#don't mind the tags i'm trying to see which tags

[nezukoo-channn]

— sinta ko (Zayne x F! Reader)

Tags: Non-MC F!Reader x Zayne, Reader isn’t MC, Reader is addressed w female pronouns (she/her), Spanish colonial AU! Not historically accurate , romance, pinning, domestic moments, possibly OOC Zayne and Caleb , there are translations (not exactly word by word but I translated it based on what's the most accurate thought behind it, it's italicized beside or after the dialogue) , fluff, so much pinning and longing, teasing and banter, different social classes, they haven't seen each other in years let them fall in love again, childhood friends to people who havent seen each other in years to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, established relationship at the end, courtship, theyre falling in love awwwww, zayne sings for youuuu and you sing back and and *sniffles*

TW: slight blood and injuries (in one scene), cussing (just once), and discrimination between social classes

A/N: part 2 of giliw ko! Thank you so much for waiting for part 2 (i know that i said ill post it soon but i didnt expect soon will be THIS long, had to settle some personal things in my life, deal with grief and stuff) but i hope youll like part 2 and that it wont disappoint you guys thank you so much for supporting giliw ko and sinta ko, i hope to be more comfortable in writing and publishing more fics one day.

Taglist: @sapphic-daze, @deusfoundry, @roseapov, @knorreine

Divider: @saradika-graphics

You don't remember the last time you saw Zayne.

Well, you could remember seeing him, but you don't remember when exactly was the last time you saw him. Was it months? Years? Decades?

Everyday felt ordinary. You wake up before dawn to tend to your mother and her weakening health. You and your father helped her up, allowing her to sit down to watch the sunrise.  

You prepared breakfast next, making sure your parents had something to eat before you left for work today,  which was selling products you and your father grew in your own garden at the back of the house at the marketplace. You dusted up your skirts, tied your hair up and grabbed the basket before saying goodbye to your parents and walking out of the door.  

You headed up to your usual area, amongst the other women, young and old , selling the same produce as you. You raised your voice,  loud and clear to call out to potential customers. People passed your way, some dropping by to purchase a vegetable or two , others tried to bargain with you about prices established, and the rest passed along. You didn't mind. Customers were customers; they were yours sometimes, and other times, they weren't. 

During the midday, You found a spot for yourself to have lunch before returning back to work. You did the same thing , trying to get your stock sold out and yet, like every other day, it wasn't. You sigh, glancing at the last few bits of onions and garlic.

As the day ends, you return home, clutching your basket close. When you open the door, your mother greets you. She was a slim woman, her bones seemed to poke through her thin skin and dull eyes. You set the basket aside and hugged her.

“Magandang gabi, ma.” You greeted, “Kumusta po tayo?”  Goodevening, mom. How are you?

Your mother, despite her illness , gave a sweet smile.  “Maayos naman, ija. Sabi ko sa iyo na wag na magtrabaho. Kaya pa man namin ng ama mo.” I am well, my child but didn't I tell you to stop working? Your father and I can still do it.

She gently chimed. You smiled, shaking your head as you placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Nay,” You say softly, “May sakit ka po, diba? Hayaan mo na kami ni tatay mag-alaga sa iyo…” Mom, you're sick, remember? Let dad and I take care of you...

Your mother sighs. “Parehas talaga kayo ng tatay mo, no?” She laughs before shaking her head, “Kain na tayo? Hinihintay ka na ng tatay mo…”  You're really like your father, no? Oh come on now, let's eat dinner. I'm sure your father has been waiting for you.

You held your mother's hand, heading to the small dining room to eat together as a family.

Dinner was quiet, say for the occasional coughs from your mother and the mumbles of your father as he tries to make her drink water. And just like that, dinner was complete and then fell into a comfortable silence as you prepared to sleep. 

It was a life, yes, but a mundane everyday one.

A life you memorized and lived through autopilot countless times.

With the season getting colder, your mother's illness worsens to the point of her being unable to stand or leave the bed.

That gave you a reason to work even harder.

You found a bunch of other jobs — laundry maid, cooking maid, babysitting children of the elite, etc. Just to earn enough money to help your mother find a doctor or anyone willing to heal her.

“May kilala ka bang doktor, Señora?” Do you know a doctor, madame? You asked your mistress. She was a newer one to town, having married some impressionable bachelor.

She scoffs, “At bakit ka ba nagtatanong? Hindi naman parte ng trabaho mo magkasakit.” And why are you asking? It isn't part of your job to get sick.

You grit your teeth. There were really people like them, no? Just because they had more privilege or paler skin meant that they could look down upon others. You shook your head, “Para po sa ina ko, señora.” Its for my mother, madame. You reasoned. 

“Ano ba ang pakialam ko sa ina mo? ”And why should I care about your mother? She scoffs. 

You nearly dropped whatever you were holding, planning to aim at her, but that said, if she gets hurt, you'd be imprisoned and it will be more difficult for your family. You remained quiet, finishing up instead before leaving for the day. 

As you walk the path back home, a familiar silhouette stands beside you. You looked to your side and raised your hand to defend yourself, but it was caught between theirs. You glance up, knowing that cheeky smile wherever You go. 

It was Caleb.

“Gago ka!” Fuck! You say in shock, your hand fishing it's way out of his hold your hit his shoulder playfully. “Ikaw ha! Bakit mo iyan ginawa?” What was that for? 

He laughs. “At bakit ka naman galit? Di lang tayo nagkita ng ilang buwan at tapos, magpapa-sungti ka?" And why are you angry? We haven't seen each other for a few months and now you're acting all mean?

He teases, ruffling your hair. You hit him again playfully. 

“At bakit ka dito?” Why are you here? You asked. 

“Bakit? Bawal ba?” Why? Am I not allowed here? He retorts.

You sighed. 

“Hindi naman…” Not really You answered, dusting your skirt. “Uuwi na ako kinana Nanay At Tatay. Malubha ang sakit ni Nanay… Naghahanap ako ng doktor, O baka naman mangagagmot— kahit sino na lang.” I'm heading back home. Mom isn't feeling well and I'm trying to find a doctor, or maybe a healer--or just anyone who can help, really. You confined to him as you walked back home together.

Caleb wasn't present around the barrio nowadays, having gone to Manila to serve for the Guardia Civil , the Spanish police that her empire placed over her constituents to keep them in place.

“Alam mo, may kilala akong doktor.”I know a doctor. Caleb says , moments before reaching home. You glanced at his direction, eyes brimming with possible hope that it'll be a good doctor,  one that can save your mother's health and wouldn't dismiss her like others. 

“Saan?”Where? You ask immediately,  “Sino?” Who?

He smiles, getting a piece of paper inside his trousers and hands it to you , pressing his hands against yours. You stared in confusion,  tilting your head as you mumbled quickly before stepping inside. 

Dinner was the usual, but with the added bonus of Caleb being there and entertaining your parents with his various experiences .  You nod along, listening to him talk on and on as you can't help but wonder what a life beyond the comforts of a province would be like. What Maynila was truly like for yourself. 

As the night comes to an end, you escorted Caleb out of the house, a complete opposite from what a woman would do. He pouts playfully, trying to object to your behavior but you laugh along, dragging him out of the house as he says a goodbye to your parents.

And life continued on. 

It took a while to convince your mother that she should see a doctor, and not either a manggagamot or an albularyo. You practically dragged her to the place, making sure to hold her hand tightly so that she wouldn't get lost.

You paused, stopping at the gates of the familiar building.

It was Zayne’s old home. The same old home you met him with. The same old home where your mother and father and grandparents all worked. The same old home that held so many memories— it feels too good to be true to stand face to face with it.

But here you are. Standing in front of the familiar gates.

Getting inside was fairly simple, but the lines and amount of people were so many you probably wondered if the thing Caleb mentioned has any semblance of truth at all. You made sure your mother was seated and weaved yourself through the small crowd of people like the sea that washes upon the shore of everyday life— you memorized this place, but felt alien towards it. You walked over to the woman sitting down with piles of papers, perhaps that's the secretary of the Doctor. She glances up and smiles,

“Bago ka ba dito?” Are you new here? She asks. You nod. She gets a piece of paper and a pen and begins asking for information about you.

You immediately shake your head,

“Parang hindi tayo nagkakaintindihan. Hindi po ako yung may sakit, yung ina ko po.” I think there's a misunderstanding. Im not the one who's ill, but my mother.

You explained. She laughs and corrects herself before proceeding with the same thing all over again, this time with your mother's information instead of yours.

Waiting took even longer. There were plenty of people, young and old, men and women, the rich and the poor waiting patiently for their names to be called by the secretary. It was something new for you. You haven't been to the doctor's before, having trusted and used local medicines and believed to rid you of your illnesses as a child and teenager, the same thing your parents had used to because it was cheaper than a doctor and was more known in the barrio.

You glanced around. The familiar wooden walls had stood tall, photos of the family lined their walls as generations of men and women watched people come in and out of their home, hoping for a better solution to their ailments. Time ticks slowly as the sun rises higher into the sky And begins its descent . Your eyes were starting to get heavy, your mother leaning against you for a moment's rest.

Hearing your mother's name get called was like a bell that breaks the silence of night. You nudge her awake. “Nay,” Mom, You say softly, trying to wake her, “Tayo na. Tinawag na tayo.” Let's go. Your name was being called.

She mutters something in response before you help her up and lead her towards the room.

You had been inside this room before. The old smell of books and wood was replaced with ammonia and sterile supplies. You take a step, your mother following behind you as you face the presumed doctor.

Zayne.

He glanced down for a moment, reviewing the patient information given to him by the secretary beforehand. You couldn't help but stare at realizing you knew each other before. He was still handsome, yes, with soft and cold eyes, his hair short and kept nicely.

“Nay, si Zayne po ito.” Mom, its me, Zayne.

He says to your mother, his voice soft and modulated. Your mother's eyes lit up. “Ijo? Ikaw ba ‘yan , ijo ko?” My dear? Is that you, my dear?

He nods. “Opo, ang ijo inaalagaan mo noong una po," Yes, I'm the boy you took care of before.

He grabs his stethoscope, “At ngayon po, Nay, ako naman po ang maaalaga sa iyo.” And now, mom, I'll be the one who'll be taking care of you.

You watched as Zayne proceeded with his routine, A new sight from the boy you once knew. His hands were gentle, his voice firm and clear as he ran through several tests and asked your mother questions related to her health.

Minutes passed by as Zayne explained what was happening to you and your mother. He was direct, telling her she was ill but didn't crush the hopes of her making a recovery. He gets a piece of paper, scribbling down a few words before handing them to you. He gives a few more reminders, making sure your mother can take her medicines, not overwork herself , make sure she's rested well, and to return next week to get an update on her health.

You smiled, saying your thanks to Zayne before looking away, your eyes darting around as you tapped your feet. Zayne and your mother continued to talk, catching up with the years that passed.

“Ang laki laki mo na , ijo.” You're so big now, my dear. Your mother coos, squishing his cheek with her wrinkled fingers, “Naalala ko noong una—” I remember when —

Zayne chuckled nervously , looking away as he places her hand far from his cheeks. “Alam ko po.” I know, He says softly, “Hindi mo na kailangan sabihin.” You don't need to say.

Your mother scoffs playfully, making you groan from annoyance. The last thing you wanted to hear is an embarrassing story from your childhood or Zayne’s. She laughs, recalling how you'd always play together or how when Zayne was a little baby, he would always follow her or his own mother around like a little puppy. You laugh, imagining him just as your mother described in her story. Zayne stands there, covering his reddening face with his white coat, his eyes glancing elsewhere. He silently hopes that this will all end soon.

“Nay,” Mom, You say, placing a hand on her shoulder. You glance at Zayne, seemingly saying that you had this under your control. “Sa susunod na naman tayo mag-usap kay Doktor Zayne, Nay. Baka may gagawin pa siya.” We can talk to Doctor Zayne next time. Maybe he still has things to do.

“Bibisita ka ba sa amin ba, ijo?” Will you visit us , dear? She asks Zayne with hopeful eyes.

“Hindi pa ko maka-siguro po, Nay.” I'm not so sure, Mom. He answers, “Pero kung may oras ako, bibisita ako. Sa parehas lugar kung saan kayo nakatira noong una po?” But if I have the time, I'll visit. Its in the same place as before, no?

Your mother nods. “Aba, naalala mo pa, ijo? Kung hindi kayo sa bahay, diyan kayo palagi nina Caleb at Y/N. Palagi kayo naglalaro noong una. Naalala ko-” Ah, so you do remember, dear? If you weren't at home, you would always be at ours with Caleb and Y/N. You three always played together and I remember—

“At naalala ko na nag-aalala na si Tatay sa bahay.” And I remember that Dad is worried at home. You chimed in softly, grabbing her hand as you thanked Zayne once more and left the office. Zayne smiles to himself, waving goodbye as the door closes and leaves him alone with his thoughts.

You were always at Zayne’s more often as your mother recovers from her illness.

It was a slow and gradual process, yes, but you couldn't help but be proud, seeing your mother slowly feel better and get back on her feet. True to his words, Zayne visits more often. He brings his medical equipment in a bag and walks up to your door and like clockwork, you’d open the door to greet him hello before bringing him to your mother.

Your mother’s eyes always lit up when she hears his footsteps and his familiar voice. She loved him like he was her child, having raised him all those years ago.

“May kasintahan ka na ba, ijo?” Do you have a partner, dear? She asked one time, catching him off-guard. He looked away for a moment, his face turning red as he shook his head.

“May babae bang nagpapatibok ng puso mo?” Is there a woman who makes your heart race? She asked next.

His ears turned red as he continued to look away.

“Parang wala pa po, Nay. Hindi ko rin alam kung pareho ang nararamdaman niya sa akin…” There seems to be no one yet, Mom.I'm not sure if the person feels the same.

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. This was Doctor Zayne, and you were sure that so many women had already swooned over his feet and had tried to melt away at his cold and aloof expression, but you digressed.

“Hay nako, Zayne. Ikaw pa? Walang kasintahan? At akala ko sa Maynila o sa Europa ka pa makakahanap ng babae na magmamahal sa iyo?” Really, Zayne? You? Without a partner? And I thought you would find someone from Manila or Europe who will love you. You teased, nudging his side, “O bake plano mo maging isang matandang binata?" Or do you plan on being an umarried bachelor?

Zayne laughs, turning his attention towards you.

“Hindi naman.”Not really, He says, “May taong nagpapatibok ng puso ko pero…” There is someone who makes my heart race however...

“Pero?” However?

“Pabayaan mo na.” Nevermind. He waves his hand dismissively. You pouted at his words, playfully hitting his shoulder, and sticking your tongue out in his direction. Zayne sighs, seeing your petulant expression.

“Tumahimik ka nga?” Can you keep quiet? He says, “Nagtatrabaho ako.” I'm working.

Your heart skipped a small beat. Was it the way he talked? The way his hands handled taking care of your mother? Or was it because it was Zayne? Zayne, the childhood friend you grew up with throughout all those years, whose face and expression never changed, his voice still modulated and poised just like how you’d always remember it. You shake your head. Now that kind of nonsense is something you don’t agree on, especially about you.

His checkup continues as he does an assessment of your mother’s current condition. Every answer she gave, he had written down and documented properly. Before he left, he presented them with fruits in a basket and money he had stuffed in his pockets.

“Alam ko na hindi ito magrabo pero sana po makatuklong diin sa iyo ito.”I know this isn't extravagant but I hope it will help. He offers.

“Ang sobra naman mo, Zayne. Hindi mo naman kailangan ito gawin .” Oh Zayne, you're too much. You don't need to do this. You say, your face red and eyes widen from the action he had done. He presses the basket of fruits closer to you.

“Tanggapin mo na.” Accept it. He insists. After another back and forth between you both, you resigned your fate and nodded in thanks, taking the basket into your arms. Zayne flashes a subtle smile before packing his materials and leaving out of the door.

This continues on for weeks more, even spanning months–close to a year even as your mother’s recovery was a slow and gradual process. She can move around more often and for longer without the need to catch her breath. She can clean up around the house, much to your father’s insistence of helping.

Whenever you visited Zayne in his clinic with your mother, you would bring a fresh basket of fruits and vegetables that you sell as a thank you to him. He would gladly accept it, claiming that you and your mother were planning to stuff him with food. You both laugh and shake your heads at his words.

When Zayne visits the marketplace to find goods, he’d look around, seeing the same things and products sold. The only difference was the person selling. He would look around, trying to spot you from amongst the crowd of voices. He would buy the vegetables he needed before paying and leaving to go to a different stall. There were times that you two bantered over prices of your products, as Zayne would explain the concepts of business to you. In response, you would shake your head and grumble about how he doesn’t really know a thing about how to really sell stuff to individuals.

He followed every rule of the book and conduct of society, and yet, here you are, holding a basket of fresh produce from the garden your family has, your face kissed by the sun with your hair tied up with your smile gracing your lips.

The same smile that had slowly melted through his exteriors once more and will continue to do so until the very end perhaps. The same smile that had caused his heart to skip a beat when he saw her again. The smile that got him going through medical school, the only thing he imagined him to greet her. Sometimes, he wonders if he should’ve stayed behind as a child to see her smile even more, but he didn’t regret leaving for Manila to study medicine, he didn’t regret going to Europe to learn even more. At least, not completely.

The only thing he ever regretted about leaving home was that he didn’t bring her and her smile with him.

Now that he is back, he only hopes to see it even more.

You missed him. That wasn’t a lie.

Of course you did, he was still your childhood friend and companion until he left to study. You had spent your whole teenage years wondering when he’ll be back and whether things will be the same when he returns–would he even remember who you were?

But seeing his face, his bright eyes that seemed to shift colors when the sunlight hit in different angles, his large and strong hands holding onto the basket of produce he bought from you, you realized that he hasn’t forgotten you, not one single bit at all.

Your mother noticed the way your face turned red at the mention of Zayne's name, your father noticed the small smile that graced your lips when you tried to hide your blushing face beneath your hand. Caleb had teased you both relentlessly about it, nudging Zayne by the shoulder everytime you three were together once more. It was as if you were kids once again, just much older than the ages you were before. And instead of playing together, you did errands together, with them being your most frequent customers. Your other friends had teased you as well, nudging and making noises you’d glare at them for.

And the worst of all, you noticed the way Zayne acted around you.

It was a subtle change, but one you noticed and took attention too. He was at your home more often, even staying for dinner with your parents. He’d laugh at old stories your father recalls about you that you wished he’d quiet about. He looked at you more often, his head resting against his chin as he watched you go on and on about today, or yesterday, or any other day. And once dinner was done and everything slowed down, he seemed hesitant to leave but always kissed your hand and said his goodbye. You kept a straight-face most of the time, but there was no denying of the red gracing your cheeks.

There was a time he was talking to your parents. You were in the kitchen, washing the dishes as their hushed voices talked. There was a gut feeling inside your chest, telling you to listen in. Holding a wet plate in your hand, you pressed your ear closer to the wall, curious on what he’s about to say next.

“Magtatanong ako kung bibigayan niyo ba ako ng pahintulot para ligawin si Y/N.” I want to ask your permission to court Y/N. Zayne says, his voice muffled by the barrier se separating the kitchen and living room.

There was a brief silence before he continued, “Hindi ako makakasabi na ako ay isang perpektong tao pero pinapangako ko na mamahalin ko siya ng buong puso.” I can't say that I'm perfect, but I promise to love her with my whole heart.

“Ang anak ba namin ang dahilan bakit tumitibok ang puso mo, ijo?” Is our child the reason why your heart races, dear? Your mother asks.

Another brief silence passes before he nods. “Opo, pero maliban po sa ganyan. Siya ang dahilan na bakit ako nabubuhay, kung bakit ako gumigising sa umaga at natutulog sa gabi. Sa totoo, parang hindi ko na kayang itago ang aking nararamdaman sa kanya. Kung pwede po sa inyo, gusto ko siya ligawin.” Yes, but she's more than that. She's the reason why I'm alive, why I wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night. In honesty, I don't think I can hide my feelings for her any longer, so please, give me the permission to court her.

Your heart freezes in your chest, skipping a beat. Your hand slips, causing the plate to fall down with a loud crash. You quickly knelt over, gathering the larger pieces, and accidentally drawing blood. Your eyes widened in a panic as you scrambled up and got cleaning supplies to fix the mess your nosiness made.

As you clean up, a silhouette looms over you, his hand touching your shoulder as he peers beyond and sees your bloody hand and broken shards.

“Ano ba nangyari rito?” What happened here? Zayne’s voice breaks the silence in the room. “Patingin nga.” Let me see.

You let out your bloody hand to him. He glances around it, careful and precise in his touch to ensure that there will be no further injuries. He helps you sit down, finding clean cloths and water.

“Wag kang gagalaw.” Don't move. He instructs. You nodded and tried your best to stay still. He begins to clean the wound with water and soap before leaving for a moment to get his first aid kit that he brought everywhere with him, especially during visiting patients. He cleans your hands with antiseptic, his hands firm and kind. Perhaps this was why he was a well-sought out doctor. The way he treated and helped nursed his patients back to health, his firm and unwavering dedication didn’t stem from ethics alone, but was grounded in a genuine love and care for the people he spends his whole life serving and taking care of.

You wince, trying to take your hand away but he holds on.

“Diba sinabi ko wag kang gagalaw?" Didn't I tell you not to move? He repeats himself. You nodded once more, murmuring an apology to him. He pauses for a moment before continuing.

In the silence of the kitchen table, your mind raced.

Ligaw. Courtship.

Zayne wanted to court you, he was asking your parents permission for him to court you. Honestly, if tradition never mattered, you would step out from where you’re hiding and give him the permission yourself, but for now, you kept quiet and listened on. You wondered if he knew you were swooping, or was he keeping that information to himself?

What surprised you more was his reasoning behind the reason why he wanted to do it.

You were the reason why he survived Manila, why he survived Europe and other parts of Asia he traveled to study.

You were the reason why he continued on with medicine.

You were the reason why he returned back to the province he was born and raised in.

In the coldest hours of morning, before the sun rises over the horizon and the small town bounces with life, you were the comfort he was looking for. That warm and never ceasing comfort he has been searching and longing for his whole life.

You were all of these things and more, and Zayne had kept that inside his chest for so long that he can feel his heart explode if it was kept in for longer.

“Ano bang nangyari?” What happened even?He asks, wrapping your hand in gauze.

“Nalaglag ko ang plato hinahawakan ko.” I dropped my plate. You admitted.

He hums, nodding his head at your answer. He made sure it was secure before letting go and reminding you to be more careful with the things you hold and your surroundings. His voice silences as the quiet sounds of your parents’ footsteps get farther and farther away as they rested for the night.

You said your goodbyes, watching him leave the house and the door closes behind him. Your hand lingers for longer against the wood, as if hoping Zayne would show up and remind you one more time to take care of yourself before going, but that wouldn’t be happening tonight.

The next time you saw Zayne was months later.

You were so busy taking care of your parents, and he was away for a while. You tried to ask the people who worked at his clinic, or Caleb, or your own parents about where he is and neither had a proper answer to your question.

You were worried,to say the least. Had he run away from his own feelings? Had he run away from you? No, that wouldn’t make sense for Zayne to do. You tried to think of other possible reasons to console your pacing mind. Perhaps he went to Manila to work, or perhaps visited his parents, maybe had other patients beyond their small town.

It was the middle of the night when you found yourself awake once more, your mind lingers on with the possible reasons why he hasn’t shown up, and about what you had overheard from the talk with your parents months ago. The windows were closed, but allowed some air inside to keep you cool and comfortable. You tossed and turned in bed when you heard a faint sound of a guitar being strummed.

You paused, glancing at the window. Another strum of the guitar and a cough. Slowly, you got up from the bed and approached the window, your hands lingering around, thinking about whether to push it open or keep it close.

That's when you heard singing.

That's when you heard Zayne singing.

His voice was crisp and clear, emotions pouring out of his mouth as he sang to the sound of a guitar. There were some snickers here and there, perhaps from his friends but nonetheless, he continued on. You smiled to yourself, allowing his voice to soothe your own troubles and worries. It goes on for several more minutes, but the idea was the same: please open your window and let me catch a glimpse of your face.

As the last song finishes up, you open the windows to your room and look down, your hands covering your blushing face.

Zayne was there, his hands outstretched with a smile on his face. When he sees your face,he lowers his hands and looks up. There was a hint of red plastered on his face too, making you crack a smile. His friends were there as well, supporting him in his endeavors to woo you over. Caleb nudges Zayne before saying something you didn’t hear. You went outside of your room, surprised to see your parents awake too.

“Oh? Papasukin mo ba sila?”Oh? Will you let him in then? Was all the confirmation you needed from your parents before opening the door to them. Zayne sighs in relief, he has passed the first test. He greeted your parents and you as they settled down for a while. You sat beside your parents, watching them prepare the next songs.

As Zayne sings throughout the night, he compliments various things about you. How you smiled, carrying yourself with grace , how your eyes shone under the sun and your hair forming a halo around you like an angel. How you treated others with love, how hard you worked for your family, how you loved so tenderly and freely that it felt like a crime if he were to let go of such a chance of loving you.

He continues to sing alongside the guitar being played, the words seemingly fly out of his mouth as he says sweet everythings to you. You smile throughout, unable to hide it any further as you lean in forward, eager to listen to him sing.

In a response to his efforts, you sing back to him. You came up with a response to his efforts, and mentioned the things you liked about him. His handsome face, his steady and strong hands, his dedication to his work, the way he cared about others around him and prioritized their safety first and foremost. You sing about accepting his love, comparing it to the home you lived in; stable and worth returning to time and time again.

His face turns to a brighter shade of red as you continue on. He tried to bury his face, but his smile was so big that his hands couldn’t seem to hide it. But just like you , he listened to every word said about him.

You sang a duet together, your voices mixing with the guitar’s melody. Singing a duet together means that you had accepted his effort into wooing you over.

In honesty, you have accepted it for a long time already. You know that he loved you, in any way a man like he could. He loved you in his reminders, he loved you in his touch and longing stares, and most of all, he loved you since and had only taken the leap of faith to sing his feelings about you and you were there to catch him.

You sang a few more songs together before he finally wraps it up with a goodbye song. He thanked your parents one more time before he and his friends left, closing the door behind them. The silence of memory and song fills the living room but you were shifting around, glancing at the door. You bounced your leg, tapping your fingers against your bouncing knee.

“Pupuntahan mo siya?” Will you go to him? Your mother asked, as if she was able to read your mind. She knew you weren't the most traditional following girl especially when it was getting in the way of what you truly wanted. You glanced up before nodding.

“Puntahan mo na, ija. Sino ba ako para pigilan ka?” Go to him, my dear. Who am I to stop you?

You hugged your mother before rushing out the door, then heading back inside to get a shawl and change your slippers. As much as your mother allowed you to be more independent as you got older, cleanliness was a rule you followed.

You rushed outside, the cold wind blowing through your thin shawl and clothes. The full moon brightens up the way before you as the lamps slowly get dimmer and farther away.

“Zayne!” You yelled out, causing him to stop in his tracks and run back to you. He sets the lamp down on the ground and cups your cheek, inspecting to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Ano po iyon, magandang binibini?” What's the matter, Miss beautiful? He asks, “Na-istrobo ko ba kayo? Pasensya na po, Binibini pero gusto ko lang makita yung iyong mga ngiti.” Did I disturb you? I'm sorry, Miss but all I want is to see your smile.

You huffed, and looked away for a moment. He chuckled, and tilted your face towards him. His eyes lingered on your lips, but he kept his restraint. It was far too early or quick for him to do that. He was supposed to take his time when he courts her and she in turn, wouldn’t give in so easily.

“At ngayon, nakita ko na ang pinakamagandang ngiti sa balat ng lupa.” And now, I have seen the most beautiful smile in the world. He smiles, his hands lingering on her lips, “Kaya makakatulong ako ngayong gabi ng mabuti.” Which means I can sleep well at night.

“Pero kung ikaw makakatulong ng mabuti ngayong gabi, paano naman ba ako?” But if you get to sleep well at night, how about me? You asked, your eyes glancing at his face. You cupped his cheeks in turn and pulled him close to you, making him hunch down.

“Pwede ba kitang halikan?" May I kiss you? You whisper, leaning in close.

“Pwede.” You may. He answers.

You leaned in close, holding his cheeks against yours as your lips met together. A soft yet bright flame burned through you both. You closed your eyes, your hands wrapped around his neck as you stood on your toes. Pulling away, you take a deep breath, your face turning even redder than ever. Zayne smiles, tracing your lips with his finger before kissing you once more.

Once the act was done, you both stood there , wrapped in each other’s arms. The comfortable silence filling the quiet night as the moon and stars served as witnesses to a love that took years, decades, in the making. You took your hands away from him, reminding him to head home safely. He picks up his lamp, waves goodbye and begins to walk away while you return to the steps of your home.

Your love continued to blossom and developed, increasing in passion and devotion as time continued. You and Zayne exchanged love letters, all of which you kept in a box hidden beneath your clothes. There were times you’d find him outside your window, courting you with sweet songs that you’d reply to. You would bring fresh produce to Zayne, making sure he had a sufficient supply and in turn, Zayne made sure to use them up, creating simple and warm meals for his patients and himself. He would buy his produce from you alone, carrying them in his arms with pride and satisfaction, knowing he had gotten it from the woman he loved and who loved him back.

As time continues to pass, he brings you around him, keeping you close as he was invited to event after event. He would hold your hand and proudly introduce you as the woman he loved, causing the others to stare in disbelief, awe, or envy, but neither of it truly mattered to him.

You were with him and that was more than enough for the both of you.

In the midst of dancing crowds and conversations, you both would slip away from the crowd to spend time together and danced to the beat of your rhythms.

You also became a more frequent face in the clinic he worked at, your presence bringing relief to Zayne especially. When he went to other places, you were with him as you travelled to even more far-fetched communities to provide them with the healthcare they needed and deserved. You watched Zayne work and take care of patients from various walks of life, age, and class, treating them all as individuals needing help. You watched him explain diagnosis to patients and possible solutions around it. You helped him clean around, making sure that the place was spotless and disinfected from any contaminants.

As the day comes to a close, you helped him lock the clinic for the day, changing the sign to indicate that clinic hours were done. You accompanied Zayne, visited patients under his care and checked on their current statuses. Luckily for you both, there weren’t many people he had to see so you two headed back.

When you both arrive back at Zayne’s , you find yourselves standing in front of the same place you both stood on years ago when he left for Manila for the first time.

Gone were the days that you were carefree children, gone were the days you played and read together, and most of all, gone were the days you admired Zayne from afar because you were in his arms. You grabbed something from your pocket, revealing a small cloth. You began to unwrap it, revealing to Zayne an old flower, its colors pressed away and its petals fragile.

“Naalala mo ba ito?” Do remember this? You ask, “Ito yung binigay mo sa aking pag-alis mo papuntang Manila noon. Tinago at protektahan ko ito.” This is what you gave me before you left for Manila before. I hid and protected it with my whole heart.

Zayne smiles, stepping closer to inspect the old and dried flower. He nods, “Oo, naalala ko.” Yes, I remember. He answers, “At pareho sa bulaklak na ito, aalagaan kita at ilalagay ka sa puso ko. Hindi na ko aalis kasi,” And like this flower, I will take care of you and place you in my heart. I don't need to leave because, He brushes gently against the petals and places it aside, “Kasi nakauwi na ako.” Because, I'm home.

As the years pass, both families had met and given approval should you and Zayne finally decide to settle down. There wasn’t a date as to when or where, but that's alright for the both of you. You were still enjoying your time as a couple before settling down for good.

You were both sleeping on a hammock, the wind swinging you and Zayne gently. You were resting on his chest,hearing the sound of his heart beating. A steady rhythm brings you comfort as you rest from the afternoon sun.

In your dreams, you and Zayne finally settled down. You called each other wife and husband, which turned into nanay at tatay when the dream children joined the picture. You’d like to imagine there are two of them, one boy and one girl that you and he would love endlessly. Perhaps both would act and look like him and you would smile and remark how they acted similar to him.

Yes, that sounds nice.

You continue to dream about the lives you would have one day, seeing glimpses of your routine being modified, seeing the children’s smiles and hearing their laughs, and the love you shared with them came from the love you and Zayne have and will continue to have.

“Gising ka na ba? Naririnig kita magsalita.” Are you awake? I heard you talking in your sleep.

Zayne’s voice breaks through the dreams and pulls you back to reality. You glance up at him, seeing his messy hair and his glasses perched on his nose.

You shake your head, “Ah hindi, hindi. Hindi ako nagsasalita." Oh no, no, no. I wasn't talking.

Zayne nods, “Pero nguniniti ka. Ano ba panaginip mo?” But you were smiling. What were you dreaming about?

“Tayo.” Us.

“Tayo?” Us?

You nodded.

He smiles and shakes his head, before placing a kiss on your forehead, “Parang hindi ko na kailangan panagimpan iyan dahil naging totoo siya.” I don't need it to dream about it because it is real.

[silusvesuius]

this tree from my new drawing looking goated afffffff 👑👑

[saturnaous]

I never stop thinking about them.

SEND ME ART REQUESTS BOY

[necrotic-nephilim]

-debby ryans at you- how are you feeling about that thunderbolts* trailer, snookums. your old blog is trying to crawl from its grave.

you are an unhinged rat for sending me this ask i hope you know <3 you already knew that but i'm telling you anyway bc you're a rat bc now i have to explain myself-

this is from @eebuckley my partner <3 i've alluded to it in the tags of this blog but i used to be a semi-popular MCU blogger from like 2018 to 2020. (semi-popular for the ship i wrote, anyway) and since like, probably Infinity War/Endgame i have been slowly more and more disillusioned by the MCU ranging from only passively being interested in projects to outright despising them if i saw them. which sort of sucks, given how much i loved the MCU at it's height. i was like. aggressively into it. like a "i had asthma attacks watching trailers bc i got so excited" level of into it. maybe cringey in hindsight, honestly but yk. whatever brings you joy, ig.

and anyway- my partner witnessed my very real and normal reaction to the Thunderbolts* trailer and now i'm *mad* bc i'm actually excited about it. it made me feel about the MCU a way i haven't felt in years, especially after a lot of announcements that rlly pissed me off.

cannot believe it looks like we might actually get a comics-accurate Yelena and a comics-accurate Bucky. i'm such a sucker for Bucky Barnes, he's one of the only Marvel characters i actually read Marve comics for and i'm forever bitter how badly he got screwed over. if that movie is good i'm going to end up writing fanfiction. probably crossover fanfiction bc over my dead body will i write just plain MCU fanfic. and i'm a Jason Todd/Bucky shipper anyway so i could make it work, i think-

anyway TLDR is i'm excited and i'm mad about it and how dare yo expose me for being an MCU fan on THIS blog. you coulda send this ask to my MCU blog that still exists and i have occasionally used. but instead you *exposed* my ass on my refined DC blog as a filthy Marvel fan. i will be divorcing you again. ty gn ily

[seaweedstarshine]

Sometimes I think of Amy Pond, who grew up being called mad by those who wielded the word as a tool of exclusion and shame —

Amy Pond, who though forced into the hands of four psychiatrists, still clung to that which they called madness until those systems which elevate psychosocial conformity above humanity stripped it from her —

Amy Pond, whose imaginary friend reappeared for a single hour after twelve years and reignited that faith before disappearing for two more years —

Amy Pond, who spent those those two years under the same implicit threat ingrained in her through psychiatric violence, and thus began to believe the man who stopped the invasion was “just a madman with a box,” only for him to agree, and to also call her “mad, impossible Amy Pond,” reframing madness as non-negative for the first time in her life —

Amy Pond, who ignored the disembodied voice of her imaginary friend even as she ran away with him for real, who still lived each day with the traumatic internalization of deviancy dictated upon her by the psychiatric-industrial complex that shaped her from childhood —

Amy Pond, who wouldn't acknowledge the Doctor's voice, such that it took an Angel in her eye that was literally killing her to ensure she couldn't reality check herself —

Amy Pond, who stood before a room which muttered about “the psychiatrists we brought her to,” and though afraid, escaped their rigid parameters of acceptable existence.

[dollypopup]

y'all can all cancel me (again) for this, but if there's even a SHRED of 'who should I pick?' from Penelope in season 3, I am tuning out SO fast because like. . .sorry not sorry, there IS no choice. Debling is some crusty OC suitor she barely even knows and Colin is a man who she has been so supposedly in love with to the point where she'd ruin her entire family's reputation to have a potential love story with him. Penelope and Colin have background, years of knowing each other, intimacy that few people in the Ton can boast of having (letters, conversations about purpose, fights and arguments and makeups) and her and Debling have. . .a dance or two at a ball because he's a rebound for Penelope's broken heart. he means nothing. he has no nuance, he has no weight to the story, he is such an afterthought to me. either I wanna see Penelope going 'you know what? I don't even LIKE this dude. he's. . .fine, but I don't care about him even a shred as much as I care about Colin' or the INSTANT Colin's like 'you know what? we should get married' if it's not an immediate 'say less, you're already my husband, try returning me without the receipt, Debling whomst?' then I don't want it!

like. . .it's just so frustrating to see all the 'I hope Debling sweeps her off her feet and she rejects Colin's proposal and she makes him work for it and and and-' nonsense from the fandom and it's always tagged and no matter how many times I block it, it just keeps popping up. I go into the Polin tag for POLIN. I don't give a SHIT about a male love interest other than Colin. Not one. Not a shred. Not an iota.

and also. . .Debling has the 'benefit' of not having depth, or character traits, or HISTORY, so peeps can project onto him however they want, but I'm calling it now, there is NOTHING he could do or be that would make me like him more than Colin. Colin will always hit different, and I will always love him more. and if Pen's not on that same page? lol bye

you want me to believe Penelope and Colin are soulmates and it's romance for her to hem and haw about how difficult a decision it is for her to marry a stranger who knows barely anything about her. . .

when Marina was out here dropping banger lines like 'You were the only man with which I could see myself being happy' and 'I do not care about any of these men, where is Colin?'? like hello??? and she wasn't even fully in love with him!!!! but we'll demonize her until the cows come home in our fandom and make her the villain in Polin's love story for DARING to get in between Polin, yet Debling, a white man, is a darling dear perfect prince for getting in between Polin? existing in our fandom solely so Penelope can be like 'lol, Colin ain't shit, let me entertain any and everyone else'?

if that's the direction it goes then, ten toes down and on my mama, she doesn't deserve Colin and she can move because I'm on my way to court him my damn self

and that's that on that

[vacantgodling]

not to be weird and sappy on main, but frfr i'm so glad i have found a community of people who think my work is good

[moe-broey]

HELP maybe this is influenced by how I'm writing this, or maybe it was supposed to be gleaned from canon and I just. Haven't fully thought about it til now. Haven't Deeply analyzed it beyond the blaring alarm bells that go off when reading this. But. Alfonse's,

Straight into.

This isn't him doubling down. This is him BACKTRACKING. This is him going, "oh fuck I think maybe I came on a little too strong maybe I was a bit too vulnerable and that's really scary. How do I fix this" and he's running through all the dialogue options in his head like Okay. Play it Cool. Keep it Casual. Proclaim your undying loyalty and devotion to your Trusted Partner (person he just told in the beginning of this conversation that he didn't intend to become friends with) by making yourself a blade and shield for them. NAILED IT 👍

[tackrusso]

show tempe gang crossover with the morris islanders would actually have been the best episode of bones ever. btw

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i swear the list keeps getting bigger every time i look at it

[medicinemane]

.

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A drawing of two scavengers from Rain World, one labelled Sanic and the other one Shrek. Sanic's fur is light brown, with darker extremities, a messy row of pale green spines down its back, and bright blue eyes. They sit contentedly, staring at the screen, with a couple grenades by its feet. Shrek has pale fur, a green head, hands, and feet, and brown eyes. It's facing to the right, with their arms splayed out and an explosive spear on their back. Beside each scavenger are a few woefully-compressed screencaps of their in-game appearance. End ID]

An ode to these silly beasts, who accompanied me on my second visits to Industrial and Chimney

[cattywampers]

Sorry for being annoying and talkative in the tags. it Will Happen again

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

bitches hate me 'cause im in my no fucks given era, and I'm like, 'stay mad darling'

[gamebunny-advance]

New Theme

On a whim, I decided to redo the desktop themes for this blog and @gamebunny-color-sp (maybe others too).

The old one had pretty much everything I liked in a theme: a search bar, a pagination in the sidebar where you can jump ahead multiple pages, little empty space, etc.

But, one thing it doesn't do well is accommodate how I write entire posts in the tags: they look pretty bad scrunched together, and often times they got so long that they appear behind other posts.

It also behaved strangely for audio posts made after tumblr's major updates, and posts with in-line videos.

This new theme fixes those problems and still has most of what I liked from the old one. I don't like that the pagination is at the bottom, but such as it is.

I think I worked out most of the aesthetic stuff, and I didn't notice any other major problems, but if you notice anything "off," please let me know, and I'll see if it's something I can fix~

[elaeomyxa]

Incredibly strange that I'm having emotions when the sun is still out but it truly is funny that I'm having a crisis over. Not Liking Someone