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spid3namy · 6 months

Text

— AUGUST

pairing : e!42 miles x mixed!female reader

summary : rumors spread like wildfire around school, everyone knew everyone's business. who knew the only rumor about you and your boyfriend would be true...?

contains : angst, cheating, song inspired (obviously), they are mid to late teens, miles lowkey stupid asf, implied lying (kind of), might have some incorrect spanish, cussing, not proof read

divider creds : saradika

word count : 2031

notes : lowkey, i only wrote this cus i literally love this song and figured why not write angst. this is my way of being productive while also being lazy asf LMAO. i probably might start a taglist for people who wanna be tagged when i post new things but we’ll see. anyways, i hope you enjoy the story <3

“Will you call when you're back at school...?”

Summer vacation.

For some, it was a great way to get away from school. To hang out with friends, to spend time with family. Others, it was nothing but a cruel and long three and a half months.

For you, it was supposed to be a great three and a half months!

Until you found out that you were being shipped away to your grandparents house to spend time with them. Sure, you loved your grandparents but they were just.. so old. Summer was supposed to be the time when you hung out with your best friends!

And most importantly, your boyfriend! But no.

Before you knew it, you had been packed up and sent on a flight all the way up to the shitty state of Washington. And that’s cruelly how you spent your summer vacation. Being around old people for a long three and a half months literally sucked.

September 18.

The day school started was a nightmare.

Rumors spread around like wild-fire at Visions Academy. Well, you knew that much. Especially with all the rumors that happened last year about the girl that had gotten pregnant. Of course, that rumor had been a lie. But everyone knew about it in the spam of like 20 minutes.

“Y/N! Have you heard yet?”

Your best friend, Juno, is the first one to come up to you the moment you walk through the doors. She was always so pretty when she came to school. If you all didn’t have to wear uniforms, she’d probably be the hottest girl in school with those fire ass fits you knew she owned.

“Heard what exactly?”

“Okay, so I’m guessing you haven’t heard then.”

You look at the girl and raise an eyebrow, brushing your braids behind your shoulder to flow down your back. What the hell was she on about now? Juno was your best friend, yes, but she was too into the gossip the school had going on. Most times, you couldn’t even believe the words she said.

“Well, are ya gonna tell me?”

Juno stared at you for a few moments before she shrugged, figuring that if you really wanted to know then she would tell you. Even if she knew it was gonna hurt you, it was best if you found out from her and not some random stranger who probably would tell it in the worst way possible.

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

“Uh.. okay? I promise.”

Juno let out a breath and gripped the strap of her tote bag tightly before she spoke in a mess of jumbled up words. “Okay so basically, I heard from Dorothea who heard it from Suki who heard it from Rose who heard it from Verity who heard it from Betty who heard it from Venus, herself, that she and Miles had a little fling over the summer.”

You blink as you watch Juno suck in a huge intake of air. She was acting as though she had been waiting a long time to gain some type of air in her lungs.

You soon burst out into laughter and shook your head, holding your stomach as you laughed. Juno watched you with confusion clear on your face; she clearly didn’t understand what the hell was funny.

Once you had slowly started to calm down, you wiped an imaginary tear from your eye and shook your head, looking at the female.

“Whew, thanks Jun, I really needed a laugh today.”

“I’m being serious, Y/N. I totally think it’s true too!”

“That’s ridiculous, Miles would never do anything like that. Me and he are locked in.”

Juno stares at you before she shrugged; the two of you started your descent down the hallway to where your shared first class was.

“‘M just sayin’ what I heard. Only Miles would really know what happened. Just hope he doesn’t lie to you.”

You snort and roll your eyes playfully, nudging her with your shoulder and looking over at her. “He would never lie to me.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N. But just remember: men ain’t shit”

“Tha.. thank you for that, Juno. But you’re not really the greatest person to say that. Especially since you’re biased as hell.”

“What? I am not biased!”

“Yes you are”

Juno rolled her eyes as the two of you walked into the classroom. Anatomy, the board read.

Great, seeing bodies and stuff at 8 in the morning was gonna be so fun. And it was a block class. How fun.

✰

Lunch. Possibly the only good thing about being at this stupid school. You and Juno stand in line together, looking at all the options of food you can pick out. It’s not much. Pizza, nachos, salads, and hot dogs. Barf.

You let out a sigh and grabbed a plate that had a pretty decent sized slice of pizza. Juno looks over at you and makes a face before she reaches over to grab a salad. The two of you quickly scan your school ids to pay for the food before you walk over to a table where Miles had been sitting. He had been there alone for a while now.

He was fortunate enough to have his own food.

Juno sits in front of you two before she nudges her head over to the male who was too busy drawing in his stupid sketchbook to even notice that you were even there. You give a look before you sit down next to your boyfriend, peering over his shoulder a little to see what he was doing.

“Whatcha drawin’?”

“You.”

The answer was so flat, so blunt. It caused your cheeks to heat up when you realized that he was, in fact, drawing you. Miles had always been so good at drawing. It was one of his many talents.

“You two make me sick.”

“You’re just jealous, Jun. It’s not our fault that your mystery girl doesn’t know you exist.”

Juno lets out a dramatic cry and puts her head down when you mention the girl she had a crush on since 8th grade. It was a little cute that she’s liked her for so long. Yet, she has never even attempted to make a move on her.

“I just wish Leni would notice me.”

“Just talk to her, it ain’t that hard.” That earned Miles a glare despite the fact that he didn’t even really see it. Not like he really cared. He was just speaking the truth.

“Not everyone is brave enough for that, Miles.”

“Jus’ quit being a fuckin’ pussy and talk to her.”

Juno glared at him more and started to stand up. You shake your head quickly to get her to sit down. You already knew where this was headed and you really didn’t want the two of them to get into a huge argument. Not again. Not this school year.

Juno lets out a noise of frustration before she sits back down, her hand gripping the fork in her hands tightly.

“At least, I didn’t cheat on my girlfriend.”

That seemed to gain his attention. Miles looked up from his sketchbook and quickly put his pencil down, looking at her with a look that could only be described as anger.

“Where the hell did you hear that from?”

“Miles..”

“Callarse la boca”

You look offended by his words but you don’t have time to dwell on it before Miles speaks again, his voice clear with annoyance.

“Where did you hear that from, Juno? Huh?!”

“Dorothea told me.”

Miles takes a deep breath at that, his nostrils flaring slightly as he lets out a deep and heavy exhale. He was screwed because now you knew about it. And he knew how you were going to act now that you knew.

“Why are you gettin’ so upset, babe? It’s not like it’s true, right?”

Miles looks over at you and sighs, his shoulders tensing up as he clears his throat awkwardly. Guess it was time to be honest now.

“Mi vida, listen... it-”

You blink and stare at you, anger slowly starting to fill up your body. You don’t even let him get another word out before you raise your hand and slap him. The feeling caused his face to sting, his face turned to the side from the impact. He lets out a slow breath and nods to himself; he knew he deserved it.

“Fuck you, Morales.”

And with those harsh words spat, you get up and walk away from him. Juno and Miles both watch as you leave before Juno looks over at him, shaking her head and letting out a sigh.

“You fucked up man.”

“No, really? Thanks for the news flash, sherlock.”

“Don’t get smart with me, boy.”

Miles glares at the girl as she gets up and goes after you. God, he was so fucking stupid!

✰

It’s been a week since you last spoke to Miles. You have been avoiding him at school and even went as far as changing seats in the classes you shared with him. You did everything in your power to try and be as far away from him as possible. Miles didn’t seem to let that affect him.

Even if you were far away from him, he would still do his very hardest to talk to you. To explain what happened between him and Venus over the summer. But of course, you didn’t listen. Couldn’t listen to a word he said. It would be nothing but a lie.

Juno was right; men ain’t shit.

It was almost sickening to think that your once loyal and sweet boyfriend would turn out to be a dirty, rotten cheater! And to think it only took one summer for him to change. That was so fucked up man. You hated how easily you had allowed yourself to be betrayed.

How could someone be so sweet one minute then betray you the first chance they got? It really made no sense to you.

A knock on your bedroom door was enough to pull yourself from your thoughts. Your head snapped up just as the door opened to reveal Juno, a sheepish smile on her face as she practically jumped on you.

“What are you doin’ here, Jun?”

“I was summoned by your father.”

You let out a snort and roll your eyes, moving over slightly to give her more room to sit on the bed. It was sweet how she wanted to comfort you but you already knew it wasn’t going to work. You were too hurt to ever feel better after just a few visits but you appreciate the effort.

“Should I beat his ass?”

“No.. it’s fine, Jun. I don’t really care, ya know? I already got over it!”

“Mhm. and is that why you’re still avoiding him?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Juno lets out a chuckle and moves closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder gently and pulling you closer for a side hug. It was the best thing she could think of doing right now.

“Ya know.. He’s stupid for doing that to you. He don’t know what he’s missing.”

And that did it. Before you knew it, you had burst out into tears. Juno rubbed the side of your arm gently and allowed you to cry on her shoulder, soaking her shirt with your tears. She knew you probably needed this right now.

“I fuckin’ hate him, Jun.”

“I know, Y/N.”

“I wish I never met him!”

“I know, Y/N”

The two of you stay like that for an hour. Maybe longer. Who knew? It didn’t matter anyway. Juno was too busy trying to comfort you while you bawled your eyes out. It hurt so fucking much.

All the trust that you had put into Miles was now gone.

And it was all his fault.

Seeing him everyday at school hurt worse than any pain imaginable. But at least you had Juno by your side, you knew she would never hurt you. She was your best friend. She was different than him.

You wish you had never fallen in love with Miles Morales.

#☆ namy writes #e42 miles #earth 42 miles morales x reader #angst #earth 42 miles angst #earth 42 miles morales angst #e42 angst #e42 miles morales angst #e42 miles morales x reader #across the spider verse angst #across the spiderverse

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ginnsbaker · 9 months

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (21/23)

Chapter summary: Christmas Eve; A person from Wanda's past prompts another bout of jealousy in you; Wanda surprises you with a Christmas present; You and Pietro talk it out after the festivities

Chapter word count: 7.5k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Healing, Comfort | Ship: Wanda x Female Reader

Author's note: The second part of Christmas in LA. We continue wrapping up some relationships. Enjoy! :)

AO3 | Masterlist

Next part: Twenty-two

Twenty-One

Christmas Eve

The ride with Shannon begins in an uneasy silence. With the only sound being the hum of the car and the occasional directions from the GPS, the quietness feels heavy, making your palms sweat against the leather steering wheel.

“We need to pick up groceries first, then dry cleaning, and oh, there's a new shop selling artisanal cheese I've been dying to try,” she reels off her list of errands, her tone light and almost jovial, easing some of the tension in the car.

However, as the silence descends once again, there's a question that's been burning on your tongue since you stepped into her house, and it seems like the perfect opportunity to ask it.

“Shannon,” you start, your voice sounding unusually loud in the quiet car, “This might be a strange question, but...did you recognize me when I walked into your office for that interview at Stark Industries?”

There's a momentary pause, and you worry you've crossed some invisible line. But then Shannon chuckles, a light, easy sound, that oddly enough, puts you at ease.

“Well, I was wondering when you would ask,” she admits with a smirk. “Yes, I recognized you. But I didn't want to make things awkward by bringing it up.”

As you reach the grocery store and park the car, Shannon turns to you, offering a grateful smile. “Thanks for helping out, Y/N. It's been quite hectic with the preparations and all.”

On the way back, you spot a small coffee shop nestled between a bookstore and a flower shop. The sign in the window catches your eye–'Single Origin Beans' it reads, and you remember your conversation with Wanda on the plane.

“Shannon," you blurt out without taking your eyes off the signage. “Would you mind if we stop by that coffee store over there? I'd love to check out some of their beans."

She looks over to where you're pointing, and her face lights up in approval. “Oh, I've heard fantastic things about this place. Let's go.”

As you pull over, you can't help but think about Wanda and her upcoming competition, hoping that this little detour might just be the secret ingredient she needs to make her mark at the Cup-off.

As you and Shannon step into the shop, you are immediately enveloped by a blend of heady aromas–nutty, smoky, and unmistakably coffee. The smell is intoxicating, and you can't help but breathe it in deeply.

A world map on one wall is dotted with markers showing where their beans are sourced–Ethiopia, Colombia, Kenya, Indonesia, Guatemala, and more.

Shannon seems equally impressed, her eyes taking in the array of beans displayed in glass jars behind the counter, each labeled with its country of origin and tasting notes. She glances back at you, her gaze curious.

“You're into coffee as well?” she asks, opening a particular jar to sniff at its contents.

“Well, I love it. I’m the original coffee drinker between the two of us,” you clarify. “But I’m looking mainly for Wanda. She's the enthusiast. I'm... more of the support crew.”

“So Wanda only started drinking coffee because of you?”

“I suppose you could say that,” you say, your mind drifting back to an amusing memory of one of your early dates with Wanda. She had attempted to impress you by ordering your favorite drink, not realizing it was a bold concoction of three shots of espresso and nothing else. “Although I don’t think she enjoys drinking it as much as I do. It's more of a part of her daily routine now.”

A smile spreads across Shannon's face as she shakes her head. You give her a funny look and ask, “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Shannon shrugs off your question. “That girl is so head over heels for you.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “Why would you say that?”

“She's taken something she's passionate about and turned it into something impactful. Something enjoyed by everyday people,” Shannon explains.

“I wouldn't exactly say coffee is her passion, though–”

“It's you, Y/N,” Shannon interjects, rolling her eyes playfully. “You are her passion. She excelled in coffee-making because it's something you love. And it's a beautiful thing, to shape a passion around someone you care about so deeply.”

“But it's rather strange, isn't it?” Shannon adds a while later. She digs her hand inside a bag of beans and takes a handful, then leans in to inhale its scent.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Well,” Shannon continues, “Considering how much she adores you, must be one of the universe’ greatest mysteries as to why she would ever cheat on you.”

You find yourself taken aback, unsure if you should feel insulted or if you should just brush it off. Her remark is quite out of the blue, and she doesn't seem to grasp how inappropriate it is. It seems that Shannon may be the sort of person who speaks without considering the impact of her words.

But, in her candid, albeit tactless, comment, you get a glimpse of another side of her–one that's less reserved and more carefree than you had initially perceived.

Before you can think of something to reply, a voice cuts in, causing you and Shannon to jerk your heads towards the source.

“Welcome! Can I help you find something particular?”

The voice belongs to the shopkeeper, an elderly gentleman sporting a smile as warming as a hot cup of chocolate. You return his smile with a slightly sheepish one, confessing, “I actually have no idea. My wif–my, uh, partner joined this annual coffee competition in NYC. I thought I might surprise her with some unique beans to experiment with.”

“Sounds like a wonderful gift!” he exclaims, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. He hobbles over to a nearby shelf filled with an array of coffee bags. “Well, if she's in a competition, I'd suggest trying a couple of different single-origin beans to get a variety of flavors.”

He reaches up to a shelf and pulls down a bag of coffee. “This here is a single-origin bean from Ethiopia. Known for its bright and fruity flavors, it's a favorite among many coffee connoisseurs.”

Setting that bag down, he moves over to another shelf. “And over here we have a single-origin bean from Colombia. This one has a richer, more full-bodied profile with notes of dark chocolate and a nutty finish.”

He hands both bags to you, his aged yet firm hands transferring the beans with a sense of reverence. “I think these two could provide some interesting flavors for her to experiment with. What do you think?”

A thoughtful hum escapes you as you consider the shopkeeper's recommendations. The Ethiopian and Colombian beans definitely sound like a good place to start, but you want to give Wanda something a little more... unexpected.

“Do you have anything else?” you ask. “Maybe something more unconventional? A wildcard, if you will.”

The shopkeeper looks at you for a moment, as if sizing up your level of coffee knowledge and daring. Then a slow smile spreads across his face. “Well, I do have something rather special,” he admits, leading you to the far corner of the shop.

He reaches behind a stack of bags, pulling out a smaller, unassuming bag. “This here is a single-origin bean from a tiny town in the northernmost region of Japan. It's not widely known for its coffee cultivation, but I have a friend there who has been growing these beans using a unique method. He's a former whiskey brewer and has applied some of the techniques from brewing to coffee cultivation.”

He hands over the bag and you take it, intrigued by the origin and backstory. The beans look slightly lighter than the other two bags, and you can almost smell the promise of a unique flavor profile.

“This is a real wildcard,” the shopkeeper adds with a wink. “It's unlike anything else you'll find. But tell your partner to be careful. These beans require a bit more finesse to fully bring out their complex flavors.”

You can't help but smile. This is exactly the kind of thing you were hoping to find. Something different and exciting for Wanda to work with, that would also show your support and faith in her skills. A perfect blend, in more ways than one.

“Seeing you so lovesick over your ex makes me want to gag,” Shannon comments, once you've finished your transaction with the shopkeeper.

You turn to her, eyebrow arched, “Are you always this tactless?”

She just laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet of the shop, and then completely ignores your question. “You know what? Now I see why you and Wanda are so perfect for each other.”

“And why is that?” you blink at her, intrigued despite yourself.

She shrugs, her smile knowing. “Because despite everything, you still do this shit like she’s the best thing that's ever happened to you. And I bet she’s the same.”

With those words, she heads out of the shop, leaving you standing there awkwardly, still processing her words. Her straightforwardness was unexpected but kind of refreshing. You shake your head, smiling to yourself as you follow her out.

“...Wh-Where was I?” Your words hitch as Wanda tenderly grazes her teeth over your jugular.

“You were saying that Shannon is kind of a bitch,” Wanda whispers, continuing her assault.

You chuckle lightly but it quickly transforms into a low moan. “Well, she is, but I think that's just her way of dealing with things.”

Wanda hums against your skin, a small laugh escaping her lips. “She certainly seems to have a unique perspective,” she concedes, withdrawing slightly to look you in the eyes. “But she's right about one thing.”

“And what would that be?” you ask breathlessly as you feel Wanda’s fingers trail their way up your stomach, under your shirt.

She gives you a teasing grin, the irises of her eyes pitch black as she playfully declares, “That you're smitten with me.”

You blink in surprise. “Wait, what? She said that?”

You feel Wanda’s smile against your skin before her tongue slips out to lick the sweat that has gathered under your ear. “Yes, she did. Told me right when you two got back home earlier.”

“Well, can't argue with that,” you concede, pulling her closer. The conversation drifts, forgotten, drowned in Wanda’s lips against yours and her hand squeezing your tit as she finally pushes her tongue inside your mouth.

“W-Wands,” you whine as your ex-wife’s other hand moves to cup you over your leggings. Wanda ignores you, rubbing your clit achingly slow as her tongue flickers in and out of your mouth, teasing you relentlessly.

“Wands,” you try again.

“What?” she husks out, her tone dripping with impatience and arousal.

“Is this a good idea? I mean… We… oh god,” you groan against her cheek when she slips her hand inside your underwear and zeroes in on your opening, collecting the wetness there before spreading them upwards towards your clit.

“Try saying that again, love?” Wanda murmurs with a smirk.

“Uh, w-we scheduled an appointment with–”

Your words fail you at this point when Wanda inserts a finger into your pussy, burying it two knuckles deep at once.

“Fuck–”

Wanda swallows your scream with a kiss, and she smiles as she feels the vibrations of your moans as she starts thrusting her finger in and out of your hole.

“I love it when you’re so loud, baby,” Wanda whispers into your ear before biting your lobe. “But we need to keep quiet. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

She senses your nod, but just as she's about to introduce another finger, your laptop interrupts with its ringing sound.

It’s a video call request from none other than your therapist.

You immediately extricate yourself from Wanda's grasp, causing her to groan in frustration at the untimely interruption. Your skin bears a heated flush and you hurriedly straighten your disheveled hair, trying to ignore how wet your inner thighs have gotten as you hit the accept button on the incoming video call.

There’s a satisfying grin on Wanda’s face as she observes the way you press your legs together, trying to relieve some of the tension she caused there.

“Y/N? Wanda? Can you hear me?” Calliope’s voice breaks through the speakers. The video is still loading and you can’t see her on the screen yet.

Understanding that the call includes her as well, Wanda quickly composes herself, matching your effort to regain decency. Both of you adjust your clothing, smooth down your hair, and take a deep breath.

“Am I disturbing anything?” Calliope inquires, an undercurrent of amusement lacing her tone. Your face turns a deeper shade of red at the hint of her insinuation, and you quickly shake your head in denial.

“With Christmas looming so near, I'd totally understand if you two prefer to reschedule–”

“No, it's okay,” you interject hastily. “Wanda and I are ready for this.”

The sound of Wanda's soft chuckle resonates beside you, and in a playful retort, you nudge her rib with your elbow. She responds with a firm, “Yes, we certainly are.”

Simultaneously, she reaches for your hand, weaving your fingers together in a comforting interlock, resting them gently on her lap. You smile inwardly, feeling more giddy about the intimate nature of this small action than the sex that almost happened.

Without further ado, Calliope delves directly into the agenda of this, your third session. She invites you and Wanda to share what your married life was like prior to the indiscretion, and you find yourself taking the lead.

“Honestly, it felt like we had a perfect marriage,” you start off. “Not just the marriage, but our entire life seemed idyllic. My career was progressing as planned. Wanda... She was my pillar, always there, always supportive.” You look at Wanda adoringly and in return, she offers a shy, hesitant smile, her eyes momentarily flickering away before meeting yours again. You don’t notice, but there’s something else there. Her demeanor has shifted ever since Calliope brought up the session’s main topic.

Her fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours as you continue, recounting the times when you both laughed together, celebrated successes, and held each other through tougher days.

“And it wasn't just that she was supportive,” you add, your voice catching slightly. “She was, and still is, my best friend. We shared everything.”

Wanda's quiet during your monologue. The room is silent except for the low hum of the laptop and the occasional soft exhale from Wanda. After a moment, Calliope's calm voice pierces the quiet.

“Thank you for sharing that,” she says. “Wanda, would you like to share your perspective now?”

Wanda nods and lets go of your hand, her eyes filled with a somber resolve, her voice quieter when she finally speaks.

“Over the course of our five-year marriage, I was mostly content–happy. However, I often found myself feeling like a shadow, rather than an…equal partner.”

You whip your head towards Wanda, but her eyes stay stuck on the laptop screen. It takes a few seconds longer before she finally turns her gaze towards you and says, “For the last few months before I–before what happened–it felt like I was just trailing behind you, almost constantly. But it's not your fault.

“I was grappling with feelings of inadequacy when I... made that mistake,” she continues, her voice faltering slightly as she alludes to her infidelity. “I was in a state of confusion, and despite your joy and accomplishments, I was unable to share in that same level of happiness,” Wanda finishes.

Just when you believe you're set for an easygoing session, life throws you a curveball. It seems each encounter with Calliope pops the cozy bubble you've created with Wanda. Each time you're certain you've navigated the thickest of storms, another one brews on the horizon, causing your heart to question–yet again–the durability of this second shot at a relationship with your ex-wife.

Wanda swallows hard, before adding, “And then there was the struggle to start a family. You were the one who wanted children, but when it got tough... I felt like I was in it far deeper than you were. You were supportive, yes, but it felt like I was alone in the intensity of wanting it, needing it.”

“What made you feel like I wasn't with you through this?" you ask, a tinge of frustration seeping in your tone.

She takes a moment before responding, “When I couldn't get pregnant, you seemed so quick to dismiss our failure... it made me feel even more isolated.”

You shake your head. She couldn’t be further from how it really was for you, but you can’t blame her if that was how she felt during those times.

“I'm sorry if it seemed like I was dismissive,” you whisper as memories play back in your mind, each one revealing nuances you hadn't recognized at the time. “It wasn't my intention to belittle our struggle. I guess... I just didn't want to see you in more pain than you were already in. I thought being optimistic and pushing forward would help us cope, but I see now how that might have come across as indifference.”

“Weren't you upset with me?” Wanda asks, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We invested so much for me to conceive and... and I failed. Do you... do you resent me for that?”

“Wanda,” you say, your voice choked with emotion, “I never cared about the money. And you didn't fail. It's a process, and sometimes it's a tough one. But I don't resent you, not for a moment. My disappointment was never with you, but with the situation. I felt...helpless.”

“Helpless,” you reiterate, your eyes steadfastly meeting Wanda's. “Because I was at a loss on how to support you... how to alleviate your pain.”

Your voice, once steady, falters slightly as you confess, “Each doctor's appointment, every unsuccessful attempt... It felt like I was failing you, like I couldn't provide the comfort or solution you needed.”

You draw a shaky breath before adding, “And in my helplessness, I pushed for us to move forward right away. But now I realize...it might have felt to you like I was dismissing your pain, dismissing our shared struggle. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Wanda murmurs, her voice heavy with regret. There's a softness in her gaze as she looks at you. “I’m sorry for not telling you what I was feeling.”

Just as you're about to respond, Calliope cuts in. “The reason I asked you both to share your perspectives on your marriage before is to gauge the level of openness and communication between you two. Communication is one of the key bridges to trust. If we understand where we each stood before, we can better see clearly where we want to go.”

With this new revelation, you can't help but wonder about other instances where your and Wanda's perspectives may have diverged significantly.

It makes you wonder, what other moments had been experienced so differently by the two of you? How many times have you found yourselves adrift on separate pages of the same story?

A cold shiver of uncertainty sweeps through you. You're not sure you're ready to dive deep into the past, to unpack five years of the life you had shared with Wanda.

The thought of your dissolved marriage possibly being built on illusion rather than truth feels scary, like realizing a favorite story might not be as real as you once thought.

The topic left untouched so far is how this disconnect relates to Wanda's act of infidelity. Despite your discomfort, the question lingers in your mind: If you were to misunderstand her feelings once more, would it drive Wanda away again?

You hold your tongue for the time being. Maybe there'll be a moment later to wrestle with this thought... or perhaps, you find yourself wishing, it might simply fade away with time.

A couple of hours later, you and Wanda find yourselves working together in the kitchen. The session with Calliope has ended on a less intense note (thankfully) with an anecdote about her cat after Wanda made a request for Calliope to share something about herself for a change.

Afterwards, Calliope, not one to shy away from uncomfortable questions, had boldly asked about your and Wanda's physical intimacy. In response to your surprised silence, she suggested a temporary pause on sexual activities. Her reasoning was that sex, while a key component in a relationship, could sometimes blur the perception of the emotional state of the partnership and hinder the process of rebuilding trust.

In place of physical intimacy, Calliope suggested an exercise known as “Eye Gazing”. The idea was simple: sit across from each other in a quiet room, looking into each other's eyes without speaking. It's an exercise designed to foster emotional connection and understanding, without the distraction of words.

As you stir the simmering soup and Wanda deftly slices the vegetables, the appetizing smell of your evening meal fills the room. The intensity of the session's discussions seems to recede, replaced by the cheer that Christmas Eve unfailingly brings as it approaches.

“Mom's home!” Pietro yells from outside, his voice bubbling with excitement over the Taylor Swift songs that Shannon has playing in the kitchen. Shannon's taken charge of directing the preparation of the prime rib and turkey, even though she's doing little more than calling the shots. It's almost as if she's forgotten that there's a seasoned cook in the house–someone who actually runs their own food and beverage business.

Wanda freezes at Pietro’s announcement and you put a hand on the small of her back and lean in to ask, “Are you okay?”

She nods and assures you further with a smile.

A few seconds later, the arrival of the twins’ mother is heralded by her appreciative comment about the tantalizing aroma wafting from the kitchen. You've only seen Iryna twice. The first time was when you drove Wanda to her hometown for a visit, and the last time was at a hospital, following a drug overdose just before you and Wanda tied the knot–an incident that was the final push for Wanda to sever all ties with her.

She appears significantly healthier compared to the grim memory etched in your mind. Her skin has a renewed vitality to it, and she's gained enough weight to fill out the hollow cheeks that you recall. Without the traces of addiction evident on her physique, she’s a dead ringer for Wanda.

You stop what you're doing, curious to see the reunion that would unfold.

Pietro’s arm is slung over Iryna’s shoulders as she laughs at something her son said. Wanda appears small and uneasy in the corner, waiting for her mother's recognition, uncertain whether she should be the one to make the first move.

“Wanda, dear!” Iryna calls out to Wanda with a wide smile, but as she makes her way to her daughter, she is intercepted by Shannon who greets her with a kiss on the cheek and engages her briefly in small talk. Wanda looks on, the corners of her lips downturned, and you can almost see the conflict of emotions in her wide, green eyes.

Finally, Pietro pulls his pregnant wife aside so that Iryna can have her moment with Wanda.

“Iryna,” Wanda murmurs, her voice choked with emotion. As her mother comes to a stop in front of her, Wanda can't help but notice how the years have softened her features.

“Hello, Dove,” Iryna's voice is tender, brimming with an affection Wanda had almost forgotten. Without another word, Iryna wraps her arms around Wanda, pulling her into a hug that feels like home.

Wanda stiffens momentarily, the walls she's built over the years making her hesitate. But as her mother's familiar scent fills her senses, she can't help but let go, letting the warmth of the hug thaw her frozen heart. Her hands tentatively rise, resting on her mother's back.

Tears prick at her eyes, tears she stubbornly fights back. She'd told herself countless times she never wanted to see her mother again, that she could live without her. But standing here, enveloped in her, she realizes just how much she had missed Iryna. At the same time, this woman feels like a new person, and she realizes she’s more than willing to embrace this opportunity to get to know her.

“Hey, where should I put this?”

All heads swivel toward the door where a man stands, holding a case of beer and sporting a friendly smile. With his chiseled features and confident posture, he could easily be mistaken for a model straight out of a Men's Health magazine. Around your age and undeniably attractive, your eyes quickly dart to Wanda, trying to read her reaction.

Wanda looks genuinely surprised, her eyes widening slightly as she takes in the newcomer.

And there it is again, that constricting feeling in your chest, the sudden, inexplicable need to claim Wanda as yours and yours alone. You're unable to shake off the feeling, even as you remind yourself that Wanda's reaction is likely just a response to an unexpected guest.

You should trust her, after all.

Pietro is the first to recover from the surprise, a grin breaking across his face. “Tom!” he exclaims, laughing as he moves to take the beer from him. “Kitchen counter's fine.”

You wrack your brain to place this “Tom,” mentally sifting through the countless Maximoff family photos you've seen, but come up empty.

But then, as he strides towards Wanda with a familiarity that tugs at a memory, it suddenly clicks.

Yes, Tom. Wanda and Pietro's childhood friend, and also Wanda's ex-boyfriend.

“I forgot to mention,” Pietro starts, turning to the rest of the room with an apologetic grin, “Tom, our friend from back home, recently moved to town. He's new here and doesn't really know anyone yet, so I thought he could join us for tonight's dinner.”

A casual round of handshakes and friendly smiles makes its way to Tom, each person sharing a word or two of welcome.

When the introductions circle back to you, you accept his handshake, offering your name and a casual, “Merry Christmas,” before excusing yourself to grab a beer from the fridge.

A second later, Wanda is at your side, her fingers finding yours. She leans close to your ear and murmurs, “I've told you about Tom, right?”

“Your ex-boyfriend?” You keep your tone neutral. “Yeah, you did.”

“Yup, that's him,” she confirms, nodding in his direction, her eyes searching yours for any signs of distress.

Finding your gaze locked onto Tom, you can't help but analyze him in every way. It's not your nature to be the jealous type, but after Wanda's affair, insecurity has a way of creeping into your thoughts every now and then. Perhaps Calliope hit the nail on the head; having sex with Wanda frequently might have lulled you into a false sense of security.

Meanwhile, Wanda's eyes are trained on you, her attention riveted to your reactions. Her indifference to Tom's presence is obvious, but you miss this entirely, too occupied with quelling the unexpected stir of jealousy within you.

She squeezes your fingers to get you to look at her, and when you do, you see nothing but total devotion in those green orbs.

“Why don't we get back to our cooking, huh?” she suggests with a small, warm smile.

It’s a reprieve from being helpless to your not entirely baseless worries. That’s Wanda for you–always able to draw you back, grounding you in moments like this.

Dinner is a massive success. Shannon revels in the praise, beaming with satisfaction. You and Wanda let her take all the credit, just happy to see everyone enjoy themselves.

Iryna keeps everyone entertained with funny stories from when Wanda and Pietro were kids, and the whole table is laughing. Tom joins in, too, sharing some memories and even shooting friendly smiles at you and Wanda. It still bothers you a little, but seeing Wanda enjoy herself helps you push it aside.

You can't help but watch Wanda throughout the evening. She's completely caught up in the Christmas cheer, her eyes lighting up like the twinkling lights around the room. Every once in a while, she looks your way, and when your eyes meet, you feel a warmth that's hard to describe.

After eleven years together, you'd think the initial thrill would fade, the love might settle into something comfortable and familiar. But with Wanda, it's different. It's almost frightening how you keep falling for her harder as the years go by.

Fortunately, no one bothers to reminisce about Tom and Wanda’s dating history, and you’re grateful for everybody’s consideration and respect for you and Wanda’s attempts at a reconciliation.

Still, a knot tightens in your stomach each time you notice Wanda and Tom sharing a knowing smile over Pietro's tales from their hometown. Your grip on your cutlery hardens as Tom attempts to engage Wanda in a casual chat or praises her culinary skills.

You find yourself imagining quite a few things, your mind drifting to their shared past and what they might have once been to each other. The more you think about it, the more you spiral into an unpleasant series of what-ifs and maybes.

Silently, you push your chair back and stand, excusing yourself. Except for Wanda, they don’t find anything amiss at your departure, their cheerful chatter resuming unimpeded.

A minute or so later, Wanda takes her leave as well, seeking you out. She discovers you in the guest room, the one both of you have been sharing, standing on the balcony, staring off into the distance.

She joins you at the balcony, her hand instinctively finding yours. “Is everything okay?” she asks, her voice soft, threading with concern.

In front of you, the landscape of Los Angeles stretches out, utterly unlike the steel jungle of New York you're used to. There are hills undulating in the distance, a patchwork of houses and greenery, the quiet echo of the ocean's waves caressing the shore, and an abundance of space that makes you feel both small and infinite at once.

Her thumb gently rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand.

“Talk to me,” she gently urges.

You've always prided yourself on your level-headedness, your rational thinking. But jealousy... It is a powerful emotion, tearing at the edges of your pride.

“I don't know how to say this without sounding pathetic,” you sigh, your eyes dropping to where your fingers are entwined. “But watching you and Tom, laughing and sharing stories, it stirred up feelings I didn't expect. I felt... jealous. And I know it's ridiculous and irrational. I know you're not... you're not going to just... But I can't help how I feel.”

The confession leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You don't know what you're expecting Wanda to say. An apology, reassurance, a confession of her own perhaps. The silence stretches, heavy and awkward, but you can't find the courage to look at her.

“I get why you're feeling this way. It's because of me. Because of what I did… and I’m sorry for that,” Wanda’s voice comes out hoarse from laughing so many times at the dinner table.

It’s becoming a pattern: you being upset and Wanda apologizing over and over again. And it’s not even her fault this time.

“I can't control how you feel, and I don't want to pretend that I know what you're going through. But what I can do is keep showing up for you, keep proving that I'm all yours. That's all I can do, and that's what I promise,” she says. She moves closer, hugging you from behind, her arms encircling your waist. You feel her chin resting on your shoulder, and her warmth begins to envelop you. You let out a soft sigh.

Her honesty strikes a chord within you. You look at her, her eyes reflecting the moonlight, and in that moment, you want to believe her.

You want and want and want. But when does the wanting transform into reality?

Still keeping her hold, she murmurs in your ear, “You know, I think now might be a good time for your Christmas gift.”

You turn to face her in surprise, the earlier heavy conversation momentarily forgotten. “A Christmas gift?” you echo, and she simply nods, her smile widening a touch.

“Yep, and I've been holding onto it for the right moment,” she explains, releasing you from her embrace to reach into her pocket. She retrieves a small box, its exterior adorned with intricate details and a shiny ribbon.

Her eyes find yours, alive with anticipation and a flicker of nervousness that is so uncharacteristic of her. She hands the box over to you, maintaining eye contact all the while.

"Go on, open it," she urges.

You look at her once more before directing your attention to the small package in your hands. Unraveling the ribbon and lifting the lid, you're met with a glint of silver catching the ambient light.

Inside the box lies a delicate silver chain, a pendant attached at its center. The pendant is a small compass, intricately detailed and with a vintage aura. What surprises you more is the small photo inside the compass. It's a picture of you and Wanda, the first one you took together as friends inside a photobooth.

Your breath catches in your throat as you carefully lift the necklace from its cushioned home. You can't take your eyes off the image. It's a snapshot of a time when you both were deeply in love but unaware of it, where everything was fresh and new and brimming with hope and ambition.

A memory of pure, undiluted happiness.

“Wanda…” you start, feeling an inexplicable lump in your throat.

“I know we can't go back in time,” she interrupts softly. “But this...this is my promise to you. I want to go forward, create more moments like these, and give you a reason to trust me again.”

You glance at the necklace in your hand, then at the one adorning Wanda's neck–the necklace that carries her wedding ring. An overwhelming desire washes over you to remove it from its chain and place it back where it truly belongs: on Wanda's finger. But you swiftly check yourself. You're moving too fast, allowing your hopes to get ahead of reality. You resolve to not act impulsively, to not assume anything.

You turn in Wanda’s arms to face her, a sheepish grin on your lips. “You know, I also got you a Christmas gift,” you confess, a bit hesitant. “Though it's nothing compared to this, and now I feel... a little embarrassed.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with anticipation and a hint of amusement. She releases you and steps back, crossing her arms in front of her. “Oh, really? And here I thought you were going to outdo me,” she teases, chuckling at the red hue now spreading across your cheeks.

You let out a resigned sigh, knowing there's no way you can compete with the sentimentality of her gift. “Just... don't laugh, okay?” you warn her, but she's already grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Nervously, you reach into your suitcase, pulling out a box about the size of a shoebox, wrapped carefully in nondescript brown paper. As you hand it over to Wanda, your heartbeat escalates, thumping loudly in your ears.

“I just... I mean, it's nothing grand like yours,” you stutter, your cheeks flushing. “It feels a bit silly now, to be honest.”

Wanda merely smiles at you. “Stop it, I'm sure it's wonderful.”

Gently, she tears into the paper wrapping, unveiling a box. Inside it, three distinct bags of single-origin coffee beans sit.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she takes in the contents of the box. “You got me coffee?” she echoes, an undertone of laughter coloring her voice.

Nodding bashfully, you say, “Yeah, I figured it could come in handy for the Cup-off.”

A chuckle escapes Wanda, and she lifts one of the bags to her nose, inhaling deeply. “These smell incredible,” she says, grinning at you. “This is such a thoughtful gift. Thank you. It’s just perfect.”

Your chest warms as you watch Wanda cradle the bags of coffee, a genuine smile lighting up her face.

“I’m sure this will help me make the best cup,” Wanda says.

You pull her in for a short but sweet kiss and say, “You already do.”

Much later, when everyone’s dozing off (Shannon) and catching up in small groups (Wanda and Iryna), Tom bids his goodbye to everyone, much to your relief. Your discomfort around him lingered in the background, even as you and Wanda returned to the living room to continue the celebrations and watch everyone else exchange Christmas presents.

Just as you're beginning to feel a bit more relaxed, Pietro approaches you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Hey, mind if I steal you for a second?” he asks, nodding towards the garden visible through the glass doors.

Puzzled, you glance at Wanda, but she’s in a deep and serious conversation with her mother.

You shrug your shoulders and say, “Sure, Pietro, lead the way.”

He walks you out into the cool night; it’s completely quiet except for the serenade of crickets hiding in the backyard.

Pietro settles onto a stone bench, and then gestures for you to join him.

As you take a seat, he fishes out a rolled blunt from his pocket. You merely raise an eyebrow and shake your head, waving away his offer.

His smirk broadens at your reaction. “Well, maybe it's worth a try. Might help you chill out a bit,” he suggests with a teasing note in his voice.

“No, thanks. I’m chill as it is,” you say.

“Really? Because I couldn't help but notice you weren't so 'chill' when Tom was around earlier.”

You hesitate, not expecting Pietro to call you out like this. “Was it that obvious?”

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. He then takes a generous puff of his blunt before exhaling slowly.

Suddenly, Pietro looks you in the eyes and asks, “Do you love Wanda?”

The directness of the question catches you off guard, more so than his earlier suggestion to try a blunt. You’re slightly offended that he feels the need to ask you this.

When you remain quiet and withdrawn for a long time, Pietro speaks again. “It’s not a rhetorical question by the way. I do want to know if you love Wanda.”

Finally, you turn towards him, brow furrowed, a hint of indignation in your eyes. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one. Do you love my sister?”

Yes.

Always.

Nevertheless.

The answer has always been clear to you, but instead, you return the volley. “Why are you asking? What's this about?” You challenge, more skeptical now about his motives behind such a question than providing him with an answer.

He meets your gaze, an uncharacteristic intensity in his eyes. “Because if you really loved her, why did you let it come to this?” he asks pointedly. “Why did you let things fall apart? Why didn't you fight for your marriage? You hurt her, Y/N. You hurt my sister.”

He continues, “And I know the extent of how much you hurt her. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“Wait, what?” You choke out, disbelieving.

Pietro simply shrugs. “It was me,” he repeats, his voice steady, unrepentant. “I was the one who sent you that photo of Wanda in the hospital. I wanted you to see. To know.”

The shock is enough to rob you of words. Shame wells up inside you.

He smirks in satisfaction and mumbles to himself, “Yeah, that kinda felt good.”

The words seem to get stuck in your throat; they press in on you, making it hard to breathe.

Finally, you find your voice, though it comes out as more of a whisper, your eyes fixed on a nondescript point on the floor. “At that time... I was so deeply hurt. I believed, truly believed, that Wanda didn't love me anymore.” You swallow hard, your throat feeling painfully dry.

“And I didn't want to fight for our marriage because... I was scared. Scared to fail if I tried, scared to prolong the agony only to find out in the end that there’s nothing to save.” Your voice cracks slightly, as if the wound is still fresh despite the passage of time.

Even now, you can't say that you're a hundred percent confident that Wanda's love for you is certain. Perhaps nothing she does will ever completely assure you. Maybe this time, it's really up to you to have faith.

“I just wanted the pain to stop. So, I did the only thing I thought would help. I... I walked away,” you finish, staring into nothingness as the memory of your decision reverberates painfully within you.

Pietro falls silent, his eyes narrowing as he studies you, taking in what you've said. Then, with a penetrating look, he says, “Sounds more like you wanted to be the one to walk away first.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “What?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes are sharp. “You just didn't want to be the one left behind.”

A part of you can't deny it–perhaps you did preemptively end things out of fear of being the one left behind. A self-preservation measure that's caused more harm than good. But admitting that to yourself is another thing entirely, let alone to Pietro.

“Maybe,” you concede after a moment. “But can you blame me for it? You’ve never been in my shoes. Have you ever paused to consider what it was like for your ex-wives? What it was like for Shannon?” Your voice rises with each question, frustration finally breaking free from its confines.

Pietro looks at you, his expression inscrutable for a moment, before he gives you a curt nod.

“Touché,” he admits grudgingly, and then attempts a chuckle. “We suck at celebrating this Christmas thing together, aren’t we?”

Despite everything, the corner of your mouth twitches up in a small, matching smile. But then it’s gone almost instantly because the topic of loving Wanda is something you’ve always taken seriously.

“I think things would’ve been worse if I didn’t walk away. I was in a really dark place. I only realized it when several months later, seeing the bastard she slept with sent me off the rails.

“If I hadn't stepped away, things would've gotten even worse,” you explain. “It felt like I was stuck in never-ending darkness, with no hope of seeing the dawn. It was really bad. I didn't know how much until I ran into that guy she cheated with, months later. I just completely lost it.”

“That... actually makes a lot of sense,” Pietro says, his tone softer than before. “It might not have been the best approach, but I get it. It's tough to see things clearly when you're caught in a storm, isn't it?”

You nod, grateful for his understanding. This empathy from Pietro, who usually comes across as nonchalant, helps ease some of the tightness in your chest.

“But then,” Pietro continues, locking eyes with you. “That still leaves my question unanswered. Despite everything that's happened... Do you love Wanda?” His tone is serious, almost challenging, making it clear that he expects an honest answer this time.

You give him your answer this time.

***

You and Wanda arrive back in Manhattan around noon the next day.

The plane touches down smoothly on the John F. Kennedy runway, marking the end of an unforgettable weekend. As you collect your belongings, you turn to Wanda, gratitude in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you say, sincerity lacing your voice. “This weekend... It was something special. Really.”

Her lips curl into a soft smile as she meets your eyes. “I'm glad you had a good time,” she says. “But now, it's back to work. The coffee showdown won't prep itself.”

“Need any help with that?” you ask, eager to stay close, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

She looks at you, her eyes wide with surprise, then her face softens into a grateful smile. “You're probably worn out from the trip,” she says, “and honestly, it might take me all night to get it right.”

Undeterred, you reply, “Well, you need a test subject, right?”

She thinks about it some more.

“I promise I won't be biased. I won’t just say everything tastes delicious,” you add, trying to win her over.

Her laughter rings through the air as she finally nods, accepting your offer. “Alright, you're on.”

What follows is an all-night coffee marathon, filled with experimentation, flirty banter, and more cups of coffee than you can count.

Despite the late hour and the caffeine jitters, you wouldn't have it any other way.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #agatha harkness #pietro maximoff

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matan4il · 6 days

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911 ep 707 first watch reactions

Oh man, I'm actually not sure I have that much to say about this ep.

The entire plot with Mara and her brother Tyson was very sweet, very nice, and way too convenient. One day, shows are going to stop using the phrase, "There must be something you can do!" like it's some secret magic phrase, that makes this sentiment into a reality, AND turns the person addressed into someone willing to risk everything, in order to do that one thing they can do, which is usually something they're very much not supposed to... That said, Denny was sweet, Mara was lovely, her with Tyson was very endearing, and Henren continued to rule.

The storyline with Maddie was nicely handled, both her trauma, and the way Chim helped her use it to figure out the case and help save everyone from the stalker. My little Madney heart absolutely loved it. And Maddie's distress over a baby involved felt very real and understandable, when she's a mom herself now.

But then in a sense, it was clear this has no long term repercussions, other than bringing Brad into contact with Bobby. With his burn scars, and what we know about the fire that Bobby caused in the past, we can guess where this is headed. I trust that 911 will delve into this coming clash with the same humaneness with which it tackles most storylines.

But I'll be honest, I don't really like where Eddie's headed. I know Shannon scarred him deeply, but he was able to let go of her, and allow her to walk away from him twice while she was alive. It's weird if it's now being implied that the reason why he was never able to move on to another serious r/s is that he was stuck on her. The way she died was traumatic and painful, and it made sense that, even accepting that they as a couple were over, he had a hard time dealing with her death, but Eddie seemingly moved on in s4 at the latest. It feels a bit like they don't really know what to do with him, and how to move him on, so they keep going in circles with his character. Kinda like they were with Buck in s6. None of what we saw in that season helped Buck get to some major breakthroughs that we've seen in this one, so this current storyline with Eddie might end in the same way.

I'm not saying it doesn't have the potential to move him forward, and I'm sure it will be presented as if it has whether it actually does or doesn't (kinda like how 618 presented Buck and Natalia as a move forward, even though it very obviously was not), but right now, I'm not enjoying it. I also... even with this idea of having Eddie run into a Shannon look-a-like, I feel they could have gone in a lot of different ways, and the one where he goes on a date with her while having a serious gf he's essentially cheating on, it just doesn't feel great, or true to Eddie's values. Which can be the point, right? That sometimes we're so shaken up, we do stuff that's uncharacteristic. If that's where they'll take it, then it's working, 'coz right now, everything about this feels a little off. Let's hope they do something actually constructive with this, and give Eddie real progress (rather than just give Tim an opportunity to re-use an actress he already said he really likes).

Small mandatory Buddifer moment was really lovely, even if far from what my shipper heart would want. Then again, I honestly feel it's so funny that Buck is dating Tommy, while being married to Eddie, his actual baby daddy. If there aren't a lot of fics shipping all three men already, then IDK fandom.

Thank you for reading! If you’re looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

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pansear-doodles · 11 months

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30 Days of Artihunter Complete!

Below the cut would be a side diary on the thought process of each day- how I felt during the time and what made me decide to draw the ship in that portrayal. It would also contain some deep thought messages of how I feel I suppose.

Day 1 revolved around me thinking quickly on this idea- that it is pride month and its their time to shine again. What is anything more appropriate than the first art style I drew Rain world in for the first day? I've thought of the roses of explosion spears.

I was feeling creatively driven on this day- wanting to use my painterly style but with not exactly my designs- I also want to mimic how they appear in the game more.

Purple, orange, yellow. Great colors. I'm a sucker for citrus and sunset palettes.

Was feeling lazy this day, but also experimental. Some people saw this piece and thought that the shelter is the tent- that's actually just the entrance. The "tent" is a carpeted roof to the entrance, and the two are enjoying the light rain or the start of it before they head in to the actual shelter. At some point in the future I should design more unique shelters and entrances.

Around the time, I was listening to The Cardigans. Sometimes Youtube gives me sped up versions where the thumbnail has a cute stuffed animal or character. It reminds me of the Sylvanian Family toy series. My very first Artihunter-related commission was the two in pretty dresses with the pups, so I was reminiscing on that too.

I was feeling sleepy so I wanted to draw the two comfortably. I think I was in the mood to draw a wrinkled blanket.

When a character kisses another, it leaves a heart. This is not usually lipstick but rather just an evident smooch mark. You might've seen a similar thing in the newest picrew. Yes- those are smooch marks!

Felt stylistic. Wanted to be different I think. This was the first daily artihunter piece Videocult retweeted. I'm not sure if they realized but whatever floats their boat. I was really fond of how people draw Artificer as this rough, scraggly, rat coyote thing, so I wanted to draw it my way.

It was at this point I realized my daily artihunter hasn't shown the one aspect of their relationship- that they both are fighters and relish on the violence. I drew them fighting a vulture because of Hunter's expedition: Birdwatching

I think... I was feeling sad this day. You'll see this pattern soon in the future days.

I was feeling violent. I wanted to draw gore for once.

I was browsing through twitter and found funny slugcat GIFs and drawings where the slugcat is shaped like some sort of long stringbean. This would be one of the few pieces where it involves another character unrelated to the two.

I think I was on a manic state this day- feeling silly.

Then the silliness crashed down from... something. As the days progressed, my anxiety attacks would worsen and be evidently consistent throughout (and as of writing I still have them, but to a lesser extent at least). This would continue until around day 26. But as of this day, I wanted to show my arti's caring side, comforting hunter.

Amidst an anxiety attack, I wanted to draw them as beans in reminiscent of the specific style of an artist whose small doodles make me smile and laugh.

I think I was feeling empty headed for ideas on this day, so I looked at the rain world art tags for inspiration- it just hit me that I could also draw other artist's depictions of artihunter, so I drew them in one of my styles. Maybe someday I will do more of this. I hope the other rw artists don't find this weird.

I've randomly thought of shovel knight and thought about how cozy the campfire cutscenes were. I wonder if shelters could have ventilations to warrant a campfire inside. It would be nice I think.

It was father's day. This is not a genderbent drawing- I just wanted to draw them in different colors and wearing cool ties, while receiving mugs that call them dad. That's about it. If you think about it, I think arti and hunter would get a maximum of four mugs per year for each- on mother's day, on father's day, on their birthdays, and on rain world's version of the winter holidays.

Butch sapphics/lesbians. I was humorous.

I was feeling upset and certainly riddled with the anxiety and restlessness. I just wanted to draw the family at peace.

I was curious on my friends' input on what prompt for this day, so I asked them what should the two be doing. Several of them gave different answers, so I combined all of them.

I was feeling terrible but I wanted to push forward with the daily artihunter. Their arms have bruises here but they're holding on- just like what I was going through that day.

Anxious, again. I wanted to draw them resting closely. I think I was touch starved.

I wanted to cheer myself up so I went around for memes on tumblr and saw one I found funny and could fit my vision (er- one of my visions) of the ship. I found the sunstone dialogue at the back to replace the dialogue of Hatred a genius move and I'm glad I cracked people up with that detail.

People seemed to like this one- I was feeling painterly that day. Arti's kids are part of their life, and now they're part of Hunter's. I think Hunter would be a great mumdad.

I think... It was around this time my anxiety attacks started to leak out and break open completely. There was a lot of buzz. I was restless. Uncomfortable. Spiraling. People left and right trying their best to comfort me, and then finally the people who helped me snap out of it out of reasonable concern and grips on reality. I'm quite ashamed of being that, but I think at this time, I finally learned how to slowly breathe again. I felt mellow. I drew them as tomatoes with iterator farmers.

I wasn't feeling sad. More like tired. I had school all day until late at night and I had no time to make the drawing, so I made something relatively simple.

I planned this prompt for a while- I wanted to draw them in their wedding wear. The complexities are the exchange of the simplicity for the day before. I at times still cringe at the wedding comics, but they were fuzzy. I think they should slow dance after everything they been through. I think they should hold each other gently until their next stressful moments come. I think they should be happy.

A round about way of compiling most depictions I have of the two. Its funny I always draw their anthro versions taller than the other portrayals, but thats the vibes. They all each have different ways of showing affection. They all each have different experiences despite being similar to one another. Yet they're all the same persons at the source.

Today was polarizing. There were a lot of things I did not expect. A rollercoaster of emotions. But somewhere in there of the today, even with the tears on my face, the throbbing headache and the shaking hands- I was happy. I should acknowledge that I have accomplished another of what appears to be another consistent art month, with absolutely no missed days. I wanted to make it off with a bang- something reminiscent of one of my first artihunter drawings. I shall rest, but I'll see everyone in the fields of Art Fight, where I will smile once more to hopefully live up to my prime and focus on what's important to me in drawing.

With pride month ending, I would like to thank my friends and the rw community for being supportive of my barbie playhouse. 5 Months went by so fast, so many episodes and mistakes but I march forward, evolving and fluctuating, learning. There were things that meant a lot to me and are significant that is considered otherwise by others.

Some people will look at this- all that I've done- think its crazy, maybe unhinged, think I have made them with the intent of malice. Maybe I have not done enough. Maybe I misrepresented them. Maybe I was too proudy or ignorant- perhaps all that was true and I didn't know about it until its too late. There is a certain truth in me that it difficult for me to explain to others and there are some things I think about that don't need sharing.

I wish I wasn't so sensitive to everything but me frolicking about with whatever I want to draw contradicts it. It makes me want to step down or run off to a new quieter place- a new account to disguise myself- but I know I can't let them win that way.

Maybe there are two or more people in me, all conscious. Or maybe I am indecisive and want to explore everything about thing because I love thing and I want to see it in all angles. Whatever I'm doing, I know its out of love and appreciation. I misremember even significant things. I lose myself, but I pick up the pen and draw because its the one thing I know best for myself.

I do not look for validation. I only look for peace. I only look to be comfortable knowing that I'm not making the opposite of peace. I only look to make myself happy.

To the people I've hurt on my journey, the people I've thought fondly of but also fear, the people who hurt me- thank you for being part of my stay in Rain World even if painful and I'm sorry for everything I've wronged you on.

To the people who brought light to me, who tolerated me, who were kind to me, who were patient to me, who didn't mind what and how I was, who encouraged me, who defended me, who talked to me, who shared memes with me, who were calm and honest to me, who acknowledge my flaws, who made me feel safe- thank you. Even if some of these moments were brief. Even if I don't know who or what you are on the other side. Even if something in the future may happen to us. I love you. /p

I say this all with genuine thoughts, and I hope I'm not being emotionally manipulative because I genuinely do appreciate this fandom and I'm grateful that lots of people in it are appreciative of me.

Thank you, again.

P.S. I have realized throughout this month I have worded the drawing artihunter everyday thingy wrong (oops) Well. At least know that I will continue to draw artihunter, and I do not think I'll get tired of the ship and drawing them anytime soon.

#rain world #rainworld #fanart #slugcat #rainworld downpour #rain world downpour #my anthro au #artihunter #artificer #hunter #shipping #gift #gore #blood #violence #dp spoilers #downpour spoilers #pride month #my art

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heart4reigns · 10 months

Text

QUIET, jey uso.

warnings: curse words, inaccurate events, pet names

tags: 200 special, ocs to fit the plot, slight roman x you, cliche, just fluff, quite longer than my usual works!!

summary: fake dating with your crush, isn’t that a dream?

“YOU gotta be kidding me.” you blurted out. “i am not, (y/n).” you pinched your nose bridge out of frustration. “i think this is the perfect momentum for you to pull out this gimmick.” your manager, luke, replied. “oh my god, i am scared...” “your fans really want you to be in a tag-team ever since you left sami and kevin.” he added. “okay, they want me to be in a tag-team. but out of people? jey uso?” you sighed. “i mean that whole wrestlemania moment last month? people ‘shipped’ you.” luke winked at you.

you got flashbacks from last month’s match where he was practically flirting with you non-stop, despite losing his belts to your old faction members. “this on-screen romance looks good for you too, (y/n).” you were having the time of your life in the office, that was right before your manager came in after his meeting with creatives. “tag-team, fine. but on-camera fake dating? i’m not gonna take it, i'm not good with new people.” you said to him. “you can’t. you have to take it.” you shook your head. “(y/n), i know you're not good with people, but this is gonna be one hell of a push since he's on a rise.” you couldn’t help but to sigh at his sentence. "please? it'll be great for you."

“fine.”

that was probably the worst decision you have ever made in your entire life. see, it was all a nightmare to you because you liked him. "i am gonna have the best time in my life." he entered the room with a smirk, followed by his brothers. "god." you muttered. it was the first reading day and you were ready to give up. "what's good, (y/n)?" he sat right next to you, holding his script. "when i first got this deal, i immediately said yes. in case you want to know how much i like you." jey winked at you.

your face reddened. "u- uh, okay?" "don't worry baby, don't be scared." he joked. you didn't say anything, only nodding at his sentence. you were shy and you really didn’t like being in the same room with him. "uce, i think you're scaring the poor little girl. here, switch seats with me." jey shook his head at solo's sentence. "nah, this is called building chemistry. you're okay with it, right?" once again, you only nodded at his sentence. can it get any worse than this? you thought.

so there you were, standing in the hallways with him. "i hope you go full out, (y/n)." he said, flipping the script. "i know you're quiet and all that, but i also know you're great on camera." he chuckled. "d- don't worry about that." you stuttered. "yo!" kevin walked into the scene, carrying his script. "hi." you greeted him with a hug. "i was supposed to be your boyfriend, why are you hugging him?" "because she's like a sister to me! don't get jealous."

you saw the duo as your older brothers, they were the ones who brought you into your wrestling. you met amazing people along the way and jey uso was one of them. of course, you were a big fan of him, he was talented and pretty. when you first met him, you were starstruck. everyone knew that you looked up to him, that was why he started teasing you for it.

"good luck baby!" he yelled, going to the locker room to change. you face-palmed at his sentence. "funny guy we got there." kevin added. you groaned as you ruffled your hair in distress. "i can't believe creatives want me to 'date' him." kevin chuckled. "you two make a great couple tho. younger you would be ecstatic to know that you're working with him." "shut up, i'm struggling."

the cameras started rolling and you put up this rebellious persona you had. "we are here backstage with the troublemaker, (y/n) before her fight with kevin owens... fighting the other half of your own childhood friend, how do you feel?" you smirked at the interviewer. "me? i'm feeling good. i'll crush him like usual." the interviewer nodded. "this on going feud with kevin owens... after he betrayed you and with him intervening to the bloodline too, does that mean you're on the bloodline's side?" you mentally prepared yourself when you heard footsteps coming from behind you. "of course she is, hi baby!" jey slung his arm on your shoulders. you tensed up a bit at his touch, but quickly adjusted your position.

he was having the time of his life.

"hi baby, we were just talking about you." you smiled at him. "oooh, always thinking about me?" he flirted back. "always." the interviewer shook his head. "anyways, sorry, i don't have time for this interview, you're wasting my time. i have some other business to do, catch ya later!" you hopped on to jey's back, escaping the cameras. once you were out of the reach of the cameras, you immediately jumped off. "finally." you breathed out. "aw, why'd you hop off? i was gonna carry you to the ring as well." you stared at him, wanting to say something–but nothing came out of your mouth.

it was finally time for your match and you weren't nervous at all. you already built up a chemistry with kevin and sami, you had nothing to worry about. all you had to worry about was the man standing right next to you, with a grin plastered on his face. you song started playing and he held your hand, sticking to the script. "let's do this, (y/n)!" jey smiled.

"the troublemaker (y/n), hand in hand accompanied with... jey uso? what is this?" the commentator said. you jumped on to one of the turnbuckles, holding up your fist. the crowd went wild and you jumped into jey's arms, acting all affectionate. "this is new... we all know that the bloodline has a feud with sami zayn and kevin owens. i think we all know (y/n)'s position in this feud."

the match played out perfectly. right when the referee was going to count, jey dragged him out of the ring, earning gasps from the crowd. you blew a kiss at him, acting out the role. jey returned the gesture, encouraging you to pin kevin. the referee went back inside the ring, counting down the match. "and here is your winner... the troublemaker, (y/n)." jey lifted you up on his shoulders, showing you off to the crowd. "THAT'S MY GIRL!" he yelled. although you knew it was all for show, you couldn't help but to blush. "HELL YEAH!" you shouted, being in character.

"that was quite the stunner you did." you were back in the locker room with him. it was empty, everyone clocked out of work. "thanks." you muttered, taking off your tape. "i've been paying attention at your recent matches, i think that you've improved a lot." he complimented. "thank you." you gave him a small smile. "i think it's quite funny that creatives pulled you into this rowdy gimmick when you're shy and all that." jey chuckled. "yeah..." you sighed.

jey shook his head. "i love it, it shows that you're an amazing performer." your face was entirely red at this point. "i've always wanted to work with you, (y/n). glad that you're here!" he patted your back, causing you to jump a bit. "especially with this fake dating shit, it'll be so fun for us." for you, not for me, you thought. "okay, that's enough flirting with my sister, let's go back." sami suddenly came inside the room. "i wasn't flirting with her!" jey defended himself. "sure mr. 'can't keep my hands off her'." sami rolled his eyes.

“dude, saw your appearance with (y/n) earlier.” jimmy was in his twin’s hotel room, bothering him. “yeah, she did good.” jey said, not looking up from his phone. “you sure you were paying attention at the match? not her?" jimmy teased. "come on man, we all know that you like her." he added. "yeah but not like like her, it's just something stupid." the older twin rolled his eyes. "dawg," he paused for a second. "are you seriously lying to me?"

jey thought it was only a one time thing. he remembered it clearly when you first stepped inside the building. you were only fresh out of nxt, you had a bright future. he heard about you from his younger brother, who was in the roster with you back in his nxt days. solo said that you were one of the nicest people he had ever met and he also 'spilled' some tea about you looking up to the younger uso as your role model. from that day on, he made sure that he was always around you–just to tease and get to know you better.

"big uce has been asking about her too." jey furrowed his brows. "you're fucking with me?" jimmy immediately shook his head. "bro... people might call me a lot of things, but a liar ain't one." of course jey knew that a lot of people were interested in you, but he didn't think that his cousin would be one of them. "imma beat your ass if you're lying." jimmy groaned in despair as he pulled out his phone, showing him texts from roman. he was asking for your number, but knowing that his twin liked you first, jimmy lied and said he didn't have your number. "i love you for real, dawg." "if you get cockblocked by him, i'm laughing my ass off. now is your chance to get her."

you whistled your way into the gym. you took pride in your time managing skills, you were always early. today was practice day and you were officially going to be put in the ring with the bloodline. this 'romance' of yours made fans begged you to finally join the bloodline. luke told you that you were going to proof your worthiness by beating solo in a singles match. "good morning to you, sweetheart!" that voice made you jump a bit.

"good morning." you looked up and saw jey towering over you. "hope you don't mind sharing the gym with me and the others, i won't bother you two, though!" it was reading and gym day for the bloodline. you mentally face-palmed yourself as you walked inside the ring. solo was already standing there, waiting for you to warm up. "how's it going, (y/n)?" he asked. "all good, all good. you wanna start now?" you cracked your knuckles. "well, go for it."

on the other side of the room, jey was watching you and solo beat each other's asses. he was also waiting for his twin to help him with his rep. "we’re here, where’s (y/n)?" jey turned around and saw roman tailing his older brother. "oh, yeah. she's right there with solo. don't break their streak though, they've been on a roll since an hour ago." jey said, secretly not wanting his cousin to interact with you. jimmy gave a 'be serious' kind of look at his twin. jey just shrugged his shoulders in response.

"damn, she's really getting under his skin." jimmy commented, watching you from afar. "i swear her chemistry with solo, kevin, and sami are unbeatable." jey recalled your own skills. "yeah but i heard she doesn't have that kind of chemistry with anyone else." roman added. "GO BABYGIRL!" jey was hyping you up, only for you to lose focus and solo took that chance to pin you. you tapped onto the mat, causing him to laugh.

"really? over my brother? we've been going through it for an hour." solo nudged your shoulders, before offering you a hand. "shut up." you grumbled, taking his hand. the other three walked inside the ring, all sweaty and ready to go. "you finished yet? jey and i need to use it." you nodded in response, taking a sip of your water. jimmy went inside the ring first, leaving jey right next to you. "good job, you were amazing baby."

you really didn't get it. the cameras weren't around and yet he was still acting like he was your boyfriend. "t- thanks." you stuttered, earning a grin from him. "now root for me, imma beat his ass!" he yelled excitedly. you sat down, outside the ring–looking around for solo to no avail. "he's getting his cable." roman saw your confused expression. "oh, okay." you replied, minding your own business.

roman tied his hair and fixed his attire before going inside the ring. you sighed in relief when he stood up. you couldn't help but to feel intimidated by him. of course, he was the face of the company–you didn't want to mess with him. "you okay being on your own?" he asked out of the blue. "u- uh, yeah?" you tilted your head in confusion. "i can stay back and sit with you if you want-" "ay, leave my girl alone!" jey yelled all the sudden, gaining your attention.

"what?" you deserved an award for being the 'most confused person on earth' right now. "yeah, leave her alone. come fight us!" jimmy saw his brother trying to pull you away from roman's devious flirting and immediately backed his brother up. you were a flustered mess when they all looked at you. "come on, roman!" "yeah, yeah."

you were sitting down with all of them, running through the script. "so wait," jimmy scratched his head. "(y/n) has this rebellious act right? and i don't like her because i think she'll betray us like sami did." you nodded at his sentence. "but then she wins and then what?" he asked. "she's gonna side with me for a while and then she'll comply to roman, i think that's the point of this rebellious act." jey answered his brother's question. "that's too bad, i wanna have a friendly type of relationship on stage with (y/n)." roman added. "too bad, get your own girl, uce." jey slung his arm on your shoulders. "sorry, muscle memory." jey joked, looking at your flustered face.

everyone left when you were called by your choreographer. the gym was practically empty as it was already 11 pm. "you still here?" jey's voice made you look up. "oh yeah, i'm waiting for my uber." you muttered, flashing him your phone screen. "shit," he paused for a second. "ride with me. come on, it's late." you shook your head, clearly not wanting to be left alone with him. "i- it's okay!" you blurted out.

"like i told him, i don't want no damn stranger to be paired up with me." jey was driving you back to your house, telling the story about him being set up with you. "i mean, i wouldn't say that we're close. but you're definitely close to my lil bro, so we good." he chuckled. you only nodded in response, trying to sway of the awkward air. "and i know you're shy and all, luke told me about it. if you don't want to do anything, just tell me, alright? don't want to make you uncomfortable."

his sentence made you melt. "thank you for understanding." you offered him a small smile. "goddamn, don't smile at me like that, you're gonna make me fall in love with you or something." jey joked. to say the least, the ride wasn't as awkward as you imagined it to be. it was quiet–a comfortable kind of quiet. jey knew that you weren't really a talker, so he made sure that you were comfortable with him in order for your chemistry to work. "i'll see you at work tomorrow?" you nodded. "see you, pretty girl!"

the match day came and you weren't nervous. you had been in the ring with solo multiple times, so this wasn't new to you. the backstage crew told you that creative's moved your locker room to the bloodline's locker room. right now, you were wrapping your fingers with your tape–with your signature color, red. in front of you was solo, doing the same with his representative color, white. "don't kill me today." you said to him. "i won't kill you, you just got here." he replied with a smile.

"plus if i actually killed you, some mullet boy is gonna beat my ass." speak of the devil, you thought. you heard the door being opened and jey walked in, clearly not in his wrestling attire. "big day for you guys." he dropped his bag inside the locker, taking a seat next to you. "yeah, you better put some trust on me." solo rolled his eyes. "nah, i'm here for here, you can take jimmy." "you're choosing her over me?" jimmy took offence in his twin's words. "i've been with you for my entire life, give me a break."

you drank your water, patiently waiting for your cue to start. solo was already in the ring, jimmy on his side. jimmy was portrayed to be the one who didn't want you in the bloodline, unless you could prove your skills. "(y/n), up in 3... 2... 1..." jey looked at you and winked. "let's go, baby." he took your hand–you grew accustomed to his hands being intertwined in yours. it was definitely a progress that you didn't fluster every time he does something to or with you.

muscle memory knocked your senses. you put on your persona as you walked down the ramp. "the troublemaker (y/n), hand in hand accompanied with jey uso, once again. his brothers are already inside the ring. we could say that jey's the only one who trusts (y/n)." the commentator said, narrating the story. you jumped on to one of the turnbuckles, doing your signature pose, before jumping into jey's arms.

solo circled you and you were ready to do your finishing move. jey and jimmy were having a trash-talk moment as the script played out. solo pulled your shoulders, trying to hit a samoan spike. you superkicked him, causing him to fall on his back. you quickly ran to the turnbuckles, getting on top of it. "and a moonsault from (y/n)!" the commentator yelled. "will she finally prove that she's worthy being in the bloodline?" you were out of breath as you pinned solo in the middle of the ring. "and here is your winner, the newest member of the bloodline, the troublemaker, (y/n)!" jey slid inside the ring, picking you up on his shoulders. "you did it!" his smile dropped when roman's music started playing.

everyone immediately stood up, acknowledging the tribal chief. you really had to hold back a laugh, it was all acting but people were really getting into it. roman made his way to the ring, with paul on his side, obviously. "miami." he spoke to the mic. "acknowledge me." you were still on top of jey's shoulder, hesitating to put a finger up to commemorate the tribal chief and his glory. "put her down." roman instructed.

"i was celebrating with my boyfriend, you're here to ruin it?" you barked into the microphone, still sticking to your character. "you're a part of the bloodline and you're not gonna listen to anyone except me." you were having a stare off with roman, until jey broke it off. "leave her alone, she'll comply." jey defended you. "she needs to, now she's a part of our family. we all know who is the head of the table. me. not you." roman replied.

"i acknowledge you, my tribal chief." you gritted your teeth. "good. now put this on, throw all your old gear away." roman put his hand out and paul pulled something out of his suit. it was a bloodline t-shirt. the fans went wild as they saw you putting it on. "better stay in line and make us all proud." roman said once again. "i will, but i'll do it for one man only. my boyfriend, jey uso." you smirked. "(y/n) might be the newest member of the bloodline, but she is still the rebellious girl we all know. the tension between her and reigns is undeniable interesting for us to see."

jey was watching you the entire time. he couldn't help but to feel attracted to you. the way you were still standing with your guard up (he knew it was an act, but he was mesmerised by it). you had this charm when you were on stage that made people kept their attention on you. off stage? you still had that charm. every time you walked by, people turned their heads–you caught everyone's attention, especially jey uso's. at that exact moment, he knew he had to do something for you to only pay attention the the main event, him.

the walk backstage wasn't quiet. people clapped as soon as they saw you. you were acting your ass off and you thought you deserved to be appreciated. but with your shy nature, you were really flustered to have all the attention on you. before jey could say anything to you, you were pulled by your old faction members. "congrats, (y/n)! that was amazing!" kevin and sami were backstage, waiting for you to come back. “thanks, i miss being in the ring with you guys.” you hugged them, clearly happy to see them again.

“i just hope jey treats you right.” sami nudged you with his elbow. “shut up, it’s an act.” “well by the looks of it, it’s not an act for him.” sami said, looking at your ‘boyfriend’ who was walking to the three of you. “why does everyone want to steal my girl? can’t i just have 5 minutes of peace with her?” he laughed. “your girl is still our little sister.” kevin rolled his eyes. “aight, aight. don’t keep her for too long though!”

back in the locker room, the bloodline was waiting for you. you hesitated a bit to enter the room as they all had a serious expression plastered on their faces. “d- did i do something wrong?” you stuttered. “yes.” roman answered, looking directly into your eyes. “tell her, uce.” jimmy said to jey. “well…” jey walked right next to you. your heart was beating faster than before, you were anxious to know what was happening.

“you did amazing, baby!” jey broke out of his facade and practically lifted you up in his arms. you sighed in relief. “congratulations, (y/n)! you’re a part of the family now!” roman smiled at you. jimmy and solo joined the group hug and you were overwhelmed. maybe this dating idea will really help you overcome your fear of meeting new people, you thought. “thank you, it’s all because of you i was able to do my best.” jey’s eyes widened as he heard you laughing. there was a strange feeling in his chest that he couldn’t brush off–it was something familiar, like the first time he saw you.

you saw the tweets talking about your match with solo. ‘i think (y/n) and jey are cute together, i'd love to see them in a tag-team match’ you read one of them, causing you to giggle and kick your feet. jey uso got you feeling like a silly little student who had a crush on one of the bad boys in your class. truthfully, you kind of hated yourself for being shy and not playing his games–but you were always like this since you were a kid. dare to say, if you really wanted to be with him–you’d have to do something, but nothing came in mind, you just had to wait for yourself to be brave enough to front it out with him.

keeping the kayfabe alive was one important detail of the industry. there had been some times where it was exhausting, but you loved your job and you had to do whatever the company told you to. today, you were called in to shoot a couple of content with other wrestlers, the company wanted to boost their tiktok account. your popularity skyrocketed and creatives wanted to use this spotlight for engagement.

“long time no see, (y/n).” your eyes widened in panic as you recognize the voice. it was sebastian from marketing. you didn’t really have a good relationship with him, he was your merch manager once. all he did was flirt with you and he didn’t take you seriously, due to your shyness, claiming he could do a better job as a wrestler than you. luke was nowhere near you, he was talking to the camera crew. “yeah.” you said, not looking away from your screen.

he sat right next to you, not knowing that you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “so you with the young uso dude now?” you panicked and quickly nodded. “kayfabe at its finest. don’t lie to me, i know you’re still single as shit with your shy persona.” he rolled his eyes, moving closer to you. “come on, let’s hang out soon, i miss you.” you couldn’t wait to go home and escape from this man.

jey yawned as he practically dragged his body inside the building. he was called in for a last minute content shooting without his brother because jimmy was spending the day off by sleeping in. he whistled his way through the hallways and spotted a familiar face. it was you, clearly uncomfortable with the man right next to you. jey furrowed his brows and clearly walked faster to you. “baby,” he greeted you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “sorry i was late, got caught in traffic.” you quickly played along with his game.

“it’s okay baby, i was just waiting for you.” you were relieved to see him. “you wanna get to the talent room?” you immediately nodded. sebastian was annoyed at the sight of you and jey being all lovey-dovey. without wanting to make himself a fool, sebastian walked away from the scene. once again, you sighed in relief. “thank you.” you muttered. “saw you were uncomfortable, no one messes with my girl like that.”

days passed by and you grew comfortable with his presence. jey’s teasing died down as your quietness rubbed off on him. now, rather than teasing you non-stop, he preferred to put himself in a position where he made sure that you were comfortable around him. jey would often ask you if you were alright doing a bit with him or if you wanted to change it to your liking. you took a notice of his shift of character. that made you fall harder than before.

from his perspective, he really wanted you to see him as a person who would take you seriously. jey uso had one mission left. he already made you comfortable, he made you laugh, there was only one thing to do. confess.

friday came by and you were going to cut a promo together with jey. today was just a normal day at work. you were early, like usual. you stepped out of the car and immediately went to the locker room, finding it to be… empty? no one was there, but you saw a pair of red shoes near your locker. “was waiting for you to arrive.” jey said, his voice coming from behind you. “the locker room feels empty without solo, jimmy, and roman.” he blurted out. “yeah, it’s just us for today, huh?” the man nodded at your sentence.

it was like clockwork–jey helped you with your tape and you helped him with his tape. the chemistry was built and you didn’t regret working with him. he really helped you get out of your shell and you were thankful for that. he was also thankful for this gimmick as it brought the two of you closer. maybe quiet is nice sometimes, you thought. the quietness died down when you heard the crew telling you to stand by. you looked at jey and offered him a smile. “ready for today?” he nodded. no snarky comments, no flirting, just a nod. it was weird coming from him–although you knew he toned down the flirty attitude.

"(y/n)," jey paused for a second. "i like you a lot, you know that?" he continued. "jey, the cameras aren't here. you don't have to act-" "no, i really like you." he finally confessed. "i don't know, i mean i was interested in you at first... and being in this gimmick with you? made me realize that you're an amazing person. i really can't help myself." he chuckled. you blush at his words, not knowing what to respond. "you don't have to say anything, just hear me out." jey continued.

“i know we’re supposed to be ‘dating’ only on screen but… i like you for real.” he said, holding your hand. you didn’t know what to say. “and like, i tease you a lot. saying you’re my girl and all that, but i do really want you to be my girl.” he saw you being unresponsive and quickly backtracked his own words. “i get it if you don’t like me too, i just feel like i needed to get this out of my chest.” he muttered.

the room felt stuffy for you. you were overwhelmed by his actions and you really didn’t know what to say. jey took it as a no and stood up. “i think your answers are clear, i’ll go then…” he smiled, walking towards the door. “jey, wait.” you ran up to him, pulling his arm. “this is so stupid to say,�� you began talking. “but… i can’t believe i’m saying this at my grown age.”

“i like you too.” his ears instantly perked up. “i don’t show it but, i like you too.” you placed your forehead on his back, hiding your flustered face. jey swore he had never been this happy before as he turned around, facing you. his grin grew wider when he saw your face. “come on, we need to go on stage first, be the rebel and the main event,” jey hugged you. “when we get back, we can just be (y/n) and jey.” he kissed your forehead.

just (y/n) and jey, you thought. “that sounds nice.”

a/n: 2 weeks… didn’t post any of my writings for 2 weeks… that’s a long time (for me). i hope y’all enjoyed this because i really like writing jey soooo here’s to 200 (it’s 211 now baby!), thank you for your support <3!! i promise i’ll write more!

#the usos #wwe #wwe imagines #roman reigns #jey uso #wrestling #cody rhodes #jimmy uso #paul heyman #jey uso x reader #jey uso imagines #jey uso imagine #roman reigns imagines #wwe x reader #solo sikoa

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the-kk-crow · 1 year

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Back ALL THE WAY IN FEBRUARY 2022 I was like "hey guysss I want to do one of those "Give me four ships to make fanart of" memes! Send me ur ships!" and I got TWELVE DIFFERENT PEOPLE with TWELVE DIFFERENT SHIPS.

So I decided. I'd just do. All of them?

Terrible idea, like 10 months later, I've finally finished it. Why did I do that. Anyways enjoy your rarepairs and not-so-rarepairs.

If people want these individually posted then tell me and I will!

Errorink - Error is big loner angry hates being touched and Ink is energetic touchy feely. I feel like for any art that is supposed to describe ink/error relationship you have to have Ink: :D and Error: D:< and so I had him hug him lol.

Cream - they are just cute soft fluffy. Cross carries Dream as a way to show that he "supports" them, lol

MareNight - Black Apple Blues is adorable and you should all read it

DreamNight - I tagged it dreammare because it's the common tag but I decided I would be wrong to not give it a more accurate name lol. Idk much here I just know that Dream is the more :yellow_heart: one in the relationship so it's funny. Also coup timeline for variety in outfits and that is when they are more comfortable. Why is Night scandalized? idk lol

DrInk - Funny shipname. This ship was most popular in the star-sanses era in early fandom where energetic baby Dream was at its most dominant so the ship was always very energetic, and though my dream is SAD I thought I should still represent that with the movement of the picture!

Crightmare - blame @wyrm-in-the-apple

Desporlue - I just think Two Scary Murder Lookin Guys being all interested in the totally normal kinda cute well adjusted fellow is really funny

NightKiller - This shipname is funny. Back in 2019 I always saw it as Killer constantly following nm around and nm was annoyed about it but TOLERATED IT

Criller - fucking castle fic. This ship used to be a rarepair once you know. But yeah the dynamic everyone does for this one is always "Killer is annoying bastard and Cross wants him to go away and then they bang I guess" and I have barely seen any variation on that lol

Despor - my pet now! Man that was hard to draw

Bleam - It's like DrInk/Cream where Blue is the more dominant caretaker but also it's energetic

Bloss - they were both royal guards once that's cool

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meitantei-shitpost · 1 month

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Detco m27 spoilers under the cut!!! ⚠️

So. I figured I would rant a little about the big reveal that’s been going around as I’ve already been spoiled. I’m not a huge kaishin shipper although I did do a big bang event a while back. But to anyone who does ship kaishin, I’m begging you, please don’t delete your works.

Please don’t delete your fics, art, or blogs!!! They are precious works of art that you’ve worked so hard on. I don’t want to see any of it lost.

Detective Conan canon is ridiculous! If we cared about canon we wouldn’t be making all of this stuff in the first place. It’s been over 20 years and we’re suddenly supposed to accept this reveal? Hell nah. Make an AU where that shit did not happen and keep shipping it. It doesn’t matter and I imagine the fandom will already have some sort of AU tag ready that excludes movie 27 from canon (if movie 27 even ends up becoming canon).

Also, don’t bully anyone for still shipping kaishin! It doesn’t make you morally superior and it’s okay if people ship something you don’t like. Akemi and Akai dated and were cousins in canon so tbh it’s kinda par for the course in the franchise. Also in hannin no hanzawa hanzawa has a huge crush on his cousin. Idk what’s going on in this series anymore 💀

I’ve been on dcmk tumblr for about 7 years now and the fandom is honestly such a small, wholesome group. This is the first time we’ve had any real “drama” and I don’t want it to tear us apart. I hope that kaishin shippers keep doing what they’re doing regardless of whatever Gosho is cooking up.

(I also just think the whole situation is super funny. This truly is the fandom’s 9/11 I have been cackling at the absurdity. He really dropped that bomb after decades 😭😭)

#m27 spoilers #the million dollar pentagram #detective Conan movie 27 #movie 27 spoilers #detco spoilers #dcmk

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thegoodwitchglinda · 6 months

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magazine matchups

vil x reader

you and vil were supposed to just be colleagues, but as your work kept pushing you closer and closer together, you couldn’t help but fall for one another.

a/n: this is another repost of a previously deleted fic I posted. also can’t believe i ever deleted this, this is like the funniest thing I’ve ever written (imho)

—————————————

His absence was something you barely noticed, just as his presence. You weren’t oblivious to it, however. It started out as a coincidence, the two of you ended up modelling for a few projects together, which had the internet going wild. Soon enough, it turned into free advertising, and your managers were intentionally pulling the strings so that you’d be working together. If anything, the nonsensical rumours that came out of it were kind of annoying - other than that, you had no strong opinion about working with him, or his personality.

He wasn’t exactly a constant in your life either, that’s why you almost didn’t notice his unannounced break from the public eye. You remembered him after seeing a now slightly old article about the SDC, ah that’s right, he’d taken a break from almost all of his work to focus on the competition, which had ended a couple of months ago. Despite this, you can’t recall him coming back to the limelight since.

Might as well check his magicam page, you thought. He still posted there, would it be weird to follow him out of nowhere? Eh, who cares- you did it anyways, and then went to bed.

As always, it felt like the sun rose far too early to wake you from your slumber. Your alarm hasn’t gone off yet, or you hoped it hadn’t at least. You checked the time, and you were fine, you didn’t oversleep.

In the meantime you should probably check the texts you got from Neige, your certified best friend who doesn’t usually text you at six in the morning.

“Hey, Y/N! You’re trending on magicam, so is you and Vil’s ship-name, did you know?”

Um, what? That was… strange? Honestly, you really wanted to see what was going on, but you’d be late for school if you let social media get a grip on you right now.

Break time. It felt pretty exciting to hear the bell ring this time around, since you’d been itching to find out what had you on the trending page, it’s not like you did anything either spectacular or offensive recently.

Damn, Neige really wasn’t lying, then again, you couldn’t recall any time he ever has. Your expression died down comically quick, as you kept scrolling through the tagged posts. Your fans were literally insane sometimes, to the point were maybe following someone new on your public account was a bit of a mistake. Basically all of your conjoined fandom was trying to theorise over Vil being added to the list of people you follow, which was otherwise only Neige and your manager. Really, it was a slight disappointment, but it was also kind of funny, at least the internet didn’t decide it was time for a dose of unjust cancel culture just yet.

A few days later, after school had let up, you went to hang out with Neige in town. It was a tradition between you two, a way to keep in contact despite your busy schedules. The two of you often cycled round different attractions or areas in the city, sometimes just opting to walk around and talk. This time, you were headed to the local museum. It was interesting to read about all the history loaded behind what seemed like a simple piece of pottery, or learn about how certain things were used to supplement both the lack of technology and magic of the older world.

It was mostly things you’d seen here before though, but you’d never paid much mind to the modern art section, you realised after thinking about it. “Hey Neige, should we go look over there? Who knows, they might have your portrait framed or something.”

Your joke was received with a light laugh and, “Sure, let’s go take a look!”

This section of the museum felt a lot smaller, but there were even less people willing to marvel at the paintings that adorned the walls. Coincidentally, the one other person that was there happened to be someone both you and Neige recognised. You wondered if he visited the place a lot, people don’t tend to look so blank whilst visiting a museum by themselves.

Neige turned to you, excited to ask if it’d to be alright to approach him. That’s right, you’d somewhat forgotten that those two knew each-other. “Yeah sure, I don’t mind.” As soon as the sound of his name filled the room, his head turned, and his expression looked mildly annoyed. Did he look like that before? God, you’d have to hope the two of you weren’t upsetting him. Your friend however, didn’t appear to notice anything out of the ordinary as he continued to make small talk.

Gradually, said small talk came to close, and Neige had invited him to spend more time with the two of you, though Vil politely declined. He was rather curt, but he didn’t seem like a bad person, if anything your opinion hadn’t changed since you first worked with him.

Before waving goodbye, you rushed to scribble your phone number down on a crumpled piece of paper to give to him. Momentarily, you pondered wether that was a good decision to make, as he almost stayed silent, but soon put on a smile and thanked you. It was an awkward first meet.

Vil turned away after the two of you had left, it was due time to head back to his dorm, despite his visit to the museum serving a different purpose than intended. For Vil, he had hoped to come about some inspiration in preparation for returning to his work but meeting Neige was a frustration in its own right, considering how a large part of his break was dedicated to self improvement after realising his envy was severely holding him back.

Regardless of his efforts, it was disappointing to see Neige thrive under the same conditions as him and yet thwart all the hardships that Vil faced. Whilst his perfection was his pride it robbed him of approachability.

You however, offered him your number despite how out-of-reach he often is to people through your slight uncomfortableness. He thought it was folly of you, but it was a rare boldness that wasn’t unbeffiting of you - having only experienced similar things from Rook, who sometimes took it to an extreme.

Maybe it came from you also being in the industry, but he found himself thinking fondly of it. When Vil arrived at pomefiore once again, he decided to follow you back on magicam, not unaware of you doing so a few days back, although he made no effort to add your contact to his phone. You were still asleep by morning, enjoying the extra time the weekend was granting you. When you did wake up, you checked your phone, a part of your usual morning routine. ‘Oh, he doesn’t hate me’ was what came to mind after seeing that Vil had followed you back.

Not having any plans today you thought to message him on the app, curious as to wether he’d reply. “Hey, how are you doing? Hope we didn��t bother you yesterday.”

After sending that short message you looked through your feed for a bit. Reasonably soon you got an awfully formal response back. Apparently he didn’t mind your presence the other day, which was nice to know. Now however, you were in a position of not knowing wether or not to continue the conversation or what to say. Reaching out to someone over something so minuscule without making an attempt at getting closer with them proved kind of useless, so the two of you briefly discussed your musings about school and work before cutting the conversation.

That was the last time either of you had talked to one another until the two of you inevitably crossed paths again, outside of the internet. This time, the two of you met at a more understandable place, a model’s holy grail, the skincare section.

Another thing to note was that this time, he was not unaccompanied, unlike you. His purple-haired friend was actually who drew your attention away from the ingredient list on the bottle you were looking at. Being a bit louder than intended, he was complaining about this excursion being a waste of time and effort. When you did turn around, you saw Vil glaring daggers into the poor boys soul. Maybe they weren’t friends as you’d initially thought?

Ignoring it would’ve been your best bet but as you heard Vil sigh and mutter something along the lines of ‘I thought we were past this’ you realised he was dragging himself and his possible-friend in your direction. The two of them started looking at the labels of product after product, after Vil had scanned the shelf for a short while. Vil looked quite nonchalant while doing so, but his friend seemed awfully confused when absentmindedly staring at the product. Considering you knew one of them, you thought it might be good to offer up some advice, and recommend a couple brands.

Vil was actually quite thankful for your help, due to him only using products that he’s created himself, he was only aware of what was currently popular rather than beneficial. And this wouldn’t have been the best way to teach Epel how to pick out certain products without any good examples. He thanked you, and invited you to hang out over coffee some time as a thank you.

It was perhaps a little overboard, but neither of you really minded, considering how it was starting to seem that you could become decent friends. And that was how you ended up here, finally settled in to a popular cafe, that at first proved to be a bit of a poor choice, specifically due to its popularity.

When the two of you met up, the people already around the place started to form a crowd around you. It was reasonable, after all people don’t see celebrities everyday, and whilst you were used to it, it could prove to be rather bothersome. Of course, both of you handled the situation well, but there was something so enchanting about how graceful he was with each and every person who approached him, and how he was able to express his appreciation all the while making sure his air of perfectionism never slipped.

When you eventually got a moment of quiet together, you made sure to learn a lot about each other. He wouldn’t say it out-right, but you could surmise that the purple-haired boy from before and a huntsman named Rook were his set of friends. It sounded like an interesting group, but cute nonetheless. You also figured out that a lot of his personal life revolves around his work, or maybe it would be better to say that they happened to coincide.Despite that, he still seemed less daunting now that you’d got to know him a little.

Naturally, you two hung out a lot more after that, and it was fun as you got more comfortable. You even got to do things like convincing him to pose for you to draw him because, “come one, it’ll be extra practice!” He didn’t look amused at all, but he still let you.

Sketching Vil was enjoyable, but he wouldn’t let you notice how he got increasingly anxious as time passed. Vil normally had no reason to feel anxious around anyone, he usually felt confident in himself, but the issue was that his confidence was surprisingly conditional.

It was strange though, the only person to ever make him feel insecure before was Neige, yet you didn’t make him feel threatened. He could only come to one conclusion as to why he was becoming increasingly sensitive to your opinion on him, and being as self aware as he is, the answer didn’t come as a shock to him. But acknowledging that he was in love was a scary revelation to make.

As you finished up your drawings and showed them to him whilst raving about how pretty he was, he calmed down. His appearance was the main factor in his confidence, and reminding himself that he would always have power in that regard soothed his anxiousness, but what really relieved him this time around was the fact that you weren’t judging him.

The next time you were on-set participating in a photo-shoot together, you’d known beforehand. You were both affiliated with the same company, and had managed to put two and two together when discussing your work schedule.

Things felt a lot more light-hearted than all of the other times you’d worked together. Seeing him there as you’d entered the room put a smile on your face.

As you’d taken your last shot together, and everything was getting cleared up, you went to take your arm of Vil’s shoulder, but as you were doing so, he grabbed your hand. You could feel him tense up, and the walls started to feel slightly closer than before. “What’s wrong?” You couldn’t help but be worried. You saw him take a second to compose himself, before he leaned closer to you and whispered a short confession in your ear, “I’ve happened to find myself loving you… Would you be mine?”

That was… unexpected.

But when you said yes, Vil found himself experiencing a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time, and enveloped you in a gentle, heartfelt hug. The two of you stayed there for quite some time, ignoring everyone else around you because they didn’t matter.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil #twst x reader #dtw

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timetorace · 2 years

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𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲

HI. Just saying. Sofia is the main character here. Dont expect anything else. Im not apologizing for the pain that this can cause. enana= midget // amor=love // corazón=my heart

ship: carlos sainz jr. x fem!reader.

summary: you and your daughter go to Austria to support Carlos.

warnings: smut. Austria 2022 (Carlos DNF). fire. kid crying.

word count: 4.0K.

You opened your eyes suddenly when you felt like something or rather someone hitting the mattress hard and when you heard a giggle; you knew it was your daughter jumping on the bed.

“It’s today, it’s today, get up, get up, get up,” Sofia shouted and you let out a moan of complaint before rolling over to the other side of the bed and leaning against Carlos’ side. His body was always warm, and you just wanted to sleep. You loved your daughter, but waking up two hours before your alarm was not something you wanted on a Sunday. You felt Carlos’ chest move when he laughed.

“Not funny, she didn’t get that energy from me” You moaned in complaint, still with your eyes closed.

“Does that mean she got it from me?”

“She got that energy from you,” you stated.

“Please, I’m sure she didn’t get it from me,” He told you in a mocking tone and you growled back at him, hating that he was right. Carlos was incredibly calm and collected just like Sofia was 95% of the time, the other 5% she had the energy of four kids together and you hated to say that it got her out of you.

“Mom! Dad! WAKE UP!” she screeched, and you moaned again before opening your eyes.

“I swear to God-” You complained in a whisper. Carlos let out a laugh when he heard you before taking Sofia by her hand and pulling her against him. She fell onto his chest with a laugh.

“Why so much energy so early, enana?” Carlos asked her, ruffling her hair, causing Sofia to giggle. You rolled over again to support your back on the mattress and your head on your pillow.

“Cause today IT’S RACE DAY!” she yelled, and you two let out a laugh.

“We know enana, we know,” He replied to her “But it’s still too early”

“Oh” Sofia opened her eyes even wider to look at him “How early?”

“About two hours before the alarm clock rings,” you explained it to her because Sofia still didn’t know how to read the time. She was four years old and just turned five in two months.

“Oh,” she said, and you two let out a laugh.

“Dad has to race today so a softer wake-up would have been better,” you pointed out with a sweet tone. You didn’t want to scold her, but you also had to make her learn.

“It’s okay, enana” Carlos assured him when Sofia made a sad face, you glared at him. How was she supposed to learn if he was always pampering her?

You rolled your eyes “Come on, let dad rest,” Ready to give up your two precious extra hours of sleep, you pulled back the sheets to get out of bed. You were used to giving up your sleep since you had her, but Carlos still had several hours to go before the race “Wanna have some breakfast?” Walking to the other side of the bed, you pulled her off of Carlos and into your arms.

“Yeih,” she said and you let out a laugh

“Yeah, that’s more like it” You looked at your husband and gave him a wink before leaving the room with her in your arms.

Sofia’s vacation had started a few days ago and usually the last races on the calendar before the summer break were a good time for you guys to tag along with Carlos before the vacation officially started. Last year, Sofia had started the pre-kindergarten, so her vacations used to start in July. You had a little regret that she couldn’t be at Silverstone to see him win her first Grand Prix, but at least you could tag along in Austria, France, and maybe Hungary, depending on how Sofia handled it. Between Austria and France, there were two weeks off, but Carlos had to be in Maranello a couple of days after the race at the Red Bull Ring. You and Sofia were going to return home to Madrid before having to go to France.

“Banana or apple?” You asked her. According to the pediatrician, letting her decide apparently was good for her development.

“Apple”

“Apple it’s then,” you replied, leaving Sofia in her seat.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I color, pleaseeeeease?” She asked, lengthening the ‘e’ and you smirked before nodding.

“Sure,” you told her before taking the coloring book and her pencils from your bag. You were proud of the work that you, as parents, had done with her. She was the kindest girl in her class, according to her teacher, always asking permission and using the word "please". Sofia was also very shy, but you thought that maybe when she started elementary school, she would socialize a little more.

After cutting the fruit into pieces and getting a box of juice for her, you placed the plate in front of her. When she finished it, you threatened to take it from her when she stopped you.

“I can do it, mom” Sofia said before getting up to leave it in the sink herself, you let out a laugh when you saw how she struggled to reach the edge of the counter, standing on tiptoes so you approached from behind to lift her from the waist so she could reach the sink.

Sofia and you were sitting at the table again after breakfast. You were with the laptop finishing some details of one of your sketches, and Sofia was coloring and watching the cartoons on the tablet.

“Like mother, like daughter,” Carlos said, leaving the room. You rolled your eyes since Sofia had leaned towards the world of the arts and she had discovered that she liked to paint, draw, and color, Carlos insisted he had gotten that from you because he did not have the slightest idea of how to draw a circle correctly while you had studied architecture.

“Aren’t you gonna sleep a little longer?” You asked him, frowning and looking at the clock. There was still another half hour to go before he had to get up.

“I’m not sleepy anymore, besides I want to spend the morning with my two favorite girls,” He added, giving Sofia a wink that made her smile. You were a little weak from the way he pushed Sofia on his lap to hold her up while she continued drawing, and he took the toast you had made.

Sofia wasn’t expected. Carlos was 23 years old, and you were 22 when she was born. You weren’t even thinking about having children when the pregnancy test came back positive. You guys had been dating since high school. It had been hard staying together all that time mainly because of his job, but you had made it work, regardless. A baby was not planned back then. Carlos had turned 23 just 10 days before Sofia was born and you did it a couple of months later. You had to drop out of college for a semester to give birth, but then you came back and finally graduated.

Raising a kid that young was a challenge for you. There had been many breaking points and more bumps than you could count, with Carlos missing almost all of Sofia’s important marks cause he was traveling the world and you felt like you were a single mom most of the time no matter how present he tried to be. Eventually, as Sofia got older, everything had fallen into place, but that hadn’t been without its challenges. In the end, you were happy with your little family. Neither of you was thinking of having a second child soon, at least not until he retiered and you were more than happy to just have her. Sofia was more than enough.

After finishing breakfast, everything was chaotic. Between having to remember everything to bring to the paddock, getting Sofia ready, and getting yourself ready, you almost forgot to grab your phone.

The paddock was covered with gray clouds but apparently. It wasn’t rain; it had rained earlier for the F2 and F3 races, but in the afternoon the weather was going to be favorable. You had been nervous all weekend, attentive to see what would happen. Carlos had won his first race at Silverstone and you wanted him to continue the streak. The media were speculating on a supposed tension between Carlos and Charles due to what was happening on the track with them and Ferrari’s strategies. Outside the track at least, neither of them took the hint of the rumors. Yesterday in the sprint race Charles had been second and Carlos third and today everyone was eager to know that was going to happen. Carlos had gone with one mechanic to the garage while you were walking into Ferrari’s hospitality.

“Hi Sofia,” Charles greeted her, approaching you and she hid her face in your neck when she saw him “You still don’t wanna be my friend? That’s fine, eventually, we will be” He let out a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized with a scowl. Sofia was too shy and usually had a hard time gaining familiarity and trust with people.

“No problem,” Charles shrugged.

“Lando!” Sofia exclaimed, pointing a finger at the Brit and you turned around to watch how Lando was going through security to enter the paddock. “Can I go say hi?”

“You can go say hi, go” You agreed, placing her on the ground before she ran towards the British. Lando didn’t see her until Sofia pulled on his pants and he turned to give her a smile and take her in his arms.

“Lando? She doesn’t like me, but she likes Lando?” Charles asked with a hint of frustration in his voice.

“It’s not that she doesn’t like you, she still needs to trust you first,” You let out a small laugh.

“She likes Lando more than me,” He complained “I feel offended”

“She’s known him since she was a baby,” you pointed out.

“Lando or Sofia?”

You let out a laugh “Both”

“You should take advantage and let him be the babysitter,” Charles suggested

You shook your finger “Lando is not babysitting Sofia”

“Why not?”

“Cause Sofia would be the one to take care of him” You told him and Charles let out a laugh “Lando is the kid, he can hardly take care of himself, I am not giving my daughter to him”

“Good point,” Charles agreed before his PR called him “See you later”

You said goodbye to Charles before approaching Lando so that Sofia would leave him alone. She really liked the British driver, so whenever she saw him she wanted to hover around him, and even though you joked a bit about Lando’s maturity, he always paid attention to your daughter.

Usually, when Sofia went to the paddock, she could spend it alone playing a puzzle or coloring. However, when some of the other children were around, she would sometimes end up playing with Sebastian Vettel’s daughters or Sergio Perez’ kids. Since they all spoke Spanish, she got along better with Checo’s children. Sergio Jr. was the same age as Sofia and although Carlotta was smaller, she was always willing to follow the other two, so the three of them always walked together. Yesterday, you had them with you in the hospitality of Ferrari, and today Carola had offered to look at Sofia for a while while the kids played.

“Where is Sofia?” Carlos asked you when you entered his driver’s room.

“With Sergio and Carlotta, Carola is looking at them,” you replied as he untied his shoes to change into his race suit.

“That brat.” He growled, and you giggled. He had a lot to say about how Sofia and Sergio Jr. spent a lot of time together.

“Are you jealous of a four-year-old?” You mocked, raising your eyebrows.

“I don’t care how old he is,” Carlos growled again “That boy better stay put, he’s always on top of her”

“Are you kidding? They are four!” It was not even possible for them to have that in mind.

“It doesn’t matter, you don’t know what goes through the boys’ heads”

“Thank God for that.” You rolled your eyes at how ridiculous the statement he was making “Let me see if I get it. You are worried that a four-year-old will seduce your daughter”

“It’s never too early to start” He pointed “Just look at me with you,” he added, causing you to burst out laughing.

“We were twelve, and that doesn’t even count.” You rolled your eyes. Carlos had given you your first kiss after school and he can’t seem over that “They are four years old”

“I already told you I don’t care,” He growled again, and you giggled getting closer to him.

“I love when you go into protective father mode” Carlos was sitting on the edge of the bed and you stood in front of him before leaning down to give him a brief kiss.

“He better stay on his ground,” He complained, taking you by the waist to push you against him, making you straddle him.

You let out a giggle before resting your forehead against his. “To keep the streak alive,” you murmured before kissing him. That was one thing you could appreciate and love about being with him. Despite the time, the distance, and the responsibilities the spark between you was still there. After all that time, you could still find those things that had made you fall in love with him.

“This is the winner special treatment?” He asked and you let out a giggle.

“You got that the other day,” you murmured, caressing his neck with your lips.

“Can’t I get it again?”

“I don’t know if you’re that lucky.” You clicked your tongue.

“Mhm, I’d like to try my luck,” He replied, playing with his fingers on the edge of your summer dress. Carlos kissed you again. Your hands went to the edge of his pants to unbutton them before lifting your leg so he could take off your panties. You had little time, but quick and secret sex had become something of yours after having Sofia. Carlos moved a little to allow you to lower his boxers and pants enough to free his cock from him. You were on top, so when you finally sat down on it, you almost moaned and he must have seen it coming because your kiss drowned out any noise you might make. You load yourself onto his cock as Carlos pulled up the top of your dress to nibble on your nipples. He slid his hand down to the small of your back to help you up and down. You could feel the moisture building up between your legs and how your pussy contracted, letting both of you know you were close to orgasm. Carlos muffled a moan biting your shoulder when he felt your walls tighten around his. You were about to cum so he kissed you again. You didn’t want to alert anyone of what you were doing. As the orgasm hit you, he nipped at your lips, pulling your lower lip slightly tight as you felt him come inside you. After having Sofia, you got an IUD so as not to have any more surprises. You both took a couple of minutes to catch your breath.

“I- I've got to go find Sofia.” You gasped, and he nodded before you parted ways. Your legs were shaking, so you took a few seconds to lie back on the bed and regain your composure. Carlos approached you with a wet towel in his hand and gave you a brief kiss before cleaning you up “I don’t think I can walk properly,” you muttered and he let out a laugh.

“I feel flattered, amor”

“I’m happy to feed your ego” You rolled your eyes. You got up from the bed and took your panties off the floor to put them on. You also adjusted your dress and hair a little. “I’ll see you after the race, amor” You said goodbye, and he gave you a chaste kiss on the lips.

You left the room and headed to Red Bull Hospitality to check on Sofia. She and Sergio were playing hopscotch with Carlotta. You stayed chatting with Carola until the drivers got into their cars. Sofia usually liked to watch the start from the garage and then you used to take her back to the hospitality or Carlos’s driver’s room because it was too noisy for her and she used to get tired or fall asleep.

The start went smoothly and after the first half of the race, just as you predicted, Sofia asked if you guys couldn’t go to Carlos’ driver’s room. That was usually the time she slept, so you wouldn’t be surprised if she fell asleep.

“Mom, can I have some apple juice, please?” She asked you. Sofia was coloring on the floor with her pencils, looking up to watch the race from time to time while you were lying on the bed.

“Sure” You replied however when you approached your bag you realized you had previously shared Sergio Jr. and Carlotta the ones you had in your bag “I’m going to go look for the hospitality, stay here, don’t go out,” you said and Sofia nodded without looking at you, concentrating on her drawing.

You left the garage and trotted to the hospitality of Ferrari; you asked the girl who attended the buffet if she could give you a glass of apple juice. When the girl handed it to you, you thanked her before listening to how the TV commentator started talking about Carlos. You turned to watch the TV and saw that he was trying to get out of the car that was on a hill rolling backward. Before you could even process that information, you saw how the back of the car caught fire. Oh my God. Carlos. Oh, no. Sofia. The TV was on.

You ran back to the garage, but when you opened the door to his driver’s room, your soul almost left your body when you saw Sofia wasn’t there. Oh no. Where was she? You walked down the hall until you reached the garage. You leaned over to see if she was hiding between the tires and you bent down to see if you saw her hiding in a corner. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw on the monitors how Carlos was already out of the car and sitting on the side of the track. You let out a relieved sigh. At least he was fine. Now, where was Sofia? She couldn’t have gone very far. You didn’t want to ask anyone if she had seen it because everyone was focused on the race. You could feel the cold sweat running down the back of your neck as you jogged back to Carlos’ driver’s room.

“Sofia?” You asked in the space, and surprisingly, you heard an almost inaudible sob in response. Where was she? You frowned as you looked around before bending down to look under the bed. There was Sofia, curled up like a hidden ball. You could never have seen her down there when you walked into the room. “corazón, what’s wrong?” You left the apple juice on the table.

“Dad,” she simply moaned in response in the middle of a sob.

“Dad’s fine, corazón” you replied sweetly, stretching to get a better look at her.

“He was on fire!” She cried. What surprised you was that she wasn’t screaming after seeing that.

“He wasn’t, his car was, he’s fine I promise you, do you want to get out of there for me, corazón?” Sofia gave you a quick nod before crawling out from under the bed. You took her in your arms, and you realized she had a red face and that she was runny. You leaned over to leave her on the bed, but Sofia didn’t want to take her arms out from around your neck, so you looked in your bag for a tissue to blow her nose.

“I want daddy” she groaned before letting out a sob again. He shrugged at you.

“He’s coming now, corazón, okay?” You didn’t think that Carlos was going to take so long to come back because he was definitely not finishing the race that day.

About ten minutes later, Carlos came through the door and Sofia started crying again.

“Daddy,” she cried, stretching out her arms for Carlos to take her. He looked at you a bit confused as he scooped Sofia up into his arms before you nodded to the television as an explanation of what was going on.

“Are you okay, enana?” Carlos frowned, stroking her back.

“You were on fire,” Sofia moaned with her head buried in his shoulder.

“No, my car was on fire but I’m fine, see?” He responded by repeating a little what you had already told Sofia, but you knew she needed to see him know that he was really okay “I promise you”

“Pinky promise?” She asked, raising her little finger.

“Promise,” He replied by touching his pinkie to hers. Even though he had already stopped crying, Sofia still had her head buried in his shoulder. You passed another tissue so that he could blow her nose. When he finished, he gave Sofia a kiss on the top of her head.

Now it was your turn to move a little closer to him to give him a kiss on his lips before caressing his neck with the tip of your nose.

“You smell like charred,” you told him wrinkling your nose “I thought the fire hadn’t reached you,” you murmured softly so as not to alert Sofia, who seemed to doze on his shoulder.

“It didn’t but I think the seat or something was too hot,” He explained before kissing your forehead.

“I’m glad you are ok” You sighed against his neck and he simply wrapped an arm around you. You guys just huddled there. Your little family.

The next few hours flew by. Sofia didn’t want to separate from Carlos, so except for when he had to change his racing suit, she stayed on top of him the whole time. When he went to the garage to talk to the engineers, when he went out to celebrate Charles’ victory, when he had to take his cold bath, and when you went back to the hotel, Sofia was always on top of him.

Finally, about four or five hours later, you were already on the plane that was supposed to take you and the engineers back to Maranello. In the end, you two had decided that it would be better if you and Sofia just went with him to Italy, it wasn’t the original plan but seeing that Sofia wasn’t willing to get too far away from him after the scare she had that day. You didn’t want to have to scare her more.

You sat in the back of the plane. Sofia was already asleep against Carlos’s chest even before takeoff.

“I’m sorry” You started breaking the silence between you. You felt guilty about leaving Sofia alone “I left for a second so I could go get some apple juice and she-“

“amor, it’s okay” Carlos reached out to stroke your leg comfortingly.

“She was so terrified,” you murmured.

“She would have been scared, anyway.” He put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you to his side.

“I’m just glad that you are ok,” you repeated.

“Yes, that could have gone wrong,” Carlos agreed “The car just wouldn’t stop”

“At least you got out in one piece”

“Yes,” He said. You two remained silent for a moment until Carlos turned to see you again with a smile “I’m glad you came”

“Me too,” you answered, watching Sofia stir a little in his arms. Despite everything, you loved little family.

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz jr one shot #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x oc #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one imagine

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villainessprefect · 1 year

Note

Hi! Could you do a Idia X female or gender neutral reader where they like to show off Idia a lot to the point where he gets embarrassed but is actually happy to have a girlfriend/partner who talks great about him? I enjoy your fanfics and I wish you luck in getting inspired to write more!

hello hello!! I hope I got this prompt down?? Initially thought it would be funny to show him off and you just hear him keysmash through his tablet but changed it to this route haha. again, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy this one as well!!

title: warm admiration

summary: You just wanted to try and ride a Blastcyle, yet here you are praising your boyfriend.

ship: Idia x gn!reader

word count: 1,473

Read on AO3

"Are you sure you wana ride that thing? Wouldn't you prefer to test it out virtually first?" Idia asks, his gaze lingering on you as you sit on the Blastcycle he made...for fun.

He didn't see the point in riding these things. Sure, tinkering with them and making them from scratch was thrilling, but taking a ride on it? Yeah, no. It has to be just as bad, if not worse, than flying. Okay, maybe he can see the appeal just a bit. Anime characters look so cool when they drift dramatically onto the scene just in time or when the main character went on a drive with the sun setting in the background.

It's so cringey that he imagines himself doing that for you. Ugh. At this rate, he's going to end up like a real normie. Gross.

"That's different," you argue. You let your fingers glide across the machine while balancing on it. "I can't feel the wind in my hair or the motor- it does use one, right?"

"If you want a simulation of the real thing, I can make it in a snap." He grins, full of pride. And you believe him. "Yeah, I guess in your case. Magic is supposed to power it, but you can be basic and go without it." A pause as he pulls his hands together. "I-If you need me to power it with my magic I can."

"Really?!" Your eyes widen and you smile. "Than-"

"Prefect!"

Idia jumps as he hears another voice, one that isn't Ortho or Grim's. He's quick to hide behind you to avoid any sort of interaction. So much for having some alone time out in the fields. Normal people wouldn't be out here while the sun is setting. While Idia would have preferred coming out in the dead of night, even he knows the roaring sound of this machine could wake the heaviest of sleepers.

"Hey, Deuce!" You wave to your friend as he approaches.

The first year comes to a halt in front of you. If it weren't for Idia's flickering flames, he may not have noticed him.

"Oh, uh, hello, Idia! Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"I wish you hadn't..." You hear him mumble. You reach out behind and put a soothing hand on his shoulder, rubbing him gently.

He's grateful for the comfort and glad that one of your more...calmer friends approached. Well, somewhat calm. As long as he didn't activate his delinquent mode then Deuce wasn't too bad on his own. As long as that other extrovert isn't tagging along with him, he may just survive this encounter.

"What brings you out here? I thought you had to study per Riddle's rules?"

"I do..." He sighs. "But I started to get a headache and decided to take a walk. Clear my head a bit, ya know? But hey, I didn't know you had a Blastcycle." Deuce eyes the machine more than he does you. A part of him feels like he has to apologize for giving it more attention than his friend, but could you blame him?

"Is it a new model?" His eyes are filled with childlike wonder and awe. You can tell that he just wants to reach out and touch it, grasp the handles and take it for a spin. It's taking all his might to simply keep his hands at bay instead of touching this priceless piece of machinery.

"No? Kind of? It's homemade." You point to Idia, who flinches as the conversation switches to him. "He made it."

"Idia made this?!" Deuce gasps. "Ignihyde is known for its technical powers, huh? It looks even better than the latest model..."

"Right?!" You chirp, leaning forward and nearly sliding off the vehicle. As you steady yourself, you continue, "I don't know too much about Blastcycles, but I saw Idia put the whole thing together on his own! Not even Ortho helped him out. It's like he knew the machine like the back of his hand! He even said he added some new thrusters! This thing even has some magic energy saver, which is cool to! You know, I bet if Idia made me one that I could use I'd beat all the magic riders." You say with a bright and confident grin. "You included, Deuce."

"Is that a challenge?" He says, getting excited by the prospect of a friendly fight.

"Hmph. They'd definitely beat you," Idia mumbles, not expecting Deuce to hear him. He retreats into his hoodie when their eyes meet and turn so his back faces him.

"Whatever Idia makes, I know it will be better than anything else." This time your voice loses that bit of fight, going softer. "He's just cool, ya know? Smart and pretty. I'd trust in whatever he makes me."

A part of Deuce melts at how sweet you can be towards your boyfriend. Of course, he still thinks he could win in a match against you, but he also knows that he shouldn't doubt his senior's skills. Even if said senior is hiding in his hoodie and trying to hide that fleeting pink hair of his within it.

"Do ya think I could test it out sometime?" Deuce asks to take his attention off Idia.

Now, you turn to look at him. You're not too surprised to find him hiding from the conversation, though you had expected him to throw in an answer.

"I'll ask him later." You say to your friend. "I can get him to say yes, don't worry," you add with a grin.

Deuce's eyes light up once more. He then clears his throat and stands tall to act as if he was never offered a golden opportunity.

"Thanks, Prefect!" Now he's excited. Then it dawns on him that he's out here for a reason. And now he's probably third-wheeling a date. Should he apologize now or just go? He isn't quite sure, but he decides on the latter. "And, uh, thanks for talking. I'm going to head back to my dorm now," a sigh. "Or it'll be off with my head..."

As you wave to your friend, you pray that he'll survive his study session. It's not his strongest point, but you do want him to do his best. Once left alone, you turn your attention back to Idia. While he may not have been active in the conversation, you always checked up on him after a hard encounter.

"You okay?" You ask as you slide off the Blastcycle and stand beside him. He seems okay compared to earlier as he's not too hunched over, but he still grips his hoodie and keeps it pulled down. And that's worrying.

Until you see his pink flames. A tendril of once-blue hair seeps from his hoodie. He couldn't conceal all of his lengthy hair no matter how hard he tried.

"Wh-Why do you talk like that...?" He asks, lifting his head so your eyes can meet. You find that his cheeks are colored the same as his hair.

"What do you mean?"

"So...lovey-dovey. It's cheesier than those Markhall movies."

"Do you not want me to do that?" You frown.

You adored talking about Idia, especially with Ortho. The younger Shroud was happy to have someone who could appreciate his amazing older brother. But sometimes, you slipped. Like today with Deuce. At least your friend didn't seem to mind the way you spoke about him, although to be fair others would be. You're just thankful it was Deuce who dropped by and not Ace. You didn't want to hear him fake gag over your love.

"I could dial it down a bit if you want."

"N-No! I just..." He releases his hold on his hoodie, fumbling with his hands as he tries to figure out what to say. "No one really hypes me up aside from Ortho...A-And hearing it come from you is like a dream...! They're like super special voice lines I should have recorded..." He's desperately trying to hide that toothy smile of his. You know he dislikes it, meanwhile, you found it charming.

"It's all true, you know," you nudge him with your shoulder. "You're the coolest person I've met. The best one too. Should I list all your wonderful attributes?"

"D-Do you seriously want me to KO here and now?!"

Another laugh escapes you. "I'd rather you stay conscious. So, I'll keep it for another time." You lean towards him to give him a quick peck on the cheek. If you couldn't kill him with your kindness, you would with your love.

Idia burns even more with that display of affection. At least no one, aka Deuce, is around to see it. He loves what you do to him, but at the same time, he feels as if his heart can't keep up.

#twisted wonderland #idia shroud #twisted wonderland x reader #idia shroud x reader #gn reader #twst x reader #twst #idia shroud x you #ignihyde #request #deuce spade #anonymous stars

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coopigeoncoo · 1 year

Text

An Itch to Scratch, Chapter 3: Through The Hourglass I Saw You

Chapter Links: One, Two, Three

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Tags: Mermay, Mer!Kirishima, Interspecies Relationships, Sexual Content, Drowning, Somnophilia, Caretaking, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Medical Conditions, Family Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Long-Distance Relationship, Wakes & Funerals, Family Member Death, Depression, Original Characters, Adopted Children, Angst with a Happy Ending.

This story is part of a collaboration from the Teahouse Server.

---

Kirishima Eijiro is everything you never thought you'd find when you packed up your car and moved to a dilapidated fishing town. He was handsome, funny, and kind; the sort of man who took your breath away.

And that might actually be a bit of a problem.

---

"Good girl ," Eijiro praised, his hands like a vice on your hips as he pulled away from your mouth with a satisfied grin. You returned his smile with one of your own; the vibrant joy that had churned in your belly unfurled throughout your body, leaving you feeling breathless and lightheaded.

"Eiji," you gasped, eyes widening in panic as your lungs seemed to seize in your chest. "I- can't breathe!"

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

The harbor grew grimmer by the day as ships disappeared one-by-one, loaded up onto trailers and hauled away into storage for the season. Some of the men joined their ships in wintering away from the town, setting off in the early morning light to visit far flung families until they had long worn out their welcome and the ice began to thaw.

You were helping out down at the docks that morning, accompanying Gramps who insisted on sticking to his usual routine despite the rasp in his chest that he couldn't quite kick. You'd stuck around to keep an eye on him, making yourself useful by stacking up the lobster pots and crab cages in a nearby storage building. The wire cages were hopelessly bent and buckled from years of heavy use, so your stacks were lopsided and wobbly; threatening to topple over if you so much as looked at them wrong.

"Could be worse, I suppose," the Dockmaster tutted, which was pretty much as close to a glowing recommendation as he was capable of giving. "Don't forget to grab the pots near the office too."

"The remaining boats won't need them?"

"Nah. It's starting to get too cold for shellfish. Most of the crabs and lobsters have already moved out into deeper waters where it's warmer. It's not worth the trouble for the handful of 'em that haven't had the good sense to leave yet."

"I see," you mutter distractedly, thinking about the lobster you knew for certain was still lingering near the shore and how cold his skin had grown.

"You need to leave, don't you?" You asked Kirishima the next day as you lay sprawled across his chest and belly, an old quilt wrapped around your upper bodies as you did your best to bring up his core temperature.

"I don't want to," he whispered, pulling you further up his chest so he could nuzzle into your neck as he was oft to do. "I want to stay with you."

"Eijiro-"

"Please. Just a few more days. I'm not ready yet."

"And you will be in a couple of days?"

"No," Eijiro laughs dryly, his upper legs snagging the edge of the quilt and tucking it more firmly around your body. "But I don't think I'll have much of a choice."

Clad in your wetsuit, the murky ocean water too cold for even a warm-blooded creature like yourself to brave without discomfort, you clung desperately to Eijiro in the fading evening light. You had spent the entire day wrapped in each other's tight embrace, treasuring every kiss and caress, knowing that these fleeting touches would have to sustain you over the long months you'd spend apart.

"Promise that you'll come back?" You croak, throat tight with misery. "That you won't meet some lobster lady and forget all about me?"

"That's enough of that sort of talk," Eijiro scolded, grasping your chin in his icy hand and directing your gaze up to his face; his eyes steely and serious. "Believe me, Minnow- nobody can ever compare to you."

"I'm sorry," you cry. "I'm not doubting your sincerity, but it's just so hard and I- I don't know what I'll do without you."

"Can I tell you something? About when we first met?"

"Okay."

"I…wasn't in a great place that day. I had been rejected again for mating rights- the same thing that had happened year after year after year. I thought that I would never get to know what it was like; to be held, wanted, loved," he explained, stopping to press a tender kiss to your furrowed brow. "And then, all of a sudden, there you were."

"There I was, thinking that a lobster man was drowning and making an absolute fool of myself," you snort, that memory summoning up a feeling of retrospective mortification that sometimes kept you awake at night.

"No. There you were, struggling to reach me- to save me. I might not have actually been in trouble, but no one had ever fought so hard for me before, not once in my entire life. Can you imagine how I felt then? When you reached out to me and begged for me to take your hand? When you promised you wouldn't ever let me go?"

You shook your head, the unforgiving loneliness Kirishima described too strange and foreign for you to truly understand.

"It felt like all of my dreams had come true," he grinned, his pale blue lips stretched wide into a dreamy smile.

"Oh, Eijiro," you sobbed, chest bursting with emotions you struggled to put names to; feelings that existed somewhere in the space between heartbreak and bliss.

"And you know what the most amazing thing was? You kept fighting for me. Over and over again, even when the opponent was yourself. I thought for sure when we thought you were allergic to me that you would realize I wasn't worth the trouble and give up."

"But I didn't."

"No, you didn't," Eijiro whispered, disbelief and awe steeped into his words as he cradled your face adoringly between his chilled hands. "And now it's my turn. Let me prove to you that I will always return, that I'll fight to be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Forever, then?"

"Forever," Kirishima readily agreed, sealing his oath with a kiss that lasted until you were both left shivering as the final rays of sun were swallowed by the horizon.

You had arranged for Gramps to spend the day with his friends down at the restaurant where they were celebrating the official end of the commercial fishing season. As much as all the men claimed they wouldn't so much as touch a pole until the Game Warden declared the waters open for fishing next year, you knew you would catch them out on the lake in a few weeks time; sawing through the ice and vying for the best positions to park their fishing huts.

You had begged off from the celebrations, citing a need for a break from caregiving and catch your breath. The men organizing the event had understood completely, assuring you that they would keep a close watch on your Grandpa and get him home safely at the end of the night.

There was an entire list of chores that needed to be done; scrubbing the burnt lasagna sauce from the bottom of the oven, crawling under the porch to shut off the water to the outside spigot before the first frost hit, making sure Gramps had enough meds to make it through the week- mundane things. Important things. Things that absolutely needed to get done.

Instead, you rolled over and pulled your covers over your head, crying yourself quietly back to sleep instead.

"Hey, Gramps?" You called out from your place at the stove, pushing a spatula half-heartedly through the powdered eggs congealing at the bottom of the pan. "You gonna' do anything with the box on the table? It's been sitting there a couple of days and I want to try and get the table cleaned off by dinner."

"What are you talking about?" Your Grandpa huffed, shuffling into the kitchen. "I didn't get a package."

"Check the table," you encouraged gently, turning away so you wouldn't have to witness the pinch of confusion twisting across his face.

"Oh, I- I guess I'd forgotten," he stammered, mind reeling for an explanation as he pulled out the packing slip, a shower of foam shipping peanuts spilling out across the tabletop. "Must have thought it was for you or something."

"Of course," you agreed, shutting off the burner and dumping the scrambled eggs into a shallow bowl. "Here's breakfast if you want it."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks," he muttered as he squinted down at the packing list. "Do you know why I ordered five bags of penis shaped pasta?"

You laughed, a sharp, surprised sound that was wholly inappropriate on such a quiet morning.

"Can't say that I do. But if It were me, I'd make some for dinner so the next time someone told me to go eat a bag of dicks I could say 'Oh, yeah? I already have.'"

"Ha!" Your Grandpa wheezed, slapping his thigh heartily before digging one of the bags of pasta out of the box. "That's a good one!"

"Don't act so surprised," you sniff haughtily, snagging the pasta from his hand and dropping it onto the counter. "I am your granddaughter after all."

"That you are," he chuckled, spooning some of the eggs into his mouth while you rooted through the fridge.

"Do we have any hot dogs left?" You ask as you push a margarine container full of leftovers to the side. "I want to chop some up and add them to the pasta so we can really lean into the weenie linguini angle."

The boys from the dock were over today, crammed around the ancient TV in the living room on folding chairs they hauled around from house to house to accommodate their shifting hangout locations so no one person had to bear the burden of hosting every get together.

You'd thought they would have some sort of preferred sports match to watch, a local football or hockey team perhaps; but apparently the group of them were too competitive to coexist peacefully during play-off season. After a particular explosive brawl a decade or so ago, where everyone limped away with fat lips and bloody knuckles, they had sworn off sports spectatorship entirely for the sake of community harmony. These days they spent their weekends tuned into dog shows, speculating on which pooches would place and cheering on their favorite breeds.

"I don't get how this is any different than you all watching football or something," you huff, slamming a piece of bread down on top of the tuna sandwich you were assembling. "Those dogs are still competing and you're all still picking sides."

"That's true," your Grandpa's best friend nodded, snagging a bag of pork rinds out of the pantry to carry back out to the living room along with his newly opened beer. "But the difference is that we really don't care which dogs actually win. They're all good dogs who deserve to come in first, so there are no hard feelings when your favorite doesn't place."

"Can't argue with that logic, I suppose."

"Nope. And believe me, we've tried!" He chortled, peering around the door frame to sneak a glance at Gramps; perched in his recliner and trying to follow the bouncing conversation with a distant gaze.

"He's not doing well, is he?" His friend sniffed, doing his best to keep his emotions at bay by coughing into his fist.

"No, he's not."

"Right. Okay."

"It's not," you croaked, placing a gentle hand between his quaking shoulders, rubbing soothing circles and allowing him to have a quiet moment of grief while snippets of an argument over the low placement of a group favorite, a sad-faced St. Bernard, floated by.

It was bitterly cold out tonight. You thought you had bundled up appropriately for the season, but it had quickly become evident the moment you stepped outside that you had missed the mark by a layer or five. It wasn't enough of a deterrent for you to turn around though. You needed to get out and fill your lungs with something besides the stale air of your house that was weighed down by the fragrance of your Grandfather's slow demise; thin broths and pain medicine, powdered shampoo and muscle creams.

Body on auto-pilot, you wandered down to the beach, dropping down onto the frigid sand indelicately. You stared out at the ocean for a while, lost in the memories of sunny days and Kirishima's sunnier smile.

"You better come back, Eijiro," you whispered, tears stinging sharply as they rolled down your cheeks in the frigid air. "I don't think I can handle losing both of you."

Gramps had passed quietly in the night during the deepest part of winter; when snow fell more often than not and you had to muscle the front door open from the frozen frame every morning. It had taken the funeral home a long time to get to you with the icy condition of the roads, so you did your best to keep busy and await their arrival.

You had thought that you could be strong and wait with your Grandpa when the time came, but now that the moment was here you found that you couldn't bear to stay in his room a moment longer than absolutely necessary. His face was slack and unfamiliar, body empty of the essence that made Gramps uniquely him; the wise-cracking busybody with more jokes than sense.

Ignoring the smell of cooling excrement that permeated the room, you kissed your Grandfather's forehead, tucked his blankets further up on his shoulders, and left the room. You frittered time away with any distraction you could find, sifting through piles of junk mail and TV guides, straightening the doilies your Grandma had lovingly tatted and draped across every horizontal surface, and cut out coupons from the Sunday paper. Each of those tasks stretched out by you anxiously pulling back the front window curtain every few minutes to check for the hearse's arrival.

After an eternity of chipping ice off the freezer walls, you finally spied the hearse slowly rolling down the street, followed by a beat up sedan you knew belonged to your Grandpa's best friend. He shot out of the car recklessly fast for someone with a bad hip on an icy sidewalk, but you didn't have it in you to chastise him.

Not today.

"I'm so sorry," you apologized as you ran a shaking hand down your face in frustration, watching the people from the funeral home unload a gurney and toss a folded up body bag on top. "I should have called- I didn't, I don't-"

"Hush," your Grandpa's friend interrupted gruffly, pulling you into a tight hug that you didn't know you needed. "You've had enough on your mind this morning. Have you eaten?"

"I- no. I went to ask Gramps what he wanted and I just never got around to it," you say, voice muffled by the downy coat your face was pressed into. "I think I may have left the milk out."

"It's cold enough that I'm sure the milk is fine," he said, pulling back from the hug and pushing you inside with a firm hand on your shoulder while the funeral director and his assistant rolled the gurney towards the front steps. "How about I meet with these gentlemen while you whip us up something real quick? I'm not picky, so whatever you make'll be fine."

You were thankful in this moment for the way the entire town danced around emotionally charged situations, welcoming the distraction of preparing a meal over having to deal with well-meaning sympathies and feelings you weren't sure how to start processing.

"I'll get some coffee going. Come to the kitchen whenever you're ready."

"Will do."

"This is a good turn out," you cried, dabbing at your eyes with a handful of soggy tissues.

"Your Grandfather was a well liked man."

"I don't even recognize some of the people here," you admitted, squinting to the back row that was clogged with women in spectacularly styled church hats and hand-me-down pearls.

"That's the Ladies Auxiliary for the town up the coast. They come to all the funerals around here."

"For fun?"

"No," your Grandpa's friend snorted. "To make sure there's always someone here. Not everyone is as popular as your Gramps is- was."

"Oh," you sob, overcome by their thoughtfulness. "That's so nice."

"It is. They're lovely gals."

Still crying, you peered down into the casket where Gramp's body lay; still and unsmiling for the first time in his life. The funeral director had seemed a bit confused when you had handed him the bag of garments and accessories you had put together for your Grandfather to be buried in, but you were pleased to see he had executed your vision flawlessly.

His only suit, a tasteful tweed affair you had seen him squeeze into for every family wedding since you were a kid, was accented by a novelty squirting flower pinned to his lapel and a motorized bow tie that spun wildly under his chin with a cheery whirring noise.

"You don't think the novelty vampire teeth were too much?"

"This is exactly what he would have wanted," his friend assures you, reaching into the casket and pushing down onto the rubber chicken stuffed into the crook of your Grandfather's arm; the resulting squawk easily heard over the din of the deep sniffles of a group of men who refused to outright cry and were all collectively experiencing an out of season allergy flare up.

"Just wait until the eulogies. I slipped a remote controlled fart machine into his pocket."

The town restaurant was unusually packed during breakfast the next day. The booths that usually sat empty were all full of members of the Ladies Auxiliary, each woman primly sipping coffee and pointedly ignoring each other's deeply rumpled dresses and day-old makeup.

"Do you have something you want to say?" The lady at the counter next to you bristled, apparently taking your curious glances as a sign of disapproval.

"Not at all," you rushed to explain, sliding a handful of bills across the counter to pay for your breakfast order. "I'd be doing something similar if my boyfriend were around."

"Alright then," the woman said, shoulders deflating as the fight seeped from her body. "My apologies."

"It's fine," you say, waving off her contrition as you contemplate a triangle of toast left untouched on your plate. "Besides, I'm sure my Gramps would be thrilled that his funeral was directly responsible for his friends having such a memorable evening."

"Goodness!" The woman gasped. "That was your Grandfather's funeral? I feel even worse now!"

"It's fine! Really! I shouldn't have been staring. I've just gotten used to the same grungy old men that seeing a group of lovely and well-dressed women caught me off guard."

"They are a bit rough around the edges," the woman agreed with a slight grimace, dabbing at the faded remains of her lipstick with the edge of a napkin.

"No judgment here, sister. Any port in a storm, ammirite?"

She snorts inelegantly, the corner of her mouth quirked in delight as she unclasps the top of her practical clutch and pulls out a slightly wrinkled pamphlet for the Ladies Auxiliary that she slides across the counter towards you.

"Here's the brochure for our branch of the Auxiliary. You should consider joining. I think it'll do you good to spend some time away from these old curmudgeons and spend some time in a more…feminine atmosphere."

To perfectly punctuate her sales pitch, one of the men at the back of the diner let loose an astoundingly loud belch that immediately launched all the men into an explosive round of appreciative applause.

"One question: do I get to wear a fancy hat like you do?" You ask, staring at the artfully arranged tower of tulle and feathers piled atop her head.

"Of course. What's even the point, otherwise?"

"Count me in."

The weeks ticked by slowly as you grew accustomed to living by yourself and figuring out what constituted your new normal. The activities that had defined your existence at the beginning of your stay, spending time with Eijiro and caring for Gramps, were both suddenly and dramatically stricken from your schedule and you struggled to fill your days because of it.

Perhaps sensing your ennui, the town council; which was composed entirely of the two brothers who also ran the post office, elected to put you in charge of using the snowblower to clear off the sidewalks on mainstreet and the walkways of anyone who called and asked you for assistance. It kept you busy most mornings, and you were glad for the distraction.

The rest of your time was spent getting Gramp's affairs put in order; contacting banks and sending copies of his death certificate to Governmental agencies you'd never heard of before. When you had a moment to spare you would pick a room in the house and start organizing, carefully packing away bits of family history and discarding numerous shoe boxes stuffed full of faded sales receipts and old batteries.

Gramps friends and neighbors, sadly well-versed in estate cleaning, would often swing by to assist you in lifting heavier objects and driving truck beds full of garbage out to the dump. You were currently glued to your laptop, scanning in old family photos for posterity and considering how much of a bother it would be to put a digital album together when a hand clapped down firmly onto your shoulder, wrenching a startled yelp out from the depths of your soul.

"Sorry!" Your Grandpa's friend winced, removing his hand from your shoulder and taking a step away from your person. "Didn't realize I was sneaking up on ya'."

"It's okay," you gasp, heart still hammering in your chest. "I was pretty distracted."

A picture from your Grandparents' honeymoon had just popped up on the screen. With little money and even less time to spare, they had spent a weekend driving up and down the coast, stopping and eating at every pancake restaurant they could find. They'd rated their meals at every location, their food selections identical for the sake of consistency, in a tiny notebook you'd found stashed away in Gramp's desk.

"Good gracious- look at how young he was."

"I know."

"Such a goofy looking fella'," he noted, pulling out the chair next to you. "Good thing you take after your Grandma."

"The small mercies of the universe," you agree, loading up a new picture into the scanner.

He flips through the box of loose photos, pausing every now and then to closely examine a picture of him or the boys around town.

"You don't have to stay, you know," he murmured gruffly as he lifted a delicate sepia tinted photo up by the edges. "You've been helping out a lot this year and while we're grateful for all you've done, we'll get along just fine without you. We always have."

It was kind of him, to give you an out; to not mention the handfuls of people who had left town this year, either in a body bag or shoved into the dedicated minivan from the local retirement home. The townsfolk had gotten by in the past because they were numerous and young. Now they were few and old and struggling to make it through each year. You leaving would likely be the domino that would send the town toppling into ruin with no one around to push a mower without getting winded or shuffle up onto a roof to repair a leak without vertigo setting in.

"This life…isn't what I ever imagined for myself," you admit, mind churning with thoughts of Eijiro as you swap out photos in the scanner once more. "But that doesn't mean I'm unhappy here. I'm just happy in a way I didn't expect."

"You like us old coots that much, eh?" He chuckled, tossing the photo back into the box and turning his attention to a stack of your Grandfather's ledgers.

"Please," you scoffed. "I'm only staying because I just sent a check up to the Ladies Auxiliary and I know for a fact that there's no way they'll refund me that membership fee. Their treasurer is feisty."

As soon as the barometer rose above freezing the town sprung into action, ripping tarps off of boats, changing out oil, and checking coolant levels. It was still far too cold for leaves and blossoms to emerge, but the return of the ships to harbor did more to lift your spirits than a field of flowers ever could. Those boats were a true and indelible sign that spring was on its way.

"What are you smiling about?" One of the dockworkers called down to you from where he was grinding down a rusty patch on the cabin wall with a belt sander. "If you have time to be happy you must not have enough to do!"

"No, no! I'm very busy here," you assured him, smearing a large glob of wax across the hull. "I'm just excited that it's almost lobster season again."

"Again with all the lobster talk? All winter it's been lobster this and lobster that!"

"Well, can you blame me? I think I've spent enough of my life without lobster at this point."

"Fair enough!" The worker laughed, a dry bray that sounded enough like a donkey that it always made you smile. "What are you looking forward to the most? Steamed lobster? Lobster rolls?"

"I'm looking forward to getting me some of that sweet, sweet lobster tail," you giggled to yourself, kicking on the electric buffer to drown out the sounds of chit-chat and swearing, drifting off in a sea of titillating memories you hoped you'd be able to recreate soon.

You were refreshing the paint on a red and yellow striped buoy, hands and arms splotched with an entire rainbow of colors from your work, when the Dockmaster approached the section of overturned crates you had turned into your maritime arts and crafts station.

"You're not completely incompetent."

"Thank you, Sir," you said, setting down your brush to rest across the top of a small bucket of paint.

"Clean up here and come to my office. I've got something for you."

That something turned out to be a set of keys that you had barely managed to catch by the neon orange key float as the Dockmaster chucked them at your head.

"Those'r the keys to your new boat. Congratulations. Don't fuck up," he grunted, snuffing his cigarette out in an overflowing ashtray. "Now get out of my office."

You stumbled out of the smoky room, keys clutched in your hands as you slumped down into a sagging lawn chair the Dockmaster kept outside for his smoke breaks on warmer days when the air in his office became too stifling.

"You okay?" One of the passing fishermen asked, hefting a large coil of rope further up his shoulder. "Dockmaster wasn't too mean to ya', was he?"

"No- he, uh. He gave me a boat?"

"Ha! Did he really?" The fisherman laughed. "Guess you're really one of us now!"

"But I don't even know how to drive a boat!" You screeched, panic quickly replacing the buzzing numbness that had filled you only moments before.

"It's not that hard. Me and the boys will go with you when you take your boat for a spin and show you the ropes."

"That'll be great. Thanks."

It was, in fact, not great.

While the fishermen were correct that driving a boat was technically easy, every other aspect of handling a boat fell somewhere along the spectrum between frustrating and absolute madness. Your docking skills were so abysmal that the fishermen had ended up lashing tires around the entire hull, effectively turning your ship into the maritime version of a bumper car.

But the absolute worst part of the entire experience turned out to be the name of your vessel.

"I'm changing the name," you declared boldly once you and your group of tagalong fishermen had matched the numbers on your keychain to the blocky boat ID numbers printed on the forward half of the ship.

"Oh, come on!" One of the men laughed, doubled over and wheezing for breath at your expense. "You're the perfect choice to captain 'The Nauti Girl!'"

Just saying the name outloud was enough to send the men into a cackling uproar once again. One man with a bushy Santa beard was having a hard enough time regaining his composure that he gave up entirely and laid down on the dock, rolling around on the warped planks as he fought to catch his breath.

"Nope. I refuse. This boat is going to have a nice and respectable name. Like 'Sea Breeze' or 'Wave Breaker'," you huffed. "Something I won't be embarrassed to call out over the radio."

"Boooring!" The loudest fisherman protested. "Besides, it's bad luck to change the name of a ship."

"Of course it is," you mutter disgruntledly.

"Also," the man continued. "If you changed the name then you'd have to get rid of this lovely lady!" He said while gesturing to the cute, pinup style mermaid in a sailor's hat perched next to your boat's sprawling cursive name.

You cross your arms across your chest, thoughtfully staring at the teal haired mermaid holding an anchor at just the right angle to obscure her nipples and keep things family-friendly.

"Okay, fine. But if I can't name the boat I get to name the mermaid," you grumbled, throwing your leg high to make it over the coaming and step down onto the deck; turning back to face the men in the dock when you realized they hadn't followed you onto the boat.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" The man with the Santa beard asked, his cheeks still burning red from his fit of hysterics moments ago.

"Permission granted," you grinned in return. "I need you gentlemen to show me just what this 'Nauti Girl' is capable of!"

As the greenest fisher at the dock, the men had been gradually easing you into performing more difficult tasks while you grew accustomed to piloting your boat. So far you had mostly been sent out to return forgotten items or lunches to boats that had disembarked earlier in the day, but just a few days ago the Dockmaster had started sending you out to check on the farthest flung lobster cages to see if the crustaceans were starting to make it back to the coastline.

The first few had come up empty, so you made a note of their locations and double checked that they were firmly attached to their buoys before chucking them back into the water. Pulling up on the next end line, you were surprised to feel some resistance. The other cages had come up relatively easily, so maybe this pot actually had something trapped inside?

Bracing your legs, you tightened your grip onto the rope and gave a mighty tug, drawing the rope up and over the edge of your boat. Ever so slowly, you drew the sodden rope up from the water, peering over the edge to see what could possibly be weighing down the line so much. Your questions were answered when, with one final pull and a forceful grunt, the grinning face of Eijiro dramatically rose out of the water.

"Would you look at that," you laughed, happy tears rolling down your cheeks as you reached down towards your boyfriend. "The first lobster of the season."

"And from the way you tell it, I'm quite the catch," Kirishima winked playfully as he grasped the side of your boat and pulled himself up to be face-to-face with you.

"I missed you, Eijiro. So, so much," you cried, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as tightly as you could, which you knew was a fair bit snugger than you could manage the last time you saw him thanks to countless hours of unpaid manual labor.

"I missed you too, Minnow," Eijiro said, his voice shaky as he nuzzled into your shoulder and deeply inhaled the scent of your skin. You had envisioned your reunion a thousand times over the last few months, but all of those scenarios paled in the face of the actual experience of being cradled in Eijiro's arms once more. Even the uncomfortable feeling of the side of the boat digging into your belly couldn't take away from the thrum of utter contentment unfurling in your soul.

"Nauti Girl, come in Nauti Girl. Nauti Girl, do you read me? Over." The radio on your boat screamed as it crackled to life.

"Really?" You groan. "They had to call right now?"

"Wait- why is that man calling you 'Naughty Girl'?" Kirishima asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Ugh!" You huff, pressing a quick to Eijiro's lips as you unwillingly work to free yourself from the tangle of his limbs. "He isn't calling me that, it's the name of my boat."

"You named your boat Naughty Girl?"

"I would never! It already came with a name-"

"Nauti Girl? Pick up! Over!"

"I'm coming! Hold your horses!" You yell ineffectually at the radio, knowing that they won't hear you until you hold down the button to answer. "Just- hold on one second, okay?"

You practically fly across the deck, slamming your hand down on the call button. "Nauti Girl, here. Go ahead. Over."

"There was a small accident and we're short a set of hands to get the last boat launched. Requesting you return to harbor to assist. Over."

Hissing in frustration, you send a pleading look to where Eijiro is draped across the coaming, watching you with an utterly dejected look settling across his face.

"You need to go, don't you?" He murmured sadly.

"I do. They can't do it without me."

"I understand," Eijiro sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration and sending tiny droplets of water spraying across the deck. "Sometimes you have to help others at the expense of yourself."

"Yeah," you sighed, pressing the button down once more. "Roger that. I'll finish up here and head back ASAP. Over and out."

You hook the receiver back into place and rush again to Eijiro, cradling his jaw in your hands as you press tender kisses across his face. He closed his eyes and sighed happily, basking in the glow of your loving attention.

"I need to head back in. But let's meet tonight at the cave up shore. I'll bring some blankets and snacks and we can spend all night together, okay?"

"Okay," he nods with a soft smile, eyes sparking as his hand drifts down to pat at the top of a tightly woven seagrass basket tied around his hips. "And I'll show you the surprise I brought."

"You got me something?" You gasp in delight, peering further over the edge of the boat to examine the closed lid basket more closely.

"Technically, I got us something," he laughed nervously, glancing down at the basket with a fond smile. "I hope you'll love it as much as I do."

The accident back at dock was thankfully minor; someone had gotten their hand smashed between two crates and while they hadn't broken any bones, Doc had them on lockdown in his living room to make sure they were actually keeping their hand iced and elevated. Doc's concern was well placed because it wasn't unusual for the townsfolk to nod along to his instructions and then conduct themselves as though they were the poster children for medical noncompliance.

With everyone pitching in you were able to get the last boat launched with no real issues and then spent the remainder of the afternoon anxiously watching the sun dip lower on the horizon as you replaced missing weights on casting nets. Once it became too difficult to see what your hands were doing in the fading light, the men called it for the day and you had to endure the Herculean task of trying to casually walk home. You wanted to take off at a sprint to rendezvous with Eijiro as quickly as you could, but knew that running through town would draw unwanted scrutiny from the townsfolk. Going out onto the ocean alone at night was foolhardy and dangerous, and if you were caught heading out you knew that you would be hauled back in and given a stern talking to about your reckless behavior.

So you played it cool, stopping to chat to folks heading down to the diner, dropping into the corner store to grab some granola bars and a couple bags of chips, and slowly made your way home the same as you would every night. But you were off and running as soon as the porch door slammed shut behind you, tearing across the house and throwing things into a large duffle bag as quickly as you could manage before shoving slices of deli meat and handfuls of shredded cheese into your mouth in lieu of an actual meal as you waited for the last bit of daylight to evaporate into inky darkness.

Once the bright pinpricks of stars were the only lights remaining in the sky you made your escape, sliding outside through the kitchen door that faced the ocean and creeping quietly down to the beach, stopping only to grab your inflatable raft you kept under the back deck. Slipping on a life vest, you tossed your bag into your raft and waded out into the shallows, jumping aboard and pushing yourself away from the shore with alternating pushes of your paddle against the sandy ocean floor.

"Just a little longer, Eiji," you whispered quietly into the night. "I'm on my way."

Kirishima was already at the cave when you arrived, paddling nervously around in circles while singing, the strange clicks layering into a haunting sort of lullaby; like crickets chirping late in the night. His song cut off as he caught sight of you, darting to you and grabbing a hold of your raft's tow rope and pulling you to the rocky cave shore as he'd done so many times before.

"Decided to leave the Naughty Girl at home, huh?" He teased, patting a hand onto the side of your trusty raft as you hopped out and pulled it further onto the shore to keep the shifting tide from grabbing it while you weren't paying attention.

"What are you talking about? I'm right here!" You winked back playfully as you unzipped your duffle bag and worked at spreading the large quilt down over the sand.

"Of course," he laughed, watching with fond eyes as you settled into the middle of the blanket. "My mistake."

"I can probably be persuaded to forgive you," you purred, patting the blanket as you beckoned for Kirishima to come and join you on shore. His eyes followed the curves of your legs up as he swallowed thickly, hands darting to the basket at his hip.

"Okay, so, before we go any further I have something I need to show you," he confesses, untying the complicated knots that kept the basket lashed around his hips. "You have to come here. It doesn't- the basket has to stay in the water for now."

"Alright," you agreed readily, concerned for the abrupt mood shift Eijiro was displaying. Cautiously, you made your way down to the water and stepped into the shallows, joining your boyfriend in the chest-deep water.

"Before I open this, I want to remind you about how much I love you. I understand if this is too much and I'm sorry I made such a big decision without you, but I had to do something," Eijiro said, his words rushed and squished together with worry as he carefully pried open the lid of the basket and pushed it into your awaiting arms.

You peer down into the basket, stuffed full of slimy ribbons of kelp and dotted with tiny slivers of fish bones. Confused, you were about to ask Kirishima about what exactly you were supposed to be looking at when a passing wave shifted a tangle of the kelp and revealed a downy tuft of bright red hair. Breathlessly, you reached into the basket and brushed aside another clump of seaweed, uncovering the tiny curled up half-lobster baby within.

"Eijiro," you whisper, trying to keep your voice level so you wouldn't disturb the sleeping child. "Did you steal a baby?"

"What? No!" Kirishima rushes to assure you, his smooth hands sliding to cover yours as you cradle the basket. "It was a really successful hatching season. We hadn't had so many hatchlings survive in, well, ever. And we were struggling to keep them all fed and safe, but it was just too overwhelming."

"This little one was really struggling. They wouldn't eat on their own and couldn't keep up with their siblings," Eijiro murmured sadly, letting loose a couple of comforting clicks as he ran a gentle finger through their fluttering hair. "Their mother couldn't give them the attention they needed without her other children suffering, so she culled them from her nest."

"That's awful," you whispered, hand dipping into the basket beside Eijiro's to gently stroke the little one's pale and pudgy cheek.

"It is," he agreed. "But necessary. She couldn't risk the health of her other children for just one."

It was quiet for a while as you both peered down at the sleeping child as they shifted, curling their tail around their head and rolling up into a ball about the size of an orange.

"They're so small."

"The runt of their pod. Just like me," Eijiro sniffed, a distant and miserable look in his eyes. "It could have been me. If my hatching year had been more successful, it would have been me pushed out and left to die."

"Oh, Eijiro," you sob; angry at the cruelty and unfairness of nature that had hurt the man you loved so deeply.

"I just couldn't leave them. Not if I could help."

"Of course you couldn't. You did the right thing."

"You aren't upset?" Kirishima asked, thin threads of hope threading through the misery woven into his voice.

"Oh, I am. But not at you. And not at them," you said as you ran a finger down the slick, unhardened chitin of their tiny tail.

"Oh, Spirits be praised," he sighed, shoulders deeply sagging as relief flooded his body. "I was hoping it would be okay since it was just one. You told me one baby was normal for humans."

"You could have brought me a hundred babies and it still would have been fine," you assured him, smiling gently when the child sneezed, letting loose a burst of tiny bubbles from their mouth.

"I don't think we could handle a hundred babies," Eijiro chuckled, pulling you into his embrace, the basket sheltered between your entwined bodies.

"Probably not," you agree, dropping your head down to rest on Eijiro's chest as you gazed down at your new baby in awe. "But I think we can handle one."

"Yeah," Eijiro sighed happily, tightening his grip around you and the baby; his entire world, his family, cradled safely in his arms. "We can handle one."

Your life was one of feast and famine. The time spent with Eijiro and your child filled your heart and soul with so much joy that you often wondered how your body was able to contain it all without bursting at the seams. Conversely, the long winter months served as a stark lesson in misery and longing as you anxiously awaited the arrival of spring and the migration of your small family back into your life.

To ease the anxious worries of your heart, Eijiro agreed to wear a tracking tag woven into a band on his wrist. Each night you were bathed in the glow of your laptop screen, lulled to sleep by Eijiro drawing intricate patterns across the screen with his movements; wordless proclamations of love that only you could see.

Your child, who you had discerned to be a girl once her swimmerets had developed enough to tell one way or the other, eventually appeared next to her father on the map; her bright dot carving out wobbly paths that mirrored Eijiro's smooth trails through the water.

The townsfolk had noticed the intense depression you fell into during winter and did their best to keep you in good spirits. The fishermen who taught you how to handle the Nauti Girl met you for dinner three nights a week, The Dockmaster taught you the actual rules to Backgammon and confirmed your long held suspicions that your Grandfather was a dirty rotten cheater, and the ladies at the Auxiliary pooled their money together to buy you one of those sun therapy lamps. You weren't sure of the lamp's actual efficacy, but looking at it made you feel cared for and loved, so you kept it propped up in the corner of your living room anyway.

The longer you stayed in the dilapidated town you had grown to call home the more heartbreak you were subjected to. Inevitably, the people you loved and lived with, relaxed and toiled beside, grew measurably older with each passing year until they very suddenly stopped- stopped aging, stopped breathing, stopped living.

The men assured you time and time again over coffee, returning from vacations, on their deathbeds; that they had no regrets. That their lives were difficult, but wonderful. The hands blistered and their joints were ground to dust from decades of thankless labor; but their eyes witnessed the boundless beauty that nature had to offer and they had the extreme privilege of knowing true acceptance and affection from their chosen family; their neighbors, brothers, and friends.

That's what they wished for you to find as well; a devastatingly beautiful life full of misery and ecstasy and everything in-between. And as you watched two heads of bright red hair breach the surface of the water, speeding towards your boat and a long-awaited reunion, you were fairly sure you already had.

#eijiro x y/n #kirishima x you #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x self insert #mha x female reader #pigeoncoos🕊

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weeo · 6 months

Text

What's Bred in the Bone Comes Out in the Flesh

Where the Waters Do Agree - Chapter 4

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Alfie Solomons

Summary: Alfie offered Tommy to help him kill his mark—looks like they have a mission to complete, and a destabilising tension to deal with.

Warnings/Tags: Violence, Blood, Assassination

Notes: This is the 4th chapter of a group fic! If you want to read the story from the beginning, you can have access to every chapter here.

Thank you so much to the lovely @deadendtracks for the beta!

Read on AO3

It may appear suspicious to find your very dear mate, on a serene morning after a churning storm, sharing eggs and bacon with none other than your own fucking mark. Alfie could concede to him that.

As a matter of fact, he’d been the first surprised by this incongruous situation. He considered he’d never get the chance to reencounter this shithead on the face of the earth, let alone come across him sipping tea in the first-class saloon the following day. Surreal, innit? When they parted their way to their personal cabins the previous night, Alfie had no doubts Tommy would squirm for 30 seconds in his bed before wandering through the halls to finish his task. What honestly could have been better than pretending to be Tommy's knight in shining armour without lifting a fucking finger, eh?

Well, Alfie was open to recognising the situation was tricky. Nonetheless, stomping on Alfie’s foot with his boot heel, while Alfie generously served himself second helpings of scrambled eggs at the breakfast buffet, was an outright overreaction on Tommy’s part.

Alfie’s cane, hung at his elbow, slammed to the ground in an excruciating commotion. All heads pivoted towards him. How silly of Tommy to draw attention to them in such a reckless manner!

“What the fuck, man?”

Alfie’s knees screamed when he picked his cane up. Blood trickled down the severed inside of his cheek and its bitter taste snaked around his teeth. Thankfully, the counter helped him to regain his feet without looking like a bedridden old grouch.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Alfie?” Tommy stared blankly at the wall facing him at the other end of the room and exhaled a trail of smoke. Slowly. Way too slow, so that the purpose was to be infuriating. Tommy acted like a Hollywood sweetheart, batting his eyelashes on a cardboard film set. Who the fuck does this disdainful prick think he is when Alfie’s been anything but considerate with his friend?

“Well, actually, I’m doing your job, mate.”

Tommy snickered humorlessly before taking another drag of his cigarette. “I doubt that.”

Alfie smiled. “Hm, silly boy, you’ve not read your documents closely, ain’t you?”

“Should I understand you’ve been spying on me?”

Alfie’s hand reached to his heart. “Accusing your dear mate of such lowness, what a world to raise children in!”

Tommy turned his head towards Alfie and raised an eyebrow: “It’s not because you can’t bend your knees anymore that such lowness is unreachable for you, Alfie.”

“Well, yeah, you know…”

“What were you bloody doing?”

“Well, I was extending a hand to a very dear friend of mine in need of assistance, because, see, helping you resolves my own fucking problem, mate.”

“Fucking spit it out, Alfie. What were you bloody doing with that fucker?”

“Oh, you know, just paying double for three crates of Tommy guns. You’re supposed to stop this guy from selling and shipping them to the IRA, if you’d read the papers closely.”

“How did you get them?” Tommy maintained an unimpressed—or nonetheless, contained—expression.

“In your coat pocket.”

“Do you think you’re being funny?” Tommy knitted his brows.

“Yeah, mate, indeed. You wouldn’t have fucking noticed if a horse burst into your fucking cabin, no less a simple man snatching a paper from your very own coat pocket.” Alfie nearly swiped his plate away with large, careless gestures. He got carried away—an excess of confidence.

After a fleeting silence, Tommy admitted: “I just got straight to the main parts.”

“Better not to know, uh?” Alfie fixed Tommy, looking for his eyes. “Yeah, well, I help my mate, and by a phenomenal alignment of events, I also resolve the business I’m on this little trip for. It truly is the best of both worlds, innit?”

“Have you ever done something which wasn’t in your best interest, Alfie?”

“Have you?” Alfie smiled recklessly, showing his terrible crooked tooth on full display. “See, we’re just the same. Hell’s Kitchen also lives up to its fucking name, mate. It’s been put to fire and the sword since some bloody wop insulted the fiancé of my mourned cousin Adam.” Alfie’s hand reached to his heart. “Nonetheless, these bands of fucking savages have been killing each other with meat cleavers, saws and fucking rolling pins. Can’t you believe it? Hm, yeah, nothing’s worse than being ashamed of his own fucking kin, right? Soon, they’ll make their enemy choke on bloody bread dough if no one fucking intervenes. This regrettable shitshow has to be definitely put to an end, and the Thompson submachine guns would let off a good fucking firework finale, don’t you think?”

“Keep it down.” Tommy intervened and glanced to the side without moving his neck an inch. “You will frighten our friend.” He whispered: “The guns can be part of the deal, but we need to figure out where they fucking are.”

“Meet me in room 47 at 9 PM. I’ll lure your guy in to conclude our business. He arms the enemy as long as the cash is worth it. He shouldn’t be difficult to bait with an increased transaction. We make him spill the beans and send him on an eternal honeymoon with good ol’ Eddie. Easy.”

“Easy enough if I trusted you, Alfie.”

“Look, mate, is there a remarkably better idea offered to you? Well, suppose an impeccable resolution fell on you from the sky this very morning, you know, sent by the Almighty; you could have just said like a freakin normal human blessed with the gift of speech: “No, mate, thank you dearly, but I’ll handle it myself.”, ain’t you?”

Tommy blinked slowly and crushed his cigarette on the tiled floor. He dropped his empty, pristine plate off on a trolley full of soiled dishes and left the saloon without a word.

Suppose it’s his way to acknowledge he’s on board, eh?

He sure won’t complain to the staff about finding Tommy seated on the bed when he got to cabin number 47, but there’s been a real lack of safety and protection of private life on this fucking heap of metal. He was the one who had the fucking keys, for fuck’s sake.

“It’s not yours,” Tommy said as soon as Alfie opened the door.

“Didn’t want blood all over me fucking carpet, ain’t I?” Alfie leaned on his cane. “You already knew though, didn’t you?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” Tommy got off the bed like he would offer his seat to an old man on the train.

Alfie stayed planted on his feet where he was, eyes widened and fixed towards Tommy: “Killed by a man mysteriously lost at sea. You offered us the perfect fucking carpet to ruin on a silver platter, mate.”

“When the fucker’s coming?” Tommy interrupted, acting like he’d already thought all this though.

“Thirsty for blood, ain’t you?” Alfie snickered.

“Thirsty to get it over with.”

Alfie’s lower back was cursing him. He waited until a decent amount of time had passed. He refused to appear as if he’d rushed towards the seat Tommy had left vacant. He must be careful about pushing his body like that in the next few days. “I gave you an early appointment, mate.” Alfie paused to restrain his breath of relief when he was seated. “It happens that, you know, we have business to discuss.”

“How much do you want?”

“Five crates of ten.”

“Two.”

“Nonsense. Tell me, treacle, why should I fucking settle for less than the fucking rich prick offered, eh?”

“Three then. It’s even without spending a bloody pound.”

"Well, love, that would make sense in our dirty ol’ England, but we've been sailing on the waters of the mighty United States of America for a while now. The tip for the service isn't included in the initial price."

“Four. No higher.”

“Deal.”

Assured knocks were heard inside room 47.

Alfie bit back a groan when he stood up from the bed. His back had been struck by a lighting bolt. He opened the door and gestured an invitation to enter: “Henry, Henry, come in, mate.”

Henry Aston wiped his feet on the doormat and looked around the room while Alfie closed the door behind him: “I would have imagined you’d be less tidy, Mr Solomons.”

“I should hate to be predictable, shouldn’t I?” Alfie smiled and raised a metal flask out of his pocket: “Rum?”

Henry nodded. “We have to hide like rats to drink a glass of liquor, and they call that progress.”

The cork of the flask popped off, and Alfie poured two glasses on the side table.

“It has come to my attention that we may share an acquaintance, Mr Solomons.” A shiver raced down Alfie’s spine. He drew his hand closer to his coat pocket. The cold metal of his gun kissed his wrist through the fabric.

“Who would that be?”

“Edward O’Connell. I had the opportunity to witness how you nearly came to blows on the pontoon before the departure. I’m amazed they allowed you to board after causing such a delaying inconvenience.”

Alfie grabbed one glass in each hand and turned around, harbouring a forced smile: “Good ol’ Eddie. How do you know that tosser?”

Henry accepted the glass. “He’s a very dear client of mine. He happens to serve as the go-between for the shipping companies of armament and the IRA.” Henry smelled its content with his eyes closed. “I suspect he may also work as a counterintelligence agent for the Republic of Ireland.”

“Hm. Two sides to a coin, they say. Tails, you may be lucky. Heads, dirtied by the face of the King. Even truer for Irish, eh?”

“Cheers to that!” Henry raised his glass and gulped its amber-coloured liquid.

“Me own recipe. What do you think of that, eh?”

“Too bitter. That thing is for the workers.”

Alfie lifted an eyebrow. “Hm, yeah, right?”

“We had important matters to discuss. One especially concerned me to the highest degree. That assassin from the crown you mentioned earlier, have you strictly identified him as we speak?” Henry asked.

Alfie bit his cheek. He hadn’t predicted that the tosser would bring that up so soon. “No, mate. He’s a tough fish to catch.” It’s not like their little games haven’t always been scattered with Alfie’s switches of side. Bet on all the horses, and you’ll never taste the bitter savour of defeat. An unquestionable victory is always tainted, though, whether in a distasteful range of vivid colours or a washed-out beige. Bravery has never made him richer than betting blindly on all the horses.

“Dear Edward had an eye on someone. He was supposed to have more information to provide after breakfast this morning, but he stood me up. Guess he slipped away after being an ineffective, dirty thief.”

“Well, yeah, sounds just like him.”

“You’re as bitter as your rum every time his name is cited in a conversation, and I might very well know why.”

“Do you?”

“He may have tried to intimidate me for the same felony. Men like us, Mr Solomons, are prone to be blackmailed by men like Eddie, if our penchant is ever uncovered by them despite our carefulness. Nonetheless, I conducted him hastily to understand it’d be in his best interests to conserve my friendship instead of provoking my wrath.”

“Well, there’s a variety of means to reach an equal goal, innit?”

“Like punching him in the face.”

“Hm, yeah, sort of.”

“And which means would lead you to blow me?”

Alfie snickered, and Henry’s stare underlined his seriousness.

“Nah, fuck off, mate. I have for a rule, right, that, you know, I don’t blow rich fucking assholes who served in the cavalry.”

As much as Tommy liked to pretend they didn’t have a deep understanding of each other, Alfie knew damn well Tommy’s blood was boiling right fucking now. He was galvanising him for the hardships to come. It was as much a smack across the face as a delicate, thoughtful gift.

“Let’s settle our gun business, right? You tell me at which pier we’re supposed to meet tomorrow. I give you your money. And then, I’ll kindly invite you to fuck off.”

“You’re a fool if you believed I ever had any interest in your money. I smelled it on you from afar you were a bloody cock-sucker. You reek of it even more when walking that pikey rent boy around. Your business must have been fruitful to afford such an overpriced, ostentatious slut on a whole boat journey. We could invite him if you need that tight ass to get it up.”

One minute, Alfie snickered humorlessly, and the next, a shadow came into sight behind Henry to trap its arm around his throat. They were both thrown off balance and moved backwards until Tommy’s back banged the wardrobe he’d been hidden in. Henry struggled to free himself from Tommy, who tightened his hold around Henry’s neck.

“You were jealous, weren’t you?” Henry smirked. He elbowed Tommy’s side and managed to get out of Tommy’s grip.

“You, fucker.” Alfie moved closer and punched Henry’s face. Henry grabbed Alfie’s shirt to steady himself. The rush of adrenaline maintained the illusion Alfie had regained his grounded, rooted in the floor strength of his youth, until something in his back snapped and made him follow Henry in his fall.

They reached for each other’s shirts. “You spent way too much time on a horse, mate.” Alfie took advantage of that hold to give Henry a headbutt. A second. And a third.

Henry’s nose was gushing blood, and Alfie might have also broken his own. A red fountain was running down his face, dripping on Henry’s chest. Henry gave a shove with his legs and made them roll through the cabin until they hit the foot of the bed. He topped over Alfie and lifted his fist to punch him: “You—“

Tommy seized Henry under his armpits to drag him backwards to the centre of the room. Alfie dove on Henry’s legs to help Tommy immobilise him. With a knife, Tommy slit Henry’s throat. Drips splashed on Alfie’s face. A river of blood snaked down the scumbag’s chest and Tommy’s arms. Henry was still trying to stop blood spilling from his throat with his hands, as life was abandoning his eyes. Tommy shoved Alfie further to straddle Henry and planted his knife in Henry’s chest, the side of his neck, and even his face multiple times. Every stab given was hurried and swifter than the previous one.

The adrenaline unleashed the frightened, contained beast, which never ceased to growl inside Tommy’s guts since France. Alfie could be afraid of it if his stomach weren’t vibrating with the howling of his own, poorly imprisoned with rusty shackles. The beasts living inside them were acquainted. Their barks had the familiarity of relatives’ steps on a staircase. Their instinct danced around the excitement of their shared rage, their shared fear. They were rolled in a comforting scent—the thrill of recognition, their yearning and reunion for a fellow creature intertwined until suffocation.

The tension in Henry’s legs had melted long ago when Alfie called Tommy’s name and stroked Tommy’s arm to stop his repetitive motions. There was so much blood suddenly, as if they burst into an open-heart surgery. Tommy crawled on his knees and stumbled on the carpet coated with a reflective bed of blood. Tommy’s loud breathing started to slow down. Alfie’s back, which had been surprisingly silent, now screamed. He threw Henry’s corpse further away in a last painful effort to lie down next to Tommy.

Half of Tommy’s face was drenched in fresh blood. There were two sides of a coin. Unlike Eddie, the dirt suited him. His eyelashes, covered by blood and tears, were glinting in the awful orange light of the bedside lamp. This scene carried the ambivalence Alfie had always felt towards butterfly wings. He craved to crush the beauty of Tommy’s face under his boot, as much as keeping it pinned behind glass for admiration and never allowing it to yield to decay.

A different kind of beast had been woken up in his lower belly. One that was no less dangerous.

“You betrayed me once again, Alfie.” Tommy interrupted Alfie’s train of thought. He was fixing the wood ceiling over them without even looking at it.

“Hm, yeah, sweetie, you know, don’t put all your eggs in the same basket, they say.” Tommy frowned, and Alfie raised his voice: “What was I supposed to do, right? Waiting for what God had intended for me!? Nah, nah, nah. Fucking ridiculous, mate.” Alfie gave a sour laugh. He turned his face and pointed his raised forefinger towards Tommy, who wouldn’t look at him: “Only fools don’t back themselves, eh? And I fucking well know what you’re going to fucking say: Alfie, he was giving away too much strategic information to plan on keeping you alive.” Alfie imitated Tommy’s rough voice. “I know, alright?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, and Alfie mumbled as if he was confessing a secret: “To reassure you, mate, I had put most of my eggs in your freakin’ basket.”

Tommy’s blank stare turned towards Alfie: "It seems your collaboration has a price, doesn’t it?”

Alfie was torn to say yes because he’d never been a good man, and Tommy would do anything to secure the success of this mission. He was curious. It was nibbling him. He wanted to know to what extent Tommy would go to ensure he had Alfie on a hook. To what lengths could Alfie push him before he snapped and showed any sign of opposition? He would revel in it, even if Tommy’s willingness to comply was encouraged by an axe hanging over his beloved’s head.

“Everyone has a price, Alfie. Even your fragile loyalty.”

Alfie cupped Tommy’s bloody face and stroked it with his thumb. His selfishness lent credence to Henry's despicable words towards Tommy. But, good God, he’d go straight to Hell if it would stop him. He averted his gaze: “There’s indeed one thing…”

Quietly, Tommy led his hand towards his cheek and interlaced it with Alfie’s fingers. He winced when he turned on his side to face Alfie. Henry’s blows must have bruised his ribs.

They were both breathing loudly to the rhythm of Alfie’s increasing heartbeat. Tommy grimaced again from pain when he wrapped the back of Alfie’s head with his right arm. He stared into Alfie’s eyes a second too long and kissed him open-mouthed. His arm clasped tighter around Alfie to draw him closer. Alfie was transfixed. He needed to see. He needed to gather proof this moment was real. His eyes were wide open when Tommy’s were tight shut. Tommy squeezed his hold on Alfie’s head and drew closer. He ached to feel it, even if it hurt, and yearned for Alfie to suffer the effects of his wrath. He took his time. It was so soft and passionate; it felt earnest—a truth offered on a silver plate.

Tommy pulled them apart and opened his eyes back. Alfie could only hope what he perceived—what Tommy allowed him to see—was sincere, even if it’d be more than he had the right to expect.

Pierced by a stab of hunger, Alfie moved nearer to Tommy to kiss him once more. Tommy backed off slightly and murmured: “Enough.”

Caught in his frenzy of Tommy allowing everything he desired, Alfie tried to draw closer again. Tommy stretched his arm holding Alfie’s hand, and kept him at a distance. Both of them strained on their arm. Tommy clenched his jaw to resist Alfie’s strength.

“Enough.” Tommy raised his voice.

As if a lightning bolt had struck him, Alfie’s arm loosened and folded on itself. Tommy’s liquefied over it to ensure Alfie couldn’t overpower him if he changed his mind.

His gaze was one of a desperate wolf, ready to jump to its prey’s neck. This beast, which had learned the hard way to survive men like Alfie, scared him more than any other Tommy carried inside him.

His stare was a challenge. A mortal one, to ask: who’s the prey now? He had the look of the Fallen Angel brewing a storm with a tear gathering at the corner of his eye.

Alfie pulled back to lie on his back, and Tommy did the same a few instants later. An awkward silence floated in the room. After calming his breath, Tommy suddenly rose to his feet.

Water poured forth from the tap of the bathroom. Tommy was scrubbing the dried blood off his face, hands, and under his nails with soap. When he stepped outside the bathroom, he carried two white washcloths and threw a wet one over Alfie’s face.

“Fucking hell, mate, what was that for?” Alfie dragged the cold towel off his face.

"If we play by the rules of the market, consider this to be the first deposit of the transaction." Tommy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Even if this natural gesture was uncalculated, it still hurt. “For your assistance to this successfully conducted first-degree murder.”

A remarkably high wave of shame engulfed Alfie and churned his guts. He hadn’t been seasick for days, but he wanted to throw up.

“The Irish dockworkers won’t give up their guns easily, though. We still have work to do.” Tommy was drying his face and hands with the washcloth as if nothing he said was abnormal.

Alfie gave a little impulse to sit up and shake his musings with the damp cloth, but his bloody back snapped again. It would have barely looked like he had a spasm if it didn’t twist his face in agony. He’d live better with it if Tommy’s attentive gaze hadn’t caught it, but the faint smile at the corner of Tommy’s lips suggested it’d been enough.

Alfie exhaled in defeat. “You heard. I couldn’t get the location out of him.”

"Pier 47. Thursday, 5 AM."

“How the fuck do you know the pier, mate?” Alfie frowned.

“I reached my informants.” Tommy crossed the room to the wardrobe and picked up his immaculate coat from the hanging rack.

“Well, couldn’t have said that before, eh?”

“I said I didn’t trust you, Alfie.” Tommy slipped into his coat to uncover the carnage that was his shirt. “And wasn’t I right?”

The shame of his betrayal had now no equal to the guilt for his behaviour earlier. Regardless of whether it was unclear which event Tommy was referring to, he couldn’t help thinking Tommy wasn’t only alluding to his foreseeable betrayal. He’d always been the type to sow his seeds between the lines, and Alfie inherited the curse of the skilled harvester.

“Who are your informants? Convenient you had some on this boat.”

Tommy puffed a mocking laugh through his nose and stepped forward. He hovered over Alfie with his severe, intent gaze. His feet framed Alfie’s face. He squatted to draw close to Alfie’s face: “I also place my eggs in several baskets, Alfie. I made calls before getting on this boat.” Tommy rose back to his feet and left the room.

Alfie had always prided himself on being a man of words. He was cracking smiles on the coldest faces, maintaining a convincing speech or sermon to the most inconvincible and snarking back as a sword cut through the air—vain but excitingly effective—a coquetry crafted for his very own pleasure.

Yet, he was at a loss for words. The ground crumbled beneath him, and he got sucked up by the ocean.

He’d been fucked big time.

Tommy had been curious as well. Curious to what extent Alfie was under his spell.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy x alfie #alfie solomons #peaky blinders fic #writing #peaky blinders fanfic

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