#god this is so true and ive never been able to find the words for it

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part IV)

Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 11.5 K

Warnings: Angst begins, still lots of fluff, smut (of course), Aegon still being an ass

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

~~

The court was in a frenzy.

The news of their betrothal spread through King’s Landing like wildfire. It was all anyone could talk about for days on end. Some felt vindicated, that the rumors they had been spreading for months had finally come to fruition, while others were skeptical, unsure of what such a sweet young girl saw in the surly one-eyed Prince. 

The gossip was never ending, with many speculating the couple had been consorting inappropriately in private. While many knew of Ixtal’s customs, that they weren’t as strict about their Ladies maidenhood as they were in the rest of Westeros, it didn’t stop the looks of indignation she received from certain members of the court who turned their noses up at the mere possibility she had sullied herself before her marriage.

While Aemond hated the speculation and had to be held back more than once from storming over to a group of tittering Ladies and threatening to take their tongues for daring to speak ill of his betrothed, she found it laughable. She had to remind her betrothed they weren’t exactly wrong. 

Their nights of pleasure together were only all the more exciting and mind blowing knowing they would have each other forever, that they no longer needed to fear what the future held. 

They could finally relax, they would soon be each other’s in the eyes of the Gods and no one could take that away from them. 

Their wedding was spared no expense. Lords and Ladies of great houses from across the realm traveled to the Capitol to witness the union of a Targaryen Prince and the daughter of the most prosperous house in the realm. 

Aemond paid no mind to the fanfare. All he cared about was her. 

He barely got to see her in the weeks leading up to their wedding, with her swept up with the Ladies of the court in dress fittings and as her family arrived at King’s Landing, she was rarely seen without her dear younger sister or mother at her side. 

The King demanded a three day tourney be held to celebrate, with lavish hunts and feasts raving practically each night. Aemond had never seen his father so excited and he knew it had little to do with him and all to do with his dear friend, the Lord of Ixtal, that their families would officially be uniting. 

He rolled his eyes at the whole affair. He just wanted to marry his love. He didn’t want all this attention and unnecessary flourish. 

She would laugh softly everytime he slunk into her chambers at night, her bright eyes alight with mischief, a delighted smile on her face at the annoyance on his.

“Couldn’t stay away?”

“You know I couldn’t.” He crooned, inhaling her scent as he hugged her tightly from behind. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“I am.” She answered with a blissful smile. “Are you?”

“I was ready to marry you years ago.” 

She practically swooned, leaning her head back onto his shoulder, her gaze filled with nothing but devotion. She never would have pictured this for herself. She never could have imagined she would be able to marry her best friend, that she would find a love so pure and so beautiful for herself. She didn’t think that kind of love even existed. 

“Everything seems so perfect.” She spoke softly, reveling in his embrace. 

He hummed in agreement, wishing they could go find a Maester now to perform a ceremony and bind themselves together. He didn’t want to wait another minute. He just wanted to be her husband. 

The next morning, the entire Keep was a flurry of activity. Maids scurried in and out of her chambers to prepare her, most desperate to catch a glimpse of the Island girl that would soon become a Targaryen princess. 

She sat nervously at her vanity, her hands fidgeting in her lap. 

Today was the day she would finally marry her best friend. It all seemed too good to be true, as though they had gotten away with some elaborate plan. 

“You look beautiful, my love.” Her mother spoke, her eyes already brimming my tears.

“I’m not even in my dress yet.” She laughed as her mother waved her off, wiping under her eyes as she had been doing all morning. 

To her left, Alicent stood, her demeanor much more reserved than that of her own mother and sister, who could barely contain their excitement. The Queen had yet to crack a smile since she had entered her chambers and had been silently picking out jewelry for her to wear, barely sparing a glance to her soon to be good daughter. 

A nervous lump grew in her throat. She didn’t have the best relationship with Aemond’s mother, even as children, the woman seemed disinterested in speaking more than a few words to her. She at least thought the day she wedded her son she’d try to bridge the gap between them, but it seemed she still had little interest. 

She didn’t seem all that thrilled her son was even getting married. 

The maids around her all gestured for her to stand and move towards the floor length mirror, their excited giggles growing in volume as her dress was brought forward. 

Her breath hitched. It was real. This was happening. 

Her heart was racing as the maids helped her dress, her eyes beginning to sting with the pressure to cry the happiest of tears. 

“I assume you know what is expected of you tonight.” Alicent’s voice broke through the throng of excited chattering, abruptly shattering the positive energy in the room. 

The way Alicent looked at her, so intently, almost judgmentally, made her want to shrink. She swallowed and nodded. 

She felt a hand at her shoulder, her mother’s presence steadily at her side.

“We have already discussed what her duty is tonight.” Her mother answered for her, her voice sounder stiffer than before. 

Her mother had been in King’s Landing barely a day before she figured out what her daughter and her betrothed had been up to for months. Aemond had been horrified when his future good mother blurted out their long held secret. 

She was sure he would be blushing for the rest of his life. Even after her mother laughed heartily and assured them she would never tell a soul, that she held no judgment for them, he still had trouble meeting her eye out of sheer embarrassment. 

With one look at Alicent, the Lady of Ixtal knew she would do whatever she needed to do, say whatever she needed to say, to not let the frigid woman before her try to sink her claws into her daughter. 

She would not ruin her daughter’s big day. 

 Alicent hummed, the sound neither that of satisfaction or disdain, and she remained quiet, though her critical eye never lessened. She had no compliments for the young girl who donned her beautiful, extravagant dress, she had no well wishes for the girl as her eyes brimmed with happy tears.

All Alicent could fixate on was how angry her father was at the turn of events. They had lost a monumental opportunity to gain allies due to the girl in front of her. She had bewitched her son, her uncivilized ways weakening Aemond’s sense of duty and proprietary. She never forgot how her son had stormed into her room, practically demanding a betrothal. It was so unlike him, not at all how he had been raised to act and she knew the Ixtal girl was to blame. 

All she could do was plaster on a fake smile and hope everything her father had worked on for years wasn’t all for naught. 

~~

She was a vision as she stepped out of the carriage, her pulse thrumming in her ears, her hands trembling in anticipation. 

In a matter of minutes, she was going to be married to the love of her life.

“Are you ready?” Her father asked, a soft smile on his face as he stared at his first daughter with barely contained emotion. She nodded eagerly, latching onto his arm, taking in a final deep breath before they stepped inside. 

The crowd of guests were in awe as she passed, though she could not spare a glance to any of the onlookers that seemed to swoon at the sight of her. Her gaze was locked onto the man at the front of the room, meeting his eye effortlessly.

Aemond had been watching the door and nothing else for the past few minutes, anxiously awaiting her arrival. The second she stepped inside, his breath had been stolen from him. 

He felt nervous flutters within him, as if he was once again that little boy who was in love with his best friend before he even knew what it meant to love someone. 

His vision blurred slightly as tears gathered in his eye at the sight of her, so beautiful, so perfect, his wife. 

They couldn’t take their eyes off each other as her father removed the cloak from her shoulders. Aemond felt his breath hitch at the sight of her in her dress, the shape of her body, the delicate silk outlining every curve he had spent many nights memorizing and worshiping. 

As he stood before her, placing the heavy Targaryen cloak over her shoulders, he breathed in her familiar scent, calming every one of his nerves. 

He took her hand, guiding her up the steps of the dais. No one said a word as he kept his hand in hers, the crowd was absolutely enraptured by the sight of them, the Ladies dramatically sharing looks of longing at the couple as neither one of them spared a glance to the Septon that began the service. 

They only had eyes for each other. 

No one could deny the love they shared. As they spoke the words that bound them together, their smiles dazzling, no one could deny this was a marriage of pure love. 

“I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

The words left him with ease. He used to dread this moment as a child, hating the idea of being bound to a woman he didn’t know and didn’t care for for the rest of his life, purely out of duty. 

Now, he couldn’t imagine saying the words to any other person but the woman in front of him. The thought of spending the rest of his days with her, his love, brought him nothing but relief and endless happiness, a feeling he never pictured for himself. 

Since he lost his eye, since a piece of him had literally been taken from him, he had always felt slighted, but now, as the Septon announced their union, as he kissed her for the first time as his wife, he felt whole again. 

He was no longer that overlooked second son, he was no longer that scarred and feared man who longed for revenge. 

He was a husband, he was her protector, her friend, her love. He felt he finally had a meaningful purpose, one that meant so much more than the duty his family expected from him. 

The crowd cheered voraciously. It wasn’t often they got to witness a union so blessed by affection. 

Aemond kept his awed gaze on her as they made their way down the aisle, his hand clasped tightly in hers, paying no mind to anyone else around him. 

They could scarcely keep their hands from each other. 

During the feast, Aemond kept his hand on her thigh, his touch thankfully hidden by the long train covering the table. As both of their fathers gave speeches, spouting lovely rhetorics of family and peace, he couldn’t bring himself to listen to a word of it. 

His attention was focused solely on the woman beside him. His wife. 

He felt himself smiling just at the thought of it, that he could finally say the word. 

When the music started and they made their way to the floor to share their first dance, a moment Aemond had been dreading for weeks, he found he couldn’t care less that everyone’s eyes were on him. 

He realized nothing else mattered. Everything he thought would make him feel insecure wasn’t even a thought in his mind. He held her closely, his heart racing as if they were dancing for the first time, as if he was touching her for the first time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.” She spoke with a laugh.

“I have a good reason to smile.” He responded with a smirk as he twirled her. 

The guests couldn’t take their eyes off the couple as they danced. Most felt they were intruding on an intimate moment with how intently they gazed at each other, their love radiating from each of them effortlessly. 

They noticed how the couple sparsely ceased their touch from each other. The Lords present couldn’t help but feel slighted there would be no bedding ceremony. They were sure it would be a spectacle with how the Prince eyed his new wife with a hunger most men couldn’t conceive for their own wives. 

Aemond’s pout as his new wife accepted Helaena’s offer to dance, leaving him to sit by himself, would be fodder for most of the gossip the next morning. 

He watched her with a small smile, looking more at ease than the court had ever seen him, content at the mere sight of her delight as she twirled around with Helaena, their shared laughter ringing out louder than the music playing. 

He took a small sip from his wine, content to not drink much more, knowing he’d rather have a clear head for what the rest of the night held. He would finally take her as his wife, he would lay with her, spill his seed inside her without consequence. 

After tonight, her stomach could swell with his child and no one could say a thing. 

The thought made him desperate to drag her to their new shared chambers. He would be eager to see the end of the feast and lay with her for the rest of the night, but with how happy she was, he wouldn’t do a thing to take her away from it. 

As she twirled with Helaena, her head back, eyes closed, a picture of pure happiness, she suddenly lost her footing. She stumbled slightly, her eyes widening, but sturdy hands on her waist stopped her from falling to the floor. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

She stiffened at the voice in her ear, turning to see Aegon’s smarmy smile. She wanted nothing more than to wrench his hands off her, but she couldn’t make a scene at her own wedding. If she displayed any ounce of discomfort by his hands, she was sure Aemond would forever be tainted as the man who killed his own brother on his wedding night.

“Aegon…” Helaena called out wearily, not wanting her dear friend to be subjected to her brother’s cruel games, though she didn’t have power in her own corner to derail him.

“It’s alright Helaena.” She assured her, giving her a weak smile to the Princess who eyed her worriedly for a moment before retreating back to the head table. 

She cleared her throat and stood stiffly, holding back a grimace as Aegon’s hand slipped around her waist, his other taking hers, his grip tight and domineering, as if he wanted to prove to her how much stronger he was than her.

“You were lucky my grandsire allowed this to happen so quickly.” He spoke blatantly as they began to dance. “I was hoping to expose your big secret to the court.”

She felt her insides twist. Knowing Aegon was aware of her and Aemond’s secret, of their sneaking around, had her wanting to retreat where no one would find her. Even now they were married, Aegon still had the power to destroy her reputation.

She just hoped he ruined his own before he had the chance to tear her down. 

“You think they would listen to the words of a drunken idiot?” 

His smile turned wicked, his disdain for her clear, though there was no denying the lust in his gaze as he looked at her. He didn’t have to like her to fuck her. 

“More than they would listen to a whore who spreads her legs for anyone.”

“You mean my husband?” She retaliated, her patience for him wearing thin. 

Aegon chuckled, though his bitterness was clear. He leaned in close, his nose almost brushing against hers. She jerked back, sending him a vicious scowl, all she could allow herself under the prying eyes that surrounded her. 

“You could have been mine.” He crooned, the wine on his breath making her feel nauseous. “Gods only know why you decided to settle for my twat of a brother. As if he could please you better than I could, as if he could fuck you the way I could. I bet you were the first woman he ever bedded.”

His words made her feel sick to her stomach as she staunchly looked past his shoulder, refusing to look him in the eye. She didn’t want him to know how much he could get under her skin. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I would rather let the entire brothel of whores you sully yourself with flay every layer of my skin off slowly until I beg for death than ever crawl into bed with you.”

Aegon only smirked joyously.

“The mouth on you.” He admired with a shake of his head. “Such a shame it’s wasted on my brother.”

“Aegon.”

The stern voice of his brother made his eyes widen for a fraction of a second and he quickly schooled his expression, quickly removing his hands from his new good sister, plastering on a smirk so his brother wouldn’t see how successfully he could intimidate him.

She turned, meeting the questioning gaze of her husband. She nodded subtly, silently assuring him she was ok. 

He’d been chatting with her brother but the moment he spotted her in Aegon’s arms, he had abruptly given his well wishes to his new family and was quickly making his way to rescue her from his lecherous brother’s grip.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded eagerly, linking her arm through his, more than eager to say goodbye to the feast and make her way to bed with her new husband. 

“What, no bedding ceremony?” Aegon called out, forcing Aemond to send him a wicked glare. 

“Not if you wish to live, brother.” He spat and turned on his heel, desperate to get his wife far away from his depravity. 

He was more than thankful his good father had appealed to his father about doing away with the bedding ceremony. The Lord of Ixtal cared about his daughter too much to put her through that embarrassment. 

“Did he do anything?” He asked under his breath as they walked away, ignoring the cheers of congratulations from the guests he cared little for.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched in anger, his instincts telling him to turn back and threaten his brother within an inch of his life for daring to speak to his wife in ways that were anything but cordial. 

The moment they stepped out of the grand hall, allowing them a brief moment of privacy in the empty hallway, she pulled her arm from his and took his hands in her own, turning to face him, a soft smile on her face.

“Don’t let him ruin our night. This isn’t about him or anyone else. It’s about us.” 

He let out a long breath and nodded, though it wasn’t an easy feat to let go of the anger that burned hotly at the mere mention of his debauched brother’s attention on his love. 

“Besides, I’m quite eager to get to bed and if my husband chooses to delay any longer, I might begin to rethink this union.” She teased, smiling victoriously as his eye darkened with desire.

Her laughter echoed in the halls as Aemond practically dragged her to their chambers, his quick pace signaling he was equally as eager as she was to lose themselves in bliss.

~~

She lay draped across his bare chest, the sheets pooled at their hips. She hummed in contentment, her limbs aching, her eyes heavy with exhaustion as Aemond gently ran his fingers up and down the length of her arm. 

Any other night, his touch would lull her into much needed sleep, but the excitement that continued to course through her veins stubbornly kept her eyes open. 

She turned her head, looking up at her husband.

Gods, she would never get over saying that.

He looked down, their shared smiles growing as their gazes met. 

Her hand that was placed on his strong chest cheekily began to move lower, making him laugh.

“You can’t possibly be needing more.” He spoke tiredly. They had already gone multiple rounds, he had already pulled a countless number of orgasms from her. 

“I thought I married a dragon.” She teased. “Are you saying you no longer have the stamina to please your wife?” 

Aemond’s gaze darkened, his exhaustion worn out by his desire she could so effortlessly spark. 

“You dare to doubt me, wife?” He crooned, knowing how deeply the word affected her, watching with satisfaction as she practically preened against him, a wickedly delightful thrill coursing through her at the mention of their newly married status. 

She laughed and pushed at his chest, forcing him to lay back onto the pillows below him. He eagerly expected her to crawl atop him and ride him in the deliriously, mind bending way she could, but he was left in a pleasured surprise as she began to press heated kisses across his abdomen, moving lower torturously slowly.

He let out a heavy breath, his body thrumming with anticipation. He hissed as she took him in her mouth, his head falling back, already feeling weak under her touch, sensitive from his previous leg-shaking peaks. 

Her wicked tongue knew exactly what to do to render him a useless fool who couldn’t remember his own name. His hand tangled in her hair that was already a mess from their previous passionate rounds. 

His breath left him in heavy pants as she worked him with her mouth at a quick pace. He knew her well, he knew the determined glint in her eye signaled trouble for him. She went further and further and took him deep in her mouth until the tip of him hit the back of her throat. 

He whined, writhing against the bed, his hand that wasn’t pulling at her hair pathetically fisting the sheets below him in an effort to keep himself tethered to some semblance of control that she was steadily shattering. 

“You are wicked.” He moaned, the delight in his voice causing her lips to curl around him in the guise of a victorious smile. 

His lips were parted with a litany of moans and whines as he watched her, eagerly taking in the sight of her, his cock in her mouth, her eyes alight with desire, greedily taking his pleasure. She sped up the pace of her mouth, delighted at the sound of his loud groan echoing throughout the room. 

His toes began to curl, his weak body, already spent from hours of ecstasy, leaving him powerless under her. 

He called out her name frantically, sounding more debauched than he ever would have imagined he could have. 

“Oh fuck, just like that, darling, don’t stop.” 

She doubled her efforts, eager to see him fall apart. She loved to hear his noises of pleasure, to see him so unrestrained as he let himself fall to the haze of bliss. His back arched, both of his hands grabbing fistfuls of her hair, as if to ensure she wouldn’t leave him wanting, that she stayed worshiping him as she was, as only she could.

“Love,” He warned, feeling his end nearing, feeling the familiar fire beginning to stir within him, one that came before a powerful release. With only a few more flicks of her tongue, he felt himself shatter. 

He cried out, a loud, desperate sound most wouldn’t believe to have come from the surly Prince, as he came. His vision was stolen from him as he had squeezed his eye shut in the moment of climax, though he wouldn’t have denied that she had just extricated his soul from his body, leaving him to lose what was left of his sight. He didn’t doubt she had the ability. 

His chest heaved, his jaw slack, small whines leaving him as she was slow to part from him, her mouth lazily working his spent cock that twitched in overstimulation at her touch. 

He reached for her blindly, his limbs weak as though he had just fought a grueling battle. She grabbed his hand, laughing softly at the sight of him thoroughly exhausted. 

She allowed him to pull her over him, his hands desperate to touch her, to feel her close to him, to prolong the pleasure running through him. 

He kissed her hand, his lips moving up the length of her arm until he reached her neck, smiling at the sound of the contented noise that left her lips as he found the spot that always made her giggle with ticklish delight. 

“One of these days you are going to stop my heart.” He told her, still working to catch breath. 

“I would never do such a thing.” 

He smiled and kissed her firmly, his mind a haze of delirium. He briefly wondered if he was dreaming, for this seemed too perfect to be his life. He kissed her again, as if to confirm that this was real, that the woman that just brought him pleasure like no other was truly before him, that he was lucky enough to now call her his wife. 

“Give me five minutes and I will return the favor.”

~~

Their marriage was nothing short of blissful. Now there was no longer a need to hide, the public was shocked by how affectionate the dragon Prince acted towards his wife. One was seldom seen without the other. 

Maids constantly gossiped about the salacious noises heard from their shared chambers practically all hours of the day. With the noises the new Princess made nightly they couldn’t help but begin to lust over the elusive Prince, or at least wish he could give some tips to their own lovers. They almost fought over who got to service the Prince and his new wife to catch a glimpse of the lovesick expression on the feared one-eyed dragon’s face. 

It had to be seen to be believed. 

They knew it wouldn’t be long until the announcement of a new Targaryen babe was made. 

Aemond hated the attention. He wished he could take his wife across the sea and indulge in their newly wedded bliss in private. 

He had just sneered at yet another passing Lady who practically fawned at the sight of the two of them, when she laughed, tucking her arm tighter in his. 

They had simply been walking in the gardens together and still couldn’t escape the gossiping Ladies of the court who could talk of nothing else but their marriage and ponder about the feared one-eyed Prince’s new found prowess among the Ladies. 

“Do they have nothing better to do?” Aemond muttered in annoyance.

“Our novelty will wear off soon.” She assured him. “They are just not quite used to seeing you so… soft.”

“I am not soft.”

She laughed, the sound causing him to look over at his wife incredulously. The disbelieving look on his face only had her suppressing more laughter, 

“Tell me, dear husband, if I told you my legs were hurting and I couldn’t possibly make it to that bench over there, would you not carry me?”

Aemond regarded her for a moment, an almost imperceptible pout growing on his lips as he contemplated the situation. He knew there was no way he wouldn’t indulge her in anything she asked for. 

“That does not make me soft.” He answered defensively, though he knew he was a lost cause. 

She giggled at the obvious answer as they continued to walk. Aemond looked over at her, eyeing her carefully for a few moments, his brows furrowing.

“Your legs are not hurting are they?” 

Her laughter rang out in the gardens as she leaned in closer to his side. Aemond felt his own smile tugging at his lips and he placed a kiss to the top of her head.

He knew he would endure all of the petty gossip that came his way. He would endure a lot worse just to hear that laugh again. 

He almost couldn’t believe the bliss he was living in. He loved her more than he thought it was possible to love someone. Now that they no longer had to hide their true feelings for each other, now that they were married and could freely show affection without any repercussions, he found himself living in a dreamlike state. 

It felt too good to be true. 

Every day was spent showing the rest of the court just how much she meant to him, how he was hers and she was his and no one else mattered, while late nights were spent tangled in bed, their limbs weak with pleasure, a time just for them and no one else. 

As she got up to pour them another cup of wine they had been drinking before he had dragged her to their bed, she looked over her shoulder at her husband who was looking up at the ceiling tiredly, a content smile on his face.

“Have I finally worn you out?” She teased as she handed him his cup. 

He chuckled softly and took the cup, drinking down much needed swallows of the sweet wine. She crawled back into bed beside him, settling herself in his open arms once again. She pressed teasing kisses across his chest, feeling the hum of soft moans that escaped him. 

He cupped her face and kissed her firmly, the gesture lacking much heat as they were both thoroughly spent from the haze of pleasure they’d been tangled in for hours. 

He pulled away, letting his forehead rest against hers as he took her in, simply admiring his wife with an awe that was certainly not unfamiliar to either of them. 

She noticed a flicker of something she didn’t recognize flash across his face, his eye softening almost imperceptibly. 

“What’s on your mind, Love?” She asked, nuzzling in closer to him as she sensed his sudden anxious energy. 

He stayed quiet for a moment longer, carefully contemplating his next words and if he should divulge the sudden thought in his head to her. 

“What if…” He started softly, his teeth worrying his lip as he feared her reaction. “What if you didn’t drink any moon tea tomorrow?”

Her expression smoothed out in surprise at his request. She couldn’t deny that it was something she had thought of since their wedding, but she had never spoken of her fantasies of silver haired children with her husband. She knew he had complicated feelings for his own family, especially his father, and she never wanted to bring it up in fear of pushing him to something he feared.  

“Is that something you want?” 

“I want everything with you.” He told her sincerely. 

The beaming smile that grew on her lips soothed every ounce of anxiety he had and he breathed out deeply, leaning forward to kiss her once more. 

“You’re going to be a wonderful father.” 

Her whispered words made his insides twist and flutter in ways that left him holding back the flood of emotions he hadn’t expected, her words soothing the deep rooted anxiety he felt at the prospect of starting a family, no matter how badly he wanted it. He had no way to tell her how grateful he was for her, there were no words conceivable to tell her the depth of his love for her. 

So he settled for kissing her, silently thanking the Gods above for bringing him to the woman in his arms. 

~~

Aemond stepped into their shared chambers the same time he always did, his perfect hair slightly disheveled from his time spent training. He stopped in his tracks, the warmth in his expression gone in an instant as he eyed the Maester sitting before her with growing apprehension.

“What’s wrong?” 

She laughed at his blatant worry as he approached her quickly, reaching for her hand. 

“Everything’s fine, Darling.” 

“What happened?” He turned to ask the Maester, all care gone from his voice, leaving nothing but strict power as he demanded an answer. 

“The Princess wasn’t feeling well this morn-”

“Are you alright? Why didn’t you tell me?” He interrupted, turning his attention back to her, his concerned tone back in full force, all traces of the demanding Prince gone as he kneeled before her, his expression wracked with worry. 

She smiled again in amusement and looked to the Maester. 

“Would you mind giving us a moment?” 

The old man nodded respectfully, giving her a warm smile and hastily leaving the room, most likely relieved to gain some distance from the dragon Prince with the feared temper. 

She intertwined her fingers with Aemond’s, taking in a deep breath as she prepared herself to bring him the life changing news. 

“I have been feeling a little off the last few days and I called the Maester to confirm my suspicion.” She explained vaguely, her mischievous smirk remaining as she watched Aemond’s brow furrow deeper in concern. 

“And?”

Deciding to finally let her husband off the hook and spare him his heart that was no doubt racing in anticipation, his dramatic mind probably conjuring horrible conclusions, she guided his hand forward, letting his palm rest flatly on her stomach. 

She watched him carefully, noting the exact moment he realized what she was telling him. His lips parted and his gaze moved from his hand to her face abruptly, his eye shrouded in disbelief, looking at her pleadingly, as if needing confirmation that this was real. 

She let out a laugh and nodded, tears brimming in her eyes at the pure love she saw in Aemond’s. He let out a breathless laugh, the sound of delight one she had never remembered ever hearing from him before. He grabbed her hands, swiftly bringing her to her feet and barely a second later, he was hugging her tightly, his hands gripping onto her desperately.

Her delighted laughter filled the room as he twirled her around, the moment filled with nothing but elation. 

“Thank you.” He whispered from where his head rested in the crook of her neck. 

She smiled, her own emotions rising at the sound of him so touched, so loved. 

He pulled out of the embrace, his gaze immediately falling to her stomach that had yet to show any evidence of the life that grew there. He pictured it swelling, the bump that would grow with their child, the life they had created together and he was sure his heart was moment away from bursting out of sheer love. 

“I can’t believe it.” He breathed out in awe. It had only been about a month since they had made the decision to forgo moontea, he had no idea it would happen for them this quickly. 

“With how often you take me to bed, surely this isn’t a surprise.” 

He looked almost proud at her jest and she shook her head, pulling him in for another embrace that he gladly returned, his arms holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world and if anyone were to ask, Aemond would certainly agree. 

He kissed the top of her head and pulled back, taking her face in his hands as he looked down at her reverently.

“You have given me more than I ever could have imagined I would have.” He told her honestly. “You’ve made me the happiest man to ever live.” 

He kissed her with all the love he could, hoping it would be enough to convey every ounce of adoration he held for her. 

However, their peace didn’t last long. 

Rhaenyra and her sons would soon be arriving at King’s Landing to counter Vaemond Velaryon’s petition for the Driftmark throne.

The moment Aemond heard the news, he became reserved, building that familiar brooding wall around him, portraying that of the feared one-eyed prince the court loved to gossip about. 

The night before they were due to arrive, he had resided in their chambers, wishing to avoid the prying eyes of the court and their whispers about his bastard nephews and the likelihood of there being another duel between them that would result in bloodshed.

He heard the door of their shared chambers open and close, but his gaze remained on the flickering flames in the hearth in front of him. 

“There you are.” Her sweet voice called out, his wife taking her place at his side. “I’ve barely seen you all day.”

“I’ve been here.” He responded softly, his voice lacking its usual warmth that was always present with her. 

She watched him carefully, knowing exactly what was eating away at him, but hesitant to mention it, unsure of how he would react. The mere mention of his nephews was enough to incite his rage. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” She asked softly.

“No.”

His voice was curt, betraying just how tormented he felt. A flare of pain lashed his scar, the sapphire in place of his eye seemingly burning, as if the thought of that Strong bastard’s imminent arrival alone could cut him like the dagger he wielded that night. 

A tense silence lingered between them, one they both hated. 

With a pained hiss, he tore his eye path off, tossing it to the side carelessly, his sharp features contorted in pain. He leaned his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands as the sapphire in his eye bloomed with pain. 

It wasn’t often the wound still caused him aggravation, but in the moments it did, he always felt like he was that young, helpless boy again. His hands shook slightly as the pain flared so deeply it was all he could do to breathe through it. 

Within seconds he felt gentle hands on his, carefully prying them from his face. He looked up to his wife sitting before him, the concern on her face stirring his emotions he tried desperately to hold back. 

He noticed the vial of ointment in her hands, the one the Maesters gave to him to use whenever his wound became unbearable. He was tense as she cradled his cheek, her thumb caressing the edge of his scar, her eyes taking in the angry looking wound. She had seen him do this for himself a few times but he had never let her do it before. 

She looked at him thoughtfully, posing a silent question to which he nodded slightly, still hesitant to let her touch what was his greatest shame, but the pain was becoming unbearable, he was left out of options. 

She dipped her finger into the ointment and carefully applied it to his eye, her own heart racing as she felt her husband was baring a piece of himself he had been adamant on hiding for so long. 

As her fingers brushed as gently as possible across his wounded eye, the cooling ointment bringing him relief immediately, he finally started to let himself relax, releasing a long breath. 

She reached out with her other hand, laying it over his own that was still clenched into a fist, beginning to trace meaningless shapes over his knuckles. Her touch soothed something in him he didn’t even know could be soothed, the simple gesture enough for him to feel comforted in a way only she could give him. He sighed loudly as he sank into his seat, the rigidity leaving him limb by limb. 

Smiling softly at the sight of him so much calmer than before, she moved to sit next to him once she was finished. Aemond was quick to close the distance between them, moving in closer to her side, taking her hand in his, eager for her touch. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, the look of reverence he sent her stirring her own emotions and she suddenly found herself on the verge of tears. She would never understand what he went through as a child, she would never understand what he felt for his nephews, but she was adamant she would be there for him in the moments he struggled. 

“You never need to thank me for this.” She assured him. 

Another heavy breath escaped him, as if his ire was leaving him with each exhale. His resentment was no match for the love his wife gave him. It would succumb to her each and every time. 

His hand roamed gently over her body, eventually finding its place on her stomach, where it stayed, pulling a small laugh from her.

“You do realize there’s no bump yet.”

Aemond just shrugged, the look of contentment on his face a far cry from the derision that had steadily remained all day. 

“It doesn’t matter. He’s still in there.”

“He?”

He seemed bashful as he looked up at his wife, a slight blush on his cheeks, as if embarrassed to admit the many nights he spent thinking about their child, imagining their son as the perfect mix of them both, of how much he already loved their child. 

“It’s just a feeling.” 

She began to picture it, Aemond cradling their son, his eyes the same vibrant blue of his father’s, his smile wide, his cheeks chubby, every bit of him absolutely perfect. 

Her own smile grew, her vision growing blurry as tears gathered in her eyes at the thought, her hormones that were now on a hair trigger since her pregnancy, coming to a head. 

“Hey,” Aemond called out in concern, reaching up to caress her cheek and she shook her head, letting out a small laugh.

“They’re happy tears.” 

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her softly. It was easy to forget the turmoil he felt, that he was soon to face the object of his anger, when he was next to his wife, their child growing within her. 

That night, he was ravenous. He had taken her with a fervor he hadn’t felt in weeks. He had been insatiable when he knew of her pregnancy, but he seemed to treat her like glass, as if she were now delicate because of the precious life that grew within her. 

His touches had always been gentle, but urgent, hungry yet loving. 

Tonight, he was starved. He fucked her as if they were newlyweds again, every touch portraying just how desperate he felt for her. 

“Aemond!” She cried out, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling hard as he brought her to yet another blissful orgasm.

He growled, burying his face in the crook of her neck, the enticing nip at her neck making her moan. His steady pace never faltered, his powerful hips crashing against hers as he chased his own end. 

Her cries turned to laughs, delirious with pleasure. 

“I love you.” She breathed out and screamed as his pace became quicker, his thrusts becoming harsher, more frantic as he quickly approached his high. 

“Say it again.” He growled, now hovering over her as he gazed down at the beauty beneath him, his eye and the striking sapphire a sight that left her shivering under his tight grip.

“I love you.” She repeated, hoping he believed every word, hoping he knew just how much she cherished him, how much he meant to her. “You are the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I’ll ever love for the rest of my life.”

His jaw clenched, his eye squeezing shut as the sight of her below him, writhing in pleasure, was just too much to handle. He was powerless against her. 

His thrusts became relentless, the bed shaking beneath them with every one of his brutal strokes. 

He breathed harshly, feeling as though flames were alight in his veins. 

“Again.” He commanded roughly. 

She shivered at the commanding edge of his voice, her toes curling as she felt sparks ignite within her. 

“I love you, more than anything.” 

Her breathless words were his undoing. He shouted a curse and groaned loudly, his arms feeling weak as he practically fell over her, never stopping his movements, his cock thrusting into her almost violently as he came, his body shaking against hers. 

She gasped at the feeling of him spilling inside her, her arms wrapping tighter around him, her head thrown back as she cried out, his name falling from her lips in a chant, as if he were a deity she prayed to for salvation. 

“I love you.” She whispered breathlessly and began to laugh tiredly as he planted kisses over the expanse of her neck, making his way upwards until he met her lips, kissing her soundly, as if she were the very air he breathed. 

“I love you.” He panted in a blissful daze. 

By the next morning, every good feeling Aemond had coveted the night before had dissipated like smoke in the wind. 

He woke early and spared his sleeping wife a kiss to the forehead before heading to the training yard where he spent the rest of the morning, endlessly sparring with Ser Criston and any other worthy opponent available when the knight needed a break from his endless plights. 

Those that dared to step up were left bloody and bruised in a matter of minutes. 

Aemond was wound tightly, his entire being ready to snap as he laid his eye on his nephews for the first time in years. The fury that had been buried deeply within him for years bubbled to the surface with one look at the brown haired bastards. 

The sapphire in place of his eye burned as his glare remained steady on them. 

He preened inwardly as they cowered under his eye. To know they couldn’t meet his gaze brought him more satisfaction than he had expected. He grabbed his sword and gestured to Ser Criston to get into position.

He fought with determination as if he were in actual battle, as if his life was truly threatened and every movement dictated his survival. With every powerful strike of his sword against Criston’s shield, he felt vindicated, as though the years of shame that had come from the bullying he endured from his own brother and nephews stripped off layer by layer with each powerful swing of his weapon. 

His eye drifted to his nephews, a sickly satisfied smirk growing at the sight of their intimidation. 

They held no power over him now. He had made sure of it. 

“Husband.” 

Her voice cut through the haze of victory he had been lavishing in. He turned on his heel, confusion overtaking him as he saw his wife standing in the training yard. He dropped his sword and rushed over to her side. 

“What are you doing down here? Is everything alright?”

She didn’t often make her way down into the training yards and with her current state, he couldn’t help but fret over her every minute of the day he was with her.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t killing yourself before the petition.”

He sighed heavily. He didn’t know if he loved or hated how easily his wife could read him. She took his hand and he let her guide him out of the yard. 

“You’ve been here for hours, I think you’ve earned yourself a break.” 

He opened his mouth to retort, but she stopped him with a knowing look. 

“Based on the looks on your nephews face’s I think you’ve proven everything you needed to prove.”

The smirk that grew on his lips should have worried her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel any concern for the ire he felt for his nephews. It was more than justified, she just hoped it would be enough, that their visit to the Keep wouldn’t result in any more bloodshed. 

Aemond looked back into the training yard, as if hesitant to leave the glory he’d managed to carve out for himself, for the retribution he felt he had finally earned, no matter how slight it was, but her hand in his forced him back to her in an instant. 

“Don’t let them get to you. They hold no power over you.” She told him softly and he let out a long breath, allowing the hatred that had been clouding him all day roll over him like dark thunder clouds making way for the shining sun to warm up the earth after a vicious storm. 

His hand remained steadily in hers, as if needing her like a lifeline in tumultuous waves. She was the only thing that kept him tethered to himself, that kept him from spiraling into his anger. 

She could see how tense he was and if it were any other day, if they didn’t have royal duties to attend to, she would’ve been content to keep him in their chambers and let him use her to both of their delights until he was spent, too exhausted to feel any anger at all. 

She didn’t like to see him in this state. It was so unlike the sweet boy that had been by her side for years. She didn’t like what her nephews had created in him the night he claimed Vhagar. 

~~

The petition unfolded as she expected. While King Viserys’ presence had been a surprise, Vaemond’s demise certainly wasn’t, especially after the accusations he had spouted to Princess Rhaenyra and her sons. 

Aemond had tugged on her arm, instinctively pulling her behind him as Daemon brought his sword down upon the man. 

He had shielded her from the violent display, something she had been grateful for. With the pregnancy hormones swirling within her, she most often felt nauseous around anything that wasn’t plain bread. The sight of Vaemond’s severed head would’ve been enough to put her off eating for the rest of her life. 

As the court reacted in a frenzy to the brutal display, Aemond had placed his hand on her stomach, his eye looking her over carefully, ready to rush her out of the room at the slightest hint of nausea. 

She gripped his hand and nodded to his silent question, assuring him she was ok, that she wasn’t about to spill her guts in front of everyone, though the darkened look in his eye remained. Who it was targeted at, she wasn’t quite sure. 

Neither one of them had been looking forward to the family dinner Viserys was adamant on hosting. It was as if he was completely oblivious to the tension in the family as he forced them in proximity to each other. 

Aemond had barely spoken a word as they readied themselves for dinner. He was tense, his face drawn tightly, as if he expected the worst to unfold, as if he were facing enemies on a battlefield and not a simple dinner with his family. 

“We don’t have to attend.” She told him, wishing she could protect him from the torment he felt in the face of his nephews. 

He didn’t spare a look to her, every inch of him was shrouded in anger, barely contained fury that he couldn’t shake. He didn’t seem like the man she married at that moment. 

“Why wouldn’t I attend?” He asked, as if his torment wasn’t visible, as if she wasn’t aware of the burning anger he couldn’t shake, the vitriol he experienced as a child coming back to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of the slights that he had been faced with. 

“Aemond,” She started softly. “No one expects you to forgive them.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head, his expression filled with bitter irritation. 

“No one expects me to hold any anger at all.” 

She frowned deeply and approached him slowly, eyeing him carefully. She had never felt so out of depth when it came to her husband but she would be damned if she left him to suffer alone.

“We don’t have to go.”

He clenched his jaw, his eye holding a faraway look, signaling he was deep in thought. 

She reached out, cupping his face in his hands, startling him out of his reverie that was filled with nothing but hatred. 

“You just tell me and we’ll leave. I’ll make an excuse and we can go without any question.”

Her words, her ability to show him she was staunchly in his corner, a feeling no one else had ever assured him of, disarmed him completely. There was one thing his nephews would never take from him, the love he felt from his wife stood the test of time, standing strongly against any other force that dared to weaken him. His eye softened, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm, his fingers gently caressing her skin. 

“What have I done to deserve you?” He whispered, his voice cloaked with reverence, as if surprised by the love she held for him. 

She frowned, hating when he spoke as if he didn’t deserve the love she showed him, as if it was some kind of gift he wasn’t worthy of coveting. 

“You read to me my second day here.” She answered simply, reminding him of the beginning of it all, when they were nothing more than two wonderstruck children. 

He exhaled deeply, desperately wanting to hold onto that feeling that always surrounded him when he thought of their childhood together, like warmth embracing him soundly. 

It was a feeling he kept close to him as they walked to the dining hall, though he knew it was futile. The feeling would be gone, shielded in the depths of him in the face of his family.

As they stepped into the hall, Aemond left her side to grab her a drink from the servers, allowing her to step towards Rhaena and Baela, greeting them politely. Rhaena was quick to give her a smile, while Baela only had distrustful eyes to throw in her direction. 

Her name was called and she turned to see Rhaenyra approaching her with a warm smile. 

She smiled and embraced the Princess slightly awkwardly. She had fond memories of the woman growing up, especially in times when she was desperately missing her own mother, but it had been years since she had seen her and knowing her actions on the night Aemond’s eye had been taken had irrevocably changed her view of the woman since.

“It’s good to see you again, Dear.” Rhaenyra smiled warmly at her. “Where is your father, I was hoping to say hello.”

“He’s at Ixtal. He was missing my mother and decided to take a short visit.” 

“You didn’t join him?”

She felt her cheeks heat at the question and she couldn’t help but smile. 

“I would, but I wasn’t exactly in a good state to travel.” She explained and placed her hand on her stomach exaggeratedly. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened and she beamed a smile, laughing happily. 

“That is wonderful news.” The Princess congratulated. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” 

A hand on the small of her back made her look up to see her husband now at her side, his steely eye locked onto his half-sister whose smile faltered at his sudden presence. She cleared her throat, her demeanor now tense as she nodded politely in greeting.

Rhaenyra left their side quickly, leaving her to wonder just how deeply one family could fracture. She couldn’t imagine ever greeting her brothers in that manner. She couldn’t imagine hating the ones she shared blood with. 

Letting out a long breath, knowing she was in for an eventful night, she turned to Aemond, placing her hand on his arm that was stiff, as if he wouldn't allow himself to relax or even take a breath in their presence. 

They all took their seats, the tension in the room strangling as King Viserys was carried in. 

She held back a grimace at the sight of the decrepit King. He was a far cry from the man she had met all those years ago, far from the man who was a dear friend to her father. 

The awkward aura in the room remained steadfast, with most avoiding eye contact with each other. Even Viserys’ heartened speech about family and the uniting of the house of the dragon did little to mend the obvious rift in the family.

Until Rhaenyra stood. She was shocked to hear her speak such lovely words about the Queen and for the Queen to return the sentiment. 

Their apparent truce for the time being broke the tension, though her husband at her side remained tense, his lone eye unflinchingly cold as he regarded his distant family. 

Her eyes kept circling back to him, as if waiting for the moment he would strike. She wondered when the wood of the chair under his white-knuckled grip would splinter. She wondered when the night would take an irredeemable turn.

She didn’t even get to enjoy Helaena’s thinly veiled jab towards Aegon in her toast, she was too worried about her husband to pay attention to the others around her. 

When the music began, signaling the end of the toasts, she leaned back in her seat, giving her husband a small encouraging smile, anticipating that they had made it through the worst the night had to offer. 

Aemond remained stiff as stone, his posture straight and rigid. She noticed his eye darken further, his gaze locked past her and she turned, her brows furrowing slightly as Jacaerys stepped towards her, a hopeful smile on his face.

“Would you care to dance, Princess?” He asked, offering her his hand. 

She stared at his hand for a long second, contemplating her choices. With the entirety of the table watching the exchange, she knew she had little choice but to accept his offer. 

She spared a brief glance to her husband beside her and the fury that blazed in his lone eye would have melted the wall in the great north. With a heavy breath, she gingerly took Jace’s hand and stood from her seat, allowing him to guide her away from the table.

Her husband’s gaze practically burned at her back. 

Aemond watched with barely contained rage as the bastard danced with his wife. His teeth grinded together so harshly it was a wonder they didn’t crack. He briefly contemplated what the repercussions would be if he murdered the Strong bastard where he stood. 

The fire within him was simmering, ready to unleash as he watched another man touch his wife. The smile on the bastard’s face left Aemond wondering whether he should slit his throat, dismember him, or let Vhagar turn him to ash. 

None of the choices seemed punishment enough. 

As Jace twirled her, her eyes briefly met Aemond’s and her stomach twisted at his expression. She knew tonight wouldn’t end peacefully. 

She flinched slightly as Jace quickly spun her back into his arms, causing her to almost crash into his chest, forcing her much closer to him than she felt was necessary. She leaned back to gain some distance, hoping it wasn’t noticeable, hoping her husband hadn’t been able to tell she had been uncomfortable for a mere second.

Jace would be dead and buried before the sun rose if that were the case. 

“I have to admit, I was quite shocked when I heard the news of your wedding.” Jace suddenly spoke, keeping his voice low so only she would hear. 

“What was so shocking?”

“I didn’t expect you to end up with someone like him.”

“Someone like him? You mean my oldest friend?” She questioned, disdain creeping through her tone, her defenses raised, which didn’t allow her the wherewithal to speak in a friendly manner. 

Jace sighed, as if wanting to dispute the simple fact that she and Aemond had been close for years before marriage was even a thought in either of their heads. 

“You two are very different.” He said with a slight shrug. “I pictured you with someone more… warm, romantic even.” 

“I assure you, my prince, my husband is plenty romantic. You do not need to worry yourself about my marriage.” She smiled stiffly. 

Jace, seeming to sense her attitude, remained silent for the remainder of the dance. As the song ended, she politely curtsied and was walking back to the table before he could rise from his bow. 

The tension didn’t dissipate as she took her seat at her husband’s side once more. If anything, the fury radiating from the man beside her only set her more on edge. Aemond leaned into her, making her shoulders tense both in apprehension and desire. 

“If he touches you again, I will break every bone in his body.” Aemond hissed in her ear, smirking delightedly at the shiver she repressed. 

She looked up at him, his fury now morphed into an insatiable hunger only she could tame. She knew she would be in for a long night. 

She was just thankful he seemed to be feeling anything other than murderous rage. 

But it did not last long. 

She had been speaking quietly to Helaena, Aemond’s hand in hers, his thumb caressing over her knuckles a steady comfort when he suddenly pulled away. 

She barely had time to look over at her husband before he was bolting out of his chair. His fist that slammed on the table made her flinch in surprise, her wide eyes looking up at him in confusion.

“Final tribute.” 

Her heart raced wildly in her chest, her gaze wandering around the table, wondering what could have possibly stoked his fury. It wasn’t until she saw the sheepish guilt that permeated with fear on Lucerys’ expression that she began to understand. 

“To the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… strong.”

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, her wide eyed gaze meeting Alicent’s for a brief moment, his mother looking equally as petrified for what was to unfold. 

“Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.”

She sent her husband a pleading look, but it was lost on him, his gaze, full of hatred, cemented on his nephews. 

“I dare you to say that again.”

“Why? Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

She gasped, her hand covering her mouth as Jace landed a punch to Aemond’s cheek. The room erupted in chaos. She could watch with disappointment as her husband pushed his nephew to the ground, as Aegon joined in and shoved Lucerys against the table. 

Helaena stood from her seat and rushed towards her, her face shrouded in fear. She sighed and stood from her seat, wrapping her arm around her friend who seemed disturbed by the rift tearing in her family before her. 

“It’s alright.” She assured her. 

Across the room, Rhaenyra’s eyes bored into hers, pleading, as if she had any control over her husband’s ire. She sent her an apologetic look and bowed her head, wishing Aemond had taken up her offer to avoid the dinner altogether. 

The room came to a standstill, the fighting men separated, a room divided by two factions. 

Aemond glared at his uncle who looked at him as if disappointed, as if he were out of line to enact revenge for the slight against him. 

He grit his teeth and in a quick motion, swallowed the wine left in his cup before turning back to the table. He avoided looking at his wife as he grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him as he stormed out of the room.

Her feet moved quickly to keep up with his quick pace, her heart in her throat as he led them through the halls.

Once they were back in their chambers, her eyes seldom left him, watching every one of his movements carefully, noticing how highly strung he still was, how stiffly he moved as paced for a moment before he finally took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

His anger wouldn’t be leaving him easily. 

“Are you alright?”

He stayed quiet for a long moment, gazing ahead blankly, the burning fury that simmered in his veins leaving him practically trembling, the desire to wreak havoc not yet dissipating. 

Every part of him was wrought with tension, his mind a mess of thoughts, though his anger was the easiest to make sense of. 

“Don’t try to convince me that what I did was wrong.” He spoke bitterly.

“I won’t.” 

His jaw clenched, the events of the last few minutes running through his head on a loop, keeping him in the state of rage that made him shake, that made his hands twitch, wishing he had done more, wishing he could hurt that bastard the way he had been hurt all those years ago.

The thought briefly startled him. It was a thought he used to have frequently, when the rage in his heart was so new he didn’t know what to do with it. It was a thought he hadn’t focused on since being with her. 

The revelation had an unfamiliar upset stirring within him.

“I should sleep in my old chambers tonight.” He muttered tersely. 

The bitter anger burned within him, he felt on the edge of cracking and he would hate himself if he ever took it out on her, his sweet wife. He felt he needed to be far away from her to avoid darkening her with his presence.

“What?”

The sadness in her voice almost broke him. He closed his eye and bowed his head, he couldn’t bear to see the look on her face. 

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” 

It was quiet for a long moment, his words lingering in the room like an ominous death rattle that signaled the bitter end after a long, torturous fight. 

But she refused to let him sink into his despair. 

He flinched as she stepped before him, catching his gaze. Her hands smoothed out the doublet he wore, roaming upwards to brush the hair off his shoulders and gently caressing his neck as she reached up to hold his jaw affectionately. 

He let out a deep breath, the tension slowly but surely easing from him in waves under her touch. 

“I am not letting you feel this alone.” She told him, her voice soft yet stern, letting him know there was no way he would change her mind about this, that nothing could force her to accept his absence from her side. 

“I don’t seem to recognize myself around them.”

His whispered confession hit her harder than she had expected and she felt her breath hitch in her throat, her own emotions rising to the surface at the sight of him so tormented. 

“You can never undo what they took from you.” She began slowly, her voice wavering slightly. “I’ll never understand what you’ve been through. I wish I could and I’m so sorry I don’t, but you cannot let this consume you.”

His face remained a mask of torment, his derision and anger battling against the exhaustion that permeated his bitterness, that left him feeling weak in the aftermath of his rage. 

She gently guided him to tilt his head upward so she could look at him, so he could see her and the resolution on her face and understand her honesty.

“You are more than your eye. You are more than the rage you feel when you look at them. You are more than them.”

He almost shuddered under her hands, the words striking him with force as though they were dealt with a physical hit. 

“I see you, the real you. The one I fell in love with, my sweet husband, the father of my child.” 

With that, she grabbed his hand to place it over her stomach and his expression changed in an instant, the anger gone as he caressed where his child grew. 

He leaned forward, his forehead falling to rest against her chest, his arms circling her waist. He spread his legs, allowing her to step closer to him, her own arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him tightly. 

She ran her fingers through his hair, the soft motions pulling a soft sound from deep within him, his rigid body falling lax against her. 

As she hugged him tightly she felt her eyes begin to sting with tears. She wished she could pull the agony from him, untangle the strings of rage that wound him so tightly. 

She wished she could’ve gone back in time and held tighter to the wounded boy who hid his despair from her for so long. 

~~

The girls are fightinggg

And the angst is coming xx

~~

Tag List:

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[midnightquips]

What We Never Were

Jake Seresin x Reader

Summary: Y/N needs a fake boyfriend for her sister’s wedding. Jake Seresin, her childhood best friend, is all too happy to play the part—until pretending starts to feel dangerously real. One bed. Old feelings. A week of dancing around the truth. She thinks he’s out of reach. He’s just been waiting for her to see him.

Themes: fake dating, bestfriends to lovers, pining, slow burn, fluff

🔴 MINORS DNI 🔴 Warnings: 18+ content, eventual smut, dirty talk, praise kink, jealousy, soft aftercare, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex, mild praise kink, foreplay

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Author's Note: HAPPY MONDAY EVERYONE!!!!!!

Chapter 3

Part IV - Break the Dam

You probably have had more champagne than you should at some point during the buzzing dinner party. You can feel the flush on your cheeks, warmth blooming under your skin. It’s easier to laugh now, to move without overthinking. You sway to the music lightly with one of your cousins, a small smile on your face while your head is light and buzzing.

Jake watches you from a few feet away, observing the way your dress hugs your curves. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the third toast. Has he really since the night started though?

You look around and he notices the dazed smile appearing on your face. He thinks you’re glowing. 

Or drunk. Definitely both. Jake thinks 

A breathy laugh escapes your mouth and it makes something tighten in his chest. He remembers years ago,  the first time he realized how breathtakingly beautiful you were. You weren’t the cute girl he grew up with anymore. You were just stunning and he almost laughs at how pathetically late he was at realizing it.

He watches as you nearly trip, reaching for another glass. He’s there in a blink, catching your elbow before anyone else notices.

“Alright, party girl,” he murmurs near your ear, the warmth of his breath brushing your skin. “Maybe slow down?”

You grin widely, as if his presence lit up your entire existence and god, Jake wanted that so badly to be true.

“You’re just jealous I’m the fun one.” You tease

He raises a brow. “Fun, huh?”

You nod, cheeks flushed. “So much fun. I’m the favorite Y/L/N tonight.”

“Not Celine?” He asks amused.

You pout. “You’re right, it’s probably a close call. I might give her this win.”

He chuckles deeply and fondly while his hand lingers at your waist a moment too long. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the ambiance but you find yourself relishing his touch, the warmth comforting.

The moment between you and Jake is broken when your sister gives her quick speech and suddenly, a  sentimental swell of it hits you like a wave. You laugh at the growing up anecdotes and tear up at the realization that your sister was getting married. Jake rubs your back gently to soothe, sensing the emotions rising up. You entwine your hands in his unconsciously, seeking his grounding presence. 

By the time the music kicks back in, you’re grabbing Jake’s hand and pulling him onto the dance floor. You get into the rhythm of a ballad. One hand on your waist, another holding your hand in his. You look at him, allowing yourself to truly appreciate how great of a man he’s become. 

Caught in a trance, your hand resting on Jake’s shoulder moves to brush against his cheeks. Fingertips tracing his jaw. Jake is seemingly enchanted by your every move. 

“You know I love you right?” you blurt softly, the words sloppily slipping past your lips before you can even catch it

Jake stares, stiffens. Everything inside him lurches.

Before he can even say anything, you quickly add, “You’re my best friend and I couldn’t imagine spending this time with anyone but you.”

You see something flicker in his eyes but you don’t try to decipher as you look away.

Jake feels absolutely wrecked, his heart pounding, holding on to the words he wasn’t able to say. 

I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone but you.

Somehow, the party starts to wind down and move toward the fire pits. There’s barefoot dancing, bad singing with an acoustic guitar and occasional laughter at the memory of a childhood prank. 

You’re curled up on a blanket, farther out from the pits, with a drink in hand, eyes glassy, smile soft and loose.

Jake drops beside you, wrapping you in his coat and offering a water bottle.

You groan. “Stop being responsible. You’re making me look bad.”

He smirks. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

You sip anyway. “Is it your life’s mission to take care of me?”

Jake doesn’t answer right away. He looks at you, really looks, and feels something ache inside his chest. Perhaps finally understanding what the word yearning actually felt like.

You stretch out on your side, blinking up at him. “Hey Jake?”

“Yeah?”

You exhale deeply, like finally unloading a burden, before continuing, “Why didn’t you ever date someone like me?”

Jake stills. His heart skips. “What does that mean?”

You wave your hand vaguely, eyes to the fire pit. “You know. Not the cheerleaders. Not the polished, model-type girls. Someone like me.”

He studies you. His voice lowers. “Y/N…”

You don’t even look at him, as you keep going. “I mean, you always said I was beautiful. But you never really looked at me like that–”

He interrupts, “I always looked at you like that. I just didn’t know it.” 

You turn to him and blink.

Jake leans in, brushing a knuckle down your cheek. “And you… you just didn’t notice.”

Finally calling it a night, Jake guides you with a gentle hand on your waist back to your shared room. You collapse on the bed immediately. The room is spinning as you fight off the feeling of just passing out. Jake locks the door behind him, watching as you stretch across the sheets with a groan. 

“I’m never drinking again,” you mutter.

He snorts. “You say that every time.”

You roll onto your back, dress riding up slightly. He tries not to look. Fails. He walks towards you to kneel at the foot of the bed, gently taking your shoes off. He softly massages your calves, knowing you’ve been complaining about them the entire night. 

The relief makes your moan and it makes Jake’s control waver.

You suddenly sit up, surprising Jake. You look at him, eyes a little hazy.

“Help me with the zipper,” you ask softly, standing up and turning around.

Perhaps if you weren’t intoxicated, you might have felt more aware of the situation. More anxious after all the moments between you and Jake tonight, but through alcohol, a relief has somehow washed over you. For this moment, you are uninhibited. .

Jake hesitates before he stands behind you. His fingers brush the warm skin of your back as he slowly pulls the zipper down, exhaling through his nose to keep it together.

“Too good at that,” you mumble.

His hands linger at the bottom of the zipper. The back of his knuckles lightly brushes your lower back..

She’s drunk. Stop it. Jake convinces himself that he’s a good man, that he’s not here to take advantage of you. 

But there’s also another voice in his head–But she’s here. She’s yours. Just this once.

The tension was palpable as you turned to face him, the dress slipping slightly off your shoulders. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jake was silent for a second or two. He’s staring at you, blinking slowly. He slides his left hand up your neck to hold your face, thumb swiping across your flushed cheek. 

“Because I’m trying not to do something stupid.” he says finally

Was it the alcohol? Maybe. Was it the moment? Uncertain. But did you want Jake in that very moment? Most definitely. You take a step forward. Press your palm to his chest.

“Do it,” you whisper.

He breathes out sharply. “Y/N—”

You don’t give him time to think, not even yourself. You reach up, cup his face, and kiss him. 

It’s soft at first. Lips touching as if to test. It’s only when you pull back slightly and lick your lips that Jake shatters.

His mouth crashes into yours, urgent and starved, like he’s been holding back for too damn long. His hands roam—one cupping your jaw, the other gripping your hip, fingers digging into the thin fabric of your dress. You moan into him and that’s all it takes.

He groans low in his throat. 

You barely register the sounds he’s making before he’s backing you toward the bed. Your legs hit the edge and you fall with a breathless laugh. He follows you down, hovering over you, lips never leaving yours as his hand slides under your dress, grazing the soft skin of your thigh.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmurs against your neck. 

Your hips arch into his. He grinds down, breath hot against your ear. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

“Jake…”

He growls at the sound of his name falling from your lips like that. One of his hands finds your breast, thumb brushing your nipple through the thin fabric. You gasp.

“You’re so soft, baby.” he mutters, kissing down your throat

You pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hair, your body burning. Every stroke of his hand, every roll of his hips against yours has you unraveling. Your legs wrapping around his waist, bunching your dress higher.

“You’d let me do anything right now, wouldn’t you?” he whispers, voice ragged. 

Your answer is a whimper, your fingers clutching the back of his neck.

The reasonable voice in Jake’s head snaps him out of the trance. This will change everything.

Suddenly, he buries his face in the slope of your neck and stops. You whine at the pause, he’s pent up with frustration. 

He brings his face to yours, hand cradling you by the neck. His breathing is ragged as he presses his forehead to yours, collecting himself. You look at him with glassy wide eyes, which only makes him want to throw his morals out immediately.

He speaks up, voice rough. “I want you so bad it hurts but not like this.”

You stay quiet. He continues to push your hair back from your face, caressing gently, "I want this so much. But not when you’re drunk. I need you to remember it. Every second. Every touch.”

You pout. “I’m fine.”

He smiles at your petulance. Even in this moment he finds you adorable, so he assures you with a kiss once more—slow, indulgent, reverent.

“Tomorrow,” he whispers.

Jake watches you as you fall asleep in his arms, fingers tangled in his shirt, lips still tingling from the kiss that broke everything wide open.

Taglist: @mrsnikolestan @midnighttithe @Lynnevanss @laserpente @kvmitchell @mrsevans90 @natureartisian @purplefluffycows @eolsens @lunatygerqueen @deadlybeauty16 @ronniesreverie @anony1080 @vicky199625 @teacupsandtopgun @dizzybee03 @stillinracooncity @7dreambaby @pogueprincesa @jackiehollanderr @cozyjess

[dollmulder]

afternoon

pairing: fox mulder x fem!reader

word count: 7.8k

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, oral (f recieving), fingering

other tags: it’s alluded to that mulder is trans

authors note: i originally posted this on ao3 under the same title and username (afternoon by dollmulder) if you’d rather read it there :) otherwise, enjoy!

p.s, as i stated on ao3 this is the first bit of writing i’ve done in some years now, and it’s also the first ever explicit smut scene ive written, so i apologize if it’s not that great as i really have no idea what im doing here and my skills are rather rusty. but i do hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

you stood in front of the stove that belonged to the kitchen of your small apartment. before you, a pink kettle was placed on the burner, while you patiently waited for the water inside to boil. it was midday, and for once neither you nor fox had any plans. typically, when one of you wasn’t tied up with work, the other one was. however, today was different, and you intended to take full advantage of it.

you may have wasted part of the day by sleeping in until the afternoon, but you couldn’t help it. fox was asleep in your bedroom still, and he looked so agonizingly beautiful while he slept. not that he didn’t when he was awake, because by god he did, but being able to lie in bed next to him, admiring him and listening to his heartbeat thrum in his chest was an experience like no other. the way his eyelashes rested upon his cheeks, and how he snuggled his face deeper into the pillow now and then.

you enjoyed moments of domesticity like that, even though they were somewhat fleeting. oftentimes the two of spent your time together at his apartment, and when you weren’t doing that, he was either at work or off chasing the paranormal. sometimes he would invite you on these excursions, and generally you would go if you weren’t busy with work yourself, but it seems this weekend he had nothing planned for once. it was as if all the stars were aligned to give you both this perfect day, and you were hoping to keep it that way.

you drummed your fingers against the wooden countertop, impatiently waiting as your thoughts drifted from weekends spent with fox to other mundane things, like going over your to-do list of errands for this weekend, laundry, dishes, shopping, etc. and you wondered how many of those things you were actually going to be able to check off. you decided though that for today, your list could wait. today was going to be a perfect day, you said to yourself, as if manifesting it to be true.

you watched the kettle for a moment longer but a watched pot never boils, and almost as if a meant to be a perfectly planned distraction, you heard your bedroom door creak open, and the soft thuds of fox’s feet making his way down the hall. you smiled to yourself, and turned around just in time to see him leaning in the archway, his hair looking scruffy and his face still wrought by sleep. he was wearing nothing but boxers that clung to him loosely, and you must say, even then in this disheveled state, he looked breathtaking.

“i was wondering where you went,” he yawned, rubbing his eyes and still trying to rid the slumber from his system. you felt your heart flutter at the way his voice was laced with sleepiness, before you sauntered over to him, his large hands immediately finding their way to your hips, like following a well traveled road. it was instinctive for him.

you reached up and placed a chaste kiss to his lips, cupping his face as you did so, your hands moving down so your thumbs could glide over his paltry amount of stubble. “miss me?”

“always.” he smiled at you and you smiled back, before reaching up to give him another quick peck on the cheek.

“well, good morning- er, afternoon i guess.”

fox hummed, and after a beat he asked, “is it really that late?” his eyes roved over your body, eyeing your outfit, and you squirmed under his gaze.

“i see the mystery of my missing t shirt’s been solved,” he remarked before you had a chance to respond to his previous question, not that it mattered. fox had realized his shirt was missing a little while ago and he had figured you’d borrowed it or that he had misplaced it, but now that he knew for sure, this was another mystery he could check off from his ever-growing list. he supposed he could’ve asked you about it before, but it was never a top priority to him compared to other unsolved cases that wracked his brain on the constant.

you pulled out of his grasp, swaying your way back over to the stove, as his hand outreached, wanting to hold you still. “i borrowed it the other day,” you said facing away from him, pretending to be watching the kettle and biting your lip, thinking. “i hope you don’t mind.” you knew that he didn’t. he loved when you wore his clothes, when you gave them back and your scent lingered interwoven in the fabric, as if he needed any more reasons to put off doing his laundry.

“do you want any tea?” you cut through his thoughts, asking over your shoulder while you still faced the stove, and he hummed in approval.

suddenly, a smirk befell your face as you walked over to the cabinets, standing on your tippy toes to reach for two mugs. your- his -shirt rode up slightly, but just enough to expose your light blue underwear and the way it hugged your curves. you stretched a little more than you needed to, making sure he got the vision.

he hummed, too focused on watching your little display, eyes focused on your movements as he spoke, voice still slightly gruff from sleep. “you know that i don’t mind,” he trailed off, returning to your prior conversation. he pulled his plump bottom lip into his mouth, “but i’d like if you at least told me first.”

you grabbed the two mugs, one of which being a dusty blue color, with darker blue dots and little white ghosts swirling all around it, and the other was a translucent pink, with a red and pink strawberry pattern encompassing it. you placed them on the counter and stopped being on your tippy toes, his shirt falling back into place covering you back up for now. it was an old shirt of his, one from his time at oxford, and it hung slack around your smaller frame.

“im telling you now aren’t i?” you turned around and found fox stepping towards you, his arms coming to wrap around your waist. this was another thing the two of you usually did at his apartment, which made sense of course, as you both spent lots of the time you had together there, but last night, after staying particularly late at his office, fox called and decided to crash at your place as it was less of a drive than going back to his own apartment, and of course because he missed being in your presence. you gave him a key a short while ago so he could do just that, and because you loved having him in your space too. you couldn’t quite explain it but it made your apartment feel more like a home whenever he was here. you wondered if he felt the same about you being at his apartment, and decided he probably did, seeing as your presence there did make it more homely. you remembered when you used to continuously pester him about using his bedroom for it’s intended purpose instead of a large cluttered storage space, and he teased you back asking what you meant by “intended purpose”. you told him he’d have to find out, and that he did when the next time you came over his bedroom was decluttered, ready and waiting.

a flush aroused on your cheeks as you continued to think, now about last night, where upon his arrival here, you had ushered him to bed while he sleepily rambled to you about whatever it was he was working on, probably things he wasn’t supposed to tell you. all you could remember was something about government conspiracies and alien abductions, which was the usual topic of his sleepy rambling. that, and talking about you. you loved to listen to his sleepy words and babbling, even if it didn’t always make much sense to you.

then you thought of later that night when you both were in bed, sleepy fingers fumbling, touching, teasing one another in the dark. the way his hands slithered up and around your bare chest as yours did the same, before dipping down below his boxers while your mouth swallowed up the sleepy whines and whimpers that mewled past his lips.

“more like showing me,” fox chuckled, bringing you back to the here and now, and your blush deepened at his remark. he then pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you smiled, holding your left hand out to rest your palm against his chest. his skin was warm, much warmer than your cold fingers. as if to prove your point, he shivered a bit as your fingers delicately traced the two surgical scars across his chest.

“sorry,” you whispered, giggling and pulling your hand back to rest a finger on your bottom lip, doe eyes looking up at him, but just as suddenly as you did that, he grabbed your hand away and brought it to his own lips, kissing each of your dainty fingers. you smiled, going to take a step back but forgetting there was nothing but counter behind you. you were too enraptured by the moment to think about anything else, but just as soon as it happened it was over with.

“pretty,” he muttered to himself, before letting go and walking off towards presumably the bathroom, and you sighed into a smile, body still pressed to the counter behind you. he was such an interesting man, and you meant that in the best way possible. even from the very first moment you had met him, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and all of his intricacies. he had enthralled you from the beginning, and you couldn’t help but to question what he saw in you, not in a strongly self deprecating sense, but in the way that you questioned how you could compare to someone like him.

you knew if you told him these thoughts he would simultaneously shut them down and reflect them back at you, wondering what he did to deserve you .

you then turned and reached up again, this time towards a different cabinet, your fingers sliding under the lip of the wooden door, pulling it open with a low creak. you were looking for your tea bags, and after a moment of shuffling between boxes you finally found the one you were searching for. grabbing the box of just plain black tea, you opened it carefully and plopped a teabag into each mug, before closing the box back up and stretching once more to put it back into the cupboard where it belonged, in perfect timing as the kettle began whistling.

finding your way over to the stove, you grabbed the kettle and turned off the burner, then stepping back over to the counter and pouring some water into each mug. you heard fox shuffling his way back into the kitchen and shortly after felt one of his hands grab your hips, the other brushing your hair to the side so he could kiss at your neck.

“grab the honey for me?” you asked him, leaning over and placing the kettle back onto the stove, and he groaned, not wanting to let you go, but nevertheless he did, returning a moment later, honey in hand, which he had retrieved from the nearby cupboard behind you both. you turned around and outstretched the ghost mug towards him. “i’ll trade you,” you said, doing just that, knowing he preferred his tea without any honey in it.

he smiled, taking the mug and blowing some of the steam away from it. “you gave me this mug on purpose didn’t you?” he questioned, already knowing the answer, he just wanted an excuse to hear your angelic voice once more.

“of course, spooky.”

normally, he didn’t care for when people called him that name, not that it necessarily angered him, it was more annoyance at best, but with you it was different. you used it as a term of endearment, and he loved it, along with every other pet name you would call him. you had a way of spinning things into a positive light, one of the many, many, things he adored about you.

you turned back around to face the counter, grabbing a nearby spoon and stirring the honey into your tea, while he sat his mug down and put the bear-shaped honey bottle back into its home where it belonged. he came back behind you again, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder.

“what’s the plan for the rest of today?” he asked, snaking his large hands under his oxford shirt so that they could rest upon the bare skin of your hips. he hooked his thumbs under the band of your underwear, just wanting to be able to feel the coolness of your skin beneath his fingertips and the way it’s softness complemented the somewhat calloused nature of his hands.

“whatever you want to do, monster boy,” another pet name. “it’s your day off after all.”

he hummed. “it’s yours too.”

you sat your mug down in front of you waiting for it to cool off some more as it wasn’t ready for you to take your first sip, and then you turned to face him. “we both know you’re busy with work much more often than i am. even when you’re not working, you’re working . so you choose. i’m just happy to spend time with you,” you stretched up to press a lingering kiss to his lips, “but if i do get a say, brush your teeth, you have morning breath.” you paused… “er, afternoon breath.” and he smiled at you before groaning in mock annoyance.

in return, you batted and fluttered your eyelashes at him. “please?” and he smiled once more. how could he not give in to what an angel asked of him?

“oh i suppose, anything for you, my dearest.” and then off he went again, back towards the bathroom. you always kept a spare toothbrush for him in a cup at the sink. it made you smile in the mornings to see it there, just a little hint of his existence in your life, along with all the other little things around your apartment. you’ve left your fair share of belongings at his apartment, probably more than he has here, and with that thought, you made a mental note to yourself to steal more of his clothes and other belongings to have around.

sliding the mugs to the side, you hopped up on the countertop, grabbing your own mug and blowing the steam away as you waited for him to come back. you gently took a first sip of your tea, cursing at yourself as it was still too hot for you, so you resumed blowing on it, and as you did, your mind drifted, thinking about what kind of adventures the day ahead of you might hold. who knows with what fox might have in mind, always conjuring up some new adventure to fill the boredom of the rest of the day with. you were perfectly content with just lounging around your apartment in your underwear all day, not particularly wanting to go out and about and do anything, so you hoped he wouldn’t suggest anything of that nature. you didn’t want to have to take his shirt off in order to change into something more appropriate for outside wear, as you enjoyed the way his scent lingered around you. although, you decided, while you don’t necessarily want to take his shirt off to change out of it, you wouldn’t oppose to taking it off for other reasons.

your mind drifted, envisioning your previous escapades, your mind conjuring up pictures of his hands roaming your body, your hands slipping underneath his boxers, feeling him, teasing him, palming him in a way he had rarely let others do. the way his mouth hung open, his hands clutching your shirt, the bedsheets, whatever they could grab ahold of. excitement stirred in your abdomen and you shifted your hips, squeezing your thighs together. your hands became his in your mind, as the vision shifted to how he teased you, holding you, kissing you, fingers dipping beneath your lace trim to slip inside of you, and you bit your lip feeling a familiar hunger starting to growl within you.

last night the two of you had fooled around a bit before he dozed off, but it was barely anything more than soft touches and sleepy kisses, hushed i missed you ’s and whispered i love you ’s. even if your fingers had curled underneath his boxers, it was mere teasing, and it left your body (and his) wanting more, but you were sleepy and you knew he was too. however, now that your body and mind were awake, your desire was too.

after a moment fox returned and found his way over to you once more, moving to stand between your legs, and even with you sitting on the countertop he was still a bit taller than you. his hands rested on your thighs as he leaned down to kiss you slowly. it was a passionate kiss, and even though your bottom lip still tingled a bit from burning it with the hot tea, you ignored it and focused on the new tingling sensation. there was nothing better than a gentle kiss from fox mulder himself, and you’d never trade up this opportunity for anything.

“what’s gotten you so bothered?” he asked with a smirk, pulling his lips away from yours and picking up on your flushed face and warm skin, and the neediness you kissed him back with. in response, you wrapped your legs around his torso to keep him there before saying anything. this moment now felt like home. having the man of your dreams, the man of your reality , standing before you, between your legs, looking at you with such adoration you’d think it was like you had gifted him the whole world. but you did, because to him, you were his whole world.

“just thinking about you,” you hummed, your mug off to the side, forgotten about for now as you reached your hands around so your fingers could twirl themselves in the bit of hair at the nape of his neck, and then you smiled as you pondered for only a second.

“of me?” he asked, smirking as you looked at him with such innocence, but a gleam of something else in your eyes. a look he knew all too well. “me how?”

“oh, you know.” you shrugged, playing coy.

“enlighten me.”

“well, i do have an idea for something we could do today.”

he leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth, speaking lowly, as his lips moved their way around to your neck. you tilted your head to give him more access, and his breath tickled your skin as he spoke. “i thought you said i got to choose today's events?”

“would you rather do something else then?”

“you haven’t told me your idea yet.”

“i thought you liked solving mysteries.”

the way his mouth moved against your neck, you began to feel butterflies invading your stomach, sinking further down below, and you felt one of his hands slide from your hips to the expanse of your thighs, to the space in between, and you gasped at the sensation. his fingerstips delicately traced over you, nothing separating the two of you except for the thin cotton layer of your underwear, which had procured a small wet patch in the time being.

“something like this?”

you gasped, feeling his teeth scrape gently at your skin, followed by another pink flush rushing to your cheeks, and you felt him smile and chuckle against you, to which you smiled back.

“don’t laugh at me,” you breathed out as his fingers pulled away from you, sliding back up to hold your waist beneath his shirt, and the butterflies in your stomach began to flap their wings more vigorously. your mouth hung open, as his worked magically against your neck, and you couldn’t help but whine slightly as he pulled away, the only contact now being his hands holding you still, which on a regular day, you would never complain about, but you did desperately wish for his fingers back where they were moments ago, deeper, inside you . you shuffled your hips at the idea and a devious smirk swept across his face. “but uh, yeah i think you’ve got the idea now.”

he looked you over for a moment, his eyes holding sweetness like that of the honey in your now forgotten tea, and the softness of a prairie after a long night of rainfall. but there was something else lingering there too.

your hands, which had been holding onto the countertops edge for the time being, traveled their way back up to cupping his face once more, your thumb gently caressing over his bottom lip, plump and sheening with saliva. his breath was hot as he panted between parted lips.

“i love you,” you said before you could even register the words coming out of your mouth, and your face flushed again with subtle embarrassment. it was true of course, you did love him, you loved him like you needed air to breathe. your hand dropped from his face, down his neck, and rested languidly against his chest.

“what was that?” he asked, leaning down again to press sloppy kisses to your face, your neck and around your ear. his voice was low, and you sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth in anticipation. your fingers curled, scratching gently at his chest. “i couldn’t quite hear you from way up there.” and of course there it was, you were giving yourself to fox mulder, allowing yourself to be loved and touched and cherished by him, and he couldn’t help himself from making a joke at the expense of your height. you smiled and you couldn’t stop the laugh that he loved so dearly from tumbling from your lips.

“i said,” you spoke in mock annoyance, shoving him away playfully as his hands roamed up your stomach to gently cup your breasts, and you gasped at the touch, thoughts becoming more jumbled in your brain by the second. you scrunched your face trying to keep the facade of annoyance up, but you were unable to keep the smile from breaking through, and you swallowed thickly as his thumbs massaged in circles. “i said, i love you, you giant idiot.” and he smiled a toothy grin at you.

“i love you more.”

you couldn’t quite describe the emotions you were feeling, there was a culmination of so many at once. happiness, love, lust, contentment, desire, the whole lot. it amazed you how one person could conjure up such sentiments within you, and you could only hope you did the same for him.

he pulled his hands down to hold your waist again as he leaned down to capture your lips with his own, a kiss of fervor. you tasted the lingering effects of your toothpaste mixed with the earthy flavors of the tea you had made earlier still somehow soaked into the cracks of your lips. he pulled your bottom lip with his teeth softly, and you moaned into the kiss with surprise, a sound he swallowed up with nary a complaint. but then he pulled away, and you leaned forward, body and mind still begging for more, and he chuckled breathily.

“quite needy, huh?” he spoke softly, and your eyes fluttered open at the sound. you watched the way he looked at you, and it only fueled the flames of desire within you more.

“quite a tease, huh? ” you mocked, leaning forward to capture his lips once more, whatever passion that the last kiss held, this one was tenfold. it was sloppy, wet, incited by the intensity of your coupled desire. your lips parted and he took the chance for his tongue to slip inside, and your fingers grasped and tugged at his hair, earning a groan from him, and you melted into the sound and sensation.

you arched your back, head thrown back as his hands roamed under your shirt and gently traced up your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and with this new angle his mouth kissed, licked, and nipped at your throat and your hold on his hair got impossibly tighter, and he groaned once more, feeling the vibrations rattle against your throat. you loosened your grasp suddenly and clumsily, uttering hushed apologies as you did so, fearing you might’ve hurt him by pulling too hard. you felt fox smile against your neck, and he pulled away, lips parted as he looked at you. your breathing was fast and your cheeks burned. your neck was red and glistening from his lips, teeth, and tongue, and you looked absolutely stunning in his eyes.

you sat there, deep breaths and adrenaline coursing through your body, and arousal pulsing at your core, as you waited for him to say something, anything. his tongue slid across his teeth into a smile.

“don’t be sorry,” his hands, which had found their way back to your waist, gave a gentle reassuring squeeze, and he leaned in close to your ear again. “i like it.” and you felt your heart flutter.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” you crooned, and his smile remained. he kissed you gently and you fought your bodies urge to lurch forward and devour him whole. your insides fluttered with lust and your core dripped with desire. there was an empty ache within you and while yes, you enjoyed this moment of intimacy, your arousal was like waves, pushing at the floodgates within your brain, and you were willing to let it take control.

“you weren’t.” fox said, pulling his lips away from you slowly, eyes watching you almost as if he could sense your internal struggle, and you simply tried to catch your breath in return.

his hands slithered down away from you, pushing your legs apart wider as he began to kneel before you, eyes watching your reactions the entire time as he cupped his hands and arms around you, pulling you towards the edge of the counter, ever closer to him, and during this process your heels naturally found a resting spot against his back. your skin burned where his hands held you, and all your brain could think about was how his long slender fingers would feel curling inside of you, and his plump lips and tongue tasting you. it was intoxicating.

“we’re doing this here?” you asked, and still he looked up at you, an eyebrow quirked. you felt like a divine being sitting here before him like this, even though he was not on his knees for prayer. fox mulder was not a religious man, but you held the power to make him one, for you were like a goddess to him, and he was going to treat you as such, even if it meant he would have to use his mouth for something so sinful, but for you, he would do anything. his eyes, a deep, dilated color like the moss covered forest floor stared up at you and you felt sacred, even with his gaze mirroring that of the hungry fox lurking within, but you, you were the forbidden fruit, and he was dying to have a taste.

“here.” you decided firmly before he could answer. it was your world, and nothing else mattered. you created the space before you now, and fox was nothing if not your devout follower.

your hands gripped the countertop tightly, knuckles turning white in anticipation, desire tingling in your abdomen and pooling in your underwear. his eyes looked up at you, hands going to push his shirt up your stomach so he could get a better view, and you shivered as the movement tickled your belly. a small tuft of pubic hair peeked out of the top of the lace trim of your undergarments, and your face grew hot as your eyes watched his every move.

fox shot you a quick look, a soft “can i?” surpassing his lips, hanging in the air as you nodded in approval, too busy staring at his face and analyzing his long eyelashes. your eyes traveled down his large nose, sweeping over his pores, and finally resting upon his parted lips, watching as they moved and his voice pulled you from your thoughts and brought you back to the moment.

“use your words,” was what he said, still holding you, but not moving an inch closer until you permit him to. you had control over the situation and your body trembled before him, your tongue darting out to lick your lips before you spoke.

“please.”

and that was all he needed as he leaned forward, pressing gentle kisses to you through your underwear. you gasped at the contact, hips shifting, pelvis tilting, but he held you in place, eyes closed as his mouth pressed more fervent kisses to you, and god, you never wanted to remove an article of clothing more in your life. as if he could read your thoughts, a sudden sound between a gasp and a cry escaped your lips as he pulled the wet fabric to the side, and his mouth pressed directly against you in a gentle teasing kiss. you throbbed before him, and it was almost torturous when you felt the slick cotton fabric covering you back up again, his fingers tracing over you through the fabric once more, oddly reassuring you that he was going to take care of you.

you groaned out of frustration, now exceedingly desperate for his touch, and he cocked his head at you, a faux innocent smile plastered on his face, looking like a dog sitting on the floor in front of you, paws on your thighs, tail wagging excitedly as he begged for scraps. you wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d seen him drooling before you.

“what?” he asked, unable to hide the teasing glint in his eyes as he stared up at you and you quivered before him.

“are you trying to get me to beg?” you asked, chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths.

“well… you know i wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“i already said please.”

“so say it again then.”

his hands gave you a gentle squeeze causing you to squirm before him, your cheeks getting hotter and the ache within you deepening.

“christ,” you whined, rolling your eyes back in frustration. you knew what you wanted, he knew what you wanted. all you had to do was ask for it.

he loved it when you begged, and while yes, it might inflate his ego a bit, that’s not the reason why he loved it so. it’s because it was nice to have vocal confirmation that you wanted him so desperately as he did you. deep down he was a bit insecure that you didn’t love or desire him nearly as much as he loved and desired you, and while he knew this wasn’t true, there was always this little voice in the back of his head saying “what if?” and hearing your voice pleading for his touch drowned it out and shoved it away.

fox peppered kisses up your thighs, getting close but staying ever far away from where you desired him most. your hands found his hair yet again, intertwining in the soft brunet locks atop his head, and you sucked in a breath as he licked a stripe at the crevice where your leg and hip joined, breaths tickling your skin as the sweet scent of your arousal filled his nose.

“fox, please , if you don’t hurry up i’m going to-“

“what?” he asked, cutting you off while his eyes looked up at you and the cunning smile of a fox etched itself onto his face. you couldn’t quite help but think he had chosen his name appropriately. fox, fox, fox, the word played in your head like a melody, darting around your thoughts like an animal chasing its prey. “you’ll do what exactly?” his words sliced through you while you sat atop the counter like a divine meal, waiting to be ripped and torn to shreds by gnashing teeth, juice dripping and soaking into the earth beneath.

“christ, i don’t- i don’t know, okay? just-“ your words fumbled out of your mouth faster than you could think, frustration and arousal bubbling fast within your body like a pot boiling over on the stove.

“please, please , just touch me already. pretty please?”

“pretty please, huh?” he chuckled to himself as his hands slid to your lower back and over the curvature of your ass, thumbs hooking themselves in the waistband of your underwear. he looked up at you, eyes silently asking for your assistance and you obliged, lifting your hips, allowing him to pull the sodden underwear down off from you, and you kicked them off to the side, legs resting over his shoulders once more. your eyes locked with his as you stared each other down, wondering who would break first. your hand outreached coming up to cup his cheek and jaw again, your thumb tracing over his bottom lip out of habit, and your breath hitched as he pulled it into his mouth, tongue darting over your fingertip devilishly.

he was the first to break eye contact, eyes lurking down your body, finding their way to your dripping core, glistening in the dim lighting, and you were brought back to reality a little bit, realizing that here, now, fox mulder was about to go down on you, in your kitchen. thank god.

you squirmed under his gaze, both out of desire and longing to be touched, tasted, devoured, and picking up on this, he shot a glance up towards you once more, before leaning down and kissing your inner thighs, lips leaving ghostly kiss marks everywhere they touched, and your skin burned with want as his mouth got closer and closer.

fox decided that he had teased you sufficiently. you were a whining princess sat atop a tower, waiting to be rescued, satiated, and he was your knight in shining armor. that and of course, you had asked so nicely. pretty please. how cute and desperate you were, you really were like a princess, his princess, and while fox was never one to be controlling over you, he loved and relished in this possessiveness he was feeling. no one else got to see you like this, but him. no one else made you feel like this but him.

with that thought, he pressed a warm kiss to your wetness, and your body jolted at this, feeling electricity course through you as his tongue licked a tantalizing stripe up your center. one of your hands clenched at his hair, fearing your grasp was the only thing holding you down on earth, the other pushed against the countertop, holding you up as your fingers writhed.

your heart beat for him, quite literally as he felt it pulsing within you. his tongue was soft and his jaw relaxed as he tantalizingly licked from your entrance up to your clit, and a moan escaped from your throat and past your lips, sounding like an angel. your eyes squeezed shut and your head threw back again as his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs like a soft ripened peach, and his tongue swirled around you.

“jesus, thank you,” thank you, thank you, thank you, you moaned out, not caring if you were being too loud for your thin apartment walls. that wasn’t an issue for now, you would deal with it later. all that existed to you was this moment and the man before you, as he clouded your mind and drank you up, your soul pouring right through you and into him, for him to hold, to love, to cherish. and cherish you he did.

it was like a stage, dark and empty minus the large spotlight shining on you, and only you. the audience was empty, spare for fox, watching you and encouraging your performance as a heavenly choir of moans tumbled from within you, to which his tongue danced in time to.

his mouth worked expertly against you, and your hand tugged at his hair, mewling and moaning, all this behavior just egging him on more.

and then he pulled away, chin slick with a mixture of his saliva and your arousal, and you whined at the loss of contact, eyes flashing open and looking downwards at him, confusion scribbled all over your face. you had thought the teasing was over.

“christ,” he chuckled at your expression, licking the taste of you off from his lips. “are you that desperate or am i just that good?”

“why’d you stop?” you whined, ignoring his gloating and teasing. usually you might feel embarrassed, but right now all you could focus on was the missing sensation of his mouth, and the panging emptiness within you, and his expression softened at seeing your pained one.

“relax princess,” he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh and you whimpered. “i wanted to know if you could hold yourself up okay? i want to use my fingers.” your insides pulsed and your gut clenched at the mention, and how he said it so casually. wordlessly, and quickly, you rearranged yourself into a better position to hold yourself up, his hands slithering down around you, and up your inner thighs.

“good girl,” he praised succinctly, patting your inner thigh gently as he did, the heat on your cheeks burning deeper at his words. his long slender fingers then traveled up towards you and his when they reached their destination, he began moving them in circular motions over and near your clit as you sucked a breath in between your teeth. they moved slow at first, and then gradually began to pick up some speed, stroking up and down, before his fingers fully moved down, parting your folds before slipping inside, slowly starting with just one, pushing inside and then pulling it out, repeating this process teasingly, knowing just how to get you going.

“you’re so beautiful, so needy for me, huh?” he teased, and you wriggled in response, unable to create a coherent sentence, so you opted to let a singular word flow from your lips.

“more.”

he hummed, and then suddenly it was two fingers, and a string of lewd noises and blasphemous curses came from you in response. you were drunk on him, on everything about him, his words, his actions, his smell, his taste, and oh how that thought made you desperately want his mouth and his tongue back on you, tasting you.

his fingers slipped out of you again, slick and shiny, and you looked at him with your mouth dropped open from pleasure, and a protest almost escaped from you before you witnessed him licking his fingers, like he could read your mind, and for a second you wondered if he actually could. your arousal coated his tongue, before he slipped both his fingers slowly back inside, gingerly picking up speed. your eyes closed, relishing in the sensations he was providing you and you were unable to control the soft moans that vibrated from the back of your throat.

“you sound so pretty,” his voice was soft as he spoke. “so pretty just for me, hmm?” he was taking expert care of you, as if that was his divine purpose. he felt that it was, for you were kind enough to let him see you like this, and it was so so much better than anything his mind had ever fantasized about.

he pressed a few more wet kisses to your thighs, and then just as suddenly his mouth wanted to resume it’s place, and so a bit of spit dribbled from his lips down onto you, adding a bit more wetness to the situation, before his tongue resumed its place, supping at you with unequivocal thirst. his fingers were coated in your wetness and he began curling them up and attacking one spot in particular, earning a whine and a sharp intake of breath from you.

his mouth and lips found their way back up towards your clit, pulling it into his mouth and then letting it go just as suddenly. but then it was back again, and he gently sucked on it, lips soft and warm as he darted his tongue over and around you, and you couldn’t help the surprised and wanton noises you created in return.

your eyes fluttered open to see that his were closed, and you looked down at him, watching his every move, pulsing as you sucked in a breath. the roles were now a bit reversed, you were still the receiver, but he was now the performer, dazzling you with his magical talents. his fingers moved miraculously inside of you causing your thoughts to fade away, like some silly card trick. his sleight of hand was wonderful, his fingers and his mouth knowing exactly how to please you.

“sh-, i’m-,” you panted out, hips grinding against him. his other hand slid back up to hold you and offer more stability, and your walls clenched around his fingers in a way that made him hum against you, sending vibrations throughout.

his mouth pulled away again, jaw beginning to ache from the way he was hungrily feasting upon you, but his fingers remained and he watched you pant and shudder before him, your eyes now closed once more, too focused on the sensations he was providing you.

“yeah?” he asked, encouraging you to use your words. he loved when you were vocal about what he was doing to you, telling him how good you felt or even when all your brain could do was conjure up unintelligible noises. and he loved watching you like this. your parted lips, heavy breaths, eyes scrunched close as you bathed in the way he was making you feel.

“fuck, keep going,” you whined, pleading almost, as your arms and muscles strained, holding up your weight as your hips undulated against his hand. you would be afraid of toppling from your position on the counter, if the only thought you were able to think about wasn’t fox and his hands and his mouth and the sensations he was providing you. just him, him, him, nothing else mattered at the moment, your brain too clouded by pleasure and your impending orgasm that was bubbling beneath the surface. all because of him.

“oh i wouldn’t dream of stopping…. again,” he smirked, able to tell you were close. if you weren’t so enraptured by the moment, you would’ve laughed at him, but you were hyper focused on how good you felt. how good he was making you feel. he swapped his fingers for his mouth, but not before telling you to watch. he wanted to drink you up as you came on his tongue, which he was now fucking you with, and he wanted you to watch him do it. you moaned loudly, sweat pouring from your brow, eyes fluttering open as you watched him between bated breaths.

he hummed against you, and you fought the urge to throw your head back, pleasure washing over you, vibrations coursing through your body as you were ready to come undone.

and that you did, your body tensing and your grip becoming more harsh, grabbing at his hair and holding him in place as you rode out your high. your head threw back, mouth agape, thighs squeezing together around him tightly like a vicd, and a rush shot through your body like a bolt of lightning and you pulsed, walls contracting. his mouth kept working against you, coaxing and guiding you through your orgasm until your body and muscles began to relax and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding, along with releasing him from both your hands and thighs grip, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as your brain began to slowly process everything.

you used your hand that was holding him in place to now gently push him away from you, feeling overly sensitive, and as he pulled away, his chin was still slick and jaw still aching as he regained his own breath, breaths that slipped past his pink and puffy lips. he stood, leaning forward to enrapture your lips in a kiss, the taste of you still lingering all over him.

“sorry.” you squeaked out, after breaking away from the kiss, still reeling from the effects of your orgasm.

he hummed, “for what?” he really didn’t know what you had to be sorry for, for feeling good? he’d wanted you to, he wanted to take care of you and wanted to make you cum. and he had many times in the past, so what was there to be apologetic for now? he figured it was your nerves, or your own embarrassment rushing to the surface, so he rubbed your side reassuringly. there was absolutely nothing you needed to apologize for, and he really couldn’t think of what it would be.

“suffocating you?” you questioned, as if it was supposed to be something so obvious. and he laughed, a big laugh, like really? that was it? he wasn’t laughing at you, so much so as the apparent absurdity of your statement. as if being suffocated between your thighs wasn’t something he’d enjoy.

after recovering from his laughing fit, he cupped your cheek, smiling softly when he saw your confused expression and the way you couldn’t help yourself from leaning into his touch.

“baby,” he kissed you once more, lips lingering against yours for a second before pulling away to look into your eyes. he opened his mouth to say something else, more reassurances, but you cut him off with another kiss.

“‘s my turn to make you feel good now?” you questioned, drunkenly in love with the man before you. your hand traced down his chest, past his belly button and down his happy trail, fingertips dipping below his waistband, but he grabbed your wrist stopping you from going any further.

you looked up at him, once again confused. did he not want you to touch him?

“not here love,” and then you smiled as he helped you down from the counter top, rescuing the princess from her tower and holding your wrist again to lead you towards the bedroom, leaving your underwear behind, forgotten about for now, along with the two cups of tea you had prepared earlier that had now gone cold.

[clevercatchphrase]

Ghost Switch's 7th Birthday.

2017 was 8 years ago. I don't like that math. 2018 was 7 years ago, which is slightly more acceptable to me because 8+5=13, and 6.5 is half of 13, and if you round 6.5 up you get 7, but 7+5=12, and 8 is 2/3s of 12 which is more than half of 12 and that is gross because 12x12 is literally gross. (The 5 came from the end of 2025, if you were wondering)

You still with me? Good, because I have some thoughts about the last seven years I've been working on Ghost Switch under the cut.

Ive always had a weird way of contextualizing the passage of time, keeping track of significant or personal events in my life, be they places, or memorable occasions, tying them together in a mental spider web mad of thumbtacks of monumental dates and connected with the red string of my special interests at the time. It's always so insidious, how fast time passes, even though you're there for each moment. It's always so shocking how fast the days and weeks and months add up and suddenly a decade or two have passed.

Ghost switch turns 7 years old in 2 days. 8, that ugly number, if I count the full year of preproduction I spent planning and scripting the outlining and drafting. It's not quite a decade yet, but when it comes to webcomic longevity, it's damn impressive. Homestuck ran for 7 years, from 2009 to 2016. I was reading active updates for 5 of them. My webcomic will never reach the page length or word count of homestuck (thank god), but ghost switch will have actively been updating longer than homestuck has when it finally finishes. In three more years, i'll be able to add Ghost Switch to the list of "webcomic longrunners" on Tv tropes. (Special shout out to the dedicated soul(s) who update Ghost Switch's Tv tropes page, 'cause lord knows I haven't touched the thing after I made it.)

I cant help but compare myself to other Undertale fan comics that I've read and loved and followed. Not as competition or as a standard to live up to, but merely for curiosity's sake. The UnderlineAU by Dustyart and ifellforundertale, Caretaker of the Ruins by eruto, minty and ellipsis, flavor-text-chara by stemmmm, Unexpected Guests by undertalethingems, zombietale (zombie-frisk) by spooks, unofficial-underfell by comicpixel01, and that-one-underfell-comic by blueberryjamsart just to name a few.

And not just the other undertale comics as well. From time to time I find myself revisiting some discontinued deviantart comics from the early 00's like Wurr by Paperiapina, Off-White by Akreon and tanathe/vesner, Over The Mountains And Far Away by Skailla, and The Blackblood Alliance by KayFedewa. All of these stories from other people also doing it for fun and for free the melancholy I feel when they quietly tapper off or go in indefinite hiatus. It's strange to revisit their pages some times, snapshots of the past, perfectly preserved, same as they were when I last saw them update live, like the next page link could update any second.

Granted, not every webcomic started by starry-eyed teens inevitably ends up as unfinished. There are plenty of webcomics that I've followed for years that are also still going to this day. Africa by Arven92, Golden Shrike by Doeprince, Up And Ahead/No North (also by Skailla!), Oren's Forge by Teagan Gavet, and Tofauti Sawa by ThCynicalHound are some notable examples.

It's equal parts empowering and sad to see how many comics i've outlasted, outlived. It's just as humbling to be reminded how many are still going. I've been doing this for 7 years now. If my freakish estimation skills prove true, I'll be doing this for another 5. At time of writing, I am 32 years old. When I finish, I could very well be 38. Even if I decided to quit the comic today, this is by far the longest time I've dedicated to any one art project, one story, one single piece of fan art. Ive spent close to a fifth of my life (20 percent!) working on this comic, always thinking about it at the back of my mind. If it does take me 12 years to finish, that will be almost a whole third. I cant wait to finish. I cant wait to never draw another comic page as long as I live. I cant wait to get back to writing fan fiction and learning other artsy things like crocheting and quilting plush making, woodworking, metal working, stained glass making, all the hands on creating I can think of. Am I finally tired of undertale? No, as I've just said, i've still got a shit ton of fan fiction I gotta finish before I can say "I'm done with you." The hyper fixation has slowly released its grip, though. Enough so that I was able to start exploring other media to get unhealthily obsessed with this year (mostly in the form of anime.)

Undertale turns 10 years old this year, and can you fucking believe the birthday lands on a monday this year? I don't know if I'm going to do anything special for the anniversary like I have in years past. I'll probably just upload a page like normal and not much else.

It's strange to think that a baby was undoubtedly born the day i started this comic, and now they're probably old enough to read and comprehend it if they found it this very day. I don't look forward to the day when I finish, and a grown-ass adult comments on the last page saying; "Loved your story! Ive been reading since middle school and yesterday I graduated with my masters degree!"

Time needs to stop. And not, like, freeze. Just like… Stop. Doing that thing… Passing and changing us subtly and irreversibly without our consent or awareness until years have passed and we suddenly realize we've become different people, all tangentially tied together through this shared connection that is this webcomic I've become unhealthily dedicated to. This comic could very well see 4 different presidents in office across 5 election cycles before it's done. 5 more years… Half a decade more. "You have a true red soul of determination if you kept up the comic for this long!" Maybe. The sunk cost fallacy, the fear of death before finishing, fear of disappointing readers, and an all around general attitude of spite and stubbornness are strong incentives to finish though.

I wish I could say I'm over the hill at this point, but technically I'm not. Yes, I'm half way through but there's no gravity assistance to help roll me down the rest of the way. Comic making is more like mountain climbing. Yeah, I'm half way up, but there's still quite a lot of "up" left to go. The air is getting thinner, and I'm starting to tire, but it's shorter to the summit than to the base at this point. Might as well keep going. I still want to see the view from the top, and marvel at how far I've gone~

[mythalism]

I cackled at your post lamenting PR disaster after *that* Mythal screen, ngl XD

Super curious to hear your thoughts on qunari specific line with Mythal in Crossroads, where she claims to still love Solas. (in fact, that both of them still do). Also the fact that the foil to their relationship there seems to be motherly love is…messy. Their whole situationship is.

it on EIP Gaming youtube channel

i did see this though i wasnt able to watch the full vid at the time, i just watched it now. someone else also asked me my thoughts on this in my inbox so ill just answer this one, but i think its so funny that people are asking me about it hehehe. i wasnt surprised by it at all i think it makes perfect sense. of course she loved solas and of course she still does. just because she loves him doesnt mean shes not an absolute freak. it doesnt mean her love isnt literally poisonous. its still love, but shes a corrupted spirit. she loves being a god and the power over other people it gives her. shes not like other girls. shes a freak, shes a weirdo. anyway. my point is that i think shes right when she says that "we" (both rook and us as the audience) genuinely cannot understand the bond they had because their immortality would have made it something unrecognizable to us. shes being racist when she says it but idk why anyone would expect her to be anything but racist. however i think the sentiment when turned towards the audience is true. they were spirits together. they have known each other for an incomprehensible amount of time. we will never be able to understand the extent of their devotion even if it was ultimately ruinous. you can love someone and still abuse and manipulate them.

as for rook randomly bringing up fucking SHATHANN (no shade to miss shathann, i actually thought she was very interesting and the highlight of taash's storyline and that their relationship was compelling).... rook is a loser and an idiot and this is just them acting in congruence with their overall characterization as a loser and an idiot. if anything it actually proves mythal's point that rook cannot understand their relationship when they randomly start bringing up shathann and taash. dumbass fucking thing to say. i think its extremely reductive and literally just makes rook look so stupid. solas and mythals relationship is complex because they COMMITTED WAR CRIMES TOGETHER. it is so incomparable to taash and shathann having a very relatable and typical teenager/mom conflict over taash's identity and finding themselves. meanwhile solas and mythal were literally creating a bioweapon. anyway.

the mother implication doesnt actually bother me LOL. ive been saying the vibes are oedipal since before this game came out. again, we cannot understand it. people say things like "mother/son" and i even throw around "oedipal" and "freudian" but genuinely the ancient elves had such different conceptions of relationships due to both their immortality but also their origin at spirits that there is really nothing comparable. they did not have families and they probably had very different ideas of romantic relationships. this is something i really wish the game had explored more lol add it to the list! we just get glimpses of how they cared about each other. piecing together the 20,000 years is impossible. i believe it was intended that way. we are supposed to struggle to quantify it. i doubt they themselves could label the nature of their relationship if they tried. "love" is the closest word that exists.

as for mythal agreeing to help because she loves him? yeah. of course. im not surprised it works. she loves him, whatever the fuck that means to her. she also has a miserable lonely existence. yes she used him as a tool but he cannot function as a tool to her anymore, not in her sorry state, and so she is able to see him as a man and thus let him go. though maybe shes bamboozling everyone, morrigythal is about to pull her out of that statue again in da5 and pull one over on us, and she released his ass just to get him off the chessboard so she can get her reckoning. a girl can hope

[thewitcheswitch89]

We were just two fools

( Chapter 1 ? dont know yet) Papa Emeritus IV x Female reader

you can also read on:

Min Heyoka (@TheWitcheswitch89) - Wattpad

Copia sat in his office, his heart pounding. He was waiting for you, he had summoned you to his office to finally clear things up. But he still didn't know how he was going to do it, he just hoped he wouldn't screw it up again.  Then there was a knock. He picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip before speaking, looking up from the pile of papers on his desk. "Come in," he called, putting down the cup and leaning back in his chair, straightening his posture and running his fingers through his hair to look more presentable.

„Hello Papa, you wanted to talk to me?" you said and entered his office, feeling a bit nervous.

Copia smiled softly and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Ah, yes! Come in! Sit down, please! I wanted to talk to you about something." He says gently, watching you make yourself comfortable.

Copia was, smiling gently before he started his question. "I wanted to ask your opinion about something." He paused and took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to do. "I was thinking... that maybe you could help me with... something?"

" With what exactly?" you asked.

Copia paused again, trying to find the right words. He was getting more and more nervous and visibly flustered, and it was becoming obvious. He took a deep breath, sat up straighter in his chair and rubbed his neck. "Well... I've been... struggling to figure something out, and I was wondering if you might be able to... assist me in some... aspect?" He stammered, rubbing his eyes and sighing.

"Okay?!" you looked at him confused.

Copia looked down at his desk and fiddled nervously with his pen before looking up at you and meeting your gaze. He was embarrassed to even ask; he was Papa, for God's sake! He was supposed to be confident, strong, and yet here he was, stuttering and stammering over every word. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat and spoke, avoiding eye contact. "I need advice on...love."

You looked at him in shock. "Ehmm ok..?!"

Copia's cheeks burned and he felt his heart racing in his chest. This was incredibly embarrassing. He shifted in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you as he spoke, trying to keep his voice level. "I... I have feelings for someone." He confessed quietly, hiding his face behind his gloved hand as he blushed an even deeper shade of red.

" Feelings for someone...?" You asked cautiously.

Copia was extremely embarrassed, but nodded. "Yes... I have feelings for a... certain someone." He answered, his voice soft. "And I wanted to know...how...to...possibly...express them." Copia hid his face behind his gloved hands, feeling incredibly nervous.

You smiled at his shy behavior. "Ok, so...do you want to share who it is?"

Copia's face turned even brighter red as he heard your question, his heart pounding in his chest. "I...I can't....tell you!" He blurts out, his face buried in his hands. "Oh Satanas, how pathetic I am..." He groans, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

"Its ok Papa...just tell me how I can help you...what exactly is the problem?" you asked.

Copia slowly removed his hands from his face and looked up at you. He took a shuddering breath, trying to hide how nervous he was. "I don't know how to tell her how I feel. We're close; we've known each other for years, and I like her so... so much. I just can't get up the courage to tell her how I feel. Copia sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, avoiding eye contact.

Jealousy crept up on you. You sighed. You had to keep your composure. It was clear that he did not mean you...how could he? of course he would never feel the same for you...you were just friends...nothing more...you smiled at him, hiding your true feelings. "Well...has she ever shown you any affection? do you think she feels the same for you?"

Copia hummed as you spoke, his face still slightly flushed. He looked at your questions and thought. "Well... she's always been close to me. We are close friends, but...maybe..." Copia took a deep breath, trying to get the words out of his mouth. "I don't know if she feels the same way." He confesses. "She's always been nice to me, but that's because we're friends." He looks up at you. "I don't know if... she loves me."

" Mhh...I guess there is no other way...than to ask her...to tell her how you feel...how will you know if you don't?", you said.

Copia sighs again and rests his head in his hand, hiding his face. "I suppose you are right..." He mutters. "I'm just..." He looks up again, his eyes fixed on you. "I'm afraid... I'm afraid that she'll reject me and I'll lose her friendship because of it. I value our friendship too much to risk it."

"I know what you mean....but sometimes we have to take that risk," you assured him, your words hurting yourself....you wanted nothing more than to be the one he was actually talking about.

"I suppose you're right..." Copia replied, sighing again. "But I don't know... how to tell her. I just..." He looked at you, his eyes filled with uncertainty. "What if I mess it up? What if I say something....stupid? I don't want to ruin our friendship with her thinking I'm a loser..." Copia groaned and buried her face in her hands again.

" Ok, so let's think of a way to tell her, ok!" you smiled at him.

"Ah, yes..." Copia mumbled, looking up at you through his fingers. He was humming to himself, trying to think even though his mind was going blank. "I...ugh...everything I try to think of sounds stupid." He groaned, dropping his hands from his face. "Everything I come up with is either cliché or idiotic."

"How about something simple...don't think too complicated!" you said.

Copia hummed, thinking. "Alright...simple. I can do simple..." He thought, trying to come up with something. "Maybe...I could just...tell her straight up? Just...be honest with my feelings?"

"That's the best you could do...and being honest is never wrong...!"

Copia nodded, sighing and nodding again. "Yes...yes, you're right." He looked up at you, a hesitant smile on his face. "I just... I just need the courage and confidence to actually do it, haha..."

"Take your time...just go up to her...and tell her something like....I need to talk to you...I can't hide it anymore...I have feelings for you...something like that!" you looked at him as you said it.

Copia's cheeks blushed a deep crimson as he listened to your words, his heart racing. "I... I guess I could..." He stammered, looking away. "Although...I feel like I would stutter and make a fool of myself if I got...nervous..." He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart.

"It doesn't matter if you stutter...all that matters is that you get your feelings off your chest...!" you assured him.

Copia took a deep breath as you encouraged him. "You're right...getting it off my chest is more important than looking like a fool...haha." Copia chuckled, trying to hide how nervous he was. "I just...need the confidence to do it..." He mumbled again, fidgeting nervously.

" You can do it...no, you have to...if you want to know if she feels the same way. You can't just walk around wondering about it...!" you smiled.

Copia nodded and sighed. You were right, of course. He couldn't just... go on like this, wondering if she felt the same. He had to tell her, he had to get it out of his system. Even if it was like a punch in the gut if she didn't feel the same way, at least he would know. "Yeah...yeah, you're right...I have to do it. I have to tell her." He mumbled, still nervous.

" That's the spirit!" you said.

Copia chuckled. "I'm still incredibly nervous..." He admitted, fidgeting with his hands again. He looked up at you. "But... I am grateful for your encouragement." He smiled, feeling better with the support and encouragement you had given him.

You nodded. you felt your heart breaking. all the time you had spent hoping he might have feelings for you seemed to have been for nothing. and you felt stupid. you just wanted to get out of his office... his presence didn't make it any better. "So I hope I could help you!"

Copia noticed the sudden change in your mood, the shift from happy to...dejected. Did he do something wrong? Did he upset you? "Y-yes...you helped..." He mumbled, watching you closely. "A-are you okay? You...seem upset..."

"No, I'm fine...I wish you luck...I hope it turns out the way you want it to!" you said smiling.

Copia wasn't convinced. He could tell you were lying. You tried to act like you were fine, but he knew you weren't. His heart hurt, he hated to see you upset. "You... are a terrible liar." He told you bluntly, looking at you with a worried expression.

"What do you mean?" you said.

Copia sighed and fixed you with a stern look. "I know you're not well." He replied. "You're putting on a front with that fake smile of yours. You're clearly upset and trying to hide it..." Copia studied your face, his expression filled with concern.

You giggled nervously. "What would I lie about?" you replied.

Copia's expression didn't change. He wasn't convinced. "You put on this smiling, happy persona, but I can see through it. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes. You're putting on a show to make me think you're okay, but I know you're not." Copia replied, his eyes piercing yours. "Just tell me. Why are you upset?"

"No, I'm fine, really!" you said quickly, waving him off.

Copia frowned, sighing and getting more worried. You were so defensive, hiding something. Your behavior only confirmed his suspicion that you weren't feeling well. He rose from his chair and approached you, looking down at you with a gentle but stern look. "No, it's not 'okay.' I know something is wrong. You are upset. Please just tell me what is bothering you."

You sighed and looked down. "It's not easy to explain!"

Copia hummed, gently grabbing your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. "It doesn't matter if it's easy to explain or not. I know something is bothering you, and it's clearly affecting you. I just want to make it better." Copia gave you a gentle but firm look, waiting for you to respond.

"It's...it's just..." you avoided looking at him. "It's just... I... I was hoping that you..." you couldn't tell him, you couldn't.

Copia hummed again, watching your expression. He had an idea of what you were going to say, but he remained silent, waiting for you to finish. "You... hoped I would what?" He nudged you gently, his hand still on your chin, holding you to him.

"That... you were talking about me when you mentioned the girl you had a crush on...!" you finally admitted.

Copia froze, his eyes widening slightly as he realized what you had said. His heart began to race. "You... you thought that I..." He trailed off, letting go of your chin and taking a step back. "That I was talking about you?" He said quietly.

You stood up and walked around the chair..."It's okay...it was just a stupid thought...I know we're just friends, right...!"

Copia stood stunned in his seat, his heart beating a sentence faster. He knew he had been talking about you....but something stopped him from admitting it. Maybe your reaction...

"Y-yes..." he murmured, avoiding eye contact. "We're just... Just friends."

You felt your heat sink..."Well...good luck with the other girl!" you said and walked to the door...and left his office...feeling like an idiot...you knew you had lost him...lost him as a friend...nothing could be the same now...nothing.

Copia sat back at his desk and watched in silence as you walked towards the door. His heart ached as you left, his mind racing with a thousand different thoughts. He had come so close to admitting his feelings for you, so why was he holding back? Why did he deny his feelings? He buried his head in his hands, moaning and cursing silently to himself. He knew that he had probably ruined his relationship with you, all because he was afraid to tell you the truth...

[mikomikono]

hi miko! im here with a fic writing question… i was thinking about how to make smut good bc recently i feel like whenever i get to the smut part of the fic im writing i get super bored, like im just rehashing whatever ive been writing in every smut scene ive done for years. you and endles came to mind bc i always find your guys nsfw scenes really compelling, and great, and unique. while also being hot and fun (very important w smut!!) so i wanted to ask if you had any tips for keeping things exciting or fresh when you are tackling those scenes! especially because you guys have experience writing the same characters many times over and manage to be so creative and distinct with every scene ive read from you. so, i guess, penny for your thoughts, if you feel like it! (sorry for sending this only to you and asking for both your opinions, it was the simplest 😭. if u want to answer yourself only thats fine haha)

❤️

Heyyyy oh my god I never expected to become someone ppl would come to for writing advice, what an honour 💖 also, I hope you don't mind me answering publicly, bc I feel like this is something a lit of writers struggle with! I will put it under a cut tho, bc I ended up writing quite a bit oops

So. Smut. It's kinda funny you should ask me about that, bc the first proper sex scene I ever wrote was last year for Steamship Sexcapades (bc I am not counting that one feeble attempt at 19 that was so cringe that I hid it away and didn't even think about trying again for like 8 yrs) but I suppose after writing *checks The Canon word count* a lot since then means something :DD

Here's the thing: I also feel like I'm rehashing things. Constantly. There's only so many ways you can say "cock in hole ➡️ thrust" before you're gonna have to repeat some phrases. And honestly, I feel like I repeat phrases remarkably often! But in a way that's all writing! (or that's how I stop myself from getting too depressed about it lol) The readers don't notice! Usually. And as long as you don't use the exact same wording every single time.

Ok, so here's a few tips on what I, personally, think you need to make a good sex scene:

Don't be afraid of the words. Y'know, the first time I wrote "half-hard cock" I (allegedly) had to take a 10min break and texted a friend that I was not going to be able to do this. But after a while you sort of get used to it and the words that seemed embarrassing stop being that, and become just... Words. And you also shouldn't shy away from more "cringe" words! Sometimes its fun to be a little cringe!

Related, you should try to love the words. But that's just good general writing advice, I feel.

Describe the emotions. Most people feel... something towards those they are intimate with, and that should be true in erotica too. It should be especially true in erotica, I think! Even if it's a one night stand, strangers who met in the club 5mins ago, whatever... You want the characters to feel.

Don't forget the physical. This is a thing that might seem a bit... weird. Like, you're writing sex, how could it not be physical? But what I mean is that you shouldn't forget to describe how it feels to the people involved, most notably your POV character. It's very easy to get lost in describing what they're doing and completely forget to get into the actual feeling. You're not writing a sex manual! And I have read fics where half way through I realise that's what it sounds like.

It's never just about the sex. Even if you think it is, it's not. It's about the connection, the narrative, the characterisation... It's about showing something that you can only show through the kind of vulnerable intimacy that sex scenes provide. Even if it's a oneshot pwp, it still has something to say. Maybe that something is wanting to get your rocks off, but also we're talking about fanfiction... We don't read and write that just to get off. It's always about the characters.

Rehashing is fine, actually. As I said, there's only so many ways to describe certain things, and so many ways you can have sex. Except that's not really true, because the secret to keeping it fresh is mixing it up! You can change positions, you can change who's the top/bottom, you can add foreplay (you should) and then change what kind of foreplay you wanna have! You can look into kinks! You can change locations! (I know we've done that a lot) You can add or remove any number of things to make each individual encounter different! And that's the key: repetition is fine, so long as you don't use the exact same everything every time. Case in point, there is a tumblr post which I would link except I'm on mobile, that is titled sth like "list of vocal sounds for smut", which has a list of, well, sounds/verbs (moan, groan, hiss, whimper, whisper etc) and adjectives that could be paired with them (hoarse, needy, quiet, throaty, desperate, wanton etc). The point is, that the best way to keep from sounding repetitive is to mix and match the words so that even if you say "groan" five times in 5k words, it's a different kind of groan every time. The same applies to sex acts! Do you have any idea how much cock Ryunosuke has sucked during The Canon? A lot. But it doesn't feel repetitive (hopefully) because everything else around it is switched up.

And perhaps most importantly: you gotta be at least a little horny for it yourself. I get it, man, writing smut is weird. You sit in front of your computer, staring at the monitor like "hmm is it better to use the word cock or dick or member?" And like... That's not very sexy. But! But!!! At the end of the day you gotta write something that makes you excited! Otherwise what's the point? Why are you writing if it doesn't fulfill you on some level??

Anyway, that's just my thoughts on the matter. If you want more specific help with writing, you can always DM me, I don't mind~

Also, endles says she is too mentally exhausted to properly answer, but she seconds everything I said, especially the point about loving the words. Actually she really wants to say sth about that, so I'm paraphrasing her for the rest of this:

You, as a writer, should love language. You should love the neat little things that language can do and seek out new things to try every time. It's a journey of discovery! Just like sex is always a new journey, even if it's the same characters and the same sex acts, every individual time is a chance to find something new. Let yourself have fun! Write something really stupid and work from that. The way I create scenes by writing jokes, even for serious scenes, because sex at the core is kinda funny. You're standing naked (at least partially) in front of this other naked person and it makes you feel a bit funny.

Also concrete advice: pick a list of 5-10 words you want to use. They can be anything, verbs, nouns, adjectives, as long as you really, really vibe with them, because they make you happy, as long as they're not words you already use a lot. They can also all relate to the same theme if you want! And then find a way to put all those words in.

[delta-nights]

Criminal Love : Groveling

CHAPTER FOUR ⸙͎۪۫｡

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Pairing ~ Jake x reader (Jisu)

Genre ~ Fake dating, contract relationship, forbidden love.

Warnings ~ contains excessive use of Cuss, angst, one or two punch scenes, kiss scenes, etc. (But nothing too over the top). Mention of Karina & Ningning (Aespa), Yunjin (Le Sserafim), Yujin (IVE), Hanni (New Jeans), Beomgyu (TXT), and Enhypen's Hyung line.

Author's note ~ idk how to use Tumblr for the love of god. So, I hope you'll enjoy this as, I've wrote it after listening to criminal love. You can also find this work on wattpad too. And as for the oc, her name will be Choi Jisu as I really don't like working with Y/N. Anyways, happy reading <3 and another thing is that, I've excluded some parts like the texts and social media parts because it would've been too lengthy.

Word count ~ 2.1k+

6 years later.

“Tenth shot! Stop it now” Jisu groaned, almost yelling at Hanni, who took in the vodka shot.

“No Jiji!” Hanni slurred in a drunk voice. “Lemme have some fun. At least my boyfriend isn't here to stop me” She stated, gulping down another glass.

Jisu sighed, annoyed, as she dialed a number.

“Park Sunghoon, I'll fucking kill you! Come to the bar right now. Your girlfriend is wasted” She yelled over the phone and hung up.

From her peripheral vision, she saw two females, supporting another pair of females towards the barstool.

“How can these two throw up together?” Yujin snorted as she and Karina sat down the drunk Yunjin and Ningning.

“This bitch is leaving us, can't we fucking get drunk?” Yunjin grudged, whining.

A man in a suit with neatly done hair and a perfect face came towards the females and sighed.

“How much did she drink?” Park Sunghoon asked, sitting beside the drunk Hanni as she giggled, looking at her boyfriend.

“Ten shots” Jisu stated, looking at Hanni who rested her head on Sunghoon's shoulder.

“I'm going to take her home. Will you be alright? Or should I call Beomgyu?” Sunghoon asked, looking at the sober females.

“I'll take Yunjin home and Karina will take Ningning" Yunjin stated as Sunghoon nodded and looked at Jisu.

“I haven't had a shot. I'll be fine” She nodded, assuring him as he picked up Hanni and walked out of the bar.

“Will you be able to go home?” Karina asked as Jisu nodded.

“We'll go to the airport tomorrow” Ningning slurred in her drunk voice as the others nodded.

“You should go and get some rest” Yujin stated as Jisu nodded, conforming that they're fine with the wasted pair, she walked out of the door.

Jisu was leaving for America. Over the course of six years, she published eight books and four sets of them, being a series. They formed two one of the best-selling books in New York Times, and she was moving to America, temporarily. Talking about the books now.

The first series was sudden love. Like, love in first sight, CEO and secretary, billionaire romance and best friends brother.

But the second set of series was all based on fake relationships. Like, contract marriage, fake dating, forced proximity and forbidden love.

The group knew exactly why she wrote the second set of book series because she showed,

Even though the protagonists in the books struggled hard with their relationships, they still became one.

However, that was never her case.

She considered herself to be a 'female, cursed out of romance' and would never find a man.

That was halfway true because, her first kiss was Jake and, until this day, her last kiss was also Jake.

After what happened with Jake, she was too afraid to commit to any relationship as, everything felt wrong. She thought that she'll end up broken again.

That stage was so hard on Jisu that it impacted on her mental health. She had to take therapy and often cried during those sessions.

And Beomgyu's abrupt return to Seoul was a shock for all, but he knew, what was going on with Jisu and Jake. He was going to confront them, but later found his sister's heart broken and came to know that it was a fake relationship.

But, until this date, apart from those who knew Jake and Jisu's contract, no one new got to know about their fake relationship.

Jay, Sunghoon, Hanni, Ningning, Karina, all thought that they broke up because Jake was leaving the country. But they knew the truth.

However, the situation, right now, was extremely amusing.

Here, Jisu was preparing to leave for America and Jake, who was also preparing to leave for America from Australia because he was taking over the American branch of their Architectural firm.

Few weeks passed by.

A library.

A peaceful spot for all readers.

Choi Jisu sat on a stool by the window, reading 'Red, White and Royal Blue' by Casey McQuiston. God knows how many times she has read this book, but she liked it.

She loved how Henry and Alex fought everyone and established their love. Without any fear of the world and how they'll judge them.

Her peaceful reading session ended when a young girl, around her twenties, walked towards her, holding one of her books.

"Ms. Jisu, I'm a big fan of yours. Can I get a sign" She showed Jisu her book as she smiled?

"Of course" She stated and signed on the book. The girl walked away as Jisu stood up too. From the day before, she was planning to buy some books from the book store, and she was currently heading there.

The book store was filled with little to none people, which made Jisu sighed in relief.

She made her way to the romance section and saw her books displayed on the rack. She was quite pleased to see them stocked up with all eight of them. But she didn't come here to look for her books.

She was looking for, Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood.

She finally spotted it. It was on a shelf above her head as she groaned. She was too short to reach. But she didn't lose any hope.

She got on her tippy-toes and reached out for the book, but still couldn't. She tried once again but groaned. However, before she was going to turn away, a body came up from behind her and a hand outstretched, grabbing the book for her.

She turned around but was frozen.

It was Jake. Sim fucking Jaeyun.

"Thank you" She spoke in a cold tone as she grabbed the book from his hand and turned around.

"Jisu" He called out, making her turn towards him. "I know what I-"

"I really don't wanna talk about it" She stated.

"But at least listen to me" He pleaded, looking at her.

"There's nothing between us, Mr. Sim. You go on your way and I go on mine" Jisu stated as she walked towards the counter and paid for the book and walked out. She didn't want to, but unknowingly a tear slipped past her eyes.

But Jake felt way more broken than she felt at this moment. He wanted Jisu back, but only if he could make her understand that he was forced to break her heart.

“You're pathetic bro”

Heeseung spat over the phone as Jake sobbed.

Her peaceful reading session ended when a young girl, around her twenties walked towards her, holding one of her books.

“He's not pathetic! He's a dumb fucking dickhead!” Beomgyu yelled from the side. “He fucking broke my sister's heart, and now he's acting all pathetic. What the fuck is wrong with this dumbass?” A crash was heard from the other side of the phone.

Beomgyu's anger was on the next level when it came to his sister.

“I don't know what I'll do. Grandfather called me in and I had nothing—”

“Nothing to do except for breaking the girl's heart who had fallen for you deeply” Heeseung stated, a hint of ridicule in his voice was prominent as he cut Jake off.

“You could've said that wait for me or something. Jisu wouldn't have faced all of this shit because of you. She was mocked in the university because everyone thought you dumped her and left” It was Yunjin's time to speak.

Both Beomgyu and Heeseung turned to see Yunjin and Yujin in Beomgyu's house and frowned.

“What are you two doing here?” Beomgyu asked, looking at the girls as Yujin sighed.

“Jisu called us crying earlier. She felt so depressed” Yujin stated and sat beside Heeseung as he tangled up his fingers with her and gave a soft smile.

“I hurt her too much, didn't I?” Jake's voice cracked.

“You did” Heeseung spoke out.

“Beomgyu, will you give me another chance? I'll be a better person for Jisu" Jake asked as Beaomgyu scoffed.

“If you break her heart again, I'll break you, happily” Beomgyu stated as Yunjin frowned.

“But what's the actual reason for you to turn Jisu's confession? She even wrote a whole book series to show you that even with a fake relationship, people so end up together” She asked as Jake sighed.

“It's because his grandfather called him over, and he thought that it was best to turn Jisu down because she deserved someone better than him. Now, this idiot is a fucking CEO” Heeseung hissed.

“I know I'm a coward” Jake sighed.

“The best move for you to get Jisu back is, to grovel” Yunjin stated.

𝘌𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴.

𝘌𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴.

𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴.

𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯. 𝘏𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘧𝘪𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

Jisu typed furiously on her laptop as tears made her eyes blurry. Who would've actually thought the writer who writes all romantic books actually has a pathetic love life?

And Jake Sim was at the fault.

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳.

𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵.

𝘏𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥.

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺.

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱.

𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵.

'𝘙𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭' 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥.

'𝘙𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯?' 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘩 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

𝘏𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦.

𝘏𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘏𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘯.

𝘎𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦��𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩.

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

She saved this on her draft and shut the laptop, sobbing and clutching the pillow to her chest.

No one should suffer so much even when they haven't dated.

She was still heartbroken, after six years.

If Sim Jaeyun wants to make it right, he needs to prove himself to her.

One look and Jisu knew she was done for good.

She was drinking her vodka shots in the bar as Jake walked inside with his charming aura.

His tailored suit fit perfectly on his body, making him look breathtaking.

But before he could spot her, she quickly turned around to avoid being seen by him.

Maybe, whatever she wrote the last night was out of grieve? But her writings and her personal life had nothing to do with each other.

She asked for another shot and gulped down the previous shot, burning her throat.

From her peripheral vision, she saw Jake sitting on one of the barstool's, far away from her, as she sighed.

However, soon enough, a girl came towards her and started to give him flirty remarks.

If I say Jake was disgusting will be an understatement. He looked at the women, clearly displeased with her clingy behavior, as he looked at the corner.

That's when their eyes met.

Jake widened his eyes, but they couldn't hold their eye contact because the girl grabbed Jake's cheek and made him look at her.

That sight was enough for Jisu to gulp down her last shot before paying the bartender and walking towards the washroom.

After getting rid of that girl, Jake turned to see that Jisu vanished into thin air.

He wasn't getting any hallucinations, nor was he drunk. He quickly stood up and thought to look at the washroom as he made his way there.

Furthermore, he spotted her walking out of the female washroom.

She spotted him too and was about to walk inside the washroom again as he held her hand.

“Don't do this to me” He pleaded as Jisu snapped her head at him.

“This? If you are acting like this, why did you reject me earlier, Mr. Sim?” She asked with a hint of ridicule.

Jake sighed and rubbed his hand on his face. Then abruptly pulled her towards the nearest wall and pinned her against it. “I do like you. It's just, I was a coward to admit it”.

Jisu blinked at him, baffled by his sudden action and words.

“And I would rather not let you go again” He stated, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Then chase me. Hold on to be before I go beyond your grasp that you'll never catch me again”.

Ten days.

Ten different flower bouquet.

Ten different chocolates.

These things were all amusing for Jisu. And today and was the day, Yunjin will come to America and stay with her for a while.

About time, the doorbell rings as Jisu opened the door, helping the groaning girl with her luggage.

“Holy heck! Your apartment looks like a flower shop” Yunjin eyes around and when she reached to take a chocolate bar, Jisu smacked her hand, making her whine.

“Don't fucking tell me, it's Jake” Yunjin stated, rubbing the back of her hand where Jisu smacked her.

A sheepish smile appeared on her face as she nodded.

“Damn. The groveling is hitting hard” Yunjin muttered, looking around.

“Men should know that groveling is the key to a happy relationship” Jisu stated, tossing a coke can to Yunjin as she glared.

“It'll fucking explode!” She yelled, looking at the coke can and walking towards the sink and opening it, making all the bubbles rush out of it.

“Happy explosion” Jisu mocked, sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and picked up the laptop from the coffee table and set it on her lap.

“But Jake really is trying his hardest, isn't?” Yunjin asked, sitting beside Jisu as she nodded.

“I'll make him suffer, for a while” She stated, nonchalantly and kept on typing on her laptop.

Yunjin took a quick glance and gasped. “The male protagonist in this book is also groveling?” She asked with her eyes wide.

“Yup. The female protagonist and I have the same situation going on but, he left her because he told her that he liked someone else, which is a lie” Jisu answered as Yunjin nodded.

“Let him grovel” Yunjin smirked, finding the whole situation a bit too amusing

@delta-nights

[amochi]

alright im about to go on a long rant that may or may not get overly personal. also I'm completely word vomiting so if nothing makes sense or it doesn't read well, that's why

i have never experienced a creative block of this magnitude in my entire 25 years on gods green earth. especially about writing, which used to come as easy to me as breathing.

i see so many posts talking about this, particularly about writers who grew up spitting out hundreds of thousands of words and then suddenly reached adulthood and couldn't write more than 1,000 in one session. a lot of people say it is because we know what's good now, or how to improve, and it's a sign that our writing is improving. i hope that is true because those posts resonate far more than ever before yet i am keenly aware of the whole point of writing which is it cannot improve without doing the damn thing in the first place.

ive gotten back into reading in the last year and it has been healing for me in a lot of ways. ive always loved reading and writing became a byproduct of that. it feels like its always been in me to read and tell stories. i love it. i love getting sucked into worlds and characters and experiencing feelings that are new or even familiar to me. reading fills me up with so much desire to create and draft my own ideas. i want so much to have something out in the world that came from my head and can hold other peoples hands and say "this is how i see it, do you see it too?"

art for me is all about connection and bringing a deeper understanding of myself into the world. i want to feel proud of the things i create, its what keeps me creating in the first place. i love having a finished product that i can feel so sure in, that i can share and connect with others about. i ride the high of that forever.

i guess thats why not being able to write has hurt so badly. writing always used to come easy to me. i could write with joy, uncaring if its good or not, because i was proud to do it anyways. i loved writing stories and i loved my characters and i loved being able to say "i wrote today and this is how much and it was so much fun." nothing else mattered to me. i dont know what changed but a switch flipped unknowingly. its almost like im scared to put my words down or im scared to have something and realize its not *saying* anything. i know perhaps im putting too much pressure on myself to be good, or to have it done right the first time. but even while i feel this, i know that really the only thing that makes a difference between a good writer and a bad writer is whether or not you actually write. and maybe that's it too, that the pressure of writing at all has outweighed my joy. i just cant get past how lost i feel in myself when i dont know how to get through this, when i know the only thing i can do is write BUT HOW????

i dont know. i dont know if any of this makes sense. i feel like im grasping around in a dark room, sobbing about it, yet making no progress towards actually finding the switch that will turn the lights on.

in the meantime i suppose i have illustration. though the irony is not lost on me that i found it so hard to do that in the past when it was easier to write. i dont know. it still feels like this writers block (if i can even call it that anymore) has been far more agonizing than any other creative block ive had. i dont know. it just feels like ive lost such an essential part of my person that i cant find. i dont know how to fix it. i dont know if i can. i think for my own sanity i have to hope it will happen.

[c0rpseductor]

i finally found this fragment i thought was from pythagoras but was actually from plato. it was this passage that specifically connects persephone to the idea of metempsychosis as like, a figure who has control of who reincarnates, and i had been tearing my hair out trying to find it again bc i for some fucking reason thought it was a pythagorean thing. thank god. thank god. i can fucking relax again. thank you theoi dot com.

this is mostly because i found it interesting btw. it doesn't ever seem to get mentioned in discussion of her as a goddess so it might have just been a poetic device but it's really like, congruent with the concepts she represents and everything, so it's a topic i would like to put a pin in. this makes sense though because i was reading about the orphics earlier on wikipedia (which is what put me on the hunt) and they believed in reincarnation and were All About persephone, and plato was evidently in agreement with them on some Points. ive seen some people say the orphic tradition was kind of niche so maybe that's why nobody ever fucking talks about this

anyway id gotten it confused because pythagoreans also believed in metempsychosis. it was also one of their religious Things. i think it influenced the orphic belief? PLUS plato and pythagoras start with the same letter. you see the confusion

putting it under a cut here so that if i forget again i can just search pythagoras on my own blog and find it

Plato, Meno 81a ff (trans. Lamb) (Greek philosopher C4th B.C.) : "Sokrates (Socrates) : There were certain priests and priestesses who have studied so as to be able to give a reasoned account of their ministry [i.e. the priests of the Mysteries]; and Pindar also and many another poet of heavenly gifts. As to their words, they are these : mark now, if you judge them to be true. They say that the soul of man is immortal, and at one time comes to an end, which is called dying, and at another is born again, but never perishes [i.e. the soul is reincarnated]. Consequently one ought to live all one's life in the utmost holiness. ‘For from whomsoever Persephone shall accept requital for ancient wrong, the souls of these she restores in the ninth year to the upper sun again; from them arise glorious kings and men of splendid might and surpassing wisdom, and for all remaining time are they called holy heroes amongst mankind.’ Seeing then that the soul is immortal and has been born many times, and has beheld all things both in this world and in the nether realms, she has acquired knowledge of all and everything; so that it is no wonder that she should be able to recollect all that she knew before about virtue and other things. For as all nature is akin, and the soul has learned all things, there is no reason why we should not, by remembering but one single thing--an act which men call learning--discover everything else, if we have courage and faint not in the search; since, it would seem, research and learning are wholly recollection." [N.B. "Ancient wrongs"--in Greek penthos"affliction"--means something like "fall" or "sin" in the language of the mystics. These lines probably come from one of Pindar's Dirges. The "holy heroes" are the best of souls who dwell in the Islands of the Blessed, the penultimate Elysian paradise.]

[binary5tar1117]

I hit a point on my smut fic where it isn't flowing anymore. But I'm far enough along I'm confident at some point I'll tell myself to just finish it and when I go back and reread it I'll be able to get into it enough to wrap it up

So I decided to move on to another idea I had. Which is like a dnd inspired fae au. Actually mostly inspired by a court of fae and flowers the dimension20 season. It's still the best season I've watched so far. It's more like half dnd fae half bidgerton.

Ive basically been living in this fic all weekend, like it's keeping me up at night but I almost don't care because I'm that into it. It keeps flowing really nicely without much planning and in a way that feels like a real story and not... just people fucking. Which dont get me wrong is fun. But a real story makes me feel like a better writer which is more satisfying.

I almost never finish these types of fics though so.... no one get excited.

Details and spoilers for a moral dilemma I have created for myself in the fic below the cut. I don't know how to warn exactly but minor tw "playing hard to get" mentality and the ickyness that can come from that.

I also had a really angsty thought last night that I think works really well but I don't know how to resolve it in a satisfying way. Or at least in a way I feel readers will find satisfying. Because there's a pretty clear red line crossed, people feel terrible and talk and forgive each other. Even though it's fantasy I think the situation is really realistic. But it's also a situation that the internet at least has little forgiveness for.

Wooyoung is a powerful sort of like demi God level fae. His "domain" is charm and attraction and he sort recharges his magic through physical touch. Not just sex but ya know that works too (though not actually any better than cuddling.)

San ends up making a warlock pact with him to save his sister. Wooyoung is very upfront about how his magic works and does not at all demand or expect sex or any sort of touching from San. But eventually they get to the point where they are comfortable enough for Wooyoung to be more clingy and flirty. And though another thing that happens, Wooyoung realizes San is very much attracted to him and pursues him. San as good as says he's just playing hard to get. Wooyoung really does nothing wrong.

But San is resisting more from emotional complications. I mean mortal and fae, patron and warlock plus Yeosang... it's complicated. Wooyoung maybe kinda gets this but it's never spelled out.

Anyway Wooyoung kinda corners San and with some magic sex pollen type shenannigans, San gets pushed past his comfort level. They don't have sex, it's just basically a really intense make out session.

But San in his kinda worked up state, accuses Wooyoung of assuming San was playing hard to get when he really wanted none of it. Saying hes been pushing him too much all along. Which is true again in an emotional sense but not in the physical.

But Wooyoung takes it in the physical sense which San intends at the moment. And he is understandably upset and apologetic. He tries very hard to recognize that his magic, the thing that makes him him, has the ability to make people very uncomfortable. He tries so very, very hard to be considerate and /good/ about it. (He's a good boy, the bestest alright?) And to find out he hurt/upset someone he cares about, even after trying so hard to be careful... it's understandably distressing for him.

When Yeosang hears about this, he tear's San a new one because he knows exactly what's going on. Two of the three idiots in love make up... mostly because San has some words for Yeosang during that convo too, so there's still that aspect.... and the story continues.

The problem is, while I think that it's obvious San was more in the wrong, people can be weird about that sort of fuzzy-ish consent. I shouldn't care but I do. I'll be so sad if people hate Wooyoung for it.

I am also struggling with how Wooyoung will ever be able to trust San again if he pulls this. It's such an important core belief type thing for him that having it disrespected and turned against him... there's really no way for San to make it up to him, right? Wooyoung just has to choose to forgive and trust him again. Which I don't think is bad necessarily. People fuck up, even this bad, and it's okay to forgive sometimes. But that's another thing the internet is pretty iffy on. One mistake on this level is tantamount to murder and unforgiveable. Which again I shouldn't care. I'm usually good at not caring, but I kinda do in this case.

And then I question... is it too ooc to have San do that? Which is maybe why i care about readers opinions so much.. because I'm unsure. I dunno I think I'll just have to get there and write it and see how it plays out.

[bitches-and-bucket-hats]

17:24 09/06/24 London UK

the last time i posted on this blog i was 19. i read the tags i left under the posts i reblogged, heartbroken about some boy i liked. i didnt use any names or any defining features, and i cant even pin down who i was speaking about by looking at the date. since these posts ive not felt anything for anyone (apart from a 'crush' i hit on a few times out of boredom, mental illness, and most notably drunken carelessness). since these posts theres been a pandemic, 2 degrees, lost friendships, and a bout of true self destruction that my 2014 self would pride herself on.

im now 23 with scars normally seen on someone 10 years younger, an unshakable prison of guilt due to my theorised alcoholism, and most confusing of all, an impenetrable wall of intimacy. i prayed and hoped into the universe to stop me from feeling what i did in these posts and now i find myself not sure if love exists for me. in one of the tags i said "dont fall into anyone else but yourself". 4 years later i cant ask for help despite my safety being in danger, and im so removed from romantic feelings im ashamed viewing or thinking about anything connected to intimacy. i wanted the feeling to go away but i failed to realize that feeling was what kept me on earth, what made me 'mortal' or applicable to the rules of the world. i feel like a god, an elusive figure with different standards and manifestations as everyone else. i fail to exist in the world i logically know im in. i feel guilt on every action every step i take and when i hold back on doing anything out of fear i hyperfixate on things ive done in a drunken rage for any connection to a human because of the starvation in my sober 'existance'. i feel as if i went into covid and died there. i never fully came back. i felt romantically and sexually stunted, but made progress in drunken nights, i felt like a party girl who loved a good time. now i know im an unloveable alcoholic. i felt as if the time i needed to settle into my progress and discovery is gone. it was stolen from me. i had hope and wit and intelligence and fun; and none of these survived the fire. i was about to write about how i have had good experiences learning about myself but i am wrong! i have had those but this does not account for the disturbance we had that left nothing behind. the sprouts didnt survive the frost. i wasnt given enough time to figure it out. I am so angry at the world for taking this from me and yet all i feel is sadness and a lack of control.

talk in general about my pain but its about the capability of recieving love. something i know i do not deserve or am capable of. if this is to be read by anyone other that myself do not tell me otherwise because i do not believe in your words or sentiment and i believe you are a mortal in a mortal world and i am simply not able to function in the same way as you. i believe i am fundementally different to you in that my story, as given by the universe, does not function in the slightest bit in the lens of romance and love. i show up in other colors of the universe but the red of love, i disappear. i fear my life i have hurt myself so much ive disrupted my chances of making it out, and i grasp onto the one person that revealed the smallest glimmer of hope that i could exist in this world. and trust me reader when i say glimmer i mean the smallest flash of hope, its even foolish to put it into words. i do not feel fundamentally flawed and incapable of love, i have graduated to feeling as if the human pleasures and desires are not my calling, and i am doomed to live in a world in which i do not exist. how the fuck do i live in a world that i do not exist? i exist in moments, sure, but my self is not realized or even has the potential to be fully realized.

how do i accept my existence as a being incapable of giving and receiving love? but more importantly, how do I stop feeling so lonely?

[utterly-mediocre]

A collection of letters from a lovesick and naive girl

To you, who still manages to capture my heart after all these years,

I’m not even sure if you would ever be able to read this. I’m a coward, as evident by the way I bottled up these emotions and watched you from afar for years rather than actually trying to convey to you how I feel, in real life. So here I am, compiling a collection of my thoughts- most of it coming to me at ungodly hours of the night- and hiding behind a screen. It seems I haven’t matured much at all from that first time I laid my eyes on you.

Anyway, on the incredibly rare occasion that I do somehow figure out a way to deliver this to you, I hope you take the time out of your day to read this. I’ve come to terms that I would never be anything special to you, but that still doesn’t mean that I’m not absolutely smitten over you. I’m not expecting anything to come out of this, honestly, I just want this out of my system. So don’t worry about reciprocating my feelings or anything like that, I’m perfectly fine with how things are as is.

This, I guess you could call it a letter?, would contain a little section of mini letters and each mini letter will be numbered according to a playlist. Most of the songs listed are actually what I was listening to while I was writing whatever I was thinking. You might think this is too much hassle for someone trying- emphasis on trying- to let go of their feelings and to be honest, you’re right. I’m just over dramatic. Nevertheless, I do hope you somehow are able to read this, someday.

--

;golden hour

I Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift

II Risk It All - Yuna

III I've Never Been In Love Before - Laufey

IV Love Letter From The Sea To The Shore - Delaney Bailey

VI Sunlight - Hozier

--

I Everything Has Changed - Taylor Swift

“All I know is a simple name /

And everything has changed”

I don't actually remember the specifics of when I had truly fallen for you. You had crept so slowly into my heart and the depths of my mind that eventually I found that you were all that I could think of.

I used to jokingly say it was love at first sight but that isn't really true. It was more like gradually getting pulled towards you, and a sense of familiarity that I can’t quite put my finger on took root in the crevices of my soul, it’s tendril wrapped tightly around my heart. It felt as though my soul had known you before and now that I've met you again, a desperation to get close to you makes itself known with every time our eyes meet. I could feel the centre of my universe shifting slowly towards you the very moment my eyes laid on you.

I keep thinking of that one time my hand had brushed against yours and almost every night since then, I wonder what it would be like if I held your hand in mine. Would it fit perfectly? Would it feel as warm as I imagined? I find myself yearning for your presence, and my eyes would always subconsciously search for you.

It was a new and scary feeling, but it felt so, so good.

--

II Risk It All - Yuna

“I would risk it all, just to feel your touch /

I just want it all, if it ain't too much”

I've always been scared of authority figures ever since I was a young child, and I carried that throughout my life. And so, I've decided early on to not tell you my feelings. I took one look at it, and with shaking hands, I buried it to the back of my mind. Because I was so scared of the consequences. I was so scared of that omnipotent God I spent my whole life fearing. And to be completely honest, I still feel that paralyzing fear sinking deep into my bones sometimes. My heart is bursting at the seams and each time I see you around I feel like screaming out how much I wanted to be yours but I’d find that the words just wouldn’t come out of my mouth.

I tried everything to lose these feelings and to pretend that I'm a good, pious child. Frustratingly, nothing ever seemed to work. The more I tried to push the thoughts of you away, the more my heart craves you. It was a new sensation, and it probably is the worst pain I had ever experienced. It was as though someone had ripped my heart out, replaced it with pebbles and forced me to live normally. But it’s impossible to do so, everything reminds me of you. I couldn’t help but imagine a world where I could freely love you without any reservations. A different world where I either could be yours or find a healthier way to move on instead of mulling over what could've been if I wasn't such a spineless fool.

And yet, now I feel as though I would be able to break free from all the restrictions if it meant that I could be by your side. For you, I would gladly break the stifling rules of my religion. What’s heaven got that I can’t find by being with you anyway? I’d much rather endure the fiery pits of hell with your hand held firmly in mine.

--

III I've Never Been In Love Before - Laufey

“So please forgive this helpless haze I'm in /

I've really never been /

In love before"

Try as I might, I would never be able to fully express how deeply my feelings for you run. I could try to compare you to the stars, the ocean, the flowers, the galaxies; all of the world's wonders. I could try to compare you to a million different things but the language runs dry. Everything pales in comparison to you.

I work hard to be poetic in expressing my feelings for you anyway, but it's all too overwhelming and passionate and it's overflowing out of my chest. Not just in love but completely submerged in it, permeated by it, to the point that I find the words that I try to string together no longer make sense. You've truly enchanted me and now I'm rendered a mess.

You might find it weird. I get it. I’ll admit that it is. I don’t truly know you, only the fragments of yourself that you decide to show others. But I cling to those pieces anyway and try my best to store it in my memories, as though it would ever be of use. Because it wouldn't. I would never be yours.

--

IV Love Letter From The Sea To The Shore - Delaney Bailey

“Like the tourist comes back to the beach /

I come back to you for more and more and more”

Did you know that humans are made of stardust? Well, not quite, but it's been said that the very elements that exist in our body came from exploded stars. Which means that the atoms of my left hand may come from a different star from my right, and maybe some of the atoms that were meant to be in my body had ended up in yours.

Because, even if I somehow find it in myself to not think of you anymore and so much time has passed, a part of me will forever be yours. At this point in time, I have no true desire to pursue you since I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m just not meant to be yours a long time ago. However, I still find that my mind keeps coming back to you. Every train of thought that I have, even if it initially didn’t have anything to do with you, would inevitably lead me to think of you. Everything that I know about you (though it's not much, I'd admit that) is carved into my brain and I have no way of getting it out. I think of you so endlessly that I feel as though the last star in the universe might fizzle out and die before I can even begin to try to forget you. It’s honestly corny but it’s true. You will forever be in the forefront of my mind.

--

V Sunlight - Hozier

“Know that I would gladly be /

The Icarus to your certainty /

Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight"

Once, on a particularly lazy afternoon, my mother showed me a video completely unprompted. We were laying on the living room rug then, and I was about to doze off while watching the television but instead she thrusted her phone into my face, playing a video of a couple getting whipped and punished and I could feel myself freeze. I was laying so close to her then, our shoulders almost touching. I remember the disgust, both for myself and for the policemen punishing them, coiling tighter and tighter in my stomach that I could barely hold myself together. I waited a few hours until my mother decided to take her nap before running and emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl.

I do wonder, though. Would God really have condemned those who commit sodomy if he were put in my shoes and saw just how divine you looked with the sunlight perfectly framing your silhouette, forming an almost golden halo above your head with your smile as blinding as the sun? Would he not understand at that very moment why I had spent so many years adoring you in secret when the thought of actually accepting that part of myself made me feel nauseated? But even if he didn't, does it matter? Heaven and hell are mere words to me now. If I wanted to find something to devote my faith to, shouldn't I devote it to you instead? It feels more religious, rather than devoting myself to a God who had claimed to create me, all the while condemning me for something I can no more control than I can control my heartbeat.

--

[shurislover]

Surprise Pregnancy

Letitia Wright x Black Fem Reader

You hid your pregnancy from Letitia for about 3 months now. You know she’s wanted kids for the longest and you were happy to make that wish come true for her.

A/N : mentions of m!scarriage & b!ood.

mom!letitia mom!reader pregnant!reader

idk how many words i don’t count lol

————————————————————————-

Flashback

Guilt is what you felt. You felt like it was your fault. You blamed yourself non stop for having a miscarriage. Despite Letitia comforting you and letting you know things happen , and we never know what God has planned for us.

You still had this feeling deep down that it was your fault.

———

“ Baby I don’t feel okay , my stomach is in pain again and I’m not sure why .”- You whined as you spoke to your girlfriend on the phone

“ I’m on my way right now, does it feel like cramps , like the same pain you’ve been feeling since like yesterday ?”- Letitia questioned

You watched through facetime as she sped through the streets of London, whispering curse words if people were in her way or not moving

“ Yeah but it feels worse this time , I think - you breathed slowly

“ I think i’m gonna call 911 I don’t feel okay.” - You felt hot tears rolling down your face

“ Baby I’m pulling in the driveway.”- Letitia replied

Not even 2 seconds , your girlfriend burst through the door to find you on the floor. She picked you up bridal style and carried you to the car

“ I hope the baby is okay, I really do.”- You whispered. “ I hope so too .”- Letitia nodded and she drove off to the emergency room.

The pain would go away and then come back. But each time it came back the pain would be worse. It felt like getting kicked in the stomach multiple times. You both arrived at the hospital and Letitia took no time to carry you bridal style into the emergency room.

“ Hello how may I help you guys today ?”- The nurse smiled

“ My- my girlfriend is having stomach pains. She’s about 13 weeks pregnant and has been having pain off and on for about 2 days now .”- Letitia replied

“ Has she had any bleeding ?”- She questioned

“ Not anything heavy. It’s been really light or spotty. But today it was a little more heavy than before .”- You groaned

“ I will have someone with you very soon , please take a seat in the waiting area .” The nurse replied

You both took a seat in the waiting room , you hated being here. You never liked seeing people sick or in pain so you avoided coming to the emergency room but this time you needed to come. You needed to make sure your baby was okay. In the back of your mind you were worried, like really worried. This worry had you thinking the worse.

“ Y/N Y/L/N ?”- A female nurse called out

As you stood up you felt liquid rolling down your leg.

“ Baby you’re bleeding.”- Letitia whispered

Before you were able to get any words out you started to feel lightheaded and suddenly everything went black.

—

Letitia’s POV

“ She should be waking up soon.” - The nurse reassured

You were were worried. You’ve never seen your girlfriend pass out before. You were worried for not only her but for the baby.

“ Do you know why she passed out and is the baby okay? “- You questioned

“ She passed out due to low electrolytes, so she has an IV right now.”-

“ And i’m sorry to tell you this…

Letitia started to breath heavily , she was about to hear a sentence she never wanted to hear

“ You girlfriend has suffered a miscarriage, i’m so sorry Ms.Wright.”- The nurse frowned

As tears rolled down your cheeks you heard your name being called

“ Baby where are you ?”-

You ran back into your girlfriends hospital room and kissed her forehead “ I’m right here baby , how are you feeling ?”- You spoke while trying to hide the pain in your voice.

“ I’m so tired. What even happened?”- She questioned

“ You passed out.”

“ Is the baby okay ? Please tell me the baby is okay ?”- She whined

You watch as she started to slightly panic, you grabbed her hand and gave her a quick kiss.

“Baby.. you had a miscarriage “- Your girlfriend snatched her hands away and turned her back towards you

“ Is it my fault ?” -She questioned

“ No “- You slightly shouted back

“ None of this is your fault baby, things happen.” You replied

end

——-

Y/Ns POV

A year had passed and you both decided to try having a baby again. When you got a positive test you decided on keeping it to yourself because you didn’t want to get Letitia’s hopes up again.

You didn’t show very much but you did have a small belly which you blamed on weight gain from all the food you’d eat on the different vacations you went on.

“ Baby can you come to the kitchen i have something for you “- You shouted

You heard your girlfriend run down the steps “Keep running in the house and you’re going to bust your ass”- you laughed

“ You’d kiss it to make it feel better “- Letitia smirked

“Anyways I have a surprise for you. “ You handed her a small box “ I worked really hard on this so I hope you love it. “

“ I love everything you give me baby. “ She pulled you close and pecked you on your lips

You stood back and watched her carefully untie the ribbon on the box. The first thing she noticed when she opened the box was a note.

“ Buckle up an adventure is about to begin “

“ Ooo are we going on a trip ?” She asked “ You have to finish opening the box”- You added

She pulled out a small white t-shirt

“ Girl ? who is this gonna fit”- Letitia questioned

“ Turn it around “- You jokingly sighed. She turned the shirt around which had

“ Baby Wright Loading 2023”

Letitia looked at you, then looked at the shirt and in the box where your positive pregnancy test laid

“ No fucking way.” -She whispered

“Yes fucking way , 3 months today baby “ -You smiled and rubbed your belly

Letitia quickly stood up and pulled you into a hug, you could feel her tears on your shoulder as she rested her head in the crook of your neck.

“ We having a baby “ - You whispered

Letitia pulled away and smiled. “ I’m so in shock, I’m so lost for words. I’m just so overwhelmed with happiness.”

“ Hiding this from you was so hard, but so worth it, i was scared to get your hopes up again because we all knew what happened last time.”- You shrugged

She pulled you in for a tight hug. “ Baby I love you so much it hurts. Im gonna always stuck beside you no matter what, I don’t care what goes on in our relationship I’m gonna stick beside you. God really blessed us with another miracle and im forever grateful I get to experience this with you.” Letitia smiled

————————————————————————

trying to think if i like this one lmao. idk. but it’s something to put out while i work on my other story.

[smoosnoom]

moon moon moon moon moon~

I’ve been trying to think of the right words for what reading your fics feels like and I think I’ve finally pinpointed it.

the way you write has this very intimate feeling about it. like I’ve stumbled into a room and walked in on somebody, interrupting something important. It’s almost uncomfortable, how genuine it all feels. it’s just so believable and I can’t help but feel like I should look away. Like I shouldn’t know these characters’ inner workings on such an intimate level. and even when it’s not the intimacy of introspection, of knowing a persons deepest desires and fears, it’s the little moments.

the moments between characters that clearly display how much they care for each other. and it’s not the build up to the great big confession or kiss. it’s the things that you wouldn’t think twice about if they happened to you. bc of course you would, if you really loved someone, of course you would do that.

like, in corollary, when Mike tells that story abt the normal bird and the squirrel to help Will sleep. or, in where we lay our scene, when Todd helps Neil read lines despite the fact that he’s kinda embarrassed about doing it. it’s the little things that say “I love you” loud enough that when we do get to the big confession scene, we know it to be true.

god. reading your fics feels like when you’ve invited someone into your life and they agree. it feels like washing joint wardrobes and ending up wearing a stray sock of someone you love. it’s keeping that piece of them with you and knowing, “you are mine and I am yours”. it’s feeling it so deeply that you can almost feel it thrumming in your blood. expanding and changing but never leaving. like it’s attached itself to your ribs and taken to weaving itself into your viscera.

reading your fics sometimes feels like falling in love.

oh my god . elijah . ELIJAAHHHHHHHH

u need to know how long i spent rereading this ask over and over again 😭 not to . sound insane or obsessed ok i just . u have a very good skill of knowing Exactly what to say to make me feel like a piece of melted cheese on a sunny day . i would do anything for u

like i jsut dont even know what to say !!!!!! i think especially because . reading my own writing i will never know if i actually accomplished what i want, and i bet u can definitely relate since u are an artist, but it is like u took a peek into my brain and found out exactly what i wanted to hear !!!!!!!

the idea u find it all intimate 😭😭 oh u mean the world to me . i think love is like ,, such a personal thing LOL and i know thats ironic bc i literally write romance but i think thats the intrigue of it all !! u want to see it in others and u want to see them happy !!!! and that stuff is Personal !!!!! so i am so so happy u get that feeling of intimacy, i always have that feeling of intruding in on something whenever i watch or read incredibly romantic media and . i am so overjoyed u get that from me

"it’s the things that you wouldn’t think twice about if they happened to you. bc of course you would, if you really loved someone" oh thats exactly it 😭 like that little emphasis on the ordinary, like something that isnt a big deal but it is because its Them

"reading your fics feels like when you’ve invited someone into your life and they agree. it feels like washing joint wardrobes and ending up wearing a stray sock of someone you love" elijah that is so lovely 😭 are u sure u arent the writer between us !!! and that bit about wearing a stray sock reminded me an awful lot of that one quote by rhiannon mcgavin that goes "of course you love me, you're wearing one of my socks"

i think this means all the more because . i have literally never even had a crush on anyone so the concept that i was able to mimic what ive been hoping love is like is just so ,, relieving or satisfying or something like that but not Exactly . mostly like im just happy i could see it for what it is :) thank u elijah u have no idea how much this and u mean to me !

[reidsnose]

love letters

overview: spencer has a wonderful idea after finding out that reader had never gone to her senior prom

genre: fluff fluff fluff

a/n: i mixed two ideas that have been sitting in my notes app for this lol but i think its sweet!! i wrote it a little rushed and definitely not bc im not getting a prom this year due to miss rona👀 LMAO but as always please lmk what yall think ab it :)

masterlist

-

the idea had fully occupied his thoughts the second after the words left your mouth.

it was "the buttcrack of dawn" as you had called it, though spirits were high on the late jet ride home. it was a rare but much needed positive end to the case, and everyone was happily chatting with each other. since the case was involving high schoolers, the subject fell on prom. everyone went around sharing their prom stories one by one, recalling awful dresses and questionable dates til the questions turned to spencer.

"what ab you, pretty boy, what was your prom like?" morgan asked, still smiling widely from recalling his own.

you watched spencer shift uncomfortably for a second.

"i uh..i never went to prom." he stammered, a tight lipped smile on his face.

"no! you just dont wanna tell us!" prentiss cried, throwing her hands in the air.

"i graduated high school when i was 12! why would i have gone to prom?" he reasoned.

"you had to have gone when you were older or something! everyone has!" jj countered.

"thats not true, i never went to prom either," you defended, subconsciously inching closer to spencer.

before anyone could even ask you to explain why, spencer got the idea. he mentally left the conversation after you gave your answer. he spent the whole rest of the ride home and the next couple of weeks brain storming and planning.

and casually after work one day, as he was walking you to your car, he asked you if you wanted to hang out with him that weekend; at his house.

you and Spencer had hung out before, but mostly at your house or at coffee shops; he didn't invite people over very often.

of course you agreed but you grew confused when he told you to dress fancy.

you raced home afterwards to raid your closet, looking for any fancy dresses you may have stuffed in there.

spencer spent the whole day preparing his apartment. he put up streamers and balloons. he made a playlist of all your favorite songs. and then he rushed to get his clothes from the cleaners.

and when you knocked at his door the breath that left your lungs struggled to come back after he opened the door.

he stood in a gorgeous suit, different than he had ever worn to work. he rubbed the back of his neck and gestured to the living room, revealing the adorable (albeit poorly made but its the thought that counts) decorations.

"um.. welcome to prom," he said, turning back to you, revealing a blushy smile.

he tried not to stare too much at you, but it was difficult. your eyes sparkled as you stepped inside and looked around. and the dress you were wearing fit you so gorgeously he truly couldnt take his eyes off of you.

"spencer, i..." you trailed off, enchanted by what he had done.

"sorry if it looks bad. or if you think its weird that i did this. i just thought cause neither of us went to prom maybe you wanted to have a little one with me? yeah now that i say it out loud maybe you hate it im sorr-" he rambled behind you.

you turned quickly to him as he got lost in his words, eyes glued to the floor. cutting him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him as tight as you could. you could feel the tension leave his body as he melted into the embrace, returning it gladly. he doesn't like to be touched by anyone really, except for you.

"i love it. thank you," you whispered, giving him one last squeeze before letting go.

he has a spread of snacks lying out on the coffee table which he has mooved to the corner of the room to make space for a makeshift dancefloor.

he turns on the music and you two start talking and dancing and laughing. two fools with four left feet completely and obliviously in love. well, oblivious the the other anyway.

a slower song came on, an old one that you had wanted to slow dance to ever since you were a little girl. and somehow naturally you two came together, his hand dropped to your waist, the other delicately cradling your own. your other hand found its way up to his shoulder, feeling as though a magnet was pulling you two closer. and closer.

he looked absolutely stunning. the soft lights he had strung around the apartment sparkled like stars in his eyes; its was...dizzying, in the most incredible way.

unbeknownst to you, as you stared at the stars in his eyes he was looking at his whole world that he had been somehow lucky enough to hold in his arms.

he held his arm out, allowing you to spin and when he pulled you back both of your arms ended up wrapped around his neck, and his around your waist. you were less dancing now and more...hugging. with your head pressed to his chest, he hoped with all his might that you wouldn't be able to hear his hammering heart. you most definitely could, but it was calming to know he was as nervous as you were. you smiled, listening more to his heart than the music he had played for you.

you were both sure that you could burst from pure bliss. the song ended a little too quickly for either of your liking and reluctantly you let go of each other. and suddenly Spencer was hit with the realization that he forgot something.

"oh my gosh," his eyes widened as he looked around the room.

"what?" you asked, mirroring him and looking as well.

"i can't remember where i left your corsage! i was gonna give it to you at the door but i forgot!" he exclaimed, running around the room checking shelves.

you smiled to yourself. he got you a corsage!

"ill help you look" you decided.

"please do," he chuckled.

"i thought you had an eidetic memory, shouldn't you know where you left it?" you joked, shooting him a smug smile.

"y/n, my brain was all jumbled to day and it wasn't just from being around you," he realized what he had said and quickly turned back to the shelf he was looking at, "could you check in my room please?"

his heart was racing at his own stupidity; how could he just say that so nonchalantly? he had been planning to tell you that he liked you for the longest time he cant afford slipping up and having it be anything less than perfect.

you slipped into his room, your cheeks warm from the idea that you make his big brain all jumbled. he probably didn't mean it like that, you were just looking too much into it.

you sighed as you crouched to look under his bed for it. you found a small wooden box that you slid out from underneath. it had your name on it.

is it normal to keep a corsage in a wooden box? you wouldn't know, you never went to prom.

you shrugged your shoulders, "i found it spence!"

with out thinking you opened the box, except instead of a band of flowers you were greeted with letters, all addressed to you. there were annotations written in the margins with purple ink. you furrowed your eyebrows as you scanned the various letters.

dear y/n,

today you complimented my glasses and my heart skipped a beat. thats dumb spencer dont start like that

dear y/n,

im in love with you. too forward

dear y/n,

you make life worth living. shes gonna think youre a creep

you felt a rush of euphoria fill your chest. did he really feel these things for you? your thoughts swirled in the most wonderful way. a wide smile broke across your face, butterflies running rampage through your stomach as you reread his words. his words addressed to you.

"oh thank God i really thought i lost-oh. oh no." spencer started as he walked through the door of his room immediately walking back out. you followed, blinking your watery eyes at him. "i can explain.

"i think youve explained enough, theres like 20 letters in here!" you chuckled, flipping through them.

"i didnt know how to tell you and i dont want to ruin what we already have and i-"

"it wasnt too forward." you stated, grabbing one of the letters.

"what?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"in this one," you held up the letter, "you wrote dear y/n, im in love with you. and then you crossed it out and wrote that it was too forward but i dont think it was."

"youre not mad?"

"mad? spencer ive been trying to admit the fact that im in love with you since i realized it myself, why would i be mad?"

"youre..you feel the same way?" he looked back up at you, a hesitant smile pulling on the corners of his lips.

"more so," you beamed, stepping closer.

he wrapped his arms around you, "thats good or else the rest of this prom would have sucked."

you chuckled, pulling him impossibly closer to you as another perfect song played.

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni @luvspence @calm-and-doctor @ssavanessa22 @singularityjc @sydnee-kom-spacekru @sydneekomspacekru