#clara maria icons

[bibinoveleira]

Icons Elas por Elas (2023)

Curta/reblogue - se pegar comente pg e créditos no twitter: @bibinoveleira_

[whatislovevavy]

Tia Maria and Whiskey on the Rocks

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC (Cherry)

Masterlist

Author's Note: hey y'all, apologies for the extremely late posting, I've been going through some life transitions and finding time and motivation to write has been difficult, but here it is now :) This is part two of Most of Freedom and Of Pleasure, and is apart of @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison Writing Challenge with the prompt being Espresso Martinis I'm glad I got to include one of my favorite drinks with one of my favorite songs with a character I love writing for <3 I'm most likely going to do a third part with smut in it, so let me know if that would be something you lovely people would like to read :)

Warnings: Mentions of Smut, Fluff, Alcohol, Pilots catching feelings

WC: 5.2k

All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

Goddamn it. 

You slid the end call button as Phoenix didn’t pick up, fighting with the raindrops that fell and streaked down your phone screen, and trying to keep your jacket secure around your frame that didn’t seem to be saving your red dress from being soaked by the rain. The overwhelming damp and cold feeling seeped into your scalp and made the floodgates that held your tears back crack and crumble all the more. 

You regretted this date, much more than all of the others. 

A shaky sigh left your lips, frustration, and anger forming its potent mix in your mind. 

You tried to keep your eyes on your phone and to stay calm; you didn’t need the people eyeing you on the sidewalk feeling sorry for you. They had nothing to feel sorry for anyway.  You were just a person that had a disaster of a date and was stuck out in the rain trying to get home. Absolutely nothing to feel sorry for. You huffed, tensing your jaw as you found cover under an awning of a bookstore. Trying not to look at anyone that gave you that characteristic look of pity as they walked by. Biting your lip, you contemplated calling the last number you wanted to be calling late on a Friday night. 

Just get it over with, you thought. 

You quickly tapped the call button next to the infuriating little contact icon. Biting into your lip harder, finding the puddle reflecting the San Diego city lights more appealing than attempting to meet any passerbyers gaze as each tone brought you closer to a ride home. Or the teasing of a lifetime. Maybe both. 

“Cherry.”

That familiar silk laced drawl made you shut your eyes and wish anyone else had picked up when you called. But alas, here you were.

“Wasn’t expectin’ to hear from you. I thought you were busy entertainin’ what’s his name, Dylan? Derrick?” 

The humor in his voice brought a hot surge of frustration to the tips of your fingers as you gripped your phone harder, jaw tensing. 

“Look, I’m not in the mood for this right now…” Your voice losing its bite, but only by a little, “I’ve had a really shitty night, and,” you took a shaky breath, the frustration of the evening coming in full force on your psyche, “I need a ride home.” Jake's teasing grin wilted. You never would have called him, unless it was serious. He licked his lower lip, turning to look back at his friends finishing up a game of pool from the corner near the bathrooms, the steadily growing chatter in the bar making it more difficult to hear you as the seconds passed. He rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing. “Ok, sit tight, sweets. I'll come get you, you're still at Benny’s?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. That’s…odd. You never told him where you were going. The wind and rain made you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. The evening rain makes you shiver, jaw chittering. Taking a deep breath, “yeah, I'm outside,” eyes diverting from the passing traffic to the worn, gold tinged cursive on the window, “Clara’s bookstore.“Your eyes trained on the rain soaked overhead awning dripping to the sidewalk in front of your painted toes peeking from your heels as you waited for his response. 

Jake's eyebrows furrowed, eyes diverting from his phone screen to the rain streaked windows facing the beach. That's a decent walk from where you ate, he thought, eyebrows raising. Must've been quite a guy to make you leave early. And in the pouring rain, no less.

“I'll be there soon, Cher. Are you somewhere safe? Somewhere out of the rain?”

If you didn't know any better, you'd say the insufferable, look-out-for-number-one-only, selfish, arrogant  Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, who spent each free moment he wasn't peacocking around base, making your nerves burn and fray, sounded concerned about your well being. 

As soon as Jake heard your dreary, evidently rain soaked confirmation, he opted out of the game, forcing Bob to take his place with little to no explanation besides that  a commitment came up,”  striding down the Hard Deck steps to his parked truck. 

He's not ditching you. He wouldn't do that. You repeated what felt like mantras as the minutes ticked by. Hot tears started to brew at the corners of your eyes. You clutched your now soaked jacket over your dress, your toes sinking into the soggy faux leather of your heels as you leaned back against the concrete column of the closed store. The amber overhead lights making warped reflections in the puddles of the buildings and cars passing by.

Your breathing was ragged as you felt the familiar flames of frustration lick at your brain, something that had only stopped when Jake said he was going to go come get you. 

You felt so stupid. Wearing this dress. These heels. Your smudged make-up that, at one point, looked presentable. You just wanted to go home and eat a pint of ice cream. 

God, why hadn't Phoenix picked up?

You clenched your eyes in frustration, a rigid breath leaving your throat as you leaned your head back against the column. 

The familiar hum of Jake's truck brought your teary gaze up to the almost barely visible silhouette in the driver's seat. 

Jake's door flew open, jogging with a jacket clutched in hand. Your eyes widened as he got closer to you, wrapping you up in his jacket. 

By the time he reached you, his hair was drenched, now a more dull golden hue. His charm remained, unfortunately, in the city’s downpour. 

“Come on sweets, let's get you inside.” Your mouth parted slightly. The sight of his shirt clinging to his biceps and broad shoulders, and the subtle scent of sweat, his natural musk, and rain almost made you miss his statement. 

His rich jade eyes traced the soft reflection of the street light off of your soaked hair, to your smudged make up, to the drenched portions of your dress and jacket to your slight shiver you were evidently trying to repress. 

His lips curved into a slight frown. You didn't deserve to be treated this way on a date. Especially not when you looked so-

His eyes returned to your deep brown ones, undertoned by your smudged mascara, finding them already on his; sharper than a moment ago, daring him to pity you. 

He carefully wrapped his jacket tighter around your shoulders, guiding you to the passenger door of his truck, headlights still blinding, and refracting with the incoming rain.

The car ride was silent except for the quiet sounds from the radio. Jake would take occasional glances your way at stop lights, but your gaze remained on the road ahead; head leaned against the side rest of his car, body still wrapped in his jacket. You had to stop yourself from unintentionally cocooning yourself deeper into it. 

“You want me to drop you off at your apartment?” 

You glanced at him, “yeah.” 

His frown curved deeper. Your tone lacked the usual spitfire attitude you always bared him, instead replaced by a sense of accepted defeat. A few beats of silence passed before Jake cleared his throat. “This Dylan guy must've been some date…you want to talk about it?” Your lip quirked up a bit. His name was Derrick, but you didn't have the heart to correct him. 

You adjusted closer to the side of the passenger seat, leaning your head on the window. 

“Not really.” 

There was that same defeated tone again, the one that made Jake's heartache in a way he had never felt before for you. Or for anyone for that matter. 

Jake brought his truck from a coast to a stop in front of your apartment building. His comforting gaze settled on your face, gaze still avoiding his. “Thanks for the ride home.” Your cherrywood eyes met his, giving him a tight smile before grabbing your purse, soaked coat, and leaving his jacket on the leather seat. His frown deepened, jaw tensing a bit as he watched you open his truck door. How dare this pathetic excuse of a man bring you to this state, a complete 180 to how he saw you every day since he met you. 

“Wait,” you looked back towards him, expecting some usual hangman-esque comment that would surely make you throw your soaked shoe at him. “Look, Hangman, I appreciate the ride home, but I'm not in the mood to sleep with you as a ‘thank you’.” His eyebrows pinched. Did you really think that low of him? And in that same defeated tone? “That,” he sighed, “that’s not what I was going to say,” he reassured, pushing his hair back with his hand. Opposing hand still on the steering wheel, watch gleaming in the glow of the radio. 

“Let me buy you some food and a drink, I know you like the Cajun fries at that bar downtown.” 

You were taken aback by the offer. Frankly, you weren't in the mood if this was a joke. “It'd be my treat,” he lightly pressed with a comforting tone. You bit the inside of your lip, examining his face for any sign of ill intent, but you found nothing in his warm sea glass eyes or the defined features of his nose and jaw. 

Cajun fries sounded nice. 

Really nice.

And a drink sounded even better. 

“Plus, I heard your stomach grumbling so you can't lie to me.”  A smile almost broke out across your lips. 

Almost. 

“I don't know, Hang,” you sighed.  The thought of snuggling up on your couch in a warm blanket, with a pint of ice cream and watching some trash reality show sounded appealing. But you were hungry and you had yet to go grocery shopping. And you had no booze.

“I promise, I'll make it worth your while…” 

You bit your lip, “a drink does sound really nice…”

His lips twitched into a smile, eyes twinkling. 

“Don't make me regret this, Hang…”the familiar spark in your voice slowly returned, making his heart skip a beat, “let me just change shoes first.” You grimaced as you remembered just how soaked your shoes were as the rain finally let up. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, Sweets,” he reassured as you left him towards your front door, a concealed smile on your face that cracked with each stride to your door. He let his eyes skim from your bare back to your concealed hips with an appreciative gaze as the red material of your dress flowed around your bare thighs. His view closed off as you shut your front door. 

You let your eyes drift across the interior of the bar at your booth, leaning your cheek on your hand. Jake had left you at the booth to get you a drink. You tried to give him a request, but he left before he could hear you. At least whatever concoction he brought you would be free. You let your eyes drift shut, listening to the sound of the bar top and the music player in the corner. 

“One Tia Maria Espresso Martini for the lovely lady, and the fries are on their way.” You opened your eyes to see the almost onyx colored elixir with a layer of frothy foam in the glass, a triage of espresso beans that looked almost weightless on the foam layer. 

How did he know this was your favorite? You had never ordered them at Penny’s since she didn't have Tia Maria. You looked at him, eyebrows raised, expecting some sort of explanation for how he knew about this. 

“I remember you tried to order one of these at Penny's and thought you'd like it,” he said with a subtle tone of shyness, like he was apprehensive that he had overstepped, making your eyebrows knit together.

“I don't fully understand why you like them,” he teased, stirring his whiskey on the rocks in his glass, an effortlessly charming smile beginning to form on his lips, “but it makes sense.” 

Your eyes narrowed at his playful ones, “what's that supposed to mean?” 

He leaned back against the booth, eyes tracing the pretty features of your face and caramel skin tone, the neon lights above your seat adding to the gleam of your wavy, soft, dark hair. 

Taking a sip from his glass, you tried to focus on his face and not the subtle bob of his adam’s apple as he took a warming sip of the amber liquid. 

“You're kind of an acquired taste,” he took another sip, “bitter, but have a sweet side deep down.” Your eyes narrowed, “I'm not an acquired taste, you're just annoying and insufferable 99% of the time, so you never see my sweet side,” you clipped, eyes slowly sharpening. His lip quirked. To anyone else it would seem like you hated his guts. But he knew better, knew you better. He playfully put his hand over his heart, “Oh, Sweets, annoying and insufferable? You wound me.”  You rolled your eyes, a smile slipping around the rim of your martini glass. The bittersweet elixir flowing down your throat. His grin widened, “there's that smile,” he teased. Before you could quip him back, the root of your culinary desire was placed on the table with a soft tap and a gentle "enjoy" from the waitress. The savory, warm smell of the spices and fries almost made you moan, only now realizing just how hungry you were. You had left your date just as you were barely through your starting salad. 

“Easy there, Sweets, don't want you to choke,” he teased, giving you a wink.

You rolled your eyes at the poorly disguised innuendo, “don't tell me how to eat my fries, Bagman.” 

He barely held back his laugh at what was essentially a growl. He contemplated telling you that technically they were his fries, but he opted to keep them to himself. If having three sisters had taught him anything, it's to never get between a woman and her food. 

A comfortable silence fell over the table as he glanced around the bar and back to you, still picking at your fries. Eyes tracing over the defined round edges of your sinful red colored nails that he tried to not think about how they would feel pressed into his shoulder blades, to your necklace that dipped teasingly between your breasts. The subtle rise of your chest. The sprinkle of freckles and gentle flutter of your eyelashes on your cheeks. The touched-up mascara on your eyelashes. The soft flush of your cheeks. The cute curve of your nose. The gentle slope of your lips. 

“You listening?”

His eyes shot to your own, his face a bit pink after having been caught. 

“Of course, Sweets,” 

Your eyes narrowed as you put your fry down in the basket, scoffing. 

“I asked,” you leaned forward, arms crossing on the table, his eyes doing their damnedest to not dart down to your cleavage, “why you brought me here, because I don't buy it was only because my stomach was making noises.”

Your tone wasn't sharp or accusatory, but it still put him a bit on edge. 

He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to get comfortable in his seat. You had a habit of putting him on edge, but in a way that made him crave more. It was almost adrenaline inducing. 

“Just wanted to treat you a little, that not allowed?” 

His collected, charismatic answer made you narrow your eyes. 

“You're not a very good liar.”

His lip quirked into a grin, diverting his gaze down to his empty glass before bringing his warm eyes up to your own again. His grin settling into a thin line. It wasn't exactly a lie.

“I didn't want you to wallow on your couch thinking about that Danny guy. You don't deserve to feel that way.” 

Your eyebrows rose, lip quirking. That definitely wasn't the answer you were expecting and it was still the wrong name, again. 

His eyes dart away from yours to the bar top. Clearing his throat, “you want another martini?”

You blink, breaking your thoughts, toying with the empty glass,  “yeah, I'll take another.”

Your eyes followed the way his body moved under his button up shirt that exposed a delicious amount of chest hair, and his worn, rich burnt sienna leather jacket. The way his stride exuded a rare sense of carefree confidence. The broadness of his shoulders under his jacket. The thickness of his fingers around the delicate glass of your martini. The way his golden locks of hair reflected the overhead lights of the bar and various neon signs on the wall you both were seated at. 

It made you almost forget that you knew what it felt like to have his bare skin against your own. It made you forget, for just a moment, that you’d been fucking this man with no strings attached. 

“Here you are, Sweets,”His smooth drawl derailed your train of thought that would have surely made you clench your thighs. 

He placed the martini on the table with an almost silent clank against the table, eyes bright and playful, the rich green color added by the neon cloverleaf above his head. 

Your lip quirked, “thank you…. You know I don't like it when you call me, Sweets, Hang.”

A smirk grew on his lips, “I think it suits you,” his gentle gaze on yours. 

You scowled, trying to repress the smile that threatened to break through. He didn't need more encouragement to call you these…you wanted to say demeaning titles, but that felt a bit cruel. It was more like a pet name, a source of teasing that wore your nerves down faster than any other trick he had in his well developed arsenal. He'd always been something akin to a wart. Once you caught him, he was hard to leave. 

“Fries any good?”

You looked down to the near-empty basket to his teasing features.  A small smile broke through as you gently pushed the basket to him. After all, he did pay for them.

You watched as he took a few and brought them between his perfect teeth, eyes darting between the sight of him dipping a few more in ketchup, to picking at your red manicured nails. A comfortable silence fell over the table and quiet conversation followed, from what plans were set for their work colleagues to hang out next, to whether Bob was going to ask Admiral Simpson’s new secretary out.

“I don’t think he’s gonna do it.” Jake said confidently as he leaned back against the booth, his arm over the back, his other hand holding his near empty glass of whiskey. Your eyebrows rose, feeling a bit more loose and warm since first sitting down, mostly attributed to the fact you were finishing up your third martini. You cracked a smile, eyes comfortably heavy, “you don’t know Floyd very well then.” His eyebrows rose, encouraging you to go on. You leaned forward, eyes bright and intense, just how Jake liked them, “you do know what Bob stands for don’t you?” His lip quirked, eyes bright and mirthful, “of course, baby on board.” You took a sip from your glass, rolling your eyes at his typical cocksure tone, “No, it stands for…” His brow quirked waiting for you to finish, his grin starting to form as he watched your eyes dance across the ceiling looking for the words in your impaired state. 

You leaned forward closer across the table, putting your pointer fingers up, biting at the inside of your cheek, losing your battle with the grin that wanted to gleam on your face, “it stands for Big Ol’ Balls.” His own laughter bubbled up in his throat as he watched you crumble into near hysterics at what had just left your mouth. 

His laughter settled while yours continued, failing to do anything else but just listen to the sweet noise. He had heard your laugh before, but he’d never had any significant part of bringing it out of you. He let a smile grace his lips at the sweet noise. As your laughter died down, he let his eyes wander to the jukebox in the corner and the thinning out crowd at the bar. He bit the inside of his cheek, the creases of his forehead showing as he listened to the song emulating from the speakers. 

“Do you wanna dance?” Jake asks, not fully thinking about the question. 

Your espresso martini almost did a full stop in your throat. Tonight had been a series of firsts with Hangman; sharing fries, him buying you drinks, and seeing you in your romantic element. Dancing together was an oddly intimate first. Sure, you’d both fucked each other’s brains out almost every other day, but dancing, well, dancing was something that seemed to be a step further than that. It didn’t involve a physical closeness attributed to taking your frustrations out on each other; it was two people flowing together, not trying to wrack each other’s physical resolve. It completely contradicted the original purpose of getting physically close to this insufferable, arrogant man; an outlet for pent up frustration through deeply satisfying, carnal escapades. 

Before you could stop yourself, you nodded. 

He rose up out of the booth first with a squeak, offering you his hand. Your deep brown eyes looking up at him, then darting to his outstretched hand, your lips parting. 

This was new, uncharted territory.

“I promise I won’t bite,” he reassured with a smile. He tried to not think about the way your red dress hugged your curves so deliciously, or how your cleavage almost spilled over the top of your garment. You had already had three martinis, and were definitely feeling the effects of them. He didn’t want to make you feel pressured into anything that you both typically took part in when you were this close physically. But he still wanted to be close to you. 

You bit the inside of your lip and, for reasons only God could tell you, you took his hand. 

He led you to the corner near the jukebox that was otherwise mostly emptied out. The beginning of England Dan and John Ford Coley’s I'd really love to see you tonight flowed from the speakers as Jake settled his hands on your waist, your own apprehensively around his neck, keeping your body upright as you let the initial beats flow through you in your relaxed state. His evergreen eyes traced over your melted brown ones, admiring the subtle flush of your cheeks to your low, lidded eyes. 

Hello, yeah, it's been a while

Not much, how about you?

Your eyes darted around his face, avoiding his eyes that seemed to solely focus on your own. His hands squeezed your hips. In attraction or comfort, you couldn’t quite tell. 

I'm not sure why I called

I guess I really just wanted to talk to you

You should have felt more alarmed by the close proximity and unorthodox reason behind it, but, and you didn’t want to admit it, the proximity felt nice. Maybe it was because of the drinks? It had to be  because of the drinks.

And I was thinking maybe later on

We could get together for a while

One of his hands left your hip to softly, ever so softly, to lift your chin up to meet his eyes. “What are you getting shy about?” The gentle smirk on his lips paired perfectly with his rich green eyes.

It's been such a long time

And I really do miss your smile

You swallowed, eyes trapped in a jade coated trance. “I think I just had too much to drink.” His lip quirked at your soft, almost whispered tone, holding you as you both swayed to the music. He knew you could hold more alcohol, but didn’t press. 

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

He brought you closer to him, resting his head against the side of your own. Savoring the soft smell of citrus from your hair and the warm skin of your lower back against the palm of his hand, and the silk texture of your hand in his own. 

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

This felt like the most alien and natural thing he had done with you. It almost made him forget that within only the last few hours, he was fucking you against the hunter green lockers, feeling you cum on his cock. 

We could go walking through a windy park

Or take a drive along the beach

He tried to not ruin the delicate moment he was having with you, and he figured his dick pressing into you might make you forget about all the good the night has brought between you two. A larger part of him than he cared to admit didn’t want to go back to the no-strings-attached arrangement he’d had with you for the past few months. 

Or stay at home and watch TV

You see it really doesn't matter much to me

He wanted more moments like this with you. But he could feel the apprehension that, as much as he didn’t want to admit, was mostly attributed to his reputation. In the months since first feeling you fall apart under him, he hadn’t slept with anyone else. Not even the desperate tag chasers in form-fitting maxi dresses at the Hard Deck. And that had to count for something. 

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

He couldn’t help the pang in his chest; you were definitely open to dating other men. Could he really change your mind about him? 

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

You had to admit, if someone had told you months ago that you would be slow dancing with Hangman in a nearly empty bar, and you wouldn't be trying to claw his throat out, you would have told them they’d been breathing in too much jet fuel. As much as you hated to admit it, it felt nice and, dare say, comforting being here with him. 

I won't ask for promises

So you don't have to lie

The soft texture of his jacket, warm hold, and soothing scent around his neck made you sigh. It was different from his usual mix of jet fuel, sweat, bergamot, and cedarwood. A part of you really hated how anything looked good on him and that he smelled amazing in whatever scent wafted off of him. 

We've both played that game before

Say I love you and say goodbye

“I’m sorry your date didn’t go well tonight,” You gently leaned back from his head, eyes meeting his own. Your eyes drooped comfortably as you looked over his face, trying to detect any sense of pity or ridicule. But all you found were warm, soulful, malachite eyes looking back into your burnt sienna ones under the neon lights. If your mind was clearer, you’d say it was romantic. But this was Hangman, and what he did best was no-commitment hookups in the dead of night. Not romance. It would take more than three martinis to make you forget that. 

I'm not talking about moving in

And I don't want to change your life

“Yeah, me too,” you muttered before leaning your head back on his shoulder. He swallowed gently, afraid that the movement would disturb you. 

But there's a warm wind blowing, the stars are out

And I'd really love to see you tonight

Jake continued to hold you close as slow songs continued to ebb and flow from the speaker, one after the other; trying to not let his mind drift to how this would play out tomorrow in your more sober mind, until he could feel your weight grow heavier against his body as you swayed gently. 

“Hey, Sweets,” he whispered against your hair. You hummed, eyes fluttered closed. “I should get you home.” You hummed in agreement, not having the strength to fight him on the pet name. Your sequoia-colored eyes peeking open, making him smile. 

He settled the tab, placing his leather jacket around your shoulders that wrapped you in warmth and the soothing smell of cedarwood and cinnamon. 

He walked you back to his truck, opening the door for you and making sure you were settled before closing the door. 

The car ride back was silent as you tried to stay awake, listening to the slow country song on the radio, your eyes drifting shut. The smooth stall of the truck made your eyes flutter open. Jake gently reached out to you, gingerly rubbing the knuckle of his forefinger against your exposed forearm to get your attention. You flinched at the unexpected, soft, almost non-existent contact, body tensing. “We’re here, Sweets,” his gentle tone letting your body ease back into the seat. 

Before your mind thought to open the door, he was already on the other side opening it for you, and offering you his hand to step down. It was truly unfair how good he looked under the streetlights outside your apartment, with his unbuttoned shirt, sunglasses hooked in the front, and slightly disheveled hair. It made you wonder how you came to hate this man in the first place. But then again, hate was a strong word and maybe he didn’t deserve to have it placed on him. Maybe it was only because of the three espresso martinis he bought you, tinting your vision of who he was tonight. 

Jake didn’t ask if you wanted him to walk you to your door. He held your hand gently in a way that seemed unusual for him as he walked with you up the stone steps to your front door. “Thanks for tonight. I really needed it.” His face broke out into a soft, sincere smile, “anytime, Cherry.” Your lips tugged into a smile, diverting your eyes to the house keys in your hand. His eyes couldn't stop drawing to the strand of dark hair that kept getting in your eyes. Your gaze shot to him as he let his forefinger sweep the hair behind your ear. 

“You deserve to have fun every once in a while.”He murmured, eyes tracing over the fine features of your face and the rich color of your hair under the porch light. His soft eyes brought a certain warmth that you'd never experienced with him. 

You gave him a smile, as you fiddled with your keys, fighting off the blush that threatened to break through. 

“Do you think,” you swallowed, “that you could not tell anyone about my really shitty date?” Jake, putting on a small smile, nodded, “yeah, of course, Sweets. I mean, I think I did a pretty good job at rectifying the experience.” 

His gentle, carefree smirk made your lip tip up into a small smile and shake your head. 

You let go of his hand, resisting to admit that you missed the contact already. 

“I’ll see you on Monday, Hang,” you bid farewell. 

He watched with a gentle smile and warm eyes as you closed the door behind you, giving him a soft wave. 

His lips pursed, morphing back into a smile as he walked back to his truck. The night seemed to fulfill him more than all of your trysts combined.

It had to count for something that you didn't ask him to never mention your... date? if he could even call it that...

You leaned back against your shut front door, a smile on your lips that he had never brought past your lips. 

Maybe it was only because of the three espresso martinis and this haze would lift in the morning, and he’d go back to being Hangman. 

Or maybe, just maybe, he truly wasn't as bad as you thought. 

People who may be interested <3

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[cosalphonse]

i recently was gifted some 03 merch that i haven’t seen online and wanted to share! the two artworks on the left are somewhat transparent, i’m not sure what they’re intended to be but they are super cute! and i’m going to share some photos of the character collection below the cut - this will be a little long and photo-heavy! and disclaimer, i don’t have a scanner nor can i read japanese, so i’m just going to be sharing the pages most visually / conceptually interesting to me

our boy ed gets several pages dedicated to him, no surprise, but i really like this little collage of images with the episode numbers displayed. it also includes the iconic “love is love” thumbs up which is funny to me

al similarly gets a lot of pages dedicated to him, but this one stuck out to me as a cute comedic page - i wonder if the little red and yellow text bubbles under ed and al in the middle of the page are what they say in the scene or something original?

i really loved this collage in winry’s section! it highlights her outfits and, just like ed’s, gives us screenshots with episode numbers behind her

riza’s section has an entire page on her relationship with black hayate, which i just found delightful. i love that they include the crude sketch of him as the little thumbnail for the section lol

interestingly, hughes' section ends with this all-red page focused entirely on his death. this made me wonder, what do the book creators consider spoilers? they don't exactly shy away from the more spoilery characters later on and they pretty much document nina's story in its entirety, yet at the same time we don't get a lot of information about hoenheim, envy, or ANYTHING about the other side of the gate. so what's the cutoff here? the last ten episodes? either way, i just found it interesting

my girl sheska gets two whole pages dedicated to her! that's more than breda, havoc, maria ross, and most of the homunculi. good for her.

while i can't read what this says, i found it interesting that they put dante and lyra's pages together. i don't know if they give away the twist, but either way, they clearly knew what they were doing - even if the excuse is that they put lyra with dante since she studies under her

scar gets two whole pages!! DESERVED!! i love that they include so much of his story, especially his relationship with his brother and lust

speaking of, lust is the only homunculus to get a two page spread! they even gave us some scarlust crumbs....

just wanted to include pictures of the 03-original homunculi, it's interesting that they were put together! and once again, this brings up my questions of "what is considered spoilers"

rose also gets a two page spread!

and possibly most baffling is... CLARA gets a two page spread too? for a character who only shows up in one episode this is mind boggling to me. a lot of the 03 original characters get small highlights - archer, the tringhams, etc - but clara gets the largest spot. maybe her episode was more popular while this was being made, or the creators just really liked her, idk

well, those are all of the points of interest i wanted to highlight! if anyone has any suggestions on what they want me to share - specific characters, index information, or anything else - feel free to send me an ask! i'll put all the information under the tag #03 character collection

[leehallfae]

“you stare mutely at the dirty plate, and all you can think about is clara barton, the feminist icon of your youth who had to teach herself how to be a nurse and endured abuse from men telling her what to do at every turn, and you remember being so angry and running to your parents and asking them if women still got told what was right or proper, and your mom said ��yes’ and your dad said ‘no,’ and you, for the first time, had an inkling of how complicated and terrible the world was.”

— carmen maria machado, in the dream house

[my-taelicious-kookie]

(ch.2) NORMALITY | jjk high school AU

preview: when they go low, we go lower

"Oh please, would you mind?" Jungkook asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement. The piano was his passion, just as dance was Maria's, so he couldn't hide his thrill at discovering a friend who shared his love for music.

"I'm not that great, honestly," Maria replied, a little self-conscious.

"Come on, you can't be that bad. No parent would invest in a proper piano for their kid if they were terrible at it," Jungkook laughed.

He was right in a way. Maria had become quite good, thanks to Ana who'd spent half her life savings on a high-quality second-hand piano so Maria could have a proper instrument rather than just a basic keyboard. Yet things hadn't turned out quite as planned. Maria had lost interest in piano back in 2012, around the same time she discovered her passion for dance. She had left piano school during her third year to pursue dance, but Ana was hesitant to support this new dream, fearing Maria's enthusiasm might waver. Ana insisted Maria practice on her own until she proved her dedication. Maria did go on to win a few dance competitions, enough to show her potential, though Ana never mentioned enrolling her in a dance school. Maria understood why; she knew her mum couldn't afford it, so she kept practicing solo, learning only so much on her own.

"Honestly, I'm not great. Don't judge a book by its cover," she said, almost backing out.

"Then let me be the judge," Jungkook persisted, giving her an encouraging smile.

Maria, shy but eager not to disappoint, finally gave in and pulled out an old sheet music from her piano lessons.

"Wait, you're in grade two?" Jungkook asked, laughing when he saw the sheet.

"Wow, way to make me want to play," Maria replied, rolling her eyes.

Jungkook's laughter faded as he realised he might have offended her. "Sorry! You don't have to play if you don't want to," he offered gently.

Maria sighed in relief, then shared her story about how her passion had shifted and how her mum's limitations had affected her dance pursuits. Jungkook listened, a bit disappointed as he'd been hoping they could become "piano buddies." He smiled softly. "I bet you would've been an amazing pianist if you'd kept going."

That evening, after Jungkook went home, Maria lay in bed feeling unexpectedly happy. She'd shared a piece of herself with someone new and felt understood.

June 10th - The Performance

It was finally the day of the talent show, and 'The X Team' - as Alaina insisted on calling it - consisting of Maria, Alaina, Brenda, Jimin, Jungkook, Isabella, and Jayda was ready to bring energy and a little chaos to the stage. Their performance was a wild medley of songs, starting with an intense dubstep beat that immediately grabbed the audience's attention. They transitioned smoothly into Primadonna Girl by Marina, followed—unexpectedly—by the quirky Korean song Gwiyomi, which threw the crowd for a loop. Next up was a dubstep remix of PewDiePie's most iconic quotes, pushing the audience to the edge with the sheer variety. They wrapped up the set with I Don't Care by Icona Pop, the crowd's favourite part, as they broke out into dance tricks that had everyone on their feet, cheering for more.

Their unpredictable choice of music might have overwhelmed a casual listener, but the energy was undeniable. The audience was left buzzing, clapping, and calling for an encore.

When the results were announced, The X Team came in third place and, to their delight, also won the Audience Favourite award. Meanwhile, the other team—consisting of Hoseok, Mia, Clara, Maddie, and Faye—walked away empty-handed. While all of them were phenomenal dancers, their performance lacked stage presence as well as the unity and chemistry that The X Team's had, making it less memorable.

Just as the day seemed to be wrapping up on a high note, chaos erupted. The losing team accused The X Team of cheating, furious over the results. What started as whispers quickly escalated into a heated argument, with the 15-year-old dancers launching into a full-blown shouting match.

"Cheating? What the hell could we have done?" Maria shot back, holding her ground as her teammates rallied around her.

"Yeah, we fucking worked just as hard as you!" Alaina added, crossing her arms defiantly.

"You guys probably paid off the judges!" Clara sneered.

"Oh, please, just say you're mad you didn't win anything," Jayda chimed in, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe if you actually worked as a team instead of a bunch of solo acts, the judges and the crowd would have liked you better!" Isabella shot back, her voice full of sass.

Hoseok scowled. "We're better dancers than you by miles, that's for sure."

"I didn't say that dingbat," Jayda pointed out before getting accused of anything.

"Everyone calm down," Jimin said, trying to diffuse the tension, though he too was visibly annoyed.

The bickering continued until a teacher finally intervened, breaking up the squabble. Jimin sighed in relief, he really didn't like drama, let alone being involved in one.

As they left the venue, Maria's team couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and exhilaration. They'd pulled off an unforgettable performance, won over the crowd, and proven that sometimes, it's not about individual talent but about how you work together.

"Damn, if putting myself on stage means I'd be able to witness juicy drama like this, I'd gladly do it everyday." the unproblematic Brenda mumbled.

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[dreamerwitches]

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[n2edits]

maria clara icons

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[barongtagalogs-blog]

Filipino traditional costumes are diverse and vary across different regions of the Philippines. Here are some examples:

Barong Tagalog: The Barong Tagalog is a formal shirt-like garment for men, often worn at special occasions and events. It is made from lightweight fabrics like piña (pineapple fibers) or jusi (banana fibers) and is known for its intricate embroidery. The Barong Tagalog is typically worn untucked over a plain undershirt.

Maria Clara Dress: Named after a character in Dr. Jose Rizal’s novel “Noli Me Tangere,” the Maria Clara dress is a traditional gown for women. It features a flowing skirt and butterfly sleeves, often made from lightweight fabrics like piña or jusi. It’s commonly worn during formal events and occasions.

Terno: The terno is an iconic Filipino formal gown for women. It features a distinctive butterfly sleeve, which can vary in size and design. The terno is often worn at prestigious events and was even popularized by former First Lady Imelda Marcos.

Ilocano Attire: In the northern region of Ilocos, both men and women wear traditional outfits. Men wear a striped woven shirt called “inabel” or “baro’t saya,” while women wear a wrap-around skirt called “patadyong” along with a matching blouse.

T’boli Attire: The T’boli people from Mindanao have unique traditional clothing. Women wear intricately designed blouses and skirts adorned with vibrant colors and patterns. They also wear heavy beadwork and accessories.

Ifugao Attire: The Ifugao people from the Cordillera region wear distinctive attire. Men often wear a loincloth called “wanes” and a wrap-around skirt called “tapis.” Women wear wrap-around skirts and intricately woven tops.

Maguindanao Attire: The Maguindanao people from Mindanao have ornate traditional clothing. Men wear a long-sleeved shirt called “kandit,” while women wear a blouse and a wrap-around skirt called “malong.”

Yakan Attire: The Yakan people from Basilan have vibrant and colorful woven fabrics. Women often wear a “sablay” or “blouse” paired with a “sambayang” or wrap-around skirt.

Mangyan Attire: The Mangyan indigenous groups from Mindoro have distinct clothing. Women wear “tapis,” a wrap-around cloth, and men wear a loincloth called “baag.”

Kalinga Attire: The Kalinga people from the Cordillera region are known for their body tattoos and traditional clothing. Women often wear a “lufid” or wrap-around skirt along with intricate beadwork.

These examples represent just a fraction of the rich variety of traditional costumes in the Philippines, each reflecting the culture, history, and unique heritage of different regions and indigenous communities.

[theothervonkarmagirl]

Icons only and hopefully wouldnt happen but for Maria Clara pregnant without being married

Send "Icons only" and something for my muse to react to

[barongsrus1]

Filipino movies and teleseryes have taken a different turn in the entertainment industry, leveling up the game both nationally and internationally. The historical teleserye, “Maria Clara at Ibarra,” has captured the attention of many due to its beautiful storyline, cinematography, and casting. Additionally, the series greatly emphasized the showcasing of Filipino traditional dresses. Therefore, let us take a look at some of the iconic Filipiniana looks that you might want to wear to formal events soon.

Julia Anne San Jose wearing a Traje de Mestiza

Simple and elegant – this is the image depicted of Julia Anne, one of the main characters in the series. She is usually seen wearing a traje de mestiza, a Filipiniana dress, made of brocade, piña, or jacquard, paired with various accessories such as a Victorian cameo choker, earrings, and a tambourine necklace. Truly, she stands out as a true “Ilustrado” woman.

Barbie Forteza in 1860’s Filipiniana Gown

In the first episode of the TV series, Barbie (also known as Klay) was seen wearing a yellow traditional dress that belonged to Maria Clara’s mother. The style of her dress was inspired by the 1860s Philippine costume, featuring a ball-shaped skirt and pleats in the “Siete Cuchillos” style. This sophisticated clothing emphasized Klay’s strength.

Barbie in a Traje de Mestiza

Of course, Klay, Barbie’s character, has also worn one of the Filipino traditional dresses – a traje de mestiza gown. This national costume is made of piña or pineapple fiber and consists of a collarless embroidered blouse paired with bell-shaped sleeves and a balloon-shaped skirt. Like Maria Clara, Klay looks sophisticated and elegant with the panuelo and tapis as clothing additions.

Baro’t Saya for Andrea Torres

As Andrea is portraying the character of Sisa, she is expected to wear attire that mosat lower-class people wore in the past. The designer of the Filipiniana dress aimed to enhance the costume’s beauty, however, by incorporating unique elements from the clothing worn by “Indio” women while working in the fields or doing their daily tasks. In the TV series, Andrea wore a baro’t saya costume, adorned with a “tapis” to emphasize her status.

The Persistence of Filipino Fashion Continues

The Maria Clara and Ibarra TV series has made a significant impact on both national and international viewers. It has marked a milestone in the Philippine entertainment industry, especially in traditional clothing and design. With the inclusion of various types of Philippine costumes in the series, it is undeniable that Filipino clothing is unique and fashionable. So if you are searching for high-quality Filipiniana gowns for sale or other Filipiniana wedding dresses, Barong R Us is the place to go.

[smileyrice]

cariñosa — taoelle

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[editsfav]

clara garcia icons.

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[athenacoloring]

𓂃ℳ𝐚𝐫𝑖𝑎 𝓒𝐥𝐚𝒓𝒂～🦋

💭་𓂃🌙ℙ𝑙𝑒𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝓛𝖎𝖐𝑒 𝗈𝗋 𝕽𝒆𝒃𝒍𝐨𝐠་᳝⋆ֺ⊹⊰␦

[alynerr]

- 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐆𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕞𝕖

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴...

[nosensedit]

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