#My precious daughter who has done nothing wrong except when she does

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Quickly submitted Mabel to that poll as well b/c while I already submitted Bill, she absolutely deserves to get more votes/a chance in the bracket after all the shit she’s had to deal with from the fandom across the past decade.

[seekfirst-community]

The following reflection is courtesy of Don Schwager © 2023. Don's website is located at Dailyscripture.net

Meditation: Do you know the love that knows no bounds? As Jesus dines with his beloved friends, Mary does something which only love can do. She took the most precious thing she had and spent it all on Jesus. Her love was not calculated but extravagant. Mary's action was motivated by one thing, and one thing only, namely, her love for Jesus and her gratitude for God's mercy. She did something, however, a Jewish woman would never do in public. She loosed her hair and anointed Jesus with her tears. It was customary for a woman on her wedding day to bound her hair. For a married woman to loosen her hair in public was a sign of grave immodesty. Mary was oblivious to all around her, except for Jesus. She took no thought for what others would think, but what would please her Lord. In humility she stooped to anoint Jesus' feet and to dry them with her hair. How do you anoint the Lord's feet and show him your love and gratitude?

Love unbounded and poured out in gratitude

The Gospel of John records that the whole house was filled with the perfume of the ointment (John 12:3). What Mary had done brought sweetness not only in the physical sense, but the spiritual sense as well. Her lovely deed shows the extravagance of love - a love that we cannot outmatch. The Lord Jesus showed us the extravagance of his love in giving the best he had by pouring out his own blood for our sake and by anointing us with his Holy Spirit. The Apostle Paul says that nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:39). Do you allow the love of Christ to rule in all your thoughts and intentions, and in all your words and deeds?

The cost to the giver shows the true beauty and goodness of a heart filled with love and gratitude

Why was Judas critical of Mary's lovely deed? Judas viewed her act as extravagant wastefulness because of greed. A person views things according to what it inside the heart and soul. Judas was an embittered man and had a warped sense of what was precious and valuable, especially to God. Jesus had put Judas in charge of their common purse, no doubt because he was gifted in financial matters. The greatest temptation we can face will often come in the area of our greatest strength or gifting. Judas used money entrusted to him for wrong and hurtful purposes. He allowed greed and personal gain to corrupt his heart and to warp his view of things. He was critical towards Mary because he imputed unworthy motives. Do you examine your heart correctly when you impute wrong or unworthy motives towards others?

"Give us, Lord, a lively faith, a firm hope, a fervent charity, a love of you. Take from us all lukewarmness in meditation, dullness in prayer. Give us fervor and delight in thinking of you and your grace, your tender compassion towards me. The things we pray for, good Lord, give us grace to labor for: through Jesus Christ our Lord. (Prayer of Sir Thomas More, 16th century) "

The following reflection is from One Bread, One Body courtesy of Presentation Ministries © 2023.

aroma therapy

“The house was filled with the ointment’s fragrance.” —John 12:3

My daughter has a bottle of perfume weighing four ounces. As a test, I asked her to fill the room with the perfume’s fragrance. She only had to press the spray button twice and you could smell a strong fragrance clear across the room. Mary of Bethany poured the equivalent of four such bottles of perfume on Jesus’ feet (Jn 12:3) and head (Mk 14:3). It’s likely that every citizen in Bethany could enjoy the fragrance of Mary’s perfume that afternoon.

Our faithful lives in Jesus are like that perfume. Our songs of praise are sweet-smelling (Sir 39:14). Our acts of love to others are a sweet fragrance (Sg 4:10). Even our charitable gifts for God’s sake are fragrant (Phil 4:18). “We are an aroma of Christ for God’s sake, both among those who are being saved and those on the way to destruction; to the latter an odor dealing death, to the former a breath bringing life” (2 Cor 2:15-16). Jesus “employs us to diffuse the fragrance of His knowledge everywhere” (2 Cor 2:14). Jesus uses even our very presence to change a house, neighborhood, school, workplace, etc. All we must do to keep our fragrance is remain in Jesus. By our pleasant aroma, we can change the entire atmosphere of a place simply by being present.

Jesus wants His house to be filled (Lk 14:23). Let’s fill His house, the Church, with the sweet-smelling fragrance of our lives of faith in Him (2 Cor 2:16). On this Monday of Holy Week, pour out the fragrance of your life of obedient faith (Rm 1:5; Gal 2:19-20) as “a sweet-smelling oblation to the Lord” (Lv 1:9). Rv 19:1).

Prayer:  Jesus, I want to do You a kindness (Mk 14:6) by pouring out Your holy love on all I meet this week.

Promise:  “The Lord is my life’s Refuge.” —Ps 27:1

Praise:  Praise the Suffering Servant, Who allowed His feet to be washed by another! (Jn 12:3)

Reference:  (This teaching was submitted by a member of our editorial team.)

Rescript:  "In accord with the Code of Canon Law, I hereby grant the Nihil Obstat for the publication One Bread, One Body covering the time period from April 1, 2023 through May 31, 2023. Reverend Steve J. Angi, Chancellor, Vicar General, Archdiocese of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio September 21,, 2022"

The Nihil Obstat ("Permission to Publish") is a declaration that a book or pamphlet is considered to be free of doctrinal or moral error. It is not implied that those who have granted the Nihil Obstat agree with the contents, opinions, or statements

[kikyan]

Izaya Ending

His ending is here along with the smut! MDI after the cut! ALSO I RLLY HAD TO HAVE A FRIEND HELP ME WITH THE SMUT CUZ I WAS SO EMBARRASED TO WRITE IT ALL OMFG-

TW: Dub-con! Degration! Name calling! Oral Sex (both giving and receiving)! Collar! Choking! Vaginal Sex/Penetration! Think that’s it if not lmk!

ALSO I RLLY USED THE MOST WATTPAD BASIC ASS LANGUAGE FOR THIS SMUT THIS IS HOW YOU KNOW THIS SHIT WAS WRITTEN YEARS AGO

PART ONE

“Oh? It seems he even has the Dollars searching for you!” 

“ Izaya, please I apologize for anything that I did that caused you to do this, but I need to get back to Shizuo!” 

“ And do what? Apologize for my actions and say everything is fine? You truly are different than other humans (Y/N)! Besides, does Shizu-chan know?” 

“ K-know what?” 

“You can drop the act. I know who you are (Y/N) or should I sa-?!” 

“ Izaya, I won’t ask you again. Please, I apologize for what I said or did but I must return to my fiance.” 

“ I can’t do that (Y/N). You thought you had me fool, no you thought you had the whole world fooled, but unlike Shizu-chan, I know the real you. You are far too unique, too precious to be in the hands of that brute, that damned monster!” 

“ IZAYAAAAAA! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND GIVE ME MY DAMN FIANCE!” 

“ Speak of the Devil, he really did arrive, didn’t he? (Y/N) it’s better if you stay, wait no- I want you to see God punish his worthless creation, than have his Goddess forgive him and the cycle continues!” 

Grabbing her arm, (Y/N) was dragged to the door where Shizuo lay in waiting/ Shizuo’s eyes lit up with hope as (Y/N) arrived, quickly scanning her to ensure that she was not harmed by Izaya. 

“ This is low, even for you Izaya. What the hell do you want anyway?” 

“ I want (Y/N) of course! How rude of you to keep her from society, from me! She is too perfect, in fact, she is perfection! I can’t stand you of all people, a damn monster near her!” 

“ If I am a monster, what the hell does that make you?” 

“ That hurt Shizu-chan, but I’m sure my goddess, (Y/N) would forgive you nonetheless!” 

Grabbing a stop sign Shizuo prepared to swing at Izaya before seeing (Y/N) duck down. 

‘This is too dangerous for (Y/N)! I have to lead him away. . .’ 

“ You see (Y/N)! This monster swung at you! I told you, he would only hurt you! Stay with me, my Goddess!” 

Taking his knife out, he swung it at Shizuo cutting him horizontally across his chest. As Shizuo remained unfazed he swung the sign hitting Izaya as well sending him flying back inside the apartment complex. As Izaya got up and grabbed the knife and (Y/N), before placing the knife under (Y/N)’s throat causing her to panic slightly. 

“ (Y/N)! Izaya you damned bastard! Let her go, that’s low. . .” 

“ It’s fine! Besides, my Goddess is so forgiving, I'm sure she will let this slide! In fact, I feel as if instead of the way I initially thought, it was you Shizuo who used (Y/N)!” 

Catching him off guard Shizuo looked down from (Y/N) with a hurtful expression as he pondered if he did truly use her as Izaya said. 

“ Kid. . . ding. . .!” 

With that Izaya took this time to spin (Y/N) from his hold and bolted to Shizuo, knife ready and a gun to end this beast’s life. As Shizuo looked up he failed to notice the blade approaching fast, approaching close to his eye until it did, leading to Izaya stabbing Shizuo in the eye causing him to crouch down in pain and hold his eye that was bleeding profusely. Izaya held the gun on his forehead before looking down with insanity filled eyes and a smile to top off the look. 

“ Shizuo, let’s ask (Y/N) if she forgives you for using her?” 

Turning to the side he was met with (Y/N) sobbing as she looked at him straight in the eyes before blurting out, “ Izaya, please! Leave Shizuo alone! He did nothing wrong! I’ll do whatever you want me to do just please leave him b-!?” 

“ Oh but (Y/N), you already are. He did nothing wrong? That sounds like forgiveness! Now Shizuo, any last words?” 

Turning slightly noticing he lost the battle and that Izaya won, he mumbled a small “ I love you (Y/N), forgive me” before having his life taken away as well as his fiance. 

“ SHIZUO!” 

(Y/N) ran to catch his body as she sobbed louder before clutching his arm, the one that held his engagement ring. Looking at his corpse (Y/N) continued saying “I FORGIVE YOU I’M SORRY PLEASE, PLEASE COME BACK!” 

“ Heh. . . hehe, ha, haha, HAHAHAAHAHAHA! THIS IS SPLENDID! THIS IS GREAT! THAT DAMNED MONSTER IS GONE! MY GODDESS IS MINE AND MINE ONLY NOW! HEY (Y/N), YOU FORGIVE ME, RIGHT? I MEAN, ON THE BRIGHT SIDE NOW THERE ISN’T A SHIZUO TO EDGE ON, RIGHT?” 

“ . . . I-I-I-I-I. . . I f-forgive y-you. . . I forgive you Izaya. . .” 

“ SEE I KNEW IT! ISN’T MY GODDESS WONDERFUL? NO MATTER THE CRIME SHE WILL ALWAYS FORGIVE! OH (Y/N) YOU TRULY ARE SPECIAL AND ONE OF A KIND!” 

Crouching down to hug (Y/N) from behind, Izaya smiled before speaking. 

“ Indeed (Y/N), you truly are special! Who would have guessed in a million years that I would meet the one who changed me! The one who became my goddess, the one who made me see humanity in a new light!” 

“ I-I-Izaya. . . why me. . .? 

“ Why you ask? Simple, it’s because . . . yOu’Re My FaVoRiTe HuMaN~” 

Standing on the rooftop Izaya was speaking with a female in pigtails as he began to tell her that she wasn’t really planning on killing herself and that she had one or two secrets that she didn’t tell anyone, so if her parents had one. . . what was the big deal? 

“ All humans lie, hide things, no one really makes it through this life being completely honest. Everyone's the same, no exceptions! Well, that is what I thought until I met (Y/N) (l/n) but I’ll let her do the rest from here on out. What you choose to do is on you in the end so choose carefully~!” 

Walking out to the edge with the girl (Y/N) looks and stares at the blood splatter as she turns to her and says, “ we humans will commit the worst of crimes, murder, robbery, rape, you name it. Though, the biggest crime any human can commit and go about not knowing is lying to yourself and making a mistake thinking it will solve the issue. Do not fear, I am not judging you I just want you to know, no matter what you choose to do tonight, I forgive you and I assure you, a second chance is waiting for you all! So please, on the bright side, you now know what is happening and now you know what you can do to change it!” 

The girl began to sob as she clutched onto (Y/N) sobbing and pouring her heart out with her smiling as she looked at the girl. After some time she finally left and (Y/N) looked up to the moon before hearing Izaya speak once again before hugging her and smiling. 

“ Who would have known, so tell me is this you speaking (Y/N)? Or is it Saika?” 

“ You can rest assure it’s me Izaya, but please don’t mention Saika.” 

“ I never imagined someone as happy and cheerful as you to wield Saika, more importantly, go through something as traumatic as you have. Oh well, that’s life I guess! I’ll be waiting by the door whenever you wish to leave my Goddess. . .” 

“ Alright. . .” 

As (Y/N) stared at the moon and then the red blood splatter she began to recall that memory, that small memory that started it all. 

~ 

In a small room all alone lived a young girl in her ‘timeout punishment’ as they called it. It was actually isolation, for three days the young girl hasn’t eaten and was barely drinking enough water to stay alive, but who was she to complain? Looking out she saw several children walking around and playing and it began to sadden the young girl as she could not join them for a small game of tag. Her mother was most likely with some other man and so was her father. As they argued and took out their stress out on other people, such as their daughter (Y/N), they failed to realize the young girl apologize for everything. 

Blood stained the nice mats and floors as two bodies lay on top of each other with wounds in their stomachs causing their entrails to leap out. 

“ I’m sorry mother and father! I apologize, if I wasn’t so weak then this never would have happened. On the bright side, I have freedom now! I also heard that I can play with the neighborhood kids too! Ah, don’t look at me like that mom! I know that I caused you so much pain, but you did too! I know for a fact that I should have done so much more but it’s fine mother! Father was upset when I defied the orders but then again father always got mad!  I ended up reading a book on how to make friends and it said that I should try to make them happy and if I make them sad to apologize! I love people mom and dad! I’m scared they won’t like me or worse hate me! Which is why I need to make them happy, which is why I need to be happy!  I don’t know when they are sad so I will just apologize if I do something you would disapprove of mom, dad!” 

~ 

Looking down from the moon (Y/N) smiled before turning to face Izaya and walking side by side. He too was hurt and didn’t know how else to cope so it was fine! Besides, you’ve made so many friends so any sacrifice that was paid was rightfully paid! After all, you were his goddess and he treated you like one! You’ve made so many friends so it’s been working right! Well whatever, just remember that (Y/N) is afraid of people hating her and never wanting her, so treat a friend right before you start to see not only you fall but they themselves. 

“ What are you thinking about (Y/N)?” 

“ Nothing much Izaya, c’mon let’s go home if that’s all. I still have dinner to make!” 

“Indeed, so what are we making?” 

“ well, what’s your favorite meal?” 

“Well, what was Shizu-chan’s favorite meal?” 

“ Well. . . if you want we can make that. . .” 

“ Then it’s settled! Hey (Y/N). . . you don’t hold it against me for killing Shizu-chan do you?” 

(Y/N) turned to look at Izaya who held the same crazed expression as he did when he pulled the trigger. Shaking her head (Y/N) looked up to smile at Izaya before mouthing, ‘I forgive you Iza-chan!” 

Smiling at the nickname he approached the girl standing before him as he grabbed her by the waist before kissing her softly. Soon after the kiss turned heated as his tongue found its way next to the girls as their tongues entwined together. Feeling the need to breathe, they separated as their only connection was the string of saliva that hung from both of their lips.  

" You are just so forgiving and unpredictable. . . It's exciting to see what our dear (Y/N)-chan will do when faced with a predicament but I think it's more exciting to see how much you of all people can hold on, can withstand before you break! Don't worry my Goddess, because you have me to help you!" 

"Thank you Iza-chan! I appreciate that you will make me happy as much as I make you happy!" 

Grabbing the (h/c) haired female, Izaya began to walk downstairs with his goddess in hand as his mind raced and began to wonder, how far would your relationship with Shizuo last, that is if he was still alive? Well, whatever the case was, Izaya wasn't going to lose to Shizuo so with a sadistic, yet smug grin, he turned to the female he held in his hand and said, 

"(Y/N) - Chan. . . How does a baby sound to you?" 

Pushing Y/N onto the bed, Izaya began to remove his jacket. Pressing kisses onto her neck, mumbling to himself about how this child would be absolutely perfect.

"I-Iza. . .?" 

"Shh. . . (Y/N) - Chan~ don't worry~ The pain you will experience will only make you stronger, our baby will be the summit of all of humanity. Our child will be born to be the perfect mix of our best qualities.”

"Iza. . . I-I. . . If you want a baby then I'll give you one, I'll give birth to our baby. . ." 

" Perfect~ Just to make sure that monster hasn't tainted you, he didn't touch you did he?" 

"No. . . We decided to wait till marriage. . . But it's fine Iza! I mean the one I love is well. . . you isn't it?" 

Not liking the response the young girl gave him Izaya smirked before turning to a straight face filled with anger and lust. 

"That's perfect!~ That means I'll be your first right (Y/N)-chan?"

“O-Of course! You’ll be my very first Iza!”

"That's perfect! (Y/N), you should do more than love me, you should worship you me like your God, your savior, and your salvation. So until then, until I know I have your life, love, admiration, and belief, you are just a lowly human that doesn't deserve my attention."

"Iza! I'm sorry for what I said, but I hope you still know I love y-!?" 

"Apologizing isn't enough (Y/N) - Chan!~ You need to show me you mean it! Show me your love, your faith, show me who you belong to, lowly human. . . " 

" W-w-what should I do?" 

"Well. . . That's up to you to decide! I'm sure Shizuo asked you to do something naughty before right~" 

"W-w-well t-t-that's-!?"

" So you aren't denying it! Well, I guess I'll have you so the same but show more devotion to me! Show me your love!" 

Understanding what he meant (Y/N) turned to the side before nodding and proceeded to get off the bed getting on the floor before nearing Izaya again. 

Izaya began to smirk seeing how submissive (Y/N) was acting and decided to edge her on more.

"Let's make a bet (Y/N) chan~" 

"A bet?" 

(Y/N) tilted her head slightly adding to her "cute" factor causing Izaya to smirk seeing how he was about to taint his Goddess before that monster did. 

"Yes! Let's see. . . Oh! I know! If you can show me your faith by simply being a little naughty then I'll reward you! If not, you'll get punished!" 

"P-p-punished?!" 

(Y/N) scared expression causing Izaya to harden upon her expression. 

"After all, a lowly human like you has to be punished already for doubting in your God! Now (Y/N) - Chan, let's start!" 

(Y/N) began to near Izaya's jeans and nervously began to unbuckle them before turning away with red dusting her facial features. 

"Aww is a sinner embarrassed to face her punishment? Her God?" 

Nodding slowly, (Y/N) began to turn around to face Izaya who was smirking as he saw the young girl timidly stare at his erect member. 

(Y/N) began to fumble with his boxers as she blushed before thinking about the previous time she did something like this. It was late afternoon, Shizuo and (Y/N) had a mini drinking competition which lead to some intense moments. As soon as her mind came back to her she realized that Izaya's member was exposed and she was staring at it. 

A small chuckle brought her out of her daze before she remembered that she needed to do this, to avoid punishment, she didn't mind doing what she was going to do, but if she didn't do well, she was going to be punished and she feared that a lot more. 

(Y/N) began to near his member and placed a small kiss upon the tip causing Izaya to shift a little as he stared at the female below him as she nervously wrapped her lips about his member, begin to slowly suck on it. 

Izaya tilted his head back as he tried to silence his moans. His Goddess was tempting him, in fact, he had to restrain himself from taking her then and there. 

"A-a-ah. . . (Y/N)-c-chan. . . ~"  

Letting small moans escape his mouth he looked down to see the young female, she was red from embarrassment and small tears slipping from her eyes as she continued to tease the young male. 

As the female began to suck a little harder, Izaya bit his lip but it was futile as he huffed a little before letting out soft moans. 

"(Y/N) - chan!~ I-I-I a-a-ahh~" 

Letting his lust get the best of him he grabbed (Y/N)'s hair and pushed her mouth further in causing her to choke a little and to deep throat him. Getting used to his length was difficult for the young girl as she was trying to match the speed of his forcefulness and her own. 

Izaya was shaking a little as he began to chuckle as he stared deep into the girl’s eyes before whispering and grunting a little in response. 

"S-so (Y/N)-chan. . No more like a lowly human. . . Do you believe that was enough? Are you going to finish and follow through with your punishment?" 

(Y/N) continued to suck on his member before hearing more smaller grunts indicating he was close and he was. Izaya was blushing as he continued biting his lip, although this degrading was a big turn on for him and hopefully his "lowly human" he couldn't conceal his excitement as he let one more moan out before releasing inside the girl’s mouth. 

"Swallow." 

(Y/N), already a step ahead, began to swallow the male’s cum making sure to get any leftovers around her mouth. 

"Good job, but I still didn't feel your devotion, your faith in your actions. Nonetheless, I did feel pleasure, so I'll reward you my lowly human~" 

Izaya began to reach for a collar of some sort before showing it off to (Y/N). As she soon understood the message she allowed him to place it on her, she made sure her hair wasn't a bother as she allowed Izaya to gently place it around her neck. Soon after it was placed Izaya noticed how the collar had a circular ring piece in the center and as he smirked he allowed his fingers to wrap around the ring before yanking it causing (Y/N) to jerk forward and meeting his hungry gaze. 

"You were so good, but not good enough. . . Out of my utter kindness as your God. . . I'll pleasure you as well lowly human." 

"I-Iza. . . I-I-I l-love y-yo-?!" 

"THROUGH ACTION! NOT WORDS, ACTION!" 

Izaya grabbed the collar and dragged you to the bed, not before turning and witnessing your red face, you were being slightly choked due to the tightness of the collar, small tears from the previous event and the biggest turn on, you were drooling a bit and it was so cute, like a little ahegao face. 

" You look so fucking hot, are you tempting me? Do you wish to seduce me and make me forget your crimes? Well, that won't work human, but that doesn't mean I can't play with you~" 

"I-Izaya w-what are you doin- a-a-ahh~" 

Small moans escaped from the girl’s mouth as Izaya began to kiss her, his tongue entering her mouth and slowly melting together with hers causing ultimate bliss. Halfway during the kiss, Izaya's hands wandered downwards to the girl’s jeans before he unbuckled them and proceeded to pull them down causing the girl to gasp. 

"Izaya! W-wait!?" 

" I believe you mean God~" 

(Y/N)'s jeans were removed as Izaya's fingers began to near her clothed womanhood. As he massaged your clit through your (f/c) underwear he smirked as he saw his goddess bright red and soft moans and mewling sounds as he made her feel pleasure. Soon after his fingers made it inside and he massaged her womanhood with much ease and it drove poor (Y/N) crazy. 

"I-Izaya. . ." 

" I think you mean God my lowly human!~" 

"G-God. . . I-I f-feel strange. . ." 

" Not yet! Don't tell me that's all! Well, I guess I better start!" 

Izaya neared (Y/N) womanhood as his tongue went to meet her clit and massaged it ever so gently. Making sure she could experience everything he made sure to hold onto her thighs before sucking and nibbling lightly against the bundle of nerves. Causing her back to arch, (Y/N) moaned in pleasure before Izaya began to change not only where he was attacking but the speed. He slid his tongue up and down one last time before he used his tongue to plunge into (Y/N) womanhood. His tongue went in and out of you as you moaned loudly, it was driving you over the edge. Soon after he stopped before getting up and returning back to his position, straddling you but he replaced his tongue with his finger gaining more access. To start off "soft" he allowed two fingers to access the girl plunging them in and out at a small pace before adding another and going faster causing the girl to moan and turn to face her God. 

" I-I-I f-feel f-funny. . ." 

" It's only a matter of time, my dear human." 

(Y/N) began to feel a knot in her abdomen, it was getting more intense and tight with each time his fingers went inside of her. As she was reaching the point of no return he began to speed up as (Y/N) let out one more moan before her body trembled as her eyes slightly rolled back as her juices sprayed everywhere especially on Izaya's fingers. Izaya smirked before seductively removing his finger from inside of (Y/N) and licked them before smiling softly. He leaned down to whisper, 

"That was amazing! You taste so sweet I can't get enough of it!~ but. . . I think it's time we moved onto the main event don't you think, my lowly human, my little slut. . ." 

It was only at this point that (Y/N) noticed the mirror facing the bed. It was a large, floor mirror that gave the observer a good view of the bed. It hadn’t been there before meaning one thing: Izaya had bought it just for this event.

“Ah, I see you’ve noticed it, finally! The perfect instrument for this night of trial! It’s there to test you, you see. . .”

Izaya’s hands snaked around (Y/N) to the back of her shirt. From there, he pulled one of the straps holding her shirt up, letting the tie unravel. 

“You didn’t really think that our fun, little night would end here, did you? I said we were gonna have a main event; an event with a special little treat for you, my lowly slut. Take it all off, we shouldn’t waste any time!”

(Y/N) sat up in shock. Izaya was being too candid, too forward. The darkness of the room led to Izaya’s face having dark shadows. The look made him too lustful and brought a familiar knot to (Y/N)’s abdomen.

Leaning in, Izaya whispered, “Hurry up.”

With shaking hands, (Y/N) brought her hands to her top and took it off in one swoop. The air suddenly surrounded her and she felt ever colder. The easy part was over, but now came the bra. She had been dying to take it off ever since they arrived home, but she couldn’t have expected that it would be in this situation. 

She could feel her face flushing red as she undid the hooks behind her back. She couldn’t bear to face Izaya, but she could still feel his lustful gaze directed towards her. She could feel him surveying every part of her body in arousal.

When she finally slipped the garment off, her body may have been cold but she could still feel the heat pouring between her legs. The air enveloped her body and made her nipples harden up. They perked up even more when Izaya brought his face closer to her.

“No matter what, I want you to look at me. It’s the very least a whore like you can do during this. If you can prove yourself through this, then you’ll get through this next trial~”

Without breaking his gaze, Izaya began to descend upon her chest. Taking one bud into his mouth, he began to swirl his tongue around it. His other hand pinched the remaining nipple and worked together to create a rhythm. Popping it out of his mouth, he bit into the skin around (Y/N)’s chest before moving on to the opposite bud. The sensation made her mind cloud and her mouth threatened to let moans escape. Every part of her body was on fire.

“Mmm. . . Is this pleasurable for you? Are you enjoying it? Don’t forget, my little bitch, that you have to prove your love for me. How devoted are you really?”

“Izaya, I-”

“How many times do I have to say this, (Y/N), only through your actions. Hm. . . Maybe a little punishment will help set you straight?”

Izaya kneeled up from the bed, pulling (Y/N)’s collar with it. The collar constricted around her neck, bringing a wave of euphoria as she was choked for those few seconds as he filled the two of them, leading to Y/N being on top of Izaya. 

“Don’t think this is how we end it. Just for now, you’re nothing more than a slave with a hole. If you ever want to be anything more, prove it.”

Staring at him for a few seconds, (Y/N) was in disbelief of what she was hearing. Did Izaya really believe that, that she was just a warm hole for him? And she already sucked him off, what more did she have to prove?”

“Well go on, prove your devotion to your god, to your complete master.”

(Y/N) knew what she had to do. Her whole body was shaking as she lifted herself on top of Izaya. She could feel her cunt getting wetter by the second, almost soaking Izaya’s midsection. She couldn’t believe that she was doing this with Izaya, much less how obedient she was. It was her first time, she should be hesitant! Maybe she had been secretly wanting this for so long?

Once she was in position, she began to lower herself onto Izaya’s member before being stopped by Izaya.

“Ah, ah, ah, did you think that this is your only punishment? No, no, no! Turn around, (Y/N), face the mirror. If you dare to look away for even a split second, your god will make sure you get disciplined.”

(Y/N) found it good to not upset Izaya. That would be an adventure for another time. Hesitantly, (Y/N) turned around to look at herself in the mirror. When she saw herself, she couldn’t believe the state of her appearance. (Y/N) looked like an arousing mess. Her hair was messy, but it looked artistic in a way. Her hairs were jumbled up and her lips were swollen. Her chest was flushed, riddled with hickeys and as hard as ever. 

“Remember what I said~”

Filled with determination, (Y/N) rose onto her Izaya and steadied herself. She lowered herself onto Izaya’s member, sliding it in with ease. It hurt a lot at the start, but the pain went away and was quickly replaced with arousal. (Y/N) felt like a crab, looking at herself in the mirror. It was uncomfortable to watch, but she didn’t dare disobey Izaya. 

She started moving up and down, watching as her breasts bounced along with her body. Izaya laid below her, helping her along by holding her waist. His fingers dug into her sides, making her squirm around. If only she could see him, what face would he be making?

The room was echoing the moans of both (Y/N) and Izaya. He stayed silent, except for his grunts and the occasional moan. That, along with the sight of such a lewd image right before her eyes, made the knot in her stomach grow and grow. 

The wet claps grew within the room, along with Izaya’s heightened pace. Now, his nails dug into her sides but she didn’t dare comment on it. (Y/N) was too distracted by the intensity of her senses. Her hair started to stick onto her face and she found herself moving into Izaya’s thrusts. Her arms were burning from the position, she kept trying to adjust herself into a better position. 

Izaya’s hands briefly left her waist to play with her breasts some more, before returning to add some much-needed support. The clapping now was wetter, almost sounding empty and echoey. (Y/N)’s abdomen could feel herself tightening around Izaya, but the position just wasn’t enough. Lifting herself up more, she raised her heels and put all her balance on the balls of her feet. The position was just enough and to add more friction, pounding Izaya in further. 

She lowered her hand to play with her clit before her own hand was replaced by Izaya. He said nothing as he played with her folds, rubbing and tugging at it with ways that sent (Y/N) into a frenzy. Her legs twitched and shook, threatening to compromise her position. 

Soon, the passion was more than (Y/N) could withstand. She came all over Izaya, feeling the liquid flow out of her. Her vision blurred and she could feel chills wash over her body. Between her legs, it felt as if everything was pulsating and her heart was ringing in her ears. Izaya followed shortly afterwards, removing himself from her insides and letting her fall onto her side.

His arm snaked around (Y/N) once more, pulling her closer.

“Guess what, my sweet (Y/N). You passed!  You managed to catch my attention through that amazing performance! What do you think?”

(Y/N) had no thought within her mind. The pulsating still hadn’t gone away and the fluid between her legs still felt sticky. If there was one thing she knew, it was that this baby would certainly end up interesting.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Arthur as a protective Dad

Alrighty friends, I know I haven’t really touched my writing requests in sometime. I have been having to deal with some pretty complicated family issues and other things in my life, and I just haven’t had much time or energy to write. But it really is all your support that keeps me going! 

This request is from a user on AO3:  arthur dealing with micah after he sees him being a creep and harassing his teenage daughter. I know that sounds dumb but i just love protective and angry arthur (that kind of angry from him feeds my soul)

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Everyone knows that Arthur is the ultimate definition of protective. He’ll put himself between a bullet and any of the girls in camp. With you, he’d do even more. However, none of that comes close to what he’ll do for his daughter. Whatever she asks of him, he’ll do his best to find a way to make it happen. 

When it comes to keeping her safe, no one dares to mess with Arthur’s daughter. Not in camp, not in the town camp is closest to. A man had once tried just flirting with her in town once. She’d politely asked him to stop but he hadn’t taken the hint. Arthur had walked in and seen not long after. The man ended up with a broken nose and shattered cheekbone. No one harrasses Arthur’s daughter. 

Which is potentially what drove Micah to try. 

Micah is well known for ruffling everyone’s feathers. Even Dutch’s on occasion, but only when Micah is feeling rather confident. But Arthur is his favorite person to upset. Micah has tried to get to him by antagonizing him, but Arthur usually would just tell him to stuff it and move on. 

Micah has tried bothering you to irritate Arthur, but you were too good at handling yourself. Arthur would usually watch just in case he needed to step in, but he personally found it incredibly sexy how you’d whip around to Micah and verbally attack him. It didn’t take long for Micah to realize that to make you mad would end up in getting his ass whipped. The honest truth is that Micah is scared of what you’re capable of if he really pissed you off. 

So that left one last resource to bother Arthur. His teenage daughter. You and Arthur have been together for longer than she’s been alive. If it had been modern day, you’d be described as high school sweethearts. You’d gotten pregnant when you were 19. While it was difficult for both you and Arthur to be parents at such a young age, you couldn’t ask for a better father. 

Arthur says that your daughter is a miniature version of you, except she has his eyes, but you see so much of him in her to believe that. She’s strong, she’s had to be with this life. You and Arthur had debated at first of breaking out of the gang when she was little as the life really wasn’t good for a child, but the problem was that both you and Arthur were too loyal to leave. However she toughed it out and turned out to be a relatively average girl. You couldn’t be more proud. 

It’s been especially tough for her these past few months, but it has been for everyone. Blackwater changed everything. You have to give Abigail credit, if your daughter was as young as Jack is, you would’ve tried convincing Arthur to leave. Then again maybe not. After all, you have just as big of a bounty on your head as he does. But it doesn’t change the fact that right now, things are tougher than ever. Especially now that Sean’s dead. 

You’ve lived in a lot of unlikable places, mostly out west. Shady Belle is probably one of the worst you’ve been in. It’s hot and muggy all the time. You prefer the dry heat of the desert. At least your clothes dry out there. Not only that, but out in the west, you don’t have to be afraid of the water for the most part. Here, monsters dwell beneath the surface. 

Micah has been getting more and more cocky these last few weeks. You haven’t liked it as it seems like he’s getting more under Dutch’s skin, but you’re sure Dutch will wise up. After all, he has Hosea to help him and Hosea surely doesn’t like Micah. 

Arthur has been getting slightly suspicious of Micah lately too, but he’s been so busy running around to really do much. Your poor husband. You’ve done everything you can to help him, but there’s no denying that most of the camp rests on his shoulders. 

It’s a few days after Jack has been returned. You’ve insisted to Arthur that he stay in camp for a while as he’s been running around like crazy since Jack went missing. It’s clear he’s exhausted. It’s a good thing too because Micah has been keeping his eye on your daughter, and not in a good way. 

Micah really is growing too confident out here. He’s never dared bothering your daughter before because you and Arthur are the people he’s frightened of getting truly angry. However, it’s almost like he’s trying to absolve that. 

The first few days, Micah has tried to tease her but subtly so that you wouldn’t stab him. He knows that unlike Arthur, you won’t care about keeping the peace within the gang if someone really makes you mad. You’re easier to control when Arthur is around as he seems to be the only person who can calm you down. 

Now that Arthur is here and taking a break, Micah has been much more confident. There was one day when your daughter had been reading in the gazebo. Micah had gone over to her and tried to flirt with her. It was clear she was creeped out, but being a teenager she didn’t really know how to push him away. Arthur had seen her face though and he’d marched over. 

“You leave my daughter alone, you creepy bastard,” he’d growled inches from Micah’s face.

“Relax, big man, I’m just having a friendly word with her.” 

“I catch you near her again, I’ll put a bullet in your head.” 

Micah wasn’t foolish enough to stick around then, though it did make him chuckle (mostly he did it to try and continue bothering Arthur). However, he’s been continuing to do things like this. You certainly haven’t liked the way he looks at your daughter. Of course he tries to do it when he thinks you can’t see, but certainly when Arthur can. 

You’re standing next to Pearson, listening to Hosea talk about the potentials of Saint Dennis. Arthur’s over next to the fire, talking with John. Just as you’re about to go over to him and talk about things, you see your daughter running into camp, tears streaking down her cheeks. She’s sobbing. Arthur stands up and walks briskly over to her. 

“Sweetheart, what-” he starts.

“Micah, papa! He… he tried to touch me!” she sobs into his shirt. 

His face immediately goes red, so does your vision. “That son of a bitch!” you holler. You’re about to stomp over to the edge of camp where that bastard is. Arthur holds out a hand and stops you, his other arm wrapped tightly around his daughter. 

“Let me handle this, darlin’. I ain’t given’ that bastard any more reason to hurt my family.” Normally you’d ignore him and go marching off, but something in his eyes tells you to listen. It’s that look you’ve seen only once or twice, but it’s the look that even made you nervous in the past. It’s the look he reserves for only those who he truly plans to kill. 

He holds onto his daughter for a few more seconds, trying to calm her down. Then he gently pries her off of him and guides him over to you. “Stay with your mama, okay? I’m going to take care of things, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of her head and then pats your shoulder. You nod and fold your arms around your girl. That look comes back to Arthur and then he turns away, marching over to where Micah is.

“Come on, honey,” you say to your daughter. You guide her over to the barrel of water near Pearson’s wagon to get her a drink to calm her down. If you weren’t so confident in Arthur’s ability to protect his family, you’d be pulling out your revolver and shooting that asshole right now, but you know you don’t need to. 

Arthur’s marching over to where Micah was last seen. As he passes his horse, he spots his repeater. It won’t be needed, not for this. He’d prefer to do it with his bare hands. Micah has been a growing problem that he’s tolerated, but he will not accept that man putting his hands on his little girl. 

He reaches the spot his daughter was, but of course no one is there. After looking around, he spots Micah standing near the river on the outskirts of camp. Good, it will make cleaning up his corpse easier. 

As Arthur stomps over to him, Micah turns around and gives him a cocky grin. “Morgan, what are y-” He’s interrupted by Arthur’s fist slamming into his face, breaking his nose. As Micah buckles down, clutching his bleeding nose, Arthur grabs his shoulders and thrusts his knee into his gut. 

“You put your filthy hands on my daughter!” Arthur roars as he continues to beat Micah to a pulp. Micah tries to fight him off, but he’d been caught off guard by Arthur’s ferocity. 

“I didn’t do nothing to your daughter!” he howls as Arthur kicks him. “She’s lying!” 

“Bullshit! You been harassing her for days!” 

Arthur kicks and punches him a few more times before he straightens up and pulls out his revolver, standing over Micah. The man below him puts up his hands, trying to make Arthur see reason. 

“You ain’t gonna kill me, Morgan. You can’t. Dutch would… would never allow it.” He spits blood from his mouth. 

“Oh Dutch ain’t got nothin’ to do with this, you creepy bastard. No one touches my daughter and gets away with it.” 

Micah tries to chuckle. “Dutch ain’t gonna like you shooting someone in camp.”

Arthur smirks at him and puts his revolver back. “Oh I wasn’t plannin’ on shootin’ ya, Micah. Just wanted to see you squirm. Nah, you ain’t worth wastin’ a bullet on. But don’t mean I ain’t gonna kill ya.” 

Arthur kicks Micah again to keep him on the ground, then he kneels onto his chest and wraps his hands around Micah’s throat. Arthur rarely likes watching people die, he hates seeing their blood on his hands. But Micah is different. Micah personally wronged him and his family. He will not tolerate anyone touching the most precious thing in his life. 

After a few moments, Micah finally lies still and Arthur releases his grip on him. Arthur stares into his glassy eyes. “That’s for my daughter, you son of a bitch.” He then drags the body into the river, not wanting it to be seen anymore. 

As he walks back into camp, massaging his tired fingers, your daughter breaks out of your grasp and runs over to him, burying herself into his chest as his arms wrap around her. 

“Papa,” she sniffles into his shirt. 

“You’re okay, pumpkin. That bastard ain’t gonna bother you anymore.” He knows, as he holds onto his daughter, that he will have to go and explain things to Dutch. He’ll do that later though. All he wants to do is take care of his child. You can’t help but smile. Arthur doesn’t usually cuddle with you in camp, mostly in thanks to the teasing from other people saying he’s a big softy, but he’s never pulled back from cuddling with his girl. He’s proud to show people how much he loves her. You walk over and wrap your arms around her as well, pinning her between you and Arthur. One of his hands slides over your side, showing you how much he cares about his family.

[jessiewritesthings]

Saudade - Pt. II

Prince Zuko x Reader

Hiiiiiiiiii!! I done made myself even sadder and i’m not sorry about it! Thank you all for reading you are all my children and I love you dearly xx

Part I - Part III - Epilogue

The Crystal Catacombs were cool and damp, with the strange green hue almost making you feel queasy. Your hands were extended out in front of Prince Zuko’s face, fingers just inches away from him. They quivered in hesitation, before Zuko, trepidation evident in his gaze, leaned closer to you. His hands reached for yours, softly pulling you closer and placing your palm on his cheek. Your fingers grazed his scar, and you were pleasantly surprised at the warmth that seeped from his skin. It had never occurred to you that Firebenders would be able to keep themselves warm at all times, even though it made perfect sense. Zuko closed his eyes at your touch, and your fingers gently traipsed over the map of his scar, brushing dark strands of hair from his forehead.

No one had ever touched him like this before – gently, delicately, as if he were made of precious porcelain. Only his mother had ever held him so carefully, and the vicious taunts from his father and sister had forced Zuko to grow out of that earlier than he would have liked. It made him feel safe and secure, and as he took a deep breath in he imagined a world where there was no Hundred Year War – no Fire Lord, no Azula, no hunting the Avatar to regain his honour – just the two of you, spending an eternity in soft gazes and caresses.

Smiling softly, you raised your other hand to cup the right side of his face, running your thumb over his cheek. He looked at you now, amber eyes piercing through yours as a surge of breathlessness ran through your body, halting your breath at your lips.

 Bowing his head towards the ground, Zuko exhaled, his shaggy hair drooping to cover his face. Your hands, now resting on his folded knees, were clammy, and you couldn’t prevent the occasional twitch of your fingers as you willed yourself to remain calm.

 “I-I don’t understand.” His voice was tight, as if he was being held together by a set of strings neither of you could see. Zuko watched you through wisps of his hair as you bent your head closer to his, foreheads almost touching. Your grip on his knee tightened, giving it a quick squeeze to encourage him.

 “How you can bear to touch it,” he whispered, hoarsely. You pressed your forehead to his now, moving your hands to the back of his head, running your fingers through his thick hair. You felt shattered, unable to fully fathom the pain that Prince Zuko had been through. His lineage and place as Prince of the Fire Nation aside, who would be so cruel, so full of hatred for another, that damage like this could be caused? The way his scar draped across his face, curving from the edge of his nose through to his left ear – it was entirely obvious that this was a deliberate attack, which made it all the worse. As if the culprit had held a ball of fire in their hand and held it to Zuko’s face, ensuring the damage would be a permanent marker, something that would distinguish him forever. A burnt, scarred, Firebender – what sort of message did that send?

 Zuko was allowing his vulnerability to completely fall away with you, allowing you to come inside and open all of his locked doors and inspect all of the cobwebs. His heart was pounding, thick and heavy and in his throat. The feel of your fingers in his hair, on his skin – he knew in that moment that nothing would ever compare, shuddering as your nails lightly scratched his scalp. A soft moan escaped him, and his cheeks roared in red. He could feel your questions, unspoken, but hanging limply in the air. His head still bowed and your fingers still twisting through his hair he attempted to explain the red mark on his skin.

 “I… disrespected someone I shouldn’t have. My punishment was to duel… an Agni Kai.”

 Pulling away, your hands returned to Zuko’s knees. You watched him intently, his hands forming fists on top of yours.

 “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Everyone knew I wasn’t the best bender. It is punishment, for my betrayal,” he continued. His left hand reached up to gingerly touch the scar, before he flinched and pulled it away. “I can’t even touch it myself.”

 “You must have been so young, Zuko.”

 “Thirteen,” he replied, lips parted as if in disbelief himself.

 “But surely – you’re the Prince of the Fire Nation – your father-”

 “My father gave it to me, as a parting gift,” Zuko said coldly. Momentarily, the warmth of his body disappeared and a wave of cold, harsh air ebbed through you. Rising on to your knees, you wrapped your arms around Zuko’s shoulders and pulled him closer, cradling his head as he slowly allowed himself to return your embrace. He was stiff and awkward, and you wondered when he had last been embraced like this.

 “You are more than what he makes you to be,” you murmured softly. “You are more than a mark on your skin.” Slowly, the warmth that Zuko radiated returned, just as suddenly as it had vanished. Zuko held you tight, flooded with memories of his mother, and how good it felt to receive true care.

_____

 It had been two months since you’d arrived on Capital Island – or rather, you thought it had. You’d been aptly thrown into a new cell, not entirely different from the one you were holed up in on the ship, except this one was attached to the ground and not floating on the open ocean. The cell walls were made of heavy bricks of stone, with iron bars inside – a cage within a cage. Heat seeped through the atmosphere, a constant sweat coating you.

 When you had first arrived, you’d been dragged to the Caldera, along with Iroh, to pay your respects to Fire Lord Ozai as Azula had instructed. Cold, clammy fear ran through you when you were thrown at his feet, once again falling on your wounded leg. The burn itself was healing, albeit slowly – Azula had permitted the use of water for healing only once more whilst onboard, and the constant presence of guards meant you weren’t able to attempt healing it with your own sweat.

 Fire Lord Ozai had merely glanced at you, face shrivelling in disapproval, before moving on to inspect his older brother. Your heart swelled for Iroh when Ozai raised his hands, angry flame flickering in his palm, convinced he was going to do to his brother what he had to his son.

 It seemed as if Ozai was looking for some sort of retaliation from his brother, but Iroh did not give him the satisfaction, instead merely listening as the Fire Lord declared his brother a traitor to the Fire Nation, before ordering the guards to accompany him to Prison Tower.

 “Let him rot.”

 Ozai returned to his seat on the throne, a quick wave of his hand indicating he was finished, before he halted and stood once again.

 “Wait. Bring the girl back. She can heal, you say?” The Fire Lord looked to his children for confirmation. 

“Yes, father. You see how she has prevented further damage to her burns, with only two healing sessions.” Your brows furrowed as Zuko spoke, his voice raspy. It was confusing, and almost painful, to see him stand with his father – one who had caused him so much pain.

“Show the Fire Lord your wounds, water rat,” Azula sneered.

You rose to your feet, delicately peeling off the fabric you’d used to cover your wound.

“Closer.”

Keeping your eyes on the Fire Lord, you shuffled closer as he had commanded. You were in pain, tired and drained, but you’d be damned if you relented now.

“A mark that will be with you forever. How does it feel to be branded?”

A heated wave ran through you – you couldn’t even be sure if it was your own anger at this point, but you swallowed it down anyway as your eyes met with Ozai’s. Like his son, his were also amber – but there was something that seemed off about them – there was anger and greed and hunger, but he lacked any sort of real human depth.  

“I’ll wear this with pride,” you retorted, a scowl slowly forming on your face. Hatred was all you felt. “My people will revere me. They will tell stories about how I stood against your children.”

Ozai’s eyes widened in shock, orange flames flaring from the palms of his hands. From the corner of your eye you could see Azula and Zuko reacting to your statement – Azula more than happy to wrap more flames around your right leg.

“Brave, aren’t you? You dare enter my nation, my palace, my throne room and insult me!? Tell me girl, which scum of the Northern Water Tribe do you belong to? I’ll be sure to send some… parts their way.” Ozai’s hot breath washed over you as you glared up at him. His black hair flared over his shoulders, stepping closer as he gripped onto your forearm.

“Master Pakku is my grandfather. Your great nation burnt my parents alive before I could even speak.”

The Fire Lord considered your words, his menacing glare doing little to frighten you. Behind his father, Zuko glanced to the floor before returning his gaze to you. Azula looked immensely pleased, and you wondered how she planned to make it through life with everyone fearing her – surely something would go wrong, somewhere. 

“Y/n is a master healer and waterbender. I have no doubt she will prove useful in the coming weeks,” Azula urged, looking at her father with a raised eyebrow. Fire Lord Ozai seemed to think his daughter’s words over, releasing his grip on your arm.

“You may be right, daughter. Send her to the Prison Tower with my brother – in the deepest, driest cell you can find. Don’t remove those chains.”

 _____

Just as Princess Azula had suggested, you had been deemed useful for your healing abilities. Talk of your healing sessions while onboard the ship had spread like wildfire, and you were frequently put to work healing a myriad of different Fire Nation citizens – while under close, careful supervision. Your water supply was limited, and even though you were recuperating well, you knew better than to attempt any sort of escape. Besides, even if you were able to fight the guards, there was nowhere to run.

Sighing, you raked your hands over the iron bars of your cell. You’d spent the last few days in the infirmary, healing various superficial wounds. It was tiring work, and the soldiers always liked to taunt you, as if being grateful for your ability to heal their wound was a concept they couldn’t simply comprehend. Guards always flanked you, and your feet were always in chains. When you’d first arrived, someone had shoved a bundle of clothing into your arms, and you’d been pleased that you’d at least be able to change out of your dirty, damaged Water Tribe clothing. When Azula saw you being traipsed from the Prison Tower to the infirmary for a day’s work, her eyes had gleamed maliciously – how better to break you down than turn you into one of them? At least your scar was hidden from view – that was one small mercy.

Light flooded through your cell as the door opened, two guards entering, one holding a hot flame and the other holding a tray, which held a small bowl of rice.

“Dinner, water rat.”

The bowl was sloppily placed on the ground, in front of the iron bars. You leant forward to retrieve it, before a heavy boot was pressed onto your forearm.

“Not so fast. You’ve got some guests, first.”

The guard removed his foot and you pulled your arm back through the bars, folding your knees and resting your palms on top of them.

Princess Azula entered the cell, followed by her two friends. You’d come across them before, back when Azula had been chasing you all across the world in order to capture Aang. You’d been surprised to find that Azula even had friends – though sure she had it within her to force a friendship if she so desired.

“Ah, my favourite guest,” Azula remarked as she cocked an eyebrow, hands on her hips. 

Behind her, the other girls watched you carefully. One had her black hair fashioned to fall down the sides of her face, with two buns on top of her head. She looked awfully severe, her tawny eyes looking straight  through you. The other girl had large, round brown eyes but they were missing the same, cold look you’d seen in Azula and the girl to her left. Raking over the three of them, your fingers tapped in anticipation. 

“As much as I’d love to make some new friends, I’m rather hungry. How can I help you, Princess?”

Azula snorted, hot smoke coming from her nose. 

“Your negative attitude is not becoming, water rat. This is Mai, and Ty Lee.”

Azula gestured to the girls behind her as Ty Lee stepped forward, next to Azula’s side. 

“Hi! It’s so great to meet you officially! We’ve heard so much about your healing abilities - you’re quite the talk of the Caldera you know,” Ty Lee began excitedly, bouncing up onto the balls of her feet. 

Azula rolled her eyes, seemingly unimpressed with Ty Lee’s enthusiasm. Giving Ty Lee a soft smile in return, you returned your gaze to Azula. Mai stood behind her, completely disinterested in you as she picked at her fingernails, flicking the broken pieces away.

“You’re not here to make friends, Ty Lee. Y/n is still a prisoner of the Fire Nation. And, in any case, we’ve come to inform you of an important… event happening in a few week’s time. I’m sure you’ve heard from your little friends about the upcoming eclipse?”

The atmosphere seemed to freeze around you, goose bumps shivering their way across your body. You opened your mouth to speak, but the air felt thick, too heavy, your brain unable to put the right words into your mouth.

“Bingo.”

Resisting the urge to put your face into your hands and scream, wail and howl in frustration, you calmly looked up at Azula, taking a deep breath before you spoke.

“I’d sooner feel your fire one hundred times than fight for the Fire Nation, if that’s what you’ve got in mind.”

Ty Lee’s brows furrowed in concern, Mai watching you from the corner of her eye as Azula laughed.

“Oh, don’t be so silly! No, you’ll be out there. You are aware of your healing abilities, right? You’ll be right where we need you, healing our loyal soldiers. Of course, it’s unlikely we’ll take any damage – we do know they’re coming, after all.”

Triumph bloomed across Azula’s face as she folded her arms, waiting and hoping for a dramatic reaction from you – but you knew better than to rise to the occasion.

“If that’s what you so desire, Princess Azula,” you responded dryly. Inside, your body was raging, and you craved water like you never had before – to even just smell it, would help to quench the anxiety racing through you.

“Oh, not just me, water rat. Prince Zuko thought you would be an excellent asset for us on the day, as did my father. There’s nothing better than a fun day out with friends, after all.”

At the mention of Zuko, Mai’s gaze finally flicked back to Azula. It was apparent that she had no real interest in what Azula had to say, and merely came along to get a good look at you.

“Speaking of Zuko, can we please go. This is boring, and he’s waiting for us in the palace,” Mai exclaimed, voice low and husky. She wasn’t wrong – she looked entirely bored.

“Zuko can wait!” Azula retorted, her voice rising. “It’s important our little pet knows her place in this. Besides, it’s not like your boyfriend even wants to go on our little vacation. Father has his meetings with his advisors, and precious Zuzu just can’t bear to be left out.”

“Gee, I wonder why. The family dynamics so great and all,” you muttered, though your heart did a quick few somersaults in your chest at the new revelation. Not only was the Fire Lord aware of the invasion, but Zuko – Prince Zuko – was out here dating one of his sister’s best friends.

Before you could blink, Azula had thrust a ball of flame in your face, her stare angry and menacing as she bent closer to you through the bars. The flame caught you off-guard, and you tried to shuffle back, getting tangled in your chains.

“If you don’t watch your mouth, water rat, I’ll give you a mark to match the Prince. It’s a shame for you he likes his women unmarked, otherwise you’d make the perfect pair. Both weak.” Just as quickly as she had pulled out the flame, Azula snatched her hand away, extinguishing it. Her eyes were deranged, almost animalistic. Ty Lee had one hand to her chest, and Mai stood with her arms folded, watching you with a careful expression. With a sharp turn and no goodbyes, the trio left your cell, slamming the door as they departed.

The scar on your leg stung, a phantom burn slowly scalding it. Letting out a deep breath, you sighed, running your hands over your leg. Your body shivered as it remembered the pain from Azula’s blue flame and in an effort to calm yourself you closed your eyes, imagining yourself sitting in a pool of spirit water, your energy being restored. Exhaustion seeped through you as you leant forward, finally able to collect the bowl of rice and eat. A small, tired sob escaped you, and for a very real and confronting moment you realised that perhaps, just maybe, Azula was right. Maybe Aang wasn’t supposed to defeat the Fire Lord – maybe he really was dead. You couldn’t confirm anything from your cage. Another short, sudden burst of sobs fell as you curled into a ball on the cell floor.

_____

A soft creak roused you, as a flickering orange hue seeped into your cell. Without even looking, you could tell that someone had brought you water, and the scent alone was enough to entice you, bringing you to the bars on your knees.

A hooded figure knelt in front of you, face shielded from view. The bowl was placed to their left, hands resting on their lap.

“For me?” you asked, throat hoarse from your previous tears.

“I’m… sorry it’s taken so long.”

“S’fine. I can tell you’re hiding,” a smile evident in your voice. “A real-life master of disguise.”

“Admittedly, not my best work.”

You both laughed, a secret little chime tingling through the air. Placing your hands on the bars, your eyes drifted back to the water bowl and you licked your lips without even realising.

“Can I?”

Another chuckle came from the robe, before the bowl was pushed towards you. “Go ahead.”

Without a second thought your palm reached out, pulling the water into your palm. You felt a release of pressure in your body like nothing you’d ever countered before – this was the longest you’d gone without being able to use your bending, and it had felt like you were missing not just one limb, but all of them. Crossing your legs, you straightened your back and pushed the water above your head before opening your palm and letting the water cascade over you like rain drops. A soft breath turned the water to ice, and you revelled in the cooling sensation. With a flick of your wrist, you sent the water to softly drizzle over your robed guest, laughing as they flinched but relented anyway. You continued to focus on the cascade of water, slowly turning into snowflakes as you recalled your last evening at home in Agna Qel’a.

“Why have you brought me this, Zuko?”

Sending a flurry of snowflakes at him, the hood fell back, confirming what you had already known. Zuko’s neck flushed a hot red, his pulse quickening. He wasn’t entirely sure how to answer your question – what exactly had brought him here? Other than that annoying, nagging feeling he’d had since you’d been thrown in here, his interaction with Azula after she’d returned from her own visit to your cell had reinforced the feelings he’d been having all along. Azula had commented on your appearance – bruised, battered and burnt – but the one that struck Zuko the most was wilted.

He’d once picked a magnificent fire lily, a gift for his mother, but distraction in the name of Azula had caused him to forget it, leaving it without water on his nightstand. When he had remembered it, he ran to collect it, hopeful that it would bring a smile to his mother’s face. Of course, it had wilted, and no amount of water was able to bring it back to life. The thought of the same thing happening to you – an absence of water wilting and drying you out for good – was not something that Zuko wanted to consider, and so he had evaded his sister, evaded his girlfriend, in order to deliver a bowl of water to a waterbending prisoner. Smiling to himself, Zuko thought of his Uncle Iroh – it seemed the exact type of thing that he would do if he was in this situation himself.

“I just don’t want you to dry out,” he answered, simply.

 _____

Day of the Black Sun

“You can’t be here,” you urged, hands clasped around the seam of Zuko’s robes.

“Come with me, then.”

Zuko had approached you in the infirmary, wounded soldiers filling the space quickly. The Fire Lord’s plan for the invasion was working, and there was nothing you could do to help. Zuko had his robe on, hood up, shielding himself from view.

“Zuko, please. Azula has threatened me with more than just fire. Just one week ago I was taken down to Harbor City, to heal. Azula has promised me, that if I attempt anything today, they will all be toast.”

Zuko watched you, eyes low and hands in his sleeves.

“Children, and families – innocent people will be harmed if I go with you. And-” You cut yourself short, words almost spilling from your lips. Your hands left Zuko’s robes and went to your chest, feeling your thumping heart.

“And what?” he said, darkly.

Glancing down, you picked at your nails, a sweet sweat coming over you. Spirits, did you want to believe in Zuko, you really did. But how could you be sure?

“Zuko… how can I,” you started, voice shaky. “You’ve hurt me too. How do I know you won’t do it again?”

A violent shudder rippled through Zuko at your words. He wasn’t surprised, though there was some small part of him that had hoped you had been able to see through the layers to the real Zuko that had lain hidden and dormant for years. Placing his hands over yours, he pulled you closer to his chest, foreheads once again touching like they had months ago in the Crystal Catacombs.

“Y/n, I will become the man you deserve,” Zuko murmured, his fingers delicately rippling through your hair.

I will. I will I will I will. 

Closing your eyes, you fumbled through the pockets of your robes before ripping into the seams, pulling out a delicate silver hair clip, adorned with white and blue gems and beads.

“Take this. Give it to Katara. Let the others know I’m okay,” you murmured as you placed the clip in his hands, holding your palms in his.

Gulping, you raised your eyes to look at him. Zuko framed your face with his hands, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, before he slipped away – away from his father, his sister, his nation, and away from you.    

_____

oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak

eridanuswave

coldlilheart

thirstyforsometea

lammello

whalerus

astroninaaa

[funkymbtifiction]

What’s been your experience of knowing a person of each Enneagram type?

It’s nothing if not interesting. 😉

1s: can be principled, dutiful, and reliable. Their pet peeve is for people to be rude, irresponsible, inconsiderate, or late. I’ve known an sp 1 and a soc 1. The sp 1 does indeed resemble a 6 due to content fretting, low self esteem, terror of getting it wrong, and general anxiety, but shows 1 behaviors of obsessive cleaning, a desperate need to control everything, and rigidity in setting up “house rules.” In so doing, she has denied herself anything that is not “useful,” which I find terribly sad. She has no room for pleasure in her life. The soc 1 is far more inclined to be assertive, to correct others, to point out what they are doing wrong, and to show her anger. Much less self doubt.

2s: ah, 2s. I’ve known a few marginally and one “sort of” well, since I spent ten days with her on a visit to another state. She truly reminded me of Molly Weasley in her bustling about, her attending to everyone’s numerous needs (and ability to keep us all in line), her pride in doing things for everyone, and her sensitivities. At one point, her daughter told her, “MOM, STOP MOLLY WEASLEY-ING CHARITY! SHE’S FINE. SHE DOESN’T NEED WATER. THANKS.” Ha, ha. I liked her a great deal, but it amused me how defensively she drove – under stress, I saw her 8 come out, though I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time. We all snapped to attention whenever that happened.

3s: I admire their work ethic but… the one I know offline has to find some way to impress people, no matter what. If that is in showing you his muscles and making sure you know how far he biked today, so be it. It used to be because he was proud of his professional life. Since retirement, I have seen him struggle enormously with having a sense of purpose and trying to find one that doesn’t hinge on his non-existent work. That is what worries me about 3s – getting old, and no longer having society regard them as “useful and essential” is HELL on them. Please, make sure, if you are a 3, to do the internal work on figuring out who you are, and recognizing your own worth as separate from what you do, before you reach that age.

4s: I have known a lot of 4s, some healthy and some not. I have two delightful healthy ones in my life right now – an sp/sx 4 and an soc/sp 4, and they are indeed different. The sp 4 is more internal and less aware of or inclined to change herself for others; the soc 4 looks outward, and is highly attentive to other people. Sp 4 can take on others’ pain and burdens in a sense and feel overwhelmed by it – and with both of these beautiful girls, I’ve seen it turn them toward compassion. But they do tend to run high on “drama.” It’s not a song, it’s an opera. I knew an unhealthy 4 once who was hell-bound to remain miserable and a victim wallowing in her pain and thwarted (almost sadistically gleefully) anyone’s attempts to help her rise above her bad situation. She wanted to stay there. And she drove everyone who knew her insane. Eventually, she lost all her friends due to her being the wet mop all the time -- which of course, fed into her sadistic happiness at being miserable, abandoned, and unloved.

5s: can be callous at times, just because they are so lacking in emotional self-awareness and so fixated on logical solutions, but they will give it to you straight if you ask for it. They tend toward severe social awkwardness—think Mr. Darcy at the Netherfield Ball. Most inclined to disappear five minutes after you meet them and remain unseen until you leave. I knew a five once, the father of a friend, who would call out hello to me as he walked right past me, straight down into the basement, where he hid for hours among his books. Given he had a house full of giggling, silly girls, I don’t blame him. He was truly Mr. Bennet.

6s: can be either the warmest, funniest, most loyal people you will ever meet – or the biggest pains in the butt, and I say that as a 6. I know one other sp 6 and he reminds me of myself, just older and male – we both are hilarious, we both tease people to establish a rapport with them, we both crave feedback and support from trusted others, and we both swing between concern and optimism. But unhealthy, paranoid 6s are out in force right now freaking everyone out about the COVID-19 and the world doesn’t need that. It needs HOPE. So for heaven’s sake, put down the freak-outs, the paranoid accusations, the wild conspiracy theories, and accept that your worst-case scenario projections are just that -- the product of your own scared mind. It may or may not happen, and trust me, 6s, I know damn well that your worst fears usually don’t happen anywhere except in your head.

7s: are enormous fun to go on vacation with, but can be flakes. Lovable ones, but still flakes. They promise more than they can deliver and then avoid you rather than face up to the music when they realize they don’t want to do what they promised. They are hilarious, witty, optimistic, and their enthusiasm is infectious, but sometimes they fail to realize that not everyone wants to be endlessly teased, mocked, or come home to a mountain of stuff followed by a maxed-out credit card bill. Life is not always a joke, sometimes it is serious. And they are inclined not to finish a serious conversation if it in any way makes them uncomfortable or feel like they’re about to confront part of themselves.

8s: I have only known one and… there are things I like about her. Her courage. Her ballsy attitude. This woman made a place for herself in a man’s world, in a time when that was not done. She bulldozed her way to the top. Unfortunately, she never shut off the bulldozer. She has burned bridges behind her, made countless enemies, and gets into foolish personal and legal fights because she refuses to back down from anyone, and will turn anything into an argument. She lost my mother as a friend, because she thought bullying her was a good idea. My mother set up polite boundaries and the 8 trampled them, something my mother does not forgive. Something 8s need to remember – what is fun for you (you consider fighting “bonding”) is not always fun for someone else who is not an 8. Being an 8 is an asset, but only if you learn to tell the difference between a threat and a non-threat.

9s: are some of the most precious people on earth, but also the must frustrating for me, because I see them being mercilessly treated by the rest of the world, which tends to walk all over them. I wind up counseling 9 friends who are frustrated at ‘not being heard’ but cannot find it within themselves to assert themselves in any way, or think they deserve to be heard, or know how to recognize what is NOT okay. Being a 9, a peacemaker, someone able to understand everyone’s point of view, is a valuable gift, but you cannot use it for good if you are incapable of believing you deserve good things, too.

Each Enneagram type has a health level. You can find them at the Enneagram Institute. Figure out which level is ‘you’ and start working toward the next one up, through conscious choices. You don’t have to stay this way. Your life is yours to command.1s, you don’t have to be perfect. 2s, you don’t have to please others. 3s, you don’t have to win every time. 4s, you don’t have to stay in a place of self-loathing. 5s, you don’t have to fear trying things. 6s, you don’t have to be afraid all the time. 7s, you don’t have to run away from everything. 8s, you don’t have to turn every discussion into a fight. 9s, you don’t have to give everyone whatever they want. It’s time to take back your life.

- ENFP Mod

PS: Most of these examples come from my extended family, none of whom follow this blog, so if you’re one of my friends (unless you are the 4) -- I’m not talking about you. ;)

[paperclipninja]

Younger post-ep ramble 7x01

I joked in my finale ramble at the end of season 6 that the episode was called ‘Forever’ because that’s how long it would feel between seasons...well joke's on me because now, after 587 days, we are FINALLY here. The Younger drought has been a tough one, but we have been generously compensated by getting the first four episodes all at once, which is both exciting and also, turns out, incredibly overwhelming. As usual the thoughts and feelings are many, mostly feelings (read: I am NOT ok) but let’s start off with a delve into the premiere episode, ‘A Decent Proposal’.

The episode picks up within minutes of where the season 6 finale left off, with Diana and Enzo not wasting any time to hot foot it out of their wedding reception and into their happily ever after (Arrivederci bitches!). Of course I’m very happy for Diana and her happiness but there’s only one couple’s happiness that I am on tenterhooks about now that Diva is sorted and that is Charles and Liza, as they watch their sprinklers fizzle out in some sort of awkward, symbolic, anti-climax. 

You may recall that mere moments earlier, Charles had popped the question on the dancefloor before the two were separated by an obligatory conga line, and Charles quickly assumes that Liza’s lack of enthusiasm to shout her answer across the reception of another person’s wedding is an answer in itself. As anyone who has read my rambles before knows, I unapologetically fly the Team Charles flag, and let me tell you, despite her supreme stalling techniques (you’re not divorced yet, we should probably speak to the children blah blah), hearing Liza say, ‘my answer is, I love you’, my jaw hit the floor. I’m sorry, did Liza Miller just declare her feelings openly and directly and with absolute certainty??? We’re 33 seconds into the new season and I AM SHOOKETH DARREN. 

Speaking of declaring feelings openly and directly, I love absolutely everything about this opening scene. The music choice was perfect and really helped build the moment, as Charles told Liza he understands her hesitation before un-asking her to marry him (so that when the she’s made her mind she can pop the question - I kid you not, this has always been my dream...). The music cutting out and just hearing the crickets as Liza asks if he’s really withdrawing the proposal, his quip about her having to make the next move, assuming he’s still on the market (I love/hate this foreshadowing btw), it is Charles/Liza banter at its best and my sappy heart was soaking up every morsel. Throw in some CGI fireworks and the observation that they are sign (which may or may not play out at a later date) and you have yourself a pretty darn near perfect start to Younger’s final season.

Speaking of talking openly and directly, one of the staples of the Youngerverse, the Maggie morning debrief, is back as our way to gain insight into the thoughts, feelings and ponderings of Liza. Straight off the bat I am very pleased that Maggie has fully committed to ‘Chaz’ for Charles and I’m even happier that we actually hear these two talking about what’s going on because honestly, the last couple of seasons the Maggie/Liza convos, which we traditionally rely on heavily to know where Liza is at and to hear Maggie’s sage/sometimes terrible advice, have been skimmed over or felt rushed. We are also reminded that Liza has indeed seen Charles’ goods (the Empiriconda, she’s meaning the Empiriconda) and that the sex is hot, because we need to have all the information on top of the declarations of love to highlight how their relationship is pretty much perfect so that what transpires is even more painful.

Other things that are painful include the fact that Diana will be decidedly absent for most of the season (to be fair scheduling/covid are pretty legit reasons and in ep 1 we can chalk that up to her honeymoon, so more lamenting on that later), but early on it provides some pretty fab Lauren Diva-worshiping. Donning a baroque print Moschino suit that would’ve made Fran Fine jealous, Lauren is clearly distracted by the responsibility of her interim role at Empirical, as her mother frets about the theme for her 30th birthday party over face-time.

Keeping up the chaotic energy, we also discover that Kelsey has to go and let Quinn know she no longer needs her money (these characters’ ongoing relationship with the woman who has tried to ruin all of them at some point really needs unpacking with a good therapist at this stage) and Josh is in full frantic dad mode because he thinks Clare is trying to kidnap Gemma (lol that Lauren straight up calls her out on it later). Two quick points here:1) love seeing this side of Josh and 2) love Kelsey’s calm, measured reassurance that of course Clare would want her family to meet Gemma. I will say though, Josh meeting Rob for the first time when he’s about to go with Clare and Gemma to Ireland and hearing this guy he doesn’t know from a bar of soap exclaim, ‘I’m just in love with your daughter’ was super unfair. Not cool Clare, not cool. 

Kelsey keeps her cool as she breaks the news of her change of heart to our fave resident villain, who comes complete with a bowl of fortune cookies she ominously encourages Kelsey to consult while also enjoying her own fortune, ‘a new love will come into your life’. It’s all very OTT and ridiculous in it’s obvious foreshadowing and I am here for every minute of it because I sincerely love to hate Quinn very much.

My love of all things over the top is further fed by Lauren entering Diana’s office and making her way to the desk - the music, the way Lauren looks at the framed picture of Diana and Enzo before relegating it to the drawer, any moment I was expecting her to utter ‘my precious’ as she became more and more entranced by the power of the neckwear, before Liza abruptly broke the spell by asking what she was doing and warned her off her consideration of claiming Diana’s office as her own. Very much appreciated the continuity later in the episode when Liza is very distressed that Lauren has gone full-Trout with the chunky baubled ornament around her neck, though Lauren is less Invasion of the Body Snatchers and more Nancy Drew at this point, as she has caught wind of Charles’ proposal while reviewing video footage from Diana’s wedding which she decided, for some reason, to show Josh, who was ‘still not interested’ (we hear your words Josh but your face says otherwise). I am very on board the Liza/Lauren dynamic and their ‘circle of trust’ as Liza asks that Lauren keep the proposal to herself (we really haven’t seen the friendship between these two much) and Liza’s gratitude, ‘Thank you...Di-va’, is hilarious, as is the response, ‘my pleasure, Queen’.

We get many fine moments in the office this ep, the first meeting when there are formal announcements and speeches made welcoming Kelsey back...to a conference room of Charles, Liza, Lauren and a random guy we’ve never seen or heard from before and never will again it seems. It makes me laugh that every person in the room except the dude we’ll never know already knows everything but hey, formality is important I guess? The pitch for ‘Little Women in Space’ by an author played by an actress who is friends IRL with Sutton Foster and they were in the musical Little Women together is honestly too much but also just the right amount and this show does meta so well (not to mention Lauren’s excited outburst upon realising her party theme plus her making sure Liza knows that she knows about the proposal. Subtle as a sledgehammer is our Lauren). 

One not-so-fine moment is the extremely out of left field resignation of Zane followed by the completely douchey moment of him breaking up with Kelsey via face-time with the line, ‘I love you Kelsey, take care’. I’m sorry, what?? On the one hand, I get it that CMD wasn’t available for the season so in some respects better to deal with it swiftly and move on, but it was very abrupt and strange. I had zero investment in the pairing so it doesn’t overly affect my viewing, but any fans out there shipping those two, are you ok? Because that was a brutal way for a pairing to simply cease to exist.

So we have I love yous being thrown around by Kelsey and Zane as they break up because that makes sense (in retrospect I should’ve seen what was coming because these words clearly mean NOTHING *breathes deeply, exhales slowly*) but thank goodness Liza is there to comfort Kelsey, whose statement that she really doesn’t care would be a lot more convincing if she wasn’t crying inconsolably. We get a beautiful transition from Kelsey’s office to Charles’ with a sweeping aerial shot across the autumnal canopy of Central Park along with the gentle music adding to the relaxed pacing of the episode. Liza doesn’t want it to be weird between her and Charles now that the proposal is out there (well actually, its 100% in her court but yes), so he reassures her it’s not weird at all by planting a kiss on her that almost triggers the sprinklers because friends, it is HOTTT. Cue super cute exchange about pro and cons lists, lovingly looking into one another’s eyes and then, another ‘ I love you’ from Liza to Charles followed by Charles responding, ‘I love you too’, and despite my deceased status at this point, it was magical. But also WHAT. IS. HAPPENING. 

These two are so enamoured with one another and it’s as though it’s something they just say to each other all the time, but this is literally the first episode we’ve heard any kind of expression of feelings to one another since the season 6 premiere and even then it wasn’t this direct; Liza ran away and Charles told her he didn’t mind not being at the office because he did it for the woman he loves followed by a cute story about how he can do maths because he’s had feelings for her for 16 years. Don’t get me wrong, the entire scene this episode was perfect and it was SO well done in the way it captured the best parts of their dynamic (damn you Darren Star for being so good at what you do), but it also felt like we were being shown the dream version of what could have been before it’s all snatched away.

Not unlike Millennial, which is like naming a business Boomer Print according to the table of boomers at the investor meeting who blindside Kelsey and Charles by voting to restore the name Empirical (head boomer has clearly had it with millennials, indicated by his statement, ‘who gives a shit about millennials any more?’) and so it is done and Kelsey is officially having a very bad week. It is while enjoying a quiet bourbon in the bar that evening that Charles is joined by Quinn, who is allegedly on her apology tour to explain to investors why she dropped out of the Senate race, but also offers Charles what seems to be a sincere apology for treating his company like a toy (prediction: nothing is ever as it seems with Quinn). I have a confession to make and believe me, I don't like it any more than you do - they absolutely nailed the set up of tension and a little bit of a spark between Charles and Quinn in this scene IMO and I...I *whispers* I liked it.

What I liked even more was Lauren’s completely in character entrance to her own birthday party, omg it’s so ridiculous and perfectly her and Denise telling her daughter, ‘fix your crotch, good girl’ had me chuckling. I feel like we’re getting Kelsey’s set up for the season at this party too, as she’s feeling unsure of what defines her now, and the conversation about defining things carries over into Josh and Liza’s chat when he asks her if congratulations are in order. This exchange between the two of them is just lovely, with Liza clearly feeling a little awkward talking to Josh about Charles, but Josh reassures her that he does like him, for her, and that it brings him joy to know she’s happy. They agree that their relationship doesn’t need to be defined, and that they'll always be in each others’ lives no matter who they’re with. It feels very final for their romantic relationship and I would be celebrating the end of the triangle had I not clocked Josh’s fallen expression as Liza walks away. I really do hope that Josh finds someone he loves and who loves him the way he wants to be loved this season. Josh’s words gave Liza some clarity of her own and so we find ourselves at the magnificent Seaglass Carousel, home of Liza and Charles’ first proper date, once more.

Charles is clearly full of hope and expectation as he meets Liza and they remember the time he and the beard we try to forget about brought her there and it’s all amazing and beautiful and...*collects self*...Liza tells him that she just wants to keep riding the perfect ride. She once again tells him she loves him (we’re up to three times in one ep now for those of you playing at home), that all she wants is his heart and that she wants to be happily unmarried to him every day. To say this does not go down the way she is expecting is an understatement; we learn that Charles doesn’t want a ride, he wants to get off the carousel and not live in a fantasy. He believes in marriage whereas she believes they are now finally free and folks, this is why you talk about your stance on marriage in a relationship BEFORE you pop the question out of nowhere at someone’s wedding. 

You can see on his face, as Liza says she doesn’t want to define their relationship by the rules and obligations of marriage, that he’s hearing that she is not all in (whether that’s true or not) and he thanks her for letting him know what’s in her heart. You know the bit that actually plunges the knife into my heart? Charles shaking his head as Liza says his name, clearly overcome with emotion, before he kisses her on the head looking as though his world has just come crumbling down around him. That knife just gets twisted even further as Liza is left there in disbelief, (we are all Liza in that moment honestly), trying to process how her own declaration could be so easily rejected. You know, I knew it was coming, but it didn’t make it any less painful. I can see it from both perspectives and I have no doubt that these two characters have a lot they need to address and work through as a result of their own failed marriages if they’re going to have healthy relationships moving forward. 

I tell you what, after so long with no new episodes, this first episode of the season was concurrently beautiful and heart-breaking and one thing’s for certain - this final ride ain’t gonna be smooth. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m just going to go and regain some composure so we can start on ep 2...

Season 6 ramble collection can be found here

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Becoming A Stark? (10)- Peter Parker x Stark! femReader

Word Count- 2157

Warnings- swearing, that’s it I think

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

Tony is waiting in the car with Happy after school on Monday. The paparazzi are loving it. They’re shouting both your’s and Tony’s name, trying to get pictures of the father/ daughter duo. You on the other hand are not loving it. Especially after he came home with a busted up Iron Man suit the other night, not willing to explain anything, and then left to spend almost the entire weekend at the Compound. “Why are you here?” You ask as you climb into the back seat.

“Oh I am great. It’s so good to see you too.” He ignores the question you ask and you roll your eyes. The mood he’s in reminds you of the person you met back when he told you you were moving in with him and you once again hate it.

“Fine, whatever, don’t explain anything. You’re shit at that too.” You pull out your phone, expecting Happy to start driving, but the car stays in one place. “Are we going?”

“Waiting on one more thing.” Tony says as Peter walks up to the car.

“Uh hi Mr. Stark, Y/N.” Your eyebrows furrow together as he gets into the car with you and your dad. “Thanks for the ride, but I really could have taken the subway to the lab.”

“I think he personally vendetta against the subway.” You say with another roll of your eyes. Peter smirks, remembering your conversation from the other day. You’re personally relieved that someone else is in the car so you don’t have to have an awkward ride with Tony, but at the same time, Tony and Peter- not quite the ride you wanted either.

“So how was MSST today?” Tony asks looking at both of you.

“The usual.” You reply, not wanting to give him anything.

“Pretty good.” Peter responds.

“How about German Y/N? Learn anything interesting today?” Oh he wants to play that game does he?

“I don’t know, how was Germany? See anything interesting there?” Peter looks at Mr. Stark over your head trying to figure out how much you know, but he gives Peter nothing.

“Just the usual Avenger stuff. But seeing as you seemed to have not gone to your lesson on Friday, I would think today would have been interesting.” So he knows you skipped, big deal. Instead of replying, you just shrug and put your attention on your phone. You can play the insolent teenager when you want to. “FRIDAY power off Y/N’s phone except for essential functions.” Your screen goes dark apart from your blood sugar readings.

“Really?” You meet his eyes. “You wanna do this now?”

“I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

“No you’re trying to bring up stuff that happened while you were too busy off being an Avenger. Pepper already talked to me about it. Like family does.” It’s a low blow sure, but you’re feeling pissed off now. “But you would have known that if you hadn’t spent all weekend with your precious Avengers instead of at home with your family.” You spit the words at him.

“The Avengers are family.”

“Yours maybe. But you’ve been preaching at me about how you want to get to know me better. Then every chance you get you turn around and then leave. If you didn’t want me, you should have left me with Nana and Pops. Now you’re being rude to Peter. Talk to him. ‘Cause I’m done.” You cross your arms and won’t look at him.

“This is far from done.” Tony says. “You don’t get to throw at me that I don’t want you and then expect me to turn around and not to rebuttal it. Because that is the farthest thing from the truth.”

“Yeah? Because every time I call you, worried about you nonetheless, you tell me it’s not a good time or that you’re busy. You promise you’ll be home in twenty-four hours from a mission, then three days go by and I don’t even get a phone call telling me that something happened. I had to find out from other people, who won’t even tell me what happened. Then you come home in a busted up Iron Man suit, again won’t explain anything, but then turn around and spend the rest of the weekend at the Compound. That definitely screams that you want me. Shove me off on your girlfriend and your head of security. That doesn’t make me feel like I’m a burden to you at all. You won’t come to me unless I’m literally dying. Is that what needs to happen? I need to be actually dying to get the tiniest bit of attention? Because if that’s the case, being a Stark isn’t fucking worth it.” The words explode out of you and you can’t stop them. “You said you’re not the best at having a kid either, but you’re going to try your very best at it. This seems the farthest from that. And before you apologize for fucking up again, just know there’s only so many times you can say that before it loses it’s affect.”

Tony takes a breath before speaking, “you’re right. I did fuck up again. When you lay everything out, I’m doing a shit job again. But I promise you, you’re not a burden. You’re wanted in this family. I love you. Pep loves you. Happy, well I won’t speak for him, but I’m pretty sure he loves you too.”

“You’re loved kid.” Happy says from the front seat. “Sometimes more than the big guy. He just pays the bills.”

“Thanks Happy.” You didn’t mean to take your frustrations out on one of the people that has been here for you since all of this started. Peter notices the differences in how Happy acts with you, must be because you’re Tony’s kid.

“Definitely do not pull that dying stunt again because I have a heart condition and I can’t take seeing you in the med bay again. Ok? No you don’t have to be dying to get the little bit of attention, but Rhodey got badly injured.”

“Rhodey is injured? Is he ok?” You may have said the Avengers weren’t your family, but they are. And now you’re worried about your Uncle Rhodey- whoa where did that come from?

“He’s going to have to make some adjustments but he’s going to live. I was trying to make sure he was ok- or well trying to make him better than ok this weekend and I should have done a better job explaining that to you before I ran off. I’m still learning how to be a dad kiddo. And I’m going to break some eggs before I make an omelette.” Peter’s watching this interaction between you and your dad. It’s a whole different side to Mr. Stark. One who owns up to things when he’s done wrong but also wants to be better.

“Fine, but I better get an omelette in the end.” You say, only slightly kidding.

“You tell me what toppings you want and I’ll make sure you get it.” Tony says.

“Also give me my phone functions back,” You say before adding a please to the end.

“FRI turn her phone back on.” Tony says before adding, “You want to put some music on Y/N?”

“From my only subpar choices?” You tease him before asking FRIDAY to turn on your June playlist, even though the songs are getting a little old. But your top three playlists at the moment are June, I Hate My Life and Tony Stark Can Rot. The latter two you’re not going to ask FRIDAY to play in front of Peter, so June it is. House Of The Rising Sun by The Animals starts playing as Tony turns his attention towards Peter, who has fallen into the background as you and Tony had your argument.

“Sorry you had to witness that Mr. Parker, but as I mentioned to you in one of our other other conversations, she is very important to me, hence her education is very important to me. Can’t have her skipping class you know?”

“Of course not sir.” Peter’s eyebrows pull together and you stifle a laughter that is threatening to break free.

“Something funny kiddo?” Tony asks, eyeing you.

“Oh nothing. Social media. Yeet or be yeeted out there these days.”

“I think it’s actually yeet or be yoted.” Peter teases you.

“I disagree, good sir.” You tease back.

“I don’t know what this is that you’re talking about, but back to me.” Tony says from the other side of the car. “Now Peter, you’re a year ahead of Y/N correct?”

“Yes Mr. Stark.”

“Can you explain to her why science should be her favorite subject? Because I have tried a number of times and it has not hit home yet.”

“I uh- don’t think I can convince her of that.” Peter messes with the earbuds dangling from the neck of his shirt.

“You better be careful Dad, he might try to convince me to go to the dark side.”

“I’m sorry, the dark side?” Tony’s eyes go dark, staring Peter down, although he has no idea either where you’re going with this.

“Star Wars fan fiction. Super dark place.” You tease, not even looking up from your phone. “You should be proud, he offered and I said no. Can’t be going to the dark side at this point in time. What kind of legacy is that?”

“I swear I did no such thing. I actually said it would be no place for her, sir.” Peter throws his hands up. “I thought you were my friend Y/N. Friends don’t throw friends under buses like this.”

“I don’t think I like the two of you hanging out.” Your dad points a finger at the two of you.

“You wouldn’t take away one of the few friends I have would you?” You say looking at your dad with as close to puppy dog eyes as you can manage. 

“Fine, I surrender. You can stay friends with Mr. Parker for right now. But no more threatening to go to the dark side, of any kind.” You laugh and turn back to scrolling through your phone. 

You’ve scrolled Twitter and Instagram. You’re not going to risk Tumblr with Peter sitting next to you, so guess that means time to catch up on all your Snapchat streaks. Flipping over to the filters, you want to see what new ones there are today. The first couple have been there for the past few days, the puppy, the bear ears with glasses, and the heart ones. But then you spy one that makes you laugh. And it does say try it with friends. “Dad you have to try this with me.” You show him your screen as the Iron Man mask falls over your face and War Machine falls over his.

“No. I am Iron Man. Not Rhodey!” He practically shrieks. 

“What’s wrong with being Uncle Rhodey?” You ask, not realizing it’s the first time the words leave your mouth.

“Nothing is wrong with being him. I just look better in red and gold. Fix it.” 

“Download the app yourself. I have my own streaks to send.” You flip over to one of the other filters and your dad watches over your shoulder.

“No. Who are you sending that to?”

“Betty? We have a two hundred and thirty three day streak?” You explain.

“Pick a different filter.”

“Why?” 

“Because you look fine as you are. You don’t need all these beauty filters dressing you up.” Tony couldn’t voice that he didn’t like the fact that it was making you look way older than you needed to be.

“You’re overreacting. Peter, what do you think?” You show him the snap.

“Uh you look nice no matter what Y/N. But I think the Iron Man one is way cooler.” Peter says.

“Ugh you guys are the worst.” You retake the picture with the Iron Man filter and send it to Betty.

“Much better.” Your dad says. “Now how do I get a streak with you?”

“You aren’t cool enough to have a streak with me.” He places his hand over his heart. 

“Ouch you wound me so kiddo.”

“Right back at you.” You send pictures to your other streaks before you see a request for a new friend on Snapchat- peter_p has friended you. You hit accept and send him a similar Iron Man filtered pic. Peter surprises you with a pic of your dad with the War Machine filter over him that you screen grab before the time runs out. You set it as your dad’s caller ID photo, and can’t help when the giggle escapes your mouth. 

“What’s so funny?” Tony asks, trying to look at your phone.

“Nothing.” You and Peter both say, which definitely doesn’t convince Tony. 

“I’m never letting the two of you ride together again.”

Becoming A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway  @iamaunicorn4704  @furiouspockettoad  @daughter-of-stark  @eternalharry  @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

[xiolaperry]

The Piano - Chapter 14

Summary: Belle French and her daughter arrive in New Zealand to an arranged marriage with Gaston LeGume.  Gaston shows little interest in her or her piano and books. However, Mr. Gold is fascinated… (Rumbelling of the 1993 film “The Piano”)

Rating: E for smut, dark subject matter and violence.

Also on AO3

-

Gold leapt off his horse, not taking the time to grab his cane. Granny took it for him, and followed as he limped up the steps. Tilly was huddled in the corner, her arms wrapped around her legs. She wailed when she saw him. He dropped to the floor next to her and stroked her hair.

“What's happened? Are you hurt? Where's your mother?”

Unable to speak through her crying, she handed him the bloodstained package.

How could something that small look so ominous? Whatever it was, it had caused Tilly great distress. Hands shaking, he undid the ribbon. Blue, like Belle's eyes. The bundle opened. Horrified, he jerked backwards with such force that he hit his head on the wall. His stomach heaved and spots danced before his eyes. It fell from his numb fingers and rolled on the floor.

Granny let out a small shriek before she composed herself and grabbed it to remove the tragedy from Tilly's view.

The terrible sight of Belle's tiny finger and the urgency of the message she needed to deliver gave Tilly her words back.

“You cannot see her again or he'll chop her to pieces! I was supposed to bring you the piano key, but Gaston sent this instead!”

Gold knelt in front of Tilly, grabbing her by the shoulders, desperate for information. “Gaston did this? I'll kill him. Where is your mother!?”

Tilly's shriek, long and high-pitched, hurt his ears. She could form no thoughts to answer. Granny intervened.

“Gold, stop. You're making it worse. She's just a little girl and you're scaring her.”

Grabbing his cane, he got to his feet, incandescent with rage. He spun his cane around and swung the gold handle down on the porcelain washbowl and pitcher. White fragments exploded, crunching underfoot as he lunged toward the mirror. He smashed it before it showed him his reflection and continued beating on it until only shards remained. Blazing, white-hot fury consumed him, and he felt as though he were watching himself from a great distance.

A hand clutched his arm, and he jerked around, ready to strike.

“Gold, enough! Think of Tilly, she doesn't need to see this.”

“It will never be enough! Not until I crush his skull.” He hurled a plate across the room and it shattered against the wall with an unsatisfying crash. He needed to hear Gaston's bones shatter. Yes, that would be better. He'd kill him. Now.

Tilly flung herself on him, wrapping her arms around one leg and halting his exit. “You can't go there, please! Gaston might kill my mother, he said he'd cut another finger off if you saw her again!”

Gold punched the wall in frustration. Tilly's eyes, swollen from crying, pleaded with him. It was enough to bring him back to himself. The child was right, going there now was a terrible idea. He took Tilly over to the rocking chair and gathered her into his lap.

“We'll both stay here,” he said, keeping his voice calm with significant effort. Taking care of Tilly would come first, then he would plan Gaston's demise. “Granny will make us something nice to drink. Maybe some hot chocolate? How does that sound?”

Granny sagged with relief. Had Gold gone there now, there was no doubt this night would have ended with Gaston's death. As much as she would have enjoyed that, the rational part of her knew it would create more trouble. Otherwise, she'd be heading there herself to shoot him with her crossbow.

The rhythmic movement and creaking of the chair soothed Tilly. He hummed her a lullaby, plucked from a distant memory of one his auntie used to sing. It had always made him feel better when she sang to him when he'd waken up from a nightmare.

Granny brought two steaming mugs over, placing them within his reach.

“Thank you.”

“It's the least I could do.”

“We'll be all right now.”

“You promise not to go over there tonight?”

“Daisy, I give you my word.”

“Daisy. There's a name I haven't heard in a long time. No, that's a young girl’s name, I'm Granny now. Your word is good enough for me. I'll take care of your horse, then I'll get David Nolan to check on the situation. I'll come back here first thing in the morning.”

Gold could always trust Granny to keep her head and take sensible action. He nodded, then sat Tilly up. “Drink this, you'll feel better.”

Tilly took small sips from the cup he held for her. After she finished, she began to weep.

“It's my fault. Mama told me to bring you the package, but I took it to Gaston instead. I thought he'd be happy that I listened! But when he saw the piano key, he was so mad. It's all my fault.”

Gold turned Tilly around so he could look directly into her eyes. The emotional damage done to her was enormous. He must be very careful with Belle's child; this conversation could break her further, or help her begin to heal.

“No, Tilly. This is not your fault. What happened to your mother is Gaston's fault. You are just a little girl, and you only did what you thought was best. He is an adult, and he is the one responsible.”

“She'll hate me.”

He hugged her. “Oh, precious lass, your mother could never hate you. She loves you so much and that will never change. She loves you more than anything else in the world. Anyone can see that.”

“But I called Gaston 'Papa', I wish I didn't. I hate him now.”

“I understand. Every child wants a papa, there's nothing wrong with that. Gaston doesn't deserve to be your Papa. You deserve better.” He hoped very much that someday, he would earn her love and be her Papa.

“I never met my real father.”

“We have something in common, then. I never met my mother.”

“You didn't have a Mama?” asked Tilly, incredulous.

“No, I didn't. But I had two wonderful aunties who gave me all the love I could want, and I turned out just fine.” Many would disagree with that assessment, but that was beside the point. “Now, how about we get you ready for bed?”

“I don't want to go to sleep.”

“I'll make you a deal.” He set Tilly on her feet and got one of his old shirts. “You put this on, and climb into bed. And I'll let Ebony get in with you. She tries to sleep in the bed with me, but I never allow it. Too hot and furry. But just this once, I'll make an exception.”

“You won't leave when I fall asleep?”

“No, I won't. I promise.”

Gold went outside to give her some privacy, and to find the cat. Luck was with him for once, and Ebony came when he called her. He gave her a small piece of jerky and brought her inside. Tilly was in the bed, yawning.

“Here she is, as agreed.” He blew out the candles and put out the lamp. Stretching out next to her on top of the covers, he crossed his arms behind his head. He forced himself not to think of Belle. What she had lost, the repercussions of what that idiot had done. Did Gaston even comprehend what he'd taken from her? No, there wasn't time to cry for that now; he'd mourn what happened later. Now was the time to concentrate and plan. His mind worked through scenarios until he nodded off without realizing it, worn out by the day's events.

Earlier that evening...

Cora and Regina struggled to remove Belle's clothes. The fabric was heavy with mud and rainwater. They resorted to scissors to cut off her sleeves, not wanting to jostle her more than necessary.

“What a dreadful accident.”

“Why was she chopping kindling? There was enough already,” asked Regina. “And where's Tilly?”

Gaston, observing from the corner, shrugged. “She was there when it happened and took off running towards Gold's house. I'm sure she's fine.”

“Of all the callous, uncaring --”

Cora interrupted. “That's not important right now. We need to focus on Gaston's wife. The wound is clean, and the bleeding has stopped. If no fever sets in, she will recover.”

They heard the door open; someone had let themselves in. Gaston tensed, alert. Regina found it suspicious that he reached for his gun.

“Hello?” a voice called out.

Gaston relaxed. “In here, David.”

“What's going on?” he said, entering the room and seeing Cora and Regina with Belle.

“There's been an accident,” answered Cora.

“An accident? Granny told me to come here right away, that Gaston attacked Belle.”

“How ridiculous. Really, you think you'd know better than to listen to Granny.”

“Tilly told her that Gaston chopped her mother's finger off.”

“The child was overwrought after seeing a tragic accident. Nothing more.”

David turned to his friend. “Gaston?”

“It's exactly what she said.”

There was more going on here, David was sure of it. But no one ever contradicted Cora, and he had nothing to back up Granny's story.

“Does that mean Tilly is safe?” asked Regina.

“Yes, Granny left her with Gold. She's upset, but unharmed.”

“I'm glad.” She glared at Gaston, irritated that his step-daughter's well being meant so little to him.

“She'd be safer with a crocodile,” muttered Cora.

“I'll send Mary Margaret over for her tomorrow, I know she'll want to help.”

Cora put on her gloves and asked, “Would you like Regina and I to stay? Or fetch Reverend Hopper?”

“No, thank you. Go home, you can check on us in the morning.”

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

The Queen’s Garden - Intro

Series Masterlist - Tom Hiddleston Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OC Sophie Green

Warnings: Strong language, fluff, pining, maybe smut

Summary: After a tough year, Sophie decides she should work in the family business for a while to take it easy after seeing how well Emma, her niece, is doing. And then she meets Tom Hiddleston. She falls head over heels while he seems to keep cool.

Word count: 1539

On the bad side of town a door slams closed so loudly that the cats behind it almost jump into orbit from shock. A woman connects her back to the door and slides until she sits with her head leaning on her knees as hot tears stream down her face. She’s angry and lost. This week had been an opera that only got worse. Nothing seemed right, nothing went as she planned, nothing is all she’s left with. She’s hysterical, but she doesn’t want to be. She wants to be strong like she’s always been. Strong like she was the day she stood beside her partner when her parents went against him. The partner that has now left her. Strong like the days she overworked to get her job done as well as she could. Her job that she got fired from today. Strong like the day she got her shoe box sized apartment and decided to make the best of it. The apartment that is going to be torn down this month. What is left? A 24-year-old with enough pain to last her a lifetime. A 24-year-old who thinks she’s seen it all. A 24-year-old that just wants things to go right again.

It was easier when it was just her and Jack and her shoe box apartment. Back when he still loved her and she didn’t have to worry about her job or the apartment. So much easier. Now it just feels like the world is crumbling beneath her very feet. She had a future, a plan, but now there’s nothing. No future, no plan, no nothing. The only living beings she has that will never betray her are her cats and even those food obsessed goblins will leave her if someone else feeds them more than her. There is one more person she can call and that’s Emma, her niece who lives in America. But if she calls she can only hope Emma picks up with the time difference. So here goes nothing.

“Hey Sophie, what’s up?“ A cheerful voice chirps through he speaker of Sophie’s phone as she tries to hold her sobbing to herself. ‘Hey Em, I really need to talk to you,‘ she says, trying to sound steady but it’s no use. Emma knows her too well. “Are you crying?“ Silence. “I’ll be right there. Do you still live in the shoe box?“ ‘I do.‘ “Good, I’ll be there in ten. Don’t go anywhere.“ ‘Okay.‘

It’s like the universe wanted it this way. Everything is in place. Not only is Emma in Europe, she’s in London to visit The Queen’s Garden. She was less than five minutes away when Sophie called, but Emma never arrives empty handed. No, she brought a big bottle of grocery store wine, the kind that you can drink like lemonade, and a red-velvet cake. Sophie has never liked eating cake because she was made aware of her slow metabolism at a very early age, but Emma claims cake fixes everything and who cares about a slow metabolism when your life has just plummeted down a ravine? ‘So, who do I need to beat up,‘ Emma jokes in an attempt to make Sophie smile. It helps, but just for a second. ‘Jack and I split up,‘ Sophie tells her with more tears building up behind her eyes every second. She doesn’t want to cry anymore. It’s not like her to cry this much, but when Emma pulls her into a hug and strokes her hair to comfort her she can’t take it anymore. Tears stream down her face and onto Emma’s shirt. Neither of them care. Minutes go by and they stay like this until Sophie feels like she can talk again. ‘But that’s not all,‘ Emma asks carefully. ‘It’s not,‘ Sophie sobs, ‘he cheated on me. And then I-I got fired for some stupid reason. A-and the landlady told me they-they’re tearing down the building.‘ ‘Oh honey, that’s terrible,‘ Emma says, rubbing Sophie’s shoulder. Sophie looks her with eyes that display such a fear for the future you can almost feel it. ‘I don’t know what to do. I haven’t talked to my dad in years. I wasn’t even there when my mom fell ill. And I lost all my friends so I have nowhere to go,‘ Sophie cries out, ‘I just want everything to stop.‘ It lights a fire behind Emma’s eyes. There is no way she’ll let her niece sit here and fall into a depression. Not when she’s here to help her pick up the pieces of ther shattered life. ‘Get dressed, we’re going to The Queen’s. We have to talk to you dad,‘ Emma states, grabbing her phone to make some phone calls. ‘Please Emma, I don’t want to.‘ ‘I don’t care. I have to leave in a few days and I’m not leaving you like this,‘ she tells Sophie, ‘now get dressed. We’re leaving in five.‘

Around a corner in a busy street in central London is a small square. It’s quiet and tranquil. The square looks like it’s being overtaken by green. To your right, under a beautiful wisteria, hangs a slap of wood that reads: The Queen’s Garden.  Two young women step through the door. The one looks nervous and lost, while the other looks like she’s on a mission. The bar is empty, except for the occasional guest in one of the booths but it’s nowhere near as busy as it normally is. Behind the bar stands a tall, tan man with a smile that makes the smile light up. Most know him as Sam or Samuel, but Sophie calls him pappa. His green eyes sparkle like gems when he smiles his teeth bare. He wears a white blouse and colorful waistcoat like he always does. But his wonderful smile drops the second he sees the broken shape of his daughter Sophie. Her eyes red, the bags under her eyes visible like they’ve never been before, and she looks so much smaller than the larger than life person she used to be. She’s not his proud daughter anymore and it hurts him to see it. ‘Oh gumdrop, what’s happened to you,‘ he asks worried, rushing over to where she’s standing. She tries to keep tears from falling, but the moment her father pulls her into a hug she breaks down. She doesn’t want to cry, not with all these people around but she can’t help it. ‘You were right pappa, he was a bad man,‘ she cries out. ‘I know honey, I know. It’s not your fault,‘ he mumbles in her ear to comfort her. With time, her sniffling lessens and he brings the women over to a booth to talk it out. ‘Everything went wrong pappa,‘ she explains softly, sniffling between words, ‘Jack cheated on me, then I lost my job, and now my apartment building is going to be torn down.‘ ‘That ain’t right,‘ the man says, feeling sorry for the girl. One bad man tore down his daughter and then the world decided to make it worse. She doesn’t deserve this. He grabs his daughter’s hands on the table and looks her in the eyes. ‘Would you consider coming back to The Queen’s? Just for a bit, until you’re back on your feet again? You can live above her for the time being.‘ ‘But I’ve hurt you so much. Why would you-‘ ‘Because you’re my daughter and I will love you ‘till the end of time.‘

When tears stopped falling and Sam and Sophie started catching up, Emma decided to take over the bar for a minute. Just so they could talk for a little. Guests come and go like they always do, but then a familiar face walks in. ‘Emma, hey, what are you doing here.‘ Emma looks up from her cleaning and sees Tom Holland stand there with Tom Hiddleston and Benedict Cumberbatch in toe. ‘Oh, hey,‘ she chirps with a smile, ‘I’m in Europe for a while to visit family.‘ ‘And now you’re working at The Queen’s,‘ Holland asks with a grin. ‘No, just taking over for my uncle Sam for a minute,‘ she tells him, ‘my niece is going through a rough time and they had to have a chat.‘ Though Emma didn’t point to them, the three look around to see where Sam is sitting. The three look away as quick as they can when they see the broken woman sitting in the booth with Sam. ‘Is she okay,‘ Benedict asks a bit worried. Emma nods. ‘She will be.’ With those words, the three look for a place to sit. But Hiddleston looks out of it. He feels guilty for thinking the thoughts he has, but he can’t help it. Even through her tears, she looks stunning. Her green eyes shine like the most precious emerald and her rosy cheeks shine with the tears that lay upon them. There was hope in her eyes for as far as he could see. Hope for a better tomorrow and to Tom, she looks so strong. Crying like no one is watching, in the middle of a bar, totally giving into her feelings. That is what real strength looks like. He didn’t notice when Emma came around to take their order, but luckily he didn’t have to. Holland kept her talking about America and her love interests. He doesn’t care. His mind is somewhere else. All he can hope is that he’ll meet her again.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

Thoughts/ reaction to AWAE 3x5

The cold open featuring Beekeeper Gilbert is the golden content I never knew I needed.

Miss Stacy teaching in the midst of nature is gold, but what draws my attention in that scene is the casual mentioning of the birds and the bees that causes half of the girls to get agitated at the thought that they’re finally getting the talk. I see bees are a recurring image in this episode. I admit to not having seen much of this particular scene as I was looking away from the blood.

Gilbert combining his natural talent as a doctor and his new… I wanna say hobby, that is, beekeeping, to help poor baby Ruby is gold. Seriously, this episode has GOLD written all over it in large bold letters and we’re barely 4 minutes in.

“I thought someone died…” The natives calling out the Whites™ for being drama queens have me wondering whose side I am on, and whether there are any sides at all; the fact is, I tend to overreact a lot, but this was a bit too much even for me. But let’s not dwell on this, there are more important scenes coming up and I have already used way too many words.

Yeah… I skipped ahead a bit. The sight of that needle caused me as much horror as it did Moody.

Gilbert ranting about natural medicine not being taught is such a mood. I think taking up beekeeping will do (and is already doing) wonders for his career in medicine.

Rachel babysitting Delly is giving me such strong New Mum vibes… “Please go to sleep”. This is the Rachel Lynde content I never expected to see but I’m glad I did.

And then Delly falls asleep as soon as she hears Marilla’s voice… I’m crying.

“Bash needs a wife” – who are you to decide that for him, Rachel? I was already annoyed with her for trying to play matchmaker for Miss Stacy without being asked to, but this is even more. Marilla is such a mood in this scene.

Matthew being Soft™ to his plants… as if I needed any more proof that he’s a Hufflepuff!

I live and would die for Anne and Diana’s friendship.

I also live for Diana embracing her own feelings rather than her mother’s visions of what’s “proper” and “improper”. And for the hint of her doing it just partially to spite her mother…

Honestly, Gilbert staying inside and reading the paper with Miss Stacy while everyone else is fussing about the Take Notice board is so in character. It emphasizes the fact that he is actually the adult of the class. I wonder what would make him more interested in the board, though…

Anne the Feminist™ is fascinated about the female doctor

Ok, but… who gives Charlie, by “noticing” Anne, and Diana, by walking in on her and Gilbert almost having a moment, the right to interrupt said moment before it’s even fully developed?

Anne is totally me in her reaction to (1) being noticed and (2) the news about the dance.

 “Sebastian, take a seat.” If I were Bash in that scene, I would be thinking “How about you stop telling me what to do in my own home?”

Now she wants to take Delly away from him? And she thinks that’s good for anyone? Seriously, Rachel Lynde should mind her own business. But I bet she has no business of her own, otherwise she wouldn’t obsess so much over what everyone else is doing.

Anne’s reaction to Charlie posting about her gives off “Belle Reprise” from Beauty and the Beast vibes.

 “Anne Shirley-Cuthbert-Sloane!” Try Anne Shirley-Cuthbert-Blythe instead. And boy, does this girl have a lot of last names! She’s becoming a bit like Hispanic royalty.

Both Jerry and Diana telling white lies to their friends so they can meet up – classic forbidden romance. I love it!

Look at my boy Jerry quoting Frankenstein! I feel like a proud mother – except, of course, for the fact that I am not a mother and I have no trace of merit in this beautiful achievement. Also, the way she holds the book to her heart, like it’s him, or at least a tiny part of him; and the way he looks back at her… I know this is a whole other fandom, but Andi Mack has taught me that lookbacks are important. My fragile little heart is melting! I might be aromantic by orientation, but I’m still a sucker for beautiful, poetic romantic scenes like this one. This is my new favourite scene of the entire series. If I could bottle it up and save it for a rainy day, oh how I would!

The scene of Gilbert and Bash talking about Mary being followed immediately by Matthew talking to Belle about her becoming a mum… I feel that they are a heartbreaking yet heartwarming representation of the cycle of life and death. Moira has done it again.

Also, Anne’s dress in this scene reminds me of the first dress she was wearing when she arrived. It’s a nice callback, if anything.

That scene of Diana reading in bed reminded me so much of me. I know that feeling so well, feeling a special connection to a book, even for some reason outside the book itself. And, sure, Frankenstein is far from the most romantic of books, but now it will forever be a thing between her and Jerry. And that’s in my opinion, is that special external connection to the book.

Aaand… Rachel Lynde didn’t just try to make the practice dance another matchmaking session for her son and Miss Stacy, did she?

I know everybody talks about Anne and Gilbert in this scene, but my eyes were more focused on my spirit animal Ruby – she is so me, being uncomfortable with the whole thing and the touching and whatnot… except in her it is the result of boys and girls being discouraged from making any kind of contact to one another until they’re old enough for courtship according to their community’s standards. What did people at that time think when they did that? That giving young people virtually no sex ed and doing anything and everything they could to keep boys and girls away from each other – did they think this is the way to raise functional, well-informed people? Because seeing poor Ruby here sure makes me think that her society didn’t do a very good job at that. And the fact that all the girls, even the ones that should pass as intelligent and well-read like Anne and Diana, believe they can get pregnant by just the touch of a boy is just another proof that this is not the way to raise teenagers.

One thing that calms me at least a little is that now they have Miss Stacy and she can, albeit a bit awkwardly at first, educate them on the matter. And I love the fact that she mentions consent because that is really important.

And there’s the sugar – the heart eyes, the longing looks, the held gaze… every single trope about looking at someone special is there in that one scene. I love the way they act so expressively with just their eyes. Seriously, kudos to Amybeth and especially Lucas.

Oh my, there it is! That scene from the preview that everybody has been speculating and freaking out about for weeks. I got literal chills, goosebumps and everything. This scene generated a lot of discourse and it was definitely not for nothing.

Oh my, oh my! The dance is done but they just won’t stop staring right into each other’s souls through those fantastically expressive eyes… I might just die right now, but at least I’ll die happy.

Aaand… the moment is gone and now there’s just tension and awkwardness so thick in the air that you could cut them with a knife – and a knife might not even do the job, if you get what I mean.

Ok, I didn’t think things could get any more awkward, but then we have the exchange with Charlie and it’s even more awkward than Moody telling Diana “[her] dress is very… blue” back in the season premiere. But this awkwardness is different. There’s no tension, no real chemistry. At least that’s how I see it.

The parallel between Anne and Gilbert cooking and ranting about the dance and its consequences for them counts as a Shirbert scene, right?

I love Anne with all my heart but right now I wish she could just go away for a second. She’s third-wheeling and making Diana act cold towards Jerry, which might give him the wrong impression and ruin everything…

Also, I wish Diana would confide in Anne about the thing she has going on with Jerry. It couldn’t possibly make matters worse, now could it?

If Jerry was so confused, and then so happy about the handkerchief, it probably wasn’t really his. It must have been left by Diana. The initials, though… the only J.B. in Diana’s family I can think of is Josephine. If it was hers and Diana left it for Jerry, it would be so nice… Ok, why am I being so stupid? She MADE it for him. Especially. J.B. is him and only him right now. Apparently certain other scenes have temporarily deprived me of the ability to think.

The “Is that how reproduction works” scene is awkward, of course, and it is a different, third kind of awkward: not like Shirbert after the dance or like Anne and Charlie after that. It’s that kind of awkward moments that people with anxiety like me think of when they can’t sleep at night. I mean, just imagine asking your big love to give you the talk. Or having to give the talk to them.

Ruby, Ruby, my sweet summer child Ruby… “what has he seen”? He’s literally delivered a child, for one. Unprepared, at that. But seriously, Gilbert being all like “in my medical experience” – okay, we get it, Mr. Mature Adult Doctor. No offense, though, I love him.

That obituary was just about the best homage they could have paid to Mary, and Bash reading the whole thing to Delphine was both heartbreaking and heartwarming. Now that I use those two words for the second time in relation to Mary’s passing, I feel like these are the emotions I feel about it every time. Every single time.

Baby Delly is the most precious little thing I’ve ever seen.

The Barrys are finally doing something really good (I’m not saying they’re bad people or bad parents, just that they can be a little… stuck in their ways) by deciding to help Bash’s family now and realizing they have missed their chance of getting to know Mary while she was there and giving it to them. I sure hope they allow their daughters, both of them, to have the life they chose, not the one that was predetermined for them by parents and tradition and some twisted idea of class distinction and propriety. They deserve to be given that freedom.

The girls’ ritual was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. How empowering, how beautifully sacred, how emotionally pure and true. And Ruby finally accepted herself as a woman… I relate to that on a deep level because it was hard for me to accept the change from girl to woman when I was that age, too – not so long ago, really. The thing is, there is no real difference between a girl and a woman. I think each one should decide for herself which one she is, and we shouldn’t forget that we have both inside us at all times.

Oh my, oh my! This was honestly one of the most beautiful episode endings I’ve seen on this series and there have been a lot. This baby foal is one of the cutest things ever, a true embodiment of the miracle of life. How fascinating!

So, let’s sum up. In this episode, we saw: the importance of honey; lots of awkward teenage courting; Gilbert going back to medicine; Rachel Lynde sticking her nose into other people’s business even more than usual; Jerry and Diana’s beautiful forbidden romance and character growth; misconceptions about… conception; Shirbert – the whole spectrum of it: awkwardness, tension, angst, heart eyes, lost of eye acting in general; different kinds of awkwardness involving different people, but mostly Shirbert; girl empowerment; and last but not least, the circle of life. I was going to say I want more episodes like this one, but, frankly, I don’t think that’s possible. This was BEAUTIFUL!

[currentlyreadingmanga]

Toilet-bound Hanako-kun Chapter 20: Mitsuba (Part 3)

Previously: the feels came and hit me like a train. Mitsuba’s story was heartbreaking and I wanted nothing more than give him all the nice things he deserves and never got to experience ;; We also had another chapter of Kou being a Very Good Boy ™ and their friendship made me smile so much…...well, until he arrived…...and that happened…….and the angst also hit me like a train. Oh yeah, we also had some great exposition regarding plot-related stuff which made me ask a lot of question (but that’s not new with me lol). Hanako is coming to the scene right now and I’m :)) scared :))))

Now onto the next chapter!

Guess who’s really late again??? I really have no excuse other than me having a really bad attention span (also A3! has taken over my life pls send help)

Anyway!

Oh wow, this cover page has A Lot to disect.. The main thing my eyes were drawn to is Hanako’s expression and the fact that he’s holding the bloodied knife. He looks shocked and sad, and he’s gonna go face his brother (that he killed) and I’m terrified ahhhhh Another thing! The ropes that are tying them together: now, from what I see, the ropes are tying all of them up except for Kou; like, the main connection I always associate with Yashiro and Hanako is their bond, but then the connection between Hanako and Mitsuba is that they’re both dead. It looks like all the ropes are interconnected though and I...I don’t like the implications that my brain is coming up with right now………...Yashiro baby please be safe, okay? Like, it could also mean that Mitsuba is gonna form some sort of bond with Hanako, but let’s be real, what would bring the biggest amount of angst? Exactly. From what I’ve seen so far, the covers have elements that are relevant to the plot and I feel like there’s a lot of things here that could be concerning :))))

Ahhhh okay let’s keep going

So we’re back with Not-Hanako and Kou after Sakura changed Mitsuba’s rumor and turned him into THAT. And you guys remember how I mentioned that it unsettles me when Hanako smiles creepily and his eyes turn dark? Well

I’m incredibly unsettled right now.

Okay so Mitsuba’s wish was too vague for Not-Hanako to turn him into something more than a “half-done supernatural”. He didn’t know what he wanted to do but he knew that he wanted people to remember him. But thanks to Kou, now he knows his actual wish: friends. Mitsuba just wants to stay with his friends and oh, can you hear that???? that’s the sound of my heart breaking (again).

Kou is understadably pissed but Not-Hanako is ignoring him, and he mentions that the more people Mitsuba gets to remember him, the longer he will be able to stay there. And yeah, it checks out with what we know about supernaturals since Tsuchigomori mentioned that it’s easier for him since he can spread his own rumors.

Oh………...oh no………...Mitsuba baby no pls  (;;⚆_⚆)

Yeah, this ties to what he said before about “if that’s enought to break the world then it’s better off broken”. It seems like he just wants everyone to let go of their morals and see where that lead them. Also “the price of this wish is your mind”, does he mean like, his conciousness? his ability to discern right from wrong? Because if he can strip him from that with just his touch (and the rumors) then that’s horrible. Well, I guess that’s what happened with Yako and the Mokke, right? They started killing/stealing/kidnapping people after their rumors changed. 

(ﾟдﾟ；)  Σ(ﾟДﾟ|||) OMFG THAT’S TERRIFYING MAKE IT STOP

oh no, oh no, he’s grabbing Kou and it seems like he’s choking him oh no Mitsuba baby please, I know you’re still there, come on, the power of friendship ™ can bring you back pls

Aw, Kou, sweetie, you weren’t wrong. You gave Mitsuba a good memory and the friend he had always wanted, it’s not your fault that this little shit fucked everything up.

Ahhhhh Hanako is finally here! Oh geez, he cut Mitsuba clean in half ;; But like, he should be fine, right? He also stabbed Yako and she was okay. So Mitsuba should return to his previous form…….right? Please? (;;⚆.⚆)

I really need Not-Hanako to stop being cute, I’m trying to be mad and he unsettles me

!!!!! We finally have a name!!!! I can’t stop calling him Not-Hanako, bless

Awww baby, Hanako is shaking so much :cccc This looks like it’s so hard for him, oh dear

“Back when you killed me” ………………………...ok so that makes it sound like he pushed Hanako to do it, at least in some way………….those wounds and bruises and…..rope marks…….little Amane had when he was alive really aren’t looking good under this lense, I don’t li k e t h i s 

(ﾟдﾟ；) (ﾟдﾟ；) (ﾟдﾟ；) fucking hell, that’s just. yikes. Like, Amane seemed like such a sweet kid, you really have to wonder what was it that made him finally snap, especially in such a way

It really looks like he’s just teasing him even though Amane clearly finds the whole event (and even his brother’s mere presence) traumatizing. It’s weird, Tsukasa seems like he’s doing all this on purpose but he also doesn’t realize that it doesn’t make his brother happy. It has the complete opposite effect, in fact. Even the way he’s standing on his tiptoes, it can just be a cute habit but it also makes him tower slightly over Amane.

Sigh okay, he’s gone, thank you. But!!! Kou is calling out to Mitsuba!! Is he okay??

…………………….oh no. His face says it all, he can’t, he wants to but he can’t

(TдT)(TдT)(TдT) this is so fucking sad. This poor child just wanted a happy (after)life with his friends and he tried, he tried so hard, but every time his chances was snuffed out.

“...we have have no future”

Hmmm…...the way that he’s wording this and what he said during the young exorcist arc gives me the idea that he actually doesn’t like being a supernatural, he thinks there’s really no point to existing after death since he doesn’t grow old nor he can pursue his old dreams. But he HAS to do it; he hates it, but he has a mission so that he can repent for his sins, and his sense of obligation is strong enough that he pleaded for his “life” to Teru, knowing that, in his own eyes, he shouldn’t be here in the first place, And he really did thought that Kou could help Mitsuba in a kinder way so that the ghost would be able to pass on happy but it backfired spectacularly. Living on after you die seems like a truly heart-rending existence.

And there’s only the camera left behind…...No, this-this is fine, I’m fine, this is……. (ಥ﹏ಥ)

Oh dear, and now Kou is blaming himself for not being stronger, strong like his brother, strong enough to save Mitsuba. I should have seen it coming, considering we know very well how Kou views his brother as a kind of ideal and, in turn, views himself as not good enough, but it still hurts. And I know it’s because he’s grieving, but he really shouldn’t do this to himself right now.

“I’m pretty sure destruction is the only salvation for the dead.” At first I thought this was a contradiction to what he had said before (about himself) but it really isn’t. He thinks it’s best when the dead are able to disappear from this world, but he doesn’t want salvation for himself, he wants an opportunity to atone. And I wonder if because of that, he sees himself as someone who’s past salvation.

I’m glad that Kou immediately cuts him off and says that’s ridiculous. Because even if Kou is saying it for Mitsuba, I’m pretty sure Hanako also needed to hear that.

Also, it looks like this is the beginning of a very strong grudge against Tsukasa on Kou’s part and I get it but also I’m :))) scared :)))

I mean, I think he’s got a point there. Yeah, the world has rules that the average people can’t change but he has a power not many others (?) have, so him being able to change things in regards to supernaturals doesn’t seem out of the question.

AHHHHHHHHHHH HE FOUND HIS PICTURE

(ಥ﹏ಥ) (ಥ﹏ಥ) (ಥ﹏ಥ)   take a shot every time I wanted to cry during this chapter

Oh!!! we’re at sea with the mermaid and her people! Mr pufferfish died but the other fish survived so he reported back to her.

Oh. So she really did have good intentions by trying to kidnap Yashiro. Not the best method, but her heart was in the right place. BUT ALSO!!! I’m now even more worried about my girl :)))))))) please don’t let anything happen to her ;;

PFFFFFFFFFFFFT why is this me with A3! omfg Yashiro sweetie we could totally bond over mobile games 

Yashiro was summoned by an upperclassman?? Who-oh, wait

Of course, of-fucking-course, hi Natsuhiko, please don’t endanger my daughter, she’s done nothing wrong. 

And that was the end of the chapter. It felt shorter than usual but also incredibly long because it was emotionally taxing ;; that was such a rollercoaster, oh dear

Ohhhhh there’s extras this time around!!

Awwwwwww the ten-times game panels are so precious ;u; especially the parallel between Kou-Teru and Kou-Hanako. The character sheets with the little bits of info are pretty cute as well!

Judging by the preview of the next volume, it seems like Yashiro is gonna have a tea party with the chaotic trio (Sakura doesn’t seem chaotic so far but the other two do so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  sorry not sorry). If they hurt my child istg….

Awwwwwwwwww the middle school entrance pictures are so cute! (Amane’s and Tsukasa’s not so much in context but…...yeah)

[overplannedbutunnamednpc]

otp askboys!! for kiya/timeless: 1 15 17 23 for hmmm... gladelent 5 13

sam i owe you my life and livelihood for asking about kiya/timeless, the ship only i care about with absolutely no “canon” interaction except in my own head because i’m a bastard who Just Thinks They’re Neat.

Kiya/Timeless:

1. What are things they both find funny?

it didn’t use to be like this, but i think at this point kiya does find humor in the fact that she has no Fucking clue what timeless’ deal is, and timeless has always found it funny that No One knows what their deal is. also, I think they both find a great deal of humor in the antics of MFU and MFL. timeless tends to know things kiya doesn’t know, and kiya tends to know things timeless doesn’t know. makes for a good time!

15. What are traits they dislike in one another?

kiya doesn’t actually like that timeless keeps so many secrets. she really likes Knowing things and having Information, and timeless’ whole Thing is that fucking no one knows what their deal is. they protect that jealously, and even if kiya understands that there are some things that she will not be able to know, and things that she will not be told, she still very much dislikes that she has to take “you just don’t know and no one will tell you” as an answer.

timeless dislikes kiya’s apparent inability to treat herself. they very much believe that when you find something or someone good, you should take it with no hesitation, and keep it as you would keep something precious. kiya will like, tell them that she doesn’t know if she should have x or y because of her past and her guilt, and they will just go ???. part of this is because guilt is a bit of a foreign concept for them, but they also very much admire kiya regardless and quite dislikes that she tends to deny herself basic hedonism and indulgence.

17. What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

timeless is reminded of kiya with most magical things. this is partially because of their deal with her/MFU, and the fact that they do produce magical items for MFU and are usually thinking of that when looking at magical items. they also very much like chocolate for kiya-related reasons - she has a usual “coffee” order that is basically hot chocolate, and she tends to have one in hand when stopping by, trying to catch timeless out of their shop somehow. they have come to associate that smell with kiya.

kiya is reminded of timeless when addressed with a certain Tone, that tends to be accompanied with a smile you can hear and a “kiyaaaa” on an exhale. she associates the cheery ding! of a bell coming into a building with timeless. there’s also the drape of any heavy fabric, especially velvet, like on a cloak or skirt or robe. anything heavy and clearly form-hiding. she also has a very strange positive association with the smell of ozone, because timeless tends to smell as such when he comes to the storefront from “””””the back””””””.

23. Write a ~300 scene between them with no dialogue, only body language.

Kiya is looking the selections of hempen versus silk rope, considering how much she’ll need to pick up for the new adventurers, who apparently haven’t learned yet that tying themselves together in a dangerous part of the Underdark is never a good idea, and lost most of their adventuring kits as a consequence.

She’s also waiting, though she doesn’t know that she will cop to that.

The employee currently behind the counter of Timeless’ Highgrasp shop looks bored, their job pretty much done when she came in, they asked her if they could help her with anything, and she had politely declined. She has the feeling that they know she’s waiting.

She loops the hempen rope around her arms a few times and has just moved on to the pitons when she hears a barely-there whisper of thick fabric dragging along the floor and turns around.

Timeless’ prettily polished leather beak is pointed down, towards the rope that she has, admittedly, ruined the display of. They are fixing it, their gloved hands quick and deliberate. Kiya moves on, to quick-packed dry rations, and watches over her shoulder as Timeless, deliberate, moves to fix the pitons she left.

It’s about then that Kiya starts smiling. Mostly because she didn’t actually mess up the piton display, and this is very clearly teasing, at least, as teasing as Timeless can be without actually speaking or showing facial expression.

She flits around the store for the next few minutes, shadowed by her fabric-draped dance partner, smile slowly blooming into a grin. From rations it’s candles, then vials of oil. She stops at the ink bottles only to rearrange them, without picking any up, and moves on to the soap.

Once her arms are most of the way full and she can’t justify staying any longer despite her shadow, Kiya turns around, and almost smacks into a beak as a result. She schools her grin into a (badly acted) expression of shock. “Timeless! I didn’t see you there! Can you ring me up?”

“Ah, Kiya! Of course, my sweet, I didn’t notice you either. Come with me.”

Glade/Relentless:

5. What activities do they enjoy together?

from rp experience: glade and lent making fun of mfu Very funny and good. see: the conversation about what the hell happened with zaani. I think it’s VERY funny if one of their together activities is being A Little Messy. like not a lot because lent is very much lawful good. but also. i feel like she still gets a little >:3 when glade is like “guess what damien Ate Shit at the farmers market today” bc. who doesn’t wanna hear about damien crownsguard faceplanting into horse shit.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person.

I think glade might draw a line at lent actually going back to the crownsguard, without any apology from the crownsguard/amaunator/etc. like if lent just went “maybe I was wrong? i’m going back to be ground under their heels again like i’m not the most luminous person anyone will ever have the privilege to meet” then glade literally might have to go. okay. i will not let you bring our daughter into that kind of thinking and i am sorry that i was not able to convince you that you are worth more than anything they say of you, but our (my) daughter will never be told that she is nothing without the law to tell her who she can be.

[she-wolf-of-highgarden]

All the times Catelyn mentions Arya

*It another long one folks*

“He would always ask her that. "In the kitchen, arguing about names for the wolf pups." She spread her cloak on the forest floor and sat beside the pool, her back to the weirwood. She could feel the eyes watching her, but she did her best to ignore them. "Arya is already in love, and Sansa is charmed and gracious, but Rickon is not quite sure.” - Catelyn I, AGoT

“You must," he said. "Sansa must wed Joffrey, that is clear now, we must give them no grounds to suspect our devotion. And it is past time that Arya learned the ways of a southron court. In a few years she will be of an age to marry too."Sansa would shine in the south, Catelyn thought to herself, and the gods knew that Arya needed refinement. Reluctantly, she let go of them in her heart. But not Bran. Never Bran. "Yes," she said, "but please, Ned, for the love you bear me, let Bran remain here at Winterfell. He is only seven.” - Catelyn II, AGoT

“There's no mention of Arya," Robb pointed out, miserable.” - Catelyn VIII, AGot

“Also, if your sister Arya is returned to us safely, it is agreed that she will marry Lord Walder's youngest son, Elmar, when the two of them come of age."Robb looked nonplussed. "Arya won't like that one bit.” - Catelyn IX, AGoT

“She had not thought of that in years. How young they all had been—she no older than Sansa, Lysa younger than Arya, and Petyr younger still, yet eager. The girls had traded him between them, serious and giggling by turns. It came back to her so vividly she could almost feel his sweaty fingers on her shoulders and taste the mint on his breath. There was always mint growing in the godswood, and Petyr had liked to chew it. He had been such a bold little boy, always in trouble. "He tried to put his tongue in my mouth," Catelyn had confessed to her sister afterward, when they were alone. "He did with me too," Lysa had whispered, shy and breathless. "I liked it.” - Catelyn XI, AGoT

“If your crown is the price we must pay to have Arya and Sansa returned safe, we should pay it willingly. Half your lords would like to murder Lannister in his cell. If he should die while he's your prisoner, men will say—” - Catelyn I, ACoK

“Lannister won't die," Robb said. "No one so much as speaks to him without my warrant. He has food, water, clean straw, more comfort than he has any right to. But I won't free him, not even for Arya and Sansa.” -  Catelyn I, ACoK

“As she slept amidst the rolling grasslands, Catelyn dreamt that Bran was whole again, that Arya and Sansa held hands, that Rickon was still a babe at her breast. Robb, crownless, played with a wooden sword, and when all were safe asleep, she found Ned in her bed, smiling.” - Catelyn II, ACoK

“How they loved to promise heads, these men who would be king. "Your brother promised me the same. But if truth be told, I would sooner have my daughters back, and leave justice to the gods. Cersei still holds my Sansa, and of Arya there has been no word since the day of Robert's death.” - Catelyn III, ACoK

“Flickering torchlight danced across the walls, making the faces seem half-alive, twisting them, changing them. The statues in the great septs of the cities wore the faces the stonemasons had given them, but these charcoal scratchings were so crude they might be anyone. The Father's face made her think of her own father, dying in his bed at Riverrun. The Warrior was Renly and Stannis, Robb and Robert, Jaime Lannister and Jon Snow. She even glimpsed Arya in those lines, just for an instant. Then a gust of wind through the door made the torch sputter, and the semblance was gone, washed away in orange glare.” - Catelyn IV, ACoK

“Lost and weary, Catelyn Stark gave herself over to her gods. She knelt before the Smith, who fixed things that were broken, and asked that he give her sweet Bran his protection. She went to the Maid and beseeched her to lend her courage to Arya and Sansa, to guard them in their innocence. To the Father, she prayed for justice, the strength to seek it and the wisdom to know it, and she asked the Warrior to keep Robb strong and shield him in his battles. Lastly she turned to the Crone, whose statues often showed her with a lamp in one hand. "Guide me, wise lady," she prayed. "Show me the path I must walk, and do not let me stumble in the dark places that lie ahead.” - Catelyn IV, ACoK

“Those who favor Stannis will call it proof. Those who support Joffrey will say it means nothing." Her own children had more Tully about them than Stark. Arya was the only one to show much of Ned in her features. And Jon Snow, but he was never mine. She found herself thinking of Jon's mother, that shadowy secret love her husband would never speak of. Does she grieve for Ned as I do? Or did she hate him for leaving her bed for mine? Does she pray for her son as I have prayed for mine?” - Catelyn VI, ACoK 

“When he was done, Catelyn sat frowning. Edmure had been right, these were no terms at all, except . . . "Lannister will exchange Arya and Sansa for his brother?” - Catelyn VI, ACoK

“He told you true." She could not even say that Robb was wrong. Arya and Sansa were children. The Kingslayer, alive and free, was as dangerous as any man in the realm. That road led nowhere. "Did you see my girls? Are they treated well?” - Catelyn VI, ACoK

“Sansa, but not Arya. That might mean anything. Arya had always been harder to tame. Perhaps Cersei was reluctant to parade her in open court for fear of what she might say or do. They might have her locked safely out of sight. Or they might have killed her. Catelyn shoved the thought away. "His terms, you said . . . yet Cersei is Queen Regent.” - Catelyn VI, ACoK

“And Arya, well . . . Ned's visitors would oft mistake her for a stableboy if they rode into the yard unannounced. Arya was a trial, it must be said. Half a boy and half a wolf pup. Forbid her anything and it became her heart's desire. She had Ned's long face, and brown hair that always looked as though a bird had been nesting in it. I despaired of ever making a lady of her. She collected scabs as other girls collect dolls, and would say anything that came into her head. I think she must be dead too." When she said that, it felt as though a giant hand were squeezing her chest. "I want them all dead, Brienne. Theon Greyjoy first, then Jaime Lannister and Cersei and the Imp, every one, every one. But my girls . . . my girls will . . .” - Catelyn VII, ACoK

“She will deliver Jaime to King's Landing, and bring Arya and Sansa back to us safely.” - Catelyn I, ASoS

“But now Robb was returned from the west, returned in triumph. He will forgive me, Catelyn told herself. He must forgive me, he is my own son, and Arya and Sansa are as much his blood as mine. He will free me from these rooms and then I will know what has happened.” - Catelyn II, ASoS

“Enough." For just an instant Robb sounded more like Brandon than his father. "No man calls my lady of Winterfell a traitor in my hearing, Lord Rickard." When he turned to Catelyn, his voice softened. "If I could wish the Kingslayer back in chains I would. You freed him without my knowledge or consent . . . but what you did, I know you did for love. For Arya and Sansa, and out of grief for Bran and Rickon. Love's not always wise, I've learned. It can lead us to great folly, but we follow our hearts . . . wherever they take us. Don't we, Mother?” - Catelyn II, ASoS

“Battles," muttered Robb as he led her out beneath the trees. "I have won every battle, yet somehow I'm losing the war." He looked up, as if the answer might be written on the sky. "The ironmen hold Winterfell, and Moat Cailin too. Father's dead, and Bran and Rickon, maybe Arya. And now your father too.” - Catelyn IV, ASoS

“He swore to trade her for his brother," she said numbly. "Sansa and Arya both. We would have them back if we returned his precious Jaime, he swore it before the whole court. How could he marry her, after saying that in sight of gods and men?” - Catelyn IV, ASoS

“She clutched tight at his hand. "Nothing will happen to you. Nothing. I could not stand it. They took Ned, and your sweet brothers. Sansa is married, Arya is lost, my father's dead . . . if anything befell you, I would go mad, Robb. You are all I have left. You are all the north has left.” - Catelyn IV, ASoS

“So you pray. Have you considered your sisters? What of their rights? I agree that the north must not be permitted to pass to the Imp, but what of Arya? By law, she comes after Sansa . . . your own sister, trueborn . . ."". . . and dead. No one has seen or heard of Arya since they cut Father's head off. Why do you lie to yourself? Arya's gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they'll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North. I had hoped you would support my choice.” - Catelyn V, ASoS

“All lost now, she reflected. Winterfell and Ned, Bran and Rickon, Sansa, Arya, all gone. Only Robb remains. Had there been too much of Lynesse Hightower in her after all, and too little of the Starks? Would that I had known how to wield an axe, perhaps I might have been able to protect them better.” - Catelyn V, ASoS

“It hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb . . . Robb . . . please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting . . . The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood run down her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. "Mad," someone said, "she's lost her wits," and someone else said, "Make an end," and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she'd done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don't, don't cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold.” - Catelyn VII, ASoS

[har-rison-s]

slipping through his fingers

“all it took” part two

A/N: I wasn't going to make this, but since I love you guys a lot and respect your wishes I decided to continue. Also, ABBA is one of my favourite bands and I've been listening to them again and wanted to connect their song to a sappy story with Rog. So here it is.

summary: Years after your and Roger's child is born, he finally realises his wrongs and somehow gains trust from you to see your daughter from time to time. Roger regrets not being a proper father and hopes he can still make everything right and make up for lost time, watching his daughter Hope during the limited time he has with her.

warnings: bit angsty towards the end, nothing else really :)

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« Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning, Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile...

Hope gives Roger the look of naiveness and the small wave she sends his way only heightens it. Roger wonders how long she'll have that look in her eyes and on her face. How the people around will change her, change the way she thinks and talks, change the look of innocence to the look of bearing and tiredness and everything else that comes with adolescence and growing up. He wonders if Y/N has told her everything about him, and if she hasn't, then when will she? Or won't she ever do it?

If she's told her, are the looks and smiles of innocence false? Does Hope know that her father's first reaction was anger and the thought of immediate abortion? What does she think of her father? Does she still see him as a good man? 

« I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness, And I have to sit down for a while...

Roger sighs and grunts as he raises from the kitchen table and takes the glass of whiskey from the surface. He walks over to his living room window from where he can see his front porch. He watches Hope climbing into her mom's car and the two of them smiling happily. Roger sees it through only a slit in the curtains, he doesn't want to be too obvious. Y/N and Hope share a lively conversation, it seems, and she's asked her daughter what she's done with her father together over the weekend. But even from here, Roger can see a glint of sadness in her eyes. Still. And he knows why.

« The feeling that I'm losing her forever, And without really entering her world...

Roger has always felt like he doesn't know her. When he first remembered about Y/N and their child that she bore, and thought about calling you up and meeting the two of you, he thought he'd know your child instantly. But that was the total opposite.

She's a quiet kid, very much like Y/N must have been as a child. Totally not like Roger. She didn't whine, she didn't cry when she didn't get what she wanted, she didn't yell or misbehave. Y/N was worried that it was very bad for a child who's five years old, but she realised it's her family's trait, on her mum's side, to be quiet and obeying and behaving as a kid. So she stopped worrying. 

Roger was jealous, he must admit, and still is. Hope got more of Y/N than she got of him, and he also knows that he's faulty of that. It was Roger's own fault. 

And he still doesn't know Hope. Roger doesn't know her as a person or as his own kid, even though she is, biologically. He can't see through her, he can't figure her out. And when he tries to ask questions, she replies plainly and shortly. Which might be because of her quietness, but also because Y/N might have told her about Roger.

She's the second introvert Roger has come across, but she's harder to get around with and please and figure out than John, his band's bassist. He never expected an introvert being his own daughter. Roger barely knows how to live with an introvert and converse on daily basis, let alone how to raise one! He's not used to someone being unresponsive or less responsive, and he doesn't know what to do in many situations with Hope. What to say next, or does he even say anything... Makes him stressed.

« I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter, That funny little girl,

When Hope laughs, it's the most beautiful and uplifting thing Roger hears and tries every day and every hour to get it to happen again. But it's so rare. And he guesses that's what makes it even more beautiful. 

She laughs at silly and unusual things, like the small fluffy Easter chickens that they sell at the stores with flowers and other Easter decorations. The flying drumstick her dad tosses away while drumming. Her own funny faces that she makes in the mirror. Something funny in the book she's reading. A painting out of flour on the kitchen table amidst pancake or gingerbread making. A dog running after a cat on the street. Cupcakes with silly decorations in pastrie shops.

Her laughter is music to Roger's ears, and he gets so much joy from the sound. It lifts him up, makes his day. He just wishes Hope would laugh and smile more, and more because of him.

« Slipping through my fingers all the time, I try to capture every minute, The feeling in it...

Even though at the start Y/N prohibited Roger to take pictures or tape videos of their daughter, he did it anyway. He has a whole album of her pictures, not entirely filled, but soon to be there. Anytime there's a good day and the two of them are together, Roger takes as many pictures of Hope as she lets him. He likes to photograph her when she doesn't see him doing it. Otherwise, she'd immediately want to pose (unnecessarily) or photograph her dad. And he's got enough pictures of himself in the public and private to go around. But the ones that she manages to take of him, Roger gives to Hope. And she's got quite the collection.

There's her dad trying to take the camera away with his hands covering the most of the lens. There's one of him writing something down, then the next one is of him looking in the lens with a blank look. A complete natural one, that is, one of Hope's favourites. There are so many emotions visible in his eyes, she hopes to uncover them all someday. There's also one with Rog behind his drum kit, one with him holding a guitar and drinking tea. 

Y/N could put up with looking at the pictures of Roger in front of Hope, but when she slept or was at school, Y/N cried heavily. She cried of how horrible he was, how heartless and denying. How he's trying to be a father just now, years and years after the break-up. She cries about his relationship with Hope and how they're sort of bonding. She cries about the time wasted and spent alone. She cries because she misses him and because... She still loves Roger. She does, even after all these years and despite all the anger she feels for him.

« Do I really see what's in her mind? Each time I think I'm close to knowing, She keeps on growing...

Will he ever know Hope? Will he know her as a person? How will he find her out? How can he sympathise with her, win her love and heart? Roger's not a good person, he thinks it's the truth, and so he doubts he'll ever win her complete trust and heart. And that breaks his heart.

He's been changing girlfriends from time to time since he broke up with Y/N more than ten years ago. None of them have been serious, and you'd think he truly loved Y/N and that's why he couldn't stay with another woman for longer than a few months. But that's not it. 

When he remembered that he actually has a child, he couldn't shake it. To Roger's mind, there's no bond stronger than between people who have had a kid together. And it's an unbreakable bond. 

He loves Y/N as the mother of his child. Sometimes he thinks there's something more, but... Roger knows she won't let him in again. Even if both of them wanted it. Nothing could happen, cause they both have too many doubts about the relationship and each other. It wouldn't be good for Hope if she saw them in some sort of tension or arguing. She already has quite the bad atmosphere what with her parents not being together. 

Y/N had many ground rules for Roger seeing Hope, but the main one is that he can't see Y/N. She only met him that one time when Hope was five years old, and it already was too much for Y/N. Sometimes she comes to pick her up from Roger's house, but she never comes into the house. She's still scared.

« Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table Barely awake, I let precious time go by...

Rarely, when Y/N has a work event or a night-out with her friends, she drives him to Roger's house. And sometimes that happens on school nights. Roger has no problem with that, of course, the more time he can get with Hope he enjoys and is always up for it. 

But Hope does have to get up at an ungodly hour to get to school on time. Roger never wakes up that early, except on tours, but he hates it either way. He's in his flannel pyjama shirt and pants, hair messed up and glasses in front of his eyes, making breakfast for them both. Roger is trying not to fall asleep while standing, and Hope, on the contrary, is awake as ever. She's in her sleeping gown and and pants, and fuzzy socks. Her hair is put up in a bun she saw her mother make with her own hair—hence why Hope does it. And she's doing some last minute homework. How can she even think this early?

The clock shows it's 7:16am. For Roger, this is night time. On one hand, he can't wait to get back to sleep. On the other, he wants to spend the whole day with Hope, no matter how early he has to get up. But the good thing is, she's here now and he even gets to drive her to school! Roger smiles at that, and finally turns to Hope with finished breakfast on two plates. Eggs with ham and some toast.

She looks up at him and notices the plates, immediately closing her notebook and pushing it to the corner of the table's surface. The fourteen-year-old girl scrambles to get them kitchen ware to eat with and places it beside the plates her father has put down. There's also tea and coffee, and juice for them to drink on. 

Hope loves this, but she won't say it out loud to Roger. She loves school mornings with her dad. They're better than weekend mornings or holiday mornings. These school mornings are gentle, quiet, full of love, and limited as well. But that's what makes them so loved by Hope.

« Then when she's gone, there's that odd melancholy feeling And a sense of guilt I can't deny...

Roger wishes that he could spend every school and weekend morning with Hope. And it's the greatest regret of his life that he can't have that. And he knows it's his fault that he can't have every morning with his daughter.

He often thinks back to the day Y/N told him she was pregnant and wants to punch his younger self in the face for thinking and saying and doing what he did. It was ever so wrong, the most wrong thing he's done in his life. 

Roger looks at Hope again as she's drawing something, laying on his living room floor. Her hair is in a ponytail and her face is ruled by deep concentration. What is she drawing? Some thought-up character? Fairies and wizards? No. He doesn't know and can't guess that she's drawing her father. He'd never know.

Roger watches her drawing and she looks so divine, so exceptional, so peaceful. How could he ever want to abort this beautiful child? He didn't know, of course, what she'd be like, he never wanted to then. Roger was young and reckless and dumb, he only cared for himself and his reputation. What a stupid boy I was...

His arrogance and mistakes have robbed him of the biggest treasure in his life. Y/N and Hope. Roger will never forgive himself. He could've had the best life, the best and most beautiful family. There would be two people missing him at home everyday, two people he'd miss everyday apart from his own parents, of course. Two girls he'd give the world to, he'd bring them everywhere and show them everything beautiful that is to enjoy in this life. He could have had and done everything. But he chose the wrong path in his younger and egoistical years and that lead him to the misery he so badly wants to escape now.

Roger sighs and leans back into the couch. His sigh would've turned into a desperate sob or cry if it weren't for his self-control and care and love for Hope. He doesn't want her seeing him cry or drown in self-pity, which is what he does day-to-day anyway. But if he promised himself and Y/N that he'd be a great father, he will stay true to his word. 

« What happened to the wonderful adventures? The places I had planned for us to go...

Y/N had so many fantasies of being parents with Roger when she found out she was pregnant. Roger kissing her big stomach while the child still hasn't been born, buying baby clothes and furniture together. Roger barely making it in time to the baby's birth, the joy on his face as he holds the little baby. Perhaps he'd cry or cheer loudly, announce to the whole hospital or even scream the news out of the window to everyone who walks by. She'd be too tired to quiet him down, so she'd just smile and hold onto their baby tighter.

Walking around the park with the child in a cute carriage, the sun shining down. Waking up early to feed the baby, the wakings at night and Y/N and Roger taking turns in putting the kid back to sleep. Breakfast on a terrace in a house in summer when the sun's still pleasant in the early morning. Baths together as a trio, bubbles, laughter and wet hair. Introducing the baby to the band, bringing her over to their houses and gardens and watching as the tough badass glam-rock men turn into complete mushy bears upon seeing the little girl. Her fingers tangling in Brian's hair, repeatedly playing one string of John's guitar and dancing with Freddie or listening to him sing.

Roger taking Y/N and the toddler girl on vacations to France or Italy or Spain, residing in country-side houses and watching the sunsets in meadows or on beaches. When the kid's older, Roger would eventually allow the two girls to come with him on tour, but only a few dates. He wouldn't want his two girls to be exposed to the public eye too much, in a perfect world - the public wouldn't even know about them and let the family live their life privately. 

Sometimes Y/N cries at night because her fantasies never came true. And they never will. And this is her first and probably only child, which she raised completely on her own and who she loves more than anything in the world. She wants to give her daughter everything there is to give. Y/N moves mountains for her daughter, always has and will be ready to do it forever. And she knews it from the very start, from the day she found out she'd have a child. And she'll be forever angry at Roger for not wanting the same, not seeing the child as she did and still does. She was blinded by Hope.

Hope. An interesting name for a child. Roger asked Y/N why she named her 'Hope'. Y/N answered him, but not truthfully. She didn't want Roger to know the sacred truth of their daughter's name origin. 

She named her so because that was all she had when she was alone with her daughter, when she was without Roger at child birth, at her first birthday, and all birthdays until the 6th. All Y/N had was hope. Hope that Roger would call and apologise for what a prick he was, how he wasn't thinking straight and was ever so sorry. Hope that Roger would turn up at her door when she had been fired or robbed, at the most horrible and unexpected time. Like a blessing, an angel in her eyes. 

Y/N hoped that Roger would come around a week or two after. When that time passed, she hoped for a month. And then, and then, and then, she didn't want to admit she still had hope, but she did. Y/N hoped dearly that some completely ordinary day she'd meet Roger at a shop or on the street with Hope in the carriage. And they'd have a lovely conversation, and he'd tell her he loves her and wants to be a father and that he was a shitty person. She hoped they'd be together again, be parents, maybe even get married! Y/N hoped for every possible scenario, but never expected what actually happened. Roger sending her a letter after six years of no communication, three months after Hope's 5th birthday, and asking Y/N to meet up because he's realised his wrongs and wants to be a proper father. 

She had to read the letter multiple times then, over and over. Then Y/N sat down at the kitchen table, stared at the letter, at the envelope, at the table, at her hands and the wall. Her mind was blank. Then came the anger, then came the sadness, then the gladness and then tears from every emotion, and that went on and on in circles. Until she decided that she'd take Hope to meet her father and let whatever happens happen. 

« Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture And save it from the funny tricks of time Slipping through my fingers...

Then came one evening when Hope asked her mother if she could spend longer time with her dad. It took Y/N by surprise and at first, she just stared at Hope until some logical question came up in her mind to ask. She had so many questions and also arguments as to why she shouldn't. But she can't neglect her child's wishes, especially the ones with her father, that could lead to later trauma.

“W-Why?” Y/N asked and Hope continued to look at her mother with begging eyes. 

“Because, mummy,” she starts to say. She still says 'mummy', this fourteen-year-old, “I know daddy wants to spend more time with me, and I miss him everyday. I want to see him everyday, I want to live with him more.” Live with him? Outrageous, was the first thing Y/N thought. She couldn't allow that, at least she thinks so. “I love daddy, and he loves me. He tells me that everyday.”

“He does?” Y/N whispers. Hope nods.

“And he loves you. And I know you love him, don't you? You just don't want to tell that to each other.” She explains. Y/N smiles quickly, but it fades away soon enough. Her hand reaches out to stroke Hope's cheek. 

“You're so smart, angel.” She says to her daughter and Hope manages a shy smile. 

“Mum, please,” the teenager begs, “I want to see daddy more. I want to meet his friends, I wanna watch them make music.”

Y/N nods and has to take a moment to herself to think it over. She looks out the window, grasping her chin between her fingers in deep thought. This is complicated. Her own feelings and love might be compromised, her life might be turned upside down or ruined. She can't predict the future, but Y/N damn wishes she could. Everything would be easier.

“Alright, my love,” Y/N starts to say and looks back at Hope, who's got big eyes with optimism in them, “when we meet daddy tomorrow, we'll talk about it, alright?”

Hope nods and smiles wide. She immediately jumps on her mother, her arms reaching around so she can hug her. Y/N smiles and strokes Hope's hair, a few tears in her eyes. She's sad and happy and anxious, all at one moment. Maybe it is time for a change. In everything. She knows what it means if everything would stay the same. And she knows exactly what it means to live with Roger. Even if it's just Hope who does, but Y/N knows Roger would never allow her living completely alone, away from them two. Here comes a big decision, and a dilemma.

“Of course you can stay longer, bub,” Roger says, smiling wide. He's so happy, and glad, that Hope wants to stay at his house more. He strokes her cheek, watching her with his big, blue and almost teary eyes. Hope gives him a smile and then looks at her mother, and so does Roger, “if mummy likes that, of course.” He says once seeing the cold and unsure look in Y/N's eyes.

She gives them both a shy smile and watches her own fiddling fingers under the table cloth. “Hope, why don't you go look outside in the cafe's garden? I saw they had bunnies.” Y/N says to her daughter who frowns.

“But I want to be here when you decide.” She argues and Y/N sighs.

“There are things, my love, that are private between me and your father.” Y/N says. Your father. Roger looks at her when she calls him that. A cold, distant name for him. It makes him a bit sad, and hopeless, as well. “Go outside and pet the bunnies. We'll come for you when everything's settled.”

Hope nods sadly and leaves the table. “A bit cold to her, that is,” Roger says, though his words are fearful. He looks at Y/N in a scared way. She only smiles and shakes her head.

“I don't want her to know all our issues.” She admits to Roger, looking him in the eyes, and he immediately raises his eyebrows.

“So you... haven't, um, told her?” He squints his eyebrows, purely curious for the answer. 

“Have I told her that your first response was abortion and that you weren't supportive at all?” Y/N asks, raising her eyebrows and suddenly rising from her seat. She slumps back down and huffs. “No, I have not.” She says and erases all the fright in Roger. He almost breathes in his relief, but stops himself. “She's still a kid. And as much as I hate her not knowing anything, I...” Y/N sighs and looks down at her hands, “I don't want her to hate you.” She admits, looking back at Roger. 

A smile twitches his lips. He's very touched by that. 

“I just know how I felt when my mother finally told me about my father.” She says.

“Don't tell me he did the same thing I did.” Roger says, in slight fear again. Y/N laughs.

“No, he cheated. I told you that... years ago.” She tells him and Roger nods. You dumbass, he thinks to himself. 

“Sorry.” Roger says. “I'm sorry for everything. Really, I am, Y/N. I cannot live with myself with what I did. But I love Hope so much, she means the world to me. You both do.” At the last three words, Roger reaches over the table to take Y/N's hands in his. He's hopeful, but the action is a bit outrageous. She looks at him, taken aback at the gesture, but waiting for him to say more. “And I'm sorry for not being with you earlier, from the very start. I—It's the greatest mistake of my life. My biggest regret that I didn't give you the partner and Hope the father she needed. I am so sorry.” 

Y/n sighs deeply and looks away, but doesn't retract her hand. “You don't—you don't have to apologise.” She tells him. But Roger's not convinced. “You were a different person. Well, that, and you had d-different, um... priorities.” Y/N falters, her whole posture does. She's never talked to someone about this, about that night so many years ago.

“I was stupid, young and stupid, I really—”

“Roger, please stop.” Y/N stops him, whispering, and the look in her eyes catches Roger. There are tears brimming and begging in her beautiful orbs. He immediately stops talking and closes his mouth, understanding that it hurts for her. “Hope will be back soon and we have to settle the whole... thing.” She continues whispering, but the last word she says in a proper voice.

“Right, right. Okay,” Roger responds and leans back into his chair, his hands slipping away from Y/N's, “um, well, what do I say? Uh...”

“Whatever you want. Tell me everything you think.” Y/N encourages, but Roger has already decided what he'll say.

“Move in with me.” He tells her suddenly. “Both of you.” 

Y/N's breath catches in her throat, and her eyes widen. She blinks a few times, realising one of the scenarios she predicted has come true and she is not prepared her answer to it, or answers. 

She stays silent for a moment that seems much too long for Roger to wait on. She seems decided, but conflicted. Perhaps she already knows what to say, but doesn't know if she should? Decided, but not sure how to say it? Unsure to say it? He watches her as she thinks, and decides in his head that everything's over and she doesn't want to move in, she doesn't want Hope to spend more time with him—

“It will take time,” Y/N finally says, looking at Roger, “but we can.” She voices her decision to Roger.

He can't help but smile wide and simply look at Y/N for a while. Her decision was the one Roger was hoping for. Probably the only one he could survive. Roger didn't even expect her to accept his moving-in suggestion, he thought she'd laugh in his face and leave. Or start crying.

But the reason she'd be crying would be of happiness. They're all going to be living in one place, as a family. Family. That's what she's always wanted. She wouldn't ask for nothing more except for it to have happened sooner. But she's grateful it's happened at all.

Tags: @woaholland @obsessedwithrogertaylor​ @mustbeaweasleyginger​ @langdonzvoid

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[hookedonapirate]

The Princess and Her Sultan

Summary: Crown princess Emma of Misthaven is second in line to the throne, her brother Leopold ll being the first, but her parents see her with a future as a great ruler. King Rumpelstiltskin of neighboring land, strikes a deal with King David, promising to uphold the peace between the kingdoms if Emma marries Prince Baelfire. With the promise of his daughter becoming future queen of the Dark Kingdom, David accepts reluctantly.

Before her wedding day, the princess is kidnapped and taken overseas. She is sold as a slave to a palace where Crown Prince Killian of Neverland ascends his father’s throne and is sworn in as Sultan. Meanwhile, Killian’s mother pressures him to sire a prince and presents him with gifts for his birthday, one of them including a blonde princess from Misthaven. Dazzled by Emma’s charm, intelligence and beauty, he summons her to his bedchambers every night and eventually finds himself casting aside his harem and centuries of tradition.  

A/N: We're back and we'll be moving along a little more quickly and getting closer to resolving things I know some you are anxious to see resolved. This chapter is just the beginning of that process. I'm excited to post this chapter, and all I have to say is not everything is as it seems, unless I've made it too obvious, then it's exactly as it seems. Ya'll just need to trust me, okay?

Thank you @gingerchangeling for your wonderful suggestions and ideas for this story, and also @ilovemesomekillianjones for gifting me with your wonderful editing skills at. I also want to give a shout out to @onceuponaprincessworld for being my sounding board, constant cheerleader and good friend, thank you, darling! This story wouldn’t be the same without these lovely ladies!

And all of you have been so supportive and awesome, thank you all for following along and for your feedback!

Rated: Explicit

AO3 l FF.N I Prologue l Ch 1 l Ch 2 l Ch 3 l Ch 4 l Ch 5 l  Ch 6 l  Ch 7 l Ch 8 l Ch 9 I BTS

“How was your night with the maiden Emma, Your Majesty?”

 Killian looks up at James from their chess game. He must have noticed Killian’s big smile has been cemented on his face since the moment he left his precious swan. “It was…” He’s uncertain how to describe his night with her in words. It was easily the best night of his life and he wishes he could revisit it repeatedly. His grin widens, and he stares wistfully at James as he awaits an answer. “It was magnificent,” Killian finally answers, but it’s an understatement. “Being inside her, being with her is like being in paradise.”

 James shifts uneasily, his features contorting as he clears his throat and picks up a game piece, considering his next move on the board. “I’m glad to hear, Your Majesty.” He smiles, but Killian can tell it’s a bit contrived. 

 He studies his friend suspiciously. “What is it?”

 James’ eyes widen at the question as he meets Killian’s gaze. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just—I have some news to share with you. But I didn’t know if I should wait and tell you or not. I didn’t want to pull you down from your cloud of bliss.”

 Killian raises a brow at him, his smile fading as he waves his hand for James to speak. “Please tell me.”

 A grin takes over James’ face, and this time it’s more natural than before. “Your Majesty, Ruby is with child.”

 Killian’s lips pull into a smile again, a smile that lights up his entire face, and he stands from his seat, walking around the chess table. James takes his cue and stands, letting Killian pull him into a hug. “Congratulations to the both of you.”

 “Thank you, Your Majesty. The baby will be born in May.”

 Killian is elated by the news as they pull away from the hug. He is happy James is starting a family. He only wants the best for his friend. In fact, he has made a decision regarding James’ future. James has been loyal for a long time, so Killian has a promotion in mind for his friend and confidant.

 Killian fears if he were to leave the world too soon, his half brother, Declan, would swoop in to seize the throne. His throne will always be threatened as long as Declan is alive. If Killian were unable to defend his throne, even if he had sired a son, his Grand Vizier would take over his role and guide the prince before he is old enough to take over the duties of the empire. Gepetto, the current Grand Vizier has also been very loyal, but he is very old and does not stand a chance against a threat to the throne. He will retire soon, so Killian has to choose a strong leader who will protect his future son and guide him before he can take over the duties as Sultan. The rest of Killian’s viziers are all new, for he had banished all of his father’s men. They were corrupt and could not be trusted. Killian has turned over many rocks since taking over the throne and unearthed many secrets of his father’s that have proved to Killian once again, his father was not a good man.

 No, there is only one man Killian trusts above all, and that man is James. He will make him Grand Vizier. 

 ~*~

 The next several weeks are a pleasant blur for Emma. The Sultan summons her every night and only her. She happily complies, and most nights, they are both wrapped up in a passionate embrace and left breathless, picking up the shattered pieces of themselves. They’ve made love on every surface possible in his bedchamber; they’ve made love on the divan, on his desk, the floor and the low table by his bed. They’ve also made it past the terrace and made love in the garden, and one night they snuck off to the pool and made love in the water. They’ve only been caught twice by some servants who immediately scurried away, blushing profusely when they saw Emma and Killian naked and consumed in the thrall of their passion.

 The physical aspect of their relationship certainly isn’t lacking anything. Both are always left completely satisfied and content afterward, but they also spend much of their time engaged in chess, simple conversation and getting to know one another. They talk about their pasts and the people close to them. Emma shares details about her friendship with Elsa and tells him how close they’ve become since they arrived at the palace. Killian talks about James a lot and how they became friends. He was sold to the Jewel of the Realm when Killian was young, and since then they’ve stuck together through some very dark times. 

 The Sultan also tells her how James got the scar on his cheek. A lonely old widow owned James after he was taken from his family, and she’s the one who took a knife to his cheek when he wouldn’t obey a command. Emma feels terrible for what her uncle went through, but she is glad Killian has found a friend in him and treats him well. He talks about the adventures they’ve had, but she can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if James were never taken and remained in Misthaven. Would he have been king? Would he and David get along?

 She wants to tell Killian that James is her uncle but she’s conflicted. She’s not sure what the Sultan will do. Will he be mad and banish one of them from the palace, or will he be understanding about it? Emma likes to think he would only be happy about this knowledge, but she doesn’t wish for anything to happen to James if it angered Killian. So she keeps her relationship with him to herself, at least for the time being.

 Killian tells her frequently how she casts a light over his darkness, and she doesn’t wish to be the cause of that darkness. She doesn’t want what they have to change. 

 Every single time they’re together, he treats her with courtesy and compassion; he respects her opinions, her mind, her body and he completely adores her. When the day wears him down, she can flip his mood around with only her presence. She can ease his mind with a kiss or excite him with her dancing. She brings a smile to his face with her laughter, soothes his soul with her wisdom and his body with her hands. 

 Killian expresses to her on various occasions that not only is she his lover but also his friend. Her heart always warms at the sentiment. The Sultan doesn’t confide in many people or look to them for advice, except for James, but Killian enjoys reaching out to Emma about court politics since he knows she is shrewd beyond her years with experience and has an innate grasp of the intricacies of these matters. She’s also not afraid to call him out when he is wrong about something. Nor does he feel threatened or angered by her for doing so. In fact, he finds it rather refreshing and is quite open to it. He isn’t ashamed to go to a woman for advice. 

 She has opened a brand new world to him, just as he has done for her. 

 He also isn’t ashamed to join the maidens of his harem for dinner to get to know them. This is unheard of in Neverland society, but after the initial surprise, the women are accepting of it (apart from Merida, who remains dubious of him). And this way, they don’t feel left out, even though Emma is the only one he calls to his bed. He grows quite fond of Elsa, just as Emma has, and she can’t help but worry about the Sultan calling on her next. It frightens Emma to her core, no matter how much she tries to accept this possibility.

 The Neverland nights grow colder and November quickly arrives, but Emma’s blood never appears. She thinks nothing of it until one morning when she wakes up feeling ill. She carefully sneaks out of the Sultan’s bed while he sleeps, and looks at her reflection in the mirror. She notices immediately how pale she is and doesn’t wish for Killian to see her like this. Though he’s seen her in worse conditions, she doesn’t want him to worry. She softly knocks on the door, so as not to wake him, and Nemo escorts Emma to her suite and sends for the doctor.

 When Emma finds out she is with child, she is full of emotions. She’s overjoyed but also sad. She doesn’t want her time with the Sultan to end. She loves him too much. She loves him so much it hurts. A tear slides down her cheek, even as Elsa is clapping her hands in excitement. 

 “Emma, aren’t you happy? You will soon be the Master’s Kadin.”

 “I am happy, but what if Merida is right? What if the Sultan tosses me aside when he finds out?” Emma’s heart tightens at the thought, tears pricking her eyes. “I’m not sure I can handle it!” Emma cries for the first time she has been to the palace. “I love him, Elsa, I cannot bear him to take another maiden.” Her heart stings as the truth comes rushing to the surface, tears falling down her cheeks. 

 “Oh, Emma…” Elsa scoops her up into her arms, letting Emma cry into her shoulder. Elsa holds her tightly, whispering soft words of reassurance, taking some of the burden off of Emma’s shoulders.

 Maybe it’s her emotions from being pregnant or maybe she has concluded she cannot accept the Sultan, her Sultan may take another to his bed. It feels like an act of betrayal. It feels worse than Graham’s betrayal. 

 That evening before Emma is to go to Killian, his mother invites her and Elsa to her suite to celebrate Emma’s pregnancy. She’s a bit surprised, to say the least as they enter Kira’s suite. She and Elsa are dressed in their best clothes, Emma is wearing one of the outfits and the jewelry Killian had given her. The pelisse Emma is wearing hides the small swell of her belly as she rests her hand there. 

 She’s not very far along, but she already feels protective of her baby. And truthfully, she doesn’t care if the tiny human growing inside her is a boy or a girl. She will love her child either way. She hopes Killian will too; she has a feeling he will, by the way he had spoken of having children. He wants a family, not barbaric sons who will rival for the throne, so it makes no difference if their child is a boy or a girl. 

 Emma will become Kadin, and if she has a daughter, her position will remain intact for the time being. She has no doubt she will retain his favor once she has a boy, but that doesn’t mean Kira or someone else won’t try to convince him otherwise. Kira sent Nemo to acquire four wives for Killian, not one, so Emma knows his mother will not rest until she has four grandsons from four different mothers so Emma cannot influence the Sultan. The more power Emma has, the more Kira will feel threatened. 

 Emma is not exactly sure what to expect by accepting Kira’s invitation, but when she sees her, the woman’s eyes light up and she opens her arms. “Come and sit beside me, my dear daughter.”

 Emma swallows thickly as she and Elsa make their way over. Regina is on the other side of Kira, her eyes shooting invisible daggers at Emma. She guesses Regina doesn’t like anyone competing for her mother’s affections.

 Kira kisses Emma’s cheek, cupping her face in her hands, saying prayers to the soon to be mother and her child. “I am delighted with your news. May the child be strong and healthy.” The woman gazes at Emma in admiration, a vast contrast to how she has treated her before.

 Emma bows her head. “Thank you, my Sultana.”

 They gather around on cushions at a low table, laid with sherbert, melons and sweet desserts. 

 “Have you told my son he is to be a father?”

 Emma shakes her head. “No, I have not, my Sultana. But he has summoned me for this night, so I will tell him when I go to him.”

 Kira nods in approval. “Very well. The news will overjoy him.” She gestures to her maids. “My daughter, I have some gifts for you.”

 The maids present her with many beautiful fabrics.

 “I will make the fabrics of your choice into maternity clothes, for when you grow big with child.”

 Emma smiles weakly when she looks over them. 

 When she is big and lonely and the sultan has another maiden to bring him pleasure.

 Kira must sense Emma’s sadness as she studies her in concern. She gently takes Emma’s chin in her hand, urging her to lift her eyes. “Do not worry, my daughter, Killian may summon you no more after tonight, but you have motherhood to look forward to, and that is more important. And if you have a girl, you may return to his bed.”

 Regina scoffs before taking a sip of her sherbert.

 Kira scowls at her. “Is there a problem, Regina?”

 “Why must you console her? Not long ago she was breaking the rules and rightfully thrown in the dungeon. She is a mere slave. Now, she has my brother and you wrapped around her dainty little finger. She hasn’t even had the baby yet, and you treat her as though she is your real daughter.”

 Kira becomes outraged by Regina’s words. “How dare you speak to me like that? You may be my daughter, but you do not have the right. Emma is your brother’s Kadin now, so you are to treat her as such.”

 Emma is shocked Kira is speaking up for her.

 “She is not his Kadin yet. I hope she is poisoned like Milah was.”

 With those words, Regina rises and storms out of the room.

 Kira and Elsa are mortified. Emma is mortified.

 “Please excuse my daughter, she has apparently misplaced her manners.”

 Kira stands up and follows after Regina.

 “Wow. Regina does not like you,” Elsa says to Emma quietly. “Maybe she feels threatened by you?”

 Emma shrugs, fear rippling through her, but she maintains a casual demeanor. Now that Emma will be Kadin, she will have new enemies and must watch her back at every turn so she doesn’t end up like Milah.

 A few minutes later, Kira returns and sighs as she reclaims her seat next to Emma. “Please do not mind my brat of a daughter. She did not mean what she said.”

 Emma knows she did, though.

 “She is just bitter, that’s all. She had a husband many years ago.”

 Emma lifts a brow and turns to look at Kira. “What happened to him, if you don’t mind me asking, my Sultana?”

 “He became very ill and died. Regina was with child, but she lost the baby. The doctors say she can never carry a child to term.”

 “Oh,” Emma says faintly.

 “It doesn’t excuse her for misbehaving, though. She doesn’t like any concubines who rise through the ranks. She feels threatened by them. She can never be Sultan, and any wife of Killian’s will have more power than her. And she cannot stomach the idea.”

 “Oh, I see.”

 “You must not worry, my child.” Kira takes Emma’s hand in hers. “My son will purchase the best taste testers and personal bodyguards there are and we will take extra precautions in the palace. I am the one who encouraged my son to sire a child, so it is my duty to make sure that happens. We must protect your son or daughter at all costs.”

 Emma nods, but somehow she doesn’t feel comforted by those words.

 “Now go to my son and tell him. You will have this last night with him.”

 Emma’s eyes prick with tears as she manages a nod. “Yes, my Sultana.”

 ~*~

 Emma goes to Killian with a swarm of emotions rushing through her. She doesn’t know exactly how this evening will go. He will be delighted with the news of course, but what will happen after tonight? She has no idea, and that scares the hell out of her. She slowly exhales as the doors open and she steps inside Killian’s bedchamber. He is waiting for her at his desk. His eyes brighten when he sees her, a big smile overtaking his face. 

 He stands and strides over to her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her forehead. Her heart fills with warmth as she feels his soft lips on her skin. “I’ve missed you, my love. When I woke, you were not in my arms or my bed. Are you alright?”

 Emma nods and offers a small smile. “Yes, I’m fine. I was only feeling under the weather.” She debates about whether she should tell him now or later. But she deems it better to rip the bandaid off now, rather than let a million questions she has, linger inside her. She takes his hand and moves his open palm to her belly as she maintains eye contact with him. “I am with child, my Sultan.”

 Killian’s eyes widen, his sparkling blue depths pooling with emotion. He peers down at her belly and drops to his knees, pushing her skirts away until her stomach is bare. “Emma,” he whispers against her skin, his lips and hands caressing her belly. “My little love.” He moves his hands to her hips and makes a trail of sweet kisses down her slightly protruding belly. Emma closes her eyes, enjoying the way his lips feel on her skin, so soft and warm. This isn’t supposed to feel erotic, this is supposed to be a beautiful moment between a father and his unborn child, but Emma feels a stir of desire for him. She can’t help it. Killian is good and gentle and loving. Being with him makes her rethink everything in life. 

 Killian’s hands move up her sides as he continues to kiss her belly, and Emma runs her hands through his hair, enjoying his gentle words as he whispers sweet nothings to her stomach. When he rises, she can see the love he has for her in his eyes. The love he has for them. She doesn’t want that love to fade; she doesn’t want what they have to end. 

 She wants to capture this moment forever. She wants to capture all of his kisses and touches and sweet words forever. She never wants to lose the affection he has for her. She basks in these moments of happiness, for she does not know when she will lose them.

 Emma’s not sure if it’s her pregnancy hormones or the depth of her love for him that overflows her body with emotions, but the thought of losing him overwhelms her completely, and she weeps. 

 Killian’s expression clouds with concern and genuine worry as he cups her cheek in his hand, using this thumb to wipe away her tears. “What is wrong, my love?”

 Emma shakes her head. She can’t possibly tell him what troubles her. She can’t be so selfish. She feels so foolish and stupid for crying. She wants the father of her child to be happy and if that means he must take another woman to his bed then she must accept this.

 “Please tell me, heart of my heart.” His voice cracks with worry. “Has someone hurt you or threatened you?” 

 Emma can see the storm brewing in his eyes at the prospect of this.

 “I will kill whoever lays a hand on you or threatens the life our wee one.”

 She can hear the protectiveness in his voice. Is this really a man who wants to be with anyone else?

 Emma shakes her head and wipes the rest of her tears away. “No, my Sultan. Nothing like that. I’m only sad because this may be our last night together.”

 His brows knit in confusion. “What makes you believe such a thing?”

 Emma sniffles and shakes her head again. “Because I’m with child. Custom demands a man no longer take a woman to bed once she’s pregnant, as it may risk hurting the baby.”

 Killian nods and lifts her hands to his lips, pressing soft kisses to her knuckles. He sighs sharply, deep in thought.

 Emma braces herself. It’s the moment of truth.

 After a moment, a small smile curves his lips as he gazes into her eyes. “My love, just because we cannot make love doesn’t mean we can’t find other pleasures with each other in other ways. Merely holding you and our child in my arms is all the pleasure I will ever need.”

 Emma lifts her eyes to his, completely stunned by his words, relief washing over her. “Truly?”

 “Truly.” He kisses her forehead as a grave expression takes over his features, his quivering breath fanning her skin. “I shudder in repulsion at the thought of taking another woman to my bed. They would not be you. Not even close.” He holds her tightly in his arms, resting his forehead against hers. She can feel the emotions bubbling inside him. She can hear them in his voice. “The thought of being with anyone else hurts like the worst level of hell. The thought of betraying you or bringing you pain hurts like hell.”

 Emma’s heart explodes with happiness upon hearing his words. Tears of a different kind sprint to her eyes and a grin blooms across her lips. 

 “I love you, Emma.” He moves his hand to her belly, caressing her skin again. “I love both of you. I will never love another woman unless that woman is our daughter.”

 Emma wants to capture those words and keep them forever. “I love you too, Killian.” It’s the first time they’ve ever exchanged these words to one another. 

 Killian smiles and kisses her lips, both of them sighing in utter relief. “But what will the people of the palace think?” she has to ask. She doesn’t wish to ruin his reputation or how the people of the capital look at him. 

 He thinks about her question a moment before pulling away and answering. “Emma, do you trust me?”

 She nods confidently. “With all my heart.”

 “Then trust me when I say I have a plan that I think will appease everyone in the palace.”

 “I trust you, Killian. Whatever happens, I trust you. ”

 Killian smiles and wraps his arms around her and captures her lips. He kisses her breathlessly and lifts her up, carrying her to the bed. They have one last night of passion before they can no longer engage in lovemaking while she is carrying their unborn child. But it’s certainly a night to remember, full of soft kisses and caresses, full of Killian stroking her belly and speaking to their baby. 

 Afterward, they’re breathless and panting, trying to reassemble themselves. Emma nuzzles her cheek into his chest and takes his hand, placing it over her belly as they lay there naked. She’s not showing very much, yet they both love their baby with everything they have, already. Emma can see he does in the way he gazes at her belly, she sees it in the way he touches her there, the way he kisses her there. 

 Killian tells her he will leave in the morning to personally find an expert taste tester and two bodyguards. “I will make sure no harm ever comes to you or our baby. I would rather die than let anything happen to either of you.” 

 Emma’s heart flutters at his words as he holds her and tells her everything will be okay. She lifts her head and captures his lips. 

 ~*~

 “I will miss you, my Sultan.”

 Killian smiles and draws Emma into his arms, kissing her deeply. He kisses her like he’s never kissed anyone before. He kisses her like this is his last day on earth. He strokes her belly while their lips are still connected. He wants to capture this moment and hold it inside his heart forever. They break for air, his hand still on her belly through her clothes, his forehead resting on hers. “I will return soon, my love,” he breathes, his voice shattered and wrecked. 

 Emma licks her lips and nods. “I will be waiting most patiently, my Sultan.”

 He caresses her hair and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, beloved queen of my heart.”

 Emma smiles, her cheeks filling with blush. “I love you, too.” She rubs her belly. “We both love you.”

 He doesn’t know if her pregnancy has made her more lovely or if her beauty simply magnifies with every passing day, but he swears she is even more exquisite than the day he met her, and that’s certainly saying something.

 He has to wrench himself away from her and looks at James. “Guard my precious treasures, will you James?”

 He nods. “With my life, Your Majesty.”

 Killian’s concierge is the only uncastrated man he trusts with Emma. He can see the love James has for Emma, but it’s much different than what Killian feels for her. Emma’s only been to the palace for a handful of months, but James already sees her as family. Killian feels completely secure leaving his wife and child with him.

 He kisses his beloved and her belly once more, whispering to his little prince or princess how much he loves them already. He pulls away from them and mounts his horse, smiling at Emma from his saddle. Even though he will not be gone for long, he will still miss her and their baby terribly.

 Emma’s eyes are warm, full of love as she rests one hand on her belly and waves at him with the other. “Return to us soon, my Sultan.”

 He nods and winks at her as he turns the horse around and gallops off, his escort of lost boys following behind him.

 Emma and James watch her Sultan off as he wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses her temple. “Congratulations, my niece.”

 “Congratulations to you,” she says, smiling at him. “I heard you and Ruby are expecting.”

 He grins as they turn around and head back inside the palace.

 “Perhaps our children will be good friends.”

 Emma nods, but he can tell her mind is running nonstop as she looks at him. “We should tell him, James.”

 He nods and looks ahead as they walk. “We will, my niece. You will remain here at the palace no matter what, now that you’re pregnant with the Sultan’s child. Nothing will happen to you, but we know not what will happen to me when he finds out. So, after I meet my son or daughter, we will tell him, I promise. We will tell him.”

 ~*~

 Killian returns to the palace two days later with the things he’d promised. He brings Emma two castrated bodyguards, an expert taste tester who was highly recommended to him and a slave who has already proven her loyalty. She will help Emma by making sure she has everything she needs to feel comfortable throughout her pregnancy.

 The taster teaches Emma a few tricks and gives her a potion that will make her and the baby immune from any poison she digests if it comes to that. No one knows this though, except for Killian, Emma and the taster.

 There is only one more thing left for Killian to do to ensure Emma’s and their child’s safety. He’s thought about this over and over during his trip to retrieve Emma’s gifts. He’d meant what he’d said to Emma; he can only stomach the idea of being with her, but perhaps it’s better if not everyone knew of this. Everyone expects him to take several wives, in fact, anything less would be unacceptable, to his mother and to everyone. They will tell him being with one woman is unhealthy. They will tell him he will be left feeling deprived. Unsatisfied. They will tell him if he only has one woman, that woman will let the power go to her head. They will tell him she is only trying to control him. 

 Perhaps it’s better if everyone is oblivious to the fact that Killian only wants one woman. One wife. One mother to bear his children. He only wants Emma and that will not change, no matter how long they cannot make love.

 He needs to keep Emma and their baby safe and also keep people from interfering with his life. Perhaps he can do both simultaneously. 

 Perhaps he can kill two birds with one stone. 

 And he has just the plan that will hopefully accomplish that.

 ~*~

 The next evening, Emma and Elsa are chatting pleasantly on the couch when Nemo enters Emma’s suite. Both women turn to look at him.

 “Elsa,” he begins, bowing his head. “Our Master summons you to his chamber.”

 Elsa’s face pales as she glances at Emma and then at Nemo again. “What?”

 “The Sultan requests your presence this night at the ninth hour.”

 “But, I cannot possibly…”

 Fear strikes him, for no one refuses the Sultan without grave consequences. “You defy the Sultan’s orders?”

 She looks at Emma, studying her reaction. “Emma, I am so sorry, I do not want this,” she whispers. “You are my friend. I never wish to betray you.”

 Emma offers a confident smile and takes Elsa’s hands in hers. “You must go to him, Elsa. I will escort you this evening.”

 Elsa’s face washes over with shock and bewilderment. “You are not upset?”

 Emma shakes her head. “No, if he is to choose anyone else, I want it to be you. Besides, we made a promise, remember? We will remain friends no matter what happens, right?”

 Elsa nods. “Yes, of course.” She looks relieved, but still unhappy about this, her loyalty to Emma shining through. It only makes all of this easier.

 “Now you must go and get ready for our Sultan,” Emma tells her.

 Elsa studies her friend one more time to make sure Emma is sure about this. 

 Emma is sure. 

 Elsa stands and goes to Nemo as he escorts her to her room. Emma doesn’t know exactly what Killian is up to, but she has complete faith in him. She places her hands on her protruding belly from her spot on the couch. “Don’t worry, baby, our Sultan loves both of us very much,” she whispers, peering down at her stomach. “He will take good care of us.” 

 She stands up and leaves her room to meet Elsa when it’s time to escort her to the baths, not a shred of worry in her mind or her heart.

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