#ALSO FR ANON

[translationsquestionmark]

Maybe a strange question but I own that serirei doujin you translated. If I scan and clean the rest of it, would you be willing to translate it?

I'd be honored anon. It's such a good dj even with my sloppy translation and messy edit I'll try my best to deliver one of (if not the) best serirei dj to you🫡

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[choccy-milky]

congrats on baby #2!🥰👍 part 2 to this post bc seb is a smug ass bitch when it comes to getting clora pregnant. and ty @rednite-dork for sending me the original pic ages ago LMFAO... i knew as soon as i saw it that i had to redraw it eventually 👼

[bluegiragi]

konig smiling because he is happy (: vs ghost n soap losing it a little bc augh he’s PRETTY….

konig tends to loosen up whenever he gets tipsy. it's a pleasant novelty for johnny and simon.

[the1trueanon]

hehehehe finally got these done!! Reboot is so fun to draw; I swear drawing him just bursting into laughter immediately made me feel so much better about literally everything 🥰 He has such a pretty smile, especially when it's genuine. I love him being silly and giggly 🥰 I want him to just be able to laugh and be happy .....buuuut at the same time I also want to put him through so many of The Horrors(TM), so maybe my wants shouldn't be trusted XD

As always, Welcome Home belongs to Clown (partycoffin), and Reboot!Wally/the Reboot AU belongs to @bloodrediscream!💖💖

[guinevereslancelot]

what was with cameron house md she spends 90% of the episode saying she wants their patient to die bc he's a genocidal dictator and her colleague husband says "babe it bothers me for ethical reasons that you want our patient to die :(" and she said "hm maybe you're right :/" but when it comes down to it the genocidal dictator lays a finger on her in an aggressive manner and chase instantly commits medical malpractice to murder the guy and then when he tells her she LEAVES HIM bc boo hoo he's a murderer now like GIRL he killed a man for you!!! he's wracked with catholic guilt!!! he's being crushed beneath the weight of his sins because he chose his devotion to you over his devotion to god!!! he literally could not get any sexier at this moment in time!!!

[certifiedlibraryposts]

i used to work as a page at a library

Oh nice, they need a lot of those to be in all the books [i am dragged offstage by a comically long cane]

[kokoasci]

shoutout to the sigma enjoyers (its me i am sigma enjoyers)

[godnectar]

British yan: Blimey, I've got to admit, I proper miss having you around, mate. It's like a right dull day without your banter and all that. Reckon you should come back soon, yeah?

Farmer yan: Well, doggone it, I gotta spill the beans – I'm really hankerin' for your company, partner. It's like a tumbleweed rollin' through a ghost town without ya. Reckon you best mosey on back, y'hear?

(2000) jock yan: Hey, homie, gotta spill it – I'm majorly missing your vibe. It's like, the day's straight-up whack without your banter and all that. You best roll back soon, cool?

(1980) jock yan: Yo, my dude! I gotta lay it out — I'm totally buggin' without you around. It's like a mondo dull day without your rad talk and all. Think you can cruise back soon? Tubular!

Old English speaking Yan: Hark, dear companion! Verily, I must confesseth, mine heart longeth for thy presence. 'Tis as if the day becometh somber without thy merry discourse. Pray, return anon, and bringeth cheer to these halls.

Shy yan: Uh, um, you know, I, uh, I kinda, uh, gotta admit—st-st-stuttering here—that, uh, I really miss, um, having you around, yeah. It's like, you know, a r-r-really boring day without you and all that. R-reckon you should, um, come back s-s-soon, yeah?

this is the best way to tell me "imy come back" after I've went off for some hours 🥹🥹👌👌

[mitchellnman]

I wrote this for you based on the Michael and Martin thing you posted in the tags. It's yours to repost or do whatever you want, you can change it a bit too if you want. Post it in the tags so more people can read it (of course if you want) I hope you like it ❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰

Sharing is loving

Initially Y/n feels a little sorry for Michael when the private lessons start. He's all awkward and embarrassed barely looking her in the eyes when he speaks.

But then she starts to find it interesting, mainly because he clearly has no experience with women. Little by little, she starts to clench her thighs whenever she hears him explain the material to her, and she can no longer even concentrate on what she should be doing.

Y/n then decides to talk about it with her boyfriend, Martin. He just laughs as the two fuck the night away. And when they are exhausted under the sheets he tells her that if she wants to ruin the little virgin nerd he won't be the one to stand in her way.

From the moment Martin gives Y/n carte blanche, she begins to provoke Michael more and more, wearing short skirts and revealing necklines. Feeling her own pussy getting wet whenever she notices the lustful looks he gives her.

He never does anything about it, and Martin just laughs and fucks her when she tells him about what happened that day, unable to understand how the poor guy has the ability to not jump on such a beautiful girl offering herself to him on a silver platter. He would have already spread her legs and eaten that pussy until she cried, which was exactly what he was doing now since that idiot had no ability.

Weeks passed and Michael took no action. Martin lost his patience. He went to the nerd's dorm.

-I don't know what part of the fact that my girlfriend wants you to fuck her you didn't understand. - He said as soon as Michael opened the door and entered the dorm without being invited.

Michael's eyes widened in shock as he walked in behind him as the door slammed shut behind them both.

-W-What do you mean by that? - Michael stammered in bewilderment.

-She wants you to fuck that pussy. - Martin rolled his eyes as he looked at Michael's wall. - Got it? Fuck her until she screams.

-Dude, I'm not going to fuck your girlfriend. - Michael said, blushing, looking at the floor, trying to hide the erection that was forming in his pants just at the thought of fucking Y/n.

-Damn, you're hard just from hearing me talk about her, aren't you? - Martin bit his lips in a mischievous smile making Michael blush even more.

-N-No. - Michael's eyes widened. - I swear I've never looked at your girlfriend like that.

-I know you looked man. - Martin laughed looking at the ceiling. - And it's okay.. no problem at all, I don't mind sharing that hot pussy.

-You shouldn't talk about her like that. - Michael blushed, starting to get irritated by the crazy and disrespectful stranger in his room.

-She doesn't mind. In fact, she likes it. - Martin rolled his eyes. - We both share it, and she also doesn't mind if I eat another girl every now and then.

Suddenly a light knock sounded on the door followed by Y/n's sweet voice calling Michael's name, making his eyes widen and Martin smile widely.

-It's her! - Martin ran towards the closet leaving Michael stunned. - Don't tell her I'm here, or that I came here... just... just eat her pussy already!

Michael stood there without moving for a few moments before he walked mechanically to the door and opened it, his face red and still slightly shocked.

-Is everything okay Michael? - Y/n sounded worried and he just nodded positively letting her in while his eyes fixed on her thighs exposed by the very short skirt.

Michael could barely teach Y/n that session, his gaze wandering from Y/n's tits to Y/n's thighs and then to the closed closet door. He could barely hide his own erection anymore and when Y/n looked him in the eye and asked with those beautiful red lipstick lips if everything was okay, he practically begged.

-Can I fuck you? - The smile that appeared on Y/n's face made his cock tingle.

-Of course you can. - She nodded, already taking off her thin blouse and leaving her breasts bare before his hungry eyes.

-Have you ever seen tits before Michael? - She asked very sweetly and he denied it with his eyes glazed over at her.

Y/n then took off her skirt and panties, slowly opening her legs for his animalistic gaze.

-And a wet pussy just for you? - She sighed, running her fingers through the slit and pulling the moisture to her clitoris. - Have you seen it before?

Michael just shook his head once more, completely enchanted by the sight before him, momentarily even forgetting about Y/n's freak boyfriend hiding in the closet.

-You can touch me Michael. - She moaned, looking at him as she slowly masturbated for him. -I want you to touch me.

And Michael did what he had been wanting to do for a long time. He lay between her legs and sucked a pussy for the first time in his life. It was incredible. Her taste was divine and he wanted to suck her until he died while she pulled him by the hair and moaned his name, begging for more.

He was clumsy and had no technique, but Y/n was loving it anyway since his desire to suck her off overcame everything else.

-Oh Michael, more, more. - She pulled him closer and closer. - Fuck me. Put your cock inside me.

Michael almost came in his pants after that, it took all his strength of mind not to let it happen.

And afraid that he wouldn't be able to do it a second time, he quickly undressed and without thinking about anything else he penetrated her, moaning with contentment as he felt her pussy pressing against him.

Y/n moaned and whimpered as she scratched his bare back. And unable to contain herself any longer with her wet and tight heat around him, Michael came inside Y/n, almost crying with pleasure at the overwhelming sensation never felt before, not being able to be compared to cumming in one's own hand not even in a million years.

And when he fell next to Y/n's trembling body, the closet door opened and Martin came out, his eyes dark with desire as he massaged his own cock. Michael felt his whole body burn with shame as he pulled the bed sheet to cover some of his nakedness. Y/n barely seemed to care, still lying on the carpet, panting.

-What are you doing here baby? - He asked still panting.

-I came to make sure you got what you deserve, but now I need a round too. - He said lying on top of her still dressed only with his pants open and fucking his own cock into Y/n's sensitive pussy that was still leaking with Michael's cum.

-So fucking wet and hot. - He growled, fucking her roughly. - What a delicious pussy you have, my love.

And seeing Martin fuck her in that shameless way before his eyes while Y/n moaned and asked for more, Michael felt himself harden once more and squeezed his own cock under the blanket.

-Let me return the favor. - When Y/n realized she just smiled mischievously and pulling the scarf brought her mouth to his dick. And Michael thought he would die right there.

As Martin fucked her Y/n moaned against Michael's cock, and with the waves of pleasure growing bigger he came a second time in Y/n's mouth who swallowed it all with a smile, then arched her back and rolled her eyes as she came on Martin's cock, who biting her neck tightly came in Y/n's pussy.

The three of them lay panting on the carpet, and Martin turned to Michael with a lazy smile on his face.

-I told you to fuck her, idiot.

Good morning to me, hot damn! 10/10, no notes anon. Thank you for the gift, and for allowing me to share it! I'm glad my late night tired ramblings inspire some folks /gen

[fatuismooches]

Honestly, Dottore with reader as playable chars is such a funny concept. You know people who build supports chars as dps, like Barbara, Qiqi, me with Candace, all that stuff. Dottore insulting the absolute idiocy of the player, while wearing something like under leveled noblesse w/ lvl 1 fav. greatsword, while his lover gets the perfect artifacts, weapon, 3 crowns etc etc, with the motivation of "their autoattacks are so cute, I want to see them more often >:"

-🥀

OMG YESSS... this actually made me realize duo playable Reader and Dottore would be a lot of investment... two separate weapons, level-up materials, artifact sets, talents. You would be spending a LOT of resin on these two and probably end up neglecting one of them if you don't plan accordingly. In this case, Dottore. The poor Harbinger is hitting double-digit damage (giving Dottore The Bell weapon, just to be even more evil) while Reader, despite being the support character, is somehow hitting in the six-digit area for showcases. Needless to say, he's very much not amused at the player's antics, more because now he has to deal with Reader flaunting how much stronger they are compared to him. Unfortunately, it seems like he's going to be benched for a while despite being out on the field all the time...

[hinamie]

mentor

[rayday-mayday]

I just found out that I ( most likely ) have an allergy for grapes, which I think is gonna be really kinda funny if an anti tells me they wish I'll be "graped."

[alicenpai]

stuff is now up for da weekend!! 🏪💨🏃‍♀️🏃‍♂️ will be closed sunday apr 21 at 11 PM EST/once i hit around 25 orders. thank you all! catalogue images + FAQ under da cut

FAQ:

Q. will you restock the farcille charms?

yes! this is just a soft opening for the weekend so there will be more stock coming later this summer.

Q. when is your next opening?

the next shop opening will be in early june!

Q. will you restock the soul eater (specifically soul) charms?

ill have to think about it! typically i dont restock sold out designs that are 2 years old due to a variety of factors.

if you have other questions please lmk, anon questions are OK!

OTHER NOTES:

i love designing buttons but unfortunately they will be discontinued once they sell out.

posters (12x18") are no longer available due to high shipping costs.

[highhhfiveee]

Imagine having matching Christmas pj’s with Mike and Abby?🥹

IT WOULD BE SO CUTE😭

-🌊

!!!!! [i'm a little sleepy so bear with me lmao] pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: mint!reader spends christmas with the schmidts. wc: 880 tags: fem!reader, major fluff, christmas pajamas. just pure holiday sweetness [,: sorry if there are errors, it's late and i'm damn near conking at the keys

i have a pair of reindeer fleece pants that i’ve had for the last two years, and i can imagine abby gifting mint!reader a pair of them while you clear your dinner plates from the coffee table. 

"i gave mike his pair already. i was supposed to wait, but i was too excited," you're forced to place the dishes on the counter as she shoves the pants into your hands with a wide, toothy smile. the reindeer's heads are adorned with santa hats, festive lights strung around their antlers and ears. 

they're pretty cute, screened over the entirety of both legs, and you're rubbing your hand over the soft, fluffy material with a warm-hearted hum. you return abby's smile, reaching down to sway her side to side in a tight hug. "thank you, abs. you have great taste." 

"tell me something i don't know," she replies, and you lean on the counter in a fit of laughter, abby joining you soon after

mike had accepted his pair with a bit of reluctance, giving abby a slow and fabricated, "thankssssss...." as he stared down at the ugly cartoon reindeer. they were everywhere, crudely-drawn with unintelligible blobs for "lights". 

he'd stuffed them to the back of one of his dresser drawers.

the holiday is on a saturday this year, and he's so excited to be able to spend the entire day with you and abby. it's already panning out to be a good time as he enters to the tall christmas tree that's been set up in the corner, illuminated with lightbulbs of all sizes and colors. the ornaments are mostly silly; cardboard gift boxes, paper snowflakes and candy canes, and other kitschy things you and abby had made over the last twelve days.

there's a decent stack of presents under the tree, all wrapped in ways indicative of who handled them. mike's got one more for you in his grip, and he's about to set it under the tree when abby appears from the hallway, staring him down. "what's in your hand?"

"a present. merry christmas, abs." 

"is it for me?" 

"no, it's for y/n. just something last minute." abby takes in the small jewelery store bag dangling from his finger, squinting her eyes. 

"is it a ring?" 

"what---abby, no. we've been on one date." 

"i heard it went well." 

"yeah, well, one date isn't grounds for marriage, good or not. jeez, why don't you go talk to y/n and stop pestering me?" 

"she's changing into her christmas pajamas, something you should be doing as well. won't be fully christmas without them." 

mike stands to his full height, shaking his head with an irritated, "nuh uh. not happening, sorry." 

"oh come on, i spent my allowance on those pants!" 

"terrible purchase," mike deadpans, beginning to move towards the kitchen when you come into the early morning light of the living room. it stops him in his tracks. 

your hair rests atop your head, curly tendrils toppling over your eyes, and you look down at yourself as you notice mike staring at you. you survey for drool stains since you slept in your black camisole, and twist and turn as you scrutinize the pants on your bottom half. "a little small, but they'll do. thanks again, abby. you're really sweet," you're reaching out to pull abby into your side when you finally see mike, giving him such a bright, energized smile even though it's 7:53 in the morning. you're just so beautiful, and it nearly causes mike to lose all brain function.

"hi, mike! did you have a good shift?" 

"yeah," he sighs out, tongue so dry it'd work better as tinder. he composes himself, swallowing as he jokes, "watching over animatronics is really the life." 

you giggle, turning to hide your blushed cheeks and goofy, totally-crushing-very-hard grin. "well, you're employee of the century in my eyes, your picture should be everywhere! oh, speaking of pictures, abby wanted to take one with all of us in our festive pjs. mind changing real quick?"

there's no protest. mike's damn near the roadrunner with how fast he dashes in and out of his room, standing in front of you two in a white t-shirt and his reindeer pants in what feels like fifteen seconds. 

abby sticks her tongue out at him, huffing and crossing her arms over her chest with an indignant head raise, but mike pays her no mind, musing, "so...a picture you said," to you as he stares into your eyes and melts like a bar of chocolate left out on a hot day. 

the picture comes out cute; abby sits between you and mike, and your cheek rests against the top of her head while he keeps the two of you close to him by stretching one of his arms across your shoulderblades and pulling you in tighter. you're all smiling, perfectly poised for the shot, and mike can't help but think about how this is all he wants forever as you shriek at the custom necklace that he's gotten for you; deep yellow gold with a heart locket that had a tiny picture of him and abby inside, all of your initials carved into the metal on the other half. 

"mike!" 

"merry christmas, y/n."

omg i was not expecting to write this but how fucking cute. i really do love the holiday season so this is really nice. i can't believe american thanksgiving is in THREE DAYS. that's fucking NUTS!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

[mappingthesky]

planymphia wives honeymoon cutesy fluffy and overwhelmingly emotional drabble pleaseee

take my hand (take my whole life, too)

or: it’s their first week of being married - jane can’t stop referring to nymphia as ‘my wife’, nymphia can’t stop crying, and no one has ever been more in love in all of time.

Jane wakes up when Nymphia rolls over and flings a heavy arm across her torso in sleep.

Jane’s eyes flutter. Sunlight threatens to spill in from the other side of the heavy hotel room curtains all too soon. She’s only half conscious, and her eyes are still a little blurry with last night’s wine, and she’s content to drift back off to sleep, lulled by the gentle brush of Nymphia’s fingertips down her sternum, but then-

A little gasp, a sharp intake of breath. “Oh my god.”

“Mmwhat?” Nymphia mumbles, her eyes still closed as Jane grabs for her hand. Again, when her wrist is nearly pulled from the rest of her arm. “What?”

“Nymphia,” Jane whispers, but it’s thin, because she’s smiling. Nymphia can barely make it out through the dim light of the room and the sleep that clouds her vision, but she knows it just the same. She would recognize that smile by the sound of Jane’s words spoken through it, by the feeling of her soft gaze upon her. She would know it anywhere - even in the dark.

“We got married.”

Nymphia’s eyes blink open and look over at Jane. She’s on her back, holding Nymphia’s hand up to the light. She turns it over carefully, fingertips against her open palm, thumb tracing over the silver band on Nymphia’s ring finger. A diamond glitters in the dark.

“I know,” Nymphia grumbles, still half-asleep, still unwilling to be awoken for anything at all. “Spent eight months planning it, ’member?”

It was longer than that. It was the culmination of years of dreaming and months of planning, of Nymphia ironing out every last detail, Jane somehow even more stressed than she was, because she’d wanted it all to be perfect. For her.

(“You have a say, too,” Nymphia had reminded her on more than one occasion. “This day is about the both of us.”

“I know, baby,” Jane said, that spot between her brows that creases when she thinks too hard momentarily relaxing as she kisses Nymphia’s cheek. “But it’s really about you. Everything is about you.”)

Jane pulls Nymphia’s hand closer, studies it for a long while. Nymphia’s eyes are just closing again when Jane presses a kiss to her ring finger, then to her palm, more kisses up the inside of her wrist, the length of her arm, up her shoulder. Nymphia whines.

It comes back to her slowly as Jane coaxes her from her sleep, the only one she’d ever allow. Their night. It was everything they ever could have asked for, more than that. Their friends lining the aisle, swearing that they knew this day would come, arguing over who had really called it first. Jane, who had sworn she wouldn’t cry, who had warned Nymphia not to be worried if she didn’t, dissolving into tears the moment Nymphia emerged in all white. Nymphia, unsurprisingly to everyone, openly sobbing for half of the night, dabbing a tissue underneath her damp eyes at the dinner table. They’d had two glasses of champagne each, and nothing else.  They’d promised, because they wanted to remember this: the toasts, the dancing, each other, every moment.

Nymphia is beaming by the time Jane kisses her shoulder blade, eliciting a hum.

“Was it everything you wanted?” Jane murmurs, brushing a dark strand of hair back to kiss Nymphia’s ear.

A smile splits through Nymphia’s sleep, eyes still closed as she nuzzles deeper into the pillow, deeper into Jane. “It was perfect.”

Jane kisses Nymphia’s cheek. “What was your favorite part?”

“Mmm,” Nymphia hums, because how could she ever pick just one shining moment to stand out among the rest? How could she even begin to split the single most incandescent day of her life into segments? 

“The part where we went home,” Nymphia says, and Jane is pulling her closer. “The part where we went to bed and you let me sleep in.”

“Can’t let you sleep in,” Jane says, chin coming to rest on the crown of Nymphia’s head where it comes to press against her chest. “Too in love with you.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, basking in the warmth of last night as it rolls over to this morning.

“Wanna know my favorite part?” Jane asks, and Nymphia can feel the soft reverberation of her voice through her skin. “The part where we wake up and I get to say that you’re my wife.”

Nymphia can’t help but laugh at the sentiment. “This part?” she says, finally tilting her head up to look at Jane. She’s never gotten used to this - Jane looking at her every day like she’s still shiny and new. She doesn’t think she ever will. 

“Yeah. This part,” Jane beams, one hand coming to cradle Nymphia’s cheek as she smiles. “You’re my wife.”

“This part’s pretty good,” Nymphia stares into Jane, belly burning with butterflies, a love bigger and brighter than she ever thought was possible. “Say it again.”

Jane grins and brings her lips to Nymphia’s, kisses her with a lifetime of devotion. She pulls away, and there’s forever in her eyes. 

“You’re my wife,” Jane smiles. “And I’m yours.”

-

Jane doesn’t travel well.

She puts her packing off until the last possible minute and grumbles all the way to the airport. Nymphia can’t be upset though, because Jane ‘my wife’s’ Nymphia at every possible opportunity - she does it to the disgruntled employee who checks their bags, and the TSA agent who checks their passports, and the barista who makes their coffees while they’re killing time at their terminal. Nymphia rolls her eyes every time, but she’s smiling too, and can’t stop examining the sparkle on her left hand ring finger. 

Jane goes so anxious on the plane that Nymphia has to hold her hand through the takeoff. She doesn’t let go until thirty minutes into the flight, when Jane is finally distracted enough to drop her shoulders and stop thinking about the miniscule possibility that they go plummeting to the ground.

Eventually, they settle in. It’s a long flight, nearly twenty hours, and they shelled out on first class for the occasion. Nymphia’s got the window seat (partly because Jane knows she likes to look out the window, and partly because she can’t stomach seeing the ocean several thousand feet beneath them), and Jane wastes no time getting comfortable. 

(“It’s for my wife,” Jane tells the stewardess when she requests an extra blanket. “She runs cold.” 

Nymphia stares up from her book just long enough to swat Jane’s arm, muttering “that’s not even true.”

“I know,” Jane shrugs. “Just wanted to see what playing the wife card could get me.”

“Careful,” Nymphia warns. “You’re gonna wear it out.”

“What, calling you my wife?” Jane grins. “Baby, that’s never gonna get old.”)

They’re curled up together, alternating between books and movies and laughing at odd little happenings around them. Jane scoffs at shitty jokes on the screen, and Nymphia leans over to read her passages from her book, and Jane hums like she’s listening, but really she’s just admiring Nymphia in her comfy clothes, dark hair pulled back, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose. She likes her the best like this.

At the end of her movie, Jane glances over at Nymphia. “Are you excited?”

She thinks she knows what the answer will be, but she’s asking anyway, because she wants it to be perfect - their honeymoon, their first trip together as a married couple, their first foray into the rest of their lives together. They’d debated on a destination for weeks on end. They’d considered a roadtrip across America (too pedestrian - they’ll save that one for another summer), or a week in Vegas where they’d get married again in some cheap chapel (too cliche - they’ll save it for their vow renewals). They’d debated on whether or not to book a room in the most luxurious resort they could find in Thailand, but had settled on a cozy beachside bungalow instead. Jane thought Nymphia would like that the best, knew she would too, because she’d be happy if Nymphia was.

It’s funny how someone can change you so completely and entirely, how they can bring out the best part of you that was waiting to be discovered. Before Nymphia, Jane had always put herself first, even at the expense of others. She was content like that, and then she met Nymphia, and the center of her universe shifted outside of herself. For the first time it wasn’t a chore to care for someone else, and Jane was better because of it. 

“For the honeymoon?” Nymphia asks, folding her book in her lap. She looks down at Jane all nestled in her blankets, hoodie pulled over her blonde hair, and can’t help but smile. 

Nymphia had always been a hopeless romantic, all too eager to hand her heart over to the wrong person. She was a tender thing then, bruising easily in careless hands, burning through her own wells of hope faster than she could replenish them, and after the almost-great-loves of her young adulthood, she felt like she’d been cored. Having her heart handed back to her so unrequitedly time after time, she’d thought she’d been selfish to want a love as big as her own, to expect anyone to be able to return what she gave to them. She’d stopped dreaming of it altogether, and then she’d met Jane. Jane, who reveres her like the Earth reveres the Sun, who worships the ground that she walks on, who straightened out every desire Nymphia had crumpled up inside of herself and gave her more than she could ever dare ask for. 

Now, Nymphia knows she can be selfish. She looks over at Jane and thinks that she wants this for all time - all of Jane, all to herself. 

“Yeah, baby. I’m so excited.” Nymphia reaches over to take Jane’s hand. “Jus’ wanna spend time with you.”

“Good,” Jane smiles, “me too.” She tilts her head up, puckers her lips in a silent request for a kiss, and Nymphia obliges.

-

The plane starts its descent several long hours after they’ve woken up, and Nymphia is grabbing Jane’s hand before she even has to ask, because she knows she hates this part the most. Jane sucks air through her teeth as the last bit of turbulence rocks the plane, and Nymphia rubs her thumb in soothing circles over the back of her hand. As soon as they hit the tarmac, Jane snaps back into place, blocking the whole aisle just to get Nymphia’s carry-on out of the overhead compartment.

“Sorry,” Jane says over her shoulder to a disgruntled passenger. “My wife. She’s pregnant.”

“Jane,” Nymphia hisses through her teeth. “You of all people should know I’m not pregnant.”

“Not yet,” Jane kisses her shoulder before they maneuver down the aisle. “But when I’m through with you…”

Nymphia scoffs, smiling into the air, because she knows it’s impossible, but if anyone’s love could defy the laws of science, it would be theirs.

-

Despite their sleep on the plane, Jane and Nymphia are so impossibly jetlagged, and the car ride to the bungalow is a delirious haze. Determined to push through the rest of the day, they tumble out of their room and onto the tree-lined streets, perusing the local offerings and getting dinner while they speak to each other in exhausted, two-word sentences that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. It’s all they need.

And then they’re out under the sky, wandering in this beautiful place with blue-green water that laps in whispering waves over the sandy beach, and Nymphia has never looked so beautiful to Jane as she does under the moonlight. 

She’s running up the beach, shrieking as the water splashes at her feet, or when Jane chases her up the shore and catches her, spinning her around and pressing crazed kisses against her hairline. Nymphia is laughing, and then her cheeks are wet with tears, and Jane is wiping underneath her eyes.

“Hey,” Jane says, pushing Nymphia’s hair behind her ears, a careful concern crossing her face. “Why tears?”

“I’m just so happy,” Nymphia blubbers, smiling through the silver-wet stars in her eyes, because it’s all been such a beautiful blur, and it hasn’t hit her until right now that this is the rest of her life. “I can’t believe we get to do this forever.”

“God, you’re unbelievable, you know that?” Jane smiles. “Here I was thinking you stepped on a sea urchin. Or you got stung by a jellyfish. And I’d have to pee on your leg or something. Wouldn’t that be a great start to our honeymoon?”

“Shut up,” Nymphia sobs. “You’re ruining the moment!”

“M’sorry, my love,” Jane coos, wiping another tear from Nymphia’s face. “You’re the most sentimental girl alive, you know I can’t keep up with that.”

Nymphia just laughs, because yes, she’s endlessly sentimental, but, secretly, so is Jane. She still remembers the first time she’d opened a card from Jane and was met with pages filled almost entirely with ink, letters squished together to make room for as many as possible, words winding around whatever tacky quote was stamped in the middle. Jane had a way with words, despite whatever she’d tell you otherwise, and never ceased to amaze Nymphia with the sincerity she seemed to save just for her. 

(It crosses Nymphia’s mind then what her favorite part of the wedding really was - when Jane had recited her vows from memory in front of all their family and friends, had taken those impossibly beautiful things that were usually relinquished to their most intimate moments and had loved Nymphia enough to profess it in front of everyone. Not that they didn’t know already. You can’t hide a love as enormous as this one.)

“You keep up just fine,” Nymphia says softly, resting her cheek against Jane’s hand. She swears Jane’s eyes go misty just before she kisses her right there on the sand, beneath the stars, beneath the universe that brought them together.

-

Nymphia smiles when Jane crawls into bed. She’s in a gray crewneck that’s cut across her shoulders, and she’s propped up against fluffy pillows, and Jane is pushing the book out of her hands.

“Dinner was perfect,” Jane kisses her cheek before slipping into bed beside Nymphia. “But is it bad that I just wanted to get back to the room?”

“It’s terrible,” Nymphia turns over, slotting her back against Jane’s chest. “Is this the part where we get old and boring?”

“Yes,” Jane envelops Nymphia in her hold, fits against her in the way they’re going to for the rest of their lives, slides a hand down the length of her torso and up the inside of her thigh. 

“Not even gonna call you a whore or anything,” Jane kisses her ear. One hand cups Nymphia’s breast, the other dips between her legs. “Just gonna fuck you good and tell you how much I love you.”

“So boring,” Nymphia sighs, already melting away.

“So boring.”

(It’s not boring at all.)

-

Now that it’s hit Nymphia, she can’t stop crying every time the sheer enormity of it washes over her.

She’s always been emotional, but sometimes there’s a delay. Her life moves so fast, always swept up in the current of whatever dream she’s chasing, and sometimes it isn’t until she has a second to slow down that she realizes just how special every fleeting moment has been.

It’s been a whole week of being married, of wandering through villages and long hikes up mountain sides and afternoons spent sunning on the shore, of dawns and dinners and keeping a distance from the rest of the world as they know it. Now, Nymphia is sitting in a hammock at the edge of the beach, and she’s looking out over the water, and she’s basking in the overwhelming perfection of this moment. It’s something out of a dream, the sort of thing she’d long thought would be impossible for her to experience, and she can’t help but want to slow it all down, to draw out every precious moment long enough to memorize them, to make them last forever.

She’s sniffling just a bit when Jane finally finds her. She slides into place beside her, knees tucked into her chest, and stares quietly at the last of the sun as it sets over the ocean.

“Beautiful,” Jane murmurs, and it’s about the sunset, but it’s about Nymphia too. She presses a soft kiss to Nymphia’s shoulder.

“I don’t want it to end,” Nymphia sighs, unwilling to look away from the heaven that’s in front of her. They still have another day of this, one more perfect day at the edge of reality, and then they’ll be packing their things, leaving the quiet paradise of their bungalow and flying home. Back to work, back to their crazy, stupid friends, back to the never-ending rush and whirr of the city.

It’s not just that Nymphia doesn’t want the honeymoon to end. She doesn’t want this to end: her and Jane, so head-spinningly in love that nothing else matters, so finely attuned to one another, so freshly devoted to making it last. Nymphia wants so desperately to do it right, for their love to outlive that of either of their parents, for them to see all of their promises through for years to come. The possibility that they can’t pull it off is mind-numbingly terrifying, but the possibility that they can…

It’s an impossible promise to make to one another, and yet they’ve already done it. 

Nymphia sighs, mind swirling, and Jane somehow knows exactly what she means when she says, “what do we do now?”

Jane goes quiet for a moment, staring out over everything she’s ever wanted, and does her best to be brave for Nymphia.

“We sit out here until we’re too tired to keep our eyes open, and then I’ll take you to bed,” Jane says softly. “And then we have one more beautiful day, okay?”

“Okay,” Nymphia says, chewing on her cheek, still unable to look away from the landscape should it all disappear on her. “And then what?”

“And then we go home,” Jane looks over at Nymphia. “We go back to our house. And I’ll take you to work every morning, and then I’ll come home and be pissed about something, probably, and you’ll roll your eyes and tell me to shut up and I will, because I love you and, y’know, I generally think you’re right about everything. And we’ll have our stupid friends over and show them a billion pictures from our trip and kick them out so we can watch Project Runway and fuck. How does that sound?”

Nymphia giggles, and when she finally tears her gaze away from the beach, she realizes there’s another heaven right beside her, one that she gets to take home. And home, their home, the one with the fat cat and the mismatched furniture and their pictures all over the wall, that's another heaven too. Suddenly, the trip being over doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. Nymphia is almost looking forward to it.

“Are you scared?” Jane ventures softly, searching Nymphia’s face carefully. “It’s okay if you are.”

“Only a little,” Nymphia mumbles, voice wavering, eyes watering. 

“I’m a little scared too. We’ll take it one day at a time, okay?” Jane continues, looking a little smaller all of a sudden, pushing through every worry that threatens to override her strong front. “I know we’ll have bad days too, Nymph. I know I’m gonna fuck up and not listen enough and piss you off sometimes, but I love you to fucking pieces. I’m gonna give you the best I’ve got, I promise you.”

Nymphia takes Jane’s hand, and there are silent tears streaming down her face, because it’s only been a week and she already loves Jane more than she did on the day that she married her. It’s enough love to override everything that threatens to pierce through their perfect bubble, enough to fuel the years to come, enough to roll over into the next life and the one after that.

“And if you get sick of me,” Jane teases, squeezing Nymphia’s hand. “Y’know. Just say the word.”

“Shut up. I’ll never get sick of you,” Nymphia cries, throwing her arms around Jane’s shoulders. Jane laughs into her neck, pulls her closer into a bone-crushing embrace. This is the best part - Nymphia married her best friend. It’s enough just to hold her, just to be beside her. All those other parts, the sex and the sweet nothings and the swearing each other to forever, they’re just the luxuries of being in love with her. 

“You promise?” Jane says into Nymphia’s hair. She knows what the answer will be. She just wants to hear it anyway.

“I promise,” Nymphia whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Jane says. “With all my heart.”

(They go home two mornings later, back to the city and their couch and their cat, and they aren’t scared anymore, because the warm glow of one another lasts much longer than fleeting sunsets over foreign shores. They wake up together, kiss goodbye on the way to work, hang their wedding photos on the wall and muse over the best day of their lives for years to come. They have lots of good days, and a few bad ones, too. They fight, and then they talk, and they never go to bed angry, just put each other back together in the way that only they can. And then they wake up and love each other more in spite of it.

The honeymoon was great, but here’s the best part: they make it last.)