#this is such a tiny edit it took less than a minute i love it

[homestuck-backgrounds]

[itsbeeble]

I Think He Knows

SUMMARY: You've been in love with Joshua for as long as you can remember, yet you've never been able to tell him. Fortunately or unfortunately, you're pretty sure that he already knows.

GENRE: smut, fluff

PAIRING: Joshua Hong x afab!reader

WC: 4.9k

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @flwoie

SERIES TAGLIST: @captain-brie @nobraincellmode @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan

18+ MDNI AGLESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: uhhh, best friends to lovers, Hoshi being a snitch, p in v sex, brief oral (fem receiving), ddry humping, a bit of spanking, brat tamer!Joshua, brat!reader, tiny bit of angst if you really really squint, consent is IMPORTANT, tiny bit of alcohol, horrible flirting, multiple orgasms, idk this isn't my best work. It's also not edited so uh....good luck lol.

A/N: heyyyyyy 🥰. I'm not dead clearly, but my god has it been a minute. part of me is wondering if this series will ever be done but i'm doing my best. school sucks, work sucks, life is a bitch, and I burnt myself out. Anyway, thank you to Brie and Ally for betaing, much love kiss kiss. ALSO HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYYY

Your heart pounds ferociously in your chest, butterflies tumbling through your stomach uncomfortably. You feel like a teenager again, sitting in front of Joshua who has a boyish grin on his face. One of his hands traces along the bottom of his champagne glass, the other resting on the table and playing with the cork of the expensive bottle. You wonder if he knows how he makes your head spin with just a little smile and a glass of champagne. The thought doesn’t linger for long, and you let your gaze lower back to the practically empty plate before you. A few roasted vegetables remain on the plate, and you pick at them with your fork to avoid looking at your friend. 

Friends. That’s what you are. Nothing more, nothing less. As you always had been. 

Friends that took each other out to expensive restaurants, bought expensive drinks and expensive meals. Friends that—

“Soonyoung told me something interesting today,” he leans forward, dipping his head down to try and catch your eye. You glance up at him, but the fluttering in your stomach returns and forces your eyes back down.

“Oh yeah?” You murmur, thanking god for the dim lighting around you.

“Mhm. He mentioned you, actually.” 

Pause.

Kwon Soonyoung was the only person in the world who knew about your years-long crush on your best friend. If you could even call it a crush at this point. You’d admitted to yourself long ago that you were in love with him, admitted it to Soonyoung a few months back. You should’ve known better than to trust the mouthiest person in your friend group. 

“Now I’m curious,” you lift your head again, steeling yourself against the onslaught of nausea at what your mutual friend could have said. 

“He said,” Joshua shifts in his seat, running his tongue over his lower lip. “That you have feelings for me.”

Damn you Kwon Soonyoung. 

You nod slowly, lowering your fork onto the ceramic plate in front of you. The pounding in your chest has returned, hitting so hard against your ribs that you fear your heart will pop out and land right on the table in front of Joshua. 

“And…do you believe him?” You ask, failing to control the fear in your voice. Joshua smiles, and for a moment you let the fear wash away. Joshua Hong is the last person that you should feel afraid of. He was kind, he would never intentionally harm someone whether emotionally or physically, and he understood you better than most other people. You try to keep this in mind as you make eye contact. 

“I would be lying if I said that I didn’t at least hope he was telling the truth.” Joshua sits up, lacing his hands together and resting his elbows on the table. A spark, and you find the corners of your lips lifting. “Otherwise, my plans for the evening are a bit…a bit ruined, I guess.”

“You had other plans?” The champagne burns against the back of your throat as you down the rest of your glass. 

“Depends on how you respond to my question.” His eyes burn into yours and suddenly the table for two feels a lot smaller. 

“What question is that?” I already know, and I know my answer.

“Are you,” Joshua slides his glass to the side, “in love with me.”

“Yes.” You respond without hesitation, ripping the band-aid off and shocking both of you. Never had you been this forward with Joshua. You were always somewhat reserved with…everything, really. Past relationships, struggling with a subject, a pet passing away. You never wanted to let Joshua in and it made his heart swell that you did now. “I’ve— I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”

Joshua sucks in a sharp breath of air, leaning back in his seat and smiling thoughtfully.

“I answered your questions,” you drum your painted nails on the table. “Now you get to answer mine.”

“Ask away.” Joshua waves his hand. 

“What sort of plans did you have for us?” 

The question was innocent— at least to you it was— but as you watch Joshua’s eyes darken with lust, you realize that the implications…may not have been as innocent as you had believed. You think he knows where your mind has derailed to, knows what thoughts have begun to plague you. 

Joshua tips back his glass of champagne, and you watch him carefully. You allow yourself to admire the way his neck cranes, the way his jaw is hit by the light. He drains the golden liquid in two long sips, wiping away the excess that rested on his lips with a delicate swipe of his thumb. 

“We’ll get to that,” he emphasizes the word, watching you tilt your head down and bite at your lip. “I have some other things I’d like to do before anything else.”

He flags down your waiter, calmly asking for the bill. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, disturbed by how the mild flirting had already gotten you worked up, but wait patiently for Joshua. You wouldn’t deny the fact that you were eager to see what he had in store for the two of you, what he’d planned on such short notice. 

“You ready?” He taps the table with one finger, already beginning to stand. 

“As I’ll ever be.” Your lips twist into a smile as he helps to pull out your chair, grabbing your jacket before you even had a chance to reach for it. “Aren’t you just a gentleman?”

“You should know by now that all I’m doing is the bare minimum.” He scolds, and you don’t pretend you don’t notice his eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips. 

“Best friends don’t pull out chairs for each other.” It’s a joke, both of you know it. You’re fully aware that after tonight, neither of you will ever be best friends again. Whether he asks you to stay with him or not, at the end of the night nothing will be the same. This doesn’t, however, stop Joshua from scoffing and tugging you by the waist to come closer to him. You stumble, nearly falling into his chest had his hands not been right there to catch you. 

“I think you know,” his voice is a quiet rumble, “that we’re never going to be best friends again after this, Y/N. You’re mine now, and I don’t think I’ll ever let you go.”

You have to fight everything inside of you to not yank him down by that dark hair of his and kiss him in the middle of that crowded restaurant. Thankfully, it looks as if Joshua is fighting that same urge, one hand dropping down and the other sliding to the small of your back to guide you toward the door. 

You’re mine now.

It’s a wonder that you make it to the car without jumping Joshua’s bones, but it seems you have more self-control than you’d given yourself credit for. The whole ride to…wherever it was that Joshua was taking you, you somehow managed to keep your hands in your lap, rubbing at your palm with your thumb. From the corner of your eye, you can see Joshua. He has one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on the center console. He glances at you periodically, scanning your side profile.

“You’ve gotten quiet,” Joshua comments, drumming his fingers while you wait at a stoplight. Your eyes flick to his, and you purse your lips. “Are you…did I make you uncomfortable at all? Do— do you want me to bring you home?” 

“No,” you tell him quickly, shaking your head. “No. I want to stay with you.” 

The response soothes him, and he lets his hand drift to your thigh. He lets it hover over your exposed skin, waiting for you to push him away before he finally lets it rest on you. His hand is warm, his touch sending sparks through your body. You swallow hard, leaning back against the seat and staring at the road in front of you. Would it be wrong to tell him you want him to touch you more? To bring his hands just a bit higher, to—

Joshua’s hand squeezes a bit, drawing you back to reality. The light is green now and your body jerks as he presses on the gas. He lets his hand drift a bit higher, grazing underneath the fabric of your dress before stopping. Heat begins to pool in the pit of your stomach and you contemplate grabbing his hand and putting it right where you need it if he doesn’t move faster.

“You’re a menace.” You click your tongue and Joshua looks at you with a mocking pout.

“I didn’t do anything!” 

He’s right. Technically he hadn’t done anything. You, however, were on the verge of doing something very…inappropriate if he didn’t knock it off.

“I’m sure you didn’t.” You let your hand fall to his, tracing the back of it with your pointer finger, and watch the veins pop as he squeezes for the third time. You’re approaching a very familiar street with some very familiar houses. “Are we…are we going back to my place?” 

Joshua smirks. “Small change of plans.”

The giddiness inside of you returns, your head spinning as you think of all the things he could (and likely would) do to you. Your fingers lace through his, your heel-clad foot tapping against the floor protector in his car as he pulls into your driveway. He puts the car into park but leaves the engine running. For a few moments, neither of you says anything. The air between you is thick with tension, tension that grows when he tugs you toward him. 

“Tell me now if you don’t want this.” Joshua breathes out, his lips mere centimeters from your own. If you tilt your head just a bit, you’ll be able to kiss him— something you’ve craved since the day you met him. “Tell me now and I’ll walk you to your door and say goodnight.” 

“And if I do want this?” Your eyebrow arches, a playful look in your eyes. “What then, Joshua Hong?”

His eyes flutter, exhaling heavily as he tries to keep his composure.

“You’re going to be the death of me, I think.”

When Joshua kisses you, it isn’t as rough as you’d imagined. No, he’s gentle with you. His kiss ignites a fire inside of you, the flames swirling through your veins and heating your body until you fear you’re burning up. He cradles your jaw in one large hand as if you were glass and you would shatter if he held you too roughly. His lips move softly against your own, parting the slightest bit to catch your lower lip with his teeth. It’s a delicate dance, almost playful, and you couldn’t have asked for anything more. Your head tilts, allowing you to kiss him deeper, and a quiet groan leaves him. You smile a bit into the kiss, Your hand sliding up his chest to curl into the fabric of his shirt and pull him closer to you. Both of you ignore the fact that your body is halfway across the center console, your thigh resting on the seat between his legs keeping you propped up when his hands become distracted by the curves in your hips

The two of you only stop when you feel like you can’t breathe, your chest tight with the lack of air. 

“You taste good,” Joshua murmurs, his nose nudging yours as he gazes at you with heavy eyes.

“You think so?” Your lips press against his jaw, and he smiles tightly.

“Mhm.”

“You should turn off the car and take me inside so you can find out what else tastes good.”

That must have been the right thing to say, because Joshua’s eyes darken in an instant and then he’s shutting the engine off, slamming his car door shut, and walking quickly over to your side. When he opens your door, you don’t wait for him to outstretch his hand before you practically spring to your feet, grabbing him by the sleeve and yanking him after you. He laughs as he stumbles along behind you, tugging his arm out of your grasp and squeezing at your waist over the fabric of your dress. Your hands are trembling, the heat in your stomach growing more intense by the minute.

“Struggling, pretty girl?” 

His breath against your ear and his lips on your neck sends chills down your spine and you inhale sharply as his hand wraps around yours to help you guide the key into the lock. Your eyes are starting to flutter, your feet stumbling into the foyer of your home. Joshua presses you onward, one of his hands on the small of your back and the other flicking on the lights. You spin around to face him, your hands coming to his chest and curling around his tie to pull him down to kiss you again.

“At least let me get you upstairs,” he mumbles against your lips, grinning when you whine in protest.

“Can’t wait that long,” you deny, already fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He grins, backing you through the doorway to your living room. 

He stops your movements to spin you away from him. You face your window now, curtains drawn and the windows to your neighbor's house across the street staring right back at you. “All your neighbors will see us. Is that what you want?” He’s kissing down your neck, hands trailing to the back of your dress to undo the clasp. 

“Let them see.” You hold your head high, hands clenching into fists as the fabric slides down your body and hits the ground with a soft thump, leaving your body completely bare except for a thin pair of lacey panties. “Let’s put on a show for them.” 

“Interesting.” Joshua seems entirely unaffected by the statement, but the way he pulls you back against him to grind against the growing bulge in his pants is saying something entirely different. “Didn’t take you as someone to like being watched. I’ll have to explore that another time.” 

You mean to respond, words forming at the tip of your tongue but never escaping your lips as Joshua pushes at your shoulder, slowly guiding you to the ground. Your knees fold beneath you, your eyes wide and filled with stars as he moves into your line of vision and then away from you. You watch as he lets the curtains fall and cover your windows, and then he turns back to face you and continues to unbutton his shirt, loosening his tie until it hangs loosely around his shoulders.

“What are you doing, Shua?” Your voice is weaker than you’d wanted it to be. 

Joshua smiles coyly, leaning down until he’s at eye level with you. “I said that I would explore that at a later date, pretty girl. Not tonight. Tonight, you’re mine.”

“Yours?” Your hand rises to cup his cheek similarly to how he held yours just a few minutes ago. 

“Mine.” 

His knees hit the ground on either side of you, leaning over your body until you’re forced to lay back. Your legs stretch out to make his position a bit more comfortable, your knees rubbing together in anxious anticipation for what’s to come. 

You expect him to kiss you, your lips starting to pucker and your eyes fluttering shut as he lowers his face to yours once again, but nothing happens. Your eyes open to find him mere inches from you with that same smirk playing on his lips. 

“What are you smirking at?” You ask him, but he doesn’t answer. He shifts further down your body, laying a soft kiss on your collarbone that has your breath hitching briefly. Another kiss, this one closer to where your heart lays pounding underneath your ribs. Your hand twitches, aching to run through his hair, but the second you move to act on this urge he’s pinning your hand to the ground and glowering at you. 

“No touching.” Joshua commands, mouthing at the soft flesh of your breast. “Not until I’ve tasted every last inch of your skin.” 

He slips further down your body, leaving trails of soft kisses in his wake. The only sound in the house is the soft pop as his lips leave your skin and the heaviness of your breathing. 

When Joshua reaches the hem of your panties, he stops and trails his finger along it. The brush of his skin on yours is so subtle, yet you’re addicted to the feeling of it. So many nights you had cum to the thought of him tugging your panties down your legs, his eyes boring into yours as he lowers his mouth to your glistening cunt, imagining how it would feel to have him licking and sucking nipping at your folds. So many nights, and yet nothing comes even close to how it really feels. 

The second he runs his tongue from your hole to your clit, your back is arching off the ground and a loud gasp is echoing throughout your home. Your hands fly to Joshua’s hair despite his prior instructions, but he doesn’t seem to care as he drags his tongue and teeth across you. Your legs try to squeeze around his head, attempt to trap him against you, but he doesn’t let you. His large hands pry your legs away from him, squeezing harshly at your thighs and pinning them to the ground on either side of you.

He mumbles into your cunt with loud and drawn out sounds that reverberate through your body and have your legs jerking with pleasure. 

“Shua,” you gasp out, your eyes rolling as he sucks particularly hard at your clit. “Shua, fuck.” 

A loud smack rings out, and your thigh begins to sting. Your eyes widen, your head lifting off the ground at the same time that Joshua’s pulls away from you, his mouth dripping with your arousal. 

“What the fuck—” 

Another smack to the side of your thigh, and you yelp. Joshua raises an eyebrow. 

“Want me to keep going?” You can’t tell if he’s insane or not. You can’t tell if you want to smack him or beg him for more. You don’t get the chance to retort before he’s smacking your thigh again, harder this time. “That wasn’t rhetorical, pretty girl.”

Your teeth grind together, and one of your feet comes to his shoulder to shove him back. Maybe he lets you push him back. Maybe he wants you to fight back. Maybe he was waiting for it, because when you lean your body over him, he’s grinning maliciously at you.

“Who do you think you are, smacking me like that?” You hiss, and he pouts.

“Like what? Like this?” His hand comes down again, this time directly on your ass and sending waves of pain and pleasure through your body. 

“Joshua Hong,” you snap, but there’s no real anger behind it as you begin to grind your lower body into his clothed cock. His hands come to rest on your waist, watching as you try to form words and pleasure yourself at the same time. “If you keep pulling shit—”

Smack

Your body shudders and an airy moan pushes out of your lips despite how you fight it. Joshua grins again.

“What were you saying, pretty girl? If I keep pulling shit…what? What are you going to do, baby?” 

You can’t answer him, your hips rolling into his harder and faster as you approach your high. 

“Oh, baby.” Joshua coos, his voice shockingly stable despite how you’re practically riding him over his pants, effectively ruining them with your juices. “You’re a little desperate, aren’t you?”

“Oh shut up,” you whine, folding forward until your mouth is right next to his ear. Your moans and whines are right in his ear now, intentional on your part, and his grip on your waist tightens. “Feels so good, Joshie.”

“Yeah?” He’s quieter now, a low growl in the back of his throat as he fights to keep his hips on the ground. Fights to let you have your little moment, your little bit of control over him. “How good, baby?”

“Gonna cum,” your lips find the skin beneath his ear, sucking a mark into his flesh as your hips begin to stutter. “F— god, Shua, please!”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” Joshua coos, a bit of pride welling in his chest at how fast you learned. “You can let go. Go ahead and cum for me, pretty girl.”

Almost as soon as he says those words, you’re letting out a loud, near pitiful moan and your body begins to shake over his. A wave of arousal soaks into his pants, seeping through and beginning to wet his boxers, but he doesn’t mind. Not when the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen is cumming for him, moaning his name and no one else’s. 

Joshua can’t stop his hips from jerking into yours, pleasuring you even as your orgasm begins to ebb away. When he sits up, he cradles the back of your head in one hand, his eyes boring into yours in such a way that has you whining for him, clinging to his shoulders and turning away. 

“So pretty when you cum,” Joshua murmurs, lifting the two of you up and giving you a second to wrap your arms and legs around him as he loops around your living room to the couch. “Gonna fuck you now, okay pretty girl?”

“Okay,” you nod, but your eyes aren’t focusing and neither is your mind. It feels like you’re on cloud 9, and Joshua hasn’t even taken his pants off yet. 

He peers down at you, mild concern showing in his delicate features. 

“Y/N,” his hands are caressing your sides gently, pulling you back down to focus on him. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you promise, smiling lightly at him. “I just…it’s hard for me to actually, like, believe that you want me how I want you.” 

Joshua smiles. “And how, exactly, do you want me?”

“Wholly. I want everything. I want all your love, all of your problems, every doubt, and every moment— good or bad.” His eyes soften as you speak, and for the first time that night he’s the one that’s gone quiet. “I want you carnally, I want you to crave my touch and my taste as much as I crave yours. Every kiss, every intimate moment. I want them all.”

“And you’ll have them.” Joshua promises, and then he’s kissing you again. It’s a deep, lingering kiss. His lips part against your own, your tongues dancing together but not dominating each other. Your hands cup his neck, holding him close to you, and in that moment you don’t hear the clinking of his belt or the sound of his zipper sliding down. 

“You promise?” You pull away from him, your lungs burning from the lack of air. Joshua smiles at you, and his lips press against your forehead. 

“I think you know the answer to that, pretty girl.” 

And you do. 

He would never have to say it, you always know. Joshua Hong, in all the years you’d been best friends, had never once told you something if he didn’t 100% believe it, if he wasn’t absolutely sure that he would or could hold himself to it. He didn’t have to promise you, you could see it in the way he looked at you. Soft eyes, pretty smile, that little wrinkle in his nose. You knew the answer. 

“I’m gonna start pushing in now,” Joshua murmurs, aligning his cock with your entrance, shuddering at the seemingly never ending flow of arousal. “Let me know if you need me to slow down or stop.”

“Okay,” you nod, draping your arms over his shoulders and forcing your body to relax. 

He pushes in slowly, but the stretch of him filling every little crevice inside of your cunt stings and causes you to let out a whimper. 

“I know,” he whispers, “just take it all, baby. Take it all for me like a good girl.” 

Your body shudders at that, and you let your head fall back onto the cushion below you. Inch by painful inch, he slides into you until your body begins to convulse and try to force him out. 

“Baby,” Joshua grinds out between gritted teeth, “You gotta stop clenching like that.”

“I— I can’t.” You moan out, your back arching off the couch. “Hurts so good, Shua.”

“That so?” Joshua grunts and shoves the last few inches into you, relishing in the pretty little wail that escapes you. “That’s another thing I’ll have to make note of, huh?” 

He doesn’t give you much time to respond before he’s hauling your legs up and around his waist, one hand gripping the arm of the couch and the other planted beside your head. A silver chain dangles above you, glittering in the low lighting of the living room but capturing your attention just long enough to tell Joshua to start moving. 

“Can’t,” he tells you breathlessly. “Fuck, clenching so tight I can’t move.”

“I don’t care.” You whine. “Just fuck me, please Shua, please, please, please fuck me—”

He cuts you off with a sharp thrust of his hips, shoving his dick just that tiny bit further into you that has you gasping as the air is punched out of your chest. 

“You’re lucky I love you.” He groans as he slowly pulls back, his dick practically drenched in your arousal, and then thrusts sharply back in, sheathing entirely inside of you. You cry loudly, a tear slipping down your cheeks and your legs tightening around his waist. Joshua repeats the action again and again, drinking in the way your head lolls to the side, your tongue practically hanging out of your mouth. 

Then he begins to fuck you, just as you asked. He thrusts into you with hard, deep strokes that have you wailing and thrashing against the couch cushion. Your body is convulsing beneath him, and he can only watch like a god watching his worshippers, as you beg for him to fuck you harder, faster, deeper as if he isn’t already going hard and fast and deep to a point beyond your fucked out mind’s comprehension. The couch shifts slightly on the ground, scraping against your hardwood floor, but the sound is drowned out by the combined volume of your cries and moans and whimpers along with his grunts and little moans. 

“Close,” he grunts, his head dropping to your chest to bite and suck at one of your tits. “Fuck, I’m so close.”

You clench around him in response, your back arching off the cushion to get closer to his mouth, relishing in the pleasure he’s providing you. “S—so good, Shua. Fuckin’ me so good.”

“Yeah?” He pulls away from your chest, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead as he stares down at you. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum all over your best friend?”

Your body shudders in response, and suddenly your vision goes white. You can faintly hear your own voice, your own pleads and screams of Joshua’s name as he pounds into you, forcing your juices out of you and giving you no time to recover from your orgasm before he’s shifting his hips and driving his cock into a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. Your hand clamps down over your mouth to muffle the animalistic sounds that pour out of you, but Joshua rips your hand away, pinning it down on the couch.

“Don’t you dare muffle a single sound that comes out of you,” he hisses. “Not a single one.”

You don’t have the strength, will, or energy to respond to him. Not as his cock begins to twitch inside of you and another orgasm threatens to wash over your body. One of Joshua’s hands, the one that had been pinning your hand to the couch, moves over your hip, and his eyes stay on you as his thumb begins to rub hard circles into your clit.

“Oh my—” your voice cracks. “Fuck, oh my god, Shua!”

“Cum for me,” he grunts, forcing his orgasm back so he doesn’t cum before you, despite you already having done so twice now. “Now, baby. God, please cum for me.”

And you do. 

It crashes over you like a rockslide, rough and strong, and crushing everything in its path. Your cunt clenches around Joshua so tightly you fear you might break him, but he only moans out your name and begins to spill white-hot cum inside of you. The combined fluids from the both of you are forced out as Joshua continues to fuck into you, slowly now compared to before. Soft, deep thrusts that carefully bring you down from the edge until both of you have finished, laying spent on your now ruined couch. 

“That…” your voice is raspy. “Is that how you’re gonna fuck me every night?”

“Is that how you want me to fuck you every night?” Joshua’s tongue laves over your skin, pressing gentle kisses against your neck. 

You think he knows the answer, but you tell him anyway with a sly grin on your face.

“You promised.”

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[covesdadappreciation]

Hey hey! I loved your Prom one, and now I'm hungry for more! (Sorry not sorry =P). An idea that's been knocking around in my head is, its implied Tam-Tam gets bullied in the later Steps. SO, I would like to see MC getting into a fight after someone makes Tamarack cry, and the Qiu joins in to help because, love rival or no love rival, they ain't lettin' that shit slide.

School Fight

Tamarack x Male Reader (FTM Safe!) Author's note: I’m starting to think you really like the "jealous Qiu, and in love with Tamarack" dynamic… just a feeling. 🎀 CW: A physical fight and mentions of bullying. - I will also warn you that I may have not re-edited this. 1972 words

Ever since MC had met Tamarack, he’s doted on her. If she was a princess, he was her knight, through and through. He was at Tamarack’s defense when Oma and her argued, he was at her side when she felt isolated, he was always paying attention to her face to see if she approved or disapproved certain plans. She is his everything, and even in high school it hasn’t changed much. It certainly isn’t as obvious anymore, nor is he following her around like a lost puppy as much either. With getting older and no longer feeling out-of-place after being the new neighbor, he’s become more independent. Confident, some might say. 

MC began to climb the high school popularity ranks the older he got, along with Qiu (but Qiu wasn’t all that excited about being popular at this point). Though that never let MC feel bigger than Tamarack. Instead he always made sure to make it obvious that they were friends, that he’ll make time for her any day, that she’s just as important as any one of his friends. In a room full of people, he’ll always choose her. 

So when MC decided that he wanted to walk with Tamarack after her after school orchestra practice for the first time, he had a gut-squeezing feeling when he saw her with a small frown and tiny tears at the edges of her eyes. He quickly rushed up to her, but she squeezed her eyes when she noticed MC and smiled, the tears becoming much less notable now.

“Are you okay?” He asked, studying her face worriedly, holding himself from running his hands over the tear trails on her face. She nodded persistently, “Yeah, Orchestra was just stressful today. Rehearsal stuff, it happens.” She waved her hand dismissively. 

MC sighed understandingly, “Well if it’d help, we can go to the Diner and get milkshakes?” Tamarack perked up at the offer, and while her sadness didn’t seem to fully pass, it still made her smile.

As the week continues, MC notices that Tamarack’s been more stressed at the mention of orchestra. She’s anxious in the hallways, as if looking for someone, or trying to be aware of what people are talking about. Of course Tamarack was a little more anxious and awkward, they’re in highschool! It’s kind of a package deal. But it was way out of character for her, this was fear, and that little voice in MC’s head knew that something was wrong. All he needed to know was what the cause was. 

—

MC walked into the auditorium, sitting in the front row as he kept his eyes on Tamarack the whole time as she settled into her seat and pulled out her instrument. Though, nobody really seemed to notice him with the bright lights on them, and if they did, he wasn’t their main focus. They were working on playing music for one of the school musicals, but not even halfway into practice, MC already noticed plenty of red flags.

Two freshmen who sat behind Tammy were being dickheads. Notably one was blonde and the other was brunette. It started out small, but even then it took everything in MC to not get up and tell them to cut it out. Maybe accidentally spill some water on them. Who knows. The two boys went back and forth throughout their instrumental pauses or 10 minute breaks, throwing side-eyes at Tammy while whispering some surely cruel comments about her considering that in response to every whisper, Tamarack seemed to curl more and more into herself. 

MC had kept his eye on them, wishing that Tamarack could notice him and give him a signal on what to do. Scenarios and plans ran through his head, many of them revolving around the idea of revenge. On the other hand, he can hear his ma’s and Tamarack’s voice to calm down, to not get in trouble. The rest of the half hour passes and Tamarack makes her way over to MC, inhaling deeply before crashing her body onto him, pressing her weight against him so that he could hold her closely. 

“Tammy…?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there a reason you haven’t told me about those two dickheads?” MC crossed his arms. Of course he wasn’t angry at her, but the fact that those two had the nerve to be mean to the nicest and adorable girl in the whole world. The audacity. 

Tamarack huffs no longer leaning on him, “No! They’re just dumb, and it’s…” she falters, rolling her eyes and no longer making eye contact with MC, “It’s nothing to worry about.” MC glances around and finds the two boys headed out, but not leaving without throwing a judgemental look towards Tamarack. It only made MC’s stomach turn and twist. 

Just say the word, Tam. Put me in the ring, coach.

“If they keep this up, I swear I’ll start a fight”

“Please don’t” Tamarack laughs softly, but they both knew that MC wasn’t strictly joking. MC only makes a small unsatisfied sound, his eyes stuck and glaring at the two boys until they were out of sight. “Earth to MC?” Tamarack waves her hand in front of his face, “Are we still gonna walk to my place?”

MC sighs before taking Tamarack’s cello case, puffing his chest for a quick second before the weight shifted comfortably in his arms,

“MC, you know you don’t have to carry it for me every time-”

“You’ll have to pry this from my cold dead hands if you expect me to let you carry this yourself”

“My hero” Tamarack sighs with a smug look, readjusting MC’s hair so that his hair is back to normal before their walk. 

“My princess” MC grins back.

— 

The week had felt long, as if the school building itself was actively stopping the clock and hoping no one would question it. MC and Tamarack were walking down the halls in their transition period, arm in arm. Chatting away about their next class and hooked together to not lose each other to the crowd was always their excuse.

“Imagine if the crowds sucked her away and I’d never find her again!” MC huffed to Qiu long ago. 

So MC made it clear that he would never let that happen. Nor was he going to let the world see the dust of blush on his cheeks wherever they did cross arms.  

Unfortunately, the two boys from the orchestra had caught onto Tamarack’s presence on their walk down the halls. MC could see the cogs turning in their heads, which was surprising considering that MC thought there was nothing in there anyways. Defeating all logic regardless, there was a non-verbal plan being set in their minds, which made MC tense. 

He felt worse when he stole a quick look over at Tamarack, seeing her understandably more anxious than him, tears welling up in her eyes once more. This time she finally let them fall. 

The two boys pointed and whispered, judging something– and when MC looked at what they were pointing at, it was a part of a bit of high school embarrassment. Tamarack’s backpack was almost wide-open, not enough for everything to fall out. Of course, they were close enough so that you could hear the glimpses of terrible things they decided to say about her. About her intelligence and comments about her appearance. People are starting to look. 

“Guys, can you both just fucking rela-” MC was interrupted by the brunette who passed him, shoulder hitting shoulder, which caught MC off guard. 

Tamarack was quiet now, and a panicked and helpless look was all she could give as the brunette had gone up to her, let her walk away just a bit so that he could reach into her bag, pulling out whatever he could grab. It was her lunch bag. In a quick attempt of playing monkey in the middle, the brunette with the lunch bag tosses it over to the blonde boy, who’s conveniently closer to MC.

As the two boys laugh, the blonde holding the lunch bag makes eye contact with MC, almost as if expecting him to laugh too at this obnoxious act. 

There’s a moment where MC just nods, the situation finally clicking and snapping in his head. 

Almost as if it’s instinct, MC forces his body to slam the kid against the locker which takes everyone off guard. Those who knew MC from elementary especially. He wasn’t lost or trying to fit in anymore like he did back then. He wasn’t hiding behind Tamarack and hoping that everyone stays friends. It almost made MC seem bigger now. 

The blonde was almost too shocked by the reaction, but he recovered and decided that he’d fight back. They both shoved each other around, throwing a punch in there occasionally, the growing crowd of kids gave a lot of space. Phones were out, and people were cheering and commenting. In one moment MC was pinned and being pushed around by his clothes, in another moment MC had the blonde onto the floor, shoving him harshly back down on the ground.

Veronica had pulled Tamarack away while Qiu and Ren struggled against the mob of children to see what was happening. All they had heard was that MC was in a fight. All Qiu fully registered was a blonde boy on the ground, MC trying to pin the boy’s hands away, and a brunette boy about to enter to help his friend, most likely to make the situation worse or make this a 2v1 situation. Qiu quickly ran up to the brunette and redirected him, only shoving him back warningly. 

That’s all Qiu needed to see, and they knew that it probably had something to do with Tamarack. Who else would MC fight like this for?

“Are you gonna keep going?!” MC shouts at the boy, trying to be heard over the multiple kids shouting. The blonde boy kept up with the struggle before finally giving in and knowing that MC wasn’t going to let go of his wrists until they both stopped hurting one another. 

The blonde boy nods persistently, allowing MC to finally get off of him (not without "accidentally nudging this guy on the side a bit" with his foot) and take a couple steps back in case the boy was planning on starting another fight.

Not that there was time for it considering teachers finally reached the situation. The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving only Tamarack, Qiu, MC, and the two boys in that hall with the teachers.. 

—

Fortunately, Tamarack and Qiu didn’t get in much trouble besides whatever their parents and grandparents found to be appropriate. MC on the other hand had a 4 day suspension, and the other two boys had gotten slightly longer and worse punishments than them. MC’s mom wasn’t the happiest at the whole situation, but she also figured deep down something like this would’ve happened. Tamarack’s Opa found the whole thing a lot more amusing than Omi, of course, but they were still somewhat glad the bullying issue was done with too. 

And it wasn’t like Tamarack and MC were banned from seeing each other ever again. Tamarack and Qiu would visit MC after school to bring him homework, and study together. 

At the end of the day, no one bothered to bully or make comments about Tamarack anymore, lest they deal with MC when he comes back. At least MC promised he’d never do it again. Probably.

[something-tofightfor]

Birthday Kiss #9: Oberyn Martell

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,074

Rating: M. I think.

Summary: A Kiss On the Beach

Author’s note: 9 Pedro Characters. 9 Birthday Smooches. These are very lightly edited because they're supposed to be quick. Wanted to give all of you a gift to celebrate my birthday - Oberyn got jealous that 8 other men got to smooch someone and he wanted in, too.

Not explicitly tying this one to a current storyline, but I'm also not saying that it isn't tied to something, either.

No matter where you went with Oberyn, people stared at him. 

You were used to it. The turning heads of men and women didn’t bother you and people sending him drinks at the bar or attempting to divert his attention only made you laugh. Oberyn was Oberyn, and the attention was just part of the experience of being with him. 

That was especially true when you were in a place like Sunspear, much more of his golden skin on display than usual and his dark hair slicked back thanks to the gently crashing waves he loved to swim in. 

When Oberyn stretched out on a soft blanket to let the sunlight warm his skin, they looked. When he walked the short distance between your spot and the water, they stared. And when he emerged from the surf, droplets of water glittering in the sunlight as they ran down the ridges and curves of his body, they ogled, men and women alike not shy about appreciating the view. 

He appreciated it right back, too, making eye contact with people as he passed them and giving them nods and tiny smiles, occasionally stopping to speak with them for a few minutes at a time. He understood the importance of meaningful interaction, and Oberyn wasn’t ever shy about giving people what they wanted. 

But what he wanted was you, and it was no secret. 

You watched him from your spot on the sand, the legs of the low chair you lounged in buried for stability. After adjusting the sunglasses you wore so that they settled more comfortably against the bridge of your nose, you dropped your hand to touch the pendant you wore, fingers closing around the stone and sliding it along the thin chain. 

Even though he was facing the man and woman he was speaking to, you could see that he was focused on you from over the man’s shoulder - the tilt of his chin a dead giveaway, as was the way he reached up to touch the chain he was wearing, mirroring your motion because he knew you had eyes on him. 

It made you smile, and when Oberyn’s laugh carried over to you on the breeze, you finally closed your eyes, turning your head to the side and resting your cheek against the pillow behind your head. 

You were relaxed - the crash of the waves and seabirds’ songs soothing you, but the sound of his voice only made things better. “My new friends say happy birthday.” 

“What?” Reaching up, you pushed the sunglasses up, letting them rest against the top of your head. “It’s not my -”

“I know. And you know.” He pointed, glancing back at where he’d been standing previously. “But they don’t. And that was a good excuse to get me out of the conversation and back here next to you.” It made you laugh, but when Oberyn settled down onto the blanket next to your chair, reaching over to run the tips of his fingers over your bare thigh, the laughter stopped. 

It was replaced with a sharp inhale, your head turning to the side as you watched him, the man staring at the path his hand took. He was focused, his dark eyes narrowed slightly and then widening when you extended your legs, the bend of your knees less severe. 

He circled his thumb over your knee and then shook his head, clearing his throat before bringing his eyes back up to meet yours. “When do you want to go back inside?” 

“I don’t.” You answer was immediate, and when you heard him chuckle, you lowered one hand to cover his, squeezing. “Oberyn this place is gorgeous. Every time we’re here I just …It’s beautiful here. I could live on this beach.” 

“I did. For many years.” He turned his head, looking over your shoulder at the castle behind you, and when he looked back at you, you saw the wistfulness in his expression, something that didn’t often happen with Oberyn. “Between this and the Water Gardens, I spent very little time indoors.” 

That didn’t shock you, and when he didn’t say anything else, you stared over at him for a minute or so, taking in the details of his face and the way the light hit it- highlighting the freckles on his skin and bringing out the different shades in his beard. Your gaze trailed down and followed the slender line of his neck and the curve of his chest, Oberyn’s flawless skin on display. 

He said your name a moment later, using his other hand to tilt your chin back up, and when you met his eyes, he was smirking at you, head cocked to the side. “For someone that was just talking about how beautiful this beach is, you’re not looking at it.”

“Can you blame me?” Closing your eyes, you bit down on the inside of your lower lip. “This place is gorgeous, but then you’re also here, and I got … distracted.” 

“I am a distraction? Still?” He lowered his voice, his tone turning from affectionate to more, and when you opened your eyes, he’d moved closer, narrowing the gap between your faces. “Hmm.” 

“Always, Oberyn.” Reaching up, you cupped his cheek in one hand, nodding seriously. “And you know it. So I don’t -”

His kiss took you by surprise, the man moving swiftly to press his lips against your mouth and then urge your lips apart, slipping his tongue in to meet the flat of yours. You sighed into it; there was no point in pretending that you wanted anything else. When your fingers raked through the slicked back locks of his hair, you hummed, Oberyn’s hold on your knee tightening. 

But he broke away from you abruptly, letting out a quiet groan and giving your leg one more squeeze, though it ended with a gentle swipe of his fingertips over the inside of your thigh. “Would you like me to distract you some more?” Blinking to try and focus, you shivered at the tone of his words and the heat of his touch, goosebumps rising on your skin. “Somewhere …a  little more private, maybe?” 

You were on your feet seconds later, looking down at a very surprised Oberyn and watching as his expression softened, a smile spreading over his features and giving you a good look at his dimple - just another thing about him that you loved. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

— 

[robbiethompsonlongcon]

i hate tuesdays right now. i don't have access to tv or a computer on tuesdays, so i have to wait until wednesday to watch new episodes. so i don't get to join in on the posting flurry during the live airing, and every tuesday afternoon i have to add every spnwin tag i follow to filters, which is tedious and a little depressing

but

more importantly, i fucking LOVE this subsection of fandom. i cannot even express the amount of love i feel for the spnwin girlies (gn) (and guys and people who are uncomfortable being included in girlies) because on top of all the beautiful and objective analysis, the positivity and hopefulness, the incredibly welcoming and comfortable environment, the endless context and nuance from so so so many people.. !!!!everyone tags their spoilers!!!! even in reblogs, even when theres no other commentary added in the tags. doesn't matter how big or small or silly or speculative. if something may be a spoiler, every single person ive come across tags it appropriately. tuesdays may be tedious for me, as a Wedneschesters watcher, but tuesday tumblr is neither unusable nor inhospitable because of my restricted access. ive seen exactly one person forget to tag a tiny little spoiler that we kind of already all knew in their excitement, and it took less than two minutes for them to realize, without any prompting, and edit the post to add spoiler tags.

that is.. unheard of. a fabled utopia. a land of legend. if i wasn't actively experiencing and depending on it, i don't know that i'd believe it. but here it is, again and again and again. the way this fandom is so full of acts of kindness and love, just. gods. i am so fond. i love you, spnwinblr people. i love you so much.

[cassiopeiasara]

I thought perhaps we’d get a little personal here friends seeing as how some folks are migrating from Twitter and it’s been a minute since I’ve done so much as a survey over here.

I think the last time I made one of these posts I was struggling with writing and while that’s gotten… slightly better, it’s still a struggle. Before I think I was burnt out from some great productive years, the pandemic and what inevitably happens when a show run ends (things just slow down). This year though it’s different.

This has legit been one of the hardest years I’ve had and I’ve had some HARD ones but dealing with two medical mysteries kicking up old personal stuff and trudging along the SLOWEST journey to get tiny human adopted, this year def took the cake. Now the mysteries have been solved (welcome to the party hidradentis supprativa and endometriosis), I’ve had some surgery, one would think I’d relax.

Only I’ve kind of realized the fandom that restarted my writing bug is sort of not really for me and I’ve been really analyzing why I felt both like an imposter and not really fulfilled. None of it is a surprise of course but it’s still just upsetting in its own ways. I’m not cut out for popular fandoms I think. Like at all and perhaps I knew that but having a constant stream of content is quite seductive and not having to build things from the ground up is a relief but it turns out I lose everything I love that way.

Modern fandom is so fast paced with a consumeristic mindset that will never fit me and definitely never fit a life where I have to take so many breaks just to get through the day.

So I’ve been trying to find a way to engage that makes more sense. I’ve been trying to make things smaller and revisit characters in previous fandoms that I miss so dearly. And I had PLANS for Nano! Such wonderful plans then we kind of acquired another tiny human and now I’m deliriously sleep deprived and can barely text some days much less manage fic.

But I think making things smaller will help when I do reach a time when I can sleep for more than a few hours. And I think revisiting older fandoms (including a couple that predate my birth) will help immensely. I need less pressure for the return of better enjoyment. And I’m glad I’m still ok this space not just bc of this migration and the vibes but because I started this thing 8 years ago to write. I wanted to carve out a space somewhere and return to telling stories and I’ve had such fun doing that and I want to stay in the hope I can do it again.

Anyway for all of you folks who are always here, I appreciate you. For newer followers, welcome. Somewhere in my about me tag is an edited intro post if you’re so inclined. Most of this post probably doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but I wanted to say something to document where I’m at.

[khoicesbyk]

The Royal Romance.

Love Everlasting.

A/N: I had a different name and plot for this fic over a year ago. But after being in the RP community for more than a year, I've decided to write the current Royal Life of my favorite OTP.

Rated: Mature (at times can and will be Explicit. I'll be sure to change the rating when and if that happens). | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual. Y'all should be used to this from me by now 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Miller-Rys (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me and/or other authors [their characters have been mentioned and/or used in the story with their permission] ) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 7K words. (may be slightly more or may be slightly less. Look, I stop counting after editing and re-editing and driving myself insane. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

This series is rated Mature and/or Explicit. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @shewillreadyou @txemrn @busywoman @peonierose @twinkleallnight

Chapter 13.) A Royal Debut.

Marquise felt like time had stood still. He couldn't breathe. His palms were sweaty. His heart raced. He was in total shock.

“Your Majesty?” Dr. Ramirez asks.

He blinked himself back to reality. 

“Say hello to your son, my King.”

He looked at his wife’s OB and it still didn't register.

Not until she placed the tiny newborn in his arms. 

“Congratulations to you and Her Majesty.”

He looked down at the baby in his arms. 

“My son…my son…”

He gently ran his thumb over the soft skin of the baby’s cheek.

“You're here. You’re really here.” 

His vision blurred as his eyes welled up with tears.

“My boy. My sweet beautiful boy. You’re here.” he said as he broke down into tears. 

His dream had finally come true. Shanelle had given birth to their eldest son. And the baby boy was safe in his arms. While his heart celebrated the birth of his second son, it also still mourns the death of his first. 

“Look at you. Look at how beautiful you are.” he said as he cried, “You’re so tiny. And so precious.”

Marquise didn't want to put him down but he knew his wife was anxious to hold him. He gently placed the baby in her arms where she lost it.

“My baby. My beautiful baby. You’re here. You’re real.” she said as she cradled their son.

This was an answered prayer. They prayed for this moment. Ever since they lost their first child. And now that prayer has been answered.

“Your Majesties?” their nurse asked, breaking their reverie. 

Shanelle looked up at the nurse.

“Do you have a name for your son?” she asks.

Shanelle nodded as she took a steadying breath.

“Yes. His name is Kylo Jeremiah Rys.” Shanelle replies.

The nurse nodded as she wrote his name down.

“Very well. I will register his name and give you both a few minutes. We still have one more to go.”

Shanelle nodded before looking down at their son.

“Kylo Jeremiah Rys,” she whispered.

Marquise wrapped his arms around her and their baby.

“First Prince Of Cordonia.” Marquise quipped.

Shanelle smiled tearily.

“Eldest Son Of The King Of Cordonia.”

“First Heir Of The Queen Of Cordonia.”

“First Heir Of The Queen?” she asks. 

“Yes. The twins are officially your heirs to the throne. After all, The Royal Family is essentially two families in one. And Because Khari is my heir to the throne. Or at least the boys will be once the paperwork is filed. So no one can say our children aren't the heirs.” 

Shanelle smiled softly at her husband.

“Congratulations my love, you finally have your son.”

Marquise looked at her as she held the baby close to her heart.

“All because of you. You gave me our son. This beautiful boy is here because of you.”

“I don't want to let him go. I just want to stay in this moment forever.”

She kissed their son's forehead before handing him back to his father. 

“My sweet boy. I swear to you that I will always be here. I will always love you. I will always protect you. I will always defend you.” he said with tears in his eyes. “I refuse to fail you. Like I failed your brother.”

Shanelle laid her head on his shoulder, rubbing his arm. 

“I wasn't there for him or your mother. I couldn't save him. I failed him. And I will never forgive myself for that. But with God as my witness, I swear I will never fail you, your brother, or your sister. I will never be able to forgive or live with myself if I ever do.” 

He held his son close to his heart as tears streamed down his face.

“I love you so much, my beautiful little love. You will always be safe in my arms.” 

He was obsessed. His son is here. He's safe. He's healthy. He's alive. This moment is what Marquise asked, begged, and prayed to God for.

When Kylo quietly fell asleep in his arms, Marquise handed him to the nurse who had quietly reentered the room.

“I promise you, Your Majesty, we will take good care of the little Prince while you wait for his brother,” she said, smiling warmly. 

Marquise nodded before going to check on his wife.

“How are you feeling my love?” he quietly asked.

“Exhausted. Elated. Scared. Still wondering if I'm dreaming.” Shanelle replied. 

“I know. I'm still in shock.”

She looked at him, tears shining in her eyes.

“We did it, baby. We finally have the son we prayed for.”

Marquise shook his head.

“You. You did it. You blessed our family. I am eternally grateful to you. For your love. For your grace. For your poise. For your patience. And for your sacrifice. Our family is complete because of you.”

“You deserve credit too, Marquise.”

“No, I don't. I didn't do anything. You did. You nurtured our children. Followed the orders and advice of your doctors. Even when you were exhausted from the process, you stayed the course. All I did was watch you go through the emotions and physical changes. Our children…our family is blessed because of you.”

“You still deserve credit. Everything I felt, I took it out on you. And I'm sorry. But after 9 months look at where we are. Our son is here. And soon his brother will be too.”

Shanelle took a breath. 

“Are you okay, love?” he asked. 

“Yeah, but I think he's ready. Go get the nurse,” she replies. 

Marquise nodded before going to get her nurse and Doctor Ramirez. 

“Well, my Queen. This is it. Are you ready?” Dr. Ramirez asked Shanelle. 

“Yes. I'm ready to meet my baby,” she replied. 

“My King, are you ready?” Dr. Ramirez asked him. 

“Beyond ready!” he replied. 

“Okay. Take a deep breath my Queen. And on the count of three, you’re going to push. One…two…three…Push!” 

Shanelle took a deep breath, squeezed her husband’s hand, and pushed with everything she had in her. And soon a baby’s cry was heard. When Shanelle looked up, Dr. Ramirez held their son in her arms. 

“Congratulations again Your Majesties. Your son is here.” 

Shanelle’s vision blurred as the tears welled in her eyes. The moment she had been patiently waiting nine whole months for was finally here. Her sons, her Princes, her boys, her babies, are finally here. They're alive. They're healthy. They're safe. After Marquise cut the cord, Dr. Ramirez placed the baby in her arms, she thought she would drop him. He was so little. 

“Look at you. Look at how small you are. My son. You’re here. You’re actually here.”

She was enamored with him. 

“No wonder I had so much heartburn and indigestion. You and your brother have heads full of beautiful hair.”

There was no bigger joy than this. 

“You're so small. I never thought I could love someone this much.” 

Shanelle looked at her husband who was in tears himself. 

“Say hello to your Daddy baby. He's been waiting to meet you,” she whispered to the baby. 

“My Queen. Do you have a name for the baby?” her nurse asked. 

“Yes. His name is Zyon Shomari Rys.” Shanelle replied. 

The nurse nodded. 

“It's a beautiful name for him, ma'am. Congratulations again to you and His Majesty.”

Shanelle smiled at her nurse before turning to her husband. 

“Come meet your son.” 

She gently placed the baby in his arms and he was a mess of tears all over again. 

“I love you. I love you so much little one. I can't believe you’re here. You and your brother are here. I asked God for one healthy baby and he gave me you two. You and Kylo. My sweet boys. My loves. Thank you for choosing me and your mother. I will always love you. I will always protect you. I will always defend you. You, your brother, and your sister are the reasons why my heart beats.”

Soon the newborn was on his way to the nursery and His Majesty was just beside himself. His wife had safely and successfully given birth to their children. He was in awe of her. Her power, her patience, her strength, all of it enamored him. 

He pulled his chair up to her bed as he looked at his wife and she smiled at him. 

“What is it?” she asked softly. 

“You. You amaze me. You mesmerize me.” he replied as he gently ran a thumb across her forehead, “I know you’re exhausted. But I…I just want you to know how eternally grateful I am for you. You did it. You pushed through an unimaginable pain to bring our boys into this world. They're here because of you. I love you so much. I will never be able to repay you for giving me the ultimate gift of fatherhood.” 

He gently took her left hand in his, wrapped his right arm around her, and laid his head against hers. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But I will never stop loving or appreciating you. You are the love, strength, and backbone of our family.”

Marquise squeezed his eyes shut to hold back tears. 

“My Warrior. My Goddess.”

“A Warrior Goddess?” she asked. 

“Who needs Xena when I have you?” he replies. 

She chuckled softly before letting out a yawn. 

“You must be exhausted, my love. So get some rest.”

“Stay with me? At least until I fall asleep.”

He kissed her forehead softly. 

“I am at your side, My Queen. I am always at your side.”

He held her until he heard her snoring lightly. He felt as if his heart would explode when he looked at her.  He watched her chest rise and fall peacefully as she slept. He moved a few stray strands of hair from her face. 

“Je t'aime mon amour. Je suis entièrement et entièrement à vous. Je serai toujours à toi. Merci pour tout ce que vous m'avez toujours donné,” he whispered, before kissing her forehead and quietly leaving her room. 

Once outside Marquise took a deep steadying breath. The reality of the situation was starting to set in. He's a father again. There was no more waiting for his sons to arrive. They're here. And he still has so much to do. He has to formally announce their births but first, he has to tell their daughter. 

When Marquise finally arrived back at the residence of the palace, he was greeted by Margo and Shanelle’s parents. 

“Why are the three of you still awake?” he asked. 

“They were waiting to hear from you. I'm just here as moral support,” Damien replies. 

Marquise snorted. 

“Well?” Shantel and Margo ask impatiently. 

Marquise chuckled before choking up again. 

“They're here. My boys are finally here,” he replied. 

Margo and Shantel looked at each other before squealing happily at the news. 

“That is fantastic! Congratulations Your Majesty.” Damien said to Marquise. 

The grandmothers couldn't get enough of the news. 

“They're here! Our grandsons are here.” Margo exclaimed. 

“This is everything we wanted to hear. Our grandbabies are here.” Shantel added. 

Margo hugged her son. 

“Congratulations my son. Your family has been blessed beyond measure. And you…you finally have the sons you always wanted.” 

He hugged her. 

“Merci Maman. You are as much a part of my family as anyone. Je t'aime.” he said to Margo. 

“Je t'aime aussi mon garçon. Papa serait si fier. Et ta mère aussi.” she replies. 

“You look exhausted Marquise. You should get some rest.” Damien said to his son-in-law. 

“I said the same thing to your daughter.” 

“Go rest, honey. We’ll celebrate later.” Shantel added. 

Marquise nodded before yawning. He watched his in-laws and mom walk down the hall before turning in the direction of his bedroom. He had just enough energy to take a hot shower and change into something to sleep in before inevitably crashing. 

When he woke up later, he had a renewed energy. His first task was telling their daughter that her brothers were here. After freshening up, Marquise was off to see his baby girl. 

When he entered her room, she was sitting on her bed reading her favorite story to their corgi quartet and her kitten Paisley. When she looked up from her book and smiled at him. 

“Hi, Daddy!”

“Good morning my love!” he said to her as he sat down on the edge of her bed, “Did you sleep well sweetness?” 

“Uh-huh! When did you get home?” she asks. 

“Earlier this morning. You were still asleep. And I didn't want to disturb you,” he replied. 

“Is Mommy getting ready for breakfast?” she asks. 

“No mon amour. Mommy isn't here. She's at the hospital.” 

“Is mommy okay?” she asks. 

“Yes. Mommy is just fine. As a matter of fact, I have some very exciting news for you,” he replies. 

“What is it, Daddy?” she asks as she climbed into his lap. 

“Mommy gave birth earlier this morning. Your brothers are here,” he replied. 

“They're here?” she asked. 

“Yes, my love. And I can't wait for you to meet them,” he replies. 

He watched her face light up. 

“They're here! They're here! They're here!” she cheered. 

He loved seeing the excitement and love in her eyes. 

“Will we go see them, Daddy?” she asks. 

“Yes, my love. But first, we have to make a very big announcement,” he replied. 

“We do?” she asks. 

“Yes. We have to announce that the boys are here,” he replies. 

“Yay! Let's go, Daddy!” 

There was a knock at Khari’s door before Margo entered the room. An animated Khari made a beeline for her. 

“Grammy! Grammy! Grammy! Grammy! Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!” 

“Yes? What is it, my sweet?” Margo asks. 

“Mommy gave birth! My brothers are here! They're really here!” Khari replies. 

Margo chuckled. 

“I know my sweet. Your grandparents and I stayed awake until your father came home and told us the great news. Are you excited my Princess?” Margo asks. 

“Yeah! I get to a big sister Grammy. That's a very big job.” Khari replied. 

“Indeed it is my love. But Grammy and I have all the confidence in the world that you will be the best big sister ever.” Marquise quipped. 

“Your father's right. You will be the best big sister ever.” Margo added. 

Khari nodded. 

“But first Daddy says that we have to make a big announcement and tell everybody that my brothers are here.” 

“Well then! We'd better find you an outfit.”

“Yeah! It's gotta be something big and pretty!” Khari said before running into her closet with the corgis and Paisley hot on her heels. 

This caused Marquise and Margo to laugh. 

“I've never seen her so excited before.”

“She just became a big sister, Maman. It's to be expected.”

“This is true. And how are you?” Margo asks. 

Marquise smiled. 

“I feel like I'm dreaming. Like I should be waking up any moment now. I'm still in shock. I held them Maman. I held them both. And it hasn't registered that I did.” he replies. 

“I'm sure son. This was everything you always prayed for. It's everything Papa and I always wanted for you.” 

Marquise shook his head with a smile. 

“God I miss him so much. He’d be so thrilled.”

“Hah! Thrilled nothing! He would be marching up and down the halls with his chest out saying that not only are his grandsons here but he finally has his golf proteges. He'd be especially happy that they were born today.”

“Why?” he asks. 

“It's our wedding anniversary today,” she replies. 

Marquise winced. 

“I totally forgot I'm so sorry.”

Margo patted his arm affectionately. 

“It's alright my son. Papa wouldn't have paid attention anyway with the boys being born today.”

“I promise. We'll visit him together soon.”

Margo smiled. 

“Very well my King. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to help my granddaughter get ready.” 

Marquise pulled her into a warm loving hug that she returned. 

“Somewhere in heaven, Ellie is smiling because she is even prouder of you than I am. And she loves you just as much as I do. Maybe even a little more. Always know that.”

Marquise kissed Margo on the cheek before leaving to go get ready. 

As the King got ready, he felt a strange sense of nervousness. The announcement of the birth in the Royal Family was common yet this felt monumentous. For the first time since his birth was announced, Cordonia would have not one but two Princes. 

But what made him nervous was he wondered if he would end up making the same mistakes with his boys as his own father made with him. He was so lost in thought he didn't hear his father-in-law walk into the holding room outside the throne room.

“Are you alright, Marquise? You seem a million miles away.” Damien asks. 

“Huh? Oh! Yeah. I'm fine. Hell, I’m more than fine. I was just lost in thought.” Marquise replies. 

“Something troubling you?” Damien asks. 

Marquise sighed. 

“Yes? No? I don’t know?” Marquise replies. 

Damien gestured to the chairs for them to sit down. 

“What's wrong son?” Damien asks. 

“I'm excited. I'm exhausted. I'm so full of happiness and joy and love. But I can't shake this nagging voice in the back of my head.” Marquise replied. 

“What is it saying?” Damien asks. 

“It keeps saying that I'll be no better of a father to my boys than he was to me,” Marquise replies. 

Damien nodded in understanding.

“Let me ask you this. Do you think you and Constantine are the same in terms of fatherhood?” Damien asks. 

“No. We are indeed night and day. He abandoned his children whereas I would die for mine. But I also know that he lives with me. As much as I despise him, I can't ignore the fact that parts of him are a part of me.” Marquise replies. 

“This is true. And while we grew up together in a sense, I didn't know your father all that well. But you do. No one knows Constantine quite like you. And you have worked hard to not repeat his mistakes. Now I'm sure there are parts of you that are just like him. But there are parts of you that are just like Eleanor. While I never met her formally, my mother did. And she always spoke of her gentleness, of her kindness, and when I look at you, I see that in you. Yes, you and I don't always get along, but even I know how much of an amazing father you are. I see how much of an outstanding husband you are. I say all of that to say this, you'll be just fine. You'll continue to figure out this whole trial-and-error journey of fatherhood. And you'll love and protect and defend like you always have.”

Marquise nodded at Damien gratefully. 

“Thank you. I know I shouldn't be in my head but sometimes I can't help it.”

“I understand that. Every father has that nagging voice in their head, even me.” 

“Really?” Marquise asked. 

“Just because she's a Queen doesn't make Shanelle any less my daughter. I will always worry about and for her. I'm not saying that I don't trust you to keep her safe and protected, it's just sometimes I can't help but wonder if she is truly safe.” 

“I get that. And to that, I can assure you that I take her and Khari and now the boys’ safety seriously.” 

Damien nodded. 

“I know you do.” 

As they walked out of the holding room they were greeted by Khari and both of her grandmothers.

“Look at Pop Pop’s sunshine! You look beautiful.”

Khari curtsied to her grandfather. 

“Thank you Pop Pop. What do you think Daddy?” Khari asks.

“You look ever a vision like your mother, my love.” 

“Thank you, Daddy. Are you ready for the announcement?”

“Yes, my love.”

Before taking his daughter’s hand Marquise looked at Damien. 

“I might be a bit busy today so can you start the paperwork on the boys’ official titles for me?” 

“I would be honored. Now you two go.” Damien replies. 

Marquise nodded before taking Khari’s hand and walking into the throne room. They made their way to the thrones where the press was already gathered. With Khari sitting on his lap, Marquise cleared his throat, quieting down the voices in the room.

“Good morning everyone! I know it's a bit early to be awake on a Sunday but I do thank you all for being here. I assure you all that this won't take long. On behalf of my wife, my daughter and I have a very special announcement to make.”

Khari nodded before looking up at her dad. 

“Can I say it Daddy?” she asked. 

“Go ahead, my love,” he replies. 

Khari smiled brightly. 

“My baby brothers are here!!” she announced. 

“My daughter is correct. Earlier this morning, shortly after returning to Cordonia, Her Majesty was taken to St. Regis Memorial Hospital where she gave birth to our sons. Prince Kylo Jeremiah Rys and Prince Zyon Shomari Rys. I can assure all of you that mother and babies are doing quite well.”

Many of the press began excitedly talking at once. 

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! On behalf of everyone at the CBC, I'd like to congratulate you and Her Majesty on the birth of your sons.” Donnie Brine spoke up. 

“Thank you, Donnie! We are overjoyed and completely grateful and blessed.” Marquise replies. 

“And happy too!” Khari chimed in. 

“How are you feeling, Your Majesty?” Donnie asks. 

“I am everywhere at once. I feel everything. Joy, excitement, gratefulness, thankfulness, adoration, shock, intimidation, and love. This moment has been a long time coming. And now it's here.” Marquise replies. 

Donnie looked at a smiling Khari with a gentle smile. 

“And how about you Princess? Are you excited to be a big sister?” 

Khari nodded. 

“Yeah. I can't wait to see my Mommy and meet my brothers too.”

“That's great, Your Highness.”

Marquise cleared his throat. 

“Now I would love to take more of your questions but I think this little one is anxious to meet her brothers. So I thank you all for being here this morning. I will have an official statement for you all very soon.” 

He looked to Khari. 

“You ready to go?” he asked. 

Khari nodded enthusiastically as she took his hand. 

“Yeah! But first, we have to get Mommy some flowers,” she replies. 

“Very well, my love. Now let's go see your mother.”

Soon, they departed the palace for a local flower shop and then to the hospital to see Shanelle and the twins. Khari couldn't run out of the elevator fast enough. 

“Whoa! Wait for me!” Marquise said to his daughter as she raced down the hall. She stopped when she got to her mother’s door. 

“Sorry, Daddy. I forgot you’re not fast anymore.” 

Marquise made a face at his daughter. 

“You're lucky I love you.”

Khari knocked on the door before they went inside. 

“Mommy!” Khari said before running to her mother. 

“There's my girl.” 

Khari threw her arms around her mom. 

“Are you okay Mommy?” 

“Yes, baby. I'm okay.”

“We brought you flowers, Mommy.”

“Thank you Peanut. They're beautiful.”

“Are my brothers here?”

Shanelle nodded to the corner of the room. 

“They're right over there.”

“Can I see them?” 

“Of course baby. Go on over with Daddy.”

“Come on, my love.”

Marquise led Khari over to where the boys were resting. 

“Say hello to your brothers, Princess.”

She was in awe. 

“They're so little Daddy.” she said as she looked at them, “Hi Kylo. Hi Zyon. I'm your big sister. We're gonna have so much fun.”

It was at that moment her parents knew she was in love. 

“Can I hold them, Daddy?” 

“Of course my love. Here, have a seat by your mother.”

Khari sat down on the bed with her mother behind her. Marquise placed both boys in their sister’s arms. 

“They're so small. They're like little dolls. And they're warm.” Khari said as she held her brothers, “I want to hold them forever.”

Seeing the love she had for her brothers, melted her parents’ hearts. Eventually, she gave her brothers back to her father. After spending all day around the boys, Khari found herself laying in her mother’s arms. 

“When do the boys and Mommy get to come home?” 

“Tomorrow babe. We'll be home tomorrow.”

“Okay Mommy,” 

“My sweet girl. You’re gonna be the best big sister ever.”

Khari nodded before laying her head on her mom’s shoulder. As Shanelle held her daughter close she glanced over at her husband who winked at her, making her smile at him. 

“Mommy?”

“Yes, babe?”

“Are you happy?”

Shanelle nodded. 

“Yes, baby. I'm very happy. Because I have you, your pigheaded Daddy, Pop Pop, both of your Grammies and now I have your brothers.” 

Kharu nodded with a smile. 

“I'm happy too. We have a big family now.”

“Yes, we do.”

Khari snuggled in her mother’s arms then slowly and accidentally fell asleep. When Shanelle looked down she smiled softly. 

“And she's out.”

Marquise chuckled. 

“Like a light. I should get her back home.”

“Okay. Thank you for bringing her.”

“Always my love. I'll be back after I put her to bed.”

“Okay. I'll see you when you get back.”

With a sweet kiss to his wife, the King gathered his sleeping daughter in his arms and took her home. True to his word, His Majesty was back at the hospital that evening. Watching his wife and sons as they slept. It was at this quiet moment that his heart continued to swell. The peace that settled over him was a feeling that he wanted to have bottled. 

He moved a few strands of her hair from her face, causing Shanelle to stir from her sleep, and smiled at him. 

“Hey, handsome.”

“Hey yourself beautiful. I didn't mean to wake you up.”

“It's okay. I'm just glad you’re here.”

“I'll always be here love.”

Shanelle smiled softly. 

“You know it hasn't hit me yet.”

“What?” he asked. 

“Reality. I still think I'm pregnant. Like I'm in a dream and when I wake up I'm still gonna have this huge stomach.” she replies. 

“I know the feeling. Like we should still be waiting for the boys to get here.”

“Exactly. But nope. They're here. Our boys are finally here.” 

“We have never been more blessed.”

“No, we haven't. And that's a blessing in and of itself.”

Shanelle nodded with a smile. 

“Thank you.”

“For what? I haven't done anything. At least not lately.”

“For being the amazing father that you are. My children could never ask for a better Daddy than you.”

Marquise chuckled softly. 

“You let the world tell the story, and they'll say I don't deserve you or our children. But I will never stop proving my undying love and utter devotion to them or you.” 

Shanelle ran her thumb over his cheek. 

“I love you.”

He softly kissed the knuckles of her left hand. 

“I love you too, my Queen. Always and forevermore.” 

The next day it was time to head home and Shanelle couldn't wait. While the staff at the hospital were nothing short of fantastic, she was ready to go home and get in her own bed. With the boys safely in their carriers, The Royals headed back to the residence where her parents, Margo, and Khari eagerly awaited their arrival. 

“Welcome home Mommy!” Khari said as she greeted her parents. 

“Thank you, baby. It's good to be home.” Shanelle replies. 

Shanelle greeted her parents as well. 

“Hi, mama. Hi Daddy.” 

Damien wrapped his daughter in a loving hug. 

“How are you my darling?” he asks.

“Tired but I'll be okay Daddy,” she replied. 

Her mother couldn't get enough of the boys. 

“Look at them. My precious grandbabies. I am going to spoil you two rotten!” 

Shanelle shook her head with a smile. 

“Welcome home Your Majesty. And congratulations on the birth of your sons.” Margo said to Shanelle. 

“Thank you, Margo. Now go love on your grandsons.”

It did Shanelle’s heart good to see her babies receive so much love. After spending the day with family and getting the boys settled in their new nursery and opening the gift box she received from Vescovi Boutique’s new baby line, Shanelle was finally able to climb into her bed and relax. 

“God I've missed this bed,” she said with a sigh of contentment. 

“I'm sure you have.” Marquise quipped. 

“And I missed food. I missed real food. Don't get me wrong, the food at the hospital was decent, but I missed food that didn't taste sterilized.” 

Marquise chuckled as he wrapped her in his arms. 

“Well now that you're home, you can have whatever you like. And it won't taste sterilized.”

“Thank God. But you know what I missed most of all?” 

“What?” he asks. 

“You. I missed being with you. I missed being in your arms.” she replies. 

Marquise tightened his arms around her. 

“I missed you too. I hate being in this bed without you.”

“You're spoiled, Your Majesty.”

“Pot. Kettle.”

“Touchè.”

The two snuggled together, enjoying a quiet moment together until the baby monitor on Marquise’s nightstand crackled to life. 

“It seems it's time to feed the boys.”

“Okay, I'll go.”

He stopped her. 

“Nope. I will. You rest.”

“You sure?” she asked. 

“Positive. You did most of the heavy lifting so get some rest.” he replies. 

“I love you so much right now.”

Marquise chuckled before kissing her forehead. 

“I love you too.”

The next two weeks were a blur of diapers, feedings, bottles, sponge baths, and uneven sleep schedules for the new parents. But they handled it beautifully. They took turns so one could rest and so the boys could get used to either parent being alone with them as well as together. 

While their daughter was at school they were enjoying a quiet moment walking down the hall with the boys. Shanelle was tickled with how animated her husband was with their sons. 

“You are too cute, you know that?” 

“Thank you. I love talking to them.”

He rocked Zyon as they walked. 

“You’re a natural at this Daddy thing.”

He snickered. 

“Thanks. I have 5 years of experience.” 

The two laughed. It did his heart good to hear his wife laugh. 

“I love this feeling.”

“What feeling?” She asks. 

“This feeling of pure happiness. I have never been this happy.” He replies. 

Shanelle smiled. 

As they turned a corner, they were greeted by an attendant. 

“Pardon the interruption Your Majesties. But you have an audience waiting for you in the throne room.” she informed them. 

They looked at each other. 

“When did you put an audience on the schedule?” Shanelle asked. 

“I didn’t. I cleared our schedules through the end of the month.” He replied before turning to the attendant, “thank you.”

The attendant bowed then walked away. They looked at each other before Shanelle texted her parents. Asking them to meet them outside the side door to the throne room. 

“What is it butterfly?” Shantel asked her daughter. 

“Someone is waiting for us in the throne room. So we need you and Daddy to take the boys if you two don’t mind.” Shanelle replies. 

“Of course.” Shantel said as she took Kylo from her.

“Can I be of assistance?” Damien asks. 

“No but thank you. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.” Marquise replies. 

With their children safely with their grandparents, The Royals stepped into the throne room to some unexpected guests. 

“What are you doing here?” Shanelle asked. 

They were greeted by Genevieve and two other guests. 

“Well hello to you too, niece. And to you as well Your Majesty. I heard the great news. Congratulations on the birth of your sons.” Genevieve replies. 

Shanelle and Marquise looked at each other. 

“You requested an audience?” Marquise asked. 

“Yes I did. I had to come see and congratulate the two people who ruined my life on their two new bundles of joy.” Genevieve replied. 

“The two people who ruined your life? What are you talking about?” Shanelle asks. 

“If it weren’t for you and your husband exposing your uncle I wouldn’t be a laughingstock among the court!” Genevieve sneered. Her face ugly. 

“With no due respect Genevieve, if your husband had kept his dick to himself you wouldn’t be in this situation. And the only reason the world knows he fathered a child is because Naya tried to use that pregnancy as an excuse to not be convicted of murder.” Marquise replies. 

“And you just had to tell the entire court!” Genevieve snapped at him. 

Marquise let out an annoyed sigh. 

“I’ll remind you to watch your tone, Genevieve. My wife and I are not your children nor are we your staff. When you speak to me or her you will be respectful of our titles.”

“You think you scare me?! Without me you wouldn’t be King!” 

“I became King because my cousin’s mother took him out of the line of succession when my uncle died and my brother abdicated. And before you tell me how your kingdom was stolen from you and your children, South Cordonia was never meant to be yours or Edward’s. Your father-in-law, King Dominic made sure my wife would be the next monarch. Because at that time not only was she the oldest living child of the Miller Clan but he was still King when she was crowned Princess. Not that I need to remind you of this.” 

Genevieve looked at him indignantly. 

“Now why are you here? And don't lie to me.” Marquise said. 

“I'm here in an official capacity as a representative of the next Head Of State Of Comery Isle.” 

“Is that why Former Prime Minister Ballenger’s grandson and I assume his wife are sitting on my thrones?” Marquise asked. 

Genevieve nodded. Seemingly impressed. 

“Very good. The hollow King knows his nobles. Yes, that's them.” she replies, “Marquise, Shanelle, meet Lord and Lady Alden Douglas Joseph of Gallagher. The next Heads Of State Of Comery Isle. My Lord and Lady meet your sad excuses for Monarchs.” 

“Do you enjoy your life and the comfort it provides you, Genevieve?” Shanelle asked. 

“I earned the comfort my life provides me!” Genevieve snapped at Shanelle. 

“Then if you want to continue enjoying that comfort you'll respect my husband and his title as YOUR King as well as my own. Don't you ever forget that I control what you get from the Monarchy.” 

Genevieve scoffed. 

“And you had the nerve to call me and your uncle tyrants.”

“I never wreaked havoc on the people or the economy of this kingdom. But you did. So yes, you and your husband, separated or not, were indeed tyrants.”

Marquise cleared his throat. 

“Now that we know who's with you, you can get on with the reason why you're here.”

“As I said, I'm here as a representative of the next Head Of State.”

“Okay. You could've just sent that in writing to the campaign committee.”

Genevieve smiled venomously. 

“Why do that when I can happily inconvenience you and my niece? Besides, I wanted Lord Joseph to see you up close so he knows the type of watered-down leadership that he would be dealing with now that he's the next Head Of State.” 

Lord Joseph finally spoke. 

“I'm glad she did. It's high time someone stood up to the tyranny of you and your highly unqualified wife.” 

“Highly unqualified you say? Then I guess that includes your grandfather.”

“Unlike this Queen, my grandfather served this kingdom with distinction!”

“While feeding state secrets to Auvernal when they tried to force our daughter into a betrothal and attempted a hostile takeover.” 

Lord Joseph stood stock still. 

“The schmuck you call a grandfather was willing to sell this kingdom out for a check. Oh! You thought my husband and I didn't know? Why do you think the man is in exile now?” Shanelle asked. 

Lord Joseph kept his mouth shut. 

“That's what I thought.”

Meanwhile, Marquise tilted his head to the right. 

“Hello, Makenna. It's been a while since you and I have seen each other.” 

“Not long enough Marquise.” 

“It's Your Majesty.”

“I don't care what it is.” Lady Makenna sneered. 

Marquise rolled his eyes and then turned to his wife. 

“My love, meet Lady Makenna Laurent-Joseph. Aka Naya’s cousin.”

“Your ex has a cousin?” Shanelle asks. 

“Yes. She, Geoffrey, and Lord Joseph are the same age.” Marquise replies. 

Shanelle nodded. 

“Charmed I'm sure.”

Makenna scoffed. 

“Of all the women in this world for you to choose from, you pick this bleating sheep to be your wife Marquise?” Makenna asks before shaking her head, “Such a shame. But not surprising given how much of a failure you've always been.” 

“Your cousin didn't seem to think so.”

“My cousin was a fool! Falling for you was the worst thing she could ever do!”

Marquise raised an eyebrow. 

“How is King Elgin doing Kenna?” Marquise asked. 

“My uncle is none of your concern!” Makenna replies. 

“Oh well since he's no longer my concern, I can tell the Monarchy to stop paying for his dialysis treatments now.”

Makenna fumed. 

“If you dare…” she sneered. 

“Careful my Lady. You don't want to end up like your cousin.” Shanelle warned her. 

When Makenna backed down Marquise turned his attention back to Lord Joseph. 

“If you plan to run for the Head Of State, be my guest, and should you win, I will do my job as your King and congratulate you. But don't let the power go to your head. Because just like I told Edwin, I reserve the right to remove anyone from their position.” 

Lord Joseph took a menacing step toward Marquise. 

“I look forward to the day your reign as King goes down in flames.”

Marquise cleared his throat. 

“My Lord. Don't ever forget that your station is LIGHT YEARS BELOW mine. Don't ever threaten me. It never ends well.” Marquise said to him, “And oh! Don't you ever touch MY Thrones again!” 

“So dramatic! This isn't a threat, Your Majesty. It's a preview. To let you and your wife know that I am a wolf. And I will not play nice with bleating sheep!” 

“Guards!” Marquise commanded, “Get these people out of my throne room.”

The couple watched as their guests were ushered out of the throne room. 

“They're going to be a problem I see.” Shanelle quipped.  

Marquise nodded resolutely. 

“Nothing we can't handle, my love.” 

“True. Now let's go see what my parents are up to.”

Marquise led his wife out of the throne room and down the hall. The next few days were filled with family, fun, fellowship, and the twins’ first Thanksgiving of many. This was all Marquise wanted. He even took time out to honor his mother on the 25th anniversary of her death. As hard as the day was for him, he was comforted by the fact he had his family all under one roof. 

That following Monday, the elections for Comery Isle had concluded and the winner was announced. Marquise and Shanelle were in his office when the results were announced. As predicted Lord Joseph won by a landslide over his opponents.

“Well, it's official. Lord Joseph is the new Head Of State.” Shanelle said to her husband. 

“So it would seem,” he replied before taking a sip of his whiskey, “but we needn't worry though. Always remember Comery Isle is still under your jurisdiction, my love. You are the Queen. No one bullies you. You are the one who sets the tone and the standards.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good as long as you know.”

Just then Marquise’s phone buzzed. 

“What is it?” Shanelle asked. 

“The latest news on the kingdom of Gemmora,” he replies. 

“What's the latest?” she asks. 

“It's up for grabs,” he replies. 

“What?! What about King Eli and Queen Vanda?” 

“According to this press release the Gemmoran High Court has decided not to award control to either and instead will sell the kingdom to the highest bidder.”

“Wooow! Their divorce cost them both. So what happens now?” Shanelle asks. 

“Simple. We enter and win the bidding war to acquire Gemmora,” he replies. 

“No, we are not.” 

“Yes, we are.”

“No. We're not. We don't need Gemmora.”

“I'm not about to just let it sit there.”

“We already have Auvernal to the west and Monterisso to the south. We do not need Gemmora.”

“Yeah well, we're getting it.”

“Oh My God! You're being greedy.”

“Don't act like this isn't a great opportunity.” 

Shanelle crossed her arms and challenged her husband. 

“Okay, Your Majesty. Convince me to agree to this.” 

Marquise raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Gemmora is home to the largest Nintendo manufacturing plant outside of Japan. The jobs from that plant alone will bolster our kingdom’s economy. It will give us a chance to have land that will not be given to the nobility first for once. Their schools and educational system is one of the best in the world. Think of what that will do, not just for our children but all of the children of our kingdom. On top of the fact that their Aerodynamics sector is the best in all of Europe. They're a leader in cancer research and cure development. On top of the fact that it would be nice to acquire the homeland of my grandmother.” 

“Your grandmother is from Gemmora?” Shanelle asks. 

“Yes. Her father was a well known Duke in Gemmora before her family fled when she was a child to Cordonia during WWI and she met my grandfather,” he replies. 

“What is it with you Rys men and marrying outsiders?” Shanelle asks. 

Marquise chuckled and shrugged. 

“Okay fine, since I know you'll never let this go.”

“See? I knew you would eventually see things my way. Besides, Drakovia has wanted Gemmora for decades. So that means beating Queen Viktoria at her own game.” 

“You are so cocky,” Shanelle said with a laugh, “Okay. Go win us a kingdom, Your Majesty. Don't lose.”

“Always remember, I don't lose. I either win or I learn.”

“No one knows that more than me,” Shanelle said with a wink. 

Marquise winked back at her. This was his chance to expand his kingdom’s borders further north and east. And he is determined to take it. 

[fantestable]

So I took these photos of myself. This is the absolute singular reason I dropped a few mortgage payments on this camera that I have here. I call it my Stock Photo Machine, because it takes stock photo quality pictures, like I always dreamed about since I was young. I'm not a photographer, but I do like having breathtakingly beautiful artifacts of me and the people I love, frozen in time at their present age, forever and ever. I took a bunch of enchanting pictures of my mom back in May that I will cherish until I die. I wish every single person I feel anything for would model for me for like 20 minutes. Actually you know what? Let me ask them.

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Anyway, where was I? So I took these photos of myself that I'm quite proud of. Photoshoots are fun (particularly with this camera) because you don't need to do much to make them look like they came from a magazine or 70's album cover. And can you imagine? Having an image of you from 20 years ago that is indistinguishable from a 70's album cover to cherish and look at and reminisce over? That you gave birth to yourself, all on your own? How uncommon. What a glorious present to receive from your past self. Even though I don't use it all that often, this camera was such a good use of my money.

Okay so check out these pictures I took. I do not like the way I look. I am the fattest I've ever been, I feel like I look so unbelievably, distressingly plump. I also can see how much I've aged (that doesn't bother me that much, I'm 32, more than half the people on earth would kill to be 32. Also all of us are the oldest we've ever been, always at all times. Are we going to cry over that 24/7? Or are we going to thank god for another day we get to spend as the cute 2023 version of us and not the slightly less cute 2028 version of us? I know what I'm going to do.) and overall I'm being confronted with the fact that I'm less pretty than I look in the mirror and thus in my head. I took 1700 photos of myself and 99 of them were acceptable enough to me to make the Lightroom shortlist. Of those, 27 of them were nice enough to go through the time consuming process of editing and denoising, and of those, 11 of them were good enough to photoshop. I had to look at a lot of unflattering photos of myself to get there and it's hard not to become a tiny bit insecure. 😅😂 But I know that when I look back on these 10 years from now, I'm going to marvel at how beautiful I was, and wish I had known and appreciated all that I had going for me at the time.

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In summation, I love these photos, I think they turned out so well, and I know I'll love them even more in just a few years from now.

My phone is in my hand the whole time, because It's my remote shutter.... I need to do something about that. Modify my process in such a way that my phone isn't visible in every shot...

[academicdisasterfic]

Hi!! I can't believe i'v been reading your works for so long and didnt know it was you. Sourdough literally got me back into reading fics. i love it and you. Can i please request prompt 16? It just screams drarry to me.

Hi there! I'm sorry this has taken so long - I wanted to write something perfect for you, because this ask truly meant so much to me, and I looked at the prompt and...I was like, this actually feels like a Sourdough love declaration to me. When I ended the story, there was a little epilogue, but not the moment Harry actually told Draco he loved him.

So here you go - a little Sourdough missing scene. I hope it makes you half as happy as this message made me xx

You can find Sourdough here.

16. “How you made me fall in love with you is still beyond me.”

'Draco?'

'Hello Hermione! How are you?'

'Draco...' Hermione's face flickered in the Floo. 'It's four in the morning.'

'What? No—it's definitely past six—oh. You might be right.' Draco looked over to where his tiny clock perched on top of his fireplace. 'Is now a bad time, then?'

Hermione sighed, something deep and long suffering. Rude, really, since they were less than three months into friendship. It should have taken her at least a year to get to the "this man is a maniac and I am now stuck with him" point.

'No,' she said, resigned. 'I'm up now. Why are you up?'

'Excellent question. Well, you see, I was writing a scene for St Clair—'

Forty five minutes later, both Hermione and Ron were nursing cups of tea in Draco's living room, nodding along blearily.

'—and so then I told Mark that if he wants to be a heterosexual man who edits romance books, he really needs to understand the concept of rimming—he had a very good weekend with his girlfriend, apparently—'

'—mate, I do really owe you for getting us onto that with the last book—'

'You're welcome, Weasel,' Draco beamed. 'Okay, the thing is, I actually finished it last night—the entire book—and I realised that I want to put Harry in the dedication because I'm quite desperately in love with him, etcetera, but I use a pen name, and we don't have any cute nicknames, and I feel like initials are so impersonal, and then I started worrying because maybe putting a dedication in a book is a bit too much for a new relationship, and—what?!'

Ron had collapsed his face into Hermione's shoulder, clearly trying to muffle his giggles, his shirt riding up and revealing his stupid perfect abs. Hermione had her bottom lip caught between her teeth, looking at Draco with a mix of exasperation and fondness.

'So,' she began, trying and failing to smother a laugh, 'you needed our advice on a book dedication? At four in the morning?'

'Well.' Draco crossed his arms over his chest. 'When you put it like that, it sounds a bit stupid.'

'Oh, love, no!' Hermione reached out for one of his hands, and Draco took it, trying to stop the blush creeping up his neck.

'I'm sorry. This is insane, isn't it?'

'No,' Ron said, quickly sobering. 'No, you're not insane, Draco.'

'You know we're always here to help with your spirals,' Hermione said, and Draco winced.

'Ah.' He looked down at his hands. 'Yes. Well.'

'Have you slept?' Hermione asked kindly, and Draco reluctantly shook his head.

'Go to bed, mate,' Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder. 'Mum's got Rose, 'Mione's got to go to work, so I'll stay here.'

'I feel slightly idiotic,' Draco said. 'But it just—he was here for the whole of this, really, him and his stupid bread—'

'Bed,' Ron said, kindly but firmly. 'We'll talk when you wake up, yeah?'

~

Draco could—begrudgingly—admit to feeling better after a nap, particularly when Ron woke him up with tea and toast and he got another peek of Auror abs as Ron reached across his pillows. At this point, it was genuinely unclear whether he or Harry had the bigger crush on Ron, but he did make a point of wolf-whistling as Ron tugged down his shirt.

'Stop objectifying me,' Ron grumbled, settling next to Draco with his crocheting. Draco didn't know how to adequately express to Ron and Hermione how much they'd helped him, these past months; how the way they cared for him, simply and completely, settled something deep inside his chest.

'We all objectify you,' Draco told him flatly. Ron sighed.

'Yeah.' He poked his tongue slightly out the corner of his mouth as he wound more wool around his hook. 'You know, I don't think you should worry so much about the dedication. Harry won't care.'

'Hmm.' Draco studied his toast, nibbled at the crusts. It was Harry's, of course - salty and tangy and perfect, slathered to the corners with butter and jam, just as he liked it. 'Do you think it would freak him out?'

'What?' Ron's head snapped sharply to the side, his eyes narrowing as Draco avoided his gaze and reached for his tea. 'Mate, he bloody worships the ground you walk on.'

'Oh.' Draco fought down a blush and stared into his tea. 'You think?'

Ron sighed. 'And we always called Harry oblivious.'

~

'You okay?' Harry asked immediately as he walked through the door, taking Draco's face in his huge, calloused hands and kissing him. Draco whimpered and returned the kiss, winding his arms around Harry's neck, inhaling the scent of bread and sugar on him. 'Ron said he was here with you today.'

'Ah.' Snitch. 'Yeah. Just a little wobbly.'

'You okay now?'

'Yes! In fact.' Draco turned and marched towards his awful kitchen, where about fifty different folders and notebooks were spread out, Draco's scrawls taking up the entirety of the bench. 'I have to talk to you.'

'Uh huh,' Harry said carefully, eyes stuck on the mess in front of him. 'What do we have here?'

'My next book!'

'Really? Sweetheart, that's brilliant.' Harry's smile was so endearing, utterly genuine and sweet, and Draco melted.

'It's a bit different, but I want you to hear me out.'

'Alright.' Harry smiled gently and propped his chin on his palm, staring at Draco with that devoted intensity he didn't ever think he'd get used to.

'So,' Draco cleared his throat. 'In the sixteenth century, there was a witch called Loveday. Before she was born, a prophecy was told: only the most worthy would win her heart.

'Loveday was born at Tintagel, and grew up on the Cornish coastline. She met many suitors, wizards who travelled from around the world to prove their worthiness, but none were focussed on her heart.

'So Loveday grew tired of meeting suitors. She began to withdraw more and more, spending her days by the ocean. She felt that her prophecy had become a burden, that it had precluded her from ever finding someone who could see past what she could offer them; someone who just loved her, without the glory attached.

'Then, one day, a mermaid washed up on shore. She had been evicted from her clan, and she was scared and unused to the human world. Loveday took her immediately to her cottage and kept her in a bathtub, where she healed and they learned each other's languages.

'The mermaid was called Ilya, and she slowly started to shed her scales, and her legs began to emerge, and soon she was walking. She never left Loveday's side. One day, Loveday realised that her heart was no longer her own.'

Draco paused, looking at Harry's raised eyebrows, his bright eyes, the way he was listening to every word.

'Loveday and Ilya lived to the end of their days in Tintagel, and walked into the ocean together when their time came. It is said that their ghosts greet those who visit the shore. It was the first queer love story permitted to be published for young wixen, in 2003, after the Muggle laws changed.'

Draco inhaled. 'I want to retell it. I want to visit their ghosts. And I want to get out—of here, of this place, of this rut I'm always in, terrified of this city and how stressed it makes me. I'm going to move. I want you to come with me. And I know it's only been a few months, but you know that I'm desperately in love, would marry you tomorrow, want your babies, so on and so forth—at this point I have to say that you're quite unavoidably stuck with me, I cannot feasibly see a way in which I would survive without you or your hot friends—and I know you want to eventually end up in Godric's Hollow, which is in the same area, so really it just makes sense, and okay I maybe panic spiralled today because I want to give you a dedication in this current book and I didn't know—whatever, the point is, I realised I wasn't stressed about the dedication, but rather that I'm not sure you realise I'm ready to be better, for both of us, and I want to give you something, and I think a peaceful life is exactly what you deserve.

'And I want to write this story about Loveday and Ilya because they were happy, and you make me happy, and it's not really groundbreaking or earth-shattering or dramatic, but that makes it perfect, because simple happiness can be so hard for queer people to be allowed, but we can make it, and we can write it, and bake it, and I just—'

'You're an idiot,' Harry said softly, getting up and taking Draco's face between his hands.

'An idiot—' Draco spluttered with indignation, quickly smoothed over by Harry's lips, the feel of his smile stretching across his cheeks.

'Yes.' Harry pulled back and looked at Draco seriously. 'How you made me fall in love with you is still beyond me.'

'You...' Draco took a moment to process the words. 'You love me?'

'How could you possibly think otherwise?'

'Well, I just asked you to move across the country and you still haven't given me an answer—'

'Yes. Of course it's yes, sweetheart, you're the bloody love of my life. And a complete nutter. Did you really wake my friends up at four in the morning?'

'They are my friends now too,' Draco sniffed, haughtily burrowing his face into Harry's shoulder, and Harry chuckled a little, pressed a kiss to his hair.

'I love you so much,' Harry said, and his words were so measured, so gentle. 'My heart stopped being my own the day you walked into the bakery.'

[garbagevanfleet]

LAZARUS (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Jake x female!reader

Word Count: 8700 words in this chapter

Summary:  Jake Kiszka is dead. Or....was. 

WARNINGS: (in this chapter) extreme portrayal of grief, mentions of contemplating suicide, a lot of talk of death, religious occult shit, descriptions of a dead body, blood (feeding),  slight gore due to said blood feeding, me having the shallowest possible grasp on Latin 

Editing and moodboard by the incredibly talented Erin ( @gardenvanfleet​ ) ilysm <3 <3

A/N: Hi! Before we get started here, I want everyone to read the warnings on this fic. It contains some situations that can be extremely triggering, and since it’s a Halloween fic, it is creepy in nature. Read with caution please! I love you all and I’d hate to be the reason someone had a horrible day. Alright, now. On to the feature presentation...

MASTERPOST

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(Please consider listening to this special playlist I made while you read - it really sets the mood )

You had cried until your eyes swelled - until they became itchy and red. You sobbed so hard that your abdominal muscles had become all but useless. Your mouth was dry to the point that it was hard to talk - not that you had any desire to anyway. 

Jake Kiszka was one of your very best friends, and he was the first person you’d ever lost. 

You’d heard the stupid cliché that the first cut is always the deepest, but that’s not what this was. This was pure, undiluted grief, and it lived in the pit of your chest from the moment you got the phone call that he hadn’t made it out of the coma. It was less than a minute - fifty two seconds to be exact, and most of that time was because you had dropped your phone in shock and it took the lady at the hospital a moment to figure out that you weren’t coming back on the line. 

You sat on the tile floor in your bathroom and screamed until your throat was raw, curled in on yourself like you could close yourself out to the reality of it if you could just make your body small enough - like relief was a tiny space you could slip into if you hadn’t been burdened with a skeleton. 

Nighttime was the hardest. The moment you’d start to drift off you’d think about the last time you saw him - you’d think about the accident and it would force you out of what measly rest you’d managed to settle down with. 

The accident happened on the eighth of August. It was hot and sticky and everyone in town was looking for a reprieve. You and your closest friends had found just that in your favorite local swimming hole. It was picturesque - like a clipping out of a travel magazine, and there was something about being there that was always exciting and youthful. 

That was exactly why you’d suggested going there. You had packed a cooler full of beer and soda and met up with the twins at their family house around ten, and you were already in the water when noon came. 

It was seven pm when Josh caught you mid-yawn and had made the call that it was time to pack it in, but Jake and his endless chase for adrenaline had pleaded for just one more jump - he knew it might be his last of the summer. The three of you had already been dry for an hour after eating your packed sandwiches at six, so you and Josh had both declined. Josh was easier to persuade, partly because he adored Jake and would have done anything possible to make him happy - it had always been that way. They truly shared one soul and one brain cell, and you were lucky enough that they deeply enjoyed your company. 

Once Josh caved, it was only a matter of time before you relented too, but reminded them that the area would be closing soon, so it would have to be an in and out affair. You always joked that being with them was like trying to herd cats or contain a tornado, but you’d become adept at it over the years - they listened to you in a way that made everyone else in their life envious.  

It was seven-thirty when Jake was standing at the top of the rocks in just his swim trunks, Josh already having jumped a couple of minutes before. You had decided that you just simply did not want to get wet again, especially when you thought about sitting damp in the car with the air conditioner on full blast because the boys always ran hot, so you sat perched across the swim area on a rock shelf and cheered them on with your attention and presence. 

It was nine when the doctor came out to the waiting room. You and Josh, their youngest brother, and their parents all held your breath when you saw him approaching, looking rather bleak in a way that emergency room doctors often did. He informed you, in a very sterile tone, that Jake had slipped into a coma. Their parents had hounded the doctor for more information, even after he’d sternly told them that there was no way to know if he’d ever come out of it. What they had really been looking for was some assurance that everything would be okay - someone to direct their anger at if something went wrong, like the doctor, but there was simply nothing to say that wasn’t a lie. 

You stayed overnight at their house, like you so often did, for three days. You couldn’t even entertain the idea of staying at your place alone, and there was a spot on their basement couch that was molded to your form. That’s where you existed in that time. Josh had slept just an arm’s length away, and you both pretended that he did so for your benefit. 

It wasn’t terribly long before you realized that you couldn’t stay there forever. They needed to be able to process everything together, and despite them always having included you as part of their family, it simply wasn’t true. 

You had paid a co-worker to come and feed and water your cat, and you felt a responsibility to make sure he wasn’t lonely by himself. He didn’t leave your side for days after that and you spent the minuscule amount of extra energy you had petting over his hairless hide as he purred across your lap. 

When you finally felt like you weren’t about to crumble into dust, you went to visit Jake in the hospital, and you weren’t sure whether it was a relief or a burden that he didn’t have any other visitors at the time. 

Upon first stepping into the room and seeing him lying there - unmoving with his head lolled off to the side - you didn’t think you’d be able to even sit down. However, once you forced yourself into the room you could almost pretend like it was comforting to see him. 

You came only one other time, and it was while Josh was there, sitting in a chair that he had pulled up to the hospital bed, close enough that he could gently lay his head on Jake’s unmoving forearm. 

It was the fifth of September when you got the news. You had been just stepping out the front door, half of a bagel held in your mouth, when the sound of your phone vibrating in your bag alarmed you enough that you lost the grasp on your house keys. As you ducked to grab them, you dropped your bagel, face down onto your shoe, and let a curse slip. You quickly gave up on both of them in favor of finishing out your phone and when you recognized the called ID as the hospital number, you froze. All you could do was stare at the screen until you were scared that it would stop ringing and forced yourself to answer it. You had been on your way to work, but you darted back into your house after discarding your phone, food, and bag on the front step.

It was the seventh of September when they moved him from the hospital basement to the funeral home. The only Kiszka daughter had been studying abroad and couldn’t get home right away, so the family had decided to keep the body on ice until she could return. 

You had plenty of time to go and view the body, but you tried not to think about it until you got a text from Josh asking if you’d gone yet and if you planned on it. You gave him an extremely vague and noncommittal answer so you could put it off for a couple more days. You were well aware that you should be there for him, but you were trying your fucking best.

Your house was out in the middle of the woods. It had always seemed like an inconvenience, but the rent was cheap and it meant not a lot of people came to visit you unless you’d given them a real reason to. It had very old windows and a screened-in porch that you sat in for a few minutes in that time to pretend like you’d gone outside. 

In reality, you didn’t step out your front door for a week, and it was only because your mail was literally spilling out of the envelope-style mailbox and onto your stoop. 

You were in your slippers, as you always were when you were home - the hardwood floors weren’t well insulated and your toes frequently felt like they were numb. It caught your eye when you bent to pick up a couple of letters from the concrete.

A little book. 

You looked at it and instantly felt at ease in a way that didn’t make sense to you, so you scooped it up, added it to your pile of mail, and stepped back inside. 

Since it was clearly the outlier in all the envelopes, you decided to open to the front page, just far enough for a slip of paper to dislodge and fall like a feather onto your kitchen floor. You stared at it until you realized it was a pamphlet, and then you crouched down to your haunches to view it. 

                            ⚸  Dealing with the loss of a loved one? ⚸

You rolled your eyes and left it lying there on the floor. You didn’t even bother opening the book again - since it had no markings on the cover and came with a flier about dealing with death, you just assumed it was some low-budget religious recruitment tool, so you tossed it onto the kitchen table. The whole ordeal depleted enough of your limited energy that you discarded the idea of going through the mail altogether. 

You had been able to smell yourself for days, but you finally decide that you can’t stand it anymore when you reach to slide your letter opener back on the top of the fridge and catch a whiff. When you can finally work up the stamina to undress, you stand naked in front of your bathroom mirror and inspect yourself. 

There was a scar on your left calf - bright pink from being freshly healed, and your eyes caught on it. It had inarguably needed stitches that you’d neglected to get, but it felt almost fitting that that day had left you with permanent wounds, both emotional and physical. 

When your stomach started to twist enough to make you nauseous, you placed your hands on your abdomen. You had to brace yourself on the bathroom sink until you felt okay enough to turn and start the shower. 

At first, right after the accident, you had actively tried not to think about it. Every time you would find your thoughts slipping into something darker, you’d try to blank your mind out - start over. 

Then, after a week or so, you fell into a phase of brutal self-hatred. You’d close your eyes when you went past any reflective surface, lest you stare at yourself until you were bawling. You didn’t let thoughts of that day leave your mind, and if - for whatever reason - you found something to make you feel better in the slightest, the guilt ate you raw. You let it consume you and wallowed in it because you couldn’t remember who you were without its looming presence.

Now, you feel like you rest somewhere in between. Depending on the day, you either lean into the grief and longing - let yourself picture his face and remember the smell of him - or you cast him from your head altogether. 

When you get into the shower, you let the water run over your muscles - exhausted from unuse - and try to relax. You have one hand braced on the wall, and your head turned down to the shower floor as you let the water run through your hair from the crown of your head. 

There’s an odd feeling in your shoulder that comes out of nowhere. It starts as a warm tingle - like having a heating pad pressed against your skin for too long - and it’s borderline pleasant. You let out a hum and lean all of your weight against the shower wall, letting the water hit that spot directly and feeling the warmth bleed into your shoulder blade and down your right arm. 

But the muscle quickly starts to go numb with a tingly heat that stacks rapidly until it hurts enough that you reach a hand up to press it over the spot. 

You’re not sure what you’re expecting, because the pain is muscular, but you try to crane your head to look anyway. The angle is too sharp, so all you can really see is an untouched canvas of skin. 

It starts to dull after a second, and you quickly write it off as your tired body protesting any movement at all, but it’s back seconds later. 

This time it feels like someone is holding a lump of burning coal to the spot and the pain is so sharp and unexpected that it forces a pitchy whine from your body. You slap your hand over it and rub firm circles into the spot like maybe you can coax yourself into stopping it, but it doesn’t. 

You reach a shaking hand to the faucet handle and crank it as far to the left as it’ll go because it feels like flames licking at your skin, and you’re hoping that the rush of cold water will squelch the burn. 

It does not. 

The agony intensifies until you are mewling in pain, scratching at the spot like a wounded animal as it buckles your knees. It lasts for only a few seconds, but it overwhelms your senses to such an extent that it feels like minutes of excruciating pain. 

When it subsides, it does so as quickly as it had come on, and you’re left shivering on the shower floor. You hadn’t realized you were crying until you have to sniffle back the snot that threatens to spill out from your nostrils. 

Once the pain is gone, you snap your hand out to turn the knob in the other direction, but even lukewarm water feels hot on your now-chilled skin. You sit there on your haunches until the muscles in your legs are shaking and numb, and it’s an honest struggle to get yourself standing again. 

Somehow, you manage to find the willpower to wash your hair, but it’s completely mindless - like your body is moving solely off of muscle memory. You can’t get your brain off of what just happened. The recollection of the pain alone makes you slam your eyes shut tight in a grimace. 

As you’re towel drying, you rub the cotton over your shoulder and jolt as it sends a full-body shock through you. It doesn’t hurt, per se, but it’s such an alarming feeling that you scramble to step in front of the mirror. 

You suck in an audible gasp as you take in the reflection, showcasing for you a vibrantly plum-colored bruise, like spilled ink on your skin. Your fingers are shaking when you slowly reach to run them over it, but it doesn’t hurt the way it should. A scowl finds your face as you push into it and feel nothing but the pressure. 

It certainly looks like it should hurt. The sight of it makes you feel a bit sick again and you find yourself repressing a gag. There are veins, like blood-red strands of thread, webbing out from the borders of it - as thin as hairs. You’re almost afraid to look away from it, but you have to as you recognize the heat of nausea threatening your throat again. 

You try not to think about it while you dress because you don’t have the energy to aimlessly wonder what the hell could have done it to you, so you slip a shirt on and then a sweatshirt over that, like maybe if you put enough layers over it, it’ll disappear. It’s a childish thought, but “out of sight, out of mind” has been a close friend of yours for a month now. The therapist that your parents had demanded you see, lest they stop helping you pay rent, told you that your coping mechanisms were not healthy. Instead of changing, you just never went back to see her - you didn’t have the energy for any kind of emotional metamorphosis. 

You make your way into the kitchen and open the fridge to find that it’s exactly as sparsely stocked as it had been the last time you looked into it. There’s a gallon of milk that’s weeks out of date, rotten to the point that the hard plastic has started to swell. You had meant to dump it out a lot sooner, but you put it off and now you know that the smell will be horrendous. You obviously can’t leave it there forever, but you also can’t get past the mental block to fix it, so it waits there for you. 

After giving up on finding anything to eat, you grab a glass from the cupboard above the sink and fill it with water from the tap, sipping it down as you stare out the kitchen window. The view is gorgeous - a forest that goes on for miles and miles on each side of the property. It had made you a little nervous at first to live so far out of the way, but it was nice - you used to listen to music as loud as you could stand it, and never had to worry about a noise complaint. 

You haven’t heard music in a while. 

You’re staring out the window, a thousand miles away from your own body when suddenly your muscles tense. The feeling of someone standing with you makes the hairs of your arms and legs stand, so you spin around on your heel on instinct. 

But there’s nothing. 

No one but Bug, who’s perched up on his cat tree in front of the picture window, sound asleep in the sun. The open floor plan of the kitchen and living room always comforts you, but in that moment, it feels too big. Too empty. 

You lean back against the counter and take another sip of water as your eyes instantly land on the pamphlet on the floor. It’s laying there, the deep blue, glossy paper contrasting starkly against the wood floor that’s been worn light over time. 

Crossing the room, you swoop down to pick it up and let your eyes fall over the page. 

It looks like it came from a hospital waiting room and you’re wondering what passive-aggressive asshole would slip something like this into your mailbox. If they have a problem with you’re handling of things, they should come to you and say so. 

Except. You don’t want to see anyone. 

The last time you saw Josh was a couple of weeks ago, and since then, you’ve been keeping in a very dubious state of contact through short, choppy messages. At least he seems to be handling this about as well as you are. 

_______________________________________________________

                          ⚸  Dealing with the loss of a loved one? ⚸

The tendrils of grief root themselves deeply and often leave one exhausted and overwhelmed. Are you feeling like it’s all too much? Do you want the pain to go away? 

Do not consider suicide; there’s a better way. 

No living human knows what happens after we die, but your recently deceased loved one does. 

Isn’t it time to ask them?

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You read it once, and your brain is so baffled that you have to read it again. And then one more time for good measure. 

The other side of it has a picture of a virginal woman, standing stick straight in white robes with her hands posed in the shape of a triangle around her mouth. 

“What the fuck?” You’re scowling at the sheet of paper in shocked disgust. 

Suicide? Someone thought you were contemplating suicide? The only people that would have any grasp on your state of being would be Josh and your parents, but you’ve not given either of those parties any reason to worry about you ending it. 

Then you realize what you’ve just read and turn the page back over to read the line one more time. 

“Ask them?” you whisper, your bottom lip starting to quiver in a way that you instinctively conceal with your hand. Once the tears start, you know better than to try and stop them, so you just hang your head, stand by your kitchen table, and cry. 

It’s a brush against your hand that pulls you out of it. Remembering the feeling from before - like you weren’t alone - you yelp, causing Bug to jump back. He’s standing on your kitchen table, tail straight up and alert in the air, and when you realize it was just him, you reach out and scratch between his ears. He never lets you cry alone if he can get to you. 

He’s trusting and sweet, so he careens into the touch, instantly starting to purr. You listen to it rattle through him and let him comfort you back to a functioning state. 

When you get your bearings, you lift the pamphlet to your face again, and then, rolling your eyes, you set it on the table. In doing so, your fingers brush over the book that you’d left there before.

You consider it for a second before picking it up loosely and feeling your skin prickle into goosebumps. Before opening it, you give a frown at the unusual reaction, but you have to admit that absolutely nothing has been usual for a while. You have essentially resigned to the idea that your life will be like living in a prison that has a very tenuous grasp on any one dimension. 

You sit with the book on your loveseat and open the first page to see. 

Nothing. 

The paper is very worn and thin enough that, when you turn a page, it makes a crinkling sound. But there’s nothing on the second page either. Or the third. 

You flip quickly all the way through it and find not a trace of anything. It’s frustrating enough that you relax back against the headrest and just stare at the ceiling. 

The grip you have on the book is loose, so when your shoulder throbs again painlessly, it causes you to drop it out of shock. You reach your other hand across your body to rub at the spot, but to the same effect as last time - no feeling, so you just continue to stare upwards at nothing.

When your neck gets sore from the angle, you let your head loll to each side, and you catch a glimpse of the book on the floor. The binding is old and broken enough that it fell open, face-up. 

This time, when you look at it, there are words. You’re emotionally exhausted enough that you just gaze down at it, not really seeing it until your eyes finally focus. 

You bend to pick it up, other hand going to soothe the back of your neck. 

Thumbing through it, you get the strangest feeling. It’s like a pleasant throbbing at the very base of your skull that relaxes you enough that you’re no longer burdened with any pain at all, so you decide not to stop. 

You open the book back to the first page and see a sketch that’s been worn with time, but you think it’s supposed to be a crude medical diagram of a human heart. The longer you stare at it, the more sure you become - able to pick out the label for each ventricle and artery. That’s all it seems to be though, so you flip the page. 

The back of it is empty, but the next page depicts a slightly better drawing of a man holding a short blade over his forearm - the spots where his eyes should be are completely hollow voids. He’s on his knees and staring up at the sky. The image is just disturbing enough that your body feels chilled suddenly. You quickly flip away from it. 

The third page is blank with tattered corners. 

The fourth is a mess of random symbols that don’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before, overlapping and seemingly haphazardly placed. The black ink bleeds out on some of the lines like the person writing it pressed too hard on a fountain pen. 

You hold your finger in the page and shut the book for a second, staring blankly at nothing as your brain gives you its best possible effort to sense a pattern. But you fall short. A nervous, shaky laugh escapes you. 

You lean forward until your elbows are on your knees and then open the book again. 

It is not at all surprising to find that the symbols on the page have changed completely. They’re now words, though none of them trip a recognition in your brain so you start to dissect each one. 

The top line of script seems to be three separate words, followed by three more, and then a third row of three. All of the lines are in a different language. 

The first is unmistakably Latin and you quickly type out the words into Google translator. They don’t mean anything when you type them in together, and upon that realization, you bite your lip annoyedly. 

You try again, this time typing the first word and translating it. 

“Vos - you”

Okay. That’s a start anyway. You repeat the process with the next word. 

“Amare - love”

You don’t need to translate the last word to figure out what it says, but you do anyway. 

“Eum - him”

You bite your lip hard enough that it hurts at the realization that this book seems to be speaking directly to you, and the thought is frightening enough to threaten tears.

Out of all the things that you should be worried about, all you can think of is why the hell someone would write that so strangely. Google translate tells you that, if you wanted to say “you love him”, you’d write “diligitis eum”, not each word individually. You know that Latin is a tricky language, so maybe the person that wrote it had a tenuous grasp on the language at best? Or maybe they were trying to simplify it for an English speaker?

You aren’t sure but your chest feels like it’s going to burst open.

To confirm your theory, you type out the rest of the contents of the page, sentence by sentence. The phrases don’t translate directly, but you get bits and pieces. 

“Deep” “End” “Will” “Cage” “Mark” “Desire” “Body”

Frustrated and disturbed, you flip the page. 

The next one is very similar, except it’s the most confusing yet - not because of subject matter, but. 

There are real phrases in Latin, obviously printed before a time you can reasonably imagine. But there is also fresh ink. 

Not quite so fresh as it was written today, but certainly within the last couple of months. It is the only thing in this book so far that is stark and clear. And in English. You don’t need to translate the Latin because someone has already generously given you the cliff notes, loudly written directly over the original print.

 “Take the book” “Give the blood” 

“What the fuck?” you whisper, your voice raspy and low. You flip the page again. 

More Latin, except most of the page is taken up by a drawing of an obviously dead body. The skin is stretched morbidly tight over the shape of a skull, gold coins rested over the eye sockets. Their mouth is agape, and above it hovers a hand with an outstretched finger, a single pearl of blood about to drip in. 

You raise your fingers and swipe them over your lips absently when you realize that your limbs are shaking. Your eyes clamp shut as you try to slow your heart - it’s beating fast enough that it has you feeling flighty. 

You wish you could chock it all up to being a sick prank, but you can’t. You have the book in your hand and turn it every which way, just to show yourself that you’re not imagining it. 

When your ringtone sounds, you scream loud enough to send your cat tearing across the house in fear, the rapid movement only making it worse. You’re not expecting it because you haven’t gotten a call in weeks, and the thought of having to talk to someone right now makes your gut wrench. 

You dig down into the side of the loveseat and fish your phone from the crevice it had slipped into, and when you see that it’s Josh, your eyes well up. The contact picture is him with a wide grin, showing you his teeth - he’d taken it with your camera on selfie mode for that exact purpose. 

It takes you a couple of tries to accept the call because you’re vibrating and you can’t seem to swipe all the way across the screen. 

When you finally pick it up and bring it to your ear, you simply say, “Josh.”

Your voice cracks and it makes you sound weak, but for the first time in nearly a month, you’d kill to have a hug from him. He does this thing where he wraps you up and squeezes you until it’s difficult to breathe, and usually, it’s borderline annoying, but now...

“Hey,” he replies, his voice flat and scratchy. There’s a long pause. “Do you want to come over?” 

You can feel a single tear break the barrier of your bottom lashes and trail down your nose. 

“Yeah.” You reach up and swipe it away. “I do.”

It takes you a moment to get ready because you’re not positive you’re coming back to your house tonight, so you make sure to feed Bug and pack an overnight bag just in case. On the ride over, you have to give a weak chuckle at your fortunate luck that he’d call on the day you finally showered. 

Because agoraphobia had taken hold of you weeks ago, you sit in your car in the driveway for a couple of minutes, trying to clear your head and will away the anxiety. 

Josh knows you better than your own family though, and he knows exactly what’s going on in your head. You hadn’t seen him come out of the house, so when he raps his knuckle against your car window, you jolt. 

He gives a genuinely pleased smile to see you, and you instantly open your door and step out. He doesn’t give you the chance to speak, he just slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in. 

“I haven’t heard from you in a while,” he scolds in a gentle tone. “Are you okay?”

 You know that he isn’t stupid - you’ve been best friends since grade school after they latched onto you because you were the only kid that could tell them apart. You’ve grown together, cried together. So when you nod and assure him that you are, his brows thread together in a deep frown. 

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

You can’t stand his chastising tone, so you place a hand on his chest and gently push him back far enough to see his eyes. 

“Look, Josh. If I’m being honest, I have a very fragile hold on my life right now, and if I talk about it, I’m afraid that it might crumble,” you admit, voice pitchy as you choke back the emotion. 

The look he gives you is pitiful, and it angers you for a second that seems to be doing better than you somehow. 

“If you’re going to fall apart, do it here. With me.” It’s a very weak request, but his eyes are so soft and sad that you realize maybe he’s just better at putting the mask on than you are. 

After a second, you nod, letting him pull you in again. 

☾ ☾ ☾

You had stayed the night, curled up by Josh on the basement couch and it was the best you’d slept in weeks. You must have been so exhausted that you didn’t dream because you wake up with no memory of them at all. 

He walks you to your car while the morning is still cool and pecks a kiss against your cheekbone like he frequently does. 

“Hey,” he says, wrapping his hand loosely around your wrist when you go to get into your car. You already don’t like the tone of his voice, softer and lacking the fervor he usually speaks with. He’s staring directly into your eyes, so you know the blow is going to be terribly painful. 

“Go see him, okay? I think you need it. And I know he’d want you to.” 

You can’t cry the entire way home. The guilt sits in your stomach like you’ve eaten a bag of cement, and for whatever reason - it’s the kind of sorrow that’s so deep that you can’t express it. You can only feel it. 

When you unlock the door to your house, Bug is waiting for you on the kitchen table. You give him a very weak scolding, picking him up and holding him like a baby in your arms for a moment. You know most cats don’t like being tipped upside down, but he has always loved any kind of physical affection. 

You feel a little rejuvenated, which is a gift that the boys used to give you every time you saw them. And you know that Josh is right - there’s no reason you have to do this alone, but it’s always a lot easier to wallow than ask for help. It always will be. Getting better takes work.  

By one, you’re contemplating whether or not today will be the day. You keep telling yourself that you’ll go, but every time you think about it, your hands ball up into anxious fists. So you decide you’re going to work on some cleaning and see where that puts you. 

The feeling you have all day long is hard to explain. It’s that feeling you get when you’re getting on a rollercoaster - you know the climb is about to happen, and then the drop, and then it’s over. It’s anxiety and an immature eagerness to get to the good part. The part when you can finally breathe again.  

You fill the sink with soap and water and scrub dishes in the deafening silence until you decide you can’t take it anymore and you flip on the tv for background noise. You haven’t consumed a single piece of media since the accident, so it’s strange to hear the faux excitement that people put on for the show of it. Annoying. 

You’re stretching your sore muscles to tuck a plate away on the top shelf of your cupboard when you hear the television turn off. Not just stop playing, but make that little clicking noise that it does when someone has powered it down. 

If it had just been that, you would never have thought twice about it, but with everything else that’s been happening, it has your eyes shifting around the room. The room feels like a void - like no one has ever occupied the space before. 

You close your eyes tightly, pursing back a sob that is suddenly threatening to wrack through you out of nowhere. 

“Jake?” 

Instantly, your cheeks flame in embarrassment. What kind of stupid child believes in this kind of stuff? 

Although. 

What’s the alternative? That you’re being plagued by delusions? That instead of your best friend haunting you, it’s your sick way of coping with it? 

You force back the tears, frowning ruefully at your kitchen floor as you try to calm yourself with deep breaths, and like a gush of warm water, relief washes over you. It sucks the guilt and grief out of every cell in your body and you can picture his sweet face giving you a goofy smile. You know that somewhere, your brain is being sensible, but that feeling is not at the forefront of your consciousness now. 

Before you can chicken out, you head into your bedroom and grab your purse, and then practically race to the door. Once you’re behind the wheel, your body won’t let you stop, and you end up in the funeral home parking lot faster than would have been possible if you’d been obeying the law, though you don’t really remember the drive if you’re being honest with yourself. 

The calm feeling is coating your skin and absorbing on contact, every movement feeling like a gust of warm air as you step out of the car. 

You realize that you’re wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt - not exactly what you would expect someone to wear to view a dead body. He wouldn’t have cared though. 

The inside of the building is unfortunate. The carpets are plush and mauve colored and the walls are eggshell white. There’s a small cross on the wall in front of the entryway and real but wilting roses in a glass globe vase on a circular end table. It smells musty and shut-in and it makes your stomach churn to think about why that would be.

Fittingly, it’s dead quiet on the inside, so you step through one of the corridors and into the foyer. The only other time you were here was when your mother’s aunt died - you’d never met her, and it was a formality, but you remember her casket being situated against the far wall with a river of flowers spilling out on either side. 

You try to picture what she had looked like there and cut and paste Jake in instead, but your brain blanks it out before you can. Probably for the best. 

A very tall, very thin man makes his way out from the back room. He’s wearing a black suit, his grey and white hair slicked back into a formal look. You wonder if he’s here every day, and whether or not this is normal attire for him. 

“Can I help you?” he asks pleasantly, standing in front of you with a straight posture. 

“I’m hoping I can see my friend,” you answer, and to your deep surprise, it comes out sure and clear. 

He nods in understanding. “The Kiszka boy, of course. His family had informed me you’d be by eventually.” 

As he turns and starts towards the door he came from, he gestures stiffly for you to follow him, and you find your feet moving almost of their own volition. He leads you down a flight of steps and then through a long hallway to a heavy-looking white door with a single glass panel. After he’s used his key to open it, he steps out of the way and lets you in first. 

It’s an uncomfortably sterile space and it’s fucking freezing. You cross your arms over your chest immediately to try and preserve some heat while you eye the series of human-sized cabinet drawers. 

Your eyes are on the director when he picks the bottom one on the right and wraps his hand around the silver knob. It looks and sounds heavy as he pulls it open, the metal scraping against itself. 

The shape of a man is laying on the slab, a stiff linen sheet over it. 

“How long before you bury him?” 

The director gives you an uneasy look. “The family hasn’t set a date yet, I’m afraid.”

You hum before flatly asking, “How long can he be in here before his body rots?” 

He is clearly trying to maintain his composure, but you don’t miss the way his eyes widen just a bit. “You don’t need to worry about that at all. We’ll be keeping him refrigerated. In negative temperatures, the body can last months.” 

You nod at him, expressionless. After a beat, he clears his throat.

“I’ll leave you to it.” The director excuses himself with a curt, skin-deep smile, letting the door shut behind him with a loud thud. 

Surprising yourself with your lack of hesitation, you reach out and tug the sheet back. It’s like the actions are almost not your own - you’re too collected and unbothered to care. 

And then, suddenly, you’re not. 

The special effects makeup that they do on people in movies to make them appear dead is a joke in comparison to the reality of it. He looks like he’s made of wax - cold and still to the point that it seems maybe he’s been carved straight from marble. You had assumed that he’d just look like he was sleeping, but he doesn’t. He’s lifeless in every sense of the word. You don’t think about just how important it all is - how all the tiny movements your body makes naturally are what makes a person look alive. How your eyes dart underneath your eyelids when you sleep, and the subtle rise and fall of your chest with each intake.   

Whatever had come over you before is gone now, leaving you feeling hollow of everything but a deep dread. Your eyes start to burn and you realize that you haven’t been blinking. 

You haven’t been breathing. 

It’s instinctual when you lift your hand to try and touch him, but your movements freeze as you suddenly realize how it’ll feel on your fingers. You go to stuff your hands in your pockets when you brush against something sticking out of your purse. 

You don’t have to look down - you know exactly what it is. The corner of the little leather book is poking up just enough, and your breathing falters when your eyes land on it. You had intentionally left it in your living room, stuffed in the very corner of your couch with a pillow over it. 

A sob forces every muscle in your body to tense as you pluck the book from your bag and hold it up in front of you. 

“What the fuck do you want from me?” you snarl desperately, and it takes everything in you to keep your frantic voice down. You shake it roughly in both hands like you can beat some sense into it, but nothing happens except the room is briefly filled with the sound of its pages fluttering. 

You still when you realize that you’re going to have to open it, but you’re despondent. There’s no energy left in your body for anger, you’re now just deeply buried in sorrow. You should stick the book back in your purse, leave immediately, and whip it into a ditch on the drive home. 

But you know you’re not going to, and so you don’t lie to yourself - there’s no use pretending now. Instead, you use both hands to open it after making the effort to slow your erratic heartbeat, only to find that the pages have changed again. 

The first page says “vos amare eum”, over and over - it fills the whole sheet. You read over it and feel the words filling you until you’re bloated with them. Your throat is constricted as you try to choke back another sob, your bottom lip quivering pathetically.

The second page is blank on the front but on the back, it seems to just have some little maroon droplets. They shift like clouds in the sky as you stare at them, like they exist somewhere between reality and your imagination - but then again, you think maybe all of this does. You hold the binding open with one hand to press your finger against one of the spots and slowly moves away from your touch.

Just to see what will happen, you flip to the middle of the book and land on a page that feels a little thick.

There’s a pressed flower stuck to the paper and the sight of it instantly forces your eyes to well up. Hot tears spill down your cheekbones as you delicately pick the flower out of the book and turn it over in your fingers. It’s a tiny, white, lacy little thing -  fragile and about the size of a fingernail. It looks like something you’d pick if you were sitting in the grass on a summer day. 

You set it gently next to him on the metal slab and stare at it for a long moment. 

The choice is not an easy one to make, but the time to decide is at hand, and no amount of thinking it over will help anything now. You have no idea what’s going to happen, but you’re so deep in the throes of your grief that you wear it over your shoulders like a weighted blanket. You hadn’t been feeling a thing on the drive, but all it had taken was a look at him - standing in the presence of the carcass that was once a man you used to cuddle up next to you during movies. 

The path feels fated, so you lift your purse up and dig through it, nudging stuff out of your way until you find a metal nail clipper. You stare at it in your palm before zipping your purse back up and letting it drop to the floor without a care for where it lands or what spills from it. 

His lips are ice cold when you finally work up the courage to brush your shaking fingers over them with a featherlight touch. They aren’t as stiff as you’d been expecting, so when you tug his bottom lip down with the pad of your thumb, the dry skin doesn’t give you much of any resistance. 

The book never told you how much blood is needed, but you hope it isn’t a lot because the edge of the nail clippers is dull. It’s an odd angle to work with but after a bit of fumbling, you’re able to press the very corner of it into your fingertip, working it in until it breaks the skin. The sting is sharp but more annoying than anything as you open the new wound as much as you can. A bead of crimson blood forms on your fingertip and you stare at it as you realize what the hell you’re about to do. 

This can’t be okay for your mental health. The fact that you’re even entertaining this instead of checking yourself into a mental facility tells you all you need to know about how well you handle pressure. What the fuck would Josh think? What would Jake think?

Ironically, it ends up being an accident when the little pearl of blood slips from your finger and lands on his bottom lip. You stare at it, wide-eyed for a second, and then make the snap decision to try some more. Why not, since you’re already this far?

You press the thumbnail of your opposite hand into the puncture wound until you draw a  larger bead, and then swipe it across his bottom row of teeth. Every brain cell that controls rational thinking checks out as you squeeze the wound, pressing back into it until there’s a tiny trickle of syrupy red, and you let it drip into his mouth. Even though it’s only slightly ajar and you can’t see his tongue, you manage to somehow not waste a drop, and by the time your wound has clotted, his teeth are stained scarlet.

While you wait for something to happen, you hold your breath until it starts to burn your lungs. You have no idea what to expect, but what the fuck would you do if he did wake up? 

You stand there, unmoving, and the longer you wait for something to happen, the looser your grasp on sanity becomes. When you’ve burned through all the lucidity you have left in your body, you begin to shake. A loud and uncontrolled sob rips through your chest and you have to brace yourself on the metal slab so your legs don’t give out on you like they did in the shower. You have to purse your lips together as tight as you can without it being too painful, because you can’t prevent yourself from yelling. The barrier of your closed mouth only muffles it so much, but the sound makes you grimace.

Eventually, you cry yourself out, and when you have no more to give, your shoulders finally slump. You slowly correct your posture, standing on your own again as your tired body protests. The skin on your wrist comes back soaked with tears after you wipe it across your face. 

When you finally blink away the blur on your vision, you glance at him again and reach to pull the sheet back a little further, exposing his bare chest. You run your fingers over where his heart is - or was, but you don’t want to think about that. 

Directly in the center of his sternum, you place the flower, pressing it against the stiff skin with your thumb. It crumbles a little under the pressure, but it doesn’t matter anymore - it serves its purpose just by existing there.

You shut his mouth again, though it doesn’t stay exactly how it had been before, and then you use the hem of your shirt to dab away at any of the visible blood when it’s closed. 

“Jake, I love you,” you try to say, but it’s breathless and crackly from the recent overuse of your vocal cords. “You’re my best friend and I love you so much.” 

When you finally feel like the grief isn’t pulling you into the tile floor, you don’t wait around any longer - you tug the sheet back over him and grab your purse from under the table. The disgusted sneer that you give the book when you pick it up is venomous. There’s a deep, white-hot rage burning in you for it. You consider leaving it but instead, you snatch it into your hand and shove it deep into your purse lest anyone else find it.  

Luckily, the director is nowhere to be found when you make your way up and out of the funeral home, and when you get back into your car, you let the door slam closed. You open the book with such force that you’re shocked you don’t rip it, but - just as you suspected - it’s completely blank.

On the drive home, you decide that you’re going to burn it - you’ll take it outside, douse it in oil, and then let the fire consume it until it’s nothing. The ash of it will return to the Earth and hopefully finally be useful in some way. 

Then you’ll be able to get it out of your head and move on with your life. You’re going to move on if it kills you.

By the time you get home, you’re absolutely exhausted. Every muscle in your body has that warm, numb fatigue that you get after working out and you sarcastically pat yourself on the back for having a mental break so violent that it feels like you’ve run a triathlon. 

Bug trots down the hall toward you, chirping to show you he’s pleased that you’re home. You’d bend down and scoop him up, but you can’t seem to find the energy, so you just click your tongue at him a few times - your mutually recognized sound for him. 

He happily follows you to the bedroom, where you push the elastic of your pants off just enough to let them fall. It’s more of a struggle to step out of them than it should be, so when you finally make it to the bed, your body just drops forward onto it. 

Instead of crying like you want to, you use the minuscule amount of life left in you to shimmy up until your head reaches the pillow. While you lay - face down - on the comforter and stare at nothing in particular, your vision goes blurry. After a second, you physically cannot stop your eyes from slipping shut. 

Bug is a very light cat, but you can feel it when he hops up onto the bed and cuddles against the crown of your head on the pillow. The final sliver of consciousness you have, you use to note how comforting the vibration of his purring feels against your skin.

____________________________

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[duckprintspress]

How can I return to writing after a long hiatus?

This post is based on a conversation we had in the Duck Prints Press LLC Discord, and all contributors comments have been used/paraphrased/integrated into this post with permission. The people who contributed ideas to this post are: @nottesilhouette, @ramblingandpie, @arialerendeair, @tryslora, @deansmultitudes, @theleakypen, Owlish Intergalactic, myself (I’m @unforth), and one who preferred to remain anonymous.

Few things are harder than coming back to writing after a long period of not writing. Being creative takes a lot of energy, and starting after not doing so for a period of time takes even more energy. The writers on our Discord had a really productive discussion, where we talked about strategies we’ve each personally used to help us get our writing mojo back. None of these methods work for everyone, but if you haven’t written in a while, maybe one of these will work for you!

How to Revive that Creative Writing Spark:

doing sprints with a friend - knowing you’re all in it together can really help!

talking with writing buddies about what you’re each working on - the shared enthusiasm can be really helpful,

journaling, about daily life, or about dreams you’ve had - turning the dream into something coherent can be a great strategy (or, don’t bother, and just write it however crazily it took place!)

pick a random story you wrote in the past and read a chapter, paragraph, or 500 word segment - and look at it as a reader, say things you liked about it, praise it, emphasize the good things about your own writing.

transcribe a song with lyrics you find inspiring, or crack open a favorite book and transcribe a few paragraphs. You can even do it with something you’ve written yourself!

set a low-pressure, low-word count deadline - make it public, if you’re the kind of person that helps, or keep it to yourself.

sign up for a zero-consequence challenge, such as a bingo, or the Duck Prints Press #drabbledaysaturday prompts on Twitter - something where no one will mind if you don’t succeed, but you might find some inspiration.

create a small goal, either daily, weekly, or monthly - it can be a time frame (I’ll write for 5 minutes a day!) or a word count (I’ll write 1,000 words a month!) or even something tiny (I’ll write one sentence a day!) or a public sharing goal (post a ficlet a day!) and then do your best to stick to it, and reward yourself when you succeed.

open your ask box or otherwise solicit short prompts - for example, do a “three sentence” meme (”send me a pairing and a trope and I’ll write a three sentence fill”) or a story title meme (”send me a story title and I’ll write a little about the story I’d create with that title”) or an emoji prompt (”send me three emojis and I’ll write a ficlet”) or make your own fun one that will bring you joy (one of our writers created a “name two characters and I’ll make them kiss in six sentences or less” meme that helped them a lot)

participate in a prompt month, something with no consequences for failure but with prompts that can inspire daily ficlet.

write without editing, and just throw what you create out into the world - anything to get the words flowing.

challenge yourself to write a drabble day, no more and no less.

try changing how or when you write - get a nice journal and write by hand, or if that’s your normal, try writing in a word document instead.

write at different times of day, and see if it’s easier for you over breakfast, or after lights out, or during your lunch break, or by stealing a few minutes while you’re “on the clock” at work.

make an attempt at different formats of writing - if you usually write prose, try a poem; if you usually write really long things, try a drabble.

look out your window, or find a place you like, and just describe what you see.

do some free association exercises - for example, use a random word generator (I use this one sometimes) and then write literally whatever word comes into your head next - keep going until you fill the page, or until it starts to turn into a story, or just until you don’t feel like it any longer.

pick a random sentence (the person who suggested this often uses “Just write anything”) to be the start of a story, and “pants” your way through whatever comes next, without worrying about grammar, continuity, logic, or much of anything.

plan ahead - schedule your writing time and don’t let yourself put it off (rewards for success are always good!) and/or visualize exactly what you want to write ahead so you’re ready when you sit down.

if you get hit by inspiration, don’t put it off - even if all you do is scrawl a sentence in your phone or on scratch paper between other tasks, get it out of your head. Even a single sentence is a creation!

get out of the spaces where your usual things are - go to a park, or on a hike, or in your backyard, or even a different room in your own home, and bring a journal or phone or laptop, and see what strikes you.

pick That Thing You Haven’t Been Letting Yourself Write and ignore all the things you Think You Should Be Writing and just...write what brings you joy

fanfiction can be very helpful, especially in canon using canon-compliant ships/characterizations - there’s no need to do the heavy lifting. Even if you just write the characters going to a grocery store, or talking about what movie they want to watch, or arguing over take out - something short and sweet that’s just for fun, with no expectations for yourself or anyone else.

alternatively, if you’re the type who writes better for others and you’re feeling down - knock out anything, even something short, and post it, and take joy even in a single like or kudos. Knowing even one person out there loved what you wrote can really help.

Any or all of these may help you, but there’s one final one that I, at least, think is the most important of all - and that’s helped me most.

FORGIVE YOURSELF. You have work in progress up. It’s okay to leave them. You told someone you’d write something for them. It’s okay not to. You have a deadline looming. It’s okay to ask for more time, or to withdraw, or - in the end - it’s even okay to ghost. You think what you’ve made is bad. It’s okay if it’s bad. You’ll never be able to create when you’re raking yourself over the coals. Everyone in fandom has “been there” - has missed deadlines, has left challenges, has abandoned works in progress, have reneged on a promise to a friend to write something. Until you forgive yourself, you’ll never be able to create anything, and isn’t even a single sentence that isn’t on that Big Important Thing better than no sentences on anything?

Forgive yourself, and find that spark, inspiration, muse, whatever you want to call it - and write things that bring you joy.

We believe in you!

YOU CAN DO IT!

[luvrlixie]

KILLING ME SOFTLY

【REQUESTED】 - OKAY OKAY SJDBJSISH I WAS GONNA REQUEST A SKZ SEEING YOU IN THEIR CLOTHES OR SOMETHING BUT THEN I STARTED THINKING ABOUT BINNIE SEEING YOU IN SHORT SHORTS AND HIS SHIRT WHICH IS LIKE HUGE ON YOU (ALSO THIS MAN IS DEF A THIGH GUY) AND MY MAN GOES F E R A L. SO. YOU LET HIM RIDE YOUR THIGH <33333

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tags: changbin x gn! reader, soft dom reader, thigh riding/dry humping, very soft, exhibitionism????????? idk they aren't alone in the dorm but no one walks in. not a lot of smut sorry y'all </3 mostly just sappy emotions.. but still nsfw... lit rally wrote at 4am and don't feel like editing lmaoo

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"seriously binnie! if you're gonna spend so much money on clothes, you should at least wear them. you have so many cute sweaters and the fact that they're collecting dust in the back of your closet is a crime."

changbin sat up and peered over the back of the couch as you entered the room. he was ready to shoot back a snarky comment but his words died on his tongue as soon as he saw you.

you stopped by the studio to visit him earlier, where he and the rest of 3racha were working on a track for the next album. you hadn't planned on staying long since you knew your boyfriend would be busy. but about 20 minutes after showing up chan was ushering everyone else out of the room, claiming that he had everything he needed from the other boys for now and that they both deserved a night off. any worries you or changbin might have had about chan overworking himself were immediately replaced by the realization that the two of you would finally have some time alone.

and that brought you to where you were now. standing in front of a blushing boy, wearing shorts and a long shirt of his that completely hid said shorts. you had decided to change after your boyfriend proposed that you spend the night. (at the time he was excited for movies and cuddles, but now it was an offer that he was starting to regret as he could already feel himself growing hard). the shirt you wore was one that changbin never put on due to it's size, he didn't think the whole oversized clothes style was really his thing.

but holy fuck it was yours.

"you uh- you look good."

changbin swallowed and you squinted. he was always a sucker for you wearing his clothes, but it was still odd for him to be turning so red just from seeing you in an shirt of his. luckily it didn't take long for you to notice the way his eyes wouldn't meet yours since they were focused on a different part of your body. you couldn't help but let out a little giggle. seeing you in his clothes might make him weak, but his biggest weakness was your thighs. he'd never exactly talked about your thighs in particular, but it was something that you had picked up on as your relationship progressed. you couldn't help but notice how changbin was always making sure to leave little marks on the inside of your thighs, and would jump at the chance to lay between them when he got sleepy, and how he would often pull out just in time to paint your thighs with his cum.

"like what you see?" you asked playfully as you took a few steps forward so you were standing in front of him.

"like what i- fuck yes... you're gonna be the death of me y/n."

you hummed in amusement, loving the affected you had on your boyfriend, and tangled a hand in his hair so you could guide him forward and let him press kisses on your thighs.

"mm seriously, on my gravestone it's gonna say your name after cause of death" changbin breathed out as he happily trailed his lips over your skin.

"that makes it sound like I murdered you, I'm not a fan of that"

you stood there for a few more minutes. finally moving away once you sensed that changbin was growing impatient. although you loved making your boyfriend beg, now was not that time for that. even though you moved to sit down next to him, changbin whined when you stepped away. knowing you, the poor boy was worried that you were gonna make him suffer through the whole movie with a boner. however, you had much different plans in mind for tonight.

with a smile, you slid a hand between his legs. "such a pretty noise, that little whine. wanna make it again for me?"

changbin's mouth went dry, he opened it to say something but nothing would come out. how were you always able to make him speechless? he did want to make that noise for you again. he wanted you to coo over how cute he sounded, but not here. not in the living room with minho still tucked away in his room, and with hyunjin and seungmin who were expected back at any minute.

"please, please let's go to my room. I need you."

you shook your head and started palming at chnagbin's crotch through his sweatpants, making his body go slack. "shh baby it's okay, calm down. I was just gonna let you grind against my thigh, let you get off like that. we'll be fully clothed so if anyone walks in it'll be pretty easy to play it off as cuddling or a makeout session."

that seemed to be all the reassurance that changbin needed. the way you were touching him paired with your soft voice was making his head spin. all he was focused on now was making you happy and chasing his orgasm. not even a second went by until he was moving onto your lap so he was facing you and straddling one of your legs.

"there you go! good boy."

you helped him settle into a comfortable position and pulled him close so his chest was pressed against yours and his face was buried in your neck. as changbin started to move his hips, you continued whispering words of encouragement and gentle praises since you could feel how tense he had gotten. changbin hadn't exactly done this before. and although the whole thing seemed rather self explanatory and he had gotten off by rutting against a pillow multiple times, he felt a bit self conscious with you watching his every move.

"It's okay bunny, there's no right or wrong way to do this. just whatever feels good." you whispered soothingly into his ear, catching the nervous look in his eyes and the way his movements kept faltering.

it was silly of him to be nervous, he realized. the safest he had ever felt was with you, and over the course of your relationship you had both tried out plenty of new things together (both in and out of the bedroom). thigh riding? this was nothing, you had certainly seen him in much more embarassing situations. so changbin nodded and finally started settling into a steady pace, trusting your words entirely.

every drag of his cock elicited a soft ah sound from the dark haired boy. luckily, you didn't have to worry about him being too loud. he was vocal and made plenty of noise, but always quiet whimpers and soft choruses of "oh"s. you could get him to be loud if you wanted to, you knew how. for now the tiny noises he was making was more than enough to satisfy you as you played with his hair and peppered his forehead with kisses. "there you go bun, bet it feels so good huh?" as you spoke you pressed your leg upwards, applying extra pressure to the whimpering boy's cock. the gasp he let out made your eyes widen in entertainment and you repeated the action, taking pleasure in how he squirmed everytime. "keep going little slut, don't slow down. doesn't my bunny wanna make a pretty mess for me?"

"m-more'" changbin panted.

normally you'd chastise him for not saying please. but right now you honestly couldn't care less. you just wanted your boyfriend to feel loved. wanted him to be as proud of himself as you are of him. so you smiled and pressed your leg up again, hands gripping onto his hips so that you can help guide his movements. "that song you were working on when I visited sounded so good. I know you've been working so hard on it. you're so talented baby, so amazing." changbin let out a sort of strangled noise and tightened his arms around you, pulling himself as close to you as he could get. the absence of words didn't bother you. sometimes changbin babbled on and on while you ruined him, telling you how good he felt and how much he loved you. while other times he just clings onto you, settling on a variety of whines to communicate. both were good.

as the familiar tightness grew in changbin's body, he focused on following the push and pull of your arms. if it wasn't for you guiding him he would have entirely lost his rhythm. knowing that your boyfriend was getting close, you started bouncing your leg and kneading his ass with one hand.

"changbin.. binnie, hey. c'mon let me see your face" you softly prodded, waiting for him to pull back. when he did, your heart squeezed in your chest.

he was so beautiful.

his lips were parted and his bottom lip was glossy and red from biting down on it too hard. his hair was sticking out in a few places, and his eyes were so full of pleasure. you could tell from the glassy look that changbin wasn't entirely present, his thoughts were elsewhere.

"m'gonna..." changbin slurred, hips twitching and back arching. you caught on immediately and softly grabbed his chin to make sure he didn't hide his face again, you always loved to see his face screw up as he comes. this time was no different.

"good boy, good boy let it all out for me"

you helped him ride out his orgasm and leaned forward to kiss him. not even caring that the kiss was messy and mostly just teeth since changbin was panting far too heavily to give you a proper kiss. when changbin's orgasm had finished washing through his body, you let him crash back into your chest. as you waited for him to catch his breath you rubbed his back and buried your face in his hair, giving him time to compose himself before talking.

"I love you binnie"

"..love you too y/n ... but seriously you're way too hot ... gonna die from sexiness overload"

[sabinanotfound]

45 Prompts for Hand-Holding

I stumbled across this post and I had to do it. Enjoy... (also it’s the best experience when you switch to the goth rave mode)

45 prompts (actually 42 since I skipped the 12th and the 13th one because I wasn’t comfortable and the 26th one, because I had 0 ideas) and all are SFW.

Includes; Wilbur Soot, cc!Technoblade, GeorgeNotFound, Nihachu, Karl Jacobs, platonic!Ranboo, Dream, SapNap, Quackity (separately)

Warnings: specified before each prompt <3 credit to @creativepromptsforwriting for the amazing prompts

REQUESTS OPEN

1. Tiny hands in big hands (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

Wilbur was absentmindedly fiddling with your hand as the bus made its way through the traffic. “Your hands are so tiny,” he said, making you chuckle. You interlocked your fingers with his, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

2. Calloused hands in soft hands (cc!Technoblade x gn!reader) TW || anxiety

“It’s okay, you’re with me now,” you said softly, trying to calm Techno down. You took his calloused hands in yours, letting him relax and fall asleep in your embrace.

3. Cold hands in warm hands (GeorgeNotFound x gn!reader)

“Oh, and we should definitely see this place!” George exclaimed. For the past few hours he was excitedly showing you around London, but there was only one problem; the cold. When you didn’t respond, George turned to you and immediately noticed you shivering. He laughed softly before taking your cold hands in his warm ones. Let’s say, this method of warming up was your favorite.

4. Hands for the perfect ratio to each other for hand-holding (Nihachu x gn!reader)

You and Niki held hands as you sat on the couch watching a movie. You suddenly thought of how nice your hand fit in hers. “Niki, look it’s like our hands were made for each other!” you said and she laughed, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

5. Platonic hand-holding (platonic!Karl Jacobs x gn!reader)

You walked around the city with your best friend, absentmindedly holding each other’s hand and swinging them back and forth just because. Nothing mattered but your friendship and the beautiful views in front of you.

6. Running their thumb over the other’s hand (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader) TW || anxiety

As you entered the party, you regretted coming. There were way too many people for your liking. But this was your best friend’s birthday party and you couldn’t just ditch her like that. Wilbur turned to you and noticed your uncomfortable face. He took your hand in his tracing small circles on it with his thumb, letting you calm down.

7. Dancing with their hands holding onto each other (Dream x gn!reader)

“May I dance with you, my love?” Dream said as he held out his hand to you, smiling. A smile made its way onto your face as you swayed to the slow music, your hand in his.

8. Squeezing hand for comfort and encouragement (platonic!Ranboo x gn!reader)

You looked at Ranboo before making your way to the stage. He gave you a reassuring smile before squeezing your hand one last time and mouthing the words: “You can do this.”

9. Holding hands across the table (SapNap x gn!reader)

A fancy table set up at home due to the virus quickly spreading, candles light up and you two. The perfect date. You took a deep breath before putting a hand on Sapnap’s which was resting on the table. “Sap, I love you so so much. Will you marry me?” he looked at you with nothing but love and happiness in his eyes. “Yes, yes yes,” he said, stretching over the table to give you a kiss.

10. Happily doing everything with one hand even if it means they don’t have to let go (Quackity x gn!reader)

Alex stirred the pot as you chopped onions. Both doing your tasks with one hand. Ask why? Because why let go of your lover's hand when can *almost* do everything with one?

11. Not wanting to lose each other in a big crowd (Nihachu x gn!reader)

The crowd was huge. You knew there were many people who liked the same band as you, but this many people were unexpected. You held onto Niki's hand not to lose her in the huge crowd. "Niki, now I have an excuse to hold your hand at all time." you both laughed, making your way closer to the stage.

14. Grabbing hand to show them something (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

The Louvre was a really pretty museum, and you wanted to see everything. "Look, Wil, there's that famous painting I've been wanting to see!" you tugged on his arm as he chucked at your enthusiasm, following you to the painting.

15. Loosely holding onto each other’s hands, laying in one’s lap (GeorgeNotFound x gn!reader)

George laid in your lap as one of your hands loosely held his, and the other played with his hair. This must be what people call peace.

16. Only linking the pinkies together, not ready to let go completely (cc!Technoblade x gn!reader) TW || death, blood, angst

They had found you. Techno was too late and now there you were, laying on the floor and covered in blood. He let out a sob and the only sign of you being alive was your pinkie you had linked with his. And then your chest stopped. You were gone.

17. Holding hands while skating (Dream x gn!reader)

"I'm going to fall!" you shrieked, as Dream just smirked and held your hand tightly. "No, you're not. Look, you're already getting a hang of this!" he encouraged as you straightened your back, a little less afraid.

18. Excitedly grabbing each other’s hands during a concert, jumping up and down together (Karl Jacobs x gn!reader)

"I love this song!" you screamed over the song, as Karl nodded, continuing to bop his head to the music. You jumped up and down as the melody got faster. Your hands were linked and you were sure this was the best concert ever.

19. Playing with each other’s fingers (SapNap x gn!reader)

You sat next to him at his desk, watching as he edited yet another video. One of his hands was in yours while you fiddled with his fingers. He turned to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I love you, baby."

20. Pressing the other’s hand against their cheek (Quackity x gn!reader) TW || sick reader

“How are you feeling mi amor?” Alex asked as he entered your room with a bowl of soup. “I’m feeling better, thanks to you.” you smiled at him as he sat on the bed, checking your fever. You took his hand in yours, pressing it against your cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me, I love you.”

21. Holding hands while one is balancing on a small wall (Nihachu x gn!reader)

You held Niki’s hand as she balanced on the small wall, laughing. Suddenly she slipped on a rock and landed into your arms as the both of you giggled.

22. Grabbing the other’s hand to pull them back from something (Dream x gn!reader)

“BE CAREFUL!” You felt your hand being pulled, just in time as a car flew by. Dream pulled you into his chest, hugging you as your breaths got steadier.

23. Holding hands under the table (Quackity x gn!reader) TW || someone talking shit abt Quackity

“And how’s it going with your uh...career?” Alex’s friend said sarcastically, obviously making fun of him. Alex’s muscles tensed, and you held his hand under the table, giving it a subtle squeeze. He smiled. “Better than yours.” As you two stood up and left.

24. Only realizing it when they have to let go (SapNap x gn!reader)

“Sap, it’s okay, I’m fine now. You don’t have to hold my hand. Thank you so much for the support.” SapNap looked at you, his gaze shy. “What if I don’t want to let go?” it was almost inaudible, but you heard it. You smiled, interlocking your fingers together. That’s a way to confess your feelings.

25. Standing in front of each other, holding both their hands (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

“y/n, I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Wilbur said, holding both of your hands. You looked at him curiously, your brows slightly furrowing. “Will you marry me?” you gasped, immediately smiling. “YES, YES AND YES!” you screamed as Wilbur slid a pretty ring on your finger.

27. Passionate hand-holding (Karl Jacobs x gn!reader)

“Hii.” you said before plopping onto the couch next to Karl. You intertwined your fingers, wanting to never let go as soon as his hand touched yours.

28. Grabbing the other’s hand so they don’t fall (GeorgeNotFound x gn!reader)

“y/n, be careful, there’s a bump there,” George said as he pointed to the part of the road just ahead of you. Seems like he’d said it too late, because the next thing you knew, you were falling down. But thanks to George’s reflexes he held your hand just in time, preventing you from hitting the ground. “Thank you,” you breathed out, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

29. Holding hands while running through the rain (cc!Technoblade x gn!reader)

“I told you this'd be fun!” you said as the both of you ran around in the rain, laughing and holding hands.

30. Brushing against each other, linking fingers together for a second (Dream x gn!reader)

Your breath hitched as Dream’s hand brushed yours lightly, and as your pinkies linked for a second, you started to question if your feelings towards him were really platonic.

31. Grabbing their hand to grab their attention (Quackity x gn!reader)

“Babyyyyy.” you whined as you came into Alex’s room. “You’ve been editing for so long already, you need to get some rest, and also give me cuddles.” Alex chuckled as he turned to you in his chair. “Ten more minutes mi amor.” he said, also missing you a lot. But today you weren’t having it, so you grabbed his hand and tugged on it. He rolled his eyes and chuckled, following you to the couch in the living room.

32. Not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

“Baby?” Wilbur asked and you hummed in response, not tearing your eyes off of your book. Your hand was in Wilbur’s who was scrolling through his phone. “I love you.” you turned to him, smiling. “I love you too, Wil.”

33. Bandaging the other’s hand and not quite letting go (SapNap x gn!reader) TW || a small injury

“You should’ve been more careful.” your best friend complained as he bandaged your hand. You had accidentally broken a cup and a piece of glass had cut your hand. When Sap finished his hand lingered on yours a little longer, making your cheeks lightly heat up.

34. Holding hands while driving (Karl Jacobs x gn!reader)

Karl’s left hand was on the steering wheel and the other one was interlocked with yours. A song was playing as you sang along and enjoyed the little moment.

35. Grabbing the other’s hand to pull them back to them (Nihachu x gn!reader)

The alarm clock beeped loudly, waking the both of you up. “A few more minutes...” you whined, but Niki was already starting to stand up. You caught her hand and lightly pulled her towards you. “Nooo a few more minutes but only with you,” you said as she laughed.

36. Unconsciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping (GeorgeNotFound x gn!reader)

Your hand unconsciously searched for George’s, as you laid half asleep. Once you did, you interlocked your fingers and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

37. Not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

You sat on the couch in your friend’s house as the party became louder and louder every minute. Wilbur was next to you and you mindlessly interlocked your fingers. “I didn’t know you two were together.” one of your friends said, passing by. Your cheeks heated up as you slightly let go of his hand, but not completely.

38. Swinging hands back and forth, skipping like children (Quackity x gn!reader)

You and Alex swung your interlocked hands as you skipped around. In the daylight, when the streets were crowded this was not enjoyable; but at night, hanging out in a park while no one was there to throw you weird glances, it was perfect.

39. Holding hands in a museum to pull them to the next exhibition (Dream x gn!reader)

“Oh look! There’s that famous exhibition!” Dream exclaimed as he tugged on your hand. You followed him, curious about what you were going to see.

40. Letting go when there is an obstacle in their way and immediately grabbing each other’s hand again when they pass it (cc!Technoblade x gn!reader)

“Be careful, there’s a tree.” you let go of his hand for a second and as soon as you passed the tree, you softly took his hand in yours, continuing your walk in the forest.

41. Loosely holding onto each other’s hand (Nihachu x gn!reader)

You and Niki walked around the city, while she excitedly pointed out some important locations. You were loosely holding her hand, fascinated by everything around you.

42. Dragging the other with them, holding their hand (Karl Jacobs x gn!reader)

“Come on baby, you have to go to sleep, you’re overworking yourself.” Karl tried to convince you. You weakly asked for a few more minutes, but Karl took you by the hand and dragged you to bed. You were thankful because if not for him you’d be asleep on your desk in a few minutes.

43. Raising the other’s hand to their lips to kiss it softly (Wilbur Soot x gn!reader)

Your first date had been awesome. Wilbur was a true gentleman. As he opened the door for you to get out of the car, your eyes met. “Thank you for today Wilbur. I loved our date.” You smiled at him and he did so too, gently lifting your hand and pressing a quick kiss on it. “So... maybe you’re up for a second date sometime?” You nodded, not missing his rose-tinted cheeks.

44. Holding hands while jumping down from somewhere together (Dream x gn!reader) TW || cliff diving

"Ready?" Dream asked, giving your hand a subtle squeeze, and after you nodded, you jumped down into the beautiful blue waters, not letting go of Dream's hand.

45. Comparing hand sizes, then linking fingers together (SapNap x gn!reader)

Sapnap hoped that you wouldn't take this as an excuse to hold your hand, but he had to give it a shot. "y/n, let's compare hand sizes." you pressed your palms together, and before you knew it, Sap had linked your fingers together. Not that you minded, though.

-

taglist: @yasaiiissleeping

masterlist

[jariten]

March 2022 roundup!!

Big sized edition since suddenly at the last minute I got all the Viz pre-orders at once (Viz still got me in a chokehold), so some extra titles made the list!  Delicious in Dungeon volume 10 by Ryoko Kui finally made it out of the delay cycle, but confession this is one of the rare cases where I got so tired of waiting I got myself volume 10 and 11 in Japanese ahead of time which only increased my appreciation and admiration for the great translation work by Taylor Engel at Yen Press. Things are escalating too I’m just beyond excited to see where the series is going. And a series doing the opposite of escalating is Hakumei & Mikochi by Takuto Kashiki! Volume 9 is some of my favorite stories so far from Hakumei raising a pumpkin, the librarians day off, and insight into the lives and challenges for the larger critters living in this tiny world.  Another escapee from delay hell is Heaven’s Door extra works by Keiichi Koike. Want to make sure i highlight the more alt manga releases that make it to the english language market since they’re so few and far between, so if you’re missing the particular flavor of 80′s and 90′s manga or looking for something edgy and psychedelic make sure you get your hands on this oversized release while you can.

Nagata Kabi continues the ongoing chronicle of her life in My Wandering Warrior Existence. This title is more of a contemplative diary about her struggles in understanding how one can find and experience love. Less intense than some of her past entires it’s an interesting short series of her continuous anxieties and epiphanies when it comes to love.  And completely different from that is World Trigger by Daisuke Ashihara volume 23! When I first started World Trigger it took me a while to get into the slow pacing or keep track of the ever expanding cast but I really really got into the simulation battles like I love when battle manga is more of a strategic chess board rather than just power scaling. This volume was more focused on the narrative which appears to finally be making big moves forward so I’m looking forward to see where it goes. And Orochi volume 1 by Kazuo Umezz is finally here! I didn’t know much about the series beforehand but love the format of a girl with a long list of powers showing up someplace to either observe a messy situation go down, or cause a mess. I really hope this means we will see even more Umezz releases or reprints in the near future I’m STILL sad i missed out on Cat Eyed Boy.

Other continuing series were Restart After Growing Hungry (sequel to Restart After Coming Home), Blue Giant volume 9-10 (REALLY hoping they license Blue Giant Supreme), and Blue Period volume 6

[levi-lover]

Say my name

Levi x fem!reader

W/C: 1935

T/W: Smut, 18+, Female Masturbation, slight choking

A/N: I’m going through a writer’s block #rip so I edited the first smut piece I wrote back in December. It’s not my best but hey we all gotta start somewhere! 

You sat at the kitchen table, hunched over a book, entrenched into the words on the page. As the climax began to unravel, you swung your leg onto the chair and put your weight on your foot so you could lean closer to the table, closer to the book. Your body began to shake as you frantically read the pages, turning each furiously. 

You noticed you had less than ten pages to go, you slid your body closer to the table causing the ball of your foot to press against your core. You let out a small sigh, surprised by the sudden arousal. No, not now. Let me finish the book! You ignored the feeling but you kept on pressing your weight to your foot. You finished the book in a rush and as you closed the spine of the book, you let out a small sigh and untangled your legs from underneath you. 

“Wow,” you said out loud to the empty room. That was amazing, I can’t wait to tell Levi. After months of him pestering you to read the dang book, you finally read it. You hated to admit it but Levi was right, you did love it. You rolled your eyes at the thought of his stupid smug face tell you he told you were going to love it. Whatever at least I’ll have someone to talk about it with. Speaking of his stupid smug face, where is he? You looked over at the stove clock 4:23 it read. 

He had left over an hour ago to get groceries. He was normally quick and efficient, never gone for more than 40 minutes. Maybe he got caught up in traffic? You leaned back in the chair remembering the pressure in your core, you pressed your legs together and began to rub them. You closed your eyes in relief, another sigh escaped your mouth. You sat on your leg again, using your foot to apply pressure to yourself. As your body moved against your foot, your core began to tingle, with your left hand you grabbed your lower back and pushed yourself further into your foot, a moan escaped your mouth. You wished it would be Levi’s hands squeezing your lower back, hips, and thighs as he laid under your body, you wished you could be feeling his cock growing hard underneath you. 

“Fuck, where is that man? I need him.” 

You walked down the hallway into your shared bedroom. You sat at the foot of the bed, throwing your body against the crisp sheets, your legs dangled off the bed. You kept your eyes closed as your hand reached to your crotch, your fingers gently rubbing the fabric, your hips began to move along with your fingers desperate to feel more but you kept a slow pace. Your right hand reached over to your left breast and you began to massage yourself, feeling your nipple slowly harden under your shirt. A moan escaped your lips as you began to rub harder against your core, you reached your hands under your leggings feeling yourself over your underwear. You imagined Levi was the one touching you, closing your eyes tight, you pictured him laying over you, moaning into your ear. Heat began to pour into your cheek. You pushed your underwear aside, using your middle finger you touched your entrance. You trailed your finger up your slit, pressed down on your clit. Starting to draw tiny circles around the bundle of nerves, you felt the pressure build inside of you. You pressed down and moaned out Levi’s name. 

“Yes?” asked a deep voice from the doorway.

You rolled your head over and pulled the top of your body up. “Levi, you’re home!” Your hands still in your leggings, you smiled sheepishly at him. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

He chucked, “the lights were off. I assumed you were napping so I came in quietly. Tsk, looks like you were busy doing something else.” 

Levi was leaning against the door, one eyebrow was up as he looked over at you with amusement on his face. You could tell he was trying not to laugh. You pulled your hands out of your pants. 

“Oh, no. Don’t stop on my account, brat. Keep going” He walked over to you, the smell of pine and mint hitting your nose. 

Fuck, I did a good job when I bought that cologne. 

He was standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at you. His arms folded across his broad chest, his dark hair gently floating over his gray eyes. He put both arms on either side of your body as he leaned over, his legs spread over yours. You squirmed as you felt his breath near your face, you looked down overwhelmed by the heat coming off of your checks. He used his right hand to gently grab your face, his fingers were warm and firm. A sigh escaped your lips as he tilted your head up, forcing you to make eye contact with him. You saw the excitement and arousal in his eyes as he examined your face. He loved looking at you when you were like this, he loved knowing he was turning you on without even having to do anything to you. It made him feel powerful and it made him feel loved. 

As much as he loved giving you pleasure, he also loved making you wait for it. He looked at your lips, they were parted as small, jagged breaths escaped from your chest. His cock began to press against his jeans as he looked over you. He wanted to fuck you so bad but he knew he had to wait.

He lowered his head and began to whisper into your ear, “are you gonna stop touching that pretty little pussy ‘cause I’m here, huh?”

You closed your eyes and moaned, you felt yourself getting wetter. You loved it when he talked dirty to you. He placed his hands on your neck and began choking you gently. He pushed you onto the bed. 

“Go to the top of the bed. That’s an order” 

You nodded and whispered, “yes, sir.” 

You laid your head on your pillow and looked back to Levi, he was on his knees staring at you from the bottom of the bed. 

“Take off your shirt.” You pulled off the shirt you were wearing and tossed it somewhere in the room. “Good girl. Pull down your leggings and only your leggings.”

You yanked down the fabric as Levi watching, smirking. You laid back, feeling the cool air of the room touch your naked body, goosebumps appeared on your stomach and thighs. Levi looked at you, waiting for you to make eye contact before he made his next order. He loved to look directly into your eyes during sex, he loved knowing you were fully present with him, that you needed him. 

“Touch yourself but if you even dare to put a finger inside, you’ll get punished, okay?”

“Mmmm” you mumbled, as you began to rub yourself again, the pleasure from before quicking rising inside of you; knowing that Levi was watching you turned you on even more. 

“Am I joke to you?”

“N-,o” you mustered out as your body began to tense, a coil starting to form inside of your stomach.

“Then answer me when I speak to you, got it, slut?” Levi’s voice became rough and dark, he wasn’t joking around. 

“Y-yes, what do I do next?” you moaned. 

“I want you to keep on rubbing yourself, do a good job for me.” You peaked over at Levi and who started to rub himself through his jeans. He was biting his bottom lips trying to hold in a moan. You arched your back at the beautiful sight. 

“Start fucking yourself,” he ordered. 

“Yes, Levi.” You start by putting in one finger and curl it into your body, slowly you insert one more, you could feel every inch of yourself. The noise of your wet cunt and moans filled the air. Levi let go of his moan and he began to unzip his jeans. Fuck, I love him so much. You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on Levi’s moans.  

“I want to hear you say my name.” 

“Yes, Levi.” you took your fingers out of your entrance and ran them back up your slit, your back arched at your touch, this was good but it would feel so much better if it was Levi doing this to you. You started touching your clit again, circling around it, the coil getting tighter and tighter. From the bottom of the bed, you heard the sound of Levi’s hands on his cock, you bit your lip just thinking about it. 

“I told you to say my name like the good girl you are”

You threw your head back and started shouting Levi’s name.“F-fuck, Levi.” 

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Levi tossed his head back, he was holding his cock in his angular hands, stoking it up and down. He wanted to shove it inside of you, you were so wet and all he had to do was boss you around. He smiled at the thought of you fucking yourself to the memory of him. 

“Mmm Levi, ‘m close.” You rotated between rubbing circles around your clit to pressing down on it, As the coil snapped, your back arched and pleasure flooded your body, your legs began to pulse. You looked over to see Levi’s face twisted in joy as his cock twitched in his hands and white strings of cum shot out from the tip. He looked at it with content before pulling off his t-shirt to clean off his hands. He glanced up at you and smirked, “that’s my good girl.”

You let out a sigh of relief and held your arms open, inviting him to come in. He chuckled before crawling his way to you. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, wrapping his toned arms around you. Levi placed small kisses on your skin, his hands caressed your waist with a feather-soft touch. You started trailing circles around his back. He loved when you touched him like this, so gentle and full of love. 

“I missed you,” you whispered. 

“Tsk, I wasn’t even gone long.” 

“Yeah, but you were gone longer than usual, it was pure pain!” 

He laughed at your dramatic nature. 

“I guess since you couldn’t keep my name out of your lips.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know you want to,” he retorted. 

“Whatever, anyways what took you so long? I finished the book and I wanted to talk about it!”

“I see. That’s why you were moaning my name. I had to wait for them to stalk up on someone’s favorite brand of oat milk. But you liked it, huh? I knew you would.” You didn’t even have to look at face to see the smug expression he was making. 

“Yeah, I did like it, so what? But wait you got me oat milk? Doesn’t that need to be refrigerated?” you asked. The both of you had been going at for a while now. 

Levi jumped out of you arms and shouted, “fuck! I didn’t put the groceries away!”

“Haha, loser!” 

“Shut up, Brat. Help me put them away and then I’ll actually fuck you.” 

“Aye, aye, Captain!” You shouted like a soldier getting ready for battle. You put clean clothes on and raced him to the kitchen. When Levi said he was going to do something he would do it.

[lifes-better-on-saturn]

Birthday Girl - Chris Evans

REQUEST

The reader (me ) is dating chris evans, and its the readers birtday, and chris evans is spoiling her, taking to the hair salon and to the nail salon , and the trows a party for her, and he asks her to marry him, and a couple months later the reader is asked to been on say yes to the dress and alot of fluff please

@maximeevansblog

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A/N: It took way too long but here we go. Definitely not very well edited. Hope you like.

WARNINGS- pure fluff, tiny tiny illusion to smut, marriage.

Hope you enjoy :)

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“Babe, wake up.” You groaned as you rolled over, waving your hand in the direction of the voice. You heard a husky chuckle, before a pair of soft lips pressed to the top of your hand. “Get up, baby. I made breakfast, well brunch.” Your eyes shot open at the mention of food and you turned to see you handsome boyfriend of 4 years towering over the bed with a tray in his hands.

You sat up rubbing the sleep from your eyes as the tray was placed over your lap. You looked at the food before gazing up at Chris.

“Happy Birthday, baby.” You smiled as he leaned down and pressed his soft lips against yours.

“Thank you, honey.”

“No problem, pretty girl.Now eat up and after you finish that, we’re taking a shower and i’m taking you out, ok?” He said as he put his hands on his hips. You nodded before tilting your head up to receive one last kiss which he happily obliged and then you begun your meal.

Less than 15 minutes later you were up and out of your bed standing in your morning glory of a bra and short shorts. Chris’ large hands wrapped around your hips lightly pushing you towards the adjacent bathroom.

“Make sure you just don’t wash your hair, ok.” He smiled as you turned you around. Cocking an eyebrow you smirked.

“What’s up your sleeve?” You eyed him up as he moved closer. He ran his hand up and down your arm lovingly while staring into your eyes.

“Nothing. Just wanna spoil my special girl. Now go, we gotta be outta here in 20 minutes. Go.” He kissed your cheek and spun you around, giving your ass a slap before gently pushing you forward.

-time skip-

20 minutes later you were in the car with Chris, your favourite songs echoed through the car loudly and you both yelled the lyrics.

Eventually you pulled up out the front of a hair dressers, a very expensive some mind you. Chris turned to you and winked before making his way out of the car and to your side to let you out.

“Baby, what are we doing here?” You looked into his ocean blue eyes as they gleamed with happiness,

“I Told you i wanna spoil you. Now come on.” He grabbed you hand and pulled you into the salon. The receptionist smiled and ushered you through a doorway to a chair. Chris smiled at you before waving goodbye.

“I’ll be back when your done, love.” He blew you a kiss and made his way out to the car. You sat in the chair as a platinum blonde lady walked through stopping at your chair.

“Hey there darlin, my names Christy and I’ll be doing your hair today.”

You smiled as she directed you to another room with cushy chairs and sinks.

-and another time skip-

Two relaxing hours later you looked at yourself in the mirror in front of you, the stylist beaming ear to ear as she rested her hands on the back of your chair.

Not only had she magnificently done your hair but also your make up leaving you with a gorgeous natural glam look.

“Do you like it?” She asked as she continued to smooth out your hair.

“I love it, thankyou so much. How much do i owe you?” You asked as she led you to the reception area.

“I’m afraid, that’s already been taken care of.” You turned around just to meet that handsome hunk of a man, you called your boyfriend leaning against the desk.

He moves over to you leaning in for a kiss but You quickly turn your head away so his lips meet your cheek. He looks at you confused before you smile before pointing to your lips.

“Lipstick.” He chuckles, kissing just beside your mouth and moving away and saying goodbye to the hair dresser and the receptionist.

You made you way back to the car hoping in and seeing a dry cleaners bag in the back.

“What’s that?” You turn to grab it before chris grabs your hand pulling it back to him.

“Gotta wait for that baby.” You playfully scowled at him before settling into your seat.

You drove about 5 minutes up the road to another cute, -expensive- salon, only this one being a nail salon.

“Second last stop, babyyyy.” He smiled pulling you out of the car once again.

You walked up to the receptionist, again the girl immediately recognising Chris.

“Ahhh, Christopher! Your here, come on through.” The lady exclaimed as she hurried you both through the doorway into a small, private room, with a nail technician getting her tools ready.

“Ah! Hi guys! I’ll be going your nails today, Mrs Evans, if you’d like to take a seat just here and Mr Evans there’s chair there if you’d like to sit.” You looked back at Chris as you moved to sit down stunned by the names. You felt like telling her you weren’t Mrs Evans but secretly you loved the ring it had and the butterflies it sent up your stomach.

“I would love to sit, but i’ve got a few more things to take care of.” Chris spoke running his hand along your shoulders and leaning down to kiss you.

“I’ll be back baby.” With that he walked out the door. You smiled as the lady started on your nails.

Little did you know Chris was going back and forth between the house during your appointments getting things ready for tonight.

After this past year all Chris wanted to do was spoil you. Covid and quarantine did not treat you well and it took a toll on both of you, but now he could doing something so he’d secretly sent out invites to some of your closest friends and your family including his inviting them to celebrate you and if everything goes right, your engagement. Chris had had the ring from about the 6 month mark and You’re now four years in and he couldn’t be more sure.

He walked through the house and into the back yard to see he mum, Scott, his sisters and a few of his friends all assisting in putting up lights and setting tables. Before he walked outside he made his way to your shared bedroom grabbing the roses and rose petals. Before he laid them down he placed a black silk dress with some black crystal strap heels on the bed before sprinkling some pink and red roses over the bed and the floor leading to the bedroom and your bed.

Smiling at his work he made his way back towards his back yard where he was immediately ambushed by his niece and nephews. He walked over to the group with one of them in his arms, leaning over and placing a kiss on his mums cheek.

“Ma, this looks great. Really great.” He smiled as the child in his arms was taken.

“No problem. Anything for that gorgeous girl of yours. Now where is she. Is it almost time?” Lisa was definitely very very excited. Almost more excited than Chris.

“Yes, Yes, ma i gotta get her in about... 10 minutes.” Checking his watch, he ran back up the stairs muttering a quick ‘i’ll be back’ and changing into some plaid pants, a white shirt and a brown jacket.

“Okayyy, i’m going to get the birthday girl. Remember be real quiet when we get back.” He smiled as everyone waved good bye.

10 minutes later you smiled admiring your freshly done nails. You looked over as the bell of the door rang seeing Chris walk in sunnies on all dressed up.

You got up and met him half way, holding your hand out and wiggling your fingers.

“Damn, babyyy.” He smiled lifting your hand closer to his face before pressing a kiss to it. He smiled up at you looking over his glasses, blue eyes gleaming. “So pretty, honey.” He smiled once more before quickly paying the bill and waving to the ladies.

The whole way home you watched as his leg bounced and his hand wrapped and unwrapped itself from yours.

You pulled up to the house and got out of the car, Chris quickly led you toward your bedroom. He rest his hand on the knob giving you a smirk before swinging the door open.

You let jaw dropped as you saw the flowers and black dress resting on the bed.

“Oh, Chris.” You moved to the dress smiling as you lifted it. Turning you smiled as you watched chris rock back and forth a shy smile.

“Wanted to spoil you baby. Now put it on. Got one last surprise.” He smiled leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Smiling you slipped from your jeans and shirt into the dress. You smiled as you checked your -frankly- gorgeous figure out in the mirror before a loud knock interrupted your admiring. You called out to come in and in walked Scott all nice in a button up and jeans.

“Scott! What are you doing here!?” You smiled as he enveloped you in a hug.

“I came to see my favourite girl!! and Chris made me come get you and bring you down stairs.” Stepping back he gave you a quick once over before grabbing your hand making your twirl.

“You look gorgeous babyyy. I love it!” You smiled and giggles before you were lead out the room and towards the back yard. Before you got to the door you were instructed to close your eyes.

“Good god, what are you doing to me.” Scott laughed and lead to carefully to the back step.

Silently he stepped away from you to stand in front of you along with the rest of your friends and family.

“Umm, Scott can i take my hands away now??” You chuckled and before long two strong hands were lifting your own off your face.

As your eyes adjusted to the light Chris stepped in front of you with everyone else as everyone yelled “Surprise!” and “Happy Birthday!”’s

You jumped and laughed as you looked at the sea of people.

Chris slowly walked towards you before whispering “happy birthday” and placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Did you do this?” You asked. He grabbed your hands smiling and turned to everyone else.

“Yes i did. Do you like it?” For the first time since you stepped outside you looked around seeing the fairly lights everywhere small tables, and the couches, blankets and cushions for everyone.

“Baby i love it. Thankyou so much.” You smiled leaving a long, lingering kiss on his plump pink lips.

Soon as your moment was over you moved over to say hi and thank you to everyone for the birthday wishes and for turning up.

About an hour and a half later you were standing around talking to some old friends when a glass clinking echoed around the yard. You turned to see Chris standing on a chair.

“‘Scuse me! Can i have your attention!” Everyone turned as he cleared his throat one last time.

“Just wanted to make a quick speech. Y/N, Baby, if you could come here please.” You quickly made you way over to where he stood now on the ground. He took your hand before turning to everyone.

“This woman is one of the kindest, most loving, most beautiful women i’ve ever met and had the pleasure of being with. She is forever teaching me new things and i’m so deeply in love her for everything she does for me and my family,” he looked you in the eyes smiling, “I want to keep this woman in my life for the rest of my life so i guess what i’m trying to say is..” he let go of your hand, his sliding into his pocket and pulling out a little velvet box. You eyes widened and your hand flew to your face. He smiled nervously as he slowly lowered himself to one knee.

“Y/N, baby, will you stay by my side forever. Will you put up with me and my bullshit for the rest of our lives. But most of all, will you please make me the luckiest and happiest man on this earth, and marry me?” Tears pooled in both your eyes as your voice got caught in your throat. Not trusting your voice you nodded, your head almost detaching from your neck.

You bent down slightly cupping the side of his face and pressing your lips to his in a feverish kiss, his free hand coming up to cup your face in return. You pulled back whispering a yes as he stood and pressed your foreheads together. Looking down he slipped the diamond onto your finger. You smiled down at it before locking eyes with your now-fiancé.

“I love you so much, Chris. I can’t think of anything better, than spending the rest of my life with you.” You smiled kissing him one last time.

Neither of you had noticed Scott with his phone out filming everything. Turning to everyone he grabbed your hand swinging it in the air and shouting “She said yes!!!” You laughed and everyone cheered quickly moving to congratulate you two.

The rest of the night went past in a blur Chris barely leaving your side and you barely leaving his as everyone drank and celebrated both your and your engagement.

Eventually the night ended about 12.30 am, everyone heading to bed, you with your fiancé. Man you’d never get sick of saying that.

-9 Months later-

you walked into the boutique, Randy meeting you, your best friends and mum at the entrance, camera crews lurking behind.

“Hello, hello!!!! Y/N! How are you!?” You smiled giving him a hug.

“I’m good! How are you?” Answer with a “fantastic” and you introduced Randy to your mum and best friend before be less through the lobby to the rooms with all the dresses.

“Okay, so, what were we thinking?” Randy clapped his hands together.

“Umm so i was thinking something princess-y like a ball gown, but a strapless, you know??” You said as you avoided the cameras.

Being Chris’ girlfriend turned fiancé you were used to cameras but it still made you nervous sometimes.

“Okay, we’ve got a perfect range for you, if you come with me we’ll chose two or three and go back to the change rooms and try them on.” he placed a hand on your lower back leading you away from your family.

About 10 minutes later you walked out in a plain white ball gown -https://pin.it/5cuCPCq- with a slit for your leg. Standing on the podium you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was a gorgeous dress but, just didn’t feel right.

You turned to your guests and splayed out your hands beside you. You mother clasped her hands over her mouth murmuring how beautiful you look. While your best friend looked at you with a proud smile.

“So what do you think?” Your mum smiled as you turned back to look at yourself.

“I like it. It’s gorgeous, but it just doesn’t quite feel right.” Your cocked your head to the side as you surveyed yourself.

Chris would love this but this was for you.

Randy smiled. “Well it looks gorgeous but we still have more to try.” Once again he help out his hand helping you down before walking you back to the room.

You tried on one more that wasn’t right before trying on the last one. As soon as you put it on, you felt your body light up. You looks down and smoothed the skirt.

Holy Shit

You walked out, back to the stand immediately turning to your mum. Her hands flew to her mouth covering it as tears sprung to her eyes. Before you teared up yourself you looked to your best friend who was nodding furiously.

“My Goodness! It’s gorgeous!!!” Your best friend gushed as you smiled widely, so wide it felt as if your cheeks would split.

You turned to the mirror getting proper view of yourself.

“Sooooo,” Randy’s voice broke you from your thoughts. Your turned to see his equally bright and smiling figure. “Might this be a yes?” His hands clasped together and pressed to his lips. Turning back for one last once over you nodded.

“Yeah. It’s a big yes!” You smiled as everyone rushed up to you hugging what they could.

Randy and the assistant’s clapped as you twirled in celebration.

-3 months later.-

The dress was perfect, the ceremony was perfect, everything was perfect.

The wedding was everything you could have dreamed of from the forest ceremony and the reception.

Lights lined the trees and the under cover canopies. Tables littered these canopies flowers and napkins with the writing Mr&Mrs Evans embroidered on them.

Everyone spent the night dancing and laughing and celebrating you. The place was filled with close friends and family and a couple of A-listers including good ole Sebastian and Anthony, Scarlett and Robert and more.

Once the night was over Chris carried you bridal style (lol) through the threshold of your already shared home, before walking you to the room and placing you down.

Chris continued to worship you all night from small light kisses to consummating the marriage (wink wink) all night.

To say you were the happiest you’ve ever been was an understatement, and this was going to be the rest of your life.

Nothing could be better that this. Now Mrs Evans. Damn.

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Ta-da!! Finished

Thanks for ready, go check out my other stuff :)

(master list is in the works lol)