#I've been dressing up all week for work and its a little exhausting but also so fun

[cowboycannibalism]

I am patiently (biting at my paws like a starving dog) waiting for my toy shotgun to get delivered for my Ash costume for work. And then I have to go get my necronomicon replica from Terror Trader. I'm so so excited!

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 8: On Angel Wings

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, possessive!konig, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

Part 7

I can't thank you all enough for the support i've gotten on this fic! this fic is what made my blog big and i just can't believe it's been so well-received. don't worry, it's a happy ending!!! also I'm sorry this took so long...I hope you guys like the ending. I'm super nervous my writing quality on this story went down, but maybe I'm too critical of my work. in any case, I hope you guys enjoy!

.......

series inspired by the art below!

you weren't sure how much time passed when you woke up in a warm bed. you blinked open your eyes and rubbed the exhaustion out of them. you looked around the room, and noticed konig sitting right by your side.

"Engel?" he asked softly. you had never heard his voice so tender.

"what happened?" you asked. you tried to sit up, but were immediately struck with a sharp pain in your chest. konig gently pushed you back down on the bed.

"lay down, Engel. you are hurt. you need to rest."

you looked down at your chest, and realized that it was wrapped with bloodied bandages. your dress was nowhere to be seen, but the blanket covered your lower half.

"what happened? where are we?" you asked as you could feel panic rising.

"we are somewhere we will never be found by anyone who wishes to separate us," konig said quietly. "you..." he couldn't finish his sentence as he cleared his throat.

"i what?" you asked.

konig shook his head. "you protected me. it is not supposed to be that way. i am supposed to protect you, and i couldn't." konig's head hung low in shame, his eyes now completely obscured from you.

you suddenly remembered everything that had happened right up to when the sword fell. your heart raced.

"i...my body just acted on its own. it was like i didn't have control over myself. it just happened." you thought for a long moment, and it was silent. konig's head still hung low.

"i don't regret it, though," you said firmly. konig looked at you in confusion.

"i promised to protect you, and here you are, laying in a bed soaked in your own blood," he said quietly as his eyes glassed over.

you smiled. "it's okay. i would do it again if i had to. but where are we? what happened to the knights?"

konig was silent for a little while. you closed your eyes.

"we are in france now. a little countryside town. after the soldiers patched you up, they realized that you weren't lying. they agreed to pretend that it never happened. but they will be back in a week, to make sure this is what you really want." his voice was quiet as he spoke.

"so...my parents and siblings still think i've been kidnapped?"

konig nodded.

"no. they need to know that you are not in the wrong. they need to know that i chose this."

"i don't know if that's a good idea," konig said after a moment. "they will say I brainwashed you."

"i don't care what they will say. if they don't believe me, that's on them. i will have the soldiers take a letter to them once they go back, and i will never speak to them again," you decided.

konig stared at you for a long while. he gently took your hand and stroked it with his thumb.

"i am sorry things turned out this way," he whispered as he looked at your hand.

you shook your head. "i wouldn't have it any other way, konig. i'm with you, and we can have our own life here. what is this town like?"

konig still stroked your hand as he spoke. "there are lavender fields surrounding the town, and a small forest to the east. there is an empty plot of land where a house can be built. the people are kind, and it is quiet and peaceful."

you smiled. "it sounds perfect."

konig brought your hand up to his lips as he lifted his hood to kiss the back of your hand. "i will make it up to you."

"there is nothing to make up, konig," you assured him with a smile. "everything will be okay now."

konig shook his head. "i will give you the life you deserve, my princess. i will build a house for you, and you can have as many gardens and animals as you like. you will have the finest sheets once again, and you will never want for anything."

you smiled. "as long as i have you, i will never want."

...

several months later

You walk out of the cottage that Konig had built for you and him on this warm morning. the birds are chirping and a gentle breeze blows over the lavender fields to the right of your cottage. you smile to yourself as you breath in the scent of lavender, and hear your sheep, ducks, and goats already waking up for the day. your garden, fenced off with bushes and a trellis with roses, blooms brilliantly in the morning sun.

konig quietly comes up behind you and wraps his strong scarred arms around you. he nuzzles your head gently with his nose and smiles underneath his hood.

"good morning, my Engel," he whispers gently to you. he speaks those four words to you every single morning. some may regard it as just a morning custom, but you know that konig never wastes any of his words. those four words every day, reserved only for you.

"good morning, konig," you smile up at him and gently hold his arms as they're wrapped around your waist. your goats bleat a few times, and you and konig share a gentle laugh.

...

life has been peaceful ever since the hell you and konig had gone through. you sent the letter to your parents, telling them the truth about your relationship with konig: how you weren't brainwashed, you didn't like being a princess, and this was the life you chose for yourself. your parents begged you to come back, their handwriting betraying their nerves and worry. but you never wrote to them again.

konig built this cottage for you in no time, and you two built your life together in this small countryside town in France. you helped out at the local bakery most days, tended to your farm animals every morning, checked your garden several times a day. you cooked warm meals for konig, which he always ate gratefully.

konig was no longer an executioner. he decided to leave that part of him in the past for your sake to build a peaceful life with you. the strong, calloused hands that once gripped axes to chop people's heads off now gripped saws and hammers and other tools to build houses, make horse shoes, craft swords. konig never spoke about it, but the gentle look in his eyes that grew as he got accustomed to normal life was something you always noticed and loved.

you two make a modest living; no more silk and fine china, but you couldn't have cared less. living life every day, doing what you wanted, you forgot about the endless want that material possessions creates. for the first time in your life, you are happy. you no longer had to worry about perfectly adjusting your hair, tying your corset, or matching your dress to the occasion each day. your hair changed each day based on your mood, and your clothing was simple and comfortable. no one told you where you had to be or when, you no longer had to watch every word that was spoken. you are free.

...

you hand konig his lunch basket for the day with a sweet smile, packed with fruits and bread and some salted meat. he rubs your head affectionately and kisses your forehead through his hood.

"danke, Engel."

"have a good day," you smiled up at him as you hugged his muscular chest. you gently tap his chin over his hood, and he smiles at your little signal and presses a chaste, gentle kiss on your lips. you watch as he descends the porch and walks to town.

you weren't sure exactly where you and Konig's lives were going to lead, but among your farm animals and garden and cottage and his arms, none of that mattered. the only thing you cared about was living each day with konig, living a normal life. you taught him what it meant to live, to breathe, to create things that made life better rather than take it away.

and even though you are no longer a princess, you will always be his angel.

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome, @plumdreadful, @dumb-dumb-idiot-girl, @elichisstuff, @konig-breedme, @tr4psta, @cutiecusp, @konigsleftkidney, @local-vampire-s1ut, @ihaveaproblematicbrain, @twice360noscope, @madzeesstuff, @crazy-phan-girl13, @babygirl-panda19, @warrior-of-justice, @eluffi, @mooniesthings, @elowynnlane, @zaxlrza, @red-bed-bug, @alexdoesntlikeyou, @helmipss, @11aplacesange11, @rouge-swears, @pasta-m1lk, @ghostinvenus

[mangoshorthand]

I just saw your little post, I'm sorry I didn't clarify. Yes, I am a cis woman and I have more of a swimmer's body (I've been a swimmer for years so it's partially natural and partially conditioned) with wider hips and broad shoulders (typical swimmer long legs too). I hope this helps and sorry for such an inconvenience 😅

- birthday anon 🎂🎉

Original request, (paraphrased):

It's my birthday today and I was wondering if I could get a happy birthday from Five. I guess my prompt would be that throughout my life a lot of people forget my birthday (even my family) and often don't show up so if Five just remembered and decided to be soft and sensual and caring, that would make me the happiest person ever.

No problem Birthday Anon. Sorry this took a couple of days. Happy belated birthday! Also I made you a barista sooo...enjoy that I guess.

The Birthday Girl | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 2.8k words, Rated E

Being born at the start of the year was always a harsh reminder of the fact that you weren’t the main character of all existence, something which it took most people much longer to realize. It was worse when you were a kid, with Christmas and birthday presents amalgamated into one by relatives already stressed out from gift-buying, but it still kind of stung now. Yeah, people had lives and it was a tricky time of year, but you surely didn’t need to be the main character of all existence to have people simply show up for your birthday. 

It was a nice place, you thought, glumly as you popped the olive from your martini into your mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Not too crowded, the music loud enough to dance to without prohibiting conversation. The drinks were cheap and good quality. It would have been the perfect place for a birthday get together. 

You sighed and rested your elbows on the bar. You should have got the picture by now. You were a full grown adult, you knew how it went, and yet you still foolishly invited all your friends and even some family out. 

You’d never imagined that all of them would come, but you thought that at least a few would turn up. Over the past week, as you’d expected, they’d nearly all messaged their excuses and apologies and dropped out. For some, it was too close to going back to work after their christmas break, some were still away, while others were still recovering from New Year and unable to face the idea of partying again so soon.

You didn’t really blame those guys, (at least they had the decency to inform you that they weren’t coming), but you couldn’t help feeling angry at the no-shows who hadn’t even bothered to inform you, leading to you sitting alone in this bar, all dressed up for nothing.

“Hey.”

You turned your head, surprised to hear any voice addressing you. 

“Five,” you said, smiling nervously in greeting.

This was not what you’d planned. He was your favorite customer, yes, he said you made the best coffee in the city, but could you call him your friend? Did two years of late-night coffee twice a week count as a friendship?

He usually came in on one of your late shifts, looking immaculately dressed but gray with exhaustion. At first, he hadn’t talked, just drinking his coffee in silence and leaving with a murmur of thanks and a generous tip, but over time he’d been more receptive to your gentle offers of conversation, and gradually he’d shown up primarily to talk, sitting at the counter as you worked, sipping endless cups of coffee and keeping you company. 

What he hadn’t told you himself, you’d put together from snippets of conversation. You knew about the Umbrella Academy and the apocalypse, but it didn’t really factor into your picture of him. To you, he was just Five: the amusing mix of pessimism, wit, and an old man’s nostalgia for times past incongruous with the body in its twenties.  

Over the time you’d known him, he’d grown into your life easily. He had you looking forward to your late shifts and spending the time between them making mental notes of things to tell him next time you saw him. Your conversations with him were easy and intimate (you’d told him a few things you wouldn’t tell your diary on your deathbed), but the relationship was still this weird, context-bound thing. He was the customer, you were the server.  

He’d surprised you into inviting him to this little get-together a couple of days before new year. It was your first late shift after Christmas, and when he’d arrived and taken up his usual perch at the counter, one of his first remarks was:

“It’s your birthday coming up in a day or two, right?”

“Uh,” you faltered, “Um - yeah.”

He looked at you doubtfully. 

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“No, it is. I’m just surprised, is all. People always forget.”

Five shrugged.

“You told me last year. You swapped shifts to go out for dinner.”

“And you remembered that?”

“Yeah.”

It touched you, the way he spoke so casually, as if he couldn’t possibly do anything but remember this about you. So you invited him to come tonight, hoping he’d say yes but not read too much into it. For months, maybe longer, you’d been wondering, and his attitude then was the thing that pushed you to find out once and for all.

You had to know for sure whether this was something: whether you and he would be the same in a different environment, or whether this thing would just crumble to nothing outside of the diner’s soft-lighting. It would be a good test, you thought, and having other people there would act as a buffer in case of any awkwardness. 

In this, you had been thwarted, because now he stood beside you, looking more smart-casual than you’d ever seen him, frowning in a gray blazer over a dark tee.

“Well…happy birthday,” he said, dumping a giftbag on the bar with a clunk that signaled a bottle inside, “it’s rum. You said you liked mojitos.”

“Thanks,” you said, nodding, as he sat on the barstool beside you. 

He took a quick glance around, intelligent green eyes taking stock of the bar. 

“Is it just us?” he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow in a way that made you chuckle.

“Yup,” you smiled, ruefully, “most people canceled, but there were three who just haven’t remembered to show up. I told them to meet me an hour ago, but no word.”

He frowned again, so you offered a little explanation:

“People forget when your birthday’s just after the holidays.” and then, with a smile at him, added, “Except you, of course.”

“Hm,” he said, with an air of contemplation, perhaps reflecting on why you’d told him to meet you later than everyone else. Seeming to dismiss it, however, he turned back to you:

“So you’re stuck with me?”

You looked back over at him, and a smirk developed on his face, one corner of his mouth turning up to complement his cocked eyebrow. 

And in that moment, you made a decision, one that was two years in the making. Why play these games? Why experiment with him? Worst case scenario, he finds another diner. 

“It’s stupid to be here with only two of us. Do you want to come back to mine? Maybe we crack open that rum and help me drown my birthday sorrows? I only live on the next street.”

***

The rum was never opened, because on the street outside your apartment, he stopped you with a hand on your arm.

He’d been silent ever since he agreed to come with you, and when you turned to face him outside your door, he fixed you with such a serious look that you took in a shallow breath.

“Sorry if I make this awkward, but I gotta know. Is this just a drink?”

You looked back at him, studying the earnest slope of his brow and his tense mouth; how the two freckles on his cheek disappeared into a small cleft in his cheek. It was a face that surrendered smiles reluctantly, but you could nearly always tease several out before the end of any shift. 

You shook your head wordlessly.

His adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His eyes, so often scowling, scathing or sardonic, fixed you now with a look of pure, open adoration. His thick lashes did nothing to shade you from the intensity of that look, from the opalescent green of his pupils that pulled at you with such fascination. 

When he spoke, his voice was very low.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to keep your eyes on his face, choosing to study the neckline of his tee, beneath which a hint of sturdy collarbone was visible.

He reached out and gently ghosted his fingers down your cheek. 

“How could anyone forget your birthday?” he murmured. 

Then, he leaned forward and kissed you.

The chill January breeze momentarily played about your neck. A shiver ran through you, but not from cold: from his gentle lips against yours; from the feel of his soft hair between your fingers; from his body close to yours. 

Sweet, chaste and cherishing, it might have seemed platonic, that kiss, but for the way his tongue slipped briefly into the fray, though pulling back quickly: showing you that he had more should you wish to take it.

And you did. You wanted it to the point that you chased his lips when he tried to pull away. He smiled at this and let you catch him, letting your lips part his and your tongue enter his mouth. 

Finally, he succeeded in breaking the embrace, though leaving his hands softly on your hips.

“Take me upstairs?” he asked, huskily.

***

His mouth beside your ear, he held you on his lap like a beautiful fragile thing. He ran his fingers reverently up and down your thighs, like a servant privileged to touch precious silverware with kid gloves. 

He kissed you again, soft and syrupy, as if he was eating fruit perfectly sweetened on the vine, trailing his lips down your shoulder, humming with satisfaction.

 “God,” he whispered, “I could kiss you all day.”

The tender hunger in his tone sent a tingle straight to your core. 

It was a shame to have your back to him. When he’d thrown off his shirt as if it was nothing, your eyes drank him in: the softly defined muscles that were outlined by his movements and the trail of sparse, dark hair disappearing below his waistband. All this time, under those sharply cut suits, there was this.

But you couldn’t focus on the regret too much, not with his strong forearms wrapped around your naked body, his smell of antiperspirant and aftershave, and not with the heat of his hard arousal against your ass and lower back. 

His fingers clearly stated their intent against your inner thigh, pausing an inch away from where you needed him most. 

“May I?” he asked, breath tickling your ear. 

You could hear a little hint of mischief in his voice; the ironic move of his eyebrows.

“Yes please,” you breathed.

“Anything for the birthday girl,” he whispered, nuzzling briefly at your neck.

And he stroked your outer lips with gentle fingers, his index trailing back up your slit, the tip skimming slickness that had already gathered there.

He made an appreciative sound at his discovery, and you moaned at the throb of pleasure from just this teasing movement, bucking against him and momentarily pressing his cock against you more firmly.

“You’re so pretty,” he rasped into your ear, fingers parting your outer lips to reach your excited nub and stroking it in smooth, luxuriant circles, “look at you. So perfect.”

You whimpered and tossed your head helplessly against his shoulder. Heat was already building in your sex, your toes curling against your sheets. The foundations for your orgasm were laid from his very first touch of your aching pussy, your body crying out for him from the moment he kissed you. Now, you were helpless to his fingers: as confident and efficient in rubbing your needy clit as in all his other movements. 

“You deserve to be treated special.” he whispered, “This good?”

“Five.” 

“Yes?”

“Five.”

You could hardly say more, brain scrambling like beaten eggs until no vocabulary remained but the name of the man whose fingers were making come slowly drool down your thighs.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered, tenderly.

You shook your head fiercely. 

“Fi-ive!” you whined again, becoming completely inarticulate now as his ankles hooked around yours, holding your legs open gently. He could sense you beginning to ride your edge, could surely sense the heat burning and coiling and tightening in your stomach until - 

You cried out when you came, feeling more come gush from you, soaking his fingers and your thighs alike. He spoke softly to you as the waves of pleasure broke on you one by one, each bringing a fierce buck of your hips backwards against his hard, hot cock, sandwiched between you.

“That’s it.” he encouraged, “There you go. Feel good, sweetie?” 

You could do nothing but whimper and let yourself be carried by the rapture, surges exploding down each limb again and again.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting against him. 

Through your recovery, he whispered more tender affirmations and praise into your ear, kissing and nosing at the side of your neck as he tried to distract himself from the tingles going up and down his length and the precome still leaking from his tip as your movements against him teased his excited cock. 

After you’d caught your breath, you became aware of the needy way he was kissing you; of the barely-there grinding of his pelvis; of his dick rubbing against you.

“Can I -?” came the desperate, half-articulated whisper.

“Yes please,” you replied.

He laid you down as if you were fragile, like an injured dove held in cupped hands. His gentle movements offered a stark contrast to the state of his gorgeous, curved cock. The tip was an angry pink, his balls high and tight with arousal. Intrigued, you began to caress that heated, swollen part of him. He hissed as you weighed and massaged his balls in one hand, the other closing around his shaft, already slick with precome.

“Don’t judge my stamina based on this, okay?” he said, voice cracking as his neck arched along with your strokes, “How about you stop that and we can try for quality over quantity?” 

It was spoken with self-consciousness that seemed unnecessary to you, given that he’d just rubbed your clit to a thigh-trembling orgasm quicker and more effectively than anyone you’d ever been with. You let his cock go and kissed him on the mouth as he lowered himself towards you. 

When he entered you, his mouth was still on yours, and you felt his sigh or relief against your lips. 

He filled you perfectly, your plush walls immediately gripping him, surrendering him reluctantly as he withdrew. You could see the tight pinch between his eyebrows. His eyes were already screwed shut. 

“Oh.”

The whisper was small and strung out, and you kissed his cheek and lips to encourage him as he let out a few, trembling breaths. 

“That feel good?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, “it feels good, Five. 

His strokes were slow, but skillful, his hips rutting with gentle fluidity. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he whispered, stroking your cheek, “I want to show you how special you are.”

From the movement of his body alone, you would have imagined him in complete control, not even close to his edge, but his increasingly fevered whispers and messy kisses to your lips and neck told a different story.

“Your pussy is so good. It’s so fucking wet.”

You kissed him back, nodding and moaning in affirmative as that perfect curve rubbed you just right inside, the low tempo building an ache as sweet and gentle as his thrusts. You gasped, pulsing around him, and his hips stuttered for the first time.

“F-fuck.” he breathed, “So hot. So perfect.”

He tensed.

“I’m close.”

You smiled against his ear. You were on birth control and you knew enough about Five to know that he didn’t raw-dog every barista who made him a good cup of coffee. It wasn’t logical or sensible but it was the only thing that seemed right after two years of illogical, foolish denial. 

“Come inside me.”

“You sure?”

You barely had time to confirm it to him before he let out an inarticulate cry. His dick pumped hard inside you, coating your walls with his load with his head buried in your neck, still keeping you gasping throughout with controlled, gentle, sensuous pumps of his pelvis.  

***

“You want coffee?”

You lay, bare-breasted on his chest as Five combed his fingers through your hair, feeling warm, content, and glowing from his tenderness. 

“Let me get it for a change.” he said.

“Wow, it really is my birthday,” you teased. 

You heard a short exhale of laughter as he extracted himself gently from the bedsheets. 

“Sure is.”

And, with as little care for his nakedness as if this was his own apartment, he headed across the bedroom, turning back at the door with a wry smile.

“And it’s not over yet.”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969

Oneshot Masterlist >> HERE

NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See oneshot masterlist for request status and more.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Hiya, S! Not sure if you're still taking requests but, I had a little idea-

Steve has been working himself too hard, both physically and mentally for weeks now and Bucky has finally had enough and has to go pry him from the gym and sort of force him to relax.. the method he uses exactly is completely up to you.. fluffy or smutty, It doesn't matter. But Steve is kind of denying it all, I haven't been overworking, I haven't been tired at all yada yada, his whole 'I don't need help' shtick so Bucky has to be a little more assertive.

Luv ya! Stay awesome <3

I am still taking requests for right now! And I've been doing a lot, lot of smut recently so I'll take the opportunity to go in the other direction for this if you don't mind.

And thanks!!

So... this is basically the angsty, then fluffy version of this scene 👇🏻 that I wish we got

Warning for Steve being self-destructive, actively self-harming, and, just, in a downward spiral that Bucky helps coax him out of. This sounds super angsty but it ends with fluff, I promise!

Bucky knows when he wakes up alone, just a scant few hours after the post-mission crash dropped them at home, finally back in their very own bed, that he will be able to find Steve down the Tower's gym. Bucky knows this, feeling it down to his bones. Sometimes, he thinks he knows Steve better than he knows himself, and he isn't sure if he should be prideful of knowing his best guy so well, or, if he should be concerned with his knowledge and memory of himself. Either way, even though he knows Steve is down in the gym--beating the shit out of his knuckles with an unrested, already battered body, beating that body in favorite of lying still and letting his mind run in exhausted circles like a snake looping back on itself to swallow it's own tail--Bucky makes sure to check everywhere else first.

He doesn't feel like riding the elevator all the way to the roof, so he asks JARVIS to assure him Steve isn't up there. JARVIS would've waken Bucky to let him know of Steve's whereabouts if he ended up there, regardless, but it can't hurt to double-check. Next, Bucky lifts his weary body from bed to dip his head into the bathroom. No Steve there. Then, he pads, as light on his feet as a cat, to their dark kitchen. No Steve there, either. Bucky sets his hands on the kitchen counter, looking into their open-plan living room. Steve also isn't there, sheltering on the couch, wrapped in blankets, quivering and pretending he isn't, thinking he can "protect" Bucky from witnessing another nightmare (really hiding away from Bucky because he, sometimes, somehow, still gets embarrassed even though Bucky has seen him in every state and never finds him lacking). No Steve anywhere in the apartment.

So, the gym it is.

Without stopping to dress himself any further or do anything at all, Bucky walks out of their apartment on their floor of the Tower into the elevator. He doesn't need to softly request the gym floor. JARVIS already knows. He always does.

"Thanks, J," Bucky murmurs tiredly, standing idle as the doors shut in front of him.

In no time whatsoever, Bucky can hear Steve--thank you Nazi fucks, you absolute monsters, for the super hearing--before he's even left the elevator. It's still descending. Barefoot and in nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs, Bucky leans his forehead against the mirrored wall of the lift, sighing to himself at its cool touch. He prepares himself, tapping his metal fingers against the glass, thinking.

Planning.

What, oh, what am I gonna do with you, Stevie?

He's not upset with Steve. Not really. He's upset with the part of Steve that can't stop. The part that insists he grit his teeth and bare the world's pain and injustice and suffer it all himself as if he has no choice but to do it alone. There's more to Steve than that part, but also, if he didn't have that part of himself, he wouldn't be himself, would he? And so... it's a twisted game. The lynx and rabbit. Chasing.

Forever and ever.

Bucky doesn't know if he's the rabbit or the lynx. He doesn't know if he's either at all. He may be the hunter observing from the outside, not yet sure if he wants to intervene, and certainly not sure who he's going to point his shotgun at. Maybe neither. It hurts to see nature run her cruel course. But what is the alternative? Disrupt? Distract? Should he shout and scare both creatures, leaving them to scurry off with racing hearts? What can he do? What should he do?

The sound of thin flesh and ill-protected bone--just knuckles--against firm, unforgiving leather--a heavy boxing bag--rings in his ears. Ding! A new sound enters his mind. He's here.

Bucky takes one last fortifying breath, not because he's exhausted, not because he doesn't want to deal with Steve, and not for any reason but the scene he knows he's about to walk in on--his best friend, his lover, his everything hurting himself.

Beating himself up. Literally.

Still, Bucky goes.

The pain of seeing it can not be worse than the pain of knowing it's happening and doing nothing to intervene. This is not how it has to be. This is not the natural order. Cruel and sacrificial. Bucky will do something to stop it.

And that something is interrupting Steve in the middle of a particularly brutal assault--on himself and the bag hanging from the ceiling. There's a pile of them waiting to be hung, a grim fate; there's a pile of already strangled bags punched across the gym, spreading deserts of sand between Steve and his own worst thoughts, represented by those bags he brutalized. Steve is slick with sweat like an oil spill, and the smell of grief is coming off of him in feet-sweeping waves. His bangs hang over his forehead, sticking to his skin, gritty and darkened by moisture.

And, God, beneath that bent halo of hair, despite the healthy pink flush covering his face from sweat-beaded hairline to the hem of his shirt, he looks... there is no kind way to say it, Bucky must just say it: Steve looks gaunt. His cheeks are sunken, as are his eyes. With all the sweat coating his weary skin, soaking into his clothes that shroud him, it's no wonder why. He's dehydrated as fuck. Running himself ragged from beyond the blood soaked into his boxing wraps.

And those wraps, Jesus, they're sloppy. Careless. Obviously hurried and barely to be bothered with. They might've started tighter, but Bucky knows at no point were they neat and proper. Steve wouldn't've had the patience. It's a miracle, really, that he's got any on at all. Bucky's seen him go at it bare knuckle until he's ground down to his bones.

Loudly, Bucky clears his throat. But he doesn't make a noise until he's circled Steve so he's in his line of sight. Standing in front of him but just out of the possible path of another exploding punching bag. He doesn't want to stand in his blindspot at a time like this.

The sound of another person joining him jerks Steve into awareness rather than boiling rage and a million other nameless emotions. He comes up from the tempest that was fueling his flurry of devasting, full-weight-and-strength punches that may be enough to wrench his own arms out from their sockets. He freezes so suddenly, caught red-handed, metaphorically and literally, that it looks painful. Such explosive motion to none whatsoever. His chest won't even heave.

He is a grievous statue.

And, his audience, Bucky chooses to say nothing about what he's been caught doing. He won't demand that Steve stop. He won't try to sweet talk him and coax him out of it and back to bed. He won't plead with Steve to stop, hanging off of his shaking, lactic-acid-burning arms. None of those will work when he's so fucking worked up. Bucky can sense it even while he holds himself so perfectly still. He is not moving but he is still vibrating--trembling without trembling, poised to come crashing down sooner or later. The best Bucky knows, is to let him do this, and then be here to catch him.

So, the words that come are sleep-rusty and short, jerking his head to the pile of supplies next to Steve--he's going to wrap his own hands and Steve better re-wrap his while he does.

His bloody knuckles won't stop bleeding if they're going to go toe to toe, and it's not like his dirty bandages are going to do much, it'd take a hell of a lot more than that to penetrate the serum's defenced and give him an infection, but that isn't the point. The point is to hammer home that Steve's body needs to be protected. Still. Even like this. Big, broad, and strong. Especially like this. So fucking tense that he can only relinquish himself to brutal strength or no movement whatsoever. There is no in between. If he tries, he'll break. There can be no weakness.

Bucky will give him the space to find his weakness and then will welcome it with open arms.

So, they box. Knuckles to knuckles. Punch after punch is thrown. Each hit from Steve gets stronger until he's back to nearly damaging himself with the brutality of his own strength, his spirit more than his flesh and blood can take--the way it always has been.

At some point, sinking back into the raging sea of his mind, dropping out of reality itself, Steve's upper lip curls into an ugly snarl and he throws in a kick. Bucky dodges and fakes him out to lure him from the hardwood flooring of the gym where he was wailing on heavyweight bags to the squishy mats in the corner meant for partner sparring.

Once there, he can work through tiring Steve out. Grappling. Kicking. Sweeping his feet out from under him. Taking him to the floor. Pinning him. Punching him. Letting him squirm out of a headlock just to throw him back down. Twisting. Punching. Using everything he's got.

Knuckles to knuckles well past the point of Steve's blood soaking his fresh wraps. Steve's scarlet blood seeps into the white of his own wraps bit also Bucky's. Painting them both with his pain. Bucky will gladly shoulder some of it for him. Always. Forever.

Punch. Kick. Punch. Punch. Kick. Knock down. Grapple. Get up. Punch. Punch. Kick. Punch. Punch. Kick. Knock down. Grapple. Get up. Punch.Punch.KickPunchPunchKickKnockdowngrapplegetuppunchpunchkickpunchpunchkickgrapplepunchpunchkickpunchpunchkickgrapplepunch--

On and on, Steve goes like a wind up toy.

All action until he can't be anymore. It's sudden. And it's right fucking then when he has no more energy, no more effort left inside him, that he withers and wilts. No matter, Bucky can see it coming a mile away from how his combos get sloppy, slower and less offensive, more drawn in and defensive, to how his breathing stutters, going from disciplined and practiced to something of sobs barely reined in with a lash ditch bit of effort to hide how hard he's about to crash. He can't stay on edge forever, though. And when he crashes and burns, Bucky swoops in, not to bunny punch him, popping him with a flurry of hits, but to catch him before he can fall flat on his face.

Bucky won't even let his knees touch the ground, gathering him up with ease. Bucky is so fucking grateful for the few couple of hours he has on Steve, keeping him from being just as exhausted and muddy-headed.

Still, not just because he can think but because he knows this dance so well, it's awful. Awfully hard and heart-wrenching, the way Steve curls into him after collapsing to the floor without a sound of warning. No pleading for mercy. No bloody scream of never being able to do it all--to save them all. Nothing. Just a tight little ball of agony willing to go to the grave suffering before he admits he's struggling. A martyr like no other.

In his hold, Steve clenches his body so tight just the same way he had when he was first caught. Now, he's caught in a different way--caught between trying to fight back the shakes and wanting to shake so violently that he becomes nothing but dust. He's so fucking close to breaking entirely. Barely out of reach of giving way to body-wracking sobs, gasping for breath, tears pouring down his face, snot leaking from his body, and choking on guilt he doesn't deserve to harbor.

Oh, Steve.

Slowly, carefully, Bucky lowers his precious cargo of Steve to the floor, sinking them both into the squishy mats where he can wrap Steve up in his arms more fully and hold him together while he cries it out. Frustration. Rage. Sadness. Depression. Confusion as to why him. Why this? Liability. Bloodstained guilt. Every negative emotion, simple to overpowering and all of it bleeding out of him until he's limp and impossibly more dehydrated than he already was.

He is a husk, empty and thin, and Bucky still loves him. Overwhelmingly so, he loves him. He loves him bad.

Bucky pats and rubs and soothes his hand over his back, the other arm still slung tightly around him to keep him held, until his muscles actually start to get sore. Bucky doesn't care, it's a small thing to weather. There is worse. There will be worse. He will be there for him then, too.

He's stopped counting Steve's heaving, stuttering breaths, but after a handful more, he aches to yawn. He won't. Instead, he swallows the involuntary, nonverbal language of his body down, taking it deep into his chest and tucking it away for later. He'll never be too tired to take care of Steve.

Steve.

Steve with his head is in his lap, his face pressed tightly up against his stomach. He's out of tears. Bled dry. His lungs don't even have it in them to suck in huge, unsteady breaths. His whiffling breaths feel like they're painting Bucky's skin with condensation, humid and heavy with emotion.

"Ready for bed?" Bucky whispers when Steve's hands go limp around his waist, so drained not only can he not cry, not hyperventilate, but he also can't cling on. He combs a hand through his matted, sweat-soaked hair. They both smell like shit; they look like shit, too.

Steve tries to answer him, but his voice is shot to shit from all the crying, and all that will some out is a creaky little rasp that doesn't sound like anything. So, he nods, the motion tiny and admitting of how exhaustion tugs at his bones. There is no fight left in him.

"Okay, then, honey bee, let's get you to bed," Bucky murmurs, not thinking about anything but getting Steve home. He doesn't let the ache in his muscles mean anything as he lifts him up bridal style and starts determinedly toward the elevator. He's careful with him. He's still made of muscle and bone, but Bucky knows he's eggshell fragile beneath thick, unblemished skin. He's an illusion and everyone else is fooled, but Bucky refuses to be. "Bet you're tired, huh? Long day." Bucky is saying it to say it. He's talking. He knows Steve finds comfort in his voice. Sometimes, that's the only thing he can do for Steve, not chase him around and tire him out, but talk to him until he comes down.

So, really, he's not expecting Steve to nod again, but, Lord in heaven above, he does.

Small victories in a war, or, really, a miracle.

Bucky smiles as they step into the elevator, "yeah, baby, I know, I know. You gotta be tired. Anyone would be. I don't really know how you were still on your feet, dollface. You were running on fumes. You deserve a good, long sleep with sweet dreams, Stevie."

"Yeah?" Steve's voice is rust and nails, painful to hear but risking talking because he has to. He sounds so urgently in need of reassurance that Bucky can't take it.

"'Course, honey," he warms, squeezing him tighter in his arms, "and if the dreams don't come, I'll sing to you until they do, 'kay? Like I used to."

"M'kay," Steve says, somewhere between miserably and totally relieved, wrapped around him with both fists curled over his shoulders and that blonde head buried in his chest.

Bucky will hold him; Bucky will sing to him; Bucky will be his--Steve Rogers, not Captain America's--shield.

[owlhead650]

Could I ask for something of choice for Ace, if you’d like?

Thank you for the ask, yes you can have more Ace content. I've written a short story that's 505 words in length about Ace and Ciel Featherstone. Check it out below.

Ace tied their hair into a ponytail and tied their hoodless collar cloak around their neck. Ace was sitting in front of a linea unica mirror and preparing for another long day of performing magic tricks. Their makeup had already been done, all that’s left is to put on their dark fancy clothes. The checker pattern, the playing card symbols, purple, blue, grey, black. It gave Ace an aesthetic that was both mysterious yet approachable.

Just as they had secured the headband for their tiny tophat the door opened behind them. “Ace dear? There you are!” It was their cousin Ciel.

“Ah, little Starlet. Have you come hoping to sneak a peek at the magician’s secrets?~” Ace liked putting some unnecessary flair into their words. It helped with readying themself for the audience.

“No, Ace. I missed the better half of your first week just because of some league business. I’m sorry.” Ciel wore a feather in her short navy coloured hair. She is the circus aerial dancer and as such her dress had to be light and sleeveless to maximise mobility. Ace wouldn’t mind wearing that kind of dress sometimes, only they’d rather not copy her.

“Don’t be sorry at all, I’ve had a great time. Your Ringmaster has been very welcoming. And Terra was there too.”

“Oh right, I suppose you and Terra have some shared history. I hope that doesn't make things awkward.” Ciel knew that Terra’s eccentric behaviour was a lot to deal with. She would most often be exasperated, exhausted or enamoured by it, sometimes all three in that order.

“If anything our dark ‘shared history’ makes things easier. Terra actually gave me a genuine apology for putting me out of commission that time. When she’s loud and disruptive I can deal with it because I know mostly what to expect. Also according to the Ringmaster about 40% of resignees at the circus cite Terra as a chief reason for why they left. How does she keep her job?” Ace tried to ask the question in a way that sounded more humorous than demeaning, instead their tone found a middle ground between the two.

“Well the kids love her and the parents hate her. Terra’s unique flavour of chaos adds a thrill to Agate Circus that has become a core part of its reputation.” Ciel explained. “Alistasia couldn’t possibly fire her, begrudgingly we’ve acknowledged her as indispensable.” 

“I see. That’s practically the same reason she wasn’t kicked out of Team Meteor. Maybe my new job isn’t that different to the previous one after all.”

“Well there’s much less terrorism involved when you work for the Circus.”

“Maybe, but isn’t cornering the market with overpriced food just a different kind of terrorism?” They were only ninety five percent joking. Ace forgot to pack their own lunch one day and had to pay a ridiculous price for some crappy fast food.

“Well you’ve got me there. Ready for our show?” Ciel asked.

“I am! Your new fool has prepared all their tools.”

______________________________________________________________

So what did you think? Just now I came up with the headcannon that Ace joined Agate Circus after the events of Reborn's postgame. When everything is said and done Ace needs employment. Team Meteor isn't paying them anymore. The next best option for them is to put their magician skills to use at Agate and reconnect with their cousin Ciel now that they don't need to commit themselves to the Alcantra dynasty.

[sherasswords]

So I've been toying around with a Despara AU (if you don't know who Despara is I recommend looking her up) but I haven't got a full fic and I just wanted to share this little snippet I've been working on to gauge people's interest. So, here you go (warning: suggestive NSFW stuff but it cuts off before things get too spicy):

Catra returns to the hut almost an entire week later. She had been keeping her distance because Glimmer had told her it wasn't going to be pretty and she hadn't been lying. This was decidedly very ugly business. When Catra enters, Adora's head is hanging, her wrists are still strapped to the chair arms, as her ankles are to the legs of the chair. Her clothes look damp, and it's clear that she's been sweating from sheer pain. Her clothes are a little tattered and worse for wear. She's still dressed in the Horde uniform she had been wearing under her armour at their fight. She's out cold though, so at least that's something.

Catra moves around her and makes her way to the nearby faucet. She grabs a nearby rag and begins wetting it as she also fills up a glass of water. She takes a deep long sigh. She shouldn't have come back here.

When Catra turns, she almost drops the water from shock. Adora is staring directly at her. Just silently staring. She looks... expressionless. The only emotion Catra can really see is that she looks exhausted. She is watching Catra like Catra is the canary and Adora is the cat, ready to pounce. She doesn't say anything to her, which is probably a blessing, but Catra holds up the glass of water in offering anyway. Adora still doesn't say anything, but she doesn't say no, so Catra takes that as a invitation.

Catra steps towards her and Adora parts her lips. Her lips are clearly chapped, and she's obviously parched because as soon as she takes one sip her head moves back and she begins gulping the water desperately. Catra just holds the water and tips it back for the blonde. Some of it escapes Adora’s lips, runs down the side of her mouth and down her neck and then soaks into the collar of her shirt. Catra has to look away.

Once the glass is empty, Catra sets it aside and then places the wet rag on Adora’s forehead. She was burning up, residual side effects from the spell no doubt. Glimmer had meant literally that they were going to burn Despara out of Adora. Adora is silent, and it's a little disconcerting for Catra to witness. Usually Adora never shuts up, she's always muttering on about something, telling Catra how useless she is, etc. But now it's just... silence. It makes Catra feel uneasy.

Catra grabs a stool and pulls it so it is positioned in front of Adora. She takes a seat and stares at the blonde. Adora’s blue eyes seem more pale in colour than ususal, her skin is also clammy and more grey than its ususal pigment. She looks sick, which Catra supposes she is fighting off a virus. That's what Desprara is. A virus that has infected her best friend.

"Just kill me, Catra," Adora finally speaks, and Catra almost falls off her seat at it. "I'm insane. Honest to Hordak, batshit insane. I don't know what's real or not anymore. I started seeing you when I thought you died... I don't remember what I used to be like, but my mind is too badly damaged to return." Catra shakes her head.

"We can do it."

"You can't," Adora sounds so certain when she says that. "Shadow Weaver... She's so far in my head. All I can hear is her. The Horde brainwashes all of it's soldiers, I know that, but... it's all I know, all I was raised to think and feel. I think I've started believing the gospel they've been spreading. Eradicate the Rebellion. That's my mission. Without it... Who am I?"

"You're Adora, dingus, so stop talking about dying and start remembering," Catra says. There's a horrible moment of silence. Ususally Adora has some snarky remark, but there's nothing. She sits there in silence, her eyes on the ground.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Adora asks. It's probably the worst question she could ever ask Catra. "Why won't you kill me now?"

"I don't want you dead," Catra answers. She never has. Even when Adora has been awful, even when she has said the most hateful things imaginable. Catra remembers too well. She remembers her best friend who was kind, and soft, and caring, and who protected Catra. She loves Adora, so she really never could kill her.

"You thought about it though," Adora says, her head lifting. "I saw it... in your eyes... you considered swiping your claws across my throat."

"I'm considering doing that now if you keep talking shit," Catra huffs, unseriously. This, weirdly, manages to make Adora smile a little.

"Let me go, Catra," Adora whispers. "Please... or kill me... just... don't leave me here." Catra doesn't respond. She finds it hard to look at Adora now, to hear her plea for such things... It's so unlike her. "Do you remember those times we spent together?" Adora asks. "In the dark of our room."

"You mean your room," Catra responds coolly.

"And your room, when you got promoted," Adora says. Catra finally looks up again and sees not malice on Adora’s face, but genuine reflection. Her pale blue eyes become more alert when she sees she has managed to capture Catra’s attention once again.

"Why... Why did you..." Catra struggles to find the appropriate words to what it was that she truly wanted to ask. She was also too afraid to find the right words and to hear Adora’s answer.

"Why did I do it?" Adora asks. "Sleep with you?" Catra swallows and then nods. "Because... I wanted to," Adora says. "Because... you meant something to me."

"You wanted to own me," Catra says. "Whenever we... it was possession."

"It wasn't," Adora says. Catra gives her a look. "Okay, maybe it was a little, but it was also more than that. Catra... I know that I changed, I know that Shadow Weaver made me... angry... she changed me, but I do have genuine feelings for you."

"You do?" Catra asks, raising an eyebrow. "As in the present tense?" Adora looks away at that.

"Can you let me out for a little amount of time?" Adora asks. Catra really probably shouldn't, and she's not sure what possesses her to do it, but she stands and makes her way to the chair that Adora was so tightly bound down to. Catra starts unbuckling the straps. She has plenty of time to go back on this, but she just can't. She's here. She's committed. She's going to let Adora out.

Once the bindings are undone, Adora rubs her wrists, which were red with irritation. She looks up at Catra in amazement, and Catra knows she's probably thinking the same thing Catra is thinking: what the fuck?

Adora stands and Catra finds herself backing away towards the back of the hut. Adora pursues, but her steps are non-threatening, she is simply following Catra’s lead. "I enjoyed it," Catra admits as she leans against a sort of countertop. Adora stands in front of her. "Our... moments together. I enjoyed them."

"I know you did," Adora says, her hands land on Catra’s hips and she looks at her, quizzical. "You couldn't fake that kind of pleasure."

"I didn't like it because you made me cum, Adora," Catra says. She feels it. That magnetic attraction that's always been between them. It's there now, drawing them both together. Always together. "I liked it because it was you." Catra speaks that 'you' with all the emotion she feels for Adora. All the heartbreak she has felt. All the love. All the longing. Everything. Nothing has quite filled her up and emptied her than Adora.

Adora is tall, taller than Catra anyway, and she is pure muscle, seems she's been working out more since Catra last saw her, and even as grimy and bloody as she is, Catra has never wanted her more. She has always wanted Adora. She doesn't know how to stop wanting her. Adora leans in, their lips brush, but she doesn't close the distance quite yet. Catra’s breath becomes laboured as she lifts her hand to the back of Adora’s neck. "I'm no good for you, Catra," Adora whispers, and then she kisses her.

[cerealmonster15]

ok twst sims update from when i was playing last night, continuation of my blabbing here lol + some DOODLES about it

opens discord dms...

ok so i think i literally was planning on just going to my heartslabyul household and organizing their garden a little but i did not end up doing that at all, bc i immediately got distracted by i guess the new(? idk when they implemented it) 'event' system in sims 4 in real time where theres like, weekly goals for shit you can unlock? anyway this one was about the grim reaper and i wanted to unlock the reaper scythe earring for my diasomnia boys [i unlocked it and then forgot to give it to them lol]

but i had tasks to do! including asking some sims about ambrosia. this is what silver had to say about it

hes really excited about necromancy or whatever i guess

i did complete this week's tasks for the event thing but i immediately got distracted in the middle of it because i forgot that i'd ALSO toggled recently the story progression for relationships, as i mentioned in the other post i linked. so i see this stuff

and im like. when did sebek start dating jamil. when did silver start dating cater. why do they look like Hell [they had just come home from work and were Exhausted lol]

so i've been sleuthing around trying to find other relationships that have spawned [i cant always remember if it's something i did or if it happened on its own lol] and like i checked beloved son juice spade, where i could see i had been working on forming the first year's polycule with him last time i played- but also. chenya was there.

meanwhile ACE had formed no new romances but he DID form HATER BEEF with ORTHO FOR SOME REASON SKDJHKGSJD

[sorry ortho literally doesnt look like ortho LOL i dont use CC and i believe i didnt have the option to make kids hair blue]

one day ill learn how 2 draw chenya but NOT TODAY IM BUSY SOWWY KING

trey also had started a strong romance with floyd,,, and like i think i had him start something with jade a while ago but never maintained it / a while ago before i got a certain mod to help w/this, there used to be a lot of relationship decay bc i had trouble keeping up w/all the different households lol so i think jade and trey just hadnt gotten much attention but they look so funny in treys relationship slots

i think when the game does it by itself it just slots them as partners immediately so like im assuming it's treating floyd and trey as partners, idr exactly, but this just looks like trey and jade are best friends w/some budding romantic tension, and then floyd just walked up to trey and was like hey wanna go smash our faces together KLFHSLKDJGKL. godspeed trey good luck w/whatever that is

and then cater and trey have a romantic bond but i guess hadnt actually kissed yet so i decided to move them along so they could be an Official Couple but like.

right after they kissed, caters son walked up and was Not Having It kfsdhlkJFDSKLJKLG

anyway we got the item that let us summon the grim reaper

i tried so hard to get cater to hook up with him but sims 4 said NO FUN ALLOWED THIS TIME >:'(

thats ok tho he can just be an ace aro king and we can be besties instead :] it's also really funny seeing The Grim Reaper respond to social interactions like an average sim ksdlghkljf

ANYWAY,

chenya was scared of him. but also still dressed for the pool. and thinking about flirting with trey fdjksjfgklsd deuce was also scared of the grim reaper bc my poor boy is like constantly Haunted. i think he has three fears now and i dont know how to Help Him

i jumped around a bit more and found rook and jade have a romance and i truly dont remember if i did that or if the game did it kfdsjfkljsd but i DO like jade/rook so theres a good chance It Was Me, but i have no memory of it kfdsjklfs.

vil also has beef with jamil and azul

but thats been there for a lil while and i think i remember seeing it sometime after i was playing jamil or azul and they were on a date at a convenience store that vil was Also At, and vil was 🧍 standing like right in the midst of them so i think it did that thing where he inserted himself into a group convo with them and then got mad that they were flirting, bc i think sims usually get mad when 2 are flirting within a 3+ convo LOL

hes in his crumplebottom era. no pda in my lobby.

i had idia hit on cater by bragging about his gamer skills

then i found out idia also had a game-spawned romance with none other than

KALIM JSKFJSDLKJKFLKSD despite the fact that he was like actively currently annoyed by CHEERY PEOPLE [i think bc rook was there and i have him as cheerful lol]

idia voice wow all these bubbly extroverts suck wheres my boyfriend kalim al asim kJFLDSJFD

ok almost done now we're back at silver and cater again where kfdljsfkljs silver was still Yearning so i had him invite cater over to try and clear the wish to Smooch Boyfriend but like. i could NOT get the make out option to appear and thats specifically the one he'd rolled for so i was trying to spam romance w/them and it was like

i had them do their first kiss. then cater auto kissed silvers cheek and it was cute!

[i'd also given silver a small makeover lol]

then i saw shortly after the convo turned to very awkward and i was like huh why, theyre having positive reactions, theyre both flirty still, what- LILIA?!?!?!?!

dad walks up from behind them and is like ARE YA WINNIN SON??? so i got him the hell out of there klsdjflk he was embarrassing his son.... then as soon as he was out it swapped back to romantic interactions lol but i still couldnt get make out to appear. but u know what did if you saw the other post where i talked about this

silver nearly instantly had the option to propose to cater but he coudlnt bc their friendship is BARELY ANYTHING [you can see it peeking out on the right over there lol] so like. flash fire romance of them spawning something, me spamming romance interactions to try and fulfill the want, and no friendship progression fdksjgkldf

anyway then they all went to work can cater just kinda hung out in the kitchen w/their broken stove

OKAY THAT'S ALL FOR NOW BYE!!!

[theluxuriansecret]

Diary Entry 04152024

9:19 pm

Dear Diary,

I feel so fat, ugly, sick and disgusting. I am back to 160lbs and I am disappointed in myself. I have so much time to work out, and yet I doom scroll. I am stuck and stagnant but I know I can be doing so much better. I did the one thing I didn't want to do, I let the happiness get to me. Tomorrow I have no excuses. My job is no longer exhausting me and this is the last week where I get to kinda glide through and not have any of my own assignments. So, I have to find a way to get myself into it this week. I think the worst part is that I haven't partaken in any of my hobbies. I kinda find myself in that weird stage of again, scrolling my life away. I feel really anxious about it because there are things I really want to do and I am letting the days fleet into oblivion. I want more for myself so I will be doing more.

I have many mixed feelings, I hate that I can't put my phone down. I hate how I feel about my friends. My relationship with my dad has shifted and its strange, I hate living at home, but I couldn't move out even if I wanted to, I want to make future plans with my boyfriend, I feel fat, I hate how fucking horny I am all the time. I want more for myself. I told myself this would be the week I start my routine and yet I am still doing the last minute bullshit I've been doing, and I fucking hate it.

I do not have plans for graduation pictures yet, I don't even have a dress!!! Truly that's one of the biggest routes of my stress because I don't want anyone else to take my photos, but I also need him to be honest about if he can even take mine. I NEED to be the one to bring it up too because obviously my pictures are not a priority, and they shouldn't be. But it's the fact that I am so fucking over undergrad and it keeps rearing its disgusting head back into my life. I worked my ass off to get away from it and here it is, still in the way. I am going to have to take off work to graduate college, like how stupid is that.

ALSO.. I feel also a little bothered by the fact that my boyfriend hung up the phone with me to take a video of the sunset and then didn't call me back like.. why haven't you called me back? I know I am over thinking but when I am stressed about one thing, I stress about 20 other things and become overwhelmed. It's truly one of my fatal character flaws.

Today, I also ate like shit. I haven't eaten like shit in a long ass time. Not only did I eat like shit, I also just ate a lot. Like started the day off with egg salad, then I attempted to eat this spicy ramen that was way too fucking spicy, which made me drink milk. I added yellow rice to try to mellow out the spiciness of my ramen but that really didn't help, so I gave up on it. For dinner, I ate more yellow rice and three fried chicken wings, two drums and a flat. Finished off with an ice cream sandwich. BTW I have a cavity that has been bothering me for weeks. But my fucking dentist went and moved and the office was rebranded, still a dentist, just not the one who takes my insurance.

Why are services only open during working hours requiring you to take off so that you can use them. Why should I have to lose money so that I can spend money to have services I need done. Also, I still haven't found a PCP (primary care provider). I hate this adulting thing a lot. I am scared that I am not going to be a good adult because there are already so many things I do not do on my own or lack.

I try to convince myself I'll be fine, but then I remember I plan on sharing my life with someone who is so competent and capable of living on their own, they got the CHANCE to live on their own, will I ever? It doesn't seem likely.

[kudosmyhero]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (vol. 1) #11: True Stories

Read Date: May 28, 2023 Cover Date: June 1987 ● Writer: Kevin Eastman ◦ Peter Laird ● Pencils: Kevin Eastman ◦ Peter Laird ● Inks: Kevin Eastman ◦ Peter Laird ● Letters: Steve Lavigne ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● I haven’t seen the first TMNT movie in ages, but reading this issue brings little memories back—such as April’s journaling ● omg, I’d forgotten the insult-war, too!

● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: The issue opens with April having nightmares about being attacked by ninja monsters who look similar to the Turtles and the Shredder. April wakes up screaming and then heads off to write in her diary. The diary becomes the framework for this issue.

Jan. 15, 1987 Yes, it's almost three A.M. again… My Night Mare alarm went off Big time tonight. It's been over two weeks now, with no relief… I was hoping to shake them before this… I think—The last time I closed my eyes and actually slept (and I believe exhaustion had a hand in that) was on the trip here… Even then my awakening was a shock… April recalls Casey startling her awake during the trip from New York City, wanting her to see downtown Northampton, Massachusetts. She is underwhelmed by the sight.

Considering my state of mind, my reaction was a few notches below "I couldn't care less." I guess I should've looked around a little; I hear that Northampton's nice… at least it might have afforded some kind of comfort for my next sight… From the road, Casey's late grandmother's house looked like a classic old New England farm house—big old barn, family-sized house, sheds, trees and rolling hills; you know, postcard material. That was from the road… Casey is full of nostalgia seeing the Jones Farm, but April is introduced to a dilapidated old building with broken windows and a front door falling off its hinges. April wants to start a warm fire and to get the still-injured Leo into the house. But she is fatigued, and falls asleep on a chair inside.

Jan. 25, 1987 Winter remains with us… snowed two days straight… Clear today. Leonardo's still pretty out of it. The battle tore him up terribly in both body and mind. Physically he has healed incredibly well, but mentally… I'm afraid has a lot of catching up. He's always put himself in front of the rest of the guys; taking charge, bearing the extra weight playing the Big Brother… When someone like that feels they've failed they fall hard! He's recently developed an intense obsession with the surrounding forests and spends all of his time there… I hope he finds what he's looking for and comes out of this depression soon… We all need him back. Leonardo, dressed in an improvised winter hunter's garb and armed with a yumi, stalks a stag through the forest without much success. The stag ambushes him, knocking him down. Leo pulls out of a knife and charges the stag head-on, but the powerful creature instead grabs the turtle with his antlers and throws him over and behind. Leo sits feeling defeated as the stag runs off.

I guess I could never know for sure how he feels inside. But I do know what losing your home—and everything that you own—feels like… Those things that you felt gave you a sense of being and strength in this world… Belongings that touched memory chords of loved ones. Father… I know he's hurting. Feb. 10, 1987 Everything is so strange… I feel like I've never looked at myself or the guys before; we're all so different now I try to identify the people I used to know with those that surround me now… and it's hard. Don isn't doing too badly, although he does work obsessively at the huge amount of repairs that need to be done here. The place has been vacant since Casey's Grandmother Left four years ago, it was pretty run down then. Besides a million little things, Don's rebuilt the windmill to pump water, devised a water wheel that creates enough current for lights and the fridge, and also installed a wood stove for better heating, all around. His most recent undertaking will—if it works—satisfy a craving we've all had lately… …Hot running water! Feb. 15, 1987 Success! Showertime! Everybody's going nuts! Feb. 17, 1987 Feeling strangely depressed lately… I guess I expected Don to rest a bit after the last hard-won victory… No such luck. I heard him rummaging around in the attic early this morning… who knows what he's working on now. Feb. 17, 1987 Don's Writing Too! He must have found an old typewriter in the attic yesterday. I awoke to the tapping of busy keys around seven A.M. and he's been at it ever since! I wonder what he's writing about… is it a journal, like mine? I'd love to know… Donatello is shown in the attic room with the typewriter…and a trash can filled to overflowing with crumpled up pieces of paper.

Feb. 26, 1987 Michaelangelo worries me the most Mike, who could find a joke in just about any situation, doesn't laugh much anymore. Except for some half hearted goofing around with Casey and Raph, he's been almost painfully solitary lately it's so unlike him. But then all of us seem to have a need to be alone these days. Has what's happened made us unable to be close? I don't know… Mike's chosen a back section of the barn for his sanction… cleared a lot of junk out and created a little work-out space. The other day I happened in on one of his sessions. He was already on edge. Michelangelo is shown repeatedly kicking a punching bag until it breaks completely off its chain. He bashes and destroys a workbench with his arms. Unsatisfied, his takes his rage to the barn wall, ripping a hole out of the wood. He rests his arms on the new hole and groans.

We all feel so much pain and confusion— Each of us keeping his personal torment bottled up inside… Each seeking relief in his own way. The cure hangs plainly, clearly in front of our faces, but who will be the first to reach out? We Need Each Other! March 2, 1987 Raphael scares me. The rest of the guys I can feel for, worry for… but not Raph. Raph runs Hot and Cold… very unbalanced, unpredictable. I keep my distance. Lately I've noticed he doesn't sleep much. He's always always the first up and the last to bed. I think I've heard him Leaving the house late at night, too. I wonder what he's doing… standing guard? Late at night out in the cold on top of the barn, standing guard is exactly what Raphael is doing. He judges the front of the farm clear, then flips several times across the barn rooftop to the back, and judges the back of the farm also clear.

March 10, 1987 I've known some odd characters in my time, living in Brooklyn most of my life, But the likes of Casey Bernid Jones is beyond compare. I believe that in Casey's mind there's a petulant, mischievious ten year old waging constant war with a somewhat mature, Bright young man… unfortunately the ten year old wins far too often. Casey spends all of his time with Raphael, fighting, or "doin' projects, doin' projects!" as they say— usually more damage. What next? In the barn, Casey is trying to repair the engine of an old pickup truck while Raphael sits behind the steering wheel. As they work, they carry on a debate.

Casey: Not even close—The Professor and Maryann, without a doubt, married! Raphael: No frick'n way! Gilligan was her main man, everyone knows that! Casey: Bug off! He was a geek. Raphael: You're a geek! Casey: Get a life, no mind! Raphael: Spasmo! Casey: Puke brain. Raphael: Clayhead. Casey: Duck fart. O.K. Turn it over. Raphael: Yawn… Yup. Gack face. Casey: This piece 'a junk will never start!

Raphael: Sounds good! Casey: O.K., O.K., ease off, this thing's ancient! Check the hand brake so it won't roll… …Ease off already! Raphael: Don't worry! {yawn} Casey: Ut-oh… Raphael: Oop! Casey & Raphael: It's in gear!!

The truck speeds toward the barn doors, bashing them open.

Casey: Ease down, dude! Foot off gas pedal!! Raphael: The throttle's stuck!!—Wide open! Casey: Use the brake—the brake!!

Raph struggles in vain to steer the vehicle into control.

Raphael: No control!—

The truck scrapes the side of the farmhouse's front porch.

Raphael: —it's the snow—no traction!

The truck rams into and destroys the windmill just before it crashes head-on into a hillside. Raph gets out safely, but the truck is a wreck.

Casey: I hated that Jeep anyway. Raphael: Have they seen the windmill yet? Casey: Couldn't miss it. Raphael: Mad? Casey: Saw 'em carring gun and a noose! Yuk, yuk! Raphael: Eat worms and die!

One day later in the month, April is out walking on the ice of a frozen lake. But the ice cracks under her weight, plunging her into the freezing water. Leo is hunting nearby and hears her shouts. At the edge of the lake, he takes off his hunting garb which unrolls into a long strip of cloth. He stakes one end of the cloth into the lakeside with his katana, and crawls out onto the ice holding the other end of the cloth, successfully pulls April to safety, and carries her back to the farmhouse.

Back inside, April is resting and recovering from hypothermia. Splinter, the turtles and Casey are gathered around her.

Splinter: She'll be fine. But we must let her rest. As for you, my sons, enough time has passed… Your spirits have drifted far too long. Come, we have much to do.

Splinter takes his four sons out into the wilderness for training.

Splinter: You must work harder! This winter has seen the diffusion of your energies… With the spring, you must rebuild your group spirit… For now, set aside individual pursuits… Your healing requires collective focus!

May 1, 1987 I can't believe it's been over a month since I fell through the ice… and even longer since I've picked up this journal. I almost didn't this time, either. it all seems to mean so little now. I started this book to rebuild all I had lost in the fire. I guess after my mid-winter swim (HA, HA) I realized how little my life long accumulation of possessions had. I thought I was all I had in this world. Not true. I've got me, and I've got memories. I also have friends, real friends that I care for and that care for me. I'll always be there for them and they for me; we have each other, we are a family… one. This will probably be my last entry. I guess I just wanted some kind of final word …sort of wrap up all I had written so far. Life is Good… and Life Goes on. After a day of training, Splinter and his sons are gathered around a campfire.

Splinter: You've done well, my sons… Your spirit glows bright and pure this night. Although I sense an almost peaceful nature throughout… Something still lingers. Yes, we were attacked by our past, Leonardo nearly killed… But we all feel the real cost was to April, a burden we shall always bear. Yet, our experience teaches us, in all the universe change is the only constant. Thus, the way of harmony is to accept change, we make choices in life—and our karma is to accept the changes those choices bring. Just as April chose to take us all into her life, she knew there would be changes… … I believe that April has gained more by her choice than she has lost… And I believe that she knows this. Life is good… And life goes on.

April wakes up in her bedroom to the sound of creaking. Is this another nightmare? She is pleasantly surprised by the four turtles: One serves her breakfast in bed as another prepares to give her flowers and another opens the window blinds to let in the morning light.

(https://turtlepedia.fandom.com/wiki/True_Stories)

Fan Art: TMNT by Kuvshinov-Ilya

Accompanying Podcast: ● Shellheads - episode 16

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

While we're all in our feelings tonight, one thing I'm really grateful for this year for this community and for following Taylor is that it's helped me regain some of my sense of style which has been sorely missing for years. (Caveat: everyone can and should wear whatever they want at all times. This is a very me situation.)

I was very much a Rory Gilmore-type dresser in college and liked to dress up cute and play with makeup and such but then eventually ended up in a job where I was working seven days a week and almost exclusively wore athleisure most of the time. (Not that there's anything wrong with that!!!! You do you boos! It served its purpose for me as well!) And between just being exhausted and being in an environment where dressing up was Not A Thing (which had its own benefits absolutely) and also gaining a lot of weight in the past 5-7 years, I've been so absolutely uncomfortable in my skin and stuck in such a rut.

And while Taylor's style isn't always in my wheelhouse (though it is a lot more often than not) and I'm not tall, thin, blonde or rich, seeing how Taylor plays around with accessories and palettes and textures and kind of inadvertently studying that (and a huge thanks to the Taylor Swift Style blog for tracking all that stuff down), I've started playing around with that myself to see what I like and how I can express myself and my own style through that has honestly been kind of life changing in a way. Because while I still very much feel like an alien in my own body (and wish I looked and felt like I did ten years ago when I was in the best shape of my life), it's at least making me feel like I am gaining the tiniest bit of confidence in myself.

This is not to say that makeup and clothes make everything better. The beauty industry complex is toxic as fuck for a million different reasons and I actively resent it everyday. But I also love the art of makeup; I love how using different palettes play off the colour of my eyes, or different lipstick colours can convey totally different vibes. (I don't wear it everyday, and more often than not when going out don't wear more than a little mascara and eyeliner.)

I love how changing an outfit can go from "I'm a cosmopolitan girl walking through the big city like I belong"* to "I want to run through a field and get lost"** or whatever. I've spent more money on clothes this year than I have in the past five, but they've been intentional and made me think about how they go together, the quality of fabrics and how they hang, and how I can achieve the looks I aspire to. And I also started thrifting!

(*I am definitely not, I'm hopelessly suburban, but I could be a big city girl again if I wanted to. **I also am not actually one to run through fields but you know, I could cosplay the folkore photoshoot if I really wanted to too.)

When those first post-Joever photos from dinner hit in April from NYC in the black bodysuit and jeans, it made me think, "huh, I really like how this looks, but if I were going to wear it, what would I do differently?" and it's gone from there. I've discovered that despite the fact that at first it made me feel like I was 14 in my skating costumes again, I really loved how versatile bodysuits could fit with other pieces of clothing, whether they were high-waisted jeans or wide-leg pants or linen shorts or whatever, and took off from there.

I started experimenting with all the costume jewellery I have (and added more) and how I could change up my stack in a way I haven't since I got my second piercings when I was 13. (Still really tempted to go for #3 and/or a helix that I've wanted since I was 17 butttttt think I'm too chicken at the end of the day.) I've rediscovered my love of blazers and found my pair of go-everywhere white sneakers. (Am never going to be a high heel girl except for fancy events though lmao.) I dug out my jean jacket I hadn't worn in years. I have tried (and mostly failed) to draw a cat eye sharp enough to kill a man.

I'm getting a little better at caring for myself and becoming marginally more accepting of myself where I'm at.

I'm by no means a fashionista and don't follow that world in a general sense, and I'm definitely not, like, setting out to copy Taylor's style at all, however I am grateful that not only do I have all these music that fills me with joy, have made friends online and have bonded with friends IRL over it and now have an awesome trip to Europe on the books for 2024, but that I'm also kind of rediscovering and reconsidering what I like to wear and feel directly and indirectly thanks to Taylor too.

If 2023 was good for one thing for me, it may just be that at least.

[arwainian]

Reading This Week 2023 #1

Do not let the numerous fanfics read fool you, I did not have a lot of reading time this week as I have been busy at my first(!!) academic conference. I'm so delighted to have this opportunity to talk (in front of actual scholars and academics!) about research I've been doing. Very intimidating and cool.

Because of said academic conference, I was too exhausted (and tbh, celebratory sake-drunk) to type this up Saturday night like I've gotten into the habit of, so this is coming to you All recorded on Sunday morning

Started and Finished:

[fe3h fanfic]

The Care and Keeping of Byleth Eisner by Muftiday Children of the Goddess by wearwind Reaching Out, Sunlit by wearwind Liberation by 0shadow_panther0 network effects (the tragedies after duscar) by mareza and they come unstuck by Azzandra homeroom (or, if we're not recruited in 15 minutes, we're legally allowed to leave) by Schistosity AITA for not wanting to talk to my daughter? by knave_of_swords Observation by leonidskies Collateral by Azzandra Common Ground by TheDoctorIsIcecube Your name? by jemtokall Worthy of Your Protection by Hyakunana & leporidae The Crest of Riegan by BuddyTheMeanPeacock

*wipes sweat off forehead* my on-an-airplane fanfic reading habit is no joke, however a lot of these are Short. My faves of this set are absolutely "homeroom [...]" and the wearwind fics (and I'm very excited to get back to read more of wearwind's works once I actually get farther in my golden deer run)

[f@tt fanfic]

behind the centre by fangirl_squee Vishteen Minutes by risocean Chapter 9 of the void, through your body by zerodignity Duet for Plucked Strings & How the Songbird Sings by beanenchilada an accurate copy by zerodignity

okay this is a more reasonable number! "Vishteen Minutes" was extremely good at capturing the voices of Ali-as-Marn and Jack-as-Pickman, so i am extremely delighted by it [note to self: track down zerodignity on social media so I can ask if I can podfic 'the void through your body']

now onto actual books

Queer: A Graphic History written by Dr. Meg-John Barker, illustrated by Julia Scheele

I really could have sworn I started reading this book last week, but it turns out it just goes very quickly despite its density of information. A fun/good refresher on queer theory concepts I learned about last year, and nearly got me in an argument with someone in a discord server

A Thief in the Night by K.J. Charles, narrated by James Joseph & Ryan Laughton

I had been Planning to wait until this came out as an ebook to read, until my mom reminded me I could just use her audible account where she'd already purchased it (just like I already use her kindle library...). In the end I am desperately thankful for that reminder because once i was Too Tired to even read fanfic on my flights this week, Toby and Miles kept me going until I could collapse into a bed *does jazz hands in KJC fanboy*

Beastars, Vol. 1 by Paru Itagaki, translated by Tomoko Kimura

i watched a video essay doing a queer reading of beastars which reminded me that I wanted to read the manga, so here we are. it's going to be A Little While before I get to a part of the manga that the anime hasn't covered already, but so far I am enjoying this read

Ongoing:

Teen Titans: The Silver Age Omnibus, Vol. 1

I read another couple adventures from this in the Day and a Half i had at home this week. I deeply love how much the Titans love The Beatles. Also the adventure "Requiem for a Titan!" broke my heart! Dick Grayson......baby boy.........

The City of Brass by S. A. Chakraborty

I read.... like one or two more pages of this? I think I'm just not in the right mood for it this week

Started and Ongoing:

Before Trans: Three Gender Stories from Nineteenth-Century France by Rachel Mesch

my hold for this from the library came in! Oh i am so excited to be reading this. It's a bit of a slow read since it is three mini-biographies on "women who dressed as men" who we can pretty easily read with our modern lens as proto-trans, trans ancestors, etc. i'm really enjoying it

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, narrated by George Guidall

I think I'm starting a tradition now of reading-by-audio a classic novel at the beginning of the year. in both cases because I sort of want to write a story inspired by them

[ghostonly]

FTM Top Surgery Q&A - Installment #1

Operation Day Process and Experience

I posted a few weeks back that I'm doing a Q&A / Series combo for FTM top surgery as a large, disabled guy with ADHD and low income. If you want to know more about it, check out the announcement here or visit the installment masterlist here. The list will be updated when each installment is posted and I'm accepting questions to incorporate into each installment until May of 2023 when the series should have its final installments written.

For the first installment, I'm going to cover the operation day process and experience so that people who aren't sure how it all works, or those who have never had surgery before, can know what to expect.

This installment will be all about body preparation, surgery time, what happens at the hospital beforehand, and the direct aftermath of the operation. If you're interested in how to prepare your home for surgery, or want to know more about the results and recovery, you'll be interested in the pre-op environment preparation and progress installments, respectively. The preparation and the 1-week progress installments should be posted within the week and will be linked in the installment masterlist.

I'm going to write this as I experienced it, but different doctors may operate differently in their surgical procedure, so don't expect your experience to be an exact replica of mine.

So, without further ado

Pre-Op Preparation

There are only a few things, outside of environment preparation, that I had to do before surgery.

Earlier in the week I had to get a pre-op COVID test and I also had to pick up my antibiotics, pain meds, and anti-nausea meds, which were prescribed ahead of time.

The day before, I was given a time in the afternoon to call and get my surgery time for the next day. This is because they sometimes have to move surgeries around so they don't know until the day before. Luckily, they called me instead, so that was a help to my nerves.

After midnight, I had to fast, which would have been easier if I'd slept, but I had food prep to do, so I ended up just staying up all night. Let me tell you: worse than the exhaustion was cleaning and slicing 2 massive containers of strawberries without being able to eat a single one. Would not recommend lmao.

And, finally, the morning of the operation, I had to wash the surgical site with a soap they'd given me at one of my pre-op appointments. I can only assume it's some special antibacterial or something. I was told, after showering, not to use any kind of lotion or deodorant or anything like that.

They said I could use the soap and shower the night before if I wanted to but, considering you aren't allowed to shower for a week after surgery, I recommend doing it right before.

Then it was just a matter of putting on some loose clothes and heading to the hospital. Make sure to wear or bring a button-up shirt with you. I ended up having a bit more arm movement than I've heard others do, but I wouldn't count on your experience being the same. It's possible that this is related to my stretchy EDS skin making it possible to reach further before it starts to tug at the surgery site. Either way, it was a relief to know I didn't have to worry about it and made getting dressed with help a lot easier.

Arrival and Immediate Pre-Op Preparation

After I got to the hospital and checked in, I had all of my information confirmed and was given a hospital bracelet. After much waiting around in different places, I was finally taken back to the pre-op area where there are different alcove rooms with curtains for doors.

I think pretty universally, they're gonna make you give a urine sample. They do this for pregnancy testing, and I'm pretty sure whether you've had sex recently or not is completely unimportant to them. So, if you kinda have to pee but aren't on the verge of pissing yourself, just hold it. It will make this go faster.

After I'd given my sample, I was taken to one of the little pre-op rooms and instructed to undress. The nurse generally leaves the room for this so you'll have some privacy. I was given a couple of clear bags to put my clothes and shoes in and a gown to put on, and was told to get onto the bed after I had done that.

There was also a weird foil blanket to pull up. These foil blankets have holes that can be plugged into and are filled with warm air while you're being operated on to keep you warm and improve circulation. They're much less nefarious than they look.

After that, I had a nurse come in and confirm all of my information again. If you take a bunch of meds, make sure you know them by heart or bring a list of them with their dosages. If the nurse is missing one on your chart, you'll want to be able to give them what they're missing. Med lists are really important, especially before general anesthesia, because certain meds have interactions with anesthesia or other things they put in your IV.

Tell them about vitamins and supplements too. I can't stress this enough: anything you are putting into your body can potentially interact harmfully with stuff they're using and can literally kill you. As long as they know what you're taking, they can be sure that none of it will and it will be no problem. This includes illegal drugs. They don't care that they're illegal, they just don't want to kill you because you didn't want to mention you're doing coke or are an alcoholic. They have things they can give you to prevent withdrawal as well, because that's not good for you either.

After a long time of this checking my info and asking me questions about when the last time I ate was, another nurse did an EKG (I think that's the right acronym - I always mix up the different acronyms for looking inside of you in one way or another. Anyway, they put some sticky things on your chest and such and print out a scan, then remove them)

The IV was next and wasn't Super. I'm pretty used to getting jabbed for various things, including IVs, but the direction she put my IV in had it pulling a bit upward on my skin which was uncomfortable, but oh well. It wasn't the end of the world.

If you've never had an IV before, my best advice is, don't look, take deep, slow breaths, and remember that the pain is only temporary and that you just have to get through a couple of seconds of it before things are back to normal. Keep your arm and hand relaxed. The more tense your muscles are, the more it will hurt. If you faint from needles, tell them this. They'll use a smaller needle that will be slightly less painful, and, perhaps more importantly, much easier on a psychological level.

Once all of that was done, the anesthesiologist came in and asked me some questions, then had me sign off on a consent form.

The last thing in that room was my doctor coming in to mark my chest and ask me some questions about preferences. She made a line down my sternum and some curved lines under and on top of the breasts to show where the incisions would be made. Then, because I opted for a free nipple graft (that's free like separated, not free like no cost), she made markings where each one would end up. This is where your input is important. You can give direction on size and location. If you don't like where your doctor is marking you, say something, for the love of god. This is your body. If you've ever needed to assert yourself, now would be the time.

Once she was all done marking things with her bio-safe marker, she had me get back into bed and that was that.

The Painful Stuff

I bet you were nervous about that heading, but nah. All the painful stuff is gonna happen in another dimension. You will be Gone.

After the pre-op prep, they wheeled me to the operating room. When they say they're putting something in your IV for anxiety, it means you're gonna get stupid. I thought he meant something and what he meant was Something.

They had me say my name and date of birth to the other people in the OR and then had me state why I'm there - this part, I'm not sure if for security reasons or for their own amusement, because not ten seconds after he put the Something in my IV, my response was, "I'm getting my tiddies cut off!" Then immediately leaned over to the nurse and said, "Does that stuff for anxiety make you say stupid shit?" and she laughed with all the glee in the world and said, "Uh huh. This is my favorite part."

They lifted the bed and wheeled it right alongside the operating table (which is also just a narrow bed) and had me scoot over onto it, and honestly, from there I have literally no memory. I think they asked me about my boyfriend or something and then I was under.

Post-Op Aftermath

If you've never been under general anesthesia before, it is like taking a time machine into the future. Idk if it's just because I don't sleep like a normal person, so this is extremely fun and bizarre to me, but it's super fun because you will have little to no recollection of falling asleep and then you will suddenly be waking up with nothing in between.

When I woke up, I was only a bit sore because they'd put pain meds in my IV ofc. I felt a bit like if I moved too much I would hurt myself, but staying still wasn't really painful. There was just kind of an ache.

Straight up the most painful part of the operation for the first few days is the sore throat from having a breathing tube. Make sure you keep tea on hand and I recommend some cough drops if you can get them.

In previous experiences with general anesthesia, I woke up very quickly and was fully awake when I did. This time, I was very slow to come out of it, maybe because this procedure lasted longer than the others I've had. Also possibly because I literally didn't sleep the night before.

A nurse told me while I could barely keep my eyes open that I needed to eat some crackers so she could give me my pain pill. I told her I needed a few minutes because I was so half asleep that I could barely keep my head up, let alone eat something.

I was hoping the pain pill would be chewable, but no luck. My throat hurt really bad and I was afraid I would choke on it, but after eating some saltines and drinking a bunch of water, I managed alright.

From there, I had some time to lie there and wake up more. Natural first reaction: immediately feeling my chest and being overwhelmed with relief. I pulled the binder out a bit to look under it. It was mostly gauze and stuff blocking the view, but I could see enough.

After I'd had a bit of time to wake up and eat some more crackers, she let me know she was calling my ride home and helped me get dressed. Then she gave me a note where she wrote down what time I could take my next pain pill and antibiotic after I got home. After that, they brought a wheelchair and walked me out to the car where it was waiting at the pickup drive-through.

I was a little bit unstable on my feet trying to walk up the stairs when we got home, but holding the handrail was enough to keep me balanced. I was a bit dizzy and nauseated from standing upright while going to the bathroom and getting my shoes off and whatnot so I took one of the anti-nausea pills. That was the only one I needed during the whole recovery, so I guess I have those on hand in case I need them some other time.

From there, I just laid down and went the hell to sleep lmao

My 1-week post-op recovery and progress installation should be out in the next few days, so check the installation masterlist if you want to read about the first week of recovery and see post-op pictures.

Also don't forget to send in some questions to spice up the series!

[imthebadguyyy]

God, I Love You

Lewis Hamilton X Reader

Summary - Its been a tiring couple of race weeks, and you just want to love on your man

Stretching, you slowly opened your eyes as the first bright rays of sunshine peeked through a gap in the curtains, that you had drawn shut the previous night. As you slowly regained complete consciousness, you became aware of the slight weight around your waist, and the feel of warm breath on the back of your neck.

Suddenly remembering the events of the previous day, a smile etched itself onto your lips, as you rolled over to see a sight you had sorely missed for the past three weeks. Lewis was still fast asleep, head buried in your neck, and arm slung around your waist. Smiling as you took in the sight, you became faintly aware of the sound of paw steps down the hall, as Roscoe's face peeked in through the open door. Sitting up very slowly so you didn't wake your sleeping boyfriend, you extended your arms towards the dog, who came trotting forward for a morning cuddle.

After some morning loving for the dog, you decided to get up and start your day, and let Lewis sleep off the exhaustion, exhilaration, stress and jet lag from the races he had won. He had only come home yesterday, and it had been so late in the evening that you had just eaten dinner together, and talked for a bit, but sensing how hard it was for him to even keep his eyes open, you had simply gone to bed. But today, you had planned to simply spend time together, to make up for the time he had not been there.

Stepping into the bathroom, you did your morning routine, of brushing, using the toilet, and tying your hair up into a ponytail. Then you made your way into the kitchen, the bulldog following right by your side. When you had begun dating Lewis, Roscoe had simply started treating you like his mom, and once, when Lewis had referred to you as 'Mumma' while talking to him, you cried. That was the moment you knew that this was always going to be your family. Ever since then the dog had become your fur baby as well, and Lewis often joked that Roscoe loved you more than he loved his own dad.

Deciding that waffles and fruit was the way to go, you quickly whipped up the batter, and poured it into the Mickey Mouse shaped waffle iron that you had bought at a Disney themed store. Picking out some strawberries, mango, orange segments and blueberries to put in a bowl on the side, you also decided to prepare Roscoe's bowl, so the doggo could eat with you guys. Soon, the smell of waffles wafted through the air, and you took out two perfectly shaped waffles to put onto the plate. Quickly pouring more batter into the pan, you began to set up the breakfast tray, and then make your way back to the bedroom.

With breakfast eventually ready, you picked up the tray laden with waffles, cut fruit, tea, maple syrup and a bowl of dog food and walked up quietly to the bedroom. The curtains were still drawn, although the gentle breeze kept moving them to the side, causing little rays of sunshine to peek through and shine on Lewis's face. To combat the light, he had simply pulled the fluffy white blanket over his head to keep the light away from his face, and you mentally "awed" at the sight. Setting the tray down on the bedside table, you climbed into the bed, and wrapped you arms around his torso, peppering kisses onto his neck, and moving onto his face, kissing his chin, nose, cheeks, forehead, eyes, and then finally, just above his lips.

Stirring as you kissed his face, Lewis's eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in his surroundings. After momentary confusion about where he was, he remembered that he was back home. Back with Y/N and Roscoe. A feeling of happiness and pure joy began to spread through his body, as he turned to see Y/N's e/c eyes looking at him with pure love and adoration. "Good morning bubs! Did you sleep well?" she asked, fingers tracing shapes over his bare skin. "Morning baby. I did" he replied, snuggling into her warmth, burying his face in her chest, as she began to softly play with his hair. "I made breakfast"

"You didn't have to" "I wanted too" 'MmmHmm"

As you basked in each others warmth and cuddled up to each other, Roscoe, deciding that he wanted some loving too, jumped onto the bed, right between the two of you. "Hello Roscoe" Lewis said, reaching out to pet the doggo. Wagging his tail, he trotted up to your body, and sat down near your tummy, resting his head on Lewis's shoulder. Feeling loved up and comfortable between both your boys, you let out a sigh of content, and rested your head on your boyfriend's shoulder. Humming something under his breath, Lewis began running his fingers along your bare arms, causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin.

"The foods getting cold" you suddenly said out loud, hopping out of bed to go and get the tray from the bedside table. Getting out of bed, Lewis made his way to the bathroom, and eventually came back to the room in a couple of minutes, to find Roscoe munching away at some treats, while you had picked up a little folding table and placed it on the bed to rest the tray on. Feeling extremely happy once again, he climbed back onto the bed, and grabbed his share of the food on the table.

His phone began to vibrate, Toto's caller ID flashing across the screen. Groaning, he put the phone face down on the table, and ignored the call. "Why aren't you picking up ? It could be important you know" Sighing, he turned to you, "I spoke to him yesterday, and if its that important he can simply text me after I don't pick up. Plus I've seen him for three weeks straight, and now I want to spend time with YOU" pouting, he looked back at you, making you let out a snort of laughter at the look on his face. "Ok drama queen. Now eat your breakfast and then we can take a shower"

Smirking, he looked at you from the corner of his eye, "we?"

"Yes, now shut up and eat" you said, nudging him with a glint in your eyes.

"Yes ma'am"

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

After taking a shower together, and washing the dishes and the general monotonous household work, the both of you decided to take a walk along the beach, and take a frisbee along with you.

Dressing in the appropriate attire for the beach, you put Roscoe in his "ROSCOE 44" harness and walked out of the house. The beach was only five minutes away from your house, and you enjoyed the salty smell of the ocean air. It was a bright and sunny day, accompanied by a pleasant, cool ocean breeze as well. As you neared the golden sand, the bulldog bolted towards the sand, and ran right up to the water, and turned back to look inquiringly at the two of you. Laughing, you caught up with him, setting down the beach bag Lewis had packed for your beach day on a towel. Deciding to just relish in the Sun rays, you laid down a second towel, and removed your wrap around dress to lie in your bikini.

Lewis on the the other hand, decided to go for a swim in the water, and stripped off his t-shirt, so he remained in just his swim trunks. Looking over the top of your sunglasses, you couldn't help your gaze wandering all over his toned and muscled body, letting your eyes drink in the sculpted muscle and the tattoos that adorned his body, eyes lingering over each and every one, teeth unconsciously sinking onto your lower lip. "Enjoying the view?" his cocky voice made you look up at his face, still feeling slightly dazed.

"Yeah, because its mine to enjoy" you replied, throwing him a smirk. Rolling his eyes, he ran to the water to join Roscoe for a swim, while you watched with a smile on your face, as you watched your two boys chase the waves together. Whipping out your phone, you opened Instagram, to film the pair, and uploaded it onto your story with the caption : beach days with these two make everything better 🤍🤍

When the rays became too hot, you guys packed up your bags and made your way back home, stopping to buy some ice cream to beat the heat. Deciding to simply order some Chinese takeout food for dinner, with a bottle of wine, you settled down in front of your TV to have a movie night together. Lewis was in the kitchen, making some popcorn, and bringing you guys some wine as well.

Settling for 'Lion King' for your first movie, you let Lewis sit down, and prop his feet up on the pouffe in front of the sofa, while you tucked your feet up in the sofa, and laid your head down on his chest, his arm coming round your shoulder to hold you tightly. Roscoe sat by Lewis's feet, already asleep from the tiring day he had had at the beach. As Simba met Timon and Pumba, Lewis turned to look down at your face, "God, I Love You" smiling back at him, you leaned up to press your lips to his jaw. " I love you too"

Leaning his head down, he pressed his lips to yours, setting down the bowl of popcorn, to wrap his hands around your back, to keep you in place, as you pushed yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck, as his hands began sliding up your back to finally rest in your loose hair, while yours slid down to his toned shoulders, and straddled his lap. The kiss grew more and more desperate, until you two finally broke apart, for the need of oxygen, resting your foreheads against each other, breathing heavily. " I love you. You're so good to me"

"I love you more"

"Not possible"

The moment was broken by a loud "wuff" as you both turned to look at the dog, who had stood up and was now looking up at the two of you with a look that said 'get a room parents!' "Roscoe!' Lewis whined, "We were having a moment" Laughing, you got off his lap, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love you. Now, we have to feed to dog"

'Mmhmm' he mumbled, leaning into your touch.

"If you get up now and set the table, I promise I'll lock the door so Roscoe doesn't come in tonight" you said, looking over your shoulder, to wink at him. Eyes darkening slightly, he turned to look at you, and walked right up to you, pressing his palm onto your waist. "You better lock that door tonight. No doggy trauma in this house"

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OK OK OK OK FIRST F1 FIC. let me know what you thought !

NO I HAD TO ADD THIS BECAUSE IT SUITS THIS STORY SO WELL. im soft 🥺❤

Thank you thank you thank you to @grandestrategia for the idea ❤

[thera-daydreams]

PLUS ONE

》 A TRESE TWOSHOT 《

[Maliksi x Reader]

📝 Summary: In which your beloved best friend snatches you from your apartment at dawn asking you to be his plus one for his cousin's wedding. Unbeknownst to the clueless you, everything is just going according to Maliksi's ultimate masterplan. With the help of friends and family, the Prince of the Tikbalang finally gets the girl he's been longing for. And oh, Señor Armanaz gets his dream daughter-in-law and the promise of grandchildren within the year.

📌 Warning: May contain some slight NSFW for spicy suggestiveness and cussing. No smut or anything super SPG—this girl can't write that for her life—but just be prepared. It's Maliksi we're talking about. We've got friends-to-lovers, obliviousness, pining, fluff, and a tikbalang simp. Figure it out. 😃

(word count: 7,454) ♥︎ Part Two: ?

》 AUTHOR'S NOTE 《

Not an Inday spinoff, but a lengthy oneshot in celebration of this blog getting 90 followers. Just ten more to 100, yay! Thank you so much for the love and support, everyone. I also promised that I'll be making this brainrot that @binibiningbabaylan and I have fangirled over a few days ago (find the original post here) when I finished the latest chapter of Inday. Here it is! 🥰

Before I forget, I was also inspired by the cute fic made by @crispybasil titled "Sunshowers" and the "Trese Boys As Things My Guy Friends Do" made by the amazing @smolla-than-a-bug (I bow down to your wonderful works in the Trese fandom). I definitely see Maliksi to be the type to go on spontaneous roadtrips and be the boyfriend to drive you around eveeeerywhere (while also driving you crazy). 🚘

There are also some songs mentioned throughout this work. You should probably listen to them while reading for the full experience. Ending was somewhat rushed but eh, I'm too exhausted and I've rewritten it too many times. Also, if someone makes some actual tikbalang smut, tag me please. Anyways, enjoy! 💕

The way it all started was hilarious. Absolutely fucking hilarious. It happened like a blur. Literally. One second, you were snoozing in your bed. The next? You had a seatbelt on in the shotgun seat of a sophisticated-looking car. Your brain didn't even get to process it yet.

"... So let me get this straight," you grumbled, still half-asleep from your sleep marathon. You just finished a hugely successful project at work yesterday, got promoted, and wanted to make up for the restless nights you spent overtime in the office. Of course you were irritated from being disturbed. You were on vacation leave for two entire weeks, originally planning to go into temporary isolation by deactivating your social media accounts and reserving a beach cabana for yourself in Batangas.

Well, turns out, you weren't going to Batangas anytime soon. All because your unreasonably spontaneous bestfriend of ten hectic years stole you from your apartment at 2AM. Was this considered kidnapping? Was this him just being more in touch with his tikbalang side, taking unsuspecting women in their sleep and leading them to their inevitable death? (He was going over the speed limit, so it was a valid thought.) Will wearing your shirt inside-out save you today? Lord, masyado ka pang pagod para mag-isip ngayon.

"Go on."

"You abducted picked me up in the middle of the night because you want me to be your plus one at your cousin's wedding in Tagaytay?"

"Yup. And technically, the venue is right on the outskirts of Cavite going to Tagaytay," he corrected you as a matter-of-factly.

"Same thing, whatever," you huffed tiredly. "Your cousin's wedding is at 6AM today. In a few hours. In four hours."

"Uh-huh."

You groaned exasperatedly, "Mal naman, eh! You didn't even let me bring anything. Could've at least given me a heads-up a few hours ago. I'm practically emptyhanded right now save for my phone! Sinungaling ka, you said this was just a normal midnight drive—not a freaking wedding!"

The Prinsipe ng Mga Tikbalang, son of the Great Stallion, heir to the Armanaz herd, and the Top Drag Racer of C-5 Expressway—if that was even one of his Game of Thrones-like titles—grinned as he continued driving beside you. He let you continue ranting in the passenger seat while he mulled over his ultimate masterplan that would change his entire life later on. He was a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy, so all this wasn't his thing. But for you? He'll make plans, alright.

"Wala man lang akong dinalang masusuot o kahit konting makeup para maging presentable sa harapan ng buong pamilya mo," you exclaimed, in absolute despair. "Do you know how out of my league you are? Your rich-ass family might judge me—hell, your dad might see me as a hampaslupa if I show up there in my pambahay and tsinelas!"

"Psh, I'm not out of your league," Maliksi waved it off, smoothly turning a corner. "And calm down. We've known each other for a decade! My dad practically loves you as his own daughter. Heck, the entire family knows you and keeps telling me they want you adopted in already. Lolo Andres and Lola Perlita said they'd have the paperwork settled. You just need to sign them."

It would be even better (and easier) if you married into the family. To him, specifically (as if he'd let anyone else have you). God, he was already being so obvious in his advances, but you were just so damn oblivious whenever it came to romance. None of this needed to happen if you just got it through your thick skull that he was madly in love with you.

"That's not the point, idiot!" you slumped back into your seat, hopeless. "Do you think the bride and the groom will get offended? Shit, baka masumpaan ako kung magagalit sila, Mal. Mukha akong patay galing sa South Cemetery."

The long-haired tikbalang rolled his eyes, "Huwag kang mag-alala. Nothing's going to go wrong. Chill ka lang diyan. I've got everything under control, babe."

Babe. Yes, he even called you babe but you thought it was him being a himbo and a massive flirt. Now, it was his common term of endearment for you, but you still assumed it was him just being irksome to you and that you couldn't stop the man from saying it anymore. Thus, you let it be (the most obvious hint of his attraction to you, bestie).

"... Ugh, why didn't you ask Hannah or Amie to go with you?"

He just smiled knowingly, shrugging and making up an excuse, "Nagmamadali ako, eh. Hannah and Amie are also coming, but they already have the other tikbalang as dates."

"'Luh, ako pala ang backup choice mo?"

"Heh. Whatever you want to think."

Little did you know that you were always his first choice. Always. Even when he pursued Alexandra Trese many years ago, trying to convince himself you were just his best friend, it was always you. How did he come to that realization? Well, an international band he was a fan of released a song a couple years ago and he heard it being played in a club in BGC. The song title?

It Was Always You by Maroon 5.

Needless to say, after hearing the song and being unable to get it—get you—out of his mind at night, he stopped courting Alexandra. Unfortunately for him, that time, you'd started dating other men. Therefore, he was left on the sidelines... until your latest and most painful breakup, at least. That was five years ago. You still hadn't dated anyone since then, kind of traumatized from getting into another failed relationship like that.

In the present day, as if the fates were playing on you two, one of your favorite artists played on the radio. A very ironic song given the situation you two were in.

Best Friend by Rex Orange County.

Maliksi knew it was a favorite of yours. He knew it by the way your eyes lit up like a star brightening the twinkling night sky. Like the sun first rising in the morning at Apolaki's command. Like the moon extending its gentle rays from the magic of Mayari herself. If there was anything he wanted to ask of the old gods, it was you—everything else be damned.

"I wanna be the one that makes your day, the one you think about as you lie awake," you half-sang and half-screamed happily, somewhat out-of-tune. "I can't wait to be your number oooooone! I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine—"

Maliksi glanced at you, not minding that his eardrums were probably getting microscopic ruptures from your aggressive singing. As much as he wanted to stare at you all day, he had to keep his eyes on the road. But the lyrics you were singing were wrong; the Prince of the Tikbalang was already yours from day one.

"Babe, McDo drive-through tayo for breakfast. Let me make it up to you. Gusto mo ng caramel sundae for your promotion gift? Sige. Ako bahala. Chicken nuggets din? Mabubusog ka ba niyan? I don't think they serve those this early..."

》》》

"Sandali lang!" you shouted out from inside an empty room. You'd just arrived at the venue—the Alta Veranda de Tibig in Silang, Cavite (practically the gateway to Tagaytay)—an hour or so ago. The hired makeup artist just left so that you could privately change into the outfit that had been bought specifically for you. Curse Mal and his ability to buy anything (perhaps anyone) he wanted. "Bwiset, Mal, you didn't tell me we'd be part of the damn entourage. We have to be walking the aisle in thirty minutes, simbako! You just love rushing me, don't you!?"

If only you were the one walking down the aisle today towards him.

When you exited the room, Maliksi couldn't help but let his jaw drop as he skimmed your figure, clad in the luxurious, silky satin blush midi dress he bought in one of those fancy stores in Makati yesterday. He imagined that it would look great on you, but now, seeing it on you in person... you looked divine (and frankly, he wanted to see it off your body to see what was underneath—but don't get too ahead of yourself, Mal). It was a whole 'nother level from his imagination. The deep cowl neckline and thin spaghetti straps showed your lovely collarbones... as well as a peek of your cleavage. His favorite and the best part of it all? It was backless, allowing him to gaze at the tempting curve of your spine.

He hadn't realized he had grown silent until you smiled and closed his mouth, tapping his chin.

"Lalangawin ang bibig mo, Mal," you laughed softly. Never had you seen him so speechless. You then flicked your hair back, ridiculously posing for him like you were on the cover of Vogue magazine (haba ng hair mo, gurl!). "Do I look that good? Char lang."

"... You look absolutely ravishing—I mean, uh, stunning. Hot. Yeah." That was all he could say. He mentally punched himself for not showering you with more suave compliments.

Still, your face brightened up, not knowing that the man in front of you just fell for you a thousand times harder, "Wow! Really? Damn. Ang galing talaga ng MUA na kinuha mo, ginawa akong artista. Give me their contact number later! May work event pa naman ako in two months. I'm shocked, it's like they made me rise from the dead! Even my eyebags are gone, Mal! How'd they do that?" Heck yeah, your confidence was boosted. He offered his arm to you like a gentleman, making you half-heartedly roll your eyes (you took it anyway). From holding it alone, you could tell that your best friend was a sinewy man (well, you knew that already after seeing his tikbalang form before—the little shit didn't even wear a loincloth like all his clanmates; your poor eyes were eternally scarred).

You looked him up and down. You wouldn't lie—Maliksi is and always has been an attractive man. Now? With his hair in a ponytail (pun not intended), definitely one of the hunkiest men you've ever known. "You're not looking too bad yourself, horsey."

"Ako pa!" He puffed his chest out in pride. You chuckled at his reaction.

"By the way, how do you even know my dress size and my shoe size?"

"Babe, I've known you too long. You know almost everything about me, I know everything about you."

You snorted at his confident tone, "'Di nga? You don't know every single thing about me, Mal. Assuming ka masyado."

"Alam ko nga anong cup size mo. Wala lang 'yang shoe and dress size."

You slapped his shoulder, cheeks quickly flushing red, "Huy, umayos ka! Walang hiyang tikbalang na 'to." With this guy as your best friend? You heard dirty jokes at least once a day. "Don't be inappropriate here!"

"What? It's only fair I know!" He looked down on you suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You already know I always go commando, so of course I know that your bra is a size—"

"Shhh! Baka marinig ka, 'nyeta."

"So? Let them hear. My best friend has a nice set of melons!" he shouted. You were grateful there was no one around. Hopefully.

"Oh my God..."

Your best friend chortled at how flustered you'd become. He led you to where some of his family was waiting, with a couple of his relatives already greeting you. You instantly and quite easily mingled with them, your worries of them not accepting you far from even true (they all knew how much their prince loved the innocent you).

"Kayo na talaga, pare?" one of his older tikbalang clanmates asked while you went away to be fawned over by his aunts.

Maliksi chuckled, crossing his arms as he watched you from afar, "Heh. Hindi pa."

Another one of his clanmates—a younger one—laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, "Talaga? That's cap, bro. You two are like a married couple already and you guys still aren't a thing?"

"Ilang taon na ba kayong magkakaibigan?" the older one asked him.

"Almost ten years," Maliksi responded, a smile unconsciously pulling his lips up as he remembered your moments together. He watched you converse with his female relatives (who adored you the moment Maliksi brought you to a family event many moons ago).

The two tikbalang snickered as they saw the look on the Great Stallion's heir.

"You're down bad," the younger one said, snapping a photo of his lovestruck kuya. "You've got it so bad for her, dudeparechong!"

"Balak mong ligawan anytime soon?" the older tikbalang inquired.

"Heh. Balak ko na ngang pakasalan. Kung pwede, ngayon."

They looked at Maliksi as if he was crazy. He was very much serious, though, even if there was a huge, lopsided smile on his face. The Prince of the Tikbalang raised a brow at them.

"What? Don't give me that look. Our ten years of being best friends is practically the courting and the dating stage already."

"Eh... you're right. Don't waste anymore time. Go and marry her today, dude. Suporta kami sa'yo, basta groomsmen kami sa kasal niyo, ha!"

"Ge. Without question."

Meanwhile, on your end with the ladies of the family, they started pestering you on your love life (like all typical Filipino aunties). Chismis everywhere.

"O, iha, single ka pa ba?"

"Kailan ka magpapakasal? Malapit ka nang pumasok sa thirties mo."

"Do you want kids? How many?"

"Are you and Maliksi a couple? You look good together! Kayo na, 'di ba?"

"Will you be getting married next? Are you engaged? When's the wedding? Invite niyo kami!"

Before you could get overwhelmed by their questions, Maliksi swept you off your feet to lead you to the entourage that was lining up outside the chapel area. Again, it happened like a blur. He laughed at the partially nauseated look on your face.

"You okay there?" he asked, grinning.

"Your family thinks we're together," you muttered quietly, not meeting his eyes. You weren't sure why you felt... tingly about their statements.

He tilted his head at you curiously, gently setting you down on your feet and helping you stand.

"Do you hate the idea?" It hurt him to ask you the question, but he wanted your thoughts on it. Perhaps doing this was a bad idea. Maliksi was competitive in many things, including wanting you to be his, but if you were so opposed to it, he would never force you into something you didn't want. He let go of your hand; you didn't even notice he'd been holding it until he let go. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Your wide-eyed gaze snapped back to look up at him, "No! No, it's not that! And... it's not bad." Your hand felt strangely empty now that his was gone. Biting your lip, you disclosed, "You're not making me uncomfortable, Mal. Don't ever think that."

With that, you shyly interlocked your arm with his, tearing your eyes from his to mask the growing warmth you felt spreading in your veins. You two didn't say anything else when the ushers let you walk down the beautiful, petal-covered aisle together.

The man beside you was starstruck. Hopeful. Maybe both of you did have a chance. Maybe somewhere in the depths of your soul, his feelings for you were being reciprocated. For the rest of the sacred ceremony in the gorgeous main pavilion, both of you relished in short, comfortable, and low conversations. He even cracked jokes every once in a while—really funny ones that made it challenging for you to you stifle your laughter.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Maliksi fervently prayed to Bathala that he'd experience the same opportunity he was seeing with you someday. One day.

Even while the sun was brightly out, the sky began showering down light rain onto the land. You were in awe as you looked out the window.

"Hala, totoo nga pala! Tignan mo!" you laughed, tugging Maliksi's suit sleeve, pointing at the window.

"Na ano?" he curiously inquired, not understanding what you were referring to.

"Na kapag may tikbalang na kinakasal, umuulan habang may araw pa," you replied, eyes filled with childlike mirth and wonder. A rainbow had even begun to form by the clouds. "Look, it's magical! Ang ganda pala ng view dito kasama ang old Spanish architecture. Timeless na timeless. It's so pretty, 'no? Picture tayo 'maya, Mal."

Unlike you, it wasn't the sky outside that the prince was looking at. Amidst the loud cheers for the newlywed couple and the bubbles the guests were blowing, his vision could only focus on how magnificent you looked while being amazed. You were his best view. (Ed from 90-Day Fiancé, kabahan ka na, may katapat ka sa pickup line mo.)

》》》

"Smile for the picture!"

You giggled as Maliksi was dragged into a photo-op with the bridesmaids and the important older wedding sponsors a few feet away (funnily, he looked a little constipated around them). All of a sudden, when he was heading back to your direction, you were roughly pushed into the said man's arms. When you turned around, there was nothing (except maybe a gust of wind that came out of nowhere).

"Ooh, gotcha. Careful," the tikbalang steadied you, strong hands holding your biceps. "Natapilok ka?"

"... Huh, hindi naman," you wondered suspiciously, looking around. "I think someone pushed me? Parang tinulak ako... but wala namang tao."

"Weird. Maybe it was just the wind."

It actually was. Really. Maliksi knew for a fact that it was those two taong hangin who were spying on you from the corner, trying to pair you up. He gave them a thumbs-up while your back was turned in the opposite direction. Hannah and Amie returned the thumbs-up before vanishing. Suddenly, the two wedding photographers had moved on from the bridesmaids and were right beside you.

"What a lovely couple you two are!" she praised. Before you could correct her, she held up the black contraption she held towards you two. "Pose for the camera, lovelies!"

And so you did, the photographer guiding you two on what to do. Maliksi wrapped his arm around your waist and you leaned on his side, looking sidewards to the camera with one leg cocked in front of the other. Her assistant, who was holding a polaroid camera, printed out two photos for you.

"Thank you," you told him, taking the photos from his hands then flicking them rapidly to make the images develop. You and Mal were about to walk to the reception area when the photographer stopped you, handing the male beside you a business card.

"If you two need a photographer or a videographer for your wedding, call me," she signaled to both of you before running to another guest, bringing her assistant with her.

You gawked, "Mal, did you just hear what she said?"

"Loud and clear." A grin was on his face. He seemed very pleased at what he heard.

"... How can she even tell if someone is married or not?"

Maliksi's free hand took your left hand, tapping the ring finger, "Nothing here."

"Ooooooh. I get it now." Your brows creased. "Huh. This is like the fifth time today the people here have mistaken us for a couple."

Maliksi shrugged, teasing you, "Who knows? Baka may potential tayo, babe."

Before you could ask him what he meant, he was hurriedly towing you to the reception venue. While he was doing that, you stared at the now-developed polaroid photos you were holding. Huh. Maybe you two did look like a couple.

"Come on, they're serving some snacks at the welcome reception area. Peach pie and mango float-flavored. Paborito mo, babe."

》》》

The rest of the night went by without a hitch. You were actually enjoying the event—the host was great, the food was great, the music was great. Everything was great... that was, until the games.

"Alright! Now that the bride's garter has been removed, let's have the bouquet and garter toss... starting with the females!" the host announced. "Dear bride, please stay here in front. And all single ladies—and by single I mean ready to mingle and are not married—please rise and stand here on the dance floor. Let's play matchmaker tonight, everyone!"

"Uy, single ladies daw," Maliksi nudged your side. "Sign mo na 'yan." You snorted like a pig.

"Nope, ayokong madamay sa bouquet toss," you whisper-yelled at your best friend. "Do you know how embarrassing that is?! Besides, they won't notice if I don't join! Special tactic ko 'yan sa weddings: pretending I'm not single. Katabi naman kita."

More women came to the front, making you feel assured that you didn't need to participate. The host was about to say something, when the bride interrupted to whisper something into his ear.

"Hala, halaaa! Sabi ko all single ladies, pero may isang single lady na nagtatago pa!" he announced, making you freeze. Please don't let it be you. "What's her name, beloved bride?"

"Y/N L/N." You nearly spat out your champagne. You? Did they just call out your name? How did they know?

"Oh fuck," you cursed quietly.

"'Di ka makakatakas dito, babe," Maliksi jabbed, making you stand up. "Tinatawag ka na."

"Baka may ibang Y/N L/N dito," you resisted, attempting to sit back down. "I can't do this, Mal."

"'Sus, ikaw pa. And it's just a symbolic ceremony!" he encouraged, as if he didn't have any underlying intentions. "I doubt the bouquet will go to you anyway."

Sheesh, what a big fat liar you are, tikbalang prince.

You expressed your dissatisfaction with the situation, "Bwiset, fine. I'll just... dodge it. Or evade it. God, I swear..." You calmed down, confident. "I'm not going to worry. I've never caught the bouquet at my own friends' weddings anyway."

When you were at the dance floor, Maliksi snickered, seeing the bride—his cousin—wink at him. After all, he had thoroughly bribed her earlier.

《《《

"It's about time you settled down with someone, Mal," the bride commented while he slipped her the newest Hermés designer bag filled with a bunch of jewelry (plus some bills) two hours ago, right before the reception began and while you were in the restroom freshening up. "Hehehe, this is why you're my favorite cousin."

"Do we have a deal?"

"Of course. I'll make sure she participates. I'll also try to throw it in her direction."

"Good. Thanks."

"You better invite me to your beach wedding. I can tell how much you love her."

"Not a problem. I'll even make you a sponsor."

The bride stared at her bouquet, already practicing how she was going to throw it, "Tito's going to thank me so much for ensuring that he's going to get grandkids soon, hihi."

》》》

Back to the present, on the other end of the room, Maliksi saw a familiar duo give him a sign that they were ready. Bingo. Time to execute the most important part of his plan.

《《《

"I don't care how you do it," he told the two wind elementals after he bribed the bride. "I've already instructed the bride on what she should do, pero siguraduhin niyo lang talagang lumipad sa kanya ang bouquet."

"Mmhmm," Amie flipped her hair, a hand on her cocked hip. "And what do we get in return, oh great Señorito Armanaz?"

"Sagot ko bar-hopping niyo for one month."

The two girls pretended to think about it, making Maliksi roll his eyes. He had to pull out the big guns, huh?

"Fine. Magbibigay ako ng cash deposit plus pwede niyong gamitin ang black card ko for a one-week shopping spree in Ortigas." There. Bullseye. That's what they liked.

"Deal!" they exclaimed excitedly.

Hannah let a cool gust of wind enter one of the nearby windows, testing out how they're going to do this. "Ano pa bang pinaplano mo for Y/N mamaya?"

Maliksi hummed, "Basta."

》》》

You tried your best to hide within the densest part of the group of women. The bride seemed to have her eyes on you, weirdly enough, and she looked almost feral wanting to throw her flowers into someone's face.

That someone being you. Most likely.

"Target locked on," you saw her mouth move. She positioned herself like she was about to throw a football at someone (ahem, you). Holy shit, was she talking to you? Miss ma'am, it was a bouquet toss not a bouquet throw. The bride seemed to notice this, and once more regained her elegant composure.

"3, 2, 1," the host counted down. "Go!"

Surprisingly, the bouquet flew very high into the air (it was a wonder it didn't get tangled in the ceiling decor), but quite a distance away from you. You grinned, knowing it was too far to even touch you. Squeezing through the crowd of women eagerly awaiting the bouquet, you went to return to your assigned table.

Ah, what a wonderful evening.

Sike!

Something painfully landed right into your face, leaves and flowers getting into your hair and mouth.

... Wait, leaves and flowers?

Before you could comprehend it, the bouquet dropped right into your arms. What kind of ungodly, inhuman force allowed this to even happen?

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our lucky girl for the night!" Everyone clapped, with some—those guests you knew—even cheering your name unbelievably loud. The host approached you, a glint in his eye which you couldn't understand. "Miss Y/N, kindly sit here while we await the lucky guy who catches the garter from the groom."

What just happened?

"All single gentlemen, please proceed to the dance floor. Remember, the man who gets the garter gets to slip it onto the lucky lady's leg later!"

Oh, God. You pinched the bridge of your nose. What you'd give to be back at home or to be in that resort in Batangas you'd planned on going to for a solo vacation.

"To make this even more exciting," the host stated, handing you a black blindfold. "Our lucky lady has to keep her eyes closed until her lucky man for the night captures the bride's garter! When the music plays, only then can she uncover her eyes."

See? Humiliating, just as you expected. Still, you wrapped the blindfold around your head (albeit hesitantly). You attempted to guess who it might be, thinking of all the tikbalang friends Maliksi had introduced to you back then whenever he invited you to his clan reunions.

"Groom, are you ready?" the host asked, microphone loud and clear.

"Ready na ready!"

"Single gentlemen, are you ready?!"

"Ready na ready! Awoo, awoo!" they loudly chorused, exactly mimicking Spartans about to engage in battle. You sweatdropped in the seat you were in. This was actually kind of scary. Maybe you felt a bit objectified.

"3, 2, 1, go!"

There was a brief moment of silence, which made you concerned. Ba't ang tahimik? Then, everyone erupted into roars and bravoes much louder than when you caught the bouquet—perhaps even louder by tenfold. What the heck was happening?!

The music played. Very raunchy, spicy, babymaking music. You expected it to be the typical Careless Whisper by George Michael or Pony by Ginuwine (corny songs which you could probably laugh at, at least), but no. Nuh-uh, this was probably worse. The DJ must be pretty young, the song of their choosing being a slowed, bass-boosted, sexier remix of Earned It by the Weeknd.

Ano 'to, bold? Fifty Shades of Grey? The hell was this?

Alright. This was embarrassing. Thank the heavens there were no children at this party. From the music alone and its implications, this was strictly for adults.

You removed your blindfold (that was okay now, right?) as the guests whistled playfully. You peeked one eye open reluctantly, then inwardly groaned. Oh, no. You should've expected it to be him of all people from how loud the reactions were. And all those yells from the crowd were from his family.

Son of a—

"Well, this has proven to be a very interesting arrangement!" the host proclaimed. "Our lucky man for tonight is none other than our great clan leader's heir, Maliksi Armanaz! Congratulations, sir! You get to slip the lacey little garter on Miss Y/N!"

The said very smug tikbalang stood a few feet away from the chair you were sitting on, smirking at you. His hair was no longer in that mesmerizing ponytail—instead, he'd tied it into a more sinfully attractive man-bun, loose strands framing his face and accentuating that sharp, angled jaw of his (say yes and thank you to Manny Jacinto's jawline, besties).

"Let's cheer him on in his new mission, everybody!" the host pushed. Was this that glint in his eye earlier? And was that a one thousand peso bill sticking out of his pocket?

The groomsmen, Mal's cousins and uncles whom you've met before, hollered words of encouragement to the tall man (who was, oddly enough, not one bit fazed). In fact, Maliksi seemed like he was famished as he stared you down.

You swallowed, feeling like you were going to get eaten (heh, say that again). Maliksi had shrugged off his dark suit blazer to the beat of the song (holy fuck, he also unclasped the suspenders attached to his pants right before your eyes—asdfghjkl). Were you prepared for this? No. Will you ever be prepared? No!

"Mr. Armanaz, before you begin," the host interrupted. "We have an additional challenge for you in this mission. Kaya mo ba? It was a request of the newlywed couple."

"What is it?"

"Use your teeth!" the bride and the groom cheerfully shouted, clapping with the other guests. Whatdidtheysaaaaay???

The cocky bastard didn't even hesitate, his smirk at you growing wider; those pearly whites of his on full display. Was it just you or were his canines a little sharper than usual?

"Anything for the newlyweds. Challenge accepted," he dashingly replied, winking at you. You sputtered indignantly. Pisteng yawa. Putangina. Putek. Pakshet. You swore you thought of every swear word in the book at that moment. What did that YouTube parody song about Filipino mythological creatures say again? About the tikbalang? Ah, yes. Half-macho dancer and half-stallion. Maybe the joke was true, especially when you saw what Maliksi did next.

He bit the shred of lace, loosening his necktie (bestie, you good there?), unbuttoning some top buttons, and rolling up the sleeves of his collared white undershirt up to his elbows (consequently showing off his toned, veiny forearms—those lucky bridesmaids behind him nearly fainted). Honestly, you felt like you were about to lose your mind from embarrassment. With how tantalizing your guy best friend was being? Let our response be: San Pedro, kunin mo na ako. Was he doing all this to tease you? To rile you up?

Because damn it all, it was working. In your ten years of knowing Maliksi Armanaz, withstanding all his daily dirty jokes and flirtatious attempts, never had you seen him like this. So... wolfish. Ravenous. Like he was a man that hadn't been fed in years.

He stalked closer towards you, falling to his knees in front of your legs. Your gown had a long slit that extended up to an inch or two below where your left leg began—your best friend was eyeing his target already, knowing where to place the garter. Normally, you would never even wear something as revealing as this gown. It just wasn't your type, but Maliksi was the one who bought this for you for this specific occasion, so you had no choice. It was this or your pantulog he stole you in just hours ago. At first, you were confident in the gown. Now? You felt too... naked.

Somehow, in the heat of it all, you'd muted out the noise of the venue. Maliksi teasingly lifted your foot up, fingertips slyly grazing the thin shoe straps around your left foot—his calculated touch leaving fire in its trail. Once the garter had been successfuly inserted past your high-heeled stilettos, the man kneeling in front of you kept his hands to himself. Despite the fact that now there was absolutely zero skin-to-skin contact between you and this man, your body felt hotter than it ever was before as he expertly slid the lacy bit of cloth up your ankle at an agonizingly slow pace.

Maliksi's warm eyes had turned dark, his pupils blown, a tinge of red in them—of his true beast—while he maintained striking eye contact with you, pulling the garter up your calf with his teeth. Smoothly tugging... tugging... tugging. Tangina, it was like he was undressing you with his eyes alone; like he was telepathically telling you to keep your eyes open.

To keep your eyes on him, where he was knelt inbetween your legs, his hands intentionally locked on his back. Did you ever imagine this? Him between your legs? Maybe. Once or twice. But you never thought about it seriously; Maliksi dated girls left and right in the past.

His lips... his lips were so close... so close to your leg that you could feel the heat of his breath along with the lace. Were you about to die? Perhaps you already did. Maybe you were in heaven. Up... up... up... snap!

Suddenly, he stopped, grinning up at you mischievously and letting the elastic bounce back to the skin of your left knee.

"I'm not going any further, don't worry, babe," he whispered, noting that your eyes had become misty and glazed over. Internally, he grew worried. "That's enough." Did he think it was from discomfort? From you being uncomfortable? Bitch, no. It was the exact opposite. You had never been this turned on in your entire life.

You felt like your soul had left your body at that moment. Did you just have a heart attack? Was your blood pressure okay? Before you or Maliksi could stand, however, someone bellowed from the wedding sponsor tables.

"Higher! That's an order!"

Fucking hell, it was Maliksi's father who shouted. He wasn't in the huge tikbalang form you'd normally meet him in, but he was still very intimidating in his humanoid form, commanding attention and subservience wherever he went. You could tell where Maliksi got it from.

Instantly, the other guests—already half-drunk and wanting the spirit of partying to continue on—joined in.

"Higher! Higher!"

The host cheered, "You heard Señor Armanaz! Higher!"

Maliksi gave you a questioning look. Even if it was his father who spoke up, he still wouldn't do anything you didn't want. Well, you two made it this far; there was no point in getting embarrassed now. You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding. You probably couldn't erase the redness on your skin with how much you'd blushed from this night. It was as if the heat was tattooed onto your skin.

"Go on, Mal," you whispered to him, bending your torso down closer to his face, eyes half-lidded from want. "Finish what you started, babe."

With those sultry bedroom eyes he'd never once seen you show him before—plus you turning the tables with that familiar term of endearment, how could he refuse? Like a switch had been flipped inside him, he immediately complied, taking the frilly scrap of stretchy lace between his teeth once more, moving it further up to your thighs until where your high slit ended—centimeters below the warming juncture between your legs.

Your legs felt wobbly... boneless, as you stood up from the chair, the fabric of your gown cascading over where the lace sat securely on your upper left thigh. The party was still going strong even after you two finished the garter wearing tradition.

"'Atta boy! That's my son!" Señor Armanaz blazoned, standing up and raising his glass for a toast. "Cheers to the newlywed couple! May they last forever!"

You guys weren't the newlyweds, but it did sure feel like it. If the clan leader was hyped up, everyone was hyped up. Heck, the groom and the bride didn't mind one bit what had just transpired on their dance floor. In all the chaos, Maliksi took you out of the reception area and somewhere quieter. More private.

You would need to have a serious, urgent talk with your boy best friend.

》》》

You two silently sat on a stone bench in a gazebo somewhere in the reserved venue for the wedding, trying to cool down and get yourselves back together (at this point, you needed ice from that steamy, half-scandalous event you just went through). Here, there was no one else except for the chirping of crickets, the lush trees surrounding the area, and the golden fairy lights strewn all over the roof. Awkwardness was something you'd expected after what just happened, but somehow, you still felt comfort in this man's presence. For the past thirty minutes, both of you just stayed still, lost in your thoughts and reflecting.

"Mal?" you finally spoke up.

"... Hmm?"

"Ano tayo?"

"Whatever you want us to be."

Your fingers instinctively reached out for his, just like they always did when you were anxious. Sensing this, he grasped your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Soothingly. He massaged the skin of your fingers, distracting you from your nervousness. It seemed like both nothing and everything changed between both of you. The gesture was the same, but so different at the same time.

"Mahal mo ako." It was not a question. It was a statement. A truth—one that you'd been too blind to see before. One that you only discovered while you stared into each other's eyes in that party not as best friends. You realized with a jolt in your heart what he really felt for you, and now, what you really felt for him. In those thirty minutes of silence, you knew. You just knew.

"Yes. I do."

"... Just as a best friend?" you probed.

"..."

Finally, you gazed into his eyes, previously so dark and full of hunger. Now? Just reluctant. Vulnerable. Open. Unsure of what to do next.

Seems like you had to be the one to take initiative tonight. Taking out your phone, you opened your music app and pressed play on a certain song. Ikaw at Ako by Johnoy Danao. You removed your heels (which were starting to blister your ankles and toes), then pulled him up to stand.

"Dance with me," you murmured, grabbing his arms to wrap them around your waist. He was stiff. Tense. What was he to do when the woman he's been pining after for so long let him hold her? All his gallantry and ability to romance disappeared out the window the moment you let him touch you so intimately.

You two weren't even waltzing. Just swaying. Slowly, you leaned your head on his broad chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

"... I love you," Maliksi admitted in the middle of it all, feeling like he was dreaming. Your head on his chest kept him grounded to reality, however. "More than anything in the universe. I fell for you ever since you patched me up when you were nineteen and I was a reckless drag racer who didn't have a purpose in life. 'Nung dinala mo ako pabalik sa Armanaz Tower on the verge of death. Simula noon, ikaw lang."

"I realized that," you smiled, reminiscing the old memory. You were just a broke college student that time, coming back to your dorm from making your group thesis at a classmate's house. Imagine your panic when you found a half-man, half-horse bleeding out by some bushes on the way home at night. Despite your fear and your little money (only enough to feed you for the week), you went out of your way to buy a first-aid kit at the nearest 7/11. It was scary, but you managed to mend the creature's wounds by the side of the road. When he was finally able to speak, turning fully human (which you admit, freaked you out initially), you arduously carried him back to his address—to his father and his clan, even if you had classes the very next morning. Because of your heroic deed of saving their precious heir, the tikbalang clan had become indebted to you: a teenage girl on the verge of a mental academic breakdown, just making her way through the cruel adult world. How old of a memory that was, you thought, yet you still recalled it in perfect detail. "Just a while ago."

"Ah." He swayed you gently.

"Lahat ng ito, plano mo?"

"... Yes," Maliksi fessed up. "Except for this part where we're here dancing in this belvedere. Wala sa plano ko. Gusto ko sanang magconfess doon sa may fountain para sweet, pero..."

You lifted your head off his chest, smiling at him with one brow raised, "You know, between both of us, you're supposed to be the spontaneous one. Planning isn't usually your thing."

"I know. It's a failure, huh?" Maliksi sighed.

"Nah." You shook your head, then suddenly locked lips with him. It was so fast and surprising he didn't even get the chance to return your first kiss. For once, you caught him off guard. You pecked him on the lips again. "It's not a failure."

"Wha—"

"I'm sorry for making you wait, Maliksi. Ten years. We're twenty-nine now, and only tonight do I realize how blind I've been. We've been going around in circles, wasting so much time. Ayoko nang mag-aksaya ng oras," you whispered guiltily against his lips. How could you have been so blind? Andaming nasayang na taon. Making up your mind, you told him, "Yes. Sige, I accept. I'll be your plus one."

The tikbalang was flustered and baffled from the kiss, as well as your revelation, "... But, you already are?"

"No, silly. I meant that I'll be your plus one for life. For as long as you'll have me," you laughed, now processing that you were currently dancing barefoot with your boy best friend and had just kissed him in a wedding you didn't even plan on going to. The universe had a mysterious way of doing things. "Guess I'm the spontaneous one now, huh?"

Maliksi was tongue-tied. "Seryoso ka ba? Is... Is this a marriage proposal?"

"Whatever you want it to be," you echoed his words back to him. "Best friend, plus one, girlfriend, wife—mmpf!"

He kissed you so hard your lips bruised. After an impromptu makeout session which was definitely more in character for Maliksi, you both pulled away, panting heavily in search for air, still desperate for passion. He cupped your cheeks, giving you a sweet, featherlight Eskimo kiss.

"You're missing one more title."

"Hm? What do you mean, Mal?"

"Love of my life." He kissed you again, this time lifting you off your feet and spinning you around (his sneaky right hand was resting on your bum, too, giving it a tight squeeze). You know in the Princess Diaries where the main character's foot just... pops whenever the prince charming kissed her? Yeah, that happened to you on that humid summer night. This was right. You two were meant to be together. Everything was falling into place.

The bungalow you reserved for your Batangas vacation leave ended up being the site of your very eventful honeymoon with the Prince of the Tikbalang (with his libido, it wasn't that difficult to continue where you'd left off in the garter toss; that scrap of lace came off your leg the same way it went on). Actually, nauna pa ang honeymoon sa actual wedding (it was definitely spontaneous). Right after your confession in that alcove, you two went to Maliksi's father to ask for his blessing (which he gladly gave, cackling and saying that it took you long enough) before you guys went driving off to Batangas that night. You and Mal indeed had lots and lots of fun in that resort (I'll let you imagine the rest). More beautiful memories were made from that point on—this time, not just as best friends.

All that and your small, intimate wedding occurred in early April. Just when you thought that it'd be impossible to fulfill Maliksi's life goal of having a baby within the year (nine months of pregnancy meant that the earliest you'd give birth would be January next year), the impossible happened.

Exactly thirty-two weeks later, on New Year's Eve, the Armanaz herd welcomed one prince and two new princesses into the world. Triplets who were instantly adored by everyone in the clan.

Señor Armanaz had never been happier, and so were you and your husband. Your best friend. The love of your life. Your forever plus one.

Maybe being spontaneous wasn't so bad after all.

Taglist: @belladaises @binibiningbabaylan @4kodzuk3n @sparklingmallow @severuslovebot @holyshxtangel @marinac15 @space-flamingo @pippethealien @kashasenpai @disappointmentpastry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @seijohoe @monimiin @ibelievein2dmensupremacy @tinybonksharkcop @methehipster @banisuoh @genshin-idiot @lemonnie-kimmie

[misslilli]

Happy New Year guys 🥳

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. E. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 67 - Be My Valentine

The week that follows our adventures at the Beach House drags by so slowly and to be honest, I'm torn if this is a good thing or not.

On the one hand, at the end of it twinkles the promise of a great first Valentine's Day date.

I have absolutely no idea what Mulder's got planned, he's secretive about it and changes the subject smoothly whenever I ask too many prying questions. Not even Felix, who's bursting at the seams with the secret he's keeping, has let anything slip.

On the other hand, the end of the week also marks the start of spring break. My kids are wearing my patience thin with their barely contained excitement mixed into the exhaustion from working hard, report cards need to be written up, parting gifts need to be bought and wrapped and the classroom mess needs to be tidied.

What puts quite the damper on my vacation spirits is the fact that the boys will be gone for a whole week, visiting Sam in LA.

The girls have scoffed and rolled their eyes at me more than once, until Holly finally has had enough and suggested I just fold myself into a tiny ball for them to stuff in their hand-luggage so she doesn't have to listen to my whining on her spring break.

"You'll see them again on your birthday, D, maybe a little time apart is not such a bad thing, you know?," Alex has offered her perspective with a pat on my arm and Sarah has added her two-cents with a wink to "give him a good send-off he won't be able to keep off his mind until they get back."

The outfit we've picked up at La Perla will certainly do its part in that, I think with a tiny tingle of anticipation.

If and when I've managed to get through Valentine's at school without losing my mind, that is. Oh the drama… some kids are giddily reading their cards, showing them off to their friends in fits of giggles, others are glumly staring at theirs because it's not from the person they had hoped for but I did make sure they each get one. Nothing worse than the disappointment of not receiving one at all.

A few cards have found their way to my desk too, anonymous of course, can't betray their coolness with a signed card to their teacher. More or less, they're quite similar, only one of them stands out, the writing a little wobblier than the others, more spelling mistakes on it and I smile at it a little more affectionately.

I display them all proudly on the wall behind my desk, but that special one gets a special spot and the anonymous sender gets an extra tight hug as a thank-you at recess.

It takes a few hours of prep-time for us to get ready in my crowded bathroom, a closely avoided burn mark from the curling iron in Sarah's hand and additional helping hands to fasten clasps and zip up dresses in the back.

Not one of us has any idea where our date will take us and while we're getting ready, we're spit-balling the most outlandish ideas where we'll end up tonight. Everyone except Alex, who has been boycotting Valentine's Day on principle for as long as we can remember.

"I bet Tom's reserved a table at some restaurant, like every year - not to be ungrateful or anything but I wish he'd plan something else for a change, something more exciting than dinner…," Sarah sighs her dismay that her boyfriend doesn't have a romantic bone in his body into her powder puff.

"Well maybe you should plan Valentine's Day for a change, if all you do is complain about his choices, missy, we gave you plenty of good location ideas for next year!"

"A spaceship is not a good location idea, Holly…" I hide my grin into my own powder puff, someone I know would think this to be the utmost perfect location for a date.

Alex answers the doorbell that startles us out of our discussion while we put on the last finishing touches and make our way downstairs. Three gentlemen in their finest suits await us downstairs, though only the one in the middle and his awestruck clean-shaved face makes my heart flutter and beat a little bit faster.

"Miss, I was blinded by your beauty, I'm going to need your name and phone number for insurance purposes!," he grins into our soft kiss hello.

"You're so handsome, I completely forgot my pickup line. Nice touch." I smile up him dreamily, touching a finger to the daisy tucked in next to his pocket square.

"You're disgusting, both of you… Let's go before they can think up more cheesy lines." Holly teases from her boyfriend Rick's side with a tug on his hand.

"You know, we could've walked here from the house, Mulder…," I remark on our stroll along the harbor, decorated with glowing hearts in the trees that line the walkway that add a romantic feel to the Christmas lights twinkling between them.

"No? It's cold and you're in heels that are far too nice to ruin on the long walk down the dirt road!"

"So it's only a short walk huh… we're going to Mamma Mia's!"

"No."

"The Cabby Shack?"

"Nope."

"Oh please, I'm dying with curiosity over here! Where are we going?" The. impatient tug on his hand only puts that secretive smile on his face again and he only lifts his shoulder in response… What it he up to?

I'm almost a hundred percent sure we're headed to the overly fancy restaurant right next to the Cabby Shack but I'm dead wrong again.

Instead, we turn to walk down the dock where we shared our first kiss, only now it's not as deserted and at the end, a two-story boat bobs up and down, festively adorned with more lights and a warm glow coming from the windows on the bottom deck.

Squinting, I read the sign draped across the starboard side.

"Star-Gazing Cruise… Stargazing cruise? We're going on that??" Glancing up, mouth caught between gape and smile, I almost squeal out my delight at Mulder's slow nod.

"Mh-hm. But wait, there's one more surprise at the end of the dock." I don't think my heart can take more surprises tonight.

"You bunch of sneaky bastards!" Holly gives a smugly grinning Rick a swift punch to the arm as we join them at the end of the dock.

"You really had us, I can't believe you planned a triple date for us! Star-Gazing, no less. Kudos to whoever came up with that idea!"

"Thanks Shorty, we thought we'd shake things up a bit tonight, to save Tom from complaints about his lack of imagination." Sarah only laughs airily at the jab, thanking Rick profusely for saving her the effort.

Tom's shoulder sag a few inches before he gives a half-shrug and forces a cheerful smile onto his face.

"Let's get inside, guys, I'm freezing and hungry!"

It's fairly easy to sit on my moral high horse right now, in my contempt for Sarah's laugh, fully convinced my partner is the best thing since they invented sliced bread, has absolutely no flaws and is practically perfect in every way.

Scarily perfect. With his steadying hand on my back, taking off my coat to check it at the door, pulling out my chair at our table and warming my cold hands between his own under the table.

"How in the world did you guys come up with this? Thanks babe!," Sarah glances around at the guys, accepting the champagne flute Tom's filled up with a small smile.

"Well… I got the not-so-subtle hints that you'd like to do something special on Valentine's so I asked around a few of my construction site's for ideas - I own a construction company," he adds as an explanation for Mulder's benefit, placing a glass in my hand. "but they were just as clueless as I was. On one of our Friday poker nights, the topic came up and Rick here suggested we could go somewhere together, to shake things up a little."

"And so you'd only have to come up with one idea instead of two." At Holly's interception, Tom lifts his shoulders again, grinning a little guiltily that she hit the nail on the head.

"Yeah, pretty much. We were still hopelessly lost though, so Simon brought his Alex in to help us out. It was also her who reminded us that there's a new addition to our group and that he might have some great ideas up his sleeve. We were pretty impressed by the Winter Carnival idea, I gotta say!" He hands the final glass to Mulder, who reluctantly lets go of one of my hands to accept it.

"Thanks, although, full disclosure, that's the only one I didn't plan, that was Scully's idea." The memories of that afternoon lights up both of our faces and I give our interlaced hands a little squeeze.

Our conversation is interrupted briefly by the waiter taking our drink order and distributing this night's special menu. It's a mouth-watering four course dinner, started off with little appetizer plates for each couple to share, perfectly fit to eat one-handed. Or feed each other half when we've picked a particularly good one.

"So all this was your idea, then?" Mulder shakes his head no at my question, distracting me from the conversation momentarily with a quick swipe of his tongue across that bottom lip of his. Oh Lord, is it just me or did someone turn up the heat in here?

"I wish I could take the credit for this one. I had a little helper with a vast amount of information stored in his mind from your talks at recess." The mention of Felix reminds me to stop staring at those damn lips my eyes are glued to and force my mind to focus on putting thoughts into words and words into sentences. My dry mouth fails me miserably.

"You okay over there, Shorty? You look a little… distracted…," Tom teases me from across the table, sending an embarrassed flush up my neck. Shit, for how long was I staring?

"Uh-huh…Uhm…Our talk about constellations and star-gazing with my dad as a kid. I can't believe he remembers that, that was months ago!"

"Can't remember where he put his homework or his second sock but that he remembers…," Mulder's deadpan earns him a chuckle around the table. The water glass he pushes towards me with a knowing grin and a wink earns me a blush a shade darker.

We raise our champagne flutes in a toast to great ideas, clinking them together in the middle. I only take a small sip, champagne goes right to my head on an empty stomach and my mind is already plenty fuzzy around the edges from the absent-minded thumbstrokes of Mulder's hand on my thigh. How am I supposed to sit through three more courses and star-gazing without losing my mind?

From the appearance of the entrees to the end of the main course and during the easily flowing dinner conversations, the hand leaves its resting spot only for a total of five times - yes, I counted - until the table is cleared and the waiter steps up to inquire if we’d like to order dessert. I can barely manage to bite back my vocal reaction to Mulder's quiet whisper of what he'd like to have for dessert so very close to my ear, his warm breath sends shivers down my spine.

Leaned back after dessert, Tom's entertaining us with a story about one of his new construction workers, a young guy who always misplaces his tools, has no idea how to handle a hammer or a wrench, can't drill a hole to save his life and is in general a real liability to have on a construction site, but he does make for a funny story.

During his story, Mulder's leaning over every now and then, privately adding his own gleefully delivered dirty twist to 'handling hammers' and 'drilling holes'. Tears in my eyes and pressing my lips together tightly, I'm shaking from the effort to keep my laughter in, it's getting real difficult with each new comment.

"…and I got so frustrated with him fumbling around with a fucking screwdriver, I said Jesus Christ, if you can't get it in, put some grease on it and just screw it, it's not that hard!"

I try to confine my laugh into a snort but I absolutely lose it at this point, bursting into an uncontrollable giggle fit, waving my hands to get Tom to stop. He's so oblivious and confused as to why I'm crying laughing, hiding my blushed face into my hands. "What?? Screwing is not that hard!"

That's all it takes for Mulder to lose his composure as well and he barks out a laugh that only adds to my own amusement and we end up giggling like little children, leaned together for support until we're holding our sides, gasping for breath.

"For crying out loud, you two are so immature," Sarah sighs into her glass and rolls her eyes at us, her annoyance betrayed by the grin tugging on her lips.

I'm trying to catch my breath between residues of laughter, wiping my eyes. "I'm sorry… oh God… that was a good story, Tom, really." Even after the giggles subsided, I can't even look at Mulder, if I do, I'm sure I'll lose it again.

"Hey Richard, you wanna put that down for just one second to participate in the conversation?" The edge in Holly's voice and the use of his first and full name gets Rick to snap his head up from his phone and effectively puts an end to my amusement.

He places the phone face down back onto the table and throws Holly a guilty look.

"Sorry, doll, work stuff…"

She opens her mouth to fire back a nasty comment but thankfully, she's interrupted by the maitre d' clapping his hands for attention, announcing it's time to head onto the upper deck for the star-gazing part of the evening. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Bundled up in our coats, the six of us separate into different sections of the deck for some alone time, Sarah and Tom choose the front to listen to the astronomer pointing out constellations, Mulder and I huddle underneath a blanket in the back to people-watch in peace. Holly and Rick are at the starboard railing, still arguing with hushed voices and flailing hands.

Head tilted back, I search the night sky for a shooting star and name a few constellations I can make out. It's suspiciously quiet by my side and when I glance over, Mulder's not participating in the star-gazing at all. Instead, he's watching Rick and Holly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. I can practically see the profiler wheels turning in his sideways-leaned head.

"Penny for your thoughts?" My gentle nudge into his side pulls his attention away from the fight, clearing his mind with a little shake of his head.

"I'm sorry, got lost in my thoughts…"

"Care to share?" I'm curious and also a little worried he think this'll be us in a few years, ruining a perfect evening with an argument instead of enjoying the moment.

"I'm not sure if you'll like what I have to say… and I don't want to overstep…"

"You think this will be us in about two years?" He only snorts in response, tugging me closer with his arm draped across my shoulders.

"Don't be ridiculous, no." Oh the sweet naïveté of the first few months of a new relationship. Closely snuggled together in our bubble, we're apparently both still fully convinced that we'll solve all of our arguments calmly and end up laughing in the end or maybe we'll never fight at all - we're such a perfect match and with all of our rules and good intentions for open communication and honesty, what could go wrong?

"Mhkay good. So pray tell, what's on your mind?"

"Two years, you said? I really hope I'm wrong, but I don't think Rick will be around that long…" Surprised at his words, I pull back a little to glance up at him, eyebrow raised.

"What? Why?"

"Because they speak different love languages. Judging only from tonight, hers is possibly quality time and his is receiving messages from other women to answer during dinner with his girlfriend." My face must register my shock and confusion.

"Come on, work stuff? On Valentine's Day? Phone face down on the table? Phone at the table at all? Again, I really hope I'm wrong but either he's just a dick or he's texting with other women. Maybe both."

To fight the sinking feeling in my stomach and to save our own evening from drifting off into Depression Land, I desperately need to change the subject and let future me worry about whether he's right in his assessment or not. Subty, I push my own phone a little deeper into my coat pocket.

"I hope it's neither and you're dead wrong about this… Hey, is it time to exchange gifts yet?"

I'm the absolute worst at keeping gifts to myself, the envelope in my purse has been screaming for attention the whole evening and now that we're finally alone, I think exchanging gifts are the perfect way to refocus our attention to what's really important. If it weren't for the wide-eyed, slow-blinking expression on Mulder's face.

"Oh no, I was supposed to bring a gift? I'm sorry, I thought this evening… was the gift…" I wave my hand at him with a quick shake of my head. Since it brings me a lot more joy to give gifts rather than receive them, I whip out my envelope and present it to him with a flourish and an elated grin on my face.

"Here. I wasn't sure if it was something you'd enjoy doing so I employed the services of a little someone who does know and he signed off on it. Open it!" Envelope in hand, Mulder throws me a dubious look.

"I really hope for him Felix didn't rope you into giving me something only he'll enjoy." Giggling at the thought - that actually does sound like something Felix would do - I shake my head again, nudging him to finally open the stupid envelope.

"If this is tickets to the Trolley Museum or something, I swear to God…" He's trying my patience on purpose and I watch him pull out the contents of the envelope with an open-mouthed expectant grin. Completely taken by surprise, he glances from the tickets in his hand to me and back again several times.

"Are you insane??"

"Yes.," I nod gravely. "Although I'm surprised it took next year's Super Bowl tickets for you to realize that…" Far too slowly for my liking, he fans out the tickets in his hand, staring down at them for a while to keep his emotions in check. Oh stop it, if you cry, I cry.

"I… That's… There's… three tickets here."

"You think I want to get murdered in my sleep?"

My attempt to lighten the mood is met by a hug so tight, it momentarily takes my breath away and a watery laugh that warms my heart and has my eyes brimming with tears too. Crap, I swore to myself I wouldn't cry tonight!

"It's too much, Scully, I can't accept that… these tickets must've cost a fortune!"

"Oh I know a guy, who knows a guy…"

————

[ FM ]

Pulled back from our hug, we wipe our eyes chuckling at ourselves and share a salty kiss I try to put all my thankfulness for her very existence into.

I'm absolutely awestruck by her gift, not only by the fact that she picked something I've been thinking about doing for a long time and what must've cost a small fortune, guy or no guy.

The biggest gift for me and the one that transforms me into a blubbering, emotional mess is that she has included Felix. Simple as that, no questions asked, no "Oh what can we do to get rid of that kid?".

Integrating my child so effortlessly might as well be my secondary love language.

Caught up in my emotional turmoil, I almost forget that I was only joking about not getting her a gift, although it pales in comparison. It's also an envelope to shyly present to her surprised face, but it contains a weekend getaway for only the two of us, to spend a few days away from the day-to-day grind, wrapped in fluffy robes the entire day and with someone else to make us breakfast in the morning.

"Oh my… Thank you, I love it! We'll go at the end of the school year, it'll balance out the funk of saying goodbye to my kids after four years together!"

Gifts exchanged, we return to what we're actually here to do, searching the night skies for stars and she quietly admits she's never seen a shooting star before. After a while of silently gazing upwards, a streak lights up the darkness and we each make a secret wish on the shooting star that makes its way across the sky.

I can hardly wait to get her home and upstairs, to really show my appreciation for her incredibleness and to finally get a glimpse of what she's been hinting at, another surprise, just for me. Oh please let it be La Perla.

[bumblebear30]

Oops

Rita Calhoun x Casey Novak, Established Calvak

A wee comfort fic for these two as I totally love them.

Warnings: mentions of Casey's office attack, migraine / mild medical concern. Side effects of getting older. No smut but alluded to. Happy ending.

Please let me know if you have any other prompts or requests for these two. Happy to try write more for them.

Oops

"You did it again."

The accusing tone made Casey's head snap up from where she was nestled on the couch. She could feel the light crust of dried drool on her cheek where she'd pretty much passed out into the pillow and rubbed at it with the cuff the sweater she was wearing in the hopes that her always immaculately dressed girlfriend wouldn't notice,

"Did what again?" she finally mumbled in response, a heavy pout in place as she scrunched her eyes against the bright light streaming in the apartment windows.

Rita sighed huffily as she perched on the back of the couch and busied herself with finishing taking off her earrings for the day. From there she finally caught sight of the sleep befuddled Casey - the creases of the pillow evidently pressed into her cheek, hair all mussed and cocooned in softest of old sweaters that Rita owned as the redhead obviously tried to drag her lagging brain through what it was she had done wrong this time.

Her expression immediately switched from frustration to concern as she reached out to card her fingers through Casey's hair, the younger woman automatically leaning into it and shifting closer to where Rita was sat,

"You left files that I shouldn't see on the breakfast bar again. We got a place with room for two separate offices for a reason darling."

Casey winced and opened one eye to finally look up at Rita as she apologised,

"Oops, m'sorry babe, I genuinely didn't mean to. I just needed different light. "

Rita tilted her head and gave a small sympathic noise as Casey burrowed her head against the back of the couch,

"Migraine again sweetheart?" Casey nodded groggily where she lay, loathe to commit to any movements that required further effort. Seeing her so forlorn pulled at Rita's heartstrings and she quickly got up and shed her shoes and jacket onto a nearby chair as she came round to the front of the couch to join Casey, "That's the third bad one this month..."

Hearing the familiar sound of Rita settling next to her Casey shifted to lay her head in her girlfriend's lap, wordlessly requesting for the attorney's always slightly cool hand to run across her forehead and circle at her temple as she'd done before by simply tipping her chin just so.

Of course Rita automatically took up the action, also using her free hand to run her nails in soothing circles across Casey's lower back.

The redhead let herself just bask in the attention and comfort. She'd felt instantly a bit better as soon as the scent of Rita's expensive perfume had reached her - always accompanied by the faint smell of coffee, ink and paper, a lawyerly smell if ever there was such a thing. That and the almost pavlovian way her body responded to Rita's touch, practically commanding her to relax with the lightest of pressures, also helped ease the residual pulsating ache at the front of her brain.

Afterwards she'd been sulky for days, which had drawn further unimpressed looks and rolled eyes from Rita. Eventually she'd pulled her head out of her ass and apologised with a gorgeous bouquet and an evening of pampering - cooking Rita's favourites for dinner, making the effort to use the good china and having candles on the table followed by a super indulgent bubble bath for the brunette (the rose petals may have been overboard but she knew Rita secretly adored them.)

She knew where Rita's comment was leading though. They'd had this argument discussion the last time too and she was not wanting a repeat of that general fiasco and to ultimately wallow in her own grumpiness yet again. It was worse because she knew Rita was right, and was only concerned and fussing simply because she loved her. But she had still been in residual pain and exhaustion from the migraine in question as well as licking her wounds from losing the most recent case to her lover too.

All that had only been a week ago, meaning it was less than fourteen days since she'd last had to abandon her work to lie in a darkened room with a cold compress across her eyes and an ice pack wrapped up at the base of her neck. It wasn't sustainable, and she hated being sick all the more because she knew Rita was always more worried than she let on.

She sighed lightly and wriggled her head back so she was pressed more closely into Rita's ridiculously soft silk blouse. The brunette had lifted her hands away as Casey moved but seeing her settle let them resume the gentle caresses. Noting that Casey hadn't immediately started arguing with her Rita decided to press her case once more,

"I just think given that you have such a bad head injury in your past, " Casey couldn't suppress the fearful shiver that ran down her spine at the memories - and lack of them - of her office attack, "that it would be sensible to get a doctor to run some tests and check what is going on."

At still receiving no response from Casey Rita tried to push just that little bit more. She gently ran a finger down the elegant slope of Casey's nose, booping the tip of it which made Casey start and turn onto her back to smile softly up at Rita. Holding her gaze Rita matched her with an indulgent look as she tucked some hair back behind Casey's ear,

"It's just that I'm rather fond of that brain of yours sweetheart, I'd hate to think anything might be wrong." She finished her plea by cupping Casey's chin and running the pad of her thumb over her lips as their positioning meant she couldn't reach to kiss them.

Once again Casey closed her eyes and leaned into the touch,

"And here I thought you were with me for my 'cracking bod', " she grinned as she felt Rita's entire body move as she laughed, "But I know. You're right. As usual." Her admission made Rita smile in victory, Casey's quip pulling another knowing chuckle that rumbled through her,

"Good, I have the number of an excellent neurologist, I'm sure he'll be able to see you by the end of the week."

Casey shot her a look that screamed incredulity,

"He wasn't a client was he? I'm not sure how comfortable I would be with that."

The experienced attorney did laugh at that,

"No, no," she continued to play with Casey's hair, "although he has maybe been an expert witness on several occasions but he's only ever been the utmost professional." she paused for a moment as Casey considered her options. "So what do you say darling, let me call and set up an appointment for you?"

With one last resigned sigh Casey nodded,

"Okay," honestly she was prepared to go through nearly anything if she could stop feeling so accutely crappy whenever these migraines came along, or stop them from happening in the first place.

"But," the smallness of her voice and demeanour, so unlike the usual strong confident persona of the prosecutor, brought out Rita's overprotective side even more, "But what if there is something wrong? Like-"

Deciding to quickly end any spiralling Rita pressed her finger over Casey's lip to hush her,

"Shh, then its better to know and we'll deal with whatever it may be together as best we can."

Suitably mollified, Casey rolled once more so her nose was buried against Rita's stomach, so much so her voice was muffled when she finally spoke,

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried."

"I know darling, but it may just be that you need glasses or something like that now, you know?"

The scandalised and affronted noise that escaped Casey made Rita laugh once again,

"I've always thought you'd look very sexy in glasses you know..."

The low purr of her voice drew an instant reaction from Casey, it always did. Like a siren's call she opened her eyes, feeling better enough to shoot a flirtatious look up at her love as she arched her eyebrow as seductively as she could manage in her prone position,

"Is that so?"

"Hmm hmm," Rita's affirmative humm came as she matched Casey's expression with one of her own, "You could totally pull off the sexy librarian look darling."

"Librarian!?!"

In her offense Casey finally sat up to lightly glare at Rita on a more equal footing. She lightly trailed her hand up Rita's thigh, so overly unsubtle Rita knew she was just winding her up. Still she enjoyed the attention nonetheless. "What if I wanted to go for the sexy lawyer in glasses look? Could I pull that one off too?"

Rita tipped her head to the side as she squinted at Casey, umming and awwing for extra effect,

"I'm sorry love but I think Cabot has got that niche locked down tight."

Casey couldn't help but gasp at the teasing and swat at Rita's thigh in retribution,

"Rude!"

Rita kept cackling with laughter, simply relieved to see Casey's usual firey playfulness was returning,

"Well if you get glasses you can work extra hard to prove me wrong, no?"

With a knowing smile Casey leant forward to press an adoring but chaste kiss to Rita's lips,

"Sounds good to me, thank you for helping me feel better."

Reaching up Rita cupped Casey's chin and drew her face back to her for another kiss. Or two. Maybe three. She just loved how they felt against her own.

"I'm glad I could help. Now do you want to go lock those files away whilst I give the doctor a call? We can then get an order from Chengs if you'd like?"

Casey was already making the effort to stand, holding herself still for several moments to ensure her balance was set after feeling so woozy earlier. Finding herself steady she smiled at Rita once more as she started heading for the kitchen,

"As long as there is lo mein I don't mind!"

A couple of days later Rita answered her ringing cell automatically, not even looking away from her inbox as she barked her usual response,

"Calhoun, who's speaking."

"Hey sweet thing," instantly Rita's entire posture melted, Casey's voice and determination to use ridiculous pet names totally always got her,

"Darling, how'd the appointment go." she'd swung her chair away from the computer screen, her entire focus now on Casey,

"Well you were right."

"I usually am, remind me what I was right about this time?"

"Scans and everything came back clear but I've got glasses to wear now... " Casey paused long enough for Rita to both sigh in relief and laugh,

"Oh is that all?"

"Well, he advised I change to a different type fo light bulb where possible, and definitely to wear glasses when looking at screens as they'll filter that blue light thing? But that and some proper rest and it should all help."

"That's great news sweetheart, I'm so relieved." Truly Rita felt like a knot she hadn't known was there had been released in her chest,

"Yeah, so in the spirit of medical necessity, I think we should schedule a trip up to the house in the Hampton's." Sometimes Casey still would catch herself after saying such a thing. A house in the Hampton's. Their house in the Hamptons. Quite ridiculous.

Rita chuckled but instantly swept round to open their shared calendar to look for potential timings,

"An excellent idea darling, I could even ask Danielle to get the boat ready for us? I know you love to play at being Captain."

"Please, you just want to lounge about in your bikini in front of me don't you."

"Well with your new glasses we'll have to test how much better you can see me. I do love putting on a show for you."

The flirtation made Casey gulp, images of Rita enjoying herself nearly overwhelming her,

"You always do have the best ideas, I propose we do lots of testing."

"For medical necessity?" Rita's smirk was clear even though Casey couldn't see her face,

"Exactly, you always know how to take the best care of me baby..."