#i wanted to get this fic out today (technically yesterday) but life got in the way

[littledreamling]

I have spent the last two months thinking about this fic, the last two days writing it, and now that I’m 3.6k words into it, we’ve finally reached the scene that inspired the entire fic 🙃

[amhrosina]

Touch Me (Frank Castle x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

A/N: Hi friends! I know I said I wanted to get this out by yesterday, but I ended up at my local(ish?) urgent care yesterday afternoon because ya girl has apparently been walking around with bronchitis for two weeks now. I’m on medicine, and I’ve been resting/editing this all day, but I could not for the life of me get this thing finished yesterday. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! It is literally porn with plot. P.S. - bearded Frank makes me go absolutely FERAL, and the gif I chose for today's fic makes me even MORE FERAL!!!!!!

Request: if requests are open, do you think you could write about Pete/ Frank still works at the construction site and reader is his girlfriend and she visits him for lunch at the construction site and the guys are astonished and you can come up with the rest if you would like.

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: When Frank’s coworkers notice you a little too much after you bring him his forgotten lunch, you want to remind him that he’s the only man for you, but Frank’s a generous lover, and you’re not leaving the truck until he’s made you come at least three times.

(Warnings: oh boy, smut, SMUT, did I mention smut??, porn with plot, v fingering, hand job sort of??, oral (fem receiving), p in v, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie lol, truck sex, soooo much kissing, protective Frank, you save the horse and ride the cowboy – know what I mean??, Frank talks you through it!!!!!, mentions of oral (male receiving), Frank is a consent king, Frank will be damned if anything bad happens to his baby girl!!!)

Frank eyed the clock, a nervous tick he’d developed over the last three hours as he waited for lunchtime to roll around. On any other day, lunch would’ve come and gone without a second thought from Frank, but not today. In his hurry to get to work this morning, he’d left the lunch you’d generously packed for him the night before. It was your fault, technically, but Frank was a gentleman, and gentlemen weren’t supposed to blame their girlfriends for forgotten lunches, especially when it was the incredible head you were giving him that made him late leaving this morning.

He'd gotten shit for it the minute he stepped on the site, barely getting a chance to pour his coffee before the guys were on his ass about his punch card. Frank brushed it off. It was all in good fun anyways, and he was the boss around here, so it didn’t really matter if he was late once in a blue moon. He didn’t divulge the reason for his tardiness, much more inclined to grunt a “fuck off” towards the guys and start his work for the day.

The nervousness set it when you called and told him you’d bring his lunch to him. The guys knew almost nothing about Frank’s personal life, which is what he preferred. They didn’t know anything about his past, and they certainly didn’t know about you. What he had going on before and after work hours was none of their business, you were none of their business, but that would change any minute.

“You got a hot date or something, man?” Antonio, one of the only guys Frank tolerated, asked as they moved a stack of wooden beams towards what would eventually become a master bedroom.

“What?” Frank lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at Antonio.

“You’ve checked the clock more in the last 25 minutes than I do on Friday afternoons. You expectin’ somethin’?”

Frank let out a nervous chuckle, which did little to subside Antonio’s curiosity. Instead, intense concern crossed Antonio’s face, and Frank sighed, shaking his head. His brain felt like it had been rewired, and he had no idea how to respond to Antonio’s question without causing more questions. He didn’t have a chance to respond, though, because the sound of clicking heels had caused heads to turn faster than Frank knew was possible.

Frank turned, relaxing when he spotted you. You smiled and waved, ignoring the men around you that were clearly enamored by your presence. Frank couldn’t blame them – you were beautiful – but that didn’t keep the bubble of anger from welling up inside his chest. You were his, and if he was going to make one thing clear to them today, it was that.

Frank marched up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body into his chest. He pressed a sultry kiss to your lips, slipping his tongue in your mouth in his way of saying hello. When you pulled away, you were smiling, and Frank couldn’t think of anything more beautiful than that damned smile of yours.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grinned, slightly ashamed that he’d let his jealousy get the best of him in front of the guys that worked for him. It was definitely unprofessional to make out with your significant other in the middle of an active construction site while the entirety of your team gawked at your display of affection, right?

“That’s lunch.” He called out, not taking his eyes off yours.

The guys filed out, some with smirks on their faces, others with nothing but food on their minds. Antonio was smiling when he walked past the both of you, wiggling his eyebrows at Frank. Frank rolled his eyes, trying to remind himself why he barely tolerated the kid.

“Speaking of lunch,” you smiled, eyes bright and adoring as you looked at Frank, “Where do you want to eat? I’m not sure I can handle the roof.”

You were all too aware of Frank’s frequent lunch spots. Sitting a the top of buildings that were half constructed, legs hanging over the edge, was Frank’s favorite way to spend lunch, much to your chagrin. You were terrified of heights and refused to even think about how dangerous Frank’s lunch activities were.

“You want to stay?” Frank asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Of course! As long as we’re not eating on the roof.” You pointed upwards for emphasis, shaking your head.

“I guess I could change up my lunch spot for the day.” Frank faked an exasperated sigh. “What about my truck?”

“Sounds good to me, babe.” You smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the front of what would eventually be a nice house in a nice neighborhood outside of Brooklyn. A house that Frank wished he could afford to buy for you. Hell, he’d build you a house if he could afford the land to build it on. You didn’t mind the small apartment you and Frank shared, but Frank couldn’t help the incessant desire to spoil you.

It was a brisk 35 degrees outside, and you bundled into Frank’s side as he opened the passenger side door for you. Frank hustled to the other side of the truck, quickly shutting the door behind him and starting the truck. The heat blasting from the vents was a welcome warmth, and Frank couldn’t shake the tiny sliver of guilt that sliced through him when you began blowing in your hands to warm them up. If he’d just remembered the fucking lunch box, you wouldn’t be sitting in the cold right now.

“Damn, the heat works so well in here.” You observed, holding your hands in the path of the hot air.

“One of the perks of being the boss, I guess.” Frank shrugged. The truck was a necessary purchase, especially once Frank’s work picked up, but you still weren’t used to it. You’d spent so many years taking the subway to get places that having access to a vehicle was a foreign concept to you. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here just to bring me lunch.”

“Don’t apologize. I like to see what you’re working on. I wish you’d let me come by more often.”

“You’d be bored. It’s just a bunch of sweaty old guys hammering nails.”

“Sounds like a wet dream to me.” You smirked, clearly joking at Frank’s expense. “I didn’t realize I’d cause such a fuss by showing up.”

Frank shrugged. “If any of them say a single word about you after lunch, I’m gonna break their jaws.”

“Frank, baby, relax.” You ran your hand up his arm. “Even if they do say something, it’s probably just because they had no idea I even existed.”

“I don’t like them knowing about you. You’re mine.”

Frank was aware that what he was saying was insane, but he never cared much about his sanity when it came to protecting the woman he loved. He’d be damned if another person was taken from him, and if that made him crazy, then so be it. Frank Castle would take crazy over mourning any day of the week.

You crept closer to Frank, shifting so that you could lean your elbow against the back of the bench seat.

“Them knowing about me doesn’t change that I’m yours, Frankie.”

Frank grunted, annoyance running through his veins. He knew you were right, but the fact that the guys were probably running their mouths about his relationship with you right now was getting on his nerves. He didn’t want you anywhere near their fucked up thoughts.

“You’re so tense, Frankie.” You mumbled, eyeing the way Frank was clenching and unclenching his fist in an irregular pattern. “Let me help you.”

This got his attention. His head swiveled around, eyebrows raised, as he looked to you for confirmation on what you’d just said. You matched his expression, unwilling to move until he consented to your idea.

“Yeah? You wanna help me?” He asked, already leaning back to make room for you to climb onto his lap.

“You could eat your lunch instead.” You mumbled, “If that’s what you want.”

Frank slowly shook his head, watching the way your throat bobbed when you swallowed.

“No.”

“You’re not hungry?” You asked, inching closer to him.

“Oh, I’m hungry.” Frank conceded, “But I’d rather have you for lunch.”

This omission sent a spark through your body, and you lurched forward, swinging your leg over his hip to straddle him. You looked down at him, enjoying the way his face already seemed more relaxed than moments before. You pressed a soft kiss on the crease of his forehead, the one that always made an appearance when he was stressing about something, and watched as it smoothed itself out.

Frank tilted his chin up, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. His hand snaked up your back, curling his fingers in your hair and gently pulling on it, which elicited the most delicious gasp he’d ever heard slip from between your lips. He decided right then and there that if that sound was the last thing he ever heard, he’d die the happiest death a man could ask for.

He slammed his lips onto yours, unable to constrain himself any longer. His hands found themselves wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. You grinded yourself against him, moaning against Frank’s lips when you felt how hard he was through his jeans. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against him again, letting out a devilish groan when the friction of the movement rubbed against your clit.

“Frank,” you moaned in between kisses, “touch me.”

It wasn’t just a desire to please you; it was a need. Frank was nothing if not generous, and the minute you started begging, he had already unbuttoned and unzipped your jeans, shoving his hand down the front of your pants. Frank let out a loud groan when he realized how entirely soaked through your panties were, clenching the fingers that were fiddling with the waistband of your jeans.

You pushed your hips closer to his hand, dying to feel his fingers. The panting coming from the both of you had fogged up the windows of the truck, obstructing anyone’s view into the truck. The construction site was dead anyways, but at this point, you didn’t think you cared if someone could see in. You wanted Frank so badly that you had lost your ability to care about anything besides Frank’s fingers.

“Want me to touch you, baby?” Frank cooed, “Want me to make your pretty pussy feel good?”

Frank’s breath was hot on your neck, and you nearly came from his words alone.

“I’m supposed to be making you feel good.” You moaned, grinding your hips against Frank’s fingers again. Your actions completely juxtaposed your words, but you couldn’t help yourself. Frank was just so good at making you come.

“Making you feel good makes me feel good, sweetheart.” Frank pressed the pads of his fingers against the fabric of your panties, swirling them around in an achingly slow circle. A shiver worked its way up your spine, and you threw your head back, gasping with pleasure.

“Are you sure?” You panted, unsure if you could stand being clothed for another second.

Frank responded by swiping your underwear aside and running two fingers between the folds of your pussy. When his fingers finally covered your clit, you let out an agonizing moan. Frank resumed circling his fingers around your clit, but his pace was more urgent, like he wanted to see you get off on his fingers just as much as you wanted to come all over his hand.

Your legs began to shake, and you wrapped your arms around Frank’s neck, pulling him into a feverish kiss. His tongue dipped into your mouth, and you began to grind against his fingers in a rhythm that matched the pace of his hand. It was a flurry of passionate kisses and sinful moans as you came apart on Frank’s hand. You breathed through the orgasm as it crashed through you, slumping against Frank’s shoulder in exhaustion.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” Frank pulled his hand away from your clit, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you over so that your back lied against the front seat of the truck, “You did so good.”

Frank hovered over you, pressing a soft kiss onto your nose before gently capturing your lips with his. You were still reeling from your orgasm, content to stay in this position forever, when Frank suddenly sat up. You blinked up at him, wondering if maybe his lunch was already over, but the way he began to pull your jeans down your hips told you he was nowhere near done with you.

You kicked your jeans and panties off, pussy clenching around nothing as the air hit your wet core. You spread your legs further, giving Frank a view of how easily he’d ruined you.

“Fuck baby,” Frank groaned, rubbing his thumb through the slickness that had begun running down your inner thighs, “This is the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

You moaned when he began playing with your clit again, overstimulated but too turned on to stop him.

“Can I taste you?” Frank asked, fully focused on how wet you were. His eyes were glazed over, pupils dilated with desire.

“You’re being too generous.” You sat up, resting on your elbows as he finally locked eyes with you.

“I want to.” He shrugged, already positioning his face near your core. He threw your legs over his shoulders and rested his hands on your stomach, glancing up at you to make sure he had your consent. You spread your legs wider, nodding.

“I need words, baby. Can I taste you?”

Frank’s hot breath coasted over your pussy as he spoke, and the dull throb of desire erupted into a full blown ache.

“Yes, God, please.” You whined.

When his tongue finally met your core, you threw your head back and moaned so loud you were sure the entire neighborhood heard it. Frank was astonishingly graceful at eating pussy, approaching it like it was a dance between his tongue and your clit. He knew exactly when to be gentle, when to roughen it up, and when you were seconds away from coming all over his tongue, he knew exactly how to suck on your clit so that you saw stars for hours afterwards.

Frank normally liked to take his time with this, coaxing multiple small orgasms out of you before finally letting you fall apart around his mouth, but today he was on a time crunch, and he wanted to make you come around his cock before his lunch break was over, too. So instead of going slow and steady, Frank dined on your pussy like a man starved. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, licking and sucking all throughout your core as you came closer and closer to your orgasm. He teased your entrance with his tongue, coasting over it every time he flattened his tongue against your folds.

“Oh shit, Frank.” You groaned, arching your back.

He hummed against your pussy, which had your legs shaking so aggressively that he had to clamp his hands over them to keep them from sliding off his shoulders. You were so close, and Frank knew it. He smirked against your core, trailing his tongue around your clit before slightly sucking. Your body felt like it was on fire, and when the crux of your orgasm finally hit you, you couldn’t stop yourself from squeezing your legs into the sides of Frank’s head. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, and no matter how deeply you inhaled, you couldn’t quite catch your breath. The world around you faded, and the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Frank’s hands gently caressing your thighs.

Frank crawled up your body, hovering over you as you came back to yourself. You hadn’t expected to come that hard, especially not in a cramped space like Frank’s car, but he always managed to surprise you.

You swallowed thickly, blinking up at his swollen and slick lips. He was always beautiful, you thought, but right now, you’d never seen anything as beautiful as him covered in your wetness. You leaned upwards, kissing him with every ounce of yourself that you could. The taste of you was still fresh on his tongue, and he groaned when you swiped your tongue against his, grinding against your unclothed pussy with his denim jeans.

The friction was overstimulating, but you wanted him deep inside you so badly that you began meeting his hips halfway, grinding against him so heavily that you were sure he’d have stains on the front of his jeans later. He shifted his weight onto one arm, reaching down and unbuckling his belt with one had. He was moving at a languid pace, and you couldn’t stop yourself from knocking his hand out of the way and unbuttoning his jeans. He chuckled when you undid his zipper in record time, forcing his jeans and underwear halfway down his thighs.

“Someone’s eager to feel my cock, huh?” Frank cooed, brushing his nose against yours, “You want me to fuck you silly, sweetheart?”

You wrapped your hand around his achingly hard cock, pumping up and down as he teased you. The tip was already wet, drops of precum beading at the head.

“Can I ride you?” You asked, pushing his shoulders slightly.

He raised his eyebrows at your boldness. You were usually so eager to let him control the situation, but the look in your eyes when you spoke told a different story. You wanted to make him feel good, and you weren’t planning on letting him leave until that happened.

“Sometimes,” you started, sitting up and pushing Frank down into the seat underneath you, “I want to be the one to fuck you silly.”

You straddled Frank and lined him up with your entrance. You were not going to waste any more of his break not fucking him. Frank let out a stuttering moan as you lowered yourself onto him. When you were finally full of him, stretched out and pliant, you panted at the overwhelming feeling. No matter how many times Frank fucked you, it always took you a few moments to adjust to his size.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Frank leaned his head against the headrest, grabbing onto your hips in a brutal hold that you knew would bruise later.

You slowly began to rock against him, holding onto the seat behind him for leverage. You moaned when his cock pushed against the spot deep within you that drove you crazy, and couldn’t help the way your breath stuttered out of you. Frank angled his face towards yours, watching in awe as you panted over him, licking your lips and squeezing your eyes closed. He leaned toward you, nipping your jaw with his teeth in a teasing gesture. You ground down on him even harder, and he chuckled.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart.” Frank hummed, running his nose along the curve of your cheekbone. “Your pretty pussy drives me crazy sometimes.”

“Yeah?” You mumbled, picking up your rhythm as you grinded against him. You yelped when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, bucking up into you so hard that you swore you saw stars.

“Can’t think about anything else some days.” Frank nuzzled his cheek against yours, tightening his hold around you. “You’re fucking perfect, baby.”

You mewled at his praise, even though you had made it clear that you wanted to be the one making him feel good, not the other way around. You couldn’t help but mewl. He always knew what to say to make your chest warm and fuzzy, even when he was fucking up into you so hard that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a week.

“C’mon baby girl,” Frank’s tone was low and delicious, and the tingle that worked its way up your spine told you exactly how much you liked the sound of it, “Give me one more, baby.”

“Frank, I-” You let out a guttural moan when you felt his fingers tracing a circle around your clit. Your legs began to shake again, and you knew you were seconds away from coming again. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good.” You finally panted, quickening your pace as you grinded against his cock and fingers.

“I want you to come on my cock, sweetheart.” Frank smirked as you squeezed around him, “That will make me feel good, baby. Can you do that for me, baby girl? Hmm? I know you can. Make me feel good, sweet girl. Come on my cock.”

Frank was talking you through it, and you could not fathom how incredibly hot it was. The intensity at which your orgasm hit you was earth-shattering, and if the neighborhood hadn’t heard you earlier, they certainly heard you this time. You rocked against Frank, whining and panting and doing everything in your power not to fall apart completely before he could reach his high as well.

“My good girl,” Frank wrapped both arms around your waist, pulling your chest against his so that he could kiss you all over your face, “You did so good, sweetheart.”

His praise made you whine, and you couldn’t stop yourself from slamming your lips into his, quickening your pace as you grinded against him. It was overstimulating, sure, but you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more than Frank coming deep inside you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Frank mumbled against your lips, tightening his arms around you, “’m gonna come.”

“Come in me,” you panted, squeezing around his cock.

“Yeah, baby? Want me to fill you up?” Frank was breathing so heavy against your ear that goosebumps littered down your back and shoulders. You dug your nails into his shoulders as he pounded up into you, and when he finally came, warm spurts of come coating your walls, you both slumped against each other, worn out and sweaty.

Frank’s heart was pounding in his chest, and you subconsciously tapped your finger against his neck in the same rhythm until it finally calmed down. You leaned back, glancing over Frank’s features. His eyes were closed, chin tilted upwards in a relaxed, casual position. The stress creases in his face were long gone, and he looked a decade younger than he did when you’d shown up earlier.

“Wish we could stay like this.” He mumbled, running his fingers along your thighs.

“Me too, Frankie.” You nodded, cupping his cheeks in your hands, and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “How much time until you have to go back?”

Frank slightly opened one of his eyes, checking the clock on the dash before closing it again. “Just enough time to drop you off at home and come back. The guys will appreciate the extended lunch.”

You shook your head. “I can get an uber or take the subway, Frank. You don’t have to drive me.”

“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t drive my beautiful girlfriend home after she came all the way here to bring me lunch and make me feel good?”

“A normal one.” You snorted, rolling your eyes.

“Well then I guess I ain’t normal.” Frank smiled, leaning in to kiss you before tapping your thigh with his hand. “I hate to say it, but I can’t drive with you straddlin’ me like this.”

You lifted yourself off him, rolling over into the passenger seat. Your limbs still buzzed with pleasure, and it took you longer than you care to admit to find your panties and put them back on. You were pulling your jeans over your hips when Frank began to roll the windows down and wipe the windshield off. You and him had emitted enough fog that it was impossible to see out of any of the windows, let alone drive.

When the windows were finally cleared and Frank had texted Antonio to let him know he’d be a few minutes late getting back from lunch (Antonio’s only response was the winking emoji), Frank drove you back to the apartment you shared with him. He walked you to the door, kissed you goodbye, turned, then turned back to kiss you again.

“I left your lunch on the passenger seat, okay? It should still be warm with how hot the truck was earlier.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Frank grinned, pulling you in for a third goodbye kiss.

You finally pushed him off you, chuckling when he tried to chase your lips with his.

“Go to work, Frank. I’ll see you tonight.” You laughed as he rolled his eyes, giving you a final kiss before turning and jogging back to the truck. When you closed the door and locked it, you slumped towards the bedroom, the only thing on your mind being the nap you were about to take.

Frank ate his lunch on the drive back to the construction site, nearly getting choked up when he realized you had gotten him Lombardi’s pizza. You knew how much he loved it, and he vowed to show you how grateful he was when he returned home. When he made it back to the site, he was only half an hour late, but that didn’t stop the guys from joking with him about it.

“Twice in one day, boss? She worth it?”

“Must be. He doesn’t look half as grumpy as he usually does.”

Frank rolled his eyes, counting to ten as a way to manage his anger before outwardly responding.

“If any of you fuckers have anything else to say about her, I’ll bash your heads in with the sledgehammer. Got it?”

Frank glanced at the faces around him. So much for managing his anger. Antonio was the only one that didn’t look utterly terrified as they returned to work.

“So, boss.” Antonio started, smirking as he leaned against one of the structural beams.

“Don’t you start.” Frank pointed at him for emphasis, warning the kid away from any topics he may regret bringing up. He really wasn’t a bad kid, and he was one of the hardest workers Frank had encountered in the business, but he did not want to discuss his love life with his 22 year old employee.

“I was just going to ask how much plaster you think we’ll need for the bathroom.” Antonio pointed behind him with his thumb, gesturing towards the space that would soon be an ensuite.

“Sure you were.” Frank couldn’t wait to end the day and crawl into your loving arms, but he had a shit ton of work to do before then, and he would always be the last one on site for the evening.

Later that evening, after he’d finally trudged through the door, showered, and ravished you, you were caressing his chest as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“So,” you murmured, “D’ya break any jaws after I left?”

“You’ll be happy to know that I didn’t break any jaws after you left.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“What?” He asked.

“You mean to tell me that you didn’t lose your shit on anyone after I left today?”

“No,” he shook his head, “that’s not what I said. I definitely lost my shit, but I didn’t break anyone’s jaw.”

“Oh, that’s good.” You mumbled sarcastically, rolling your eyes and chuckling.

You nuzzled into his chest, relaxing as he enveloped you with warmth.

“I love you, sweet girl. I’m not ashamed of that. Hell, I’ll shout it from the rooftop if you want me to. I just don’t like people knowing my business. I want to keep you safe.”

“I know, Frankie. I’m not upset about it. I love you too.”

“You promise?”

“That I love you?” You smirked against his chest.

“No, smart ass. That you’re not upset.”

“I promise.” You grinned as he pressed a kiss into your hair.

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[finn-m-corvex]

Trust

Started this yesterday, only got a hundred words in and wrote the rest today in the span of an hour and a half. Me and Whumptober could never.

My first fic in the Dad Jay AU! Featuring best sis duo Tessa and Kaida (from @taddymason) because I'm having brainrot and it's great. Will probably be making more of these but I need to finish Whumptober stuff first (pray for me guys)

Words: 1.8k

TWs: child abuse mentions (kinda graphic but also kinda not), scars n stuff like that

“Again!”

Tessa quickly threw up her arms to block Kaida’s incoming strike, well-placed but still too slow. Kaida tried to catch her around the back of her knee but Tessa anticipated it, buckling just before Kaida made contact so that the hit did nothing. Whipping around, Tessa caught the other girl’s arm and twisted, sweeping Kaida’s leg out and doing her best to make sure that the other girl didn’t crash onto the stone floor as hard as Dad would’ve let Tessa go down. She ignored the scowl sent her way as she pulled back, instead fixing her gloves and giving Kaida a second to recompose herself.

Kaida ran her hands through her hair, frustrated. “This is fucking pointless!”

“Not pointless,” Tessa said, taking her hair down and tying it back up. She was pretty sure that Kaida was about to quit for the day, “that time was better. You just need to be a bit quicker, but your techniques are spot-on.”

Kaida was actually adapting to Ninja techniques pretty well, all things considered. Tessa knew that it would only be strengthened by her previous experience with combat.

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” Kaida snarled, and if Tessa wasn’t already accustomed to the younger’s outbursts she may have felt offended. “I don’t want your pity. I suck, you’re better than me, and that’s that. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“I’m not better, I just had a harsher teacher,” Tessa plopped herself down on the Monastery steps, watching as Kaida threw her own gloves on the ground in frustration.

“Then be harsher or whatever! I need to get better!”

Something crawled under Tessa’s skin at the thought of being more strict with Kaida then she was now. It wasn’t something that she was ever going to let happen. There was no way in hell she was going to start taking cues from Dad, even if Kaida might technically improve quicker. No improvement was worth what Dad had done to her and Noah, and Tessa was old enough now to understand that. “No.”

“So you think I’m weak? That I couldn’t handle it? Is that it?”

“No,” Tessa said, and she waited until Kaida was sitting next to her. There was still a good foot of distance between them, and she wasn’t going to try and close it, “the opposite, actually. You’re too stubborn and you have a good head on your shoulders, Kaida. You wouldn’t grow if I was too harsh with you.”

It took her and Noah starting to spar together for both of them to show improvement, mostly because Dad just treated their spars as life or death fights rather than practice. When she was younger, Jay always said that she was going to be putting her life on the line, that she would have to be ready to face death at any moment, that every battle could end in tragedy.

And yet, the only life or death situation she found herself in at the time was training. So where was the justification?

“I hate this,” Kaida said, hugging her knees and refusing the water bottle that Tessa had passed over. And Tessa knew the feeling.

“I know.”

“I hate that you and Noah keep treating me like I’m made of glass,” Kaida growled, “you do the same thing to Jenna and Ethan. And then you’re going to go and look at Jay like he did something to you when you didn’t even meet him until recently. That’s fucked up.”

There weren’t a lot of things that could get Tessa riled up (it just came with being an older sister) but she could feel herself starting to bristle. Kaida was stepping too close to her toes. “You don’t understand anything about my relationship with Da—Jay.”

“And I don’t want to if you’re going to treat my dad like he’s the fucking devil!”

Logically, she knew that Kaida was lashing out the same way she would’ve done when she was younger, because there was a point in time when she would’ve defended her dad. Cole or one of her other uncles would say something and Tessa would growl in response; but she knew better now. And she knew what she would’ve wanted to hear from anyone listening to her vent, but Tessa was surprised by the burning anger that flared up inside. “Good! Becaise he was never a dad to me!”

Everything went quiet. Tessa looked away, focusing on the small cracks between the stones, noticing the shadows bending as the sun went down over the horizon. She was mulling over what she had said, lost in her head, when Kaida whispered, “you’re not lying.”

Tessa turned her head, and Kaida was staring at her with wide eyes. “You’re not lying,” she repeated, almost as if she couldn’t believe it. “You haven’t been lying this whole time. Why aren’t you lying?”

“Jay was…different,” Tessa started. Patience. Patience was key here. Kaida had grown up with a version of her father that only wanted the best for her, so it was hard to understand that there was a version with only ill intent against his children. “In my timeline, Jay wasn’t the same person he is here. He was distant, and cruel, and I-I don’t think he wanted me and Noah. I’m pretty sure that if he had an option to trade us for Nya, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat.”

Kaida’s face twisted into an expression that Tessa couldn’t quite place. “Jay isn’t like that. He would never do that.”

“Yours wouldn’t,” Tessa agreed, “but mine would, without a second thought. My dad was broken, Kaida, and the only person that could’ve fixed him was gone.”

Broken like the beer bottles that she and Noah would find on the floor after Jay had a bad night. Even as a small child she could see the cracks spider webbing through her father, and he made less and less of an effort to hide them as the twins gew older. Dad turned colder, nastier, more violent with every birthday candle that the two blew out, because it was a reminder of how much time had passed since he was whole.

Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but it only wounded Jay’s heels as he kept stepping over the shattered glass time and time again.

She shrugged her t-shirt off, for once uncaring of who saw the small red scars snaking up and down her arms and across her shoulders. It was just her and Kaida, and she trusted her younger sister more than she probably should considering they had only known each other for a couple weeks. Kaida stared, unsure of what to make of the situation and the fact that the girl she was supposed to be looking up to as an older sister wasn’t lying about Jay. Her dad.

“C-Can I—”

“Yeah,” Tessa said quickly, before she could overthink it, “go ahead. Just be gentle.”

Tessa didn’t even know if it was in Kaida’s nature to be gentle, and yet that was the only way she could describe the way Kaida’s hand touched her arm. The younger girl’s fingers traced along the scars’ paths, and Tessa waited for her to say anything about the ones that clearly weren’t from the lightning.

“Some of these are like Dad’s,” Kaida said, and Tessa hummed in response, “but the others…did someone hurt you?”

“My dad did, Kaida,” Tessa said gently, “I got those during training, and that’s why I don’t want to be more harsh with you. I wouldn’t trust myself not to turn into him.”

“But Dad would never. And you would never—”

“I know, trust me, and I’m so grateful that he doesn’t. The last thing I want is for any of you to grow up like how me and Noah did. But me? I don’t exactly trust me, so I’m not surprised that you don’t either.”

“He did this to Noah too?” Kaida said disbelievingly, but Tessa was telling the truth, and she hated it. She hated it. Biting her lip, Kaida took a deep breath. “W-When I was younger, someone hurt me, and didn’t treat me the way that I should’ve been treated.”

Her head whipped around with the speed of lightning, and Kaida was surprised to see a snarl on Tessa’s face. “Was it Jay? I swear to the First Master—”

“No! No,” Kaida said quickly, “he’s the one who got me away from the people who were hurting me. He’s never laid a hand on me, I promise.”

Tessa relaxed, and she smiled a bit when Kaida scooted closer, finally taking the water bottle and hiding it in her lap. Even if she wasn’t drinking out of it, it was still nice to see the younger girl take something that Tessa had given her; maybe they could make this work. “I’m sorry I’ve been treating you like that, and that it’s been upsetting you—”

“I’m not upset over it!”

“Sure, kiddo. But yeah, I’m sorry. Having three new siblings, and they’re all younger than me, and my dad who isn't an absolute asshole and the mom who I never got to meet…it’s a lot. For me and Noah. And I’m sure it’s a lot for you too.”

“I, uh,” Kaida paused, and Tessa watched as she started to twist her fingers, a nervous habit that she probably picked up from Jay. “Shit, I’m not good at these. I’m sorry too. And Tessa?”

“Yeah?”

Looking away, Kaida bit her lip again. “I-I do trust you. I don’t think that you would hurt me, and I know that Jay wouldn’t hurt you. He’s always been a good dad to me, and I know he wants to be one for you too.”

Grinning, Tessa bumped shoulders with her younger sister, making sure that Kaida saw it coming and that she could pull away if she wanted to. But to her surprise, Kaida didn’t, instead taking it as a challenge and shoving back even harder. “Thank you, Kaida. But let me tell you now: you’ll have to learn how to apologize pretty quick when you have siblings. And you’ll learn that approximately seventy percent of the time you don’t mean a damn thing when you do say sorry.”

“You say that like I’m going to start apologizing for anything,” Kaida said, and Tessa laughed.

“You’re right, you wouldn’t be you if you started apologizing,” Tessa stood up off of the monastery stairs, dusting her pants off and noting the sun setting. “Come on, we should be getting inside. I think I still have some chocolate stashed away somewhere.”

Kaida gasped, scrambling up and after her older sister. “You have a candy stash and didn’t tell me?!”

“How else do you think I keep it hidden from Noah?”

[sexynetra]

Hi! LATAM queer here that doesn't have English as a first language writing this just so you understand the importance of your work:

I haven't been active in tumblr for like almost half a year now, but I literally just logged in today to see if you had post any RAWNSYF update/new dialogue that I might have missed. I had no ideia what was going on on twitter when I logged in today. And I'm so sorry that you got exposed like that. If it is any consolation, RAWNSYF is one of my favorite fics ever written. Def my fav anarcia fic. To me, fanfic in queer spaces is a way I can read about the queer experience and relate to my own life. That is what I love about RAWNSYF, I have a past love experience that is really similar to what Anetra is going through in your fic. By reading it, I can help my 18 year old self heal. I'm not sending you this to necessarily encourage you to post a new chapter. After all that happened yesterday, I'll totally understand if you never update. I'm telling you all this so you know that your work matter. Your fic might be one of the few media work that I've ever felt so represented. Fanfic is important to queer people like us because of this: we don't have much representation in the wide media. So we turn to our own community to see ourselves being represented in this kind of spaces. Because of this, I ask you with all the kindness that I have inside of me: if you don't want to post an update, I'll totally get it! But please, PLEASE, don't ever feel guilty for what you've already wrote and posted. It means more to people that never saw themselves in media that anyone who's not queer could ever understand.

Hi there <33

This has just been sitting in my inbox because every time I went to respond I started crying again 😅

This is the sweetest message I have ever received and I cannot even possibly express just how much it meant to me to read this.

I started rawnsyf out of a desire to see the stories I wanted to read about being shared. (Well, technically I started rawnsyf as a 2am writing practice that was never supposed to be expanded upon but here we are) I honestly never thought anyone else would actually read it 😂 it was just a little story that had all my favorite story tropes in it. That was it.

But then rawnsyf grew. It grew in the scope of what I was writing about, and it grew in its reach. Suddenly, people were reading it, and it was connecting with them on a level I never anticipated.

Rawnsyf started as a fanfic about two queens I enjoyed, but I hand on my heart believe that it has grown to be so much more than that. This story, that was originally just a fun little writing exercise and a cute little love story, has become something that people really feel a connection to, and feel represented by.

I honestly never expected that, it’s beyond my wildest dreams. I think anyone who creates content hopes that it will resonate with people, but I never expected the scope it would have (which sounds braggadocious but I never expected the story to really become important to anybody besides me, and over and over again the amazing community on here has proven me wrong).

It started as a story about two queens I love, but it has grown beyond that. The characters in the story have lives of their own. They exist beyond the drag queens that inspired them. And this message, maybe more than any other, reminds me just how powerful those characters can be.

I am so infinitely grateful that you took the time to send this message, and even more infinitely honored and touched that you have allowed me to express myself through my writing and taken it onto yourself. Nothing will ever mean more to me than people being able to feel seen and find healing through something I’ve created.

Rawnsyf is not over, and it’s all because of the love people like you have shared with me for this story.

I hope I can do you justice with this story and my heart is so full <3333

I am crying again so I will end this here but my heart just feels so full. Thank you for sending this to me and being so honest and vulnerable. It means more to me than you could ever know

[unculturedmamoswine]

Happy Forduary! For Week One's theme, Family, I wrote some dad Ford with baby Shifty! Technically a prequel to a fic of mine but you don't need to read that to understand this. Just know that Shifty is a good boy who does NOT want to murder anybody in this AU.

Maybe Fiddleford was right, and he was being overly indulgent, Ford considered. Maybe he was anthropomorphizing this thing a little too much to be entirely healthy. Certainly he was losing some measure of objectivity, he could admit that to himself.

“Come on,” he told the blob on his kitchen table. He tapped a cereal bowl in front of it to catch its attention. His (the creature’s) eyes tracked the motion. “Just yesterday you turned into this bowl. Can you remember?”

It looked up at him, blinking, then quivered and became a perfect replica of the cheap bowl.

“Yes! Look at that,” Ford said to Fiddleford, who sat back in his chair, hands held off the table as if the shapeshifter would pounce on them the instant they came near. “As long as whatever I want him to become is no more than the mass he usually possesses, nothing fazes him!”

Ford held the real bowl and the shapeshifter in each hand. They were identically cool, of identical weights, and the shapeshifted bowl even had the same chip on the rim, showing white against the blue of the ceramic. Ford, grinning, feeling oddly triumphant, held the imitation bowl up to his face. “Well done!” he told it.

“You know,” Fiddleford began gently, “you oughtn’t talk to it like that. We don’t got no clue of what that thing is or what it could do. It could become anything for all we know.”

“In four days he’s never become anything more dangerous than a hot cup of coffee.” Ford wanted to roll his eyes, but Fiddleford did have good reason to be wary of unknown organisms after his encounter with the gremloblin. Ford was trying to be understanding. “You aren’t dangerous, are you, Shifty?” he asked the bowl, which promptly turned back into its default, gooey, insect-like shape. Ford set the real bowl down and rubbed Shifty’s head. The little creature rubbed back, burbling.

Fiddleford squawked. “Ford! You can’t name the thing! Even if you’re baselessly convinced it won’t kill us both, it ain’t in the least professional!”

“I’m hardly the first researcher to name my subject,” said Ford defensively. “And I’m taking notes!” He gestured at the notebook on the table. “Besides, he needs a name. It’s practical.”

“Alrighty.” Fiddleford stood up, taking his lab coat from the back of his chair and putting it on. “I won’t argue with you about it. Today, anyway.” He scratched at his chin. “Think I might head home, turn in early. Call Emma-May, talk to Tater.” He grinned at Ford, but it seemed strained. He was tired. Fiddleford had been unfocused and weary lately, nervous and unhappy with everything. “You have fun with that…fella. Whose sex, I’d like to remind you, we don’t even know.”

“Alright.” Ford moved the shapeshifter to the crook of his arm, standing to clap Fiddleford on the shoulder. “Get some rest. Take the weekend, Fiddleford. I’ll see if I can make any progress with the mystery of this little guy!” 

As Fiddleford waved and walked out of the kitchen, shaking his head, Ford looked down at the little creature (extraterrestrial life form? Extrauniversal life form? Just a weird bug?) and asked him, “What do you think? Are you mysterious?”

In a blink, Shifty turned into a hand, which gave a vigorous thumbs down. Ford laughed in surprise.

“Impressive! High six!” It slapped his palm. “Hmm.” Ford turned Shifty over in his own hand. It was his own hand. The shapeshifter had used Ford’s hand for a model. High six, indeed. “Well, then. Not mysterious at all, you say? An open book?” he teased, guessing what to expect.

Sure enough, the rascal instantly fell open in Ford’s hands in the form of Ford’s own journal. Ford chuckled, then frowned thoughtfully. “Hmm. Perhaps I was wrong about your shapeshifting being limited by your mass. Surely my journal is more massive than you in your true form, if you’ll excuse the assumption, my boy. Do you think your little gooey self is your true form?” The pages of the journal turned restlessly back and forth as if wind-tossed. Ford noticed they were blank. Perhaps he couldn’t mimic writing?

“Well,” he said quickly. “That’s alright. You can be whatever you want to be! Literally! Now, what do you say to a walk in the woods? You might spy an interesting new form to try. And I could use a chance to stretch my legs.”

A mouse scurried up Ford’s arm to perch on his shoulder. It squeaked and stuck its nose in his ear. “I hope you didn’t see that form in the house,” Ford said.

-

Ford breathed deeply as he stepped into the trees with Shifty, crunching over twigs and feeling the softness of centuries of decay under his boots. “Perfect weather for a walk, don’t you think?” 

The mellow warmth of the day loosened its grip even more as he and Shifty walked deeper into the trees. Ford talked as he walked, pointing out items of interest to Shifty. If he was an alien, Ford wondered if they had forests on his world. He wondered if Shifty would ever see them for himself. How long had that egg been in the ground? Perhaps he was entirely alone in the universe, a species of one.

After a little over an hour, Ford sat on a log generously coated in moss, enjoying the sounds of the forest. Shifty explored, scurrying up and down their log and onto the ground in front of them. He never strayed far, frequently returning to Ford for some unknown reason. He approached, inspected, and briefly became a fallen branch covered in lichen. Then he turned back into a mouse, sniffed at the branch, and bit the lichen.

“Hungry?” Ford asked, curious. He hadn’t been able to tempt the shapeshifter with any food at all so far. All Ford had seen him eat was the shell of the egg from which he’d hatched.

Shifty tossed his head viciously, making no impact whatsoever on the lichen in his mouth. “Um, do you need help?” Ford offered. Shifty let go of the lichen, squeaked loudly and repeatedly, then swiftly changed until he was a beetle at least a foot long. He tore a mouthful of lichen from the branch with his jaws and scurried back to Ford, who automatically reached down to pick him up.

Once on Ford’s lap, the colossal insect jerked his prize toward Ford. Ford hesitated, then took it from him when Shifty tossed his head again.

“Thank you,” he said. “But I’m not hungry right now.”

Shifty stomped his many legs and spun in several circles while gnashing his mandibles, seemingly frustrated. He resumed his usual form, stretching his body, clearly reaching for the lichen. Ford gave it to him, bemused. Shifty rocked from side to side, emitting a soft, high whistling sound Ford hadn’t heard him make before. It was a long, sustained noise that made Ford grit his teeth. Just when Ford was about to– well he wasn’t certain what, but something, the sound resolved itself into something else entirely.

“What.”

Ford blinked. He looked around for the source of the voice, then snatched Shifty up from his lap, holding him at eye level. Surely he’d misheard. “What?” Ford demanded. Shifty waggled the chunk of lichen at him.

“What,” he repeated. “What. What?”

“Oh, my…” Ford breathed. “You– spoke. That was speech.” Ford leaped to his feet. His heart was pounding. To say he was shocked would be a gross understatement. He’d always (well, in the few days since his hatching) spoken to Shifty as if the little thing could understand him, and he was clearly intelligent, responding in his own way, but this was nothing Ford had expected.

Shifty squirmed slightly in his grip, blinking his huge red eyes at Ford. He should have been repulsive, Ford thought, a bit numbly. His usual form was squishy, pale, with pointed limbs and sharp teeth spaced widely around his gaping mouth. He shouldn’t have been able to be cute.

“What?” Shifty repeated again.

“It’s, it’s a lichen. This?” Ford asked, just to be certain. He poked at the stuff, hanging from Shifty’s mouth. Shifty bounced excitedly. “It’s oakmoss. Neither moss nor, in this case, living on an oak.” Ford laughed, maybe a little hysterically. “It resembles a plant but isn’t one. It’s actually quite interesting; a lichen isn’t an organism unto itself, really. It’s a composite of an algae and a fungus.” “Hmm,” said Shifty in a small voice, turning again into Ford’s disembodied hand and feeling the oakmoss between his fingers.

“Incredible,” Ford murmured. When Shifty looked up at him by raising two fingers as if pointing at Ford, he added, “It’s a nice sample. If you’d like, we can take it back to the lab. We can compare it to the lichens in some of my books. How does that sound?” Shifty gave him a thumb’s up.

“Wonderful! I didn’t realize you had such a keen scientific mind! But you’re a smart boy, Shifty.” He patted Shifty’s back and started toward home, picking his way through the towering firs.

Afternoon was drifting into evening by the time Ford made it through his front door. He looked down at Shifty, grinning. At some point on their way home, he’d fallen asleep against Ford’s chest, his prize still clutched in his fist.

[newgenog]

REVENGE

Notes: This is part four of chapter one. Much more than halfway through, and the parts will be super snack-sized until we get to the end. 😎 If you haven't already done so, please stop and read parts one , two, and three.

This fic is an AU based on the ABC tv series #Revenge. I felt like there were a lot of really cool parallels between the characters, and thought it would be fun to reimagine #Batwoman so that Ryan Wilder had a more deliberate pursuit for vengeance. 

CHAPTER ONE - DECEPTION (Part Four)

Summary: Robyn Wilde, formerly Ryan Wilder, continues to make connections that set the stage for her revenge. Wildmoore Week Prompt: Night Club

1 DAY BEFORE MEMORIAL DAY: SUNDAY, 10:00 AM

Kate Kane walks into The Hold Up before it’s opened. 

Jordan: “Your girlfriend’s here.”

Sophie: “I don’t have a…oh.” 

Kate approaches the bar, where Sophie is looking through a binder.

Kate: “Don’t look so happy to see me.” 

Sophie: “Just surprised. It’s usually Luke.�� 

Kate: “He’s off today.” 

Sophie: “Good to know you give him days off.” 

Kate: “I’m not a villain, Sophie.” 

Sophie finally peels her eyes away from her binder, exasperated, and gives Kate the attention she came for.

Sophie: “What’s up?”

Kate: “You didn’t RSVP.” 

Sophie: “Huh?”

Kate: “The invitation? That Luke left…”

Sophie had forgotten she tucked the envelope in the back of her binder. She quickly flips to the back cover, and pulls it out of the sleeve. It hadn’t even been opened.

Sophie: “I’m sorry. It’s been so crazy around here…” 

Kate: “It’s a ticket to my parents’ Memorial Day Soiree on Monday.”

Sophie: “Oh, yeah… Mary actually begged me to keep her company at it, yesterday. So, I guess I’ll be there.”

She slides the unopened letter back over to Kate, indicating that she already has her ticket. It's possible that the envelope contains more than a ticket, but Sophie is okay with never knowing the answer to that. Kate seems to take the hint, at least for now.

Kate: “One more thing… You know I never charge your mom late fees, but she’s technically behind two months on the rent. I’m not sure how much longer my parents are going to let me keep this building if they feel like it’s losing money.” 

Sophie: “Aren’t losses a good thing when you run businesses?”

Kate: “We have enough of those for taxes. We got out of the real estate business a while ago, and this is the only one we keep, in part because I know what it means for your family. So, if there’s anything you can do to help me out…” 

Sophie: “That’s why I’m here, Kate. I’m trying to figure it out.”

Kate: “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll let you get back to it. See you tomorrow.”

Sophie returns to her binder, appearing even more distant than before, and Kate about faces, making her way towards the exit, with the invitation in-hand.

7 YEARS AGO: POINT ROCK Kate was straddling her motor cycle with her helmet in her lap, and her bag wrapped up behind her when Sophie arrived. She’d texted Sophie to meet her out front. A few hours prior, she’d overheard some other cadets joking about how they thought Kate wanted to be one of the guys, and how they could show her how to be a woman. One said all he needed was one drink with her at a night club to turn her back right. She’d defended herself, and started an argument with them. Of course, she was reprimanded for instigating the situation. She felt the guys also should have been held accountable for harassment, but that would have required the Sergeant to acknowledge what was being said about Kate was unacceptable.  Kate: “I’ve got to get out of here.” Sophie: “What? We’re so close to graduation. Why do you even let the things those guys say get to you? They don’t matter!” 

Kate: “Sophie, I have never been closeted in my entire life. I want to be with you, but not like this. If you want to be with me too, I think you should come with me.”  Per usual, Sophie and Kate had lived completely opposite lives, and this was just another example of that. In the beginning, it was fun to sneak around. She’d noticed Kate noticing her, and she’d never had the chance to just let go and explore those feelings. When Kate finally approached her one day, she just went with it, and let herself feel what she was feeling.  But they were so different. Being gay in an organization that preferred not to recognize the existence of queer people was easier to get through if you weren’t doing it alone. But that was really the extent to which they had anything in common. And beyond having someone to take comfort in, and know your secret, they spent so much time disagreeing on things, it wasn’t actually that hard to convince people they didn’t get along.  Sophie: “That doesn’t make any sense, Kate. Why would you stay this long just to leave before you make it to the end?” Kate: “Everyone has their limit. I’m tired of hiding parts of myself, and feeling unwelcome here.” Sophie: “You’re at the top of the class, and everyone loves you. What are you even saying?”

Kate: “They love the version of me they’ve convinced themselves I am. They don’t even know me. Only you do.” Sophie: “No, you know what? That you can even ask me to walk away from this after I’ve invested so much, and you know what I have to go back to - you talk about them not knowing you, but do you even know me?”  Kate: “I know you’re better than these people. They don’t deserve you.”  Sophie: “I’m not doing this for them. I’m doing it for me, and my future. And if you don’t get the difference - that you have the privilege of walking away from something that you chose to do out of convenience and just happen to be great at, because you can be anything you want when you get home…and that I’ve had to give my all to even be seen standing next to you…Maybe it is best if you do go.”  Kate: “Are you serious right now? You want me to leave?” Sophie: “I don’t want you to do anything. What you decide to do is none of my business.” Kate: “Don’t be that way.”  Kate tried to reach out for Sophie’s hand, but Sophie wouldn’t take it. She realized that she’d been holding onto this relationship as some sort of safety net that she didn’t need. Kate wasn’t going to be who caught her if she fell. If Sophie fell, she’d pick herself up, just like she always did. 

~~~~~

To be continued...

Usual Reminders: I'm sharing these parts of chapter one of Revenge on Tumblr for @wildmooreweek. 2-ish more parts to go after this, and then the whole thing gets added to Ao3, so you can re-read it congruently, in one place (and comment, and such). And, I'll probably continue in this fashion for the length of the story (accept not updating daily; probably more like weekly).

All #Batwoman things I do are also in the name of #SaveBatwoman. Go follow all the social handles and support the cause, please.

[forever-rogue]

Hi! Can I request a Steve Angst with fluff fic? Reader thought that Steve and Nancy is cheating on her but the truth is he asked Nancy for help and organize a marriage proposal for reader. Thanks!

AN | Please, this is just too good of an idea! The shenanigans that ensue - the confusion! But mostly - Steve! 🥰

Warnings | Language, a whole lot of miscommunication

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.7k

Masterlist | Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You liked Nancy Wheeler. If you were going to get technical, Nancy had been your friend before Steve had ever come along. You knew they dated, and she knew when you started dating Steve. That had been several years ago, back when it seemed you all were still kids forced to grow up too fast. But life had settled into a rhythm and routine and things were…good. Surprisingly good. 

And yet…you found yourself jealous of Nancy. And Steve. Of Nancy and Steve together. Not that…you knew they were friends and it had never bothered you. But the way they had been spending time together lately had caused a few bits of nagging self doubt to well up. It almost seemed like he was spending more time with her, then he was with you. Some days it felt like he wanted to see her more. It had stung a little, but you played it off. There was nothing to worry about. Right? Right. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a long week filled with what seemed like a nerve ending string of emergencies and nothing sounded better than found-family game night, this week at the Hendersons’. The kids were older now, all ready to graduate from high school, but you had a feeling that none of you would ever drift too far apart. But when you headed down into the basement and saw Nancy and Steve huddled together on the couch, speaking in quiet voices, your heart dropped into your stomach. You saw the way he was looking at her, the way she was looking back at him. It seemed more than just a little…friendly. 

You took a step further down and the stair creaked, causing their attention to drift over to you. They quickly moved apart, nervous looks on their faces as you offered them a tight lipped little smile. 

“Hey baby,” Steve’s face lit up as he got up and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your middle before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “missed you today.”

“Mhmm,” was all you managed to get out, not trusting yourself to say much of anything else and you didn’t just want to throw around accusations or ruin game night for everyone. Luckily, the rest of your friends bounded downstairs, and soon enough there was nothing but excited voices to be heard. 

You could feel him giving you a concerned look, but he chose not to comment on it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him, something that did not go unnoticed by everyone else. You knew that you couldn’t avoid him forever, especially since you lived together, but you were willing to try. The old tried and true I’m just tired was going to come in handy tonight.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You wanna tell me why you were glaring daggers at lover boy last yesterday?” Eddie had been dying to ask you, ever since he’d witnessed the tension between you and Steve. Well - you rather, as Steve had seemed more or less characteristically confused. You sighed as you took the coffee he pushed towards you, letting it warm up your hands. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eye, knowing you’d just spill your heart out then and there, “come on sugar, you can tell your best friend.”

“You’re the worst, Eds.”

“But you love me.”

“Yeah,” you leaned in your chair and looked at him, studying him intently as he raised an eyebrow at you, “I do. Lucky for you.”

“Come on then,” he gently nudged your foot under the table, “spill.”

“This is going to sound so dumb and petty, but it’s just…Steve’s been a ton of time alone with Nancy,” you waved a hand dismissvely before taking a long sip of the steaming beverage, ignoring the fact that it almost burned your tongue, “and normally I wouldn’t care. I’ve never had a reason not to trust either of them…but it’s the way they’ve been acting on top of it. Like when I saw them yesterday, they seemed so surprised and hush hush. I dunno, I’ve never seen them like that before.”

“And you think…” his mouth formed a small o as his eyebrows shot up in surprise. You shrugged and stared at your coffee, “you think the two of them are cheating…together? No…they would never…he’s super whipped for you. He’s in love with you.”

“He was in love with Nancy first,” this was stupid. You knew it was. There was no reason for you to distrust either of them. Steve would never…cheat. He loved you…but then why was there a small nagging feeling in your chest? Eddie leaned in and took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze, “what if he never stopped? What if he’s falling in love with her again? What if…what if I’m not enough for him anymore?”

“Don’t,” Eddie was absolutely not going to let you think like that or disparage yourself. It was obvious to everyone that Steve was in love with you and vice versa. It didn’t take much to see that, “sweetheart, you can’t think like that. And you know it’s not true. You are more than enough for him and it’s easy to see you both love each other. Maybe they’re just…who knows. But I’m positive there’s nothing to be worried about. Besides, it would be awfully stupid for them to cheat when they would have to deal with the consequences…and all of us.”

“I guess,” a few tears had pearled up and you hastily dabbed at them with the sleeve of your sweater, “it feels so stupid to be so worried over nothing.”

“You could also just…talk to Steve.”

“Ugh,” you dramatically rolled your eyes at him, but there was a small smirk ticking up the corner of your mouth, “talking? That sounds serious and unfun. Maybe I’ll just ignore it forever.”

“As if you could,” Eddie snorted, “you know that big mouth of yours is what gets you in trouble more than anything.”

“Ha ha,” you grabbed the last bit of muffin he had been picking at and shoved it into your mouth, “that’s rich coming from you, Eddie Munson.”

“Just because I don’t follow my own advice, doesn’t mean it’s wrong! Just talk to him and I’m sure he’ll be able to explain everything.”

-─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve was bopping around the kitchen when you got home, finishing up something that smelled delicious - and luckily not burnt - singing along to something on the radio. He perked up as soon as he heard the door open and your small sigh as you walked in. 

“Just in time,” he stopped what he was doing, wiping his hands on a dish towel before walking over to you and taking your bag as you kicked off your shoes. You looked at him, studying his stupidly pretty face as he just smiled at you. That dopey, soft, sweet smile that he only held for you, “what? Something on my face?”

“No,” you reached over and put your hand on his face, tenderly stroking his cheek. He leaned into your touch before taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles, “I love you, Steve.”

“I love you,” his smile threatened to break his face in half. His hands found purchase on your waist as he pulled you into his body. He looked at you for a moment before he kissed you, slowly and softly, not in a hurry to rush anything. He tasted of sweet chocolate candy and your fruity lip balm that he often liked to steal. He brought a hand to the back of your neck to gently hold you close to him, and you realized then just how much you’d missed his touch, his taste, all of him. He kissed until you were breathless and when you opened your eyes you found him practically beaming, his lips pink and kiss-swollen, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been right here,” you put your hand on his chest and leaned in to kiss him a few more times. You hoped, desperately so, that your worries were for nothing; you loved him more than anything in the world.

“We’ve been busy,” he took your hand and pulled into the kitchen, pulling a couple of beers out of the fridge, “and it seems like you’ve been…upset with me. I-I don’t know. But…if you were mad or upset  or I did something wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

“I’ve just been…tired,” the lie slipped out so easily and you could tell he wasn’t quite convinced either, “of course I’d tell you, Stevie. You’d…you’d tell me anything too, right?”

“Of course,” he insisted as he leaned in and tenderly nudged your nose with his before kissing you again, “always.”

You found yourself unable to say anything, so you settled for a small nod. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late, but you hadn’t been able to fall asleep. You’d been staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, and despite how tired you were, your mind wouldn’t rest. Steve was lying next to you, snoring lightly with an arm wrapped around your waist. He’d fallen asleep shortly after you’d had sex; realistically you probably should have no, but you found it almost impossible. And it wasn’t like he forced you…it was just all too easy.

But by the time morning rolled around you had managed to sleep for maybe an hour or two. The glaring red numbers of the alarm clock told that it was still early, early enough to stay in bed for a little while longer since it was the weekend. But at some point Steve had slipped out of bed while he thought you were asleep. You could hear him stepping into the bathroom and deciding to wait until he was back and then let him warm you back up.

A few minutes had passed and you were sure that he should have been back by now. A small huff escaped your lips as you slid out of bed and tiptoed across the room and poked your head into the hallway. You heard him pacing around the living room, but froze when you heard him talking to someone. 

“No Nance,” your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to hear the other half of the conversation. You could faintly hear the other end of the line but couldn’t make anything out, “she doesn’t know. Yeah…”

You stepped slightly further into the hallway, but the floorboard creaked loudly in protest and a sound of surprise escaped your lips. You heard him pause for a moment and took the opportunity to jump back into the bedroom. Thankfully he didn’t come to investigate the sound and went back to his conversation, “I think she was getting suspicious but I threw her off of it. It’ll be fine.  No…she won’t even have a clue.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you climbed back into bed, burrowing under the covers before you let yourself fully break down. Your worst fear had been confirmed… your worries were founded after all. Steve was cheating on you with Nancy; you never thought you’d see the day where he cheated on you. He was…your entire world, the best thing in it, and yet he so easily threw it all away.

You were trying to keep quiet as best as you could, but you knew that every once in a while, a sniffle or whimper would slip out. After a while you heard the door slowly being pushed open, followed by his familiar shuffle.

“Baby?” the bed dipped under his weight and you quickly felt his hand on your frame, “what’s wrong? What happened? Tell me so I can make it better.”

“Nothing,” your voice shook despite your best effort and you tried to pull out of his touch, “I’m fine.”

“You’re crying,” he sighed lightly, “why are you crying, angel?”

“‘m not crying,” you insisted despite the fact that it was so easy to see right through you, “just go away, Steve. Please.”

He was so bewildered by your sudden shift in demeanor, but didn’t want to push you. Steve knew that would only make things worse…he wished he had some sort of clue as to what was going on. He pulled his hand back and nodded before getting off the bed, “okay. If you need anything, let me know, yeah?”

You remained silent as you listened to him pad out of the hallway, sighing heavily. You waited under the covers for some time before getting up again. You quickly ducked into the bathroom and took the world’s hottest and fastest shower as you went through your morning routine. Once you were done, you pulled on whatever clothes were the most convenient before slipping on a pair of sneakers and grabbing your bag. There was no way you could stand to be in the same apartment as Steve right now. 

He was sitting at the kitchen table, eating some toast and skimming the paper when he heard you come in. His mouth opened to say something, anything, but you didn’t even bother looking in his direction. But he couldn’t just let it go, “baby - where are you going?”

“Out,” was your own response as you closed the door behind you and almost ran to your car.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“So…should we like maim him or are we going further than that?” Eddie did his best to cheer you up as Dustin paced around his kitchen, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Steve could do something like this. This was the man he had spent so long looking up to after all, “either is good with me. Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“No,” you said with a small laugh as you sipped at the hot chocolate that they had made for you. It was supposed to make everything feel better, but it didn’t do much for your broken heart, “as much as I would love that…no, I wouldn’t even love that. I can’t believe he would do this, or Nancy, but I wouldn’t ever wish anything bad on them.”

“You’re a bigger person than all of us,” Eddie reached over and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze as Dustin sighed heavily, “what’s the plan then?”

“I wish I knew,” you dropped another mini marshmallow into your mug, poking it under the surface of the warm liquid with your finger, "our lives are so intertwined, it's going to be hard to…separate it all out. I mean, we live together, we work close together, we share the same friends. I don't know. I wish it was simple enough to just walk away, but I'm not giving up all of you guys - everything - because of him."

"Why would he…it just doesn't make sense," Dustin hopped onto the counter with a heavy sigh before hanging his head, "that means…not only is Steve cheating on you - Nancy's cheating on Jonathan."

"Yeah," you leaned back and exhaled slowly, "I guess we both got the short end of the stick."

"I think that maybe-"

Dustin was interrupted but loud knocking at the door. He raised an eyebrow before Eddie jerked his head so he could answer the door. The younger boy shuffled to the door, looking through the peephole before making a small sound.

"I know you're home!" Steve. Of course it had to be him, "you can open up or I'll climb through a window."

"Calm down," Dustin opened the door just a crack, trying to obscure you and Eddie, "whaddya want, Steve?"

"What kind of greeting is that?" Steve wedged his foot in the door so it couldn't be closed on him. He said your name and a shiver ran down your spine, "where is she?"

"She's not…here," it was a horrible attempt at a lie that caused you and Eddie to exchange worried looks, "yeah…haven't seen her."

"Her car is parked right outside."

"Maybe she went for a walk?"

"She just happened to drive to your house and go for a walk and didn't bother to come in and say hello?"

"Guess so," he chuckled nervously as he scratched at the back of his neck, "maybe she's…"

"Move," you tugged on his sweater and yanked him out of the way. You lightly glared at him, "worst actor ever."

"Baby-"

"What do you want, Steve?"

"What do - what do I want?" he waved his hands around before settling them on his hips, "I'm fucking worried about you, that's what! You've been acting off for weeks, this morning you were crying, and you've been treating me like I've done something wrong and whenever I ask you act like nothing's wrong! I want to know what's going on!"

"Like you've done something wrong?" you sounded incredulous as you glared at him, "you have done something wrong! You asshole!"

"What the fuck have I done?!"

"You're cheating on me!" you threw up your hands in exasperation, "with Nancy! How could you do this to me? To Jonathan?"

"Cheating?" his eyes grew wide as you both started to raise your voices, "what the fuck are you talking about?"

"You!" you lightly pushed his shoulder, "you're cheating on me with Nancy! Don't even pretend you have no clue what I'm talking about. I heard you on the phone this morning." 

"I…that's why you were crying…" he groaned as he ran a hand over his face, musing up his mop of hair, "listen - I can explain."

"You don't have to," you shook your head, "I already know what I need too. I've seen the way you've been with Nancy lately. Spending so much time with her and being all secretive. I can't believe you, Steve."

"I wasn't…" he closed his eyes and sighed, "I can't believe I'm just going to do this…"

"Do what?" you wiped away your tears, a mixture of sadness and anger, "do what?"

"The reason I've been spending so much time with her is…" he groaned at myself as you motioned for him to go on, "she's been helping me-"

"I'm sure she has."

"Listen, fuck, please," he seemed genuinely upset and it caused your heart to ache, "Nancy's been helping me plan a…plan a proposal."

"A proposal?" your eyebrows shot up as he nodded, "for what?"

"Are you - are you serious?" he asked, and you shrugged. Eddie and Dustin exchanged surprised looks but to them things suddenly made sense, "a proposal? I was going to ask  - you wonderful, stubborn, beautiful, smart woman - I was going to propose. To you. Let me make this super clear so we can avoid any more confusion. I was going to ask you to marry me."

“You… wait. What?” you blinked a few times, almost as if that would clarify what you had just heard. He was going to…oh. Oh. He studied you with a soft expression as he just nodded, “you were going to ask me to marry you? You want to…marry me?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, “I thought that much was obvious.”

“Stevie.”

“I…ugh, had this whole thing planned,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, kicking at a leaf on the ground, “I was going to say we could go away next weekend, and then it would just be the two of us, and the whole evening was planned out and at the end of the night I was going to ask. But I don’t think - don’t think that’s going to be happening now.”

“Oh no,” everything suddenly made sense now. Why he’d been so jumpy the last few weeks, why you’d seen him hiding something in his sock drawer, why he’d been spending more time with Nancy. You realized, he’d never once changed how he was towards you. He’d still treated you with the same softness and reverence and love that he always did. It was..wow. You’d never felt more stupid - or worse, “oh. I-I’ve ruined everything. I, fuck Steve, I’m so sorry. I should never have thought - I just panicked and jumped to conclusions. I should have just…”

“Talked to me?”

“Yeah,” you sighed heavily, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for ruining everything - your surprise and our relationship. All because I was feeling a little bit of insecurity. I’m sorry, Steve.”

“You didn’t ruin everything,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face towards his, “just, you know, the whole grand proposal thing, but I’ll live. We can still do it all, you just won’t be surprised.”

“How can you say that?”

“S-say what, exactly?” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and gently pulled his hand away. “I’m not following.”

“That I didn’t ruin everything?” you felt like crying as he just looked at you in confusion, “a-aren’t you breaking up with me?”

“No…?” he asked tentatively as your mouth formed a small o, “why would I do that?”

“Because I just accused you of cheating on me.”

“I mean, yeah, that hurts a little,” he admitted, “but at the same time, I get why you would have been suspicious. I would have been too. But next time…baby, just ask. Don’t work yourself up like this for no reason.”

“You still want to be with me?” you were looking up at him with such soft, worried eyes that caused him to chuckle lightly as he nodded.

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you still want to marry me?”

“I’ve wanted to marry you for the last six years.”

“We’ve only been dating for five, Steve.”

“I know,” he insisted with a small smile that caused your heart to melt. Oh, you had it bad for this soft, dopey fool. You couldn’t help yourself as you wrapped your arms tightly around him, squeezing him so hard that you were surprised you didn’t break his ribs. He hugged you back before taking your face in his hands and kissing you softly, “does that mean you want to marry me too?”

“Yes,” you grinned at him, “yes.”

You put your hands on top of his and closed your eyes for a moment before laughing nervously and kissing him again, “nothing would make me happier, Steve.”

You heard a throat clear from behind you and found Dustin and Eddie watching you with excited looks on their faces. 

“So…that means we should celebrate right?” Eddie asked as he looked between all of you, “because that seems like a thing we should celebrate.”

“Not yet,” Steve insisted, “I haven’t technically proposed yet and we can’t celebrate until afterwards! I’m just glad you guys didn’t like come and murder me or something before I got a chance to explain.”

“The thought was there,” Dustin admitted, “you came just in time.”

“Stevie?” you whispered softly as he turned back to you, “I love you.”

“I love you, angel.”

[cillspropertea]

Flipped

Chapter 11 : Fedora

The reader is Aberama Gold’s eldest daughter, Esmeralda Gold in this fic.

 Warnings: tense situations, possible kidnapping, manhandling

Gif by @twvstedsouls

 This fic might have dark themes which may irritate or offend some readers. But if you’ve seen Peaky Blinders and are familiar with Thomas Shelby, you’ll be okay.   The story, plot, character histories and back stories might not be relevant to the original “Peaky Blinders” . Warnings will change per chapter. This is my first fic. Hope you all like it. English is not my first language.

Author’s note: I apologize for the late posting of this chapter.😔 I wasn't feeling well and which is probably why my creative juices had dried out too. 😓 Will try and post the next one earlier than the promised timeline.😊😉💙💙

 Do not hesitate to comment, reblog and engage. It works as fuel for my writing. 😉💙💙

 Synopsis: Your father’s one mistake shall alter your life’s direction forever.

  Word count: 3031

     Thomas hadn’t been okay with sending Charlie away with the others to the country side hideout, but Polly had convinced him at the last minute to do so. Esmeralda was not okay with parting from him either, the little munchkin had grown on her like Fungus, but she too did not protest knowing that it was for the best after all.

    Charles had fussed a lot in the beginning. But after a few difficult days he had stopped, so everyone had assumed he had compromised according to the situation.

    “Charles is unwell.” Polly had rushed into Esmeralda’s room after softly knocking the door, quite early in the morning. “What do you mean?” Esmeralda got up. “I don’t know for certain but I think he is missing his Father.” You nodded. “Ada says he hasn’t been eating properly and has reduced his milk intake as well. Doesn’t cry a lot anymore, only at night. But he’s been having fever since yesterday which I find alarming. That poor child has been through so much. First his mother and now his father isn’t near him.” She shook her head sadly. “So Thomas has asked me to get him. Arthur is coming with me, he wants to see Linda. She’s been chewing his ear off for not being there at all as her delivery is due any day now. She’s pure trouble that one. God knows what Arthur was thinking when he married her!” Polly said pacing in the room, then she finally came to sit by Esmeralda. “But that’s not why I’m here. We’ll be staying there overnight Thomas has to go on a formal political event of some sorts, will be back quite late in the night. So I wanted to know if you’d be okay by yourself here.” ‘With Thomas alone’ she seemed to omit but say through her eyes. “You can come with us if you want...” “It’s fine Polly. I’m used to being alone by now. You should go. And don’t worry about me. Just bring that little monster back as soon as you can. I can’t wait to see him.” Polly smiled and touched her face adoringly. “I just need to go into the city for something. You think Thomas can lend me his car for today?” She asked batting her eyelashes.

-----

    Esmeralda hadn’t lied. Technically she did have to go to the market to get something for Charlie but, after a small detour. The car stopped where the road ended near the woods. There were only two ways to get to where she was going, either by foot or on a horse. “Wait here…” she’d asked the driver and started her small but tough journey by foot into the woods.

    Just a few miles into the Lee territory, she saw Esme waiting for her with two horses.

-----

    “Does Polly know you are here?” Esme asked, looking ahead as her grey horse moved rhythmically. “She knows I am to go somewhere, but not the exact details.” Esmeralda replied, “And I’d like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.” She said looking at her plainly. Without a response Esme pushed her horse to increase speed. Esmeralda too encouraged her black stallion to move faster. She was quite familiar with horses, the only animals her Fa… Aberama allowed to be kept. She knew how to take care of them and rode pretty easily too. Esme seemed impressed by the her riding skills but did not comment.

    After riding fast in the mountainous woods, they stopped near a black caravan on a small hill top. Both of the ladies got off and tied the horses to a tree nearby.  Esme walked closer to the caravan, “Jal…. Jal” she called out loudly as she looked behind the caravan too. “ieși tu,puternic. avem nevoie de ajutorul tău!” ‘Come out you powerful one. We are in need of your help!”

    Esmeralda quietly watched her, standing still. Suddenly, it grew darker, as if the clouds were trying to give him cover from the sun or could it be the other way around? Out came a man of a tall and lean build with worn out cloths which were in desperate need of cleaning. His long hair, which hadn’t been washed for weeks Esmeralda was sure, had little trinkets and beads in them. His ribs were literally protruding from his sides, edges of which were obvious from his worn out filthy white shirt. “Sunt aici, sunt aici, încetează să țipe și să-mi sperii prietenii. Ei dorm dimineata...” ‘I’m here, I’m here, stop screaming and freaking my friends out. They sleep in the morning you see…’ He was wiping his hands on a cloth much dirtier than his hands. He spotted Esmeralda and started walking towards her. “And how did a pretty thing like you end up on a doorstep of a sinner like me, eh?” He smiled. His yellow teeth, except a gold one on the left, made Esmeralda gag, but she controlled her expressions as best as she could. Esme stood beside her, “She needs your help…”

“I need you to put a curse on someone, some people actually.” Esmeralda spoke up straight-forwardly. Jal came even closer to her, looking into her eyes as if he was trying to read her. “What makes you think I can do that eh? Didn’t mama ever tell the little girl that the fairytales she reads at bed time aren’t true?” He cocked his head, “Except the monsters though… That part is very much real” he nodded with wide crazy eyes. “There’s no need to pretend friend, she knows about your talents. I told her.”

    He turned to Esme, ”And hadn’t I warned you about telling people about my whereabouts child? Especially people who are not kin?” He was angry as he took step after step into her direction forcing her to step back each time, “It shall have consequences!” Esme looked like she was about to faint. “sunt rudă!” Esmeralda shouted. ‘I am Kin’ He turned and marched back towards her. Keeping a hand on her temple he closed his eyes and when he opened them a freaky smile graced his lips, “I see her, I see Sybill.” Esmeralda’s breath hitched after hearing her birth mother’s name on the strangers lips. His face had softened, as if in just a few moments he was able to see her mother’s history behind his closed eyelids. “And I see the fire inside of you. You want it gone. You want to feel like your old self again.” He rather stated than asked. “Let me remind you young one, it’s you who hones it and owns it. If used wisely, this pain, this sorrow, and everything else it is, can turn into a weapon no one can defeat. You’d be the queen, with the world at your feet” His voice was hypnotizing her. Or maybe it was his movements. He tended to move his limbs with quite a lot of femininity and flourish. As if he had some kind of a hold on everything around him. When Esmeralda simply stared at him with a gaping mouth and did not respond, He sighed loudly. As if he was deeply disappointed.

    “Alright, I will help you, but you have to know girl, there is always a payment.” He said turning around and looking at the skies. “How much?” Esmeralda asked, mentally thinking of ways she could ask Polly to lend her some cash and then how to repay her. “Not cash child, never cash…” She did not understand him calling her a child. He did not look like someone who was that old, but when she looked at him again she chose not to point it out. “Anything… you name it.” Esmeralda spoke without losing a beat. “Careful now little one…” he pointed a digit at her. “You may regret it later. And remember these, payments can never be taken back.” He warned. “Just say it…” she gritted. He once again closed his eyes for a few moments. His expressions seemed as if he was concentrating on some mental argument. “Your motherhood.” He said opening his eyes and watching intently at Esmeralda’s reaction. Her eyes flashed.

    Esmeralda wasn’t expecting this. She knew exactly what he was asking for. It meant she would never be able to become a mother. But the question was, was it worth it? She was about to speak when Esme stopped her. “Wait! I think you are not grasping exactly what he’s saying Esmeralda! You…”, “I do know exactly what he’s asking for. You don’t understand Esme…” Esmeralda cut her off, “And I’d appreciate if you stayed out of it!”. Esme rubbed her temple, “You think I don’t understand? Why do you think I’m helping you eh?” she rasped. “Those fucking Shelbys! They ruined my life too you know…” She sighed

    Jal simply watched both the girls in amusement. “I’ll tell you what, let us decide the details of our… arrangement right now and you can have till tomorrow to decide, if you want to go through with it or not. What ya think?” He said with a tilt to his head.

    Esmeralda contemplated for a few moments then nodded solemnly. He asked her to come into the caravan with him. When Esme tried to accompany them he shook his head and continued leading Esmeralda inside his dark caravan home.

-----

    Esmeralda walked out of the shop with just the right thing for Charlie. She was absolutely sure that the little munchkin would love the toy horse she had bought for him. She was still thinking about Jal and everything that had transpired when   suddenly she felt someone cover her head with a black cloth and muffle her mouth with a hand. She felt the person gradually drag her somewhere and then plop her on a chair. Heaving, she tried to calm herself as much as she could. In that moment she had a realization, she wasn’t scared. ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ she’d thought. She did feel baffled as the person had attacked her quite unexpectedly but other than that she wasn’t freaking out. This revelation itself disturb her but brought a weird sort of calm in that terrorizing situation as well.

    When the cloth was taken off of her face she squinted at her surroundings. It was a warehouse of sorts, filled with boxes and dust.  It was dark as dimly lit bulbs glowed in some corners. Four armed men stood around her at a safe distance. She held her purse tightly in her hands as she heard footsteps gradually approaching her from her behind.

    “Who are you and what is the meaning of this?” she asked, her voice steady but vary. “Make a guess signorina”, his voice sounded familiar or was it the accent. And that word ‘Antonio called me signorina!’ He chuckled at her glowering face. “I’m Luca Changretta.” Esmeralda’s heart sunk. This was the man the Shelbys were looking… no, hunting for everywhere. And he was in the city. ‘Fuck!’ He sunk in his seat a bit, resting one leg on the other. “And why have you kidnapped me?” Esmeralda still did not falter and that irritated Luca. “Oh signorina, you misunderstand! This isn’t a kidnapping. This is just a… meeting. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And I have to say, I am not disappointed” his eyes roamed her form making Esmeralda’s skin crawl but she simply stared into his dark eyes, not giving anything away. “Is this how you treat your allies? Picking them up whenever it pleases you?”

“So this is our latest recruit in our team against the Shelby’s…” a tall, slender man came and sat on a chair in front of her. His face was concealed under a black fedora which he wore quite abnormally low on his head. He tilted his head before taking of the hat. He had long defined features with a toothpick on the side of his mouth. “Dios Moi! No wonder he bet on you.” His eyes sparkled. Esmeralda looked at him straight in the eyes. In that moment, she was very much aware of the possibility that she might not get out of there alive. Yet she could not feel her heart race or palpitate.

    “Look at her. Just look at her. How enticing is her temper right now eh?” he called his men standing around them as they all snickered and laughed. ‘Prick!’ Esmeralda had established that much but she still could not figure out what the purpose was of all this so she just decided to shut up and let the arsehole have his fun after all, she did work for him. “You don’t look like your father’s daughter at all. I bet even he doesn’t like what he sees in the mirror.” He waited for a reaction which never came. Sighing, he realized it was time to get to the point. “I needed to make sure we were on the same page regarding our agreement, against Thomas Shelby.” He got up and started pacing in front of her.

       “Antonio told me about your request, and I’m afraid I’ll have to deny it.” She closed her eyes. “As the tradition of a black hand goes, I have to be the one to pull the trigger. And danm! I can’t wait to do it” he rubbed his hands in anticipation. Contemplating for a moment she said, “Then our deal is off.” She stood up, making the men around her point their weapons at her. Luca laughed. Looking around at the gang members ready to shoot at her. A small smile played on her lips as she gradually walked towards the main man himself. She stared right into his eyes as she abruptly took out and pointed her own gun from her purse to his temple, the one she was practicing with every day, “If you think for a single second that these guns intimidate me, that these guns can make me change my mind, you are absolutely mistaken”

    Even though his men were truly tense, Luca raised his eyebrows, smirking. He was enjoying this, Enjoying riling her up. It’s not everyday someone, let alone a woman stood up to him this way. In a flash his fingers covered hers on the gun as he pressed it further into his own temple. It was his way of daring her to pull the trigger. “Do it…” he further enticed.

    Esmeralda silently gulped. Her eyes unblinking. She knew what would happen when she did it. Luca would be dead, but the very second his body would hit the floor, hers would be next. His men would make sure of it. But she did not care, no one, absolutely no one would decide her actions or fate for her. If the last thing she ever did was wiping that filthy smirk off of this goon’s face then so be it. She’ll die proud and sated. Her finger stressed over the trigger as she loosed a breath. She saw fear in Luca Changretta’s widened eyes. That too because of her. The rush of satisfaction she’d felt in that moment could have been bottled and saved for later as well.

    Just as the trigger was pulled, Luca had raised her arm towards the ceiling. A loud bang clanged throughout the big dark space. He pushed her away and got a hold of her gun. “Fucking hell woman!” he laughed like a luntic and paced forcing his men to laugh along with him giving them the impression he wasn’t effected at all. Esmeralda simply shook her head slightly, hiding her own triumphant smile as she had seen he was shaken up as he had underestimated her. And that he’d just seen a glimpse of what Esmeralda had become. She was fearless of consequences and fearless of death.

-----

Thomas Shelby

    The dinner was a celebratory one, arranged by Mr. Churchill himself even though he wasn’t expected to be present himself. The purpose of it was to give these people to engage and make new connections which shall benefit everyone in the future. All the important political people were invited and so their presence was mandatory. Thomas did not believe in mingling and engaging in nonsensical long conversations, he had other ways to make connections which worked just fine for him. So he simply replied and nodded to questions directed directly towards him and otherwise simply stood as a brooding figure in a tux, in a corner near a bar, waiting for the appropriate time to leave without seeming rude. One particular man had caught his attention who went by the name of Oswald Mosley. His direct and indirect messages weren’t difficult for Thomas to decipher at all. But what exactly did he want from him had to be distinguished through a one on one meeting. He was certain of it.

    On the way back his thoughts wandered. The truth was he had truly missed his wife by his side tonight. These sort of events were her kind of thing. She not only enjoyed them but simply flourished in them as well. He remembered how he would simply watch Grace in parties like this one. She would be in her element, in her zone. While taking a cigarette out his feet touched something soft in the car. It was a purse. “Robert whose is this?” He showed it to his driver. “Oh that must be Miss Esmeralda’s I think. She must have forgotten it after her trip today” He nodded. “Did you go with her?” he asked after a moment. “No sir, Oliver did.” He simply started looking outside when Robert continued, “He is new sir, and doesn’t know a lot of the routes yet. If Madame had told me earlier she was visiting the Lee territory I would have taken her myself…” Thomas looked up. ‘She went to the Lee’s? Why would she go to the Lee’s?’ As soon as the car stopped he asked Robert to call Oliver to his office at once. Something was bothering him, but he did not know what. And he had to find out.

[hopeintheashes]

📝I looove the sweet, domestic/home-y sickfics, but I've also always kind of wanted to see your take on a sickBuck-in-the-field fic. Maybe he was feeling a little off, but some disaster happens -it's all hands on deck so, he jumps in (bc "a little cold isn't worth being a man down"). But then, something happens when they're out responding & Buck&Eddie get separated/lost from the group. Buck takes a turn for the worse & Eddie has to use his field medicine training to try to treat him best he can

Thanks for the ask! Things like field medicine are challenging for me because I don't know anything about field medicine... but basic first aid I can do. (I think. Please do not take this or any fic as me actually knowing what I'm talking about, lol.) So, here, have some illness + injury, with Eddie taking care of Buck in the field. :-) This was for the Follower Milestone Celebration. Prompts for that are now closed. Read it here or on AO3. Content note: discussion/description of wounds/wound care.

He could've called out today.

He shivers in spite of his long-sleeved uniform and the November sun and the steepness of the hill he's currently forcing himself to climb.

If he'd called out today, and someone else would've been called in. And it's Thanksgiving.

Well, not technically anymore, but when you work the kind of job they do, Thanksgiving falls on whichever day you've got off work. And for half the people on the other two shifts, that's today.

So no. He wasn't going to call out.

And hell, this isn't so bad. They'd been taking bets on which mall they'd be called to to deal with some Black Friday shopping-related disaster. Instead, they've been sent to look for two roommates who had, in a post-Thanksgiving fit of ambition, decided to hike a trail far above their experience level.

Or. To hike right off the trail, as the case may be.

God, he's tired.

They're out of sight of everyone else at this point; just him and Eddie following an old branch of the trail that's no longer maintained but that the hikers could have followed in their confusion. Dispatch has them on the phone, but their description of where they are sounds like every other square foot of the nature preserve.

His breath is tight in his chest. He's sweating, and shivering, and nauseous from exertion.

Eddie's focused, and steady, and looks like he's just strolling down the block.

Buck's next breath comes as a gasp, and his feet stutter to a stop of their own accord. Elbows on his knees. Trying not to heave. Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe.

"Buck?" Eddie, doubling back, coming in close. Buck tries to wave him away. "You okay? What's going on?"

He gestures at himself, up and down, like that explains it all.

And maybe it does, because Eddie's sigh doesn't even contain a hint of surprise.

Buck looks up at that. "What?" Breathless. Hoarse.

"I knew it. Yesterday at dinner? You were too quiet." He's got a hand on Buck's back, and then on the backpack handle. Taking some of the weight. Buck almost drops in relief.

"I can be quiet." The words scraping his throat.

"No." The backs of Eddie's fingers brush over his forehead. Gentle and concerned and fond. "You can't."

It's Eddie's touch that does it, he thinks vaguely when he shivers hard, and then again, and again, and then things are a blur of Eddie taking off his backpack for him and setting it on the ground and helping him sit down beside it, and Buck protesting weakly and then not at all as he coughs and coughs.

"Shit," Eddie mutters, and Buck feels his eyes fill with involuntary tears.

"Sorry." Broken, barely heard. "I can—" He trails off. "Sorry."

"Shut up," Eddie says, but it sounds like you're okay, I've got you, and the first of the tears fall.

The radio crackles with the other teams checking in. No luck yet. They'd have to get special permission for a drone or helicopter because of the protected birds. Between the lack of immediate life-threatening injury and the fact that anyone who would usually approve these things is at home with their family, it's just them. On foot.

And the hikers, lost and scared, asking dispatch over and over, Are they coming? Are they almost here?

He stands up abruptly and Eddie makes a noise of protest and surprise. Buck hauls his backpack onto his shoulders. It weighs a million pounds. He's dizzy, off balance. He shouldn't've stood up so fast.

He has a stubborn streak a thousand miles long.

He starts down a dip in the path, Eddie scrambling behind, because he will not be the reason those girls don't get found.

He will not.

He will not.

He will not.

His lungs are spasming in a way that makes him feel sick and his head is spinning and all his muscles burn, but in the end, it's the gravel of the trail, loose like scree on the steepest downhill yet, that takes him out.

"Buck!"

He's flat on his ass, blinking in surprise, trying to take it all in.

"Buck." Footsteps closing in, slowing down. Eddie, hands hovering, looking him up and down. "Are you hurt?"

He opens his mouth to answer, and then closes it again. Is he hurt? Everything hurts. But that maybe isn't the answer Eddie wants.

"Buck." Gentle and close. Buck looks up at him, tears in his eyes again. Still. "Take a second, it's okay."

This bitten-off sob, which is fucking ridiculous, he is fine. He slipped on loose pebbles and landed on his butt. Like a five-year-old. He is fine.

His palms are stinging. He holds them up to get a look, and the blood doesn't quite compute. Blood, and gravel dug in deep, and the delicate curl of pale skin where it should be lying flat. Ow? He furrows his brow, and then something clicks. Ow.

"Oh," Eddie breathes, and his fingers are careful under Buck's hands, taking their weight. Then one hand supporting both of Buck's, and the other tracing over the damage, careful not to touch.

Something else clicks, and he starts to shake.

"Okay," Eddie says, steady and calm. "Hands. Got it. Anything else?"

Everything else. He pulls in a breath, which just makes him cough, turned into his shoulder as best he can while Eddie still holds his hands.

The movement is enough to bring one hot point of pain to the forefront, glowing through the fog.

"My…." He stops to swallow. Tries not to start coughing again. "My ankle." He gestures with his chin toward his right foot. "Rolled it on the way down." Or maybe rolling it had sent him down. Doesn't matter now.

"Hands and ankle." Still so calm. Then, when Buck's breath catches again and he has to bury his face in his shoulder again: "And that cough." His fingers are still gentle on Buck's hands. "And your fever." Passing both of Buck's hands back into one of his so that he can trace the backs of his fingers against Buck's temple. "Anything I'm missing?"

Buck shakes his head. Closes his eyes. Then, with the smallest hint of a smile: "I mean, my ass kind of hurts. But I think that's gonna be fine."

Eddie huffs a laugh, but he's already pulling out his phone to shine the flashlight onto Buck's palms to get a better look. "Okay. This part's not going to be fun." He carefully releases Buck's hands. "So let's take a look at that ankle first." Then, thoughtfully, looking around: "There's some shade right there, if you think you can make it before we take off your boot?"

Buck grits his teeth and nods, and then, with another nod, he's being pulled to his feet by the elbows, Eddie making sure not to run into his palms. A wave of nausea, sharp hot-cold, but he breathes through his nose and lets Eddie walk him down the hill. He tries to distance himself from the pain; to pretend that this is happening to someone else.

He feels every step.

Eddie sits him down on a rock in the shade. Unties and loosens his boot. Pulls it off as slowly as he can, but Buck still gasps. "Wiggle your toes?"

It sucks, but he can, and after some more unwelcome poking and prodding Eddie nods. "I'm guessing sprained." Buck nods numbly, because he knows what's coming next. "Let me wrap it, and then we'll start on your hands, okay?"

He nods again, because there is no alternative here. He can feel the need to cough building in his chest, and he hates it and dreads it and can't fight it anymore. Eddie braces him with a hand on his chest and the other on his back, rubbing slow circles as he gets his breath back. Buck slumps against him. The adrenaline of the fall is wearing off, and everything just hurts.

The crackle of the radio, and Buck has the sick realization that they're going to have to tell someone what happened.

Tell everyone what happened.

He groans quietly and Eddie shifts a bit so that he can get to his radio without making Buck sit up again.

"Cap?" Steady, steady. "We've got a bit of a problem here."

Buck closes his eyes and lets the words wash over him: the explanation, the worry, the planning, the "good luck."

The only upside of their current situation is that they have well-stocked medical kits, along with food and water and other supplies. But—

"What if the hikers need this stuff?"

Eddie looks up from where he's wrapping Buck's ankle. "They'll get whatever they need from whichever group finds them. Which, I'm sorry to say—" he secures the wrap— "won't be us."

"Right," Buck whispers. Eyes down.

Eddie pats his good ankle sympathetically, then rocks back on his heels. "You ready for this next part?"

"No."

Eddie doesn't fight him, just rubs his knee and then stands up. Stretches out his legs. Pulls the supplies he'll need out of the bag.

Buck swallows thickly and braces himself. "Okay."

"Okay?" Eddie's eyes search for his, and lock in, and he waits until Buck nods to say, "Okay."

Gloves on. Tweezers out. Bottle of saline solution. Packets of gauze for afterward.

"Your choice."

Buck hesitates for a second, then sticks out his right hand, the one that took the brunt of the fall.

There's something about the inside of you being exposed to the outside that is very unsettling indeed, but it's the saline running over those parts that should be inside but suddenly are not that trips his vasovagal response.

Eddie's hand is on his back and his head is between his knees and he's gagging; he's faint; he's shaking hard, whole-body tremors like an earthquake.

What was that earthquake, 7.1?

If there hadn't been the earthquake he wouldn't've met Ali.

That's a weird thought.

He hasn't thought about Ali in a while.

Ali-Taylor-Abby, thrown backward in time like your body against the seatbelt when the brakes get slammed.

Car crashes.

Chim, pinned. Chim, stabbed.

Maddie's blood in the white of the snow, in the white of the collar of his sheepskin coat.

Eddie, in the rain and the mud and the impossible odds. I thought I lost you.

I thought I lost you.

He retches again.

"Okay," Eddie's murmuring; "Okay, okay."

Hold onto that voice like a lifeline. Eddie's here, alive, in the air and the heat of the afternoon sun.

Buck tries to grasp for him, but that's a terrible goddamn idea right now, and Eddie stops him with a warning, shushing sound. "I'm right here."

Some kind of sound, frustration and sickness and fear, and then Eddie's smoothing his hair back again.

"I'm right here."

Eddie kicks dirt over the mess on the ground, and gets him to lie down in the shade a little ways away. Recovery position, just in case. Arm outstretched so Eddie can work on his hand.

It's sick, dizzying work. He can feel the tweezers digging out the rocks. He's panting with exhaustion, and pain, and the way the ground is rolling beneath him. Eddie is talking quietly. Mostly about Christopher.

It helps.

The first hand takes so long that the adrenaline fades, and then it's just sick awfulness, the fever magnifying every sensation and mixing them together until he's heaving again, bile and spit in the dry, dry dirt. Eddie's wrist meets his forehead, wiping away sweat with the cuff of his uniform shirt, blue-gloved hand angled carefully away.

"Sorry," he whispers, eyes closed tight. The headache that started yesterday on his drive over to Eddie's for Thanksgiving dinner is a vice grip now.

"You're okay," Eddie says, gentle, and Buck shivers and tears leak from his closed eyes, and the dig-dig-digging goes on and on.

More saline poured into the wound, the world spinning, and then Eddie's bandaging his hand. Buck lets his eyes flutter open, and Eddie gives him a little half-smile. "One down."

"Oh god." Under his breath.

"The other one's not as bad." Eddie gives his arm a squeeze, then sits back to check in on the radio. "They're gonna send an ATV," Eddie says, correctly guessing that Buck's tuned out the staticky chatter. "Once they find the girls." He tries to keep his tone light and hopeful, but Buck knows that means the timeline is still completely up in the air.

"Okay," he whispers, and holds out his other hand.

It goes faster, this time; less blood and fewer rocks and more of the skin intact, but it's still torturously slow. Eddie's telling him about Christopher as a little kid now, back before Buck met him. When he first discovered the wonder of creatures and planets beyond this time and place: dinosaurs and woolly mammoths and Mars and Jupiter and the asteroid belt.

And then both hands are wrapped and he's coughing weakly, curled in on himself for warmth, and Eddie's stripping off his gloves and repacking the first aid kits and the backpacks and coming around to sit behind him with his back against a rock.

"C'mere," he says, and Buck curls up with his head on Eddie's thigh, still shivering hard and coughing into the dirt. Eddie pulls out the space blanket covers him up. "Just for a little while," he says, and Buck nods, because he knows he has a fever, knows the air temp is perfectly fine; knows that medically, Eddie shouldn't be letting him trap all of his heat.

"Thank you," he says: for the warmth, for the comfort, for patching him up; for his endless patience and gentleness and everything else.

Eddie runs his fingers through Buck's hair, pausing with his palm on his forehead. "Think you could keep down some painkillers? For your hands, and your ankle, and to get that fever down?"

His palms and ankle and head are throbbing. He nods, and Eddie comes up with pills and water and half of a granola bar that Buck grudgingly eats.

"My throat hurts," he murmurs when all of that's done, half-asleep with Eddie's fingers still running through his hair. He shivers, but it's sporadic chills now, the space blanket doing its work. Amends, "Everything hurts."

"I know." Low and familiar and so perfectly Eddie."They're gonna find those girls, and then they'll come for us, and then we'll go get you patched up and then I'll take you home. My place," he clarifies before Buck can even contemplate going back to his empty loft, and then grins. Buck can hear it in his voice. "Christopher will take good care of you."

"Not as good as you." Slurred with sleep.

Eddie hums, and it sounds like agreement. "Sleep for a while. I've got you."

He does.

[thera-daydreams]

PLUS ONE

》 A TRESE TWOSHOT 《

[Maliksi x Reader]

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

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

(word count: 7,454) ♥︎ Part Two: ?

》 AUTHOR'S NOTE 《

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go on."

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

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

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

"Uh-huh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Heh. Whatever you want to think."

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

It Was Always You by Maroon 5.

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

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

Best Friend by Rex Orange County.

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

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

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

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

》》》

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shhh! Baka marinig ka, 'nyeta."

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

"Oh my God..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ge. Without question."

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

"O, iha, single ka pa ba?"

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

"Do you want kids? How many?"

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

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

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

"You okay there?" he asked, grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

》》》

"Smile for the picture!"

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

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

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

"Weird. Maybe it was just the wind."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

》》》

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh fuck," you cursed quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

《《《

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

"Do we have a deal?"

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

"Good. Thanks."

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

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

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

》》》

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

《《《

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal!" they exclaimed excitedly.

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

Maliksi hummed, "Basta."

》》》

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

That someone being you. Most likely.

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

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

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

Ah, what a wonderful evening.

Sike!

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

... Wait, leaves and flowers?

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

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

What just happened?

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready na ready!"

"Single gentlemen, are you ready?!"

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

"3, 2, 1, go!"

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

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

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

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

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

Son of a—

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Higher! That's an order!"

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

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

"Higher! Higher!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

》》》

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

"Mal?" you finally spoke up.

"... Hmm?"

"Ano tayo?"

"Whatever you want us to be."

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

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

"Yes. I do."

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

"..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ah." He swayed you gently.

"Lahat ng ito, plano mo?"

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

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

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

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

"Wha—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're missing one more title."

"Hm? What do you mean, Mal?"

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe being spontaneous wasn't so bad after all.

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

[philtstone]

For the touches meme: MCU ship of your choice with#8 :)

#8 -- shielding someone with their body

u can also read this on ao3 <3 to say "this prompt got away from me" would be an understatement and yet i still have the temerity to follow it up with "and there might be a part two!" lord. anyway, apologies to kaadhu because she doesn't go here at all but also she did give me the green light to be self-indulgent with this one, so.

the "Jonah Day" was inspired by a scene from Abraxas's phenomenal fic series "Just Two Guys" which was in turn quoting Anne of Green Gables. naturally i had to give it my own little spin. the fic concept itself was inspired by "Jazz Standards Vol 3" by sixes_and_sevens and "In the Woods Somewhere" by @rebellconquerer, both of whom are brilliant authors whose versions of these characters are inspiring in how much they are rich and full of feeling and complexity. i wanted to try my hand at the idea without there being an associated plot arc. hopefully i did it justice bc ive been working on this for a week and i have other Responsibilities so if i dont post it now and be at peace with its imperfections ill never get anything else done. this fic is part of this series and while technically a stand alone i guess the emotional beats of it are very much tied into their previous growing. i wanted to show that they have a process for working through things but that it's inevitably still evolving.

anyway. with that out of the way -- enjoy! (or if you're kaadhu, hopefully i can make it up to u with the star wars prompts im gonna work on next)

It’s one of those days. 

It’s like everyone woke on the wrong side of some bed, and the world has not thought to slow down and accommodate them, and the headaches Sarah has started getting every few weeks, which she refuses to call pre-migraines, have settled at the back of her skull. 

Also, it is raining. Badly.

Cassius used to call ‘em Jonah Days. Only person had it worse in the world, he’d say, was probably Jonah and his whale.

Sarah does not have a whale, but she does have that headache, and has spent all day tracking down a mistake on a license she ordered three weeks ago and trying to make up for the work she missed last week when AJ had the stomach flu and had to spend an afternoon at the hospital. It had just been her at home; Rhodes had called on Sam’s behalf, and Bucky had had to fly out on short notice, something half classified with a tension undercutting it that left Sarah’s tongue feeling dry. He got back in yesterday. Yesterday was not as much of a misery as today but still dragged itself out, and was prolonged enough that they only had time for a brief kiss hello and the curt acknowledgement that Sam was alright. Whatever had happened, Bucky was not happy about it. She’d noticed, of course. His face was drawn, and everything he said came out like the second half was being held as a careful package at the back of his throat. Sarah, distracted by life, had not thought about it too hard. On the rare occasion the rarer mission (getting rarer still) is genuinely awful, she has realized he’ll always find a way to call her. Sometimes, as a reassurance for her. Other times, for his own sanity. Once he called barely three hours after he left, like by some prescient intuition he knew she’d be sitting at the kitchen table on the verge of a panic (another one of those Days). Another time, in the middle of the dairy aisle at Wal-Mart, she picked up the phone to him crying. 

Nothing like that happened this time. He’d said I’m fine, quietly, into her temple, and Sarah had been too tired to try to coax anything else out of him, so she let it be. 

When she gets home, today – The Jonah Day – stomping into the kitchen with as much purpose as she can muster, Bucky is sitting at the kitchen table, something pale and unkempt about his face, and nursing an empty mug of tea. 

She knows it’s tea because of the glittery little tag that’s hanging from the edge of the mug. In truth this should be her first red flag: there’s only one kind of tea he drinks, and a rare handful of occasions he drinks it on. She’s never had a great love for honeybush, but the stuff Ayo’s wife Aneka sends is nice-smelling and strong enough to be medicinal. Sarah’s not in any mood to be catching flags today, red or otherwise. She shuffles in and wonders where they’ve put the ibuprofen and nearly steps on the cat, who scratches her foot in her yowly attempt to get away from Sarah’s sandal.

“Shit –” Her elbow slams into the cabinet as she startles – “Argh! Out of the kitchen, Alpine – Cass! What’d I tell you about getting these dishes done after school? Do I look like a dishwashing service to you?”

That had been the deal. There is an abstract part of her that knows Cass is working on a science project and an even more abstract part of her that knows that, in the regular routine that’s emerged, Bucky would have reminded him. 

Clearly he has not. Sarah is too tired to process why that might be. Maybe he forgot. She doesn’t think he got much sleep last night, which isn’t exactly uncommon. She remembers waking up to an empty bed and a rumpled sleeping bag on the bedroom floor. She’d nearly tripped over that, too.

Could be that’s what got the whole day going.

“Can you get Cass?” Sarah asks, only half-looking at Bucky. She walks through the remainder of the kitchen and peers into the coffee pot to see if there are any dregs left from the morning. The rainstorm outside seems to have turned into a thunderstorm; Sarah can hear its low rumblings. Are there leftovers in the fridge? No. And no one has bothered to think of dinner, either. She swallows back the urge to curse on her next prolonged inhale, the delay in reply rubbing her already edgy nerves wrong for no reason. “Bucky.”

“Hm? Oh.” In a side glance, she can see him shift his elbows on the table, rub at his eyes and nod. “Yeah, um. Yeah, I’ll get him. Let me put this in the sink.”

Another rumble. If the power goes out she thinks she might scream.

Speaking of the sink: she tosses the thermoses the boys left on the kitchen counter into it with a dull clang and wonders if she has time to take a shower. It doesn’t occur to her that maybe she will feel better if she takes a moment to breathe and perhaps ask Bucky for a hug – Sarah’s habits of self-reliance started well before her first marriage, even – but anyway, she feels disgusting. She smells like sweat and fish and she wants to sleep for ten years and cry at once. She’s worried if he gets too close she’ll cringe, or snap, or something foolish. Still. He has to enter her space to rinse the mug out. She tries not to look at him lest the crying overtake her and attempts to source a granola bar to maybe take the edge off her headache. 

Overloud footsteps thunder abruptly down the stairs. Suddenly, Cass is barreling in, an overdue apology loud on his tongue. This happens a half second before his hip knocks into one of the kitchen chairs, which drags, scrapes loudly, and pinches an unassuming Alpine’s tail between its leg and the table’s. 

Alpine shrieks.

“CASS!” Sarah yells, forgetting herself. 

“I’m sorry!” yelps Cass immediately, wide-eyed and penitent. 

“It was an accident,” Bucky says quickly. He’s straightened beside her, and his voice has something strained under the placating instinct, “it’ll be fine –” 

One free hand comes up in front of him in a gesture she knows very well. “For the love of God!” Sarah yells. “No, it was not! I have told you a million times, Cassius Wilson –” Bucky’s hand is too close to her. She grabs it, to bat it away, shove it back towards him. Alpine is still yowling holy vengeance. Cass is apologizing more loudly now, and she does not notice Bucky’s shoulders tensing, and her hand connects with his a split second before the rumbling beginnings of thunder turn into a full blown clap outside.

With the piercing pop of breaking ceramic the mug in his hand explodes, spraying its pieces all over the floor. Sarah’s mouth lets out a startled little cry and she does not realize why that is until she looks down, heart in her throat, and realizes his other hand has shot out and grabbed her wrist.

A reflex, probably. Her tendons are pinching but Sarah knows this kind of thing can spook anyone on a good day. And she’d been yelling so loudly, right in his ear.

“Sorry!” says Cass again, reedy with the fright he gave himself, the suddenness, the mundane violence of a cup breaking and the spring storm. His voice is thinned out with the upshooting squeak of pre-teen concern and in a moment Sarah’s anger fizzles. She can hear the rain lashing at the windows. 

“It’s alright,” she says, parroting Bucky’s earlier words, “it’s just a mug.” 

Bucky is still holding her wrist. The angle is awkward – Sarah is too close to him and too far away from him at once and her forearm is bent low, towards the kitchen counter. The metal pads of his fingers dig into her bones, pushing them together, and when she comes to gently tug away, she can’t move it an inch. “Ow,” comes out of her mouth, muttered and mostly surprised, before she can stop it.

“Alpine!” she hears Cass say. “No, you have to get on the table or your feet’ll get hurt –”

Poor Alpine has not had a moment of peace since Sarah entered the kitchen. She’s never loved thunderstorms and beyond her own pinched tail and trodden foot the tiny cat is tense and staring at Bucky and Sarah with wide, alert, too-knowing eyes. Sarah cannot process this. She is looking at Bucky’s face. Every line of his body is iron hewn, pupils large and dilated, lips too red and parted where he is breathing heavily. He’s staring at the floor, and the broken ceramic, but there suddenly isn’t a doubt in Sarah’s mind that he isn’t seeing jack shit.

“B,” she tries. “You okay?”

Nothing. His grip on her arm is so tight that she’s started to feel it in her elbow. She can see blood trickling down his right hand thumb where she realizes the broken ceramic cut into his palm; he didn’t startle and drop it, then.

“Mom?” Cass has noticed them. “Uncle Bucky?”

“James,” Sarah says, as steadily as she can. “Let go, please.” 

She bites her tongue just before the rest of the sentence comes out; she would not, in a million years, in any lifetime, say You’re hurting me when Cass is still in the room. 

“What’s wrong with him?” 

“We all just had a fright,” Sarah says, trying to subtly shift her shoulder. “Cass, put your running shoes on. Then go to the supply closet upstairs and grab the hand vacuum and dustpan.”

“But –” 

“Tell AJ not to come down ‘til we’ve cleaned the broke mug. We don’t get it clean soon Alpine might hurt herself.”

This is motivation enough to manage him. She thinks for Cass this must still be one of those momentary incursions of chaos into routine that are sprinkled throughout her own childhood. She watches her son nod rapidly out of the corner of her eye, and then he scrambles away and back up the stairs.

“James,” Sarah says, once he is out of earshot. “I need you to hear me. We’re in the kitchen. You broke a mug by accident. There’s a rainstorm outside. Please let go, you’re hurting my arm.”

He is not entirely frozen because she can see the minute trembles in his chest and chin and bloodied right hand. It’s not a lot, but it’s started dripping onto the floor. 

“James. Bucky!” 

The pressure on her wrist is starting to edge past uncomfortable and into a territory Sarah doesn’t want to think about. She doesn’t think he’s squeezing any harder, only the shock has started to fade, and she is really feeling it now. It might even bruise. Not badly – Sarah knows her own body well enough to guess – but enough that the idea makes her sick to her stomach. She can see the dull brown of the last drops of tea from the mug, splattered onto the pale grey of his indoor t-shirt. Those will stain for sure, she thinks. Her head pounds. Her brain feels like scrambled eggs. A tiny shard of ceramic bites into her pinky toe, between her sandal straps, and she can hear AJ’s inquiring voice from upstairs, asking loudly what happened. Knowing her children he will be down in a moment and heedless of any possible danger, broken mug related or otherwise. 

“Baby,” she says, “forgive me.”

She reaches forward with her free hand and fits her thumb and forefinger into the groove beneath where his rotator cuff should be. Sarah presses as hard as she can. Like a flipped switch the grip on her hand releases and Sarah has to bite back another curse when the frozen deadweight of the vibranium prosthetic freefalls and crashes directly onto the ground, just barely missing her shin. 

She is not in any place to understand what the effect must be outside of a shock, but immediately Bucky makes a strangled noise of surprise and slumps back against her cluttered kitchen counter with the imbalanced movements of some leggy baby animal. 

Only, for perhaps the first time, Sarah is acutely aware of how large he is, how ungainly and imposing all that muscle can be. 

“Be careful, the mug –!” she hears herself yell anyway, entirely instinct. 

“The mug,” Bucky repeats, slurred, blinking. His right hand reaches up to scrabble at the thin air to his left. She can see the fumbling movement of his wrist, the way his body leans. His eyes meet hers, wide and startled and questioning. He’s seeing her. She didn’t think it would make such a difference, but she nearly cries. The sound crawls up her esophagus but does not quite make it out.

“Sarah?” he asks, voice small.

Jesus Lord, Sarah thinks. The whole thing happened so fast – nothing long or drawn out about it. Hell, she could pretend it didn’t happen at all. He stares at her, and then the shattered mug on the floor, and then his arm, deadened and inert. Finally his eyes land on her wrist, which she has cradled instinctively in her other hand, and is rubbing. Dread floods into his expression. 

“It’s alright,” Sarah says, “It’s fine, you got spooked, we’ll just –”

She tries to reach for him, working both with and against her own instincts.  

“No,” he chokes. 

She can see him beginning to tremble.

“James –”

“No!” The sheer panic in his voice does not help her own at all, “Stay – wait, don’t, please –” He pulls away from her and his foot nudges one of the larger mug pieces with a loud scraping clink. Between this and his sudden movement Sarah flinches. 

For a long moment, Bucky gapes at her.

Then, slowly, he sinks down to the floor. The tremble in his body becomes more visible. His remaining arm comes up to wrap around the crown of his head, half-covering his face. His knees are pulled up to his chest, like he is trying to make himself as small as possible in front of her. You’re gonna get ceramic in your jeans, Sarah wants to say. The wreckage of the mug spreads out around him.

“Mom?” calls Cass’s voice from the stairs, followed by footsteps. “We got the vacuum! Should I –”

“Stay outside the kitchen, Cass.” It’s immediate – hoarse-voiced but louder and firmer than Sarah thought him capable of right now. His face is still covered. “Too many small pieces on the floor, I’ll clean it up myself. You too, AJ.”

Their footsteps stall. “Okay!” she hears. Sarah sways in place. 

“Sarah,” he says, into his single arm. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh, God.”

It’s alright, Sarah wants to say. She managed it earlier, didn’t she? Her wrist is more or less fine now. Maybe a bit tender, but nothing that couldn’t have happened a million other ways.

The words don’t come out. Instead, to her horror, a small sound like a sob does. 

It’s alright, she urges herself. Just say it.

“I love you,” is what she says instead. She leaves the kitchen to fetch the dustpan. It’s only once she’s hit the laundry room and locked the door behind her that she lets herself begin to cry.

**

By bedtime, Sarah’s wrist is properly tender. The kitchen has long since been cleaned. In between her stint in the laundry and AJ’s innocent declaration that she needed a shower, Bucky went ahead and ordered them pizza for dinner, so that was one more thing she didn’t have to think about too. No one put the boys to bed properly but when she checked in they had managed alright themselves. When she enters the bedroom the storm outside has dulled to a simple drizzle and her chest floods with relief. He’s there. And not in the sleeping bag, either. He’s on their bed, curled up to face the wall, and his face is pale. 

Sarah ignores her bathroom routine and crawls onto the bed beside him. He hasn’t re-attached his arm. She saw it in the den, earlier, tucked away behind the cushions on the daybed he used to use.

She takes a deep breath. She’s spent most of the evening trying to detangle between her residual emotions from the Jonah Day and the very real thing that happened downstairs. She sat in the tub for twenty minutes thinking about what words she wanted to use. 

Bucky beats her to it.

“Has it,” he starts, sounding miserable. “Your -- your arm.”

Sarah doesn’t want to lie. “It’s ...”

“Jesus,” he whispers, this awful undertone of disgust weighing it down into the bed.

“I was going to say it probably won���t even bruise.”

Bucky doesn’t reply. She wonders if he hasn’t reached out to check the wrist himself because he’s scared of himself, or if he’s scared she will be.

“I’m sorry for not being more careful earlier,” Sarah says after a long moment, looking at her toes. They’re in desperate need of a pedicure. “For – yelling. Being rough. I should have been more aware of my surroundings.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she hears, delivered into the bedspread. 

They have two spreads on this bed. One Sarah has had for always – it’s quilted, with small squares of yellow and blue, and small stitched flowers that Sarah’s grandmother said were meant to bring a sense of safety into a bedroom. The other is red – burgundy pattern bursts, even a bit of purple. The material is thicker-woven and heavier and very new, and bought after much careful consideration (and her own encouragement that he get something he liked) from one of Bucky’s favourite vendors a few months ago. She knows it is called a kitenge and loves that it is on her bed.

“B,” Sarah says finally. “If I’m an adult I’m responsible for how I behave when I know certain things about others. You have to –” she fists her hands into the sheets, searches for the right thing beneath the tension in her throat, “respect that. Respect me by acknowledging that.”

There’s a long moment of quiet. 

“Thank you for apologizing,” Bucky says softly. Then, after another long pause, “I’m sorry for not telling you how – how bad I was feeling. And for scaring you after. And for ... fuck. Sarah. I’m so sorry.”

Sarah swallows around her dry tongue.

“I know. You still feeling rough?”

“A little. My head got really loud and I couldn’t stop it.”

“Because of last week’s thing.”

Sarah doesn’t like calling them missions. Sam says she doesn’t want to give ‘em the dignity of a proper name lest they end up having power over her life.

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” 

“Did you call –”

She can’t see his face but she can perfectly imagine the way his eyes scrunch shut on a frown. “Didn’t realize it was bad until it was … bad. Thought I could work through it yesterday. With – routines.”

“The tea,” Sarah realizes. Simultaneously she feels heartbreak and a keen sense of frustration. She should have noticed, she thinks. Then again, the plain reality is that she will have her own bad days, and she is only human. Also, she very much knows the desire to prove you haven’t mistaken your newfound ability to control. Still, still, still – 

“Just, since then,” she starts.

“I called Dr. Naimi while you were in the shower,” he says quietly. 

It’s been about a month with her, so Sarah would have been ready to understand if he didn’t at all. Just barely, but ready. Sarah likes Dr. Naimi and Dr. Naimi likes Sarah. Trauma specialist is an added perk of her proximity to them, and Sarah’s cheerful memories of LSU.

Sarah lets out a long exhale through her mouth. She can see his right hand where it’s curled up by his stomach. He’s put bandaids over the cuts from the ceramic. She knows he doesn’t need them – those cuts would’ve self-sealed within fifteen minutes – so she is left wondering if the decision was made for the boys’ sake, or maybe hers, or even his own. Easy not to think about something if the evidence is covered up and away. Sarah rubs at her eyes, which are dry and gritty from her earlier cry.

In a sense she’s stalling the instinct to reach out to him because the back of her brain is still working through the newer, more temporary instinct that’s appeared. But she does need to change. Bucky is already in his sleep clothes, faded grey sweatpants that he’s wearing holes into and that garishly orange t-shirt memorializing Cass’s first grade Lion King play. Sarah leaves the bed. She brushes her teeth, wraps up her hair, wipes her face. She comes back into the bedroom and shimmies out of her jeans, then bypasses her usual tank top for the navy blue t-shirt folded neatly at the top of his drawer. The shoulders hit halfway down her biceps. She crawls back onto the bed, in front of him this time.

Bucky’s still wide awake.

“You gonna stay awake all night?” she asks.

“No.”

“Promise?”

She watches him touch his tongue to his bottom lip, which is looking raw, like he’s been doing that all night. He trembles on the inhale. “I’m better,” he repeats. “I’ll do some – um, those exercises before bed. Forgot to do ‘em last night, I was real tired I guess.”

This bedroom’s good for those – it’s got so much stuff in it, and sentimental stuff too, he can go through picking out things he can see and what they’re made of and how they feel to touch and lull himself to sleep like that. Sometimes he does it teasingly and lists what she is wearing while he takes it off. 

His eyes have cast down, a very deliberate avoidance of hers. Swallowing against her own mind she scootches forward and lies down in front of him. Then she pulls at his shoulder – firm, but with gentle hands. 

“Sarah,” muffled, into the pillow.

“Need you to hold me.”

“You don’t have to –”

“For me. For me, James.”

He relents, balancing on the ball of his empty shoulder, and smoothes his free hand over her arm and around her back to pull her towards him. His fingers, which are so familiar to her by now, splay open between her shoulder blades. They don't tremble, but they’re very careful. Sarah has to work hard not to notice. Still, he ends up half covering her. She lets her tender wrist lay gingerly against her collarbone in the hollow between their chests and breathes in and out in long steadying breaths. Where their bodies touch (at her hip, her cheek, where his shoulder digs into her breast) the pressure is just minutely too much but enough for Sarah’s purposes. She winds one arm around him, tangles their legs together, closes her eyes, and wills herself through her pounding heart to re-memorize the feeling: the deep-seated thing within herself that’s come to associate his body touching hers with safety and security. 

Sarah doesn’t newly believe herself a fool. Reality coexists with her convictions and they’ll just have to work their way through it. The blankets beneath them are contrasting in their fabrics and soft against the bare skin of Sarah’s neck. 

“I love you,” Bucky whispers. It’s said in the same way she said it earlier. Sarah nods, and holds him tighter.

[idy-ll-ique]

Art.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, little bit of Angst

Warnings: jealousy and insecurity

Requested: nope

Summary: In which Steve is into art but Y/N is not.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Haven't got anything to say specifically so,,, enjoy the fic! Hope you like it!

[Y/H - Your Hobby]

---

"Oh my God, this is awesome!"

"It is, isn't it?" Y/N smiled softly, staring at the pure joy on Steve Rogers' face as he stared at the beautiful painting in front of him. "So much! Ah, realistic paintings, they're always so amazing. Do you like them?" he grinned, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Sure, they look cool," Y/N shrugged, not really understanding the painting. It was aesthetically pleasing, though.

Well, anything to make her boyfriend happy. They were at an art gallery in Brooklyn, which Steve loved to visit. Y/N, knowing how much Steve liked art, and her, always accompanied him. Steve and Y/N had been dating for nearly a year now. "Yeah! I know you aren't into art, but thanks for coming."

Y/N scoffed, burrowing closer to him. "You're my boyfriend, bro, anything for you." She giggled when he gave her a playful shove, immediately pulling her back to him. "Don't call me that, I'm your boyfriend," he chided jokingly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sure you are." Steve laughed, ruffling her hair.

"We've been together for a year." They stood in front of an abstract painting. Just as Y/N was about to retort, they heard someone clearing their throat. Turning around, they saw a woman standing there, smiling at them. "Hello, I'm Tiffany! You're Steve Rogers, if I'm correct?" she addressed the man.

"I am, and this is my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N," Steve answered with a polite smile, unconsciously pulling Y/N closer to him. He didn't like the way Tiffany was looking at him. "This is my painting, do you like it?" Tiffany asked. There was something off about her... "Ah, sure sure, it looks really good." Even though he didn't trust Tiffany, he couldn't lie about the art.

"Thank you! What do you think about it, Y/N?" Tiffany turned her smile unto Y/N. The woman blinked and glanced at the art. "It's nice," she shrugged truthfully. "Ooh, I'm so glad! The meaning is truly wonderful, I worked hard on it," Tiffany clapped her hands. "Yeah… the meaning…" Y/N cleared her throat, looking away from her.

"If you wanna see more of my art, you're very welcome to check it out! This one is on sale, actually, if you would consider," Tiffany offered, looking directly at Steve. "Oh no, not here to buy anything, just to admire," Steve chuckled, waving his arm in dismissal. "Okay, okay, but if you want to ever talk about art, you can give me a call. Toodles!"

With that, Tiffany handed Steve a business card, turned around and left. Steve stared at the card he involuntarily accepted, scrunching his nose. "Oh God, that—" He cursed, throwing the card into a nearby trash can. "What about her? I think she was lovely," Y/N lied, giving him a quick smile.

"She was clearly condescending! Ugh!" Steve rolled his eyes, "Anyway, we don't wanna ruin our day. Let's continue with the art!" Y/N's mind wandered as she casually latched on Steve's arm, ignoring the words he was saying to her. She couldn't help but think about Tiffany and how it was clear that she was hitting on her boyfriend.

To be honest, Tiffany was kind of better than her. Steve and Y/N had no common interests, why was he even interested in her? Why wasn't he into Tiffany? Steve's main attraction was art, he loved it more than anything else in the world and yet he continued to be with a woman who had absolutely no curiosity in said thing.

Why?!

Y/N softly groaned.

Oh no, this was gonna be a problem.

Which she was gonna fix.

---

Impressionism is a 19th-century art movement characterized by relatively small, thin, yet visible brush strokes, open composition, emphasis on accurate depiction of light in its changing qualities (often accentuating the effects of the passage of time), ordinary subject matter, inclusion of movement as a crucial...

Y/N blinked and yawned, throwing her phone on the bed. "Ugh! Why is art so fucking boring and frustrating?!" she moaned, rubbing a hand over her face. She sat up all of a sudden, squinting at the clock in the corner of the room. It was 4:56 am. "Or maybe I'm just tired…" She lay back down on the bed and kept her phone away.

The thing is, ever since that one visit to the art gallery, Y/N's little confusion about Tiffany and Steve had turned into the biggest insecurity of hers. Since that time, she had been limiting her meetings with Steve, as was she learning more about the thing that made Steve most happy: Art.

Steve hadn't questioned her as of yet, which was good. He didn't suspect a thing. She knew he didn't like Tiffany, given how he had called her unsavory things and also immediately threw her business card in the trash. Y/N just couldn't help feeling like she didn't belong with Captain America, Steve Rogers.

Steve, meanwhile, also awake, was sitting on the balcony in his room, thinking about his girlfriend. Why had she been acting so weird for the past one month? Absolutely refused to be around him for more than half-an-hour, sounded tired every time they talked and knew surprisingly a lot about paintings.

How? And why? He sighed and got up, stumbling into his bedroom. A little talk tomorrow won't hurt, right? Running a hand through his hair, he plopped down on the bed, lay down and finally decided to sleep.

---

"Y/N? Sweetie, can I talk to you?" Y/N glanced at Steve. "Yeah, what happened?" she smiled when he sat next to her, putting an arm around her. "Is everything okay with you? Lately you've been… kind of strange," he whispered. "I'm fine! Just having trouble sleeping, that's it," Y/N muttered, resting her head on his shoulder.

They were sitting in his room at the Stark Tower. "No, it's something else. I've known you for a year, my love, tell me. I'm here for you," he assured her, brushing her hair with his fingers. "Fine! It's Tiffany! She got into my head," Y/N groaned, burying her face in his neck. "Her?! That— sorry," Steve blushed when Y/N gave him a pointed look.

"Look, I get it, man. You're Captain America, you're America's hottest man or something and women literally flock to you all the time but she— she likes art. Just like you do. You both know so much about it, it's insane! I'm only thinking, why am I with you? I've never been interested in art, and Tiffany actually seems like a fun person to be around."

"So you got a little insecure?" Steve teased, pressing his lips to her temple. "I haven't slept in a month! Why do you think I know so much about art all of a sudden?" Y/N huffed, looking away from him. He froze. She gave up her sleep just to make sure she was… worthy of his affections?

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying. I slept at 6 am yesterday. Today, technically speaking. I had to be at my job at 8, and I got half an hour of sleep all because I was researching impressionist art— Why are you looking at me like that?" Y/N deadpanned. Steve continued to stare at her, a look of disbelief and incredulity on his face.

"I want to tell you something very important." He pulled away and turned to sit face-to-face with her. "What's that?" she mumbled. "I love you. I love you so much, Y/N, you're the most gorgeous woman I've seen, we are happy together and I like that. We have different interests, of course I know that, but it doesn't matter."

"Why doesn't it?"

"Because when we're together, next to each other, I have the best time of my life. Everything is blissful when you're with me and it's… it is euphoric. You don't need to learn about art just to hang out with me, I like rambling to you! Unlike artists, who would most definitely interrupt me at all times, you listen. And I like that. I also love listening to you talk about Y/H."

Y/N teared up at his words. "Thank you," she managed to blurt out, sniffling when Steve laughed and pulled her into his arms. "Off the bat, I knew what that bratty woman wanted. But I didn't want it because I already have it better," he chuckled, rubbing her back in soothing motions.

"I love you too," Y/N mumbled into his shoulder, smiling softly when she felt him pressing a kiss to the top of her head. All of a sudden, there were knocks on the door. "Come in," Steve called out and Sam poked his head into the room. "Steve, we have a meeting in 15 minutes, just a heads up. Hi Y/N!"

"Hi Sam!" Y/N greeted enthusiastically. "I see you're doing better now," Steve smiled, wiping her tears away when Sam left. "I needed to talk and we did, I'm… I'm not insecure anymore," Y/N admitted, playing with the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing. "I'm glad we could sort this out. I gotta go now, talk to you later?"

"I'm not going anywhere. Bye!"

She smiled when he leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss. "I love you!" he called out when he left the room. "I love you— close the door, you turd!" She laughed loudly when he turned around with a raised eyebrow. "I love you too, Steve," she grinned cheekily, bursting into boisterous laughter when he closed the door behind him.

Outside, Steve only smiled, happy that his girlfriend was doing much better.

See, a little conversation didn't hurt.

---

A/N: Hope you liked it! Leave a like if you did, thanks for reading!

[captainrexisboo]

Shameless Flirt

Hey hoes! I’m (partially) back!!!

I had a sudden burst of writing inspo. I am very excited to finally give y’all my long awaited Hevy X Reader fic!! I loved writing this, Hevy was so fun to get into the head of. I was going to post this yesterday but then (of course, right as I wanted to start posting again lmao) Life Happened aHA-

Anyways! The Reader Is A Lady (although, it’s not really specified aside from she/her pronouns. still tagging it as female reader though)! No warnings apply, just a lot of flirty banter and a bit of smoochin! Reblogs, replies, and comments are highly encouraged. I love hearing from y’all! Enjoy!!!

~

Technically, it was your day off. However, being the workaholic you were, and bored just sitting in your quarters, you decided the best course of action was to pick up some things you had left at one of your workstations in the ARC training sector...like the stopping point of your last project. You waved and smiled past the guards and troopers patrolling the halls, the vode knew you so it’s not like they were surprised when you strolled through the stark fluorescent halls in your lounging civvies you brought from Corrie. It’s not like you didn’t do this every other off day. It’s not like they haven’t tried to stop you- but not even ARC Commander Blitz could give you orders to go relax as you hunch over another blaster, detonator, or even some type of launcher, without you grinning like a cheeky loth-cat, “I am relaxing, Commander.”

After the first few months of working alongside Blitz, he came to understand that nothing was going to come between you and your work. At least nothing short of the consequence of you kicking and screaming all the way back to your quarters. So he let you be. “Don’t mind her, boys, that’s just our weapons tech. She’s always at the armory, or here in the target range. Think of her as a part of the training- don’t you dare get distracted.” Every new batch of ARC-trainees got told the same thing, and everytime you’d smirk into your work with a casual but polite wave over your shoulder, not even bothering to look back-

“And what about after training, Commander, will she still be ‘distracting’ up here?”

-until today. His shameless intention laced his words, and you could feel his eyes run up and down the curve of your spine, following the shape of your legs. You stood straight from your bent position over the standing turret, turning around with an unimpressed brow as you cocked out a hip, “I sure will, but you’ve got curfew to make, trooper.”

It was easy to single out the flirt, even if they were all wearing helmets. There were five trainees this time, four of them had their shoulders shaking as they choked back giggles with varying snorts and fake coughs at their brother’s expense. The one second from the end to your right seemed taken aback by your retort, spine stiff, and visor still looking at you dead on. You slid your eyes over to where Blitz was sighing and shaking his head, taking as step forward as he ordered, “Fives, thump your brother’s helmet for me.”

“Aye, sir,” Fives managed to breathe out the two syllables without breaking, but needing to clear his throat before swatting the upside of the flirt’s head, effectively taking his gaze off of you and immediately to the floor. Blitz made his way across the room to stand in front of the trooper, and even though they were the same height, Blitz carried himself in a way that made him seem to loom over the younger soldier.

“CT-782, you said your name was Hevy, right?” 

“Yes sir,” Hevy confirmed, voice coming out low, in a natural huskiness some clones seemed to have, as he stood even straighter, trying to mimic the Commander’s practiced stance. Blitz nodded a couple times, humming sagely- you recognized this though. He wasn’t thinking at all, he was just adding tension, the dramatic bastard. You couldn’t help but scoff silently at his demeanor as he took an inhale before continuing.

“I’ve read up about you and your brothers, soldier. The outpost at Rishi, getting recruited into the 501st, your entire batch surviving every fray, hells I just saw all five of you in action during the Separatist invasion just a couple days ago,” Blitz took a moment to exhale, something that could have been mistaken for a sound of intrigue, “You no doubt deserve to be here. An entire batch making it to ARC training? This hasn’t been done since the last batch made specifically to be ARCs themselves. But son-” in the pause, now you could never be sure, but you were positive in that moment you heard the grating clicking of Hevy grinding his teeth at the term, “-I don’t recommend playing with fire. Lucky as you all have been, even in ARC armor, you’ll get burned.”

Hevy stole a glance back at you, to which you gave him a mock salute with your screwdriver and a delightfully crooked smirk before turning back to your work.

Instead of taking his Commander’s words to heart as a warning, he took them as a challenge. From that day on, whenever he found himself in the same room as you (provided Blitz wasn’t there to reprimand him) he would try his hand to win you over. Admittedly, it was very fun to trade bouts of wit with him. He was a cocky brute, but held a sharp tongue. His hot-headedness made it especially entertaining to get him all riled up, teasing him back, only to give him a flick on the nose or a poke on his chest plate. Hell, there was one time you went as far as squeezing his bicep. Specializing in weaponry, especially the heavy duty kind, his arms were definitely impressive. How could you not take that chance? 

On the slower days, when he was too tired to even run his eyes over you, he’d still find you hunched over your workspace in the armory to watch you perform your task of the day. An arms specialist finding interest in a weapons technician’s work? Shocker. Still, being surrounded by the blasters and countless ammo and bombs in the armory, listening to the gentle clicks of your tinkering and watching your fingers go through repeating nimble motions over metal plates and little rivets did seem to put him at ease after a rough day. It was something you could much too easily relate to. Over the course of Domino squad’s ARC training, those days where he gave you quiet, warm company were your favorite.

Today was not one of those days.

You had been given a new assignment, transferring from the training base...to travel with the Domino squad once they graduated in the next few days. And it seems like they just got the message too. You rolled your eyes as you heard his low whistle from across the room, but from the safety of being turned around you couldn’t help a sly grin take over your face. 

“And what, praytell,” Hevy’s gruff voice fills the armory as his boots echoed off the walls with their weighted falls, like you could hear the sway in his step to the beat of his walk, getting closer to you as you continued to lean over your work table, “Did the Domino ARCs do to get a pretty little thing like you to be our weapons technician?”

“Oi, leave her alone, Hevy,” ever the gentleman, Echo tried to ‘defend your honor’ from the shameless flirt as he walked in not a moment later, “Unless you want her to issue herself for a transfer to a different band of ARCs? Keep talking to her like she’s some meat pie, see where it gets you.”

“Awh, thank you, Echo,” you cooed over your shoulder before pushing up your goggles to give Hevy a sugar-coated pout, “Eat shit, Hevy.”

Hevy knew this game, taking his helmet off he shot you a charming wink, before turning to his brother, “What other ‘band of ARCs’? We’re the only notable ones, all the other ARCs are in CO positions, or are riding it solo and getting contracted to separate battalions for separate missions every day! We’re the only full squad of-“

“Half a squad,” Echo interrupted, taking off his helmet to shoot his brother a criticizing arch of his brow, “You realize a full squad is nine soldiers, right? This stuff has been drilled into us since decanting-”

“Then why do they call us the Domino squad?”

“Rolls off the tongue better than Domino batch,” you grumbled into your work, slipping your goggles back on and trying to focus amidst their conversation, “Look, are y’all actually here for something, or-?”

You trailed off, continuing your practiced movements as you waited for an answer. Hevy leaned next to you on the table, careful not to jostle it, or you, with his weight. He had learned that lesson the hard way...some nights his shin still throbbed with the memory.

“We’re gonna celebrate, not just the graduation, but now with you getting to tag along!” Hevy’s unusual cheeriness made you pause in your work. You turned to him, about to say something when he continued, “And we want you to join in the celebration too, mesh’la.”

You blinked at him, surprised by his offer. Sure, you were friendly to the troopers, and Hevy seems to have gotten especially comfortable around you, but you didn’t think they’d want to invite you to something as special as that. You pulled the goggles completely off your head, setting down your tools as you turned around to lean against your table, “I’ll bite. What’s the catch?”

Echo and Hevy looked between themselves, before glancing at you with mirroring expressions of confusion. 

“Why do you want me to join?” you elaborated, bringing up a hand to count on your fingers, “You wouldn’t want me there unless you had a reason for me to join, what is it? Contraband liquor? Snacks? Do you want me to secure the armory for the get together so you don’t have to have it in the barracks, or my quarters, or what?”

“The catch,” Hevy took a careful step into your space, mimicking your new pose, giving you an amused if not surprised smile, “is for you to have fun, not surrounded by guns and ammo.”

“And that’s coming from Hevy,” Echo scoffed, but agreeing with a wide shrug of his shoulders as he crossed his arms. You looked between the two of them as the moment stretched out for what felt like a lifetime… for Hevy at least. All the times he spent with you, all the terrible flirting and unashamed eyeing- he really wanted you to join. He could feel sweat begin to creep down his neck, the longer he waited for a response, swallowing down a gulp of dry air as his gaze flicked nervously over to Echo. Echo simply rolled his eyes- all of Domino Squad knew about Hevy’s true feelings for you. It was hard not to take notice when Hevy was just, well, like that. But they never seemed to learn about Hevy’s quiet times in here with you, how you two would partake in silent togetherness, finding peace in each other’s company. Not that Hevy was embarrassed, far from it, but he liked having that little piece to himself. Of course, he wanted more of you to himself, but for now those comforting silences while you built and rebuilt blasters were enough for him, because they were enough for you.

You kept your gaze neutral as you weighed the option of joining in your mind. It was far from a bad option, you liked this batch. They had been through a lot together, loved and protected each other like brothers should, and along with Hevy they accepted you as one of their own. What was one night?

“Yeah, alright,” you looked between the two ARCs, a grin forming as you stole a glance at Hevy, “I’ll join in. When is it?”

Hevy could jump for joy at your agreement, but he was still leaning on your workspace. Instead he smiled wide, tattooed cheeks crinkling parallel to the corners of his eyes, letting out a relieving breath, “Tomorrow night, the eve of our first deployment as ARCs. Be at our bunks at 1930…and if you do have any liquor-”

“Hevy-”

“Of course I have liquor,” you interrupt Echo’s chiding with a wink to the heavy gunner, bringing your forefinger up to trace Hevy’s jawline, gliding along the sharp edge, the pad of your fingertip calloused from years of work, and swelling with pride at how his dark eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into your teasing touch. Coming off with a playful tap to the tip of his chin, his eyes snapped open at your sultry chuckle, “See you tomorrow, soldier.”

You turned back to your work, slipping your goggles on a final time, but not before a quick and casual wave over your shoulder, “Later, Echo.”

Echo couldn’t figure out your mood toward Hevy worth a damn. He looked between your aloof manners and Hevy’s moony grin, deciding it just wasn’t worth trying to pick your brain at, partially because he was smart enough not to get involved, but also he wasn’t certain he’d be able to stomach the answer. Catching his brother's eyes, he made a discreet gagging motion to him before fitting his helmet back on and walking out the door, “See you, techie.”

Hevy stayed back a bit longer, continuing to watch you work. He was completely quiet, but his silence was deafening. You breathed out a huff of laughter, the tops of your ears beginning to heat up at his attention, wetting your lips, “Well?”

“Hm? Well what?” he shook himself out of his stupor, blinking back into time at your voice.

“Are you gonna leave now n’ let me work?” You cursed inwardly at your harsh words. You liked Hevy, deep down he was a real sweetheart, but you always found yourself being so coarse to him. Thankfully, he was as much of a hardhead as he was a hothead, and he met your indifferent glare with a devilish grin that made your heart jump doubletime.

“No, I think I’m gonna sit right here and watch your lovely hands make something amazing.”

“Amazing?” you scoff, shaking your head at his compliment, “I’m just fixing up another DC-15A that some cadet broke. You need to head to the med station if you think that’s amazing. We both know the Z-6 rotary is far superior-”

“When you’re done with it, it’ll be the best DC-15A in the GAR,” Hevy interrupted, eyes shifting between your face and your hands, “Everything you do is amazing.”

You stopped what you were doing at the genuinity that filled his praise. He always spoke to you with a hint of truth, a bit of heartfelt sincerity to make his easy way of speaking more personal to you, more interesting. But there was something in his expression, maybe the dreamlike haze filling the depths of his eyes, or the way that his accent rolled off his tongue that had you placing your palms flat on the table before speaking low to him, “Hevy, what are you doing?”

“I thought I was pretty clear,” he shrugged with a sideways grin, still careful of the lean on your table, “I’m watching you. You’ve let me before-”

“I mean with the…” you gestured to his full self, keeping your eyes on your now resting project, “The whole...flirting thing.”

You caught him off-guard. The two of you have been at it for months now, but neither of you had ever said or acknowledged anything about it. It was like a silent pact between the two of you, continue the performance, but don’t mention the game. To suddenly come out of the unsaid arrangement, Hevy felt himself draw back, slowly lifting his weight off the table, “Do you...not like it? I mean I figured that you...you know, you’ve always responded…”

You couldn’t believe it. After always having something to say, being able to trade quips, building a friendship over the shared banter and ripostes, the fearless ARC trooper you’ve seen grow so much these past few months was babbling out broken sentences at a single question.

“I can stop, if you’d like.”

It was that whispered phrase that brought you back into the moment, turning to him with burning cheeks, “I didn’t say that.”

“Well then what do you want?” He took a step into your space, brow set and a jaw flexing as he frustratingly tried to understand your sudden shift, “We’ve been...flirting-” the word left him like he was saying it for the first time, each syllable carefully leaving his lips- “since the day I met you. Mesh’la, if you don’t like it, say something! We’re about to go to work together, travelling the galaxy for a long time-”

“Exactly,” you countered, poking at his chest as you stood defiantly to him, tearing off your goggles and mussing your hair off to the side, “Whatever this is, are we gonna continue it? Continue dancing around each other like some kind of goddamned soap opera where everyone but us gets off on our own self-denial?”

“Self-denial?” Hevy repeats, an incredulous sound leaving his chest as you saw a fire spark behind his stare, “Sweetheart, I’m not denying anything, especially things I haven’t been asked!”

“Alright then, fine!” Somewhere down the conversation, your voices had raised to shouting in the small space, even as you two stood almost nose to nose, and your breath hot on his lips you asked, “Do you like me, trooper?”

“Like you? It was love at first sight when you first told me off,” Hevy couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed at his confession, just focusing on fueling the flames between you, “And what about you, techie? How do you feel about me?”

“I think you’re a smartmouthed asshole with a heart of gold and a pretty face- yeah, I like you a whole fucking lot!” 

This was ridiculous. You knew it was ridiculous. You could see it in his face too, the two of you breathing heavy, barely a hair’s width away from each other. You’re unsure who started it, later on you two would always claim the other giggled first, but eventually you found yourselves holding onto each other for support as you laughed out the rest of your pointless venom. His arms fit around you perfectly as your hands held strong to his wide shoulders, your laughter filling the room together, the sounds swirling in their melody as everything started to click perfectly into place. Once everything quieted down, your head resting against his chest as his hands ran up and down your back, you exhaled low and steady against him, slowly rocking in his hold, “Plastoid isn’t that comfortable to rest on, huh?”

“You should try wearing it,” Hevy snorted at your comment, leaning over to rest his cheek on the top of your head, “So...what now?”

You hummed, feigning thought before angling your face to brush your lips over the column of his throat, murmuring into his skin, “I wouldn’t be against a kiss.”

Something rich left his throat, the sound deep and thrumming through his chest before one of his hands found its way into your tresses on the back of your head, tugging gently at your hair to guide you to his lips. You couldn’t stop the brief hitch in your breath at the daring move, but you wouldn’t have expected anything less from the brash soldier. At your word he took the lead, slanting over your mouth in a soft motion, breathing you in as easy as air. You followed in confidence, welcoming the boldness with which he kissed you as the same boldness that had him playing the game you both set up. A small noise of satisfaction left you, not just from the perfect pressure from his lips moving so softly against yours, but also from the way his hand gripped so firmly at your waist through your canvas jumpsuit, his other hand still carding so thoughtfully through your hair; it was a sweet little gasp that Hevy swore he’d be replaying in his head for a week. Or at least until he was able to make another sound tumble out of you.

Your hands came up to cup his cheeks, thumbs tracing the edges of his tattoos, pulling him impossibly closer. The payoff of this single kiss was absolutely worth all those months of gentle torture, the teasing touches and glances, discreetly watching his lips when he’d talk and thinking about how he’d feel against your own. Or even how he’d taste. In a stroke of your own audacity, you ran a slow, languid lick of your tongue against his lips, and the growl that came from him made the most delightful of shivers shoot right down your spine.

He had a robust, spicy taste, earthy and rich with a bit of heat that came tickling at your tongue. It wasn’t too surprising- he smelled the same way, smoky and hearty with the biting musk all clones seemed to carry with them. What did surprise you was the honeyed velvet of his own tongue eagerly coming to meet yours as you repeated your action. You could feel his infuriating grin at the helpless whimper that dripped from you at the feeling, and you nipped brazenly at his bottom lip in retaliation.

Before he could respond to your playful attack, the two of you froze as a throat loudy cleared from the entryway of the armory. Hevy almost didn’t pull away from you, a near silent broken whine coming from him (for your ears only) as he came off of your lips with a wet smacking sound. After a quick flex of his fingers, he removed his hands from you just as slowly, your own hands sliding down from his face to clasping behind your back. You both turned to face the bucket of Commander Blitz, arms crossed and stance wide in the doorway. He nodded toward the hall, “You left the door open.”

You cleared your throat, pursing your lips to keep from saying something ridiculous. Hevy clenched his jaw, trying to accomplish the same thing. Blitz’s visor smoothly slid to gaze over you, and you straightened in the mimic of his cadets. “You finally relaxing, techie?”

A short chuckle escaped you, lips twitching up in a coy grin, “I am, Commander.”

He nodded, that same dramatic humming leaving him as he turned then to Hevy, who tensed at full attention to the ARC Commander. “What about you, son. How’s that burn feel?”

“To be perfectly candid, sir,” Hevy, always pushing the limits, turned to shoot you a look with a quick lick of his lips before responding, “Absolutely thrilling.”

Blitz nodded again, taking slow steps into the room, like how Hevy had earlier that day, letting each step echo off the walls until he was about two feet away, “I’m happy for you both, but please. Don’t be stupid. You’re lucky it was me walking by and not one of the longnecks, or the nat-born chief trainers. Close the doors. And do me a favor, wait till you’re both off Kamino for any of the heavier stuff, okay?”

You and Hevy both confirmed the Commander’s request with quick nods and mumbled “Yes sirs,” making him let go a long breath. Uncrossing his arms, he pointed to Hevy, “Trooper, hit the showers. Move it.”

Hevy shot you one last look, if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was bashful, before saluting Blitz, grabbing his helmet and marching out of the armory. You stood straight, still under Blitz’s cold stare from his visor, until he sighed, slapping a companionable hand on your shoulder, “If he steps out of line, I better be the first vod you call. I will kick his ass so hard, he’ll be knocked back to failing the Citadel the first time-”

“At ease, Commander,” you rolled your eyes, you hand coming up to hold onto his, brushing your thumb over his knuckles with a soft breath of laughter, “He didn’t lay a hand on me until I asked him to.”

Blitz squeezed your hand, taking off his own helmet to look at you. He looked a little older than Domino did, cheeks slightly hollowed and eyes a bit deeper set, a bittersweet shine coming over his amber stare, mouth twitching up into a lopsided smile, “I’m gonna miss you, after you go off with those fools.”

“You’ll make great friends with the next techie who comes along. Who knows, maybe they’ll actually listen to you,” you smile back at him, the two of you masking the tears threatening to fall from your lashes. He pulls you in, touching your foreheads together, before giving two more pats to your shoulder.

“And remember,” he pulls off of you, placing his helmet back on and causing his voice to come out in a soft static, “Please, for the love of Jango, don’t-”

“Don’t be stupid,” you salute to him, winking for extra effect, “Aye-aye, ori’vod.”

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 40 | End

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst

; Word Count: 6.9k

; Warnings: Slight anxiety attack, mentions of panic, slight body issues

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: So...this is it 😢 Flower is officially over! I started writing this on November 15th, 2019. Almost a year later, here we are with 40 chapters, 3 drabbles and 180k of words. Can you believe I actually finished it? I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading it and the journey of the MC finding herself and falling in love with Hoseok. It’s been so fun to write and it’s sad to let it go. If you’ve enjoyed reading this, please let me know with a comment or an ask! I’ve loved reading how much you’ve all felt seen or embraced by the MC with her struggles and I’d love to hear your thoughts on not only this chapter but the whole fic! Feedback is what keeps authors going and I came very close to leaving writing once Flower was finished but I’m still going to carry on. I’m not sure if this chapter is good or not, but I hope you enjoy it anyway and think it a fitting end to the story!

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Okay...okay. Let’s do this...you can do this. It’s easy. Just...walk down the aisle. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, Hoseok could not be there or I could have a heart attack and drop down dead. That would suck. But it would resolve a lot of my issues, I wouldn’t have to worry about everyone watching me. On the other hand...I’m going to marry the love of my life. As long as he turns up” The soft sounds of your muttering are probably barely heard over the soft playing music through the speakers in the room, YouTube playing mindlessly to itself.

It was a good job, as it meant that no one else in the room could hear your panicked thoughts that were being verbalised. Hoseok and you had decided to get married at an exquisite mansion hotel with the ceremony itself being in the elegant gardens outside. There was a full-sized maze alongside a stunning fountain, the centrepiece being a marble depiction of Aphrodite rising from the shallows.

You’d taken a walk around the perfectly groomed gardens the night before, taking in all the decorations that you’d painstakingly picked out over the months that had been artfully arranged by the staff. The flowers in the gardens were beautiful, a smorgasbord of pinks, oranges, violets, reds and yellows that brought the whole area to life. Alongside it looking visually perfect, it also smelled amazing as well with the soft scent of different flowers mixing.

At night, the tiny fairy lights that had been strung up around the building front and the metal trellises that were organised in the garden gave off a soft, golden glow. It made the whole place look ethereal and you were excited for everyone else to get to see it during the reception tonight.

The actual wedding ceremony was scheduled to start at two in the afternoon, with only friends and family invited for that. It would be outside as well, with Hoseok and you standing at the end of a make-shift aisle on the lawn section of the hotel’s garden. Temporary chairs had been arranged on both sides for your guests, dark wood with ivory silk draped over everyone. At the end of the aisle, each chair had a silk bow in ivory and deep purple alongside a bouquet of specially arranged flowers. 

It all looked perfect and you’d marvelled at it yesterday, amazed that they’d managed to bring your vision to life. Now all you had to do was walk down it and get married, which was where you were a little panicked.

The room that had been assigned to the bridal party was on the lower floor of the hotel, reducing the risk of you potentially killing yourself by tripping over your dress while walking down the stairs. It was technically two hotel rooms connected through a shared bathroom, which you found bizarre.

Your mom and Hoseok’s mom had taken the other room for their use to get changed, the hairdresser and makeup artist they’d hired working there to make them look their best for the ceremony. Even now, you could hear them chattering and laughing away with each other. Even through your anxiety, you can’t help but smile as you hear them get on so well.

Any fears you’d had about them not liking each other had quickly disappeared. Instead, they’d become good friends and liked to meet up now and then to have a talk over coffee or something. It pleased you to see your mom getting to have more friends.

Eden and Amelia had also chosen to get ready in that room, not wanting to crowd the one you were in too much. It was already full of dresses and a ridiculous amount of makeup and hair product with only four of you so you couldn’t even imagine the chaos with five of you.

In your room was Soyeon, Chungha and Dahyun alongside you. Dahyun was currently three months pregnant, having successfully been inseminated with Jungkook’s sperm. He’d agreed to their request and after a few months of getting prepared for the attempts, Dahyun had undergone the procedure. What it had been exactly, you didn’t know because you hadn’t felt it was your business to pry into something like that.

It was a privilege to even know they were trying before anyone else. Their announcement had come at your bachelorette party when Dahyun had refused alcohol, immediately leading Soyeon and you to be suspicious. You’d never seen Chungha’s beloved ever turn down a drink so it had been a clear sign of something at least.

Needless to say, your party had happily become a celebration of their impending baby. Thankfully, you weren’t one of those people who got overly annoyed at others announcing things at events. Or at least, not big events. Your bachelorette party had been a perfect time to find out, whereas you might not have been so amenable if they’d told everyone today instead.

That was normal though, right? Today was your day. Yours and Hoseok’s. People who felt the need to co-opt special days like that were a special type of self-absorbed in your opinion.

Given it was so early into her pregnancy, Dahyun isn't showing that much. Which meant her bridesmaid dress hadn’t needed to be altered too much. None of them has gotten into their dresses just yet, instead currently in the process of getting their face and hair done. Chungha’s hair has already been done, elegantly styled into a beautiful updo with a few tendrils curled around her face.

The makeup for the girls was a smokey eye with subtle blush and contour, alongside a neutral lip. It wasn’t anything flashy, but you’d loved the concept of it all. Particularly with the small and delicate crystals that dotted along their waterline, adding a little sparkle to match the tiny crystals on their deep violet dresses.

As a present to each of them, you’d bought them a gift set from Pandora. In each one was a pair of dainty stud earrings with a heart design alongside a matching heart-shaped pendant necklace. All the hearts were encrusted with brilliant-cut stones, making the perfect gift that could be used again in the future for casual use.

They’d all been in awe of it and surprised at being given presents as well. You hadn’t even known it was a thing until you’d looked up wedding preparation online, discovering that you should also buy something for Hoseok. Which had led to you buying him the fancy watch he’d been drooling over for months now. It had been eye-watering expensive, but it had been worth it for his excited text this morning.

Along with the watch, you’d also written him a letter. It was meant to be light-hearted and fun, but you’d ended up writing way too much as you’d poured out your love to him alongside everything you felt for him. To your eternal embarrassment, you’d ended up crying while writing it as you’d told him everything you’d never been able to vocalise, including writing possibly a million times that you love him.

He’d been instructed to not read that until just before the ceremony.

His present to you was a gaming table, which might not seem to be very sentimental to anyone else but you’d been ecstatic over it. For years now, you’d been saying that you wanted to buy a proper table that was designed for board games and that could then be used as a normal table when converted. They were super expensive so you’d resigned yourself to never getting one, but he’d printed out the receipt of what he’d ordered and put it into an envelope for you to open tonight.

Neither of you had ever been a traditional couple, and that certainly wasn’t about to change with marriage.

“Hey, you okay?” Amelia asks, interrupting your intense thought process as she sits down next to you. As usual, her aura is warm and reassuring as she reaches over to gently squeeze at your hand. You don’t spend a huge amount of time around her, but you knew both Eden and her enough to want them in your bridal party.

“Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know. I’m just…” Trailing off, you struggle to find the right words and instead gesture towards the air. It makes no sense but you can’t quite figure out what you’re trying to say. Mainly because you can’t figure out what your mind is thinking.

“It’s okay to be worried, don’t feel like you shouldn’t be. If you’re anxious or nervous then that’s okay as well. Don’t let anyone tell you how you should be feeling, just feel what you are. Trust Hoseok, trust yourself and all your family and friends. We’re all here for you and we want you to have the best day possible. Tell us if anything is wrong, okay? I have no doubt that Chungha and Soyeon would strong-arm everyone into whatever was necessary to make you feel comfortable.” She says, smirking as she nods over to the two women who are chattering away in their respective chairs.

“I know, I know. I’m trying. It’s just...god, everyone is going to be staring at me and I hate being the centre of attention,” Looking down at your hands, you chew at your lips. “What if I mess up the vows? Or I freeze or drop the ring?”

“Hey, it’s normal to feel that. I doubt there’s anyone who’s gotten married who wasn’t at least a little bit anxious about messing something up. Yes, everyone is here to watch you, but they’re for Hoseok too. I’m sure he’s just as worried that he might make a mistake, and if you do then, so what? It’s not going to ruin anything, it just means your human. If anything, people will probably find it endearing. The only person you should concern yourself with is Hoseok, and I doubt there’s anything you could do today to ruin the day for him. Unless you don’t go.” Amelia laughs when you give a shocked gasp, jaw-dropping open and eyes wide.

“I would never do that! But what if he decides he doesn’t want to get married anymore?” Now the worry that had wiggled itself deep inside your mind comes to the fore and you find yourself almost whispering the words. It feels like a betrayal to Hoseok for even thinking he’d do that, but you can’t help the fear.

You must not have been quite enough though as Chungha speaks up, facing you in her chair with a stern expression on her face as she wags her finger. “Lady, do not think that. I don’t want that thought to even enter your head. As if Jung Hoseok is ever going to back out now. I think that man would’ve eloped with you if you’d asked instead. He’s going to be standing at the end of that aisle, probably bawling like a baby.”

“Maybe not that far.” This is from Eden, who’s laid out on the bed in the centre of the room, playing Zelda on her Switch. She’d had her makeup done earlier and is now waiting for the hairdresser to be free while Amelia is waiting for her makeup. All of you had decided that you’d be last to get ready to make sure that everything looked as fresh as possible.

“Want to bet? That man is gonna be sobbing.” This starts up a whole ten-minute discussion about whether or not Hoseok was going to cry at seeing you. Namjoon hadn’t cried but Jimin had during their weddings, surprising no one. But Namjoon had cried at the birth of his daughter.

You weren’t sure, to be honest. Hoseok didn’t cry all that often and you could probably count on one hand how many times you’d seen it over four years. On top of that, you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to see him crying. It made your chest hurt when he did and you always ended up crying too.

Something about seeing strong and proud men cry was just heartbreaking to you. 

For a while, you just sit back and let the conversation wash over you as they all debate and borderline argue, intensely amongst themselves. They’d all switched around now and they’ll soon start getting into their bridesmaid’s dresses, which meant you’d be finally getting ready.

Your nails had been done the night before with a beautiful design in the same colour scheme as the wedding. They looked so pretty and elegant, which was a surprise to you every time you looked at them as you never really bothered doing your nails. While you liked to do fancy makeup looks now and then to post onto social media, nails were not something you were interested in.

Maybe you should reassess that thought.

“Anyway, what we’re all trying, and failing, to say is that Hoseok loves you and if he doesn’t cry then he’s crying inside at how beautiful you are.” Soyeon states firmly, sitting next to you and admiring your nails as well. All the bridesmaids had the same style to keep the theme going and she wiggled her fingers with a bright smile.

“I’m not even ready yet, you don’t know if I’ll be beautiful.”

There’s dead silence in the room after the comment, with even the hairdresser and makeup artist turning to stare at you. Between the six other women in the room, you’re pretty sure that they’ve got every emotion from shock to annoyance to incredulity covered. Feeling yourself get warm at their attention, you look down to your lap in embarrassment.

Obviously, the wrong thing to say.

“Okay, we’re going to ignore that you just said that. You don’t need to be dolled up and in a wedding dress to be beautiful, it’s just going to enhance what you already have. And I don’t want any arguments on that.” Poking your side lightly, you playfully wince at Soyeon as she scolds you. Everyone else is nodding along solemnly before they carry on with whatever they’d been doing.

“Seriously though, I overheard your conversation with Amelia. She’s right. Embrace your feelings but don’t let them overwhelm you. Standing in front of a crowd is nerve-wracking for anyone, but you’ve got the love of your life standing there with you. Just focus on Hoseok, he’ll get you through it. He always has, right?” Soyeon said.

Giving her a half-smile, you nod and do a remarkably good job of looking like a scolded child or something. You know it’s just because she loves you that she doesn’t want you to berate yourself, along with the fact that she knows what you’re like. If someone doesn’t verbally acknowledge your problems then you’ll just obsess over them.

Your phone screen lights up in your lap before it begins to vibrate suddenly, Hoseok’s name visible on the screen. Frowning down at it, you wonder why he’s calling before a multitude of emotions and thoughts runs through your mind.

“Go take it in the bathroom.” Pulling you up, Soyeon practically pushes you into the bathroom before giving you a smile and a thumbs-up as she closes the door.

Seeing the other door is also open, you peek out and let everyone in that room know that you’d be using the bathroom for a few minutes and to not come in. Once you get the acknowledgement, you close and lock it as well before pushing up to sit on the counter.

“Hobi! Why are you calling?” Leaning back against the mirror, you frown deeply as you question him. The first response is just his familiar deep chuckle, the sound already helping to soothe some of your frayed nerves.

“Amelia texted Joon, who told me. I don’t want you to stress yourself out! Not today, today’s meant to be a happy day. No stress. Or anxiety.” Snorting, you roll your eyes as you trace an invisible design onto your thigh.

“Sure, like that’s gonna happen. You know me. And why are you calling? We’re not meant to see each other until the wedding, it’s bad luck!” There’s a brief pause and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes, the deep sigh he lets out telling you all you need to know.

“Meeps, I’m pretty sure that only counts for physically seeing each other. I can’t see you right now. I don’t recall anything about not being allowed to hear you, or talk to you. Besides, we make our luck.” He sounds so nonchalant and now it’s your turn to sigh at him.

“You’re going to get us hit by lightning or something.”

“Impossible, the weather schedule for today is meant to be sunny with a little bit of cloud later on. Nice warm temperatures that aren’t too hot but also not too cold. Perfect. No lightning.” His immediate rebuttal has you laughing, unable to stay mad at him for too long. Not when he’s trying so hard to take your mind off things.

“Seriously though, are you okay? What are you worried about? Talk to me.” Hoseok asks, his voice calm and steady as he stops joking around. There’s a brief moment of resistance, the thought that you don’t want to bother him with your silly thoughts or annoying emotions before you remember that you can trust him. No matter how ridiculous it sounds in your head, Hoseok will listen and he won’t make fun of you.

“I’m just...scared. Of all the people. Like, they’re going to be watching me or staring. What if I look fat or ugly? Or I fuck up saying the vows? Or I drop the ring or my dress splits or something? Or if I trip down the aisle?! Or if you decide you don’t want to marry me anymore?” As you begin to reel off the questions that have been plaguing your mind, you can feel your chest getting a little tighter and your breathing shallower.

With the practised ease of someone who’s dealt with your panic attacks over the years, Hoseok makes calming and reassuring noises over the phone until you’re silent. Just listening to him, you take in the comforting words as he lets you know that you’re okay and everything is fine. Finally, once he thinks you’re calm enough, he carries on.

“Meeps, that’s fine. Don’t be upset that you’re having those thoughts. I’ve had every one of those thoughts today as well. I mean...not the dress one. Substitute that for pants splitting or something, which is even more embarrassing because my underwear is not black today. But the point I’m trying to make here is that it’s normal to have those thoughts today. I’d probably be more worried if you weren’t having them.” He pauses to laugh before you hear shuffling noises.

There’s no doubt he’s probably not even getting into his tuxedo just yet and you curse the fact that men take far less time to get ready than women. He’ll probably only start like...an hour before the ceremony begins or something.

“But all I’ll say is, it doesn’t matter if anything goes wrong because we’ll fix it. You and me, just like always. You won’t look fat or ugly because you’re neither fat nor ugly anyway, instead, you’ll be the most beautiful woman here. Which you always are to me but don’t let my mom hear me tell you that. And I’m going to be standing at the end of the aisle, I promise you that. I’m the one who proposed to you and I will be there, waiting for you. That’s one thing I can assure you of completely.” Hoseok says this firmly, his voice perhaps more serious than you’ve ever heard it before.

You can practically feel his determination to make you understand that he’s going to be there. That he’s going to marry you today, no matter what happens. It makes your heart swell with love and emotion, causing you to press your hand against your mouth.

Hoseok takes your silence as a positive, choosing to let it carry on for a little longer before speaking once more.

“I love you, Meeps. And by the end of today, you’re going to be my wife. We’re going to have a great day with a beautiful ceremony and a fun reception before probably going to bed drunk. Or at least, I’m going to be drunk. Not entirely sure if I’ll be able to take you to Poundtown tonight-”

“Don’t ever say that again.” 

“But if not tonight then definitely tomorrow. Unless you don’t want me to drink, in which case probably tonight if you’re up for it.” Shaking your head, you can’t help but smile at his stupid comments. He always knew how to cheer you up, even if it was with the most ridiculous thing you’d heard today.

“You can drink, I’m not going to make you sober throughout the entire reception. I want you to have fun with everyone, so if you end up drunk then that’s fine. Just don’t go overboard.”

“Choosing to ignore my Poundtown comments, I see.” 

“Jung Hoseok, I am going to hang up now. I will see you later, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” Feeling a little shy, you murmur your next words into the phone.

“Love you too.”

-

The ceremony is officially about to start and you stare at the open door, knowing that outside all your guests are waiting. Not only that, but Hoseok is at the end of the aisle. You’d been reassured by everyone there who had peeked out to make sure, quelling your fears and worries.

All the groomsmen had come inside upon finding out you were here, lining themselves up alongside their specified bridesmaid partners and chatting away happily. They all looked incredibly handsome in their suits, the colours matching the bridesmaids perfectly and you felt a little pride at having thought of a good colour scheme.

Your mom is fussing around you, making sure that your dress looks perfect and that your bouquet hasn’t fallen apart or anything. Sighing, you gently push her hands away as she tries once more to move your necklace.

All of them had given you something as part of the tradition for the bride. Dahyun had lent you a beautiful Cartier bracelet, glowing with diamonds, as part of the ‘something borrowed’ while Chungha had bought you diamond earrings for the ‘something new’. Your mom had given you the bracelet she’d worn for her wedding, now occupying your other wrist and Hoseok’s mom had provided the necklace adorning your neck.

It was a beautiful silver necklace with a dainty leaf design, leading to the main piece in the centre which was dotted with tiny diamonds. Each leaf spreading out had either amethyst or an aquamarine gem in alternating order. She’d ordered it specially made for your wedding, matching your engagement ring with the gems and fulfilling the ‘something blue’.

You’d been amazed at everything they’d given you, understanding now why they’d all told you now to buy any jewellery for the day. They’d all decided to make sure you had everything you needed anyway.

But you knew that your mom’s need to keep straightening out your dress or brushing away unseen dust was just to keep herself preoccupied. She’d already cried once when you’d come out in your wedding dress, makeup and hair all done. That had earned her an exasperated sigh from the makeup artist.

“Mom, mom, come on,” You coo to her, smiling before taking her hands and squeezing. “You gotta go out there, go get your place.” 

She hesitates for a moment, unwilling to leave you before nodding. After a few words of reassurance from her to you, telling you that you’re going to do well and it’s all going to go fine, she turns and hugs your dad tightly before kissing him. You’d feel embarrassed at the sight of it, never quite being comfortable with your parents' displays of affection, but it just causes you to laugh softly.

Once she’s out the door, you hear the music begin from outside, the notes flowing through the door faintly. Everyone inside quietens and you can almost feel the excitement ramp up. It just makes you feel more nervous though, particularly when they start to head out in their pairs slowly.

“Are you ready?” Your dad asks, his eyes already going glassy with tears as his lip wobbles slightly. Giving him a concerned look, you immediately reach up to wipe the tears as they start to fall, feeling your heartbreak at the sight of your dad crying. He never cried.

“Dad! Don’t cry, oh my god. I’m sorry.” Cleaning up his face quickly, you’re stopped by the gentle way he grasps your wrists. For a moment, you think that he’s going to push you away but instead, he pulls you closer and carefully hugs you.

It’s a little awkward as you’re trying not to ruin the carefully done hair and makeup, but you can’t deny your dad a hug. Especially when you’d never really been much of a hugger growing up. You would be cruel to deny him one, especially on your wedding day. Your parents were feeling emotional that their little girl was getting married today.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just your old dad getting sappy. You look so beautiful. Hoseok is so lucky, you better remind him of that every day.” He’s pulled back now, giving you the softest smile that is still a little watery. His hands move to your shoulders and he stands back to examine you fully, his eyes taking in everything.

Before you can respond to him, Yoongi is disappearing out of the door and heading towards the aisle. He’s alone, as you’d planned, but in one hand is the bouquet that Hoseok’s sister would’ve held had she still been alive. It had been his suggestion to hold it, symbolising the family member that Hoseok didn’t have anymore and you’d been more than willing to agree.

You wondered what Hoseok thought when he saw it as neither of you had told him that Yoongi would be holding it. Hopefully, he was happy with it, along with his parents.

Turning back to you, your dad squeezes your shoulders reassuringly before smiling at you. Ironically, all it does is make you more nervous as you realise that now you’re the one who’s going to have to walk down that aisle next. 

“Come on, it’s time to make your fiancé cry.” His words in a teasing tone, your dad turns to face the door before offering you his arm. Standing there, you stare at him before looking at the door with trepidation. Nerves roil in your stomach as you hear the faint sound of music playing, knowing that everyone out there is waiting for you.

Which in turn means everyone will be staring at you.

Those nerves quickly turn to anxiety and your breath comes faster, chest feeling a little constricted by the tight bodice of the dress. Without even realising it, your hands start to shake and the bouquet in them shudders visibly.

Quickly, your dad takes the bouquet from you to make sure that you don’t accidentally deflower them or crush the stems. The last thing you needed was to ruin your perfect bouquet only minutes before you were supposed to walk down the aisle.

It frees up your hands and you find yourself flapping them as you stress, trying to shake out the negative emotions as you pant. Your dad’s eyes widen, obviously panicking himself at your obvious distress. He’s never had to deal with you struggling like this before and he doesn’t know what to do but his paternal instincts kick in quickly.

“Hey, come on, sweetheart. Breathe, breathe. Take a big breath in, come on, that’s it. Not let it out slowly. And again, that’s right.” Talking to you in his comforting voice, tone level and low, you follow his instructions and start to feel a little calmer as you force yourself to calm your breathing. It’s hard, and you still feel the anxiety but it feels a little more manageable now.

Closing your eyes, you run through all the tips your therapist had given you for how to cope with anxiety attacks. What worked for you was to sing in your head, the lyrics, whatever song you were loving lately. It probably takes longer than you’d have liked but finally you feel like you can cope with your emotions enough to carry on.

When you open your eyes again, your dad is giving you an expectant, yet worried, look. Shaking your hands once more, you reach out and take the bouquet from him before taking a deep breath. Linking your arm through his, you straighten your shoulders and lift your chin before smiling at him.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go.”

-

Walking down the aisle is surprisingly less stressful than you’d imagined. The famous wedding song plays through the air as you walk slowly and the whole atmosphere feels almost like a fairytale. The soft lights twinkle even in the daylight while the gentle, warm breeze makes the ribbons on the chairs flutter delicately.

Along the floor, the white and purple rose petals that Namjoon’s daughter had spread in her role as flower girl were strewn haphazardly. A few of them caught the breeze and rolled delicately to a new place, making it seem like the floor was consistently changing. You liked it, smiling at the sight of how beautiful everything looked.

Everyone was staring at you, as you’d expected, but surprisingly it wasn’t as intimidating as you’d thought. You didn’t exactly enjoy it but it wasn’t terrible. Probably because you were more focused on initially admiring how perfect everything looked. How months and months of thought and money had finally accumulated into the perfect wedding.

But mostly, you weren’t as bothered by the staring because you were focused on the end of the aisle. There was no real altar here, given that it was being held at a hotel and everything, but the metal garden arch at the end had been decorated in delicate flowers, ribbons and lights to make an even better end.

And beneath it stood Hoseok.

If you’d ever thought Hoseok looked handsome before then it paled in comparison to him today. His black tuxedo made him look tall and slim, every part of him looking perfectly put together and elegant. The deep purple waistcoat beneath his jacket contrasted with the white of his shirt perfectly; the colour combination making his skin almost glow with health and happiness.

There was only the slightest hint of tattoos at the edge of his collar, leaving to the imagination the artwork he had permanently on his body beneath his clothes but you didn’t need to imagine. You’d seen them all, traced them delicately into your memory over the years until you could point out where they were without even seeing them.

Finally reaching him, you paused to look at your dad and gave him a bright smile of gratitude before giving him a second hug. This one was a little tighter than before and when you let go of him, you saw that he was crying once more. He didn’t give your hand to Hoseok, instead just gave him a stern look while trying to surreptitiously wipe away his tears.

“You look after her, Jung Hoseok. You make sure she’s the happiest woman.” There’s iron in his voice, telling Hoseok that it wasn’t a question but more a command. But there’s also love and affection in it, something Hoseok can tell as well by the way he nods his head.

Handing your bouquet to Chungha, you take Hoseok’s proffered hand. Up close, you can take in the details of his face better and you take a moment to simply admire him and imprint him into your memory.

The sides of his head had been shaven, the undercut short and seen with the style he’d chosen to wear today. His hair had been styled back, pushed away from his forehead. It was a look that had made you weak in the knees many times over the years and you’d practically begged him to have it for the wedding, knowing that he’d blow everyone’s mind with how handsome he looked.

Hoseok had a face that looked like it had been hand-carved by the gods from the finest marble anyway and this hairstyle showed off all the highlights of his face. The high cheekbones that made his smiles so animated, his cutting jawline, the clean slope of his nose, the heart-shaped smile that lit his entire face and the dimples that made him seem so human. 

His lip ring was still in, the silver shining in the sunlight. He’d been unsure whether to wear it but you’d told him to embrace himself and keep it. You’d fallen in love with him as he was, and you wanted him to show himself how you saw him. Which included his piercings and tattoos.

Your heart clenched though when you looked into his eyes finally. Hoseok’s eyes were one of your favourite things about him. The crescents they turned into when he smiled brightly, pushed into the shape by his cheeks and the way his eyes could practically dance with delight when he was happy.

Today though, those beautiful and expressive eyes were watery with tears. The wet streak on his cheek told you that he’d already had some of them fall and you frowned at the sight of them. Everyone had been right; Hoseok had cried upon seeing you down the aisle.

“Baby.” You whisper, unsure if you’re meant to talk to him. Deciding you don’t care, you reach up to wipe away the tears and smile when he kisses the palm of your hand before nuzzling into it, uncaring of everyone else.

“Meeps, you look perfect. I read your letter, I love you too.” Before you can stop him, he’s leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. There’s a murmur in the crowd, alongside some laughter and he looks over at everyone with a raised brow.

No one says anything though and he gets a satisfied look, ignoring your shy expression as you turn away from everyone.

“You’re not supposed to do that.” Keeping your voice low, you give a hesitant smile to the official who will be taking you both through your ceremony. Hoseok lets out a snort of laughter as he squeezes your hand tight, letting his thumb run along the back of your hand lovingly.

“I don’t care. It’s our wedding, I’ll do what I want.” And before you can stop him, he turns you and gives you another kiss, this one lingering a little longer. Eyes widening, you can’t help but giggle as you hear yet more laughter.

You should be annoyed at him, but you know he’s a force of nature. Plus, you don’t care. It feels nice to know he can’t help himself.

“Okay, let’s get married, Meeps.” He grins at you before facing the officiant once more. Staring at him a moment longer, you smile at him and nod.

“Let’s get married.”

-

Hobi Hobi,

We’re getting married today! Are you excited? I hope you’re reading this when I told you to, if not then you’re cheating >:[ it feels weird to write a letter. I don’t even know if I’ve ever done this before, so I’m sorry if it sounds really cheesy and lame. What do people write in these normally? I’m just going to write what comes to mind so if it ends up sappy then you’re not allowed to tease me later about it. 

Anyway, I want you to know that I’m sorry that I suck so much at telling you how I feel and my emotions. I wish I could be one of those people who’s telling you every moment how handsome you are and how much I love you but I can’t. I’m sorry :( I’m trying, I swear! Even if I don’t get to tell you as often as you deserve, I hope you know that I love you more than anything in the world.

Don’t ever forget that, okay? Even when we’re arguing over something silly or we go to bed mad at each other, don’t forget that. I know we’re pretty good at talking things out but there’s always that chance that we could have a big blowout. So I want you to remember that I love you. 

I’m still not entirely sure what I did to deserve you, but I don’t regret sending you that message. If anything, I think I should send the Flower team a big bunch of flowers or something for creating the algorithm that brought you up as a match. Imagine if it hadn’t and I’d just deleted the app, we’d have never met and I’d still be lonely and sad.

But we did meet, and I took a chance on you by sending you that embarrassing message. And then you took a chance by actually meeting up with me and going on that date. I still remember it, and I don’t know if I ever told you but I still have the ticket for the escape room. I know you still have yours in your wallet :) Thank you for giving me your time, even if I wasn’t your type. I hope I’m your type now.

I’m not sure that I will ever be able to tell you how important you are to me. Not only myself but my life. You’ve helped me to embrace myself and learn to love myself over the years through kindness. I know my limits in terms of my mental health now and you’ve helped to support me with the medication and the therapist. Neither of those were things I’d been comfortable with doing before your encouragement. But you also gave me a safe space to break down in; somewhere that I knew I could be at my most vulnerable mentally without having to risk being hurt even more.

You held me when I cried, you comforted me when I panicked and you calmed my anxiety over the years. I can never thank you enough for helping me to understand that these aren’t deficiencies and I’m not broken. I just need a little help to get through things sometimes. At the same time, I hope that I’ve become that safe space for you as well. I know that you’re not as emotional as I am, but I feel that you’ve opened up to me about things that hurt you. I’ll keep your secrets safe and I’ll always be here for you!

I hope you’re happy with your life now. With me, and our home and our furbabies. I hope you stay happy, and if you don’t then talk to me. Please. I don’t want us to ever realise that we’re making each other unhappy and I don’t want to ever be the reason for negativity. I want to spend the rest of my life with you in our little home, growing old together as we play board games and dote on our animals while you increase your tattoo collection even more. I know that people like to say that they can’t imagine their lives with their significant other, but I really do feel like that.

My life without you would be hollow and monochrome, as you bring colour to my world and fill it with joy and happiness. I’ve never laughed as much as I have these last few years with you and I know we’ll keep that in our relationship if we try hard. 

I don’t really know where this letter is going and I’m babbling now. But I guess the main thing is just that I can’t wait to marry you. It may not be very feminist of me but I can’t wait to take your name and be your wife. I can’t wait to call you my husband. I’m going to be terrified in the ceremony and so nervous but I’ll be happy too, I promise! I still can’t believe that you picked me, out of all the women you’ve seen, to be your girlfriend and then decided that you wanted to marry me.

Jung Hoseok, I solemnly swear to treasure you for the rest of your life and make sure you know how much I love you. I might not be able to tell you all that much, but I’ll show you. I’ll make you smile and laugh, I’ll buy you things that make me think of you, I’ll hug you tight and cuddle you until you’re complaining.

So in case it wasn’t obvious enough, I love you. I just want you to know because I know I suck at telling you, like I said. I’m also bad at writing letters but what’s new? I’ll finish this off quickly so you’re not spending too long reading this. Don’t want to make you late for our wedding after all.

I love you. I love you, Jung Hoseok. I love you, Hobi. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Lots and lots and lots of love, your soon to be wife <333333

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Problem With Birthdays

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You want to enjoy your birthday with Loki, but your fears that one day no one will love you are keeping you from having fun. Warnings: a bit angsty; fluff A/N: 1/2 Happy Birthday to my best friend @lokistan​!! 🥳🥳🥳 May you have the most wonderful day ever. As requested, here’s a birthday fic for you! I hope you enjoy ❤️         2/2 This is technically a sequel to The Secret Admirer, but you don’t have to read that to enjoy this 😄

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs​ @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Darling?” Loki called, walking into the common room where you were on the couch, book in hand.

“Right here, my love. What’s up?”

“We need to talk.” He came and sat beside you as set your novel down. He took your hand in his and pressed a quick kiss to the back of your knuckles. “About your birthday.”

“You know how much I love talking to you, but I actually have to go meet Carol and Lauren in the lab. Talk later?”

“You are avoiding this,” he replied simply as you stood up. “You know you can tell me anything, right my darling?”

You stood before him and fidgeted with your charm bracelet, a nervous tic you’d picked up ever since you started wearing it. It had been a gift from Loki back when he’d been your secret admirer, not your boyfriend. You were beyond happy with how things had worked out, and your relationship was the most pure, perfect thing you’d ever experienced. Still, doubts filled your mind. You’d never dared hope he was actually your secret admirer those many months ago, but you’d fantasized that he was. It was an understatement to say you’d been pleasantly surprised when he came clean. The smile he’d given you that night was perhaps the most radiant one ever.

“I know,” you finally replied. “Just, later. Ok?”

“As you wish.”

He pulled you back down for a kiss before letting you go to the lab. He had a feeling you’d made no plans to meet up with your friends, but if you wanted to go, he’d never hold you back. And that extended to if you wanted to leave the relationship, which is what he feared was happening now. With a sigh, he stood, too. He had a party of sorts to plan. Nothing big, just a small dinner for the Avengers. He knew that’s what you would want, considering how you seemed to wish to avoid anything to do with your birthday in the first place.

Meanwhile, you arrived at the lab where your two best friends were testing a new invention. You smiled as Lauren, Tony’s newest lab assistant, tested what you could only figure were jet pack boots of some kind. Kind of like the ones on the Ironman suit, but disguised to look like normal shoes. Carol flew beside her, making sure she didn’t fall and hurt herself. Captain Marvel was in between intergalactic missions at the moment and was staying at the Tower to help keep an eye on things here on Earth. You didn’t know what it was about the two of them, but the three of you just clicked, and were now an inseparable trio.

“Hey! What’s up?” Lauren greeted once she had both feet planted firmly on the ground again.

“You look upset. Everything ok?” Carol asked, propping her elbows on one of the lab tables.

“Relatively ok, I guess,” you replied, playing with your bracelet again. You were holding the horse charm in between your thumb and forefinger. Loki had given it to you as a gift, a reminder of when he’d confessed his feeling in a horse drawn carriage. “Just not looking forward to tomorrow.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Carol said. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumbled with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s silly.”

“Look at me,” Lauren said, gently gripping your arms and giving you a light shake. “Don’t say that. Your feelings always matter; they’re not silly.”

“Thank you,” you said. “That means a lot to me. But, really, it’s alright.”

“Fine. But we’re here if you need us,” Carol said as they captured you in a group hug.

As you thanked them again, you could only hope that tomorrow would come and go without much fanfare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you woke up so cozy in your bed, you didn’t want to get up. Maybe you could while away your birthday in bed, pretend you were sick. But, no. You knew that would only push celebrations back, not stop them.

“Good morning, darling,” Loki said, knocking on your door. “Are you awake?”

“I am,” you called in reply. “Come in.”

“Happy Birthday, my sweet,” he greeted, walking in. He sat next to you on your bed and planted a kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered close to your skin as if he was hesitant to let you go, as if he thought he’d never be allowed to kiss you again. You looked up, your nose brushing against his, and kissed him on the lips. He smiled. “And how are you doing today?”

You’d never actually told him what was wrong yesterday. You wanted to talk to him, you really did, but you worried that by telling him your fears, they would come true.

“I’m ok, I guess.”

“Just ok?” he gasped. “Well, I know what will make that better.”

He waved his hands and trays of foods came flying in. There was bacon and pancakes and pastries and fruit bowls and just about everything else you could want. Honestly, it was far more than you could eat, but you definitely planned on sampling everything. You beamed at Loki, hugging him as he pulled you onto his lap.

“Breakfast in bed, darling?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes, please,” you grinned back.

You sat for a while longer, eating and watching your favorite show. Eventually you decided you might as well get up and face the day. Loki left to go make the final preparations for dinner while you showered. A little less than an hour later, you reluctantly got out of the warm water, and sat on your bed once more in a robe, just staring at a wall. You don’t know how long you stayed there for, but it took a great effort to stand up and get dressed.

Once you had on your comfiest pants and favorite sweater, you tried to leave the room. You ended up flopping down on the bed again. You wanted to spend the day with your friends, not to mention Loki, the love of your life, but your worries were petrifying you.

“Is everything ok in there?” Loki asked, at your closed door once more.

“Sort of.”

“May I come in?”

You got up and opened the door for him. If only it was as easy to do that metaphorically as it was literally. He gently cupped your cheeks, his thumb gently stroking your warm skin, an unasked question in his eyes. You looked down, unable to bear disappointing him. It hurt you to shut him out like this; you’d always been honest with each other. You gave him a shy smile as he carefully tilted your head up and kissed you again.

“I, uh, I guess I promised we’d talk,” you said.

“You did, but I will not hold you to it if you are uncomfortable sharing.”

Gosh you loved this man. “I want to talk, it’s just...” you sighed, and pulled him back over to the bed to sit again. “Birthdays are supposed to be a day to celebrate, right?”

“Indeed they are.” He softly caressed the side of your face, looking very much like he wanted to kiss all your troubles away. “Because we all love you.”

“Well, that’s just it,” you whispered, your voice soft as you turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears in your eyes. “What if one year everyone realizes that they don’t love me? Then I’ll be spending every year, every day, every minute alone. I... I don’t want to lose you.”

Loki held you to his chest as you began to sob, wiping the now fallen tears from your cheeks. He cooed and kindly shushed you as you got it out of your system. You’d held it in so long you’d grown numb to the pain, but now you were feeling it full force.

Loki moved your sweater out of the way and kissed your shoulder, moving up your neck and to your wet cheeks. His heart broke a little bit as he tasted the salty drops on his lips. He so wished you hadn’t kept this bottled up, that you’d shared with him. Perhaps it was a little selfish, but he did also feel a spark of happiness at the moment of your confession since he thought you were about to say you didn’t love him anymore. Your thoughts were quite the opposite, in reality, and he cursed himself that he let you think that way for even a fraction of a second.

“I will always love you, darling,” he said as your cries slowly came to a stop, leaving hiccups in their wake. “And when I say always, I truly do mean forever and beyond the constraints of time. It was like a dream when you told me you felt the same way. My very own heavenly angel loved me, too. My heart, my soul, my passion, my darling. My love. Your insecurities are valid; everyone is allowed to have them. But I beg of you, come to me next time. We can work through them together.”

You sniffled to stop another set of tears. “I know. Thank you, Loki. I was worried that if I told you, you’d realize that you didn’t love me. But I know you do, really. And I love you so, so much, too.”

He pulled you down to be laying on the bed and wrapped his body around yours. When you were feeling better, you chatted a bit, keeping the conversation light after the heavy topics you’d been discussing. You finally told Loki you felt ready to go out and face the day, which was more then halfway over at this point. He checked to make sure you were certain of your decision, and after a kiss to each of your eyelids and the tip of your nose, escorted you out of your room.

“Happy Birthday!” the Avengers greeted you as you made your way into the common room.

Loki had taken your desire to keep celebrations simple to heart. There was a banner and some balloons, but that was it in the way of decorations. As for the team, they gave you kind hugs and thoughtful gifts, but no one made too big of a deal out of it. No shouting or crazy partying, just some quality time spent doing puzzles and playing board games and watching movies. Carol, Lauren, and a few of the others even hilariously recreated some of your favorite scenes from the films you’d picked. Of course, they were all making sure you knew you were loved and appreciated, too. In other words, it was perfect.

Dinner and dessert, your favorites served at both, were also amazing. You spent the time reminiscing and sharing stories from your childhood. Soon after, you retired to your room. After you got changed into your pajamas for the night, you met Loki in the living room of your large quarters. He was fiddling with something you couldn’t quite make out.

“What’s that you got there?” you asked, perching on the couch next to him.

“It is another gift for you, my darling,” he replied, presenting it to you.

You opened up the small pouch he’d handed you and pulled out a charm. It was a key, and you immediately added it to the growing collection on your bracelet.

“Thank you, my love,” you said. “It’s perfect.”

“And that is not all,” he grinned as you looked at him with excitement and surprise written plainly across your features. He pulled out a charm of his own on a necklace, hidden by his shirt. It was a heart with a lock carved into it. You looked again at the key and realized it would fit perfectly. “I want you to know that you have the key to my heart. I love you, my angel.”

“And I will protect it with everything I have in me. Because I love you, too, Loki. More than I can ever say.”

“Happy Birthday, darling.”

It may take some time, but you think you could grow to like your birthday. At very least, as Loki kissed you again, you knew you never had to worry about being left alone. No, not when Loki would be there for you until the end of time and every moment after.

[laurie-stark]

Bags

(not my gif)

Summary: After another duffle bag of supplies washes up on shore, the girls realize that they’re going to be stuck here for a while. Episode six rewrite. 3.0k words. 

Pairings: Toni Shalifoe x fem!reader 

Warnings: Swearing, throwing up

A/N: Okay listen I just wanted Toni fanfic but no one was writing it so here you go. Also I really tried too hard to get the bed sharing trope LEAVE ME ALONE I LIKE IT PSLFDLJ (this is your reminder to turn on Interactivefics xx) oh and also theres a bit in here thats heavily inspired by @ drewstarkeys Toni fic which you all should go read asap its amazing. 

This was weird. It was really fucking weird. It had only been four days since we found Jannette’s grave empty. Four days since we found a clean water source. The longer we stayed on this god forsaken island, the more it felt like we were never getting off. And now another round of duffle bags have shown up. You know, as crazy as I think she is sometimes, Leah’s starting to have a point. Something is way off about this place. 

Nora and Rachel were the ones who spotted the bags. They washed up on the rocky side of the beach, covered in weeds. Dot was hoping for some more food, maybe more medicine if we were lucky. But to all our confusion, all the bags contained were blankets and pillows. Ten pillows and five blankets, Dot so cheerfully announced. My first red flag was that the insides were completely dry. I didn’t want to say anything though. I was sure there was a reason for this.

“There’s enough shit here for us to double up,” Dot told us while Nora and I laid out the makeshift beds. “Except for one person who gets to sleep alone.” 

“Well that’s not fair, why does one person get a bed all to herself?” Rachel asked, standing up defensively. 

I rose to my feet as well. “Why don’t we rotate it?” I suggested, hoping to relieve some of the tension. “W-with our off days. That way whoever’s off can have an extra good night’s sleep before they have to work again?” The girls all nodded their heads and mumbled words of agreement. Rachel sat back down on her log. 

“Great idea y/n. So who’s bunking with who?” Dot asked. Rachel and Nora instinctively reached out for each other. Beside me, Toni looked to Martha. Martha gave Toni a weary look before reaching a hand out in the opposite direction. Towards Shelby. Even I had to stop myself from dropping my jaw. 

Fatin gleefully agreed to pair with her “new bestie for the restie,” Dot. That left myself, Toni and Leah. I glanced between them. Leah was avoiding my eye and Toni...Toni just looked mad. It’s not that I don’t like Leah, I just don’t know her. Not that I know Toni any better, but at least Toni hasn’t gone batshit crazy more than once. On the other hand though, I didn’t find Leah unbelievably beautiful the way I did with Toni. And Toni would never want to bunk with me anyway. I crossed my arms, not doing a very good job at hiding my uncomfortableness. I was about to open my mouth to ask Leah to share when Toni called my name. 

“Y/n,” I turned to face her, eyes wide. “You’re with me?” I nod and swallow hard. Fuck. 

The sun was getting lower and lower in the sky, just like our food supply. Rachel offered to go foraging for something meatier in the morning, so at least I could look forward to that.

I shuffled under the blanket Toni and I shared. “Sorry you got stuck with me,” I whispered. “I can go sleep with Shelby if you want, so you can be with Marty?” 

“Nah,” Toni shook her head. “I don’t mind. Besides, I don’t really think Marty wants anything to do with me right now.” I didn’t know what to say. I felt bad for her. A lifetime’s worth of friendship thrown out of the plane. Literally. 

I wondered if anyone else was awake. The light from the fire was enough to see everyone’s feet but that’s about it. I still wasn’t accustomed to how dark it got at night. I was limited to just my hearing after the sun went down. I would try not to listen though. The more you listen, the more you realized how we definitely were not alone out there. Focusing on Toni’s breathing beside me was enough to keep me sane.

Couldn’t say the same for Leah though. She sat straight up and I thought she got bit by a crab or something. 

“Does anyone else think that this is crazy?” She asked us.

Fatin groaned. “Leah, we got into a plane crash. Is that not enough crazy for you?” 

“No seriously Fatin, what the fuck is going on?”

“What are you talking about,” Dot sat up. 

“I mean these,” Leah held up a fist full of her blanket. “Where did they come from? Do none of you think that something’s up?” 

I pushed myself upright. “I’m starting to agree with Leah.”

“Oh God, not you too,” Dot flopped back down onto her back. 

“No, think about it,” I started. “A bag with medicine just happens to show up? And then we find Jannette’s grave empty!? And now these duffles appear with nine peoples worth of blankets and shit? Who brings that to a resort retreat? That’s weird. It’s really fucking weird.” Everyone was sitting up at this point, staring at me. “I didn’t say anything when we opened them, but these things were dry. Everything bone dry. Rachel and Nora found the bags on the shore, like they were washed up. They should have been soaking. Hell, they should have sunk!” I took a shaky breath in. “Every day we stay here the more it feels like we’re not leaving. It’s like someone wants us to stay here. I know I sound crazy but come on!”

“Y/n...” 

“We don’t even remember the crash!”

“We all blacked out.”

“That’s not how plane crashes work though!” I realized how loud I had gotten. I noticed how Nora was sitting, hugging her knees tight. Shelby’s face was pale, even in the orange glow from the fire. I closed my eyes. “This isn’t my first crash.” I kept my eyes shut. I didn’t need to see their faces while I told this story. “I got into another one like eight or nine years ago. The engines broke and we crashed in a forest somewhere near Chicago. And I remember it all. I remember the engines failing, and the plane falling and the back coming off when we hit the trees. I didn’t black out until I was on the ground. So yeah, I think something is fucking off. This isn’t right, none of this is right! We shouldn’t be here, we shouldn’t-” 

I started to choke on my own words. I think I was starting to throw myself into a frenzy. Something grabbed at my hand. It was Toni. She looked me in the eyes. There was something in her gaze that told me I was safe. Told me to calm down.

“Okay,” Dot said slowly. “I think we’re all starting to lose it a little bit Y/n. And no sleep isn’t gonna help. Let’s all try to get some shut eye, yeah?”

I nodded profusely and flipped onto my side, embarrassed now from that outburst. I guess I didn’t realize how far off the rails I’d been slipping. Silently, I started to cry.

I tried to stay as far away from Toni as possible. With my back to her, I figured that my crying could be somewhat camouflaged. I was very wrong.

“Hey,” Toni murmured. When I didn’t respond, she tugged on my shoulder to roll me over. I quickly wiped the tears off my cheeks. I couldn’t look at her directly. Her gaze softened. I realized then how close we were. Even in pitch darkness, I could still make out the outline of her face, her cheeks, her nose, her lips- I prayed she couldn’t hear how loud my heart was thumping. Toni reached a hand out and brushed another tear away. Had I started crying again? Jesus I was so far gone. “I know how you feel. I wanna get out of here too.’ I said nothing.

Toni moved to create some more space and put her arm out. I looked at her, questioning, though I doubt she could see my face. “Come here,” she said quietly. “I heard what you told us yesterday, about what your mom says? Sometimes you just need a hug.” I nearly started crying again right there. Slowly, I squirmed closer until my body was curled into hers. I smiled inwards. Besides the fact that my heart was trying to beat right out of my chest, I felt better. We both drifted off soon after.

 I woke up to the sun shining way too bright and the sound of…snickering? I opened my eyes and tried not to get totally blinded by the light. I looked up to see Nora, Fatin and Dot standing over me, all chuckling.

“What?” I mumbled. I must have woken Toni up because she started moving underneath me.

Oh.

That’s why they were laughing.

I had fallen asleep curled into Toni’s side and woken up completely entangled with her. It wasn’t a one-sided thing either, she was holding on to me for dear life. What. The. fuck. I jolted upright, maybe a little too fast because the three girls around us started to laugh more.

“Good morning love birds,” Fatin cooed.

“Shut up,” Toni said, using a hand to shield her eyes. “We were conserving heat.”

“Yeah, what she said,” I smiled. “Is it breakfast already?”

“Not quite,” Dot shrugged. “Martha and Shelby are still getting some berries and shit.”

“Oh well in that case I’m going back to bed,” Toni grunted, rolling over. Her and I were on water duty today, so technically we had no need to be up before breakfast anyway. Dot and the girls made their way back to the fire. I was half awake though. Might as well start the day early too. Except that Toni seemed to have other plans.

Before I had the chance to get up Toni was tugging at my arm, silently asking me to come lay down. I gave in immediately. “Come keep me warm,” she mumbled. And so I did. As I laid my head down onto her chest, I noticed Shelby looking at us. She turned away when she met my gaze, but there was something behind her eyes. Disgust. Great, just what we needed. Stranded in the middle of nowhere with a fucking homophobe.

“Do you think Shelby is homophobic,” I asked lowly.

“I dunno, maybe? Why?”

“No reason, I just….That would be pretty awkward if she was.”

“Yeah…”

 Nora woke me up a second time that day for breakfast. We ate in silence like we had done for the last few days. Food was running short and we were getting antsy. Toni and I broke away from the group after we ate with half of Fatin’s luggage bag. We trekked up and through the forest towards the waterfall. Neither of us said a word the whole trip. I was starting to overthink. Like, heavily overthink. In normal circumstances, overthinking might be appropriate. The night before was…not normal. But these were not ordinary circumstances. The middle of nowhere is probably the best place to have not normal and still be fine. Whatever. Right? Was it weird? Does she think I’m some weird crybaby now? Was that just a pity hug? Am I going absolutely crazy for no reason?

I’d gotten so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t even notice we’d arrived back at camp. As Toni and I got to work, filling bottles to boil, Rachel was shouting from the top of a cliff. She was holding up a sack of something, I couldn’t quite make it out.

“Who’s ready to fucking feast?”

Mussels. Rachel found mussels. Now, I’d never been one for survival training but the one thing I knew was that seafood was a no.

“I really don’t mean to be a bubble burster, it’s just that seafood can be really dangerous,” I explained. Rachel looked like she wanted to take my head off. “And we do not have the vicinities to properly prepare these.”

“So what, you’re saying I’m trying to poison all of us?” Rachel challenged.

“No! No, no, not at all Rach. This was a great find, you did good.” I smiled wearily. “All I’m saying is that maybe someone should sit this one out, you know? Just in case. If we’re all sick then we’ve got no chance.”

“Great then who’s gonna be the starving one?”

“I don’t mind. I got berries.”

 Turns out Shelby wouldn’t eat either. An allergy, I think she said. It felt good to see everyone this happy. Leah was genuinely smiling, Dot seemed a little less stressed. For a second it felt like we were actually on the retreat we were supposed to be on. Toni started to make out with her mussels. Or…well you know, with them. We all found it hilarious. Except for Shelby...

“Fuck you.” And with that Toni was off, running down the beach. I myself was on the brink of tears. Some churches man…they’ll brainwash even the best of 'em. I stared at the sand, not sure where to go. I wanted to chase after Toni, I wanted to stay right here and hide in the sand. The rest of the girls had gone quiet too.

“What?” Shelby asked. “Am I not allowed to have my own beliefs?”

“Not those ones,” I spat. I pushed myself up and jogged around the bend.

I saw Toni near the shoreline. She had her feet in the water. Cautiously, I crept up behind her. I didn’t want to startle her. “You good?”

Toni turned and her stance signaled she was ready for a fight. Her shoulders relaxed when she realized it was just me. “Yeah. No. Whatever, I just need a break from barbie bitch.”

“Yeah, you and me both,” I chuckled. “Will you though? Be okay?”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.” She looked back out at the sea.

“G-good. Okay, I, uh…good, I’m glad,” I was muttering. I mutter when I’m nervous. Avoiding eye contact, all that fun stuff.

“Why are you so nervous?” Shit. So she did notice. “I mean you’re chill around everyone else but you get all twitchy around me. What’s with that?” She paused and her face fell a bit. “Do I scare you?”

“Oh god no,” I grasped her hand. “No I promise Toni, I’m not scared of you.”

“Then what?”

I look down at my toes. “I-I um…you-“ I swallow hard. “You’re pretty.”

She didn’t say anything and I was about ready to jump into the ocean and never come back. And then she laughed. She fucking laughed! Oh my god I was going to cry. I felt like I had just been publicly rejected in middle school all over again.

“That was cute,” Toni said, still chuckling a bit. I looked her dead in the eyes and she wasn’t kidding.

“Okay, I’m gonna go back now.” I turned on my heel and started walking back, very briskly might I add. I could not believe that just happened. 

“Yeah me too-“Toni cut herself off and started heaving. I looked back. Toni was throwing up her entire stomach and then some. I rushed to her side, brushing the hair from her face. In the distance, I could see Rachel throwing up too. Oh Jesus Christ.

Shelby and I spent the rest of the day running from girl to girl, holding hair and passing out water. It was one huge haze of running back and forth, trying to make sure no one died. I knew that the mussels were a bad idea. God, how could I be so stupid? This was all my fault. Once Dot resurfaced from the dead, she took charge. Leah was sent to go find the medical bag while Dot and I boiled more water. She had me look over Toni and Marty while she took after the twins.

Toni was not good. By the time I got back to her, she was practically lifeless. Fatin was trying to get her to drink some canned water but it wasn’t working. Matha, who was equally unwell sat by idly, crying into her can of water and trying not to throw up again. I pulled Toni off of Fatin and into my lap, trying to get her to drink the water from my bottle. She kept turning her head away or pushing my hand. I pulled her closer and upright with one arm and got Fatin to hold her face in one place.

“Drink,” I told her. She couldn’t even speak but she shook her head. “Toni, drink. Please. You need to rehydrate for me okay?” I got her to drink a little, but she just couldn’t swallow. Martha started crying at some point. Luckily, Leah made it back with the medicine. 

Trying to fight Toni into taking the pill was not working Especially not when everyone started crowding and screaming at myself and Dot. Shelby crouched to our level and took the pill from Dot. This only made things worse. No way in hell was Toni ever going to accept anything from Shelby. But blondie wasn’t going down without a fight. In one motion, she’d shoved me out of the way and climbed on top of Toni, dropping the pill into her mouth and forcing her to swallow. 

 Night fell and everyone was exhausted. Toni hadn’t woken up since Shelby drugged her and honestly I was getting a little worried she died in her sleep or something. Martha wasn’t looking too hot either. She’d broken into a sweat despite the cold of the night. Everyone else is tucked into their respective beds, dead silent. The cold night air made it easier to relax. After a day like today all i wanted to do was curl up next to Toni and never wake up. 

Beside me, Toni started to stir. The weight I’d been carrying finally lifted off my shoulders. “Toni?”, I chimed. “Are you alive?”

“No,” she grumbled as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. I didn’t give her a moment more to readjust to life before I tackled her in a hug.

“Oh my god, you’re okay.” She laughed at me again, but this time I didn’t mind. Cause she wasn’t dead. Or close to dying. I pulled her back down on top of me. She fell asleep again in my arms. I smiled down at her. Once again, there was a moment where I wasn’t in living hell. It was just me and Toni. Somewhere safe. And warm, preferably. Everything was going to be okay.

 And then Marty dropped dead.