#(proceeds to draw him in spring attire)

[moeblob]

March has such a funny energy and I really like him ok

[pagetreader-archived]

The quick throw of the blanket over her more delicate features had been so quick, she'd barely had time to blink, but it wasn't exactly a surprise. Hands at the hems of either side of the fabric, she watched him carefully, able to picture his expression despite the fact that he had his back turned, prattling on his apology until he couldn't determine how to proceed.

"It's alright," she reassured, that tug in her gut telling her their time together was coming to a crashing halt, an unsatisfying close. This shouldn't have been how things have gone but was there a right way to move forward from this shattered mess? Whatever the case, the time to say goodbye was here and Rebekah wasn't ready for it.

"Don't worry about my father. I doubt you could convince him to leave your father's side tonight of all nights, but you should be there too. We'll both be sure to look after him for you while you're away..."

Ben needed to go home -- to be with family, with Samuel, one last time.

Quickly. She needed to do this quickly, like cauterizing a wound. It was the only way she'd get through it without crumbling to pieces. drawing in a breath and mustering her courage, she moved to take his hand and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, inwardly terrified that this was the last she'd ever see of him, should the war claim him like everything and everyone else she cared about.

"Please stay alive, Major."

She had no right to make such a request of him. After all, he wasn't hers, but she couldn't help herself. Even if he would never choose her, all she wanted was for him to be safe, to live and someday reach all those dreams he'd shared with her when she was still Levi. His happiness was all that mattered.

When he ultimately took his leave, Rebekah didn't, couldn't, turn to watch, unable to bring herself to let that be the last image -- him walking away from her. Her heart twinged and she reached up to clasp her chest as new tears found their way down her face.

Spring, 1777

Much had changed in those few short months, though to Rebekah they'd rolled as slowly as a century. She herself had changed -- her skin thickened, her resourcefulness and skills learned during her enlistment aiding her in becoming stronger, quicker on her feet. The nightmares, however, remained stuck to her like tar.

Setauket's state had only worsened, escalating in tension when the British garrison had dug up the headstones, particularly the ones of the more recently deceased -- Samuel included. Then they'd confiscated every firearm in the town. Her father had been especially combative about it.

Then they'd arrested Elias, Nathaniel, Lucas Brewster, and several others for conspiracy against the crown. Abe, the town hermit, and coward (known as such for his abandonment of the military), had been tasked with the position of Magistrate for the trial in his father's stead, despite having no qualifications for it aside from nepotism. It mattered little. The fathers of Setauket were sentenced to hanging and Rebekah was infuriated, nearly ready to do something stupid.

The death sentence hadn't had the chance to be carried out, however, before the Continental Army had shown to defend them. Thank God in heaven. She and the rest of the town were herded into the old Strong Tavern as supposed hostages, along with many British soldiers, and she'd been seated near the front when she'd first seen Ben in that familiar stance of a superior officer, giving orders and commanding the presence of the room. In her newest attire, which she'd sewn together herself, she probably stood out like a sore thumb.

Soon after, in the midst of the fray, when Lucas had been murdered before them and all hell had broken loose, she had not sat idly by to wait for the outcome. Though she was without firearms, she still had two blades hidden in her boots that served their purpose well.

Miraculously, the Continental Army claimed victory and evacuated with the suspected patriot sympathizers. Upon arrival at the camp, once the dust settled and the wave had calmed, she had a much-needed, albeit brief, reunion with her father before once again meeting Ben's gaze from several feet away. This time, however, he did not find her looking timid and broken as when they had last parted.

Rebekah crossed the gap between them and resisted the urge to throw her arms around him. He looked a little different as well -- older, weathered behind the eyes but not terribly worn, rather more seasoned. When she'd finished taking a moment to appraise him, she smirked and folded her arms.

"Congratulations on such a success, Major Tallmadge. The air of victory suits you."

Rebekah... Although she had given him permission to use her Christian name, it somehow seemed inappropriate, wrong, and Ben found himself flushing while replaying the past several minutes in a never-ending loop. Whether or not she could forgive his behavior still remained to be seen, and it shamed him that he'd chosen to kiss her in a time of vulnerability; perhaps because he, too, had been vulnerable and seeking something stable.

"You may."

With her permission granted, Ben waited a beat, then slowly stepped in through the open entryway. What he saw on the other side stripped the very breath from his lungs, and lips flapping soundlessly, his face burned once he realized that Rebekah was bare -- she was bare -- and mortified, he was quick to rush forward and throw the blanket around her shoulders, his hands shaking as he secured the quilt and covered any major indecency.

"I'm...I-I am so sorry," he stammered. "If I had known..."

"So, is this one of those scenarios where I've shown you mine, so now you'll show me yours, or have I involuntarily given you a one-sided peep show?"

Abruptly, Ben's eyes snapped up to her face, visibly startled. If this had been Caleb at the helm, he would've gleefully teased them -- perhaps even made the suggestion himself -- but this was Rebekah, and throat bobbing reflexively, he shied away from her and turned toward the wall. "I'm sorry, I...I swear I never meant to progress in this manner," he vowed. "When I made my request, it was only with your comfort and safety in mind. I never meant...I-I never wanted..." Trailing off, he decided that he didn't know whether his words would enchant or infuriate her, so exhaling through his nose, he softly concluded, "Now that you're out of those wet garments, I can go home and fetch Elias so that you won't be alone."

It's better this way. Don't beg me to stay -- not again.

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Robin!

AKA: @dcbbw​

The People of Valtoria vs The King of Cordonia (Riam)

A/N: Robin, you are not only one of my favorite writers but have become an amazing, supportive friend over the last year or so that we've known one another. And I believe that friendship transcends beyond Tumblr. Youve been a virtual shoulder to cry on when I needed one and someone who made me laugh so hard while chatting once that I ... well, I won't embarrass myself here 😆 You're just truly a remarkable person with a compassionate, giving heart. I'm blessed to know you and blessed as hell to call you a friend #mycommonlawcitywife

A/N2: I wrote Riam for you. It will be no where near as good as yours and I hope I didn't mess them up too badly. Trust me, I'm nervous.

The following characters belong to Pixelberry with the exception of the term "Riam" and some references in the story which belong to @dcbbw . You can find her masterlist for them here. 

Thanks @burnsoslow for beta reading!!!!

__________________________

With assistance from Gladys and Mara, Riley stepped up onto her Hoveround scooter. The cart jolted side to side from the added load as she shifted into place. Her heavily pregnant stomach narrowly fit between the seat and handlebars. 

The motorized vehicle was a gift from Liam, who felt that at this point in her pregnancy, it was much safer and more comfortable for her to get around if she didn't have to walk. It was also easier to track her movements with the GPS hidden underneath.

For her protection, and knowing she wasn't the best driver, he had the machine’s speed reduced from its factory setting of 13 mph to a more leisurely four mph. 

The following morning, at her insistence, Drake arrived -- toolbox in hand -- to remove the GPS and increase the speed to 20. 

With a groan from the Queen, the two staff members lowered her carefully into the seat and backed away while she arranged her footing and large belly.

Riley turned her head and arched a brow, giving the majordomo a moment to figure out on her own what was missing.

Gladys' eyes flitted between her boss and the guard. 

Like a lightbulb switching on, it finally dawned on her.

The snack wagon.

She shuffled to Riley's side of the bed. The head stewardess retrieved the wagon that was already stuffed with everything needed for the Queen's busy morning: barbeque potato chips, mini chocolate bars, Tupperware bowls filled with teriyaki meatballs, ham and cheese sliders, garlic chicken spring rolls, and leftover spaghetti and meatballs topped with melted mozzarella and a dash of parmesan. 

Cook was still reheating the garlic bread and putting the finishing touches on the devil's food cake.

After running several minutes behind due to a last-minute potty break and to catch her favorite American reality show about friends living in Washington, D.C., Riley squeezed the handles to power forward. 

Followed closely by Mara on the lookout, and Gladys, who was lugging the snack wagon, she took the elevator down to the first floor.

There was a crowd assembled in the throne room to witness this highly anticipated and rather unusual royal court case.

Gladys opened the door, announced the Queen's entrance, and stepped aside to allow Riley to roll in.

The guests stood in reverence, much to her delight.

It hadn't gone unnoticed by Liam, sitting at a lone table with a piece of paper that said Reserved for the Guilty Party taped to it, that his wife's mode of transportation was quite a bit faster than it should be. 

Liam tilted his head and furrowed his brows before moving to the edge of the seat. He wasn't entirely sure how she did it, but judging by the rapid blinking and shifty movements coming from Drake, he was sure he'd found his culprit.

Liam sensed a disaster happening before he could stop it. 

While driving toward the dais, his wife's eye caught a glimpse of Annabelle Parsons standing in the opposite corner of the room.

Miss Parsons’ breasts were practically heaving from her gray low-cut backless dress that had a slit up to her hip. A white lacy garter could be seen encircled around one slender thigh, and there were unquestionably no panties worn.

The two women locked eyes.

Riley licked her lips as the object of her affection trailed a tantalizing finger over the swell of her bosom, her taut nipples peaking through the gray silk attire.

Liam jumped from his seat with a shout just as her scooter's front wheels plunged into the first step of the dais, bringing her to a hard, abrupt stop.

The crowd's eyes, which included the staff, members of the nobility, and curious Valtorian citizens alike, widened in concern for their pregnant queen and the twin heirs.

"Love!" Liam ran up beside her and laid one hand on Riley's stomach, the other stroking through her hair. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"I'm just fine, no thanks to you. It's this damn defective scooter you bought me. You could have killed me, Liam. I always knew you would try to get rid of me one day. I just thought you'd at least wait until your children were born."

Liam stiffened; his voice slightly raised. "How is this my fault? You were gawking at Miss Parsons, and I know you had Drake adjust the speed."

"I wouldn't need to adjust the speed if someone hadn't bought me a broken metal deathtrap on three wheels!"

"That ... That doesn't even make sense," he countered.

She lowered her eyes to him with a glower. "You don't make sense."

Liam shook his head and wrapped his firm hands around her arm. "Come on, my love. Let me help you up and to your chair."

He lifted her to a standing position, steadying her movements, and slowly led her to the BarcaLounger on the dais. 

Once Riley was reclined and had altered the chair to a comfort setting she preferred, Gladys set up a tray of the meals and treats from the snack wagon and placed it on a table beside her. 

Liam watched with curiosity as she prodded a meatball with a fork and brought it to her mouth. "I'm worried about you. Are you sure everything's okay?"

Enjoying the delicious flavor burst from the teriyaki sauce and the juiciest pork and beef combination she'd ever had, Riley waved him away. "Liam, I'm trying to sue you. If you think sucking up to the judge before I've had a chance to find you guilty will help your case ... you're mistaken. This judge will not be swayed by the defendant; now go to your table before I hold you in contempt."

"You haven't even heard the case yet; how can I already be guilty?"

"I haven't heard the case because YOU WON"T SIT DOWN!"

He leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to her cheek. Riley melted into it and felt all those butterflies she usually had when the love of her life kissed and caressed her.

"I love you, my queen."

She bit into a barbeque chip while shaking the mustard bottle to squirt on a ham and cheese slider. "I know," she replied coolly, but there was so much love radiating behind her big brown eyes hidden by a flock of hair. "Now, stop breathing all over my food with your germs and return to your table."

Liam stepped away and took his place. The crowd went quiet, eager to get the proceedings underway.

Cook finally arrived a few minutes later with a basketful of hot garlic bread and a slice of Riley's favorite cake. The Queen was now ready to begin.

As she twisted a forkful of spaghetti noodles and slurped them up, she motioned for Gladys to call the case into session.

With a loud clear of her throat, Gladys began, "Ladies and Gentlemen! The case of the People of Valtoria versus The King of Cordonia is now in session. Please give your complete attention to the honorable Queen of Cordonia and ... grand ruler of all of Valtoria."

Riley brushed away bread crumbs from her chest and glanced up to Gladys, giving her an approving smile for using the proper title she proposed beforehand. "Thank you, Gladys."

Riley tilted her chin at Liam. "Now, King Liam, we are here today because you owe me over $280,000, plus interest, penalties, taxes, processing, restitution, travel expenses, court and collection fees for back rent at Valtoria. How do you wish to plead?"

The King sat forward and sighed in vexation. "This is ridiculous. You know full well the Crown financially supports this duchy and manor."

"And in turn, I have had to support your mooching ass with it. So ... what is your plea?" she enunciated.

Liam crossed his arms and drew in a deep breath. "I suppose, not guilty."

The Queen narrowed her eyes in a glower. "You wouldn't dare."

A smatter of whispers and gasps broke out among the audience.

Riley reached over to her tray and picked up a wooden mallet before banging it several times on the sounding board that set next to the bowl of spring rolls on her tray. "That's enough! You all will not turn my court into a circus," she admonished. 

Hushes circulated through the crowd.

Liam raised his hand to draw her attention and spoke up. "Can I say something?"

Riley contemplated his question, then replied, "Overruled."

"It's about our children," he continued.

She flashed a glance to Mara, who pursed her lips and simply nodded in approval. The Queen looked back to her husband. "Okay, I'll allow it this once. But make it quick so we can get to your sentencing."

"I was just going to remind you that we have a doctor appointment that we need to leave for in 10 minutes."

Dammit, he was right; she had forgotten all about the appointment, and Liam hadn't shaved her legs since the prior visit two weeks ago. Riley lifted the lower part of her dress, her legs still reclined, and peered down at the thick stubble that had grown. She huffed. Liam. That man had one damn job to do.

Riley twirled the gavel in one hand and a fork with the other, contemplating how to proceed with the time crunch.

She cut through a piece of her cake and took a bite, closing her eyes to savor its chocolaty flavor. After dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin, she looked out to Liam, drumming his fingers on the table. "I've made my decision. Would the defendant rise?"

Liam glanced at his watch and sighed. He pushed himself from the table and rose to his feet before placing his hands in his pockets.

"Due to the critical nature of this case, and the fact that the judge and offender had an important prior engagement scheduled, I have no choice but to issue a continuance. But I would like to remind the prisoner that he is not to flee the country without express written consent from this court." She slammed the gavel down. "Court dismissed until further notice."

As the attendees flocked out of the throne room to return to their homes or positions within the estate, Mara stood at the door with a crystal bowl collecting court donations to fund the Queen's prosecution. 

It received $747 and a coupon for half off at Mei Wah Sing.

Liam rounded the defendant's table and made his way to the Queen, whose legs were flailing in a struggle to get out of her lounger. 

He wrapped his arms around his wife and lifted her to a standing position, helping her straighten out her dress.

"Are you ready, love? I think we can still make it there on time if we hurry." His hand rubbed soothing circles over her aching back.

Riley leaned in for a kiss, relaxing into his special touch that always made the aches and pains disappear. Her eyes fell on the scooter at the bottom of the steps and lit up. "Oh, I know a way to get there faster."

Liam followed her gaze then shook his head adamantly. "Absolutely not! No way! Not after what happened earlier."

Riley dismissed him and tottered down the steps to her scooter.

“Riley!”

“Riley!”

“Riley!”

He hung his head with a heavy sigh as she exited. “Right behind you, my Queen.”

Permanent tags:

@burnsoslow​ @dcbbw​ @ao719​ @jessiembruno​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @texaskitten30​ @drakesensworld​ @janezillow​ @merridithsmiscellany-blog​ @mskaneko​ @loveellamae​ @queenjilian​ @sirbeepsalot​ @pedudley​ @caroldxnvxrs​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @desireepow-1986​ @bebepac​ @kingliam2019​ @lovablegranny​ @cordoniaqueensworld​ @amandablink​ @blueaster-blog1​ @liamxs-world​ @choiceskatie​ @iaminlovewithtrr​ ​  @hopelessromanticmonie​ @charlotteg234​ @twinkleallnight​ @annekebbphotography​ @txemrn​ @thecordoniandiaries​ @alyssalauren​ @cordonianroyalty​

[simmeredsalmon]

〈whisper of yoriichi’s heart〉

+ a demon sends you back in time and you miraculously meet the elusive yet warm yoriichi... and you fall in love with each other. (violence / angst)

Taisho-era. The feverish gasps elicited from the heat scorching your lungs fill the air brimming with tension, your numb fingers refuse to let go of your sword—even as it quivers. How long has this fight been going on? How long have you endured sprinting around, praying for daybreak?

This demon, Shifumi, has scarcely used his Blood Arts on you; only effecting the surrounding terrain by decaying the vegetation, or rapidly flourishing it. A long spear was his choice of weapon... which he also hasn’t utilized at all. It was perplexing, to have someone trap you within their circle yet not attack you. Shifumi is clearly attempting to wear you down until you cracked. But wouldn’t the sun be rising soon...?

Just as those spate of thoughts gyrated in your mind, Shifumi casts a technique and the crinkled roots under your sandals spring to life and ensnare around your ankles. Your sword immediately shreds them away, but another wave comes at you and effectively keeps you locked in your spot.

“You’re such an idiot girl... You embody your breath-style. You’re slow at escaping me and making deductions... just like the clouds,” Shifumi taunts, the spear glimmering as a crack of sunlight bears itself before you—but he swiftly submerges you in the darkness of trees. “That look in your eyes? Did you finally realize my powers?”

The weapon tucked between his hands, hands teetered with wrinkles yet youth, was a spear in the shape of a clock’s hand. This whole time, he wasn’t controlling plants. He was controlling time, increasing or decreasing their lifespans as he pleases. What a dangerous demon... How many had he killed with those powers?

The tip of Shifumi’s spear tilts your head up by your chin, and a malicious grin appears on his face; his rotted teeth sharp contrast to his plump lips. “Because I’m fond of your special breath-style, I’ll allow you more time to live; or so you’ll think. Just as the clouds have always existed, drifting in and out of time... I’ll send you back to a time where they block the sun. And when you return to your rightful place in time, you’ll feel the pain of a thousand deaths.”

“There has never been a time, or will there be, a time when the sun is not comforting humans!” As trepidation shakes your body, your axons jerk and you push yourself forward in order to impale his spear into your throat and end your life before giving him the pleasure of having his way.

Feeling the immense pain in your neck, your eyes innately shut. However, as you expected to see your deceased family when your eyes opened... you were met with only a familiar sky.

Your body feels functional and healthy, although dried blood coats your throat’s skin—and it feels hard to breathe when you acknowledge that.

When you push yourself up, you scrutinize your surroundings and are unnerved to recognize nothing. The buildings around you are modelled differently from what you know and understand, and even the people ambling by are dressed in old clothing styles.

The people around you haven’t acknowledged your presence in the middle of the road, but you drive any pernicious ideas out of your mind and stand up; addressing the nearest person for advice. You couldn’t afford to squander time by dazing about, you needed to grasp what was happening as quickly as possible.

However, as you tapped a benevolent-looking lady’s shoulder, she didn’t flinch. “Excuse me...?” you said, but she wasn’t even looking in your direction at all. “Please answer me!”

But she didn’t. When her head craned in your direction, her eyes couldn’t see you at all. Their depths only reflected the cat frolicking behind your entity.

Panic settles itself in the thicket of your nerves, and you desperately search around this town for anyone who could acknowledge your existence. In this endeavour, you discover it’s nearing the end of the...

Sengoku-era. Your despair is acute, bringing you to tears as you stumble your way out of the town. It seems as though you can interact with the world, but they cannot react to you. You’re transparent, in a world bordering reality and dream.

Upon making it towards the stream outside of the town, you peer into the water and are relieved to see your own face staring back at you. You senselessly wash away the blotches of blood on your neck, before heaving a quavering sigh. What should you do? You’re supposedly in the Sengoku-era, where no one can even see or hear you. Feel you. Wouldn’t the only option be... to die?

The sword forged upon your feelings of resolution to destroy demons shimmers on your hip, and you draw it ruefully. “There’s no time for hesitation,” you whisper to yourself, preparing to slit your throat, “I’m going to die once I return home anyway.”

Yet, before you could complete the act, the clamor of metal colliding resounds and you find your sword being ripped from your hands.

Standing before you is a man, the hanafuda earrings he wore swaying with his swift movements. But the calm gentleness in his eyes makes you aware of your heart, how it's still beating. “Don’t hurt yourself. You still want to find a way out, so think before you choose to end your life here.”

The way he says this gifts you solace, even if in that fleeting moment. And that sensation of relief was enough for your mind to process the burden of your body, and you collapsed; although the man caught you on his shoulder before you hit the stream.

... And when you awoke, the scent of fire and fish wafted around you. The sky was dark, and not a cloud tainted the onyx-colored horizon. You peer over at the pale light of the fire, before shifting your gaze towards the man from earlier. “Um...” you breathe out, unsure of what was happening. “You can see me?”

It was all you could think of to say, only you immediately thought about how you should’ve expressed your gratitude firstly afterwards.

Nodding his head, the man clarifies, “I can also touch you.”

When you bring yourself up, the man’s red haori flutters into your lap—and you gasp out, “Th-Thank you very much! Here you should have it back—“

“No, it’s okay. You’re not... wearing proper attire, so you need it more than I do right now,” he tells you, noting your uniform’s short skirt. “I know you’re not supposed to be here. You’re trapped by a demon, aren’t you?”

You then proceed to explain your situation to him, elucidating that you’re from the future and how you came to be before him. Even though you would’ve never opened up this easily, he gave you abundant comfort and you find him trustworthy in spite of not knowing his name. “I’m [full name]... May I ask for your name?”

“It’s Tsugikuni Yoriichi.” And you wondered why Yoriichi was the only human able to perceive you. Maybe it was the purity in his eyes that enabled him to see things others cannot see.

Once he soaked in your plight, Yoriichi agreed to let you accompany him places as you search for a way to return home. To your rightful place in the world.

You felt invincible and powerless all at the same time. Whenever he slayed a demon, you weren’t harmed. Because you weren’t ‘really there’.

The two of you travel evasively across the warring lands, sharing memories and thoughts along the way.

As you learn of Yoriichi’s childhood, you can’t help but say, “If you’ve been cursed at all, it’s only because evil believes you’ll defeat it someday. Why curse a newborn child, who has yet to develop anything?” You also add in, “Also, I think your birthmark is pretty! I-I know I shouldn’t say that, since you’ve been through so much... but I can’t help how I feel.”

Yoriichi is speechless for a moment, mostly for your second remark more than the first. He knows he’s no one special, so the impact was scarce on him. But calling a part of him beautiful so unabashedly shook his heart for a second. “Thank you for saying that, [last name]-chan. If it’s the reason I’m able to help you, then I’m happy for it.”

When he breathes that out, your cheeks suddenly heat up. It’s a tremendous sentiment to be given, and you’re suddenly grateful to still be alive.

Of course you were thankful for Yoriichi before, but now... you feel exuberant strength accumulating within you. It even helps ease your struggles with accepting the fact that you can only give him emotional safety and nothing more.

Yoriichi always tells you that he’s older and doesn’t mind taking care of you—though he would still do his best for you even if he was younger.

In such a short span of time, you had grown extremely close to Yoriichi—and him to you. The nights spent with your head on his lap, his on yours, or mutually draping your haoris (he generously bought you one in your favorite color) over top of you both... they were precious. You cherish them.

Sometimes, when you’re fast asleep, Yoriichi presses his lips against your forehead and sighs against your skin; deeply enraptured with your entity, but too afraid to display such affection when you’re awake.

“Having someone by my side... I never imagined it. Now, I don’t yearn for anything else,” Yoriichi muses to himself, the leaves rustling as the world is still, “I know you’ll depart back to your rightful time someday. And I know... I’ll never be able to love anyone but you.”

The grief is threaded in Yoriichi’s soft voice, yet a tranquil smile is still present on his thin lips. “Maybe I wished for this all along. Wished for you.”

You were a bit slow at times, but Yoriichi never minded having to carry you in his arms; or having you sit on his shoulders when the two of you needed to make great distances. You were also clumsy; couldn’t grill the fish right because you put them too close to the fire at times. But...

You were kind, faithful, and optimistic—you were becoming your old-self, the you who wasn’t overwhelmed with desolation for the future. He wasn’t aware that he was the one who helped you return to your normal self, given you such inspiration and hope.

But Yoriichi is a man of no worth, one who knows he is unable to protect you from your dismal fate.

As he brushes his hand against yours, you unconsciously slip your hand into his... allowing his larger, solicitous hands to encase yours in their heat.

The only one who can grasp your hand... it sounds lonely, like his existence, but it’s much more profound than that. Always behind the clouds is the sun, bright and warm—giving you a push from behind, giving you a perpetual sense of safety. And standing before the sun is the attainable clouds, who give respite and shelter.

“When we die, we’ll be together. We’ll be at the same place. Please, [first name]... don’t lose heart. I’ll never forget you. No matter how much time passes, you’re engraved in me.”

The last thing he whispers is mournful... “Forgive me for being who I am.”

[castawxayaway]

enough

no 43: “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

no 58: “ I’ve waited for this moment for a long time.” 

prompt 43: requested by @captivatedby-captainswan

prompt 58: requested by @xjennifx

thank you for the requests which I’ve ended up combining to make this piece tonight :)

if you want to see the list for yourself and maybe request one *nudge nudge* feel free to!

prompt list / collection of my writing / requests open

Giggling uncontrollably as he unlocked my front door I stumbled inside, having ditched my shoes thankfully a matter of hours ago. Initially we were going to go for a meal, a way for us to catch up on all that I have missed in his life since touring. That, and to remind him of old times growing up, how we’d end up in weird circumstances that only cemented our friendship more. Yet, somehow we ended up in a club- somewhere I had not thought about as I struggled in my choice of footwear. 

Dumping my heels down by the front door he follows through, making sure I’m not too wobbly as I held onto him for the duration of our walk home. “You sure you’re alright?” I can hear the caution amongst the haziness of his words, both of us have had too much, and we know it. 

As I walk over to the cupboards he hovers by the entrance, glancing his way I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Dan, seriously relax!” My words slurring only making his childlike smile expand. Searching deeper into the cupboard I search around, once I get a hold of it I pull it out, holding it high above my head like a trophy. “It is never too late to have more tequila!” Excitement overtakes my tone as he hesitates. 

“You sure we should have any more to drink? I mean, we had a lot.” He proceeds to list the variety of colourful and strong drinks we challenged each other to over the course of the night, only making me laugh more at some of the names. “Okay you’re only laughing ‘cause you’re drunk. I think we should put this one away.” He moves closer and grips onto the bottle, trying to take it from me, but I refuse to let go. 

We proceed to have a silent battle on who is stronger, yet whilst we do I put all my hazy attention to his eyes, accidentally focusing on them soley. Despite the blue drinks I tried and experimented with tonight his could not compare, they remain entirely pure, full of colour and not toxins. The colour in his eyes has a lasting impression, unlike the drinks I had I won’t regret seeing them tomorrow. 

Loosening my grip on the bottle he falls backwards, stumbling over his own feet and falling down. Immediately I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach. “Oh Dan, you really wanted the bottle.” Joking to him he remains still on the ground, too still for my liking. Hesitant I take a step closer towards him, “Dan?” No response. As I bend down to him I lean in, I can hear my heart beating in my chest as he remains completely still on the ground. 

Resting my head against his chest I can feel all of the haziness wash out of my system being swept away with the wave of relief. He has a pulse. Sitting upright I reach my hand out towards his face, “AH!” He yells out sitting up causing me to scream and back away. All he does is laugh and mimic my reaction whilst I sit still, utterly dazed. “You’ve got to admit that was funny.” Laughing to himself I shake my head before standing up and turning the radio on to drown him out. 

“Yeah, so funny scaring me shitless like that.” Sarcasm rolls off my words like lead directly aimed at him. He called my name but I was walking towards my room, not looking back. 

I can feel his hand graze against mine, causing me to face him. We both stand still, a small distance between us as the radio faintly plays in the background. Analysing his eyes I can see him looking at me differently, maybe it is the smell of pure intoxication radiating between the two of us, but something is not the same. “Let’s dance.” Holding his hand out I accept it, hesitant on how to dance with him. 

The song changes, but we don’t stop. We dance like we were in a packed club. His fingertips trace my arms and worked their way across my spine and remained on my hips, moving them against his body. Moving in sync, my head tilting towards his as yet another song ends. 

His face remains inches from mine and the smell becomes more apparent, but neither of us acknowledge it as we remain lost in the music. Facing him I lock my eyes with his, the blue only becoming more intense as the tension rises between us and shallow breaths are apparent as the songs fade behind us.

Everything about him stood out more than I’d ever noticed. His eyes, his little dimples, the stubble that grew around his lips, now irresistable. Leaning in I’m unsure what to expect, but he mumbles something into my lips before a smirk formed across his face. Wrapping my arms around his neck whilst his held my thighs, I jumped up. A small moan escaped my lips, but it was quickly cut off as his rough lips were on mine.

Holding onto me he walked to my bedroom where he struggled to open the door. Chuckling I reach down, opening it for him before going back to kissing him. As we get inside I slide down to his crotch, undoing his belt for him whilst glancing up seeing the desperation written across his face. Moving back up I lift my dress up to take it off, only to have it stick to my arms leaving me with my arms stuck in the air and my face covered by the entirety of this dress. “It’s stuck.” I laugh, still partially giddy. 

I can hear a soft chuckle sound from him before he forcefully pulls it up, once released he smiles as my hair covers most of my face. “You look beautiful.” Part of me can’t tell if he is joking, or is taking a moment to be serious. His thumb glides across my face as he moves my hair out of the way and lightly kisses me. 

As I deepen the kiss I pull on his shirt which he begins to take off, then I remove my bra. Breaking I walk over to the bed, tugging on his jeans as I focus solely on his eyes. He lies on top of me, his face inches from mine as he searches for any hesitation, a sign that I don’t want this. But there is none.  “ You have no idea how much I want you right now.” He mutters before kissing my neck, causing me to moan. 

Pushing him up I hold onto his shoulders, “Let’s get on with it then.” I smirk to him as he pulls down his jeans and pants, positioning himself before one final kiss. 

*

Groaning loudly I squint at the sight of daylight as my head throbs, whether morning or afternoon it remains too intense for my current state. I pull on my duvet and turn on my side, knowing it’ll be the best thing for me whilst I sleep this hangover off. Yet as I tug on my duvet there is some resistance, opening my eyes in confusion I pull again, only to have the same occur again. 

Completely dazed I turn on my other side and as I hear a groan I squeal and end up falling out of bed, dragging the duvet with me. Lying still I rub my eyes as my heart beats too quickly as I lie in my cocoon of shame. My old bed creaks and I sigh to myself, “Who is it?” Attempting to sound bold, it failed as the little integrity that I had was not as useful as I had anticipated. 

Closing my eyes I fear of opening them. “What?” Immediately they burst open, his soft yet rough morning voice. The one I’d get phone calls from when on tour completely drunk or when he couldn’t sleep. 

The mattress squeaks as the springs were relieved of the weight that suppressed them. Footsteps neared me and I shut my eyes tightly, fearing what I’d see as I wracked my brain for an explanation of what happened. 

A confused, gentle and concerned calling of my name made me apprehensive to open my eyes, yet I knew I had to at some point. Maybe we just had too much to drink and crashed, we’ve done that in the past. Yeah, we probably just crashed. Another call of my name in a more questionable tone needed a response. Sighing, I sat upright and opened my eyes. 

Every idea had been shattered as I looked at him, and then glanced down in curiosity. Yep, something happened between us. “Fuck.” He sighs, still out of it whilst I remain wide awake and conscious of the fact that we, that we did that, last night. My best friend. 

No wonder everyone loves him wearing skinny jeans. 

Quickly I fumble in my draws for something to slip on, I mentally sigh as I realise all of my things are in the wash leaving one of two options. The shame only continues as I slip it on and walk out to find him now in a pair of boxers in my main space. “Not my first choice of attire I’ll say.” I sigh as he turns around, trying to hold back the laugh. 

Standing before him I wear his, I mean my tiger onesie. It remains completely tattered, yet for some reason I’ve kept it after all these years. He clenches his jaw and I pick up the tail, swinging it around to ease the tension. “I think you look great.” He comments, failing to acknowledge the mammoth sized elephant in the room. 

“So,” I can’t help but sway back and forth on my heels, unsure how to even address it. “we had sex.” He spits out some of his cereal back into his bowl before coughing aggressively. “Nice to know that is your first reaction.” Laughing he wipes his face before placing his bowl down and walking towards me.

He picks up my hands, holding them into his. “You, you don’t remember?” I can hear how disheartened he is, the look in his eyes as they gaze into mine, trying to find it with little luck. Shaking my head he lowers his. “I’m such a dick.” He releases my hands before walking away. “I knew we shouldn’t have. We were drunk and now you don’t even remember it and probably regret it-”

“Why would I have regretted it?” I pipe up and he stops, stands still and turns to face me. 

A small smile forms on his face before dissolving into his stubble, dimples disappearing. “I, I,” Lost for words I walk back over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. 

“It happened, and if it happened it shows that there is something here.” Motioning between us I can see a smile resembling my own form on his face. “What do you think?” 

He cleared his throat before answering, “I’ve waited for this moment for a long time.” He started, hands moving towards my waist. “And I don’t want to fuck it up, I want to see where this goes.” I nod in agreement. 

“I think this could work, I want this.” I whisper the last part as I move closer, focusing on his lips. 

One light kiss before he breaks off momentarily, “Me too.” 

[anton332258254-blog]

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