#applewood: fall

[vidcundgoth]

[covrettcreative]

Applewood Autumn

Seen in Flint, Michigan.

[mandyraine]

Author interview with cozy romance and mystery author, Iris Applewood

Iris Applewood's debut novel is about a woman who discovers that when she kisses people under the mistletoe, she can see their lost loves.

Iris Applewood is a cozy romance and mystery author crafting worlds of wonder from her home in Southern Indiana. She loves blending the boundaries between the mundane and the magical. In her free time, Iris enjoys experimenting in the kitchen, creating dishes and perfumes that feel like potions. When she’s not mixing spices or spinning stories, she treasures her sleep, where she often dreams up…

[sizzlingstarlightsky]

*For The Land

Kinktober 2024: Exhibitionism

Eris x Reader

word count: ~2.5k

cw: public throne sex and fingering, Eris giving words of affirmation, everyone finishes

The autumn equinox was a time of balance and beauty, when the warm embrace of summer gave way to the crisp whisper of fall. It was the perfect setting for a tradition as ancient as the lands themselves.

The castle walls echoed with the anticipation of the gathered fae, their vibrant wings fluttering in excitement.

High Lord Eris stood tall and proud at the center of the grand hall. His mate, you, High Lady Y/N, was a vision of grace, your eyes sparkling with the promise of the season.

The air grew thick with the scent of harvest spices, a heady mix of applewood, cinnamon, and cloves, as the fae of all courts looked on. The thrones, ancient and powerful, had seen countless rulers come and go, but none quite like you and Eris.

Your hands trembled slightly as you took your place beside Eris. You knew the solstice tradition was sacred, a bond between the rulers and their land, but the thought of your union being displayed, that was something else.

Eris felt your apprehension, his hand warm and reassuring as it squeezed yours.

He leaned in, whispering words of love and encouragement that only you could hear, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

Your eyes met, and in that moment, the world outside the throne room ceased to exist. Eris' gaze was filled with a fiery passion that set your heart ablaze.

He took your hand and gently guided you up the steps to the throne, the weight of your shared duty heavy upon them. The fae below watched in awe as they approached, their whispers of anticipation hushed by the gravity of the moment.

"You are a goddess," Eris murmured, his voice low and filled with reverence. "Your beauty is a harvest unto itself, ripe and ready for the plucking."

His words were like a warm embrace, wrapping around your insecurities and filling you with a newfound confidence. His eyes roamed over you, drinking in every inch of your body as if you were the most precious nectar.

"Tonight, we will show them what true power looks like."

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, but you straightened your back, your gaze never leaving Eris's.

"And what is that?" You asked, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest.

Eris smirked, his eyes darkening with a predatory glint.

"Let me show you."

With grace he lifted you onto the throne, your legs straddling his waist. The warmth of his skin against yours sent a jolt through your body.

You gasped as he claimed your mouth in a fiery kiss.

The crowd below them seemed to melt away as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, sending shivers down your spine.

His hand traveled to the neckline of your gown, his fingers deftly unlacing it to expose the soft mounds of your breasts. The cool air of the throne room washed over you, making your nipples tighten in response.

Your eyes never left Eris's as he lowered his head to claim one peak, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh.

A soft moan escaped you, and you felt his arousal pressing against you.

His hand slid down your waist to the folds of your skirt, lifting it to expose the apex of your thighs. His fingers danced along your skin, teasing and promising, until they reached the heat between your legs. He stroked you lightly, making your hips rock against his touch.

The fae watched, their eyes gleaming with a mix of awe and hunger.

Your breath hitched as Eris's thumb found your clit, circling it with a masterful pressure.

His mouth left your breast to kiss a trail up your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave a mark. You could feel the energy of the room, the very essence of the land, waiting for their blessing.

The High Lord's hand slid lower, slipping into the warm wetness of your core. His fingers curled inside you, and you bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Eris's eyes never left yours, his pupils dilating with desire as he felt you tighten around him. His free hand gripped the back of the throne, his knuckles white with restraint.

The crowd below them had grown silent, the only sound the soft sighs and gasps of their mating.

As Eris's fingers worked their magic, your hands found his shoulders, nails digging in slightly.

You could feel the beginnings of a powerful climax building within, your body responding to his skilled touch.

He knew just how to push you to the edge, then pull back, drawing out the pleasure until you were panting with need.

The fae below watched in silence, their own desires kindling as they observed the intimate display.

The room was a sea of fluttering wings and bated breaths. It was not merely a sexual act; it was a ritual, a sacred bond between the rulers and the land they served.

Eris's thumb continued its relentless rhythm, and you felt the coil of pleasure tighten within. You were aware of the eyes upon you, but Eris's touch was all that truly mattered.

He leaned into you, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered sweet, dirty nothings that made you tremble with need. Your body was his instrument, and he played it with the finesse of a maestro.

"Look at me," he murmured, his voice a dark velvet.

"You're so beautiful, so wet for me. You're going to come for our people, aren't you?" His words were a caress.

Your cheeks flushed a deeper crimson, but you met his gaze, your own eyes dark with passion.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice a soft whimper of surrender. "I'll come for you, for them."

Eris's smirk grew wider, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

"I want to hear you scream my name, my love," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise.

"Let them feel your pleasure, let it flood the room and fill the lands with fertility." His words were a heady mix of love and lust, a potent elixir that had your insides quivering.

Your hips bucked against his hand, the friction building. You could feel the eyes of the fae on you, their silent urging a palpable force.

Yet, it was Eris's gaze that held her captive, his golden eyes burning with a love so intense it threatened to consume her.

"Yes," she moaned, her voice a shuddering whisper. "I'm going to come for you, Eris."

His fingers worked faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, as if eager to coax you over the edge.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice a dark command.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the climax approaching.

"I'm going to come," you moaned, your voice a sweet symphony of need. "I'm going to come for you, for the lands."

"That's it," Eris growled, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate through your very core.

"Let go, let them see what you do to me, how much you want me." His words were a gentle push, sending you spiraling over the precipice of pleasure.

Your eyes snapped open, and you cried out his name, the sound echoing off the walls of the throne room.

The fae below let out a collective gasp, their own desires stoked by the raw, unfiltered passion on display.

Your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsing against Eris's hand. The room swam before your eyes, a kaleidoscope of color and sensation.

The High Lord's eyes never left yours, even as you rode the waves of your climax. His hand slowed, his touch tender as you came down from your peak. His thumb traced lazy circles around your clit, drawing out the last remnants of your pleasure, leaving you a boneless mess in his arms.

The fae below erupted into a cacophony of applause and cheers, their energy surging with the power of your shared ecstasy.

With a wicked grin, Eris stood, his cock straining against his breeches.

He reached down, freeing himself from the confines of his clothing, revealing his length to the eager gazes of the crowd.

He was as much a god in their eyes as you were a goddess, and the sight of him, so proud and aroused, only served to heighten the tension in the room.

You slid off the throne, your legs wobbly from the intensity of your release. Allowing yourself a moment to compose, your eyes never leaving Eris's as you did so.

The High Lord offered his hand, helping you to stand before he turned you to face the crowd. His hands found your hips, guiding you onto him in a smooth, fluid motion that had the fae gasping.

You felt him fill you, stretching you, claiming you in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, your skirts pooling around you. Eris's hands held you in place as you began to move, rocking against him with a newfound confidence. Each stroke sent a bolt of pleasure through you, and you could feel his own growing desire as he thrust up to meet you.

As the rhythm grew more frenzied, so did the flames that had started to flicker around the base of the throne. They grew taller, brighter, their warmth caressing your skin like a living, breathing entity. The fae below watched in amazement.

The heat from the flames seemed to intensify Eris's touch, his skin burning hotter with each stroke.

You could feel the power of the fire resonating with the power of your own climax. It was as if the very essence of the season was joining, fueling the union.

Your moans grew louder, mixing with Eris's grunts of pleasure.

The eyes of the fae were on you both, watching your every move with a hunger. The sight of their High Lord and Lady, locked in such an intimate and primal embrace, was a potent aphrodisiac.

They were not just observers; they were participants in this sacred rite, their lust a living tapestry that surrounded the throne.

You were acutely aware of their gazes, a thrilling mix of both fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins.

Yet, it was Eris's eyes that truly claimed you. You could feel his cock pulsing within you, each stroke a declaration of his dominance and love.

"Look at them," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

"They want us. They need us." His word a dark seduction. "Show them how it's done, my love. Ride me like you own me."

Your eyes widened, but you complied, your hips rolling in a sensual dance that had Eris' eyes glazing over with desire.

"You like that, don't you?" You taunted, your voice a siren's song that sent shivers down his spine. "You like watching me take you, watching me control the fire that burns in your veins."

Eris groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you deeper.

"Yes," he hissed, his voice a feral snarl. "You own me, my queen. Your body is my sanctuary, your pleasure, my command." His words were a declaration of war, a battle cry that sent a shiver of excitement through you.

The gasps from the fae grew louder, their eyes glued to the erotic dance unfolding before them.

Each thrust, each moan, each caress was a silent promise of fertility and abundance for the lands. The flames grew higher, licking at their skin, painting the room in a warm, fiery glow.

You leaned back, your hands on Eris's broad shoulders, your breasts bouncing in rhythm.

"You're so wet for me," Eris murmured, "You're so perfect, so tight, so...mine."

You reveled in his praise.

Your hips moved in a silent symphony, each thrust a declaration of his worship.

"You're so beautiful, riding me like this," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her clit in time with their rhythm. "Every inch of you is perfection."

His eyes roamed over you, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, your heaving breasts, and the way you moved on him with such passion.

"Your pussy is so good," he groaned, his voice raw with desire. "So warm, so welcoming. It's like coming home."

You moaned at his praise. You could feel yourself growing wetter, the slickness making your movements smoother, more urgent.

"Tell me more," you begged. "Make me feel like a goddess."

Eris's smile was wicked, his eyes alight with a dark pleasure.

"You're going to make me come, my love," he growled. "You're going to make me spill my seed, fill you with the promise of our land's prosperity."

Your eyes widened with each word, breath hitching as he continued to praise you, to claim you with his voice as surely as he did with his body.

"Your pussy is a treasure trove," he said, his hips bucking upward to meet your downward strokes. "A sweet, wet heaven that I'll never tire of claiming."

His hands moved to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples.

"These perfect peaks," he murmured, "they're like the tips of the mountains that watch over us, begging to be worshipped."

The fae below watched, their own desires reaching a fever pitch. As Eris's hands played your body like a finely tuned instrument, you could feel the climax building once more.

With a final, powerful thrust, Eris reached his peak, roaring out his release as he filled you completely. Your walls tightened around him, milking every drop as you, too, shattered into a million pieces. The flames around the throne grew even higher still.

The fae erupted into a frenzy of pleasure, their own orgasms a wave that crashed through the room.

The sound of their collective climaxes was deafening, a cacophony of moans and gasps.

Every creature felt the touch of their rulers' passion, a reminder of the deep bond between the High Lord and Lady and the very earth they protected.

As the flames around the throne subsided, Eris leaned in to kiss your forehead. The fae below watched as the High Lord cradled his mate, his touch tender as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

With the annual union complete, Eris helped you down from the throne. The fae below had fallen to their knees, the power of the ritual lingering in the air.

Together, you descended the steps, your bodies still slick with sweat and desire.

The room was silent. Each fae they passed offered a nod of respect, their eyes filled with a newfound reverence for their High Lady.

Comment if you want to be added to a Taglist

💙 Azriel ❤️‍🔥Eris ✨️General ⚠️Kinktober

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[chvoswxtch]

i got you

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank tells you the truth about how he lost his wife, and drops a heart-wrenching bombshell along with it.

warnings: swearing, angst, lots of grief, mentions of blood, death, and gun violence

word count: 4.8k

a/n: the jokes about billy and frank came from @thyme-in-a-bubble & I wondering what a sleepover would look like with them and I hope that's enough comedic relief for how heavy this one is. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Delicate kisses of warmth caressed the tops of your cheeks when peaceful rays of sunlight began to peak through the open curtains. Stirring lightly, your hand subconsciously reached out in search of the man that had been occupying your dreams for several months now. But when your fingertips found absent sheets that were cool to the touch instead, your eyes finally began to flutter open, and you soon realized that you were in a large cozy bed alone. Sitting up slowly and holding the soft sheets to your bare chest, your fuzzy brain tried to piece together your surroundings while you let out a quiet yawn, but the only thing you could focus on is what was missing.

Frank.

Rubbing the remnants of sleep out of your eyes gently with the heels of your hands, it finally dawned on you that you were in the master bedroom of the cabin. You remembered falling asleep on Frank’s chest next to the fireplace, and the thought that he must have carried you to bed caused a giddy school girl grin to stretch over your lips and indent into your cheeks. For a moment you just fell back against the plush pillows, letting out a content sigh and stretching out your limbs with a soft hum, relishing in the afterglow that carried over from last night. There was a slight ache between your thighs, and as you traced your own lips with your fingertips tenderly, you could still feel them buzzing from colliding with Frank’s own repeatedly last night. 

For a moment, you wondered if you were still dreaming. You had never felt such raw  exquisite happiness like this before that it truly didn’t feel real. How else could you explain it? Here you were, in an isolated cabin with no one around for miles, alone with Frank, waking up naked in his bed after a fireplace confession and the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. If you didn’t factor in all the hell you went through to get to this exact moment, it would’ve felt too good to be true.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee and applewood smoked bacon swiftly pulled you out of your own head, and there was only one thing you wanted right now more than coffee and breakfast.

Frank.

Slipping a shirt over your head, you were making your way down the hall when something caught your eye. It must not have captured your attention yesterday, but there was another door in the hallway, and it was faintly cracked open. Out of pure curiosity, you gently pushed the door open just a smidge, causing the hinges to creak quietly. The sight you were met with caused thick confusion to weave between your brows. Against the wall to the right was a set of wooden bunk beds, complete with a ladder leading from the floor to the top. There wasn’t anything else in the room except for two sets of small wooden dressers, with four drawers each, spaced out against the left wall. 

The bunk beds were made neatly, almost as if they had never been touched. The bottom bed had a navy blue comforter covering it with a hunter green pillow, while the top one had a violet purple comforter and a rose pink pillow. But as you glanced around the room, you noticed there was nothing else in it. No other furniture, no decor of any kind, nothing. 

Why would Frank have bunk beds? The first explanation that popped into your head was perhaps Billy joined Frank at the cabin from time to time, and then that unleashed the image of Frank and Billy having a slumber party in the bunk beds, and then you were uncontrollably giggling to yourself while continuing your path down the hallway towards the kitchen.

As soon as you turned the corner, your breath caught in your throat. Frank was standing in front of the stove, without a shirt, wearing a loose pair of grey sweatpants on his hips that made it very clear he was wearing nothing underneath them. The sight of his muscular back momentarily distracted you from the fact that he was cooking bacon without a shirt on, which further cemented your belief that he may actually be a masochist. But then you caught sight of the tousled dark curls spilling from the top of his head, and you couldn’t help but smile. You had never seen Frank’s hair quite this long, and you wondered how much curlier it got when he actually let it go.

By this point you were practically salivating, but it wasn’t the freshly brewed coffee or the scent of bacon and pancakes that had you ravenous all of a sudden. While you silently observed him from where you stood in the entryway, you noticed there were faint pink lines along his tan skin, cascading down his shoulder blade. Heat quickly flushed into your cheeks when you realized that those lines were from your nails. You hadn’t had a chance to look in the mirror yet, but you were abruptly curious if Frank had left any marks of his own on your skin. God, you hoped he had.

The flex of his bicep caught your eye when he lifted his coffee mug up to his mouth to take a sip, and you couldn’t stand there silently anymore. Trying to clear the lust that had clouded your brain, you were brought back to your former curiosity about the bunk beds, and a faint smirk curled at the edge of your lips as you stepped further into the kitchen.

“So between you and Billy, who’s the top and who’s the bottom?”

Frank immediately started sputtering, nearly dropping the ceramic mug in his large hand onto the floor as he quickly spun around to look at you. His thick brows were bunched up in the center of his forehead, but his warm brown eyes were widened in bewilderment, and he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand after his coughing fit settled down.

“Do what, now?”

You couldn’t help but bust out laughing at Frank’s hilarious reaction. Walking towards the cabinets, you opened a few of them until you found the mugs and glasses. As you grabbed a tall glass, you looked at Frank over your shoulder with a teasing smirk and arched one of your brows.

“The bunk beds?”

Turning your attention back to the task at hand, you poured some of the freshly brewed coffee into the glass, adding some flavored creamer and milk along with a couple ice cubes. It wasn’t the “iced” coffee you were used to, but it would suffice for this morning.

“I’m assuming you take the bottom. Something tells me Billy would probably be worried about the top bunk collapsing under your weight and ruining his pretty face.”

With your back still turned to Frank, you couldn’t see the way his expression was shifting, and he hadn’t replied to your teasing. Assuming he was probably looking at you with his usual expression of pure exasperation that always covered his sharp features when you annoyed the shit out of him with your antics, you giggled quietly to yourself and kept pushing.

“So, do you guys braid each other’s hair before, or after the face masks?”

A few moments of silence stretched on before you rolled your eyes, turning around finally to face Frank with a grin, prepared to laugh at whatever face he was giving you at the moment in response to your teasing. But the second you saw his face, your smile instantly dropped, and a pit of dread opened up in your stomach.

Frank wasn’t annoyed. He didn’t look angry either. He looked…crestfallen. His brown eyes were softened somewhat, but shining with sorrow. His lips were pressed in a line, but it wasn’t harsh, and it made him look like he was struggling to hold something back. His broad shoulders had visibly deflated, and there was a clear lump in his throat that he forcefully swallowed down. Solemnly turning to the side, he reached out and slowly turned two of the knobs on the stove all the way to the left to shut the burners off.

For a second he just stood there, his gaze locked on the floor, and you watched as he quickly clenched and unclenched his jaw. Whatever you said wrong struck a nerve within him, even harder than you had in the motel when you touched the scar on his temple and questioned its origin. Panic flared within your bloodstream the longer he avoided your gaze and stayed silent, and you desperately wished you knew what you had said wrong so that you could take it back, or at the very least apologize for it.

“They uh…they were for…”

He couldn’t meet your eyes. Frank’s voice was the softest you had ever heard it, and the internal conflict he was wrestling with was painted clearly across his face. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let out a heavy and deep exhale through his large nose, and then lifted his head to look in your direction after what felt like an eternity. The expression in his eyes was muddled. There were strong notes of grief, swirls of melancholy, but there also appeared to be faint traces of something that almost looked…apologetic?

“They were for my kids.”

Every molecule of oxygen was harshly forced out of your lungs with that one sentence. The immediate shock of it shielded your heart from the initial blow, and you blinked in complete dumbfoundment while staring across the kitchen at Frank. Your investigative brain swiftly kicked into overdrive as you tried to make sense of those words. 

They were for my kids.

Frank didn’t have kids. He lived alone in a one bedroom apartment. He had only left your side twice in the past six months. You never heard him talking to anyone on the phone except for Billy or Dinah. And since his wife had passed, that would mean if he did have kids, he would have sole custody of them. If there was one thing you knew about Frank, it was that he was fiercely loyal, and even more relentlessly protective. If he had kids, there was absolutely no way in hell anyone could keep them away from him. A puzzled set of lines creased along your forehead while you stared back at him.

“Wait…that doesn’t…that doesn’t make any sense. You don’t have any kids, Frank. I mean, if you did…they…they would…they would be here, they would be with you. You wouldn’t let someone else-”

The heartbroken look on Frank’s face quickly cut off your rambling of denial. At that moment, you seemed to finally notice that his soft brown eyes were glimmering in the natural light filtering into the kitchen. But it wasn’t the sunlight causing the sheen. There were thick tears welling up in Frank’s eyes.

The band-aid that the initial shock provided was abruptly ripped off by that sight, and a desolate bolt of lightning struck right through your heart, cracking it in half like an unsuspecting tree in a dreadful storm. Your eyes widened in horror when the unspoken truth emerged from the embers of that destruction.

Frank hadn’t just lost his wife; he had lost his kids too.

All at once, the kitchen felt entirely too small. Your iron grip on the counter was the only thing keeping you up right. It felt as if someone had reached directly into your chest and pried your ribcage apart with their bare hands, puncturing your lungs with splinters of bone, leaving your lungs to fill up with your own blood. The stove had been shut off, but there was a heat encircling you that felt suffocating, making it hard for you to breathe. Frank looked absolutely forlorn as he took in your reaction to that painful confession.

“We uh…we were at Central Park. We had this uh…this tradition, ya’know. Every time I came home from a tour, we’d pack a picnic and go, make a whole day of it. The kids they uh…they loved that carousel, ya’know. They’d ride it so many damn times, Maria and I, we…we’d lose count.”

An overwhelming sensation of nausea flipped your stomach completely upside down. Something about the way Frank was talking caused your anxiety to skyrocket. You didn’t like how small and quiet his voice sounded, or how vulnerable it was. You didn’t like that the tears lining his bottom lash line looked like they were seconds away from falling. You didn’t like that you could feel in your gut that he was about to reveal something that would ruin you.

“I don’t uh…I don’t remember when the shootin’ started. I don’t…I can’t remember where Maria was, or my boy…I don’t…I didn’t see ‘em. But my girl…my baby girl, she…she was…I had her, ya’know…in my arms. I was tryin’ to…fix it, ya’know…keep it all in…then everythin’ just…went black.”

His voice was so low, barely a decibel above a whisper, and he faintly mumbled while fighting to get the words out. But in the silence of the kitchen you heard every syllable as clear as day. His eyes kept shifting back and forth over the floor, and you weren’t sure if it was because he couldn’t look you in the eye, or if it was because he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. Frank’s hands were loosely connected in front of him, his index and middle finger twitching repeatedly while he spoke.

In an instant, an icy chill suddenly caressed your spine. Bits of Frank’s words had triggered something in your brain, and you couldn’t figure out why. Something about it sounded…familiar. When the pieces began to align in your memory, you quickly covered your mouth with your hand in horror, and a choked sob caught in your throat.

You knew exactly what Frank was talking about, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“Oh my God.”

The Central Park massacre. 

Ben had covered that story when you first started interning with him three years ago. The details of that case had been…brutal. A gang war had erupted right in the middle of the park. Nine people had been murdered as a result, and several others were injured. But the worst of it was a family of four had been caught right in the middle of the crosshairs of the shootout. The mother and son died instantly due to blood loss from their wounds, but the daughter…the carnage was so bad that she couldn’t even be identified by dental records. The father had been shot in the head and had slipped into a coma on the way to the hospital, but there was never any coverage on what had happened to him after he was admitted. Ben hadn’t even allowed you to look at the crime scene photos, they were so horrific.

But for the past three years, you had always wondered about what had happened to that man. The optimistic part of you imagined he’d woken up from the coma eventually, but then you felt bad for even hoping that he would’ve. Who would want to wake up from that just to find out that their entire family had been murdered? The realistic part of you figured he had most likely died due to his injuries. After all, who survives a bullet to the head?

Never in a million years would you ever have imagined that exact man you had always wondered about for the past three years would be the one standing in front of you right now.

“That was you.”

Given the nature of the brutality, the victims' names were never released, no matter how hard the press begged for them, and the abhorrent details were watered down significantly for the media. 

There was a flash of perplexity in Frank's eyes, as if he was trying to figure out how you seemed to know what he was referring to. But then he almost appeared to be relieved that he didn’t have to go further into the gruesome details.

Everything seemed to fall into place like a torrent row of dominoes. That’s why he had shut down when you asked about the scar that night in the motel. It was a physical reminder of the day his entire family was gunned down right in front of him.

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. Frank had just come home. He had survived months, years, of real fucking war…and came home just to, what? Have his family slaughtered in front of his face, and nearly die himself? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. How could that happen? How could that happen to him?

The sound of Frank gently shushing you and the feeling of his rough hands carefully cradling your face made you realize that you had been voicing those thoughts aloud. The calloused pads of his thumbs wiped at the wetness lingering on the tops of your cheeks, and you suddenly noticed that you had started crying at some point. Glancing up at Frank, you watched as a single tear slipped down his cheek, and that devastated you to your core.

“Frank-”

Hearing the way you sobbed his name, Frank immediately pulled you in, cradling your head delicately against his chest, carding his fingers through your hair softly while he quietly shushed you. You felt guilty. You felt so fucking guilty. Here he was opening up about the most traumatic day of his life, and yet he was the one consoling you. But you didn’t have anything to offer him in that moment. All you could manage to do was wrap your arms around him and hug onto him as tight as physically possible. 

You couldn’t even begin to imagine the aftermath of something so awful. To wake up from a coma, just to be told your entire family is gone. You wouldn’t have survived it. You would’ve laid in that bed, begging whatever God was listening to just put you out of your misery. How can you go on after that? Even though you had suffered a great loss of your own, and there had been moments where you wanted nothing more than to quit and give into the grief, you’d found a reason to push through it. But how do you even want to live after losing that much?

What had kept Frank going?

The half-cooked bacon and pancake batter were left abandoned on the stovetop, along with both of your coffees on the counter. The kitchen was eerily quiet and still apart from your quiet sniffling and the occasional chirps from a visiting cardinal outside. Frank held you in his lap while the two of you sat on the floor of the kitchen with his back pressed against one of the cabinets. His thick fingers carded through your hair slowly, and his lips were pressed gently against your forehead while he rocked you ever so slightly. You hadn’t released your tight hold on Frank. Your arms were still firmly wrapped around his neck, and at this point, you weren’t sure if you could ever let go. For the past fifteen minutes, the two of you had been sitting in silence; you processing the trauma of his past, and him reliving the worst day of his life all over again. 

“I shoulda told you before-”

“No. No that…you told me when you were ready.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to focus on the steady rhythm of his strong heartbeat and not the ache you felt for him in your own chest. A flurry of questions were swirling around in your head, and you didn’t even know where to start, or if it was the right time to even ask any of them.

“What…did you…I mean how-”

“I was angry. S’pose that kept me goin’ for awhile.”

Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose. He seemed to know what you were getting at, even if you couldn’t get all the words out. That was one of the things you had grown to love about your relationship with him. The two of you seemed to be able to understand each other in a way that didn’t require a whole lot of words. Pulling back slightly to look at him, you brought one of your hands up to tenderly hold his face, brushing your thumb lightly along his sharp cheekbone slowly.

“And when you stopped being angry?”

Frank met your gaze, his warm chocolate brown eyes meeting your own. 

“I never did.”

There was a finality to those words that hurt you, and he seemed to be able to tell. He gave a gentle shake of his head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…made peace with it, ya’know…laid it to rest in my own way. But…not a day goes by I don’t think about ‘em.”

The sincerity in Frank’s vulnerability cut right through you. Leaning in, you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a moment while hugging him close and keeping your hand against the side of his face. There weren’t any words to express the varying emotions you felt for Frank right now. The anger for what had happened to him and his family. The anguish for what had been stolen from him. The grief for what he carried around with him every single day.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Hey hey hey, you ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, yeah? It ain’t your fault-”

“It wasn’t yours either.”

Frank looked into your eyes with a softened expression, the faintest of creases forming between his thick brows. The distress in your voice tugged at his heartstrings, and he gently grabbed the back of your head to pull you in so he could press a tender kiss to your forehead. His strange behavior from yesterday when you asked about the cabin now made sense. Tilting your head back a little, you looked at Frank with a soft frown tugging down the corners of your lips.

“This was a surprise project for them.”

The tiniest of melancholic smiles graced the edge of his mouth as Frank gave a slight nod of his head.

“It was. I got it a couple years ago. I meant to work on it when I would come home, I just…never got ‘round to it, ya’know? Didn’t wanna miss a moment with Maria and the kids. The last tour I came home from, I was gonna surprise ‘em though. Tell ‘em I wasn’t goin’ back, and show ‘em the cabin. I wanted to tell ‘em the night I got home, but I was just…tired. I couldn’t stay up with Maria, couldn’t play ball with the boy, or read my girl a bedtime story. Hell, I couldn’t even drink a goddamn beer. But I thought, ya’know…they’d be more excited if I tell ‘em tomorrow while we’re at the park. Make it more special.”

Frank was going to surprise them that day. He was going to surprise them and tell them that he was staying home for good, and also surprise them with the cabin. He’d been home for one day. 

One day. 

Everything was going to change. Frank was going to get to be home with his family. He wouldn’t have had to leave them anymore. But then everything was changed for him in the worst possible way, and now you were in a place that you didn’t belong in. A place that was meant for his wife and kids that they never got to step foot in. A fresh wave of tears poured from your eyes as an insurmountable amount of grief and guilt crashed into your heart like a merciless tidal wave.

“Hey hey…c’mere. S’alright, sweetheart. Everythin’ is, yeah? C’mon, I don’t want you to cry. Breaks my heart every goddamn time seein’ you cry, baby.”

He wiped under your eyes and along the tops of your cheeks gingerly with the pads of his calloused thumbs, cradling your face in his large hands while letting out a heavy sigh.

“Look, I can’t sit here and tell you one day it ain’t gonna hurt like hell, cause it’s always goin’ to. I mean…I ain’t even gotta tell you that. You already know it. You already know how it feels to miss someone you can’t get back.”

Softly wrapping your hands around Frank’s wrists while he held your face, you nodded your head slowly while staring at him with eyes full of sorrow. You did know that feeling. You had felt it every single day since your mom had passed. But you hadn’t lost her the way Frank had lost his family. She was taken from you in a way, but nothing even remotely close to what Frank endured. At least you had gotten to say goodbye.

Frank took in the somber expression haunting your features, and he let out another deep sigh. He tenderly stroked his thumb along your cheek, searching the depths of your eyes for the words he wanted to say that could lift the heaviness that had settled in the space between you.

The most heartbreaking thing about this revelation was knowing that Frank had been alone. You had known from the start that he kept to himself, apart from his friendship with Billy, and…whatever it was he had with Madani. And based on the way he had spoken about his parents, it was clear they had already passed some time ago. But then he lost his entire family. Hell, he had even lost parts of his own identity. For the past three years, Frank hadn’t had anyone but himself.

“You’ve been alone.”

Frank was still gently stroking his thumb along your cheek in an effort to comfort you. His other arm was wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you close to his chest. Hearing the delicate concern in your voice, the edges of Frank’s lips tugged upwards in the most miniscule of smiles.

“I ain’t alone no more. I got you.”

He tilted his head faintly in your direction to get his point across, pressing his thumb lightly against your lips, and warmth suddenly blossomed within your heart. Letting out a soft breath, you closed your eyes for a moment, pressing your forehead against his tenderly once again while a fleeting smile graced your lips as you kissed his thumb gently.

“You have me.”

While he leaned in to press the softest and sweetest of kisses to your lips, Frank ran his large hand through your hair in a comforting way once again, and then looked into your eyes in complete adoration. 

“You’re the first good thing I’ve had in a long time, sweetheart. A long goddamn time. I want you to know that.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your rib cage as you gazed into those warm coffee irises that had captivated you from the very moment you met Frank. Something about him had drawn you in from that first introduction. Even though he had been stoic and closed off, there had been a spark there that lit an ember which had been steadily growing ever since. 

Wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, you hugged onto him and rested your head on his shoulder while closing your eyes, inhaling the comforting scent that was uniquely and wholly Frank.

“So are you.”

Even though your voice was barely above a whisper, you could tell Frank heard you by the way he embraced you even tighter against his chest and pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of your head.

While you sat there in his arms, it began to occur to you that your appreciation for your bodyguard had steadily evolved into something greater than you originally thought. It was something deeper, and far more profound than just simple admiration. Every time Frank was around, your restless tension and incessant anxiety seemed to vanish, because you knew that you were safe with him. You didn’t filter your words, or tone down your personality, or even give into the effort of putting on a mask, because you didn’t have to with Frank. 

There was a subtle seed that had been planted within your heart months ago that had been languidly blossoming into something you had never been able to grasp before. It was something magical and terrifying you had only ever dreamed of discovering, and it was beginning to become clear that it was something you had possessed the entire time.

Every crooked smile, every bellow of laughter, and every lingering stare unleashed a basket of butterflies to flutter around aimlessly in your stomach. You could hear it pounding within your chest and feel the heat of it nipping at your bones. It called to you in the subconscious of your dreams, and the taste of it was still tingling on your lips. It had been under your nose all along.

You were in love with Frank.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[nouvxllev]

the girl across your street || p2

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: You both greeted each other. You lifted your scarf down to reveal a huge grin on your face, complementing Jenna's own. "I was waiting for you." Jenna lowered her music, hearing your voice was more of a symphony than any other artist she listened to.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: None

part 3 || masterlist

It was snowy. Too snowy for your liking, and definitely way too snowy for a Wednesday morning. Too damn early for a snowstorm to happen. Walking through the snow was a bit of a struggle, and you could barely keep your balance without tumbling altogether. But it was worth it, you say to yourself, if you got the chance to talk with Jenna again, enduring the freezing cold was a small price to pay for the chance to hear her voice.

Your hands were tucked so deep in your pockets that they might as well have become a part of your body. Layers of scarves covered your face, and your headphones doubled as earmuffs, topped with a beanie. You were dressed in a thousand sweaters and puffy jackets, and somehow, you're still so cold.

Music was, of course, blasting in your ears. But this time, instead of the usual songs with a mellow tune, it was gradually becoming happier, and you even threw in some Christmas tunes into the mix. Yes, it was cold, but it wasn't every day (even though it actually was) that you could inhale fresh air from your neighborhood without the scent of dog poop all around.

Turning around, you followed the route to Jenna's street, a path that could put the Wizard of Oz to shame. Dare you say, it was your happy place on earth, which, in all honesty, it was.

Stopping at that familiar sidewalk, you looked to your side and easily spotted possibly the most gorgeous being to ever walk this God-forsaken planet.

Jenna.

She was sitting on the bench, fully covered in snow from yesterday's storm. Even objects couldn't withstand the snowfall. With her knees curled up to her chest, she listened to music with closed eyes, and just like you, bundled up from head to toe with layers of puffy clothing. She almost looked like a penguin.

You attempted to run to her, almost falling because of the piled-up snow. Once you reached her spot, you had to take deep breaths and exhales.

Jenna looked up at you, having possibly already heard your footsteps coming closer to her, and her eyes seemingly lit up.

"Hi."

"Hey."

You both greeted each other. You lifted your scarf down to reveal a huge grin on your face, complementing Jenna's own.

"I was waiting for you." Jenna lowered her music, hearing your voice was more of a symphony than any other artist she listened to.

"You shouldn't have. It's freezing here!" You exclaimed, and you could even see your breath, and Jenna's, becoming a cold mist.

"Says the girl who walked in piles of snow to get here. Oh, what would your efforts be without me sitting on this bench?"

"Yeah… yeah, you're right." You stuttered, your lips becoming cold, and your nose turning red.

"Let's go inside before you get sent off to the North Pole to do Santa's bidding."

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Both of you were seated on Jenna's couch, surrounded by the warmth of the fireplace she had lit just for the two of you to be cozy. The scent of the applewood coming from the fireplace, combined with the overall aroma of Jenna's house—perhaps from the various candles you assumed her parents brought—created the perfect atmosphere. You swear to yourself that you were living in wonderland at this point.

In the quietness of her home, you could feel and hear your heartbeat. The crackle of the fireplace and the distant chirping of birds in the background made you forget that you were a human being. That is, until Jenna spoke.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" She turned to you, grinning, her voice husky. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, and she still wore her beanie, with headphones comfortably resting on her neck.

You looked at her, blinking. "Out of all the questions, you ask me something super cliche?"

"Hey, it gets the conversation going." Her face contorted, mocking an offended expression before letting a smile creep out of her lips.

You glanced off for a moment, then nodded your head with a slight smile. "Guess it does." You adjusted yourself on the sofa, thinking of a favorite horror movie you'd rewatch anytime if any genre suddenly disappeared.

"I'll pick… I'll pick Scream." You turned to her, giving her a series of affirmative nods. In truth, you weren't a big fan of the horror genre, but you caught yourself watching it from time to time.

"Ooh, classic." Jenna's face lit up, clicking her tongue. "You got that because of the opening question I used?"

"Actually, yeah, kind of. It's just one movie off the top of my head, and hey, it is a classic. Who couldn't?"

"Points to you on that one," she said, starting to get up. She fetched the remote and a few DVDs from a drawer near the TV, which sat atop the fireplace.

"What about you? Your favorite scary movie," you questioned, your gaze following her every move.

"I'd say... 'Possession' by Andrzej Żuławski, 1981. You've got to appreciate the production quality on that one." She turned to you, showing you the DVD for that exact movie, then shuffled it.

"Blood, guts, gore?"

"Surprisingly only minimal blood, guts, and gore. It's this psychological horror movie that's so hauntingly beautiful, it's almost scary. I love a good film that gives you some kind of adrenaline rush." A radiant glow emanated from her as she talked about her favorite movie and described it.

Your gaze was fixated on her, as if she should be the last thing you'll see before meeting your demise.

"So are we gonna watch Scream or are we gonna watch Scream?" She then showed you the two DVDs, both copies of the first Scream movie. One autographed by Wes Craven himself, and one clean fresh off the drawer.

"You've given me a lot of choices there," you snarked, raising a brow as you reached for the autographed DVD in Jenna's hands. "Wes Craven?" you exclaimed. "The Wes Craven!?"

She chuckled at your reaction, a grin forming on her lips. "The one and only," she said, tucking her hands behind her back. "I have some connections, thanks to my mother, who was friends with many directors, including someone who worked with Wes Craven on the Scream set. So, I asked if he had any DVDs signed by Wes Craven and gave it to me."

"We've got to watch this," you declared, flipping the DVD in your hands before handing it back to Jenna.

Jenna scoffed, "Is the ending going to change just because it's autographed by Wes Craven?" She walked toward the DVD player, plugging it in.

"Hey, you might never know." You hear the nostalgic sound of the disk being inserted, and you were somehow once again transported to when you first watched your first movie via DVD.

"I'm surprised you still use DVD players," you commented, watching Jenna move away from the TV and then sit back down with you.

"It's just that feeling of inserting the CD that makes the movie more worthwhile."

You shrugged it off, "Guess you're right," and the Scream logo appeared before your eyes, the sounds of someone shrieking in the background to give it all that horror effect. You had seen this movie countless of times, maybe even more whenever you were bored out of your mind and needed something to scare you once in a while. But somehow, watching it with Jenna, feels like a whole new life.

Minutes passed, and the opening scene finished. A masterpiece in itself you would say, it really never gets old.

Jenna chuckled at some parts, making you turn your head slightly. She'd probably make a good Ghostface.

"Do you think I'd make a great actor someday, y/n?" The question came abruptly, and you looked at her. She was still facing the movie, the reflection of the TV screen in her eyes. Even from afar, you could see the glint in her eyes, you can see the glint in her eyes on how much she awes horror movies, and even movies in general. Maybe that's why she popped the question.

"Yeah…? I don't know. I really haven't seen you act before."

"Hey, I can fake cry pretty good." She adjusted herself, her body now facing towards yours.

"Really? Then... I’ll give you… 5 bucks to fake cry right now!" You pulled out your sad excuse of a wallet, nothing but coins and a dollar was inside of it.

Jenna laughed, a voice you horribly feel head over heels for. "You’re paying me to fake cry? For 5 bucks? Come on, dude," she remarked, pushing your money away.

You scoffed then rolled your eyes, insisting that she should take the money regardless by handing it to her despite her hand being in the way. "You’re going to be in the acting industry, Jenna! People are gonna pay you for your acting skills! Take it as like... training.”

"Okay, okay…" She held up both hands then took a deep breath, opening her eyes, focused. Atleast, she tried to.

She let out a chuckle, a wheeze some would say. "I can’t fake cry when you look at me like that!" She debated, her hands speaking for herself as she gestured towards you.

"Like what?"

The whole room went silent for about a second, Jenna observing your features up and down. Or, atleast, that's what you think in your head of yours.

"Like… some sort of freak."

"I look like a freak?" You pointed towards yourself, a playful tone in your voice as a sly grin appear on your lips, your eyes widening in curiosity.

Jenna's mouth hung open, "That was so far from my intentions!" Her voice high-pitched, trying to convince you in some sort of way.

“Okay, we both know that was definitely your intentions, if not harsher."

"I did not!"

"Oh Jenna, Jenna, Jenna... denying it makes you look guilty."

You both continued to playfully twist eachothers words, coming up with clever comebacks with eachother and just full on playful banter as the TV played Scream. Not really the most ideal movie to play with when you're about to explode since you were playfully bickering like an old married couple to your long-time crush.

After minutes of laughter, you both finally calmed down, shifting your positions on the sofa to sit on the floor, backs against the sofa.

You looked over to Jenna, a smile gracing your lips. "You're going to become a great actor, Jenna. I just know it." Glancing down, you noticed her hand close to yours. You wanted to take hold of it, you really did, whisper sweet nothings, and tell her she'd be the rising star in everyone's hearts. If not, then your heart will be preserved for all of eternity to let her be the star of yours. If it sounded corny, but, that was just how you felt.

"How? Are you some all-seeing Goddess?" She looked towards you, her eyebrows knitting but she kept smile.

"If that what it takes for you to believe in me, then yeah, I guess I am."

"You’re a dork, y/n. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Someone by the name of Jenna."

She chuckled at that, seemingly aware of the effect she had on you, even though you'd only met a couple of days ago.

The fireplace was starting to die down, along with the setting sun. Streetlights flickered on, and snow began to form outside.

"Y/n… Where are you going to spend Christmas?" Jenna asked, her voice filled with concern. "I'm surprised your parents aren't wondering why you're always going out early and coming back so late." She looked at you, noticing your head was down, and your smile was a bit crooked.

"My parents… my parents aren't exactly here. So that's a plus, right? They won't be able to lecture me and all." You laughed, albeit slightly, a broken laugh.

Jenna's eyes widened, her body turning towards you. "Oh. Oh, God, I'm sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have—"

You furrowed your eyebrows until you understood what she misunderstood. "Oh, no— No! They aren't dead. They're just busy with work and all. They're from all the way across the globe, so…" You reached for your pocket, grabbing your phone, which had been uncharacteristically turned off for the whole day.

A picture of your family flashed on the screen, capturing a moment of shared smiles. You didn't know it would be the last picture you'd take together.

"They won't come visit?"

"They don't really text me that often, let alone when they're coming back." A smile tried to tug at your lips, Jennas concern slightly making you feel better about yourself.

"But hey, it'll be a Christmas miracle if they do." You chuckled, a light-hearted joke to lift the mood.

Silence overcame the room, wondering if you had said something wrong or overshared too much. Your hands became clammy as Jenna stayed silent, contemplating whether you should excuse yourself and never come back to her house ever again and change routes. Or maybe even change towns and your full government name.

"Why don't you spend Christmas with my family for a bit?" Jenna asked, her voice filled with hope.

Turning to her, you tilted your head with a scrunched-up face. "Really? Are… Are you sure it's okay? We just met like… a couple of days ago."

She looked down, avoiding your eyes, taking your hand with hers and rubbing her thumb against the back of your hand. "You're one of the few people I let into my heart, y/n. And my family will literally bombard you with love like you've never felt before. I'm sure they'll like you."

You smiled at that, and before you knew it, you accepted her offer. It was nighttime when you stepped outside Jenna's house, the snow becoming heavier and taller than ever.

You fell into a routine of meeting Jenna every morning. You'd wake up earlier than usual, then walk through piles of snow to get to her house. How she hadn't suspected that you had a massive crush on her was beyond you.

You even spent Christmas with her and her family, who welcomed you with open arms. Smiles all around, and you even got her little cousins to like you as if you were their big sister. You never felt at home more than anything. It was as if they were your own family, a family that was always home for you. You kind of teared up a bit at the thought, seeing how someone else's family brought out the happiest version of you rather than your own.

You were happy.

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tag/s: @moistblobfish

[alj4890]

Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

(Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis) in a Choices The Royal Romance Crackship

Masterlist

Part 5

"Can I ask you something?" Riley picked up another stone to skip across the small stream.

"Sure. You can ask me anything." Maxwell tossed his.

"Have you ever been in love?" She asked.

**************

Ramsford...

"Maxwell? Hey!" Riley waved her hand in front of his face.

Maxwell blinked a few times as he slowly came back to the present.

"Good to have you back." She teased. "I was worried you were going to leave me all alone with our caviar creation."

She held up a container of paprika. "I'm also pretty sure you're going to make it to where my fingerprints are the only ones found on this so Bertrand will know who to kill if these appetizers don't come out right."

He chuckled while taking the paprika from her.

"Nah. I'd never let you take the fall for one of my ideas." He began to sprinkle a little on top of each spoonful.

"What else needs to be done?" Drake asked while coming around the corner. His nose wrinkled over their choice in food. "Or am I free to go?"

"Um..." Maxwell picked up his phone and breathed a little easier. "Oh thank God. Bertrand found a caterer. All we have to do now is clean up the place."

He slipped his phone back in his pocket then helped Riley and Drake put the trays of hors d'oeuvres back into the fridge.

Once Riley left to check to see what Bertrand wanted them to focus on next, Drake spoke up.

"You seem more distracted than usual."

Maxwell paused in scrubbing the counters. "I do?"

"Yeah. You're quiet. It's almost as if you're in deep thought." Drake added.

Maxwell shrugged. "I guess I have been."

Drake eyed him over the handle of his mop. "Is something wrong?"

"You mean beyond the obvious money woes of House Beaumont?" Maxwell quipped. "Or my brother pointing out every single mistake I make? The pressure he feels and is passing onto me if Riley fails to win Liam."

"We all know Liam's going to pick Riley." Drake reminded him.

He went back to mopping the floor and muttered, "Who wouldn't choose her?"

"I hope so." Maxwell completely missed the hint that Drake might have fallen for Riley too. "Then maybe my life can begin."

Drake paused once more. "Begin? What are you--"

Maxwell tossed his scrubber in the sink. "We should um, probably go see what Bertrand wants worked on next."

He hurried out before Drake could ask him to clarify.

Maxwell spent the next few hours trying to work alone. Normally he'd be over the moon to be preparing for the annual Beaumont Bash. He had a sense of pride that their parties were the ones held to end the social season on a high note.

This year though, he wished they could skip it completely.

It wasn't just the money troubles or the fact that Bertrand was one temper tantrum away from a massive stroke, it was the competition that was getting to Maxwell. He knew Riley and Liam were soulmates and honestly, he couldn't be happier for them.

His own happily ever after though seemed less likely to occur than ever before.

Ever since his conversation with Olivia on the beach, the two had not interacted. At Applewood, he kept his distance and focused on encouraging Riley. Olivia in turn did the same with him, yet she seemed to go out of her way to talk to Riley. Surprisingly, both usually were smiling and not in the I really hate you but appearances demand I look like I adore you type smile that many at court were forced to wear.

Maxwell was dying to ask Riley what Olivia said in those moments. He summoned all his willpower to hold those questions at bay and tried instead to keep things light and optimistic for Riley's sake. Bertrand was adding so much pressure on her as it was that the last thing Maxwell should do would be to involve her in his own miserable love life.

If anyone has a real shot at being with the one they want, it's Riley and Liam, Maxwell thought. So I should do all I can to make that happen.

He released a deep, heartfelt sigh. He knew it was pointless to pretend he didn't still want to do all he could to win Olivia. He was simply, for the first time in his life, unsure how to go about it from this point.

**************

The next evening...

Olivia took the lead of ladies walking into Ramsford. She glanced around noting all the typical decorations that the Beaumont's were notorious for. She knew that by the end of the night most of it would be strewn about, tangled up with the drunken people who would later try and pretend they were decent nobles.

She ignored the whispers of the ladies wondering what might happen tonight. She already knew they'd be beyond intoxicated before three in the morning. She could care less about the party or the food or whatever shenanigans the Beaumont brothers had up their sleeves.

She only wanted to see two things.

The first was to be able to observe more of Liam and Riley. She'd spent time since the beach watching them throughout the stay at Applewood. There was no denying the mutual attraction the two shared. Since Maxwell insisted that Riley was sweet, she began to go out of her way to talk to her.

As much as it galled her to admit, Maxwell was right. Riley really was sweet. Thankfully, she wasn't too sweet or Olivia would lose all respect for her. After interacting with her at Applewood, she realized that out of everyone here, she might be able to tolerate losing Liam a little easier if she lost to the American.

The second thing she wanted to see was how Liam and Maxwell acted with herself.

Her lips firmed into a thin line the moment she stepped into the ballroom. While the ladies behind her cooed over the decorations and Riley's sparkly blue gown, she focused on the one man who'd thrown her whole way of thinking out of whack.

Maxwell was beaming with delight over the praises he was hearing. As happy as he was, one would think he'd been the one to prepare the food and decorate the place.

Olivia waited until Bertrand pulled Maxwell away for a private word before approaching Riley. After a quick greeting that wasn't as smug or cold as she normally would have given, she sat down at one of the front tables.

It was the perfect vantage point to watch Liam. Her eyebrows furrowed for a second to see him in a tux that not only matched Riley's royal blue gown, but also the Beaumont colors. It was a blatant statement that Liam had not made for anyone else during the season.

It wasn't manners that made him wear it. If that was the case, then he'd have worn what she'd offered him at Lythikos. He was polite about the red jacket with black dress shirt and slacks, but told Olivia he couldn't wear it since he was supposed to be giving every suitor equal treatment.

I see that notion didn't last long.

"You noticed it too?"

Olivia looked up at Madeleine.

Madeleine's court mask slipped to reveal her obvious disdain. "I think it's in poor taste."

Olivia humphed. "I never suffered a moment of doubt that you would think of it that way."

Madeleine narrowed her eyes upon Olivia.

"This doesn't bother you?" She snapped.

"It's clothes, Madeleine." Olivia replied. "He's yet to get down on one knee and propose to Riley."

"I would have thought you'd be furious with this statement he's making. After all," Madeleine sneered, "you are madly in love with Liam."

Olivia glared at her.

"There's the reaction I was expecting." Madeleine needled. "I'm surprised you haven't challenged her to a duel."

Olivia's glare slowly turned to a smirk.

"It must be hard for you to lose out twice for the crown." She struck back. "Seeing Liam go ahead and voice his choice without saying a word probably makes you think how you'll have to return home in shame once more."

Madeleine stilled at her words.

"But you have parents who understand failure, don't you?" Olivia smiled at her. "I mean, they would have to by now, wouldn't' they?"

Before Madeleine could utter a denial, Olivia waved towards the back of the ballroom.

"Better go find your seat Maddie. One would hate to be caught gawking over the loss of another prince."

Madeleine stormed away with her head held high.

Olivia smiled to herself as she reached for her wine glass.

Tonight might not be so bad after all.

*****************

After dinner...

"Excuse me." Olivia glanced at Riley then turned towards Liam. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course." Liam still had a hold of Riley's hand. "It's been days since I've had a free moment to speak to, you, Lady Olivia."

Olivia watched as he leaned close to whisper to Riley. His lips brushed the delicate shell of her ear before placing a kiss right below it.

Riley's and Liam's eyes met in a heated exchange as she vaguely promised to think about it.

Olivia mentally rolled her eyes. Clearly they were planning a rendezvous. Any imbecile could see that. They needed some lessons in subterfuge if they were going to try and hide their mutual regard for one another.

It'll all be over soon. Then there will be no reason to hide anything.

She blinked over that thought. It wasn't because she thought about it, but rather the lack of emotion it evoked. It was as if her heart already accepted the fact that Liam was in love with someone else.

Her mind though, still needed proof.

Once Riley disappeared into the crowd, Liam turned expectantly back to Olivia.

The loud music, laughter, and shouts of conversations left little chance to discover if Liam truly felt nothing for her. Taking his hand, she pulled him down a hallway that led to the Beaumont's study.

Once they were behind closed doors, she perched her hip on the edge of the desk and studied her prince.

Liam lifted an eyebrow when the silence stretched between them.

Olivia searched his eyes. "You've made your choice, haven't you?"

"I..." He rubbed the back of his neck while a sheepish smile played about his lips. "I suppose there's no hiding it from you."

He gave her a decisive nod. "I have."

Olivia blinked over actually getting him to admit it.

"Riley is your choice?" She prodded.

He nodded. "I'm in love with her."

Olivia grimaced. As much as she knew this was the case, it still stung to have her dream destroyed in one conversation.

"Are you certain?" She found herself asking.

"I am." Liam grinned at her. "I can't tell you how good it feels to admit it to someone who is a close friend of mine."

"I can imagine." She mumbled.

Shaking off the sting of his declaration, Olivia asked him a question she hoped would help herself.

"How do you know that Riley is the one?"

Liam sat down on one of the leather wingback chairs. He propped his chin on his fist while staring off into the distance to think of how to answer her.

Olivia took the chair across from him and did her best to wait patiently for his answer.

"There are so many things about Riley that made me realize she is the one for me." He began. "From the moment we met, she has been all I can think about."

Olivia grimaced somewhat. If one were to go with her own mind, they would find it filled with Maxwell. It was irritating how often he took over her thoughts.

Liam's pensive expression softened as he continued to explain. "When we kissed, I felt an instant passion. Not just desire, but a need for it to never end, as if," he hesitated in trying to describe it to her, "as if my body only recognized her touch."

Olivia blinked over that. She recalled both kissing Liam and Maxwell the night of her ball. Of the two, Maxwell's had ignited a passionate response in her.

But is his touch the only one my body will recognize?

"The few precious moments I've had with her and getting to know the type of person she is, the more I want to be around her." He turned his attention back to Olivia. "I fell in love with her during those moments. Riley is everything my heart yearns for."

Olivia gave a brisk nod. "I see."

Liam reached over and took her hand. "I know that many believed you would be my choice. Most of my advisors insist upon you being my choice."

She stilled, not entirely sure she wanted to hear what else he had to say.

"If I had never met, Riley," he lowered his eyes to their hands, "I would have chosen you. You are one of my oldest friends. I trust you, admire your strength and loyalty, and believe you would make an amazing queen."

He lifted his eyes back to hers. "Now that I've experienced what love does to a person, how could I choose anyone other than Riley?"

Olivia squeezed his hand. "Of all the people I know, you're one of the very few I actually care about."

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to smile at him.

"And since I care, I actually want to see you happy. If Riley is what you want, then she is the one I hope you get in the end."

Liam's smile lit up his entire face. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckles.

"I care about you too." He searched her eyes. "I hope I haven't hurt you."

Olivia shrugged her shoulders. "I've known for some time that you felt something for Riley. Anyone with half a brain can see it."

He chuckled. "True. I've never been good at hiding my feelings." He kept hold of her hand. "But, I would never intentionally hurt you."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Liam."

"I know." He gently let her hand go. "I wish that you could find someone worthy of you."

She hesitated. "I think there might be someone."

His eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Maybe." She clarified. "I think I need to do a few more," she searched for the right word, "experiments to know for certain."

"Experiments?" He began to laugh.

Olivia glared at him. "Not all of us are so certain when it comes to love."

Liam held his hands up in surrender. "I meant no offense."

She eyed him to see if he was making fun of her or not.

He bit back a smile. "I simply never thought of discovering love as an experiment. I suppose it is when one thinks about it."

"How so?" She asked.

"There's definitely a chemical reaction." Liam teased. "Being touched by the one, hearing their voice, or simply seeing them across a room sets off endorphins. Everything in your body, your mood, your very way of seeing things in the world is altered by their presence."

He smiled warmly at her.

"I say perform all the experiments you need to know if you have found the one."

Olivia relaxed back in her chair. Seeing now that she wasn't being foolish in her path forward helped in her knowing what steps she should next take.

"I shall." She declared.

Liam rose to his feet and began to walk towards the door.

"Liam?"

"Yes?" He turned back towards her.

"Thank you."

He bowed to her.

"Anytime, your grace."

With another smile, he left her alone.

Olivia's pleasant expression changed to one of frustrated resignation. She supposed she'd hoped there was still a chance with Liam because he'd been the one her mind had accepted so long ago. Now, she could see that there really was no use in thinking like that any longer. Even if Riley were to refuse Liam's proposal, she knew she could never be with him.

Liam wasn't the kind of man to stop loving someone just because they refused to return his affection. Olivia knew her own pride and heart couldn't take being with someone who didn't care for her in the same manner. A Nevrakis either gave everything or nothing and expected the same in return. There was no in between.

"I can't believe it's come down to this." She grumbled to herself.

Of all the men she knew, there was only one who had given everything. To find out if she could do the same, she needed to test the waters a bit more.

"How in the world am I to get Maxwell alone at a party?"

**************

Many, many hours later...

Maxwell hummed to himself as he left Hana's room. Ending the wild party with a game of truth or dare with his friends was the perfect way to end a crazy night. Plus, it'd helped him at least for a little while, not think of Olivia.

How much more fun would it have been to see Olivia do a dare or admit a truth?

He knew what he would have dared her and he knew what question he'd ask. What would have happened might have left him even sadder than before.

Can't have that, he argued with himself. Who wants a depressed Maxwell hanging around?

He unlocked the door to his room, pausing halfway inside. He glanced down the hallway where he knew Olivia was. He'd been the one to clean and prepare her room. He wondered if she even noticed he'd made certain to have a bouquet of red roses in there. Did she notice the red throw he'd left draped over the Beaumont blue chair? Did she even recognize the meaning behind doing something like that?

"Probably not." He mumbled, closing his door behind him.

Maxwell had left his desk lamp on before the party began. The rest of his suite was shrouded in shadow, giving a quiet almost serene feeling after hours of absolute drunken chaos. It was just what he needed to bring him back down off his adrenaline rush.

He began to undress. Kicking his shoes off, he next dropped his pants. Stepping out of them, he stumbled over to his dresser while pulling his shirt off.

He dug around in the dark for a soft T-shirt to sleep in. After finally pulling one on, he stilled to hear a knock on his door.

When it happened a second time, he rushed over to it in the hopes of seeing Olivia. He'd lost sight of her during the beginning of the Beaumont Bash. He'd hoped to find a way to talk to her. Maybe see how things were going and if she'd finally given up on Liam.

His smile disappeared the moment he saw his brother.

Bertrand swayed, nearly toppling over.

"My dear Maxwell," he slurred, "could you be so kind as to point me in the direct- *hic* -shun of my quarters?"

He glanced down, his eyebrows nearly disappearing in his hairline.

"Good god, man! You lost your pants!"

Maxwell tugged his shirt down in an effort to hide his boxers.

"Did an acrobat steal them?" Bertrand laid a commiserating hand on Maxwell's shoulder. "I believe one stole my vest."

"You're wearing it on your head." Maxwell told him.

Bertrand reached up and pulled it off, causing his hair to stand on end. "The blackguard returned it!"

"Uh huh." Maxwell turned his brother around. "Straight down there is your bedroom. Only door at the end of the hall."

"Right." Bertrand stumbled in that direction. "Thank you."

"Anytime." Maxwell watched to make certain he didn't accidentally go into anyone else's room.

His breath caught in his throat the moment Bertrand bumped into Olivia's door.

Nothing happened, leaving him slumping his shoulders and returning to his own room.

Maxwell finished up his nighttime rituals in his ensuite bathroom then finally collapsed on his bed.

"What a night." He mumbled into his pillow.

"Yes, it was."

His eyes flew open. In his haste to reach his lamp on his nightstand, he knocked a glass of water off. Cursing, he blinked against the brightness.

There beside him on the bed was the only woman he'd dreamt of one too many times in that exact spot.

Olivia calmly sat there, hands folded in her lap. She'd puffed up some of his bed pillows to put at her back as she reclined in an almost upright position.

"You're here?" He asked, unable to wrap his mind around the concept.

"So you see." She replied.

"In my room?" He continued. "You're here in my room? On my bed?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "No. I'm on Bertrand's bed. Of course I'm on yours!"

Maxwell's eyes widened. His lips parted to ask more questions yet nothing but a squeak slipped out.

Olivia leaned closer to him, her brow furrowed in irritated concern. "Are you going to be sick?"

"No." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm pretty sure this is a dream."

She rolled her eyes once more. "It's not."

"That's what you usually say during my dreams." He argued.

Olivia reached over and pinched him. "Now do you believe me?"

Maxwell shook his head. "You do that in my dreams too."

Olivia had used up all her patience in waiting on getting Maxwell alone. Now that she finally had him without any chance of someone seeing them together, she was in no mood to reassure him that this was real. Besides, it was her feelings she needed to test.

With a frustrated breath, she straddled him.

Maxwell's eyes widened even more. Unsure what to do with his hands, he fisted them in the sheets. His heart was beating so hard that he wasn't certain if he'd survive this dream.

Audibly swallowing, he waited to see what she would do next.

She leaned down. The tip of her nose touched his. Her eyes held his startled gaze. A slight smirk curved her lips when she heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Maxwell?"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

[drake-walker-appreciation]

Drake's Birthday Celebration!

We have set Drake's birthday celebration for August and hope you'll join us with fics, drabbles, artwork and more! Special thanks to @aussiegurl1234 for the graphic!

The event will take place from August 1st through August 12th of 2023.

RULES:

All mediums accepted! Fanfiction, fan art, mood boards, HC's, whatever you've got!

Must be themed/centered around Drake's birthday and present him positively.

You must tag @drake-walker-appreciation

The deadline is 11:59 p.m. CST on August 12th, 2023.

A couple of important points:

The event is in August, but you may place his birthday in whatever month you HC it is!

Throwbacks featuring Drake's birthday are more than welcome!

Please reach out to this blog, @angelasscribbles or @karahalloway with any questions or suggestions!

We know his birthday, much like most of the PB timeline is nebulous so for anyone interested, here's the thought process about its placement, under the cut:

I think it’s common knowledge that PB’s timeline is total crap.

MC is told that the social season is a “few months” long, but if you follow the actual time stops given in the stoy…. “the next day…”, “a few days later…” etc, then the timeline is two and half weeks-ish. It’s like day 11 by time stops when MC is told that the season is “more than half over” despite the season being several months long. The Apple Blossom Festival is immediately after this, and Drake’s birthday happens during it.

We obviously can’t depend on anything about this timeline to tell us when his birthday falls.

Instead, we can look at the timeline that the actual social season in England follows. There is ample proof that plenty of the details of how royalty and the social season work in TRR are based on England, so this feels like a good option.

Besides, they left us no choice but to figure it out on our own, so any method you chose to use is valid since this is fiction. I personally did a deep dive into the social season in England both historically and in modern times.

The social season is four months long, starting in early April and ending on the Twelfth of August aka the start of the shooting season.

Applewood and the Apple Blossom Festival happen just before the Beaumont Bash, which is canonically the last official event of the social season. Therefore, I place the bash in the first half of August. MC drives from the festival events at Applewood directly to Ramsford so we can assume those activities take place at the end of July or beginning of August.

The next clue comes with the very title of this festival: Apple Blossom Festival. It’s not a harvest festival, so it doesn’t take place in the fall. (Apples are typically harvested in the last week of August and September, some even later, which is after the social season concludes at any rate.)

Apples blossom from early spring to late summer depending on the variety of apple. Most blossom in April or May but since the festival takes place at the end of the season, we have to assume that the Cordonian Ruby is a late-blooming variety. A very late blooming variety. (This is possible because when they bloom has more to do with the temperature of the region than the time of year. Since there was skiing and ice skating in April, we can assume it stays cold there well into spring.)

In conclusion, based on all of the above, I feel confident that Drake’s birthday falls somewhere at the end of July or in the first half of August.

That said, I’m not here to gatekeep anyone's HC’s so with that in mind, even though the event is in August, you may place Drake’s birthday whenever you like in your story. Put it in February, put it in October. The important part is that you have fun with it. That’s it.

Happy writing!

[choicesficwriterscreations]

CFWC FotW - Aug 6 - 12, 2023

Ⓜ️ = Adult/Mature Content 18+ 🔥 = Explicit Material/NSFW 18+ 📱= Text Fics/Edits 🎨= Includes Fanart

BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW

The Cutest Goof | Mal Volari x F!MC - @storyofmychoices

Restless Shadows | Mal Volari x F!MC - @storyofmychoices

Spades & Arrowheads | Mal Volari, Nia Ellarious, etc - @inlocusmads

CRIMES OF PASSION

A Moment in Time | Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @jerzwriter

CoP Fanfic | Trystan Thorne x M!MC - @shreyamistry

THE FRESHMAN SERIES

Becca Davenport x F!MC Fic by @shreyamistry

The Press Secretary (Series) | Chris Powell x F!MC - @eadanga Part 6

IMMORTAL DESIRES

Snow in Crimson, Starlight in Gold (Series) | m!Cas Harolw x m!Gabriel Adalhard x NB!MC - @aria-ashryver Chapter 34: Sink Your Teeth In, Part 1 Ⓜ️

IT LIVES WITHIN

Pictures of You | Various Characters - @abelflints

OPEN HEART

THE ROYAL ROMANCE

Best Kept Secrest (Series) | Liam Rys x F!OC - @ao719 Chapter 16: I'll Take the Fall Ⓜ️

Black Silk (Series) | Liam Rys x F!OC, Drake Walker x F!OC - @aussiegurl1234 Chapter 14: Applewood

Cake | Drake Walker x F!OC - @persephone13

Can't Take My Eyes Off of You (Series) | Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis - @alj4890 Chapter 2

Cinderfella's Adventures in Cordonia (Series) | Liam Rys x M!MC - @justcallmefox89 Chapter 17

Ghosted (Series) | Liam Rys x MC - @kristinamae093 Chapter 7: The Apple Banquet Ⓜ️

Marabelle (Series) | Liam Rys x MC - @tessa-liam Chapter 6 Ⓜ️

Royal Love (Series) | Eleanor x M!OC - @eadanga Part 14

[prettyboisteveharrington]

Return To Sender

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3: Falling for each other

Drake Walker x Rose Thorne (my MC)

WC: 4,2k

Hana and Max were hanging out in your bedroom while you were packing up so you could go to Applewood manor, you were packing things neatly into your massive suitcase.

'Soo Roseeeee' Maxwell said giddy as he dragged out your name.

You knew he was dying to ask you what exactly you and Drake talked about and while you appreciated the support but to be honest there wasn't much to tell, you and Drake were just getting to know each other.

You supposed at least now the conversation had been had that you could relax a bit more and not get so anxious.

You couldn't believe you had told Drake about your anxiety, it wasn't something you shared with a lot of people, not because you were ashamed of it but you hated how people made you feel about having it, they judged you often unfairly. Once people found out about it they treated you like you were fragile or broken which you deeply despised.

Or people would demand to know everything you were feeling all the time and they made you feel like you owed them something.

You looked over at your best friends.

'Yeees Maxie moo?'

'How was your chat with Drake? You looked awfully close at the firepit when i found you'

You felt heat in your face and your ears felt hot too.

I can't believe he had seen that. If he had walked out any earlier then he would have seen more, of course you didn't mind him knowing or Hana but unfortunetly you had to be careful to not be seen by others which was frustrating because all you wanted to do was to go on dates with Drake, hold his hand and kiss him and do all the normal stuff people did when they were dating which you and Drake technically weren't but it felt like it.

It did feel like it... Right?

You shook your head at yourself

Do better Rose, you can trust Drake, you know that. You can trust his feelings for you and yours for him.

God once your anxiety got triggered it would linger on for a while.

You kept thinking about Liam, you didn't want to hurt him, if he found out you and Drake were falling for each other he would be hurt but if you told him first he would still get hurt.

Poison or cyanide

your brain supplied ever so helpfully.

' We talked and we aren't persuimng a relationship. For now we are just getting to know each other' you shrugged and gathered more of your stuff to pack into your suitcase.

Maxwell and Hana wiggled their eyebrows suggestively at you and you threw a pillow in their directiom that hit Maxwell's face

' Ow Ro!'

' Are you guys not dating because of Liam?' Hana asked softly and gave you a knowing look

' It's definetly one of the reasons, I don't want to hurt him but i don't want to lead him on. If things go further with Drake then I will talk to him. I just want to make sure it's in the least painful way, you know?'

' Of course Rose, we understand' Hana said and got up and pulled you into a hug and got teary and sniffled a bit and Hana stroked your hair and Maxwell went over and hugged boh of you.

Once you had taken some deep breaths just like you had done with Drake last night and you had calmed down you went back over and finished packing.

Arriving at Applewood Manor felt like Deja vu, It was weird being back here after has time, you decided to compliment and treat a staff member nicely to gain information, you managed to gain her trust and she admitted that someone wanted to play a prank on you but she didn't know who, afterwards you confided in Maxwell and Bertrand. You all collectively decide to keep investigating the scandal as there's not enough evidence to do much to be honest. At least your main suspect is a noble lady which is better than nothing you suppose.

In the morning you get dressed in a withe vest top, a red plaid shirt and some short distressed jean shorts, you pull your hair away from your face in a half up half down hairstyle before you go to Maxwell and Bertrand and you head towards the Limo.

Reporters are outside the manor trying to get a statement out of you and the questions get under your skin especially when the reporter asks 'why did you betray king Liam?'

You keep your head down and keep moving but your hand trambles around Maxwell's elbow and he looks at you with an apprehensive look.

You feel bad

you feel so guilty about you and Drake but when you're with him you are pulled towards him and nothing else makes sense to you.

It's not like you're sleeping with Drake or in a secret relationship or that you and Liam ever were a 'thing' but you did once upon a time come here for Liam but the more you get to know Drake the more you fall for him.

The one thing that pulls you towards him is how fiercely he takes care of you, hell no one has ever looked out for you like that before.

After your parents divorce your mum left with you and she started turning to alcohol to self soothe and she started blaming you for the divorce as your parents had you as an attempt to save their marriage.

What they really wanted was a boy. You treated your whole life like one but of course your parents were upset that you didn't act like a man

Because you weren't one your subconscious provides ever so helpfully.

You spent your whole childhood looking after yourself, you had to be the grown up and you let no one get too close to you so you wouldn't get hurt again.

Drake managed to see right through you, get you to open up and still take care of you when the less pretty parts came out.

But you couldn't help but fear that you were breaking Liam's heart and the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him.

The limo ride was preparing you for todays activity which was building farms to show support of Liam and Madeleine's upcoming nuptials, you didn't get why it would be to support them but you understood that Cordonia and it's traditions were important to Liam and important to Cordonia.

Once Bertrand left the Limo Maxwell stayed back with you.

'Is everything okay Ro? You were shaking when we were out there with the press'

You took a deep breath, you considered telling Maxwell the truth but decided against it as you weren't quite ready.

'Yeah just a bit overwhelmed because of the press and with the whole scandal hanging over my head' your eyes were downcast

Maxwell squeezed your hand gently

'Hey, we will get to the bottom of this okay? None of us will stop until you are a free woman'

' thank you Max. It truly means a lot.. shall we go out there?'

'Let's build some barns wooo!'

You plastered on your best smile but it felt disingenuous and fake as you and Maxwell got out of the limo.

As soon as you were outside the limo you were once again met with reporters and you took a deep breath, you had to at the very least make a statement on the scandal or things would spiral and you did not want that.

'I would like to make a statement' you anounced as you looked at the reporter who held a microphone out for you to speak into, there was also cameras everywhere that you avoided looking at.

'I have and always will love Cordonia, the kingdom and it's people are dear to me. When I thought i had to leave it I felt a great sadness as I think of Cordonia as my home. I am grateful that the Beaumont's for bringing me here and making me a part of their family. That is all I would like to share for now'

Reporters were raising their hands to ask you questions but you excused yourself. Drake and Hana were by the barn in the middle of operating a pulling system. They were struggling to lift the beam off the ground.

'Pull' Drake instructed with a look of concentration on his face

'Hrrrfff!!!'

Hana and Drake's muscles strain against the weight of the beam.

'Pull! Pull! PULL!' Maxwell instructs enthusiastically

'Hi guys' you say to let them know you are here to help them.

'Maxwell? Rose?'

Hana is so distracted by Maxwell and your arrival that she loses her focus and drops the rope and the beam crashes to the ground.

'Ooops! Sorry, Drake! I was just excited to see our friends. And it seems like Rose came dressed and ready to work' Hana winks at you.

'you know iiittt'

'I didn't think we were going to get it all the way up there by ourselves anyway' Drake reassures Hana which you find really sweet.

You take in Drakes features for the first time since you arrived, he's shirtless. You find yourself speechless for the first time in a long time, you are drinking in Drake's beautiful features from the way his hair falls- which it has grown out a bit and it goes beyond his ears and almost goes down to his shoulders now and it suits him so much. His stomach is defined and there are veins going up his hands to his wrist, his dark eyes are golden in the sunlight and god he is beyond gorgeous. You catch your breath and realize that you are falling just a bit more in love with him. You feel your cheeks warm up ever so slightly.

'Drake! You're.. you're shirtless!'

'Oh. Right' Drake seems to realize that he is indeed shirtless and he blushes prettily from his cheeks and to his ears.

'He started off with a shirt' Hana comments shyly

'Hey, it's hot! A guy's got to pull off somehow' Drake deadpans and you snort

'Maxwell you are going to be sweating buckets in that black shirt' Drake comments as he looks over at Maxwell.

'There's a spot over there were many nobles are hanging their dress shirts or alternatively I think Drake chose a spot on the ground for his'

'Yeah Max, you could lose the shirt' you shrugged and grinned at him

'Nah, i'll leave my shirt on. This cotton down is made of moisture -wicking fabric. Very breathable'

'Drake, you sure you're not trying to show off for the press?'

Or maybe he is shirtless just for my benefit?

' I'm happiest out of frame'

Ahhh interesting. So it was for you. That thought alone made your cheeks flush. You could look at him like this all day, any day.

This man was your weakness and you didn't mind one bit.

You, Hana, Maxwell and Drake work together to get the beam up to the second floor of the barn as the press takes pictures of you and your group of friends. Your group devides and you decide to stay and help Drake with the beam both Hana and Maxwell give you a suggestive look before they walk off in different directions to different work stations.

'Well it looks like you have chosen to stick with me, Thorne'

'I stand by my decision'

'Heh okay' Drake smiles at you shyly

'Sooo big strong man like you Drake, what could you possibly need my help with?'

You lean towards him and squeeze his bicep and Drake leans into the touch, you hand touches his hair and you put it behind his ear.

'Thorne..' he warns you weakly.

'Your hair looks good at this length..'

Drake's cheeks heat up for the second time since you have arrived.

'Thorne.. you're killing me..' Drake whines weakly. Your eyes goes to his lips and back up to his eyes searching and you bite your lip.

' This is harder than I thought it would be' you admit.

You look around quickly to make sure the cost is clear, the press have moved further away to take pictures of Madeleine and Liam, everyone else is busy so you lean over and kiss Drakes cheek.

'I'm sorry this is hard on you. I don't want to keep letting you down'

Drake rubs his neck and looks away from you.

'Look at me Drake'

Drake looks at you, he looks crushed like he knows he'll always disappoint you and your heart hurts just looking at him.

You intertwine your fingers and caress his hand with your thumb.

' You do not disappoint me. I want you. I want this. I know it can't be right now and I'm okay with that.. what I'm not okay with is you doubting yourself'

'I just think you could do so much better than me, I-'

'I disagree. At the end of this scandal I'm still going to want you. I will tell you a million times until you get it into your thick skull. Drake Walker i want you'

Drake looks around, no one is paying the two of you any mind so he puts his arms around your waist and pulls you close. Your hands go into his hair and your lips crash with his into a deeply passionate and hungry kiss, once you break apart you.

'How so you always know what to say Rose?'

You lean your forehead against his. The moments in between when he lets go and lets his walls down enough to say your name is so precious to you.

'It's a gift i suppose, I am your weakness Afterall'

As you move out of his space and let go of his hand you miss his touch already.

' I was meaning to ask you this actually... how are you after last night?'

His tone is so soft. So gentle and filled with so much warmth and care that it melts your heart and you feel your eyes get teary.

'I'm much better when I'm around you'

'Aww shucks Thorne.. you are melting my tin can heart'

You look at him and hold his gaze.

'I mean it. Whenever I'm around you I feel like that voice inside my head that tells me I'm not good enough quiets down'

Drake pulls you into a short hug and strokes your hair. You always feel so safe with him.

'I'm always here for you okay? If you ever need anything let me know'

'You. I need you. I know though and I can't thank you enough'

As you pull apart the romantic tension is thick. You clear your throat.

'So how can I help you build this barn?'

Drake brings over Mirabelle's dream to help out, you lead the horse forward and use the pulling system to get beam after beam to the second floor. Drake lets you know he got Mirabelle's dream to help ypu with the press. God he's such a marshmallow.

At the end of the afternoon Liam somehow manages to escape Madeleine, he's smiling but you can see the strain in that smile. It's good to see him though. You can't wait to break off the engagement so Liam can find someone who deserves him, while you don't harbour any romantic feelings for him you still care for him deeply and wish him well.

Liam, Maxwell, Hana, you and Drake head towards the spa nearby for some much needed relaxation. Once you reach the spa Maxwell, Liam and Drake goes to one changing room to get ready while you and Hana go to another changing room, once everyone is in their swimwear and covered up with towels you all head out to the different pool areas the boys go to their own room and you and Hana go to another.

You sit down with Hana and Hana hand you a sparkling fruit -infused water before getting herself one, you thank her and take a sip.

'Ahhh just what we needed after a long day'

'Sooo how did building a barn go with Drake?'

You bump your shoulder into Hana's and smile at her and sigh.

'Every time I'm alone with him and I think i couldn't possibly like him more than I do I always end up being wrong... he just makes me so happy Hana'

Hana looks at you sweetly and squeeze your hand.

' I'm so happy for you Rose. I hope i find someone someday that makes me feel that way'

You look at her and can tell she's struggling with something and your chest hurts just looking at her face.

'Are you okay Hana?'

Hana shakes her head and looks down before looking back at you.

'I need to tell you something.. I'm just a little scared... That's all'

'Oh Hana.. you know you can tell me anything right?'

Hana takes a deep breath and squeeze your hand before looking determined.

' I've done a lot of self reflection this past year and I've come to realise why I never care for my ex fiancé. There was never this spark because- because-'

Ohhhh that actually make a lot of sense when you think about it.

She's never shown interest in the prince beyond friendship or seemed interested in anyone here so far but you thought she was just shy.

You squeeze her hand reasuringly to encourage her to keep going.

'Because I'm not into men. Like at all. Rose... I'm.. Gay' Hana admits and you pull her into a bone crushing hug and she gently hugs you back

'I'm so so proud of you Hana. This is so amazing!! I'm so happy for you'

'Really?'

You can tell she's still terrified. As if you are going to tell her you're joking or that you are upset with her. You silently curse her parents for this as you are sure they have probably made her feel like being herself in any way wasn't okay.

You pull her closer to you. You promise yourself to always be there for her and reassure her that you're proud of her.

'Yes. Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this'

Once she's ready to look for love you are going to be her wing woman and help her out in any way that you can.

'You're my best friend Rose of course I trust you. But can you keep it between the two of us for now?' Hana asks as you pull away from her.

'Of course Hana'

'You know... The rooms are technically co-ed. I assume you might want to stay separate for privacy's sake, but we could crash the boy's side... If you're feeling daring'

You take her hand in hers and head toward the boy's room, once you enter it both you and Hana are giggling.

'Surpriseee' you and Hana exclaim synchronised.

'Oh! Rose, Hana! Should we... Er... Cover up more?' Liam asked clearly surprised to see you and Hana.

'I think the ladies will be fine' Drake deadpans

'Yes I've seen a man in a towel before'

You look around the room and wonder were Maxwell is.

'Wait a second... Where's Maxwell?'

'Hiding. And that was before you all burst in. Come on out, Maxwell'

'Yes. You can't hide forever' Liam agrees and laughs

Maxwell steps out from the doorway and the steam clears and you notice he has a baby hippo tattooed on his chest. Aww that's so cute.

'Go ahead and laugh if you want. Just don't tell Bertrand you saw it'

'Is that a baby hippo' Hana asks in a soft voice

'Oh Maxie, that tattoo is so adorable'

Maxwell grins, clearly relieved.

'I know! Isn't this little guy the cutest?'

'Would I be correct in guessing that there's a sort of story behind this?'

Maxwell blushes and smiles.

'Kind of... When I was a kid, my mom would call me a her little hippo'

That's actually the sweetest thing you have ever heard Maxwell say ever. Also probably the only personal thing you really know about him as he rarely shares anything especially not about his past.

'I didn't think it was possible for this moment to get any better, but here we are'

'I was kind of chubby when I was younger, before I got into dancing. My dad was really hard on me about it, but my mom never made me feel bad. She was really smart and funny. She said i was just like a hippo... Fun-loving but tough, and always able to make her smile and she made hippos sound really cool and amazing. Anyway, when she passed away, I wanted to do something to commemorate her. I told Bertrand I was going to get something done... He thought i meant have some artwork commissioned.. So he was pretty surprised when he saw the tattoo'

Yikes. You could almost imagine Bertrand losing his mind over this.

'I suppose it doesn't fit particularly fit with the image of house Beaumont that Bertrand's striving to maintain...'

'Yeah, this was more or less his second to worst nightmare.. Or so he keeps telling me anyway.. So he said that if we're ever around nobility or servants that I had to keep it covered up. But I can trust you right?'

'Of course! On my honour'

'I will only tease you when Bertrand isn't around Maxie poo'

Maxwell let go of a breath you didn't realise he had been holding and smiled

' That's all I ask Ro Ro'

The nicknames were a new thing but you were enjoying that they seemed to get more and more silly as time went on and you were more than okay with that.

'As fun as discussing Maxwell's hippo tattoo has been, I'm going to take a plunge in the cold plunge.. Anyone want to join?' Drake looked over at you briefly and smirked

'No thanks. After today, I'm relaxing in the tub..'

Drake walks to the furthest pool across the room, while Liam, Hana and Maxwell heads towards the steaming hot water, you go over to the pool where Drake is standing poised to jump into the cold plunge.

'Trying to summon your courage?' you ask cheekily and looks at Drake expectantly

'This is supposed to be good for you, you know?' Drake says and looks at you like he is challenging you to jump in

'Is that so?' You raise your eyebrows at him.

'Yeah, like most things in life, the best thing is sometimes the most painful.. Want to do it with me?'

There's a depth to that answer that you hope Drake will expand on one day once he is ready but for now you focus on just being around him without stirring up past trauma.

'Sure, why not' You shrug but deep down you're not a fan of cold water, however you are a fan of more time alone with Drake, all day any day.

'Really?'

Drake seems pleasantly surprised by your answer almost if he expected you to back down now.

Oh it's on...

'I can't possibly let you do this on your own'

'That's the spirit'

You intertwine your hand with his and stand at the end of the cold plunge. You and Drake look at each other and count down from three to one and jump in together. The water is so freaking cold you try your best not to shiver. The cold water washes over you both and once you resurface you both look at each other and gasp.

'That was..'

'Intense?'

'That's definitely one word for it'

'Having trouble keeping up with me, Throne?' Drake asks there's definitely some mirth underneath his deadpan expression

'Me? Never'

'Heh'

Drake hefts himself out of the cold plunge and he reaches back a hand to help you out, you take his hand and smirk up at him deviously before pulling his hand, Drake stumbles and loses his balance and fall back into the pool, once he resurfaces from the water he gasps.

'Thorne!' Drake exclaims before splashing you with water and you splash him back in the face and the two of you start a water fight and splash each other until you are both out of breath.

Drake seems swept up in the moment as he puts his arms around your waist and pulls you close to him, you are inches apart. You bite your lip and search his expression to make sure there's no doubt or regret , when all you can see on his features is pure want you crash your lips against his in a heated kiss that doesn't last nearly long enough before you pull away.

'You are full of surprises'

You fingers trace Drakes face and you push a strand of his hair behind his ear.

'Good ones, I hope?'

Drake leans his forehead against yours briefly and he smiles at you

'You can surprise me like that any day... But right now we should probably...'

'Be sensible and discreet?' you sigh

'Unfortunately. And believe me when I say that it's very unfortunate'

'I guess we should check out the rest of the spa'

Drake agrees and you both leave the cold plunge and go find your friends and join them in the hot pool.

Tag list: @karahalloway @tinkie1973 @nestledonthaveone @alyshak92 @flutteringdreamydays @kingliam2019

LMK if you want to be added (or removed!!!)

[4seasonsofart]

Hunter or the Hunted? | Hybrid Askeladd

● Askeladd is at the top of the hybrid hierarchy and is well aware of that. He stands at a proud 5'7" and is one of the mightiest hybrids there is— a griffin hybrid. The physical attributes he attained from being a griffin hybrid are a set of larger than average eagle wings, a medium-sized lion's tail, and retractable talons. He has thicker body hair than most, which has caused a thin layer of fur to occasionally grow on his body (he doesn't quite care enough to shave it off; he's proud of it).

-> Hybrid Heirarchy: Mythological Hybrids (Askeladd), Apex Predator Hybrids, Predator Hybrids, Omniclass Hybrids, Prey Hybrids, Plant Hybrids

● He uses the fact that he is at the top of the hybrid hierarchy against a lot of people. It is an effective bargaining tool and is even better used when instilling fear in the band's enemies. He often has to watch fights go down in between various hybrids in the band. He just watches. He knows the prejudices against him and those below him and will use them as a manipulation tactic. Never gets into the political side of things, as they are Viking warriors and not those high-end nobles.

● As a Griffin hybrid, he enjoys open spaces and places that don't have harsh winds. His wings are pristine and very hard to maintain, as they easily get ruffled. You should never even get him started on his shedding.

● Thorfinn has gotten a feather in his mouth one or two times and threatened to skin him like a chicken if it happened again. 

● "Baldy, if one of your stupid chicken feathers hits me in the face again, I will skin you alive—painfully." Thorfinn doesn't know the difference between a chicken and an eagle.

● The Griffin species is known to live anywhere from two hundred fifty to five hundred years. The variation in age range comes from the fact that there are only three Griffin hybrids in the entire world, and human explorers still haven't done much research on them.

● With that said, his physical senses are still as strong as they were when he was younger. He is barely an adult in Griffin terms. They have been known to reach adulthood around fourty-five to fifty years old. With this context in mind, Askeladd is only forty-four.

-> Sight: 10/10

° Able to see to up to twenty miles.

-> Hearing: 9/10

° Able to hear up to fifteen miles.

-> Smell: 9.5/10

° Able to smell up to fifteen miles.

-> Taste: 9/10

-> Touch: 8.5/10

● His scent is always painstakingly strong and overwhelming. It is quite a musky scent with hints of applewood and vanilla. The spring and summer months cause his scent to become more musky. When fall and winter come along, his scent decreases in intensity, and he smells more like the dormant trees around him.

● He has a wing span of about 9 meters (30 feet). The average male griffin hybrid wingspan is around 7 meters (22 feet). The average female griffin hybrid wingspan is about 8 meters (26 feet). The female griffins have naturally adapted to have larger wingspans, as they are more coveted among hunters and those who wish to own hybrids. Askeladd had a slight mutation in his genes, which caused his abnormally wide wing span (even among griffin hybrids).

● His wings are strong enough to create winds up to almost seventy miles per hour.

● Yes, his wings are incredibly strong but also very sensitive. Any change in temperature or sensation on his wings can cause either great discomfort or joy. His wings can get easily cramped if he folds them into his back, which is why they are always slightly out.

● He has the ability to talk to birds, and it is quite amusing. They will often land on him, and he will use them as scouts for the band.

● He also has the mind-reading and telepathic abilities that all mythological hybrids have. It makes it easy to discern who is a friend and who is a foe in this world. People's intentions aren't exactly secret to him. It is rumored that he has these powers among the band, but he never gives them a straight answer. Only Bjorn knows of these two abilities and is careful of what he thinks around Askeladd. Although Askeladd has assured him that he would never read Bjorn's mind unless given consent, he respects his second in command that much. He is often tempted to know what goes on in that man's mind but always asks instead.

● His retractable talons help him whenever he needs to cut something or someone. He has used them on the battlefield many times when he was without a weapon. They are sharper than any human blade and could leave a scratch on steel. Occasionally, he does have to trim them to make sure they don't grow out too long.

● He holds great disdain for any male hunters, humans, or the vile ones that try to own hybrids. His 'father' was one of the human scum that captured his griffin mother. He will never forget the Hel she was put through. He will never forgive humans for those atrocities. However, put in a situation where he must be cordial with one of them, he will, while secretly plotting their downfall with a passive expression.

● He does hold a softer spot for human women and other gender-nonconforming humans (as long as they do not try to own hybrids). He has spent his fair share of nights with human women. They always know how to treat a hybrid.

● He gets his soft spot from his younger years, when he was briefly cared for by a Viking human woman. He had been attacked by hunters and was saved by a female one. She taught him that not all humans were the same, and a select few were able to show kindness. He held some romantic feelings for her, but alas, the Norns are so cruel. It is a story he has never told anyone and doesn't want to get into.

● Flaunts himself during the spring and becomes very territorial toward his band. No one is safe as long as he is in season. He has the instincts of an eagle and a lion; let that sink in. So yes, he does like to build nests.

● He also has over twenty illegitimate children, and none of them are griffin hybrids. They are a strange amalgamation; hybrid genetics work strangely. He isn't even aware that he is the father of that many kids. However, it is probably better that way, as having to raise over twenty children at once would be a nightmare for him. He already has his band that he has to deal with, not to mention the prince and Thorfinn.

● Don't get him started on the headaches those two cause him.

● He had to hold himself back the time a man tried to buy Thorfinn. As interesting as it would have been if he actually went through with it, he was just unable to. He would only ever subject his worst enemy to being treated like a pet, like a slave. Nothing more than a toy that someone uses as a state symbol until they get bored and then locks away on their highest shelf. He went father mode on that man after Thorfinn was dragged away by Bjorn—to prevent him from killing the buyer.

● "Your services are not and will never be needed. I heavily suggest you never show your face around my band again unless you want to lose it."

● That man's face went white as snow, and he threatened to have Askeladd hunted down before immediately turning around and running away. Bjorn had a fun time hunting down the buyer with Askeladd, per his request. It wasn't very hard, as the buyer was just a human male. It sent a clear message to anyone who had the gall to try to buy one of his band members. Even the most annoying one.

● He has a very strong sense of justice, despite being a Viking raider. Those two sides of him are always quarreling over the morality of his actions. His griffin side is the little angel on his shoulder. His Viking side is the little devil on the other side of his shoulder.

● He is a mighty and proud hybrid, if not just as flawed and broken as anyone else. He has lived a life ranging from hating humans for owning him to learning to love one of them, if only temporarily. Human women have become his vice so as to fill that hole that such a human made. He will flaunt himself and use his status to his advantage while leading his band and raiding, as it is his birth right. He is still waiting for the day when Lucius Artorius Castus may come and save the hybrids from their human enemies.

[vidcundgoth]

[covrettcreative]

The Carriage House in Fall

Seen in Flint, Michigan.

[peachydreamxx]

Day 23 of @hdcandyheartsfest with the prompt “Home” 🏡

There’s two sets of slippers, crimson and navy, placed side by side at the foot of the sofa. The little dish of candies on the coffee table, charmed to magically renew whenever the last one is eaten, satisfying someone’s sweet tooth. The oversized fluffy blanket that they spoon under most nights, falling asleep in front of wizarding crime documentaries or repeats of old cookery shows. Not to forget the velvet cushion on the armchair, occupied entirely by Marbles, who curls himself up and purrs contently, so long as he’s not disturbed. (Head scratches are greatly appreciated though.)

In the kitchen, various tacky fridge magnets from Paris, Amsterdam and Edinburgh. The mismatched mugs in all shapes and sizes, the entire shelf in the kitchen filled with every flavour of tea which Draco keeps meticulously organised, each in their little ceramic pale green jars with the engraved names on the front.

The bedroom, home to the giant dragon plushie that sits in the centre of their bed. Cuddled frequently by Draco, often in a spooning sandwich between the dragon and Harry. Bought as an anniversary gift years ago. There’s the ever growing collection of houseplants that seem to appear on every windowsill, shelf and table, a flourish of greenery inside the cosy room. On the rack by the door, over twelve pairs of tatty, old converse tumbling onto the floor. On the dresser above it, a collection of hand creams, nail balms and lotions, lined meticulously in order of use.

The scent of floral cologne lingering in the bedroom, jasmine soap drifting through the bathroom, earthy applewood smoke from the crackling fire in the living room. Home to a hundred memories, waiting for a thousand more.

[belcyal]

EDWARD   ‘  TED  ‘   TONKS ,   a   muggleborn   &   former   hufflepuff.   friends   say   they   can   be   charismatic   &   affable ,   but   also   boisterous   &   stubborn.   after   the   war   they   got   a   job   working   as   a   broadcaster   &   it   seems   to   fit   them.   rumor   has   it   they   were   NEUTRAL   during   the   war ,   but   who   knows   if   that’s   true   or   not.

◜    *     𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝚂.

full   name  :   edward  tonks.

nickname(s)  :   ted.

gender   /   pronouns  :   demi  man   /   he  +  they.

age  :   27.

hometown  :   manchester ,  england.

sexual   orientation  :   bisexual.

romantic   orientation  :   biromantic.

occupation  :   broadcaster  at  the  wizarding  wireless  network.

◜    *     𝙿𝙷𝚈𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙰𝙻 𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴.

faceclaim  :   thomas  doherty.

height  :   6′0″   /   183  cm.

eye   color  :   blue.

hair   color  :   brown.

◜    *     𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 .

zodiac  :   leo.

mbti  :   esfp.

enneagram  :   7x6  —  the  pathfinder.

house  :   hufflepuff.

patronus  :   basset  hound.

boggart  :   andromeda  with  the  dark  mark.

wand  :   10″ ,  applewood ,  unicorn  hair  core.

◜    *     𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝚈.

father  :   anthony  tonks.

mother  :   charlotte  tonks  née  thompson.

sibling(s)  :   none.

significant  other  :   andromeda  tonks  née  black.

children  :   nymphadora  tonks.

◜    *     𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆.

ONE   .     edward  tonks  was  born  july  23rd ,  1958 ,  in  the  city  of  manchester.  they  are  the  one  &  only  child  of  anthony  &  charlotte  tonks.  from  a  young  age ,  ted  knew  they  were  different ,  but  could  never  quite  put  a  finger  on  the  reason  why.  much  of  their  youth  was  spent  feeling  like  the  odd  one  out  &  the  day  that  letter  from  hogwarts  came  in  the  mail  was  one  full  of  both  shock  &  relief.  the  shock  was  to  tony  &  lottie ,  amazed  that  magic  even  existed  &  that  their  son  was  a  wizard.  relief  came  to  ted ,  for  this  simply  must  be  the  answer  for  why  they  never  felt  like  they  truly  belonged  among  their  peers. TWO   .     hogwarts  school  of  witchcraft  &  wizardry  was  like  a  dream  in  the  eyes  of  a  first  year  &  being  from  the  muggle  world  at  that.  everything  was  new  &  fascinating ;  and  ted  loved  every  second  of  it.  that  first  night ,  he  would  be  sorted  into  hufflepuff ;  something  they  found  suited  them  just  fine.  and  among  them  finally  found  a  sense  of  belonging  —  but  also  a  new  &  unfortunate  way  to  be  excluded.  for  ted  was  muggleborn  &  there  was  little  more  disheartening  to  the  eleven  year  old  than  when  they  found  out  what  exactly  being  called  a  mudblood  meant. THREE   .     in  the  seven  years  spent  at  hogwarts ,  ted  came  into  their  own.  from  a  shy  kid  who  didn’t  feel  like  they  belonged  &  into  a  confident  young  man  who  just  liked  to  bring  joy  to  the  friends  around  them.  ted  would  become  very  well  known  for  their  ability  to  make  people  laugh  &  charming  their  way  out  of  trouble.   FOUR   .     ted  would  end  up  marrying  andromeda  black  sometime  after  they  had  graduated  from  hogwarts.  unbeknownst  to  most  of  their  peers ,  the  two  had  been  secretly  nursing  a  friendship  for  years  that  would  eventually  turn  romantic  during  their  final  year  of  school.  because  of  their  relationship ,  ted  kept  their  head  down  during  the  war.  keeping  a  neutral  stance  despite  being  on  the  receiving  end  of  voldemort’s  anti-muggle  legislation.  they  would  have  liked  to  join  the  order  &  go  against  this  madness ,  but  for  the  sake  of  not  going  directly  against  andy’s  family  nor  risking  their  life  when  they  had  a  child  to  worry  about ,  he  did  not  join  the  fight  . . .  entirely.  if  ted  could  offer  to  help  in  the  most  subtle  of  ways ,  then  he  most  certainly  did. FIVE   .     with  the  fall  of  voldemort’s  reign ,  ted  has  been  able  to  resume  their  job  as  a  broadcaster  for  the  wizarding  wireless  network  now  that  it  was  no  longer  under  the  watch  of  voldemort’s  lackeys.  while  he  wishes  he  could  have  done  more  to  help  during  the  war ,  they  know  that  what  matters  is  that  their  little  family  has  survived  &  the  death  eaters  were  defeated  in  the  end.

[antisocialite83]

Loaded Grits Bowl made by Me 💕🥳

This was so fucking good! I made this spur of the moment yesterday for brunch and I might run it back again.

Stone grits

Chicken broth

Pico de Gallo (homemade)

Shredded Cheeses (sharp cheddar, smoked gouda)

Applewood Bacon

Butter

Himalayan salt

Black pepper

Fresh cilantro (chopped)

So proud of myself this year! I have been eating and working out ( 😮!), and I’ve put on weight and I feel so much healthier. Falling off the beginning of this year was embarrassing. But accomplishing ALL of my goals this year….i really haven’t taken the time to reflect on how far I have really come. Every single one of my goals. I’ve done it. I’M REALLY THAT BITCH!!! I think food and depression are so connected. When I have depressive cycles, I notice that I wasn’t eating as much if at all and I could never put on weight. I decided to start cooking for myself more and promised myself that when I got my own place I would do exactly that. And I have been. I genuinely enjoy feeding and caring for myself, especially now that I can do it EXACTLY as I want to.