#cause i get off on a king/queen fucking their subject and the bottom calling them my king/my lord

[nochilforthechuck]

SOME FOOD FOR Y’ALL, more under the cut WARNING suggestive + manga spoiler!!! (Full on Poipiku at the end)

Uncensored HERE

[thepremedthatwrites]

Ms. Fairytale

summary: Being married to the King of Narnia is hard when you were just a simple peasant girl beforehand.  Your background makes it easy for visiting Kings to mock you.  After a particularly horrendous meeting, Edmund finds a way to lift your spirits. 

requested by @rangerelik​ 

warning: smut below the cut

My hands gripped the edges of the book as my eyes furiously scanned the words.  I was curled up in one of the large armchairs in the center of the library as I got lost in the world within the pages.  The sound of the large mahogany doors slamming shut broke me from my spell.  I looked up to see Lucy standing there.  I gave a small smile before returning to the book.  “(Y/n),” Lucy started as she made her way towards me.  “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting right now?”  I felt my heart start to race as I tore my eyes from the pages of my book and searched for the clock that sat next to the doors.

“Shit!” I exclaimed jumping from my chair and tossing my book down.  The meeting was to start now.  I rushed to the door, pulling it open before sprinting down the hallway.  I  burst into the room to see the Telmarine King sitting in one of the chairs positioned around the circle table.  His associates were seated around the table as well.  My husband was sitting next to an empty seat.  My seat.  They all turned to face me, the doors slamming closed behind me.  

“Sorry,” I mumbled looking down at the floor as I made my way to my seat.  

“What could possibly cause you to be late to such an important meeting?” the Telmarine King questioned, his associates quietly snickering as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“I was reading,” I replied.

“Reading?” he questioned, his eyebrows raised.  “What subject would be so interesting as to distract you?”

“Fairytales,” I said in almost a whisper.  My response only caused the King’s associates to laugh louder.

“Fairytales!” the King laughed.  

“That’s enough,” Edmund said, cutting off whatever the Telmarine King had been planning on saying.  “We do not have time to discuss my wife’s reading habits.  You wanted to speak of trade?”

“Yes,” the King replied, his eyes lingering on me before turning to my husband.  “I believe that Telmar has an unlimited source of valuable spices for Narnia.”

“And what exactly do you want in return for these spices?”

“Horses,” the King replied.  “And soldiers.”  I couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the proposal.  

“Surely you are kidding,” I said.  “While spices are valuable, there are numerous other nations willing to give us spices for a much more reasonable trade.  Our soldiers are worth much more than extra flavor for our food.”

“I would let the professionals talk, Ms. Fairytale,” the Telmarine King sneered, his men smirking at the nickname the King used for me.  “Last time I checked, you come from a farm.  Tell me, what did the farm teach you that makes you think you can speak to me in such a way?”

“You will refer to my wife with her proper title, Queen (y/n) of Narnia,” Edmund said, his jaw clenched as his hands clenched the edge of the table.  “And I recommend speaking with respect to the monarchs of Narnia unless you want to lose all trading relations with us.  We will not be accepting your offer today Your Majesty.  I do wish you a safe ride home.  Now, if you will excuse us, my wife and I will be leaving now.”  Edmund got up, before extending a hand for me.  I took it, getting up as well and following him out of the room.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as we made our way to our bedroom.  He turned to me, his face twisted with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I just ruined the meeting,” I sighed as the guard that stood outside our bedroom opened the door for us.  

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Edmund said as the door closed behind us.  “It was the idiotic King and his brainless minions that ruined the meeting.”  I flopped onto the bed, my body bouncing a few times as my dress was splayed around me.  “I’m pretty sure you have more brain cells than all of them combined.”  I couldn’t help but chuckle at my husband’s words.

He laid down next to me, both of us gazing up at the ceiling.  “I just feel that nobody takes me seriously since I’m not of royal blood.”

“I take you seriously,” he said.  I turned my head to look at him.  His head turned to the side to look at me as well.  He grinned at me as I scrunched my face.

“I mean monarchs from other nations.”

“I think there are some that do.  The others will come around eventually when they see how capable you are.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”  I smiled.  Edmund leaned in, kissing my lips softly.  My hand moved to his face, my fingers lightly tracing his jawline.  “We don’t have anything planned for the rest of the day.”

“But I have my book waiting for me in the library,” I teased, starting to get up.  Edmund’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back to the bed.  I let out a squeal as my head hit the pillow.

“I’m sure your book can wait,” he whispered as he positioned his knees on either side of me.  He leaned down, resting his weight onto his forearms that rested next to my head.  He had caged me into the bed.  His lips kissed me harshly, leaving me breathless and wanting more as he pulled away.  His lips traveled along my jawline, sucking harshly before pressing his lips gently on the bare skin where a hickey had already started to form.  

I let a low moan as he kissed between my collar bones.  My hands gripped his biceps that flexed underneath his shirt.  His lips traveled lower before stopping right where the fabric of my dress started.  His lips left my skin before returning to where they started on my neck.  “For the love of Aslan Ed, stop teasing me,” I whined.  

“Yes, my queen,” Edmund whispered before getting up on his knees.  I let out something between a moan and a whimper at his words.  I quickly sat up, frantically untying the back of my dress as Edmund pulled his shirt over his head.  I shrugged off the fabric, the top of my dress pooling around my waist.

Edmund gripped the fabric of my dress, pulling it down my body and leaving me in only my undergarments.  He leaned over, pressing his lips against mine as his hands wandered my newly exposed skin.  He pulled away, his hands playing with the fabric covering me from him.  In a single, swift motion my underwear was gone.  I moaned at the sight of my husband, his face level with my throbbing pussy that was begging for his touch.  My need was quickly met as the tip of Edmund’s tongue touched my clit.  My back arched as my fingers entangled themselves with his brown locks.  

I would have been embarrassed that such a light touch was enough to alight my body with pleasure if my husband hadn’t been the one to make me act in such a way.  “Ed,” I panted as he expertly sucked on my clit, flicking his tongue across it every so often.  He had always been amazing at this.  Edmund always knew how to touch me in a way that left me wanting more.  “Oh fuck Ed,” I moaned.  I had started to roll my hips as I chased my orgasm.  My moans jumped an octave as a wave of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me to drown in pure bliss.  I threw my head back as my hips slowed down.  

Edmund pulled away, climbing up my body to look into my eyes.  His face held a lopsided grin as he put his hand to my cheek.  “What would my queen like next?” he asked. 

“I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”  He let out a groan at my words, the indent in his pants becoming more evident.  

“Then get on your hands and knees, love.”  I did as told, hearing him taking off his pants.  I felt his body hover over me, his lips gently kissing the back of my neck before he straightened himself upright.  I let out a slight gasp as he pushed into me.  I could feel myself stretching to accommodate his length as he bottomed out.  The pace he started was slow and gentle as his hands wandered my body.  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, almost absentmindedly.  “And I know you’ll look even more beautiful when you’re screaming my name.”  I moaned at his words.  

Edmund started to quicken the pace causing the bed to move with us.  My hands gripped the sheets in front of me as my eyes rolled into the back of my head.  “Fuck Ed,” I moaned.  “You feel so good.”  

“Yeah (y/n)?” he panted, his hands traveling to my (h/c) locks.  “You like it when I fuck you like this?”  I nodded vigorously.  He pulled on my hair, causing my head to fall back.  “Tell me that you like being fucked by me.”

“Oh Ed,” I moaned.  “I love it when you fuck me.”  I struggled to get the words out, my brain foggy with pleasure.  Ed hummed in response,  leaning forward so that his mouth was next to my ear.  His lips bit down on my earlobe eliciting a moan.  My grip on the sheets got tighter as Edmund’s mouth traveled down my neck.  His hands left my hair as his arms wrapped around my body, holding me as he fucked me from behind.

“Edmund!” I gasped.  “I’m so close.”

“That’s it, love,” he whispered into my ear, moving a hand to rub circles on my clit.  “Just like that.”  His pace seemed to increase even more, most likely from a combination of wanting to make me finish as well as chasing his own orgasm.  

“Oh Ed,” I moaned as my entire body shook with pleasure.  Edmund’s breathing had become even more ragged as his thrusts became more erratic, his hand leaving my clit to wrap around my body once again.  Soon enough, I felt him cum in me as my name fell from his lips.  We stood in place for a moment, his arms still around me as I let go of the sheets.  I slowly moved my fingers that had become cramped from gripping the sheets so tightly.  Edmund rolled off of me, leaning forward to grab the blanket that had collected at the foot of the bed.

He wrapped it around us, pulling me into his chest.  His fingers raked through my hair as he gently kissed my forehead.  “I’m so lucky to have you as my wife,” Edmund said as I traced shapes on his chest.  

“And I’m lucky to have you as my husband.”

“I love you, Ms. Fairytale.”

“Oh Aslan,” I groaned, rolling my eyes.  “Please do not tell me that’s my new nickname.”

“I don’t know, I like the way it rolls off my tongue.”

“Call me that again and I’ll make you sleep in the stables.”

“Noted, Queen Fairytale.”  I looked into Edmund’s eyes to see a mischievous glint in them.  I couldn’t help but grin at my husband.  

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know.” 

[thebountyfucker]

The Royal Affair - A Choose Your Own Prince Fic

18+ ONLY - NSFW

I wanted to try an experiment where I wrote a story with two parallel branches so readers could choose which character they wanted to read without me writing two separate fics! Let me know what you think! (Subject to more parts!)

Embo x AFAB!Reader or Cad Bane x AFAB!Reader

Tags/CW: Threats of violence/assault, embarrassment

Here's the link to my masterpost!

Want to be tagged in upcoming fics like this? Here's my taglist application!!

You eased up to the table, smiling despite yourself, and bowed your head. You didn’t say anything to them, as per the instructions from your boss, and carefully handed out the flutes of champagne. The royals prattled on in Durese, hardly paying you any mind, though the Prince did cast a glance up at you from the periphery of his vision. You bowed your head once more, and turned to leave.

-

You had never been more nervous in your life than you were now; with a tray of champagne flutes balanced in your hand, and the heel on your left shoe coming loose, you had to put the entirety of your focus onto your task at hand. It was a simple one, really - deliver the drinks to the Duros royal family, bow, and return back to the kitchen to fetch hors d'oeuvres. Simple. Easy. Yet the wobbling in your ankle frightened you. The last thing you needed was to drop the crystal flutes in front of everyone - or worse, on someone.

As you turned, you heard a loud snap, and your ankle buckled and rolled; you went down, your tray clattering to the floor. Conversations around you stopped, and the gazes of three royal families found you collapsed on the floor. A horrified blush crept up on your cheeks as you crawled toward your tray and gathered it up in your arms; you pulled off your shoes and slowly stood, pain blossoming from your ankle. You limped to the back room, and tossed your shoes straight into the garbage.

“What happened to you?” One of your coworkers, a pretty Rutian Twi’lek, asked, glancing down at your now bare feet and rapidly-swelling ankle.

“My fucking heel broke!”

“Oof, tough luck.” She shook her head as she kneeled down and prodded at your ankle. The pain was horrendous, but she didn’t look concerned. “It ain’t broken… I’ll see if I can get a wrap and some new shoes for you.”

“Thank you, Salicia.” You muttered as you sat down, propping your leg up on the seat beside you. Your other coworkers came and went, taking out drinks and snacks, and coming back with dishes and trash. They hardly spared you a glance. There was work to be done and attending to the weak link would only slow it down. You sighed softly as Salicia returned with a bandage and a pair of silken flats.

She sat beside you, gingerly lifting your leg to wrap your ankle. She was gentle, and the pressure of the bandage made it feel instantaneously better. When she had secured it in place, she handed you the pair of flats; colored a vibrant blue, the flats sported a winged lizard embroidered on each of the sides. The slippers clashed with your uniform, but it was better than nothing; you eased them on, and cast Salicia a glance.

“Queen Esmera gave these to me when she saw me asking the other girls. She saw you fall, said these would probably be more comfortable than anything we could offer.” She explained, her lekku tips curling up as she shrugged. “I think she may be fishing for a thank you… so… you might want to go out and tell her.”

“Alright.” You sighed as you stood and brought your tray back to the bar; the bartender noted you with a frown, but knew better than to say anything. “Can you get me seven glasses of your most expensive Phatrongi red? You can… add it to the party’s tab.”

“Did Queen Esmera give you those?” He asked, suspicion heavy in his voice. You glanced down at your shoes and nodded.

“Yep.”

“I suppose the wine is a ‘thank you’ to her.” He muttered, waiting for your nod, before continuing. “And you’re stroking her ego because…?”

“Because it’s the polite thing to do, I guess.” You shrugged, and he shook his head as he poured the thick, purple wine into the glasses.

“Yeah. Polite. And then they turn around and treat you like trash.”

“They’ve been nice to me so far.” You muttered as he helped stack the seven glasses of red wine onto your tray. Your departure toward Queen Esmera’s table was slow-going, as you didn’t want to risk tripping or putting undue stress on your ankle. Your coworkers were careful about not bumping into you, but there were a few close calls.

You made your way toward the Kyuzan Queen, careful to stand a distance away in case she turned her head to regard you; her ostentatious crown, constructed of metals and jewels and silken cloths, was large enough that it could sweep the wine right off your tray. That was the last thing you wanted.

She did, in fact, turn when she noticed you, and you breathed a small sigh of relief as her crown cleared your tray. She offered you a kind, mask-less smile, and you bowed your head respectfully in response.

“Thank you for your kindne-.”

And then it happened. You took a few step closer and the slippers caught on something - likely the queen’s dress. You tripped, and the tray of wine went flying; the wine splashed upon the Queen’s lap and onto the table. The princes and the King jumped back from the table as the wine spread out toward them. Your heart plummeted to the bottom of your chest, and you dropped to your knees at her side.

“I am so sorry.” Tears welled in your eyes. Salicia rushed over with towels, much sooner than you expected, and thrust one at you; she mopped up the table, apologizing to the princes, while you gingerly dabbed at the Queen’s dress. The red wine marred her white and gold gown, and you knew that the stain would never come out. “Please forgive me. Please. I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you.”

The Queen gingerly patted your head as you dabbed at her gown; the weight of her ring-covered hand was rather comforting, and it did make you feel quite a bit better.

“There, there, Little One.” Her voice was honeyed and velvet-smooth, yet there was an imposing timbre deep beneath it, as if she knew and reveled in the power she had in this situation. “It was an accident, and these things happen. It is okay.”

“It is not okay!” The King’s booming voice startled you from the calmed stupor the Queen had put you in. Your gaze focused on the Queen’s dress as the party hall went quiet. “This insolent worm ruined your dress!”

“There is no reason to be upset. What is done is done.” Queen Esmera continued to pat your head reassuringly.

“There must be recompense!”

“Enough. You are causing a scene.” Her voice was even and steely, and her husband eased back down into his chair. The waves of rage radiating off the king made your skin crawl - he was one of those kings where the rumors of his temper far outshined any good he had done. There were numerous stories about girls being used and thrown in ditches after minor misdeeds. You hoped your employer would protect you from the likes of him… but that was no certainty. “The dress is ruined. I will call for a maid to bring me another.”

“I’m so sorry.” You repeated, and she tilted your chin up.

“That is enough, Little One. Now run along, okay?” She smiled sweetly, and you got up with your metaphorical tail between your legs. You limped back to the staging room, where you found a bench and collapsed onto it. Tears threatened to spill over, but you rubbed them away with the heels of your hands. You felt so foolish, so demeaned. The worst part of this, though, was that it was all your fault. No royal had made you spill the wine. No royal purposefully tripped you, nor did they break the heel from your shoe. It was your own insolence. You buried your head in your hands, a strangled sob leaving your lips.

Someone sat down on the bench beside you. You figured it was Salicia, until you noticed their scent - it was woodsy and entirely manish. You couldn’t think of anyone you knew who smelled like that. Curious, you spread your fingers open and peeked through them; sitting beside you was one of the Kyuzan Princes - the youngest of the four, whose name, you believed, was Embo. He cast you a glance, his browridge cocked.

“Oh! Uh…” You wiped your eyes on your hands, and then wiped your hands on your skirt. “Hello there, Prince.”

“You are in trouble.” He spoke, his voice unwavering and deeply serious. Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach dropped.

“W-what?”

“My father is like a jungle cat chasing a rat. In his eyes, you wronged him, and he will not rest until you pay the price.” He explained, his voice low and conspiratory.

“But I didn’t do anything to him!” You squeaked.

“You embarrassed him, and my mother. He believes you made fools of them both before our allies.” Embo explained, his hands laced together and resting on his lap. “I came to offer my help. The last thing I want is for someone undeserving to be left in a ditch to die.”

“But you’re his son. How can I trust you?”

“Just know that I would rather see him dead than let any harm come to you.” He replied, his gold eyes narrowed and a small growl rumbling in his chest. You blinked at him, and then looked down at your hands. “And he knows better than to touch anything I lay claim to. If I tell him you are under my protection, he will not dare bother you.”

“I… wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense. My family keeps a large staff already. We would hardly notice one more.”

Your gaze remained on your hands, your mind running a million miles a minute. If you didn’t take the Prince’s protection, what would happen to you? Would the king stoop to harming you? It seemed that if his own son was worried, the answer was likely yes. So it would be best to go with the prince then. What if he was lying? What if this was all some elaborate ruse to get you into bed with him, or worse?

“I’ll… need time to think.” You replied, your voice shaking.

“Of course. You have until the end of the night.” He got up, dusting off his expensive suit, and disappeared through the door which led back out to the main hall.

You sat there, still trying to process what was going on; the staff around you stared at you, either concerned or shocked that you had gotten so close to the Prince without mention of sexual activities. You glanced at them, before standing.

“I… I need to take a walk.”

No one stopped you as you slipped out the door into the main hall. The royals were all happily conversing, and you noted that Queen Esmera had, indeed, changed her dress. You ducked down the hallway to the front door, desperately needing some fresh air to help clear your head. Ugh, you had a headache.

The guards allowed you outside, and you sat down on the top step to gather your wits. The warm, humid Coruscant air caressed your bare skin, grounding you to reality. The ambience of the thousands of speeders and marching of armor-clad guards drowned out any sounds from the gala itself. You buried your head in your hands once more, just trying to think.

“You’ve got some shit luck tonight.”

You turned toward the intruder, noting that the Duros Prince was approaching; he had a lit cig between his fingers, and he took a long drag.

“First de heel, den sullying Queen Esmera’s dress…” He shook his head as he eased down onto the step beside you. He offered you the cig, but you declined. “What gods did ya anger?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, shaking your head. Cad leaned back, perching the cig between his lips.

“I assume de big guy already warned ya?”

“About his dad? Yeah.” You answered, your worry rising again; it was one thing to hear about the danger from the King’s son… now you were hearing it from an unrelated royal? Great….

“Den ya know you’ll need t’ low ‘til he comes t’ his sense, right?”

You nodded at this. “Prince Embo offered to let me stay with him.”

“Did he now? Doesn’t seem quite safe t’ be going back to de same home as yer threat.” He mused as he took a drag of his cig. “I came t’ offer de same thing.”

“Why?” You asked, wary of Cad’s intentions.

“Well, King Triakt has no domain over me and my family. And messing wit’ us could end badly fer him.” Cad drawled as he plucked the cig from his lips and flicked the ashes off of the end.

“Seems like a lot of trouble for someone you don’t know.”

“I don’t know ya but dat doesn’t mean I can’t extend some kindness.” He took a long drag of his cig.

“What’s the price?” You asked, watching his lips twitch into a small smirk.

“I don’ know yet. We’ll figure dat out as we go.” Cad smothered the cig beneath his boot. “Whaddya say?”

“I… need to think about it.”

“Sure, sure. When you make up yer mind, come find me.” He winked at you and stood, straightening out his outfit. He sauntered back inside, leaving you alone in your thoughts. Now, you just had to decide who to go with...

-

Who do you choose? Embo or Cad Bane

Tags List: @justanotherstarwarswhore, @doctor-ren, @that-clone-wars-girl, @some-serendipity-snail

[givemequeen]

you’re my soulmate ; george x reader

request: You see in black and white until you meet your soulmate - then you can see colors. a/n: second fic! i actually kinda like this :))) pairing: george x reader summary: you’re John Lennon’s sister (because i feel like it) and you tag along when he goes to perform. then yall go to watch Geo’s audition :) warnings: SHITTY WRITING IM SORRY but lowkey like it idk year: 6th of February 1958 (“The Beatles Timeline.” Wikipedia) word count: 1716 (MDCCXVI)

“yn please just stay home.” John, your older brother, pleaded.

“No! Please, I won’t annoy you, I promise, I just want to watch you perform. Please?” you were standing at the bottom of your home’s staircase, John was about to leave to go meet his friends and you wanted to tag along but he did not want you to come.

“yn- Fine!” he couldn’t say no to you, no matter how hard he tried. “But we are leaving now.” John tried to put on a serious face and you hopped off the last step. 

“Okay Johnny.” you looped your arm with his and smiled up to him. He rolled his eyes and let his head fall back so you wouldn’t see his smile. “Lets go then!” you urged when he didn’t move.

“Gee yn, sorry.” it was your turn to roll your eyes.

He opened the door and let you outside first. After screaming a goodbye to Aunt Mimi John joined you outside. The two of you made your way through the cold streets of Liverpool towards The Cavern where the rest of the boys were waiting for him. When you got to the pub John went backstage and you followed him, sitting on a couch against the wall while John chatted with his friends.

Paul, who you already knew, went to your side to sit with you. “How ya doing little Lennon?” he asked while throwing an arm around the back of the couch.

“I’m doing alright, you McCartney?” you poked his side teasing making him lower his arm. 

“Ow!” Paul flashed you an exaggerated pout.

“yn don’t hurt Paul, we need him!” John called out from the other side of the room. You said sorry to both boys but stuck your tongue out to Paul causing him to laugh.

“Don’t tell John but you’re my favourite Lennon,” Paul whispered after he stopped laughing. You smiled proudly and thanked him.

“I HEARD THAT!”

“Okay lads.” Ken Brown said stopping John from marching over to you and Paul who were giggling. “Lets focus, alright?” 

Around 30 minutes after the pub opened they went out for their gig. You stayed backstage for the first couple of songs but once you got bored you went out and got a seat at the back making sure that the bar owner did not see you. Their gig was amazing and earned loud cheers from the crowd as they got off all sweaty and disgusting, not that the girls saw it that way...

You followed them backstage and, for once, none of them had a girl on their lap. The door closed behind you and you arched an eyebrow at them. “No girls tonight?” you wondered out loud looking from one to another. 

“Nope, Paul and I are going to check out once of his friends to see if could join,” John said as he packed his guitar.

“Can I join?” you asked John walking over to him. “Not the band, the meeting.” you clarified when Paul gave you an odd look. He wouldn’t mind having you, you were really cool but he didn’t see you joining your older brother’s band.

“Sure,” Paul answered for his friend, you smiled at him and he winked at you.

“Please do not do that to my sister,” John begged as he stood up, his coat already on.

“Do what? Ugh, John grow up.”

“Why don’t you grow up?”

“Why don’t you both shut up so we can go?” you interrupted.

You all got your coats on and said goodbye to the rest of the band before heading out of the pub to meet with the boy Paul was talking about. John wasn’t too sure, his excuse was that he was too young. “He’s yn’s age for fuck sake!” he kept saying as he waved his hands around or shrugged his shoulder to make sure he got his point across. You would shoot him dirty looks and he would quickly add a “no offence” as if that did anything. 

“Where is he?” you asked looking around, you had stopped at a bus stop and you were freezing your ass off. 

“We need to get on the next bus, he told me he would be waiting inside,” Paul explained.

“Bit weird,” you whispered to yourself as you rubbed your sides up and down. You were about to complain about the cold when a bus pulled over in front of you three. John smiled at you and let you pass first before hopping in with Paul. You all looked around the bottom floor but there was no one. “Lets look upstairs.” you went over to the stairs and paid the driver before following John and Paul up the stairs.

You didn’t notice him at first but he was sat at the really back wearing a leather jacket just like the one's John and Paul wore all the time. His hair was also jelled back with way too much gel, just like John’s and Paul’s. You were looking at the front of the bus, looking for him but you didn’t find him. “We found him, leave us for a second, okay?” John whispered after he grabbed your arm.

“Okay.” you leaned up to kiss his cheek, the bus started to move and you tripped over. Luckily Paul caught you, you thanked him and sat down at the front of the bus with your feet up against the glass. You laid back, your bum nearly off the chair and tapped your foot as you waited. Even though you were at different ends you could hear everything.

“Hi I’m George, George Harrison.” the boy said and you could feel his excitement. He had stood up, you could see the reflection on the glass in front of you.

“John Lennon.” your brother said. They sat down, George at the really back. John and Paul sat on the nearly last row, each one on a different side of the bus, on the seats that were on the edge so they could talk to George.

“And you know me.” Paul finished. 

“Is that your girl?” asked George.

“yn? My girl?” you felt yourself go red and you slid further down the seat. “No.” Paul chuckled.

George must’ve looked at John because you heard your brother scoff. “No! That’s my sister Harrison!” You didn’t think it was possible but you somehow managed to slide even further down the seat.

“What are ya going to play for us George?” questioned Paul quickly changing the subject.

“Roll Over Beethoven,” he informed them. 

“Lets heart it then.” John sat on the other chair, the one against the wall, and leaned against the window. George began strumming the guitar and singing along. You felt a little surge of happiness emerge from within you. 

“Wow, he’s really good.” you thought once he finished.

“You’re really good,” John said as though he had read your thoughts. “You’re in.” you sat up and turned around looking at your brother. It’s not that you didn’t want him in the band, you did, he was really good but you felt as though it was too quick. But then again, it wasn’t even your band. “yn come over, meet George Harrison.” you stood up, still without looking at George and went over to them. Your eyes glued on your feet as you wobbled across the moving bus and sat on the seat John had left free.

Finally, you looked up at George and nearly fell back. He was so beautiful, your mouth fell slightly open. His eyes had a certain glow to it that pulled you to him,  an overwhelming feeling washed over you and you turned to Paul and your eyes widened. He was so colourful, his skin wasn’t grey. You could see colour!

You could see colour.

In shock, you turned back to George and stuttered something, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of the water. George had the same startled look plastered on his face as though he had seen a gosht. Was he seeing the same thing as you? Was he seeing colour for the first time?

“yn? George? Everything okay?” Paul asked when you didn’t say anything. You shook your head as though to clear it and George cleared his throat.

“Yeah sorry. George.” he stuck out his hand and you took it.

“yn Lennon.” you tried to smile at him, was he your soulmate? Weren’t you a bit young to know?

“yn everything okay? Is he creeping you out?” John asked as he placed a hand on your shoulder slightly pulling you back. 

“No, everything’s fine.” you whispered back. “It’s just... You’re good, glad to have you in my brother’s band.” you forced a smile and stood up when the bus stopped. “I’m going to go back home, see you late Johnny.” you leaned down to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll walk you home.” John quickly said but you shook his head.

“It’s fine Johnny.”

“I can’t let you walk alone.” he insisted.

“At least let me,” Paul added.

“Guys, it’s fine, enjoy your night.” you waved at them avoiding George’s gaze and walked down the bus. You said goodnight to the bus driver and hopped off. Just as the doors closed behind you, you heard someone jump off and groaned before turning around. Had John jumped out?

“John I said I would be fine- Oh.” It was George.

“I need to talk to you,” he said quickly as though you would tell him to go away. You looked up to the top floor of the bus and saw Paul and John with their faces pressed against the window. It was too late for them, the bus was going away.

“Okay.” you gulped, nodded and began to walk. George went by your side but stayed quiet as he organized his thoughts and words, what was he going to say to you?

“You’re my soulmate.” he decided on just saying it. You stopped and so did he.

“I know.” you smiled a little and so did he.

“Should we do something about it?” George asked, his tone making it seem like he was walking on egg-shells. You nodded slowly and his smile widened.

“Don’t let my brother find out though. He’ll skin you alive.” you teased.

heres my bibliography because im a good IB student:

“The Beatles Timeline.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 22 Sept. 2019, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Beatles_timeline#cite_ref-hill2007p11_4-5.

tag list;

@thebeatleswritings  @beatlevmania  @i-love-queen-3000  @brians-metaphor26  @honimello  @maccafied  @julessworldd @lovemybrowneyedboy @storiesfrommirkwood  @beatles-babee  @geostarr @rockstarsandfilmstars @thiccjelly17 @crab-king-69  

[softeddiek]

anywhere i go there you are (pt.2)

I really meant for my one shot to stay a one shot but then I kept thinking of more scenes so, here i am  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This mostly reads as a “meanwhile, in storm’s end” from gendry’s pov with most of the gendrya is in the second half. Also, in order to try to make show canon make the slightest bit of sense, i used some book only things, but not much 

part 1   part 3   read on ao3

When Daenerys Targaryen legitimized him in Winterfell’s Great Hall, he had put little thought into just how difficult it might be to establish himself in a castle and land where nobody knew him.

While the Queen and all of the northerners present that night hadn’t a clue who occupied Storm’s End, the assumption that it would be near empty had been far from true. As Gendry, Arya, Davos, and all of the men King Bran had sent with them made their way south, Davos had explained that there would likely still be men who had been loyal to Stannis occupying the castle.

Great, he had thought, I’m sure they’ll be just as glad to see one of King Robert’s bastards as Stannis was.

Their arrival had proven Davos correct. He had been recognized by the castellan, Ser Gilbert Farring, who allowed them and their party past the curtain wall.

“We received word of your imminent arrival from the new Stark king, Lord Baratheon,” Maester Jurne had said. After introducing himself and the seneschal of Storm’s End, a young man by the name of Elwood Meadows, Gendry’s party had been taken to rooms that had been prepared for them.

He only had a day to get used to his new lordly chambers and being addressed as Lord Baratheon before the tutoring began. He and Maester Jurne spent their early mornings after he broke his fast going over his letters and the accounts. As a blacksmith’s apprentice, reading and writing had never been of importance, and as a bastard in Flea Bottom, he wouldn’t have been able to learn if he’d wanted to. His afternoons were followed up either listening to problems the common folk brought forth, or meeting with various storm lords who had decided to pay a visit to their new liege lord. The latter was certainly worse than the former.

While Gendry felt uncomfortable sitting on the throne within the Round Hall, addressing the people, he at least had the maester and castellan by his side, willing to lean over and whisper him a bit of advice. When he had first begun entertaining petitioners, he’d asked Arya if she’d sit in with him, but she’d only given him a raised eyebrow and said, “I don’t want to give them the wrong idea,” whatever that had meant.

He had found that oftentimes his people entered the hall with looks of trepidation, worried they would find they had a cruel new lord, only to leave looking relieved. More often than not, those who had not yet seen him before would look upon him with wide eyes, whispers of “Renly” reaching Gendry’s ears as they left. So, while Arya had spent most of her afternoons exploring the tower and surrounding lands by horse, Gendry found himself slowly becoming more confident in his role as a lord. In front of the smallfolk at least.

For every man like Lord Selwyn Tarth, who Gendry found himself getting on with well as they chatted about his daughter, Ser Brienne, there was a man like Lord Wensington, who didn’t bother to hide his resentment that a by-blow of Robert Baratheon had been handed the Stormlands. He was visiting Storm’s End now, a month after Gendry’s arrival, and the snide comments he made about his own House’s origins had set Gendry’s teeth on edge. He’d left the hall as soon as they’d finished eating. He knew he’d be reprimanded by the maester about it later, but he needed to leave the stuffy feast hall, deciding to see where Arya was.

When the stormlords had begun calling, Arya had told him that it’d be better if she didn’t take her meals with him when they were around.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea that they see you with Lady Stark,” she had said.

“Thought you weren’t a lady?” He’d quipped, with a grin, as she let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not, stupid. But to them I am. And I’m sister to both the King in the South and the Queen in the North. I don’t want them getting the idea that either of them is trying to arrange some sort of marriage.”

That had sobered him quickly. After their discussion in King’s Landing, they hadn’t spoken of the proposal again. Not on the road to Storm’s End and certainly not within the castle’s walls. Gendry hadn’t forgotten her mentioning she loved him, not daring to bring it up yet when he had no clue as to when she’d be leaving, but they had certainly been softer toward each other, much to Davos’ confusion.

So, she had been flitting about, keeping out of sight of any visiting lords, only catching up with him at the end of the day when his lordly duties were at a close.

After asking around in the kitchens—a place he often found Arya hunkering down in when they had visitors—he was pointed to the godswood. Or what was left of it.

From what Gendry had heard, the godswood of Storm’s End had been put to the torch by the order of Stannis at the behest of the Red Woman. Gendry had never entered the place, but he knew Arya came here occasionally. When he entered, he could see the scorch marks left behind from years ago, a few trees and shrubs sprouting up, and Arya’s small form, sitting on a large white stump in the middle.

His anger at the pompous Lord Wensington faded as he saw her, knees pulled up to her chest. Her head lifted to look at him, showing no surprise at seeing him there. Of course she’s not surprised, he thought, her hearing’s better than a dog’s.

“Done with Lord Wensington already?” She drawled.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “The ass kept going on about how he has the blood of King Durran flowing through him.” He paused, taking in the godswood once more. “I never saw the godswood in Winterfell. Is it like this only…less burned?” he asks.

She snorts before saying, “No. Even before this place was burned, I doubt it was anything like Winterfell’s. It’s much larger there and there are heated pools that my siblings and I used to swim in. Bran liked to climb the trees,” she trails off, her face pensive. He knows she likely hadn’t been back to the one in Winterfell after she’d killed the Night King, ending the ceaseless attack of the dead on her family’s home. Once that threat was gone, she’d soon rushed off to King’s Landing.

While Arya had become more hardened since they had parted ways with the Brotherhood, able to school her features in an instant, her face was gradually becoming more open to him. And he might not be able to read her as easily as he once could, but he likes to think he’s relearning quickly. That’s how he knows that, despite her yammering about the God of death, this tree, these gods, still mean something to her, if not just to serve as a reminder of her family.

“Well, that big stump is still here. It might not be in the best shape but all that matters is that there is one, right? I don’t know much about heart trees, but I’m sure it’ll grow back.”

Surprisingly, she shakes her head at that, looking around at the ruins of the godswood. “The gods use the heart tree to watch you, that’s true. But I don’t think they need it. You can still hear them, anywhere you are, if you only bother to listen.”

Gendry thought that over for a minute. He’d never been one for gods. The Seven had never done him any favors, and while he’d seen proof of the Red Woman and the Brotherhood’s fire god, that had brought him nothing but grief. It makes him uneasy, thinking about the old gods. The gods of the North, he thought, as cold and unyielding as the land they belong to, if I’ve heard it right.  

Before he can ask her more about them, however, he sees Arya’s looking at him with a glint in her eye. “Have you not been to the smithy yet?”

“What?” he asks, confused by her abrupt change in subject.

“The smithy. Don’t tell me that now you’re a lord, you’re too good to spend time working at a forge?”

He rolls his eyes at her haughty tone. “No. It’s just that it’s not really my forge is it? Storm’s End has a smith. And I don’t think me greeting all the other stormlords after hammering at metal all day is going to make them like me.”

“Gendry,” she says, through a laugh, “you’re the Lord of Storm’s End. That entire castle is yours; you can go wherever you want. And as for the other lords, who gives a shit what they think? You’re their liege lord, if you want to spend time in the smithy you can.”

He thinks about what she’s said and the scandal it would cause for those who have a problem with his low birth. He knows the king would want him to be winning these lords over, showing them that Gendry could be trusted to rule over the Stormlands; that he wasn’t still a bastard smith’s apprentice, content with crafting weapons all day. But at the same time, he thinks about the sound of Lord Wensington’s nasally voice as he went on about his own royal lineage.

“Fuck it, let’s go.”

Arya gives him a grin, all sharp teeth, before grabbing his hand. She drags them out of the godswood and into the yard, quickly yanking him past a few guards and those who had come out of the feast hall. Whether she was dragging him past so they wouldn’t notice their lord in the company of a woman—and a princess at that—or if she genuinely was that excited to take him there, he wasn’t sure.

Once they’d entered the empty building, she’d dropped his hand, took a cursory look around, and turned to head back out.

“Arya, wait, where are you going?”

“To the kitchens.” Am I missing something here? Noticing the confusion that must be on his face, she says, “I’ve befriended one of the girls in your kitchens, Ellyn. I told her I’d meet her there when the lords were done feasting and have my evening meal with her.” Typical Arya, always making friends with anyone she meets, highborn or low.

“You’re just leaving me here all alone then?” he jests.

“Please, I’m doing you a favor. We both know it’ll help distract you from Lord Wensington pissing you off.”

I can think of a better way to get over that than hammering away in the forge all night. But he wouldn’t dare suggest that, not when it seemed like they weren’t talking about it again. And he definitely wasn’t making the first move.

“Now then, may I have your leave m’lord?” she asks, left eyebrow raised.

He can’t help but chuckle. “Oh, piss off Arya.” He watches her twirl out the door, not unlike how she’d done back when they’d been reunited in Winterfell.

Turning back to study the forge, he sees the smith has kept the place in good shape; tongs and other tools are hung up and organized, with only a few things left out that he could tell were being worked on. He hadn’t been near a forge since he’d left Winterfell. While he had been legitimized after the war in the North, he’d remained sleeping on a simple cot tucked away in a back room of the smithy until he’d left for King’s Landing.

Warmth still lingers in the air; the smith must have been working not long ago. As he waits for the coals in the forge to heat up, he thinks about his past few weeks in Storm’s End. Davos understood the pressure Gendry feels about being thrust into a lordship, and had spent his time in Storm’s End giving him advice on how best to act around the other lords without coming off as a green boy; helping him learn a map of the Stormlands as he learned his letters; offering tidbits on how Stannis had run Dragonstone—not that Gendry was like to rule as Stannis had. But he knows that, as the realm’s Master of Ships, Davos needed to travel back to King’s Landing soon.

And Arya will likely leave soon after. He tries not to feel too dejected at that. At least she’ll be traveling Westeros, and not halfway across the word. He knows she can take care of herself, he’s more than aware of that, but at least if someone tries to mess with her on the road now, they’ll have a king and queen to answer to.

As he sees the roaring heat that’s begun coming from the forge, an image of a weapon springs to mind, becoming clearer by the minute. Arya might leave soon, but he’ll have something for her when she returns.

--

Gendry had managed to only be stopped twice on the way up the tower to his chambers. Grimy and covered in soot, it seemed he had found a way to get people to stop bothering him.

When he enters the room, he immediately sees a fire roaring in the corner and Arya in the seat at his desk, feet propped up dangerously close to a burning tallow candle.

“Arya, what—”

“The castellan and the maester can be trusted,” she interrupts. “Both seem very traditional, but they are also loyal to House Baratheon. They’ll respect you as a lord and won’t set you up to fail. Don’t trust the steward, at least not yet. He’s craven and a Fossoway--a fussy group--though Farring trusts him and he is close to you in age so perhaps he’ll try to befriend you. As for your servants—”

Now he’s caught on. “Arya,” he slowly begins, “I thought you went to the kitchens to see a friend.”

“I did. And my friends in the kitchen often forget that I’m highborn and they like to talk when they’re in their cups.” Her face takes on an innocent expression, as if it’s perfectly normal for her to go sneaking around the castle to eavesdrop. “I may have also questioned Ser Davos about some of this information. He agrees with me that you need to be careful. You’ve only been here a month and things in the Six Kingdoms are still tenuous. Should the other stormlords or, gods forbid, the people in your own castle, decide they don’t want you as their lord, I don’t know how equipped my brother is to help. You fought for the North so naturally they would feel for you, but with my sister in charge of her own independent kingdom, she’ll insist that they stay out of any business in the south--even if I asked for her help."

She swings her feet off the desk, getting up and walking a few feet to the closed door that he’s still hovering near.

“I’m not trying to scare you, Gendry, I just want you to be careful. You can do so much good as a lord, I know you can, but you need to stay in power to do it.”

He doesn’t think the situation warrants near as much concern as she’s showing, but he sees the almost pleading look on her face, and knows he’s going to give in.

“Alright, fine, you’re right. But if I’m going to be more careful than so are you. No more sneaking about, listening in on people.”

“Fine,” she relents, but he can only let out a sigh, knowing that it wouldn’t be that easy with her.

It’s just then, as they’re standing there, but a few feet apart, that he realizes they’re alone. Alone in his too-big lord’s chambers.

“Wait, did anyone see you come in here?” he questions.

She worries at her lip for a moment before saying, “A few people.”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone ‘getting the wrong idea’?”

Her face begins turning a bright red, eyes darting up over his shoulder to stare at the door. “Yes well, that was before.”

“Before what?” He doesn’t think he’s seen her this fidgety in the time that they’d been reunited, tugging on the bottom of her jerkin as she pointedly doesn’t look at him.

“Like I said, the people in the kitchens like to talk. Especially about how handsome his lordship is,” she mutters.

He lets out a startled laugh, feeling a smug grin work its way onto his face. I know she could have found her way up here with no one seeing her. Hells, she could probably could have found her way into my chambers with me in them and I’d not notice 'til she revealed herself. This gives him the confidence to say, “So, you were jealous and decided to throw out all of your plans just to see me?”

“No!” she shouts, just as he knew she would.

“Well m’lady,” he starts, knowing it will get her worked up, “then I must say it’s quite improper for you to be hanging around my chamber at this hour.”

“Oh, shut up Gendry.” She begins closing the few feet between them, surely to hit me, only to yank his head down level with hers, pressing their lips together.

It’s quick, and he’s sure she partly did it to actually get him to shut up, but that doesn’t stop the large grin from overtaking his face.

She keeps their faces close, hand still clutching the back of his head, fingers fisting his hair, as she lets out a sigh that makes her seem far more disgruntled than the small smile on her lips says she is.

“I decided to listen to the advice I gave you earlier. I don’t want everyone in the bloody kingdoms thinking Sansa and Bran are pushing me into an arranged marriage or that you’re courting me or something. But with me hanging around here for the time being, for no discernible reason, people will start talking. So, who gives a shit? I don't plan on letting them run me off. Might as well see what sordid rumors they can come up with about the time the King’s sister and Lord Baratheon spend together. And I figure it would be good for them to see that their Storm Lord has the favor of the Starks.”

She starts to give him a cheeky grin before dropping it just as fast. “As long as you’re fine with that of course. I know you’re already worried about them seeing you as a bastard who got lucky, and I really don’t think it will hurt you to be seen with me but—”

“Arya,” he cut her off, “I’m more than fine with it. If anyone has any complaints, then they can come to me.” He’d be more than happy to return the favor and tell some of these pompous lords what he thinks of them. “Besides, you’ve got my back, haven’t you?”

She shoots him a toothy grin. “Always.”

She lets go of his head then, her grin becoming more predatory, and instead grabs a hold of his arm, dragging him with her as she walks backwards to his bed. Once they reach it, it becomes a quick, messy tangle of mouths and limbs. For a brief second his eyes catch on hers, as grey and cloudy and fierce as he's heard the summer storms here will be, and he feel a sharp pain in his chest when he's hit with how much he wants it to always be like this, the two of them. It doesn't matter when she leaves, he thinks, so long as she comes back.

[songficsbyrissi]

Right By My Side (T’Challa x Reader)

Warnings: angst, some white tears, an angsty flashback included in italics, but real marshmallow fluffy fluff at the end. “I just hope your heart hear me now I let you know how I'm feeling You own my heart, he just renting Don't turn away, pay attention I'm pouring out my heart oh boy” - Nicki Minaj feat. Chris Brown

A/N: I used this gif because it’s adorable and look at how adorable he looks right before he kisses her but this is a READER INSERT as always. Nakia doesn’t even pop in this oneshot so just pretend it’s you in the gif which I know is hard because I’m doing right now as I’m typing this and its not working and the more I look at it, the more it pisses me off because that’s my fucking man but Imma chill. Anyways, let’s get angsty and fluffy. 

***************** Your head rested in your hand as you twirled the creamy fettuccine on your dinner plate. You say in the comfy booth of the Cheesecake Factory as your blind date that was in front of you was paying more attention to his phone than you. This is the third time you subjected yourself to the torture that they call “blind dates.” They’re not your thing but you started it because you just needed to get over him. You took a bite of your pasta shaking your head as he continued to scroll down his phone. “Having fun on your phone there?” You finally spoke dropping the metal fork on the plate. Your blind date, Lawrence, widened his eyes in embarrassment. “Oh shit. I’m sorry.......” he trailed off and you rolled your eyes scoffing. Is he fucking serious? “Y/N.” The white boy in front of you gave you a nervous smile. Yeah, you were thinking “what the fuck were you doing on a date with a colonizer?” You hit all the way rock bottom.

“Y/N. I’m just settling some things. I promise I’ll put all my attention back on you.” Lawrence repeated for the third time this evening but this time he forgot to turn his phone over and you leaned over to see the Instagram post of a cute white girl projected on his iPhone X. “Settling something with that girl on your screen?” You raised an eyebrow gesturing towards the phone with your fork. Shock was displayed on his pale face and you continued. “Let me guess. She’s your ex you’re trying to get over with blind dates but clearly it’s not working. As a bonus, you figured you should get a black girl because it’ll be “new” and “exotic” and a pleasant change from your ex. Am I correct?” You tilted your head after reading the hell out of his colonizer ass. Yeah you were kind of doing the same thing but at least you had the respect for him to not scroll through your ex’s pictures and social media right in front of him. Lawrence blinked rapidly before putting his face in his hands and began releasing full blown sobs. His narrow shoulders shook up and down and you leaned back uncomfortably. You had no problem with a man being in touch with his emotions. Your ex was always communicating about how he felt which you love about him. Well, loved. “I just love her so much! Cheyenne! I miss you so much, Cheyenne!” Lawrence wailed laying his head on the table. You looked around at your fellow patrons who were staring at you and the sobbing white boy. This was not a good look. Your waiter finally came around and you whispered to them. “Please bring separate checks and a slice of red velvet cheesecake to go.” You looked back at Lawrence and whispered back to them. “Scratch that. Give me that cheesecake to go. He’s taking care of the check.” When the waiter brought the cheesecake in the bag, you took the cheesecake thanking him and stood up from the booth. Lawrence quieted his sobbing a little bit. “I’m so sorry! I just miss her so much. I’m trying to forget her but it’s hard! I’m so sorry....” he trailed off once again and you rolled your eyes putting your caramel colored crossbody on. You put your hand up shushing him. “It’s ok. Just lose my number and we’re good. I hope you get your ex back and I’ll see you never.” You pushed the check towards him and grabbed your cheesecake. “You might wanna take care of that. Ok byeeeeeeee.” When you finally got to your condo, you changed into some booty shorts and a tank top and laid in bed with your cheesecake and your laptop opened to Hulu. You put Family Guy but barely paid attention. You were too busy eating your cheesecake and scrolling through pictures of you and him. Him was your ex, T’Challa. It’s been a couple of weeks since you broke up with him and hopped on a plane back to America. Your girls called you crazy for breaking up with a king but they didn’t understand that his status was not enough reason to stay in a relationship where you felt like you were that person’s last priority. You understood that he was a king that had an responsibility to his people and his country but you felt like he neglected his responsibility to you. “T’Challa!” You shouted as you walked throughout the huge palace. You sighed out of frustration as you busted your ass looking for your M.I.A. boyfriend. Once again, you set up a romantic date for the two of y’all but of course something came up again. You had hopes that he would be able to make it but they were crushed when Okoye, general of the Dora Milage, approached you with a despondent look on her face. You knew he was cancelling again. You’ve barely been able to spend time with him and it was pissing you off. Yes there some days you guys were able to get a makeout session in or sleep together but not to be crude but you haven’t had his dick inside you in a long time. It wasn’t just lack of sex though. It was also lack of attention. When you guys were finally together, you weren’t together. His mind was somewhere else and you were finally going to confront him for it. “Ayo, have you seen T’Challa?” You questioned groaning out of exasperation in front of the Dora. Ayo saluted you. “Lady Y/N, he is in his office.” You saluted her back thanking you and continued on your journey to T’Challa. You finally landed in front of his office doors and pushed them open. T’Challa glanced up at you with those big brown eyes you first noticed when you first met him. You wanted to melt but you were full of anger. “T’Challa, what is it with you?! Everytime I try to spend some damn time with you, you keep blowing me off! I get it. Being a king is a lot of work and responsibility but damn it, you owe some responsibility to me! I’m your girlfriend!” You slammed you feet then crossed your arms looking him up and down with attitude. “Or am I?” T’Challa had gotten up quickly to shut the door during your rant and turned to you when you finished with frustrated eyes. “Are you mad?! Coming into my office screaming at me with my staff right outside in the hall. You see me occupied here! Have you lost your mind, woman?!” He yelled back stepping up to you. You didn’t step down. You were keeping the same energy. You built this anger over time and it was about time you released it. You laughed sarcastically shaking your head. “No but I feel like I’m losing my man.” T’Challa put his head down and sighed out of annoyance. He pinched the bridge of his broad nose. He was tired of this same argument but so were you. “Why do you have to keep doing this to me, Y/N? I am trying!” T’Challa pleaded causing you to snort in response. “Do you not see my attempts?” “Barely! Your attempts are half assed and you know it!” You leaned back crossing your arms and your voice got low. “Is there someone else?” T’Challa slammed his fists on the wall which had you a little shook but you held your ground. His nostrils flared as he fumed with anger. If there was one way to set the normally calm king off, it was to accuse him of infidelity. You couldn’t help it. You’ve been cheated on before and work was always a cover up. How were you supposed to know it wasn’t happening again? “You know damn well- why would you even ask that?!” You shot back. “Because I’m not even sure of my position in your life, T’Challa! You say I’m your queen, your love, but I don’t see it! I mean do you even love me anymore? Just let me know if someone else took my place so I can stop wasting my time!” You finally released the tears that has been building up in your eyes. T’Challa finally spoke after staying quiet for a while. “I would never cheat on you and you know that. I keep trying and trying but nothing I do is enough for you. I do not know what to do. I feel like you are asking me to choose between you and my country.” You gasped through your cries. “God! Are you even listening?! I could never ask you to choose but I see where your priorities lie. I’m just a mere distraction to you.” You shook your head and breathed. “I’ll just pack my stuff and be on the first plane back to America.” T’Challa’s eyes grew and he moved at rapid speed to prevent you from leaving. You refused to look at him as you saw the young king get on his knees holding on to you for dear life. “Please, sithandwa sam, I will do anything. Do not leave me. I can’t do all this without you.” He stared up at you with begging eyes. You swallowed hard as more tears fell down your face. You gently pushed him off you and stepped back. “You already have been doing all this without me.” You shuddered at the memory. That was the last words you heard from him and the last words you spoke to him. After that argument, you quickly packed up your belongings and went back to your home in New York. Okoye contacted you to find out if you landed safely. You knew it was because T’Challa wanted to know but didn’t have the courage to directly contact you. The memory still agonizes you as you began weeping on top of your half eaten cheesecake. You lost your appetite causing you to throw the dessert in the trash and crawled back into bed to resume your crying fit. At that moment, you realized you made a terrible mistake and let a good man go. “Baby girl, it’s been 2 weeks and you’re still crying over this man. That dick must’ve been made of gold and had you squirting like a water gun.” Your older sister Kimara tried to joke while rubbing your back. She had used the key you gave her to your apartment to come check on you and found you in fetal position crying your eyes out once again. You side eyed her adjusting your body pillow. “That’s not funny, Mar. I still love the fuck out of his ass. Now that I’m looking back at it, the free time he did have, he spent it with me. My selfish ass kept asking for more. Feeling like it wasn’t good enough. I should’ve been more understanding.” You hit your forehead. “Fuck! I’m such a dumb, selfish bitch!” Your sister stopped your physical and verbal attack on yourself. “Hey. Stop that. Yeah, you are a bitch.” “Wow, Kimara.” You responded dryly. She ignored you and continued. “You are a bitch but you’re also a human being. You had every right to feel that way. I know you. You were never clingy so if you felt like you weren’t getting enough from him, then you most likely weren’t. But he was a good man. You could’ve worked it out. Communication and understanding is key to healthy relationships.” “Ok, Dr. Phil.” You cracked a smile and Kimara laughed at your joke, happy to see you in a better mood. “Yeah yeah yeah. I know what I’m talking about. That’s why I’ve been happily married for 3 years.” She flashed her ring and grabbed your hand. “But seriously. Stop wallowing in self pity. It’s not good. If you and T’Challa were meant to be, it’ll happen. If you love something, let it go and if it comes back, it’s yours. And other cliché bullshit that has been proven to be true.” You smirked pulling your sister in a tight hug. “Thanks sis. I love you.” “I love you too.” You two pulled from the hug and the TV brought both of your attentions with a huge headline saying “King T’Challa of Wakanda arrives to New York City for annual Met Gala.” You saw footage of T’Challa walking the streets with the Dora Milage behind him. Met Gala. You remembered you received an invitation to Met Gala since you were dating the king. Thank God T’Challa specifically told them to give you a separate invite just in case you wanted to bring one of your friends. You beamed at the television screen and your sister looked back at you. “Well, girl. That’s your sign. Question is, what you gonna do it?” You wiped your face and smirked glancing towards your closet and back at her. “I’m going to get my man back.” *************** “Thanks for escorting me, Jason.” You whispered to your longtime friend as you grasped his large bicep. You walked slowly to make sure you didn’t step on your large white and golden ball gown. You hated the large dresses but looked forward to this gala because you knew this would be the day you had T’Challa all to yourself. Unfortunately, you weren’t on his arm. Jason has the same height as him and almost the same build but he wasn’t him. Jason was lightskin and you missed your chocolate man. “No problem. I always wanted to go to these fancy ass events and find a sexy ass celebrity shorty to pipe.” When you rolled your eyes and scoffed, he cleared his throat looking at you sheepishly. “Oh and to also help my dear friend Y/N get her African nigga back.” You laughed his antics hitting his chest. Jason was a whole clown but you still loved him like a brother. You turned your head and saw T’Challa staring straight at you. He had a sour look on his face and you cursed realizing what this looked like. Did he honestly think you would show up at a event with a new boyfriend knowing he would be here? You still smiled and made your way towards him. “T’Challa! Can we-“ You were cut off by him leaving his spot quickly and to go and socialize with other people. You sighed deeply wanting to slap yourself but you still continued after him. You were blocked by Okoye who had a stern look on her face. “Okoye! Nice to see you! Please let me talk to T’Challa.” You tried to move past her but she stayed in her place. “I can not allow that, Y/N. He does not want to see you.” Her stern face dropped when hurt came on your face. She looked sad instead. “You have hurt my king too many times, Y/N. I really like you but my job is to protect the king. That involves his heart as well.” “I’m hurting too, Okoye. These past two weeks, I’ve been crying my ass off realizing I made a huge mistake leaving him. I just need to talk to him.” Okoye sighed in exasperation shaking her head. “Please just leave him alone.” You looked down feeling your heart break even more but you weren’t going to cry especially with this expensive ass make up on your face. You felt stupid. Why the hell did you think T’Challa would want to talk to you after you looked him in the eyes and broke his heart? Just when you thought about giving up, you didn’t. You picked your head up and stood up to the general. “Okoye, I’m not gonna tell you again. Let me see T’Challa. I love him and I need to fix the mess I made. I will find a way to him. I lost him once and I’m not losing him again so move out of my way.” You commanded with eyes that dared her to deny you again. A tiny smile came across her face. “I knew you were fit to be a queen. Well, I am just going to look to my right side and not see you walk past me on my left.” Okoye looked to her right causing you to smile and move past her while whispering a “thank you.” Shockingly, you spotted T’Challa by himself going towards the men’s room. You moved as quickly as your heels allowed you and you grabbed his wrist pushing him into the women’s room. You locked the door behind you and tilted your head to see if there were any feet in the stalls. There was nobody here so you were free to talk. “What is the meaning of this? I do not have time for your ridiculousness! I am leav-“ “T’Challa, shut up and let me talk.” You rested your back against the door and you had pleading eyes. “Please.” T’Challa crosses his arms narrowing his eyes at you. “And why should I? You left me. You are my heart, Y/N and you just left me. You come here with that watered down black man as your date knowing I would be here and now you have the audacity to ask me to talk to you?!” You sighed trying your hardest not to laugh at him calling your friend a watered down black man. It was fucked up but funny. However this wasn’t the right moment to laugh in his face. “We’re not romantically involved, T’Challa. That’s my friend Jason. You’ve met him. I just brought him because he’s trying to get with Nicki Minaj. There’s a slim ass chance of that but I’m going to let him rock.” You shrugged your shoulders and glanced back at him. He seemed convinced so you continued. “You’re the only man I want. You gotta believe that.” “I remember meeting him now but I need to know. Since you have left me, have you seen anyone else?” T’Challa questioned walking slowly towards you. You bit your lip feeling defeat coming soon. “To get over you, I’ve been on a couple blind dates but they didn’t work out because I’m still in love with you!” T’Challa scoffed loudly making his way towards the door. “Move aside.” “No!” You roared and he stepped back looking away from you. “Don’t turn away from me. I’m pouring out my heart to you!” His eyes finally landed on you and you sighed backing off the door. “You own my heart. All this time, we’ve been together, my heart has been yours. I was so hellbent on me barely seeing you that I didn’t realize there was something even worse than that. Me not seeing you at all.” You sighed walking up to him and taking his broad hands in your smaller ones. “It took me sleeping alone to realize how much I missed your presence, how much I missed your touch, how I missed your morning kisses even though sometimes you didn’t brush your teeth yet so that morning breath was deadly.” T’Challa let out a laugh as he interlocked his fingers with yours and you joined in. “I missed that loud laugh as well. I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have been so ungrateful and should be more understanding. You have a tough job and I didn’t make it any easier by leaving you.” He pulled into his arms and kissed your forehead gently. “Sithandwa sam, I must apologize as well. How do I have the audacity to call you my queen yet fail to treat you like one? I did some reflecting as well and I realized that my attempts were “half assed” I could’ve done more. I did treat you as my last priority when you’re not at all.” “I know that, sithandwa sam.” You replied leaning up to place a passionate kiss on his lips and his hand gripped your waist moving down to your ass giving it a small squeeze and you giggled pulling away from the kiss wrapping your arms around his neck. “Look at you speaking my language fluently. One way we could see each other more is you being involved with my duties.” T’Challa kissed you again. “I missed you so much. Let’s go out there. I have something I need to do.” T’Challa left the restroom with you right by his side, holding his hand tightly. He went up to Okoye and whispered in her ear. She smiled at the two of you and placed something you didn’t see in his hand. He continued to bring you up the front of the large ballroom and grabbed the microphone. “Hello everyone. May I have your attention? There’s something I need to do that should’ve been done a long time ago.” Once T’Challa had everyone’s attention, he turned to you smiling. “Entle, I’ve been in love with you ever since I met you and you’ve always been mine but I can not keep calling you my queen without making it official.” T’Challa dropped down to one knee while the whole room filled with gasps and cooing. You covered your mouth in shock letting the tears of joy flow down your face. “Y/N, please marry me and be my queen.” He presented an ancient, beautiful gold diamond ring taking your left hand ready to place it on your ring finger. You nodded vigorously with a grin on your face. “Yes! Oh Bast! Yes!” The whole room cheered as T’Challa placed the ring on your finger and lifted himself from the floor to kiss you. He hugged you tightly putting his lips to your ears. “I would love to take my fiancée back to Wakanda with me. But first, I would like to make love to her endlessly tonight.” You giggled with your heart swelling with love and joy. You got your man back and you were now engaged to be married to him. Today went better for you than you had expected. “You will get to do that, my king. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life right by your side.” “Right by my side.” T’Challa stated pulling you back in for another kiss.

Tags: @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @brianabreeze @dramaqueenamby @marvelpotterlove @purple-apricots @brattywriters-anonymous @cancerianprincess @blowmymbackout @ljstraightnochaser @blackpinup22 @airis-paris14 @vibranium-chakra @sociallyawkward18 @chefjessypooh @mychemicalimagines @nerd-lovely @slimmiyagi

Sorry if I missed anyone! I honestly just go through my notes and look to see who wanted to be tagged and the ones i remember. If your tag didn’t work, Please fix your settings! Love y’all!

[gamearamamegathons]

Dragon Warrior III: I Retroactively Get Credit For This Peace Also

Circe here! So, now we come to the end of Dragon Warrior III. All that's left to do is to storm Baramos's castle and beat the shit out of him. At this point, how much I retain from particular dungeons is starting to lessen as I just follow a guide instead of mapping them myself. But Baramos's castle is pretty much as you expect, a big mean dungeon with monsters who are obnoxiously strong. Naturally, I spent most of this dungeon just fleeing over and over again and hoping I make it to Baramos in roughly one piece. Baramos himself is this angry crocodile face guy, and he's pretty tough, but with sufficient levels, the standard boss fight approach works pretty well for this guy, bolstered by the fact that we now have an array of support spells like Barrier (magical protection), Increase (defense boost) and Bikill (attack boost). After a couple tries, he goes down, and I head back to Aliahan to celebrate that the world has been saved.

The end.

...

...

Okay, just kidding.

Actually, once we enter the throne room, a voice echoes in the room, telling us that he is the true archfiend Zoma, and he's going to take over the world anyway. The king laments that he doesn't know how to break the news to his subjects, so he orders us not to tell anyone. What a leader. I guess we're gonna have to figure this out by ourselves. But we've pretty much explored every corner of the world. What's left? Well, there's two important places we need to go. First is the Castle of the Dragon Queen, a location tucked in a little ring of mountains that can only be reached by phoenix. There, if we poke around a bit, we can meet the Dragon Queen herself, who gives us a Sphere of Light. Hmmm. Anyway, the second place is the Great Pit of Giaga, a location near Baramos's Castle that previously just had a big pit with a wall around it. Well, now the pit has cracked open and split the walls apart, so we can just hop in, something which is clearly a very good idea.

In the pit, we find ourselves in a new land, where we immediately find a boat. Traveling a bit east, we come across a familiar town...it's Tantagel! That's right. The world of darkness beneath the earth was Alefgard all along. Now, this is cool and all, but it might raise a more pragmatic question: where does this leave our EXP curve for this new leg of our adventure? Glad you asked! The answer is that we're fucked for the rest of the game, basically. We'll be able to level up and ease things a bit, but basically the overworld has endgame-tier monsters, the ocean has endgame-tier monsters, the dungeons have endgame-tier monsters, everywhere we go for the rest of the game we're not going to want to spend too long in combat because almost every encounter has the chance to inflict massive damage to the party.

But leaving that aside for now, what do we need to do next? Well, you may remember that in the original Dragon Warrior, we had to get together the items to acquire a rainbow drop, so we could summon the Rainbow Bridge leading to the Dragonlord's castle. Here, the quest is roughly the same. Unlike in Dragon Warrior II, Alefgard isn't just a cameo, we are in fact re-enacting the quest of the first game in compressed time. And as much as I'd love to recount every quest item in detail, the effect of compressing and simplifying the entire original Dragon Warrior quest is that it's all just kind of a mush of poking around Alefgard in my head. I will say, despite the overly strong monsters, it's decently fun to go around and see what Alefgard is like and accumulate quest items like magical barnacles. There are a lot of important differences, though. The landscape is very different. Hauksness, the ruined desert town, is prospering. Garinham is just a single house, and Garin is alive. A lot of little details suggest not-so-subtly that we might just be, in fact, in Alefgard's past rather than its future. And that might lead you to a suspicion of who our hero is supposed to be.

But let's not worry about that for now. Aside from poking around the towns and collecting quest items and trying not to die a lot from every single monster, the only noteworthy dungeon before Zoma's castle is a tower west of Kol. It's absolutely brutal too, full of ruinously powerful monsters who can take out one or two party members very rapidly. It does have a very important monster in it, though. This tower is one place among many in Alefgard where you can find Metal Babbles, which are stronger, meltier versions of Metal Slimes. These things are EXP pinatas just like Metal Slimes, but they actually give an order of magnitude more EXP, in the neighborhood of almost 15K. The catch is that they're very, very difficult to kill. One good way of killing them off is a hilarious wizard spell called BeDragon, which...does what it says on the tin, I guess. Your spellcaster becomes a dragon and starts breathing fire everywhere. This attack ignores all defenses, so it's a guaranteed kill for all Metal Babbles on the battlefield. That requires them to sit still for two entire turns though, which is...not terribly likely, unfortunately. Still, it's worth it, even if it does make the experience of grinding fantastically tedious. Grinding is unfortunately not optional, though, as you need to get to around level 40 at least, before you really have a chance of taking on Zoma. And I kinda suspect that I was underleveled even by the time I got sick of this process.

So, as before, we get together the Staff of Rain and the Stones of Sunlight, and we scrounge together a sacred amulet or something to satisfy the mean old guy, who is weirdly not that mean this time, and finally, if we do all that, he will give us a Rainbow Drop. This lets us access Zoma's castle. Once again, this is kind of a retread of the same kind of constantly-running-away experience that characterizes late game Dragon Warrior dungeons. Along the way, though, we actually encounter...plot! Remember our dad, Ortega? He fell into a volcano fighting a dragon? No? Well he's here. Turns out that he didn't die, he just fell into Alefgard, and now he's fighting a monstrous hydra! Ortega's doomed battle plays out in real time as a non-interactive fight, which I feel is a...questionable design choice, seeing as this battle goes on for quite a while. Unfortunately, he dies, which seems like...I dunno, kind of an unceramonious way for things to go after the game strings out the chance that he might've been alive all this time. With his dying breath, Ortega, not recognizing you, instructs you to tell his daughter what happened to him. And then he's gone, leaving me with the impression that...not...much has changed, actually. I mean, it's not like we were questing to find our dad. We just thought he was dead, and just kind of incidentally found out he wasn't, except now he really is, actually, dead. Shrug? Okay.

Further into Zoma's castle is an important item that actually changes a lot about how we can approach the dungeon. It's a Sage's Stone. This item, when used in battle, casts a free healing spell that recovers a lot of HP to the whole party, and it can be used repeatably. This single object instantly obsoletes a huge swath of our Pilgrim's spells, which is hilarious. It also means that, since it can only be used in battle, there's actually a good reason to stick around in battles, since recovering HP faster than we can take damage will leave us in a place to spend less MP than if we tried to run and came out of it all beat up. But it reveals another problem, which is that this approach to the dungeon slows things down quite a lot. It is, objectively, the better strategic choice, and in theory, it's closer to the intended way to play the game than to run away from every single battle no matter what. But it makes the game seriously drag, which I think is honestly kind of telling. It's also still possible for your characters to get wiped out even though we're healing back ~100 HP per character per turn, which I think is *also* telling. You wouldn't think the boss would be takeable in this state, but don't be so sure. After crawling our way through the dungeon, surviving with minimal MP use by constantly waving a rock around, we finally get to Zoma. He's kinda huge, like, he's actually four times bigger on the map than a regular character, and of course he has a big dramatic speech about taking over the world, pretty conventional evil overlord stuff. He throws three bosses at us before we even get to fight him, but that's not a big deal, because the Sage's Stone is seriously just that powerful.

Zoma himself is brutal. He has a wide array of heavily damaging spells, does a ton of physical damage, and takes two turns per round. My first attempt at killing him went miserably. But then I remembered something I totally forgot about: you're actually supposed to *use* the Sphere of Light on him. Doing this causes the screen to flash and turn Zoma rainbow colors...for a while...but after that, he turns blue, which of course is the universally understood color of weakness. He's a lot easier now, especially since we're able to build up a ton of buffs like before, letting us deal tons of damage while my Pilgrim keeps furiously waving that rock to keep everyone alive. Zoma does have the ability to dispel all buffs, which sucks, but with perseverence, we pull it off, and Zoma falls dead.

Zoma's castle dramatically crumbles apart, as they do. We escape through a...hole that spits us out the bottom of a different dungeon...okay, I guess? Then we leave and go back to Tantagel to celebrate. This time, really for real, the evil is defeated. The way back to the surface is sealed off, though, so it looks like we're going to be here forevermore. The king of Tantagel bestows us with a title, though -- he names us the Hero of Erdrick. Yes, that's right! Erdrick is a title, not a name, and it's the moniker our hero will be remembered by for generations into the future. So...that's the big twist! This is the story that precedes everything that happened in the first two games. Admittedly, I was kinda semi-aware of that from the start, because it's hard to browse a wiki without accidentally stumbling upon this sort of information. But it's kinda neat regardless, and it makes for a nice way to tie up the Erdrick Trilogy. Even though the storytelling of these games are very simple, I can appreciate that, within its own context, it's built up a little mythology that's meaningful within its world.

So how does Dragon Warrior III stack up? Well...as I've said, it's very similar to Dragon Warrior II. Admittedly, a lot of my experience was eased by the fact that I moved to digital mapping, which means that it wasn't quite so slow and laborious mapping out things as I went. But putting that aside and focusing just on the experience of the gameplay...well, it's pretty clear that the game repeats its predecessor just a bit too much. The moment of getting boat in Dragon Warrior II was huge, but it really only takes one repetition for it to feel formulaic. Dragon Warrior II is a game that's being pulled in two directions. It still has a lot of the puzzle box design of Dragon Warrior, but it's also just way too big and way too open. Much like the search for the five crests, the search for the six orbs is something of a midgame slump where the devs clearly want you to see this big wide open world they've created, but it's so huge and meandering that trying to find and navigate the threads of half a dozen different mini-quests is overwhelming.

As much as I got excited about the new class system at first, it runs counter to a lot of the game's design. The game is so demanding in terms of grinding that taking a huge risk like starting a brand new character, or starting a character over to move them to a new class, feels ridiculous. As much as the game might suggest that you want to change your party over time to adapt and grow, you don't *have* to, and the game never gave me a compelling reason to try. At the very least, it's good that it lays the groundwork for future class systems in later Dragon Quest games, but here, it feels almost superfluous. I had my four party members and that was it, pretty much.

That said, I think I was too hard on this game's combat when I described it early on. Over time, you get a pretty expansive range of combat options...or at least, enough to feel like a standard RPG. By the end, the combat didn't feel quite so one-dimensional, although that isn't to say it wasn't still pretty simple. This game's repertoire of spells is pretty expansive as well, with at least a vague gesture at an elemental system, an actual multi-target healing spell, solid and useful support buffs, and a couple actually usable oddball spells like BeDragon. As a system, what really holds it back more than anything is all the cruft it still has to clear away from the NES era of RPG design.

And that's it for Dragon Warrior III. I think I want to do a post after this, taking a moment to look back on the Erdrick Trilogy as a whole. After that, we'll be moving on to Dragon Quest IV, the final game on the NES. And boy, you'd better believe I'm not going to miss the NES era once we're good and properly out of here.

[prettyblossoms]

Lost in Limbo (A Reddie Fic) Ch.3

Summary: Dealing with the pressure of being a teenager is proving to be too much for seventeen-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak, who is unable to deal with his overbearing mother's expectations and violent school bullies. To make matters worse, he is fighting a losing battle with his sexuality.

Meanwhile, Richie Tozier is trying to convince himself that what he feels towards his best friend is a mere attraction, covering it up by being with multiple girls.

Will they be able to find the truth in each other or are they destined to crash and burn?

                                    Chapter 3: Coming Undone

By the time his third-period class had come and gone, Eddie regained most of his composure. He accepted what happened with his mother and was ready for his punishment the millisecond he got into the house.

He had shaken off the of the majority of Richie’s jokes. However, he still felt Richie’s hand on his thigh and heard the unnerving voice of the leper. Even though it had been years since the fight with Pennywise, he still was haunted by nightmares.

In many of these dreams, he would die. Even if it wasn't real, he still felt the excruciating pain surge through his body as It ripped his limbs off his body. His pleas and cries for help always ended up going unheard. Eddie would wake up in a state of panic. He could recall how his heart raced so rapidly in his chest that it hurt. It hurt so bad that he began to struggle to breathe.

In other instances, he had mustered up the courage to tell his friends the truth about his battle with his sexuality and the leper. Earning him only gasps, slurs, and vile insults they each spoke as they all stood in the shadows of the sewer. The only person he could see in this dream was Richie, but that was more than enough to completely kill him. The look of disgust, anger, and hatred in his eyes cut him more in-depth than any physical pain he could ever feel. He would wake up sobbing so loudly that he had to bite his bottom lip to muffle the noise. The amount of emotional distress the dreams caused made him wish he would just suffocate and die. At least that would be better than losing the only people worth living for.

He was forced back to reality when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He jumped at the touch and looked behind him to see Ms. Lewis. Her black unruly hair was in an array of curls that stuck tightly to her head. She was staring at Eddie, her sparkling baby blue eyes filled with concern. She wore a long floral dress that completely covered her feet paired with cardigan wrapped around her body.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Eddie.” She carefully spoke as if she was dealing with a wounded animal. “The bell for lunch rang 10 minutes ago, and you’ve been just sitting here staring at the whiteboard."

Eddie exhaled slowly, not knowing what to say. He knew he looked like a deer caught in headlights, so he avoided her stare.

Ms. Lewis didn't falter as she continued, "You also didn’t get involved with the class discussion on Lords of the Flies, which is completely unlike you. Are you okay?”

Eventually, Eddie’s tired eyes met hers, and he wanted to shatter to pieces. She was understanding, smart, and attentive. Like any reasonable person should be. He wished his mother could be like her. Hell, he wanted Ms. Lewis to be his mother because he was on the verge of falling apart. He needed someone to listen to him without judgment. The weight of the world suffocating him was becoming too much to bare.

But, his mother was far from being someone like Ms. Lewis. If he happened to break around her, she would want to put him in the hospital. Which would fuel her fire to start getting Eddie new medications, ones that he doesn’t need. Worst of all, she would never let him out of the house again. Not without a hell of a fight.

Unfortunately, Ms. Lewis was not his mother. Even though he felt comfortable, safe, and unjudged around her, he knew that she was obligated to let the school know whatever he may say. In turn, they would notify his mother.

Eddie sighed deeply and continued to look into her eyes as he lied, “I’m sorry Ms. Lewis, I'm just drained. I stayed up studying for an upcoming exam.” He inwardly thought, ‘Please don’t ask me what subject. For the love of God, please don’t ask me what subject.’

Ms. Lewis stared at him skeptically but let her suspicions go. She smiled at him, “I am sure the exam is important. Just remember to take care of yourself. Okay, Eddie? Now go on, hurry and go get lunch.”

He smiled back at her meekly as he stood up and grabbed his stuff. “I understand. It won't happen again. Thank you, Ms. Lewis.”

Bev, Mike, Bill, Stan, and Ben all sat at their usual table. Their current discussion was focusing on what they wanted to do for the upcoming weekend. Bill had suggested going to see The Sandlot at the Aladdin to which Stan and Bev agreed. Bill and Stan wanted to see it because not only was it a comedy, but it was also a story about friendship. Bev just loved going to the movies.

However, Ben and Mike wanted to have a camping night at the barrens. It had been a couple of months since they had the chance to stargaze and they knew the weather would be perfect this weekend. It also just happened that Eddie’s mom would be out of town this Friday and wouldn't be returning until Monday. His mom leaving and letting him stay home was a pretty rare occurrence. The time was right, and they felt this was the better option.

Since they couldn’t come to a consensus, they all agreed to wait for Richie and Eddie to decide.

Beverly took a bite from her juicy green apple causing a loud crunch at the table, listening to the chatter as she silently chewed the food in her mouth. The redhead looked up to see the doors of the cafeteria opening, immediately noticing that Richie was heading over to the table with his “girlfriend” in tow under his arm.

She groaned loudly, breaking the boy's attention away from their conversation. Whenever Richie’s girlfriend came around, she just couldn’t help but feel irritable.

Beverly just couldn’t shake the feeling that this girl was toxic to them, especially Richie.

Everyone at the table looked at her out of concern and were about to ask her if she was alright, but they too noticed the couple coming towards the table.

They all sighed and prepared for another lunch filled with awkward laughs and stares.

None of them even had to exchange words to know not to mention their ideas for the weekend because she was the type of person who just invited herself.

“Fellow losers, I require your utmost attention.” Richie said using one of his British voices, “King Tozier has arrived.” He plopped down in his usual spot, besides Beverly and patted her back.

The joke earned a laugh from all of his friends.

Samantha, feeling left out, replicated one of his voices as she spoke, “Along with his queen.” She took the seat right beside Richie, which is where Eddie usually sat. Then she placed her large bag on the only space remaining on the bench.

Richie didn’t notice; his eyes were glued onto his pepperoni pizza. He could hear Samantha speaking to him, but his thoughts about Eddie were drowning out her words. He merely nodded his head every couple of minutes to make it look as if he was listening.

Beverly and Stan both rolled their eyes in annoyance. Stan scooched closer to Bill, who was forced into Mike.

Stan hated this girl.

More importantly, he hated that Richie was usually oblivious to the fact that he was putting his friends on the back burner. Mainly, to poor Eddie.

However, today seemed different. Stan noticed that Richie’s whole demeanor towards her had changed. Usually, they would be obnoxiously swapping spit, unable to keep their hands off of each other by now. Yet, Richie was not even looking at her. He was staring more lovingly at his fucking pizza than Samantha.

Stan wasn't going to mention it though. At least, not right now. He grabbed an anti-bacterial wipe from his lunch box and wiped the table and the seat down for his hypochondriac friend. Even though he was closer to Bill, he understood Eddie the most.

Although they were very different, they both had very similar qualities. Stans extreme OCD caused him to be very careful and methodical with how he did things. Everything he owned had a rightful place, the contents of lunch box being a prime example.

Everything inside had to be separated so it would not come into contact with his other food. The bottom of the pail had to have the container with his sandwich. Above the container was home to his fruits. Finally, the top portion of the lunch pail holding his vegetables. If anything inside were to fall out of place, he couldn't help but feel compelled to fix it.

Just like Eddie couldn't help the urge to clean everything out of his irrational fear of germs. The kid couldn't stand to be around anyone who showed the smallest symptoms of an illness. He couldn't use public bathrooms because of the possibilities of who used them. He carried his hand sanitizer in his fanny pack, bringing it out at least five times a day. For Christ sake, he couldn't even spend the night at his friend's houses without bringing his antibacterial soap.

Out of all the loser's club members, they both could empathize with each other on how much it sucked to not be in charge of their lives.

For that, Stan was thankful for having Eddie as his friend. So, he left the antibacterial wipes on the table, knowing all too well that Eddie would insist on wiping the surfaces down a second time.

Eddie inched closer in line, feeling like his skin was crawling. The cafeteria was jam-packed with people. Usually, he would rather die before eating the shit they call food, but he knew he wouldn't survive the day without something. He was going to take the risk, just this once.

The thought of how disgustingly dirty everything was caused him to feel very uneasy. He refused to touch anything and kept his arms crossed tightly over his chest. If anyone got too close to him, he would bite his lip to prevent himself from screaming at them. He reached the front of the line and was greeted with a massive set woman in her fifties wearing a hairnet on her head and a disgusting apron wrapped around her body.

Eddie wanted to throw up.

"What's your student ID number?" She asked him in an uninterested tone.

"1124599," Eddie responded nervously, his stomach began to cry at him in protest.

She typed it into her computer lazily. "What do you want?" Her voice held no enthusiasm.

"What do you have?"

Eddie watched as she rolled her eyes at him."Today we are serving pepperoni pizza or spaghetti."

Both of those options sounded equally as repulsive to Eddie. He began to think to himself, 'The pizza has probably been touched by the workers, while the spaghetti is hopefully scooped up onto the tray. The tray that is in contact with at least two dirty students per day, meaning that thousands have had the potential to use it. There had to multiple types of germs on the trays alone. Maybe they would let me wash my tray if I asked.'

The woman grunted. "Kid, your holding up the line. Pick one." She demanded.

Eddie felt defeated. "Spaghetti, I guess."

He watched in horror as she walked over to the window and grabbed a tray from the middle of a large stack. Then she grabbed an ice cream scooper off the metal table. Using the scoop, she got some spaghetti out of a deep pan. She smacked it onto the tray harshly and lifted the scooper back up, for Eddie to see the spaghetti remained completely intact. It looked sticky, disgusting, and days old. Finally, she opted for him to take the tray.

Eddie shakily grabbed onto it, feeling as if his fingers were going to burn off just from touching it. Upon walking out of the cafeteria, he at least felt less compacted, but dirty nonetheless.

The hypochondriac noticed that all of the Loser’s were sitting in their usual spot. He began to walk over to them, relieved that he was finally going to be able to relax and stop shaking. His pace slowed down when he saw they weren’t speaking to each other. A sign that there was something out of the ordinary going on. His eyes locked onto to Richie, whose gaze was downcast, staring at his empty tray. Usually, he would be talking so much that their friends had to beg him to shut up.

He looked to Richie’s right and found the reason why they were so quiet. Samantha was there talking about god knows what, in his seat.