#Top Printing Paper Providers

[omkarpaper]

Top Printing Paper Suppliers in Ahmedabad: Your Ultimate Guide

Looking for the best printing paper suppliers in Ahmedabad? Our comprehensive guide provides valuable insights into the top providers in the region, including Omkar Paper, renowned for its exceptional quality and service. We’ve done the research so you don't have to—find out which suppliers offer the highest standards of printing paper to meet your professional needs. Whether you’re searching for paper for high-quality prints, durability, or cost-efficiency, this guide has got you covered. Discover the key factors to consider when choosing a printing paper supplier and why Omkar Paper stands out in the market. With our expert recommendations, you’ll be well-equipped to make an informed decision and find the perfect printing paper supplier in Ahmedabad.

[bittersw33t-lotus]

Little Life

Ghosting Series pt. 3

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

Cw: pregnancy stuff, reader is female, cursing (let me know I I missed anything)

A/N: sorry if this is very short the chapters may be pretty short just so my motivation to keep writing can stay.

Part 2 here

“Alright hon, if you can lay on the bed and lift your shirt over your belly please.” Dr. Raven says, the woman pointing to the dull looking patient bed with thin paper lining fitted over the cushion.

You give a quaint nod and follow her words, sitting down on the bed— to your surprise— the cushion was surprisingly comfortable to sit on. You bring your shirt up over your stomach stopping below your rib cage; laying back and waiting for Dr. Raven to prepare for the scanning. You watch as she brings out a plastic bottle you assumed was the gel, as she opened the plastic cap, she looks at you. “Okay, I’m going to put this on your abdomen. Be prepared, this will be cold.” She says as she squeezes the bottle over your stomach, the bright translucent blue gel slithers out the opening and trails down towards your stomach.

The moment it makes contact with your skin, your stomach retracted back at the cold viscous material. You shudder a breath and laugh a bit. “You weren’t lying.” You joked as Raven smiled and chucked at your response.

“Always takes them by surprise.” She says squeezing out a good dollop of gel, she finishes squeezing the bottle, pulling it away and closing the cap back on. Placing it back down on the table beside her— she grabs the transducer clicking a few buttons and the screen turns on.

“Alright, a we are good to go.” She mutters before placing the nub against your abdomen, spreading the gel around your stomach while she looks at the screen seeing the scan coming through, adjusting the nub to hover over your lower abdomen.

You watch the screen feeling a bit anxious as you watch— trying to figure out exactly what you were seeing. After a couple seconds you immediately spot a little white blob. A baby.

“There it is. Your baby.” She tells you, pointing to the small bean sized blob displayed on the screen. You stare at the screen in awe. That’s really inside you. Your baby slowly growing by the second, yours and Simon’s baby.

“So tiny.” You say under your breath as Dr. Raven nods to your words.

“You’re only eight weeks currently, and based off the tests that we did, it looks like you and the baby are doing just fine so far, baby is healthy and growing, overall you’re both doing great. I’ll provide you with some prenatal vitamins for you to take. However, I did notice in your readings, your blood pressure is a bit high than we’d like it to be so I need you to make sure you’re not overworking yourself, do more things to keep you calm and not focus and do things that cause you such distress if that’s possible. Other than that, you’re all set and good to go. Do you have any questions for me?” Dr. Raven says as she takes a few pictures of the scan to print out for you.

You breathe out in relief, the baby is all good. You figured the high blood pressure was definitely caused by the whole situation with Simon so you don’t know how you can make yourself forget about it, on top of that you’ve also been worried about finding a place to live and trying to figure out your financial situation now with Simon out of the picture. You take a deep breath and nod at Dr. Ravens advice. “I’ll be sure not to.” You tell her with a small smile as she hands you a paper towel to wipe off the gel, which you take.

“Would you be comfortable with telling me the cause for your mental or physical wellbeing may be? Anything that maybe I could help you with if possible.” She asks you; you can spot the concern in her eyes when she brings it up.

You shake your head and ignore the feeling you felt as she brings it up but regardless you smile and shake your head. “Just trying to deal with not having the father in the picture. He decided he didn't want to be around." You tell her as she nods, understanding your words.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She tells you as you simply shrug your shoulders pulling you shirt back down.

"it's fine, think we'll be better off without him anyways.” You tell her. It's true, to an extent, at least that’s what keep telling yourself. You know you can do this all on your own. It won't be easy, but you hope you can manage. But deep down, you know you'll never be okay— not without having Simon by your side.

He’ll miss out on so much, like watching your baby grow, learning, overcoming obstacles as parents, learning new things that come along with have a baby— as that baby also learns from you. You both won’t grow old together like you both wanted, with a bunch of animals, but with the baby included, maybe one or two more if things had worked out in the end.

You finish up the remaining paper work you had to sign and received your vitamins. Dr. Raven hands the ultrasound pictures to you in a white envelope and you make your way back to the lobby where Jared waited, still sitting and reading the pamphlets. He looks up as he notices you approaching and smiles as he stands up. “How’d it go?” He asks you.

You hold up the envelope with a smile. “It was great, got to see the baby, doctor said that they’re healthy and everything looks good thankfully. Just have to focus on not stressing myself out so much.” You tell him as you both make your way out of the building and into the parking lot.

“That’s great to hear. I’m sure Stacy already told you but she has a surprise in stock for you but she’s wondering if you have anything nice to wear.” He asks you as you approach the car.

Opening the car door you think for a minute before you nodded. “Yeah, I should.” You tell him. You’re sure you can find something. You took everything with you when you left Simon’s place, all your things are still in boxes save for the necessities that you need, but you’re sure you can find something.

On the drive back you spent the entire car ride back home staring and looking at the ultrasound picture, the little blob that you still couldn’t grasp was your baby, just still needed some more months to grow before you can meet them and that made you anxious. You don’t think you could wait that long.

“What’re you hoping for?” Jared asks you, steering the wheel as he switches to the next lane, glancing at the photos in your hand.

You think about it for a moment, it hasn’t crossed your mind surprisingly. Either one would be great, there was a moment where you dreamt of having a baby girl with Simon. You can’t lie, the sight of Simon being a girl dad made you all giddy and warm. Then thinking about a little boy, one that looked like a copy and paste of Simon would be so cute. You smile as the possibilities ran through your head, of course you’re just being delusional, you wouldn’t be able to see that happen ever. Just a thought in the back of your mind.

“Honestly either would be great. I don’t mind what I have, as long as the baby is healthy that’s enough for me.” You say tucking the photos into your purse, holding it close to you.

Jared smiled and nodded. “Sounds great, you’ll make a great mother. I’m sure of it.” He says to you as you smile, the reassurance from Jared was something you didn’t know you needed but greatly appreciated.

“Thanks.” You say to him, before you know it you’ve finally made it back home.

Once you arrived home you got out the car and walked into the house. Right away Stacy approached you with a smile.

“How’d it go?” She asks you as she gets up from the soft couch and walking over towards you and Jared.

You pull out the envelope and pull out the multiple pictures and hand them out for her. Upon seeing them she awe’s as she examined the little bean like fetus. “Little baby.” She coos before looking at you. “How far along are you?” She asks you.

“Eight weeks. I’ll be able to see the baby’s gender by fourteen weeks.” You tell her as she hands back the photos to you. Placing them in you bag you can see Stacy smile as she walks towards the island counter of in the kitchen. “Oh, what was that surprise you had in store?” You ask her.

She props herself up on the counter with her elbows and looks at the time. “We decided to treat you to dinner tonight. We have a reservation set for six tonight. You feeling up for it?” She asks you.

You take a moment to think and nod your head a bit excited to hear you’ll be eating at a restaurant feeling your hormones go crazed at the thought of food. “Yeah, I’ll get ready now.” You tell her with a wide smile. You haven’t eaten out at a restaurant in a long time. Last time you went was with Simon for the last anniversary together.

Making your way to your ‘room’ you take out a box with your fancier clothes. Opening the box you pull out multiple tops, bottoms, and dresses. Finally choosing one you like you slip the dress on and admire yourself in the mirror. You bump is bulging out a bit, you take the time to admire it.

You took the time to shower, do your make up and get dressed right on time. Stacy looked at your outfit as you did a 360 showing off your outfit. “You’re not even half way into pregnancy and already look like a milf.” Stacy jokes, you laugh as you grab your purse.

“Don’t tell me lies Stace.” You tell her as she shrugs her shoulder.

“I only tell the truth.” She says as you both walk out the door and towards the already running car where Jared sat in waiting for you two.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

A click from the lock sounds from the front door as it swings open. Simon’s bulking frame walks through the door as he scans the house. It’s dark and eerily silent.

When Simon came back, he felt like shit. His heart dreaded coming home to see your answer. He hoped you stayed, at least long enough till he came back, he planned to move out the house and leave it for you if you decided to keep the baby. It would give him a peace of mind to know where you were and know that you and the kid were safe, and you could use the extra room and space for the baby. But, even if you got rid of it, he doesn’t know if your relationship could ever be the same.

However your answer was first made clear when your car not in the drive way. His heart dropped but he took a deep breath, ‘Maybe she’s at the store.’ He thought. He hadn’t texted you either to let him know he was coming home today, he couldn’t bring himself too.

You’re not here. It’s something Simon suspected but he still feels dread overcome him as he steps into the house and notices the little things around the house that belonged to you were gone. Your shoes were gone, your car keys, the blanket you left on the couch is gone. He walks into your shared bedroom, which is now his bedroom, opening the door and he’s stunned with how much of an eye sore it is. His room is so plain now, like how it looked before you moved in with him.

He remembers how much you wanted to decorate the place, especially the bedroom, you hated how lifeless the whole house looked. It didn’t take much to convince him to let you decorate saying , “Go crazy.” And you did. Literally. You decorated adding a touch of you but keeping it to an extent to not overwhelm Simon. You hung up a few decorations and posters in the bed room of bands you and Simon both loved. A few shelves displaying your books and trinkets. Your touch added to his home making it more like home for him. Like you were his home. He liked, loved it if he dare say, he worried you would over do the place but it look perfect. Like you.

But now as he looked around the house, he sees the walls are bare and plain. He feels plain now, empty. Sad. He looks through your closet and drawers only to find them completely bare and empty.

He walks into the living room notices your shoes are gonna as well from the rack, and the little table beside the front door, he noticed the white folded paper on the little ceramic plate that held their keys, walking over he pick up the paper seeing his name written on it in your hand writing, unfolding it reveals page with your writing inked into the material.

‘I know we made a promise but this is something that takes two to do, accidents happen and I know you never wanted children and you knew it was still on the table for me, I’m thankful that you gave me a choice, even if it wasn’t easy. I don’t want to drag you into something you never wanted but it still hurts that I have to chose between you and this baby. I figured it was best for the both of us if I left, you can keep your home and I can keep my baby. I hope you stay safe out there Simon and please take care of yourself. I still and always will love you and I’m sorry.’ Simon checked the back of the paper for anything else but it was empty. You didn’t say where or what you were going to do and it scared Simon. Were you safe, do you have a place to stay, do you have people to help?

He knew you weren’t really in any contact with your family, your only friends were Johnny, Gaz, and Price. His ‘friends’ were yours. For the most part Simon knew you didn’t have anyone to help you or look after you and the baby. “Fuck!”

Taglist <3

@wise-owl @sandyseagullsip @mileyraes @nicolebarnes @nikkyevansdochen22 @mattmurdock-wife24 @demonking-69 @mooievis @lunamoonbby @cherrycosmos392 @eevee-of-eternity @makimamybelovedwife @venavanup @amberpanda99 @simplyymee98 @callmeluno @stormy-stardust @ssc7514 @badbitchthings @moldypeaching @asteria33 @going-through-shit @blarba-girl @leonsgirlie @andoraamore @nobodycanknoww @thegreyjoyed @natashamea18 @kylies-love-letter @blackhawkfanatic @leehoonii-i @xenop0p @sh1ga-to3s

[ilium-ilia]

you're an angel // i'm a dog

kyle "gaz" garrick x fem!reader | omegaverse | alpha!gaz, omega!reader | masterlist

Chapter One: sillage

You're chewing on your pen when he enters your office. 

Teeth marks scar the tip of the soft plastic as you gnaw like a dog with a bone. You feel it give way beneath your molars as your jaw aches at the tension. It doesn't taste good, and it's hardly a treat. It's a bad habit, one your mother always told you to break before your teeth did, but it's soothing at this point—being able to mold something against the shape of you. 

LED lights burn into your retinas as you read through the email on your computer screen. You've tried ten times now to absorb the information, but your brain is too saturated to soak up anything more, and the rock hard chair they provide for the office workers doesn’t help. You're stuck on the same sentence as you were two minutes ago. Repeating. Re-scanning. Rereading to no avail. 

...by Friday morning... file reports directly to... sincerely…

"Constance?" 

A voice catches you off guard, and your teeth nearly slice through your writing utensil. Hazy eyes glance over your monitor as you soak in the sight of the man before you. He's handsome; clad in the same battle dress uniforms as every other soldier on base. The green looks good on him. No, better than good. It heavenly contrasts his darker complexion, and you find yourself drawn to his eyes; wide and sweet, like a good dog. 

"You don't look like Constance," he chuckles. It's warm, and the baritone of it has your throat growing dry. 

"Retired. You're looking at her replacement," you hum.

You breathe deeply as he approaches, hoping for a whiff of something. A gentle redolence; something. It’s only natural—this curiosity that grips you. You’re certain he’s doing the same to you at this very moment. 

You're ashamed of the disappointment that fills you when you catch nothing. 

A beta. 

"Pity, she was sweet. Though, you're much easier on the eyes," he humors. "I swear her scowl was mean enough to send most drill sergeants running for the hills." 

You chuckle at his flattery as you click the tip of your chewed up pen against your desk. It echoes hollowly in your empty drawers, the space yet to be filled with scrap paper and stolen library books. You tilt your head as he hands you a short stack of papers. You fight the urge to sink your teeth through his palm—to rip the flesh free from his metacarpals. Almost time to go home and he gives you more work to do. 

"Suppose you're in charge of this now, yeah?" he says. 

Solemnly, you nod. "Garrick?" you confirm as you read the name printed at the top of the report. 

"Sergeant Garrick," he corrects with a smirk. "Or Kyle, if you're feeling friendly." 

His suave humor is enough to earn him another chuckle as you set his report on top of your keyboard. Tilting your head, you pull at the buttons on your blouse absentmindedly, too on edge to sit still. You fail to notice his nostrils flaring at the movement of your shirt. 

"Well, thank you, Kyle. I'll get to work on this," you say, quietly excusing him. 

Kyle nods short and curt as he takes a step back. "Thank you, ma'am." 

He hardly makes it out of the door before he's clamping his hand over his nose. He almost pinches his nostrils; suffocates himself so that he doesn't have to smell anything at all. Everything spins as if the very earth beneath his feet sways with the desire of the universe. You reek. Nothing but need and exhaustion—you're going into heat soon. He's smelled it on omegas countless times before—the brutal hormone change—but it's always come across as just a fact. Something he can sense. Like a light flickering on. It's not supposed to make him feel like this; too warm to be comfortable in his skin. As if the whole sun is in the palm of his hand. 

Shaking his head, Kyle forces his feet to trudge down the hallway as he fixes his posture and clears his mind. This is his own fault. Just needs to get better about taking his hormone suppressants on time, that's all. He's kept up this facade of being a beta this far, and he's not about to ruin it now. Not over some sweet smelling thing in the main office. 

Still, he can't recall if there was a bite mark on your neck or not, and he hates the way his throat grows parched—how his tongue needs to taste your skin.

"Fucking hell," he curses with nothing but the empty hallway to hear him. "Get your damn head on straight."

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | early access to chapters here

[pretzel-box]

I need Sebastian's reaction to some divers flashing little octo boy🙏🏼🙏🏼

SQUIDDLE ME THAT

words: 2,1k

tags: octopus hybrid reader, platonic relationship with sebastian, sebastian gets protective

authors note: I wrote the part before the flashing scene yesterday and had to add your request at the end, hope you don't mind some extra content!

Having a little octopus hybrid running loose was a challenge on its own. God forbid that Sebastian take his three eyes off you for even a second—you'd either wilt from loneliness or start creating a mess in a bid to reclaim his attention.

One such instance involved you folding his newly sorted files into funny little paper boats, which you then gently rocked over a random puddle that had started to develop in the corner of his shop. The first time you did this, Sebastian was initially impressed that you'd found something to do on your own. He even joined in, taking a sheet of printed paper and folding it into a rather shoddy boat, chuckling until he realized—these were his important assets!

Sebastian learned quickly from that incident. He made it his mission to keep you occupied, providing you with paper and pencils to draw pictures instead. Soon, his shop was filled with your artwork, pinned up on every wall. He couldn’t help but find your efforts endearing—most of your drawings were of the two of you, and they filled his heart with a warmth he wasn't accustomed to feeling.

“You know, I think you're starting to develop an eye for ar—” Sebastian began to say, but as he turned around, you were gone. You had simply vanished from sight. However, the trail of suction-cup marks on the floor was a clear indicator that you'd slipped through the vent and were now somewhere outside the shop.

Panic surged through him as he quickly made his way out, calling your name and checking every room. You were small and had a short attention span—surely, you couldn’t have gotten far.

And then he saw it. You were standing face-to-face with a Squiddle. The scene was bizarre: the Squid Monster hovered slightly above the ground, its ‘eyes’ locked onto you with what could only be described as confusion. You, on the other hand, were trying to mimic the creature, leaping up and attempting to hover in the air, only to be defeated by gravity each time.

Sebastian froze for a moment, his panic shifting to a mix of concern and disbelief. The Squiddle seemed more perplexed than hostile, perhaps unsure of what to make of this smaller, more enthusiastic "squid" that was now mimicking its every move. You, in your innocent curiosity, were completely absorbed in your game of imitation, oblivious to the potential danger.

Sebastian approached cautiously, not wanting to startle either of you. “Hey, buddy,” he called softly, trying to get your attention without alarming the Squiddle. “What are you doing over there?”

You turned to him, eyes wide and full of excitement, as if proud of your new friend. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat seeing how happy you were, but he knew he had to get you away from the creature before anything went wrong.

“Come on,” he coaxed, holding out his hand. “Let’s leave the big guy alone, okay? We’ve got plenty of drawing to do back at the shop.”

Reluctantly, you took his hand, casting one last curious glance at the Squiddle before allowing Sebastian to lead you away. The creature watched you go, still floating in place, before it finally drifted off, no longer interested in the odd encounter.

Back at the shop, Sebastian let out a deep sigh of relief. He knelt down to your level, ruffling the top of your head gently. “You’ve really got a knack for finding trouble, you know that?”

You gave him a sheepish grin, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Alright, how about we stick to drawing for a while, huh? Maybe we can work on some more pictures of us. Just... let’s keep the paper boats on hold for now, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, and Sebastian led you back inside, silently vowing to keep an even closer eye on you from now on.

Sebastian! You there?” a male voice called out as a customer clambered through the vent. Sebastian, already familiar with the type of people who usually wandered into his shop—rude pricks deserving their prison sentences—acted quickly. Without a second thought, he wrapped you in a blanket and gently but hurriedly stuffed you into a spacious locker, hiding you from the potentially mean human.

“Ah, welcome~” he greeted the customer with an air of nonchalance, shifting into his usual role as a shopkeeper. He led the man through a small conversation, maintaining his outward calm even though his thoughts were with you.

Meanwhile, inside the locker, you pressed your arms and tentacles against the metal walls, trying to push your way back to Sebastian. The dark, cramped space fueled a growing sense of anxiety. You didn’t understand why he’d suddenly hidden you away like this. Did you do something wrong? Did he stop liking you?

Fear and confusion spiraled in your little head until they became too much to bear. The only logical response, as far as you were concerned, was to scream. Tears streamed down your face as you wailed loudly, feeling abandoned and terrified. The darkness was cold, and being alone felt like the worst punishment imaginable.

Sebastian, who was busy trying to offload some junk onto the prisoner, froze when your piercing scream cut through the conversation. The customer blinked in surprise, glancing toward the sound. “What the hell was that?”

Sebastian’s mind raced as he tried to think of a plausible excuse. “Uh, faulty alarm system,” he lied, forcing a smile. “This place is falling apart, you know? I’ll get it fixed. Now, about that flashlight you were interested in…”

But the scream came again, louder this time, filled with pure distress. Sebastian’s heart clenched with guilt. The customer raised an eyebrow but seemed more annoyed than concerned. “You might want to take care of that. Sounds like something’s dying in there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll handle it,” Sebastian muttered, barely containing his irritation as he hurried the man toward the exit. “Thanks for stopping by, and don’t forget to tell your non-existing friends about the shop!”

As soon as the customer was out of sight, Sebastian practically “sprinted” back to the locker. Your cries were breaking his heart—he hadn’t meant to scare you, but in his haste to protect you, he’d overlooked how you’d feel being stuffed in there.

He flung the locker door open and immediately pulled you out, wrapping you in his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, holding you close as you continued to sob. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You clung to him desperately, burying your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. Sebastian felt like the worst person in the world for making you feel this way. “I was just trying to keep you safe,” he explained softly, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I didn’t want that guy to see you. But I shouldn’t have locked you up like that. I’m sorry.”

Gradually, your sobs began to quiet, though you still held onto him tightly, afraid he might push you away again. Sebastian continued to whisper apologies and reassurances, promising that he would never do something like that again.

Finally, you lifted your head, looking at him with tear-streaked eyes. “You’re okay,” he said gently, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

Your grip on him tightened, and Sebastian could feel the tremble in your small body slowly subside. He stood there for a long moment, holding you close, letting you know through his actions that you were safe and loved.

After a while, he carried you over to a cushioned seat, sitting down with you still wrapped in his arms. “You’re my little partner, okay?” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I’m always going to take care of you. Just… no more screaming like that, alright? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You nodded weakly, sniffling but feeling a bit better now that you were back in his comforting embrace. Sebastian gave a small, relieved smile, brushing your hair away from your face. “That’s better,” he said, rocking you gently. “Let’s just stay here for a while. No more hiding, I promise.”

——

It was an unusually busy day in the shop, with a steady stream of prisoners coming through the vents, all of them more obnoxious than the last. Sebastian had been on edge, keeping a close eye on you as you busied yourself with drawing on a scrap of paper behind some boxes to hide you out of the sight from the visitors. He didn’t want a repeat of the locker incident, so he made sure you were always within arm’s reach.

But even Sebastian couldn’t anticipate everything.

As a particularly rough-looking prisoner stomped into the shop, his eyes darting around suspiciously, you instinctively curled a little closer to Sebastian. The man was big, with a scarred face and a sneer that made your skin crawl. Sebastian noticed your discomfort and subtly shifted his body to block the prisoner’s view of you.

“What do you want?” Sebastian asked, his tone curt and to the point.

The prisoner didn’t answer right away, his gaze flicking over the various items on the shelves. “Just browsing,” he muttered, though there was a malicious glint in his eyes that set off alarm bells in Sebastian’s head.

Sebastian’s grip tightened on the counter. “We don’t have all day. Either buy something or get out.”

The prisoner’s sneer widened, clearly enjoying the tension he was causing. As if on a whim, he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device—a flashbeacon. Before Sebastian could react, the prisoner activated it, directing the blinding flash of light straight at you.

You let out a terrified yelp, your sensitive eyes overwhelmed by the sudden burst of light. Instinctively, you tried to shield yourself, curling up and covering your eyes with your tentacles as best as you could. But the damage was done—the intense flash had disoriented you, leaving you scared and vulnerable.

Sebastian’s protective instincts kicked in instantly. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, shoving the prisoner hard against the nearest wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he snarled, his voice dripping with fury.

The prisoner barely had time to register what was happening before Sebastian’s hand was around his throat, pinning him to the wall with a strength that belied his usually calm demeanor. “You think you can just walk in here and pull something like that?” Sebastian growled, his three eyes narrowing dangerously. “You’ve got some nerve.”

The prisoner, now realizing he’d severely miscalculated, struggled to speak, his face turning red as he choked out, “It… it was just a joke!”

Sebastian’s grip tightened, making it clear he wasn’t amused. “That ‘joke’ could have seriously hurt them,” he spat, nodding toward you. “You don’t mess with my shop, and you sure as hell don’t mess with them.”

With a final shove, Sebastian released the prisoner, who staggered back, clutching his throat and gasping for air. “Get out,” Sebastian ordered, his voice low and menacing. “And if I ever see you here again, you’ll regret it.”

The prisoner didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled for the vent, shooting one last fearful glance at Sebastian before disappearing as quickly as he’d come.

Sebastian took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger still coursing through his veins. Then he turned to you, his expression softening as he saw you huddled on the floor, still reeling from the flash.

He rushed over to you, kneeling down and gently pulling your tentacles away from your eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his heart aching at the sight of you trembling. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry, but you could see the concern etched on his face. Slowly, you uncurled from your protective ball, reaching out for him. Sebastian didn’t hesitate—he scooped you up into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I should’ve protected you better. But I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You clung to him, your small body still trembling slightly, but his warmth and the steady beat of his heart began to calm you down. You knew Sebastian was strong, and as long as you were with him, you felt safe.

[lushrue]

currently in my priceghost era and wanted to write something with price as the more submissive one

cw: nsfw, oral (m/m), light scent kink, sub space

john sat back in his chair, huffing out an exasperated breath. fireworks exploded behind his eyelids as he dug the heels of his hands in, trying to push out the ache of eye strain. a cursory glance at the clock on his desk revealed that it had been six hours since he’d sat down to start on the mountain of paperwork on his desk. six hours of rifling through mission reports, briefing memorandums, and recruit personnel files. six hours of squinting to read tiny print because he wasn’t old enough to require reading glasses, thank you very much.

he could feel the familiar burning pain creeping up into his shoulders, a reminder of the horrid posture he’d been sitting in the whole time. he felt stiff, unnaturally so. on top of it all, he felt tired. it wasn’t his usual training-all-day-and-shouting-at-unruly-sergeants type of tired. this sank into his bones, gave his skeleton a weight it didn’t have before. even the thought of dragging his heavy body all the way back to the barracks made his back ache and his temples pulse.

his mind had been running a million miles a minute for the past week. it seemed like there was an urgent task lurking around each corner, waiting to demand his full attention. nothing could wait until tomorrow, nothing could be put on the back burner until something else was completed. everything needed done yesterday and he found himself struggling to keep up. if only the world would stop spinning for five minutes, he thought to himself. then I could catch up. it was at that moment he remembered the one man who could bring his world to a halt, if only for a little while.

price had a complicated relationship with his lieutenant. the two of them were…something to each other. they’d both chosen not to put a label on it, simply for the fact that it didn’t need one. their relationship was symbiotic, one hand washing the other for the sake of cleaning both of them. it was a fact of nature that simon was there for john in the ways that he needed, and john repaid simon in turn. in their eyes, relationships like that didn’t need a label. barnacles don’t call the whale it hitches a ride on their lover; a clownfish doesn’t commit to the anemone that provides it shelter. they simply exist in this moment in time to serve a purpose for one another, and that was that.

the captain raised himself from his chair, dragging his heavy feet down the hall towards simon’s office. john knew that simon was up to his nose in paperwork just the same as him. the two of them had talked at length over a pack of cigarettes about how a paper trail was inconvenient at best and dangerous at worst. they both had a nasty habit of putting it all off until later and having to burn the midnight oil more than once to make up for it. his knuckles rapped four times against the door, the rhythmic pattern of it identifying who was knocking. simon had developed it, a way to know that the person on the other side of the door was important enough to put down the pen.

he was met with a gruff “come in” from the lieutenant, his fingers trembling slightly as they closed around the doorknob and twisted. when he pushed the door open, the sight of simon, maskless, greeted him. it was rare for simon to go anywhere on base without at least the balaclava on, but the state of his hair showed that he’d just pulled it off. on nights like these, simon didn’t wear it. it was far too important to john to be able to see his face. simon’s eyes were soft, gentle, as they took in the way john stood in his doorway. shoulders slumped, the lines on his face deeper, the bags under his eyes heavier. simon could read any man like a book, but when it came to his captain, he knew things no one else had ever gotten close enough to know. there was a look in john’s eyes, a certain helplessness that was reserved only for him.

“rough night?” simon asked, leaning back in his office chair and nodding to John to close the door. john did as instructed, a dry chuckle bubbling out of his chest. “you don’t know the half of it,” he replied, voice raspy. he sounded as worn as he looked. it reminded simon of the dirt caked into the tread of his boots, stomped on a thousand times before finally getting to rest. simon just grunted in reply, picking up the pen from his desk. he made a small tick on the report he was reading to mark his place before turning his full attention to his captain. “would you like to talk, or not talk?” simon asked, his words laced with a meaning only the two of them could discern. john met his gaze, a weight seeming to lift off of his shoulders as he made his decision. “not talk.”

simon nodded in understanding, the movement curt and quick. it was almost tactical the way the two of them moved around each other. simon took up his position on the small sofa in his office, parting his legs shoulder-width apart. he took one of the pillows from beside him, holding it out to john as he circled around to his own position. john took the pillow, placing it on the floor between simon’s feet, and lowered himself down onto it. he grunted as his knees hit the tile floor, the blow gratefully softened by the fabric and stuffing. they’d quickly discovered that it was a necessary part of this routine.

“you solid?” john looked up to find simon’s eyes on him, the deep brown of his irises laced with concern. the captain swallowed down the lump forming in the back of his throat, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. “solid,” he replied, his tone short. he didn’t want to concern himself with how he felt. not now, not when it all felt too big to handle. simon simply nodded, raising a hand to rest on the back of john’s head. he guided it to his thigh, letting john rest against him for a moment. john didn’t want to talk, and that was fine with simon. he usually did all the talking on nights like these anyway. hours upon hours of silence left him with a lot to say.

“you deserve this, y’know,” he said, stroking his fingers along the length of john’s scalp. “deserve to put down the reins for a bit, have someone else take ‘em up.” john shivered under simon’s touch, goosebumps rising on his arms. it was never true in his own head, but when simon said it, john drank it in like it was gospel. he nodded, his cheek rubbing against the fabric of simon’s fatigues. “i deserve this,” he repeated softly, voice strained with the weight of the emotion he was keeping in.

simon nodded in approval, pleased with john’s acceptance. in the beginning, when they’d first started this little ritual, the captain had done everything he could to keep simon at arm’s length. he’d never stay for long once he’d been given what he needed and eye contact was scarce. now, john had reconciled with the fact that sometimes, he didn’t want to be in charge. sometimes, he needed someone else to tell him what to do. taking orders was as natural as breathing for him, especially when giving them felt like a burden he couldn’t bear. “that’s a good lad,” simon praised, his voice rumbling low in his chest. “you know just what ta do, don’t you? meltin’ in a puddle at my feet.” john’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, turning his head to press his face into simon’s thigh.

simon just chuckled. his boy could be awfully shy when he wanted to be. “look at me,” he commanded. john felt a shiver down his spine at simon’s tone. it wasn’t the same one he used with the sergeants, or when he was training the recruits. it was reserved specially for him, a low timbre that rattled around his brain and dislodged any unwanted thoughts still hanging around. the captain turned his head up, hazy blue eyes meeting simon’s dark chocolate ones. “so beautiful. ya know tha’? most beautiful thing on God’s green earth, on your knees for a nasty bugger like me.”

john wanted to protest, to assure simon that he was far from the nastiest bugger he’d ever knelt for, but the words wouldn’t come. thoughts swirled around in his head like smoke, thin and incorporeal. he tried to grasp at them, but his hands went right through. all he could do was hum and shake his head. simon shook his head, lips rounding in a soothing shushing noise. “don’t think. let me do tha’ for ya.” he placed a finger under john’s chin, stroking him like one would a cat. john’s eyes fluttered shut, letting the feeling of simon’s calloused trigger finger against his throat lift the weight of reality that hung heavy on his shoulders.

slowly, john’s head started to drift off into a much nicer place. it was softer, gentler. mission reports and recruit files fell to the wayside, briefings and emails and memorandums were long forgotten. all there was, in this moment, was him and simon. simon caught every moment of john’s slip, the way his jaw went slack and his eyes stared beyond him. he admired the way john’s eyes seemed to sparkle, admiration shining bright in them. when the stresses of the outside world fell away, all that was left was simon. the lieutenant shifted his hand, dragging his finger up john’s jaw until his hand came to rest on the crown of john’s head. the weight was comforting and grounding, keeping him tethered to the earth.

“tha’s a good boy,” simon praised, his thumb stroking john’s scalp. the captain practically purred, pressing his head up into simon’s touch. it felt nice and his one-track mind wanted more of it. simon shifted on the sofa, sweatpants growing tight. something in john’s far-away gaze made him chub up, the way he was so vulnerable and trusting beneath him. here, simon held all the power. “jus’ needed a li’l stress relief, hmm? needed your simon to get ya through.” john nodded, drool leaking against simon’s thigh.

simon chuckled at the sight, reaching forward and wiping some of the spit from the corner of john’s mouth. with a gentle motion, he pressed his thumb to the seam of john’s lips, pressing insistently. john’s mouth fell open and simon pushed his finger in, letting his thumb rest against john’s tongue. the way his lips closed around the digit made simon groan. he’d quickly discovered that his boy had an oral fixation, always needing something in his mouth to keep him occupied. all those damn cigars, he’d figured. john hollowed his cheeks, eyes fluttering shut as he bobbed his head on simon’s thumb. he whined low in his throat when he realized it wasn’t quite what he needed, shifting impatiently on the pillow.

“settle, lovie. i’ll give ya what ya need soon enough. jus’ wanna enjoy the sight of ya.” simon leaned back against the sofa, utterly transfixed by the man in front of him. john’s tongue curled around simon’s finger, teeth lightly scraping the skin. with his eyes heavy-lidded, he looked the very picture of debauchery, letting go and giving simon his soft underbelly. drool pooled in the corners of his mouth, wetting his lips and cheeks. if simon thought hard enough, he could pretend that it was his cock between john’s lips instead. he groaned aloud at the mere image, cock tenting his sweats. he used his free hand to push the waistband down, dragging his boxers down with it.

john opened his eyes, teeth digging into the flesh of simon’s thumb as he caught sight of what he truly wanted. he could smell the musk coming off of the lieutenant, thick and heavy in his nose. he pulled his head back and released simon’s thumb, leaning forward to mouth at his cock. his tongue trailed along the protruding vein at the base, humming softly when simon shivered with delight. simon’s head fell back against the wall, his eyes screwed shut as his cock twitched. precum dripped down his shaft, the tip red and angry at having been ignored thus far.

simon cupped the back of john’s head, coaxing him to look up. john met simon’s gaze, baby blue eyes pleading for permission. “this what you wan’, baby? want this fat cock down your throat?” simon asked, voice rough and gravelly. john nodded, the stimulation of his cheek against simon’s cock making his thighs clench. he couldn’t find the words, mouth moving to beg, but simon shushed him. “none o’ that. not gonna let my best boy go without,” he cooed, adjusting his hips so that the tip of his cock laid against john’s lips.

john’s tongue darted out, lapping up the precum that was beading up. it was salty and bitter, but he drank it in like the sweetest ambrosia. simon moaned loud, the sound coming from low in his chest. he’d long since given up on trying to be quiet on these nights. there was hardly anyone around, and if there were any nosy recruits, he’d shut them up with latrine duty. “tha’s it, right fuckin’ there,” he groaned, hips bucking to press his cock deeper into john’s mouth. “take it all, lovie. know you can, so good for me-”

simon’s words were cut off when john took him to the hilt, the captain’s throat rumbling with a satisfied moan. electricity shot up his spine, simon’s hands scrambling for purchase on the sofa. the pleasure was heady, thoughts dissipating like clouds and the room spinning like a carousel. as pent up as he was, it only took a few minutes and a well-timed swallow for simon to lose himself. he spilled down john’s throat, pearly-white spend shooting into the back of his mouth. john drank it down, needy moans vibrating around simon’s cock as he sucked him through his orgasm. 

the moment simon’s soul came back into his body, he eased john’s head back, tapping his cheek to coax him to breathe. john was panting, eyes glistening with tears from all the times he’d gagged. his cheeks were flushed, a cum-drunk expression on his face. simon was satisfied, and it seemed john was too. needs fulfilled for each other, symbiotic relationship solidified. john took his moment of rest, catching his breath before parting his lips again. simon acquiesced, placing his softening prick on john’s waiting tongue. there was no need for pleasure, no work to be done. the two of them could rest here like this for as long as they needed, basking in the glow of the moment they’d shared. “good boy,” simon praised breathlessly, petting john’s hair. “keep it warm for me, tha’s it.”

a few hours later, once they’d parted ways and john had settled in for bed, he found a different kind of weight had settled on his chest. perhaps these nightly routines were more than just quid pro quo, but no matter. simon could help him figure it all out later.

[lilacs-stars]

a night to remember

this is part 2, recommended you read part 1 first! (to avoid confusion) pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is glinda the good witch's daughter) SUMMARY: one day, you find a mysterious note in your locker from a certain pirate. who knows where it'll end up taking you—and your interesting relationship with him. GENRE: very wholesome despite the intro (I swear), fluff, some teasing and banter, reader being oblivious, mutual pining, just relationship cuteness overall CW: not much, mentions getting tipsy (not from alcohol), one little dirty joke if you squint hard enough WC: 7.5k

A/N: the title was inspired by the song of the same name by beabadoobee and laufey (I recommend listening to it while reading, as it sets the mood nicely!) james hook is literally so gentleman coded you can’t convince me otherwise. also I randomly thought of male characters using "m'lady" and now I'm obsessed...this was made to be pure, feet-kicking and giggling inducing fluff, so enjoy! thanks again to the anon who requested this, hope you like it! please leave feedback and suggestions, hearing your thoughts makes me so happy! :))

You stare down at the drink in your hand, the realization of what it is slowly dawning upon you. 

Mouth agape in pure disbelief, you glance up at the man sitting in front of you. The devilish glint in his eyes, rivaled only by the shine of his metal hook, sends chills down your spine—making it terribly clear why he brought you. 

Oh god, you think. How in the world did I get here?

You make your way through the bustling halls of Merlin Academy, trying your best to not get jostled by the ruckus of the crowd. 

Honestly, who puts people’s classes on the sixth floor and their lockers on the first? you mentally grumble, finally reaching the dreaded staircase that you climb up and down dozens of times each day.

After descending the five flights of stairs, you’re completely out of breath by the time you reach your locker. You tap the lock with your pointer finger three times, a magical device inside reading your fingerprint. It clicks open, and your locker door swings out towards you.

Reaching to place your books inside and take out some new ones for the rest of the day's classes, you’re shocked by something that slips out as soon as the door opens. A white piece of paper sways back and forth as it falls to the floor, right next to your feet.

You bend down to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, you learn that it’s not a piece of paper; it’s a small packet, stapled in the corner. At the top, in neat, printed letters, are the words “ENCHANTMENT OF MAGICAL OBJECTS: UNIT 3 WRITTEN TEST.”

Below it, a line is provided for the student's name. Scribbled down in a fancy, yet somehow still messy and barely legible font, is the name “James Hook.”

He left me his test? you question. You don’t even bother wondering how he broke into your locker; after that little incident where he stole your ring, you have resigned yourself to not being surprised at his so-called “bad boy” antics. He is a villain, after all.

This test was one that your class had been preparing for quite some time. It mainly centered the theory of enchantments, with the most difficult one being the Aiming Spell. Thankfully, you had taught Hook most of the material during your study session last week, specifically focusing on helping him improve his Aiming Spell (although maybe he got a little too good, considering how he pulled off that ring trick).

Your confusion regarding the test placed in your locker lasts only a second longer, until you notice that in the top right corner, a big, circled "87%" is written in bright red pen.

The number stays for a brief moment, before the red ink rearranges itself on the page, morphing into a “B+”.

Wait…that’s really good. For him, at least, you think. Is this really all because of your one tutoring session? You have always thought that you’re pretty good at teaching other people, but you never considered yourself a miracle worker. He must think it is because of me, I guess. Otherwise, he wouldn't have left this in here.

Even though you know you’re probably not supposed to, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you flip back the front cover to check what he got wrong.

As soon as you lift the top page, another piece of paper falls out of the test. This time, it’s smaller, a faint beige color tinting the sheet.

You reach down once again to pick it up as you notice that this one is actually an envelope. Glancing at the back, which appears to be empty, you flip it over to the front side. It bears a wax seal embossed with an emblem of two crossed pirate swords.

Carefully peeling back the top of the envelope so as to not rip the delicate paper, you pull out the note inside. There isn’t much writing on the plain paper, but it’s in the same handwriting as before. Very intrigued at this unusual occurrence of events, you read the few lines of text keenly.

“Friday, 6 pm. The Rogers Place.

Make sure to wear your fanciest dress.

Meet me there. I’ll be waiting.”

...What? You’re too stunned to even think. What is this? There’s no way he’s actually asking you out…on a date.

This has to be a joke, right? A study session was one thing, but this, this, meetup, is something entirely different. He even asked to meet you outside of school. You've heard before of the restaurant he mentioned, although you've never actually gone there yourself. Based on what you've gathered, it's a popular, rather formal place run by Eudora Rogers and her young daughter, Tiana, in memory of her beloved husband. 

So why in the name of the heavens would James Hook ask you, someone who has no dating experience whatsoever, of all people, to go with him to dinner? “Wear your fanciest dress”? What is this guy thinking?

In utter disbelief, you flip over the note, checking the back to make sure you haven’t missed something. To your surprise, there is some writing scrawled on the back, which reads: “Your payment for helping me pass my test.”

Right…so…he’s asking you out on a—no, it’s not a date, you remind yourself, yet again. He’s simply doing a nice act to return the favor. This was probably the only thing that came to his mind. Silencing the little voice in your head that whispers, “Why would the first thing that came to his mind be asking you out to dinner?”, you stuff the envelope and note in your bookbag, holding on to the test to give back to him sometime.

As you walk down the hallway, rushing to get to your next class, you don’t see the figure lurking behind the corner at the other end of the corridor.

He smirks, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

This one? No, it’s too casual.

How about this one? No, it’s not fancy enough.

This? Too sparkly.

That? Not sparkly enough.

You sigh, flopping onto your bed amidst a pile of dresses. It’s a few hours after school let out, on the day you’ve been anticipating all week long. And, not surprisingly, you can’t decide what in the world to wear. After all, it’s not like you’ve been out on lots of not-dates to know what a typical outfit would be like.

You stare up at the ceiling, sighing again for what must be the hundredth time this night. At times like this, you seriously wish you had a roommate. You've always had your dorm all to yourself, and sure, it is really nice most of the time. You can relax and unwind in solitude, with no one distracting you or pestering you with trivial matters while you study. However, there are the rare few occasions where you long to have someone close, to help you out or give you advice.

After holding up quite a few more dresses in the mirror, you finally decide on the one with the fewest number of cons, from the mental list you made for each dress. Slipping it on—albeit with much difficulty, since who designed dresses to be so frilly to the point where you can't even find where to put your head?—you stare at your reflection, completely enamored by the person you see staring back at you. You’re not really used to wearing fancy things like this, which is probably the reason why you barely recognize yourself.

Twirling around, head over your shoulder as you keep your gaze locked on the mirror, you realize why people have always told you that you have a striking resemblance to your mother. Your outfit consists of a ballgown-style dress, which really is the only type you have in your closet. Even though it’s a bit uncomfortable, the fitted bodice making it rather hard to take a full breath and the off-the-shoulder neckline compelling you to constantly tug it up to prevent it from slipping, it still is absolutely gorgeous. The short sleeves complement the torso, and the full skirt, all puffed up with layers of tulle, swishes elegantly as you move around. The bodice is densely embellished with small rhinestones, mostly at the top, with the gems growing sparser farther down the dress. A few crystals are set into the skirt just below the waistline, creating a scattered, shimmering effect reminiscent of the stars in a night sky.

Even though you aren’t a fan of fancy dresses, you must admit, you absolutely adore this one.

Finishing off the look with some jewelry and accessories, you take one last look at yourself in the mirror. You've never been one to be arrogant, but it's still hard not to think that even though this is certainly not a date, maybe, just maybe, Hook might be a little more interested in you after tonight.

“Um…hi?” you say, timid voice rising into a question from your uncertainty.

After getting dressed, you made your way to the restaurant. Fighting the deep-rooted urge to get there early as possible, you took the long route, not wanting to be the first to arrive. I’ll make him wait for me this time, you decided with an evil little smirk, thinking back to the day of your study session and the long minutes you had agonizingly spent wondering if he was going to show up.

Now, you stand in front of the reception desk, peering up at a waiter ordering papers. Fiddling with the lace gloves covering your hands, you add, “I don’t know if my name is ion the reservation or anything…”

Honestly, you’re not quite sure what to do at this point. All Hook had instructed you was to show up at the restaurant at this time. Part of you had expected him to be waiting by the door, but now that you see he isn't, your nervousness rises.

“Are you Y/N?” the server questions, glancing down at something on the small podium-like stand.

“Uh, yes, I am,” you reply.

“A young man has made a reservation for the two of you. He’s already waiting for you out on the patio. If you’ll follow me,” the waiter informs you, grabbing a menu from his stack and leading you through the bustling restaurant.

You follow him, feeling incredibly bashful as you swerve around tables and people alike. You finally reach a large set of doors in one of the seating areas, which the waiter opens for you.

Stepping through the threshold, you sense the cool rush of the evening air welcome you out. The sky has already begun to dim, a few faint stars gleaming against the dark backdrop. Spread out in front of you is an array of tables, most of them small enough for only two people. The low lighting, coming solely from flickering candles and glowing lanterns strung throughout the area, paired with the singular rose set in a vase at the center each table and a faint, slow jazz song playing somewhere in the background, makes for the most romantic of settings you could have possibly imagined.

Your breath is completely taken away as the server leads you through the arrangements of seats. It’s sparsely crowded, with only a few couples seated here and there, each enjoying an amorous dinner.

The server stops at a circular, two-seated table close to the edge, overlooking a magnificent view of the city down below. A few feet in front ahead and sitting with his back towards you, the only object of your thoughts for these past few hours turns his head in your direction, probably upon hearing the clacking of your high-heeled shoes.

Although you’ve tried your best to convince yourself that this, in fact, is not a date, you simply can’t deny the way his entire expression light up at the mere sight of you. Hook stands up, unabashedly eyeing you up and down slowly, taking all of you in.

A small smile tugs at his lips as he takes your hand in his, once again bowing down to place a kiss on your ring—it appears that this has become a routine, which you can't exactly say you mind.

You don't miss how he pauses for just a moment, noticing the way your ring is still on your ring finger, unchanged from the place he left it. Holding your breath, your heart beats faster as you worry about what he thinks of it. To your relief, he doesn’t say anything, instead kissing the gemstone and straightening back up again, but not before ever so softly—yet still with obvious intentionality—brushing his lips against your finger, deliberately tracing your skin with an agonizingly slow pace as his warm breath sets your every nerve on fire.

“M’lady,” he breathes, standing to meet your gaze. His casual nonchalance is a stark difference from the way you struggle to regain your composure, hating how even the smallest of actions from him can elicit such a reaction from you.

As you study him, you notice that he had a significant wardrobe change too; instead of his usual pirate attire, he dons a dark maroon frock coat, embroidered with intricate swirls and designs. He definitely made an attempt at looking a bit more classy, with his hair neater than usual and the collar of his shirt tidily done. You could even swear that his hook looked more polished than usual, and that he carried the faint, odd trace of expensive cologne.

The server leaves the menu on your table and walks away with a polite nod of his head. Hook steps over to the chair opposite the one he had been sitting in, pulling it out for you in a manner that is far too gentlemanly for what you're used to seeing from him, gesturing at you to sit down with a wave of his shiny metal hook. 

Overwhelmingly flattered, you walk over, smoothing your skirt beneath you as you take your seat. Hook pushes your chair in, before going back to the other side of the table to take his own seat.

Not sure what else to do, you pick up your menu and glance over it. “Decide what you’re going to order yet?” Hook asks you.

“No, you?”

“They already took my order, but I told them to wait on preparing my food until you had ordered as well.”

They already took his order? How long has he been here? you wonder. You glance at your wristwatch, seeing that it’s only a few minutes past six o’clock. Deciding to shrug it off, you go back to looking at your menu, despite not being able to fight the voice in your head that whispers about how you should've gotten here earlier, that he had probably been waiting for you, all alone, for quite some time.

“It’s so hard to decide,” you say with a halfhearted laugh, trying to fill up the heavy silence. You peruse the menu more carefully this time, marveling at how many different dishes are listed. Finally, after reading through the entire thing a few more times, you settle on the one that sounds the best.

After only a few moments, the server comes back around and takes your order. “A fine choice, ma’am,” he comments as you tell him your choice of entrée. You notice that all of the waiters here wear fancy black suits and come with a pristine white cloth draped over their arm. Huh, how fancy, you think to yourself. I never knew this place was so formal.

“So, Hook,” you begin, “Why did you bring me here?”

“Didn’t you read my note? It’s a thank-you for helping me pass my test. The teacher was very impressed with my score, you know,” he responds indifferently.

You give him a small sigh, paired with a gentle smile—your attempt at hiding the twinge of disappointment dancing in your eyes. “I did, but you didn’t have to treat me to dinner. A simple note would have sufficed.”

Hook looks at you, dark brown eyes wide and holding your gaze with an intensity you’ve never known. “Sufficed? I don’t want to just suffice. I want to give you a memorable night. An unforgettable experience.” “I don’t think I could ever forget a charming pirate with a hook for a hand,” you laugh, teasing him lightly. Instead of laughing along with you, Hook stares at you for another moment, studying you with slightly scrunched brows and an indecipherable expression on his face. You grow uneasy at his burning look, shifting in your seat as you wonder why he’s watching you so intently.

However, the tense awkwardness in the air lasts for only a minute, before Hook breaks into one of his famous smirks as he replies, “Oh, charming, am I? I know you can’t stop thinking about me, love.”

“Th-that’s not what I meant!” you cry, leaning across the table to give him a small push. He breaks into a laugh, his lips curling up into yet another genuine smile as he leans back just out of your reach. His mirthful expression makes you realize that he had been simply joking, causing your face to burn up as your mind replays your rather dramatic reaction. Honestly, you can never really tell whether he’s being serious or just messing with you.

“Settle down, love. Wouldn’t want you ruining that pretty dress of yours,” he responds, twisting to the side again to prevent getting smacked by you.

You two continue making small talk, still partaking in your teasing, only slightly annoying banter. Before you know it, a waiter is walking towards your table with two platters, one in each hand.

The server sets down the plates on your table, the dishes both looking absolutely delectable. Along with the food, he places two matching beverages in front of you two.

You thank him, and he bows again before leaving. Turning back to Hook, you watch with a slight arch of your eyebrows as he raises his drink in the air.

“A toast,” he says. “To continuing our little dates.”

You roll your eyes, not bothering to correct him this time. Lifting your own glass, you add, “And to you continuing to get good grades.” He smiles at this, before lifting the drink to his lips. Perceptive as always, you notice how his eyes follow your hand as you bring the glass to your mouth.

A sudden, fleeting doubt crosses your mind at his suspicious behavior. Glancing down at the drink skeptically, you notice its unique bright red color. You lower +it slightly and sniff it, then bring it down from your face, fixing a glare at Hook. “You think I don’t know what this is?”

“Oh, I know you do. That’s what I was counting on, at least.”

You persist with your glare. You've spent many hours reading up on different potions and elixirs, so you're no stranger to the drink in your hand. It's a popular one known as the Lovers' Lascivious Lure, a beverage with a fruit punch-like taste, plus a little kick. The real reason for its fame, however, is the touch of love potion that gets mixed in. Not enough to truly make someone fall in love with you or intoxicate them, but rather something that is favored by couples looking to get a little tipsy in love on their night out.

You set the glass down on the table, not breaking your gaze away for a second as you continue to glower at the person sitting across you.

“It’s rude to not drink after a toast, darling,” Hook says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I don’t care, I’m not drinking that,” you reply irritatedly. 

“Fine. Your loss, love.”

You watch in complete shock, eyes blown wide and mouth agape as Hook brings his drink up to his lips again, tipping back his head as he gulps the entire thing down in one go.

“I’d drink yours as well, darling, but I’d hate for you to be forced to walk me home, instead of the other way around,” Hook spouts with a bit too much added expression, slightly swaying as the effects of the potion kick in. 

You continue to stare at him, concern etched into your features, knowing full well that this drink is designed to be sipped slowly throughout a leisurely dinner, one with much idle conversation and flirtatious looks. Not to be downed all at once. You honestly don’t know what the side effects are to consuming a large amount very quickly, but you pray that the potion is weak enough so as to not cause actual harm—or any other effects—to him.

“So, love,” Hook drawls in a low tone, leaning in. “Anything you feel like telling me?”

“You’re the one who drank the liquid courage, not me,” you point out, fixing him with another look. “Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer you’re going to last like this.”

At your words, Hook’s dazed expression suddenly disappears, instead replaced by a very serious, stern face. “Oh, I assure you, love, I can last very long.”

You blink, a tad confused at why he said that with such a strong conviction. Brushing it off, you look down at your food again, your mouth already watering. “Come on, our food’s going to get cold, and it looks far too delicious to waste.”

Hook agrees, unrolling his utensils instead of shooting back a one-liner, much to your surprise. You’re even more taken aback at the way he drapes the white cloth, which previously held his cutlery, over his legs as he begins to eat, keeping up with his very proper etiquette. He does everything with utterly perfect decorum, from holding his fork and knife in the correct positions to cutting all his food into little pieces. You honestly don't know why this comes as such a shock to you; he has been employing rather polite manners all evening, after all. It appears, you realize, that you’ve always subconsciously believed the stereotypes that pirates are unruly creatures, which therefore must mean they eat messily.

Apparently, this pirate doesn’t.

You both make small talk as you enjoy your food, which is every bit as delicious and succulent as it looked. All the different components are cooked to a perfect degree; not raw or difficult to chew, but not burnt, either. Rich, deep, aromatic spices have always been the staple of this restaurant, and for good reason. You have no clue what flavorings they used, but whatever they are, they taste unlike anything you've ever eaten in your entire life, like an otherworldly meal sent from the heavens. To top it all off, the food also comes with piquant side dishes, followed by desserts that are absolutely decadent and make you melt with every bite you take.

After you both have had your share, Hook motions to the waiter for the check. You had slipped some extra cash into your handbag before coming, not sure what the expectation would be for who paid. As the waiter returns with the small black book in his hand, you turn to Hook.

“I can pay, if you want,” you offer. 

Hook quirks his brow as he gives you a look, before reaching into his coat pocket. “Come now, don’t be ridiculous, love. What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t pay for you? Especially considering that I was the one who asked you out.”

You blink hard, barely aware of your small nod towards him, your mind racing as the waiter gives Hook the check. You blankly watch him scribble a signature before handing it back, trying to process what he just said. “...asked you out…” Does that mean he actually considers this as a date? Especially since he offered to pay for you…Heavens, what is going on?

Your eyes trail the waiter as he leaves, just as Hook turns back to you. “All finished?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “So…what now?” You aren't quite sure whether or not he's planning on walking you home like he mentioned earlier, but you do know that you're not ready to part quite so soon. Averting his gaze, you instead choose to look down at the candle flickering in the middle of your table. It is now very dark outside, to the point where the flame’s meager light shines with a bright luminosity. Entranced by the fire, you stare intently at its dancing movements, attention fully consumed by how the flame appears to be practically alive.

“Now,” Hook says with a glint in his eyes, causing your head to snap back up, “I have something to show you.”

“Something to show me?” you repeat. “Show me what?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see once we get there, love.”

“Once we get there? Hook, where are we going?”

He gives a smug, knowing grin. “You’ll see. Just be patient, darling.” He notices the skeptical look you still have, so he adds, “Trusting me last time turned out good, right? So trust me one more time. I promise you’ll like your surprise.”

You consider his words, hating how he had a point. “Fine,” you huff. “Lead the way, I guess.”

You start to push your chair back to get up, but Hook chides, “Ah ah ah, no you don’t,” standing up himself before walking behind you. He grips the back of your chair and pulls it out for you, before offering his good hand to help you stand too.

Once again, you’re rather shocked at his well-mannered behaviors and courteous gestures. As you accept his outstretched arm, you wonder how in the world this is the same person who was, only a few days ago, leaning back in his chair with his feet up, flinging magical disks across the room.

Getting up, you hesitate for a moment, freezing in place now that you’re level with his eyes. You haven’t been this close to him since that pivotal day during your study session, and your breath gets taken away once again by the proximity.

His angular features and sharp jawline catch your attention, causing your legs to stagger as your gaze wanders down to his soft, plush lips, which definitely stand out amidst the rest of his chiseled face. You had never noticed how his eyeliner also traces his bottom lash line, making his eyes pop whenever he widens them, or how part of his hair swoops to the side and slightly covers his forehead. It dawns on you that you’ve always overlooked the two small silver earrings that dangle from his ears, or the chain around his neck with a cross on it, usually hidden by the collar of his shirt.

Not aware of how you’re just standing there paralyzed, you commit to memory the small details about him you’ve never really seen before. Even though the inside of your head is alive and bustling with a plethora of thoughts, outside, you two stand in terribly awkward silence.

Hook clears his throat, snapping you back to reality. “Come along, darling. We wouldn’t want to be interrupted by curfew again.”

Tightening his grip on your hand, which still holds yours, he leads you through the entrance you had used not so long ago while bidding farewell to the waiter. You continue up the hill to the woods behind the restaurant, Hook refusing to give even a single hint as to what big surprise awaits you.

The trail through the trees starts off easy enough, although still rather difficult for you to traverse in your tight dress and voluminous skirt. If I had known I’d be taking a hike, I’d have worn something more suitable, and much more comfortable, you think, but ultimately decide to keep your mouth shut. After all, Hook had been spoiling you all evening. The least you could do was not nag him about every last thing.

The farther you go, the thicker the branches that block your path and scratch at your arms with their sharp claws get, and the denser the underbrush that tries to trap your feet and swallow you whole grows. After a quarter hour of consistent walking, the trail all but disappears, until only a small path carved by the footsteps of a few brave souls remains. You have to hold up the edge of your full-length skirt the whole way to ensure it doesn’t get all dirty and muddy; by the time you’re nearly done, your arms ache just as much, if not more, than your legs.

You and Hook travel mostly in silence, the sounds of your heavy panting and the crunches of leaves and branches underfoot filling up the empty air. You trail behind him, sometimes struggling to keep up, although he does happen to notice this and slows down his pace after the first few minutes.

Occasionally, Hook gives a short, crisp, “Watch out for the rock there, love,” or “The branches here are really low, I’ll hold them up for you.” You always respond with a clipped “Yeah,” or “Okay, thanks,” trying to mask just how out of breath you've gotten from the difficult climb. Early on in the beginning of the hike, you had to let go of his hand, favoring holding up your skirt instead. Still, in areas where the ground is rough or rocky, or the footing becomes difficult or rather steep, Hook always turns around and offers his hand to you and helps pull you up, or reaches out his hook from overhead for you to grab on to.

The noises of the night accompany you the entire time: the soft chirps of crickets, a few croaks from a frog somewhere out of sight, a creature or other scampering through the bushes, a rare call from an owl, and the whispering of the leaves above as a cool breeze passes through them. After a few more minutes of walking through a maze of nature with trees so thick—their only rival being the velvety blackness of the night—the pace of the trek finally slows down. You've long tired of always having to hold one arm ahead to ensure that you don’t get smacked in the face by an unsuspecting branch, so you're overwhelmingly relieved when Hook finally says, “We’re almost there.” “Finally,” you mumble between breaths. “I think my limbs are just about to fall off.” You can’t really tell in the pitch-black darkness, but you could have sworn that Hook gave a small smile at your words.

Once you reach a thick tangle of branches and vines that completely block your path, you both come to a stop. You watch as he pulls them back and to the side, even slicing through some with his hook. He beckons you forward with a courteous, “Ladies first,” a grin dancing on his features.

You walk through the clearing and onto a wide ledge overlooking the entire city. The view knocks the breath out of your lungs, despite your body already screaming at you for more oxygen. All thoughts of your strenuous hike vanish from your head, except for one that reminds you the arduous journey was absolutely and totally worth it.

From all the way up here, you can see the entire land. The shimmering lights of the large cityscape below you steal your heart, while the small village houses and mountains beyond them, creating the faintest of outlines against the horizon, capture your soul. This vantage point allows you to see everything; every bustling street filled with people rushing to get home after a long week, or frolicking around on a night out. Every house, every drawn-back curtain, but a mere speck in the constellation of human activity, a testament to the splendor of life. Twinkling lights sprawled below you paint a shimmering mosaic, reflecting the celestial canvas of stars hanging above you.

You stare in pure awe, almost forgetting about Hook as he approaches you from behind. “Enjoying the view, love?” he whispers softly, his voice closer to you than you expected.

You startle, turning backwards with a sharp inhale. “Oh…yeah, it’s just…breathtaking.” Unable to think of the right words to describe it, you decide to settle for an almost shameful understatement of the view's beauty.

You’re not quite sure if you imagined it, too caught up in your head, but you hear something that almost sounds like a soft, “Just like you.”

“Huh?” you ask, turning back around to face him. 

“I said, I told you you’d like it,” Hook repeats, although you still hold your suspicions. “All you had to do was trust me.”

“And how can I be sure you aren’t planning to push me off the edge?” you question, teasing him.

“Well, you can’t,” he replies, walking over to the ledge. “But if I do, I’ll let you drag me down with you. If we go down, then we go down together.”

You giggle, choosing to take his words at face value only and not read into them too much. After all, your heart can only take so much in one night.

Hook crouches down, using his good hand to support him as he sits down in front of you, keeping one foot hugged to his chest as he dangles the other off the side of the cliff.

He glances over his shoulder at you, patting the space besides him. Cautiously, you walk over to the ledge, joining him on the ground. 

You both sit there for a moment in silence, looking over the magnificent scene. You can tell that Hook finds comfort in the lack of conversation, but it feels too heavy for you, and so you decide to finally break it with the question that’s been on your mind this whole night.

“Hook?” you ask gently.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you bring me here?”

He turns his head slightly to glance at you. “I thought you’d like the view,” he replies, looking at you with a confused expression.

You take a quick breath, preparing yourself for the difficult words you’re planning to speak next. “No, I mean, why did you really bring me here tonight?” He opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off, adding, “And don’t lie to me.”

His mouth closes shut again and he hesitates for a moment, contemplating his next sentence carefully, before responding, “I’ve already told you.”

“What, that you wanted to thank me for helping you get a B-plus on your test? Yeah, that excuse won’t work on me anymore.”

“No, not that.” He turns his head back and runs his good hand through his hair, making his neatly combed style look a bit more windswept than before. “I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

“…What?”

“I already told you that it was a date, love. You just chose not to believe me.”

It’s your turn to whip your head to the side this time, now facing directly towards Hook, who’s still looking straight ahead at the scenery.

“I-I didn’t…truly…I thought you were just joking when you said that.”

He glances at you again, a roguish grin forming on his lips. “Oh, darling, I don’t joke about much. Especially not with you.”

Again, you choose not to read too deeply into his words, trying to break your awful habit of overthinking. Instead, you press on, wanting to gain as much information as you can from him. If nothing else, at least a few answers might help put your mind at a little more ease. “Why’d you want to ask me out? I’m not exactly…”

Your voice fades away as your brain catches up with your far-too-fast mouth, realizing that saying “I’m not exactly the most desirable person to date” may not do you any favors.

Hook turns to look at you with an expectant gaze, and you know that you can’t sweep your little slip-up under the carpet that easily. Gods, he’s observant. “…the most popular person at our school,” you finish.

“Hmm, true,” Hook concurs, tilting his head with a tone as if he’s never considered that point before. You were half-expecting him to disagree, more out of courtesy than honesty, so you’re a bit taken aback when he agrees with you.

“But I don’t care about popularity.” Ah, so there’s that socially obligatory politeness. You don't really believe his words at first, yet the way he says it so sincerely, so genuinely, makes you wonder if he truly is being honest.

“So why’d you want to take me out on a date?”

“Because, love, you’re different from what I’m used to,” he replies. “You’re kind, soft, pure. You intrigued me.”

You recoil at his words, a deep, writhing anger rising out of you. “What, you only went out with me because I’m so pure and innocent? So you could corrupt me?” you spit, having heard this little skit far too many times before.

“No, not like that. Not at all.” Hook twists his body to face you more, and although you’re still mad at him, you can’t deny the hurt and pain that swirls in his voice and eyes at your accusations. “You’re…you’re always trying to help others. You always speak softly, always smile. You’re untainted by the evils I've witnessed. You’re like an angel sent down from the heavens. You’re not like me, love."

Hook continues, “And I don’t want to change that. I don’t want to corrupt or hurt you. I want to preserve that. Every time I’m with you, you make me want to keep you safe from the troubles of the world, the cruel things I’ve seen.

"You make me want to be around you. I can't explain how, or why, but your presence alone compels me to change my ways. To be kinder, gentler, softer. For you. It's as if you're contagious, and well, I think you've infected me, love. Whenever I see you, or even think of you, everything feels just a little bit better. The weight on my shoulders feels a bit lighter, and nothing seems as bad as it used to, as it was when I was on my own.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...you've made me feel things that I haven't felt in a long, long time. Things that I thought my blackened heart couldn't even experience anymore. You make me feel like there's still goodness in the world...like there's still hope. Like I still have hope." You blink slowly, your mind and heart spinning alike as everything around you, as time itself, seems to slow down. You're unable to process all his words, unable to even begin to consider the implications of what this all means. “So, what you’re saying is…you only like me because I’m good?” you ask, touched by his sentiment, yet a little sad at the underlying meaning. Does this mean that if you want to stay with Hook, to maybe even be something in the future, you can't have any darkness to your soul? That you'll have to continue to be as righteous and morally correct as ever?

He gives a small chuckle. “Of course not, darling. I love when I make you snap, when you get angry at me. I love when the fierce part of you comes out. Just like it did now.” He reaches out his good hand to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, brushing against your cheek as he keeps it there, not pulling back quite yet.

You can see the hesitance swirling in his eyes, the uncertainty in the way his hand lingers by your face. By some sudden stroke of courage, the origins of which are a complete mystery to you—maybe he had the love potion added to your food too?—you shift your whole body towards Hook, keeping your legs tucked together and off to one side. 

“Kiss me,” you breathe.

“I'm sorry, love, wh-what?”

It feels strange to take command for once, but it sure is nice. “You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His lingering hand cups your cheek as you both lean in, meeting each other in the middle. Hook’s lips are as soft and plump as you imagined, almost like brushing your mouth against the petals of a rose. Placing one of your hands on the ground beside you, you put your weight on it as you move even closer.

You’ve read of intense kisses, filled with passion and fueled by lust. But this isn't like that. It is slow, sweet, intoxicating you with only the purest of adorations. Your lips hover over his as you tilt your head to the side to prolong the embrace, getting swept up in the moment whilst being completely and blissfully unaware of anything and everything besides how his lips feel against yours, how his hook traces your body as he devours you like a starved man given his last meal. How he breathes you in like you're the very air that fills his lungs, like your sheer essence is the only oxygen he needs. You bring your hand up to his shoulder, leaning further into him as he moves his good hand back and tangles it in your hair.

It ends rather quickly, the entire kiss lasting but a moment, yet still filling you with the sweetest pleasure. In that moment, you realize why people spend their whole lives searching for love; it’s one of the most endearing, profound forms of joy that one can feel, and you're certain that you just felt it.

You pull away, noticing how his gaze lingers on your lips, before looking back up at you. He gives you a captivating, yet genuine smile, one that makes your heart to ache at how perfect he is, yet simultaneously yearning for his touch, his lips, him being wrapped up in another embrace with you and never breaking away. The newfound euphoria coursing through your veins and making your mind fuzzy causes you to return his smile with a wide, love-drunk grin of your own, a deep, wholehearted devotion emanating through your gaze as you study his features.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whisper, staring into his eyes—eyes that reflect your own.

“Always, love.”

“You were my first kiss,” you confess.

Hook brings his hand back up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. His grin grows, an endless affection swirling in his dark eyes as he replies, “I guess this really is a night to remember.”

You give a small laugh, lowering your forehead to lean it against his shoulder, seeking comfort in his hold. “You did want to give me an unforgettable night, after all.”

“Can I tell you a secret, too?”

You raise your head again to peer up at him with wide eyes, curious as to what he has to admit.

“That day, in class,” he confides, “I was enchanting those disks and sending them across the room so you’d come and talk to me. I saw how you went over to help that other kid who was struggling. So, I figured that if I struggled too, you'd come over and I could get a conversation with you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “So you could cast the spell right?”

“Oh, no, not even close, love. That was all your work. Although I might have put in a bit more effort just to impress you,” he adds with a small smirk.

You move one of your hands closer to him, placing it on top of his and intertwining your fingers together. “Well, I suppose it worked.”

You lean back into him, kissing him blissfully yet again under the watchful smile of the moon glowing high in the sky, the stars glimmering and winking down at your young love. As you embrace, the city below bustles with the joys and despairs of human life unbeknownst to you, each person a thread in the tapestry of the world. Every soul but a speck of stardust in a cosmic dance.

And perhaps that is the greatest folly of human life. All the weight of one’s burdens, all the battles fought, all the hearts and souls that love and cry, together composing of but a fleeting second amidst the vastness of forever. And yet, each person gets lost in the preeminence of their own narrative, joyfully unaware of every grain of sand that disappears into the abyss as we shuffle closer to the edge of this mortal coil. But oftentimes, one’s deepest flaw is their greatest feat, as no imperfection comes without its own merit.

So maybe that very feature is, instead, the greatest feat of humanity. To love like you’ll live forever, and to weep like there’s no tomorrow. Maybe our ignorance gives us strength, the strength to keep going every day, pretending as if we somehow have an authority and power over the galactic strings of thread that weave together the fate of our universe.

The city below you, the world outside of the little bubble the two of you have created, moves on, unknown and unknowing of you both. But in this moment, nothing else matters. Nothing besides the love and affection you and him have grown to share.

end x

<- back to part 1

taglist: @4ng3l-ch1ld @astrynyx @0strawberrysorbet0 @ljaylmaoo @maggiecc @elltheawkward @eretsupremacy89 @dreamerofasgard @mabs04

just leave a comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: I just had to end this with some philosophical musings haha (hey google, how do you write beginnings and endings?) anyways hope you liked this, I love making fluff like this :D I love seeing everyone's comments and reactions, all feedback is highly appreciated! until next time :))

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[starbluud]

— NOTHING BUT ARTERIES AND DIRT (YOUR FLOWERS STILL GROW IN MY VEINS)

CHAPTER ONE. to be loved (what a sick feeling)

PAIRING. prince!beomgyu x farmer!f!reader.

TW. cursing. slight blood and injury. attempted forced marriage. hunting traps. death threats. reader has a little brother named max. poor attempt at british slang/words (im from the us im sorry).

GENRE. fluff. angst. royalty!au. fantasy!au.

SUMMARY. choi beomgyu, the current prince and future king of blue hour grove, craves a change — something with substance. he yearns for something to break the monotony of his repetitive lifestyle, where he’s confined to the castle, preparing to rule for when his father steps down. all he’s ever known are books, proper etiquette, and unbearably dull balls and meetings. just a taste of something new — that’s all he asks.

so, when a chance finally arises to experience the bustling village beyond the tall white walls he’s grown to despise, he doesn’t hesitate to take it. now on the run and new to this unfamiliar world, a certain farmer piques his interest. as he breaks down this shield she has up, she begins to show him what it truly means to live. yet, with the royal family on the hunt for the missing heir, it’s only a matter of time before his dreams come crashing down.

MIXTAPE. soldier, poet, king, the oh hellos. welcome home, son, radical face. king and lionheart, of monsters and men. skinny love, bon iver. michigan, the milk carton kids. dear wormwood, the oh hellos. ghost towns, radical face. featherstone, the paper kites. wasteland, baby!, hoizer. the night we met, lord huron. white winter hymnal, fleet foxes.

NOTES. hello! sorry for taking so long to get this out. i’ve been busy with some things going on in my life and im also working on two other fanfic stories over on wattpad, too. if you’d like to read another beomgyu fic, there’s one over there along with one for eli/hawk from cobra kai. my name over there is just starblud. anyway, updates will be slow and that goes for all of my writing but i’ve been editing this part for a hot minute and decided to just go ahead and put it out. i hope you enjoy!! <3

masterlist | next part

— BLUE HOUR GROVE has always been beautiful. It was busy little village inhabited by friendly merchants and full of life, swaddled deep in forested mountains. Small, family-owned stores lined cobblestone streets and laughter was often heard from excited children. The wilderness brought in hearty meals and rivers were lined with passing sailors. Even tunes of distant music got carried through gentle winds and by nightfall, the town would flourish in golden light and joyful chatter. Adults would pile into lively bars and fill their bellies with beer and aged wine. People would grab one another and drunkenly dance under the shining stars, giving the kingdom of Blue Hour Grove a warm sense of community and comfort.

Yet, at the top of the village’s tallest mountain sat a lonely castle. Large brick walls stood tall and watched over by hundreds of roaming guards. Empty foyers remained lonesome, overlooked by giant portraits of the royal family who lived in the silent halls, and marbled floors polished to perfection. An aura of sadness clung to the stale air and slowly began to overtake the comforting smell of old books in the library.

The prince grit his teeth and tried to focus on the words printed on the yellowing paper. It was later in the afternoon. The sky was painted in a mess of oranges, pinks, and purples as the sun began to head in for the night. Candles and lanterns around the castle were lit by the busy maids. It illuminated the corridors weakly, the rising moon providing more light than flames ever did.

Beomgyu sighed with frustration, running a hand through soft locks. He shut the book and pushed it away. Through the windows of the room, he watched the village’s oil lamp posts spark up. Distant figures mingled together along the rocky roads and he could hear the faint echoes of laughter.

He stood from his desk chair and made his way over. Brown hues brightened with curiosity as he observed the townsfolk. Underneath it, however, sat a seed of envy. To see people smile with loved ones and create meaningful connections — it caused jealousy to burn like wildfire in his gut. All he’s ever known were the confines of this lonesome building he called home.

Was it even a home? He wasn’t sure, but it was the closest thing to what ‘home’ could be. He had his family there — his mother, father, and brother at times whom he loved deeply, yes, but it never felt like he belonged. He craved sincere relationships with others. He wanted that bond he’s seen between the villagers. He wanted to experience stupid inside jokes, playful drunken banter, to laugh until he cried. These things seemed so normalized to those outside, yet Beomgyu, it was foreign. The only friend he’s ever had was his sibling. Even then, the scarce moments of fun he’s had with him were squandered immediately by his parents. To them, if you had time to relax, you had time to study.

So, to see such liveliness so close yet so far away, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

A sudden knock on the door made him flinch. “Come in.” he spoke. It creaked open before an older woman peeked in. Penny, one of the castle’s maids and Beomgyu’s personal favorite, stepped in.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Highness.” He grimaced at that title. To be called such a thing, as if he was better than any other commoner, he despised it deeply.

“I thought I said you don’t have to call me that, Penny.” He said, voice soft and laced with ease.

“A-Ah, yes, my mistake,” she swallowed thickly, “Beomgyu.” It was almost like she was scared to say it, and quite literally, she was. To imagine what would happen to her if either the king or queen heard her call the prince by his name sent a shiver down her spine.

“Is there something you need?” He asked, pulling the woman from her thoughts.

“Yes. The king and queen request your presence in the king’s office. They said it was an urgent matter.” She relayed, calloused hands laced together in front of her dress.

Beomgyu gave her a small smile and nod. “Okay. thank you. I’ll head there now.”

“Of course.” She bowed in respect before Beomgyu excused her.

He exited his library and went up the grand staircase. He walked through the plethora of sickeningly similar hallways, all cleaned to perfection and lacking any sort of personality. To an outsider, the interior of the castle would be an unsolvable maze of sorts. There were doors upon doors and dozens of rooms, yet Beomgyu knew the route like the back of his hand.

It wasn’t long until he stood at the double oak doors of his father’s study. He knocked gently and stepped in when ordered. The king was sat behind his desk, the queen stood beside him, and prince Soobin stood across.

“Beomgyu,” his father greeted and beckoned him forward. He walked up and stood next to his brother. Soobin offered him a weak smile, hidden from the eyes of their parents. The man sighed. “I apologize for calling you so late, but something important has come up that we need to discuss.” He opened a folder. “Seeing as Soobin has already wed, you are reaching the age to do so as well.” His dark hues met the prince’s.

Beomgyu felt his stomach churn in distaste. “Pardon?”

The man’s eyes narrowed at his son. “You are to be married.” He stated again, this time with more force. “We have many suitors from all over the region headed this way. Come nightfall on Saturday, a ball will be held in honor of such thing. During so, we will determine who we will benefit the most from and have you wed in preparation for when you take my position.”

Beomgyu bit down on his lip harshly, digging his teeth in until the taste of iron flooded his tastebuds. “I do not wish to be married, Father.”

“But you must. For the good of the kingdom, you must do so.” The elder ordered.

The boy shook his head. “I’m only 19, Father. I’m still learning what I’m to do when I’m given the crown and I’m no where near finished with my current studies. For me to marry so soon would be a mistake.”

The king’s aged face hardened, displeased that his decision was seen as a ‘mistake.’ “This is for the benefit of Blue Hour Grove, Beomgyu. As soon-to-be king, you need to put the welfare of the people before yours. Otherwise, the village would fall to ruins and destroy everything our ancestors worked for. Having valuable business relations would aid in the kingdom’s ever-growing wealth and prosperity. This needs to be done.”

“But I’m not fixed to be king for several more years. I do not see why this needs to be so soon. In fact, it would only hinder my preparations.” Beomgyu argued. His hands that were crossed behind his back balled into fists, his nails inflicting crescent shaped wounds into the hill of his palm.

“Hinder your preparations?” The queen gawked. “Son, this marriage would be part of your preparations.”

“How? It doesn’t make sense, Mother. For me to get wed to an heir whom I have no interest in? Whom I have no feelings for? It’s insanity.” The prince’s brows furrowed in agitation. How could they not see the flaws in this?

“It is not insanity. It is business. This is how ruling works. It does not matter how you feel about your spouse. In love or not, you will be wed and if you object any further, you will be locked away once again.” His father warned.

Beomgyu shut up quick, but his molars still gritted together. He looked away and down at his shoes. He felt the king’s sharp stare on his skin.

“You two are dismissed.”

Beomgyu sped out of the room with his brother close behind. He felt a sinking weight on his chest and it only seemed to get heavier as the seconds go by. To be married off? To be bound to someone he couldn’t care less about forever? He wanted to have relationships, but not in this way. Not where everything they had between them is fake and forced. The thought nearly made him sick.

A hand caught his elbow, making him stop suddenly. Soobin stood panting and a deep frown pulled at his lips. “Gods, Beomgyu.” He huffed. He went to chastised him for speeding down the halls, but faltered at the greif written on his sibling’s features.

“Why must I have to do this?” Beomgyu asked, meeting Soobin’s gaze. “How were you so okay with being married off without having a choice in the matter?”

Soobin felt his shoulder’s fall at his question. He paused for a moment, trying to find his words. “Because I was already in love with her.” He answered. “Miyun and I were already conversing way before we were together. We met at one of the balls Father always throws when we were adolescents and kept in touch ever since. It was only luck Mother and Father deemed her the most worthy to wed.”

“That just makes me feel worse.” Beomgyu let out a humorless laugh. “At least you love her. I’m forced to be with someone whom I have no connection with. And all for the sake of being king?” He scoffed. “I don’t even want that damned title anyway. I don’t want to be in this castle. I don’t want to attend any more boring meetings or balls full of stuck up heirs. I don’t want to carry the stress of an entire kingdom on my back everyday. I don’t want any of it, Soobin.”

Soobin felt pity wrap around his heart at the sight of his distressed brother. He understood his anger and heartbreak. Ever since they were children, Soobin knew Beomgyu didn’t belong in the cage that was royalty. There were many times where he caught his younger brother sat at the window of his room or library staring down at the town they’ve never visited. The twinkle of curiosity and admiration was evident in his irises. The boy craved to experience what life had to offer and he couldn’t do that behind these walls.

“What is it you want to do?” Soobin pondered.

Beomgyu swallowed before shrugging. “I don’t know.” He whispered. “Live?” He glanced around. “But this… being in here with so many duties and surrounded by people who scrub the floors we walk on… Meeting suitors and having to deal with those whom think they are better than others that have to work for what they need… This isn’t the life I wish to have.”

Soobin nodded. A pause went by before either of them spoke again. “I see your anger.” He said, subconsciously fiddling with his wedding band. He peeked over his shoulder at the doors they just left from before turning back. He leaned in and kept his voice low. “You don’t deserve to deal with such things that bring you distress, Beomgyu. You’ve always wanted to go out and see what the world has to offer and it’s unfair to you to be kept from that. I don’t want you to waste your life away being miserable behind these walls and married to someone whom you don’t love and care for.”

Beomgyu’s face twisted with confusion. He cocked his head slightly. “What are you trying to say?”

Soobin wet his lips quickly before letting out a breath. “I want you to leave. I want you to travel and find the things you’ve always been searching for. To make friends and cherished memories. To experience life first hand. You cannot do that here.”

Beomgyu blinked at him. “That’s not exactly possible. You are the ruler of Spring Valley. With you gone, there’s no one to take the crown when father resigns. I’m left with that responsibility.”

The eldest boy scoffed quietly. “But you don’t wish to be king. You never have.”

Beomgyu frowned. “I know.” He said.

“Then do something about it. Leave.” Soobin pushed, eyes swimming with plead. “Do this for yourself.”

Beomgyu stared at him for a second. “How? There are guards and maids everywhere and Mother and Father watch our every move. To do so would be near impossible.”

“Near.” Soobin pointed out. “But not completely. It’ll be hard, yes, but we’ll manage.”

“What do you plan on doing?” Beomgyu inquired. A wave of worry drenched him like cold water.

“Don’t worry. Leave it to me, but be ready to run by morn.” Soobin stated. His proposal puzzled the younger prince even more.

“Are you being serious? I don’t want you to get into trouble.” Beomgyu frowned.

Soobin rolled his eyes before offering a small grin. “What would Mother and Father do? I have a country to run. They cannot keep me here without alarming Spring Valley’s authorities. It would bring war between the states and that is something Father does not want.”

Beomgyu’s mouth fell open in shock. “Why would you do such a thing? Why risk the welfare of your kingdom?”

“Because you are my family. The only person in this damned place that gave me the freedom and excitement I once craved. It’s time I do the same for you.” And without another word, Soobin left. He refused to give Beomgyu any time to argue and sped off through the labyrinth of corridors.

The boy stood still in shock before realization hit him like a carriage. With a racing heart, Beomgyu sprinted to his room and locked himself inside. He grabbed a small rucksack from his walk-in closet, barely big enough to carry his necessities, and filled it with a few spare clothes, a mini sewing kit, a handful of gold coins, and a town map (one that Soobin snuck from Father’s office for him when they were kids and he’s kept it ever since.)

He stood impatiently by the window and glanced out. The village was still bright from lanterns and there were only a few people out and closing their shops. The moon now hung high in the starlit sky, baring down on the prince who’s heart pounded with anxiety and adrenaline. He’s never gone against his parents’ word. He done as he was told and hardly ever argued back, so this — running away — is entirely new to him.

However, buried deep underneath that anticipation was a small voice. It muttered softly in his ear: you’ll regret this, you’ll regret this, you’ll regret this.

It made him think. Would he regret this? Running off to learn that the world he’s dreamed of seeing since he was a child could be a nightmare — it made him nervous. Not only would he be putting himself in danger, but the people he meets as well. He’d be on the run for as long as he’s gone, so could he ever truly learn what life is like if he’s constantly looking over his shoulder?

But, as he looks out at the quiet village he’s been so envious of, the need of a difference overpowered any feeling of unease.

No, even if the outside world turned out to be terrible, he would never find it in himself to regret seeing it.

The wait for the sun to rise couldn’t have felt any longer. Beomgyu blinked, eyes still fixated on the kingdom on Blue Hour Grove since it woke hours earlier. Dark circles decorated his smooth skin and was proof of his lack of sleep. He willed himself to stay up, scared he’d miss his chance to escape if he dozed off.

A sudden knock made him jump and rush to shove his bag under his bed. “Come in.” He called, sitting on his mattress to appear normal.

He felt a wave of relief fall over him when Soobin peeked in. His tense shoulders eased and he let out an unsteady breath, pulling back out the rucksack.

“Good. You’re ready.” Soobin said, stepping over. “You’ll head through the cellar. I made sure that no maids or guards are scouting that area and it’ll be dark so be wary. The end of the tunnel will open up into the woodlands out back and from there, go eastbound. The village should be a few miles out.” He ordered quickly. “You must be quick and quiet and do not hesitate. Doing so may ruin everything, do you understand?”

Beomgyu nodded rapidly.

“Okay. Right now, I need you to hide behind the wall of wine kegs at the entrance of the kitchen. It should keep you out of sight. That way will be the shortest route to the cellar and I need you to wait for my signal.”

“What is the signal?” Beomgyu asked. Soobin merely smiled as he lead the prince out of the room and down a set of stairs.

“Don’t worry about that.” He comforted. “You’ll know, and here.” He paused before reaching in his trouser’s pocket and pulled something out. He handed it over, placing the item that held a light weight in Beomgyu’s palm. It was a small pocket knife. “It’s not much, but it’s better to be safe. Now, go and be quick.”

Beomgyu grabbed his brother’s wrist as he went to leave. Soobin paused. “Thank you, Soobin. I’ll pay you back for this. Somehow. I promise.”

Soobin let out a chuckle and gave Beomgyu a pat on the arm. “Do so by being happy. I am, so it’s time you are, too.” He bid. “I’ll see you later, Gyu.” Quickly, he threw his arms around the boy and gave him a squeeze. Just as Beomgyu went to return the hug, Soobin pulled away and ran off.

A burn of tears ached in Beomgyu’s eyes but he willed them away as fast as they came. He’ll see him again, yet he doesn’t know how long that will be. With a sniffle and a deep breath, Beomgyu snuck his way down to the kitchen.

The kitchen was large, packed with pantries full of goods and warm from previously used open fire ovens. Large windows brought in sunlight and reflected off the calm water of washing basins. Usually, the room is busy from maids and cooks preparing meals throughout the day, so to see it so empty and quiet was a shock.

He didn’t question it and hid between the stone wall and alcohol barrels, wedging himself in a corner away from any passersby. The blade he was given was clutched tightly in his palm and his bag hung over his body.

A few minutes pass as Beomgyu waited. What exactly was he waiting for? He wasn’t entirely sure. Soobin never told him what the plan was, so he’s just gonna have to guess what this signal was.

Yet, a rhythmic thump caught his attention. Beomgyu’s forehead creased with confusion as it grew louder and closer. Followed right behind it were the sounds of distant shouts. The prince peeked out slightly, making sure to keep hidden in the dark, and waited for whatever it was to run by.

What he wasn’t expecting was his father’s large black stallion to speed past. It’s massive hooves clacked against the polished floors as it sprinted away. Two guards chased it, but wasn’t having much luck keeping up.

The sight forced out a small laugh. So this was the signal. He had to give it to Soobin: it was quite the distraction.

Another voice shouted from down the hall. “Someone let the barn animals loose!”

Beomgyu was speedy at unlocking the cellar gate and shut it silently behind him. He was instantly swallowed in darkness. The air smelled damp and a chill caused goosebumps to rise to his skin. His shoes grew wet from puddles littering the floor and he could hear the faint drip of water droplets hit the ground. Hands reached out to the rock walls and used them to guide his way out. The rigid stone felt rough against his digits. His chest felt heavy as he made his way out.

It was only a minute or so until he came across a small set of wooden steps. He felt the rotting plank sink under his weight. The door that sat up top swung open and sunlight pooled in, blinding the boy from the sun’s rays.

His lashes fluttered until his vision cleared. A smile grew on his face. All he saw were trees. The forest line sat only a few feet way. A breeze passed by, shaking green leaves and blooming flowers. The sound of rustling branches was like music to his ears. At last, he was here with the world just fingertips away and he never felt so alive.

Until his name was called.

His face fell, much like his stomach that now felt like it sat at his feet. Soobin said it was clear. It was clear. It was supposed to be clear.

He let out a shaky breath and turned.

“Beomgyu? Where are you going?” A familiar voice questioned. Penny stood next to the cellar doors, lawn tools in hand. Her aged, pale face was written with confusion. Her red brows were pinched together, looking at the prince.

“P-Penny?” Beomgyu struggled, feeling a lump grow in his throat. He tried to swallow it, but failed miserably. “What are you doing here?”

“Your mother requested me to weed and water the garden.” She answered. She glanced at the boy’s bag. “Where are you going, Beomgyu?”

He could feel his hands tremble slightly. “Please…” He pleaded softly. “Please don’t tell Mother and Father of this.”

“You’re leaving.” She concluded quietly, tone barely above a whisper.

He nodded timidly. “Y-Yes.” He frowned. “I-I am, but I beg of you, Penny.” He bowed his head, grasping her hand with both of his. “Let me go. I-I’ll do anything, give whatever it is you desire. You can have—“

“Beomgyu,” she interrupted, removing her palm and instead placed it on his elbow. She gave it a reassuring squeeze, trying to ease the anxiety pumping through his veins. She gave him a small grin. “There’s no need to worry. I won’t mention anything.”

Beomgyu looked back up, puzzled. “You won’t?”

“I won’t.” She said.

“B-But,” he pondered, chest tightening. “You would risk punishment doing so.”

“I know.” She replied. “Yet I’ve known you long enough to notice your distaste for royalty. You’re young and curious. I wish for you to be happy and I know you can’t find it here. You’re born to learn. You can’t do so without experience.”

“Why would you do such a thing? For me?”

“Because I care for you. Since Prince Soobin left, you are the only other one in the castle to treat me with respect — like we are equals.” She spoke.

“We are equals.” He spoke, feeling his heart clench at her words. “I refuse to be deemed higher all due to a damned title. It is wrong.”

“But in the eyes of royalty, you are, and your beliefs show you are more human than them. Sadly, that outlook isn’t welcome here. That’s why I want to help you.” Penny gave him a small smile. “Respect can get you a long way. I’m merely returning the favor.”

Beomgyu remained quiet, too stunned to form words at how willing the elder lady was. She continued. “I’ll keep everyone away from this side of the castle. It should give you some time to make distance.” She pushed him away, nudging him towards the woodlands.

“But—“

“Go,” she pressed. “I’ll see you soon. I promise.” She gave him a smile, thin lips pulled up with warmth. Without giving the prince a chance to speak, she departed and made her way through the cellar.

Beomgyu remained still and took a breath. He turned around towards the lush trees painted golden from the morning sun. A distant bird called and a breeze flew by, shaking the full branches.

With Penny and Soobin in mind, he sprinted.

“Dammit, Max.” A girl huffed, rolling her eyes at the curly haired child. He turned towards his older sister, freckled face and hands dyed purple. “Are you serious? You ate all the voiletfruits?”

Max shrugged nonchalantly and dipped his stained digits in the small stream. “I was hungry.” He said.

“If you’re gonna wash your hands, at least wash your face, too, kid.” She scolded and pulled out a handkerchief she kept on her. She dipped it in the creek and rang out the extra water, forcing Max to look at her so she can wipe his mouth. “Imagine being 12-years-old and eating like a pig.”

The boy scoffed, but let her clean his tanned skin. “You do the same thing, Y/N. Especially when Taehyun’s mom has him bring over pastries.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled, knowing his words rang true. She pulled away and skimmed his features for any violetfruit residue. She gave him an affectionate head flick.

“Hey!” He groaned and rubbed the sore spot.

“Come on,” she stated. The boy followed along, the siblings trudged up the trail leading up to a small house. They could hear the soft mutter of farm animals bellow as they walk by.

Y/N kicked open the screen door and placed the now empty basket on the dining table. She leaned against it with crossed arms. She stared at the boy.

“What?” He asked, taking the cloth from Y/N’s pocket and tossed it with the growing pile of dirty clothes.

“You’re coming with me to check the traps.” She said. That caused Max to whine in protest.

“Why?”

Y/N let out a laugh at his reaction. “Because,” she said as she passed, “see it as payment for not saving me any fruit. You know those were my favorite.”

“Fine.” Max gave in without a fight.

“Good. Now, put on your boots.”

“But we just got home.”

“Yeah, but look outside.” Y/N gestured towards a window. “It’s turning nightfall. If we don’t check the snares and nets, we won’t have food for this week.” She explained.

“Why didn’t you do so earlier?” Max questioned, annoyance written in his scrunched brows. He walked past Y/N and sat on a wooden rocking chair, slipping on a pair of leather work boots.

“Because I was busy with the animals this morning since Yeonjun came down to look at Macy’s bad hoof. Then, I had to weed the garden and bring the fresh produce to the market. After that, I began cleaning on the barn—“

“Okay, I understand. You were busy.” Max sassed.

Y/N reached over and pinched his chubby cheek. “I’m your elder. Watch your tone.”

Max responded with an eye roll but didn’t comment any further. “Can we go? I don’t like being in the woods after dark.”

Y/N sighed and nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”

The siblings left with tools in hand. Max carried a roll of rope while Y/N had a bow sat on her shoulder, a quiver made from animal hide housing several homemade arrows on her back. She also kept a blade on her belt in case of emergencies.

Checking the traps was easy and setting them back up was just as swift. Y/N managed to catch a couple rabbits from the snares hidden in the grass and fallen leaves.

“See?” Y/N demonstrated, showing the boy how to properly set the trap. “You make sure to keep the rope hidden somewhere along this trail. When food runs through it, it would catch it.”

Max watched closely, mimicking the slipknot his sister made. Y/N smiled when he finally managed to get it right. “Good.” She complimented. “Do you think you could do the ones near the river?”

“Yeah.” Max replied.

“Make sure to avoid the large snare. It’s for bandits and I don’t want to cut you down.” Y/N warned, dusting off the dirt stuck to her pants.

“I know. You tell me this every time we go to set it.” Max huffed.

Y/N propped a calloused hand on her hip. “And each time you manage to set it off. Remember when you got caught that one time? You had nasty burn on your ankle for weeks.”

Max’s cheeks flushed at the memory. “Please stop bringing that up. You know I don’t like it.”

“I’m using it as a lesson.” Y/N clarified. “Watch out.”

“I will.” The child said before heading off, not wanting to stay any longer to deal with his sister’s nagging.

He headed down a familiar path that was lush with greenery. Trees loomed overhead and casted shadows against the golden sunlight. Careful of his footing, he set off toward the sound of rushing water.

Not too far from the river bed, a sudden noise caused him to stop in his tracks. He froze, a rush of anxiety fell over him. He strained to hear. It sounded like someone… struggling. Green hues widened with fear and shock. Did the trap actually catch someone? Was it a criminal? Someone with a plan to rob them before running off?

Max’s jaw clenched and decided to follow the source. A large part of him screamed this was a bad idea and to run the opposite way. Yet, the smaller bit full of curiosity seemed to overpower his logical side.

However, the sight of a boy roughly Y/N’s age was a rather big surprise.

He was strung upside down, dangling a few feet above the forest floor, with his left foot caught in the snare. His pale face was red and only burned brighter the more he struggled to grasp the brown bag leaning against the tree trunk.

The stranger peered up at a twig snapping and met the eye of the young boy.

Max nearly laughed at his previous nervousness. Bandit my ass, he thought.

“Oh,” the man hummed. “Hello,” he greeted with a sheepish smile.

Max remained quiet for a moment. His lack of a response made the captive’s grin drop.

“You’re caught in our snare.” Max pointed out, speaking the obvious.

“Ah,” the male hummed, glancing at his leg. “It appears I am. I didn’t notice it.”

Max let out a breath. It sounded more like a chuckle. “That’s the point of a snare. You’re not supposed to notice it.” He said. “How long have you been like this?”

“I’m not sure. Quite a while, at least. I’m rather surprised I haven’t fainted yet. I’d much appreciate it if you’d cut me down.”

Max’s gaze narrowed. Though he highly doubted this idiot that hung from the branches was a threat, he still remained cautious. “How do I know you won’t do something? Rob me? Shank me? Drown me in the river?”

The stranger gawked at the boy, looking at him as if he sprouted another head. “Why would I do such a thing?”

Max shrugged. “I don’t know. Some people aren’t the nicest. It’s hard to tell if a random person on our property is dangerous or not.”

“I’m not dangerous.”

“That’s what a dangerous person would say. Trying to lower my guard, I see.”

“What? No! I just want down from here.”

“And have the possibility of getting stabbed? I don’t know about that.”

“I do not wish to harm you.” The man exasperated. “What could I do to prove I’m not a threat?”

Max pondered silently. He glanced down at the stranger’s bag he was trying to reach for. He could search the man and take away anything that could be used as a weapon.

Max nodded towards the rucksack. “Let me go through that.” He said. “And your pockets. After that, I’ll let you down. Deal?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, that’s fine, but please hurry. I’m getting rather sick.”

Max obliged and grabbed the satchel. He opened it and began to pull everything out. It all harmless, he determined. It was mostly full of clothes and other basic necessities, and even then, it wasn’t much. He eyed a folded paper before opening it. It was a map of Blue Hour Grove. His brows furrowed.

“Why do you have this? Are you a traveler?” Max asked and stood.

The man pondered to himself silently. “I suppose I am. I’m unfamiliar with the village.”

Max hummed in acknowledgment. “Then, why are you all the way out here? Town’s a few miles east.” He said and began to search the stranger’s pockets. They were empty except for the small knife.

“E-East? You said east?” The man looked at the boy with wide brown hues. “Damn,” he cursed.

Max didn’t respond and instead held up the blade. “I’ll cut you down, but I’m keeping this.”

“What? No!”

“Then, have fun hanging there.”

Max turned, ready to leave before the the man called out. “No! Wait, you… you can keep it. Just help me. Please.” He begged.

Max smirked. “That’s what I thought.” With the weapon in hand, he began to saw at the thick rope tied to the tree. It wasn’t long before it snapped, sending the man falling and landing on his back.

The wind was knocked out of his lungs. “That was painful.” He wheezed and sat up with a wince. “Thank you.” He gave the child a grateful smile.

“What’s your name?” Max questioned, closing the knife and clipping it to his belt.

He hesitated for a moment before responding. “Beomgyu. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Max tilted his head slightly. “You talk funny.”

Beomgyu felt his face burn. “That’s quite rude.” He mumbled.

Max shrugged. “Just saying. You sound so proper. No one really talks like that around here.”

Beomgyu blinked and let the words soak in. He did sound strange. “I suppose you’re correct. As I said, I’m not familiar with this place.” He recalled before letting out a sigh. “Thank you for the help, but I believe I must get going. I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He stated and went to grasp his bag. However, just as his fingertips touched it, an arrow flew past. It’s pointed head sliced through the skin of his hand. He yelped and jumped back, cradling his injured digits that began to bleed.

“Max!” A voice shouted. A girl sprinted up to the boy and pulled him behind her. She reloaded, another arrow aimed at Beomgyu’s face. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” She snapped behind her.

“What? He’s not going to do anything, Y/N!” Max shouted back. “I checked him and everything. I even took his knife.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” She cursed, pointed glare still on Beomgyu. He held his hands up in defense, red leaking down his pale arms and staining the sleeve of his white shirt. “I thought I taught you better than this.” Y/N huffed.

“What’re you doing on my property?” She hissed towards the older male.

“I-I do apologize.” Beomgyu rushed to say, tone quivering in fear. “I’m lost and got caught in your snare. I-I didn’t mean to disturb you, honest.”

Y/N scoffed. “Like I believe that shit. Tell me what you’re really doing here.”

“It’s true! My directions got mixed up. I was heading for the village and went the opposite way.” He argued. His heart pounded. Was every commoner like this? He sincerely hopes not.

“Beomgyu’s not lying, Y/N.” Max walked out from behind her and positioned himself in front of the bow, blocking the man on the ground. “He’s got a town map in his bag and the only thing he had on him was a knife and I took it. He’s harmless.”

Y/N paused before exhaling. She dropped her aim and placed the arrow back in the quiver. Then, she smacked the back of her brother’s head.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Are you stupid? Gods, Max, what if he killed you? Or kidnapped you for that matter?” Y/N exclaimed, running a hand through her hair. “He could’ve been a bandit for crying out loud!”

Max rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “But he didn’t. Besides, I’m 12. I can take care of myself. I’m practically a teenager.”

“That is not helping your case.” His sister scolded. “In fact, it’s only making it worse. Now, go back to the house. You’re grounded for being an idiot.”

“Oh, come on—“

“Go, Maxwell, or I’ll carry your ass there.” Y/N threatened.

The kid sighed in annoyance. “Fine.” He gave in before stomping off, leaving the others behind.

Y/N turned to the male. “Beomgyu, right?”

He nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Get off the ground and leave. It’s getting late.” She ordered, gesturing for the man to stand.

He did so with his bag in his grasp. He gave her a quick bow of gratitude, glad she didn’t drive an arrow through his skull. She gave him an odd look but remained quiet.

“Thank you. I apologize once more. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He spoke. “But I’ll be off.” However, as he took a step forward, he flinched harshly and hit the floor again. He hissed in pain.

Y/N came closer and leaned down. Beomgyu’s bloodied hands went to cradle his ankle. The skin was red, blistered and raw, and gnarly to look at. “Ah, rope burn.” She said. “It looks a lot worse than normal. Probably where you were fighting to get down.” She looked up, brown meeting e/c, and Beomgyu had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. “Getting nicked by that arrow doesn’t help either.”

Beomgyu shook his head. “Ah, don’t worry. You were frightened and merely protected yourself.”

“True, but the more you speak, the more I realize you’re a bit stupid.”

Beomgyu’s face fell. “You know, you and that boy are really rude.” He frowned. “I thought you were afraid of me?”

Y/N let out a scoff. “Of you? Bollocks.” She spoke, pulling his pant leg up to look at his wound more.

“Well, I bet I could be well scary.” He argued, a small pout present on his pink lips. “I-If I wanted.”He winced at the pain of the girl’s prodding.

“It’s pretty hard to be scared of someone I could snap in half, much less one who let a child rob you.”

Beomgyu froze at her words. “Pardon?”

“Yeah. Not only did he take your knife, I’m almost certain Max took some money from you, too.” She gave him a smirk. He rushed to grab his bag and open it. He felt his heart sink at the sight of his gold coins missing.

“Why would he do that?” He asked.

“Because he’s a kid?” Y/N replied with a quirked brow. “Kids do dumb things. I know I did when I was his age.” She sighed and sat his foot back down. “We need to get this cleaned or it’ll get infected. Especially since the rope’s covered in dirt. Same thing for your hand. Those arrows aren’t the cleanest.”

“What must I do then?” He questioned, worry laced in his tone. “I don’t believe there is a doctor available at this hour.”

“There isn’t. Besides, Kai’s dad is out of town for the next few days. He’s the only doctor Blue Hour Grove has. It’s best to just get them washed up somewhere else.” She explained and stood with crossed arms. “I can patch you up back at my house.” She clicked her tongue. “And I can get Max to give you your money back.”

Beomgyu’s forehead creased with concern. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty skeptical of my presence. I don’t wish to intrude if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Well, I don’t particularly like the idea of you being around, but be lucky I have a guilty conscience. Rope burn is a nasty thing to deal with and even more so if you travel on foot. I’ll do what I can to clean your injuries and dress them and when you’re able to walk again, you’re to leave. No ifs, ands, or buts.” She ordered with a pointed edge in her voice. “And if you try anything,” she squatted back down, the hunting knife from her belt now pointed at his face. He swallowed thickly. “I will gut you and feed your innards to my work dog. Am I clear?”

Beomgyu nodded frantically. “Y-Yes. Very clear.”

“Good.” She said and put her blade back. She offered a hand. Beomgyu eyed it warily before taking it, his soft palm contrasting greatly with her rough one. She pulled him up with a shocking wave of strength, nearly making him fall again. She caught him luckily, and tossed his arm around her shoulder. Her other hand wrapped around his waist.

“You’re surprisingly strong for a woman.” The male commented. Y/N sent him a glare.

“And you’re surprisingly weak for a man.” She shot back. Beomgyu felt blood rush to his cheeks.

“Fair enough.” He muttered.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Come on. It’s too dangerous to be out here at this hour.”

And with that, they headed off.

taglist: @usuallyunlikelyfox @xylatox @the-car-in-ikily

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Have you heard of the term "patterns mills"? These are shopfronts that quickly produce a pattern without any sort of testing or vetting, and then put it on the market with an AI-generated or stolen image for a very tempting price. Patterns produced this way are rampant in the cross-stitching world. However, I've recently noticed an uptick in these types of storefronts in the quilting and foundation paper piecing world. Since I'm well versed in FPP patterns, I would like to describe what an AI-generated quilt pattern looks like as well as provide other suspicious giveaways. AI will only get better, so while these mistakes are dead giveaways now, they might be fixed in the future. FPP patterns seem to be easier to replicate in AI than traditionally pieced patterns, which is why I will focus on FPP in this blogpost. However, you can apply the same clues to any sort of craft pattern (or really anything) you can buy online. Important: AI-generated images are not prohibited on Etsy. However, within their policies they state that you must disclose if you used AI within your listing, and these shops do not have that disclosure.

Below is a listing for a wolf face FPP pattern. When you first look at it, does anything seem suspicious?

First, I would like to draw your attention to the scissors in the bottom left of the photo. These scissors are physically impossible to use and are literally melting into the yellow cutting mat. The lines of this cutting mat are unresolved, as are the lines on the green cutting mat in the bottom right corner. These are your first giveaways. However, not all images have background sewing items that look a little funny. Let's take a look at the actual "completed quilt."

The first thing I notice is that the only background seam line (from this apparently foundation paper pieced quilt) is the one in the top left corner. The seam is merely hinted at and does not go all the way to the edge. Additionally, I notice that the eye is too round. One could argue that the cover photo is merely an enhanced version of the completed quilt, but there are no completed quilt photos in the listing. Another clue for identifying AI generated quilt images is that there are a ton of colors/prints used. The prints in this image seem nebulous and the prints around the eye whiskers (?) lose a lot of fidelity. The individual fabrics themselves do not have consistency.

In the image above, the things I notice are that there are curved seams within the gray and white colors. A typical FPP pattern would not have curved piecing interspersed between regular straight seam piecing. Also, piecing lines that are useless, especially visible in the bluish-gray piece on the left. The amount of piecing within that patch does not make sense. Below you will see another listing from a different Etsy seller.

From afar, it looks really good. Plus, the seller has great reviews! And it's a Bestseller! But let us take a closer look…

The first thing that sticks out to me is how the whiskers of the lion are resolved. You can see where they fade into the muzzle of the lion without a realistic piecing line. Some of the patches are straight up "smeary" and wrinkly, a telltale sign of AI. The program does not know how to accurately render the design so it creates an approximation. These are things that are hard to see unless you zoom in. Below is a listing for a legitimate lion FPP pattern from designer Pride and Joy Quilting so you can see the difference. It is clear that the first image is an actual completed quilt top.

Beyond the AI-generated cover quilts, I'd also like to cover other signs of a pattern generated from a pattern mill.

For the lion pattern, the cost is only $8.63. This is very cheap for what is supposed to be a full sized quilt pattern with a multitude of templates.

Both of these sellers have very generic names. While not an immediate cause for concern, I recommend being skeptical.

There are no actual completed quilt images within the listing.

Both of them are considered "Bestsellers" on Etsy, but the shop with the wolf pattern only has 10 reviews. It makes me wonder about the disparity between "buyers" and reviewers.

The 5 star reviews for the lion pattern are extremely generic and talk only about "how much their friend Lisa will enjoy the pattern" or "how easy it was to download." These are not helpful for understanding the quality of the actual product. The 1 star reviews are way more descriptive about the issues the pattern has. This makes me wonder about fake reviews.

Both of these patterns include a full layout of the FPP diagram within the listing. I personally would never do this and I don't know many designers who would.

The lion pattern says this within its description: "Before making a purchase, we'd like to inform you about some important aspects. The product stands out for its template, design, and print quality, serving as a valuable tool for sewing projects. The instructions include two techniques: direct fabric marking (with visible stitches) and invisible stitches. Both are general guidelines and not step-by-step instructions. You can choose these techniques or any other that you consider suitable based on your experience and preference. There are no refunds for the digital file. We appreciate your understanding and are available for any questions." This demonstrates to me that the pictures are not accurate because they are clearly attempting to depict FPP and are hoping that you won't read the description until it is too late.

Why is every lowercase i in the wolf pattern missing its dot? Like, why? I find that strange and off putting.

So, how do you avoid accidentally purchasing a pattern like this?

The first step is gaining experience in recognizing listings that seem a bit fishy. Use the bullet points listed above to see what kind of feeling you get when looking over a listing. I also recommend finding out more about the designer from their website or from their social media. Not all legitimate designers have these necessarily, but it's a great place to start. Try messaging the shop owner on Etsy. Does it sound like they know what they are even talking about? You'll then build a good list of designers and shops you trust. A big and worrisome thing to remember is that AI will only get better and produce better looking images. This will make it harder to identify pattern mills by the image alone. However, the clues that I've listed will help if you put them all together and come to a conclusion. I suggest using them for all your online shopping. I hope this helps!

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 28 - In My Dreams | ‘Ours’

word count - 10.7 k

You were sitting at the kitchen table on your Mac starting to figure out some semblance of a plan for how Teddy’s schooling would work. Of course the club provided a lot of assistance with this because it was slightly an abnormal dynamic but also Trent and more specifically Dianne obviously knew the area and school system well. Regardless of all of this help… you did not. You didn’t go to school ever in the uk. You didn’t even study abroad in England because you already ‘knew it’ well because of your dad. Now you were regretting that and kicking yourself for believing that having an English passport meant you knew anything. Needless to say you found yourself in a wormhole of information about dos and don’t, public, private, religious affiliation, all sorts of things fueling your anxiety and worry about making sure you’re little girl got the best but most normal experience she could. You definitely had access to a lot more opportunities than most given your situation but the anxiety was still high. You were entranced in an article until a large ‘whap’ sound echoed scaring the shit out of you.

“Holy shit!” You exclaimed really not expecting the sudden loud noise. You laid your hand over your heart to make sure it was still beating normally. A pile of 10 glossy magazines slapped down on the table next to you. You looked up to see a cheeky grin plastered to Trent’s face.

“Heard there’s an absolute sort in this issue ya know.” He cooed with a slight giggle. You rolled your eyes at him and pulled the stack to you across the slick table top. “Go on. Open one! I’ve been waiting for you. I haven’t seen it officially yet!” He exclaimed. You grabbed one copy and flicked through the magazine to find your published article.

“See that is a fucking good looking lad.” Trent continued to laugh at himself pointing to one picture with him in it. You sighed, inspecting your own appearance ignoring his lighthearted joke. He wrapped his arms tight around your shoulder from behind your chair. “Baby, you look fucking unreal. Please. You’re so beautiful. This is so exciting. Come on.” He tried to get you to be happy about the feature but you just felt critical.

“I look okay? I’m scared to even turn the page to see the rest.” You mumbled out leaning your head back into Trent.

“Y/N… UN fucking believable. I want these framed in the house also. This is so cool, baby. Please just be excited, at least for me. I’m so proud of you, yeah?” He cooed smushing his cheek to yours. You knew if he was calling you your first name he was being serious.

“Okay. It is kind of cool.” You mumbled out hating you were admitting that Trent was right but he was. This was actually a dream of yours. You were in British GQ. You were in British GQ and not just some small blurb, this was a full article, multiple pages. Photos of you and your family blown up printed on glossy paper and typed quotes of yours.you smiled reading the headline Bentley Brown actually used a that you’d mentioned to Trent before.

‘From Manhattan to Merseyside.’

From a whirlwind romance struck on a Manhattan street corner Y/N Alexander-Arnold née Y/L/N and her husband, one of football’s brightest stars, England’s Trent Alexander-Arnold captivated both sides of the Atlantic when they first were spotted galavanting in Manchester late into the night. The couple tied the knot this past summer in an equally lavish as it was relaxed ceremony on Y/N’s home soil. Family and friends only… and us. Y/N Alexander-Arnold, the epitome of glamour and high society, seamlessly blended their luxurious lifestyles, trading the bustling streets of Manhattan to a sprawling estate in the English countryside. Their story, marked by years of quiet cuddles hidden in the stands of the worlds biggest stages, designer wardrobes, and high-profile circles, has become the talk of the town, showcasing a perfect fusion of American charm and British elegance. Curious who the woman is with the pearly white smile and model figure sporting the number 66 every match week, we were too.

“Damn fucking right it’s cool. Baby look. You look so sexy in this, you sound so intelligent, the whole thing. It’s massive and you deserve recognition like this.” Trent was your biggest cheerleader and it made your heart want to leap out of your chest. He was so sweet. He pulled one of the chairs out from your kitchen table and sat down, legs spread wide, relaxing back into it picking up a copy of the magazine. He opened it to the page where the article began. He picked his head up with a devastatingly handsome smirk and patted his thigh for you to come sit. You obliged by standing up and moving to him. You sat on his strong muscular thigh in Dior silk pants and a white bralette. Trent’s big warm hands quick to wrap around your small waist squeezing you. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You look so fucking good. Ooff baby, I’ll tell you what that Trent Alexander-Arnold’s lad, he’s pretty fucking lucky, huh?” He joked dragging his finger over your body’s frame in one of the photos. He kissed your head with a hum.

“Thank you for being there for me, T. Really. It means so much to me like I know I would never be in a magazine if it weren’t for you.” You began to talk with a bit of a frown reflecting on the circumstances at which this feature came. Yes, it was about you but it was because you were Trent’s wife. You were proud to be his wife but of course it wasn’t the first time you’d felt like this tinge of insignificance. The magazine feature should have been 100% a good, positive, exciting thing but instead it felt like there would always be this bit of you, this percentile you couldn’t quite ever dwindle down that felt lesser than him. You remembered the fight you had before you went to New York after the FA Cup.

‘It felt like you could never measure up to the golden boy that was in the room with you. No matter where you went or what you did he was always going to look sparkly and new, fantastical and interesting and you couldn’t feel more opposite. You had been stripped of a sense of individualisation and identity. You were Teddy’s mum and Trent’s fiance. Y/N didn’t matter, anyone could fill in the blank of your name. The icing on the cake was the image you were trying to uphold all the while.’

“You know what, beautiful? I really don’t believe that. You could be a fucking centerfold.” Trent cut you off with a sincere smile as he flipped to the next page seeing arguably your favorite photo from the entire shoot. It was Trent carrying you thrown over his shoulder, Teddy chasing after you two out in your back garden. You could practically hear her giggle through the page. The photographer really captured your family beautifully. Even in your moments of feeling most insecure there would always be that silver lining, the most shiny gorgeous silver lining that was Trent and the little girl you made together.

“T…” You whined quietly trying to let him know you were attempting to be serious. “I just… I appreciate what you’ve given to me and I don’t mean the tangible things. I mean I love them.” You paused to giggle because let’s be honest the house, the cars, the holidays, the clothes, the jewelry were lovely. You smiled playing with one of the gold clovers of your Van Cleef necklace. “I just mean for how you make me feel, what you’ve done for me. Not to like get serious on you but you know I still have a hard time sometimes but it’s always okay because I have you. I have you and you made it so for the first time in my life I know that even as dark as it gets you’re there and that’s all I need.” You sighed hiding your face in the nape of his neck feeling bad that you just unloaded on him.

“You have me in the darkest and brightest moments of your life baby. I’m here for it all. And the best part about that is we got our little bestie along for the ride now too. Call me biased but that, and I'm not exaggerating, that is the cutest most perfect little girl I’ve ever seen.” Trent smiled inspecting the photo of the three of you. Ironic considering Teddy was a copy paste of him but you did agree.

“I think you’re right. You know what? I think we don’t tell Ted about this and just let her flip through till she sees us.” You laughed, turning your gaze from the magazine pages to Trent who was mindless licking over his lips. You hummed appreciating the view.

“That’s jokes, baby. Yeah, what time is it? When we wake her up we’ll show her. I want to see her reaction so don’t do it without me.” Trent cooed cupping your cheek. He stroked his thumb over your cheek looking deep into your eyes. “‘I’m proud of you baby. I know this was new and difficult for you. I am so proud of you, don’t forget that, okay?” He gently spoke, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Thank you, baby. That means so much to me. So huh? You’re nice, you’re cute, you’re supportive, you’re sexy, arent you just perfect?” You teased kissing his forehead. He rolled his eyes.

“I am and so are you. Don’t forget that either.” He laughed squeezing your side.

“Look who's awake. My sleepy girl, want to go give daddy a cuddle?” You cooed to a very tired Teddy snuggling into you as you held her walking into the living room from upstairs after her nap. She pouted but you put her down anyway knowing that she would want a cuddle from Trent. She was just too tired to answer you.

“C’mere, baby bear.” Trent smiled big at her and grunted dramatically picking up her light weight body when she finally made it over to where he was sitting on the couch. “My beautiful girl.” Trent cooed, kissing her. You watched Teddy’s pink lips curl into an adorable smile. “Want to show me how smart you are? Can you tell me what this says.” Trent asked Teddy, flashing your eyes to you and pulling her further into his lap whilst he leaned forward to grab a copy of the issue of British GQ off the coffee table. On the cover off to the side there was the list of cover lines featured in the magazine, one of which read ‘Meet Mrs. Alexander-Arnold’ to lead into your interview. Trent traced his finger under the headline. Teddy couldn’t really read just yet. She could get words but it wasn’t like she was going to be reading the full article or anything but Trent knew she’d be able to read her surname.

“Alszander Arnal.” Teddy tried her best to pronounce your surname. To be fair, it was a little tricky and she was getting there. Honestly though, you liked the way she kind of stumbled her way through it. It was really really cute. As she said the double barreled last name aloud though she turned her head befuddled to Trent at why she was reading her surname for him and why it was on this magazine.

“Yeah, good girl! Alexander-Arnold. What do you think is in the magazine?” You applauded her effort and then asked her. She just furrowed her brow. Trent flicked through the magazine until he got near the feature and then made Teddy turn page by page. She got to the one before and Trent started to laugh preemptively.

“Mama!” Teddy screamed as she peeled the page back. There it was the first image of you covering an entire page. “Dada! Look is Mama!!! My mama!” She yelled with a massive smile on her face. Bewildered, surprised, and ecstatic.

“And who’s that? Is that my baby bear with daddy and mummy.” Trent turned the page for her once more and there was the photo of the three of you. She just squealed, picking the magazine up to have a closer look at herself chasing after you and Trent on the turf pitch with a football.

“Is that my pretty girl?” You cooed, coming to sit next to them. Trent pulled you by the waist of your trousers closer to him and Teddy.

“Das me, Mama!!! Teddy!” Teddy shrieked whilst trying to finagle her way out of Trent’s hold handing over the copy. She climbed off the couch and stood in front of you two. She reached out with grabby hands and pulled on Trent’s joggers. “Dada go ‘side like in piture. Footie ‘side now, tay?” She incessantly pulled and pulled on the fabric until he finally sat up some more and let go of his hold of you dropping the magazine into your lap, going to live the printed picture in real life.

“Okay, okay! The Teddy Alexander- Arnold wants to play footie with me? I can’t say no to that, can I?” Trent laughed, at her greedy smile pulling himself to get up with another grunt and a kiss to her forehead. “Alright, yeah it’s my day off but yeah, I’ll play footie.” He said more to you then to Teddy. He’d do anything for her. Was he exhausted and not in the mood to chase after your toddler outside in the freezing weather? Most definitely not but he would bundle Teddy up, throw on a pair of trainers and have a little kick about if it made his little girl smile. Every single time.

“Can you imagine if there were two of her.” You giggled watching Teddy pull on Trent’s facial hair as he zipped up her tan Moncler jacket. He removed her hand from his face for her with a laugh.

“Yeah, well then mummy would also have to go outside in the freezing cold because we’d need to have even numbers. 2 v 2. Right, Ted? Would you be on mummy’s team or daddy’s?” Trent asked Teddy.

“Erm… dada.” She was quick with her response gigging cheekily. You rolled your eyes kneeing before she even responded that would be her answer. Trent stayed bent over tying Teddy’s tiny brown Adidas campers that he had gotten her so they could match. If it was possible, in anyway, Teddy wanted to be like Trent. Naturally, Trent was flattered so anytime he got PR or grabbed anything from Adidas or really any brand he’d make sure to ask if they had a size for her. It didn’t bother you the way you thought it might have. Initially after you had Teddy you were so offended by her preference but now if she latched to him and gave you a minute alone it wasn’t always the worst thing. Lately, though you hadn’t really wanted that moment alone. You liked that she was so enamored with him. You definitely understand the attachment but you also knew when it came to certain things she’d quickly drop her daddy’s girl persona and come running to you. Needs her hair done? Mama. Is tired? Mama. A Cuddle? Definitely mama. Is Hungry? Mama. And hungry you knew the two TAA’s in your back garden would be when they came back in. They played for what felt like ages outside in the freezing cold while you got started on dinner. You could hear Teddy’s squeals, giggles, and ‘dada’s’ from inside. You were thrilled knowing that she’d be exhausted after Trent ran her ragged and would fall right to sleep tonight.

When you woke up the following morning Trent was feeling particularly handsy with you. Before you had fully even come to his big hands were kneading your boobs his thumbs lightly brushing over your nipples under the lacey blue pajamas you were in.

“Well good morning to you to baby.” You breathily giggled pushing your ass back into his morning hard on thinly covered by his boxers. You turned around still keeping yourself wrapped in his arms and pushed your nose against his. Trent’s hands drifted down your body to your hips and he pulled you tighter into him.

“Good morning to the sexiest girl in the world. I had a dream about you last night and let me tell you… wow.” He spoke with a morning raspiness in his voice that was unintentionally really turning you on.

“Really? Better than in real life?” You responded back, flickering your eyes between his sleepy brown ones and his perfectly plump lips silently suggesting that you play out whatever happened in his wet dream right now.

“Well…” Trent began speaking and your eyes shot open ready to be offended. “Relax…” he squeezed you. “Hold on, was just trying to say that sometimes I’m not entirely sure I’m not just dreaming every time I’m in bed with you. I don’t think it’s possible for someone to be so good, skin to be this soft,” he dragged his fingers purposefully up and down your side sending a shiver of anticipation up your spine. “ lips be so pillowy, god..” He groaned, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as his other hand began to wander all over your body with much more intention. “These tits, just there's no way this is real life. You can’t possibly be real.” He rattled on with a more serious tone than you would’ve expected. You thought maybe he would have fallen into a joking manner but Trent was serious. He really felt that way. He was in a trance looking at you this morning.

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m only just for you, made for you.” You teased wrapping your hands around the back of his head and gently pulling him into you for a kiss.

“Made for me. Just my real life angel, yeah?” He whispered, ghosting his lips over yours. Your lips falling into open mouth kisses. You moaned into his mouth when one of his hands dropped towards your panty covered pussy. He dragged his finger teasingly over the dampening fabric.

“If I’m your angel, baby then what does that make you?” You asked him almost out of breath pulling away from the vulgar kiss moving your lips and kisses over his jaw and down onto his neck.

“I don’t know but hell, baby you make me want to fucking sin.” Trent groaned as he rolled his head to the side giving you more room to nip away at his sensitive skin. He was in a mood the morning and you were onto it.

“I need you” You murmured against his skin desperately. You could feel your pussy pulsating and growing hot just from his teasing touch. Trent was salivating at the thought of you long before you’d even woken up. You could’ve had some sort of gradual build up or foreplay but you both were too hasty, too eager, you needed each other, you couldn’t wait. He fucked the daylights out of you. Orgasm after orgasm and yet you craved more.

“You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” Trent smirked at you as he lined his cock up with your sopping wet entrance for round two. The sheets of your bed were practically damp sticking to your skin. You had no idea how long you and Trent had been going at for but you were thanking your lucky stars that Teddy had yet to wake up because you didn’t want this to end.

“I just want more and more of you, baby.” You begged pulling Trent by his hips into you again. He slowly pushed himself into your warm velvety pussy. You wrapped your legs around him greedily. You dragged him into a messy kiss moaning into his mouth when his cock hit deeper inside of you.

“Good, because I can’t get enough. Be a good girl and take all of me.” He pulled away from the kiss and whispered back, a soft smile lining his lips. “Fuck, baby you feel so good.” He muttered out as you did as instructed, taking every inch of him to the hilt. His voice still plagued by a morning raspiness that had you a mess beneath him. Trent bottomed out with a grunt as you clenched around him.

“T…baby.” You whined feeling euphoric in a way that it felt like you were fucking him for the very first time. You’d been so horny for him lately. Your emotions were all over the place. You were sad one minute or stressed the next hour and then happy the following day, it was constantly changing but the one thing that never shook, never faltered and would probably never change was how fucking bad you wanted Trent.he was addicting. He could see the emotions play out on your face; love, lust, pleasure, and your pure vulnerability with him. You’d let him do anything, you trusted his love for you.

“I know, baby. I’m right here. Doing so good f’me.” He whispered, leaning his forehead down against your shoulder. He slid his face up into your neck and placed gentle kisses to your skin as he began to thrust into you, creating the perfect rhythm, the symphony of your moans, his groans, the sound of your skin, pornographic. Both of you were incredibly sensitive after your orgasmic first round. You tightened your pussy’s grip around Trent’s length and he shivered. Your face falling into an ‘o’ as your brows pinched. Something about this felt different. He felt so good despite you being so sore so sensitive. You weren’t sure sex had ever felt this good, you had no idea why, it was a random weekday morning, but you were not complaining. “I know, I know, baby. So good f’me.” Trent continued coaching you through stretching you out more and more as his soft plump lips grazed over your slick skin. He breathed you in with a groan. Your scent drove him crazy. He was so in love with you. Every bit of you. Every feature had him down terribly bad. No amount of time together would ever be enough for either of you. He needed all of you all the time. As desperate as you had been feeling, you had dragged Trent into the depths of the emotion with you and right now you were both benefiting from its repercussions. Your eyes began to water from the pleasurable feeling of his strokes but more so from the eye contact you two were holding, the emotion behind his eyes had you having a hard time swallowing. “I love you so much, baby. I love you. You have no idea, so fucking much.” Trent babbled away getting lost in you, his voice certain in his words. “I love you so much it could kill me.” Trent’s thrust faltered a little. He meant that. You were all consuming to him.

“I love you, T. I love you so much. I couldn’t live without you. I love you, I love you, I… I…” You babbled back to him just the same, lost in your feelings, tears streaming down your face . Your words only halted by the gasp and sudden intake of air you sucked in when Trent’s hand dropped in between you two working his fingers in tight circles over your clit. He was pounding into you aggressively and yet he never felt more loving. He gripped your thigh with his free hand, his fingers digging into the plushness of you pushing it up to your chest. He dropped his face down simultaneously and began to suck on one of your nipples. He was doing so much at once you couldn’t focus. You were completely at his mercy, submissive to any way he folded your body and you loved every single second of it.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. I’m gonna cum again. Fuck you feel so good. Can you cum with me?” Trent’s words were muffled by his face buried in your tits. You could barely respond. All you could do was moan and whine out his name. “Hmm? Can you cum f’me?” He asked again as your thighs shook. You weren’t sure how many times you had orgasmed this morning. You nodded pathetically unable to even identify where you were. You were holding it together by the flimsiest of threads. It wasn’t exactly a big ask to let it snap. Your orgasm came before his, crashing over you, your pleasure always his priority. You squirmed under him as you creamed all on his throbbing cock. Trent groaned as you clenched tighter around him. He drew out his high thrusting into you still. He didn’t let you come down, he just layered a secondary orgasm on top of the last. You felt a type of blissful delirium you could never articulate with words, it was indescribably good. Trent let out a filthy groan as he hit his own climax. Your eyes rolled back and your heels dragged down his muscular back as you felt him fill you up as promised, pumping you full. His warm release leaking out between you two still connected. Trent lazily kissed you as he stilled, laying his body weight onto you. If you could, you wished he could just stay inside you forever. It was like this was the safest, most comfortable you could be. It was what you had been craving. Him. You needed him. At the beginning of your relationship with him, day one in fact Trent was adamant telling you that you were his. He’d tell you ‘you’re mine’ on repeat and you had a hard time believing it. How he knew that, thought that so early on. Sometimes you wondered how he had such foresight because right now as he rolled over and pulled you to lay on top of him you stared into your husband’s beautiful mahogany puppy dog eyes that you hard time wrapping your head around that they could also do all the dirty things he had just done with you, you knew he was right from the start. You were his and he was yours. You cupped his cheeks with your hands and rested your slightly slick forehead against his. The glow on your face had Trent pink lips curling into a tired smirk. His hands caressed your bare back up and down your spine with a hum as your erratic breaths slowly began to even out. You ran one hand over his hair and smiled.

“Even after all this time, no matter how many years go by, lifetimes we could live in, it will always be you.” You quietly told him. He hummed and kissed the bridge of your nose.

“In this lifetime and the next and even in my dreams. It’s you.” He hushly spoke with a stoic expression. “I used to build dreams about you. You’ve made my life a dream, baby. I’m not sure I’ve woken up since I met you.” He mused and you felt your heart falter.

“I will always find you, T. In each one, I’m meant to be yours.” You cooed, brushing your nose back and forth over his. “I’ve been missing this…” you sighed. “Missing you so much lately. Sometimes I feel like I was missing you before we even met.” You confessed imagining the same warm honey hue his eyes had on 78th street that they did right now.

“You are mine. My baby, my angel, my pretty girl, my everything, my whole world, my forever. You, Y/N are it.” He kept his eyes fixed on you, confirming his sincerity. He was right, you weren’t sure it was possible to be anything but a dream. This was a love you could only dream of.

“Annnndd she’s ours.” You giggled hearing a stir come from a monitor off on your bedside table. You turned the screen towards you and kissed Trent’s nose.

“I’m holding Teddy, relaxxxx.” Trent laughed as you slipped your hands under his t-shirt running your nails over his abs. He was stood holding your little girl as you stood in your laundry room on a mission to find a very specific shirt that Teddy was very clear she needed to wear today. You followed Trent around all day after that dream like morning sex.

“I can’t stop thinking about this morning.” You whispered behind the shell of his ear, pushing your body into his from behind. He rolled his eyes and moved Teddy from his hip to sit on the machine. He turned and grabbed your face rashly and you giggled uncontrollably when he began to nuzzle himself against your neck, nipping at your skin.

“I will take care of you tonight, alright? Don’t I always?” He cooed to you sliding his big hands over the curve of your ass. You hummed.

“Dada me too!” Teddy without fail felt left out. She saw the beaming smile on your face left by her dad and she was jealous. Trent turned around quickly, letting go of you, completely smitten with him, and scooped Teddy up blowing raspberries against her skin sillily.

“T… baby.” You whined, squeezing him as tight as you could, nuzzling your face into his cotton t-shirt under you. You’d been so clingy to Trent and especially after the type of sex you’d been having lately you were practically glued to him.

“Come gimme a kiss, baby.” Trent cooed as you laid in bed that night. He pulled you tight to him with a kiss to your lips first and then he kissed your temple. You wiggled your body into him to be as physically close as possible. You whined his name hiding your face in his neck. “So needy for me, huh? You promise everything’s okay, sweet girl? You’re making me a little nervous. I'm not gonna lie. I mean you’ve been eating fine I thought. You’ve been doing so well with Ted, you and I’ve been fine but it just feels…” he paused, taking a deep breath not sure how to quite articulate how you’ve been acting and why it was giving him a bit of anxiety without upsetting you. Although to be fair, he had every right to be worried after the year and half you’d had with your health.

“I just… I don’t know. You’re right everything is okay I guess. I just feel really needy like you said. Like I just want to be with you all the time and then today I just felt so nauseous all day. I’ve been waking up so fatigued. Ted has so much more energy now as well and all I want to do is just squish her and hold her with me all day and it’s kind of sad she doesn’t want that anymore. She wants to run and play which is amazing and I’m glad she’s happy and goofy but like I’m tired.” You cooed sadly to Trent wallowing in the fact that your baby girl was getting older whether you liked it or not.

“Baby, she does want that. Ted loves a cuddle with her mummy. She just also wants to learn and explore. It’s good that she’s independent and curious. You know if you really asked her she’d always come and give you a big cuddle and in between those times where maybe she just wants to mess about, you always have me. I’m here. I love a cuddle with mummy.” He kissed your lips gently with a hum. “I’m sorry you haven’t been feeling well, baby. I’ll keep my eye on you, alright? Just tell me whenever you need me. I’m always here for you.” He whispered, keeping his lips tight to you ghosting over yours.

“I know. I love you, T. Can you just hold me all night? I don’t want to be apart.” You asked him fairly sadly, feeling a bit pathetic with yourself. He hummed with his eyes closed pulling you tighter into him. “Thank you. Night, baby.” You kissed his bare chest squishing your face into him. He mumbled a ‘night, beautiful’ into your hair.

“Hey, baby, what are you doing awake so early?” Trent grumbled with a raspy voice sitting himself up in bed moving back to lean onto your headboard seeing you sneak out of the bathroom back towards bed. He frowned at you. You were an early riser but it was really fucking early, this was abnormal. He pulled the blankets down for you to get back in. “Good morning, beautiful girl. How we feeling today?” He cooed more gently watching you cautiously and slowly bring your body back onto the mattress. He pulled you back into him, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

“I’ve gotten sick twice this morning already. I didn’t want to wake you. I think I caught a bug or something.” You pouted nuzzling into Trent. “T, I feel horrible. I feel so sick. Every day I feel like I’ve gotten worse this week. I… I just..” You stuttered, getting your words out and started to cry unable to hold back the emotion. “I can’t keep up with her today. I can’t do it. I feel so exhausted I can’t manage her on my own. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m the worst. It’s my only job and I can’t do it” You started crying more and more, feeling horrible, admitting to the fact that taking care of Teddy seemed like it would be an impossible task.

“Beautiful, you’re doing amazing. You’re such an incredible mum. Baby, this is not your only job, you do so much. Also, this is one of the hardest jobs in the world. It is really hard. Please don’t say you’re sorry to me. I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. What can I do?” He spoke gently to you feeling like if he raised his volume even a little above a whisper it would bruise you.

“T… I’m failing.” You croaked out embarrassed by the fear you’d be unable to take care of your daughter today.

“You’re not. Come here, sweetheart. Can you stay in bed for me today? I’ll make Ted breakfast and call my mum. I’ll ask her to take her today. She can handle that very cute bundle of energy. Just take today to rest please. I’ll make sure you’re okay, head to training a little late, and if you need me, even to just get you a tea, you call me and I’ll come right home. If not, then I’ll be home as fast as I can right after training back to my beautiful girl. Hmm?” He cooed and you sighed a sad ‘ok.’ Trent did as he said, he got himself dressed for training, he woke Teddy up, got her changed and downstairs for breakfast, then came knocking at your door a little while later.

“Mummy’s a little sleepy so we have to be quiet, okay?” You could hear Trent whisper to Teddy as they walked into your bedroom. Teddy trailed Trent clinging to his joggers as he carried a water and a cup of tea in his hands for you.

“Baby, how do ya feel?” He spoke softly rubbing his hand over your head after putting the drinks down on your bedside table. You rolled over more onto your side to get a better look at them. You just hummed with a soft smile as Teddy haphazardly climbed up into your bed and squirmed her way into your embrace.

“Mama, morning time. Why still sleepy?” She asked you and you didn’t even have the energy to try to get into your current state so you just kissed her forehead. “Know I lub you most.” She said to you with a dramatic whisper. She was trying hard to whisper the best she knew how but it was more like just speaking more breathy at regular volume.

“I know Ted. Thank you, baby. I love you the most. Mummy’s just a little extra sleepy.” You cooed meekly, kissing her cheek. “You’re going to have such a good day with Nana today though. That’ll be much more fun.” You told her hoping you could convince her that it’d be fun and you knew it would be once she got there. Dianne was amazing with Teddy, of course, but you knew Teddy well enough to know that no matter how fun something like this would be, if there was no mummy or daddy it was going to be a hard sell.

“Want stay with you, tay?” She informed you as anticipated. You gave her a sympathetic grin appreciating how attentive she was to you but you needed her to go to Dianne’s so you mustered all the strength you had to sit up a little in bed. Trent moved quickly to grab Teddy from you and plop her off the bed onto her own two feet. Your weakness and what you assumed to be a run down body was apparent to him.

“No, no, you want to go play and sing and dance, you don’t want to lay with me all day, silly girl. Plus you haven’t gotten to tell Nana all about how well you’ve been taking care of the doggies too, right?” You cooed to her cupping her cheek as she leaned her body goofily onto the bed to stay close to you. She gave you a disappointed nod of the head. Teddy had been taking it upon herself to help out more and more with your two dogs. It was sweet and she was very very proud of herself. It didn’t really relieve any of the actual duties of care from you or Trent but it was cute. “And then when you come home you have to tell me every single fun thing you did with Nana. I want to hear every bit, cute girl.” You smiled at her trying to reinforce the idea that her day would be well worth her going and leaving you.

“Will miss. Mama know I lub, tay?” She told you once more. It was cute. You knew she did but again, getting her to leave you was not an easy task. Frankly, you would have loved to cuddle up with your baby girl all day right now but that is definitely not something she had the attention span for. Your energy levels at the minute couldn’t have been more opposite.

“Okay, baby. I know, I’ll miss you too. Go ahead please. Have fun.” You cooed gently and quietly as you laid back down defeated into your pillow feeling another wave of nausea wash over you again. You had a horrible migraine that not even closing your eyes was making it dark enough for you to feel more at ease. Before Trent went downstairs you scribbled on a post it note in your room and had told him to pack something for Teddy as an aid to get her to be a bit more happy once they got to Diannes.

“Thanks mum for watching her. I told you Y/N thinks she just caught a bug or something. She was up early sick so really appreciate you taking Ted.” Trent spoke to Dianne in the foyer of her house as Teddy clung to his leg in an effort to not let him get to training. He was attempting to drop Teddy off and make it to training on time, to avoid a team fine but Teddy was being stubborn.

“No problem, hun. Everything alright? I haven’t heard that anything is going around.” Dianne brushed her hand over Teddy’s curls but kept her gaze on Trent with a raised brow. Trent gave her a confused look in return not sure what her suspicious face was for. Dianne dropped it though and smiled with a shake of the head. “We’re going to have a fun day, right my Teddy girl? What do you want to do today?” She asked sweetly to Teddy.

“Be with my mama, nana.” Teddy answered her sadly with a signature pout and puppy dog eyes Dianne was now enduring the second generation of. Teddy had inherited Trent’s beautiful face and certainly the same face that had people around them crumbling.

“Oh, I know. Mummy is the best but you’ll see her soon. How about we go play outside, we can watch a movie, we can make you some yummy food.” Dianne paused seeing Teddy’s face unchanged. Nothing she offered her was going to be better than being with you but she’d try one last effort she knew was Teddy’s latest fixation “We can color.” She drew out the word with a smile, squinting her eyes a little seeing Teddy’s face immediately respond to the option.

“Oh I know that look… I think you heard something you like, huh?” Trent cooed, coming to squat down next to Teddy, their faces now level. Teddy loved coloring and she was getting better and better at it. ‘Better’ is subjective but her progress had Trent singing her praises and she was eating it up. It was a nice activity for her and you liked how careful she was with all the markers and supplies you’d get her. She took care of it all and put everything back neatly. Trent said it was bizarre but you loved that she inherited a sense of organization and meticulousness from you. It was adorable. “Did you check in your bag we brought yet? I think there’s something special in there” He asked her as he reached behind him to grab her pink Stoney Clover backpack with her own ‘TAA’ initials on it and bring it towards them. She unzipped it slowly not understanding that this was something to be excited about. But there it was inside, a brand new pack of markers you had gotten for her, you had planned to give her at some point but no time like the present. Trent had stuck the post it note you’d written on to the packaging.

‘Show Nana how well you color, my Teddy bear. I love you so so much. Love mummy xx’

“Wow Teddy! Your mummy must love you so much! I think we should color today then if mummy gave those to you.” Dianne cooed excitedly watching Teddy’s smile grow and grow on her face and her eyes go wide, absolutely gassed about the markers.

“C’mere baby. Let’s read what mummy wrote on this little note for you.” Trent pulled Teddy into him and held the sticky note in front of them and helped her work through the worlds, essentially just Trent reading to her. When they finished, Teddy giggled and hugged the pack of markers to her chest. “Aw baby, you’re so excited. So you have to do what mummy said, yeah? Gonna show Nana how good you are at coloring with your new markers?” Trent cooed before kissing her cheek. Teddy nodded and for the first time since they entered the house took steps away from Trent. They said goodbye and Teddy took off to a little table and chairs for toddlers Dianne had at her house for her. Teddy knew exactly where it was and she couldn’t wait any longer to get there.

Trent drove home after a long fairly thought provoking training session. All day at AXA he couldn’t shake the thought of his mum’s questioning look when he said you were sick. As he was stopped at the traffic light before he entered your neighborhood, the possibility smacked him in the face. He gasped and leant his head back onto the headrest of his seat in the car, eyes wide. Trent puffed out some air and shook his head with a stupid grin. He couldn’t wait to get home.

“Beautiful, can I ask you something and please don’t take it the wrong way.” Trent asked you about an hour after he’d gotten home. He had checked in and made sure you were okay before he began his probe. You hummed not thinking about anything other than how shitty you felt today. “Ermm…” Trent paused, getting a little nervous to ask his question, beginning to second guess himself but he mustered up the courage after he took a deep breath and looked at you. He looked deep in your eyes and he sighed. He knew you. He knew you so well, he couldn’t be wrong. “When was the last time you got your period?” He asked you and you tilted your head confused and then you felt your stomach sink.

“Oh my fucking god…” You gasped and felt your soul just about leave your body. You were not being careful in the slightest in bed but it wasn’t like you’d been actively trying. You were more shocked that you hadn’t thought about this possibility though. You couldn’t help it, you just started balling your eyes out. Your tears felt like they were just endlessly flowing.”I… I… I can’t be. No.” You stuttered out the words. Trent was a little confused because, just as well as he knew you, he could tell these were not tears of joy or excitement, this was fear. Your emotions were all over the map lately and uncontrollable, it should’ve been obvious.

“Baby… Are you okay? C’mere please.” Trent sat down on the bed and pulled you into his embrace. He was holding your body up for you. You were in a completely blanked state. You couldn’t think. “Let’s just take a test alright? Let’s find out. It could just be a bug, I could be wrong. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.” Trent tried to comfort you.

“I can’t know…” You muttered out. You felt the words leave your mouth and you knew that wasn’t possible so you sighed. You squeezed Trent. “Can you come with me?” You looked up at him with teary eyes, water clumping in your eyelashes. Your bottom lip rolled into a quivering pout.

“Yeah, baby, of course. I’ll be there the whole time.” Trent cooed and helped you up from the bed. You had a few extra pregnancy tests in the cupboard of the bathroom stashed away for a situation like this but you kind of thought you’d be more prepared to take them when the time came. Trent got one out for you and handed it to you. When you took it he grabbed your hand and pulled it to him. He kissed your hand. “Whatever, absolutely whatever any test says. I love you and you will be okay.”

“Can you turn around?” You mumbled out embarrassed. Trent gave you a cheeky smirk silently saying ‘really, baby… I’ve seen you in labor. I don’t think you peeing is going to be all that big of a deal.’ It lightened your stone heart momentarily but when he did what you asked and turned around, you lost eye contact with his support and your heart hardened again. The thing was it’s not that you were massively opposed to another baby, it just was so overwhelming. There were a lot of factors at play. You were so stressed by how you would manage two babies so little when Trent had to be away for football. Today you couldn’t even get out of bed. What would happen if you had two babies and he was out of the country? Another reason, god, what if a postpartum depression came back worse this time around. Last time you were borderline suicidal.

“T, baby, I can’t… I’m sorry I’m so scared.” Tears began to fill your lash line again you stood up and Trent turned around. You placed the cap back onto the test and hugged Trent. In a backwards way his comfort triggered your tears to begin to fall again more rapidly.

“My beautiful girl, put this here.” He grabbed the test and put it on your sink counter. “You, my amazing wife, Teddy’s amazing mummy, you come with me. I got the timer. All you need to do is come and give me the best cuddle you’ve ever given me in your whole life, okay?” He moved you to come lay on top of your bed and pulled you into his embrace. He held you securely but gently whispering ‘I love you’ on repeat again and again quietly into your hair. After the alotted 5 minutes or so the sound of the alarm blaring from Trent's phone made you jump, wince, and your heart stop all at once. You were about to find out if you’d be a family of 4 and you also felt like you were about to be sick..

“Can you look? Sorry I’m being such a… I don't know I’m such a mess. I’m sorry baby.” You mumbled into his cotton t-shirt that you had now soaked with your tears.

“Baby shhh. Shhh, okay? You stay right here. I will go get it. Just you stay here and be my beautiful dream girl.” Trent let go of you and you felt like you could cry more just losing his comforting hold momentarily. He picked up the test in the ensuite and stifled his gasp. His smile was massive but he shook it off his face and looked down at a very clear positive pregnancy test. He came back into the room and he had a smile you usually hated to see one that was sympathetic and a little sad. “Y/N…” He whispered, stroking his hand over your head. “You’re pregnant. It says we’re pregnant. It’s positive, baby.” As the words rolled off his tongue Trent couldn’t suppress the smile he really felt. He was beaming, ecstatic but as you heard the words fall out his mouth you felt sick.

“Oh…” You sighed with disappointment in your voice. “Oh my god. Look how happy you are. I should be. I’m the worst fucking mum in the world. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” You looked up at Trent with swollen red eyes from all your tears. “T…How did you know?” You croaked out curious what made him think of this when you hadn’t. You felt so stupid honesty. How could you not see it. You were beating yourself up internally.

“Don’t know, baby. Just instinct. I think I know you pretty well.” He laughed shyly, running his hand behind his neck. “You were so cuddly and getting sick and It just felt like last time a little bit and baby… we…” Trent started to laugh with a gentle smile coming to give you a cuddle. “We fuck a lot.” He continued his laugh. You couldn’t help but at least crack a small smile.

“I guess better than I know myself.” You sighed realizing that Trent probably did know you better than you knew yourself. “T… it’s just… I just got my body back to a place I wasn't grossed out by.” You whimpered pushing your face into his chest upset by the idea of going through the lovely bodily changes of pregnancy again. You’d been working so hard in the gym to get fit and with your care team to get healthy.

“Baby, we’ll do whatever you need.” Trent unexpectedly told you. He was calm with his words but the sentiment was kind of insane. You wouldn’t dream of not having this baby because of something so selfish like appearance. Trent didn’t see it as selfish he saw it as your mental wellbeing. But you thought you wanted babies with Trent, plural.

“T, stop.. it’s not just my decision.” You lashed out at him pulling yourself off him in a flustered state. You felt your tears fill your eyes again. You pulled your legs up onto the bed and wrapped your arms around them, pulling your knees tight to your chest.

“I know, I know but baby we’re going to do what’s best for you though.” Trent sighed, rubbing his hand over your smooth leg. He meant it. He did. He wanted to do what was best for you but the thought of getting pregnant and then deciding not to go through with it made him a little sick.

“I need a minute alone.” You snapped standing up prioritizing your own feelings, unable to look at him. You knew the expression you could imagine was on his face would be heartbreaking. It was a really emotionally conflicting thing. He tried to call out to you but knew better and just let you go. You locked the door of the en suite and slid down the back of it, seating yourself on the floor. You cried and cried raking your brain if you were ready for this. Were you an okay mum? Would you be disappointing Trent if you decided not to have another baby? Would you be doing a disservice to this unborn baby by having him or her? You were terrified of falling back into a depressive state but as you rested your forehead onto your knees in front of you, you clocked a tiny silver frame on the marble countertop above you out of the corner of your eye. You sighed seeing matching toothy grins of the two people you loved more than anything in the world. More than yourself. You could almost hear the photo of Trent telling Teddy to say cheese. Her babbling out her attempt, something like a ‘cheebs.’ You kept crying but not because you were questioning yourself, or your abilities but because of how in love you were with being a mum, having this family. Your family was everything to you, the three of you and now the possibility of a fourth didn’t sound so bad. Another cute voice learning to ‘cheese’ in photos with the best husband and dad in the world, the love of your life didn’t sound so bad. It took you a bit of time but you eventually pulled it together.

“T…” you whispered coming back into the bedroom. You sighed and ran your hands over your face feeling guilty inspecting Trent’s body language. He was more upset than you anticipated. He wasn’t pouting intentionally, he just really wanted this. This was the best news ever for him but he was trying to talk himself down and to the fact you might want to get rid of the pregnancy. “I want this…” you cooed hugging him from behind as he laid curled up on the bed.

“C’mere, baby.” You could audibly hear him let out a deep breath. He turned to face you and pulled you tight into an embrace, tucking your head under his chin. “If you…” he began to talk.

“I want this, okay? This baby… I do.” You interrupted him, stopping what he was going to tell you, clarifying that you were certain about this.

“If it’s not the right time for us or it’s too much.” Trent was persistent with his thoughts. He kissed your head trying to tell you that no matter what he’d be there but it was breaking his heart and you could hear it in his voice.

“Stop… I really do.” You pulled your head out from against him to look him in the eyes. You were serious. You wouldn’t change your mind. You wanted a second baby.

“Yeah? You’re sure you can? You can’t do this for me.” He haphazardly got the words out not sure how to express what he was feeling. The last thing Trent wanted to do was put pressure on you.

“It’s not for you. It’s for us.” You hummed with a soft smile. Your lips began to curl more and more. Both you and Trent could feel the tension in the room evaporating. He gave you a questioning look silently so you spoke again. “I always thought we’d have like multiple kids. I don’t know. Right? Wasn’t that what we wanted?” You giggled a little trying to recall the exact plans or discussions you had had in the past. It all felt a little blurry thought. “Like not in a weird way but don’t you think it’d be silly for us to not at least try for a boy.” You smiled at him imagining a little boy.

“I think it’ll be another girl but I get your sentiment. C’mere, baby. I love you so much.” Trent cupped your face and gently pulled you into a kiss that felt like heaven. It felt like relief. You smiled into it, starting to laugh imagining another baby in the house. “Let’s have Ted sleep at my mum’s. Just need to be with my favorite girl tonight.” Trent cooed and although you wanted to correct him with a tease telling him you knew Teddy had replaced you as favorite you just hummed. “Baby… I’m really really happy. I love being a dad. I love our family.” Trent whispered into your hair kissing your head a few times.

“You’re the best daddy. Just the best, baby. It looks good on you too.” You giggled a little more picturing how good he looked carrying Teddy around, you assumed a second would only double the attraction. You were only able to kiss at his neck from your close proximity and his hold of you, limiting any movement. “T… I’m a little scared though.” You got out the obvious fear you were harboring after a couple quiet minutes embraced in a hug.

“I know, beautiful. You can be scared but you got me the whole way. You’re so strong. You can do this.” Trent tried to put you at ease with encouragement.

“Are you excited?” You meekly and sheepishly asked him, trying to divert from a more serious conversation and confessional about your fears. You could guess the answer but you wanted to hear him say it.

“I am gassed right now, seriously? Creating a life with you, having a family? It’s an absolute dream.” Trent looked at you confused with a furrowed brow. How could you not know that he thought that.

“You’re such a good daddy.” You sighed hugging him. You breathed him in. His scent wrapped around you, calming all your fears by just simply being there with you.

“Think I do okay?” He asked you with a bit of smugness in his tone. You smiled with your face still hidden pressed against his neck. You loved Trent’s cheek.

“Yeah, really the best. Ted… and I guess this little baby here are so lucky.” You cooed, moving your hand to your still flat stomach. Trent let his eyes flutter closed and moved his hand to lay over top of yours. He kissed your forehead as a silent ‘thank you.’ He could never properly thank you for giving him a family of his dreams but you were just the same. There were no words.

Trent was fucking beaming when he picked up Teddy from Dianne’s the next day. Call it a mother’s intuition but Dianne knew something was up. She easily put two and two together but bit her tongue letting you two have your privacy. You had called your doctors and made the appointment to find out for real how far along you might’ve been. Like Trent said, you had sex a lot you had no idea when this could’ve happened.

“I missed you baby bear. You had so much fun with Nana huh?” Trent cooed to Teddy looking through his rearview mirror back to her tucked in her carseat in his big car.

“Told dada.” She quipped fairly sassily. Teddy inheriting Trent’s own personality traits was biting him in the ass. His eyes widened.

“Well, I know but I’m just asking sheesh, Ted. Are you going to give Mama your pretty drawing when we get back home? She’ll be so happy to see you. I know she’ll love it” Trent continued on. When Dianne had handed over all of Teddy’s things from her impromptu sleepover to Trent she had to make sure, per Teddy’s instructions, that her artwork she’d made was kept nice and safe because it had to get to it’s recipient, you, safely. You had a museum full of Teddy drawings, each one priceless… to you. Likes squiggles on a paper to a stranger.

“Yeah huh, for my mama.” She mumbled getting distracted fixating on the little tray of her car seat filled with cheerios just moving them around. She had complained that she was hungry and couldn’t wait till she got home but evidently not enough to eat said cereal. Trent winced every time he heard Teddy crumble one up littering his car with crumbs. Anyone else… he’d be fuming.

“We’re gonna stop at the shop first, okays?” Trent told Teddy. She just gave him a ‘tay’ as expected. Trent parked his car in your local town shopping center ahead of getting back home because he wanted to get you some flowers. He held Teddy’s hand as they fumbled around the florist letting her decide the color of flowers. He knew chrysanthemums weren’t your favorite flower but Teddy was adamant that you would like the pink color which she was sort of right. In her defense, she did have the experience Trent did. She hadn’t been buying you flowers just about every month for the past 5 plus years.

“You know what, Ted? You get mummy the pink flowers, okay? And dada will get her white ones.” Trent decided two bouquets would work then, one from your babies, Teddy and your new addition, and one from your baby, Trent.

“Tay, mama like pink doe.” Teddy stayed set on the fact that you’d want the pink and Trent was wrong. It was a battle of two of the same people. Neither would concede but Trent realized he was in his mid twenties and Teddy hadn’t even hit three, so he compromised despite a tinge of confidence that he knew you liked the bouquets he usually got for you, luxurious, lavish, chic. Teddy did have the advantage of her handing over her pink cute flowers with chubby cheeks raised in a smile indented with dimples. To be fair though Trent had those dimples too. As they left the shop walking to the car two excited young men stopped them asking for a selfie with Trent. Trent was hesitant, shy, and protective of Teddy, moving his hand to her back pushing her to him but of course he obliged. “Yeah, no worries mate.” Trent ushered the kids away from him after they got the photo as Teddy stood wrapped around his leg swinging her tiny body back and forth impatiently.

“Dada, how come piture?” Teddy asked inquisitively, confused why people were stopping her daddy in the car park.

“Erm… they just know daddy from footie.” Trent answered her as simply as possible. She gave him a ponderous ‘oh’ and then went quiet as he put her into her car seat.

“Why?” Teddy pipped up again, still pressed about what just happened. You had officially entered the ‘why’ stage of toddlerhood.

“You know when you watch daddy at Anfield or when you and mummy watch the matches on the telly?” Trent cooed gently pushing a fallen curl behind her ear. “They like the way daddy plays the game so they watch dada on tv too.” Trent further elaborated for her.

“Ohs cause my dada bests.” She adorably tacked on to his explanation. Trent hummed in agreement with a soft smile. “But, dada…” Teddy cooed, continuing her thought looking to Trent who was getting into the drivers side. “Mine and mama’s, tay?” She spoke up, wanting to just cement and confirm that those guys could appreciate Trent and take a photo but Trent was in fact hers.

“Yeah, course. Only yours, baby bear.” Trent smiled back at her, kissing his hand and pressing it to her little legs dangling in her seat. He liked her possessiveness over him. “Let's go give mama her flowers and your drawing.” he cooed with a smile and a wink back in the mirror to her.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 29 xx

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

🐻‍❄️species and cultural social behaviours for Captain Banracles

enjoys physical bonding experiences like exercising and competition! he also likes to provide "learning opportunities" later on as the years pass. AKA, the closer he gets with someone the more likely he will physically play fight someone and try to teach them what he's learned through experience. or rather by him randomly grabbing someone 😭 this is only much later on and only for anyone who actually enjoys it lol (mostly kwazii and dashi lol). a little surprise challenge!

speaking of play, whenever he is in a silly mood (he tries to be the responsible dependable captain but he cant help himself!!! it first starts out with the vegimals and then kwazii and then it just spread, they all know he's a bit of a goofy guy at heart even if he pretends he's not THAT silly XD) hell kinda wag his head around as a way of saying "hehehe eim feeling mischievous do u want to try and use the technique I taught u? i bet I'll win, cmon try ;3" XD

he likes to watch movies in the game pod with the others, its a bit of a ritual for them all to watch movies and shows in random pairs and etc, but barnacles doesn't typically get invested in whatever movie is playing. (unless its a musical or related to his copious theatre kid hyperfixations) but whenever he has an hour or so free in the evening hell just join who ever is there and just essentially become part of the couch, he is VERY WARM and VERY COMFORTABLE, aka POLAR BEAR CUDDLES 🎉🎉🎉

a learned behaviour he's developed is lowering his head (I talk more about it on my height chart reference post) so that he can make better eye contact with shorter species that cant reach his eyes (which is...most species ngl), buuuuut the downside is that for polar bears that generally a way more aggressive seeming behaviour! so to most species it just feels like a large marshmallow happily listening, but to other polar bears it can come off as "why the hell is he looking at me like that???" and he has to consciously remind himself not to do that around other polar bears 😭😭😭

also he will nose boop people on the top of their heads if he's talking to someone one on one... they were a bit confused about it but apparently a lot of polar bears nose to nose boop as a way of silent request. ofc he's got the tiniest crew ever...so before he asks someone to do some sort of task that needs to be done or even just a favor hell just nose bop em on the top of the head and then back up like 2 feet and THEN make the request XD its kinda cute. they do that cuz the scent can tell a lot about the nature of ur request<3 so whenever he does it, he usually just wants to show "hi <3 ur amazing <3 could u do this thing<3 I would appreciate it very much<3 I love you<3 thank you<3" only dashi really picked up on that lol

Barnacles also tries to play his accordian music and learn different shanties. Even though hes... not always the best at accordian music specifically its become very endearing to the residents of the octopod ^v^

Barnacles also can recognize everyone by their paw prints and different shoes, it also leave behind their scents as well lol so yeh he subconsciously likes to keeps tabs on where everyone is in and outside of missions.he probably had that habit since his polar scout days

hes very meticulous about cleanliness and will often clean everyone else's work spaces whenever he happens to enter. So if he's in the lab for even 5 minutes u can rest assured he's artistically put every pen and paper neatly lined up in a neater way that won't disturb shellingtons work as well as grabbed any coffee cups and etc lying around. He doesn't mean to do that, but he does this for every room he's in as he walks around listening to another octonaut doing his "check in" on them. He often brings hot chocolate as well

polar bear greetings irl are basically opened mouths that breathe next to eachother with their heads side by side, so i assume his cultural way of greeting would be to rest ur cheek against someone else's as u smile for like 10 to 15 seconds. Most irl animal greetings are some sort of scent exchange like that btw lol

Barnacles finds his entire crew to be very very cute, and he knows its probably wrong and unprofessional to think so when they're all adults- but they're all SO small and look up to him literally and figuratively- so sometimes he just has cuteness aggression ans the second hes out of eyesight he just RHAISGJDVEHRHEHR and flaps his hands while barely containing himself 😭

a big part of polar bear culture is bonding through shared meals btw, so he always does his best to make sure that they all at least eat dinner together. Not everyone can make it all the time but as long as everyone is having some group bonding with food hes very content about that

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 11: On Begged And Borrowed Time

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Handjobs, Mirrors, Party, Semi-Public Sex, Quickies, Unsafe Sex, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: sorry this took so long! Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay@nn-hh192 @photo1030 @just-pure-trash @julialoopeezz @hqxee @salientseraph Chapter List

Failed Robbery in Saint Denis: 2 Dead, 1 Arrested, 6 Missing

You’d lost track of how many times you’d reread the article, the newspaper creased where your hands gripped it. You already knew what the article stated, yet you reread it at every free moment.

The Van Der Linde’s bank robbery had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. Pinkertons had been quick to arrive on the scene, resulting in a shootout that killed two members of the gang, as well as arresting John. 

There was a pang in your chest when you saw the sketch of Hosea provided. You hadn’t been close with him, not like Arthur was, but you respected him deeply and were quite thankful for him. To see him listed as nothing more than a failed bank robber and lowlife was disheartening; you knew better. 

There was another man pictured alongside Hosea, someone you didn’t recognize. You had been shocked when you first saw him, as he looked barely old enough to be an adult, let alone a part of the gang. Leonard “Lenny” Summers, his name read, and you took a mental note to ask Arthur about him later. 

A deep sadness washed over you when you thought of Arthur. Unimaginable relief had flooded you when you hadn’t seen his picture in the newspaper article, meaning he was one of the six on the run. You just hoped that wherever he was, he was alright. 

Glancing at the date at the top of the newspaper, you sighed deeply. It had been printed three weeks ago. Three weeks since you last saw Arthur, and possibly for the last time.

You quickly shook that thought from your mind. You refused to even entertain the idea that Arthur might’ve died. Until you saw his body, you didn’t let yourself think that he was anything other than alive. Worse for wear, but alive. 

“You reading that damn newspaper again?” Hans’ voice startled you, and you dropped the paper like it burned you. He stood in the doorway of your bedroom, arms crossed over his chest, staring disapprovingly at the newspaper that had fallen back onto the nightstand.

Hans’ demeanor had turned sour over the past three weeks. He was more irritable, a constant scowl on his face, barking at you instead of speaking evenly. You figured it was the stress of his moonshine operation falling apart, and from nearly entrusting his operation’s security into the hands of the failed robbers of Saint Denis.

“Sorry, it’s just…” you sighed. “It’s just so shocking. They seemed so nice!” 

“That’s what they want you to think. Can’t fault you for falling right into their trap.” 

You’re the one who fell into their trap, you fool. You nearly rolled your eyes, but you forced them to remain still. “It makes me wonder how many liars I’ve trusted.” Like you. 

Hans remained silent for a moment, the furrow in his brow deepening, making it almost look like he was glaring at you. “A thought that has passed my mind as well,” he finally said, sounding more like a threat than anything. He didn’t get to see your bewildered expression, though, because he disappeared from the doorway. 

His words unsettled you deeply, anxiety brewing in your mind. Did he know? Was he suspicious? Or was he just speaking in an angry tone, with no idea what you were up to?

Grabbing the newspaper, you decided to hide it from your sight, realizing it was doing you more harm than good. Out of the clear of your husband, you grabbed the lockbox, and it took quite a bit of forcing to fit both newspapers in there. Next time Hans left, you’d have to clip out the important parts and discard the rest. 

Your mother’s letter appeared as you were messing with the papers, a mixed sense of dread and happiness washing over you. You hadn’t told Hans about your letter. You couldn’t. You weren’t supposed to have reached out to your family, and a part of you dreaded that your mother was coming over because then you’d have to explain yourself to him. 

You had no idea when she was coming over, but you knew it had to be sometime soon. Ever since that letter arrived, you’d been expecting her arrival daily, just adding to the stress you were feeling because of Arthur. To say the last few weeks had been difficult would be an understatement, but you pushed through. 

Tucking the box away, you headed downstairs, the bedroom causing too many emotions for you to handle right now. You didn’t have to knock to know that Hans was in his office, the door locked shut when you passed.

Sitting on the couch, you picked up the embroidery you were working on, a hobby you’d taken up over the past two weeks to try and distract yourself, Hans permitting, of course. It barely worked, operating as more of a means to pass the time than anything. 

Your thoughts were always occupied with Arthur, your stomach constantly in knots. You hadn’t had much of an appetite, and it was starting to wear you down, the bags under your eyes prominent. 

It had been a startling discovery, seeing yourself in the mirror after these weeks. You looked how you did when you met Arthur, the sparkle of joy in your eyes that he brought vanishing. Your cheeks were gaunt, and you just looked exhausted. 

A light knock at the door startled you, nearly stabbing yourself with your needle. You waited for Hans to emerge from his office; maybe he was expecting someone today. 

But when a minute passed and he didn’t emerge, your heart hammered in your chest. Another light knock made you move, setting your embroidery on the couch. Shakily, you made your way to the front door, and you took a deep breath before opening it. 

On the other side stood your mother, looking a few years older, yet still the same woman all the same. People always joked when you were a child that you were just a younger version of your mother, but as your eyes fell on her, you realized how right they had been. 

A warm smile appeared on her face when she saw you, a smile that had brought you so much comfort. Even now, you feel like all the weight on your shoulders has been lifted. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to move, emotions rendering your legs useless, staring at your mother like you’d just seen a ghost. 

It was when she said your name softly that the spell you were under finally broke. A sob tore from your throat, and she had barely opened her arms before you were crashing into her, your own arms clinging to her. Right now, you weren’t Mrs. Kerrigan. You were just someone who needed the comfort of their mother. 

Immediately her hands were soothing you, one running through your hair, the other rubbing circles into your back. Your tears were staining her dress, but neither of you cared. For the first time in weeks, you finally let go of all the emotions that had bottled up inside of you, stress and sadness and grief pouring out, unable to hide them any longer. 

You’re not sure how long she held you for, letting you cry on her shoulder. You’re sure your commotion caught the attention of Hans, but that was an afterthought. Eventually, your sobs receded, and you pulled away, your eyes puffy and cheeks red.

Tears of her own flowed down her face, and you felt her gently wipe your cheeks. “My beautiful daughter…” she murmured, and your bottom lip trembled. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” you sighed. “How… how is everyone?”

“They’re well. But sweetheart, are you well?” You felt one of her thumbs brush beneath your eyes. “You don’t look it.”

“These past weeks have been… tough,” you admitted. “But that’s a conversation for later.” Where Hans won’t be able to hear me. “Oh, where are my manners? Please, come inside.” You took a step back, gesturing to the still-open door. 

“Since when have you worried about manners?” Your mother teased, but you missed the slight bit of concern in her voice. “Before we head in, there is someone else who would like to see you. Margaret?” Your mother shouted to the carriage that you now saw behind her, and an even larger smile appeared on your face as you watched your sister step out.

If you looked exactly like your mother, then she was a carbon copy of your father. But when she smiled back at you, you swore you saw yourself. Her excitement was contagious as she practically ran to you, skirts bunched up in her hands as she bound up the stairs. YOu nearly toppled over as she barreled into you, and a fresh stream of tears poured down your face as you held her.

“Maggie!” You exclaimed, partially in shock. “You’ve grown so much!” It was true. Long gone was the young teenager you’d left back at home. In front of you was a grown woman, a maturity in her eyes that you weren’t expecting when she pulled away. But it was astounding to see she hadn’t lost her energy, her joy for life. A part of you almost felt envious, as much as you hated to admit. 

Your name was barely audible, muffled as she hugged you, making you laugh. “You should’ve seen her when she saw your letter,” your mother smiled. “We haven’t had a moment of peace since.” She didn’t sound upset about it. 

“Is that true?” 

Maggie nodded her head, leaning back to look at you, her arms still wrapped around your body. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“It ain’t a competition, but I think I’ve missed you more.” Maggie playfully rolled her eyes, and you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She was still shorter than you, but you weren’t about to comment about that now. “Let’s get inside. We’ve got a lot to discuss!”

With your arm around Maggie, you led her and your mother into your house for the first time. Their eyes danced around the spacious downstairs, and although they were used to seeing wealth, they could still appreciate the beauty of your home. If only you felt the same. Even with your family in it, it still felt foreign. 

You led them to the living room, letting them sit on the couch before excusing yourself to the kitchen, going to grab drinks. Or at least you tried to until your mother stopped you with a gentle grasp of your hand. “Sit, sweetheart.”

“But-”

“You don’t have to bring out the formalities for us. We just want you, improper and perfect.”

Biting your trembling lip, you nodded, letting her sit you between her and Maggie. She didn’t let go of your hand, her other hand resting atop yours, and Maggie adjusted so that she was sitting closer to you. “You’ve got a beautiful house.” You nodded, an empty thanks leaving your lips. “Although it’s quite… empty.”

“If you’re asking about children,” you laughed, albeit bitterly, “I’m afraid me and my husband haven’t been blessed in that department.” Thank God. You weren’t opposed to children, no, but you did not want them with Hans. He’d make a terrible father, and you’d be stuck managing them by yourself. 

“Is your husband around?” Maggie asked, and you struggled to come up with a response. How could you say that he was, but he locked himself away in his office at every spare moment?

You didn’t have to respond, though, because a loud cough from the staircase behind you answered for you, all three of you turning to face the noise. “Her husband is around and is quite confused. Care to explain, dear?” The endearment was dripping with vitriol.

You instinctively grasped your mother’s hand tighter. Confusion and concern were written across her face, already not liking the confrontational tone Hans had adopted. “Hans, this is my mother, Irene, and my little sister Margarete. Mother, sister, this is my husband, Hans Kerrigan.”

“I know who they are,” Hans interjected, slowly stepping towards you all. You failed to notice the slight panic in his voice. “What are they doing here?”

Your mother opened her mouth to respond, but you cut her off, afraid that she would mention the letters. “I don’t know,” you lied, and you missed the look Maggie and Irene shared. “They just showed up. Isn’t it great?” 

If Hans believed you, you couldn’t tell. A forced smile found its way beneath his beard. “Great, yes.” If you thought your lying ability was terrible, his was even worse. “A pleasure, ladies.”

“Mr. Kerrigan, as lovely as it is to meet you, I’m afraid that we have… business in the city we must attend to.” Panic gripped you. “All three of us must attend to.” 

Your husband's expression was unreadable, and you had no idea if he’d let you go. “Can I?” You asked, hating that you sounded like a child asking their parents if they could play with their friends. This was your family, you didn’t have to ask anyone’s permission to be with them. 

It seemed your mother felt the same way, cutting your husband off before he could agree or disagree. “No daughter of mine needs permission from anyone. She’s going with me.”

A tense silence filled the room, making you shift uncomfortably. The look Irene gave Hans was deadly, her head cocked to the side like she was daring him to say something against it. Her actions confused you, though. She was advocating for your independence, yet she had no protest against a marriage against your will. Yet again, she had seemed surprised about your marriage, so maybe she didn’t have as much say as you thought. Just another thing you needed to ask her.

Hans’ eyes flicked to you, almost disbelieving. He didn’t respond, merely scoffing before retreating upstairs. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, and you knew you were in for it later. 

Your mother stood, rather abruptly, yanking you to your feet as well. “We’re leaving,” was all she said. 

You knew there was no room for argument, but you tried anyway. “But we just sat down-”

“We are leaving.” You didn’t offer any further protests. The house was suffocating right now, and you needed to escape. After putting on your shoes, Irene brought you back outside, Maggie hot on your heels. The tense silence still hung in the air, even as you sat in the carriage, your sister sliding in beside you, your mother across you.

Even as the carriage began to move, heading anywhere but here, no one spoke for a good five minutes. You were the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry,” you began, “he’s usually more… amicable than that.” It wasn’t a complete lie. 

“You don’t need to apologize-”

“You left us for him?” Your sister interjected, not bothering to hide the hurt in her voice.

“Maggie,” your mother warned, but she just shook her head.

“No, I can’t believe it. You left us for him?” Her voice rose in anger. “Here I thought you ran away because you were in love, because you found someone who treated you well. But you ran away from us, from… me, for him? You ran away when I… I needed you. I needed my sister.”

So she also thought you ran away, and was rightfully angry at you for something you didn’t do. “I’m not sure I know what you’re sayin’. I didn’t run away.”

“Don’t lie to me. I found your note.”

“What note?” You were truly bewildered now, looking to your mother for clarification. You hated that she looked upset at you as well. 

“The night you disappeared, you left a note on your bed, detailing why you were leaving. That was the last time we ever heard from you. You don’t remember?”

You felt like you were losing it. “I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about.” You scoffed, “You of all people should know that I didn’t run away.”

Now it was her turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“You think I wanted this? To be stuck with a man that hates everything to do with me, who controls me like I’m just his goddamn toy? In no world would I run away from my family to be with someone like him.”

“Then why did you leave?” Maggie asked, her voice surprisingly soft. 

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Father set up this marriage to save the family from falling into financial ruin. I did this to help us. You know this, mother!”

You didn’t know if you should be relieved or concerned when you saw her shake her head, pure shock on her face. “He did what?” Her words were clipped, upset, but not at you anymore.

“You… you didn’t know? He officiated it and everything!”

She continued to shake her head, leaning back against her seat. “He wouldn’t…”

“But he did. He did it easily.”

Tears had begun to pool in her eyes, and a hand came to cover her mouth. “But why? How?”

So you told them. You told them how your father had woken you early in the morning, barely letting you get dressed before escorting you to the carriage that sat outside. Your belongings had already been packed, but he had not explained anything, not even during the few days of travel south. When you finally reached your destination, you had been whisked away, stuffed into a dress, and sent to the altar, where you met Hans for the first time, and then married. You realized now that the reason it had just been you, Hans, and your father at the wedding was because he wanted to keep the rest of the family in the dark. “I found out later it was done for financial security. We were about to lose everything.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either.”

“No, I mean I don’t understand why.” Her next words made you pale. “We’ve never had financial troubles. At least not severe enough to warrant… this.”

“Maybe he didn’t tell you?” If your father had withheld the details of your marriage, then it was likely he kept the details of the family’s finances from them as well. But maybe you were desperate for the last two years to have any sort of meaning, for it to not all be in vain. 

“He couldn’t have hidden financial troubles from us. Not as well as he hid, well, you.”

“Then what was it all for?” You whispered, your voice on the verge of breaking. “These past two years, what were they for?”

“I wish I could tell you, sweetheart.”

“So I didn’t have to leave? So I could’ve stayed at home, where I was happy, where I would’ve taken over the family business, where my dreams wouldn’t have been put on hold?” You were rambling, but you didn’t care. Tears poured down your cheeks, mourning a life you could’ve had. “I could’ve had that?”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Your sister asked, her hand finding its way to yours. 

“I couldn’t. Mainly because I was under the impression that my marriage was what was keeping you well, and I couldn’t jeopardize that. But I didn’t have the means to leave either. And where would I go?”

“You could’ve come home!”

“I had no idea where you moved to, though. The only reason I was able to write to you was because I had a… friend find your new address. Why did you move, by the way?”

“Father didn’t say, although I’m beginning to suspect it was to keep you from finding us.”

“Why would he do that though? What would require such secrecy?”

“I have no idea.” Those words seemed to be the running theme of this conversation, and you sighed, your cheeks still damp. You had no idea how to process all this new information, anger and betrayal clouding your thoughts.

“You said you had a friend,” your mother began. She was trying to distract you, which you were grateful for, but thinking of Arthur just made your heart heavier. “Who’s she?”

“Well, he…” your mother and sister shared looks, “he’s kind. He’s helped me a lot over the past months. But… But I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Do we know him?”

“How often do you read the newspaper?” You joked, with no humor in your voice. 

“Every Sunday. Why?” Maggie asked, hesitantly. 

“You’ll know him then. His name’s-”

Shouting from the carriage driver announcing you’d arrived in Saint Denis cut you off. It felt like no time had passed, and you weren’t expecting to be in the city already. The rest of your family seemed to be feeling the same way, a sense of wariness shared between the three of you. 

“Come. Let us forget about this, if just for a moment,” your mother wiped at her face, forcing a smile on her face. “Terrible revelations aside, I wish to spend the afternoon with my daughters.” She got out of the carriage first, a gentleman escorting her out. Maggie was next, and you took a moment to compose yourself before stepping out. 

The sound of the city hit you first, shouting and bells and whistles assaulting your ears. The stench was next, and your sister had a poorly hidden expression of disgust. “You’ll get used to it,” you whispered to her, remembering that she’d never been to Saint Denis. Glancing around, you saw that you were near the outskirts of the city, close to where Bronte lived.

Your mother extended an arm to each of you, and you both linked your arms with hers, walking beside her as she led you further into the city. You tried to distract yourself with the colorful imagery around you, yet your mind kept wandering to the words that had been spoken in the carriage.

You truly had no idea why your father would marry you off. You were his eldest daughter, set to be the heir of his business, his pride and joy second to his children. Your entire life, that is what you were led to believe would happen, and he seemed to believe it too. Why would he disrupt everything by sending you away? 

So caught up in your thoughts, you failed to notice the different atmosphere the city held today. It was lively, sure, but it seemed almost on edge. No one greeted you as you passed, even if they recognized you, and people seemed to be almost somber. 

“You’d think someone just died,” you heard Maggie mutter, pulling you from your mind. 

She hadn’t been quiet, though, and the couple walking in front of you shot her each a dirty look. “That’s because someone has, girl.”

Her eyes widened. “My apologies,” she stammered, embarrassed. “Who?”

“Angelo Bronte.” Your responding gasp didn’t deter them. “They found his body in the swamp, eaten by gators. Maybe read the paper before spewing such ignorant things.” 

Your mother and Maggie weren’t affected by their words, their attention was immediately on you and your reaction. “Did you know him?” Your sister asked, and you nodded.

“Not personally, but I’ve been to plenty of his parties. He was a prominent figure here, a rich one at that. He practically runs… ran this city.” You lowered your voice so only they could hear, “I’d say he got what was comin’ for him, though.”

“That bad?”

“That bad.” You sighed. “But let’s just hope the city doesn’t collapse without him.”

Your mother turned down a street, not having joined in on the conversation yet, but she was paying attention. You and Maggie continued to chat lightly, and for a moment you’d managed to successfully forget the worries in your mind. That was until you passed a wooden board, something you didn’t pay attention to until a familiar sketch caught your eye. 

You suddenly stopped, much to the confusion of your sister and mother. But you didn’t hear their concerned questions; the only thing you could focus on was the bounty poster in front of you, which contained a sketch of someone you now saw to be Arthur. His features were almost shaper, the artist making him look as intimidating as possible. He was depicted like he’d been described in the papers, a bloodthirsty bank robber, a ruthless vagrant, pure evil in the public eye. 

Yet even this depiction could not lessen the love you felt for him. 

“Sweetheart, what is it?” You finally heard your mother, who was shaking your arm gently.

“I… I know him.” You shook your head. “Sorry, it’s nothin’.”

“Arthur?” It was incredibly strange hearing his name from your mother’s mouth. Recognition flashed across her face, most likely having read about him in the paper. “Did he hurt you?”

“What? No! Never!” You rushed to say. “He’s my… friend that I was takin’ about.” You were certainly more than that, but you were not about to explain that to your mother.

That surprised her, and she didn’t have any words. Maggie stepped in for her. “The outlaw with the five-thousand-dollar bounty is your friend?” She was in just as much disbelief as your mother, and you shushed her. 

“Just tell the whole damn city while you’re at it,” you hissed. “Yes, he is my friend. Yes, I know it’s ridiculous. No, I will not go into further detail.” You spared one last glance at the poster before continuing down the road, dragging your family along beside you. Seeing him, even as just a sketch, made your heart ache. Maybe Arthur had hurt you, just not in the way you thought. 

You hoped your mother didn’t see the way you reacted when you saw him, an expression you’re sure that filled his longing. An expression that wouldn’t be appropriate for “just a friend”. You hoped your sister hadn’t seen the tears that had sprung to your eyes as you read Wanted: Dead or Alive sprawled across the top.

They both didn’t question you about it, even though you knew they were dying to. They left you in silence, letting you process your emotions, which you were grateful for. If they made you talk about him, you were certain you’d burst into barely contained tears. 

Your mother let you lead the way for a few more minutes, but she eventually took the reins again, steering you and a very curious Maggie to a tailor. She ushered your sister inside first but halted you when you tried to follow. Any protest died in your throat when you saw the adamant expression on her face, and so you let her take you by the arm to the narrow alleyway adjacent to the building. 

“Talk to me.” Her voice was demanding yet kind.

“Mother-”

“You love him, don’t you? Your ‘friend’.” You cast your gaze to the ground, fighting tears. Were you that easy to read? Hesitantly, you nodded, and she softened. “Sweetheart…”

That broke the dam, a stifled sob leaving you as she pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry,” you managed to get out, and you felt her shake her head.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I love him.”

“That is nothing to be sorry about,” she nearly laughed, pulling you back to look you in the eye.

“But I’m married. I’m… we’ve… it’s not right.”

“Maybe not,” she agreed, “but perhaps it’s what’s best. You’re miserable with Hans, and I can’t blame you. Why your father would ever agree to marry you to him is beyond me…”

“Are you sayin’ I should leave him?”

“Yes,” she responded with no hesitation. “You’ve no reason to be married to him any longer, no? It’s terrifying, but is it not scarier to imagine a life where you’re stuck by Hans’ side for years to come?”

The idea did make you shudder, especially now that you had Arthur. How long would you be able to keep your affair hidden? How long would you be able to pretend like Hans’ very presence didn’t revolt you? You guessed a few more months, tops. “Would he even agree to a divorce?” You whispered.

“I can’t answer that. But when you’re ready to ask,” she took your hands, “I’ll be right there by your side. We all will.”

“And if I don’t ask?” You blurted out. “What if I just… ran?”

“Then you’ll be running for the rest of the time Hans is on this Earth. Although, it seems like you’d have someone beside you who is quite good at not getting caught.” She sighed. “I can’t tell you what would be the best decision. But just know that whatever choice you make, I’ll support you. All I wish is to see you happy.”

You nodded, a new sense of hope growing within, something that had been lacking for a while. “If Arthur returns, I’ll do it.”

“When he returns,” your mother corrected. “Have some faith. If he cares about you nearly as much as you do him, he’ll make his way back to you.”

“He always has…” you muttered under your breath. “When he returns, I’ll do it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She smiled warmly at you after planting a kiss on your damp cheek. “Now, let us join your sister before she comes looking. If you couldn’t tell, she’s not the best at being subtle.”

You laughed, wiping away your tears, letting your mother lead you to the store. “I’ve noticed.” 

The bell chimed as you stepped in, Maggie rushing to your sides as soon as you did. “What took you so long?” She whisper-shouted, making you laugh harder. She was as inconspicuous as a bull in a china shop. “What?”

“I told you.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

By the time the three of you had returned to the carriage, the sun had long since set, the moon washing the world in a cool white light. The vehicle was not only stuffed with you, Maggie, and your mother, but various bags and gowns from a successful shopping trip to the city. Your mother had not been lying when she said the family was not struggling financially, as she had easily paid for your new dresses and other items. Laughter flowed easily from the three of you, your minds fully distracted from the information of the morning. 

That cheery mood lasted the whole ride, up until the driver turned down the familiar road leading to your house. Your smile fell, and you felt your mother grab your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “You won’t have to deal with him for much longer, sweetheart. You’ve got this.”

“Can it be over now?” You practically whined, anxiety bubbling in you. 

“Why can’t you just come home with us?” Maggie asked, having been informed about the conversation you’d had with your mother. 

“I’m not leavin’ without Arthur. Once he comes back, I’m gone.” You weren’t sure if you were convincing them or yourself. 

She didn’t let go of your hand, not until the carriage came to a halt. “It’s been wonderful seeing you both,” you began. “If I’m not gone in the next few weeks, come and get me. Please.”

“Gladly,” your mother responded. “If you and Arthur need a place to stay, to lie low, just know that our, your house is available. With or without your father’s permission.”

“Get some answers from him. And give my regards to everyone else.”

“I love you, sweetheart. Always remember that.” She kissed your cheek. “We’ll see you soon. That’s a promise.”

Hugging Maggie, at least as best you could, you left the carriage before your nerves rooted you in place. With your arms full of items, it took some careful steps, but you eventually made your way up the porch. You watched as the carriage drove away, smiling as brightly as you could at your sister through the window, before letting it fall away completely.

Taking a deep breath, you walked into your home, heading straight to the staircase. Climbing up the stairs with all the stuff was also difficult, cursing under your breath when you kept stepping on the skirts of your new dresses. It took longer than necessary, but you managed to stumble into your room. You’d only taken a single step in until an unseen force hit the back of your head. 

Your vision went black before you made contact with the floor. 

[in-collection]

Le facteur « Loki » by @hito76

Stargate SG-1 (1997-2007) | Sam Carter/Jack O'Neill | 27,950 words | 256 pages

You can see the full typeset HERE.

You can also print it if you want a copy for yourself, I provide printable files below. The book is 11x18cm AKA 4,3"x7,1" & is bound with a coptic stitch. Mine's printed on 80gsm grey recycled paper & 210gsm grey paper for the cover.

DOWNLOAD THE FILES / PRINTING & BINDING GUIDE

This typeset breaks quite a few rules. First, it's a fic in French, and second it's not hosted on AO3, so I had to adapt the cover a little bit as best as I could. I don't intend to make this a habit, but this fic is quite special to me. Without getting too much into because it's very personal, it is one of the fics that introduced me to the world of fandoms, and I just had to typeset it.

What I tried to make is something less based on the text and more based on my memories of my first read-through. Those memories are fairly old and, I'm sure, very skewed by time and by my own feelings about the fic. They evoke mostly nostalgia and wonder at the fic and absurdity and annoyance at how inconvenient it was to read it. I invite you to click to link at the top to take a look at what it still looks like. That's a look people who where on Internet at the time (2007-8) will be quite familiar with: rough, clunky and blocky, full of awkward compositions and bright colors.

I tried to have all of that in the typeset. Surreal beauty, because this fic was nothing short of a miracle for me, mixed with weird clunkiness and inconvenient things, like the absence of folio (page number) which is really annoying but that was very much the way things were. The only clue you had as to where you were in the fic was how deep you were in the webpage. Good luck closing the tab and then finding where you left off lol.

Another example, I quite liked how at the time scene breaks were sometimes written with the pairing's initials - meaning JSJSJSJS. So 2010s.

Of course, there is also the text laid out on the full spread. Inconvenient? Hard to get printed? In bad taste? All of those, but that's kind of the point too. Stupid and beautiful. I hope I captured some of that.

This is also my biggest typeset so far. Nearly 2cm thick! It sure makes for such a satisfying book to hold!

One final note. I am not sure about the word count, actually. I usually take the count provided by AO3, but this time AO3 is not in the equation, and Word is giving me a number different than InDesign's. I went with InDesign's as it seemed more accurate but. Who's to say.

[no-name-publishing]

Tiny Book? Tiny Book. Pt1.

Idk yall I just felt like writing a little how-to of how-I-do my tiny A9 books! So if you've ever been interested, I hope this will be helpful. This will be neither a beginner typesetting nor beginner bookbinding tutorial; as I go through my process I will only be showing my process and providing a few tips, assuming you already have the basics understood. We can worry about the rougher technical skills in another post.

Also keep in mind that this guide includes images of fic I've bound, and you're zooming into these fics at your own discretion. I am not responsible if you read something yucky. I know you have a lot of options out there but thank you for flying No-Name Publishing.

Tiny books part 2; Tiny books part 3

Just like with regular ficbinding, there are layers, and they are:

1 - Typesetting and Imposing 2 - Printing 3 - Cutting, Folding, and Sewing 4 - Gluing, Rounding/Backing, Endbands 5 - Building the Case and casing in 6 - BOOK

In this part we will be focusing on steps 1 and 2. Please feel free to skip to the area you're interested in most.

1 - Typesetting and Imposing

Okay, so this area has some nuances that you don't have to consider so closely with typesetting for more traditionally sized books. To me, these tiny books are not about readability, they are about novelty. As such, I do not prioritize readability. Instead, I try to achieve something that is closer to scale. That said, neither do I want these illegible. But we'll begin from the top.

You want to make a tiny book, but you're wondering, what would be an appropriate word count for a tiny book? Tiny books are the perfect medium for the ficlettes, the shorties, the one-shots. They are also perfect for the mid-sized, 10-15-20k fics, in my opinion. Here we can see,

On the left we have a fic that is exactly 12,771 words, typeset on a 1.5" x 2" (37 × 52 mm) document, with .3" margins, 6pt Garamond font, and 5pt line spacing. This book is only approaching 1/2" (13mm) wide, and only took 5 sheets of Letter paper to print. On the right we have a fic that is exactly 1,939 words, typeset to the same specifications. This book is only 4-5mm wide, and took only 1 sheet of Letter paper.

In my opinion this format of book begins getting unruly around the 300-page mark. However, making any combination of margins, fonts size, and line spacing will yield different page results for different word counts. For example:

Like the above, in each of these examples I typeset in Garamond font @ 6pt size and 5pt line spacing. Typesetting on an A9 page, this is about as small as I felt comfortable sizing my font while still being legible. But notice the rivers between the words--the rivers of white space bisecting the lines, due to the Justified alignment battling the admittedly tiny work surface. At this scale, with the font at this size and alignment, those will be unavoidable. Over time I began disliking this in my own work, so I pursued a different method, which was typesetting on a quarter letter page (4.25" x 5.5" / 108mm x 140mm), and allowing my imposer to scale the PDF down.

Have you ever seen anything sexier. THIS looks like a tiny book. Little to no rivers, still legible (hand-wobble), and preserves the novelty feel that I desire from a tiny book. This method of scaling down (specifically from quarter letter to A9) does change the final shape of the book, from A9 to A9-ish in this case. Specifically, from 1.5"X2" (37 × 52 mm) to 1.625"X2" (41.3mmX52mm). You're achieving something closer to a square shape, which is delightful to hold. All this to say, you have some freedom with word count, with font size, with page size. I've done as many pages as 376 and as few as 17. The fantastic thing about tiny books--their structure will not be load-bearing, meaning--the only thing stopping you are your tastes.

Quickly, some more examples of features in a regularly sized typeset and their tiny counterpart after the imposer has scaled them down. First, scaling half-letter down to A9, a little-over 4X shrinkage:

And from B6 to B9, smaller by 3x:

You notice the compression of every element, and too how entirely unparcable the text in the first example is, sometimes not horrible, sometimes very. Make your decisions dependent on your tastes!

You have decided on the fic you'd like to bind into a tiny book. I will be using my own fic as the typesetting example, and I will be using Word 365 for PC. I'm sure many of my pointers during this process might not apply 1-to-1 if you are using a different word processing software, but hopefully you can adapt the concepts to your program of your choosing.

Kay, next you will do your typesetting. Since this is not a typesetting guide I'm trusting that you have your preferred methods, but I will go through my key steps for setting up a tiny typeset:

First, for every typeset I delete each default Style, create mine own, and dictate the document size. For this example I will be doing my preferred quarter letter method, setting the custom page size to 4.25" wide and 5.5" tall, and .5" page margins all around (except Gutter; leave 0"). On the Multiple pages dropdown I will select Mirror margins (however, as all my margins are the same size, this is redundant, though may not be the case for you). My body text style will be Cardo font @ 11pt size and Exactly 15pt line spacing, with a .2" first line indent and Justified alignment.

You can use whatever body font you like, I only encourage you to do many many test prints to refine your preferences. Your favorite font for half-letter books might not translate to tiny books. After ~30 tiny books I've found I like Cardo at this size and spacing. And if you're using A-paper sizes, consider doing quarter A4 instead of quarter letter, which is technically A6--4.1"X5.8", or 105mmX148mm. Follow your heart~~nyah 🐱♥

Now I will go to my fic and download the HTML file. I hugely prefer copying from the HTML file rather than the browser itself. It kind of standardizes any goofy formatting that might try to make its way over otherwise, while still preserving the italics and bolds, etc, and makes for an easier editing process. It was important I made my body Style in Word first, so that once I paste the text into my document that Style is automatically applied in one fell swoop (if not, you can change that in your Word settings. Advanced -> Cut, copy and paste -> Merge Formatting. It is a huge time saver.)

Now you've gone through your typesetting process, you have a liddle quarter letter Word document that you're happy with. Gets real close to you. Listen to me--listen, you're going to Export as PDF. Not Save As PDF. Not Print to PDF. Export. It's in--listen--it's in File, then Export, then Create PDF/XPS. You need to Export. Especially if you selected Bookfold instead of Mirror margins in your page settings because we need an unimposed PDF in order for this to work right and exporting to PDF is going to solve 99% of your pdf formatting woes with Word. Okay, I love you 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

Now, your EXPORTED pdf should look something like mine. Straight, unimposed.

Now what we're going to do is take this PDF back to my penthouse and freak it. Go to this link for the Renegade Bindery-created and -curated imposition tool. This has been will be is such an incredible FREE asset to you, maintained by a crew of intelligent, skilled Renegade Bindery members who understand the importance of community and accessibility. If you find someone hiding this link behind a paywall of any kind it is not with the creators' permission, so shame on them.

Anyway I will be assuming that you know what imposing your document means. If you've never used this site before, it's very straight forward, and here are my settings for making Tiny Books.

1 - Upload your unimposed exported pdf. 2 - ignore 3 - Select the paper size you will be printing on. This is not the FINAL size of the book, this is what paper you are printing on. These instructions are for Letter sized paper. Don't change any of the other settings right now, I will explain more about the Single-sided vs Duplex option in a bit. 4 - Skip aaalllll the way down to Signature Format. Under Wacky Small Layouts, click on the bubble next to Little. You'll notice there are a lot of options here. I encourage you to play with these settings later on as well, there are so many things you can make with this tool.

Once that's done, scroll down to the very bottom. You'll see the Signature Info area, telling you the results of your imposition. In the case of using the Little option we've selected, 1 sheet of our paper will make 40 book pages. 3-signature-sets of 3/3/4 folio configuration. That's a lot of pages per page.

Anyway for our document today it will cost us 2 sheets of Letter paper, and will make 6 signatures. Math says that's 80 pages. Now, you may be concerned because your typeset PDF is not formatted in a number equally divisible by 40. And why would it be. The imposer is doing that math for you in the background, organizing your pages regardless. In my case, my finished typeset is 62 pages, which means that from my second page, I will only be using my 3 folio segments, and discarding the 4 folio segment. This will make more sense later. Click the Generate button, and save the zipped folder wherever you want. Don't change the name of it.

Unzip that baby, and inside you'll notice 2 files--(filename).pdf_little_packed_backs, and .pdf_little_packed_fronts. Appropriately named as one file contains one side of the sheet that will be printed, and the other file the other side.

And when you open them up, they will look like:

2 - Printing

We are manually duplexing this bad boy, because working at this scale amplifies and compounds every millimeter of difference. Manual duplexing will keep printer skew to a minimum, as the printer will not have to perform gymnastics in order to print on the reverse side of your page. Here are some examples:

Two auto-duplexing examples of skew, one horizontal and one vertical, dependent on which direction my paper was loaded into the feeder. There is significant skew. Not a horrible issue on full-sized books but these will matter much more on our tiny books, the key issue being that we do not have much to work with in the margins department. Trimming 5-6-7mm of margins of your half-letter sized textblocks might not be much of an issue; however, here, in order to remove all the trim lines during the cutting process, you will be significantly impacting the margins of your tiny textblock.

Now here is an example of the skew from manual duplexing:

MUCH subtler. Your skew with manual duplexing will range from this--less than .5mm--to no skew at all, and you will have to cut off far less of each page to remove the trim lines, maintaining the consistency of appearance of your tiny, beautiful pages. This is why during step 3 of the imposing process we selected Single-sided (which is MANUAL duplexing), and not Duplex (which is AUTO duplexing) appropriately. This will result in you either getting two files for manual duplexing, or one auto duplexing file.

Your next consideration when it comes to printing your liddle book will be whether you want to use an inkjet printer or a laser printer. I've until recently only had a laser printer available to me. I can say after about 6 or 7 little books on an inkjet printer that I prefer the laser printing on tiny books. Here is an example of why:

On the left you have a tiny book printed from an inkjet printer printed on the highest quality setting, and on the right is a tiny book printed from a laser printer. These were both printed at the same scaling, same font size, same line spacing, everything. The inkjet printer, printing at this scale, introduces pretty glaring feathering on the letters, whereas the laser printer is crisp as can be. I've said before that to me tiny books are more for novelty rather than readability, however I do still want to make out the word I'm looking at, you know what I mean? For this reason I prefer printing my tiny books from a laser printer. Use what you got though, you'll get a tiny book regardless. Make sure you're flipping on the short edge with these tiny books too, and double check to make sure your page numbers line up. And when you're done you got...

BOOK(-adjacent).

Continue on to part duex.

[mariacallous]

The recent weeks have obliged me to unearth some research I had hoped could stay on the backburner. In 2023, I wrote about the major forms of democratic erosion facing the United States: election subversion and executive aggrandizement. “Even a legitimately elected leader can undermine democracy,” I noted, “if they eliminate governmental ‘checks and balances’ or consolidate power in unaccountable institutions.” In 2022, I suggested that, if weaknesses in the formal institutions of American politics made it difficult to forestall additional assaults on the Constitution, the final backstop of democracy is civil society.

Historically, the United States has been fortunate to have a strong civil society. Many of these institutions have weakened. In this article, I quickly review how some sectors—the media, the academy, business, and mass voluntary organizations—are responding to “the most serious examples of executive branch malfeasance in American history.”

American civil society has essential nodes of power that must be energized in the coming days and for the foreseeable future. Not merely the individuals in these institutions, but the institutions themselves must coordinate to provide a public counterweight to the sharp lurch toward personalist rule. That work is not easy. Any more time lost to disbelief, silence, and acquiescence will make it much harder.

Some major media institutions have been slow off the mark. Major scoops have come from unexpected outlets, including independent journalists and the technology magazine WIRED, which was the first to reveal that Elon Musk’s young staff had the power to alter the $6 trillion Treasury payment system, a fact that Treasury officials had denied. (A federal judge has since blocked access. An earlier ruling had limited access to read-only, a problematic ruling given Musk’s conflicts of interest and the security threats posed by his unvetted and secretive young staff. It is unclear if either order is being followed.)

DC’s hometown paper, the Washington Post, should by rights have the best sources in the federal government, but the interference of the paper’s owner, Jeff Bezos, in the planned endorsement of Kamala Harris, and his prominent place at the Trump inauguration, may well be keeping whistleblowers away. The paper nonetheless has provided some important reporting, including this round-up of Elon Musk’s interference in government operations. The New York Times has buried several excellent, insightful analyses and essays deep in the paper, and adopted tortured euphemisms and vague, small-print headlines that leave their readers uninformed of the gravity of the news.

Academic institutions are largely silent, but that may be changing. Academics have for years been sounding the alarm about America’s democratic erosion, and many continue to provide vital analysis and context. See, for example, these analyses from Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt, Kim Lane Scheppele, and Don Moynihan. But academia has been outspoken as individuals. Institutions have mostly remained silent—though they may be shaken loose from their apathy by the executive orders interfering with billions in congressionally appropriated funds for scientific research.

Coordinated public pronouncements from university leadership, especially from law and medical schools, would assist citizens in understanding the scope of the dangers confronting the country. Top hospital administrators and medical associations that have been quiescent in recent weeks need to make clear the immense public health costs of ill-considered, arbitrary, and unlawful interference with government-funded science. In addition, professional associations have the power to sanction their members, a power they should exercise in defense of the public sphere, as my colleague Quinta Jurecic has argued.

Business concerns are not yet being channeled into political action. Autocratic populist leaders damage the economy; their countries see their GDPs drop due to erratic policymaking, cronyism, and underinvestment in public goods. But, as I wrote last year, business leaders have a tragic history of misjudging these dangers. American business influence, moreover, has grown increasingly ideologically conservative and focused on narrow benefits like tax cuts and regulatory rollbacks.

Since the election, business leaders have truckled to the new administration—a trend many, including President Trump, have suggested is driven by fear of official reprisals. That fear is, of course, one of the common ways in which opposition to populist authoritarian leaders is eliminated.

It may be, however, that business will awake to the massive economic dangers posed by executive overreach. Opaque and unpredictable stoppages of congressionally mandated spending by federal agencies will ramify throughout the economy. An unvetted young individual meddling with the code that underwrites the Treasury payment system is, as one Treasury contractor wrote, an “unprecedented insider threat risk.” (That contractor has since been “removed” by their employer, Booz Allen, a consulting firm heavily reliant on government contracts.)

Mass mobilization is underway, but those efforts will struggle if elites continue to underplay the magnitude of the moment. Congressional offices have been flooded with phone calls. As the volume went from the usual dozens to more than 1,500 calls per minute, the phone system buckled under the strain. Advocacy organizations appear to have been caught flat-footed by the speed of Musk’s incursions. Small protests have occurred at government agencies and congressional offices, with union organizations often playing a key role.

Religious organizations have not yet been prominent in most public protests, but they have an essential role to play. As my colleague Jonathan Rauch has written in a new book, churches must combat the rise of what has been termed Christian nationalism.

More broadly, public opposition to the second Trump administration remains far smaller than it was the last time around, even though recent actions represent a far more aggressive assault on American governance. This is perhaps in part because Trump’s loss of the popular vote in 2016 provided an impetus for organizing before the administration even began. Whether the organizing gap will close is a critical question in the weeks and months to come.

Across all of sectors of civil society, coordination is key. Individual objections do not carry the weight of joint action. It is worth noting that censorship in authoritarian China does not focus on “negative, even vitriolic, criticism of the state,” it silences “comments that represent, reinforce, or spur social mobilization.” Resistance to authoritarianism, like democracy itself, is a collective endeavor.

[fayewoodss]

"Pothole Puddles"

pen and quilled paper, 8x8 inches

In 2019, my university's library was getting rid of a lot of old books. I had a major crush on the boy working at the desk, and he would always tell me first when they planned to clean out their shelves, so I'd get to be one of the first to sort through it all. I have so many old art books, nature books, and an unimaginable collection of The New Yorker magazines, both for reading and tearing apart.

Anyway, I found this old book full of these gorgeous wood relief prints. Though it isn't the style of printmaking I do, as both a printmaker and collage artist, I was drawn the multi-media usage I could get from this specific book. Recently I wove two separate pages together to create a new page with plans to print on top of it, but human error in cutting the strips led to several of them not fitting in the weave. So, I quilled them instead and let the spirals guide me into something new.

I really love the paper from this book. It's thick and satiny to the touch. It's a beautiful cream color, with compliments the thick black of the prints and give them an important and heavy weight that a stark white wouldn't provide to the same effect. Quilled up and glued to a white page, the cream and the black make an exceptional illusion as color and shadow bounce and reflect off the white of the page. It creates a lot of implied gray on the otherwise black and white prints, which paired with the circular spirals reminded me of rain, puddles, and potholes in asphalt.

[belabellissima]

Hello everyone!!! I really wasn't expecting to create anything for @officialfeysandweek this year but I am so happy I just managed to fit something in! Behold my Day 7 - AU submission, lovingly called the GetFlocked!AU in my heart.

Pairing: Feysand

Warnings: none at the moment but subject to change

Summary: Rhys finally looked at the door, coming face to face with a paper flyer taped to the glass. There was a hot pink cartoon flamingo wearing black sunglasses on it, with the words “GET FLOCKED” curled over the top in rainbow block lettering. Beneath the flamingo, it read “Contact Feyre at the number below for information. All proceeds to help the Starry Night Children’s Art Center.” Below even that, the bottom of the paper was divided into a row of tear-away tabs with a phone number printed on each.

Or: Rhys finds a new way to mess with Tamlin and flirt with Feyre at the same time

Read on AO3 or below:

The sun was hot on his head when Rhys stepped out of his car, immediately chasing away the comforting chill his air conditioner had kept him in for his drive. The brightness would have been blinding if not for his sunglasses, but Rhys still held up a hand to block it as he jogged around to the curb and stepped up, clicking the lock button on his fob even though the car automatically locked when he stepped more than a foot away.

Mor was already inside the coffee shop. Rhys could see her through the floor to ceiling window, perched on her stool and flirting with the girl wiping down tables. He was so focused on watching her for anything he could tease her with later that he didn’t expect to walk into the right side of the double doors, not realizing the employees had kept one side of them locked.

Startled, Rhys finally looked at the door, coming face to face with a paper flyer taped to the glass. There was a hot pink cartoon flamingo wearing black sunglasses on it, with the words “GET FLOCKED” curled over the top in rainbow block lettering. Beneath the flamingo, it read “Contact Feyre at the number below for information. All proceeds to help the Starry Night Children’s Art Center.” Below even that, the bottom of the paper was divided into a row of tear-away tabs with a phone number printed on each.

Rhys had never heard of the center, which coming from him, meant he was slipping. His family had been funding the arts for decades in their city, their name well known from how often it was stamped across galleries and performance halls and rec centers. His father had always wanted more of the name recognition of high class arts, but his mother hadn’t come from money. She’d grown up having nearly no access to the arts other than in community centers and whatever her school could provide, which had helped her apply for and receive a scholarship to a fashion institute. She’d instilled in Rhys and his sister an appreciation for such small community centers, who both knew what it meant to her to give back to the very thing that had given so much to her.

Even now, years after the accident that had taken them all from Rhys, he kept up with his knowledge, carrying out her legacy in the only way he knew would matter to her should she have been there to see it.

Rhys searched the name of the center on his phone with one hand, the other still clinging to the door handle for several seconds until he realized his stall out. The result pulled up an address, and when Rhys clicked on it, the map showed it to be a mere minutes walk away, in the same exact shopping center he stood in. Rhys spun, his plans with Mor forgotten, as he scanned the strip plaza. He spotted it almost immediately, not 300 feet away, charming and cozy between a beauty supply store and an optometrist office. He could even see the bright paint on the walls inside, a cheery assortment of bright yellow and vivid blues compared to the more bland eggshell interior of its neighbors.

Rhys tore the little slip with the phone number off the flyer and walked over with only a quick glance at Mor, who was still all too happily flirting and hadn’t even noticed his arrival yet.

As he approached the art center, he could see a balloon arch as well, with a cheap banner reading “Grand Opening” secured to the wall. On another, a TV was playing advertisements. Inside, a woman in jeans, a tie-dye purple and blue t-shirt, and black half-apron was crouched next to a child, facing away from the door so that only her golden brown hair - put up in a bun and secured with an apparently used paintbrush - was visible to him.

Rhys slipped inside, breathing in deep the chemical smell of wall paint mixed with acrylic, the two just different enough he could distinguish between them. There was a stack of flyers on the front desk, and Rhys spotted the same flamingo with sunglasses. As he meandered closer to see if it was the same, the woman stood and turned to Rhys. When he met her stunningly blue eyes, it was like time itself stopped, holding him hostage until she released him.

She was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. Her clothes were splattered with dry paint, and bits of it clung to the underside of her nails. A few wisps of hair freed from her bun framed her face perfectly in combo with her bangs. Freckles dotted her face like constellations, and Rhys had to crush the urge to reach out and trace the designs.

Feyre, read the little name tag pinned to her shirt.

“There you are,” he said, the words slipping from his tongue before he could pull them back. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Feyre faltered, puzzlement furrowing her brows. Rhys handed her the little slip with her phone number he’d pulled from the flyer on the coffee shop and passed it over, hoping it would cover his slip up. Feyre’s face cleared and she smiled at him.

“You saw the flyer.”

Rhys blinked a few times and bit the inside of his lip. Even her voice was beautiful. “Yeah, but I’m not sure I know what getting ‘flocked’ means.”

“It’s pretty simple. I’ll show you.” Feyre led him further into the center, slipping around to the other side of the front desk and bending down out of sight for a moment to retrieve something. When she appeared again, she held a plastic lawn flamingo in her hands. “Getting ‘flocked’ means that someone paid us to drive to your house before dawn and stick a bunch of these things into your front lawn. Or, if you live in an apartment or walkup, three to five of them at your door. We leave them there for a week, then come pick them up to reuse on the next ‘flocking.’”

Rhys couldn’t stop the smile that overtook his face. He could already see his friends’ reactions to getting their places flocked. Mor and Cassian would be shocked at first, but find it hilarious and delightful quickly. Azriel wouldn’t give any physical reaction, but he would absolutely be loving the chaos of it. And Amren… Amren was just fun to mess with. She was old money like Rhys and Mor, but where Rhys and Mor at least had each other and their respective siblings growing up, Amren had been the only child and heir to a fortune that had passed to her early enough she never had the chance for even pretending at a normal life. She would look out at a flock covering her yard and immediately contemplate homicide, most likely.

It would absolutely be worth it.

“Do you tell them who paid for it to happen?”

Feyre shook her head. “You can write a message to the recipient if you want, but if not, it’s anonymous.”

Rhys thought next of people other than his family and friends. Could he Flock the other art centers he supported? The auditoriums and performance halls? Probably not. Security was good at those and he wasn’t willing to risk Feyre or whoever did placements getting in trouble over a practical joke.

Behind Feyre, the television finally stopped its run of ads, melting back into a formatted-for-tv movie. It took him a second to recognize the actor on the screen, but once he did, he couldn’t let the idea go.

There Tamlin was, his blond hair slicked back, fake leather jacket stained, and garish tattoos showing through a strategic rip in his shirt. He was fighting with glowing daggers, trying to protect some redhead girl behind him.

Rhys had forgotten about his old friend. Mostly on purpose after their fallout, in the wake of his family’s deaths when Tamlin had been more concerned with what Rhys’ name could get him than that Rhys was grieving his life upending. Rhys had gotten him the audition that led to him being cast in the movie, and when it ended up bombing at the box office several months after the accident, it cemented Tamlin as a mediocre and bland B-grade actor. Tamlin had accused Rhys of sabotaging his career, and then that was it. A decade long friendship gone.

He imagined how Tamlin might react to getting flocked and the grin on his face grew.

“How much is it?”

“We set it at a dollar per bird.”

“Wonderful. Is there a limit?”

Feyre’s mouth parted like she didn’t know how to answer that. “Um, well. We only have about fifty of these in stock, so I guess fifty. They’re not exactly cheap so even buying in bulk we had to limit.”

“If I buy you a larger stock, will you place around two hundred of them?”

Her eyes widened. “I suppose? But we wouldn’t be able to do it immediately. They would need time to arrive at our store first.”

“That’s absolutely fine,” Rhys assured her. “In the meantime, can I flock some other people a more reasonable amount?”

“Of course.” Her voice was faint as she spoke, and it didn’t get any stronger as he filled out the forms and paid for his purchase.

“If that last one catches you, don’t be afraid to tell her it was me that paid you. The others will probably guess. Can you also text me some photos of it when it’s done?”

“I would need your number,” she said numbly.

“If you insist,” Rhys purred, handing her his phone and enjoying the way the tips of her ears went a little pink as she took it from him and sent herself a text. He saved her number to his contacts, putting the ring emoji into the company line on a whim. He didn’t want to think too closely about that, not when she was still watching him like she couldn’t believe he was real.

“Thank you for your support, sir.”

“Rhys, please. It’s only fair given I knew your name before I even walked in here.”

“Rhys, then. I- look I wasn’t really expecting anyone to do this, and it honestly means so much to me. Thank you, truly.”

“No thanks are necessary,” he said. “I think what this place could become is worth supporting.”

This time, her cheeks turned pink.

Rhys rapped his knuckles on the counter once. “Well, I better get going. My cousin is probably wondering why im late to coffee by now. Don’t forget to send me those pictures, yeah?”

Feyre nodded once, lifting her hand in a slight wave as Rhys backed away. He left with a spring in his step, turning back only once to see Feyre had moved back to the child and was once again helping them with their painting.

He was grinning when he made it back to the coffee shop, and when he slipped into the open seat across the table from Mor, she raised an intrigued eyebrow.

“You look happy,” she commented, contented to see it after so long seeing him still caught in the worst of his grief. “What’s got you smiling?”

“I think,” he started to say, mulling over the words, tasting them on his tongue before setting them free, “that I just met the woman I’m going to marry one day.”