#Sweet and sour fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

modernperplexity · 2 months

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Chapter Rating: E (18+) Minors DNI, mention of alcohol consumption and substance abuse, fluff, angst, sexual tension.

Word Count: 5,634

Pairing: Frankie x f!reader

Chapter summary: A glimpse into Francisco's past, You meet the guys, and Santiago (that meddling little shit) gets his way you'll see ;). This time we'll see soft and sexy Frankie, that's all I'll say for now.

A/N: Hey y'all! Chapter 4 is finally here! As always, my inbox is always open to chat/suggestions/ questions etc. Please feel free to comment/reblog. I love hearing from you! Also, please excuse any typos you may encounter.

If you'd like to join the tag list click here :) or let me know in the comments.

Happy reading loves!💜

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3 / Chapter 5

Chapter 4: Whiskey Sours & Sweet Confessions

“Are you shitting me!?” Ashley's eyes glazed over with pain and rage, “Are you fucking shitting me, Francisco!?” She slammed the mini zip lock bag on the dining table, her rage hung heavily in the air between them.

Frankie’s silence was deafening as he stared at the bag in defeat unable to tear away his gaze from the evidence Ashley had discovered. His mouth went dry, his voice caught somewhere between self-loathing and guilt of the choices that led him to that very moment.

“OH!.. So you have nothing to say?!” Again, there were no words in response to her confrontation, “God, you are so.. so-” She stammered, her voice quivering with indignation.

“Just say it.” Frankie surrendered, one hand covering his eyes, seeking brief solace from the heat of her anger.

“-Pathetic! I don’t know why I am even surprised anymore! This is so like you!”

The words stung as they reached Frankie who was sitting at the small dining table. Ashley’s yelling had prompted a sharp cry from Camilla who was only 8 months old. The guilt of losing Tom, the money, and the casualties of that mission haunted Francisco. He hated who he became but couldn’t fight the shadow that loomed over him. Ben had his boxing gig, Will went into overdrive at the VA, Santiago up and left for months at a time, and Frankie, well, he’d come back and dove head first into his only escape; the only thing that kept his body from feeling heavy.

“Ash, I’m s-” He could barely get a word out.

Ashley raised her finger to his face, the anger burned brighter in her eyes, her words laced with pain. "You promised!! Frankie!! You promised that things would be different. That we’d have a better life! But instead, you left me alone, responsible for everything, to care after your fucking kid..”

“Look, you can insult me all you want. I know I’m a piece of shit and I deserve it, okay!?” Frankie’s hands raised in defeat, “I deserve it, but don’t talk about Camila like that ..she’s your daughter too!”

“Well!” A slow clap accompanied her judgemental scoff, “look who finally decide to act like a father that actually gives a damn!”

"I... I never meant for it to come to this, Ash," he finally managed to say, his voice trembling. "I know I've fucked up- repeatedly. But please, believe me when I say that I never stopped caring about you or Camila."

Ashley turned away, her tears flowing freely now. "You have a shit way of showing you care, Frank. Time and time again you prove me right, I can't trust you. I can't keep playing this game."

She ran her fingers through her hair as she stared out the kitchen window “This isn’t what I wanted, Frank. I didn’t want this life, You left me alone in this, meanwhile you’re out there spendng the little money we have just to feel whatever the fuck it is you need” she paused, no longer being able to hold back tears, before she let out what she had wanted to say for the past few months, “I’m done... I’m done with you! We both know none of this is gonna change.”

“Ash, I’m sorry..I’ll get help this time, I promise.”He reached out a hand, desperate to bridge the evergrowing chasm between them.

“Don’t. touch. me.” she pinched the bridge of her nose, and drew a sharp breath “Get the fuck out”

Frankie’s eyes went wide, his words failing him once more.

“GET OUT!!” Ashley managed through her anger, tears now streaming down her face as she threw out a bag of his things and slammed the door.

Frankie dusted off the steel green amo box he had stored on his top closet shelf. His hands hesitated to reach the latch. It wasn’t often that the box saw the light of day. In it, Frankie held pictures he didn’t want around the house but that he knew someday Camila would ask for. Pictures of him and Ashley from the night they met, of Ashley’s pregnancy which Frankie begged to take- Ashley who always begrudgingly complied.

He looked through the old mementos and photos as his hands began to shake. One of Ashley and Cami at the hospital, Camilla’s newborn hat, and the tiny plastic medical ID bracelet among other things. He hesitated knowing what lay at the very bottom of the box. A dainty silver ring that he had bought a few weeks after he found out Ashley was pregnant but could never bring himself to give to her. It seemed like the obvious next step after having a baby.

Frankie always wanted to be a father. When he found out about Ashley’s pregnancy he was terrified but excited nonetheless. Reality hit him hard when the hospital bills came in, one after another. Money was tight and tensions were high between them before he lost his license and only became worse afterwards. Pope’s offer for the Lorea mission was insane but it offered him a chance to provide for his struggling family. A way to prove that all that time in the army and special ops wasn’t wasted. It was a weapon to fight back the voice inside his head that deemed him useless.

It had been a couple of days since Ashley had reached out. Should he respond? Did he even want to? The memories of seeing Camila for the first time, wrapped in a hospital blanket, so tiny and fragile, flooded his mind. The promise he made to himself to protect his little girl at all costs lingered. Now, he faced the difficult question: should he allow the woman who had abandoned him, who had heartlessly left Cami, back into their lives? Would he be selfish as a father if he refused to let Cami see her mom? Ashley had the potential to trigger him, but perhaps she had changed... or had she? His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door, breaking the cycle of contemplation that had consumed him since he opened the box.

“Texted the boys, they’ll meet us at the bar in an hour” Pope pried the door open a bit more when he saw the pictures scattered on Frankie's bed, giving Frankie a knowing glance while he leaned on the door frame, “You good?”

Frankie paused, that period of his life brought on a plague of complicated emotions, “Yeah...I uh- I’m fine”

“What are you going to do?” Santiago glanced over to the phone beside the box on Frankie’s bed.

Frankie dragged his hands over his patchy beard, “I.. don’t want to think about that right now”

“Good. Drinks on me, we’re celebrating tonight!”

“We got our pilot back boys!” Ben cheered from the corner of the bar. The “unhappy hour” neon sign provided a dim blue light over the booth where they sat.

“It’s been a long winding road, man. We’re proud of you, Fish!” Will clapped Frankie on the shoulder and handed him a glass

“Never met anyone more deserving..You belong in the sky” Ben added with a genuine smile, glad to see his brother happy again.

Frankie chuckled, “I still can’t fucking believe it. I get to have my wings back!” He sighed with deep relief “In all seriousness, I can’t thank y’all enough. You all had my back when I lost sight of everything that mattered”

“Hey, that’s in the past. You’re our brother, we’d do it all over again- no questions asked” Santiago replied.

Ben nodded in agreement and took a sip of his beer, “So, how does it feel to be back up there?”

“It's like nothing else, the freedom, the rush, the sense of control... It's fucking indescribable” He grinned, “I’ll take ya next time” I don’t mind the extra flight hours.

“Sign me up, but please, Fish, no more near-death experiences, alright? I had enough of that last time.”

The men all burst into laughter and clink their glasses together, “to Catfish!”

Michele practically dragged you out of your apartment. She had agreed to meet a few of her coworkers at a divey bar in town and insisted that you meet them. The night was slightly cooler than most Florida nights but not drastically colder- it is Florida after all, prompting you to wear a thin green cardigan paired with a black mini skirt that highlighted your curves, sheer black tights, and your comfy black combat boots.

She gently clasped your hand, leading you through the bustling crowd, the melody of The Smiths' "This Charming Man" filling the air around you. Your heart nearly skipped a beat as your eyes locked onto Frankie, a beer in hand, making his way towards the illuminated jukebox.

The sight of him left you momentarily breathless. "Everything alright?" Michele's concerned voice breaking through to you.

You blinked, forcing yourself to focus on the present moment. "Yeah, umm... Frankie's here," you managed to reply, your voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Michele's eyes widened in surprise. "He's here?" she echoed, her gaze darting around the bar.

"Over at the jukebox," you informed her with a subtle nod in Frankie's direction.

Her eyebrows raised in approval “Damn, he is fine, but you better go over there before blondie wins him over.”

“Wait, what?” Heat surged in your chest, a stark reminder of the truth you could no longer hide. The thought of someone else with him sent a pang of jealousy coursing through you. Oh no, is that the barista from the coffee shop?

Your eyes were locked in, unable tear away from the scene unfolding before your eyes. When it dawned on you, Frankie was no longer looking at her, he was now looking at you. A subtle spark of recognition and excitement flashed across his eyes, fleeting but unmistakable. Frankie briefly introduced her to Ben, who immediately wore a bright smile, before heading toward you.

“Talk to him!” Michele urged with encouragement, “Have some fun.. And PLEASE have something good to tell me afterward!” She squeezed you tight and handed you her shot of whiskey, “I’ll find you later... if you want me to find you.” She added with a wink before disappearing into the crowd.

As Frankie drew nearer, a surge of anticipation swept over you. With Michele's words echoing in your mind, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. With a quick flick of your wrist, you downed the whiskey Michele had given you, its fiery warmth spreading through your veins, emboldening you for the encounter ahead. You turned around and nearly collided with Frankie, “Oh, Jesus!” You blurted, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumbled back a step, caught off guard by the sudden proximity.

Frankie smiled, appearing amused and slightly concerned, ”Everything alright?” the genuine concern in his voice already putting you at ease.

“Just needed a little liquid courage, I guess” A nervous laugh escaped you.

Frankie chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Well it looks like you can’t go a week without running into me” He teased, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I seem to have that effect on people” You chuckled, grasping the silver chain of the clutch you selected for the evening, “What are you doing here?”

“The boys brought me out to celebrate” He paused and leaned in closer, taking in the warm cherry scent of your perfume on the crook of your neck, his voice a hushed whisper, “I passed my pilot exam.”

“You passed the exam!!” Your eyes widened with excitement as you cheered, unable to contain the joy bubbling up within you. Without a second thought, you wrapped your arms around Frankie's neck, drawing him into a tight embrace. “Frankie, this is such great news! I’m so proud of you!”

Frankie’s grin widened his arms wrapping around you in return, the warmth of your body against his causing his heart to race even faster. “Thank you” he said, his voice tinged with sincere gratitude, “It’s been a long time coming” His eyes lingered over you as he pulled away, your face mere inches away, "You know, I couldn't have done it without your encouragement. Our conversation at the coffee shop meant a lot to me"

Your cheeks flushed pink at Frankie's heartfelt words, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Well, I'm glad I could help in some way," you replied, your heart swelling with pride and admiration for the man in front of you.

"What are you drinking?" Frankie asked, his eyes sparkling.

"You're here to celebrate you, but you want to buy me a drink?" you teased, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Just think of it as another coffee," he winked, his playful demeanor displaying no signs of surrender.

"A whiskey sour, please," you smiled, unable to resist his charm as you watched him effortlessly command the attention of the bartender. His presence seemed to fill the room, making everything else fade into the background.

As you observed him, a smile emerged from the corner of your lips, his hands made your glass seem three times smaller. "He buys me coffee and my drinks," you remarked with a playful sigh, adding a hint of dramatic flair. "A true American hero."

The widest grin spread across Frankie's face. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this at ease. Despite the complexities that could arise in whatever was happening between you both, he pushed those thoughts aside, not wanting to dwell on them, not tonight at least.

"Here," he said, handing you your drink, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. Without hesitation, he casually took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours "Come on, I want you to meet the guys."

“Well, well, well- would you look what the cat dragged back in” Pope revealed a mischievous grin after taking a sip of his beer, his gaze shifting between you and Frankie.

You smiled, “Nice to see you again too, Santiago”

“I’m just messing, Hermosa” Santiago chuckled, getting up to hug you. “That was meant for Fish.”

“So this is Peech!” Ben exclaimed with a grin, pulling you into a strong and warm embrace, “I know the speech sessions are for our lil Camcam but I can tell you’re great! Fish hasn’t shut up about you since day one!”

Your cheeks flushed pink, Frankie too smitten by your nervous laughter to pay Ben any mind, aside from a brief sidelong glance in his direction.

“You’re kind of a celebrity ‘round these parts, darlin” Will added sweetly, “It’s good to put a face to the name finally.”

“Likewise!” you agreed, “Well since we’re all here to celebrate our pilot,” you lightly nudged Frankie, “Why don’t I get us the next round?

Ben sipped the last of his beer, and set down his glass, “OH I like her!”

The atmosphere was filled with laughter and positive energy. The men bantered and shared stories of their early days in the military with you. It came to you as a surprise to feel so effortlessly at home with the group. You would have never pictured feeling so at ease while surrounded by men. Your quick wit and charm drew them in. As the night wore on and drinks flowed, Frankie found himself becoming even more infatuated with you, displaying the palpable string of tension that existed between you both. It hung in the air, creating an undercurrent of anticipation and curiosity. The subtle stolen glances, lingering touches, traces of smiles. It all prompted knowing looks from those around the table. Santiago who of course, was the first to notice, wore a mischievous grin, earning him a swift kick under the table.

“So” Santiago interrupted Ben who had been bragging to you about all the fights he’d won recently, “has Catfish ever told you about Truth or Spare?” Santiago’s eyes eager for your response.

Ben whistled, “oh, here we fucking go”

“Oh come on..its just a game” Santiago hissed.

“What is this? Highschool?” Ben shook his head

“WhAt Is tHiS HiGhScHoOl?” Santiago mocked in return.

A hesitant look flashed across Frankie’s face,“I don’t know Pope”

“It’s okay, I want to hear about this.” You chimed.

“He’s trying to get you to play this drinking game we all played when we enlisted in the army.” Will explained, directing a knowing look in Santiago’s direction, “But there’s no pressure.”

“We all played when we joined the squad” Ben said with a reassuring smile “some supposed way to build trust but really it was our excuse to get drunk on our days off”

You nodded, curious to learn more, "Hmm.. How do you play?" you looked at Santiago waiting for an explanation.

"You have to choose between answering a personal question with complete honesty or taking a shot. It's all about testing your limits."

Frankie's hesitant expression didn't ease, but he spoke up nonetheless. "Yeah, but it can get intense. Some questions really push your boundaries, and the drinks add up quickly."

Will half smiled "Shit’s about to get real, but seeing that your drink of choice is whiskey, I take it you can hold your own" He added with a wink.

A mix of excitement and apprehension settled in your chest. "Alright, I’m in."

“Atta girl!” Santiago nodded approvingly. "Welcome to our circle of trust. Just remember, once you start playing, there's no turning back."

You nodded, and met Frankie’s eyes with a playful smirk, "Okay, but Frankie goes first."

As the game kicked off, the group went easy on you. They couldn't help but laugh as you shared stories of your younger self sneaking out on summer nights and the satisfying moment when you finally stood up to your childhood bully after being pushed off your bike countless times. They absolutely loved that one. But as the game progressed, things got more intense. The questions became more personal, pushing boundaries and leading to more serious unearthing. You spilled the beans about that time you accidentally sent a sext to your grandma consequently making her blood pressure drop, sending her to the hospital earning “oohs” and laughs from the group. Pope begrungingly admitted to having a crush on one of Ben's exes. Ben got caught in the act during a threesome by one of the girl's ex-boyfriends, Will confessed to hooking up with the same flight attendant multiple times on different flights, and then there was Frankie, who got stuck in a janitor's closet for four and a half hours after hooking up with a girl at a concert and had to resort to peeing in a bucket (Yep, that was the last time he ever saw her).

Then Santiago’s question changed the air around you, “Are you seeing anyone?”

“No” Your response quick and easy, too easy to satisfy Santiago’s agenda.

“Do you currently have feelings for someone?” He prodded.

A fiery warmth spread across your chest at his second question, rendering you to an absolute halt. His words seemed to pierce through the din of the crowded bar, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Um, well, I... I mean, you know, it's complicated," you stammered, your words slurring slightly as you struggled to form a coherent response. Frankie's presence heighten your flustered state, making you feel more unsettled than usual. The alcohol coursing through your veins seemed to amplify your nerves, leaving you feeling jittery and out of sorts.

Desperate for a moment of reprieve, you took another sip of your water, hoping it would help to calm your frazzled nerves. But instead, it only seemed to exacerbate your unease. "I, uh, I just...I do," you blurted out, your eyes widening in alarm as the words escaped your lips. With a sudden rush of embarrassment, you instinctively covered your mouth, as if trying to snatch back the breath you had just spoken.

Ben whistled in response, “Whoever he is, he is a godamn lucky guy” his eyes flickering briefly towards Frankie who held back a smile and preferred to fidget with the corner of his napkin than to look up at you.

You stole a quick glance at Frankie, hoping to gauge his reaction, but he kept his eyes fixed on the table, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. Despite his attempts to appear nonchalant, you couldn't shake the feeling that he could see right through you. Before the awkward silence could stretch any further, a buzzing at your hip provided a welcome interruption, breaking the tension that had settled over the table. Grateful for the distraction, you quickly reached for your phone, hoping to find solace in the familiar glow of the screen.

"S-sorry, I gotta take this," you stammered, your voice trembling slightly as you hurriedly scooted out of the booth and made your way to the patio area.

Once outside, you fumbled for your phone, your heart racing with anxiety. With trembling fingers, you answered the call. "Michele... Jesus Christ, I-I've never loved you more," you breathed into the phone.

“Hey, I just wanted to check in, you doing alright?” Her voice tinged with genuine concern.

You breathed in, composing yourself, “Yeah, I’ve been having a great time.” The alcohol coursing through your veins making you increasingly aware of your intoxicated state

“Of course you are chica! you’ve been surrounded by four smoking hot guys practically all night!” she quipped with a sassy tone, “That’s right, I saw them!”

You couldn't help but giggle at her playful remark as you swayed your way to the balcony.“Where are youu?” You asked, struggling to keep your balance.

“I’m out by the exit, heading out in a few but I wanted to make sure you’re good.” She giggled but not at anything you said. You thought you heard a male voice in the background, murmuring something and calling her "baby."

“Call me if you need anything, yeah? Except for condoms, I only have one of those in my purse” You could practically hear her mischievous smile over the phone.

“OH MY GOD!” You burst into laughter, “love you, I’ll text you when I get home”.

“Love you, bye!” Michele responded, her voice warm with affection before the line went silent. You ended the call and tucked your phone back into your purse, not yet ready to return to the company of your friends inside.

Just as you were about to gather your thoughts, a gentle hand landed on your shoulder, causing you to startle.You spun around faster than you realized you could handle in your current state, only to find Frankie standing there, his hands held out in a gesture of apology.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you”. He said softly, his eyes filled with concern as he steadied you with his touch.

You responded with a shy smile, mesmerized by the way his deep brown eyes sparked, even in the dim twinkling lights of the patio. “It’s okay”

“I, uh, I wanted apologize about Pope.” His hands lingered on your arms, and you couldn't help but notice the way your heart fluttered at his proximity. “He can get intense”.

“Oh F-frankie, you don’t have to do that, itss all fun and games”. Despite your attempt to remain composed, you found yourself increasingly aware of the effect the game had on you, the warm, fuzzy effect of the drinks settling over your body. So much so that you nearly tripped on your own feet. "Oops!" you giggled, feeling the edges of your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“I think it’s time to get you home” Frankie smiled sweetly at your clumsiness before realizing the implication of his own words, “I uh, I mean, not like that. I just–”.

You placed a finger on his lips “Shhh..” quickly stealing a glance of his eyes and back to your finger, your voice soft but insistent “Jussst take me home”, Frankie’s gaze made you nervous “....there’s no way I can drive like this”

The bar pulsed with excitement, even though it was well past midnight. Frankie's touch was like a gentle yet firm anchor as he guided you through the sea of people, his presence stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you. You'd often fantasized about what it would be like to spend a night out with him, but never did you think of a moment like this. Frankie opened the car door for you, his eyes filled with a subtle tenderness as he helped you settle into the passenger seat. His caring nature was warm and reassuring. As you glanced around the interior of his car, you couldn't help but notice how spotless it was. Of course, you thought. He did have a military background afterall.

The engine roared to life, the sound blending seamlessly with the melody of Gerry Rafferty's "Right Down the Line" playing softly in the foreground. It was a song you knew well, its familiar notes adding to the magic of the moment. Frankie loved night drives, particularly on nights like tonight when the air carried a hint of coolness. He couldn't help but steal glances at you, as the wind played with your hair, brushing it across your cheeks. He watched with a smile as you sang along to every word of the song without a care in the world. It was as though each lyric held a piece of your soul, released into the air with each heartfelt note. In that moment, under the starlit sky, Frankie found himself captivated by the raw beauty of your uninhibited joy, feeling a warmth spread through him at the sight of your carefree spirit. It was a moment he wished he could freeze in time, etching it into his memory as a reminder of the magic that existed in the simplest of moments spent with you.

Your hand reached for his, reminding him that this, whatever this was, was actually happening. There was this air of trust between you.

"Still feeling okay?" Frankie asked, his voice soft as he glanced at you, his eyes reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights nearby as the car came to a stop.

You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. “I'm okay. Thank you for driving me home"

Frankie squeezed your hand gently. "Anytime. I want to make sure you’re safe, Hermosa."

A soft blush tinted your cheeks at his words, and you looked out the window, trying to hide your smile.

Frankie stepped out of the car, and opened the door for you. He offered his hand, assisting you up the stairs that led to your front door. The yellow glow of the overhead bulb cast a warm hue over his features, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw and the curls in his hair.

As you climbed the steps, lost in thought of his features, you stumbled, your foot catching on the edge. With a surprised yelp, you began to fall forward, but Frankie was quick to react, reaching out to steady you, once again.

"Whoa there clumsy," he chuckled, a smile playing on his lips. "wouldn't want you taking a tumble."

You both couldn't help but laugh at your own tipsy clumsiness, the tension of the moment dissolving into shared amusement. "Thanks," you said, flashing him a grateful smile. "Guess drinks and stairs don’t mix."

Frankie grinned, his eyes sparkling with humor. "No problem, but you know, I've never seen anyone trip going up stairs before. You've got talent!” He chuckled

Your laughter only grew louder at his quip, and after a moment of catching your breath, his eyes met yours and you decided to take a chance.

You paused, liquid courage spurring you on. "Can I tell you somethin?" you asked, your voice tentative.

"Of course, Hermosa," Frankie replied, his expression curious.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts before confessing, "I really should have kissed you that first night we met."

For a moment, there was silence between you, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then, Frankie's smile widened, a warmth filling his gaze as he reached out to gently cup your cheek.

"Then why don't you?" he murmured softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat as Frankie's words hung in the air, sending a thrill coursing through your veins. His touch was electrifying, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as you drowned in the intensity of his gaze.

"Maybe… I will," your voice barely above a whisper, hardly audible over the pounding of your heart.

Frankie's smile widened, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "I dare you."

With a surge of boldness, you closed the remaining distance between you, your lips meeting his in a sweet, exhilarating kiss. It was everything you had imagined and more, a perfect fusion of passion and tenderness that left you breathless and craving more.

As you pulled away, a grin spread across Frankie's face, his eyes sparkling with joy and affection."Looks like dreams really do come true," he murmured, his voice filled with desire.

Your heart raced as he leaned in for another kiss, his lips crashing into yours. This time with an intensity that sent sparks flying, fueled by hunger and desire.

You melted into him, tangling your fingers in his curls as his kiss deepened, each touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. Frankie's hands reached for your thighs, wrapping you around him, as he carried you up the stairs and into your apartment with ease.

“Bedroom” you managed to breath out in between kisses “Mmm…to the…left”

You collapsed onto the cool sheets of your duvet when Frankie paused “Wait..” his chest rising and falling as he leveled his breath, his tone suddenly serious “let's…let’s slow down a bit”

“Yeah” you responded, a confused look flickered across your face, “Okay, you’re right. We probably should”.

"I like you, a lot," Frankie admitted, his gaze softening as he looked into your eyes. "But I want to do this the right way and–“ He stopped mid thought glancing over at your open bathroom door “I also couldn’t help but notice that annoying leaky faucet!”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, you breathed in still catching your breath “I’ve been bugging the landlord about that for months!”

Frankie grinned, his eyes lighting up. "That's an easy fix! I can come by sometime and help you out with that."

A warmth spread through your chest at his offer, and you couldn't help but smile. "Oh really?” Your voice offering a tone of mischief ,”I'd like that," you replied, feeling a sense of anticipation building between you “I’d like that a lot actually”

Without hesitation Frankie leaned in and planted a quick tender kiss on your forehead before settling beside you. The warmth of his presence beside you filled you with a sense of comfort and contentment, and you couldn't help but snuggle closer, savoring the closeness between you as a comfortable silence enveloped you both. But soon, conversation resumed, flowing effortlessly between you as you discussed your favorite movies, swapping recommendations and sharing anecdotes about awkward date experiences.

Frankie's laughter filled the room as he recounted a particularly embarrassing moment from his past, and you couldn't help but join in, sharing your own humorous stories in return. The more you talked, the more you realized just how much you had in common, and each revelation brought you closer together.

At one point, Frankie leaned in close, his voice low with mock solemnity. "Well, now that we've shared all our embarrassing stories and secrets, what are we going to talk about on our first date?"

A blush crept up your cheeks at his teasing remark, but you couldn't help but laugh. "Guess we'll just have to come up with some new material," you replied playfully.

As the conversation lulled, Frankie glanced at the clock and sighed. "I should probably head home," he said reluctantly.

But before he could move, you reached out and gently grasped his hand, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please stay," you pleaded quietly, "For me."

For a moment, Frankie's expression softened, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. And without another word, he nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he settled back into bed beside you.

But before sleep claimed you, Frankie's quiet voice broke the silence. "You know, you're half right about that first night we met."

"What do you mean?" you responded, now propping yourself up to look at him.

"I should've kissed you," he admitted, a hint of regret in his tone. "I should've made you put your number in my phone or something." He chuckled softly, his fingers gently playing with strands of your hair.

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, "Well, lucky for you, it's not too late," you replied, reaching for his phone on the nightstand, a smile tugging at your lips.

And as you melted into each other's embrace, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in the quiet stillness of the night. With the gentle patter of rain as your lullaby, you drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 3 / Chapter 5

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primewritessmut · 21 days

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tfw you think you’re writing a cute little romcom but have to add tags like “have your therapist on speed dial for this one” and “masterclass in manipulation” on the next two chapters

#really truly sorry for what the next chapter is about to rain down on y’all #midori sour #fic writer #i guess my core of sweetness and light has been compromised #probably by childhood trauma #just like loki

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thorniest-rose · 1 year

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Sour Steve would definitely get closer to Eddie before full on lap sitting like he'll rest his head on his shoulder or stuff his toes under his legs when they get cold. Wayne would get so fed up bc he knows Eddie's up to no good and when he asks him to come help out with something Eddie says he can't move just like you don't want to move when a puppy falls asleep on you

Omg he would... and as soon as Wayne leaves the room he starts pressing little kisses to Eddie's face and neck and Eddie has to be like "hey stop that" but Steve doesn't and just clings to him, wrapping his arms and legs around him. And Eddie is so screwed because his uncle's about to walk back in to see Eddie popping a boner with a 15yo on his lap who just happens to be the richest boy in Hawkins.

#asks #sweet boys taste like sour candy #steddie #my fics

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ghostwise · 1 year

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ironbark, opal, and gold

words: 1.6k tags: zevran arainai, mahariel, zevran/m!warden, wedding rings, antiva, original characters, fluff

The jeweler’s shop is smaller than expected. Every surface is cluttered with tools, and there is a layer of grime along the wall but not the floor, indicating the type of person who only bothers to clean when the mess is actively interfering with their work. Nor does the jeweler have a proper storefront; just his counter, from which he greets Zevran with a nod before remembering he ought to speak to the customers.

This all means one of two things: either the jeweler is a hack, or a genius. But does it matter?

“Buenas, compadre,” the man tells him. He produces from behind the counter a small case of necklaces and bracelets. “Bonifacio, at your service. What can I help you find today?”

Zevran greets him. He glances over the jewelry, noting the traditional hammered Antivan style, the little swirls of silver, all requiring a steady hand.

“Tell me,” he says, “do you make all these yourself?”

“But of course! Finest silver and gold in Antiva, and anything not to your liking, I can alter.”

“Wonderful!” Zevran says, not really looking at any of the items in the case. “How much could I pay you to make use of your workshop for the day?”

The jeweler sets the case down and scowls.

Zevran smiles at him. He’s already been turned away at two other shops and has a few more to go. This time, he tries a bit of coaxing.

“I am getting married,” he confides, and it’s thrilling to share the news, even with a stranger.

“Ah,” Bonifacio says with a sigh. Holding up a finger he walks away from the counter. Moments later he returns with another case, this one full of sparkling rings.

“I see what you are getting at, young man,” he says, “but for something so important, why leave it to chance? Look at this. White gold and diamonds. Amethysts, rubies. Tell me about this girl. What does she like?”

“He is not so gaudy,” Zevran laughs. “My man is not one for gems. What else do you have?”

“Of course, of course! I have such a variety. Let me bring out the men’s rings. Of course.”

He hasn’t been thrown out yet, and that is encouraging. Instead, case after case of rings is brought out for his perusal. Zevran looks at them all, declining every one, and when the last case has been rejected, Bonifacio sighs again.

“Ten andris for the use of the shop,” he says finally. “Plus materials.”

“Thief,” Zevran scoffs. “I come here with my heart bared and you say ten andris?”

“Nine, then.”

“Has anyone even come in before me today? I very much doubt it. Look at the state of this place—you need to mop your baseboards and clean your windows—”

“Alright you bastard, how’s eight andris and you do the cleaning yourself?”

“Deal,” Zevran quickly agrees and thrusts out his hand. It is midday, and he needs this to work.

Haggling concluded, Bonifacio shakes his hand firmly, like a merchant or a noble.

“Now if you could show me to the work room—”

“Not yet,” Bonifacio says. “Tidy up first. Then you pay, then you use the workshop out back.”

“A fair agreement,” Zevran says, unable to keep the grin off his face.

He gets started right away. Organizing as he goes, he cleans efficiently, the way he grew up knowing one speck of dust could mean retaliation. All the while Bonifacio tinkers at the counter, peering through a lens at the broken links in an old necklace. Nobody comes into the shop. But Bonifacio interrogates him, leaving lengthy gaps between each question.

“So when are you getting married?” he asks.

“Ah,” Zevran says, wringing out a washcloth by the window. “Soon.”

“You don’t have a date?”

“We are traveling, and we need to first find a Chantry willing to marry us,” Zevran says.

“Willing?” Bonifacio asks.

“My fiancé,” Zevran says, and the word glimmers like a big ruby, “is Dalish.”

Bonifacio lets out a low whistle. Few Chantries will bless unions with non-Andrastians.

He’s quiet for a while before speaking again.

“Congratulations. And good luck with, uh, all that.”

Zevran pauses, looking up at the man. “Thank you,” he says, not sure what he means exactly.

Bonifacio grunts. A quarter of an hour passes before he speaks up again.

“My wife was Dalish,” he says, unbidden.

Zevran glances over.

“Lovely woman, but not for the city. Always felt like I was keeping a bird caged. We were happy enough. She called me Bon-Bon,” Bonifacio says with a smile. “It’s just different. That’s all I mean. Parents had their opinion, half the town did. It is what it is. Worth it, though. Right?”

It comes out in a rush, as if he’s been dying to talk about it. Zevran watches him, this middle-aged man with fine tools in his hands, still tinkering on the broken necklace. He thinks about the state of the shop, and the lack of clientele.

“What happened to her?” he asks.

“She passed,” Bonifacio says gruffly. “Last year.”

“My condolences,” Zevran offers. “She must have meant a lot to you.”

“Mmh. Yes.”

The jeweler holds up the necklace, now mended. Every broken link has been repaired. Zevran returns to his sweeping, but Bonifacio pushes himself up off the counter.

“Finish up,” he tells him. “Let’s get started on that ring of yours.”

Zevran leaves the city with his pockets twenty andris lighter, and a velvet pouch clutched in his hands. He’s worked through the day, and the sun has set when he reaches the campsite far past the outskirts of town.

Hamal is there, stoking the fire, singing to it as he does every night. Zevran pauses just out of sight, listening.

He’s thinking, also, of the old jeweler, and his advice.

By Dalish and Chantry law alike, only Death can undo the vow you’re about to take. Cherish the time you have, my friend.

Zevran wastes no time. He walks directly into the light.

“Ma vhenan,” Hamal says, “there you are.”

Zevran drops to one knee before him and kisses him. Hamal hooks a finger into the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer. It’s good that they tend to agree on these things. Zevran is the one to finally pull away, only because he can’t rightly give him the ring while attached to his face, can he?

“Hamal,” he says. He holds out the pouch, takes his hand.

“Wait,” Hamal exclaims, and scrambles to his feet.

Zevran blinks, watching him dash off into the tent. He emerges with a rucksack, tearing through it, tugging out pouches and bowstrings and a hat—

“I am not familiar with these customs—I thought we did this at the Chantry, not before—where is it? Oh!”

Whatever he was searching for, he rushes back to Zevran’s side, a wide grin on his face, hair unbraided and eyes dancing.

“Whatever are you doing, love?” Zevran asks. He starts a laugh, and before he knows it he’s overcome by it, enamorado, muy risueño. And Hamal laughs too.

“I thought—well, aren’t we exchanging rings now?”

“You have a ring?”

Hamal nods eagerly, holding it up in the light. It is a little thing of carved ironbark and gold, mottled in brassy colors only a Dalish craftsman could create. Zevran feels like he’s wanted this precise ring his whole life, and only realized it just now.

“It’s beautiful,” he says.

“I traded Master Varathorn for it,” Hamal says, and Zevran stares.

“Varathorn. That was months ago,” he tells him.

“Yes.” Hamal smiles. “The moment I saw it, I knew I wanted it for you. I just wasn’t sure… the Archdemon…” He pauses, unsure how to say this. “I planned to leave it to you. After… In case…”

He can’t say it and Zevran doesn’t want him to.

Zevran quickly takes the ring he’d crafted out of its velvet pouch. “I made this for you,” he says.

It is a simple band of gold inlaid with opal. Zevran turns it and points to the inside of the band, where the words vhenan and corazon are carved, a tiny opal set between them.

Hamal takes a long look at it.

“Here,” Zevran says, taking his hand. “Listen, because I am not sure that I will get it right in the Chantry, and it is more for you, anyway. You are my home. All my life, I never had one or even thought I could find one; yet I have never felt an orphan since meeting you. So there is no alternative for me, you understand? There is nowhere else for me to go, other than wherever you are. I mean that, amor… more than allegiance to any country or creed. Let me declare myself, then, a citizen of You, municipality of a country called Us, of which we two are the sole happy inhabitants.”

Hamal watches him place the ring onto his finger with what can only be described as sincere adoration, the words filling his thoughts like honey.

“I didn’t have a speech prepared,” he says softly. He gives Zevran his ring and kisses it, which suits Zevran just fine.

“Creators! But I cannot fucking wait to marry you, Zevran! Can we do it right now? Quick! Where is the nearest clergy?”

It is lovely to be understood so thoroughly. Zevran could laugh, or kiss him again, or ravish him right then and there. In the absence of a revered mother, and thus forced to wait, he opts for all three.

#rinnywrites #dragon age #dao #zevran arainai #zevran x warden #mahariel #oc: hamal mahariel #valentine's day piece :-)#i wrote this during the week and had a rough day so i decided to try and edit it after work #polished it up but it still feels like it's missing something; feels like two fics instead of one #but one thing i will always do is highlight like um community and the support ppl show each other and um #sappiness #this also feels like it's bridging 'four little crows off to meet the maker' with 'picture our wedding itd be summer sour and summer sweet'#and i'm gonna try to do less one-shots and more actual writing of qdt lmao or i'll never finish #ok now i sleep zzz zzzz zzz

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the-messenger-hawk · 4 months

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Finally finished my holiday fic! Featuring mistletoe~

#tower of god #ja wangnan #the 25th bam #jue viole grace #team sweet & sour #tog fic #tog wangnan #tog bam

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sashaisready · 5 months

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Chapter Nineteen - Best of luck

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again

Warning: Dark themes - same warnings as previous chapter, also includes minor injury with mention of blood

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Bucky is settling down to go to bed when his phone buzzes. He’s in a bad mood, still furious with how things went down with you earlier.

He takes a sip from this tumbler of whiskey as he picks up his device. He’s very surprised to see your name light up his screen. You’ve sent him a couple of messages. He frowns as he swipes to open his phone.

Sweetie - I’m sorry we fought. Please help!! I’ve been taken somewhere - these men are so scary. Please come help me x love you

Sweetie - here’s my location. Please come soon - I need you. Xx love you so much

The second message included a pin with your live location. You seemed to be somewhere on the outskirts of the city.

He furrows his brow, thinking carefully as he holds the phone against his chin.

After a moment, he opens up your messages again and begins to type a response.

Rumlow was holding your phone eagerly as he watched the screen, waiting for Bucky to respond.

You chewed your lip anxiously as you looked around the room. The men all stared back at you. You know pinning all of your hopes on Bucky to save the day is a naïve plan so you’re frantically trying to come up with another idea to get out of here. If you could just be left alone for a moment…

Your phone vibrates and Rumlow laughs excitedly.

“Here’s your boy…” he chuckles.

His thick fingers are smashing at your phone screen as he brings up the message. But his face falls, and he throws the phone over to Pierce who begins to read aloud.

“Doll…sorry to hear you’re in a spot of bother. But I told you I’d leave you alone like you wanted and I’m a man of my word. Best of luck - JBB x”.

Your heart sinks into your stomach and you suddenly feel like you might faint. You go limp in the chair. You didn’t expect Bucky to actually come, but hearing it out loud is still hard to take.

“Aww, well that’s a shame” mutters Pierce sarcastically. “Plenty of fish in the sea though, right honey?”

He taps your cheek roughly and you realise you’re trembling.

“Fuck!!!” Rumlow yells in frustration. “What are we going to do now?

Pierce shushes him soothingly. He seems to be the calm and measured presence alongside Rumlow’s hot-headedness. It strikes you that he’s like Bucky in that way.

Or maybe Bucky is like him. He learnt it all from somewhere.

“Gentlemen….let’s just give this a bit longer huh? We all know from personal experience what Barnes says and does can be two different things…” Pierce muses serenely. “We’ve got time. The girl isn’t going anywhere. We’ll be ready for him if he shows up.”

“So you think he could still come?” Rumlow questions. “I dunno boss, she seems pretty adamant he doesn’t give a fuck…”

Pierce shrugs. “Let’s regroup and discuss.”.

He gestures to them through the double doors. “Follow me, let’s go somewhere a bit more private. Prying eyes and all that” he winks at you.

“Princess, we’ll be right back. Jones here will babysit you for now” he nods his head towards a man holding a large pistol who just blankly stares back at you. He somehow looks like a perfect mix of every bad guy you’ve ever seen in a movie.

“Get comfortable, sweetie” Pierce adds as he leaves the room.

You despise all of the names he gives you...honey...sweetie...princess. Your hatred for him seethes, flowing through your veins.

As the rest of the group head out with a low chatter, Jones moves closer to you. He watches you carefully, circling your chair and pointing his gun at you. It’s just the two of you left in the room now.

You sit up slightly, the beginnings of a plan forming in your head. It’s all you have, so it’s worth a shot.

You purposefully make yourself look as meek as possible, allowing your tears to fall as you flutter your eyelashes. You whimper softly. It’s not too much of a stretch as you’ve been on the verge of crying since they grabbed you.

Jones just watches you silently, seemingly unmoved by your tears.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry…” you tell him softly.

“I’m just so scared” you sigh. You move your legs apart slightly, moving your cleavage forward just the tiniest bit. You adjust your thighs so that your dress rides up Jones can see a flash of your underwear between your legs, but subtle enough that it doesn’t look like it’s on purpose.

Jones takes the bait, leaning forward and leering at you. You feel dirty. But it’s a means to an end.

Now or never.

“Do…do you think you could get me some water, please? I’m sorry to ask. My throat is just so dry…” you plead to him, slightly pathetically.

He looks at you for a moment, stealing another glance at your breasts and between your legs. Then he nods silently and heads for the doors.

You nearly gasp, amazed that was all it took.

Men, huh?

But you don’t have long. You cast your mind back to a YouTube video you watched in the midst of a late night True Crime binge. It was a tutorial on how to break out of zip ties. HYDRA were sloppy for not using real ropes, no wonder Bucky toppled them so easily - but you supposed they didn’t see you as a real threat. Well, you were happy to be underestimated if it worked to your advantage.

The second the door closed behind Jones you began to raise your arms high above your back and crash them down at full force as you flex your hands. It takes a few tries but you manage it, the pressure snaps the tie and you free yourself. You gasp, momentarily celebrating your win with a muted gleeful screech.

But there’s no time. Jones will be back any second. You spring from the chair and fling off your remaining shoe - it’ll only hold you back. You sprint across the warehouse to the other door you spotted earlier, it’s on the opposite side to where Pierce and his men went so you hope and pray that you won’t bump into them.

The door opens into a labyrinth of corridors. You fling yourself down them, looking for a decent hiding place to give you time to think about your next move. You turn down them almost at random, just desperate to put as much distance between you and HYDRA. Thankfully there are so many routes that it’ll likely create confusion when they come after you. You find yourself praying silently that you don’t encounter anyone, and that they’re all on the other side of the building. You pass lots of rooms, old offices and supply closets. You just need to pick one that they don’t find right away.

Eventually, in the thick of the maze of hallways, you find a door which leads to a stairwell. You run up it, aware they would’ve noticed your absence by now. This building seems to be huge with a lot of ground to cover so you hope the search will keep them occupied for longer. Checking all of the rooms here will take some time at least.

You find yourself in some sort of attic. It’s pitch black but you are too fearful to find the light switch in case it draws attention to you. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as you bump into old boxes and equipment and stumble through the mess. Maybe you can lay low here for a while and think of a new escape plan. If you could just evade them for a bit longer, and then a bit longer after that…Maybe you could flee the building altogether and flag down a passing car once you reach the road.

Your heart is beating so fast that your chest is practically shaking. You’ve never been more frightened.

You think of Bucky briefly. You’re sad that it ended the way it did, regretful that you didn’t get to make peace with him before this. It’s likely that this will be your last day on earth, and even though it’s his fault that you’re here - you feel a pang of regret. You feel anger too, anger for everything he put you through - for leaving you to die here. You think of your final kiss with him instead, the memory sustaining you as you press yourself into a corner, pushing your face against the wall as you manoeuvre into the small space…

You hiss in pain and pull yourself away from the wall as your hand leaps up to your cheek. Something has cut you, a loose nail or bolt or something equally sharp. It’s broken the skin on your face, and you can feel blood gushing down your cheek.

You scoff in disbelief as you clutch at it, annoyed that if you somehow survive the psychopathic crime gang then you’ll end up dying of an infection from an ancient nail instead.

You hold your hand against the wound, then rip a section of your dress off and use it to put pressure on the cut, slowing down the bleeding.

And you wait.

And wait.

#mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #bucky barnes #mob bucky au #mob bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #sweet and sour fic

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cosmic-seer · 4 months

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I absolutely LOVE your DipplinShipping art for the "Sweet and Sour Dipplins" Fic!

I especially love how comfortable Juliana looks in her cute clothes.

Thanks!! My personal headcanon is that during off hours she wears the new paldaen autumn set (or at least my more casual version of it) cos it’s my favorite and I think it makes the MC look cute af. Really fits the dichotomy of her when she’s battling/raising pokemon vs when she’s just vibing.

(I’m sure you prolly saw it but I had a mock body type thing I submitted as a ref for funsies.)

#I also must admit that I’m totally doing art not ONLY cos there isn’t a whole lot of it yet on tumblr #but also because I am violently compelled to encourage this fic through to completion #because there also isn’t a whole lotta fics either #I support my own writer friend group the exact same way #shoutout to Trigun as my lil magnum opus #I also DO have general fanart ideas I’m just really gripped by this fic I WILL draw them hehehe #cosmic talks #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #juliana pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #sweet and sour dipplins

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bad-surprise · 1 year

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thought i’d share a little preview of the one shot i’m working on. 3.5k into it, no clue what the final word count will be. gonna try to resist the urge to share more before it’s done haha.

#this is the companion piece to the one shot i posted yesterday #sweet or sour?#this is the sour #haladriel #fic wip

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dipplinduo · 3 months

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HEHEHE HERE YOU GO DIPPLIN!!!! (It's me Kat this is just my alt)

had too much fun w/ drawing these lmao

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3333 Y"ALL

THE SCREAMS THAT WERE SCRUPT ON DISCORD OVER THIS.

THAT'S A SURPRISE TOOL THAT CAN HELP US LATER THANK YOU KAT

#my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran pokemon #juliana x kieran #ribombee lore #kieran toxic chain #toxic chain pokemon #sweet & sour fashion line #sweet & sour gallery #fanart

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chaoticnerdsstuff · 1 year

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I need this song with a wenclair edit😔

#or a fic inspired by the song #Anything #LIKE IT FITS THEM SO WELL #wenclair #Spotify #actually this song reminds me of the fic sweet and sour and not a bit of nice

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thorniest-rose · 10 months

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Sour Steve meets Prism Eddie and either immediately repents and joins a convent, or turns up at the commune the next day and impatiently pulls on his robes like yeah yeah yeah when do I get to volunteer as a sacrifice

omg sour candy Steve would be like "I know he's the anti-christ and everything, but when can I have his babies????"

#asks #prism fic #sweet boys taste like sour candy

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chuluoyi · 28 days

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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 11:07 P.M 」

divorce scare apology fic🤞🏻 yes people, in the spirit of april 1, it’s gojo who is having dreams :)) and i promise you it’s straight up comfort fic~

a part of gojo's love entries

you’ve known something is bugging satoru as he hasn’t been teasing the heck out of you for these past three days.

and you were proven true when tonight, on your marital bed, he said—

“so… i’ve been thinking…” he started, seemingly deep in thought, playing with your hair. “oh, more like it’s because of this one bad dream…”

“what are you on about?” you raised an eyebrow. okay, you knew something was up with him, but him being a bit skittish made you a bit worried.

“umm, yeah. so, the other day i had this dream about us in tokyo district court—”

“district court—?”

“—getting a divorce, yeah.”

your eyes rounded, and satoru could feel himself almost regretting his words seeing your stunned expression, so he added a band-aid—

“no, it was just a dream! i’m not divorcing you, okay?!”

however, your expression had soured, as you looked down, visibly heartbroken. alarmed, satoru immediately pulled you to his chest.

“oh, ooh— there, there,” he soothed you, stroking your hair. “sweets, no. never. okay? i’m just telling you, just like what you did the other day.”

you had a dream of him cheating on you once, but this was wholly different.

“you’re the worst,” you accused, and despite yourself, you felt an ache in your chest. “how could such thought even cross your mind— that you dream about it?”

“if i can pick my dream… i’ll pick the memory from our honeymoon— precisely when i ripped your black and pink lingerie off and made you scream my name, you know that.”

you huffed, burying your face in his chest. “hmph. explain.”

satoru smiled, finding you so incredibly precious. silly wifey.

he proceeded as he pat your back. “nothing really, i’m still bitter too! no way in hell! but then i started thinking… what would you do in 0.001% chance of us being divorced?”

you pulled away, growling. “…so there’s still a chance—!”

“noooo! that’s statistically impossible! aren’t we having a late night talk? we’re always talking about imaginary scenarios at night, aren’t we?!”

what was the point of this? it was only upsetting you with each second.

“how could you ask me that?” you glared at him resentfully. “if we’re divorced, then—” you grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. “what about baby? do you not want to see him anymore?”

and in that moment it seemed like he just realized it too as he sheepishly scratched his head, mouth gaping. “ah—”

his response caused your hormones to stir, and combined by your disbelief, you spitefully threw his hand away and turned to your side, refusing to face him.

“if you dare to divorce me, i’ll move out japan at a moment’s notice,” you spat out, crossing your arms. “i won’t let you see my baby— and i’ll put a restraining order on you too, just so you see.”

“whoa, wait—”

“or i can also jump from yasohachi bridge and then become a curse—i’ll haunt you to your dying days!”

“—?! you can’t do that!”

“oh, i can also remarry! i’ll marry ichiji so fast and by the time the baby is born, your kid will have his name instead!”

“ichi— hey! that’s insulting! i would’ve forgiven if it was nanami, but ichiji?!”

“shut up! you’re— you’re annoying!”

in hindsight, this wasn’t something you should get this much worked up for. satoru was obviously just being his dense self and you knew it, but somehow the thought of him suddenly not by your side anymore hurt you— and perhaps your unstable hormones played a part too.

. . . but then his strong arms wrapped around you in that instant, enveloping you in his warm and reassuring embrace from behind. “hey… sweets, don’t be mad…”

“…”

“if you do, baby will also be—”

“you are making us mad.”

“okay, okay.” satoru sighed, his right palm reaching out to caress your five-month baby bump, and his voice was tinted with slight regret as he replied, “sorry…”

you melted a bit, but still gave him the cold shoulder, showing how cross you were that he brought it up in the first place.

and both of you stayed that way for a while, and you started to get sleepy, until you heard him muttering—

“still… whatever you do,” his voice sounded strained, and it made you awake again. “even when i’m not here… you can’t get yourself hurt, alright?”

“what does that mean?” you finally turned towards him, your eyes shone with slight panic. “what do you mean with you not being here?”

“nothing, sweetheart.” satoru grinned, pinching your cheek. “just saying—since i’m away often, don’t do anything reckless, you can get hurt.”

“don’t put it as if you’re going to go some place far away.” you didn’t know what you were spouting now, but you were tired and just didn’t want to pursue this conversation any longer.

you bit your lip, not looking at him. “or… i’ll get sad.”

seeing you so vulnerable and open like this made satoru realize that as much as he needed you to stay sane, you also needed him. the clarity stirred something within him, causing warmth to rapidly spread in his chest.

and he felt soft. so soft for you. and he adored you, more than anyone else in this wretched world.

“aw, look at my baby girl.” your husband cradled you close to him with a wide grin, patting you soothingly, his heart fluttering. “how can i leave you be a single mother? i’m here, yeah? always.”

and you believed him. otherwise, you were willing to risk it all just to get him home, by your side.

you smushed your face into his chest, ignoring your burning face. “hmph, being a single mother isn’t that bad. i can still drain your wealth.”

“huh?! wait, you just said you’ll be sad without me!”

and you thought, being in his embrace is the most comforting place of all.

epilogue

“by the way, i just realized…” satoru fixed his frown on you accusingly in the next morning. “how is your taste in men so bad? why ichiji as your first pick?”

“uh,” you were at a loss of words, totally not expecting this discussion on a brand new morning. “because… he’s kind? he’s easiest to sway—”

“so you’re saying… you can seduce him easily?!”

“…sort of? but you’re right, i should go for nanami. he’s way good-looking. or his apprentice… what’s his name again? ino takuma—”

“nanami? ino?! wait a minute…! y-you’re my wife… but you’re also thinking about which man is easier to seduce and which is more attractive?!”

“uh— you’re the one asking first!”

“still! so you do think about them! about weaker, lesser men who are not me!”

“nanami is not—!”

“hoh?! so it’s nanami, huh!?”

“don’t you dare to start anything, gojo satoru,” you hissed. “you said my taste in men is bad. so that includes you too.”

“wha?!”

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