yourself, happy to be alive and in his arms.
“Oh!” you gasped as he straightened his neck.
Your mouth fell open, unsure what to say. Before you could think of anything, Cedar carried you out of the tent, shouting orders at his men to pack up the camp so you could leave for the capitol.
#monster x girl#orc x reader#monster x reader#x reader#yandere x reader#soft yandere#orc boyfriend#monster romance#monster fluff#male yandere#yandere fluff#yandere romance#monster boyfriend#orc#orc romance
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a spoonful of sugar | oscar piastri social media au
pairing: oscar piastri x fem chef!reader
cheffing it up all over the calendar
MASTERLIST | TIPS
yourusername
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 124,509 others
tagged: oscarpiastri
yourusername: WOAH WHAT IT'S OSCAR'S HOME RACE WEEK? that mean's it's time to whack out the aussie cook book mama piastri got me for christmas and man this fish has a cool name. BARRAMUNDI is a fish very commonly used in aussie cuisine (real ones know it from masterchef australia). so here i've pan seared it with some herbs and some lemons and take it from me it SLAPS, but you know what i hope slaps more? oscar this weekend... LET'S GO BABY
[as always this recipe is on my website and will be in my 2024 f1 calendar recipe book coming out soon]
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user1: FAVES OMG PARENTS
user2: my favourite thing is where i read intently all of y/n's recipe and continue to make pot noodles
yourusername: pot noodles are good i can't even be mad
oscarpiastri: can confirm it did in fact SLAP
yourusername: oh wow piastri stamp of approval that's basically a michelin star
oscarpiastri: tbf i would eat a roll of paper towels if it was you who gave it to me
yourusername: okay.... I'LL TAKE IT
user3: can we please study these people cause why is saying you'd eat paper towels is the pinnacle of romance
user4: i NEED the recipe book STAT
landonorris: i was on board with this whole cooking thing but FISH IS WHERE I DRAW THE LINE
yourusername: oh boy we got a BABY ON THE LINE
landonorris: i'm allowed to like what i like my MUM said so
yourusername: bro is an elite athlete and exclusively eats chicken nuggies
landonorris: @oscarpiastri tell your girlfriend to stop bullying me
oscarpiastri: i'm on her side buddy maybe explore the culinary world
landonorris: that's it i'm going to HR
yourusername: try it girly the mclaren HR team LOVE my food
user5: the dynamics since oscar and y/n got comfortable in the sport are my favourite things
oscarpiastri
liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 793,288 others
tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri: first time on the podium at my home race and the feeling is unreal. so thankful to have my family and love of my life around me, lets keep building on this !!
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user7: THANK THE LORD MCLAREN KEPT THEIR SHIT TOGETHER IN 2024 OSCAR FIRST WIN COMING IN FAST
yourusername: I AM TOTALLY FINE ABOUT THIS AND I AM NOT SOBBING UNCONTROLLABLY BECAUSE I AM SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU AT ALL TIMES I LOVE YOU SO MUCH
oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU TOO SO MUCH AND I LOVE SHARING THIS WITH YOU AND SEEING THE WORLD WITH YOU AND REACHING OUR DREAMS TOGETHER
user8: are they good?
logansargeant: from the man currently waiting for them to go to dinner and can hear them yelling this stuff to each other... no they are not okay and i don't think they ever have been
yourusername: LOGIE BEAR I AM SORRY I CANNOT CONTAIN MY LOVE FOR OSCAR
oscarpiastri: jealous bitches gonna be bitter
logansargeant: ??? excuse me
oscarpiastri: i'm sorry i got excited... love you logan (just not as much as y/n)
user9: this comment section is once again making me want to sneak into an F1 after party :(
user10: they're just going to dinner they've not even started drinking yet 😭
landonorris: i am proud of you mate - why is y/n dancing around in the kitchen in an apron that says "this chef FUCKS"
yourusername: fashion. (it says oscar piastri in small print right under that)
landonorris: i didn't need to know that
oscarpiastri: let her dance it makes the food taste even better
landonorris: there's definitely no fish right?
yourusername: no fish by order of the fussy child
landonorris: bullying online and in person @maxverstappen1 @charles_leclerc @logansargeant STEP IN
maxverstappen1: eh i'm good i'm looking forward to dinner
charles_leclerc: you're on your own with this one lando
logansargeant: i've learnt not to cross y/n
user11: the piastris invited lando, logan and the rest of the podium? i am soft
yourusername
liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 162,994 others
tagged: oscarpiastri
yourusername: a big post podium celebration dinner at the piastri house to celebrate oscar's home podium. first off, super duper proud. second, since it was a strictly no fish evening, i decided to go for classic aussie meat pies and grilled kangaroo LOL but there was only clean plates at the end so i'll defo consider adding it to the recipe book
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user12: i am getting a sugar rush this is so sweet
logansargeant: thank you for having me, a solid 9/10 - one point docked because kangaroos are cute
yourusername: wait until you run into one on a cold, wet evening
oscarpiastri: they are actually very scary and have a stealing problem
yourusername: tbf i think we all have a stealing problem
oscarpiastri: you definietly do ... cause you stole my heart
logansargeant: EW NOT ON MY COMMENT THREAD
user13: i'm so lonely
maxverstappen1: i definitely did not think i was going to eat kangaroo this week but here we are
yourusername: did you like it?
maxverstappen1: i was shocked at how much i did
oscarpiastri: babe get that on the review cover of the recipe book this guy got three championships that has to mean something
yourusername: good idea i'm on it
maxverstappen1: ???
landonorris: you fed me kanga and roo from winnie the pooh? Y/N YOU FED ME KANGA AND ROO FROM WINNIE THE POOH?
yourusername: you eat chicken all the time and you don't feel sorry for chicken little
oscarpiastri: she ate you up there PUN INTENDED
landonorris: i've learnt my lesson i'm giving up here
charles_leclerc: i for one had a blast and will be asking for y/n to cater my birthday party
oscarpiastri: FOR A PRICE
charles_leclerc: you her guard dog or something?
oscarpiastri: duh? have you seen her?
yourusername: i would love to (idk monagasque cuisine though so give me notice)
yourusername
liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 152,339 others
tagged: oscarpiastri, logansargeant
yourusername: IMOLA, IMOLA MY HEART LIVES IN ITALIA AND MY STOMACH LIVES WITH ITALIAN FOOD. for real. the track is cute and whatnot but the real star is the pasta, the pizza, the gelato but most importantly the PASTA. here is two dishes that'll feature in the imola chapter: a burrata dish and a ragu !! oscar (and lando) certified so you know it's good, oscar even helped so it's defo beginner friendly!!
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user17: is it a collective f1 driver experience to be ass at cooking
danielricciardo: yes
maxverstappen1: yes
oscarpiastri: yes
landonorris: yes
charles_leclerc: YES
oscarpiastri: if i'm slow this weekend it's because i couldn't stop eating the ragu sorry mclaren
yourusername: i made sure no gelato until sunday so please don't take me out back and shoot me over giving him pasta
mclarenf1: bring some pasta for social media admin and no one has to know
yourusername: deal
landonorris: this is a public instagram comment section
charles_leclerc: why is mine always so darn crunchy
yourusername: inpatient, common amongst you drivers. oscar was once so impatient when boiling an egg he got it out and it was just watery egg
oscarpiastri: you said you wouldn't tell anyone :(
yourusername: no babe i'm proud !!! you've come so far
oscarpiastri: it's true i made my own omelette the other day :)
yourusername: and it was yummy
oscarpiastri: and it was yummy :)
user18: the positive affirmations in this relationship really keep me going
yourusername: he IS the MOST beautiful racer in all of the lands
oscarpiastri: she IS the PRETTIEST chef in all of the kitchens
oscarpiastri
liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 775,431 others
tagged: yourusername
oscarpiastri: not the race we wanted in spain, but we're still in good spirits and in the conversation at the top of the standings! also helps that when you get taken out of the race your girlfriend shovels the BEST paella ever into your mouth until you finally smile
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user19: bro got a girlfriend and personal chef all in one
yourusername: food is my love language and when babe gets twatted into the barriers by SOMEONE i will personally feed him some of his favourite food
user20: she's holding back
yourusername: PR said i couldn't say anything...
oscarpiastri: i love youuuuuuuuu and i love your paella i think it's laced with crack
logansargeant: @fia GET HIS ASS
yourusername: LOGIE BEAR?
logansargeant: i'm sorry, we're pretty desperate for the p7 here at williams
yourusername: i respect that
oscarpiastri: Y/N????
yourusername: MORE PAELLA
carlossainz55: big respect for the paella, definitely looks authentic
yourusername: OBVIOUSLY IT'S AUTHENTIC DO YOU THINK MY QUALIFICATIONS ARE A JOKE
yourusername: lol sorry thank you actually SPANISH F1 DRIVER APPROVED PAELLA
oscarpiastri: @fernandoalo_oficial can we get another good review please and thank you
fernandoalo_oficial: looks good, need a taste to be sure
yourusername: it's coming your way (please return the tupperware tho please)
mclarenf1: you'll come back stronger oscar 💪
oscarpiastri: fuelled by love and paella
yourusername: fuelled by VENOM AND THE WILL TO WIN AND CRUSH THE COMPETITION
oscarpiastri: and that 🫶
note: here's a short and sweet one that MAY return to finish out this fictional season ... i also just love this kind of set up for an imagine. it's a lil short i know but the CHRISTMAS CRAFTS ARE COMING IN FAST AND THE CROSS STITCH CHRISTMAS CARDS ARE SLAYING THE HOUSE DOWN
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#f1 social media au#oscar piastri instagram au#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri
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Oh boy, top of the board!!! That must make him the... best noodle.... such a position is held with great honor.
#Puppet Of Pine [ Pinocchio ]#he wins at the good noodle board every time. no matter what#ground control [ dash commentary ]
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gf!abby anderson thoughts!
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆
a/n: recently, I've been reading a lot of abby fics, and it seems like all of them are pure smut, just absolute filth. and I've been looking for some more fluff. I couldn't find much. so I decided to make some bc bbg deserves some soft love :)
warnings: all lowercase intended, fem!reader, reader is referred to as abby's girlfriend, modern au, soft!abby. this is just sweet stuff for a sweet girl!
words: 1,053
abby is like a human space heater. she just radiates heat. which is perfect for the colder seasons.
if she notices you're cold or you're shivering, no matter where you are or who's around, she'll wrap her big, strong arms around you and hold you to her chest. placing sweet kisses to your head and rubbing her large hands across your back.
she uses the cold weather as an excuse to hold you and touch you. she's very clingy. always wanting to be close. to touch you.
even if she's just holding your hand or her knee is touching yours when you sit next to one another. her hand on your thigh under the table.
she always wants to be close. even during the hot summer months with her body still giving off heat.
she still wants to hug you from behind and have her arm around your waist. even if it makes you both sweat even more.
but this doesn't mean she won't be complaining about the heat. saying you're the one making her hot.
and don't you dare say anything about her making you too hot. she'll pout and whine if you push her hands away or dodge her kisses because she'll only make you hotter.
"no, abs. not right now. it's too hot to cuddle in be-" she cuts you off with an exaggerated whine.
"babbbbeeeeee!" her lips frown down into a pout, "You're so mean to me!"
she's so dramatic about it too. flipping on the bed and pouting as she then goes on to fake cry. whining and groaning like a wounded deer.
if you give her a couple kisses she'll be satisfied until she craves your attention in 5 minutes.
she can't go more than an hour without a kiss from you.
especially at work. having to go an 8 hour shift without a kiss? impossible in her eyes.
so she's always calling you and begging you to swing by and give her a kiss and a hug. and maybe a snack. a girl's gotta eat. what better than a homemade meal that her girlfriend made?
I imagine her working at like a hardware store. I dunno. I don't have reasons other than seeing her muscles flex when she lifts wooden boards or paint cans.
asking you to come over on her breaks. sitting on the bench outside if the weather allows it. listening to you talk about whatever you've been up to that day. work, school, errands. it doesn't matter. she could listen to your voice all day and still not be tired of hearing it.
she'd end up just admiring you as you speak. totally zoned out. chin in the palm of her hand as her elbow rests on her knee. just looking at your face. memorizing your features as if she won't ever see you again.
she'd only snap out of her daze when she realizes you stopped talking and your face is beet red because of her gaze.
"oh, sorry, babe. I didn't mean to stare. you're just so… pretty. pretty girl."
she can't help it. she's just a lovesick puppy!
a lovesick puppy that follows you around in the grocery store. holding onto your belt loop as you walk down the cereal aisle looking for abby's favorite. Captain Crunch.
she'd be looking at you with a big dopey grin. wrapping her arms around you in a hug. planting sweet kisses across your cheek and jaw. not caring if she's in the way or distracting you from the shelves of cereal.
when she's not staring at you, she's grabbing stuff she wants off the shelves and tossing them in the cart.
"really, abby? ramen noodles?"
"what? they're good."
"last time you had some, you complained. said it gave you a 'tummy ache'. remember?"
she smiles bashfully as she places the noodles back onto the shelf. "Yes, ma'am."
and as much as she likes to act touch and all strong. she's totally whipped for you. you tell her to bend over backward, she would. you say jump, she says "how high?"
shes always been like this. even before you two got together. always calling you ma'am. at first it was out of respect and because she was scared of you. pretty girls scare her. but eventually it turned into a way to tease you. she always liked how it made you blush a bit.
"abs did you wash the dishes?"
"yes, ma'am. I did." she usually says it with a cheeky grin.
unless you've scolded her for something. then she says it with a blush and a bit of submission in her voice.
like when she pushes herself too far at the gym. maybe she pulled a muscle or went too far to try and show off.
I mean, we all know abby is a gym rat through and through. like look at her. girl is beefy.
she loves the gym. she loves working out. she's very active. walking, lifting, anything really. she always likes walks with you in the morning.
the sun coming up, morning dew and fog out. the nice morning air. she'd make sure to slow down and match her strides with yours. not wanting to leave you behind. going at your pace. holding onto your hand and just chatting.
she's definitely a morning person. the latest she ever wakes up, even on her off days, is 8AM. she's always up and at em. even if you're not.
she makes herself a morning protein shake. goes for a jog, showers, and cleans the apartment before you've even woken up.
she's not one for sitting around and doing nothing. unless it's with you. if you're there, she'll be happy doing anything.
she's always so happy to have you around. a big grin always plastered on her face when you're in the room. her hands will find yours and squeeze.
if the two of you go out with friends, she won't leave your side. she won't let anyone else sit next to you. she'll have a hand on your leg and sit as close as she can.
most likely not listening to anyone talk but you. laughing at all your jokes, even if no one else does. even if it's a shit joke.
basically abby is perfect and amazing and I love her.
a/n: this is the first time I've written anything in like years. I used to write a bit on a different account, but yk.. life happened. but yeah, sorry if this sucks balls!
#the last of us#the last of us 2#abby anderson#abigail anderson#abby the last of us#tlou#tlou2#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie the last of us#ellie x reader#ellie x fem reader#abby tlou#abby and ellie#fluff#lesbian#sapphic#wlw post#wlw love#wlw#mine
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Edible Book Day 2024
the appetizers
A Commonplace Snack by Daemonluna
A collection of tropes and other ephemera, rendered in nori and rice paper. Sewn with a glass sweet potato noodle, ornamented with cilantro and lime.
This is how we roll (bamboo slips) by anonymous
This is the first book I have made since joining Renegade. I didn't think I'd get to make books and eat them too.
The (Not Actually) Matzah Plague Board Book by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie
10 Plagues by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie. Illustration by Noodle and Noodle's Auntie. Writing and Binding by Noodle. Materials: Gluten Free Matzo Substitute, fruit roll ups, fruit by the foot, sour belts, licorice, fruit rolls, sour sticks, cumin, water.
a fluffy breaduation by Sandy Kitty Bindery
i do not regret anything... except maybe the dentist bills ;)
Pancake Scroll by Zhalfirin
This was a lot easier than I had anticipated. A bit bland because I wasn't sure what I'd do the painting with and therefore didn't season the batter. It goes really well with a side of salmon and soy sauce though.
the mains
the iron chef secret ingredient was lasers
by Lark
lasers are friends not food.
6/10, at least I chose turkey this year.
The Count of Monte Cristo
by Thunder (Dragon's Thunder Press)
This was my first book bind ever. The case is French toast. The 2 signatures are each made of 3 omelet folios, and they're sewn with mozzarella string cheese strands. The end pages are each a slice of prosciutto, and they're pasted in with raspberry fruit syrup. Finally, the titling was done with black icing.
Sandwiches (And Books) Are Beautiful by Velvetwastaken
The ‘book’ ultimately failed to be readable as such due to a betrayal by the onion binding. But it tasted amazing, and thus I think still encapsulated the spirit of edible book day: good books are meant to be devoured.
and of course…
… the desserts!
Mistakes were Marbled by anonymous
I baked a strawberry cake with buttercream icing. The buttercream set a bit too quickly for the marbled effect to work, and attempts to fix it caused structural damage, resulting in ... this. I would like half-points for retaining good flavor, despite appearances.
Brandy Snaps by Lottie
Brandy snaps for the pages, strawberry laces for thread. Complete with two weaver’s knots to tie the strawberry laces together
Book Cookies by six
Sadly not fully functional books - the cases are rigid sugar cookies baked into various open forms. The pages are edible wafer paper marked up here and there w/ an edible ink pen and the frosting quite tasty! Experimented with two different sizes and various page configurations. Fed some of them to various Renegade members. There were no fatalities.
Titles are overrated by Zhalfirin
I'm still baffled this turned out the way it did.
It's a delicious little baumkuchen chonker (app. A6 in size and about 6cm thick) cased in chocolate powdered marzipan.
Don't forget to vote for your favorite! And check out last year's winners here.
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Love Thy Neighbor- pt 2
quite a few asked for a second part to this, so here we are!
Pt 1
Summary: Your daughter starts her first day at Abbott. You have an interview at that very same school. Paths are crossed.
WC: ~4k
Since Melissa’s dinner, your daughter has been begging to have the redhead over for dinner again.
“She just makes spaghetti so much better than you!” your daughter squeals. “Please, Momma!”
“I told her the next time we have dinner, I’m cooking,” you chuckle as you settle her into her trailer for another day of DoorDashing together.
You’re able to make relatively good money in a short amount of time, and you figure it should probably be an earlier night for Ellie since she’s starting school tomorrow. So, you head to the grocery store and gather ingredients for tonight’s dinner.
As you’re locking your bike to the rack, you hear your daughter’s squeaky little voice calling, “Hi, Miss Melissa!”
You turn, and there is your neighbor, getting out of her car with a few grocery bags of her own.
“Hey, little girl!” the redhead waves and smiles. “How are you?”
“Good!” Ellie chirps. “Momma’s making spaghetti for dinner before I have to go to school tomorrow!” She then proceeds to whisper yell, “Don’t tell ‘er, but I like your spaghetti more!”
“You little stinker,” you chuckle. You grab a few of the bags from the trailer before standing up and waving to Melissa.
She waits for the two of you to make your way across the parking lot before opening the door to your building. Together, you make the trek up the four flights of steps with Ellie talking both of your ears off about how she’s excited to start her first day of kindergarten at the new school. She’s talking so animatedly that your heart melts- she’s usually so shy, but not around Melissa.
“Do you want to come over for dinner?” Ellie invites your neighbor over with a smile. She’s secretly hoping that the redhead will offer to make dinner instead of you.
Melissa glances to you, and when you nod your head and smile, she accepts the invitation. “And if your Momma is okay with it, I would be more than happy to make you your special before school dinner.”
Ellie’s eyes light up, and she jumps with excitement. “Please, Momma!”
You blink a few times, but you nod. “If Miss Melissa is okay with it,” you chuckle.
Ellie squeals with excitement, and she’s quick to hug the woman with red hair, entirely forgetting that she has groceries in her hand.
“You just made her day,” you laugh. “She’s been asking to have you over again since the last time you made her dinner.”
“Just let me put away my groceries, and then I’ll be over, okay Ellie?” Melissa grins as she lays a gentle hand on your daughter’s shoulder.
“Can I help you?!” Ellie grins.
“Sure, if that’s okay with your Momma,” the redhead glances at you. Ellie looks to you with wide pleading eyes, and you nod.
Melissa allows Ellie to run into her own apartment with a promise that they’ll be over in a few minutes. You tell her the door will be open before heading into your apartment to put the groceries away.
They make their way over after a few minutes, Ellie carefully carrying over a cutting board and a bag filled with produce for dinner.
“Thank you, little helper,” Melissa chuckles.
You’re just pulling down the wine glasses as they come in. “Red or white?” you ask the woman.
“Red, please,” she requests, and you oblige. The two of you clink your glasses together before Ellie comes bouncing up to you and holding her arms out for you to pick her up.
“My little snuggle bug,” you hold her close, pressing kisses all over her face. She squeals with delight. “Why don’t you go put on your pajamas while Miss Melissa makes dinner?”
Ever the obedient little girl, she wiggles out of your arms and runs off to change her clothes. She’s back in a flash, grinning at the two of you.
“Miss Mel, can I help you?”
The woman smiles brightly. “Of course, hun. Can you grab me a pot for the noodles, and can you grab the sauce pan for the sauce? When I get that started, you can help me stir everything.”
Ellie is all grins as she retrieves the items.
The two of them make dinner together, you watching with a smile on your face as you drink your wine and check your email for any word from any of the places that you had applied. There is one- from Abbott. You grin, email the principal back saying that you would love to set up a time for an interview before closing your laptop. You tune back into their conversation, and Melissa is asking your daughter if she’s excited to start school tomorrow.
Your little girl turns a bit red, and she shrugs. “I’m nervous,” she admits quietly. “I miss my school and friends in Utah.”
“I’m sure you do hun, but your new school is going to be great,” Melissa tries to soothe. “I’m sure of it.”
“You pinky promise?” Ellie whispers and holds out her pinky.
The redhead is quick to wrap her own pinky around hers. “You’re going to be so brave tomorrow when you come in, and you’ll love it.”
Silently, she makes a note to check with Ava whose class Ellie would be in so she could surprise her and make her feel more at ease for her first day of school.
Dinner is ready a few minutes later, and it’s as delicious as it was the last time, if not more so.
After dinner, Ellie climbs into your lap. You take her and your glass of wine over to the couch, inviting Melissa to join you.
“One show, lovey,” you tell your daughter as she reaches for the remote. “Then it’s off to dreamland.”
“One show, and then one story?” she asks hopefully. At your nod, she gently pats Melissa’s arms. “Can you read me my one story?”
The redhead looks endeared that Ellie has taken such a liking to her and wants her to read. “If your Momma is okay with it.”
“Please,” she whispers into the crook of your neck as she navigates the television and settles on an episode of Bluey.
“That’s just fine, love bug,” you tell her. “But only one story, and then it’s lights out.”
You girl nods against you, and when the episode is over, she takes your neighbor’s hand and leads her to her bedroom. Ellie picks out a story and climbs into bed, waiting for you to tuck her in.
You do, and then you and Melissa are settling on the edge of the bed to read.
The redhead is really good at reading. She uses the silly voices, makes funny faces, and brings the characters to life in a way that you never could for your daughter. It’s… impressive, and you find yourself hanging onto every word she utters even though you practically have this story memorized.
The woman finishes the story before closing the book. “Get some good sleep tonight, El. I can’t wait to hear about your day tomorrow.” She brushes a few of your daughter’s hairs out of her face with a smile before she stands.
“If you want another glass, feel free to pour yourself one,” you tell Melissa as you scoot closer to Ellie. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“I should probably head out with work tomorrow, but thank you for having me over again,” she says softly. “I can just see myself out.”
“Thank you for making dinner again,” you chuckle. “I promise, next time I’m cooking.”
“Thank you for dinner, Miss Melissa,” Ellie says softly, the warmth of her blankets making her sleepy.
With that, your neighbor heads out, and you press a soft kiss to your little girl’s temple. “I love you, baby girl,” you whisper. You turn the lamp off and head out, leaving the door just the slightest bit open.
You clean up dinner before heading to bed yourself.
The next morning is chaotic. Ellie is absolutely terrified of going to her new school, and you are doing everything you can do soothe her, but nothing is working. Finally, you just lift her into your arms and take her down to the garage. You get her into the bike trailer before taking off. As you’re pedaling out of the garage, Melissa passes you in her own car, waving and honking her horn shortly to say hello and good bye.
After quite some time, you’re able to get Ellie to walk into the school- tears still in her eyes, and you’re met with the principal. She leads you down to the kindergarten classroom that your daughter will be in for the remainder of the year, and you take in the sights as you know this is where you will be interviewing tomorrow.
When you get to the classroom, there is an older teacher standing there smiling brightly and talking to a woman who has her back to you, although you would recognize that red hair anywhere.
“Melissa?” you call softly.
“You know Schemmenti?” the principal raises a brow.
She spins on her heel with a smile. “We’re neighbors, Ava. Hey, Y/N.” She crouches down to Ellie’s height and smiles warmly. “Hey there, hun.”
“Miss Mel,” your daughter lets go of your hand to throw herself into Melissa’s arms. Your neighbor wraps her up in her arms and holds her with love.
“What are you doing here?” you ask.
“Working,” Melissa chuckles. “I told you I have experience with kids.”
“Miss Mel,” Ellie sighs again, clutching onto her leather jacket tightly. “I don’t wanna go to school… I can’t be brave like you said.”
“You’re already brave getting to your classroom,” Melissa tells her. “And guess what?”
Ellie hums to indicate she’s listening.
“Your teacher, Mrs. Howard, is my best friend,” the redhead says softly. “And she is so excited to have you join her class of busy bees.”
“Really?” the little girl asks.
“Really. I just got done telling her what a sweet little girl you are and telling her how lucky she is to have you join. Why don’t you say hi, and then we can check out the room together?”
Ellie squeaks out a small “hi” before hiding her face in Melissa’s shoulder again.
“Hi there, sweetheart,” Mrs. Howard says softly, also crouching down to look at your daughter. “I’m Mrs. Howard, and Miss Mel was just telling me how wonderful and bright you are. I am so lucky that you get to join my hive of busy bees.”
“Why don’t we go check out the room together?” the redhead suggests softly.
Ellie nods, but she doesn’t make any moves to leave the woman’s side. So, Melissa easily lifts her and sets her on her hip to take her into the room. You can’t help but watch in awe at how well your neighbor is handling your girl’s first day jitters.
The kindergarten teacher smiles as she stands back up straight and extends a hand out your way. “Barbara.”
“Y/N,” you shake it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“If you’d like to come in for a bit to help Ellie adjust, I would be more than okay with that,” the teacher tells you. “I find that sometimes it helps the little ones on their first day.”
You step inside, and you can see Ellie giggling as Melissa makes some of the new erasers on her desk dance.
“She’s happy now,” you sigh happily. “Oh thank God.” You make your way over to the desk that your girl is sitting at, and absolutely revel in the sweet bubbles of laughter coming from your daughter.
After a bit though, you know you have to go. The rest of the kids will be coming in soon. You wrap your little girl up in your arms, promising you’ll be back at the end of the day to pick her up, and she kisses your cheek gently.
“I love you, Momma.”
“I love you too, sweetness.” With that, you thank Melissa and Barbara before heading out.
A few minutes later, Melissa knows that she has to head down to her own room as well. She stands with a sigh, and Ellie immediately tenses.
“Miss Mel,” she whimpers. “Don’t go.”
“I have to, kiddo,” the redhead says sadly. “I have to go teach my own room, but I promise you Mrs. Howard is going to take great care of you. I made her promise to keep my favorite six year old happy. You’re going to be okay.”
“She did,” Barbara chimes in as she stands from her desk and makes her way to the door to greet the rest of her students.
Ellie nods, unsure of it all. But if Miss Melissa says she’ll be okay, she will be.
“And if you feel sad or need a hug, I’m sure Mrs. Howard would walk you down to my room for a hug.”
The kindergarten teacher nods with a smile.
“Have a good day, Ellie,” Melissa tells your daughter, giving her one last hug, before leaving the room and heading down the hall for her own room.
When lunch time rolls around, Barbara brings your little girl into the faculty room. The second grade teacher is already sitting in her seat and is scrolling through her phone when she hears Ellie’s squeaky voice.
“Miss Mel,” Ellie runs over to your neighbor and engulfs her in a hug.
“Hey, sweet girl,” the redhead smiles. “You havin’ a good day?”
The six year old nods with a smile on her face. “I jus’ wanted to give you a snuggle. I gotta go to lunch now, and Momma packed me the leftover spaghetti from last night!”
Ellie leaps off of Melissa’s lap and takes Barb’s hand. The kindergarten teacher walks her down to the lunch room before returning and settling next to her work wife.
“She’s doing okay?” Melissa asks.
Barbara nods with a smile. “Ellie is a bright little thing. And she adores you. All morning she was telling the kids that ‘Miss Mel’ is the nicest. All of my kids were so confused until I told them she was talking about Miss Schemmenti.”
The redhead chuckles. “I guess I gotta tell the pipsqueak to call me Miss Schemmenti at school.”
You bring your bike to a stop and wait for your daughter to appear at the door. You spot her clinging to Melissa, a bright smile on her face. Only once she spots you does she drop the teacher’s hand. The redhead waves in your direction with a smile before continuing to monitor dismissal.
“Momma!” She leaps into your arms, and you hug her as tightly as you can, spinning her in a circle and kissing all over her face.
“There’s my girl,” you smile. “You have a good day?”
Ellie immediately launches into a very detailed tale about her day, and you can’t be more thankful that Melissa was there to help ease her into this new routine. You’ll have to pick her up a bottle of wine on the way home to give her as a thanks.
“And Miss Mel came down at the end of the day and let me hold her hand the whole way out!”
“That was very kind of her,” you steal a glance at your daughter as you bike towards the grocery store.
You pick up the bottle of wine that you were going to give to your neighbor before heading home.
It’s later that night, once you’ve gotten your daughter to bed, that you head across the hall and knock on the redhead’s door.
She opens it, hair tied up messily and glasses sitting on the tip of her nose. “Hey.”
You offer her the bottle of wine. “As a thanks for helping out my little one through her first day jitters.”
“Oh, you don’t need to thank me,” Melissa chuckles.
“Please,” you continue to hold it out. “You made my life so much easier this morning. When were you going to tell me you were a teacher?”
“I told you I had experience with kids,” she shrugs.
You roll your eyes. “But you never said you were a teacher at my child’s school! I thought you were referring to nieces and nephews or something.”
“Nah. Been teaching for a while now. Pretty good with the little rascals, if I do say so myself.”
“Yeah,” you chuckle. You thrust the wine bottle into her hands.
“You’re really insisting on this, aren’t you?” You nod. “Well then come in and share it with me.”
“I gotta keep an eye on El,” you chuckle. “But if you really want a wine buddy, you’re more than welcome to come over and make yourself comfortable.”
She smiles, grabs her key, and heads over to your apartment before settling on the couch.
The two of you share a few glasses of wine together, talking about everything.
“And how’s the job search coming along?” Melissa asks you.
You perk up slightly. “I actually have an interview tomorrow.”
“Oh?” Melissa raises a brow, looking impressed. “And where would that be?”
“Abbott Elementary,” you deadpan, a smirk on your face. “For the third grade teaching position that they haven’t filled yet.”
The redhead grins. You’ll be taking over her portion of the third grade class that she has in her room, and she’s already been told that whoever they hire will work closely with her to ensure that the students transition nicely. She wouldn’t mind getting to work with you. She would enjoy it even. “I’ll put in a good word for you tomorrow morning with Ava.”
“You don’t even know my experience.”
She has a copy of your resume in her hand when she leaves, and she studies it long and hard before heading to bed that night.
The next morning, you’re rushing around to get Ellie ready for school while also trying to prepare yourself for this interview when there’s a knock on your door.
“It’s Melissa!” your neighbor calls.
“Ellie girl,” you call from the kitchen. “Can you open the door for Miss Melissa?”
You hear your daughter squeal with excitement as she runs to greet possibly her new favorite person in the world. “Miss Mel!”
“Hey, hun,” you hear that soft voice that she reserves for your daughter. “Where’s your momma?”
“Making breakfast,” Ellie grins a toothy grin. “I lost a tooth last night!”
“Oh!” the redhead exclaims. “Did the tooth fairy come?”
“Mhm! I got twenty bucks!”
“Twenty?!” Melissa’s eyes go wide. She lifts your little girl onto her hip before making her way into the kitchen. You look rather frazzled as you try to apply your makeup while also cooking breakfast.
“Woah. Slow down there,” the redhead tells you as she enters the room.
“Can’t,” you get out as you continue to apply some foundation. “Gotta get El to school and myself ready for this interview.”
“How can I help?”
You shrug, continuing to put on your face.
“El,” Melissa looks at your daughter. “Can you go finish getting ready for your momma?”
Ellie wiggles her way out of Melissa’s hold before running into her bedroom to continue picking out her outfit.
“Twenty bucks?” Melissa chuckles as she takes the spatula out of your hand and starts tending to the eggs in the pan.
“The tooth fairy was a little tipsy last night and grabbed the wrong bill,” you groan. “Hey! Give me that back; I can do it!”
“What you can do right now is let me make breakfast and take Ellie to school with me while you focus on this interview you have coming up,” the teacher tells you as she holds the utensil just out of your reach.
“What? No,” you protest. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Let me help you,” the woman says. “It’s not like taking El to school is out of my way either. She can just hang out in my room with me until school starts.”
Flustered and frazzled, you shake your head to ground yourself. “Okay, okay. Thank you.”
“What time is your interview?”
“Nine,” you sigh as you apply some concealer to hide the bags under your eyes.
“So… while I take Ellie, you’ll have plenty of time to put yourself together and get to the school,” she promises. “You’ll do your interview, and you’ll be great.”
“Thank you,” you say softly. “Seriously, thank you.”
“Go. Put something nice on- the principal loves people that dress well. I’ll handle this, feeding El, and get her to school with me.”
“There’s a booster seat by the door for her,” you sigh as you make your way towards the bedrooms.
You stop at your daughter’s room, and she’s put on her favorite sundress. She’s spinning in front of her mirror, giggling.
“Little miss,” you knock on her doorframe after a few moments of watching her pure delight. “Momma’s gonna get ready for her interview while Miss Melissa makes breakfast, and then she’s going to take you to school.”
“Really?!” she stops her spinning, and her eyes go wide. She breaks out into the biggest smile.
“Really,” you smile. “So, I expect you to be the sweet little girl that you are and listen to Miss Melissa. Can you do that for me?”
Your daughter nods, and you crouch down to open up your arms for her to fly into. She does with such a force that you nearly fall over. “I love you, sweetness.”
“Love you too, Momma,” Ellie sighs softly. She kisses your cheek. “Good luck with your view!” And with that, she’s running into the kitchen bellowing Melissa’s name.
You’re trying to decide on an outfit when you hear the front door open, and they both shout their goodbyes.
Ellie talks Melissa’s ear off the entire car ride to the school, and Melissa couldn’t be happier walking hand in hand with the little girl to her classroom.
“Alright, little girl. I have to go talk to Principal Coleman, and you are going to sit in the office quietly for me. Sound like a plan?”
Ellie nods enthusiastically. “Can I pick a book to take with me?”
“Sure.”
After a few minutes, the two are walking down to the front office. Your daughter finds a seat and opens up the book, swinging her legs idly. Melissa knocks on the principal’s door to put in the promised good word for you.
She ends up going off on a tangent about how wonderful you are, and how Ava would be a fool if she didn’t hire you.
Ava grins.
You take the bus to the school, knowing you don’t want to show up to this interview sweaty from a fifteen minute bike ride. God, you can’t wait until you get your car out here- life will be so much easier.
You walk into the front office looking confident, and Ava grins.
“Y/N,” she extends a hand, and you shake it firmly. The principal looks you up and down, clearly impressed with your outfit choice. She leads you into her office and takes a seat.
You hand her your resume, which she promptly puts into the trash. That… shocks you.
“I don’t even need to interview you to know you’re gonna be just fine here as part of our team,” the woman flashes you a smile and hands over the documents that you need in order to make your employment official. “You start next week.”
“What?” you ask, clearly shocked.
“A little birdie came in here earlier to tell me about how wonderful you are and that I would be a fool to not hire you,” Ava says. “So… the job’s yours.”
You don’t quite know what Melissa told the principal to get her to hire you on the spot without an interview or a demo lesson… but you know you’re going to have to get her a bottle of wine as a thank you- a bottle of wine that the two of you will inevitably end up sharing tonight in celebration.
#melissa schemmenti fanfic#melissa schemmenti x you#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti#abbott elementary fanfic#abbott elementary fanfiction#abbott elementary
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Sick and regressed ☆´ˎ˗ ︶︶︶
Well, while I'm writting this I'm bedridden (likely with covid), and for some reason I really want to spend my sick days regressed and take something good out of it at least.
Getting comfy!
🧦: Pajamas time! Is there anything more regressor-coded than cozy printed pajamas, an animal kigurumi or onesie? I'd say no. And since I'm staying on bed, I'm surely wearing those all day long.
🛏️: Bed setup! When you're bedridden, a bed table ends up being really useful in case you want to do stuff that requires a flat surface. If you have one of those, lucky you! I, however had to improvise with a smooth wooden board standing on my lap, therefore any kind of long, resilient and flat surface can do the job just fine.
🧦: Blanket fort! Alternatively, if you're able to roam around your house or have someone to help, you can build a blanket fort over your bed or a comfy surface to stay in!
🛏️: Sick gear! Runny nose? Bring tissues. Got a fever? Make a cold damp towel for your forehead. Tummy aches or localized pain? Make a hot water compress. And make sure to keep track of the meds you're taking, of course.
🧦: Get your plushies! Since what I got is very contagious close contact with anyone is out of the table, but my stuffies are completely immune to sickness and ready to cuddle! (I'll have to wash them afterwards to disinfect them though)
Games and activities!
🎮: Viddy games! Either on computer, phone or a console (handheld preferred), videogames are perfectly stationary and don't require much movement from your part.
🖍️: Table games! Table games are also stationary and can be played right from your bed if you have a bed table, although most games need other people to play with you, your plushies can serve this purpose.
🎮: Play pretend! Playing pretend can be limited when you're bedridden, but there are some scenarios you're perfectly able to do! Such as pretending you're a shop owner and your stuffies are the clients, pretending your stuffies are your doctors/nurses taking care of you, or vice versa. Things like tea parties and pretend schools are still on the table!
🖍️: Arts and crafts! Being sick won't stop me from wanting to draw and color, since I can do it from my bed anyways! Aside from drawing and coloring, I might as well do some collage and paper craft, just might need help to clean up afterwards.
🎮: Cartoon time! No better opportunity to (re)watch your favorite cartoons than when you're sick, bedridden and bored, right? And since this brings me comfort, here are some cartoon episodes that center on being sick: Bumpy and the Wise Old Wolfhound (Bluey), Steve Gets The Sniffles (Blues Clues), Bear Flu (We Bare Bears), Doctor Daisy M.D (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse), Arthur's Chicken Pox (Arthur)
Snack time!
🍼: Hot drinks! Specially if you're with a cold or a sore throat in general, hot drinks such as hot cocoa and tea are perfect for warming up an icky throat.
🧁: Spices for a sore throat! Like mint, honey, ginger and lemon. I'm sure there's plentiful of drinks you can make using these!
🍼: Give preference to healthy snacks and meals! Like fruits and veggies, yogurt, noodles, soup or sandwiches. Bonus points if they're arranged in a fun shape (animal, plant, star, etc)!
🧁: Keep your appetite in check! It's pretty common to lose your appetite when sick, therefore I'd say it's ideal to keep your meals smaller (and sometimes eat more often) than usual.
Taking care of yourself!
🧸: Stay hydrated! Water is always good, and if you're sick you likely need it more than usual, drinking from sippy cups, baby bottles, straw cups or any kind of fun themed cup is usually more fun and encouraging than boring adult cups.
🧶: Keep your temperature in check as well! Besides from checking if you have a fever ever so often, it's also good to keep yourself warm with blankets and heating if your body feels cold, or alternatively, turning on fans and using lighter sheets instead of blankets if you're too hot.
🧸: Beware the germs! If you got a contagious disease (like me), make sure to properly wash and disinfect anything you bring to your mouth such as pacis, teethers, bottles and cutlery before and after using them. Plus, it's important to wear a mask or ask others to wear a mask when near you as well.
🧶: Resting is key! Some of these days I'm too tired to do anything above, and I'd rather just nap the whole day, and that's okay! Sometimes being sick means not being able to do anything at all and it's important to have your extended napping time to get better.
#agere sfw#sfw agere#agere#agere blog#sfw agere blog#age regression#age regressor#sfw regression#sfw regressor#safe agere#noncom agere#agere advice#agere tips#agere ideas#agere activities#blankiefort ★´ˎ˗#kitty rambles ★´ˎ˗
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Details I enjoy from the fanbook:
Shou has naturally curly hair
Ritsu might want to study science in college
ONE thinks Shou would be a good protagonist for a hypothetical MP100 sequel
The place Reigen and Shigeo get ramen at has a two star rating. Noodles are free, though
Shigeo still has the monkey shirt and plans on wearing it to an important event someday
Teru denies ever having worn a wig and claims his hair just suddenly "mysteriously increased in volume"
Reigen pays Serizawa a ¥300 salary. Upon being told he's getting reported to a labor board he panics and leaves
Q: Tsubomi-chan, what's the probability Mob-kun can become your boyfriend? / A: Right now? 0%.
Teru doesn't know he has a questionable fashion sense and has difficulty thinking of things he's not good at
Tsubomi is very curt and gives shorter answers. At one point she defensively says she's "not an AI"
Shou's entire section. He makes puns with his name, enjoys doodling in textbooks, plays horror games with his friends from school, and just generally seems to be doing a lot better
Ritsu doesn't socialize much with his classmates, but Shou considers Ritsu a close friend and they went on a fishing trip that turned into a discussion about family
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Bad Timing ~ Part 11
Pairings: Zoro x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Fem!Reader, Robin x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3798
This is part 11 of the Series 'We've All Got Needs,' linked below:
We've All Got Needs Masterlist
Ao3 Link
Summary: The boys are still overprotective, and someone gets their feelings hurt.
Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem!Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Relationship Discussions, Relationship Drama, Polyamory, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Porn with Feelings, Cigarettes, they’re gross, don’t smoke, Condoms, Insecurity, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare
A/N: Hope you enjoy the drama!
“Darling, I adore you, but must I really be your target practice this morning?”
Sanji was wiping a small, soggy wad of paper off of his lapel. You purred at him as you prepared another spitball.
“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll help you clean up later.”
You almost felt bad for abusing the power you had over Sanji with his near desperate need for you. Almost.
“By all means, my love. Though I was hoping that you’d be wearing less clothes when you spit on me.”
You choked, but managed to aim at him again. A smug laugh escaped you when you got him on the forehead.
He wiped it off, then lunged at you, kissing, and tickling you until you were squirming in his arms.
“If you don’t stop teasing me, sweetheart, I might forget myself, and take you right here. Fuck you on deck in front of the whole crew. Would you like that?”
You gasped in between laughs, until another voice cut in.
“Get a room, guys! Some of us are trying to work.”
Pulling yourself away, you found Usopp tinkering.
“Sorry, Usopp. I don’t think Sanji is a good option for target practice. Do you have a board I can use?”
The board was satisfying as you could see your progress more clearly, but it definitely wasn’t as fun.
After lunch, Nami had you running around the deck, then doing push ups until you were dripping with sweat.
“What about fighting?”
“We‘ll get there, noodle arms. First you’ve gotta build up some strength first.”
If your arms weren’t dead, you would have punched her.
At dinner, you were practically melting into your seat. The shower had cleaned away your sweat, but not your exhaustion.
“You’d better not tire yourself out this much tomorrow. I won’t go easy on you.”
Shivering at Zoro’s whispered threat, you leaned forward to grab another glass of water.
As you leaned away from him you caught Robin’s gaze. You adored her little smile, always so much hidden meaning behind her eyes. Fighting all the lovely distractions in your life, you turned your sights on your friend.
“Usopp, how are things coming along?”
You were trying to keep your excitement down, but you were practically buzzing.
“Not there yet, Y/N, but I can show you my plans tomorrow.”
Zoro’s hand gripped almost painfully into your thigh, and you looked a question at him.
He let go, smoothing his hand on your skirt before coughing, then leaning toward the sniper.
“I need to look over those plans-“
“And me as well, Usopp.”
“Guys.”
Your swordsman and your cook looked at you, both looking stubborn as hell. You didn’t want to fight them every step of the way with this.
“Luffy, are you excited for me to practice, and use my skills more?”
“Of course, Y/N! That’s why you’re here.”
His grin was infectious, and you felt shivers over your skin at your captain’s support.
“Thanks, captain!”
Sanji turned away as he started on dishes, while Zoro tensed beside you. They both stayed behind, watching silently as you stretched your sore arms.
“This isn’t your decision. You guys need to stop with this overprotective crap.”
“Not gonna happ-
“I’ll never stop pro-”
“Stop!”
Real anger came out this time, and you watched shock flit across both of their faces, before their determination settled back in. You weren’t going to let it slide again.
“I’m serious! I need you guys to remember that I’m not just your girlfriend, not just some girl you fuck. I’m a Straw Hat Pirate, and you need to respect me as one.”
You tried to keep your breathing steady as you watched their faces. You couldn’t decipher them both at once, so you pushed again before they could speak.
“This isn’t a game to me. You can either help me, or get over it... I’m going to take a break tonight. I’ll be working and training tomorrow, but if you want, we can have our time tomorrow night instead, Sanji.”
“Of course I-”
“Shut up, waiter. Y/N-”
You didn't stay, you were too overwhelmed with righteous frustration and creeping self doubt to keep it together.
Staring at the ceiling, you tried to be excited about your plans, but all you felt was empty. A soft knock shook you out of dissociation, and you opened the door without thinking.
“Hey, Needy.”
You furrowed your brows at the clearly sleepy first mate leaning on your doorframe.
“Hey, Zoro. What’s up?”
“Can I come in,” he asked as he pushed his way in. You just chuckled, and let him pass.
He turned to face you, and you raised your eyebrows.
“I’m, uh. I’m sorry.”
Crossing your arms, you did your best Zoro impression as you looked him over.
“Doesn’t look like it to me.
His surprised laugh brought you back to yourself.
“I’m serious, Needy. You were right. I still need to treat you like a member of the crew.”
Smiling, you moved toward him, touching his fingers lightly.
“Yes, you do. A crewmate with extra benefits.”
The look on his face almost had you on your knees, but you pulled him into a hug instead.
“Thank you, Zoro. I’d love your help with this, as long as you aren’t hovering like a mama bird.”
He huffed a laugh as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.
“You know this means I’m gonna kick your ass, right?”
“Looking forward to it!”
Zoro had you squirming with laughter and kisses, but you shooed him out and went to sleep, feeling warmth keeping the self doubt at bay.
~
Actually getting work and training done during the day felt good, but you had to shake yourself after every intense glance Sanji sent you.
You swirled the ice in your drink while he finished his dinner. Your skin was getting hotter every moment as he watched you. His eyes looked darker, and his breathing hitched when he saw you move or gasp. The way he reacted always made you want to perform for him, to tease him. Just to see what else you could make him do.
Setting his plate aside, he gripped your hand in his, and a sudden shift in his body language had you on edge.
“Everything okay?”
“Actually, Y/N, I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Sanji’s thumbs were tracing along your hand and wrist, but he wasn’t meeting your eyes. A sour feeling sank into your gut, and you couldn’t stand it.
“What do you mean, Sanji?”
He took a deep breath before finally meeting your gaze, his brows tensed slightly.
“I know that you need breaks whenever you choose, and that I shouldn’t be concerned about it.”
That sour feeling started to twist, and you steadied your breathing. Don’t react yet, I don’t know what he’s going to say.
He squeezed your hand lightly before continuing.
“I’ve just noticed that it seems to happen on my days with you more frequently.”
The tightness softened, and you started to reassure him. His eyes turned hard, and your words died in your throat when he kept going.
“Then last night I came to apologize after I finished cleaning up here.”
Sanji looked away from you again, and you saw his jaw clenching as he sat back.
“I know you took a break, but it was supposed to be my night. And then I caught him sneaking out of your room.”
You stared at him, not sure how to handle this. Sanji’s lips were pressed together, and he only met your gaze for a moment before looking down at your hands. He let you go. You reached for him, but he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it, and blowing the smoke away from you. Almost like an excuse not to look at you.
“I’m sorry, Sanji. Zoro just came to apologize. Nothing happened between us last night.”
You watched his jaw clenching more tightly, and you didn’t think excuses and explanations would get through to him.
“I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel unwanted, Sanji. I swear it’s all just bad timing.”
He met your eyes, and you saw more hurt than anger there. You reached for his free hand again, and he let you hold it, though it stayed unmoving under your touch.
“What can I do to help you feel wanted, Sanji? I want you, and I love being with you. How can I show you that?”
Sanji chewed his lip, shaking his head slightly as he thought of his response. He clenched his jaw again, and it looked like the anger won out this time.
“Do you want him more than you want me?”
“Wh-What?”
He pulled his hand back again, leaving yours empty and cold.
“What can I do to make you want me more, Y/N? I don’t think I can be rough with you like he is.”
His voice was heavy, and you wished he’d look at you.
“Sanji, please. I don’t want you to be different, I love everything you do with me, for me. This isn’t a competition.”
“Isn’t it? If you’re choosing to spend more time with him over me, aren’t I losing?”
“Sanji…”
He exhaled sharply, standing up to pace, leaving trails of smoke in his wake.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know I’m only making things worse.”
You stood, catching his wrist, and pulling him to face you. You had to put a hand to his cheek to bring his eyes to yours, avoiding the cigarette he held between his lips.
“Sanji, we’re fucking human, okay? None of us are going to handle things perfectly. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel this way, and I want to fix it. Thank you for talking to me about it before it got worse.”
His breath was heavy, and he pulled the cigarette away before the ashes could fall on you. He walked away from your touch again, putting his cigarette out. Heat was high in your throat as you watched him lean on the table and face you. He met your eyes, but closed his for a long moment before speaking softly.
“We’ve just started. I just got you. And now you’re putting yourself in danger. And that swordsman already has your heart… I don’t want to lose you already.”
Sanji looked lost, and the barest trace of tears at the corners of his eyes had your heart breaking for him. You had to go to him, taking his face in your hands, watching him blink away the unspilled tears.
“Sanji, you haven’t lost me. I’m not going anywhere. I want to be with you! I’m so sorry I haven’t been showing it.”
You felt warm tears fall down your face. Sanji finally broke his distance, and reached for you, kissing and wiping away your tears.”
“Please don’t cry for me, mon amour.”
You laughed, hearing the tears in your voice.
“Does it show you I care? I want you, Sanji.”
He kissed you then, and you heard what sounded like a whimper in his throat. You remembered what he’d shared about his time with Zeff on the island, and you realized you hadn’t thought about how his trauma could affect his relationships. I’m so stupid.
You both pulled back, gently tracing fingers down each other’s faces and arms, twirling through hair as your breathing relaxed.
“Thank you for telling me you’ve been hurting. I don’t want to make you feel this way again. What can I do?”
He shook his head with a small smile.
“I’m not sure, darling. I feel better now, with you in my arms.”
You let out a contented sigh as he pulled you against him, kissing the top of your head.
“I know you’re worried about me learning to fight. Do you want to come look at my plans, and maybe help me with some ideas?”
Sanji tensed slightly, but he let out a long breath before agreeing to meet you in your quarters.
Your face was red from crying, but not too bad. Grabbing your notes, you waited for him. You realized this was the first time you’d be alone together in your room, since you usually spent your time in the kitchen. Or the pantry.
That thought made your skin flush even more, and you gasped at the small knock on your door.
Sanji’s soft, knowing smile when he walked in made you chew your lip, and you grinned at the small bag he’d brought with him.
You had to force yourself not to straddle him before showing him your notes.
“Y/N, this is very well done.”
“But?”
He looked away, breathing deep before continuing.
“I will support you in this. But this weapon could hurt you just as much as it could hurt an enemy. Maybe more.”
Digging your fingers into your palm, you tried not to take his criticism personally. I know he’s only concerned for my safety.
“I know, Sanji. That’s why we agreed that I won’t take it off the ship until I’m ready.”
He bit his lip as he nodded at you.
“It really is a brilliant idea, sweetheart.”
Now you straddled him.
“Was that so hard to say?”
He laughed, his eyes sparkling as he pulled you closer, dragging your thighs along his until you felt him already getting hard beneath you.
“Is my sweet angel telling me that I don’t praise her enough? Oh, I can’t have that.”
He nuzzled into your neck, kissing and nibbling. You giggled at the tickling sensation, then gasped as you felt him twitch under you, his length turning to stone the more you squirmed for him.
“My gorgeous, brilliant girl. I should never have doubted you. You are so perfect, perfect for me.”
Your hands tugged at his hair, then pulled at his shirt until you could touch the skin of his back.
“Mon chéri, my radiant love, there aren’t words for how you enchant me.”
Still gasping and giggling, you started to punch his arms, your own still sore from working out.
“Stop, stop!”
The look on Sanji’s face when he pulled back made you moan, which only made him look more dangerous. His raspy words sent shivers all the way down to your toes.
“If you won’t let me tell you how much I adore you, will you give me the honor of showing you?”
All you could do was nod, then gasp as he lifted you before throwing you onto the bed. It was more forceful than Sanji normally was, and it sped your pulse.
Your jaw fell open as you watched him take his shirt off, the sight of the toned muscles he always hid made your brain pause.
After your reverie, you pulled your top off, but then Sanji’s large hands took over, taking each item of clothing off while his thumbs traced warm circles along your skin.
“Mm, that feels so good.”
“Sweetheart, we haven’t gotten started yet.”
The smile he gave you then took your breath. He smiled at you like you were his whole world, and the force of it sent chills across your body.
He pulled your panties away last, admiring the trails of slick that had already pooled there.
“Nuh uh, I’m running out.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love,” he teased with a laugh. He still brought them to his face, and his eyes rolled back as he breathed in the scent.
He started to lean toward you, but you shooed him away.
“Your turn.”
Sanji grinned, but obliged. You couldn’t help the way your breath hitched when you watched him free himself from his pants. Your eyes went unfocused for a moment, until you saw the precum pooling at the tip of his thick cock. You cried out when it twitched for you, back arching.
“You want me that much, beautiful?”
His tease held some of that pain from before, and you needed it gone.
“Touch me, Sanji, see how much I want you.”
You spread your thighs for him, and the desperate look on his face made your body clench for him, your pussy aching for him to fill it.
“Please, Sanji, I want you so bad.”
A low whine came from his throat as he lunged toward you. You twitched as he traced his fingers along your center, pulling away with thick strands of your need for him.
“Fuuck, angel…”
“Please, fuck me, Sanji. I need you to fuck me right now.”
He’d shoved his fingers in his mouth, tasting you while you begged for him.
You were about to whine, but then you moaned as he shoved two fingers into you, twisting and curling until you were grinding on his hand.
“F-Fuck, Sanji, I’m close.”
“So soon, mon coeur? But I have all night to take care of you. How many times do you think you can dance for me?”
He taunted those words as he added a third finger, and used his other hand to toy with your clit. You were panting, clenching your teeth to keep from screaming while you came.
“You look so gorgeous like that, darling. While your perfect pussy squeezes my fingers like this. Do you think you’re ready, my love?”
You met his eyes, dark with lust, and nodded as you kept twitching.
“P-Please Sanji, I want you, please fuck me.”
His hands left you only to cradle your face while he kissed you, leaving trails of your pleasure along your jaw.
You stared open mouthed as he pulled a condom and lube out of that little bag. He watched you moan for him while he fisted them over all his girth, an evil little smirk tugging the corner of his lips.
He crawled toward you, and you found yourself crawling away, trying to gain some purchase on your little bed. You grabbed onto the wooden headboard, and caught him smiling.
He teased you, rubbing his cock along your entrance, pulling away.
“Such a beautiful girl. How can I serve you, mon cheri?”
“Fuck, Sanji, please.”
You whined, trying to grind onto him. He circled your clit with his tip, and you arched your back.
“I want you, Sanji, please!”
“I want you too, my love. I want you so deeply. I need you, darling.”
You were almost sobbing while he kept teasing, but then he lined himself up, and you gripped onto the headboard.
You were pretty sure it would always sting at least a bit when Sanji entered you. His girth stretched you, filling you so intensely. When he started to thrust you could feel the strength he held back, and you thought of how much he could hurt you if he wasn’t trying so hard not to. That thought made your eyes roll back.
“Look at me, angel.”
Sanji took one of your hands in his, interlacing your fingers above your head, supporting his weight on his elbow while trapping your arm. With his other hand, Sanji held your face toward his, thumb stroking your cheek.
You were so lost to the pain and pleasure of his cock inside you, already close again. But his voice, and the look in his eyes made you stay with him in the moment. With your free hand, you trailed along his hip and back, and you got lost again in the thought of what his powerful muscles could do.
“Look at me, Y/N.”
Your name on his lips brought your eyes to his again.
“Wh-Wha-”
“I just want to look at you darling.”
You felt your brows tense a bit, but you nodded, doing your best to keep your eyes on him while he fucked you. He released the hand above your head, wrapping his arm under your shoulder, holding your closer. He kept his fingers on your face, sometimes trailing into your hair while he poured over your features.
“Sanji…”
He kissed you softly, then continued to watch you while he worked into you.
Suddenly you were over the edge, and he held your face gently while you shattered.
“S-San-”
You had to cut yourself off to keep from screaming when you met his eyes. He started pumping into you harder, but his touch stayed so soft.
“You’re so beautiful when you moan my name, angel. Let me take care of you, my love. I’ll take such good care of you.”
He finally let go of your face to keep your orgasm going, playing with your clit while his thrusts got harder, faster.
“You’re so perfect, Y/N, so perfect for me, fuuuck…”
You met his eyes again while you moaned his name, and it was too much.
Sanji’s normally blissed out face was heavy with emotion while he came
You dug your nails into his back while you both shook, and moaned for each other. He held his forehead against yours, eyes closed. When he opened his eyes, your breath caught in your throat.
He kissed you, slow, and deep, and you melted into him, whimpering. He didn’t move away from you until you cried out from the aftershocks.
Sanji cleaned himself off, then used a towel to gently clean you, leaving kisses on your skin until he was done.
You felt numb. The afterglow you normally felt with Sanji felt almost separate from you. He pulled you to him, kissing your temple.
“You’re everything I need, mon ange.”
Suddenly Sanji’s flowery compliments felt heavy. You realized you hadn’t been taking Sanji seriously.
I didn’t think he would get real feelings for me. If that’s what this is?
You felt like a bitch for thinking that, but now the shock of the possibility was wearing off, and you relaxed into him.
You felt so comfortable, so safe in his arms.
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
His soft chuckle, and tender touch sent you down, so at ease. So warm.
Then you felt something. You didn’t know where you were. But you felt something.
So much heat, and you let out a small whimper at the feeling of hardness behind you.
As you whimpered, you squirmed, only making that hard length brush up against your ass even more.
Then his arms were wrapping around you, sleepy kisses on your neck.
His cock was so fucking hard you shivered, and he started rutting against you. The length of him was rubbing between the top part of your cheeks, and you gasped when you felt precum from his tip along your lower back.
“S-Sanji?”
You both jerked as loud knocks started banging against the door, sounding like they were about to break it off its hinges.
“Wake the fuck up! You’re late for breakfast!”
You jumped up at Zoro’s voice, horrified as Sanji grimaced at his watch.
Today is Zoro’s day. Fuck.
Thank you for reading! 💜
TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist
Part 12
Tag List: @astheni-a | @ferns-fics | @heilee | @iamn1ya | @ghostfacefricker6969 | @onlybassoon01
A/N: Thank you for reading! Everybody's got too many feelings, lol. What do you think of the drama?
Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼
#One Piece smut#Reader Insert#sanji smut#Fem!Reader#sanji x reader#poly fanfic#Smut#Opla smut#sanji fanfiction#sanji fanfic#zoro x reader#nico robin x reader#mine#x reader#turtletaub fics
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If you Love Something II
A/N: okayy I’m finally going to stop overthinking and just post this one. Please note the tw in part 1. Thank you all SO much for the comments and love on the original…hope this one meets ur expectations. It’s definitely more focused on the lost daughter relationship rather than you and Harry so p dense but...here it is 🫣
——————————————
Age 36:
“Dinner’s almost ready,” Harry informs me over the phone. “I went with chicken noodle soup.”
“Mmm,” I close my eyes. “I could use something hot and hearty right now. I’m freezing my ass off.”
“I didn’t need to make dinner for that.”
“So come here, warm me up,” I crane my neck to the left again. “Stupid delays.”
“I can come get you."
I’d mapped it out before calling Harry, it would take him too long to get here. “That’s alright. Doesn’t make a difference.”
The screen on the platform showed 6 minutes…for the past 15 minutes.
“I’ve either been living in the longest minute of my fucking life,” I mutter. “Or this line is taking the piss out of all of us.”
Two dozen of us had gotten off the last train when it announced it was out of service. Now the number on the platform had tripled waiting for the next one.
“Patience,” Harry says. “Is a virtue.”
“Easy for you to say in the warm flat with the chicken noodle soup.”
“It’ll be yours soon.”
Soon. I sigh and try to release the anxious energy with it. “Thank you for taking care of dinner.”
“Of course.” He replies. Like it was that simple. But being with Harry was like that nowadays.
Despite all the catching up we had to do with the 17 years we had lived separate lives, emotionally it’s like we picked up where we last left off.
I’d be lying if I said it was smooth sailing the whole year we’d been together. There had been a hard few first months where both of us felt unnerved by the peacefulness of the relationship. We weren’t used to such an easy quiet.
I’d tried to self-sabotage first by going awol and working longer hours than I needed to. I think I was scared Harry would wake up one day and realize too much time had passed and he didn’t like who I’d become so I minimized our time together. Until Harry called me out for it.
But then he went off the rails, and for a few weeks I’d been an even bigger ball of anxiety. Ultimately I had to give him the hard truth even though the last thing I ever wanted was to convince someone to stay with an ultimatum. But I’d told him, he had to at least attempt sobriety if he wanted us to work.
There were a few sleepless nights, I didn’t know if we were going to make it. But one morning he asked me to go to an aa meeting with him.
Going together, being in the same boat as a group of people gathered in the back room of a dusty church finally gelled us together. For good. He’d been sober since.
We moved in together 7 months ago. Even though it doubled my commute time—tripled with delays, I had never been more sure that I was exactly where I needed to be.
We held space for each other. Even the heavier bits; we knew what they were. What it was like to hold them on our own. We always joked about how our loads had halved despite taking on half of the other’s. Because just like our venn diagram of love, our venn diagram of hurting was the same.
“Oh god, I better not be hallucinating.” I nearly jump up and down when the twin headlights of the next train peek in the distance. The platform board still says 6 minutes.
“You’re cutting up what?”
“Nothing! Train’s here!”
“I’ll pick you up from the station.” Harry says before I hang up.
I spend the remaining 15 minute ride going over the lecture I’d given tonight.
3 years ago when I applied to be a lecturer I didn’t actually think I’d get it. But in the 10 years of my career I had collected, I had done exceptionally well. It was ironic with all the bullshit life threw at me, I had somehow channeled it into a determined work ethic. After failing many math tests in high school I had found a love for it in uni—it made me work hard, get out of my head with its constant thoughts. Harry now took to calling me a masochist for teaching something mathematical.
In reality it wasn’t that mathematical. I taught Management Econ which was a snorefest on paper but I tried to be engaging and include a whole host of ways to teach—I knew not everyone excelled with a textbook.
It had made the course popular, it went from being offered once a semester to 3 times this year because the waitlist spoke for itself. It was one of my proudest accomplishment—getting students motivated and interested. And because it was mostly first and second year students, they were still eager and not jaded by the uni system.
That was how I spent my evenings on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Otherwise I worked for the city the same hours Harry worked his creative exec job at a major firm in the city. Sometimes we met up for lunch. It was the little things like that, making time to see each other in the middle of the day even though we woke up and fell asleep to each other, that made this relationship feel so secure.
It felt like coming home each time I caught sight of his face, and knew his smile was just for me.
My thoughts drift to our daughter. She would have celebrated her 18th birthday a few weeks ago. I always lit a birthday candle for her, this year Harry and I bought a cake and a symbolic drink for her. Our baby was old enough to drink.
“Do you think she takes after her parents?” Harry had asked.
“I think she grew up alright.” I always imagined her to have. “I hope she has no reason to drink herself silly.”
“Being 18 is reason enough.”
We talk about her often. She slips into conversation as easily as inhaling. It keeps her with us.
When I spot Harry’s car at the station I nearly weep.
“Your cheeks are so cold,” Harry says after a peck hello. He holds them both in his heated hands and plants exaggerated kisses on each cheek.
“Please sir,” I kiss his mouth and continue in what Harry called my Oliver Twist accent. “Take me to the chicken noodle soup. I hunger.”
Harry responds in the same accent (although it wasn’t as good as mine) and pretty soon I’m forgetting the 20 minute delay, the lecture with 100 technical difficulties, and anything in between.
After dinner and completing my 20 step night time routine I crawl into bed beside a cozy-looking Harry.
“Whatcha reading?” I peek at his book. I can’t believe he was the reading-before-bed type. In a way it was so different from the 17 year old guy I knew. It was also a reminder that even though we knew each other through and through, there were still so many habits and stories and quirks to discover.
“It’s a boring as hell sci-fi novel, don’t ask.”
“Then why are you reading it?”
“I accidentally joined a book club at work!?”
He tells me the story of how he told some people he enjoyed reading, and then being unable to say no when they bought this month’s book for him and presented it to him a week later.
“I bet you that’s their ponze scheme. It’s like an MLM, the latest recruit has to guilt the next joinee. You’ll be doing it soon.”
Harry laughs and holds his book out to me. “That actually brings me to my next question with this very generous gift, do you like reading?”
“Nope.” I push the book away. “I also don’t like book clubs.”
He tosses the book down lightly. “Damnit!”
We laugh. I cuddle into his side and lay my head on his chest as he finishes his chapter. His heart beat is steady, like the life he’s helped me create as we committed to each other. I listen to it as it lulls me to a calmer place.
“So how was work? How’s your students this semester?”
“Work’s good. Same old right now. Teaching was interesting. It’s the second week of classes so still seeing a lot of people come and go. You start to see the regulars by week 3.”
“Full class?”
“Almost,” I tell him. “A few empty seats. There was one girl who was obviously watching tv the whole time, another guy that fell asleep halfway, and this other kid kept looking at the door like he was physically trying to decide whether he would stay. Weird lot.”
“They won’t be there next week.”
“Nope.”
“You think she’s starting uni? I wonder what she’s decided to study.”
“Mmm, I always think it’s something creative like you.”
Harry squeezes his arm around me. “I think she’s a masochist like you.”
We talk more about her, about the upcoming weekend, and as sleep visits we drift away still intertwined like most nights.
***
“Does anyone know why?” I ask the lecture hall. Just like I predicted, most of the people I knew wouldn’t make it were gone. Now there were just under 60 students in total. What had surprised me was the guy who looked nervous the second week stayed. He’d been joined by two friends who only showed up in week 4. He was probably the designated note taker.
A girl to the left puts her hand up and I point to her. “The growing gap between upper and middle classes?”
“Yes.” I give her a reassuring smile. Until I started teaching, I forgot that most answers they gave were questions. “Anyone else?”
The girl beside nervous guy puts her hand up. “The ageing population, it skews the demographic from what was initially projected?”
“Exactly,” I try not to show favourites but that was beautifully said. Maybe she didn’t need to come to all the classes.
“That would also affect the workforce,” a guy sitting in the front pipes in. I smile, pleased that a discussion was forming.
A few others join in and I nod at each point. I loved this job.
After class is over I always got a few stragglers asking questions. The nervous guy comes up to me.
“Um professor,” he hitches his backpack and glances back at his friends. “For the assignment due next week, can groups of 3 be okay?”
I glance at his friends, it was supposed to be in pairs but what the hell. “Sure. But I’ll need extra stuffing in the assignment to make up for it.”
I say it with a joking tone but he’s so wound up that he takes me seriously.
“Of course. We’ll increase the citations and make sure to include more research-“
“Philippe,” one of the girls is suddenly a few feet away.
“Thank you.” He says, finally meeting my eye. I smile and he relaxes. I turn to his friends, to acknowledge them but they stare at me like I’d grown a second head. One of the other students asks her questions and I turn my attention away—weird.
***
“Mid-terms?” Harry asks. I’m reading a textbook while I stand over the simmering pot. We had accidentally ordered 4 times the tomatoes on our online order last week and with three still left I’d decided to batch make spaghetti sauce. It had been a long time since I made it from scratch.
“Kind of.” I push the book aside. “Someone in the department wants to update the textbooks and they left notes in the old one for what needs updating. They asked me to take a look.”
“That’s cool,” Harry walks over to me. He smelled like cologne and outside, the way he usually did right after he came home on chillier days. “That he wants your opinion?”
“She actually,” I poke him. “And it is! I can’t believe I get paid to lecture about one of my passions.”
“Economics,” Harry makes a face like he smelled something bad.
“Makes the world go round,” I smile sweetly.
“Remember when you liked things that were cool like Harry Potter and Coldplay-“
“I still like them! If I recall you’re the one who motivated me to do well in maths.”
“I did?” Harry looks off into the distance but his slow smirk is evident that he was remembering. He tilts my chin up and brushes my lips. “You’re right. So how about now? Would that still work?”
“Do you want me to stroke your ego right now?”
“Amongst other things,” he muses, his hands drop down to my hips and then lower, giving my bum a squeeze.
“Cut it out,” I scold him but it’s cancelled by the smile on my face. I shake my head and go back to the simmering pot.
“Is that tomato soup?” Harry’s suddenly distracted by the pot. We’d been having a lot of it this week because…well tomatoes.
“Nope, I’m making spaghetti sauce. From scratch.”
“Hey, didn’t you make that one time? When we were kids.”
“Hm,” I think back. It felt like so long ago but something niggles at me. “I think? I used to help my mum—it’s her recipe. Maybe you had dinner on a night we made it?”
“Yes. Dinner at your place, around Easter.”
I remember that Easter clearly but not for dinner. It was a night Harry and I had talked our lives all out.
“Aw. We were so young then.” I wrap my arms around Harry.
“I’m still young,” Harry says. “I’m in my prime.”
I pat his cheek. “Of course you are love.”
***
“Taylor I can’t really do this right now!” I tell my sister as she whines to me. No matter how old we got we were always somehow 17 and 12.
“C’mon just call mom! Tell her you met him and he’s really awesome.”
“I’m not lying to mom so you can invite your newest loser boyfriend to dinner. Anyway I can’t talk. I have to get to class!”
“I know.” She says weirdly. And I understand why when I walk into class and see her sitting in the front row. Ugh she knew I would try to blow her off!
My sister had somehow taken up the bad habit ever since her mid-20s of having a string of shitty boyfriends. We all blamed it on her longterm bloke breaking it off around her 26th. I don’t think she ever fully let herself heal from that.
After two separate guys were invited to two separate family dinners and both ended in mum or dad exploding over something, they were banned. This new guy, as she insists, was different. Mature. He deserved an invite.
She holds up 9 fingers and mouths, 9 months! That’s a long time!
I shake my head and start setting up my laptop.
“Hiya,” one of the students, Kim, walks up to me as I do so. “Sorry I was just wondering when we’re getting our assignments back? Will it be before midterms?”
Midterms were in 2 weeks for this class. The assignments were in my bag, marked and ready. I tell her and watch the relief spread through her.
I spend the next hour teaching, and before we break at the hour I announce I’d return assignments. As I call them out student walks down to me and pick them up, leaving with a smile or a frown.
“Philippe?” He had stuck to his word and his group had gone above and beyond. It was a beautiful paper, albeit overly-sourced. But I appreciated it.
“He’s not in,” one of his friends comes down to get it. She looks at me in that same way again, with just as much fear as curiosity. It’s odd.
“C’mon then,” I shake the paper I was holding out. “I don’t bite.”
“Oh sorry,” she grabs it from me in a rush I nearly get a papercut. She doesn’t even look at the grade, turning quickly away before halting, pivoting halfway, changing her mind, and running back up the steps to her seat. That group of kids were weird. Maybe they were on drugs.
I catch eyes with Taylor and she raises her brow. I shrug and continue handing out the papers.
I don’t expect the girl to come up to me after class. Her friend stays hovering behind, close to my sister who I know must be desperate to have sat here the whole lecture.
“Um ‘scuse me. Professor?”
“Yes?” She was the last person in the small line that had formed after class.
“I had a question about the assignment? You um, you said we missed the equations for our answers but they’re um-“ her hands are shaking as she flips the pages to the last page. “They’re on the bottom here.”
“Oh,” I did remember they were missing it but my pen marks were all over the back of it. “I must have missed that, bloody hell sorry about that!”
“Yeah um, do we get the extra points?”
“Of course but I-“ I glance back at Taylor. She’s talking to the friend. I had to get her out of here before she said something ridiculous. “I have office hours after my Monday class. I’ll have it remarked by then and you can pick it up?”
“Um, okay?”
I quickly shut my things down and grab my sister, getting her out as quick as possible.
“I’m a professional,” she reminds me. “Jeez. Anyway Y/n listen it’s the longest I’ve been in a relationship since, well y’know. 9 months! It’s different with this guy. He works like you! A cushy office job. He’s serious. Please!?”
I hadn’t seen Taylor since last month’s dinner when she had tried to convince me to get on board with this guy. She’d been pleading for a month. “Fine.”
“Oh I love you!” She squeezes my arm. “Text me when mom gives the okay.”
I sigh. I’d really got myself in the middle again.
I retell this to Harry when I get home.
“She’s persistent. But 9 months is a new record.”
“I know!” Harry knew all about her string of boys, I’d caught him up months ago. “Anyway I can’t believe she sat through the whole lecture.”
“Maybe this is the guy. The One.”
“You don’t believe in that do you?”
“Yeah?” He squints at me. “Of course I do?”
“So I’m The One?”
“Baby do I even need to say yes? I knew it as soon as I saw you when we were 14. You confirmed it when you kissed me on the roof that day.”
“I can’t believe I did that. I had my first drink that day by the way so I might’ve been drunk.”
“You were not drunk when you kissed me,” Harry points his fork at me.
“Look at you getting all worked up,” I tease.
“I’ll get you all worked up,” he mutters into his plate. I grin as I stretch my leg out under the table and run it up his leg. He grips my ankle when it gets too high and the look he gives me across the table sends my heart racing.
“Oops,” I drop my foot and go back to eating.
We put on a movie after, something we can zone out to. It doesn’t take Harry long to get bored and nuzzle into me, and it doesn’t take much longer after that before the movie is just for show and we’re tangled in our sheets.
There were 17 years of experience Harry showed up with now, and it was another one of those things that made catching up on lost time all the better.
***
In the first half hour of my office hours, the girl walks in. I should remember her name but I just associated her group with Philippe. I was surprised he wasn’t here actually. He seemed to be their spokesperson.
“Hi come in!” I wave her into the tiny cubicle-like room I borrowed for a few hours every Monday. “I’ve got your assignment here all done.”
“Thank you,” she hovers over my desk and I hand it over. Her fingers fidget with the strings of her hoodie and I seriously consider the drug angle. Or maybe her and her friends had serious anxiety issues. I didn’t miss that part about being a teen.
“You wanna flip through one more time? I try not to make mistakes twice but…”
She sits down tentatively and buries her head in the paper as she flips through.
“It’s alright,” she says. Her expression is so serious it nearly makes me laugh. She had pretty hair—blunt cut bangs that I remember rocking in my early 20s, but on her they hide the expression in her eyebrows. Maybe that’s why she always looked so sullen. Her lips are painted a pretty mauve colour and it complimented her green eyes.
“I really um…your class is really interesting.”
Kids saying that was like injecting pure joy right into my veins.
“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it,” I smile at her. But it still doesn’t crack a smile on her end. “It’s dense material but that’s nice to hear.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know if I was gonna keep the class.” It’s subtle but she inches back in the seat. The more she talks the more she relaxes back. “But I heard it was worth taking. And people were right.”
“Are you in your first or second year?” I ask.
“First,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s covered in piercings.
“How are you liking uni so far?”
She meets my eyes for a second before they shift away. “Yeah it’s nice? I’ve never lived away from home but I have some friends here that I’ve known since before so it helps. It’s really different, less structure but I like the freedom.”
Wow, she really spoke a lot more when she was comfortable. But I find it endearing.
“That’s really nice. It’s good to have a support system, especially with such big change.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. Her eyes dart around the desk as she goes silent. I wait for her to get up and go but a minute passes and the room starts to feel even smaller.
I could ask her if she needed anything else, or maybe continue the conversation? Did she want me to ask about her? No, that would be weird.
“So um, was that your sister in class last week?”
Okay, didn’t see that coming.
“It was! My baby sister, although she’s not really a baby. Did she tell your friend that?”
She nods again. “She was talking to her.”
“You have any siblings?”
“An older sister yeah.”
“So you get it,” I say. “You love them, they get under your skin, you’d do anything for them, and the cycle continues.”
For the first time she smiles and my breath catches. For a moment…no. No, I was imagining things.
“Yeah. My sister and I were close growing up, but she’s the one person that really knows how to get under my skin. I swear she does it on purpose sometimes.”
“Probably,” I want to say something funny again. I just want to see her smile.
Back off, my inner voice says. Don’t do this again.
Some years back, when I was still in the throes of alcohol, I had followed a girl at the mall for nearly an hour. She had looked so much like my sister but with brown curly hair. I could have sworn it was her—my daughter. But after an hour of drunk stalking she had met up with her mum, a direct clone of her.
I couldn’t be obsessive again. Nobody knew about that phase. Not even Harry.
“D’you have any kids?” She asks. I don’t expect the question and it throws me off what with the thoughts looping in my head. She watches me, waiting for an answer.
“Um,” I usually answered no. To anyone who had asked in the last 18 years. But for some reason I nod today. “Yeah. One.”
I imagine it, I must have. Her face draws in for a second before she looks down. “Does she ever come to your lectures?”
“Oh no,” I feel the prick of tears and try to blink them away without being too obvious. “I’m not sure she’d find them interesting.”
“Oh.” She finally stands. “Maybe when she’s older…but I’ll see you on Thursday I guess?”
“Yeah,” I watch her go and realize she’d forgotten something. “Don’t forget your paper hon!”
She stiffens by the door before coming to get it.
“Sorry, it probably makes me a bad prof but there were two female names on the paper. Which one’s yours?”
“Bridget,” her voice cracks.
“Bridget,” I try to match the name to her face. It fit. “That’s lovely.”
She scurries out and I hear someone say “well!?” Outside followed by a “shh!”
I shake my head and try to focus back on my work, my heart racing an unusual amount.
***
It takes a couple days but I confess to Harry. He’d decided to meet up with me after class on Wednesday to eat out. We didn’t go far from the uni, a pub a few roads down. I actually spotted a couple former students there and they’d waved at me warmly.
“You’re not crazy,” Harry holds my hand on the table. “A few years ago I realized the volunteer interns we took on from the nearby school? They were the same age as her, teens? And I used to check up on them all the time, make sure they were feeling comfortable, until one of the guys on the team told me to quit being so weird and find someone my own age. I don’t know if it came across that way but…I got lost in that.”
“Oh Harry,” I squeeze his hand. “I didn’t know that.”
“I’ve never told anyone.”
“Me too,” I pop another chip into my mouth. “But really I’d kind of pushed those memories out of my head until the other day. I can’t explain it, when she smiled it just felt like I knew her.”
“Yeah. Maybe she just looks like Taylor?”
We finish dinner while Harry tells me about a story about some friends of his I knew. We reminisce about our old friends as we wrap up and head out into the brisk November air.
We’re near the station when I gasp and clutch Harry’s arm. Standing outside one of the nearby pubs, smoking with her friends, was Bridget.
“Harry! That’s her!”
“What? Who?” He’s so oblivious as he whips his head around.
“Hushhh!” I nod towards the northwest side. His eyes scan the group. “Red beanie. We have to walk past just look at her okay? Tell me if you see it.”
Harry laughs to himself, “This feels like we’re in high school walking past a crush.”
“Is that how you walked past me?” I tease.
“I did.” He looks at me in that way that still gives me butterflies. It never got old.
“Stop making me want to jump your bones out here. I have a reputation to uphold!”
“Hey I’ll still have a job to support us,” he whispers as we near closer to the group. “Feel free to do whatever you feel.”
“You’re a bad influence.” I whisper back. By now we’re a few feet away and I sense Harry slow down beside me.
Bridget’s nodding to whatever her friend is saying. Philippe is waving his drink around as he responds. We almost pass by unnoticed when someone completely different calls my name.
“Hey professor! Can we buy you a drink?”
I turn and spot a group of students I taught last semester. They were all friends, always battling out their wits during group discussions. It made my class lively, even distracting at times. But I tried going with the flow of whatever group of students I got.
“Hey kids!” I say. Then I have no choice but to acknowledge Bridget and her friends. “And more kids! Is this the new spot to be at?”
I sounded so lame but shite! We weren’t supposed to get caught.
“It’s always been popular,” one of my old students says. “Can we pick your brain? Buy you a drink? We can buy one for your friend too.”
“I uh,” I glance at Harry but he’s frozen solid. I look to what he’s looking at and it’s Bridget. They’re locked in some silent conversation and her friends eye each other. “Harry?”
“Huh?” He focuses on me, flushed and just as confused as I had looked on Monday.
“We’ve gotta get him home,” I pat Harry’s arm. “Our alcohol metabolizes differently at our age.”
“You’re not that old,” Bridget says. She seems to be surprised she said it at all and her eyes widen. “I just mean you look younger than my parents.”
“We’ll take that as a compliment.” I smile up at Harry who still looks a little lost.
“Miss aren’t you going to introduce your male friend?” One of my old student goads.
“Don’t assume,” the other chides.
“Aren’t you a nosy lot after a few drinks.” I missed dishing it back in class with them.
“Oops!” They laugh.
“Anyway. This is Harry.”
“You can call me Mr. Professor,” Harry jokes and it’s a crowd pleaser. God they were drunk. Harry leans into me, “I can see why you like teaching. They’re an ego-booster.”
“Not in a 6pm lecture on a Thursday night.” I whisper back. He hides his laugh.
“Are you guys heading home?” Now it’s Philippe. I’m surprised he was getting involved in the conversation. He was usually the quiet nervous type.
“We are. Need a good night’s rest so I’m not falling asleep in your lecture tomorrow.”
“We wouldn’t mind,” Philippe goes for joker but his face flushes. It’s cute.
“Philippe you take way too many notes during class for me to believe that.”
His two friends, Bridget and the other girl, look at each other wide-eyed before losing it. And I watch Bridget’s face transform again and I get the same feeling. I look up at Harry and he’s transfixed.
I tug his sleeve and he looks at me, swallowing like he was parched.
“Weird right?”
“Yeah,” he whispers but his mouth turns down ever so slightly.
The girls are too busy cajoling Philippe to say goodbye to so we make our exit quietly. We don’t talk much on the train ride home but Harry simple holds his hand out on my thigh, palm up, and I lock my fingers into his. Even when we didn’t have words, we never stopped staying in touch.
***
It’s exam and holiday season before I know it.
I was actually looking forward to Christmas this year. It was the first that Harry was going to join with my family. Taylor’s bloke was also showing. He had been a hit with my parents and even I could admit he was the better of all the guys she’s every brought over.
It’s the last 30 minutes of the last exam I was facilitating this year. I announce the time left to the group. There were only about 15 kids left.
Bridget is one of them. I watch her tuck her hair behind her ear and bite her lip. She’d been pretty quiet the remainder of the semester, and I tried not to let my eyes wander to her too much.
After that night, bumping into her with Harry, we hadn’t spoken much about it. The hope that was initially so buoyant turned crushing as we faced the reality that the odds were slim to none. That our wishes were just pennies tossed in a fountain, sinking to the bottom of the pool.
Dreary winter days pass by and Harry and I try to keep the seasonal depression away with regular outdoor dates, cozy nights in bed, and seeing friends as often as we could.
On Christmas we go to my parents’. It’s a loud affair as my grandparents and a few cousins join us. After dinner I go up to my childhood bedroom, it’s now a guest room but some of my things still lay around. I open the window, it was cold so I drag a blanket out and sit outside. The street is quiet, I see families in a few open windows and I watch the festivities through them. I feel a mix of nostalgia and an ache that goes even beyond that, like I was missing something.
“Y/n?” Of course Harry would find me even though I’d left the door closed and the window tilted.
“Here,” I say.
“Ah,” he struggles to hoist himself out. “Some things never change.”
“You need help?” I watch him climb on all fours.
“I’m steady,” he grins as he crawls to me. I open the blanket and he gets in.
We sit in silence for a bit.
“It was getting really loud downstairs wasn’t it?” I ask.
“I think your grandma’s in love with Taylor’s guy.” Harry says so bluntly that I burst out laughing. He joins in.
“I feel like old people get to flirt with whoever they want because it’s always harmless.”
“Maybe that’s the case with older women,” Harry grimaces. “Can’t say the same thing about old men now can we?”
“Jesus!” I laugh and then laugh even harder when Harry says: “it is his day.”
By the time I wipe my tears Harry’s gazing down at me.
“Sorry,” I lean my head against his shoulder. “You have to stop being so funny.”
“Nah,” he kisses my head. “Have I never told you how much I like your laugh?”
He had. On a night many years ago on a roof like this.
I go to remind him but he’s pulling away. I watch as he shifts to face my slowly. He pulls something out from behind him and my brain only connects the dots as he starts talking.
“Y/N, this is something I wish I could have done 18 years ago but only feels incredibly right to do now. Especially out here.”
“Harry,” I gasp. When did he get the ring? When had he planned this?
“We somehow found our way back to each other again y/n, and you know I love you more than ever before.” He clears his throat as it clouds with emotion. “Some 18 years ago I told you I knew you, because the first time I ever laid eyes on you my heart knew. You were something special. And I never ever want to spend another moment apart again. So Y/N Y/L/N, will you do me the honour and finally be mine? Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” If I wasn’t sitting on a roof I would launch myself at Harry. I settle for pulling his face down to mine and kissing it. “I’ve always been yours Harry. But yes, of course yes!”
He slides the ring on and it fits perfectly.
It was perfect.
When we go back down my mum knows right away, and if it was loud before it’s absolute chaos as everyone descends on me and demands to know how he proposed and how the ring looks.
“On the roof? When there’s a perfectly pretty tree here?” My grandma asks. Harry and I exchange a look then, trying not to laugh all over again.
We ring in the New Year with friends, as fiancés. I can hardly believe it. Apparently most of our friends knew Harry was going to propose and they all toast to us and our happiness.
Somewhere in mid-January, I drop by my parents’ house to drop off some groceries. That’s when my dad hands me a letter that had been mailed home.
“It came for you, I dunno who thinks you still live here but it looks handwritten.”
I take it from my dad as I say one last goodbye. I barely make it to the tube with wobbly legs. Because somewhere inside I know.
It’s a long and agonizing 2 hours that I wait for Harry to come home. He finds me sitting in the dark; the sun had set while I waited, and I’d been too busy staring at the feminine scrawl on the front of the letter to turn on the lights.
“Hello-y/n, what are you doing in the dark?”
Harry drops his things where they are when I look at him. “Y/n are you alright? Say something.”
I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I just push the letter forward.
He walks towards it. It’s like he hits a brick wall when he puts the pieces together, he halts a foot away.
“What is that?”
“Is was…” I try to swallow so my voice doesn’t sound so hoarse. “My dad gave it to me. It was sent to the house.”
“Is it…”
“I was waiting for you.”
Suddenly he’s in motion. He puffs his cheeks out and lets out a noisy sigh. Then he paces the floor one, two, three, four times before standing in front of the couch.
“We should read it.” I say.
“Yeah,” he deflates into the couch. I want to join him but it feels like my arse has been glued to the chair.
I inch it towards me and Harry nods. He wanted me to read it.
My mouth is parched. I can barely make out any sounds as I open it up. It’s three pages folded in two, the paper itself isn’t anything very special, it’s typed up so it’s literally just ink on paper. And yet it’s worth a whole goldmine.
“Y/n and Harry,” I read before my voice breaks and I bury my face in my hands. Our baby girl had written to us. She had reached out.
“C’mon love,” Harry’s suddenly beside me and his hand squeezes my neck. The touch gives me enough strength to stand with him. He sets me down where he just sat and leaves again, returning with water and the letter.
“Can you read it?” I ask.
He settles in beside me, we touch along every edge of us. The letter sits in between us like our love, our hurting—it’s where it belongs. He begins to read in his soothing voice.
“Y/n and Harry,
I hope it’s okay I’m calling you that. I don’t know if it’s proper but ever since I found out about you two last year that’s what I’ve been calling you.”
Harry lets out a shaky breath and I intertwine my arm through his. He kisses my temple and continues.
“When I turned 15, I asked my mum about you. I started to wonder where I came from. I knew I was adopted for as long as I could remember but it didn’t mean much to me for a long time—I had a mother, a father, and a sister. I had a family so why did I need to know where I came from?
But over the last few years it’s been like an itch I couldn’t get to. See when I was 15, what set it off is that my sister decided to look into her birth parents. They were separated, her father lived in Tokyo and her mother lived in Wales. It took her a year to convince our parents to go to Wales. I went with and I found myself in the home of a woman who looked just like the girl I grew up with. The whole time it ate away at me. I wanted this ending too.
I asked my mum and dad when I turned 15 but they were weird and evasive. I turned my skills to the internet but I didn’t really know where to start.
I felt the missing part more and more as I turned 16. I used to fall asleep thinking about you two, if you were alive, what you looked like, where you were, what you did.
I love my parents. They’re wonderful and amazing, they are supportive and never made us feel like we were anything but theirs. But I wanted to know my background.
On my 17th birthday my parents gave me a letter like the one I write today.” Harry stops reading and takes in a deep shuddering breath. “She got the letter.”
His shoulder shake and he pinches the bridge of his nose. I clench my teeth so I wouldn’t cry too. I wanted to finish this letter. I wrap my arms around him and hold him.
This was unbelievable, what we’d dreamed of. Her words, in our hands.
“Here.” I take the letter from him and continue. “Let me read it.”
Harry stays hunched over, so with my hand on his back I continue, “in it you told me how much you loved me. How much you loved each other, your families, where I came from. And Why you had to give me up. For a better life. I saw the picture of you, and I felt broken and complete at the same time. I realized I was the same age as you in the photo, I had to meet you but I was terrified. And I didn’t know how.
I spent a year agonizing and looking through every google page I could find about you. I learned a lot! But I needed to meet you.
I don’t know how to do this. I’ve made decisions that may not have been the best but I’ve left my number and a picture of me when I was 5 in the envelope.
I hope you call.”
With shaking hands I turn to the third page that has one of those polaroids taped to it and a phone number in the same handwriting as the envelope.
“She’s beautiful,” Harry says while tears continue streaming down his face. I can’t even hide mine anymore.
She was beautiful indeed. She had his eyes, and her curly locks in a deep brown frame her chubby face. She had my nose, she looked a little like my sister as a baby. A scatter of freckles over her cheeks confirm it. She was ours. Our baby had reached out. We knew what she looked like.
“We need to call her,” I say. “We need to meet.”
“Yeah,” Harry wipes his face. “We…we need to do this carefully. It’s delicate right?”
I wanted to call her right now but what would I do but cry into the phone? No, I had to wrap my head around this. Harry was right. “Right.”
“She’s out there,” Harry turns to me. “She wants to know us. Y/n she wants to meet us! She saw the picture I-“
“I can’t believe it,” I whisper. “Our daughter wants to—did she leave her name?”
We open the letter and flip over every piece of it but her name is nowhere.
“Maybe she didn’t want us looking her up?” Harry offers.
“Maybe she has an awful digital footprint.”
Something about it makes us laugh and we can’t stop. But pretty soon it shifts back into tears and we’re left holding each other on the couch, tender and content and anxious.
Our daughter had made contact. Would she like us? Would she be mad at us? What did this mean for us?
The thoughts continue to spiral the rest of the evening. We don’t make much of an effort, we reread the letter and try to get dinner in us. We face each other as we try to fall asleep, whispering questions into the darkness. The darkness doesn’t answer, it grows heavier as does the night, and we fall asleep for the first time in our lives knowing the weight of a decision so long ago was a tiny bit lighter.
***
It’s a few days later. All I’d been thinking about was the letter, when I woke up, at work, during my commute, during breaks, when I went to bed.
It sits on our dining table, we glance at it as we pass by. It becomes part of the decor, three pieces of paper and an envelope. It’s so much weightier than that.
I come home from my lecture on Wednesday, a slight buzz of anxiety humming in the background. It wasn’t unusual for Harry and I to get busy at work and not talk the whole day but today Harry had been radio silent. He hadn’t answered my texts or phone calls in a very un-Harry way.
I walk in to Harry sitting on the couch in the dark, staring at the coffee table. On it sits the letter.
“Hey,” I don’t even take off my jacket. I slide next to him. “Is everything alright?”
“Hey,” he whispers. He stays frozen sitting forward, elbows on his knees, head cradled in his hand.
I wait for him to speak, to say something about what was going on. I rub my hand over his back and he glances up. I tip forward until our foreheads touch. “What’s going on in that brain of yours? Let me help you.”
“It’s a lot,” he whispers. It tears me in two.
“Hey,” I remind him. “Just one day at a time. Let’s just talk about today.”
“I want to call her so bad,” he leans away and buries his head in his hands. I wanted to call her too, I’d been waiting for Harry to give the cue since I knew I could be rash and impulsive about something like this. But something was going on with him.
“We will.”
“We gave her up. What if she hates us?”
“She wouldn’t have written us that beautiful letter, or sent a photo, or left her number if she did.”
Harry sniffles and then asks what he really wanted to, “what if she hates me.”
“Harry look at me,” He unfolds slowly and I make sure he’s looking at me. “You’re her father, you’ve carried her with you for the last 18 years. You love her. She wants to know you. Why would she hate you?”
“I’ve fucked up so much!”
“You’re not your mistakes.” I remind him. I get teary eyed as I feel the echoes of his insecurities. I’ve thought about it too: what if I didn’t meet her expectations? “She’s not going to see you and see every good and bad decisions you’ve ever made. She’s just going to see her father—her biological father, and see where she got her eyes from and her hair from and every other quirk she has.”
“You’re not worried?” He asks, looking at me with grief.
“Of course I am,” I confess, tears leaking out of my eyes damnit. “I’m so fucking worried. But my curiosity overtakes that, my love for her is what I’m focusing on.”
“I love her,” he says.
“That’s all that matters.” I cup his face and press a reassuring kiss to his lips. “That’s all she’ll care about.”
Harry untangles himself from me and my heart sinks. He paces the length of our living room a few times, running his hand through his hair.
“We really should talk about the letter,” he says.
“Yeah. I know. I want to call. Badly.”
He pauses. It’s like all the anxious energy drains out of him at once. He sits back down beside me.
“What do we do?” I ask
“How about Saturday? She’s probably going to be home then right? No school—if she’s in school.”
Two days. Two more days of agonizing over the letter.
At this point the letter is memorized, seared into my brain like I had an exam on it. I want to know the person behind it.
When we wake on Saturday it’s a cloudy day. I don’t take it as a bad omen.
We sit with our phones out after breakfast, just staring at everything before us.
“You should do the talking,” I tell Harry. “I’m too nervous.”
“I think you should.” Harry says. “She sent the letter to you.”
“Only because that’s the address my mum gave…gave her mum.”
It hits me again in another wave I try not to drown in. She was eighteen, she’d lived a whole life with a whole family. There was everything of her we’d missed out on.
“Please Harry?” I was already overwhelmed with the realization. I just couldn’t.
He watches me, must hear the desperation in my voice, and slowly pulls his phone forward.
It rings, and rings a few more times. When it goes to voicemail he turns it off.
“I didn’t think that was an option,” Harry says and we laugh. It feels good.
“It’s only 10 maybe she’s asleep. Try one more time?”
He pulls my phone and tries again but it still goes to voicemail.
We sit there, unsure of what to do. We agree to try again later, in the afternoon.
But around half past 12, while Harry’s working in our spare room and I’m scrolling through my phone, it rings. I don’t think much of it and pick it up automatically.
“Hello?” It’s silent on the other end. “Hello?”
I wait, but as I do it dawns on me. Who called me?
I check my phone screen and swipe through as I say hello again. I match the number. It was her.
I run to Harry but the phone is still silent. I wave the paper with the number saying hello again.
“Is this…well you never gave us your name. But we got your letter. We’re so gl-“
The line goes dead and so does my heart.
“You called her again?” Harry whispers, his brows furrowing as he stares at the phone.
“She called.” I think about calling her back but that was pushy. She was backing out of this.
All of a sudden I feel myself giving out. I catch myself against the wall and slide down.
“She’s backing out. It must be…too much for her.”
Harry stares at a spot on the ground, a million thoughts flickering through. Finally it settles on acceptance. He sighs.
“We can’t force her to talk to us,” he says softly what I already know. But his words are like a saw to my resolve and I just start crying. He gathers me in his arms but the grief feels endless. It felt like she was slipping away again; I’d lost so much and I lost her again. She had been so close. How could she do this? Why did she reach out if she wasn’t ready?
Questions without answers. More of them piled on top of the lifetime of questions I’d built for her.
I know Harry feels the weight of them too. We carry them together. That’s the only reason I hadn’t broken yet.
But I come close to it that day. We don’t hear back from her. And we don’t try to call her back. It didn’t feel right.
It killed me she was so close. And something changes inside.
For weeks I feel like I’m on autopilot. It’s like my first semester of uni all over again.
Harry tries his best to keep me together but he struggles too. It makes me feel worse I was taking the bigger hit, not being there for him as much as I wanted. But life feels like a a million blankets covering me.
I try to keep my usual momentum for my classes, but I’m always exhausted after. It pulls me deeper into my sadness, something I loved made me so tried.
It’s a Thursday at the end of the semester and I’m marking exams during my study hours when there’s a light knock on the door.
I’m surprised to see an old student.
“Bridget,” I wave her in. “Come in, what can I do you for?”
“Hi professor-“
“Call me y/n, I’m not teaching you anymore am I?”
“No,” she says with a stiff smile. The last time I saw her was in February, I’d spotted her with Philippe and a few other friends at a local coffee shop. She had been explaining something to one of her friends from a textbook.
Now her hair was short and more pronounced with waves. I wonder if she styled it, her longer hair had been pin straight.
“I had a question?”
You already asked it, I want to joke. But she was usually wound up so I knew it wouldn’t land well.
“What’s that?”
“Um, well.” She perches on the chair and I wait patiently for her to continue. “Are you taking any applications for TA next year?”
I wasn’t expecting that. She always found a way to take me by surprise. I stare at her for a few seconds, trying to remember what year she was in.
“Aren’t you in first year? If I do TAs they’re usually 3rd or above.”
“I know,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. “But seeing that one of my majors is in econ and my gpa is really high, and I did well in your class, I wondered if you would consider me?”
I hadn’t done TAs since my first year of teaching. I found I liked the work because it got me more familiar with the class.
“What’s your other major?” She had said one of them was econ.
“Sociology, I’m pre-law.”
Ambitious. “Why TA for my class?”
She balks as she meets my gaze. There’s something that flits through her face that I can’t quite read before she drops eye contact.
“Um, I really enjoyed it. I did really well. I think you’re super smart and would learn a lot by TA-ing for you.”
“I don’t give special lessons to my TA,” I let her know. “You’d typically attend some of the classes, mark assignments, and maybe teach exam tutorials, and have office hours of your own for students.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“Why should I pick you?”
She pushes her shoulders back, “I’m responsible, dependable, I submit all my assignments on time and have experience teaching.”
“Teaching?”
“I used to tutor when I was in high school. I didn’t really get an allowance so I found a way to support my hobbies.”
“What are your hobbies?”
She blushes a little, was she still nervous? “I love reading, books are expensive.”
I nod. For Harry’s birthday I’d told him he could get any books from Waterstones and it had been over £100 for 3 only.
“I also enjoy cooking. And um, it’s been a while but my friends and I sometimes go to like. Do you know comic con?”
“Yes,” I’d seen things online.
“Yeah we liked to dress up for that sort of thing. We used to make our own outfits and usually the cost varies depending on what you’re making and how realistic you want it and…” she trails off as I smile. She was really enthusiastic about it. I couldn’t help it.
“Tell you what. Leave your number with me and I’ll think about it. I haven’t had a TA for the last few semesters but I am going to take this into consideration.”
“Really?!”
I laugh. “Yes. Really.”
“Um…” she starts to fidget again. “Can I leave my email? I’m getting a new phone soon so I-“
“Sure. Anywhere I can reach you.”
I expect her to get out a pen but she says it verbally and I type it out.
“Um, are you alright?” She asks out of the blue after I type in the last letter.
“Alright?” I raise my brow.
“I mean, you seem…I just heard, um.” She tries to backtrack but I ask her again and she spills. “Some people just said your last few classes seem scattered. Not that people don’t like you. I just…that’s what they were saying. And I don’t know if having a TA would help? And I just wanted to ask if you’re okay sorry I shouldn’t…it’s none of my business.”
God, this girl was so awkward. But she was sweet for caring, I think. “You’re not applying for the role because you feel bad that I seem…scattered right?”
She blushes. “Sorry. I think I said too much.”
I want to laugh but it strikes me that my students had noticed. I’d let it affect their learning. It didn’t feel very good.
“Life’s hitting me hard recently,” I tell her simply. “But I’m alright. Thank you for reaching out Bridget.”
As I finish up the semester I think about her. It wouldn’t hurt to have her TA for one of my lectures, see how she does. I didn’t care for TAs as a lecturer but something about her is compelling and I find myself emailing her in the middle of the night in June. She responds back a few minutes later,
Thank you!!! You’re the best. I’ll do whatever you need just tell me I can do anythingggh
Sent from iphone.
I laugh to myself as I put my phone away and go back to bed. My guesses were she was drunk at a party.
Harry’s asleep beside me and I reach out to touch his back but think better of it. He’d been busy at work with a project nearing its deadline and I didn’t want to accidentally wake him.
I turn around and try to drift off, thinking about my daughter, about how Harry and I hadn’t really talked much in the last two weeks, about my teaching, and my new TA.
Age 38:
It’s a depressing summer. The air of dashed hopes still hangs around Harry and I. It’s less thunder clouds and more of a fog.
One weekend morning, it’s one of those mornings that start off heavy. I can’t get out of bed, but I hear Harry pattering about doing his weekend morning thing. I hear the dishwasher turn on, and soon after he walks in with our laundry folded in a basket. I feel awful as I normally do, but not awful enough to get up and do anything about it. I think I’d have to feel less awful, to do that.
I don’t expect him to get in beside me once he’s finished putting everything away. He smells like laundry and shampoo, I must smell like rot and decay.
“Y/n,” he says gingerly. I just look at him in response. I felt too heavy to even reply. He sits up and calls my name again.
“Mm,” I say.
He sighs. Despite months of this Harry’s been nothing but understanding but this morning seems different.
Suddenly I’m being pulled up by my shoulders and I find myself sitting up in bed.
“Y/N,” Harry says again. I fold my arms as the duvet slips down and the cool air raises goosebumps. “I love you, which is why it’s so hard seeing you like this. You have to get on, my love. We have to move forward. It’s been months.”
All I could remember after our daughter hung the phone up on us was when I almost got to hold her. Right after she was born, I almost got to hold her but they took her away. And that piece of me that followed after her was nearly returned. It was that almost that was a death blow.
“It’s hard,” I feel myself tear up. It was hard not to these days.
“I know baby,” Harry scoops me into him. “I know. It’s hard for me too but we have to get better. We have to live our lives. She’ll come back to us, I just know it. She’s scared, we’re hopeful. Fear’s gonna keep her away. Hope keeps us patient.”
I cry into his shirt and he rocks me.
“I’m sorry,” I say into his shirt.
“It’s alright,” he grips the back of my neck.
So for Harry, for us, I try to get back to myself. I start to pick up my outdoor hobbies, I try to keep conversations going with Harry, I reintroduce my multi-step night routine. I look forward and re-light the candle of hope, even though I ache to blow it out before it can burn down to its wick.
My wounds inside stay tender.
We had booked our wedding for November and as the days approach we find ourselves with one thing on our mind.
Harry and I finally talk about it.
“I always thought she’d be there at the wedding once she reached out.”
We’re sat in an outdoor space near King’s Cross, coffees in hand as we people watch. We’d just come back from a cake tasting and neither of us felt like going home with such a glorious August day. Kids splash in the water sprinklers and couples sit around arm in arm. I touch shoulders with Harry unconsciously.
“Me too. I think that’s what’s kept me from mentally committing to the fact that the date is coming closer.”
“It can’t be forever,” Harry says. “She reached out. She just needs time. She’ll call again one day and we’ll meet her.”
“I know.” I lean my head on his shoulder. This was a realization I’d also been slowly digesting. I’d waited 18 years, what was a few more months, another year? Her baby picture lived on our fridge, at least we were one step closer.
And the love, I had to remind myself in these moments. Hold onto the love.
***
“I can’t stay for this class,” Bridget tells me. It’s the second week of classes and there were still 10 minutes until it officially started.
“Is everything alright?”
“Not really,” that’s when I notice her nose is red and her eyes are too. “My um, my parents had to put my dog down. She…she wasn’t feeling well yesterday and the-they found cancer? And she was in a lot of pain but she never showed it? And-“
I put my hand on Briget’s shoulder and lead her to the exit. There was no reason for the whole class to see this.
“Sorry. I’m-“
“Don’t apologize.” I rub her shoulder. “I understand. Take the time you need I have this covered.”
True to her word, Bridget had been a loyal TA over the summer. I considered it a trial run not expecting much but she had shown up, aced marking, and I’d gotten good feedback from the students at the end of the semester.
I’d also taken to her. She’d join me during my 2 hours every Monday and when no students would come she would loosen up. She’d told me all about the dog she grew up with, she showed me costumes her friends and her made, I’d asked her about the books she was reading and the classes she was taking. It was like having a younger sister again, except I was mature enough to appreciate her.
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Bridget says and this statements seems to be the breaking point. She curls in on herself, shoulders shaking. I don’t even think, I just pull her into me like I would for Harry, for Taylor, for any of my friends.
“You have a lifetime of memories with her,” I hold her. At first she stiffens up and I almost let her go but she only breaks down further and wraps her arms around me. Tighter than I expected.
“I wish I said goodbye,” she says into my shoulder.
“I know hon,” I squeeze her against me, something maternal washing over me. “I know.”
After a minute or so she regains her composure, wiping her face with her sleeve. When she looks at me she looks so much younger, her face grief-stricken and regretful.
“I’m sorry-“
“Don’t be.”
She seems to want to say something more but whatever it is, she swallows it and takes a step away.
I don’t see her for two weeks and I miss her.
When she walks into the lecture the first week of October I try not to rush her but I’m overjoyed seeing her face. It had become so familiar to me.
She smiles shyly when she walks up to me and I pull her into a hug. This time she doesn’t stiffen.
“How are you?��� I whisper. Students were still trickling in so I use the time to catch up.
“Okay. Better than that day I cried all over you sorry again. I went home last week, thanks for letting me take it off.”
“Of course. You forget I’ve been doing this without a TA before you. I can hold down the fort.”
She cracks a smile, her dimple making a rare appearance.
“By the way, week 10’s lecture is supposed to be cancelled.” I tell her later during office hours. “But I wondered if you wanted to hold a tutorial that week for some of the material?”
“Really?” A light comes on in her eye. It’s fiery and bright with excitement.
“Yeah! You know the material! I’ll leave you with slides and you can go about teaching them.”
“I’d love to!” She grips her laptop close to her. “Wait why is it cancelled?”
“I’m getting married that week!”
The light dims. Or maybe I imagine it.
“Oh! I thought you were married already?”
“No,” I’d referred to Harry as my partner any time he was brought up. “We’re getting married in November. You’ve met him actually, kind of, that night we ran into you and some students at the pub. Last year?”
“Oh yeah I remember,” she says but her eyes are somewhere else. “So you’re getting married?”
“Yes Bridget,” I laugh. “Married. Tying the knot. You alright?”
“Yeah,” she blinks and she’s back. “You never mentioned the wedding. Do you have a dress?”
“Yeah! Just finalized the tailoring last week. Most things are ready, we’re just finalizing the rings!”
“Cool!” She fidgets with the hem of her shirt. “Is it in London?”
“Yeah, it’s not too big but we didn’t want people travelling too far. This is where Harry and I were born and raised so this is where we want to marry too.”
“Wow,” she seems lost in thought and she stays pretty quiet the rest of the time. I didn’t realize my news was that surprising.
Maybe I still didn’t have Bridget completely figured out.
***
“Harry I can’t pick them up! I need to get home and then head back out to class!”
“Y/n it’s on your way home!”
“Not really! It’s a 30 minute detour. Why can’t you do it?”
“Because you can still get to him right before he closes. I won’t be done here until after he closes. I’m sorry love!”
“Agh and why can’t he do tomorrow?”
“He’s off until Saturday! We need it today.”
It’s the Wednesday before we marry and our rings are still at the jeweller’s. He’d finished them last weekend but we’d been so busy with other things we hadn’t had time to pick it up. And now it was either today and be late for class, or the day of the wedding.
I had gotten delayed at work and missed Harry’s texts explaining the situation. I’d only responded while on the tube, but going out of my way for 30 minutes meant I’d be 30 minutes late to get back to class. And since I’d left marked assignments at home that the kids needed for next week’s tutorial, I had no choice but to head back.
The idea hits me at once.
I hang up on Harry and ring Bridget. She picks up right away.
“Bridget, I’m on a crazy tight schedule. I’m going to be late to class by half hour at least.”
“Oh no. Is everything alright?”
“Yeah it’s just wedding thing but can you do something crazy? And feel free to say no okay?”
“Okay?”
I explain to her that if she rode to my flat, Harry would be there by then and she could pick up marked assignment. She can delay class by taking them up.
She’s silent but eventually I get a yes. “Okay. Can you text me your address?”
“Yes! Yes. Thank you Bridget. I owe you your trip fare and lunch or something. I’ll text you now, leave as soon as you can!”
I call Harry again and confirm he’d be home by the time she arrived. Everything works out.
I get the rings, and have to head home so Harry can try his on. The jeweller was expecting both of us, and let me know he couldn’t do adjustments if I didn’t text him by today. Just my luck!
When I get to the flat I tell Harry not to read his inscription but to try it on and thankfully it fits.
“Hey,” Harry calls out as I try to rush back out the door.
“What?” I was out of breath and frantic.
“Slow down,” he pulls me into a lingering kiss and despite being breathless before, I get some air into my lungs when we part.
“Sorry, so hectic.”
“I know I’m sorry,” he strokes my cheek. “I would have gone if I could make it. Also don’t be mad.”
“Be mad?” I let go of the door handle. “What did you do?”
“Your TA stopped by, Bridget. I forgot she was coming so I didn’t have your papers ready. I invited her in and she was in the living room looking at our pictures and she stopped in front of the baby picture. Of our daughter.”
“Okay,” did Harry tell her our history? I get antsy. “And?”
“Well she asked if that was our daughter. And I didn’t know what to say, if you’ve said anything to her? I panicked?” Harry runs his hand through his hair. “I just changed the subject.”
“Okay, that’s not bad. What’s the bad part I don’t get it?”
“Well. I changed the subject and told her she should come to the wedding.”
My jaw drops. “Harry.”
“I know! I know I’m sorry! I know she technically works for you, she was a student, all that! You’re so fond of her though maybe it’s not a bad thing?”
“Harry that’s…she was my student! I’m a prof at that school I…is that even allowed?”
“Yes? I panicked and googled it.”
I groan, “I swear you’re getting worse the closer we get to the wedding.”
The other week he had tried to buy out a whole bakery in case there wasn’t enough cake for our guests.
“You can tell her we have a full guest list? I don’t know what came over me! She just looked at me with those puppy eyes and she asked about the picture and I tried to talk about something else but the only thing on my mind-“
I kiss him. Just to shut him up. I was getting really late.
“This is like that book club you were tricked into joining all over again-“
“Hey I really like that book club now! It might be a good thing!”
“We’ll talk later.” I shake my head at him. “It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. It’s weird but what’s one more guest?”
“I also said plus one.”
I let out a long exhale and then kiss Harry again. I didn’t want him spiralling while I was gone.
“Baby don’t worry, it’s okay. I’m fine with it. We’ll talk when I get home?”
I mull over it on the ride to uni. But I can’t find a way to uninvite her without it being awful. I text our wedding planner if we could squeeze in two more seats and she gives me the thumbs up.
I did have a soft spot for Bridget, and technically I’ve known her for over a year now.
During office hours, we get a few people in for the first half hour. Then we’re back to just the two of us.
“Thanks for taking over today,” I tell her. “I really appreciate it.”
“That’s alright. Happy to help out.”
An awkward silence slithers in.
“So my partner invited you to our wedding.”
“Yeah! I didn’t know if that was serious am I…?”
She looked so hopeful I couldn’t shoot her down. “Yes! I have a couple people from the faculty coming. And some colleagues from my day job. You’ll probably have to sit with them but?”
“That’s fine!” She’s chirpy Bridget again. “I’d love to. That would mean a lot.”
I watch her as the smile stays on and she gets out her phone, typing away. Maybe her friends, her plus one.
I realize I’m not entirely against it. It had happened, and I was okay.
***
I stare at myself in the mirror, smoothing down my dress in a nervous habit. I never thought I’d get married twice, I always thought after Tatum I was done with marriage, but Harry would always be the exception.
I feel a flutter of nerves thinking about him. Walking down the aisle to him. We started talking on a rooftop one day, we had just been two kids.
“You better not cry,” Taylor threatens as she walks into the room. She had gone to fetch lash glue after my teary eyes loosened an edge.
“I’m not,” I say weakly.
She stands beside me in the mirror, “They’re all waiting downstairs.”
Just 30 minutes ago this room had been a chaotic mess. From my mum, to my friends, to the wedding planner. I’m kind of glad my lash came loose, I’m able to ground myself in these few minutes of silence.
Taylor talks about our family downstairs as she fixes my face. I get up with her help and she beams, but her eyes look misty.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing!”
“Why do you look sad what happened?”
“Oh my god calm down, I just can’t believe you and Harry are getting your happy ending! I’m just…emotional.”
“Aww,” I cup her face even though I want to squeeze my baby sister against me. But my white dress, although not entirely traditional, would be ruined for the ceremony.
A ping on her phone—mum. We rush out. It feels like getting caught when we were younger and quickly getting away from the scene of the crime. I grip my sister’s hand until I stand in front of the doors leading down the aisle.
I don’t remember walking, it felt more like floating. Even if there was a chimpanzee and a talking dog in the pews I wouldn’t have noticed. My eyes are locked on Harry’s teary ones, they anchor me as I glide towards the man I’ve never stopped loving. Who always saw all of me.
When he reaches for my hand I grasp it and I know I made the right decisions. Even the painful ones. After all, I wanted to be nowhere but here.
“Y/N,” Harry reads his vows to me and I try not to cry as he sweeps me away with his delicate words about our love story.
“To be so deeply known by another, without even saying a word, shouldn’t make sense and yet with us we have a language that goes beyond words. A brush of your hand or a look in my direction, it can be enough to unload whatever burden I’d just been carrying. I promise to do the same for you, and to never end this dialogue between us. To love you and to cherish you forever.”
Harry couldn’t keep the tears in and they slide down his cheeks as he reads his words out to me. I reach out instinctively and brush his tear away and he laughs because I was doing it again.
“You’re can’t make me cry in my makeup,” I tell him and our guests laugh.
I had sat and thought so hard about my own vows. In the end after 50 versions, I’d settled on short and sweet.
“Harry, when we first spoke on the rooftop of that party in high school,” I say at my turn. “You told me everything you wanted. One of them was to make the world a better place. And I don’t know if you still want those things as much now as you did then, but one thing is true. You’re made my world a better place. I can’t imagine doing life without you. I love you with all of my heart, there’s no equation that could calculate how much.”
Harry grins at me and my breath catches. My man, he was my Harry.
We finish our vows with a kiss and a lot of noise from the crowd. When we turn to everyone I’m struck by how lucky we were.
The absence of our daughter was tough but when it came to love we had an abundance of it. I see it in every smiling and shiny face in the crowd. It’s like photographing a sunny day with one of those old school films, the sun is covered by a dark spot but the rays still wash everything in gold.
Harry squeezes my hand and I look up to him. He’s already looking at me.
He holds his hand up and lets out a whoop before he pulls my face towards him again for an even longer and borderline inappropriate kiss. I feel myself start to blush in front of the crowd.
We start down the aisle and this time I beam at every guest I catch eyes with.
My mum and Harry’s wave with tear-streaked faces. My friends from high school shout out, always the biggest supporters of our relationship. I catch eyes with Bridget, forgetting for a second she was here. Philippe is beside her, but what’s surprising is her blotchy face. I didn’t take her for someone who got emotional at weddings. I throw her a wave and she smiles through the tears.
Whoever ordered weddings to have a small break between the ceremony and the reception deserved a billion dollars. Harry and I spend the quiet moment doing our outfit change but afterwards we hold each other and let the moment sink in. The day sink in.
“We’re married,” Harry whispers when I tell him we should get going so we weren’t late.
“We took the long way to get here didn’t we?”
“Yeah,” he tucks me under his chin again and even though we would be late we just sway together for a little while. Our own private first dance, before the one for our family and friends.
“We did it all quite backwards actually.” I look up to him.
“Yeah, but we were never ordinary.”
“No, and I don’t think anything we’ve ever done is either.”
“Including our kid. I really wish she were here.”
“We’ll tell her all about it one day,” I promise him. His face eases into a loving smile, the fact that we’d made it to a place again where I can comfort him about this said a lot. Said we’d make it through everything, despite.
“I don’t want to do life with anyone else y/n, I have everything I need right here.”
“Remember that day at Whole Foods?” I remind him. “The first time we bumped into each other.”
“It’s a core memory,” Harry remembers. “I feel like the sun never set on that day. Getting to see you after all those years…it’s cheesy but it felt like coming home.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Me too. I recognized you by the back of your head did I ever tell you that?”
“Stared at it enough in maths, of course you did.”
“That’s probably why I did so poorly that year remember,” I laugh. “Just staring at the back of your head.”
“That’s why I never sat anywhere but in front of you.” He swipes lightly down my nose and I smile. “Now I get to see every angle of you whenever I want.”
“Oi,” I slap his chest. “Save it for tonight.”
He brushes my cheek. Under his gaze I’m stripped naked. There was nothing to hide with him, ever.
“I understand how long it took you to get ready,” he says in his deep silky voice. My stomach flips. “So I can’t do anything right now. But y/n, our wedding night will turn into a wedding dawn, and then to day again. I promise you.”
I tip-toe, even in my heels, and brush my lips along his cheek. In his ear I whisper, “I don’t expect anything less.”
I step away, feeling unravelled by the look of desire in his eyes. I’m sure I had the same look of want. But before we can give in to what we wanted to do, I open the door to our suite and embrace the gust of cool air.
“You should get some air too,” I say and he laughs, following me behind.
***
“Bitch!” Taylor comes up to me on the dance floor later that night. We had dinner, Harry and I had our first dance, there’d been toasts and tears in between. I was finally letting loose as the wedding party crowds the dance floor. We had been taking pictures all night, after this next glass of champagne I was going to call it quits on photos lest anyone captures anything that’s not an elegant bride.
“What?” I turn away from Harry to face Taylor. She’d been running around all day making sure my wedding day was perfect and seeing her just warms me with love. I squeeze her against me despite her protests. “I love you Taylor. Thank you for everything!”
“Ugh c’mon,” she wriggles out. She’d never been very affectionate.
“Where’s your bloke?” I look out for him.
“He taking a call. Anyway don’t change the fucking subject!”
“What subject!?” I ask as someone dances past me, fluttering their fingers in my direction. I blow them a kiss.
“C’mere,” she’s annoyed I’m distracted. She drags me off to the side and I hold a finger up to Harry as he watches us. “When the fuck were you going to tell us about her? And you invite her to your wedding and everything and nobody knows anything!?”
“What?” I was drunker than I thought or Taylor was making no sense. “Wha?”
“The girl you just took a photo with? Don’t act stupid Y/N jeez I can’t believe it. You hid it from me when it happened but why are you still hiding…”
My sister grows more upset as she talks, I realize it was serious. Taylor rarely allowed herself to get this worked up in public.
I put my hand on her shoulder but she shakes it off. I think hard about who she was talking about. Who had I just taken photos with?
Some of Harry’s friends took a picture lifting us up, then there was a photo with my cousin but that can’t be who Taylor was talking about. There was Andie, a few other friends and their partners, then Bridget and Bridget and Philippe.
Bridget.
“Wait what are…who do you think that is? Taylor I work-“
“Your daughter! Why are you still acting fucking clueless!”
“What’s happening?” Harry walks in mid-way into the conversation.
“God you too!” Taylor turns to him and hits the back of her hand on his chest. He rubs the spot and stares at her like she’d gone crazy.
“Me too what?”
“Harry?” His mum walks up to us, her brows pulled together the same way Harry’s does when he’s confused.
“Yeah?”
“Who’s that girl? With the brown hair? Purple dress?”
She’s eyeing Bridget who’s laughing with Philippe.
“Bridget?” Harry glances at me and Taylor grows more pink.
“Bridget? That’s her name?” Taylor blinks away tears. “Really y/n? I get when it happened I was a child, you and mom kept it from me. But she’s, you invite her to you-“
“Invite who?!” I shout. What the hell did Taylor think.
“Y/n,” Harry puts his hand on my lower back in warning.
“Your daughter?” Taylor says with teary eyes and a look of betrayal on her face. “That’s your daughter isn’t it? She looks just like…”
“Jesus I thought the same thing,” Anne looks at all of us. “Harry?”
“That’s not-“ he stops talking and we all look over at her. I had to say, right now she really could be. With her hair curled and wearing what she’s wearing. She could be family.
“She’s my TA. I’ve known her for a couple years guys I’ve bloody taught her. That’s not our daughter. She wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight? Harry invited her last minute.”
They all turn to look at me. Taylor looks miffed, she bites her lip as she looks at her one last time.
“That’s weird. Nevermind.”
She leaves like she didn’t just make a big scene. Anne covers her hand with her mouth and shakes her head. “I’m sorry loves, I didn’t mean to upset anyone-“
“You didn’t do anything,” I reassure her. Taylor did. And she couldn’t even say sorry.
“Don’t worry mum,” Harry pays her arm. She fades into the crowd and Harry stands in front of me so all I see is him. “She’ll get air, she’ll be fine.”
“But how could she just cause such a big scene like I’d hide something like that from her? On my wedding day! And then leave without even apologizing ugh! She is still such a brat sometimes!”
“I know, she’ll apologize later just let her be.” He knew Taylor enough. He knew her at 13 and he knew her now. That’s exactly what she would do. “We’re getting you a shot.”
“That’s the last thing I need! I’m already kinda tipsy Har.”
“This won’t tip you over c’mon. Shake it off.”
He leads me to the bar and we take a shot. I nearly spill half of it, it was awful whatever it was. I lose Harry as we get back to the dancing and end up behind Bridget instead. Philippe noticed me first and slows his dancing, which signals Bridget to turn around.
“Y/n!” Her smile is so bright it hurts to look at. It dims as I just stare at her.
It would be crazy. It was a big fat coincidence. She had a mum, a dad, a sister, she told me all about them. Her childhood dog and the time she twisted her ankle playing football in year 4. She wasn’t who we wanted her to be.
“Are you alright?” I read her lips. There’s only ringing in my ears. “Hey! Y/n!”
Philippe is suddenly on my other side and I’m being led to a chair. He disappears and Bridget pulls a chair beside me.
“What’s,” my voice sticks and I clear my throat. “What’s going on between you two? He’s your date?”
“Philippe?” Bridget’s brows draw together and I can’t stop looking at where they meet. I knew her. I didn’t know her. I was too afraid to ask. “No just friends.”
“That’s not the way he’s looking at you.”
“What?” She tucks her hair back. “No we’ve been friends since high school. It’s not like that?”
“What would you do if he got a girlfriend?” It was a random conversation to have, here and right now but it helps me from tumbling anywhere else. Especially into a pool of what-ifs.
“I’d,” she shrugs but a flicker passes through her face, for a second her jaw clenches. “Be happy for him.”
“Liar!”
“I’m not! Why are you asking?”
“You two like each other. I see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. Why did you invite him tonight?”
She shrugs, picking at something on her arm. “I dunno. He’s good at being a plus one. He always supports me? He’s always been there for me.”
“Sorry,” he shows up with a glass of water. “I swear the guy behind the bar was ignoring me.”
“Thank you Philippe,” by now I didn’t really need the water but I hold the icy glass in my hands. “Let’s see the pictures you took. I want them in my inbox or something soon. We don’t get our official photos for months.”
“Oh yeah here,” Phillipe hands over his phone after opening the photo. There are a couple of all of us, and then a few with just Bridget standing between Harry and I smiling.
I look between all three of us and feel something in my gut. But it’s too scary and big to unpack right now. I shove it away. I couldn’t do this. Not today, not tonight.
“You look beautiful Bridget,” I touch a lock of her hair. “Did I already say that?”
“Yeah,” she smiles awkwardly. “You said that before the photo.”
“You do. And so do you Philippe. Thank you for attending my wedding.”
“Thanks for inviting us,” Bridget looks at me wide-eyed, like she’s about to say something but when Philippe’s hand lands on her shoulder she looks down.
“What?” I ask anyway. Her eyes dart like prey to me, to Philippe, and down to her hands. I grab her hand and force her to look at me, like I could read something in her eyes. Like I would know. “Bridget.”
She looks up and her eyes well with tears as we look into each other’s eyes. My throat feels tight like I was having an allergic reaction, it travels down to my chest, I inadvertently feel myself squeezing her hand.
“I’m so-“
“Bridget,” Philippe’s voice cuts through whatever Bridget was going to apologize for. I look up at him and he’s burning a hole staring at her that hard. Over his head I see Harry.
“Oh look I see my husband,” Harry’s spots me too, relief in his features. His eyes stay on my face as he walks towards me and his eyes keep my steady. I want to tell him something, but everything that just happened was so non-verbal and unreal that I think I made it all up. I must be because this was insane and there was no explanation other than I was drunk, and sadder than I realized. “Gotta go kids. Have fun. I think I need another shot.”
I remember the rest of the night in snapshots. I forget myself later, giving myself up to Harry after that. We actually make it to dawn in a mixture of love and declarations, filthy words and I love yous, laughter and deeper conversations. It’s everything we were. It’s just like he promised.
***
Life moves on and I don’t bring anything up to Harry. I couldn’t, either I’m wrong and get his hopes up, or he thinks I’d gone insane in my sadness.
I feel like Bridget avoids me the week after, I return to class and she sits there, even takes questions after class, but she makes an excuse of studying during office hours and I barely get a few words with her. The week after she has an exam and she skips out after class.
I’m antsy. I want to know more about her; from her. I’m tempted to find a way to access her profile, get more info via the school. But I wait.
Harry notices, as we prep for our honeymoon booked over the holidays, he continues to ask if I was alright. And I try to convince us both I was.
About 3 weeks after the wedding, it’s a Saturday afternoon. Harry’s making lunch and I’m sitting in a pile of our books trying to decide what can be donated.
“Can you get that?” Harry asks.
“Hm?”
“The door?” He says just as there’s another knock. I’d been so entranced in the book I’d randomly started reading a passage of I hadn’t even heard.
I scramble to get it before the next knock and nearly stumble back when I find Bridget at the door.
“Hiya,” she says with an awkward wave.
“Hi…Bridget. What…come in what’s going on?”
“Sorry? Now that I’m here I should have called first.” She comes in and I go further in, waiting for her to follow. She hesitates before peeling her wet boots off.
“Harry? We have a guest,” I announce as I take her further into the home. I guess she’d already been here once before. “Bridget what can we do you for? Did you need something?”
“Bridget!” Harry pops out of the kitchen into the adjoined living room when we get closer. “Nice to see you again! I’m nearly done lunch, did you want to stay?”
What was it with Harry randomly inviting Bridget to things that were not pre-discussed.
“Um, I no. I probably shouldn’t. I just, came by to talk?”
“Sure,” I lead her to our dining table. “Is it about school? Did something happen?”
I sit across from her and Harry mumbles something, turning the dials down on the stovetop before sitting beside me.
Bridget’s eyes dart everywhere, from me to Harry, to the pictures on the wall, the kitchen, the books all over the floor.
“I was just doing a clearout,” I say to fill the silence. “Hey you like books right? Look through that pile there later if you want any of ‘em.”
“Actually,” she tucks her hair behind her ear. I feel Harry tense beside me. “I have a book for you.”
She leans down to where her tote rests and pulls something out. She lays it on her lap first, where we can’t see it. When she looks up to us she has tears in her eyes and her chin quivers.
“Please,” she whispers before pausing. My stomach drops as I take her in. Her face is blotchy and her hair hangs around her face, hiding half of it. She’s definitely cried before coming here, and I almost feel like deja vu as she places the book on the table. “Please don’t hate me.”
She slides it across to us. It’s just a simple leather hardcover, about 30cm by 30cm. The thing in my gut, the suspicion or the intuition, it turns into a cackling ball of energy and moves up to my sternum. I put my hand over it, and then move it to Harry’s leg. He’s frozen like a statue, staring at the book.
“Please open it?” Bridget says with tears streaking her face.
When Harry doesn’t make a move I pull it the rest of the way towards us. I open the first page to a few baby pictures.
I’d never held her in my hands, never even saw her. I’d pushed her out into this world, into another’s arms. But somehow I know who this is.
“Bridget,” I don’t even look at her. I start to frantically flip through the pages. The baby grows, 2 months, 6 months, 1 years old. Another girl joins in some photos, she always has an arm around the other child. I flip and flip and flip and even though I’m expecting it the photo stops my breathing.
I stare at the clone, or the original, of the photo on my fridge.
I’m frozen until another photo is slid towards us. It comes into view: two teenagers on Halloween night. The guy is dressed like the girl, the girl is dressed like the guy.
I throw my chair back and in the time it takes to walk to Bridget she stands too.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobs but I just do what I wanted to do the second she was born.
I hug her. I hold her to my chest the way I never got to over 19 years ago. She belonged here. She never got to be here.
She was finally home. My daughter.
“Bridget,” I cry into her hair. Harry’s hair. She had Harry’s hair, his eyes. She got my nose and everything else. I was holding my daughter. She was in my arms, finally.
She really did look like Taylor as a baby.
“I’m sorry,” she cries again. “I was so scared and I screwed up and-“
“No.” I say fiercely. I push her out of the hug so I can grab her face. I wipe her tears and I nearly cry again. How many tears had I missed? Over skinned knees, playground taunts, first crushes and friendship breakups. How many tears had I missed? “Don’t say that. You’re here. You’re—Harry!”
I turn to him, why wasn’t he here?
He’s sat exactly where he was before. Frozen, staring at a spot between the picture of us and Bridget.
I let go of Bridget and move back to him.
“Baby,” I touch his arm and he springs up. Tears coat his lashes.
“‘Scuse me,” he brushes past me and heads out into the hall. Away from us. I want to go after him but I don’t want to leave Bridget—our daughter, alone.
“I’m sorry I knew I would ruin things I-“
“Please,” I want to go after him so bad but I go to Bridget and pull her into a gentler hug. When we part I keep hold of her shoulders. I never wanted to let her go. “He’s just processing it. He’s fine. He’s not mad at you I promise. Promise.”
She bites her lip, it reminds me of Taylor. She was a bit of everyone I knew and loved. She was the love that Harry and I always had. She was ours.
“I just got so scared when I tried to reach…I didn’t mean to deceive you. I didn’t. I felt terrible every day.”
“It’s okay,” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “There’s nothing to be sorry about-“
“But I saw you,” she cuts me off. “After I finally called you back and then just like, ghosted you. And every time I saw you at school it was like…I knew I was to blame. And it made me want to tell you even more but I got more scared any time I came close to it. I almost said it at your wedding—it would have been so stupid. Philippe stopped me.”
“I understand,” I did. I also didn’t care about any of it. She was here. That’s all I cared about. I wanted to know everything about her, I needed Harry here though. “Look Harry…your…Harry. I’m just going to check on him. You stay here and just…”
I trail off and leave. I had to be sure he was okay.
He’s not in the bedroom, or the office. I try the door to the toilet and it opens, he’s sitting on the edge of the tub with his head in his hands.
“She leave?” He asks in a hoarse voice.
“Oh baby,” I crouch in front of him. “No. She’s still here but I just wanted to check on you.”
“I’m pathetic,” he buries his hands in his hair. “I’ve been waiting my whole adult life for this and all I do is freeze. Her first impression is of her dad just freezing and then running away.”
I try not to laugh at his dramatic retelling. “Har you know that’s not true. She’s known you before this. It was a shock-“
“You were fine.”
“You know I…always suspected. Especially after the wedding.”
He looks up at that, finally. “You never said.”
“Harry, I felt crazy. Saying it out loud would have forced me to check myself into the psych ward. We all react differently, it doesn’t matter though. Our baby girl is here. The day we talked about!”
He takes a deep breath, and then another one. I guide him to stand and he looks so limp and sad that I squeeze him in a hug. “She doesn’t care how you reacted. She just wants to know you.”
Harry sighs again, he splashes his face with water and we walk out. I was nervous for him.
We walk back into the living room and my heart sinks when Bridget isn’t there. But her things are?
A few steps further and she’s at the stovetop, stirring a pot.
“Oh sorry,” she steps back and nearly throws the spatula into the pot. “It was boiling a lot and-“
“Bridget,” Harry ignores most of what she’s saying and she freezes at the sound of her name. He’s a foot away from her now. I watch him raise a hand to her face and then drop it. His face is a cross between heartbreak and awe as they drink each other in. I wait in anticipation.
“Hi,” she finally says shyly. But it breaks the ice. Harry pulls her into a hug and she returns it tenfold from the looks of it. I can’t tell who’s crying, but I give them their moment as I turn the dials off on the stovetop.
It was just a regular Saturday, except it wasn’t. Our worlds exploded with our past and was putting itself back together again, all the old broken pieces were being mended back together with love. My chest drowns in it, I can barely breathe. In Harry’s arms, there’s no denying she’s ours.
***
“Thank you,” Bridget says as we tuck into dinner. Harry’s lunch prep had gone cold as we’d all sat down and talked about how Bridget found us (looking me up, finding out I was teaching a course she was interested in, forcing her friend Philippe to take it to see if I was who she thought I was), and going through her album. I found out more about her sister Louisa and her parents. It was weird seeing pictures of them, in my mind they were the people that took my baby as their own and for Bridget they were mum and dad.
We finally decide to do something about food when our stomachs rumble. Harry goes back to cooking, showing Bridget what he’s doing until she leaves to take a call. I recognize Philippe on the caller ID.
I take Bridget’s place but I’m more of an extra weight tied to Harry’s back as I hug hun from behind. We don’t even have words on what this all means to us. For now, just touching each other keeps us grounded, it keeps is in what was happening together.
Bridget comes back from the call when we’re nearly done.
“I just want to say I am sorry—and I know you said not to be,” Bridget says quickly before I can get a word in. “But I never meant to deceive the both of you. My plan was to take your class, leave the letter and then talk. I Googled you so much it felt like I knew you. Yet when we spoke in your office that day, you felt familiar but In a different way than the person I studied. I just liked you so much, and I wanted you to like me. I was scared maybe you wouldn’t. So I just screwed the plan and messed up everything.”
“Hey,” Harry hands her a tissue and she takes it. Under the table he squeezes my hand. “It’s in the past.”
“I know. Still made me feel awful. And I couldn’t tell you but I also couldn’t stay away. I applied for TA and, it felt like having a friend and a sister and a mentor all in one. And I…I screwed up. I took it too far. And then you invited me to your wedding—I got to attend my parents’ wedding! It was so absurd. I couldn’t stop crying.”
Sounded like me. But I don’t say anything. We listen to her attentively.
“I only told my sister. I wanted to tell you two before I told my parents.”
I think about my parents. Harry’s. I didn’t want to overwhelm her but I couldn’t wait to introduce her to everyone that already loved her.
“I just hope…no, I know I hurt you two a lot. I didn’t mean to. I am really sorry about it all.”
“Bridget,” Harry’s hand comes down on hers. “What’s done is over. There are so many things we wish we did differently but ultimately it’s all done. All that matters is you’re here, now. You’re our daughter we never got to meet and you’re finally here.”
Harry’s voice cracks on the last word and he sits back and laughs away the tears. “Sorry. I’m a mess today aren’t I? Your first impression of me is a crying mess.”
“That’s not my first impression,” Bridget laughs but her eyes also fill with tears. “That night at the pub. When I saw you two together I nearly bloody fainted! When I looked you up y/n, there’d been an old wedding registry with another bloke. But then seeing you two together?! I just couldn’t believe it—I thought I dreamed it. And then I nearly cried because my bio parents were somehow together?? And the way you just stared into my soul it felt like you knew who I was.”
I laugh, remembering but also knowing exactly what look Bridget was talking about. “He does have a piercing look doesn’t he?”
“Yeah. It could gut someone!”
“That makes it sound awful!” Harry laughs. “Don’t say that.”
“It nearly gutted me! I really thought oh shite—“ Bridget freezes and looks between us like we were gonna scold her for swearing and I nearly leap across the table to hug her again then. “I uhm, I thought you knew who I was.”
“We thought it then,” I let my eyes roam over her. I realize I’d always been a mother, despite not having my daughter. Holding her earlier had awoken an instinct in me and now every time I look at her I feel a rush of love and something fierce. I wonder if Harry felt it too. “But we thought we were mental!”
Her phone chimes as we laugh. She flips it around and then tucks it into her purse.
“You need to take that?” Harry asks.
“No it’s just Philippe. He was at the wedding? I was just talking to him, I hadn’t texted him in a while he wanted to know how it went.”
“Philippe,” I say with a knowing smile. Bridget blushes and Harry asks what he’s missing out on so I fill him in.
“He sounds like a good lad,” Harry comments.
“A good lad?” I repeat. “Are you hearing him?”
Bridget laughs behind her hand and I can’t stop staring at her. I have to force myself to go back to eating.
“He is. I might have told him about how I felt?”
“Wow,” I put my fork down. “You’re confessing an awful lot lately.”
She blushes even deeper. And suddenly I’m grateful of the weird and layered way she’d come into our lives. Despite hiding the truth, it had allowed us to get to know each other as people first. Without any baggage or give me any inclination to fit who I thought she should be onto who was in front of me.
I got to know her for the young woman she was first, so did Harry in a way. And I would be forever grateful for that despite all the pain in between.
“Sorry,” I get up. The affection was overflowing from my cup. “I’m going to give you another hug because I just can’t believe all this.”
“Ohh,” Bridget stands to meet me and we wrap our arms around each other. Here was a girl I already knew, here was my daughter waiting to be known.
“God, she really is our daughter.” Harry quips from his side of the table. He explains when Bridget looks over at him, “y/n is known to be a big touchy person, I’m kinda like that too.”
“Oh my god,” she smiles at us. “I’m like that too! My sister hates hugs. My dad’s 2 pats on the back man, 3 if he’s feeling a lot. I always wondered if…”
She trails off. It seems to hit all of us all over again every so often. For me it’s when she talks about her mum and dad and it’s not Harry and I. The reminder that she went 19 years becoming her own person that we now were catching up on.
For her, it seems it was realizing all the parts of us that were in her.
“You got Harry’s hair, and eyes.” I comment.
“I did! I realized that as soon as I saw a photo online. But I do look a bit like you.”
“You do! I should show you some younger pictures of us and our families. You’ll see more similarities.”
“Wow. So you have a younger sister. How about you Harry?”
“Older sister. Seems we all have sisters.”
Bridget and I make eye contact, remembering a conversation we had what feels like ages ago about having sisters.
We continue our dinner, swapping stories and filling her in on anything she wants to know. She leaves after, claiming to have to get back home, she had an exam on Monday to study for.
When she leaves Harry and I can’t stop talking about her. Or gushing would be more accurate.
“Did you see the way she laughs?” I’d tell him. “Pure you!”
“The way she tucks her hair back,” he would retaliate. “Just like you. You did that especially back in secondary.”
We talk until we’re exhausted, crawling into bed just staring in wonder. There were still so many details to figure out, so many things to cover, it could drown a person thinking of it all.
But like an anchor in the sea, Harry and I fall asleep with hand clasped together. We keep each other buoyed amidst it all.
It was going to take time for this all to sink in but all I’ve ever had was time, and questions. I think I was finally getting time and answers.
Age 39:
Harry’s pov: Having our daughter in our lives is simple and complicated at the same time. At first there were a lot of things to untangle but as time went on, the knots loosened until our lives became their own knots, tangled into each other.
Meeting her parents, the people I met once many years ago, was likely the strangest part. They already felt so familiar as soon as they greeted us in a warm embrace, as if we were there own children. I guess the last time they saw us we were.
“Oh look at you,” Bridget’s mum had squeezed us tight. Her dad had pat us three times and we took it to mean as much as a hug.
In my mind they were always the age they had been then. They were probably around the age we are now. Seeing them sport greys and fine lines, it was like stepping into a time portal.
Lou, Bridget’s sister, eyes us for the first little while before warming up and sharing all kinds of stories—especially the embarrassing kind with us.
When Bridget meets Y/n’s family, I can tell they’re loud and overwhelming at first but we’re all surprised when Taylor embraces Bridget and takes to her immediately.
She brings out old pictures they had of Y/N and I, but every time she says, “your mum and dad…” when she talks about us through the pictures, I notice y/n protesting less and less.
It makes me feel funny, I keep thinking I was going to wake up and find out it had all been a dream.
“This feels very full circle to me,” y/n’s mum says. She’s watching Taylor talk about her baby bump—she was 3 months along. “I saw Bridget as a wee baby when they handed her over to her parents. I remember running late to hospital and making it to the room just in time to see it. I blinked and now she’s in my living room!”
“Sometimes I feel the same way,” I confess.
My family is slightly quietier but they all fuss over our daughter. They ask a million questions and when it’s all over we take Bridget for ice cream. It’s a pseudo-recreation of a life we never had.
Bridget eases into it too. At first she had bouts of disappearing on us. No more than a couple days. But we give her space, understanding it was overwhelming.
Every time I see her, I see her mum—y/n. I was never there when y/n gave birth. We had to drive up from London when we got the news and by the time I got there the dust had settled.
I never even had the potential of seeing her. I’d always been more sympathetic of y/n; her loss had been physical, mine was slightly more abstract.
Even though I’d spent every year since regretting that I wasn’t there to at least glimpse her, I’m glad now I hadn’t been there to see her. If I had to live the last 18 years with this feeling in my chest I don’t think I could have lasted that long. I don’t know how y/n did it. It’s a concoction of deep unconditional love, and tenderness, and recognition, wrapped in a shell of protectiveness. It took me a while to sort through it all but I had a conversation with my parents one night at dinner Y/n and I had visited. And they’d laughed because they had told me that was simply what being a parent was.
“Maybe she regrets it,” I had said the second time she ghosted us. Really it had just been over a day where she hadn’t gotten back to us. But I couldn’t help the overthinking, being tuned into any potential of loss with our daughter.
Somehow, y/n was the cool headed between us two in these moments. Maybe it was being a mum, maybe it was knowing Bridget beforehand, but she was very in sync with her.
“She needs space. The last thing we want her to be is overwhelmed too. Now don’t overwhelm yourself love, at least she’s in our lives.” She’d say.
It takes us the start of the summer and all those meets later for Bridget to finally feel at ease.
We invite her on a road trip, we were renting a place in the Cotswold for a few days and told her to bring Philippe. When she doesn’t even hesitate to say yes Y/n tells me we’d done it: she was finally more comfortable than overwhelmed.
“Y/N made me a better man,” I say after a couple drinks. We’re all sat around a fire outside the house. Despite it being a warm day of hiking the night had cooled significantly and we’d decided that boozy hot cocoas was the way to go. “I’ve lost my ways a lot of times as an adult. But she’s always been my north star. Even when we got back together she led me to being sober and getting my shite together.”
“Oh…” Philippe looks down at his drink. “Are you…”
“No,” I laugh, Philippe was the most-conscientious teen I’d ever met. “I got sober to get my life in order. But…it’s in order now. I haven’t done anything crazy for over a year now.”
A little before our wedding I decided I wanted to end my sobriety. It had been a thought for months, and I had waited before giving in. But I really felt more in control of my life. I faced my life decisions head on, I confronted my past with y/n’s help, and I didn’t think I’d lose control again. It had been a shaky first week but I was right. It was a proud moment for me.
“You two really have something special,” Bridget comments.
“They do,” Philippe adds. “I can’t believe you got your happy ending after so many years!”
“Yeah,” y/n says as I lay my hand on her thigh, palm up. “Y’know what they say about loving someone and letting them go.”
“I guess you did that with me,” Bridget says so quietly we almost don’t hear her. But out here in the countryside we do.
“We didn’t want to,” I remind her.
“No I know.” She smiles, it’s a bit sad. Philippe tugs her closer. I could see how much he cared for her in that small gesture. “I’m not saying it like that. I hear your story and I just imagine how different my life would have been if I was raised by my, by you two. I wouldn’t have this life. And I really like this life.”
She looks at Philippe and I feel y/n squeeze my hand. She often said they reminded her of us when we were younger; the kind of love you’d do anything for.
“But you two loved me enough to let me go. To let each other go. It’s fucking sad but it’s beautiful. Life’s weird.”
“Here here,” Y/N raises her nearly empty cup of hot cocoa. “Life’s weird, sad, beautiful, but lately my life’s been full of so much love. I wish I could sell all the excess, I think I could solve a lot of world problems with it.”
“Wow,” I lean over and kiss the top of her head. “That’s one hell of a speech.”
“I have a speech,” Philippe stands, a little tipsy, and clears his throat. Bridget rolls her eyes but they shine for him. “Bridget you’re the love of my life. Since we were 13. But Harry and Y/N, I think I love you too. Ever since we were 15, I’ve watched Bridge struggle for answers about her past. And you two have given her all the answers, welcomed her—and me actually, into your lovely life. I’ve watched her become old Bridge but even more confident. I’m falling harder for her these days. And I can’t thank you guys enough.”
“Aw Philippe come here,” y/n lets of my hand to walk around and give him a hug. How quickly strangers became family.
Bridget grumbles about being left out and joins the hug. Soon I join in too. I want to create a mold of this moment, I think as I squeeze them against me, I’d make it out of plaster and let it dry. Any time we wanted, we could always find our way back to this moment here.
Age 40:
Y/N and I watch our daughter cross the stage. Beside us are our parents and in front of us sits Bridget’s parents and her sister. She has a whole army cheering for her. This was the first milestone event we could all really show up for, and show up we did.
“I can’t believe this,” I was so proud of her. I know the kudos went to her parents, and herself, but I beam with pride. Honestly Bridget could spin in a circle in front of me and I would be a proud dad.
“We need to get photos,” mum leans over and says so seriously, as if we hadn’t planned on getting a million already.
We have a framed picture in our hall, Y/N and I on our wedding day, our daughter in between us. Her graduation photo is definitely making it. She makes fun of this wall, calls it the Styles hall of fame, and I never mention it but she always lingers a few second longer in front of the photo of the three of us.
I do too.
“It makes me so sad you won’t be so close to me anymore,” my mum tells Bridget later. We’re all piled in our flat, drinks and celebratory cake in everyone’s hands.
It reminds me of mine and y/n’s 40th birthday, we had gathered our family and friends here and it was some of their first times meeting our daughter. Today is more intimate, and focused on Bridget.
“I know it makes me sad too, but I’ll be here often, visiting Philippe.”
“Only visiting Philippe?” I raise a brow.
“Is there someone else I’m supposed to be visiting?” She mirrors my raised brow.
As Bridget’s gotten more comfortable, me and her could banter for hours if you let us, it’s one of those things that brought us closer together—having the same sense of humour. It’s allowed us to have just as deep heart-to-hearts, a handy joke always close to the surface.
Y/N always says seeing me like that, thoughtful and silly, reminds her of the boy she fell for. I can’t deny that I’ve been feeling closer to my 20 year old self than my 40 year old self lately.
“She’s too cheeky,” Bridget’s mum says. “But I have to say I’ll be glad to have her back.”
Lou, Bridget’s sister, was moving to Wales. Apparently she wanted to know more about her background, and take a trip with her bio mum to visit her bio dad.
I think Bridget was moving back to Coventry to keep her parents’ loneliness away; she said she would commute to Birmingham for school. Even though she got accepted into law schools in London, going to a uni close to her parents just showed me how close she was to her parents. It was a bittersweet feeling.
“I’ll have somebody to watch cricket with again,” her dad says.
“Ohh,” Bridget throws her sister a side-eye. “I love cricket…”
We all laugh at her complete lack of concealing her true feelings.
Later that night, it’s just Bridget’s parents and us. The kids are on the balcony talking.
“I know we’ve said it before,” I say after a long silence. We’d just been watching the kids talk and laugh outside. “But I want to say thank you again.”
Bridget’s dad shakes his head. “It was the greatest pleasure of our lives getting to raise those two girls.”
He looks over at his wife and they smile at one another. Seeing them interact, I’m grateful that somehow fate had led us to them. While Y/N and I were figuring life out, while I fucked up a lot of things, she was raised on a steady and stable foundation.
“She’s incredible,” I murmur. “She’s gonna be a lawyer. She’s going to change the world.”
“She sure will,” her mum says. “We should be thanking you two. For giving us Bridget. I know it wasn’t easy, you told me you thought about her nearly every day. But we can’t imagine our lives without her.”
We sit in a comfortable silence, looking out at the kids until they notice and start to ask questions through the glass.
“She’s happier,” her mum says smiling at Bridget and Lou exaggerating their words through the glass. “She stopped being like this before she left for uni. We thought we lost her but…I think everything worked out for the best.”
Y/N glances at me. Her eyes crinkle when she finds me looking at her first, her eyes steady me as she says what I was thinking, “I think so too.”
Age 45
Your pov: “When did she say she would be here?”
“6?” Harry says for the tenth time.
“It’s 6:20 do you think something happened? She hasn’t texted has she?”
“My love,” Harry puts down the cutlery he was arranging on the table and holds my face in his hands. “They’re driving from Coventry, they probably hit some traffic.”
“Maybe I should call her?”
Harry sighs and squishes my face.
“Don’t! You’ll make more wrinkles.” I warn.
“I love your wrinkles,” Harry kisses my forehead right where the pesky wrinkles had been growing deeper over the last few years despite the additions to my night routine.
Harry always said our wrinkles were just the stories of our lives showing through. I told him to get himself undereye cream.
“You don’t think I’m aging handsomely?” He strokes the moustache he started growing last year. At this age, even I couldn’t deny it made him even more attractive.
“Well it’s no good if you’re ageing handsomely and I age like a troll.”
“I will love you if you age into a troll.”
“But will you love me if I turn into a worm?”
“Do you even have to ask? I’d buy you the best soil and keep you in a beautiful pot.”
“You wouldn’t take me fishing?” I ask. He sighs. Last year while we were taking a trip up north for Lou’s wedding, we’d gotten into a fight and when I asked him the question while he was still stewing he said he’d take me fishing. It had, ironically, broken the iciness of his anger and we’d laughed about it so hard he’d nearly had to pull over.
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he wraps me into his chest nearly suffocating me.
I’d spent half my life with a lot of difficulties, but life now felt easy compared to it. I had the privilege of getting older with the man I adored, got to watch my daughter flourish as an adult and a lawyer, watch her get married to the love of her life, and all the while live comfortably in the heart of this city I called home.
When Bruno starts barking though, I gasp and push myself off of Harry, “that’s them!”
Bruno continues to bark as I rush to the door. We’d got him a couple years ago as a pup and I can’t believe it had taken us that long to get a dog. He filled our lives with laughter and long walks. We loved him.
“Down.” I say to him. I open the door and hold my hands out while Bruno runs in circles beside me.
“Ahhh sorry we’re late!” Bridget steps into my hug and I tug Philippe’s hood so he can join. Bruno goes for Philippe when they walk in, he’d gotten obsessed with him after Philippe took care of him while Harry and I took an anniversary trip last year.
“Where are my hellos!?” Bridget says to Bruno and he barks, standing on his back legs to paw at her leg.
I hadn’t seen the two of them since March, that was 6 months ago. It had been their wedding, and they’d gone on a month long honeymoon after that, after which Harry and I had taken time off to road trip around Europe with Bruno, and then time had just zipped by.
After a hearty dinner, Harry and I carry out the birthday cake we’d been hiding.
“You didn’t have to do this!” Bridget fans her face but we treat it like we do any special occasion, plus making up for all the ones we’d missed. We get photos and exchange presents, she cries reading the cards and the whole time she says she had a present for us.
It’s a small bag, Harry and I guess that it was something for Bruno but when we take out a box it doesn’t sound like much when we shake it.
“Is this a prank gift? There’s nothing in it?” Harry asks.
“Open it!” He was making me antsy.
“You open it,” he hands me the box. Bridget and Philippe stare intently at my hands.
I undo the bow and slowly open the box. There’s a small square of tissue paper, and then a piece of paper. I remove both but something catches my eye.
I flip the paper over and stop breathing.
“Is that-“ Harry stops talking too. We stare at the piece of paper in our hands. It looks so much like one I had held 28 years ago. But it’s not.
“Bridge,” I look up at the couple. The parents-to-be.
“We’re having a baby,” Bridget says. Philippe and her are gripping hands and I throw everything off of me to launch myself at her.
“A baby!” I hear Harry say and joining us. “You’re having a baby! Y/n!”
“I never thought we’d be grandparents,” I look up at Harry.
“Those wrinkles were coming in for a reason,” he teases.
We never did have any other kids. Quite frankly, neither of us wanted any. When we first got together we were just starting to get comfortable with the reminder that we had a daughter out there and we could talk about her freely with each other. It felt like having a third person in our little family.
After Harry proposed, while we planned our wedding, we talked about it but we never thought it felt right. We both had first marriages where a lack of conceiving had just put a strain on the relationship we didn’t think we needed. We’d also felt like it was betraying something, before we met our first child.
When Bridget did reach out, it became about catching up on lost time. And then with her in our lives we knew what we suspected all along. We had each other, and that was enough. Bridge was our bonus. And getting to be aunt and uncle to our nieces and nephews it was enough. It was a full enough life.
We never even dreamed in our 20s we’d get to be parents and now we would get to be grandparents! I never realized until this moment that I wanted this. Really wanted it.
“Do you know the gender?” Harry asks.
“No,” Philippe answers. “We were thinking of doing one of those reveal parties? But not for a couple months.”
“Wow,” my hands drift down to Bridget’s belly and I remember I had something. I leap away from the group and find the box in my closet, it’s painted pink with random collages from old magazines. It hosts old diaries, photos, a hospital bracelet, and an ultrasound.
“This was you once,” I show her the picture when I get back. “I carried you like that once upon a time.”
She takes it with teary eyes, holding it close to her face to make out the shape of her. She hands it to Philippe and grabs my hands.
“I’ve thought about it before, but when I got pregnant I couldn’t wait to tell you-“
“She kept telling me I had to make a trip out to London just so she could give you the news.” Philippe interrupts, eyes scanning the ultrasound still.
“No really,” Bridget laughs. “I did. It’s like I got this new perspective.”
She puts my hands on her belly and covers mine with hers. I feel everything at once then, all the heartbreak I ever went through to get here.
“I can’t imagine giving this baby up. And it’s barely 3 months. What you were willing to do to give me a better life-“
She breaks off and Philippe squeezes her shoulder. I watch my daughter try to gain control of her emotions. I remember when I was pregnant with her, anything would set me off.
“It must not have been easy. After carrying me like this for 9 whole months. Thank you-“ she looks up to where Harry’s standing. I barely register his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you as my mum and dad, for making the hardest decision I can imagine ever making, so I could have something you knew you couldn’t provide.”
I reel my tears in, save them for later that night in bed while Harry holds me tight against him.
Right now I kiss my daughter and tell her what a good mother she will make. I tell her and Philippe how proud I was of them, how excited, how wonderful this was.
Age 46
The day we meet our granddaughter is seared into my brain. We get the call at 8:35pm, Harry and I were staying in a B&B in Coventry despite Bridget’s mum insisting we stay with her. We’d been here all weekend, booked it all week, not wanting to miss Bridget’s delivery date.
“Y/N she’s here,” her mum whispers into the phone. Her voice is filled with joy and giddiness. “She’s here.”
“We’re coming,” I say. Harry’s already at the door and we rush out into the night to see our granddaughter.
She has the perfect little face, and when she finally wakes up I gasp when I see Harry’s eyes looking back at me. I turn to him, to see if he noticed, but he’s teary-eyed and gazing at the baby in awe. I soak it in for a second, imagining this exact look if we’d kept our baby so many years ago.
Bridget’s parents had given us the room, to give us a moment alone, and I can’t be more grateful. Bridget encourages us to hold her and as her soft body is pressed into my body I let out a sob and hand her over to Harry. I excuse myself and step outside the room.
Lou’s kids sit on the floor outside, playing with whatever toys are spilling out of a miniature backpack. I focus on the flashy colours, trying to calm down, counting the number of toys falling out.
My life was a 180 from 10 years ago. This moment would go down in our history books as one of the best days of our lives.
But I can’t deny the bittersweet. The experience threatens to push me into the bitter past of not even getting to hold Baby Bridget. But with it comes an undeniable sweetness of getting to experience this now.
I take a deep breath and walk back in. Harry and Bridget stop mid-sentence and turn to me. Bridget’s face is streaked with tears, Harry’s looks concerned but I smile. He sits with the pink bundle to his chest and I ache.
“Don’t look so obvious you were talking about me,” I try a joke.
“Are you alright?” Bridget asks.
“May I hold her?” I ask in return.
I sit on the edge of the bed and she’s placed in my arms; she’s perfect. Just as perfect as Bridget must have been.
“She’s got Philippe’s hair,” I gently stroke the wispy blonde strands.
“She’s got my eyes, her grandpa’s eyes.”
I look at Harry. And he catches the stricken look on my face when Bridget tips forward and whispers to her baby.
“Look baby, this is your mumma’s mum, and your mumma’s dad. You’ve got his beautiful eyes. Say hi to grandma!”
My throat tightens. “Bridge.”
She leans away, her eyes dart between us. “I know I call you Y/N and Harry. It made it easier at first but…you are my mum and dad. Even though I have another pair. You are my mum and dad. And I want her to know you like that.”
“Oh love,” Harry leans down and kisses the top of our daughter’s head. She keeps her green eyes trained on me, grasping my hand that’s wrapped under her baby’s.
I mouth a thank you, my voice couldn’t pass through the block in my throat. She squeezes my hand and it sets the baby off. Remembering when my nephews were this young, I just hand her back to Bridget knowing she only wanted her mum.
Harry and I stay in the waiting room. We couldn’t go home, even though we had spent our allotted time we had inside the room, we stay there.
We watch Lou’s kids as Bridget’s family gathers in her room. We stay as they fall asleep, draped over us. I remember when Taylor’s kids were this small, they would fall asleep anywhere.
We talk in whispers, I don’t remember what about exactly. Mostly how excited we were. How there was so much to look forward to. How different our lives looked a decade ago.
“One day we’ll tell our grandkids,” I remember Harry saying. “We’ll tell them all about us, how we met, how our love burned so bright it shone in the sky. We lost each other but our love was always there to guide us back home.”
“We’ll see them grow up, all the memories we missed.”
“We’ll change diapers.”
“We’ll change diapers,” I giggle, half-delirious by the lack of sleep. It was probably 2am and I was tired.
When I gaze up at Harry I remember him holding our granddaughter. I replace her with Bridget. For a minute I allow myself to imagine how that would have been.
“I think you would have made an amazing mum if we did things differently,” Harry whispers into my hair.
“You too.” I whisper back.
“An amazing mum? You think?” The edge of his lips tug upwards.
“Harry,” I warn. We had kids sleeping on us we were trying not to wake.
“I love you.” He says in response. “To the stars and back.”
On our drive home I can’t stop looking at him. I always wondered how it would be like to grow old with someone; when I was younger and watch my own parents celebrate anniversaries. And then when I was older and my first marriage was so rocky.
But thinking about it now is like a simple mathematical equation. You take two lives, two individuals, and you bracket them in love. You add an exponent—the decision to continue choosing each other. And you get a lifelong commitment. No matter the situation, no matter the challenges or the changes, you choose to choose each other.
His side profile lights up by an oncoming car. For a second he’s the same boy I feel in love with, a few more gray hairs, a few more wrinkles, and a moustache. But he’d always be the boy I followed out to the roof, who held my hand in our high school hallway, the one who turned an I into a we when I got pregnant, I see the man I had coffee with after a run-in at the Whole Foods, I see the broken heart from a harsh life sitting on the steps of a church, I see a bookworm, I see a father, a husband, and now a grandfather. I see the one person who knows me like the back of his hand. The one I am home with always.
“What is it?” Harry asks as we pull into our b&b. “Have you been asleep this whole ride or have you been staring at me?”
“Staring at you?” I ask. “You think I was staring at you the whole ride?”
“Well you were really silent. And facing me
“I was thinking.”
“About me?”
“Why are you so desparate!? Do I not show you enough love regularly?”
“I could always use more,” Harry looks half asleep as we reach our door.
“The people are right: you give someone a hand and watch as they take the whole arm,” I tease.
“When you gave me your hand, I made you a wife.” Harry retorts.
“Ooh,” I poke him. “I have to say that’s a good comeback for being half-asleep.”
Harry grins back. “You keep me sharp.”
“And you keep me happy. Now open the door so I can stop freezing out here!”
We walk into the warmth of our b&b.
For so much of our lives, our past decisions haunted us. We let so much go. Now life was repaying us, returning it all back, with interest.
***
In a small b&b in the middle of a town called Coventry, two lovers crawl into bed. They’d just become grandparents and they carry an exhausted buzz about them as they try to fall asleep. They’re both thinking of the other, of their daughter, of the tiny bundle they held in their arms today.
Some 20 minutes away their daughter lays in a hospital bed, an exhausted buzz putting her to sleep. She dreams of her mother who gave her up, how she had found her parents in the end, and dreams about the kind of mother she’ll be.
A few doors down lay her newborn daughter, she doesn’t dream of much, not yet, but she’s in for a lifetime of love.
Most of life is what we made it. Y/N and Harry loved deeply enough to make it.
———————————————
TAGLIST: @quinnwritezz @unknownnbihh @dilfhrrys @umadirectioner @hermionelove @anonymous-91 @meganxfddf
#harry styles fic#harry styles x reader#writingsfromhome#harry styles#harry styles fanfic#harry styles imagine#fic#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#harry styles series#if you love something#dad!harry#its not my fave but I was getting tired of tweaking it#to shorten it#theres just so much to catch up on#kinda nervous#but also kinda done
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Gun Park x Goo Kim: Nabe
Sorta 479 spoilers but not really. I couldn't resist. Fluffy.
"What's that?"
Goo pokes around the pot with some stray chopsticks, glasses steaming up from the heat.
Gun plucks the offending utensils from the blonde's fingers. "Yosenabe," and snaps it in half.
"Which is?"
"Nabe. A type of stew."
"Whatever, looks and smells like shit,"
"That's fine because you're not having any,"
Goo’s head whips around, eyes narrowing in annoyance, "What! You miser!"
Trying to focus on preparing the ingredients, arranging the greens and meat and seafood, Gun attempts to tune out his partner's voice.
"After all I do for you! You tight ass!"
It's not working. His voice is particularly aggravating tonight. Sense of personal space especially lacking.
"You're not even going to share? You selfish dick! I can't believe-"
Gun grits his teeth and spits out "Fine."
"You fuck-" A pause. A blink. "Fine?"
"Fine you can have some."
.
.
Resting his chin on Gun's shoulder, Goo inspects the chopping board. The ingredients look good, fresh. Blade slightly blunt, knife skills obviously nowhere near as good as himself, but it'll do.
Almost-
"Why aren't you cutting the shiitake all pretty?"
Goo feels the shoulder tensing.
"You know, like when people cut a star into it."
“...”
"But I suppose you can barely hold a knife."
"..."
"Can you make the carrots flower shaped?"
"..."
"That's probably too advanced for you."
Goo swipes at a piece and Gun laments not cutting off his fingers in time. "This one is so much bigger!" It's not. "You can't even cut them to equal size-"
"Get the fuck out of my kitchen."
.
.
Goo chews on a prawn. It's delicious. Tender and succulent and he tells Gun it's not bad. Passable. It'll do for his refined palate.
Receives a huff of amusement in response as Gun tucks into his own serving.
The nabe does wonders to warm them both on this cold night. Peaceful, companionable silence only broken by occasional bowls being refilled, noodles being slurped, hums of appreciation.
Goo wonders if maybe he himself is a cliche, and the way to his heart really is through his stomach.
Munching on a flower shaped carrot and picking his way around the pretty mushrooms with a star carved into it, he finds a flush on his cheeks and a warmth in his chest that has nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the man that sits opposite.
"You're not going to eat those?" Gun frowns. After that bastard specifically made a fuss over them too.
Staring at the shiitake in disgust, Goo can't bear to stomach them even if they do look more appetising tonight.
Pretending to gag, "Ew no, I hate mushrooms!"
#lookism#lookism manhwa#lookism webtoon#lookism fic#lookism x reader#gun x goo#gun park x goo kim#gun park#park jonggun#kim joongoo#goo kim#gungoo#wannaeatramyeon
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