#gushing gushing and more gushing but not to the point where it can be classified as ‘THAT’

[lume-nosity]

it's ok ig... like we are awkward but he hasn't shut me out. i think, that he thinks i want something serious; no i don't. it's just a silly, "happy-happy" crush. tbh i want to tell him that, but i'm not sure because i wasn't even the one who said that i liked him 💀. i can't be 100% sure, because i asked him what my friend said and he told me that he didn't get what they said - but my friend who told him said otherwise.

so basically, we're awkward, still being shipped together, and terribly distanced.

i see, i do hope that didn’t affect your current status (whatever it may be) with him too much

the misunderstanding ☹️..

[mouwrites]

hihiii maybe a craig tucker X fem!reader who is a lot like princess bubblegum from adventure time?? studious, feminine, leader, and REALLY smart?? ty ciao!! 🫶

Ofc!! I can totally see him with someone like that honestly! :D

Word count: 897

South Park - Partner Project (Craig)

You frowned the minute you walked into the classroom. In huge letters on the whiteboard, the teacher had written: PARTNER PROJECT TODAY!

As if it were something to be excited about. You sighed, preparing yourself for the worst as you approached the teacher’s desk.

They smiled when they saw you, offering a warm greeting. “Ah, Y/n, my star pupil! I’ve put you with… let me see here…” they scrolled on their computer, apparently looking at some kind of table or document with the assigned pairs on it. “Mr. Craig Tucker. He’s sitting right over there.”

You followed the teacher’s gaze to an unassuming boy sitting at the back of the room. He blinked at his phone blankly, as if there wasn’t a thing in the world that he was interested in. You sighed again, clearly having your work cut out for you.

“Hi! I’m Y/n,” you chirped as you approached, suppressing your judgment of the boy. He looked at your extended hand for a second before slowly taking it and giving it the weakest handshake you’ve ever experienced.

“We’re partners for this project, so I’ll just sit over here, if that’s okay,” you continued, already unloading your stationery onto the desk beside him. You placed the assignment the teacher had given you on his desk, hoping he’d look at it while you settled.

He just shrugged apathetically, completely ignoring you and the assignment.

Your nose twitched distastefully. Yet you still tried to be polite when you said: “Right then. Let’s get started!”

You meant it as a hint; what you had really wanted to say was put your phone away and work with me here, but you knew that would’ve been counterproductive, so you bit your tongue and went with the honey rather than the mace.

Craig did put his phone away, but then he just looked at you dumbly.

“The instructions?”

“Oh. Right. Uh, step one…”

You smiled, scooting closer so you could both read the sheet. Craig paused, straightening his slouched posture as you leaned in.

You didn’t take notice, picking up where he left off in his reading. You used the tip of your pencil to point to the words as you read them, snapping up when you finished reading the first step.

“Okay, so we’re just classifying these biomolecules based on their chemical structure.”

“Uh, yeah, what you said.”

“So this one is a phospholipid—”

“A what?”

You blinked at Craig. “A phospholipid?”

He averted your gaze bashfully. “Um. What is that.”

You might’ve rolled your eyes, but you admired his humility, so instead you decided to take the opportunity to explain.

You became enlivened as you explained, gesticulating while your voice went up and down animatedly. You loved explaining things to people; oftentimes it felt more like gushing than anything else, though, and you’d lose yourself in your rambling. It was almost like you trapped yourself in a bubble that floated up to the clouds, high up where no one could reach you.

Today was no different. When you next became aware of yourself, several minutes had passed and your audience (one Craig Tucker) had adopted a new expression. It was one you hadn’t seen on him before; all his reactions you’d seen so far had been minimal, if existent at all. But now he was practically starstricken, his eyes twinkling and his cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Oops, I guess I rambled a bit. But do you get it?”

His eyes fluttered; he blinked several times before seeming to come back down to reality with you. Apparently you’d both been in that high bubble up in the clouds; you speaking, and him listening.

“Yeah, actually. So that one’s a… phos-pho-lipid too, right?” He spoke slowly but confidently, pointing to another diagram on the page.

You beamed. He actually listened! “Yes!”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Cool. Can you explain that one, too?”

You were more than happy to explain; not just the things he asked about (and, though you didn’t notice, he did ask a lot of questions), but things you wanted to explain anyway. And he listened intently, nodding along and putting his own input it when you prompted him. He was a quick learner. Or maybe you were just a good teacher.

By the end of class you managed to finish the assignment; other groups had finished before you, but you had spent a lot of time explaining, so you and Craig were a bit behind the others.

You were actually still explaining another concept while you both walked to the teacher’s desk to turn in your work. You paused in the threshold of the classroom, knowing you’d have to part ways now.

“But I’m rambling again, haha. See you later, Craig.”

“Yeah.”

You almost turned away, but you stopped when you heard him blurt out an urgent “Um..!”

“Can I have your number?” His cheeks reddened at your silence. “You’re just really smart. And good at explaining things. Things make more sense when… when it’s you… saying them..? Is that stupid?”

Your own cheeks suddenly felt hot, and you brought a bashful hand to cover one cheek. “Not at all! I actually really liked explaining things to you. You’re a good listener.”

And so you put your number into his phone, parting with the promise of seeing each other again soon.

The sooner the better… <3

Thank you so much for this request, I had some fun with this one!! And thanks for reading, take care you sweethearts <33

(divider by saradika)

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

I don’t feel like anything makes sense.

On one hand I occasionally experience romantic attraction but usually it’s platonic or alterous. I fancy the idea of a romantic relationship with those qualities to it without the romantic attraction part. But on another hand, the thought or action can sometimes be repulsive and I can’t decide whether I’d enjoy a relationship or not even though I gush about it. But at the same time it’s also like, what the fuck? None of this makes sense to me and I’d rather just love if I happen to love for whatever rare reason. And sometimes I have a hard time differentiating between my platonic, alterous, and romantic attractions because I experience them all the same to a degree. Like I could easily treat a close friend like a partner, and do couple-like things without it being classified as a relationship. It’s all so confusing sometimes.

Yeah, it can definitely be confusing. And we classify feelings and attraction in these neat boxes, but in real life it's not unusual for it to be a lot more mixed up than that.

The other thing is that we live in a society that tells us pretty forcefully 'this is how you're supposed to be feel' and 'this is what you're supposed to want', and I think sometimes what can really throw people is trying to fit themselves into that box particularly or trying to interpret their feelings/wants through that box. But generally speaking we do eventually learn to tune that out and figure out ourselves better.

You should get to a point where you will figure yourself out, Anon. At least to the point of understanding yourself and what actually makes sense for you. Just try your best to keep listening to yourself, and it may also take a bit of life experience, but you should get there.

All the best, and good luck!

[alesyira]

the call

i'm working on accidental vigilante and remembered some stuff that needed to be addressed. This oneshot scene (and the one i'm thinking might get posted here in a day or two) falls right after the oneshot 'glitch in the timeline' and kind of further explores these things in a roundabout way.

warning: implied character death(s)

The net is inundated with conflicting information about the mysterious disaster that claimed the Nighteye Agency. There are far too many “clarifying” statements that don’t clear up a damned thing. 

Izuku knows he probably won’t be able to get his hands on any footage from within the agency nor any cameras that might point at the building itself, but usually the city blocks surrounding an agency aren’t so locked down. 

Any video recorded on that day within a one-mile radius of the agency is under some of the heaviest classified protections he’s seen.

Even his classmates are baffled.

One of his classmates, X, offers to try spinning up a decryption run, but Izuku’s not sure it’ll be necessary. They might want answers right away, but it’s possible the footage will be released once investigations have completed, and it makes little sense to poke at a hornet’s nest and risk getting in trouble if they don’t have to.

He skims through the available news with escalating disbelief. 

“No comment.”

“The investigation is still ongoing.”

“We’ll release a press statement as soon as we know anything.” 

Three days pass. 

The few reports of survivors are overshadowed by the grim news of the rising death toll, clips of tearful pleas for information about missing people, and relentless social media footage that covers every angle of the aftermath. 

The commission refuses to release names of the injured or dead.

The main recovery efforts are called off after rescuers realize a water main has broken. A news feed shows water gushing out through cracks in the rubble, and it’s assumed that the basement levels have entirely flooded.

The crews clearing the mess continue to work tirelessly, carefully extracting the remainder of the debris in case they find another lucky soul.

The last unnamed survivor had been found the previous morning, though they died on the way to the hospital.

Izuku used to think quirks could do everything.

(He hasn’t thought that way for a very long time.)

He’s seen hints of rumors online that Lemillion had been spotted an hour earlier with an escort at the hospital, ducking out through a side exit to avoid the press.

Izuku hasn’t been able to find any hint of the hero’s presence at the disaster, but he’s done enough reading to be absolutely convinced there’s something big going on.

The commission never waits this long to release names of victims or survivors, or even a preliminary statement. This big of a disaster needs positive media coverage to maintain the public’s confidence. Delays with information can ripple out to cause other effects, such as dips in economy as fearful citizens stay home and criminals that take advantage of strained emergency resources to prey on the unprotected.

Izuku has teamed up with X to dig into a media network’s messaging system when the phone rings, startling him from the tiny text scrolling across his screen.

His mom mutes the TV and hurries over to the phone. 

He’s been dreading this moment, when his mom’s work calls her back from vacation because they need more hands to help with the emergency. 

He wants to keep her home with him, where she’s safe.

He’d seen something terrifying that day, and the longer he can keep her indoors, the better he’ll feel.

She fumbles the handset and nearly drops it, then presses it to her ear with a shaky, “Hello?” 

Silence.

His mom gasps.

Izuku’s gaze snaps in her direction just in time to see her hand flutter up to clutch at her throat as her expression crumples. 

She moans out a low, "Oh, no. Mitsu."

She sinks slowly to the floor and grips at the phone with both hands. 

There’s been an unspoken acknowledgment that his childhood friend had been part of his bullying in school.

She’s seen his burns, heard the stories of Kaachan just playing too rough.

He thinks she eventually understood what he’d been hiding, once she stopped making him go back to that place and let him enroll in online courses.

Yet, as much as he knocked Izuku around, he’s certain he wouldn’t have pushed him from the window. It was against his nature to hurt someone with their back turned. 

He’d always been so directly confrontational and wanted to be known for his actions.

His mom hasn’t spoken with Mitsuki since sometime after the 'accident' at the school. 

That she’s calling now can mean only one thing.

He turns his attention back to the muted TV, tuning out his mother’s tearful words as she tries to soothe her closest friend.

How many work-study students had been present at the disaster?

Why is the commission still being so quiet about what happened?

His mom throws on her shoes, grabs her keys, and shouts out a hasty farewell as she hurries out the door.

He doesn’t look up as his memory is stuck on repeat, cycling around the vision of black bursting through shattered glass, shivering inches from his face, the scent of ozone in his nose, electricity tingling through the air.

What the fuck kind of eldritch horror had exploded out of the building that day?

i will probably post this to ao3 soonish, but a creative title, summary, author's notes etc takes some more thinking and i'm just about out of spoons. (...and the chapters I have already posted for villain really need some heavy revision with all the storyline bits i've been adding lately)

enjoy early :) :)

[rozcdust]

Murder on my mind

Pairing: Petshop trio x gn!reader

Genre: Crack, Soulmate AU

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Canon divergent, ooc, violence, bodily harm, suggestive, profanity

Synopsis: Your soulmate is a fucking asshole and you’re absolutely tired.

pt. 1 | pt. 2

“Listen-“ Chifuyu was interrupted by a punch in the face, “Okay, I deserved that-“

Another landed on his temple, and he stumbled back, holding his face.

“That still hurts even if you-“

“DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE!?” You were screaming, absolutely furious, turning towards Baji to kick his shins, sending him sprawling on the ground.

They felt slightly bad, knowing the extend of injuries they caused you, so they let you go on your little murder rampage without offering much of a fight.

You kicked Baji’s ribs for good measure.

“So could we talk about this or-“ Tora tried, but you pounced on him in a second, punching him, ignoring the way your nose started gushing even more blood.

It was probably broken at this point, but you didn’t care, you had to get 13 years of pent up frustration and pure rage out, goddammit.

“Okay now you’re going overboard-“ Chifuyu tried to get you off Kazutora, but only ended up on the ground as well, getting kicked repeatedly.

“Overboard? OVERBOAD?! MOTHERFUCKER CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT THE FUCK IT WAS LIKE- YOU KNOW THE KIND OF MONEY I SPENT ON BANDAGES? I GOT FUCKING STABBED BECAUSE OF YOU FUCKERS!”

Tora held his nose, sheepishly looking away from you.

“Yeah, that was kinda my fault.”

You stopped your attempt to make sure Chifuyu never has children to stare at him.

“You got stabbed?”

“Oh no, he stabbed me.” Baji raised his hand, still curled up on the ground holding his ribs.

You matched over to him to step on them further, enjoying the crack that came out of your own ribs.

Did this classify as self harm?

Probably.

Did you like the fact he is the one who’ll get to feel the pain until your ribs heal?

Fuck yes.

“Dude, you’re only hurting yourself.” Kazutora noted, getting up in a sitting position.

Round house kicking him in the face, sending him right back to where he was, you decided you were done, taking a step back to plop yourself on the ground and glare at the three men in front of you.

“You look fucked.” Baji noted, getting up as he held his ribs, cringing when you threw your bag at him.

You crossed your arms, hard glare switching between the three of them as you planned their murder.

“Explain yourselves.” Your voice was cold as you spat out the blood pooling in your mouth.

“Do you have to do that?” Chifuyu questioned, frustrated, propping himself up to glare at you, but that didn’t look all that impressive with him still holding his groin and squinting.

“I am currently planning how to make you disappear under mysterious circumstances. Me bleeding all over your fucking store is the least of your goddamn worries, bEsTIe.” You screeched, throwing a bottle of formula for kittens at him.

Chifuyu only offered you a confused glance as Tora groaned next to him.

“Again, my fault.” Tora’s eyes were closed into a frown as he raised his hand from the floor.

“Is everything your fault?”

“Mostly.”

Baji finally managed to get up fully, stumbling over to the counter to get you a tissue, and as he tried to hand it to you, you had to contain the urge to bite his fucking finger off.

“I still want an explanation.” You huffed, grabbing the tissue to dab up the blood which now started dripping onto your shirt.

“So we were in a gang when we were younger-“

“YOU WHAT?!” You jumped up, Baji holding you back to stop you from kicking Chifuyu’s face in.

“Yea, so, sorry about all that?” Kazutora offered, now sitting down with his legs crossed, cringing with every movement.

Excellent.

You wanted them to suffer and burn in the pits of fucking hell.

“Do you think a sorry is gonna fucking cut it?” You glared, leaning your head down so as to not choke on your own blood.

“Is it a sorry enough we let you kick the shit out of us? We got better, didn’t we?” Chifuyu tried, but got your pocket knife flying at him.

You regretted not stabbing any of them.

Sitting down, you glared as you unbuttoned your shirt, revealing the hickeys and bite marks covering your neck and chest, allowing them to speak for themselves.

“So not better, but-“

“No buts.” You gritted out, glaring at Baji as he sat down next to you, just out of arm’s reach.”

“You three assholes- Do you fucking- Where do I even fucking start? You made me go to the ER every fucking day, use concealer by the bucket WHICH WAS FUCKING EXPENSIVE-“ Your voice was growing into frantic screaming by the millisecond, “STILL DO BECAUSE I HAVE YOUR FUCKING HICKEYS ALL OVER ME YOU! YOU HORNY MOTHERFUCKERS, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING WHORE-“ You took a breath, “NOT TO FUCKING MENTION THE AMOUNT OF BANDAIDS AND BANDAGES AND FUCKING RUBBING ALCOHOL- AND THE TATTOO-“

“Again, me.” Tora bashfully admitted.

He was testing his luck because he thought you had nothing to throw at him anymore.

He thought wrong.

As your phone connected with his head, he realised nothing is holy to you and he should probably be very, very afraid.

You took a deep breath.

And then another.

And another.

And then you jumped at Baji to punch him.

Now you were done.

“You met us 10 minutes ago and already slutshaming us?” Chifuyu tried, jokingly, but shut up when he saw the murder in your eyes.

“So,” Baji started, offering you another tissue. “Apology over dinner?”

You snorted, accepting it.

“I don’t even know your names and I plan to kill you in your sleep.”

“I’m Kazutora.”

“Guilty for everything, cool, thanks asshole.”

“Baji.”

“Fuck you, I’ll stab you again.”

“You already broke my rib.”

“I broke my fucking rib, don’t try me bitch, I will pull out your spine and beat you to death with it.”

“And your name? Or do I just…” Chifuyu trailed off, forming finger guns, winking, “Call you ours?”

He was lucky Baji held you back.

Again.

He was quickly becoming number one on your murder list.

“All of you are inconsiderate, insensitive, self centred, selfish fucking assholes and I will go to fucking church just to pray that you end up in hell.”

“Ouch.”

“YOU WANT ANOTHER OUCH MOTHERFUCKER?!”

Kazutora quickly shook his head no.

You sighed, exhausted.

“I’m y/n.”

“Well. Nice to meet you y/n.” Chifuyu awkwardly waved, trying to not shrink under your murderous gaze.

“About that dinner…” Baji raised an eyebrow, chuckling nervously as you turned towards him, your teeth gritted.

You honestly looked terrifying with blood all over your hands and face, hints of bruises already forming all over your skin.

“Take me to the hospital first.”

“Deal, bestie.” Kazutora joked as he got up, your house keys quickly meeting his face, “Seriously, how much shit do you have in your pockets?”

His question was answered by a fidget spinner.

“Babe, do you still want to kill us?” Baji asked, looking up at you, his hands wrapped around your waist as all four of you were sprawled on their bed, your head on Kazutora’s chest, Chifuyu’s legs tangled with yours.

“Every day.”

“You should forgive us for that already.” Kazutora softly stroked your shoulder, flinching when your glare turned towards him.

“I will forgive you when I see you freezing in the 9th circle of hell with Lucifer.”

“You love us.” Chifuyu mumbled, half asleep, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“I hate you and hope you die a painful and miserable death.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed, tilting your chin towards him, planting a soft kiss filled with nothing but adoration on your lips.

“I want a kiss too.” Baji pouted, licking your neck.

“I will bite your fucking lips off.”

“Kinky.”

“I will smother you in your sleep.”

“Love you too, baby.”

���Taglist:

@1818cigarettes @babu-haitani @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @lagrimasdeglitter @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @emilywaters @m0rrax @levistiddies @bxnten @spookydraken @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @gigibobigi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @bontenacious @lumi-does-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @haikyuu-simps-assemble @soushswag @the-et-haggis @izanas-sugarbaby @dinglebarry @siriuspisces

a/n: quality writing and accurate fighting scenes? with plot? in this economy? never 😤

[drabsyo]

What are your three favorite cissamione fics? What’s a trope or plot line you’d love to read about them?

(I'm so happy to get this ask :''))

Top three favorite Cissamione fics!

🔹 Extinction by rubikanon

(But were you really surprised? I think at this point, people are getting sick of me gushing over Extinction. And here I go. Again. So. It's in first person, and look, I get that a lot of people can't bear to go through the first person perspective but everything about Extinction is just executed so perfectly. In fact, I think it worked even better in first person because it shows Hermione's thought process throughout it all and I think it gave their character development--from people who can't stand each other, to people who can't bear to be apart from each other--even greater impact. After all, this is Hermione Granger we're talking about, and Hermione Granger is STUBBORN. We get to see Narcissa through Hermione as she herself sees the woman and I think, for a ship like this one--which is just so unlikely and so unusual and so unexpected and so "Whoops! Did that really just happen?!"--that makes it even more interesting, even more convincing. It makes you think "Hey, they really do work well together, they really make sense!" Listen, I can gush all day about Extinction. I'm actually quite embarrassed over how gushy I can get. As it stands, this is probably my most favorite written work in ao3 ever. And I like to think that says a lot, since I've read enough stories in ao3 to fill a library and it just keeps stacking up. I'd sell my liver just to read a version of Extinction in Narcissa's point of view exclusively.)

Summary: Now complete with less vague summary! Post-war adventure across the British countryside, Hermione accidentally falls in love with Narcissa Malfoy, classified missions and intrigue and dementors oh my, Ron isn't a jerk (what?! unheard of!), slow burn romance with a Serious Plot. "This is your last chance to turn back. I won't be responsible for any nightmares it brings you."

🔹 From Heads Unworthy by intheinkpot

(THIS. Chapter one? Short, but mind-blowing. Suspense on every chapter. You're thrown right into the middle of things. Everything has gone downhill, this is the worse possible outcome: Harry dies, Voldemort wins. But the story knows how to handle that gracefully, smoothly, and the more I educate myself with the tone of Harry Potter, the more I begin to appreciate intheinkpot's execution of From Heads Unworthy. It's told in a series of drabbles, which isn't usually my first choice, but this one gets it right. The chapters don't feel too abrupt with the time-skips, and it's understandable that it's paced (reasonably) slowly because we're dealing with a Hermione, a Ron, and a Narcissa who are thrown into an extremely desperate position--none of them want to be there. Ron and Hermione have their goals: do something, find a way to win. Narcissa on the other hand, as she usually is, is in this delicate grey area that is just handled so well in the story--she's a Slytherin, she's about being loyal to her people (often with complete disregard for right or wrong) and being ambitious. But where are her people now? Where's her seat in the round table (if she really had one to begin with)? Where's her influence, her kingdom ruled by so called noble bloods? Stronger and grander more than ever, yes, but now it's looming over her, ruthlessly hunting her down with the same kind of merciless tenacity that once kept her protected. Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione don't even know where to start: there's no support, there's no Harry. They're all under fire. They're all displaced. Together. I couldn't put From Heads Unworthy down once I picked it up. Trust me. It's very slow burn, but worth reading every word.)

Summary: Unable to destroy Nagini, Harry dies at the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione saves Narcissa from Voldemort's wrath, and now it's up to them to figure out how to destroy the snake and bring Voldemort down. Told as a series of drabbles and one shots.

🔹 Slithering Into Your Heart by DisasterLesbean

(Confession time. I read this during the first time I participated in fleurmione week, because I had read DisasterLesbean's submission for fleurmione week--Just Gals Being Pals--which I loved, so I wanted to read more from the same writer. One of them was Slithering Into Your Heart. I was curious. Then I was pleasantly surprised. And well... the title says it all. ❤)

Summary: The look Narcissa gives her makes her shift uneasily. It’s a hungry look. The look of someone starved coming across a meal for the first time in days. It’s the same expression Hermione had the first time she managed to use magic intentionally.

Favorite Tropes/Plotlines!

🔶 Post-war

I'm a big fan of Hermione fumbling a little bit after the war, she's a little bit unsure about where to go from there, she's carrying that trauma with her, she's restless, she's frustrated, she's a little displaced. A world after the war isn't exactly how she expected it to be; inequality is still everywhere, and Harry and Ron are quick to move on. It's lonely for Hermione somehow, so she throws herself in work instead. And Narcissa, she's basically an outcast now--on both sides. The last living and recognized heir of a once proud and noble bloodline. It's not something she can run away from; she's either a Black or a Malfoy, never just Narcissa. Andromeda is estranged, there's no telling which among them would willingly reach out first, stubborn as they both are. Bellatrix is gone. Lucius is in Azkaban. Draco has grown up. The manor has never felt colder. Emptier. She's never felt more alone. It's a new world, for both Hermione and Narcissa. And they sort of find each other, slowly, through all that rubble. It's that realization that kicks in slowly, delicately, to both of them, "I think I might not be alone after all."

🔶"Research Partners? With HER?! NEVER! Oh. Wait. Actually-"

I think this one is self-explanatory. They can't stand to be in the same room with one another. But once they actually start talking about topics of interest, something just clicks. Hermione doesn't feel like she needs to hold back whenever she's talking to Narcissa. Narcissa doesn't feel like she's blending in the backdrop, Hermione always pays so much attention to their conversations, she's naturally curious, and Narcissa doesn't have to worry about whether or not she's just being tuned out. Invisible for most of her life, but Hermione looks at her like she's the only person in the room who can understand her. Narcissa is reserved, the modicum of a cool, practiced composure. Hermione is outspoken, passionate, and a bleeding heart. But they both go about things with meticulous detail. They're just so surprisingly alike in many ways, that it's easy to become fond of one another. It's easy to learn from one another. Bonus points when they get a little carried away. There's a sparkle in their eyes, almost like, "Oh. You're actually listening to me--wait, you love This Thing too?! Okay, but what do you think about--no way! Me too!" Ha. NERDS. That's it. That's the post. Hermione Granger and Narcissa Black being NERDS. And very in love.

🔶 "MERLIN'S SOGGY BULLOCKS! You're dating WHO?!"

Ginny spits her drink. Ron has his mouth hanging open in shock. Harry's face is blank. Molly Weasley faints. Andromeda's eyebrows are rising to her hairline. Draco also tries not to faint. The press are having a heyday. Rita Skeeter's frothing at the mouth for scandalous details. Daily Prophet headline reads, "Most Scandalous Witches of Their AGE," Tonks is laughing hysterically. Luna tells them, "Congratulations!" Everyone is confused. Even I am confused. But I am also cackling.

🔶 Humanizing Narcissa Malfoy

Yes. We get it. She's Narcissa Malfoy. Pureblood. A Black. A Malfoy. Wife of a Death Eater. Draco Mafloy's mother. Hosted Voldemort in her own home. The Ice Queen. Slytherin Princess. Titles goes on. But she's human. She's a mother. She's a sister. She's a daughter. She's a wife. She also loves to read, loves to brew potions, teaches herself how to cook after the war. She puts her hair up, messy and effortlessly whenever she's at home. She spends a fair amount of time in the morning getting ready for her day. She drinks wine all by herself at night, or at any time of day really, and ponders over the course of her life. There's a quiet sadness about her, about everything she's been through. A knot in her brow, often barely imperceptible, hinting at quiet dissatisfaction. But she can also smile, pure and unbridled joy, eyes crinkling in the corners, open-mouthed and toothy. There are cracks in the impenetrable wall, moments of what she would call weakness, imperfections. She's also a coward, she's also afraid. But she's also brave, she's also ruthless. She's a spectrum of emotions, not just one thing. She's Narcissa.

[clairecrive]

"Lovers quarrel" - Darkling x reader

A/n: this was not requested but I had a dream tonight and I had to write it. So here it is. Also, this is my first time writing for him so yeah hope it's good.

Warnings: the darkling x sun summoner reader, a bit of angst but fluffy ending

Word count: 672

Tags: @thefictionalgemini, @louweasleymalfoy, @jupiterandbutterflies, @for-bebbanburg, @tarkanelima-blog, @blackst0nes7077 (I think this classifies as fluff), @pansysgirlfriend

Add yourself to my taglist here.

SHADOW AND BONE MASTERLIST

You heard the tent where you were staying flap open. You stood with your back to it but you needn't turn around to know who it was.

"Y/n." His voice was tentative. If he didn't already know that he was in trouble, your tense posture would have sufficiently warned him.

"No." You were angry and when you were angry, it was best you stayed away from confrontation. It was bound to get messy. But you knew that Aleksander was not going to give up.

"Are you so afraid of what you could become?"

"You lied to me." You snapped as you finally turned around to face him.

"So you think." He pointed out as he sat down on your shared bed.

"Do not patronize me, Aleksander."

"Come here, y/n. I just want to talk to you." A pat on the bed beside him, an invitation to make up.

"I'm not going to respond to myself if I get near him." You think but of course, didn't say.

"Come here, solnishko."

But he knew what to say to get to you. He knew you too well. And despite your anger, you hated being cross with him. You trusted him, you always had. He had never given you a reason not to but sometimes it was hard to do since he had the annoying habit of keeping his plans to himself until the very last moment.

There was something intangible that attracted you to Aleksander. It wasn't just his onyx eyes or his unexpected wit. There was something more. Something that snapped in you the first time you saw him and that had never fully recovered, even after being with him for a while.

You were connected to him, there was no denying it. People loved to gush about the symbolism and parallelism between your powers and yes, that worked perfectly for a romance novel or a poem. And you couldn't deny the comfort that his shadows around you brought you. He balanced you. You were hotheaded while he was logical and calculated. You were bubbly and easy to approach while everyone was always a bit nervous if not scared before going to speak with the Darkling.

He was yours. He might be annoying and frustrating but he was yours.

You got closer to him, still iffy with him. You stopped at a arms' length from him but he wasn't having it. He hooked his hands on your waist and pulled you close 'till you were straddling him. He cradled your face in his hands.

"Don't be mad at me, zhizn moya." He whispered resting his forehead on yours.

"You always keep me in the dark, Aleksander. You know I don't like it."

"It's quite impossible to keep you in the dark, solnishko."

You leaned back a bit. His smirk fell at the glare you were sending him.

"Everything I do is to keep you safe."

"I thought you and I were a team."

"We are. But if there's something I can do to keep you safe, I'm not going to hesitate, lybimaya."

"Keeping me ignorant will not keep me safe."

"No, but I will."

"I want to keep you safe too but you don't see me pushing you away, do you?"

"You don't need to worry about me, dorogaya."

"But I do, lyubimiy. I do. You're everything to me."

Aleks' face didn't betray any emotion as usual but his breathing gave him away. His breath hitched after the pet name. My love. Even if you were not shy in your affection for him, he was still getting used to it.

His eyes moved over your face as if he was assessing a threat. He recognized the look you were giving him, the sheer stubbornness behind it. You weren't going to let this go. And he hated when the two of you fought.

He sighed and pulled you closed to him with the hands that were still on your face. His lips trailed over yours, touching them but not quite. a whisper of a kiss.

"I did not want to cause you any pain, zhizn moya. I'll do better, I promise."

A whispered promise. A deal sealed with your lips.

-

zhizn moya= my life

dorogaya= my dear

solnishka= little sun

lybimaya= my love

[tricksters-captain]

Bucky Barnes Imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 3

Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.  

In this chapter: After finding Sharon in Madripoor, you learn about the creator of the soldier serum (Based on S1 EP3)

(PART 1) (PART 2)

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 3,457

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 3, violence, strong language.

Once you arrived at Sharon’s you were itching to get out of the costume Zemo cooked up for you. 

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well.” Sam gawked at Sharon’s place which was full of art work and collectables. 

“I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I’ll get for a real Monet?” Sharon shrugged as she lead you through her gallery. 

“Easy...Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monets.” Sam didn’t believe her as he stared at the artwork. 

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.” Zemo defended Sharon as he followed her.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky informed Sam. 

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” Sam pulled out his phone and started searching a nearby paining. 

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Bucky teased him for it. 

“No shit.” Sam muttered as the realisation hit him. 

“You guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour.” Sharon beckoned you along to which you were silently thankful for. 

Sharon was kind enough to let you look through her vast collection of clothes until you picked out something you liked. 

“Hey... You okay?” You asked softly. 

You and Bucky were alone with your backs to each other as you changed in one of Sharon’s many rooms.

“I’m fine.” Bucky replied quietly. 

You knew he wouldn’t be fine after having to act like the winter soldier again. You watched him at that bar. He didn’t hold back when he attacked those men. 

“Buck, you know you can’t lie to me.” You tried to keep it light but Bucky wasn’t having it. 

“I’m not.” 

You didn’t push.

“Hey, will you zip me up?” You asked after stepping into your dress. You didn’t turn but you could hear Bucky’s footsteps as he approached you. 

You felt the cold of his fingers brush against your back as he slowly zipped up the dress. 

You turned when the zip reached the top. 

“Thanks.” You whispered. 

Bucky’s eyes were burning through you as he admired your choice of dress. 

“You look beautiful.” Bucky murmured, his eyes taking in every detail. 

“You scrub up quite nicely yourself.” You smiled as you admired Bucky in the suit Sharon had given him. You couldn’t deny the butterflies in your stomach as you thought about a possible normal circumstance Bucky could wear something like this. Like a date. 

“Come on.” Bucky took your hand and lead you to the door that would take you back to the others. 

“It’s alright. I’m gonna sort my hair out. Running through Low-town didn’t exactly do it any favours.” You retracted your hand and returned to the mirror. Bucky hesitated didn’t question you. 

“What’s going on with you and Bucky?” Sharon’s voice filled the room as you  heard the door open again. “Thought the two of you’d be together by now.”

“We’re coworkers. We’ve always been coworkers.” You were wary of Sharon’s new found attitude.

“Oh please. You two have wanted to jump each others bones the whole time I've known you.” Sharon rolled her eyes at you as she slump down on the love seat beside you.

You remained silent as you brushed through your hair. 

“Oh come on.” Sharon rolled her eyes. “You two have never?” 

“No.” You said almost too quickly. 

“Well it’s only a matter of time. I don’t know why you are dragging it out so long.” Sharon sighed dramatically as she picked at the fabric on the settee. 

“I don’t know why everyone is so invested in mine and Bucky’s relationship.” You spun around to face her. “You. Sam. Steve. You all poke and prod but you don’t take into consideration all the factors.”

“No you don’t take into consideration that there’s only so much time before one day you’re shot or killed or you have to go on the run and never see him again. You need to grow some balls, (y/n).” Sharon didn't bother sticking around after that. 

You groaned and closed your eyes. 

When you finally decided to rejoin the group, they were discussing Sharon’s status in Madripoor.

“What’s going on, Sharon? You don’t ever wanna come back home?” Sam asked as he put on a shirt. 

“They’ll lock me up if I step foot back in the States. Madripoor doesn’t allow extradition.” Sharon replied pretty matter-of-factly as she walked over to her desk. 

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call, but after the Blip and the chaos, I just––” Sharon cut Sam off before he could explain himself. 

“––Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy. 

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo felt the need to jump in. 

“By the way, how is the new Cap?” Sharon asked.

“Don’t get me started.”Bucky grumbled.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit. Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” Sharon smirked as she sat down beside Bucky.

“Wow. She’s kind of awful now.” Bucky said as he looked over at you.

“Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum.” You took the initiative to change the topic back to the reason you were here in the first place. 

“You guys really should steer clear of all of this for your own safety.”Sharon warned you as she shook her head. 

“We know it’s a risk, but we won’t leave until we find the one who cracked the code.” Sam took the chair beside Sharon as he spoke. 

“We got a name. Wilfred Nagel.” Bucky told her. 

“Nagel works for the Power Broker.” Sharon informed you as she stood to pour herself a drink. 

“We need your help, Sharon. I can get your name cleared.” Sam offered. 

“You haggling with my life?” Sharon smirked again.

“Not like that.” Sam shook his head. 

“I don’t buy that. You pretending like you can clear my name.” Sharon leant back against her bar. 

“Okay, maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you’re right. What happened to you. But I’m willing to try if you are. They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he’s met.” Sam approached her with his good old puppy dog eyes. 

“I heard that.” Bucky frowned, unimpressed by Sam’s use of example. 

“I don’t trust charity.” Sharon sighed. 

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your name cleared.” Sam offered his hand. 

“Well, I sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay outta trouble. I’ll see what I can find.” Sharon took the deal. 

The party seemed to suddenly start. 

Within minutes the whole place was jam packed. Music suffocated the space and the smell of sweat and alcohol was growing.

You stayed in between Sam and Bucky as you walked single file through the gathering. You reached back and linked fingers with Bucky’s to make sure you didn’t get parted in the crowd. 

As the bar came into view, you felt a hand grab your ass. 

“Hey!” Bucky took hold of the stranger and slammed him against the nearest wall. Holding him by the throat. 

Sam was there to diffuse the situation in a second. He placed a. hand on Bucky’s shoulder to pull him away. 

“Lay low remember.” Sam repeated what Sharon had told everyone over the blaring music. 

Bucky released the creep and stepped back. 

That gave you enough space to send your own punch. The man cried out, sliding down the wall and cradling his gushing nose. 

“Looks like she does not need help.” Zemo chimed in. 

You all left the guy without drawing too much attention to yourselves. 

The music wasn’t exactly your taste and you knew that it definitely wasn’t Bucky's but that didn’t stop you from taking him away from Sam and Zemo. 

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked you. 

“Got a bit boring just standing there, no?” You smirked. 

“You can’t expect me to dance to this, can you?” Bucky grimaced at the pulsing beat that classified as music. 

“You can try.” You smirked as you brought yourself closer to the man. 

You moved your body to the music, smiling widely him as he awkwardly tried to sway to it. 

“I thought you were a good dancer?!” You teased Bucky as you watched him. 

“I was!” Bucky defended himself. “When the music was Louis Armstrong and Glenn Miller!” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the man before wrapping your arm around his neck. 

“You gotta move a bit more like this.” You tried to show him, taking his hand and placing it on your hip. 

Bucky was starting to look a little less like a grandpa as he got into the groove of it. 

His eyes were locked on you, a small smile on his lips. He looked undeniably handsome. 

“I think you’re getting it.” You leant up by his ear to tell him. 

“Well, we can’t look any worse than Zemo.” Bucky pointed through the crowd where Zemo was dancing. 

You burst into laughter at the sight of the war criminal dancing and buried your face into Bucky’s neck. Bucky laughed next to your ear. It was a rare genuine sound that sent tingles through your head. 

“Come on.. Let’s get some water.” You left the dance floor and rejoined Sam by the bar where he had started to speak to some other guests.

Sharon approached you a little while later with some good news and so you all immediately left the party. 

“Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam stated as you arrived at the location of Nagel. 

“They know how to party.” Zemo agreed. 

You followed Sharon through the shipping container yard as she searched for the right one.

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” Sharon stopped and pointed over to a red container. “All right. He’s in there. Container four-two-six-one. I’ll watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.”

“You want me to stick around out here with you in case you run into trouble?” You asked her as you all took an ear piece. 

“I’ll be alright. I’ll call if I need any back up.” Sharon dismissed your offer before walking away. 

You all entered the container cautiously before Sam contacted Sharon. 

“Hey, Sharon. You sure this is the right one? It’s completely empty.” He was right. To the eye, it was empty. 

“Positive. It has to be.” Sharon replied. 

You shared a look between Sam and Bucky as Zemo felt around the. back of the container. 

Suddenly, it shifted and a hidden door opened. 

Soft music played from below along with a muffled voice. 

It has to be Nagel. 

Sam, Bucky and you all went in armed. 

You silently negotiated between each other which urged Sam to go ahead and cut the music. Nagel spun around at the intrusion. 

“Dr. Nagel?” Sam inquired. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” The man wasn’t intimidating and didn't seem to have any weapons around him but you had learnt in the past not to underestimate your opponent.

“We know you created the super-soldier serum.” Sam informed him. 

“Get out of my lab.” Nagel demanded pretty boldly considering Sam was the one with the gun. 

“Hey! You know who he is, right?” Sam asked as he caught the shocked look on Nagel’s face at the sight of Bucky.  This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him, too, right? You seem like a pretty smart guy. So you better become conversational real quick.”

“How about a counter proposal? Make me a better offer and I’ll talk.”Nagel smirked. 

“Guys, we have company.” Sharon’s voice whispered through the ear piece. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go.” 

“I’ll go up.” You lowered your gun from Nagel and went to turn when Sam stopped you. 

“No, we might need you.” Sam meant he might need your powers. 

“But...” You gestured to your ear. 

“She didn’t ask for back up.” Sam argued. 

You sighed but listened to Sam. 

Bucky moved Nagel over to a chair. He held his gun to the man’s temple. 

“Here’s your counter offer.” Bucky shot next to Nagel’s head which worked wonders to make him talk. 

“Okay. Okay. I was brought into HYDRA’s Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia. When HYDRA fell, I was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples from an American test subject with semi-stable traces of serum in his system. After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary compounds in his blood. I was a god. I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do. But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect.”

“How have we never heard about this?” You asked, your eyes flicking over at Sam. 

“Because… Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust. Then when I returned, it was five years later, program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.” Nagel explained. 

“How many vials did you make?” Sam asked. 

“Twenty. Karli Morgenthau stole those, so I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl.” 

“Where’s Karli now?”You stepped forward, rolling up your sleeve as a warning.

“I don’t know where she is. But a couple of days ago, she called and asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. Poor woman has tuberculosis. Typical of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.” You took a mental note of the name Nagel mentioned. 

“Well, what happened to her?” You pushed

“Not my pig. Not my farm.” Nagel shrugged. 

You looked back at Sam with a look asking if you should check if he's telling the truth but Sam shook his head. 

“Is there any serum in this lab?” Bucky asked. 

Nagel sent Bucky a deep glare but Bucky’s gun brought forth the answer. 

“No.”

“Now what?” Bucky asked you and Sam. 

“Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” Sharon bursted in, looking a little battered. 

All of a sudden, Zemo pulled a gun out and shot Nagel. 

“No!” Sam cried out

You lunged forward and reached for the man’s arm. If you could catch his final moments of life leaving his body you could still get the memories but as you hand touched his skin all you saw was darkness. 

You screamed as you went blind. 

You felt a pair of hands pull you up from the ground to which you could only assume was Bucky. 

“What did you do?!” Sharon gasped at Zemo’s action. 

“I can’t see, Buck.” You felt your whole body go limp in his arms as you muttered those final words before you passed out. 

When you felt your eyes open again, you were out of the container. Gun shots were muffled in your eyes as you heard Bucky and Sam arguing. 

You were covered in dust and you didn’t have your gun. 

“Where’s my gun?” You asked. That’s when the boys realised you were awake. 

You only managed to crawl over to Bucky to take it from him and start to fire. 

Your aim was off from how exhausted you were but the adrenaline was there enough for you to get a good few shots in. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked you as the firing stopped. Zemo was busy taking out the remaining bodies so it gave you time to sit back again. 

“Not really.” You shook your head. Your body felt cold and darkness still clouded the corners of your vision. It’s what happened when you tried to get the memories from a dead body, all you could see and feel is death. Your powers only worked on living people or people close to death. 

“Come on.” Bucky lifted you up, tucking his arm underneath you to keep you steady on your feet. 

You only lasted being half dragged/half running before Bucky picked you up. You hated being carried but this was a life or death situation. 

“Buck!” Sam shouted as some more bounty hunters appeared. Bucky put you down and you fell against the container door as he used a broken off pipe to fight them off. 

“Let’s go!” Sam tugged you both inside.

Bucky kicked open the back of the container so you could escape, only for you to be met by Zemo in a swanky getaway car. 

“Supercharged.” Zemo gestured to his ride. 

“You’re going back to jail.” Sam told Zemo. 

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo asked. 

“He’s right. We need him.” You tried to speak but your throat was hoarse. 

“And there’s only three of us, and at least 20 of them.” Bucky added. 

“Fine. But if you try that shit again...” Sam warned him. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo stated. Not that he was to be trusted. 

Sam helped you into the back seat. There was concern painted across his face. 

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” Sharon sighed as she placed her hands on the car. 

“Come back to the States with us.” Sam tried to persuade her. 

“I can’t. Just get me that pardon you promised me.” Sharon reminded him of the deal they made. 

“Thanks for everything.” Sam nodded. “You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. 

You laughed weakly as you remembered the same conversation back when Steve was still around. 

Back on Zemo’s plane, you took a position on the small couch with Bucky. You were resting your eyes but trying to stay awake as you listened to the boys talk. 

“Donya Madani. She’s a refugee, yeah.” Sam had contacted Torres about the woman Nagel had mentioned. “Call me if you get a hit. --- Thanks, Torres.”

“You okay?” Bucky asked Sam as Sam slouched down.  

“Yeah. Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through. And Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person. Just makes me wonder how many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal.”

“Well, it depends on who you ask. That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives.” Bucky looked up from cleaning his hand. 

“Yeah, I get that. All right. Maybe I made a mistake.” Sam confessed. 

“You did.” Bucky agreed with that statement and so did you but you kept your eyes closed. 

“Yeah. Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. Maybe I should have destroyed it.” Sam didn’t say what you expected. 

“Look, that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me. The world is upside down, and we need a new Cap, and it ain’t gonna be Walker. So before you destroy it, I’ll take it from him myself.” Bucky turned to face Sam as he spoke. You felt the couch shift.

Sam then got a call with the information on Madani. 

“They found Madani… Dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go. I, for one, am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli. Oeznik, we’re changing the course.” Zemo’s voice was the last thing you remembered before waking up at landing. 

“Hey sleepy head.” Bucky whispered quietly. He’d rather be caught dead than let Sam hear him say that. 

“Have we landed?” You asked as you rubbed your eyes. 

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “Come on.” 

It didn’t take too long to get to Zemo’s place but when you did, Bucky decided to break away. 

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky announced before you entered the building. 

“You good?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded as he stepped away. 

“Be careful.” You warned him. 

You knew Bucky needed his space sometime but now wasn’t the best time for him to just be wandering the streets. Especially if Walker clocks on it was you three that broke Zemo out of prison. 

“Always.” Bucky winked at you before finally leaving. 

But that was a bad feeling in your gut. 

(PART 4)

Bucky Barnes Tag List

@florencxs @mystictimetravelcolor @yourphotographyteen16@shannon-posts @darkbluenovember @sexwithhiddlesbatch@thefandomimagines @mydarkness-itsnotmyfriend @sad-huffle-nerd @glitchingghosts @themaddies-obx @avenging-parker @delilahsdaydream​ @felicityofbakerstreet​ @purplewcrld​ @opheliaaaa​

[inkykeiji]

i like the way they run, then fall, then die

character: shigaraki tomura

genre: gore/violence for torture, then smut

notes: this takes place before the events of break my bones but act as my spine! please, please heed the warnings. the entire first half of this is a torture scene. if you’re just here for the smut and would prefer not to read the torture, scroll all the way down to the three stars dividing part one from part two - you can still read the smut without reading the torture if u wanna, all you need to know is that tomura tortured + murdered a boy who had been harassing the reader at university and now he’s coming home. please please please stay safe <33 | title credit: nitro cell by city morgue

warnings: 18+, torture, murder, blood/gore, graphic depictions of violence, daddy kink, spanking with a belt, edging, mild degradation, possessiveness/generally toxic relationship

words: 4.6k

synopsis:

He isn’t usually one for torture—all this pleading drives him absolutely insane, makes it feel like a thousand tiny bugs are crawling under his skin. However, when it comes to someone who has wronged you, well…that’s a different issue entirely.

Men who bother you deserve to be tortured within an inch of their lives, and Tomura will gladly endure their pitiful begging; he wants to hear them beg and plead and cry like the pathetic pieces of shit they are. He wants them to suffer, and to suffer immensely, for even thinking about touching something that’s his, for daring to utter a disrespectful word to something that’s his.

     ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰         

Bleary hazel eyes open, blinking twice then squinting as they try to adjust to the bright light, a head full of orange curls lolling back heavily. It takes the boy’s hazy mind a few moments to register the fact that he’s tied to a chair, thick rope binding him to it.

Tomura knows the boy recognizes him almost instantly when their gaze meets and his hazel eyes widen in an almost comical manner, breath hitching painfully in his chest as he chokes on a gasp. A wicked, toothless smile spreads across Tomura’s face.

He’d have a hard time forgetting those ruby eyes that, impossibly, seem like they’re glowing under the fluorescent lights of the old abandoned A.F.O laboratory; those same eyes that had glared at the redhead over your shoulder only a few days ago as Tomura caught you in his arms.  

This boy had been pestering you for a while now. You hadn’t thought much of it the first day it happened, wrote it off as some overeager and overconfident college boy, but by the third day you were sure this classified as harassment. Sick of repeating yourself and firmly telling the boy that you have a boyfriend and you’re not interested, you whined to Tomura about it that night after dinner, your head in his lap as his slender fingers carded through your hair—and inadvertently sentenced the boy to death, right then and there.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt more relieved in your life when you spotted Tomura leaning casually against the Maybach after your last class had ended, the day after you had voiced your complaints. Taking off the moment your eyes met, you ran into his waiting arms, cutting the boy off mid-sentence. Tomura must’ve given that boy an awfully nasty look, because the harassment magically stopped.

Or so you thought.

Nevertheless, the boy manages to spit out a shaky, “Wh-Who are you?” as he begins to struggle against his restraints.

“Aw, come on, you know who I am,” Tomura says like their old friends, walking a few feet towards him with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Where am I? What am I doing here?” his eyes dart around the room wildly, barely pausing on the three men leaning against the wall behind Tomura before they find his face again, big and frenzied.

Tomura’s smile spreads, revealing sharp white teeth. He isn’t usually one for torture—all this pleading drives him absolutely insane, makes it feel like a thousand tiny bugs are crawling under his skin. However, when it comes to someone who has wronged you, well…that’s a different issue entirely.

Men who bother you deserve to be tortured within an inch of their lives, and Tomura will gladly endure their pitiful begging; he wants to hear them beg and plead and cry like the pathetic pieces of shit they are. He wants them to suffer, and to suffer immensely, for even thinking about touching something that’s his, for daring to utter a disrespectful word to something that’s his.

He doesn’t answer the boy’s questions, instead opting to pull out his phone and scroll through it quickly.

“You wanna see the love of my life?” there’s a slight bite to his tone as he shoves the device in the redhead’s face, pale hand gripping it so tightly it trembles a little.

The kid’s eyes fill with tears as he stares at your smiling face, tiny sobs beginning to sound from deep in his throat. His eyes flit between the screen and Tomura, an impending sense of doom looming over him.

“She’s real pretty, isn’t she?” he asks mockingly, a hint of a pout in his voice. “Pretty enough to harass, yeah? Pretty enough to render you incapable of understanding the word no, eh?”

“I’m sorry,” the kid’s already wailing, pathetic sobs beginning get under Tomura’s skin, blunt nails absentmindedly scratching at his wrist and forearm. “I-I didn’t know she had a boyfriend, I swear!”

“Ah?” Tomura stops for a moment, blinking at the kid with wide eyes, mimicking astonishment. “Now I know that’s a lie,” he smirks. “I heard her tell you, several times. Do you have hearing problems? Is there something wrong with your memory?”

The kid stares at him, mouth opening and closing quickly, exhaling shallow breaths in rapid little huffs.

“You seem to be hearing fine right now,” Tomura continues, voice still painfully calm. “And you remember her, and me, so I doubt there’s something wrong with your memory, right?” he stops, only a few feet from the kid now. “Right?”

The poor redhead can’t find his voice, only able to emit these tiny, pitiful sounds in the back of his throat, peppered between his obnoxious sobbing. He shakes his head, then nods, then shakes his head again, movements jerky and frantic.

Tomura’s eyebrows knit, and he tilts his head to the side. “Well, which one is it?” his voice is so casual, and he sounds almost as if he’s worried about the boy’s inability to decide.

Sighing after a beat of silence, Tomura tuts his tongue and shakes his head, cocking his gun. “Shame,” he points the gun at the kid’s head, closing an eye as he adjusts his aim, tongue poking his cheek.

“No!” the kid cries out, squirming against his restraints. “I-I—You’re right! There’s nothing wrong w-with my hearing or my memory, please—”

“Mm, thought so,” Tomura says softly to himself, nodding as he swiftly readjusts his aim and pulls the trigger, shattering the kid’s right kneecap.

The redhead lets out an absolutely bloodcurdling scream, throwing his head back as he thrashes wildly against the thick rope again, the legs of the chair scraping against the concrete.

“Ouch!” Dabi laughs from his spot on the floor, leaning back against the far wall, blue eyes dancing with mirth.

“Ugh,” Chisaki groans beside him, looking away in disgust.

Tomura takes a moment to admire his work, Dabi’s encouraging laughter inspiring another bout of confidence to surge through his chest. He had been close enough that the bullet caused the entire kneecap to explode, sending little bits of bone and flesh flying, thick blood immediately beginning to cascade down the boy’s leg, soaking straight through the denim of his jeans.

“Now,” he continues, speaking over the boy’s shouting with a levelled voice. “I’m gonna cut those pesky ears off your fucking head, since you don’t seem to use them,” he looks over at Dabi and nods once, prompting Dabi to hop up and leave the laboratory.

“But before that,” he stops in front of the kid and leans forward, his face only a few inches away. “Do you wanna know what her pussy tastes like? Hmm? I bet you do. I bet you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

He’s still blubbering, Tomura’s words barely registering, ears ringing from the gunshot. Crimson eyes search his face intently, bright with the intoxicating mix of adrenaline and exhilaration that the rush of torture affords him. Tomura wrinkles his nose a little at the snot running down the kids face and onto his lips, face red and streaked with gleaming tears.

“I’ll tell you,” he says, voice dropping into a growl. “It’ll be the last thing you hear before I take those good-for-nothing ears from you—what a treat!” he laughs a little, resting his hands on his bent knees, inching forward just a hint more. “She tastes like strawberries and honey; the perfect balance of tart and sweet. God, her cum’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, the most decadent cream…Fuck,” he breathes, pulling back with a malicious grin. “Now you got me craving her,”

Dabi returns then, coming to stand beside Tomura, and the kid’s so consumed with pain that he doesn’t even notice the little reciprocating saw in Dabi’s hands.

“Ah, thank you,” Tomura says as he takes it, a devious smile spreading across his face. He turns the saw on, testing it by squeezing the trigger a few times. “Perfect. Now,”

He grabs an ear by the cartilage and yanks, holding it taut from the head. The kid squirms, trying to wiggle his way out of Tomura’s grasp and he growls, asking Dabi to hold his head steady.

The saw slices through the ear like butter, cleanly slashing it from his head in one quick motion. Blood begins to gush from the wound immediately, streaming down the redhead’s cheek, thick, sticky drops dripping off his jaw and onto his collarbone.  

“One,” Tomura counts gleefully, tossing the ear to the side. It hits the concrete with a sickening splat! a few feet away.

“Very Mr. Blonde of you, Tomura,” Chisaki rolls his eyes as Tomura moves onto the next ear, Dabi nearly snapping the kid’s neck as he forces his head to tilt the other way, allowing his boss easier access to the second appendage.

“Oh!” Dabi gasps as the saw neatly slices the second ear off. “We should set him on fire,” he suggests, sapphire eyes glittering at the prospect.

“Oh?” Tomura looks up at him, intrigued, decapitated ear still hanging between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you have any kerosene in your car?”

“Nah, but I could go get some—”

“Can we please finish this, already?” Chisaki whines, pushing off the wall and walking towards the two men. “My lunchbreak is almost over,” he checks his watch, frowning.

“Alright, Mr. Head Chemist, your lunchbreak is almost over. You have to head back to work—we are gonna find some kerosene,”

Chisaki sighs, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers. “Your father would like you at the lab today, Tomura,” he says flatly.

Tomura groans, shoulders slumping as he dramatically throws his head back to glare at the ceiling. “But the lab is so boring when there aren’t any experiments or testings going on,” he complains with a slight pout.

“I could finish him off, if you want,” Dabi offers.

“No! Where’s the fun in that? What good is torturing him if I don’t even get to see him die?”

“Look, I don’t care how you do it, just hurry up,” Chisaki spits, turning to walk away. “I’m going to my car—you better be in yours in five minutes,”

“God, he’s no fun,” Tomura mutters to Dabi, who nods in agreement.

“I heard that!” Chisaki hollers as he continues walking, not bothering to look back.

“You were supposed to!” Tomura calls in response, rolling his eyes. “Damn,” he sighs in disappointment, turning back to the boy. His face is slippery with blood, pouring down either side and streaking his neck and the collar of his polo shirt. He’s gone into shock from the pain, screams cut off into choked little whimpers and hiccups. “Looks like our playtime ends here,”

He shrugs, almost indifferent, cocks his gun again and fluidly aims at the boy’s forehead, pulling the trigger without a second thought.

Wet splatters of crimson stain the concrete, echoing throughout the mostly vacant building, the boy’s quiet little sounds cutting off abruptly. Tomura watches as the light fades from his wide, terrified eyes, watches as the hazel goes from vibrant to dull, and the kid’s head falls back, blood beginning to trickle down the bridge of his nose.

A car honks twice outside and Tomura snarls a little to himself, whipping his head around and glaring at the door to the lab, hanging half open and letting pale sunlight leak in.

His grip tightens around his gun, fingers flexing around the metal warmed by his palm. “I’m gonna kill him,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

“Nah, don’t be stupid,” Dabi laughs, shaking his head a little. “We still need him,”

    ✰          ✰          ✰

Tomura returns to the penthouse earlier than expected, startling you when large hands wrap around your hips just as you’re removing a loaf of freshly baked banana bread from the oven.

“Aw, baby, playing housewife?” he coos, breath hot against your ear, before taking the lobe between his teeth.

A sigh slips through your parted lips and you lean back against his chest, tipping your head to the side and eyes closing.

“Our bananas were going bad,” you explain softly, in a bit of a trance as nimble fingers rub small circles into your hips.  

“Oh?” he asks, as if he’s genuinely interested, lips leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck. “It’s so cute when you get all domestic,” tender hands slide up your torso, coming to cup your breasts as he kneads them gently, tweaking a nipple through the thin material of your dress.

Your back arches as you try to press into his palms more, quiet mewls spilling from your lips.

“What’s gotten—” you cut yourself off with a sharp intake of breath as teeth sink into your skin. “What’s gotten into you?”

Tomura usually isn’t this…soft. He’s affectionate for sure, but his after work affections usually include slamming you up against the nearest wall, counter, or table and almost violently claiming your mouth with his, tongue invading viciously as rough, eager hands rip off clothing.

“Missed you,” he mumbles against your skin, tongue tracing the fresh bite. “What, daddy can’t miss his baby?” A hand snakes down your body and slips between your thighs while the other stays preoccupied with rolling your nipple between his index finger and thumb.

Little hands fly out to grip the edge of the counter as you yelp in surprise, steadying yourself as he pinches your clit. A dark chuckle sounds deep in his chest, vibrating against your back.

“Already so wet?” His fingers prod at your little hole through the flimsy material of your panties. “Did you miss daddy as much as he missed you?”

“I-I always do,”

“Oh yeah?” Moving your panties to the side, the pads of his fingers tease your slit, collecting wetness. “And did you happen to be thinking of something naughty while you were playing housewife?”

Two fingers push into you just as you open your mouth to respond, a small strangled hiss escaping your throat. It burns a little, tiny hole stretched around the digits, sucking them in.

“Hmm?” he frowns, looking almost concerned. You’d believe he was, too, if it weren’t for that wicked glint in his dark eyes, shining every time you emitted a soft noise of pleasure instead of an answer.

And then he’s curling his fingers against your spot every time you try to speak, frustration building in your chest until you’re finally able to force out, “D-Daddy, fuck me al-already!” lips set in a deep pout and eyebrows pushed together.

His fingers halt their ministrations entirely and he pulls back to look at you, ruby eyes studying your face intently, firmly pressing his lips together. It takes your clouded mind a few moments to register the words you just said, the high, whiny tone you just used…then your eyes are widening and a gasp claws its way out of your throat, shaking your head vigorously as if to say, I didn’t mean it!

“I’m feeling good today,” he begins slowly, voice even and controlled. “So you’re getting off with a few spanks for that attitude of yours. Now go bend over the dining room table,”

His voice sends chills pebbling across your skin, spikes of ice shooting up your spine. You want to protest—he can see it in your eyes, the urge tickling the tip of your tongue. You want to tell him you didn’t mean to talk back to him, promise! It’s just that you want his cock so bad! You swear! Scarlet eyes watch you sharply, daring you to utter the words, looking almost as if he’s hoping you do, just to give him an excuse to lengthen your punishment.

But you don’t want that—a longer punishment means you’ll have to wait even more before his cock’s finally inside you—so you force yourself to swallow the words and nod solemnly, sulking towards the table and draping yourself over it.

Calloused hands run up your thighs, taking the hem of your little dress with them and bunching the material around your waist. He smirks at your cute little panties, hands running over your ass and kneading for a moment before he hooks his thumbs in the waistband, pulling them down your legs. You step out of them and a low laugh rumbles in his chest as he feels the soaked material, bunching it up and stuffing it in his pocket.

The wood of the table is cool against your cheek, your heart palpitating in your chest as you anticipate the first hit.

Except it doesn’t come, and a beat of silence passes before you hear the gentle clinking of his belt buckle.

“No!” you gasp, little fingers curling around the edges of the table as you hug yourself closer to the surface, eyes snapping open and consciously forcing your head to stay pressed against it, not daring to look back at him. “No, daddy, please, not the belt,”

“Aw baby, you’re precious,” he chuckles a little, the sound making your stomach flutter. “Good girls take their punishments without complaint, and you want to be good for daddy, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, nodding against the table. He hums to himself.

“You will get twenty lashes for your behaviour, and you will count each one aloud,” Tomura explains as he folds the belt in his hands, the leather squeaking softly. “Do you understand?”

You nod again, earning yourself a superficial slap on your bare skin from the back of his hand. It still stings.

“Use your words,”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, feeling the smooth leather in his hands.

A tense, heavy silence settles in the air, your chest swelling as you subconsciously hold your breath in expectation of the first blow, crying out when the belt finally collides with your ass. The leather cuts into your flesh, leaving thin welts across the soft skin. Sharp slaps echo throughout the empty penthouse intermittently, mingled with the soft sounds of your uneven breath and pathetic little whines.

By ten, you’re whimpering into the table, tears leaking from your eyes and sharp edges biting into your palms as you grip it.

By fifteen, you’re full-on sobbing and having difficulty staying still, hips wiggling and legs trembling as you cry out the numbers, muffled by the table.

“Daddy,” you hiccup, blinking your bleary eyes furiously to clear them from tears. “Daddy, I’m sorry,”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” Tomura says a little breathlessly behind you, cock straining against his slacks. “You’re almost there baby, five more to go. Be a good girl and finish your punishment,”

The statement makes you cry harder, but you manage to force out the words, “Yes, daddy,” between your wailing.

The last five are, admittedly, the most difficult for the both of you. Your soft whimpers of “Please, daddy,” and “Hurts, daddy,” nearly enough to make him forego the final five. But an intentional brat like you must learn her lesson.

When the final hit comes, you unclench your fingers from the edges of the dining room table and flex them, feeling proud of yourself for taking all twenty. Tomura’s pressed up against you in an instant, his body folded over yours, pinning you to the table.

“My pretty little baby girl, you did so well,” the words are whispered into your hair as cold hands caress the stinging skin, using his feet to nudge yours further apart. “So good for me,”

A hand trails down and between your thighs, nimble fingers slipping between your folds. He groans a little as the pads of his fingers collect your slickness; you’re still so wet.

“Such a good, good girl, getting this wet for me,”

“Please daddy, c-can I—” a little hiccup cuts you off, the pad of Tomura’s thumb swiping across your cheek to catch a stray tear as you struggle to look back at him. “Can I have your cock now?” you whimper out, eagerly pushing your hips back and into his hand, almost as if you’re trying to grind against it.

Christ, what did he do to deserve such a good little slut like you? Your lashes are still wet, little droplets of water clinging to them, soft sniffles still catching in your chest. And you’re staring at him with those wide, glistening doe eyes, your lips puffy from crying, desperately awaiting his answer as your hips move in little circles, trying to catch your clit on his fingers.

You can feel his cock, pressed up against your ass through his pants, and it only makes you crave him more, little hole fluttering around nothing.

“Yeah?” he breathes, lips at your ear. “You want it?” he pushes his hips against you more, laughing a little when you whine and nod your head fervently, rubbing your ass back against him despite the way your sensitive, wounded skin snags on the rough material.

“Yes, yes, please, I-I want it,” you babble, your head gone hazy from the intense, heady mix of pain and desire, no longer able to think about anything else except how badly you need him to fill you up.

“Do you think you deserve it?” his voice drops an octave, smooth and low as two fingers dip into you again.

“Yes,” you respond without any hesitation.

He hums softly to himself, fingers pumping in and out of you slowly, knuckles curling periodically, pressing forcefully against your gummy walls and pulling broken, needy whines from your throat. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough, intense spikes of pleasure that have your stomach swooping as your hips squirm, trying in vain to bounce on his fingers, to speed up the pace just a little more.

“Please daddy,” you’re sobbing again, words garbled through spit and tears. “Please, please fuck me,”

“I am fucking you, baby,”

And you hate how unaffected he sounds, just a slight breathiness to his voice, hate the way you can hear his smug smirk.

“With your cock!” you cry in demand, a violent shiver coursing through your entire body as his knuckles press into that spot again, hard and ruthless in his assault of your poor pussy.

“There you go again,” he says, voice fading into a growl as his fingers begin to viciously curl over and over, rapidly picking up the pace. “Being a fucking brat. And you were doing so well, too…Didn’t your punishment teach you anything? Only patient little girls get daddy’s cock in their soaking little cunts,”

“Oh, daddy, please, please, I-I’m sorry! I just—”

“Maybe I’ll fuck your throat instead,” he muses, sadistic smile spreading across his face as you weep loudly, shaking your head with vigour and chanting out the word no. Tears are steadily streaming down your soft cheeks and Tomura’s not sure he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. It makes his cock throb, laughing at the way you moan wantonly when he grinds it against you again.

“You’re a greedy little slut, y’know that?” he whispers in your ear as the tempo of his thrusts increase more. “You’re lucky daddy’s giving you anything at all after the tone you used in the kitchen,”

“Bu-But I took my punishment!”

“Oh, my poor baby,” his voice is sickly sweet, fake and syrupy and absolutely dripping with derision. “Poor thing, has to take daddy’s fingers instead of his cock, poor thing has to have her tight little pussy stretched out before she can take my cock, you poor fucking thing,” a hand collides with your ass, the resounding slap! of your skin against his palm ringing in your ears, a pretty handprint already beginning to form on your abused skin.

You nearly scream, cutting yourself off midway to bite down on your bottom lip hard enough to leave little purple indents in the flesh, breathing out harshly through your nose.

“Insatiable little whore, thinking she’s entitled to my cock,” he spits, thumb finally finding your clit and rubbing quick circles into it. He can tell you’re close, pussy pulsing around his fingers, entire body jolting with each swipe of his thumb over your sensitive bud.

“Feet apart, damn it,” he growls as he kicks at your ankles, forcing your legs to spread again.

Teeth bite into your tongue, refraining from nearly blurting out that you can’t help it, it’s too much, the pleasure is practically blinding, your thighs instinctually squeezing around his wrist.

And, God, you’re so close. He knows, of course, is able to read every micro-expression perfectly—every hitch in your breath, every mewl bubbling past your lips, every twitch, jerk, quiver of your body—and every time you’re teetering on that edge, he stops, slows his pace, takes his thumb away completely, until you’re a sweaty, shuddering mess, until you’ve gone dazed and numb from how badly you need to cum.

Finally, finally, when he thinks he’s tortured you enough, when your legs are nothing but trembling jello, when you’ve been fucked stupid by just his fingers alone, vocabulary seemingly reduced to the words daddy and cock—finally he removes his fingers and pushes the head in, and it stings a bit as your cute little cunt struggles to stretch around him.

“How are you still so fucking tight?” he breathes out, as if he isn’t the one who doesn’t ever fuck you with more than two fingers even though he knows that the girth of his fingers are, obviously, no match for the girth of his cock. Merely able to whine in response, you impatiently push your hips back, and then he really fucking snaps.

Before you even know what’s going on, your aching little hole is being filled entirely with one harsh, quick thrust.

He sets a ruthless pace immediately, growling about how much of a little cockslut you are, how you’re practically starving for his cum, how his cock must be all you dumb little brain can think about.

Your sweet cunt is clenching around him after only three drags of his cock against your spot, and the laugh he barks out is nothing short of vicious. His thrusts don’t slow, fucking you right through your orgasm, grunting about how pathetically easy it is to make you gush all over him.

The legs of the table screech as they scrape against the hardwood, Tomura moving the entire piece of furniture with the force of his powerful thrusts. And all you can do it take it, eyes rolling back as your fingers grip the edges of the table again, desperately trying to keep your legs from giving out entirely, body gone limp and bouncing vehemently as his hips piston into you.

Then he’s spilling himself into you, spurt after spurt of hot cum filling you up as his hips stutter, cock pulsing, strands of silvery-blue hair stuck to his forehead and neck.

Christ, you look so gorgeous all fucked out from his fingers and his cock, thick cum leaking out of you and down your inner thigh. The head of his cock drags over your ass, smearing excess cum across your skin, an extra little reminder that you are his, that you belong to him.

It glitters under the low light of the dining room—the sun’s almost completely sunk below the horizon now, the dim neon glow of the city spilling into the penthouse through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Mine,” he says softly, just a huff of breath forced from his heaving chest, thumb swiping though the cum and rubbing it into the deep, swollen welts.

Yes, you think, too far gone to use your words, throat sore and raw from your crying. Yours, forever.

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch23: Unnamed, Generic Baked Item

Summary: Fliss picks her wedding dress, whilst Frank has some great inspiration about a birthday present for his future wife…

Warnings: Bad language, 18+, Smut (NSFW 18+)

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: This is totally dedicated to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork . But it’s still a f**kin’ biscuit!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 22

 “Mary, enough!” Frank’s voice rose and Mary glared at him, folding her arms.

“This is so unfair!” She exclaimed and Frank took a deep breath as he fed Alex another spoonful of porridge.

“You know what? You might think that, and I’m not even digging into the reasons why you’re wrong, but Fliss is already nervous enough about today and you kicking up a fuss over it is not going to help,” Frank levelled her with a look, “so get it out of your system right now, because if you’re still moaning when she comes down the stairs, you and me are going to fall out. Big time.”

Mary blinked, and then frowned. “What’s she nervous about? She’s only picking a dress.”

“Because it’s her wedding dress. It’s a big deal.”

“Which is why I wanna go!”

“And it’s also why you’re not!” Frank shot back, turning and feeding Alex some more as the baby had started to protest due to his dad’s attention being elsewhere. “Stack, you got bored within twenty minutes when they took you for your bridesmaid dress last week, so no, you’re staying here.”

“But-“

“It’s not open for debate,” Frank’s voice dropped even further, the warning tone unmistakable, “but feel free to carry on, see where it gets you.”

Mary was saved the trouble of responding as, at that point, Alex gave a loud yell and the bowl of porridge Frank had been feeding him from was knocked from his hands and landed all over the leg of his jeans. There was a pause, as Frank glanced down at the slop spreading over his thigh before he looked at Alex whose eyes were watering and seconds later a loud wail of frustration at the lack of food burst from his son’s mouth.

“For fffff sake, why?” Frank groaned, cutting the swear word short as he ran his hand through his messy hair, shaking his head.

“You know, I’m not much of one for all that fate and philosophy stuff,” his mother spoke as she walked into the kitchen, “but this, Frank, really does feel like straight up karma.”

Frank glared at her as he stood up and took the tea towel from the side and wiped at his jeans. “Fuck my life,” he muttered under his breath as Thor happily trotted over to the spilt porridge on the floor, cleaning it up with laps of his large tongue, Fred also hopping down off the seat at the breakfast bar to investigate the coveted, spilt human food.

“Karma for what?” Mary asked, from where she’d successfully manage to distract Alex from his tears by waving his little stuffed lion at him, the baby making grabbing gestures towards it.

“His own spectacular ability to misbehave.” Evelyn looked at Mary as she handed Alex the toy. “You know, he once sat down in the middle of a supermarket and refused to leave because I told him that it was Wednesday and Wednesday does not begin with the letter S”

Mary roared with laughter as Frank tossed the dirty towel into the sink before reaching into the cupboard for another jar of baby porridge.

“Look, that big yellow feathered bastard on Sesame Street told me that day was brought to me by the letter S.” He looked at Evelyn, then to Mary who was still howling with laughter, Alex now joining in, all tears forgotten. “He lied.”

“That was a particularly furious melt down, Francis.” Evelyn grinned and Frank rolled his eyes as he got the replacement porridge ready.

“What did you do?” Mary asked.

“It was your Grandfather that sorted him out, darling. He threw Frank over his shoulder and carried him straight out of the shop. I don’t know what he said or did, but by the time I got back to the car Frank was quiet as a mouse.”

“I think he threatened to feed me to said big yellow feathered bastard.” Frank chuckled as he sat back down and offered Alex another spoon of porridge which the baby eagerly took, making little appreciative noises as he did so. “Did you not notice I never watched another episode?”

“Another episode of what?” Fliss asked, and Frank looked up smiling at her as she crossed the room, Alex’s noises getting more excited as he looked at his momma.

“Sesame Street.” Evelyn supplied as Frank gave Alex another spoon of his breakfast, as Fliss dropped a kiss first on Mary’s head, then Alex’s, before finally pressing one to Frank’s cheek

“I’m not even gonna ask.” She snorted, moving to pour herself a coffee.

“Probably wise.” Mary nodded and at that Frank laughed.

“First sensible thing you’ve said all morning.” He teased, drawing another glare from the ten year old.

“Shut up.”

“Erm, enough.” Fliss looked at her, then to Frank. “The pair of you are worse than he is.” She nodded to Alex and then turned to Evelyn, waving the coffee pot in a silent question.

“Oh, no thanks. I had a tea before.” Evelyn smiled.

At that point, Thor gave a little woof and ran to the utility room, as Verity’s voice rang out in greeting.

“Nanny V!” Mary ran to her, giving her a huge hug as Verity smiled, bending down to give her a hug.

“Hey Pudding!” She beamed, standing up, before she glanced around the room, smiling. “Oh, where’s my little man?”

“I suspect at home on the sofa.” Frank quipped, earning him a light slap round the head as Verity leaned down to give Alex’s head a soft kiss, the baby laughing and grabbing at her hair. Frank hastily un-fisted Alex’s fingers from his Nanna’s auburn locks and handed him the spoon to play with instead.

“You ready?” Verity asked, looking at Fliss. She nodded, taking a large gulp of coffee before setting the mug down on the side.

“I’ll just go grab my purse.”

As Fliss left the room, Frank looked at Verity. “She’s nervous. A little overwhelmed I think.”

“Yeah, well it’s getting nearer and this is a big deal to most girls.” Verity smiled. “Plus, we all know she didn’t get to choose her last one so…”

“Well, let’s do what my mother did to me.” Evelyn smiled, as she looked up from where she’d been examining her lipstick in a pocket mirror. “Ply her with enough champagne and make it fun. She’ll be fine.”

Verity smiled and Frank rolled his eyes. “The last time you two plied her with champagne she barfed all over the bedroom.”

“Well,” Verity smirked, “that’s your problem now, not mine. Lord knows I’ve cleaned up enough of her and Steve’s drunken messes in my lifetime.”

“Thanks V.” Frank nodded seriously. “Thanks, a lot.”

*****

 Fliss took a deep breath, zoning out as she rifled through a rack at the back of the room. Verity, Evelyn, Bonnie and Sian were all chatting away behind her but it was merely background noise as she scanned dress after dress, nothing catching her eye.

“Have you any idea on what you want?” A soft voice behind her made her jump and she turned to see the assistant, a slight, grey haired woman called Sofia who had been assigned to help them today.

“Nope.” Fliss sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m totally useless.”

Sofia laughed and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it Miss Gallagher, a lot of women come in with either no ideas at all or tonne of ideas that don’t work out. If you don’t know what you want, do you know what you don’t want?”

“Yeah, that’s easy.” Fliss nodded. “I don’t want anything huge, or full of tulle or, you know-” she held her arms out to the side. “-princess bride like. Did that last time, hated it.”

“In that case we can completely ignore these two racks!” Sofia smiled and Fliss grinned as she allowed the woman to lead her a little further round the room. “And that’s half the battle. So, have you been anywhere else before here?”

“Two other boutiques.” Fliss nodded. “And I found nothing.”

“You know, most people think it’s all easy and fun hunting for dresses but, well, I know when I was looking it was so stressful!”

“You’re not wrong.” Fliss stopped at one dress which had caught her attention. It was a plain, off white colour with a simple skirt and bodice with a little beaded detail and chunky straps. “I kinda like the cut of this one.”

“Ah, a trumpet cut.” Sofia supplied, nodding.

“But I don’t know about the neckline, it’s a little…”

“Boring.” Sofia smiled as Fliss snorted. “But, we’ll take it for reference.” The woman lifted it off the rack, placing it onto the rail she’d wheeled alongside them. “So where are you getting married?”

“St Pete’s Public Access.” Fliss smiled. “Which is another reason I don’t want a huge dress. I’ll melt.”

Sofia laughed. “Not to mention the sand getting stuck in it.” She grinned. “Okay, what about this one?”

She lifted a similar cut dress off the rail, this one with a slightly more detailed neckline and Fliss nodded. “Yeah, I quite like that.”

“And this one.”

As Sofia held up the third dress, Fliss paused, tilting her head to one side. “I love the back of this.” Sofia gushed, turning it round. “It’s so detailed.”

“It’s beautiful.” Fliss smiled, her hand reaching out to brush the detailed lace as she studied the garment in front of her.

“Oh, wow!” She heard her mum say and she turned to look at her, then Bonnie who held up the bottle of champagne, Fliss handing over her now empty glass. “Lissy, that’s stunning!”

“It’s gorgeous isn’t it?” Fliss beamed, taking the refilled glass off Bonnie with a thanks.

“The detailing.” Evelyn mused, before she looked at Sofia. “Is that a Nicolle Miller by any chance?”

“Yes.” Sofia looked at Evelyn, frowning, and Fliss turned her head to look at her future mother-in-law, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s from Massachusetts.” Evelyn smiled. “I’ve seen a few of her dresses from time to time, they’re quite recognisable if you know what you’re looking for.”

“My fiancé’s from Boston.” Fliss informed, and Sofia’s mouth made a little O of understanding before she smiled.

“Well, if that isn’t a sign then I don’t know what is.” She beamed. “Would you like to see it on?”

Fliss bit her lip, before she looked at her mum her gave her a huge smile. With a grin on her face, and for the first time that day, a feeling of excitement in her stomach she nodded. Handing her champagne over to Bonnie, she followed Sofia into the changing room at the back, and was soon out of her denim shorts and t-shirt, stepping into the dress. Sofia came in to help her do it up, and it wasn’t even half way fastened before Fliss simply knew this was what she wanted, not even caring it was the first one she’d tried on. Nothing was going to come close to this.

“It’s a little big, around the bust so just give me a second.” Sofia moved to the back of the cubicle and picked up a few clothes pegs, tugging the dress around so it fit right and Fliss smiled, smoothing her hands down over her stomach as she stood, admiring it.

It was hard to guess at the actual shape as its bottom dabbled somewhere between a trumpet and mermaid cut. Her hips were accentuated by the firm fitting cream colored, hand stitched floral lace sewn into a nude overlay. Her back and side panels were completely different. The creamy lace design covered her back and sides with just her soft and delicate skin underneath, the nude underlay that covered her breasts and behind a near match to her skin. It hugged her curves perfectly, the lace covered her shoulders and down her chest in a two finger width and came together in a beautiful heart shape neckline, showing off her delicate décolletage shoulders. It kissed her skin, allowing enough cleavage but much to the imagination as it elegantly, and yet still incredibly sexy, covered her body.

It was something Fliss would never have dreamed of getting married in before but now, well, it felt right. It felt like her.

She took a shaky breath, her vision swimming with tears before she locked eyes with Sofia in the mirror, the older woman giving an appreciative nod. “It looks gorgeous, Honey!” She then handed Fliss a tissue and Fliss took it, giving a little shake of her head.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t apologise,” Sofia waved her away, “it’s a big thing. Now, you ready to go show the rest of them?”

Fliss nodded and Sofia gathered up the train of the dress, and Fliss stepped out of the little room and into the main area of the boutique. As she moved into the room, the other four women turned to face her and Verity’s hand immediately flew to her mouth.

“What do you think?” Fliss asked, shyly. “I know it’s the first one I’ve tried on but I don’t think I want to bother with anymore, I love it.”

Bonnie raised her eyebrows, her mouth falling open. “Oh my God, Fliss.” She gasped. “It’s…”

“Stunning.” Evelyn nodded in agreement, as Sian gave a hum.

“Liss, you’ll knock him dead.”

Fliss gave a smile and then looked at Verity. “Mum?”

Verity’s hand was shaking as she moved it down, and she opened her mouth, before she closed it again, taking a deep and shuddering breath, Sian curling her arm round her shoulder.

“Oh, Lissy…” Verity sniffed, her face creasing up as the tears began to slide down her cheeks. Immediately, more tissues were offered as Fliss also felt her eyes watering at the sight of her mum crying in front of her.

“Mum, don’t!” She gave a little laugh and Verity shook her head, dabbing at her eye.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart but I never thought I’d be here with you, trying on dresses as last time…” She stopped herself as Sian gave her a squeeze. “And now seeing you there with that look on your face, in that dress, ready to marry a man you deserve to be with, well, this is all I ever wanted for you.”

By the time Verity had finished there wasn’t a dry eye in the room, even Sofia had shed a tear. Verity stepped forward and carefully pulled her daughter into a hug, before she stepped back, kissing her forehead.

“I love you, my baby girl.” She sniffed. “God, your dad is going to bawl his eyes out when he sees this!”

Fliss smiled, and Sofia then directed her onto a little box before she called over to another woman who headed across the room with a tape measure. As they took a few measurements for the alterations, Fliss was vaguely aware that her Mum and Bonnie were both taking a photo, but in all honesty her eyes were glued to her reflection in the mirror in front of her. And she wasn’t looking at her dress. She was fixated on the huge smile that was on her face, a smile that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop.

****** “Hey, Stack, how about we go outside for a little while?” Frank opened the door to the den. “Alex has gone down for his nap so it’s just us.”

“In a minute, I’m just looking at something.” She replied, her eyes still on her laptop as she lounged on her beanbag, Heartland playing on the TV in the background.

“Come on, you’ve been sat in here for hours.”

“Yeah but this is really cool.” She looked up. “I’ve been tracing Monty’s lineage again for my collage, and then I got looking at Heidi’s and dug into all this cool info on her and the other horses that she was bred from.”

Frank obliged as Mary gestured to him, taking a seat next to her on the floor as she moved the laptop so he could see it.

“So, this is Heidi, ‘Sandybrook Hideaway’.” Mary’s fingers pointed to the box at the left of the screen. “And this is Heidi’s dad, ‘Louella Inschello’ and this is her mom, ‘Tremontano Esmerelda’. I can go even further back and find like her grandparents and great grandparents all the way into the seventies.”

“How come Heidi had the name Sandybrook?” Frank asked. “And not Louella or Tremontano or whatever?”

“It doesn’t work like with humans.” Mary shrugged. “You can’t use people’s prefixes that don’t belong to you when you’re naming a horse. Fliss said that the people who bred Heidi made the prefix Sandybrook because of their farm being near the beach in England, and there was a brook running alongside the fields. That’s what all their horses then became called, Heidi being the first, look…”

She moved the screen along a little, and Frank traced the little line that ran from Heidi’s name to another box. “’Sandybrook Typhoon’, sire- Renkum Renogade, dam- Sandybrook Hideaway…” he trailed off before he looked at Mary. “Heidi had a baby?”

“Yup.” Mary nodded. “Fliss showed me photos of him on their website. He’s huge. And real pretty. He was a big, fancy dressage horse that one her friends used to compete and they kept him at the stud farm to breed from because he was that pretty, but he died three years ago. He broke his leg and couldn’t get better.”

“Ouch.” Frank grimaced.

Mary nodded. “I know. This was his last foal, look. ‘Sandybrook Cleopatra’. She was born in 2017, and check out her mom’s name.”

“Sandybrook Dirty Diana.” Frank smiled, and let out a chuckle as Mary smiled at him as she clicked on a small link which opened up to show a beautiful bay filly with four white socks and a white blaze. Her face markings instantly struck Frank as being very similar to Heidi’s even if she was a different colour.

“So this would mean that this one is Heidi’s granddaughter?” Frank asked.

“Yup.” Mary nodded.

“That’s pretty cool, Stack.”

“Mom thought so too.” Mary grinned. “She showed me how to do it as I wanted to check out Monty’s history. I asked her about Heidi’s and she showed me this and she was like, really smiling when she saw Cleo, she didn’t know they’d had a foal from Typhoon the year he died. And there’s lots of photos of Heidi as a baby too on their history page, and she has a really cool profile.” She took a pause for breath and Frank gently dropped his hand to the back of her head, smiling at her enthusiasm. “They added a bit last week to say she’d died and it’s kinda sad but also kinda nice. They thanked Fliss her for giving her a wonderful home and said there was no one better on the Earth for your horse to be sold to than an Olympic Gold Medal winner.”

“How did they know she’d died?” Frank asked. “Did Fliss call them?”

“She emailed them. She said she had also asked them about Cleopatra.”

“Asked about her? You mean to buy?”

“I think so.” Mary nodded. “She sold Bronson the other month and now Heidi is gone she only has Cap left.”

“Yeah, I know. She mentioned maybe getting another but I didn’t know she’d been looking.”

“I don’t think she has, it’s just because she saw Cleopatra. I mean, it would be cool if she did buy her.” Mary shrugged. “She’s a part of Heidi in a way isn’t she?”

“Yeah, suppose she is.” Frank mused. “So, was Fliss not sure about her then or…”

“She said she liked her.” Mary shrugged. “But she’s not for sale on the website so I don’t know what they said. They might have said no, or maybe it’s because she’s busy. You know what she’s like.”

Frank did, only too well. When it came to buying things for herself to enjoy, Fliss was actually very reserved. She didn’t think twice about buying stuff for the house, or for the family, or her work, but her own, personal things, she seemed to have a real reticence to simply splurge on, and he had a feeling that went back to when she’d been married previously.

As his eyes flicked over the details on the screen, an idea flashed in his head. And it was a crazy one but…

“What do you think she would do if we bought her one for her birthday?” He turned to Mary.

“What, bought her a horse?”

“Yeah.”

“This horse?” Mary pointed at the screen to the picture of the bay mare and Frank nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Probably call you a crazy asshole, start crying and say it’s the best present ever.” Mary looked at him and Frank chuckled.

“I can live with that.”

“You know, you better hurry up if you’re gonna do it. Mom’s birthday is like, weeks away!”

“It’s not until the end of July.” Frank replied. “We got nearly two months. Do you not think that will be enough time?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never shipped a horse over here from England!” Mary scoffed, before they shared a look, almost identical expressions of realisation crossing their faces as they instantly realised they both knew someone who had. “Poppa Bill!” Mary stated excitedly. “He’ll help!”

“Sure he will.” Frank nodded. “Right, you better get me the email address, Stack. And not a word of this to Mom okay? This is top secret.”

“What do you take me for?” Mary looked at him indignantly and Frank looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“You really want me to answer that?”

Mary pondered for a moment before she snorted. “Not really.”

******

“So, did you have a nice time today?” Frank asked as they lay in bed later that night.

“Yeah.” Fliss smiled, snuggling further into his chest as his hand gently ran up and down her arm, his fingers softly tickling her skin. “I did.”

“Good.” He kissed her head. “I’m glad. You were so worried about it all.”

“That obvious, huh?” She sighed and Frank chuckled.

“To me, yeah.” He shifted a little to look down at her. “But that’s only because I know you so well.”

“I didn’t know what to expect.” She shrugged. “I was just a little overwhelmed at the thought, you know, of having to make the decision but when we got to the first shop, I dunno, I kinda realised that I’ve been making decisions about our wedding all along. And, when it came down to it, it wasn’t really that much different to when we picked your suit.”

Frank chuckled. “To be fair, Sweetheart, we’d been in the shop all of five minutes before you spotted the one you liked.”

“Hey, it wasn’t just me.” She protested, tilting her head to look at him. “You liked it too.”

“I do.” Frank agreed. “But I saw the look on your face when you saw it which is what completely sold it to me.”

A lightweight wool three piece suit dyed a stunning steel blue shade had fit Frank expertly. It made his eyes pop and the crisp white button down underneath offered a nice contrast. But what made Fliss fall for the ensemble was the tie. The flash of burgundy, sand, white and grey stood out against the white dress shirt with the stripes of blue pulling in the blue of the three piece. The tailor suggested a printed silk pocket swath with polka dots and paisley printed against a deep blue background.

Frank caught Fliss’ eye in the mirror as the tailor straightened the back of his jacket and arched his brow. She hastily released her lip from between his teeth and gave him a little sheepish look, and he bit back the snort at the fact he’d just caught her looking at him in the way she usually did when she was feeling a little bit ‘frisky’ for want of a better word.

“But I’m clean.” Frank joked, causing the tailor to look up a little, puzzled expression on his face and Fliss laughed.

“Yeah, well this is clearly your Professor look, not the dirty boat daddy one.”

At that the tailor scooted off, Frank watching him go before he turned to Fliss and shook his head. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

She shrugged and smiled as she looked him up and down appraisingly, stepping forward and smoothing her hands up the lapels of the jacket. “You look incredibly handsome, babe.”

Frank gave her a smile and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “You almost sound surprised.”

“Not at all.” Fliss shook her head.

A cough from the tailor interrupted them as he had returned with a shoe box and Frank gave him a nod as Fliss stepped back. Once he had laced up the shiny, burnt brown oxfords, Frank moved again to take in the final, finished look and took a deep breath, smiling.

He liked it. A lot.

“So basically, you picked the first suit you tried on and I picked the first dress I tried on.” Fliss snorted and Frank shrugged. “We’re getting married on the beach, having what is basically a barn dance with food trucks…are we taking any of this seriously?”

“Nope.” Frank shook his head and Fliss laughed again as he moved, rolling her a little so she was on her back and he was hovering over her. “But, I think both of us have taken life far too seriously for far too long enough, time for a little fun.”

“Well that fills me full of confidence since we’re writing our own declarations.” She teased and Frank arched his brow.

“You’re talking to an ex Philosophy Professor-”

“Assistant-“

“Whatever, the point is, I’m very good with words.” Frank smirked and Fliss scoffed. “I got you to go on a date with me, didn’t I?”

“That wasn’t down to your words.” Fliss shook her head.

“No? Was it my devastating good looks?”

“That and the fact you’re basically the best man I’ve ever met.” Fliss smiled. “Well, apart from my dad. And Steve. So you’re definitely in the top three best men I’ve ever met.”

Frank laughed and took a deep breath, before he moved, propping himself up a little on his elbow, brushing Fliss’ hair back off her face. “Joking aside, marrying you is something I’m taking very seriously. I can’t wait to say ‘I do,’ get that ring on your finger and finally call you my wife as well as the mother of my kids. But the minute that bit is done then, all bets are off. No stuffy formalities, no pointless, boring traditions, well, apart from the ones we decide we wanna uphold and absolutely no vowing to obey,” he looked at her as she took a breath, “which is a relief because, frankly, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being bossed around.”

Fliss smiled, knowing full well what he was saying. That vow had been one that John had insisted on, and whilst she had never raised the issue to Frank directly, because in all honestly she didn’t feel she needed to, the fact he’d picked up on the way she’d subtly opted for the other vows when they’d had to pick them for the official, made her heart swell in her chest.

“So, I err, I also had another off the wall idea.” Fliss looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I know we said we weren’t gonna give each other presents and stuff for the wedding, but, I thought…actually, forget it.”

“No, come on tell me.”

“No, it’s…”

“Liss!” He said, looking at her and she sighed, her eyes moving away from his, scanning the inked words just below his collar bone.

“Tatoos.” She whispered, looking back at him. “I thought, well, that we could get one each. Not matching as such, but you know, for each other.” Frank blinked and she snorted. “See it’s a dumb idea, I just really want another and well, that was another thing I was never allowed, and-”

“I didn’t say it was dumb.” Frank cut her off, shaking his head. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about getting another for a couple of months now, I want one for Alex, so having one for you too, well then I’ve got a full set.”

She smiled, her fingers reaching up and tracing the Taurus on his bicep, Mary’s star sign. “What you thinking of getting for Bean?”

“The time of his birth, and the date underneath all in Roman numerals. On my other arm.”

Fliss beamed. “I love that.” She pondered. “I thought about one for the kids too, maybe on my wrist but I don’t know what yet.”

“Well, l can speak to Jake.” Frank kissed her nose. “He’s fucking sweet at art, tell him what we want he’ll draw us a couple of designs and then we can go to the place I got my last one done and book in.” He paused. “So, where you gonna get the one for me?”

“Well, I errr think, I mean if-” She paused, looking at Frank as he waited for her answer and she realised that for a split second she’d been about to ask his permission. But as he simply looked at her, she licked her lips and smiled. She didn’t need to ask, she could just tell him. “I know exactly where I’m going to have it.”

“Show me.”

“So bossy.” She smirked, pushing on his shoulders and making him sit up. Biting her lip she lifted her cami top up a little, her hand pushing up her left breast and she traced the area underneath, just along her rib cage. “Only you will really see it then, well, other than when I’m in a bikini, I suppose.” She stopped talking as she spotted the familiar darkening in Frank’s eyes as he took her in, his eyes sliding up her frame to meet hers. She bit her lip, smiling as he crawled back over her, pushing her back onto the bed a little, her top still hitched up.

“You know,” his hands gently slid up her side, fingers tracing the spot she was talking about, “that area is supposedly quite sensitive.”

“Really?” She whispered, her eyes closing.

“Hmmhmmm.” He hummed, dropping his head, placing a soft kiss just there, and her breath hitched, before she emitted a soft little squeak as Frank’s lips were replaced by his teeth when he gave a soft nip. “Oh, yeah, definitely sensitive. You’re gonna need someone to hold your hand.”

“Luckily I know just the guy.” She sighed, his mouth now trailing a path across her body to her sternum.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll take Steve.”

“You really want your brother there when someone’s tattooing under your boob?” At that she stilled and looked down at him. He paused, his chin resting in between her breasts and he gave her a quizzical look. “What?”

“Are you okay with that?”

“With what? Your brother being-“

“No, idiot!” She slapped his head lightly and he gave an ow of protest. “I mean with me having it there? I mean, if it means the guy there’s gonna see-“

“Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Then, yeah, I don’t give a shit.” He shrugged, his lips returning to her skin. “Now, can you shut up and let me give you an orgasm?”

“Just one?” Her voice was a breathy whisper as his lips traced their way up her neck and he gave a little growl, nipping at her jaw.

“Greedy bitch.” He mumbled, causing her to chuckle a little, before his lips met hers in a heated kiss. Her hands snaked into the back of his short hair, nails scratching his scalp a little as his tongue curled against hers in dominating swipes, a rumble in the back of his throat flowing into her mouth.

His hands curled around her hips, before they slid upwards and grasped at the top she was wearing which was bunched unevenly up around her chest. He pulled back and Fliss sat up a little to allow him to yank it off and he tossed it carelessly behind him, where it dropped somewhere onto the bedroom floor. His lips crashed back to hers with an urgency she met back movement for movement. Frank shifted, nudging her legs further apart with his knees, so he could settle in between them, his lips moving back to her jaw, down her neck, moving himself downwards, taking his time and lavishing affection all the way down her body. His hands curled round her knees as his nose skimmed below her bellybutton and he placed a soft kiss onto her tummy before he felt her tugging on his hair.

“Frankie, I want you.”

He peeked up at her, and arched a brow. “I thought you wanted more than one?”

“Changed my mind.”

“Fickle.” He muttered, as he sat up, pulling down her sleep shorts before he discarded his boxers, kicking them down his legs. He gently nipped at the inside of her thigh before he brushed his cheek and beard up her leg, smirking as he heard a tiny mewl from above. With a pace that was agonisingly slow he moved back upwards, his hands moving up the side of her body as he went, gently moving across, thumbs brushing over each of her nipples which were pebbled in anticipation. Fliss arched her back, inhaling sharply as her groin bumped against his, dragging a low grumble from his throat as she twitched underneath him, pressed up against where she needed him most. Taking her hands in his, his thumbs skated over her knuckles before he interlocked their fingers and pressed her hands down on the pillow next to her head.

“God, you’re beautiful." He mumbled leaning down and running his nose alongside hers before kissing her deeply. Fliss gave a little preen of delight at his praise, and he broke the kiss, his lips remaining on hers. “My perfect, Lissy.”

She responded by kissing him hard, a kiss which was broken when he slowly pushing inside her in a gentle, fluid moment, eliciting a moan from them both. He drew back a little and then thrust forward deeply, before he kissed her again, his hips finding a languid, rocking rhythm, his bottom lip nibbling on hers. Fliss rolled her body up taking him deeper, moans and gasps slipping freely into each other’s mouths as he slowly built up his rhythm, his fingers curling around hers tightly as he watched her, felt her shudder as he hit her spot again and again with every rut of his hips until she was writhing underneath him, begging him not to stop.

And he didn’t, not until he’d dragged two orgasms from her, and he’d almost managed a third when he knew he couldn’t fight off his own release any longer. With a whimper that was almost pathetic, he slowed down, his hand dropping between them to stroke at her sensitive nub, and with a hoarse sob she bucked violently as she came again, her walls tightening around him and with a choked cry of her name he let go, his release coating her walls and he throbbed inside of her as she pulsed around him. His elbows gave way and he pitched forward, his sweaty brow pressing into the crook of her neck as his chest heaved, both of them completely spent.

Fliss happily welcomed his weight on top of her as he caught his breath, both of them trembling in the afterglow. She flexed her fingers and he let go of her hands, and she slid her arms round him, fingers dancing up his spine. Frank gave a soft hum of contentment as he lazily raised his head, catching her mouth in a soft kiss before his nose bumped against hers.

He was in no rush to move, which suited Frank fine as he lay there, on top of her, slow kisses being traded before eventually he pulled back and she gave him a soft smile, which lit up her entire face.

“Was that enough for you?” He asked cheekily and she laughed, swatting at his back with her hand.

*****

The next week or so passed in a whirl of work and overseeing the construction at the yard. Frank was still mad busy, but he’d pushed his nagging feelings about his job to the back of his mind. He and Fliss had talked about it at length and he’d decided to wait until the wedding was done before he made a final decision. Whilst Fliss had told him she’d support him either way, he didn’t want to throw his career into turmoil whilst they had so much going on.

The yard expansion was progressing to schedule, despite a pretty nasty storm which had initially set them back a day or so, but Frank had to hand it to the guys Bill had recommended, they’d pulled the lost time back. And, to top it all off, he’d even managed to finish the final mechanical works to his boat, which meant now all he had to do was the cosmetic work. For that, he was happy to let Bill help, his future father-in-law very eager to lend a hand on Friday evenings, especially when the job came with a steady supply of beer.

It was win-win as far as Frank was concerned. Fliss and her mum would sit in the garden, drinking wine, dipping in and out of the pool whilst Mary was at Roberta’s, the four adults taking dinner together, which he always enjoyed, and it also meant he could rope Bill into his master plan for Fliss’ birthday. When he’d first told him his idea, Bill had grown a little emotional, admitting to Frank that seeing him care so much that he want to do something as thoughtful as that for his baby-girl was something he appreciated beyond belief. Frank also consulted Joanne, and between the three of them they now had a pretty watertight plan. Bill was lending Frank the money, for which Frank was grateful for as, whilst Joanne had helped him to the negotiating on the price for the animal, the transportation and associated veterinary fees were more expensive than the damned horse herself. Should the overall amount it was going to cost him go missing from their savings, Fliss was going to start asking questions and he wanted it to be a total surprise.

All in all, Frank was as settled and happy as he had felt in months. Life was good, and as the middle of June rolled round, the feeling in the Adler-Gallagher household was as relaxed and as happy as it had ever been.

“Awww you want a biscuit, Baby?” Fliss looked at Alex who was making grabby hands at the one she had in her hand. “Okay, here…”

She snapped the cookie into two and handed him a half. Alex looked at it for a second before he shoved it in his mouth, turning to look at Frank as he walked into the kitchen. The little boy raised his hands making cooing noises before jamming his precious treat back into his mouth.

“Hey, you got a cookie, buddy?” Frank smiled as Alex made a little noise of delight at the taste, and Fliss cleared her throat.

“He has a biscuit.”

Frank looked at Fliss, rolling his eyes before he moved and picked up the packet, pointing to the label.

“They’re cookies, Fliss.”

Fliss groaned. “Cookies are a specific type of biscuit. What he has there is not a cookie!”

“Look, Lissy, you’re gonna confuse the boy.” Frank looked at her. “Poor kid’ll be going to a restaurant and askin’ for a biscuit, expecting cookies, and then they bring him like biscuits and gravy and-“

“Don’t even get me started on those, Francis.” Fliss narrowed her eyes, pointing at him. “They’re not biscuits, they are scones.”

“The hell they are!”

“Oh piss off, Frank!”

Frank gave a loud laugh. “Hang on, are we actually arguing about this right now? Over what we call a certain baked treat?”

Fliss bit into one of the offending items and smirked. “Get it right and we won’t be.”

“You are such a fucking brat at times!” Frank shook his head as Fliss grinned and shrugged.

“So?”

“Just stating a fact, Sweetheart.”

“So am I. They’re biscuits”

“Oh for the love of-look,” Frank once again nudged the packet on the island, “they’re cookies and nothing you say or do is gonna make me call them anything else!”

“Nothing?” Fliss raised her eyebrows.

“Nope.” Frank folded his arms.

“Hmmm.” Fliss took a step towards him, her hands wrapping round his arms, pulling them away from his chest before her palms flattened on his pecs, smoothing up to his shoulders. “Call them biscuits, Sailor, and I’ll go down on you so fast you can’t even remember your own name.”

“They’re biscuits.” Frank replied immediately, the second she played that card, he didn’t give a shit what the hell they were called.

Fliss laughed, her hands sliding up round his neck. “Like I said, brains are in your dick.”

“Yeah, and now my dick’s gonna be in your mouth, Cowgirl.” Frank shot back, causing Fliss to snort. “Better get to it, I need to go pick Mary up in ten.”

“Hmmm, yeah, I didn’t specify when.” Fliss patted his chest and stepped back as Frank blinked, before he shot her a playful glare.

“You fight dirty.”

“Oh, Sailor.” Fliss tossed her hair over her shoulder as she moved back to the kitchen to move their used breakfast dishes from the sink to the dishwasher. “You should know this by now.”

“So, you basically expect me to drive down to St Pete’s now with a semi hard-on?”

Fliss looked at him. “It’s your own fault?”

“How is it my fault?” Frank laughed, incredulously.

“If you’d have just agreed I was right in the first place, then you wouldn’t have a problem.”

Frank blinked before he shook his head, turning to Alex. “Your momma’s logic blows my mind, Bean.”

“That’s the only thing that’s getting blown, Fliss quipped and at that Frank let out a loud laugh, “for now.”

She shot him another look over her shoulder and Frank groaned, knowing full well that if he didn’t leave he was going to end up pounding her over the kitchen island. And, as tempting as that was, he had places to be.

“Come on, Son.” Frank unclipped Alex from the seat. “Let’s go get your sister.” He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the packet. “Here, have another unnamed, generic baked item for the trip.”

**** Chapter 24

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

A Good Deal

lets not talk about what day it was bogizens... 👀 this is part of the hallmark june weddings event we did in the bog!  

it’s also on ao3 here!

Warnings: insecure eskel, stressed triss, honestly its pretty fluffy., could be classified as mild emotional whump.

_____________

Triss was frantic when Eskel trudged up the stairs to the back door in the kitchen. He paused for a moment, leaning against the railing where he could just see her through the window in the door, box braids falling out of her loose bun, some sort of sauce smudged on her forehead, her arm muscles standing out and furiously beating the ever-loving shit out of whatever was in her bowl. Fuck, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. A little scary too, but that was his type.

“Afternoon, Gorgeous,” he called through the screen door, waiting for her to unlock it.

Instead of her normal ‘Afternoon, Handsome,’ he got a snappy, “If any bit of your clothing has been at the fire station, take it off out there. I just got the floors clean, and I don’t have time to do them again before the wedding.”

“If you wanted a striptease you could have just asked,” he chuckled, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking his boots off. All of him had just come from the station.

“Eskel, please,” her voice was about an octave higher than when he liked to hear those words normally, and the tightness at the end of her words made him worried.

“I’m clean, ish, can I come in?”

When she let him in she only gave him a quick peck before it was back to what Eskel could now see were egg whites.

“What’s wrong?”

That was apparently the wrong question. Triss dropped the bowl back onto the counter and braced herself against it, hanging her head. Her shoulders looked so tense Eskel thought the muscles might snap, “Fucking everything. Yen’s parents are getting in tomorrow and I only have the middle floor flipped because Annalee called in sick and Taylor is nowhere to be found, and I have to get this breakfast prepped because I have to make sure there’s food for the girls to eat while they get ready. Then I still have to call Jaskier and see when he’s bringing the cake and décor over and I have to run into the store to get the food for the next three days while they’re here and one of Yen’s aunt’s is allergic to everything under the fucking sun! Oh! And I also need to tell Jask to do everything last minute as far as the cake goes because I don’t have the fridge space and-and there’s still a goddamned molehill in the backyard where they’re having the ceremony and-“

Eskel wrapped his arms around her from behind, placing one hand over her sternum and one over her stomach, and held her tight while he whispered, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out. Just take a minute to breathe for me?”

She took a shuddering deep breath and let it out as she rested her head back against his chest, brushing a stray braid out of her eyes, “…and I have a headache…”

“That,” Eskel mumbled, pausing to press a kiss to her forehead, “we can fix quickly.” He pulled them over to her medicine cabinet and handed her some ibuprofen and a large glass of water, also insisting she sit and eat something.

After a minute or two of Triss picking at some leftover pasta salad she groaned and shoved it away, “ and my mother called.”

“How’re Sheila and the dogs?”

“Fucking unbearable,” she grumbled, pitching her voice up and scrunching her nose to imitate her mother’s nasally voice, “ When are you settling down? I was so excited when you said wedding! Haven’t you hired an inn manager yet? Why do you still clean rooms? Did you read that diet book I sent you?”

Pushing her pasta back towards her after the last question, Eskel did his best to remain casual and calm, “I thought she hated me?”

“She hates all of my partners on principle, but you’ve made the top spot for ‘least hated’,” Triss shot him a little smirk as she aggressively stabbed some more pasta, “I told her I’m quite settled and we’re happy for now and to get her nose out of other people’s business- yes I see the irony .”

Eskel forced a bit of a laugh and tried not to bite his lip. He’d been thinking about this since Yen and Renfri’s engagement party. The way Triss looked at him while the couple gushed about how they were so excited to spend the rest of their lives together (and torment some relatives with making it official) had settled in the back of his mind and refused to leave. Every day, he flip-flopped on whether there was a little hope there or if she just thought it was sweet. And every day he berated himself for not bringing it up, but he had never even entertained the idea of marriage. Hell, his main relationship had been a friends-with-benefits arrangement with Geralt, and the few before that had been rocky at best. He wasn’t cut out to be a husband. Certainly not to someone so kind and gentle and fiercely loyal and sharp as Triss. What did he have to offer? A dangerous job and nasty burn scars for their wedding photos?

She must have sensed his hesitation and pushed her pasta over to him, “Eat. I need to keep cooking… and clean the top floor.”

He hooked an arm around her waist as she walked around the little kitchen island they sat at, pulling her close and stealing the keys out of her pocket, “I’ll go get groceries after I clean the top floor. Is the laundry started?”

“You’re too good to me, Teddy Bear,” she sighed, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“Not good enough.”

She frowned, resting her palm over his jaw and searching his eyes, “We’ll come back to that when the inn is ready.”

As he stood, he stole a quick kiss and darted up the stairs, “You’re taking a nap when the inn is ready!”

-

It had all come together in the end. Triss even got some impressed looks and glowing reviews from Yennefer’s family when they arrived. The periwinkle went beautifully with the gardenia Triss had woven through the lattice around the backyard and Eskel had managed to make the moles disappear and patch the grass so even she couldn’t tell where they’d been.

Eskel watched Triss dart around the property, even after her job was done, making sure everyone was comfortable and everything ran smoothly for the girls and as much as he tried to push it down, he was just reminded of how she deserved so much more. More than a scarred, overweight firefighter with a killer therapy bill and a studio apartment that looked more like a hotel room than a home.

As he was watching the different couples swooping around the tiny courtyard dance floor, hands materialized on his shoulders, immediately digging in right where he held tension.

“Now it’s really over,” Triss whispered in his ear.

“Oh? Will you take that nap now?” Eskel shot her a grin over his shoulder as he covered one of her hands with his.

She smiled at him as if he’d said something adorably cute and inaccurate, “I’ll take a dance ?”

Standing up and spinning Triss once before pulling her close to his side, Eskel sighed, “I guess I’ll have to settle for that then.”

Giggling a tad bit deliriously, they made their way onto the dance floor and snuck into a space between the other couples. Eskel did his best to relax and stay in the moment. He took deep breaths and mentally listed little observations about his surroundings, most of which revolved around Triss, and he even tried to distract himself by making some rather suggestive advances, but no matter what he tried, he was still thinking about what she deserved and how it was everything he wasn’t.

Triss rested her hand on his cheek and gave him her trademarked wide-eyed worried look, “Are you alright? Is your knee acting up?”

“M’fine,” he lied, “Just the champagne.”

“Bullshit.”

He should have known she’d call him on it, even in the middle of a wedding she wouldn’t let him get away with anything. Just another reason he wasn’t good enough for her.

Glancing around nervously, Eskel whispered in her ear, “Can we do this later?”

“Absolutely not. You’ve been acting strange for weeks now and it’s making me crazy,” Triss tapped on the point of his chin firmly, calling his attention back to her as they swayed and stepped in a small circle like everyone else.

“Been making me crazy too…” he mumbled, only receiving a furious glare that urged him to continue, “You’re… Triss you’re perfect. I love you more than anything and anyone I’ve ever loved before…”

Tears welled in her eyes as Triss brought them to a standstill, gripping his arms for dear life, “But?”

Eskel couldn’t help tucking her long thin braids behind her ear and caressing her cheek, “But I don’t know why you’re with me. Every time this wedding gets brought up I think about how you deserve someone so much more… whole than I am. Someone who can give you what you want and who doesn’t have a horribly dangerous job and doesn’t look like the Pillsbury doughboy…”

“First off,” Triss started, almost growling as she dragged him off the dance floor and in through the back door to the kitchen, “I thought you were breaking up with me so please lead with what you’re nervous about next time,” Eskel followed, absolutely dumbfounded as he was sat down on a stool like he was in trouble with the principal, “Second, I find your extra weight sexy as hell- no arguments! That is my opinion and it is final . Third- and this one is important- you are the most thoughtful, caring, kind, and gentle person I have ever had the absolute pleasure to share a room with, let alone sleep with. I decided you’re what I wanted a long time ago. No one else has ever told me to take a nap before” she giggled, pausing to hold his face between her hands, “You don’t need to be anything other than you for me to be happy.”

She wiped a tear from his cheek with her knuckles, a fond smile playing on her lips as she drew him in, hugging him tightly so his head rested on her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed like he was scared she might disappear if he didn’t hold her tight enough.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Triss whispered back, trailing her nails over his scalp and through his soft hair, “Anytime you need a reminder you tell me. Deal?”

Eskel sniffed and pulled himself back together, leaning back to give Triss a quick kiss, “Deal.”

[tundrainafrica]

So I see your a LeviHan shipper!! I enjoy the ship a lot too!! But are there any specific reason that their your favorite?? Maybe you could explain that a little through a list? But anyways I hope your week has been good so far, Sav. Have a good day/night!!!! - Signed by Your Secret Santa 🎄

Hello! Thank you for asking about my week (and my ship). 

I enjoy the ship a lot too!! But are there any specific reason that their your favorite? 

To answer that first question...

You’re in for a long rollercoaster ride of a rant because I don’t think I’m the type of person to ship anything to the point of writing domestic fluff fics unless the I felt really really drawn to the ship. 

Anyway, (slight) spoilers abound! Will keep manga spoilers subtle, mostly Levihan scenes.

Disclaimer: I do not want to start shipping wars. I specifically avoided the words like should or best because I recognize that shipping is generally based on preferences. I respect everyone’s preferences on what they want out of a ship or even a relationship and through this, I just hope to express my own preferences and maybe even gush with people who agree.

1. The ship did not move the plot. The plot moved the ship.

Attack on Titan is not a romance or a shojo, if it’s not fairly obvious from any chapter you would randomly read. As a reader, I would have expected it to fall short with pairings. Most shows which are not romance based tend to have a few pairings which just suddenly end up together towards the end of the manga because “What’s a happy ending without marriage and kids?” There is usually a trend of just pairing of the extras and sometimes, or maybe even more often than not, it just seems to come out of nowhere (ehem... Naruto.). Maybe the relationship worked off screen but I dunno. Like no shipping war here but the only pairing I had full support for was Shikatema. 

In stories classified as romances, there is enough of a spotlight on the sexual tension and mutual pining of specific characters for the romance to be considered reasonable. In my opinion, some authors tend to sacrifice really good world building for a good romance. Objectively twilight for example had some crazy good world building but it just kinda focused a little too much on emo Bella and emo Edward for the world building to actually be appreciated by the casual reader. Tbh though, this is not necessarily bad because people get into stuff for reasons, sometimes, I just wanna read a good fantasy, sometimes I just wanna read a good romance.

Romances though as a main driving point for narratives, require some convenient serendipity moments and sexual tension which can be written well but as a reader, I prefer to see more natural relationships born out of necessity (Wall of Winnipeg and Me by Mariana Zapata is a good example of what I’m talking about in a romance novel.)

Attack on Titan through its narrative actually made Levihan seem VERY VERY possible. If I had to compare the presentation of this ship in canon to at least one relationship in other anime, I would compare it to Royai from FMA. 

Like, if Attack on Titan didn’t give us random subtle hints about romantic or just platonic relationships between the two or even about anyone, even if Levi and Hange did get together in the end, it would have been one of the pairings, I probably wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow at. 

But they could be just friends? Which brings me to my next point.

2. Their current situation makes it so it’s only natural that at the least, they considered it. 

Yes. Friends is a valid interpretation for anything. I mean, given our hook up culture, people can fuck as friends too. People probably have made out drunk as friends too. Like I have seen my fair share of this type of bullshit in high school and college and I would say, we do not need a kiss or a fucking session to recognize that something can be a good relationship or to recognize that they have probably thought about it. 

A relationship requires a commitment (conscious or unconscious) to caring for the other, keeping the other safe, recognizing their flaws and thinking about them regularly (Call me scott peck or marriage counselor but like I honestly think the world would be a better place once people recognize that quality romantic relationships are worked for).

Mind you, Levi and Hange lost everything.They literally lost everything from their old life, all their friends, all their loved ones and all they have is each other and they’re forced to take care of a bunch of kids.

There are people who have said before, no one gets very close with someone without ever considering a romantic relationship with them. Or even if they never considered it romantic, they could consider at least “living with them their whole life,” or “supporting them through thick and thin.” The things is, towards the end, they were constantly together and what drove them to that situation is that both of them are aware of what the other had lost. They understood each other more than anyone else and they recognized that they were the only ones left in their own circle and I personally think that is more than enough for a relationship to naturally bloom between them.

3. The relationship and the signs are subtle and it works.

I personally probably would not have enjoyed it if canon showed a romantic relationship of the two after Erwin died. It’s a valid interpretation to consider that it could have happened, based on my explanation for number 2 but Hange is commander, Levi is captain. They have a professional relationship and they have goals and obligations which take precedence over personal desires. They are in the middle of a war and the most which probably could have happened was a secret mutual pining between the two and I think Isayama has injected the most subtle hints which are the most that could have been appropriately put into canon without seeming too OOC. Hange and Levi are not selfish people. They have promises, dreams and obligations which they respect and have committed themselves to already. It has also been shown at earlier points of the manga that they do put their survey corps duties on top of everything so acting on a romantic attraction at that point in time would have definitely been inappropriate. 

I personally think, the scenes of Hange going out of her way to save Levi as commander, killing her other soldiers to save both their asses, suggesting in the forest that they live together instead of go back to the war and not leaving an injured Levi until she had no choice were more powerful than a lot of romantic scenes where people actually fuck and kiss. Kissing and fucking are easy. Leaving the duties and responsibilities they have worked for for five years to keep the person they love alive hits way harder. 

Call it platonic. Call it romantic. But no one like Hange would have deserted her post as commander for a few chapters to take care of a sick comrade and kill her subordinates to save their asses if there wasn’t anything between them. 

4. It gives a great example what healthy relationships can come from. 

I grew up reading sweet valley and chick lits cause I was a basic bitch and I kinda grew up with a somehow unrealistic idea of where relationships come from. Call me a late bloomer but I only actually figured out where the romance and the happiness of a relationship was when I got into one with my best friend for five years. 

It’s the sexual tension and the “will they wont they?” push and pull which can lead to satisfying sex or a happy ending in romance novels. I think in a way, media kinda overglorifies it which kinda gives a lot of young people the wrong idea about why they getting into a relationship is fun in the first place.  Because after the satisfying sex and the kids, what’s next for the relationship?

Years of utility bills, diapers, chores, schedules, parent teacher conferences and compromises until someone gives up or dies. And what kind of relationships can actually thrive through all these? 

Those that have mastered the underrated parts of relationships. These include conflict resolutions, compromises and open communication. I think we have seen enough of those two, even before season 3 that have shown that they know each other very well and they have shown to at least have a relatively equal power dynamic which is a foundation for open communication and mutual trust in relationships even beyond the fucking and marriage stage 

5. They have a great foundation of character development for both parties.

As I mentioned above, they have a relatively equal power dynamic. I love Royai from FMA and I have compared Royai to this multiple times. I would say though I prefer Levihan over Royai because I felt that Royai had more unequal power dynamics? (Though I still think Royai is a top tier ship ). Also, they have shown to tell off the other when they don’t like what the other is doing. They are complete opposites but here is the magical thing. They talk everything out. They’re generally open people to each other and they know each other way too well as hinted in scenes before and opposites work as long as the others are willing to compromise. I think (especially in season 3 and season 4) that they have done enough for each other and have compromised enough for each other in the survey corps that these skills could easily be brought with them even after the war.

That open communication is just what makes them maintaining a relationship while being complete opposites very OC and realistic. Eventually, they did probably did make compromises, which most likely softened or moderated the crazy parts of their personalities which is just a really fun part of their relationship to explore. 

6. It could realistically last so maybe ...

7. A good foundation for happy children?

Maybe it’s how it is written because of the actual story and why would Yams write a romantic drama in a story about genocide and war. Tbh, I would attribute it more to Levi and Hange’s personalities though because Mikasa and Eren have their fair share of drama, mostly one sided though coz Mikasa. This relationship has no drama, no misunderstandings which just further supports my point that they have a relationship that thrives on open communication and mutual trust. Drama is fun like when we’re the ones on the sidelines eating the popcorn but I have third wheeled enough people in my life to realize that I will not support a relationship where both parties are just not ready to be mature about it, in real life and in fiction. 

My favorite couples, in real life and in fiction, are definitely those who keep conflict among themselves and maybe among trusted people. I think one sign of a healthy relationship is one where problems don’t become public through social media or through like 20 people. One important yet underrated part of relationships is the atmosphere of comfort and freedom which encourages both parties to be able to directly approach one another before tensions and uncertainties get out of hand.  

And a life free of dramas at least in the early stages of life just kinda shows at least that both parties are ready to bring a new life to the world? Because like immature parents with shitty conflict resolution skills really fuck kids up man and I passionately believe the world would really be a better place if babies were born out of trust, mutual understanding and open communication instead of sex but yeah, make sex fun to keep our race alive.

So anyway, I guess, I just finished explaining why I love this ship so much while also disclosing my preferences for relationships. 

As mentioned above...

Disclaimer: I do not want to start shipping wars. I specifically avoided the words like should or best because I recognize that shipping is generally based on preferences. I respect everyone’s preferences on what they want out of a ship or even a relationship and through this, I just hope to express my own preferences and maybe even gush with people who agree.

Other pairings which I support for those curious: Shikatema, Royai, Victuuri, Percabeth etc.

Also... To answer your second question... 

My week has been great, some pretty solid life developments but US elections wise, not so great... (WHY IS THE ELECTION RACE SO CLOSE?)

[ofdreamsanddoodles]

i know the fears are kind of made up so classifying the statements isn’t super important, especially now, but I’d like to point out that even thought MAG 180 is about death, it is absolutely 100% a Web statement and, unfortunately, that means we should be worried about Annabelle

First off, this statement’s in second person. All of this is someone telling you what to do, to “walk faster now, pick up the pace” and to “just knock and and ask to enter.” Then there’s what’s actually in the building. The face “you” find is “stained with age and death and sin,” but immediately after "sin” is mentioned, the statement giver backs up, saying that they’ve misjudged what they saw. It’s very typical of the Web to make you second guess yourself. MAG 172 has something similar

THE SPIDER: “Oh, Francis. It’s such a shame that I couldn’t do such a thing even if I wanted to. The man in the audience saw to that. (laugh) I am no more free than you are, little puppet.

It’s not exactly the same, but here’s the line in MAG 180:

Or try your best not to hear, to think nothing but good and admirable thoughts of those who wait in monuments to their own virtue. There now, a face, pale and stained with age and death and sin, no, not sin, never sin. Misjudgment. Indiscretion. Misunderstanding. Never sin. Never evil.

Once again, an outside force is telling the statement giver that the people around them are good, despite the fact that the situation they’re in is specifically designed to cause as much fear as possible.

We even have a description of doors with occupants that have “brittle, bony limbs.” It’s easy to assume that this could be describing skeletons, except that Annabelle is described several times as being extremely thin, and says that the Web avatar she met was very skinny as well. Either way, we never find out what’s inside the crypts because the statement tells you to avoid the doors, and ignore the thoughts these sights make you feel. 

There’s a very heavy emphasis on not being able to speak your mind, not because you don’t want to, but because something is stopping you from being honest about your feelings. First, there’s the phrase “Nihil Nisi Bonum,” which means not to speak ill of the dead, then the statement goes on to insisting that the angels wouldn’t like it if you made a scene, and continues on to imply that saying anything bad about the dead, even if they personally wronged you, makes you a terrible person. It’s all manipulation! The person in this statement isn’t afraid of the dead, or being dead, they’re afraid of what this experience will force them to say, and what will happen to them if they deviate from their script. It’s also pretty important to point out that this is very clearly about a dead female relative! It’s not specified whether or not it’s their mother or not, but it’s definitely someone who raised him. Which makes this next bit very interesting;

Don’t step on the cracks, or goodness knows what will happen. And you are surrounded by goodness, are you not?

"If you step on a crack, you’ll break your mother’s back” is a really childish superstition, but it’s another mention of mothers, right before we meet Annabelle (aka, the daughter of the mother of puppets) and it’s another insistence that “you” must be good. More manipulation, more insistence that you follow a rigid morality that makes no sense.

There’s also “t calls itself a home, but it lies,” which is a potentially Spiral line, of course, but the Web lies just as much. And now that Jon and Martin are in Annabelle’s home...

‘Come in,’ the Funeral Director intones, ‘the service is about to begin. You are expected.’

It’s not the same, but Annabelle welcomes Jon and Martin this episode as well. And it’s the Funeral Director nudging “you” through this entire statement. It’s them and their involvement that makes this day as terrible as it is.

The dust has settled over everything in layers so thick you dread to touch anything, to rest for even a moment, so keenly aware of the stark imprint you would leave, the marks of your presence.

This isn’t a super important line right yet, but dust and cobwebs are, as we know, tied to the Web. And the fact that they can’t even rest for a moment is really interesting, since that’s exactly what Jon and Martin are going to do.

There’s not much that’s obviously Web about the way the statement describes walking up to the corpse, but the Funeral Director forces “you” into the podium despite being desperate to leave, and then “commands” you into “saying a few words.” There’s a lot that can be said about, especially considering that’s kind of how Jon was forced into ending the world, but the fact that the eulogy is someone forced into speaking about how good someone is despite all evidence to the contrary? The fact that they talk about how this person touched the lives of others? Very Web. I’m sure Annabelle would say the Web made Jon’s life “more beautiful,” too.

There’s also the part angels play into this statement. It’s the angels that are watching, the angels that you can’t offend, they angels that are waiting for you to make one wrong move so they have an excuse to strike. The person in the statement continues onwards because of the fear of these angels, which the Funeral Director then takes advantage of. And in the eulogy, the corpse called an angel.

Beneath your threadbare suit and fear-stained shirt, the scars that lattice across your body ache and burn at the sight of the one who gave them to you. You feel the cross she once carved into your back open, and begin to weep its own bloody testament.

We all know who gave Jon his scars. We also know who he and Martin are planning on fighting. And we know Elias is always watching and that he was waiting for Jon to make a wrong move, so he could end the world. And Jon, just like in the statement, was placed on this path because of agents of the Web. The Director leads you up to the podium. Mr. Spider makes desperate to learn more. 

And then we have the last few lines, which is what convinced me this was Web in the first place

You cannot turn from the podium, cannot stop the gushing flow of love and forgiveness you vomit out into the nodding crowd. Behind you, a dark shadow moves, a shape that seems to slither from the coffin. You watch it coming closer from the corner of your eye, but you cannot stop your kind words. Not even as the needle-sharp teeth of her corpse begin to dig into your shoulder.

Once again, not the first time we’ve heard about something like this. Yes, this is obviously a zombie, but Francis had hooks dug into their skin for The Spider to control them. And, honestly, what is a zombie but a person operating against their own will? You don’t want for flesh or brains, but being bitten by a zombie gives you that hunger. Jon needs to survive on statements. He lives this way because someone with a similar hunger forced him into becoming something inhuman. 

And of course, the corpse you knew is the only angel that gets to hurt you. The rest never move, though it’s implied they could. But you’re only even so close to this corpse because of the Funeral Director. They’ve placed you right where you need to be for the one who wants to hurt you to deal the final blow.

So, whatever Annabelle has planned proooobably isn’t great news for Jon

[minerstatus]

Teyvat’s School for the Gifted

Summary: He's cruel, mean, and sadistic. Lumine cannot fathom why he has the followers he does, but she won't fall into his hands like the rest of them.  It was unknown to her at that time how such a stance would cause the biggest uproar the schools ever seen.

This is the silly drama filled high school/college parody AU nobody asked for filled with Lumine not giving a shit and Childe trying to buy his way out of problems.

Ship: Lumine/Childe

Tags: Highschool AU, Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Jealousy, lots of side ships.

Status: 5/? on Ao3

Chapter 1

The school located on an island inside the neutral zones between nations is a blessing for anyone without a swimming pool filled with mora. Without money you have to be gifted a vision to attend. That is why Lumine thought she would never be accepted to such a place. Instead cursed to live her life on a small farm on the outskirts of Mondstadt, killing small monsters for money to aid her ailing mother.

She had become quite the prodigy around the area. Her sword work was nothing to be trifled with. Some would even gush about what it would be like if she did have a vision. Then it happened, a strange string of life changing events.

-

 She enjoyed spending her free time sitting under the statue of the seven in windrise. It gave her a reprieve from her day-to-day life of school, killing, then sleep. She polished her blade most days she sat there, enjoying the sounds of the wilderness around her.

 As she sheathed her blade, wistfully thinking about what it would be like to magically summon and desummon it as a vision user, a light began to shine behind her. There was a flash, she thought maybe a vision might appear in front of her. But this was no test or life changing event. It didn’t make sense.

 Wind surrounded her body, lifting her skit in the breeze. She turned, it followed with her. She lifted her hand as a power surged through her. A burst of wind jetted from her palm and sliced across the water. It trimmed the tops off the over grown grasses lining the ponds edge. The wind died down and left her for elsewhere as the light slowly faded out of existence.

 Befuddled, she stared at the palms of her hands. She felt a power emanating from her core. With a trembling arm she raised her palm again, calling forth on the energy. It darted from her as before. Shocked, she tried it again and again, smiling gleefully with each blast of wind. She twirled around, searching for her vision, but came up empty.

-

That is how the first visionless anemo user was born. At first people didn’t believe her. Delusions were not unknown to the common folk of Teyvat. They were a staple favorite of the mafia families across the regions. But she quickly smashed those theories to pieces. Not only was she a poor farm girl fighting to survive, but where on earth would she have the money to afford such a thing. She allowed an inspection of her things and a pat down to prove it.

After the authorities decided that she did not have a vision she was free to do as she wished. That was until the head master of Teyvat’s school for the gifted showed up on her doorstep. The scholarship she was offered would give more money to her mother per month than she could in six months of hunting. She took it without question.

That’s how she ended up here, gawking at the building in front of her. The school defied the rumors. Statues carved from marble, fountains that defied gravity, even the wood it was built from looked impossibly expensive. Heck, the wildlife looked like they ate from golden platters.

The only thing that held her from running right back to the boat was a woman pinning her down with a chemically assisted cheerful gaze. A shiver ran up her spine as she waved her over. She obliged only because her eyes looked a hair away from snapping into crazy land.

“Welcome to Teyvat’s finest Lumine!” She cheered and began to clap.

“Thanks,” She mumbled, intimidated by her nature. She looked like a robot. Sleek black hair, not a strand out of place. Perfectly pressed blazer and pencil skirt in matching shades. Her glasses glistening in the sunlight, even if they were just plain black frames. She hoped not everyone in this school looked or felt this way.

“Follow me and I'll take you to your dorm. Then it’s a trip around campus!” She quipped then turned on her heel. Even her footsteps were a perfect tempo.

They walked through the faculty building, which thankfully looked normal inside. The site quelled her turning stomach. It was into the garden next that, as expected, looked immaculate. They even had a massive sand garden. Back in Mondstadt something like that would be destroyed in seconds.

Eventually they came upon another wooden building with a large ‘girls’ over it. The woman stopped and spun so fast on her heel Lumine almost let out small scream.

“This is the girl's dorm; your roommates are waiting for you inside with your things. I'll be back in thirty minutes for the rest of the tour,” she said, smile never once faltering as she left Lumine to her own devices.

Her roommates were nice, they greeted her in the common room just as her guide stated. Amber was a bit too enthusiastic for just about anything. Barbara was a very cheerful girl but was more reserved. It was a breath of fresh air to see two friendly faces. They led her to their dorm to get settled.

“So, what do you think?” Amber asked as Lumine began to unpack her luggage. Placing her uniforms carefully into her small closet along with her own casual clothing. Her own things almost felt dirty comparted to the schools uniform she was provided. And the room was much bigger than what she expected from a dormitory.

“It's overwhelming,” She admitted.

“You'll get used to it,” Amber laughed.

“Are you?” Lumine began to ask.

“Scholarship,” Amber answered, holding up her vision, “They keep the poor kids together so we don’t infect the rich kids.” She laughed.

“Hey!” Barbara yelled at her. Lips pointing into a pout.

“Except for Barbara, she requested to room with me. She's the exception.” Amber smiled at her friend.

“So, it's exactly how I thought it would be,” Lumine grumbled. This school was probably dripping with rich kids causing trouble for the normal folk, like she expected.

“Some of the students are alright, indifferent you might say. But there are,” Amber held up her hands as air quotes, “those types.”

“Will you guys be in my classes?” She asked.

“Nope, third years!”

Lumine felt her insides twist. Great, now she would be alone on her first day. At least her dorm would be nice. Amber was warm and friendly and Barbara seemed sweet even if she wasn’t talking as much. The pair would only be a year below her so they were still close in age. Hopefully she wouldn’t be moved to another dorm with the ‘adults’ if she attends the next four years after this one.

“You don’t want to be in our year anyways,” Barbara laughed.

“Whys that?” Lumine felt a small smile form for the first time since she set foot on the island. Barbara wiggled her eyebrows and gleamed over at Amber. She turned red in response and threw a pillow at her.

“Stop! Its not my fault!” She shouted.

“It’s gross the way he drools over his desk for you,” Barbara added.

“Mind filling me in?” Lumine asked.

“No!” Amber shouted.

“She has this wolf boy that follows her around and causes trouble. Its adorable,” Barbara said anyways.

“I didn’t ask for it he just did it!” Amber defended herself.

“It's like a comedy slash horror show every day,” Barbara giggled.

“Stop teasing me,” Amber whined.

“Wolf boy?” Lumine asked. Mondstadt had a steady population of people descendant of shape shifters or animals, but she had never seen a wolf before. Most of them were cats. Granted, she did keep to herself and didn’t really mix with the town folk, even at school.

“Half werewolf, half human, grew up in the wild before coming here earlier in the year,” Amber explained.

“He can smell everything, it's awful,” Barbara moaned, “one time I tried to bring some leftovers from lunch and he almost ripped apart my bag looking for it.”

“Sounds like a nice boyfriend,” Lumine said, hiding her smile as she sorted items into her desk drawers. Amber gasped from behind her. She swallowed a laugh.

“H-he's not my boyfriend!” She yelled. Lumine busted and began to giggled along with Barbara. She was interested in seeing the exchanges between the two now.

“Very funny guys, I'll make sure to make fun of your pain in suffering next time I get the chance.” Amber crossed her arms.

“Alright I'll stop,” Barbara waved her hand at her. A sharp knock on the door quickly soured the cheerful mood. The door swung open and Lumine’s guide walked in.

“Fantastic, I'm so glad you are getting along with your new housemates. We must complete the tour now.” The woman said, still as cheerful as ever. Lumine noticed Barbara and Ambers shoulders fell on her entrance. “I'll be waiting out front,” she chirped and left.

“God, Mrs.Lee always gives me the creeps,” Amber said.

“Glad it's not just me,” Lumine laughed as she stood.

“Good luck! See you at dinner,” Amber waved as Lumine exited the room. She heard faint whispers of gossip as she left but knew it was nothing bad, those girls didn’t have a mean bone in them.

-

They walked around campus and Lumine slowly became accustomed to the wildly expensive taste. She was shown the inside of the year one through four buildings, for the fourteen-to-eighteen-year old's. Then the outside of the adult facilities. Mrs. Lee assured the only real difference between the two was the uniform requirement and some extra freedoms.

After taking the tour she felt less overwhelmed, but it was the final stop that really cemented the reality most of the students lived in. It was the cafeteria of the school, but should have been classified as a food court. There was the line for the scholarship students where they could use one of three free meal tickets per day, or a snack coupon, all loaded onto her school ID. Wich was normal, same thing that she had in Mondstadt, minus the dinner.

What was different was the restaurants lining the walls. Everything you could imagine from each region on tap. And the prices were nothing to scoff at. A Fishermans toast was going for ten thousand mora, she could make that for less than three hundred back home. Lines scaled out to the isles as students waited, eager to be robbed for food.

“Lumine!” A familiar voice shouted. She sighed in relief. A distraction to this insanity was required right about now. She carried her tray adorned with less appetizing food from the school over to the table Amber sat at.

“This place is crazy,” Lumine sighed in exhaustion.

“My first day I ran away,” Amber laughed. She placed a spoon full of mac and cheese into her mouth.

“Those prices are more than I make in three weeks back home,” She said as she began to eat. Pleasantly surprised that even the free food was delectable. The pasta was perfectly cooked, cheese sauce an ideal creamy texture. She moved on to nibble at her cookie, baked expertly with a crispy outside and a gooey center. “God,” she murmured, savoring the taste.

“I told you, you get used to it,” Amber smiled sweetly. A book bag slamming down on the table instantly cleared her face. She looked up to see what she assumed was the wolf boy from earlier discussions. Lumine wondered why Amber felt it was bad to have his attention. He was attractive, silver hair and red eyes, giving him an exotic look. His arms were coated in scars and a massive one gashed his face, not a bad look if your into that type. Some of the girls back home would swoon over the attention.

“Why,” She groaned as he pulled out a seat, pushing it right up against hers as he sat a plate of meat and potatoes down. It must have been one of the free creature meals from the school line. He sat, making sure he was as close as physically possible to her.

Okay, maybe that’s why. Lumine began to understand.

He tilted his head like a new puppy, “Why?” He asked, voice thick with an unknown accent.

“We talked about this,” She shoved his chair away. “This is Razor,” She sighed as he sunk into his chair to pout. Lumine nodded and greeted him with a smile.

“I bought brownies!” Barbara sang as she skipped over to the table, “For our new friend,” She handed out the sweets, “And beef jerky for you,” She said as she handed Razor a slim piece of dried meat. He perked up and took it, chewing on it greedily. After the experience with the cookie Lumine thought the food couldn’t get better. But the brownie was smooth decadent layers of velvet chocolate that melted in her mouth. She had to suppress a groan.

There was a pickup of chatter in the room that pulled her from her chocolate induced fantasy. She looked towards the entrance of the café where a group of boys walked in. They were followed by a gaggle of other students, mostly female, all adorned with an expensive accessory or more.

Lumine was an honest person and she did not deny to herself that these boys looked like royalty. They walked with an air of confidence even through the crowd, knowing that the sea of students would part for them. She counted each of their visions, anemo, geo, cryo and hydro. There was a distinct leader to the group out of the four. A redhead who wore his vision on his belt, showing it off by messily tucking in half of his unkept shirt. Like he wanted people to see it, unlike the rest of them that wore them on chains by their side, as did everyone else in the school.

“Don't stare,” Amber hissed. Lumine snapped her eyes to her friends.

“Who are they?” She asked. Amber eyed her wearily before divulging the information.

“Sons of the school's elite,” She glanced back at the group to ensure they were distracted with food or girls before continuing, “The shorter one with green hair is Xiao, the son of the wangshu inn owner. The geo looking guy is Zhongli from the Wangsheng funeral parlor. Blue hair is Kaeya, one of the sons from the dawn winery.” Amber stopped speaking as she got to the last subject. Lumine quirked a brow as both Barbara and Amber swiveled their heads to check on the group again.

“It's not really them you should be weary of though; besides Xiao they are nice. Xiao has always had a stick up his butt,” Barbara added to the conversation.

“Then what is it, why are we acting like we are defusing a bomb?” Lumine asked.

“It's Childe, the redhead,” Amber whispered.

“Childe? That’s a dumb name,” Lumine thought out loud. The girls hissed at her to keep her voice down.

“He smells mean,” Razor added. Amber pulled on his ear.

“I told you not to talk about him,” She growled at him. He grasped her hand in his, forcing her to release.

“But you are!” he argued.

“Thats because we are warning her!” Amber explained. Razors eyes darted from Ambers to Lumines and he resigned himself back to his half-eaten steak.

Amber rolled her eyes and turned back to Lumine, “It’s not his real name, no one even knows his real name.”

“Childe is an awful nickname,” She whispered back to her friend.

“He’s mean, and evil, once he has you in his sights there's no stopping it.” Amber warned her.

“What about his friends? Don’t they say something?” She asked.

“They are rich, us poor folk don’t matter to them even if they act cordial towards us,” Amber told her as she leaned back, “Besides you don’t have a vision, he will probably just ignore you.”

Lumine widened her eyes, “well...” She felt a tint come to her cheeks, “Actually...”

Amber slammed her fists on the table, “NO WAY! YOUR THAT GIRL!” she screamed. Drawing the attention of half the students.

“Show us!” Barbara insisted.

“Ah, I don’t think now is the best time.” Lumine tried to quell her friend's voices but both girls were oblivious to the attention they were attracting. She glanced over at the red head she was warned about to make sure he was still entranced at whatever activity he had chosen.

“Awh comon I wanna see!” Amber whined.

“First anemo user in history without a vision! Don’t hold out on us!” Barbara added.

“Fine! Just stop yelling at me,” Lumine finally conceded. She put her palm face up on the table and gathered a small amount of wind to it. It tinted green with her power as it swirled into a miniature tornado in her palm.

“This is so cool!” Amber gasped.

“It's the same as anyone else,” Lumine said, closing her hand to cease the wind. She was more than a bit tired of people going ballistic over her powers.

“Let's get back to the dorms,” Amber suggested, “We have much to talk about,” She smiled gleefully. Razor whimpered next to her, “fine you can come too,” She sighed. Razor looked up with a beaming smile.

“Boys are allowed in the girls dorms?” Lumine asked as they gathered their trays and bags.

“Only until eight with a strict open-door policy,” Barbara told her.

She hummed in response as the group made their way over to the trash bins. Eyes were on her now, some searching for a vision trinket she didn’t possess. She was the last one out the door when a chill tingled down her spin. She grabbed the back of her neck and turned, expecting a cryo user to be standing there with a smirk on their face.

Instead, she was greeted with sea blue eyes cutting through the crowd. He smirked when they made eye contact. The chill went down her entire body. She glared as the door to the building swung shut, cutting them off.

Shit.

[quixotic-writer]

Signs

request: @birdgirl1772

Summary: New York was the place she hopes new horizons would be seen with a brand new job on the set of Impractical jokers with her long time boyfriend. Things didn’t change as she hoped and signs led people’s minds down a road they didn’t know was there. Q ventured in but is determined to help her on a path of her own.

Warning: Themes and talk of ab*se

————————————————

'Everything's fine. It's all okay.'

Like a mantra I keep telling myself over and over again as I frantically try and get the apartment put into order. He'll be up at any moment and I need breakfast hot on the table for him, if not he'll just do it again.

Almost as if on cue, I hear his footsteps and I feel a chill down my spine. I straighten myself up and put on a brave happy face.

"Good morning, breakfast is hot and ready." He doesn't say anything to me, just sits down at the table and quietly eats his breakfast as I clean up the kitchen. "I have a long day at work today on set, I might not be home in time to make dinner. How about some takeout at that italian place around the block?" He huffs.

"I don't ask for much, do I? All I want from you is a hot meal on the table. You're not the only one that works, you know." He spoke in a calm pointed tone. It was always scarier like this because it was the brewing and bubbling before worse happened.

"I'm sorry they just need me on set, I can't help that today is going to be a longer shoot."

"You can open your fat mouth about not being home to do basic shit, why can't you open your mouth to get a decent schedule?" I sit at the table nibbling at my plate of food, poking around at whatever was on it with my head hung low in shame. "My family wonders why I haven't proposed to you yet, how am I supposed to marry someone who doesn't even have any traits of a good wife?" He picked up his table and loudly threw his dishes in the sink making me jump.

I sit there without any tears left to cry. I just stare at the oak table and wonder why I can't do anything right. He comes back into the room with his coat in hand, lays a hand on my shoulder and plants a kiss on top of my head.

"I'll be home at 7 for dinner. Love you honey." He steps out the door and I hear him leave. I was left to clean everything up and clean myself up as well to head out for work.

When I went into the bathroom to change, I got a good look at my bare body. I had bruises in random splotches, some more faded than others. I felt disgusting. But he loved me. He's just pointing out things that I need to improve on... Right? That's all it is. He loves me. I convince myself mentally once more, but that only lasts mere seconds until i'm back to daydreams of escapism. I feel like a rat in a cage, he gives me everything, but he doesn't give me love. I'm just a sick experiment. A mere pet to him.

I pull my shirt over my head and cover the physical incarnations of my terrible secret and I head out the door to our filming location for the day: the bridal store.

I get to work and get things rolling before the guys get in: starting their coffee, helping set up their stations, double checking all the cameras are in place, and making sure each person is accounted for. I'm running all over set that I didn't notice or hear Q behind me. As I turn around with a coffee cup in hand, he's just standing there looking at me. I jump out of my skin and end up dropping the cup. A huge puddle of coffee is all over the floor and I feel my heart sink.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I immediately go down to grab the coffee cup. Q walks over and I screw my eyes closed fearing that I might be adding another bruise to my skin. But as I wait for a second, nothing happens. I open my eyes and see he has a couple of napkins and is helping to sop up the coffee.

"Didn't mean to scare you like that sweetheart! Are you okay?" He looks in my eyes with worry.

"I-I... I'm so sorry..." I couldn't get anything else out but that.

"You don't have to be sorry, accidents happen. I'm just happy none of it got on you, that would have hurt like a bitch!" We finish cleaning everything up and things seem to be back on track for everyone else. My heart felt like it was gonna fall out of my chest with how hard it was pounding so I found a way to escape off to the bathroom in a fired rush. As I was walking, I had my head down and clumsily bumped into someone else.

"Woah there speedy! Careful there!" I twist my head and see Joe who helps hold me steady so I don't fall, "You're an important part of the team and we can't have you getting hurt on our watch." He says with a smile. His words sound almost distant as my mind is only on finding a means of hiding. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost. Let me go get you water." He disappears and I go to hide away in the bathroom.

I slam the door and lock it. My palms are drenched in sweat and I'm shaking. I didn't make one mistake. I made two.

"You IDIOT!" I whisper yell to myself as I sit on the toilet. Eventually I had calmed myself down, took a breath, and wiped the sweat off my hands. The moment I opened the bathroom door there was Joe ready to knock, staring at me wide eyed. "Jesus christ Joe! Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack!"

"Sorry, didn't mean to. I was looking everywhere for ya! Got you that water, stay hydrated." He hands me an ice cold water bottle and gives a soft smile before disappearing into the maze of equipment and team members. I was almost confused. I could have gotten water myself. I shrug at the kind gesture and try to get myself back on schedule after having that huge breakdown.

Everything from there was on track, no more hiccups in the road. I watched alongside the tech team as each of the jokers worked their magic in the dress viewing room, seeing various bride-to-be's in dazzling white and ivory dresses. Lace, chiffon, satin, there was everything and so much more. The girls on the team and I would gawk at each and every one that came through on screen, gushing about how gorgeous they are and how beautiful each girl was too. It came to a close for me as a voice came over the speakers for me to fix something up closer to the guy's monitors, a minor wiring issue that needed touching up on. As always I was quick on the scene to make sure that the problem was rectified and it wouldn't stall anything. The guys were still doing their thing as Murr was up on the floor.

I worked quietly and quickly, but not quickly enough I guess. The boys started getting rowdy, yelling, shouting, and hollering. Something in me shut down and suddenly everything didn't feel real. I looked at the work I had in front of me and nothing was quite clicking in my head. I froze. I stood behind their monitor in a daze. I don't know how much time passed before someone helped me fix the last bits up and get me out of there. I went into this mental auto-pilot mode. I heard everyone's voices, but it sounded foreign and almost distant.

"Hey." That came to me clear, I turned and Q was there. He looked worried.

"Hey." Play it off. Play it cool. Don't burden anyone with your problems.

"Listen, I notice things from time to time and I think now more than ever I need to address this." He kept his distance from me, his shoulders were slumped.

"What do you mean?" Play dumb. Don't let him know.

"Are things okay at home? Like, you and your boyfriend?" Cry for help? No don't do that, he'll think you're weak. But I need help. I can't take it anymore. But you've put up with it for so long, you can change him, he loves you. My mind was racing and I felt like a chameleon caught in the middle of its color change.

"W-why?" You're making it so obvious, why are you like this? His face shifts and I think that was an answer in itself that he feared.

"You don't have to tell me anything, it's not my business. Just know that I'm here for you and that I care about you. You're a part of the team and one of the crew members I can actually classify as a friend, your safety means everything to me and the guys." He goes in to hug me, I flinch. His arms don't wrap around me but his arms remain open. I look at him, and slowly melt into the hug. Despite his large stature, his embrace was soft and comforting. I've been hugged countless times, especially by my boyfriend, but never had any of them ever felt anything like this.

'Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.' Was what was screaming in my head as he held me in his arms. But, I just couldn't. We both separated and he was back to take his turn. I just sigh and feel this aching in my stomach. Was it guilt? Shame? Fear? Anxiety for sure.

When things had wrapped up, I roamed about the bridal attire looking at all the dresses feeling as the various textures graced my fingertips and their shape creating a model in my imagination.

"Try some on! Some of the other girls on set did, I think you deserve a chance to as well." Q sneaks past me and I didn't jump out of my skin for once. My eyes lit up like fireworks and I grabbed dress after dress.

"Only if you can give me some honest feedback big guy!" I say as I skip off to the changing room. I changed in and strolled out to the mirror. I spun and got a full look of myself and I felt beautiful for the first time in a long time.

"Look at you glow! Look at that smile!" Q had said enthusiastically. His eyes had wandered, but I noticed they stopped and his expression had changed.

"Something wrong? Did I get something on the dress?!" I look about the dress to find where the stain or imperfection might be.

"No, you just have a bruise on ya. How'd that happen?" I turn and bend my neck to see where in the mirror. There it was on my back left shoulder. I felt ice shoot up my spine.

"I'm just a little clumsy and ditsy! Just being stupid little old me again!" I pick up the skirt and go back to the changing room. This time, I went into something that covered me a little more and hid everything that I wasn't ready to reveal. When I came out, I knew my smile was less enthusiastic and I had lost my spark. I looked at myself, and it was just like I had always dreamed I would look like as a kid if I ever got married. That's when my mood really changed and I just started to whimper and cry. Q was quick to be at my side as I fell to my knees and wept.

"Hey, hey, hey it's okay." He held my hand in his and spoke in a hushed tone as he knelt by me.

"No. It's not. It hasn't been for a while." My mascara was running when I looked up at myself in the mirror. I looked around to see if anyone was there. No one was.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"It's the dress."

"What about it? I think you look good in it if that means anything." I chuckle. Sweet even when I look like a disgusting disaster.

"It's not that. It's just, i've always dreamed of this. Any kid does, especially me. Dressed up in a gorgeous dress of their dreams for their wedding. Smiling when you find the one and the dress. I've dreamt about it ever since I heard my boyfriend say 'I love you' to me. I want to get married but I feel that dream slipping away. He says he loves me, but I'm nothing but a punching bag, a burden, inconsiderate, imperfect, unlovable. Nothing I do is right or enough. I loved him, but I just can't find anything good in him anymore and I can't live like this anymore." The tears fall fast and heavy down my face and onto the carpet of the room. Q doesn't do anything but listen, "I want to leave, but I have nowhere to go. No one that cares. I moved here for work and away from each and every one of my support systems that I had. He said it'd be a new start but it feels like a trap now. I'm scared and I'm alone. I have no one that loves me."

"I don't know what to say to make this any better but I can tell you this for certain: you are not alone in this. He doesn't deserve you. He's stooped to the lowest of the low and is the scum of the earth. A royal piece of shit. I want to help you and I want to get you out of there." My head whips to him and our eyes connect and the tears temporarily stop.

"What do you mean?"

"You have your own bank account right? You know where all your important stuff is right? Do you have a suitcase to pack essentials?"

"Yes. But Q, and I mean this in the nicest way, what the fuck?" It felt like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Hope.

"You say you have no support system, well i'm it now. So are the rest of the guys whether they like it or not really. I'm hatching a plan. Are you in or out?" Everything felt sudden and so fast, my mind was racing and so was my heart. This was my chance, my opportunity, my sign that I've been begging for.

"I'm in."

"Perfect."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stood in front of the mirror brushing my teeth and I watched him climb into bed in the reflection. I look back to myself.

'Am I ready for this? Is this really what I want?' Second thoughts bloomed in my mind as my eyes kept wandering off to him. This is gonna break him and I almost felt kind of bad for it. I spit the minty foam and rinse my mouth. No more doubts for myself. This is it. I climb into bed and just lay there on my back for a while as I felt the bed shift on occasion as he settled in for the night.

After what felt like an eternity but was only half an hour, I knew he was dead asleep. I snuck out of my bed and gathered all of my important belongings. Special papers like my social security card, passport, etcetera. Quietly pulled out my suitcase and stuffed it to the gills with all my clothes and other little trinkets like jewelry and knick knacks. Once I was all quietly packed, I left it by the front door and sent a quick text to Q that our plan was in motion.

I stepped back into the bedroom to see him unshifted and unbothered. I wish he had been like this all the time. I at least wanted to have the decency to officially split us. I scribbled out a messy letter that I left on the kitchen counter as I heard a car come to a stop on the quiet streets. A peek outside the curtain revealed a red jeep waiting outside. My heart fluttered. I looked around at my surroundings one last time, taking in the last drops of memories both good and bad. With a deep breath I snuck out the front door. Q helped throw my suitcase into the trunk and gave me a hug and I began to cry.

"Honey?" I hear a strained tired voice that wasn't Q's. We both looked to see him standing in the doorway rubbing the sleep from his eyes and to see if what he was seeing was correct. My heart sunk. "Are you kidding me? Cheating on me? You've got to be fucking kidding me." He started to approach and Q shoved me into the passenger seat and guarded the door like a dog, standing tall. I could hear it all beyond the window.

"She's been nothing but loyal to you I can promise you that, maybe a little too loyal for scum like you."

"What do you know about us? Who the fuck are you anyway?" They both stood chest to chest and I was terrified of what was to come next. The fear of not knowing what will happen and being terrified at the idea of the worst thing happening left me trembling and silently crying.

"I know enough. Now step off."

"That's MY girlfriend. Fuck off tough guy." He pushes Q's chest and he stumbles back into the car but quickly regains balance. His fist reels back and I seal my eyes shut not wanting to see anything. When I opened them back up, he was on the floor holding his nose.

"If you know what's good for ya, you'll get your ass back inside and leave her the fuck alone." He begrudgingly gets up, stands there for a moment, looks to me with a glare, and backs away inside. Q adjusts himself and steps into the car.

"Are you okay?" Once again, I'm tearing up and grew to be a mess.

"You're so worried about me. I'm okay but are YOU okay?" I say with a smile.

"Well I just set that dick straight I think, and I'll be having you staying in my guest room. I think I'm doing pretty great." He says with a chuckle as he sets the vehicle in motion, "Now, let's get you to your new place of residency."

"At least until I can find a place for myself."

"Of course, but know: You're welcome to stay as long as you need. All I ask is for occasional help around the house."

"Of course. It would be incredibly rude if I just made a mess of the space you're so graciously sharing with me." We sat in the quiet of the car, adrenaline crash kicking into my system and my eyes grew heavy. "Hey. Thanks by the way."

"That's not an easy situation. It's hard to do alone. The fact that I could help you makes me happier than you know. You deserve to feel safe and loved and feel real love." I smile and he does too.

[schrijverr]

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 13 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: very very brief mentions of death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 13: Lesser Celandine Means ‘Joys to Come’

The nine-year-old bounded out before Alex and Thomas through the botanical garden. They had been living together for about three years already and life was treating them right.

Both still worked for Washington, they still argued about small stuff – which they claimed were discussions in good faith and their friends called bickering like a married couple – and Philip was doing well in school.

They had fallen into a routine together that the versions of themselves from five years ago could have never pictured. As much as they started as jagged edges running along each other, they now found themselves puzzle pieces fitting together.

It was early May and one of the first few beautiful days of the month after a lot of rain, so the three had decided to go to the botanical garden nearby.

However, Alex didn’t know that Thomas and Philip were in on a plot together, a plot to do with a little box in Thomas’s pocket.

Philip pointed at a cactus and yelled: “Look, it got spikes!”

“I can see that, kiddo,” Thomas called out to him, “Can it flower?”

After reading the little sign for a moment, Philip pouted and yelled back: “No.”

“That’s a pity,” Thomas said, then called out: “This one here had beautiful peach colored flowers, if you want to see.”

“That’s not peach,” Alex butted in.

“Yes, it is,” Thomas retorted.

“No, it’s obviously orange.”

“What do you think orange looks like?” Thomas sounded more distressed than anything.

If Alex looked again, he could see that it was indeed peach and the lighting had made it appear more orange than it actually was, but now he had taken a stance. So, he said: “Kind of like that, though I will give you that it’s light orange.”

“Peach is pastel orange, you know that right?” Thomas said.

“So, then I’m right and it’s orange,” Alex shrugged.

“No, because there are many shades of orange and this particular one is peach,” Thomas sounded frustrated.

“I don’t know, Tom,” Alex made a great show of observing the peach colored flower, “If I look at it now, it looks more like apricot.”

“Peach is the lighter and pastel version apricot,” Thomas exclaimed, “The difference is literally super small, but I know my colors and this is lighter than apricot, okay. It’s peach.”

Alex grinned at him and the realization dawned, Thomas tiredly stated: “You’re just doing this to fuck with me.”

“You know me so well,” Alex smirked.

From between them, Philip spoke up: “I think it looks pretty.”

“It does,” Alex agreed, before reading the signs and saying: “Oeh, there’s a butterfly greenhouse, we should go.”

Thomas took Philip’s hand and offered Alex his arm: “Lead the way, darlin’.”

In the butterfly greenhouse they marveled at the butterflies fluttering around. Alex looked mostly up, but Thomas and Philip made sure to read each sign, since they had agreed on a certainflower for it to happen.

When they walked past a particular patch of flowers, Thomas got distracted by Alex, who gasped when a butterfly landed on his face. He grinned at Thomas, who snapped a picture. Then Philip elbowed him in the side and pointed at a sign.

They found it.

Philip quietly retreated to the background with the camera, while Thomas squatted and pretended to read the little sign.

He hummed and read: “Lesser Celandine, or Ficaria verna. Classified as a noxious weed, since it flowers before much of the native fauna, establishing dominance over native species.”

Alex stopped looking up and inspected the small yellow flowers. He hummed: “Interesting, what made that flower catch you eye?”

“Well,” Thomas said, here it was, “I happen to know their meaning.”

“Is that so?” Alex asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

“Yes, they mean ‘joys to come’,” Thomas shifted and reached into his pocket, “And I was wondering if you would want to explore all of the joys in the world with me.”

Gasping Alex looked at him with wide eyes, completely speechless.

“We’ve been through so much together,” Thomas went on, “You gave me so much more than I’d ever thought I’d have. So, Alexander, will you marry me?”

Alex didn’t care that he looked like the ultimate gay stereotype as he fanned his hands in excitement, tears in his eyes as he nodded and chocked out: “Yes!”

Thomas grinned and took out the ring to slip on Alex’s finger. Philip ran up behind him, camera still in hand as he threw his arms around Thomas’s neck, still at the perfect height from where he was knelt and babbled: “You said yes, right, Papa? You and Da are getting married!”

“I did, Pip,” Alex grinned, admiring the simple band with purple stone, “And I suppose you were in on it, little rascal.”

“Of course,” Philip smiled toothily as Thomas stood up, lifting Philip in a piggy back, “Da had to ask someone for your hand.”

“You asked Pip for permission?” Alex laughed.

Thomas shrugged: “Seemed the best option. I felt like he should get a say.”

“And I knew who he could trust,” Philip added.

“Oh yeah?” Alex asked, amused.

“Hm-hm,” Philip nodded.

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed, “It was smart to not involve Laf in this, just Eliza.”

“Dork,” Alex rolled his eyes, but he knew Eliza still had his ring size from when he and her went to find rings for his wedding to John.

“But I’m your dork,” Thomas informed him, “And you’ve just agreed to that being permanent, so I feel like that’s more on you than on me.”

“You’re insufferable,” was Alex’s reply, but they all saw he couldn't stop smiling.

“I know,” Thomas agreed, putting Philip down.

Alex pulled him into a kiss, while Pip made slight gagging noises that they both ignored. When they pulled apart, Alex whispered against his lips: “This was perfect, you’re perfect. Thank you.”

“Charmer.”

“God, I can’t wait to tell everyone!” Alex gushed. He had been the one to ask John, so he never got the excitement of sharing, just the stress of asking. The novelty of this new feeling, making him even more excited about it.

Thomas smiled at him, love filled eyes. Alex didn’t even know how beautiful he looked right now, basked in sunlight with butterflies fluttering around him as his eyes sparkled and his smile tried to break his face in two.

He kissed him.

“What was that for?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Who’s the charmer now?” Alex teased.

“Da, Da, did you show him your ring?” Philip tugged on Thomas’s hand.

“I hope you don’t mind that I got myself one, I just had an idea,” Thomas shrugged, when he saw Alex’s quirked brow.

“I helped pick!” Philip told him proudly.

“Really?”

“Jup,” Thomas confirmed as he showed him the ring. It was identical to Alex’s, except that the stone was green instead of purple. Thomas said: “You know, those few years ago, I thought it was kind of obvious that we wouldn’t like each other, because purple and green are on other sides of the color spectrum, but I had forgotten how well they go together.”

“Only you’d judge people based on their color pallet,” Alex rolled his eyes, but his voice betrayed how touched he was.

“Do you like them?” Philip asked, eyes shining.

“I love them, Pip,” Alex ruffled his hair.

Thomas offered him his arm and that way Alex could look at his own hand, resting on Thomas’s arm with the ring reflecting the light. As they walked through the rest of the garden, Alex missed most of the flowers by being distracted.

That evening they invited their friends for drinks, when they were all sitting around Eliza spoke up, she had been the one involved, so she knew why this was happening: “So, Alex, any reason for the sudden get together?”

Alex grinned at her: “Well, Betsy, there is actually.”

“Is that so?” Eliza smirked.

“Jup, I got some jewelry today,” Alex told her, holding up his hand to show off the ring.

It was quiet for a second, then everyone seemed to make the connection and there was a wall of noise as everyone congratulated them, asked them how or when, as well as demanded to see the rings.

As Laf held their hands to see and compare the rings, he cried: “These are beautiful, but why wasn’t I told.”

“To be fair, I did think about it, but I was warned against it,” Thomas told him.

“Why!” Laf pouted.

“Because you nearly told John, by bursting out in tears when you saw him,” Eliza cut in, “I had to tell him your pet bird back in France died and he looked like him.”

“Oh, so that’s why he gave me a drawing of a bird,” Laf nodded, then moved on, “Anyway, I have grown, I would have been the perfect wingman in this.”

“I think Philip did a great job,” Thomas disagreed, “Right, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I got it on camera,” Philip said proudly, inviting a new round of chaos as everyone demanded to see.

“Ahw, ‘Lexi, you cried,” Angelica cooed, teasingly.

“I didn’t,” Alex huffed.

Herc looked at the video again and said: “Well, man, it kinda looks like you did.”

“Give me that,” Alex studied it, “No, maybe there was a bit of moist happening, but I feel like that’s more all the pollen in the air. We were in a big garden after all.”

“First of, using moist and grossing everyone out isn’t working,” Peggy said, “Second of, you fucking cried, just admit it.”

“I will agree to teary eyed, but no more,” Alex told her.

“Alright, Mr. Teary Eyed Little Baby Man,” Peggy rolled her eyes.

“Now that’s just plain rude,” Alex pouted.

“No,” James said, from where he had gotten a hold of the recording, “that’s truth, I can see it clearly here in this frame.”

“Gimme,” Lafayette snatched it and snapped a picture of it, “We need to start collecting pictures to show at the wedding.”

“Oh no, you’re all going to be terrible,” Alex whined.

“No, we’re going to be helpful,” Laf corrected.

“I somehow doubt that,” Thomas sided with Alex.

In the end they did have to come back on that. Their friends were absolute champions when it came to wedding planning. Though Thomas and Alex mostly made decisions themselves, the others were all there to give second opinions or double check for them.

They had decided on a late spring/ early summer wedding, so it would take a little less than a year, before they actually got married, but wedding planning took time and Alex took great joy in the word fiance.

Thomas did too, he just didn’t want to admit it.

That summer they arrived in Monticello – as had become tradition – however, instead of the usual greetings, they were met with: “Show us the rings.”

“No, hello, how are you, long time no see, what have you been up to. Of course not, why would they ask about us instead of some shiny pieces of metal,” Thomas grumbled playfully as he and Alex were practically passed around by the family.

Alex just grinned and let them, still amazed by the family he had accumulated.

Thomas had been right back then when he had told Alex that with Ma and Mary on their side everyone was bound to like him too, but Alex had still been nervous each time he met one of Thomas’s siblings. A fear he could now hardly imagine with how comfortable he had gotten in his family, a family he would soon be officially part of.

When he got to Ma, she pulled him into a hug: “I’m so happy for the two of you, son.”

And Alex couldn't do anything, but hug back and say: “Me too, Ma, me too.”

The months came and went and soon they were sending out the wedding invitations out. It was plain white paper, with on the back the date and place as well as the instruction to come dressed in white. While the front bore a poem written in cursive:

let us live like flowers

wild and beautiful

and drenched in sun

e.e.

When the day was there, Alex was stressing in the back of the church, while Thomas was waiting in the front. Alex had offered him the position of walking down the aisle, but Thomas had declined claiming it was too much pressure and that he at least knew what to expect if he got to stand.

Thomas was wearing a beautiful tailored magenta suit made by Hercules as he nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot.

The doors at the back of the church opened and first came the groomsmen and the bridesmaids. All decked out in beautiful white with accents in the colors of the bouquet, as well as flowers in their hair.

It began with Eliza and Maria, after them came James and Angelica, Lafayette and Peggy, Randy and Mary with Herc again roped into the position of flower boy, though he was helped by Kitty and Francie.

Once James, Angie, Laf, Randy and Mary had taken their places behind Thomas and Eliza, Maria Herc and Peggy on Alex’s side, the theme for Alex to walk started to play.

He was given away by Jane, who wore an elegant white 50s style dress, while Alex wore a tightly tailored emerald green suit. His hair was braided with flowers in it matching his bouquet of cluster musk rose, Christmas rose, heliotrope and hawthorn.

From the round window the sun illuminated him and Thomas’s breath caught when he saw him walk. There might have been tears, but that was a whole other thing.

Jane gave his hand to Thomas and smiled at him, before going to take her place in the audience with Kitty and Francie and the rest of the Jefferson clan.

Everyone sat and Washington appeared by Alex and Thomas’s side, ready to ordain them. Before he started Philip came down the aisle carrying the rings. He was dressed in an adorable light blue suit and his hair was tied back with a ribbon in the same color.

After he had given the rings to Washington, he stood next to Alex.

Alex had wanted to make him his best man, but since the best man had to sign as witness and Philip was too small for that, he was the ring bearer and Eliza would sign for Alex and James for Thomas, just like both had done before.

Washington started: “We’re here today to witness the union between Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. Before this is officiated, they will say theirvows.”

“Thomas, when I first saw you I thought you were incredibly handsome and a gigantic asshole. One of my assessments has been proven entirely incorrect. You are one of the most kindhearted souls, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” Alex began.

He went on: “To me you are laughter over dinner, jokes in the hallways at works, a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold like an anchor. You are sparkling eyes with crinkles that paint happiness on your features and a mouth that runs as smart as mine.”

“You know how to argue, but also when to let go,” Alex said, “You keep me on my toes, while knowing I sometimes just need to stand. I claim your arguments are shit and while that can be true, they always make me think and I love that.”

“The way you care for Philip and never asked for more than I could give, made my heart grow so fond of you that I cannot possibly picture a life wherein I do not love you,” he told him, “When I come home and see you there, I feel like I am whole.”

“According to Eliza I can’t force everyone to sit through the hundred pages I had written – even though it’s my wedding – which is rude, so I’ll try to wrap it up,” at that Thomas laughed, he could picture the scenario clearly.

“So, Thomas, you are all the little things that make life great,” Alex said, “No matter what, I want to support you and care for you, because I love you so much that it would hurt if it didn’t feel so right. I love you.”

Both were crying a bit and Alex chocked on the last three words as his hands shook while trying to put the ring on Thomas’s finger.

“Darlin’, you came into my life like a forest fire,” Thomas began, “You burned through all my arguments and notions of the world, like that was what you were meant to do. For a long time I thought you were out of control, but you proved me wrong once again.”

“You see, you’re not a forest fire,” he told Alex, “You’re a bonfire, a hearth in the heart of the home, a central place for family to gather. You make sure to keep the ones you care about warm, to illuminate them and pull them out of the darkness.”

He went on: “I always thought you talked too much, but I now know that for all your words, you know how to listen. Your smile can do as much as your words and you know how far a hug can go. The way you can be so intensely caring for the people you love is breathtaking.”

“I wanted to compare you to a thousand other things, but nothing could fully describe your beauty both within and out, which is incredibly corny, yet completely true,” he chuckled, “Anyway, this is my long winded way of telling you that I love you too.”

Now it was Thomas’s turn to struggle with the ring through the tears while behind them Washington began to speak again: “Alexander Hamilton, do you take Thomas Jefferson to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,‘till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And Thomas Jefferson, do you take Alexander Hamilton to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish‘till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Then you may now kiss the groom.”

Neither hesitated to kiss the other lovingly, while beside them the church burst out in cheers and applause.

After they broke apart, they waved at everyone as they walked out of the church, with Philip between them.

Outside they took pictures with everyone, since everyone who had come was decked out in white, the three spots of color stood out all the more.

The time came to do one with the entire family, Alex cried again as both his friends and Thomas’s relatives gathered around them. When he had gotten to America he was all alone and then he had lost part of his family again, but now he was surrounded by almost more people than he could count.

They also took one where Thomas carried Alex bridal style, something Alex and John – being around the same height – had both failed at when they had tried at their wedding. Before Thomas could do it, Alex asked with apprehension: “Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve done this before, it’ll be fine,” Thomas smiled reassuringly, before literally sweeping Alex off his feet. He informed Alex of that fact and got an annoyed look in return, which was beautifully captured and framed by Angelica for on their desks at work.

The Schuyler sister insisted on taking one with Alex, because he was practically their brother anyways.

They took one with the Washingtons and Jane, a picture in which Alex had never felt so short in his entire life.

Herc and Laf, roped Randy and James into taking a picture where they carried the two groomsmen on their shoulders, something that most definitely went almost wrong on multiple occasions.

However, Alex’s favorite picture was the one where he and Thomas held Philip between them and both kissed a cheek, while Philip beamed.

Later he would hang that picture on the mantle between the other two wedding pictures, finally filling the promise that had been in the empty space.

But for now they went to the wedding venue for the reception.

When they were greeting all the guests at the reception, Burr congratulated themwith Theodosia at his side, little Theo had already disappeared with Philip, Kitty and Francie. He shook Alex’s hand: “Congratulations to both of you.”

“What a nice change to see you both here, you were even at the ceremony,” Alex grinned as he also shook Theodosia’s hand. Her smiling and congratulating them both.

“You’re never letting that go, aren’t you?” Burr sighed tiredly.

“Never,” Alex confirmed, “Good to have you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Burr waved as they disappeared into the crowd.

“What’s the story there?” Thomas asked, leaning in.

“I’ll tell you later,” Alex whispered back, before smiling and greeting the next guests.

Once everyone was there Alex and Thomas got to cut the cake. They had both agreed that neither of them would push cake into the other’s face, which meant that both ended up with cake in their face, naturally.

They mingled until dinner, when it was time for everyone’s speeches.

Thomas’s siblings all had rewritten a song from Thomas’s youth to fit the two of them and preformed it badly, but with a lot of love.

“I don’t know them,” Thomas whispered to Alex when they did that, making Alex laugh.

Jane retold embarrassing childhood from Thomas’s youth while Herc and Peggy had put together a PowerPoint of all Alex’s lowest points college and after.

Highlights included him standing on a table in a bar, tie around his head with a group surrounding him from that time he had attempted a revolution.

There was a picture of him surrounded by empty coffee cups, while he was passed out between them, face covered with sharpie.

Him with a cat on his lap, while he looked very displeased. Herc and Peggy took great joy in explaining why the cat had put that look on Alex’s face.

And it ended with the frozen frame of Alex crying – still claiming misty eyed, Pegs – while Thomas proposed to him, obviously they’d had help from Lafayette, but the Frenchman had an entire speech for them, mostly existing out of ‘I told you so’s.’

Washington had a short heartfelt speech about seeing them grow at work together as well as a few army stories about Alex.

Then Angelica stood up to give a speech: “I have to admit that when Thomas fell onto my couch over fouryears ago proclaiming that he couldn't flirt, I could not have predicted that we would be here now. Naturally I rooted for them, but you have to know that Thomas and Alex could be like water and oil at work, or maybe oil and fire would be a better description.”

A few chuckles from colleagues were heard.

“But here we are and I have seen how much you two have grown together,” Angelica went on, “Did I have to bribe and threaten you both to get that information? Maybe, but I did get to know everything.”

Thomas and Alex laughed at that.

“I remember the little humble beginnings, the tentative flirting, the first dates, the panic, the good times,” Angelica said, “And I knew you both for many years before that, I have seen you both happy and sad. And I am not the poetic one here, but I know what love looks like in your eyes and I can see it on both of your faces.”

She raised her glass: “To the grooms.”

The room echoed.

“From you friend, who is always by your side,” she went on, “To your union.”

“To your union.”

“And the family you have build,” she finished, “May you always be content and satisfied.”

She gave them both a kiss on the cheek and ignored they were all crying before she went back to her seat and Philip got to the front.

With Eliza as hypewoman, he walked in the Schuyler sister’s footsteps with a poem he had written and preformed as a rap:

“My name is Philip, I am poet

I wrote this poem just to show it

And I, can speech fine

You can find family, but you can’t find mine!

I practice French and play kite with my father

I have a Papa, and he’s a great fellow robber

My daddies tying the knot on this day, swank

Un, duex, trois, quatre, cinq!”

Everyone cheered and cooed as he ran into Alex’s arms afterwards and made himself at home on their laps as Eliza said a few words: “Alex is the speech writer between us both while I tell him it can’t be too long, so do not expect essays.”

There were chuckles around the room and Alex rolled his eyes, knowing she added that because she knew he would call her out in his vows, which she had proof read for him many times.

“But I did want to say that you’re a fighter,” she looked at Alex, “You always have been and I can see how much you’ve met your match in Thomas. I’m happy for you both.”

Alex hugged her closely and whispered: “God fucking dammit, Betsy, you’re not allowed to make me cry again on my wedding.”

She whispered back: “Like you weren’t already crying, you big baby.”

“Plausible deniability,” he sniffed.

“We’re filming it,” she smirked, before hugging Thomas as well and patting Philip on his head as she went back to her spot next to Maria.

Lastly, James got up to speak: “I am not a man of many words, so I’m keeping it short,” Thomas smirked and nodded at that, “All the times you annoyed me, Thomas, about what to do, have been worth it to see you so happy again.”

Now it was Thomas’s time to get emotional, hugging James tightly and saying: “I knew you cared,” attempting to tease and obviously failing.

“I know, a shocker,” James pretended it had worked.

After that dinner was served and everyone appreciated the dishes set out. While they ate, the whole room was alight with chatter as people talked, laughed and enjoyed themselves.

When the time came to dance, Thomas lead Alex to the tune of Hozier’s Like Real People Do. It was slightly haunting, but they had picked it, because it fit them so well. The song told the story about the singer recognizing the sadness in his lovers eyes and making them forget, focusing on the now.

As they spun, Thomas looked into Alex’s eyes with that crinkled smile and Alex nearly melted into the floor as he faltered as step.

He unknowingly retaliated, when Thomas picked him up and he beamed down. His braid had loosened slightly and a pluck of hair framed his face, while the lights gave him a halo, causing Thomas to nearly drop him.

Since there wasn’t really a father-daughter dance, Alex danced with Martha Washington, while Thomas danced with Jane. And after that, the two of them danced with Philip, the three of them laughing as they attempted it.

Throughout the night Alex danced with all the Schuyler sisters, Lafayette and Herc, while Thomas was whisked away by his own sister as well as Angelica and Lafayette.

At some point Jane took Alex’s hand and made him dance with her. Once they were on the floor, Alex smiled: “Hey, Ma, enjoying the wedding so far?”

“Immensely, sweetheart,” Jane smiled, patting his cheek, before he spun her.

“You’re an amazing dancer,” he commented.

“I’m spry for my age.”

“What age? You look not a day over thirty,” he grinned.

“Charmer,” she smiled, then said, “But I wanted to properly welcome you to the family. You’ve been a part for a long time, but still, today is a big day.”

She stopped dancing and reached into her purse. Out of it she got an old time watch with a leather arm band. As she handed it to Alex, she said: “When Thomas came out as pan to me, I prepared a wedding gift for all genders, just in case. Martha got my grandmother’s necklace, but this was my late husbands watch.”

“I- I don’t know what to say,” Alex stared at it with big eyes, he’d never had a family item.

“Maybe a thank you,” Jane grinned.

“Yeah, of course, thank you so much,” Alex hugged her, and repeated,“Thank you so much, Ma.”

She patted her cheek when he let go and said: “No problem, you’re one of us now and we don’t let go easily.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Alex smiled.

They parted ways again when the song was over and Thomas appeared at his side: “What was that about?”

Alex showed his wrist: “She gave me this.”

Thomas looked at it, then smiled sadly: “I remember that. It suits you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Thomas told him, “I also know that Lafayette and Herc are about to do what they’re calling a classic college trick at the chocolate fountain and I need you to either stop them if it’s bad or help them.”

“Oh, definitely helping,” Alex remembered this one, “Grab your phone and film it. We’ll get them back if they ever get married.”

After an eventful night with enough tomfoolery that they were probably permanently banned to ever rent a venue from that company again, they returned home.

Thomas carried Philip to bed, while Alex put away their wedding gifts. When he was done, he joined Thomas’s in Philip’s threshold.

“He’s still so young,” Thomas commented, “But he looks like when I first met him when he sleeps.”

“That’s already so long ago,” Alex hugged Thomas’s arm, leaning heavily on the other man.

“It seems crazy,” Thomas agreed.

Alex hummed, then they stood there in silence, before Alex asked: “Did you have a good day?”

“Of course, I did,” Thomas replied, then after a beat, “Though I am fucking exhausted after this, why did we invite all those people again? I hate talking to people.”

“Because we wanted to actually fill the church,” Alex grinned, “But you’re right, I could sleep for a week.”

“Well, sleeping beauty, you will have to make do to with,” Thomas checked the time, “five whole hours, then we have to catch a plane.”

“Ah, yes,” Alex said, “Paris is waiting.”

“Along with the future.”

“You fucking sap.”

“Excuse you, that’s your fucking forever sap, Mister.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

“Who’s the sap now?”

“Oh, shut up,” Alex said, but didn’t protest when Thomas lead him back to their bedroom. They still had a future waiting for them. ‘Till death to them part, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

Today in I try to write a natural time skip between chapters.

Me describing a scene in a botanical garden with one flower as the end goal along with a whole ass wedding with flowers, is such a struggle lmao, but that’s what I get for making flowers important.

Btw the wedding bouquet means charming (cluster musk rose), relieve my anxiety (Christmas rose), devotion/faithfulness (heliotrope) and hope (hawthorn). Fun fact: I wanted to name this chapter after heliotrope at first, but that felt a bit too cliché.

Also the bit of poetry is from ‘i saw you as a flower’I got the book! It’s so cute and I love it, I’ve never been a poetry person, but I’ve always wanted to be, so here’s to me trying stuff :D

I am never getting married for the sole reason that I do not want to write vows ever again.

Also, the wedding bouquet: