#he ate his brothers heart RAW | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiame-sama · 1 month ago

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Random Headcannons for the TWST Monster AU that I have drawn so far.

Warnings; Ortho and Grim are platonic, yandere, multiple yanderes, yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, virginity mention, Rook has a thing with the Human's feet, Idia is about 9ft (274.32cm) in my AU, antler rack point system/terminology, Lilia is 700+ years old and has seen some shit,

- Riddle has a near instinctual drive to be near the Human he has come to adore because Unicorns and Humans were among the first to befriend one another. Unicorns are driven to be around Humans as the emotional control most Humans have soothe the Unicorns. The Human does not need to be a virgin for the Unicorn to feel bonded with them, but the idea of 'purity' has been upheld by Unicorns for a long period of time. Unicorns can mostly sense a Human's virginity through their heightened magical senses, typically compelling the Unicorn to feel an emotional bond with the Human and a desire to protect that purity their Human has.

- Riddle admires the Queen of Hearts who was a Unicorn like himself. He always loved stories of the Queen's King of Hearts- a meek Human man- who convinced the Queen to show fairness and give trial to those who were accused of breaking laws. From the time he was a foal, Riddle believed that if he ever met a Human, he would make them his King of Hearts and have an unbreakable bond with them the same way the Queen of Hearts did with her King of Hearts. The second Riddle learned there was a Human in Night Raven College, he was already planning how he was going to propose to them and make them his cherished King of Hearts.

- Riddle studied the history of Humans when he was a young child, almost as closely as he studied the rules the Queen of Hearts made. He grew up with a certain prejudice towards Gnolls, Nemean Lions, and other species that ate Humans previously. Most Unicorns share this prejudice as the extinction of Humans led to the realization that a Human's emotional wellbeing actually empowered the Unicorns they lived with, meaning their extinction weakened Unicorns as a whole. Unicorns that had been in the presence of Humans before their extinction actually suffered withdrawal symptoms when the Humans were no more, leading to the belief that Humans were almost addictive in different ways to different species.

- Riddle can barely swim and when he does swim, he is swimming for his life. Some Unicorns are excellent swimmers, but Riddle is not one of those Unicorns. When Riddle was younger he actually fell into a lake and almost drowned. A rather young Trey was the one who pulled Riddle from the water, taking the drenched Unicorn back home for sweets and comfort where he met the Bakeneko Che'nya and the three became friends. Riddle is twice Trey's age, but Unicorns age twice as slowly as most other species, meaning Trey is actually more mature than Riddle despite Riddle being older.

- Leona is a Nemean Lion and Nemean Lions are obligate carnivores, meaning their diet is about 70% meat. He usually eats his meat raw as he is too lazy to cook it, but he has picked up on the scents Ruggie has brought back to Savanaclaw and has wondered about joining the Gnoll for his daily visits to Ramshackle for food. He is aware others don't trust him alone around the Human, but Ruggie is also a species that traditionally ate Humans and seems to get along just fine with the Human.

- Leona calls the Human by the nickname 'Mousey' because he sees the Human to be as fragile as a mouse when compared to his own strength and power. It really isn't worth killing a Mouse for food when you're a Lion due to how small they are and Leona views the Human as the same. It isn't worth eating the Human for the absolute backlash and poor treatment he would receive as a result when he has already received poor treatment from many other students due to the still damaging rumors around Sunset Savana.

- Leona actually told his brother Falena about the Human that first day they fell into the sorting ceremony. Falena was dubious about the authenticity of Leona's claim until Cater's picture with the Human began popping up everywhere as all of Twisted Wonderland learned there was a Human at Night Raven College. The elder brother urges Leona to be careful but to try and befriend the Human as it could only mean good things for their Kingdom and for the view of the Kingdom. He has asked several times for Leona to intentionally take a photo of the Human with the Nemean Lion to create the foundation for a more positive look for Sunset Savana.

- Leona warned everyone in Savanaclaw that first day to not touch or hassle the Human regardless of what the Human may do. He did this through direct treats and displays of power over his dorm to ensure not a thing happens to that annoyingly fragile Mousey. He also threatened that should anyone from the dorm harm the Human, he will use King's Roar on them and erase them from existence for their crimes. Despite how moody he behaves towards the Human, he actually longs to be by their side and wonders how it would feel to be pet by the Human after a long day. He will never ask, but one day he may demand affection from that Human.

- Ruggie tends to be loyal to those that feed him, only sharing his own food with those he deeply cares about. Leona was the primary source of food for the Gnoll and so, Ruggie became a lackey for the Lion simply because the Lion fed him, but it was still not as much or as often as the Gnoll actually needed. Once Ruggie began getting meals from the Human, he actually has filled out a bit more and isn't quite as skinny anymore, having a more balanced diet and hearty meals. Ruggie would even turn on Leona for the Human should they ask him to. He won't be excited about it, and he will be terrified, but he will still do it only for them.

- Gnolls do have a gene for growing winter coats, much like their Hyena counterparts, but he is not a fan of the cold despite that fact. It takes more calories to stay warm in winter- even with thick winter fur- so Ruggie has a certain dislike for the cold. His fur becomes extremely dense and makes him look much fluffier than usual, making it ideal to bury one's face in and take comfort in the thick pelt. Ruggie wonders if he can carry the Human around in winter because they are usually so warm and they may enjoy the thickness of his pelt during the cold seasons as well.

- Ruggie has fallen into the habit of waking early to camp out outside of Ramshackle so he can smell when the Human starts cooking breakfast. Alternatively, he has also started camping out near Ramshackle in the evenings for the same reason. So long as he can keep getting those wonderful meals, he will be able to die a happy Gnoll. Should the Human ever need a taste tester, he will happily volunteer his services and will always be ready to eat more of whatever it is the Human makes. Food is food and food is good.

- Ruggie loves physical affection and yearns to be in a group for both numbers and camaraderie, so anytime he is around the Human, he feels that sense of belonging. He will likely be the first to beg the Human to pet him, melting from the feel of their soft hands in his fur. His tail will wag and if the petting is sublime enough, he may even begin to cackle and whine from the petting. Once pet, he will become hooked to the gentle affection and will become rather needy for continued petting in the future. He is happy to try and pet the Human in return, but he does need to be careful of his claws and it confuses him that the Human is not as enthusiastic about being petted instead.

- Vil is a very proud Harpy and is genetically built to be proud. As a Peacock Harpy, Vil grows long train feathers that he tends to carefully. Stepping on, touching, or otherwise brushing against his feathers will make the Harpy angry with the offending party excepting very few- primarily Rook and the Human- and he will become violent towards those who dare sully his feathers. Tail feathers are saved and used by the Harpy as tokens of affection or approval, crown feathers are saved in a jar and are only going to be gifted to someone who truly means the world to Vil, flight feathers are saved, neck and body feathers are either thrown away or used as stuffing for pillows.

- Vil has made many adjustments to his dorm uniform to accommodate his tail and wings, going as far as to leave large slits in the back of his uniform that allow him to insert his wings into the openings. There are several buttons that run the length of these openings so Vil can button up his uniform around his wings instead of leaving them open and his back exposed. His pants are made with a large opening in the back that can be buttoned at the top to close his pants around his tail without impacting his feathers. He has made similar adjustments to his ceremonial robes and to his regular uniform.

- The purple in his hair and the blue and white coloration on his face are not artificially added. The skin around his eyes has that color as a natural tint, but Vil will occasionally cover it up with foundation to put on different eye-makeup. He usually doesn't cover up his eye-marks as he sees them as his natural beauty shining forth but he will occasionally reshape them with makeup or add a glitter over them to emphasize his features. The purple is a unique color even for peacock Harpies which can actually be attributed to Vil's mother- a Purple Chested Hummingbird Harpy- and his extra color makes many other male Harpies jealous as purple is a rarer color.

- Vil's temper doesn't often show through, especially because he is an actor and has learned to mute his natural reactions, but there are several signs to tell how Vil feels at any given time. When his neck feathers ruffle he is usually in a bad mood or something has irritated him. When his seven crest feathers raise up- as they are typically laying flat into his hair- he is feeling proud or posturing to tease other males. When his crest is up and his tail feathers are up, his wings will spread out and display, this is only in the extremely rare case Vil is showing off for a prospective mate. To date he has only displayed his full feathers twice, and once was on accident, the other was for his Human when he first officially met them.

- Rook has always had a certain obsession with those who are different- either more beastly than others or more tame- and his Human checks every box Rook has for the most interesting being he has met. From the Human's near useless natural weapons to the Human's surprising fragility, Rook is hooked on knowing everything he possibly can about the Human. He has a particular interest in the Human's feet as most other species in Twisted Wonderland do not have feet the way the Human does. Even Vil and beautiful Neige have bird feet and talons instead of these odd feet the Human has. He will try to keep his unusual interest concealed for the most part, but can't resist holding the Human's feet and even petting them as he paints their nails.

- Rook has an instinctual aversion to garlic and does what he can to avoid foods with garlic in them as well as mint and lavender. The scents are very strong and almost overpowering to Rook, so it bothers him deeply when there are even cloves of garlic around him. This being said, if the Human made food with garlic in it, Rook would still eat it and fight every single instinct he has to spit it out. Even if it hurts his stomach and makes him ill, he will eat the food because HIS Human made it for him and he needs them to know how much he adores them and values their skills. Vil is almost disgusted with how down bad Rook is- knowing how much the Drider despises garlic- but acquiesces to the fact that he also has a similar drive to appease and please the Human.

- Rook can spin three types of webbing that all have different uses in his everyday life. First is his sticky webbing which is used to make most webs and to ensnare prey despite him rarely using this webbing for hunting. Second is his nesting webbing which is not sticky and has the consistency closer to silk, used mainly in the heart of his webs as bedding or as a way to keep warm in cooler weather. Third is binding webbing often used to tie up prey and mates alike, stronger and sturdier like rope compared to other webbing. Vil is particularly interested in the second type of webbing as it is ideal for making fabrics that are more durable and breathable than silk. Rook demands that at least one of the outfits chosen for the Human by himself, Vil, and Divus is made from his personal silk. He secretly hopes to make Lingerie from his silk for his Human and hopes they will give him a show while they wear it.

- Rook prefers wild caught game as opposed to meats from livestock and will often hunt his own meals down in the forests around Night Raven College. He often offers these meats to Vil as well despite the fact the Harpy dislikes how gristly wild caught game tends to be. Rook hopes that one day he can catch prey for the Human to cook up, wishing to be a kind of provider for the Human he adores so much.

- Grim has an extremely acidic stomach and can digest most items, even if they are not traditionally considered food items. He can eat rocks and tree-bark but prefers the food his Human makes for him. He has no allergies that he is aware of and has a very large appetite for one so small.

- Every scar was made by a different animal and every scar was a time Grim almost lost his life to one of the other beasts of the forest. Due to his injury over his right eye, he can't see very well out of it and it occasionally causes him pain.

- Grim is considered to be an anomaly as he is more sentient than the other wild beasts of the forests but his magic is more like a wild animal. As a result, Grim cannot use a magestone due to the wild nature of his magic, but he is also more resistant to overblotting as well because his magic is fueled by the magic in the land itself.

- For as long as Grim can remember, he has lived in the forests around Night Raven College grounds. As a result, he has a certain jealousy towards the students he would see wandering around the school grounds. He never understood why they were so special and could go to the school but he couldn't.

- Ortho is 40% mechanical as a result of being attacked by a Feral Overblotted Shinigami when he was young. His injuries almost killed him and resulted in him having to live in a mechanical iron-lung to keep him alive while Idia began crafting his augmented limbs. It is because of these injuries that Ortho has become such a powerful mage as he needs to use magic to fuel the limbs and make them work. This constant use of magic has actually increased his resistance to Overblotting due to the constant magical output and presence of blot within Ortho's body, giving him a resistance to the magical waste created.

- Ortho is the baby of the Shroud family and is often given preferential treatment as a result of this. He doesn't like it. Due to his injuries he has always had a longing for independence that he can't really have given the fact Idia is the one who makes and updates his cybernetics. Ortho is smart for his age, even for a Shinigami, and as such is able to attend Night Raven College with Idia despite the typical school age for Shinigami being 25. Ortho may be 13 and seen as a young child by his family, but he is actually more magically adept than almost every other family member except for Hades.

- The device on Ortho's hip is an O2 and CO2 monitor that adjusts automatically based on how much oxygen is in his blood. He can take the mask off, but he cannot be without it for long as it does help him immensely with breathing and removing CO2 from his body. His lung is an artificial creation made by Idia and almost functions as well as a real lung, but still falls just a bit short of the real deal. Most of Ortho's prosthetic limbs are works in progress as they need to be altered and adjusted as Ortho grows, given Shinigami keep growing throughout their lives.

- Ortho's wings are modeled after Harpies more than the traditional Shinigami wings as Shinigami have specialized feathers that technically should not be able to be used for flight. Similar designs would leave Ortho flightless, so Idia made Harpy-like wings instead so Ortho can still use them to fly. He is sad that his wings are not like the wings of his family, but he understands that Shinigami feathers are quite different from typical bird feathers.

- Idia does not wear makeup. His lip color, eyeshadow and even the gem-like structures on his face are all natural formed. The gem-like structures are actually a result of acne scars because Idia often picked at his face when he was younger, leading the skin to grow back stronger and almost like gemstones. They are rock-hard and shine like gems despite being natural formations of skin and change color with his hair due to having magical qualities much like the flaming hair all Shrouds possess.

- Idia's hair changes color depending on his emotions and it usually takes a strong emotion to make the flames that are his hair change color. The typical fire-red is when Idia becomes heated or legitimately angry usually due to a videogame he is playing or someone is pushing him too much. He learns that his hair will burn a magenta-pink when he is gazing affectionately at his Human while they game, immersed in the story and general gameplay. When his hair burns this magenta color, heart shapes can be seen within the flames. His hair will burn white if he becomes too anxious, the lighter his hair becomes the more anxious he is.

- Idia is aware he is different in size compared to the other students and often skips classes because of it. He doesn't want to be looked at or perceived for too long, hence why he actually waited for Ortho to grow up a bit so he could attend Night Raven College with his younger brother as an anxiety buffer. Due to Idia's anxiety at being looked at, he often will curl up his body and tuck in his limbs while sitting to appear smaller than he is. His hope is the smaller he appears, the less likely others will be to stare at him when they see him.

- Idia's hair is flames and as flames they put out a natural light. This light is less intense than most flames, but it does mean that Idia and others of the Shroud family struggle to sleep. Shinigami don't need as much sleep as most other species and can go days without sleeping, but when they do need sleep, they need eye-cover to not be woken up by their flames. Their hair is water resistant and can continue to burn underwater as it is magical in nature and behaves differently from regular fire due to being Shinigami fire.

- Silver has a three point rack as he has three points to his antlers, so not the biggest rack and not the smallest either when compared to other Cervitaur. He does shed his antlers and even has velvet that he needs to rub off of his antlers whenever a new pair grow in. Lilia is obsessed with collecting the shed velvet and antlers as they are a way for the old Bat Fae to remember his son by. Silver is not Fae and will likely die before Lilia does as a result, so he is indulgent of allowing Lilia to collect the antlers and shed velvet. Silver often leaves home to shed his velvet or antlers because Lilia can be a bit too excited to collect the shed and will even try to take the velvet directly from Silver's antlers before he can get it off himself.

- Silver wields a short-sword and has been trained in the use of a variety of weapons by Lilia to protect Malleus. He prefers the shortsword as it has greater control than a greatsword but has better reach than a dagger. He can often be seen training with Sebek and Lilia in the use of this weapon and will train until he is proficient enough to dispatch enemies efficiently. Should Silver lose his sword, he can also use his antlers to skewer his foes and his legs to kick them as needed.

- Silver is a herd species, and Malleus' Hoard is his herd. He will feel nervous or uneasy if he is alway from his herd for too long and can often struggle to make himself comfortable without at least one member of his herd nearby. Despite this, he can still fall asleep in random places despite how alone he may be even with his preference to be around his herd. He is protective of his herd and will be violent towards those who threaten any member of his herd regardless of if that member is stronger or weaker than he is.

- Silver grew up eating Lilia's cooking and believed all cooking made food worse, not better as a result. Once he tasted his Human's cooking, he actually realized that it was just a problem with Lilia's cooking specifically. He now hopes he gets to taste all kinds of meals and hopes they are all made by the Human he so deeply cares for. He still cringes any time Lilia wants to cook and hopes that perhaps his Human can teach his Father how to actually cook things properly.

- Lilia has had several adopted children over the years, Silver being his most recent adoptee. Lilia has raised only one Human, but he loved his little Human baby and it broke his heart to see that same infant become elderly and pass due to age. He still thinks Humans are precious and hopes that he can cajole this new Human into giving him more babies to raise. If Lilia had his way, he would be raising a herd of half-Human infants, one Dragon halfling, one Cervitaur halfling, one Raiju halfling, and one or more Vampire Bat halflings. He genuinely wants an infant combination from every Hoard member including himself.

- Lilia is sensitive to sound and will often be the first to alert to abnormal sounds due to this sensitive hearing. This also means that whenever Malleus conjures thunder, Lilia will magically deafen himself or dampen his hearing so the thunder does not cause him pain. Lilia takes comfort in hearing the heartbeats of Malleus' Hoard around him while he sleeps and can usually tell whenever a Hoard member is having a nightmare due to their heartbeat. He will often try to groom the one having a nightmare and soothe them back into restful sleep.

- Lilia is second in command of the Hoard and technically has the final say even over Malleus as he is the eldest of the Hoard and has more experience than Malleus by at least 500 years. Usually Lilia encourages Malleus to be the final say in decisions but will put his foot down should it seem like the Dragon is making a poor choice or is acting too closely to his emotions. He is often the one who makes the rational suggestions in a heated moment and has greater control of his emotions due to his age.

- Lilia learned to cook through observation of the Humans he often took shelter with in times of war in Briar Valley. Because he was never officially trained to cook, he is abysmally bad at it but still tries so he can revisit those lovely memories of sitting around a table with a Human family, breaking bread and making friends over a shared meal. Lilia mourned the extinction of Humans more than most and even more than most Fae as he spent so long among the fragile species, protecting them and learning to love the beautiful and kind creatures that were so very different from himself.

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moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon · 3 months ago

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IN DEFENSE OF TRAVIS MARTINEZ:

Because I’m sick and tired of seeing travis hate everywhere I go.

“Travis was sexist.”

Did he spout some sexist rhetoric in the beginning of the show? Sure. But it’s important to recognize that: A) he changed, and by season 2 he completely stopped, B) he was a teenage boy in the 1990s, and that kind of rhetoric was normal at the time, C) most of his sexist macho tough guy attitude was a complete act that he likely put on to compensate for his insecurity about his own masculinity, and internalized homophobia. (More on that later.)

(Also let’s be real, Travis is basically one of the girls anyway and I’m tired of pretending he’s not.)

2. “Travis didn’t care about Javi.”

Did we watch the same show??? Granted Travis may have had trouble expressing his feelings (also related to his insecurities about masculinity, likely learned from his father, as well as growing up in a patriarchal and homophobic society), but he cared deeply about Javi. In S1E4, Travis literally DUG UP HIS DAD’S GRAVE, through horror, tears, and vomit, in order to retrieve his ring to give to Javi. When Javi disappeared, Travis kept looking for him every day for months, and never gave up, even when logically it would have seemed impossible for him to still be alive. He comforted and reassured Javi when neither of them drew the card. He cradled Javi’s dead body and ate a bite of his raw heart (which was a metaphor for how much he loved him, and a parallel to Shauna eating Jackie’s raw ear.) Maybe Travis wasn’t always there for Javi in the way he needed, but he absolutely loved him, and it’s important to remember that Travis was also a traumatized, grieving, kid who just lost his dad.

3. “Travis slut-shamed Nat.”

As we are literally shown in the show, Travis was not trying to slut shame her, he asked how many times she had done it because he was embarrassed about the fact that he was a virgin, and worried that she would judge him, or that he wouldn’t measure up because he was more inexperienced than her. When she told him she hooked up with Bobby Farleigh, he did not get mad at her because she slept with another guy (he already knew about that, and was fine with it), he got mad because she hooked up with his bully, and then lied to him about it. I don’t blame Nat for this, she didn’t know about it at the time, and didn’t want him to get mad once she found out, but I also don’t blame Travis for being hurt and embarrassed and upset with her for lying about it.

4. “Travis was just kind of a dick.”

Sure, but so were all of them. He acted like kind of a jerk in the first season. So what? Shauna had an affair with her best friend’s boyfriend, lied to her about it for months, and refused to apologize. Misty tried to drug Coach Ben. Nat faked his brother’s death to him (yeah, she was trying to help him move on, but still not cool). All of them called him “Flex” (y’know, the nickname that was used to bully him for years). None of them are perfect or nice or likable all the time, and that’s ok; that’s the whole point. They’re realistic, complex, flawed, morally gray and sometimes unlikable people. They’ve all done bad things, but nothing Travis did is worse than what anyone else on that show has done. He was a traumatized teen whose dad literally just died. Also, me personally, if everyone around me was constantly calling me the mean nickname that was used to bully me since middle school, I would also probably act like a little bit of a dick.

5. “Travis is a straight man.”

Wrong. (Also not really a valid reason to hate someone… But most importantly, just wrong.)

Travis Martinez is clearly a bisexual.

So many of his issues: the insecurity, the bullying, the macho tough guy act, the whole weird complex about his masculinity, all of it stems (at least partly) from the fact that he’s bisexual and has internalized homophobia. The whole “Flex” thing is just thinly veiled homophobia. The main reason why he got bullied is because Bobby Farleigh spread a rumor about him getting back surgery to better suck his own dick. The unsaid implication there is that he’s a man who sucks dick, which is inherently queer, even if it is his own. If you look even slightly past the most surface level interpretation, it’s pretty obvious that Travis was bullied because of homophobia. His performance of stereotypical toxic masculinity was clearly over compensation for the fact that he doesn’t fit into the box of traditional straight masculinity, and was a reaction to the bullying from his peers, abuse from his dad, and internalized homophobia from growing up in a homophobic and patriarchal society. As the show progresses he starts to unlearn that toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia, and he allows himself to be more vulnerable, emotional, and feminine, and as a result, he becomes stronger, more confident, and more respectful of the people around him.

As for Travis being a man… Is he though???

In season 1, Travis is a man (narratively speaking); there is a clear distinction between Travis/Coach Ben and the girls. However, in season 2, we see a stark shift in how Travis is depicted. The separation between Travis and the girls pretty much ceases to exist. Narratively speaking, there is no distinction made between Travis and the other girls; they are one entity—one hive mind. Instead, the emphasis is now placed on the distinction between Coach Ben and the girls/Travis. When Coach Ben watches the Yellowjackets eat Jackie in horror and disbelief, Travis is right there with them, dressed in ancient greek robes along with the rest of them. In season 2, Coach Ben is the only real Man of the group (Travis has narratively become one of the girls, and Javi is just a boy, not a man) and he is shown staying separate from the rest of the group, and growing more and more uncomfortable with the cultish dynamics, while Travis, on the other hand, becomes more and more integrated with the group, as he falls deeper and deeper into cult beliefs, until he is a full-blown devout Lottie worshipper. Of the three males on the show, he is the only one who actually participates in cannibalism with the other Yellowjackets. Also he lost his virginity to a lesbian.

Whether or not you choose to believe that Travis is transfem (I do) you cannot deny that, at least narratively speaking, Travis is literally just a girl.

6. Travis is a victim.

I don’t know why nobody in this fandom seems to acknowledge this, but Travis is a sexual assault victim and I’m tired of people constantly overlooking and ignoring that fact. In Doomcoming, the girls (excluding Jackie, Nat, Tai, and Van) chased him down, sexually assaulted him, and then tried to kill him. That’s not something that’s up for debate or denial, that is literally canon. Stop pretending it didn’t happen. Stop pretending it wasn’t assault. Stop shaming him and making fun of him for struggling with sex, or not always being able to get it up. That’s a normal trauma response after being assaulted/raped. You guys are literally proving the point. This kind of treatment from society towards masculinity and male victims is just playing into the patriarchy and toxic masculinity, and is exactly what made him act the way he did in season 1 in the first place!

#yellowjackets #travis martinez #travis yellowjackets #travnat #natalie scatorccio #natalie x travis #jackie taylor #shauna shipman #misty quigley #yellowjackets s2 #yellowjackets season 2 #natalie yellowjackets #javi martinez #javi yellowjackets #doomcoming #transfem travis martinez #bi4bi travnat #yj

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55sturn · 9 months ago

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✮ BUSIER THAN EVER

series masterlist!

pairing: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

synopsis: in which chris busies himself with training and practices, not realizing that it’s driving a wedge between him and y/n, leading her to believe that he’s hiding his true feelings about telling the world about their child.

warnings: swearing, angst, chris not being mentally present, verbal arguments, mentions of depression, anxiety, vomiting, chris is being a jackass, angst, this is another sad chapter sorry.

THIRD PERSON POV

waking up to an empty house and being left alone with her thoughts has become a common occurrence for y/n. chris used every window and opening in his schedule to be away from the house as y/n began collecting trinkets and furniture for the nursery.

she figured he just wanted to get as much ice time in right now as possible before the baby came. but there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach, telling her that chris didn't want to be home while she prepped for the baby and began nesting.

that raw, unwavering feeling told her that chris was sticking around for her sake, for the sake of not letting another kid come into this world without both parents. not because he wanted to raise and start a family. it led her to believe that he wasn't sticking around for the sake of loving the life growing inside her.

so as she unboxed a few of the baby items that she had ordered from small businesses online, she felt an overwhelming sadness claw at her heart. this was supposed to be a bonding moment for her and chris. preparing the nursery as expecting parents was supposed to be a shared core memory, and yet here was, putting together the baby's room alone.

she couldn't reach out to matt and nick because chris had led them to believe that he was all in. that he wanted this as much as y/n did, and if she expressed that she had been completely alone thus far, it would cause a rift between chris and his brothers, and that would be the straw that breaks the camel's back in their relationship.

she had already taken something from him by announcing the pregnancy to him instead of terminating it, so she couldn't bear to take anything else from him. she started to feel like a black hole in the universe of chris' life. she felt like she had sucked up everything that he once loved, only to spit them back out and turn them into something he despised.

the baby blue giraffe statue that she held fell from her grasp as sobs wracked her body. the crashing and shattering sound of the ceramic figurine only amplified her sobs. she felt so lost and alone.

after grabbing the broom and dustpan, she quickly swept up the broken shards, disposing of them, and returning to the room she was converting into a nursery, making quick work of folding the baby blankets and jumpers, placing them in the closet for the time being.

once she had finished unpacking her orders, she made her way into the kitchen, her body exhausted and drained with dried tear tracks on her cheeks. she made herself a quick meal, dishing out another helping for chris, again, out of pure habit. as she ate, she stared at the empty seat across from her.

she thought of all the dinners they shared, the loud laughs, the loving smiles they flashed as they ate in comfortable silence, and the domesticity of it all, and the memories tugged at her heartstrings. they felt like a distant blur in the back of her mind. she couldn't remember the last time they sat down together without it leading to a tense silence or an angry conversation. she looked down at the small bump forming beneath her shirt with tears in her eyes,

"looks like it's just going to be me and you, baby."

chris was stressed. he didn't know what to think. all he did was train, practice, go home, fight with y/n, sleep, and repeat. he tried so hard to believe he wanted the family life right now, but the selfish part of his mind told him that having a family would only drag him down.

that same selfish part told him that his career was all he needed right now. that his position on the bruins was the most important thing going for him currently. and he tried hard to sway that part of his mind but it was no use.

he did want a family of his own, more than anything, but he couldn't convince himself that now was the right time for it. and he couldn't bring himself to be in the house while y/n put together the nursery because it reminded him of what he was going to give up.

it reminded him that he had a choice, his family or his career. he knew he needed to be there for y/n but he was angry and frustrated and that led to him shutting her out. he knew he was fucking up but he just couldn't see that he needed to be there for her, not when she is the reason he felt like his life was in shambles.

and he hated himself for feeling like that towards her, he knew it wouldn't be a permanent feeling, he just needed to come around to the news but it'll take time.

as chris walked into the house, he was met with silence, and for the first time in a long time, he missed hearing y/n run up to him with her arms open wide. as he walked through the house, he stopped at the nursery, and found her curled up in a ball on the plush recliner placed in the corner of the room. as he approached her, he noticed the dried tear tracks staining her cheeks, and for the first time in a long while, he felt his heart constrict. had he really left her alone while she was battling such intense feelings? had he really left her alone in a fragile state? normally when he left for practice, he'd check in on her. and yet, he's acting like she doesn't exist.

he felt anger stew in his chest as he realized how selfishly he had been acting. he knew better than to abandon the girl he loves, and yet, he'd been doing just that without showing any remorse. sighing, he gently shakes her, stirring her awake.

"hey ma, why are you sleeping in here?"

"i figured you would want to sleep when you got home so i decided you could have the bed and i'll just sleep in here tonight." she whispers, her voice thick with sleep and distress as chris' brows furrow.

"why?"

"you've been so distant lately, i figured you'd want the bed to yourself so instead of causing another fight, i can just give it up."

"y/n don't."

"you're never here anymore chris and it is killing me to go through this alone but i can't make you want this, so the best i can do is let you be alone and come to terms with whatever is happening on your own."

"i do want this, what the fuck do you mean?" chris spits, his voice raising as she sits and stares at him, her face void of all emotion while chris' face grows taut with frustation.

"no you don't chris. if you did, you'd be here, you'd help put this room together, you wouldn't leave me alone to deal with it all by myself if you wanted this. you're making yourself and your family think you want this because you can't stand letting people down but you're already doing that. you're never here and you're starting to hate me. i can't remember the last time you hugged or kissed me since i told you i was pregnant chris."

"i do want this, it's just so new to me and i need to process."

"you don't think i need to process? you don't think it's new to me?"

"i never said that!"

"well the way you act chris, shows that you have no regard for what i am dealing with during all this. i need you and instead of being here, i'm losing you. you're pushing me away and shutting me out and you still blame me. it's not fair."

"well i need to focus on my career too." chris seethes, his chest falling and rising rapidly, quickly growing stressed as they start to have the same fight they've had almost every day.

"your career isn't everything chris, and you promised me that when you got drafted that i wouldn't come second place to it but i guess breaking promises has become your thing."

"can we get this over with? i'm tired and i just wanted to see my girl."

"am i really your girl chris? or am i just here?"

"y/n, come on, you know i love you." chris sighs, crouching in front of the girl as tears well along her waterline.

"i don't know that chris! you don't say it anymore."

chris sighs as his lips turn downward, without another word he pulls the girl to her feet and takes her place in the recliner, pulling her into his lap. as he tucks her head against his chest, right above his heart, he realizes that he really was letting the one person that he's ever loved slip away because he fed into his own selfishness, not seeing how badly it was killing her.

"i know it's hard to trust me right now baby, but i do want this, i'm just so overwhelmed and scared but i'm going to do better."

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee

taglist: @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @strawberrysturniolo @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @cutenote @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @33sturniolo @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @hesvoid3434 @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x fem reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo x fem!reader #christopher sturniolo oneshot #christopher sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo smut #back to december universe #back to december [my og work]#hockey boyfriend au #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #Spotify

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ryoko1232 · 1 month ago

Text

Background, english is not my native language, i never promised something good, all I said is I wanted to write

(Also got no beta readers, this is RAW)

This is like chap 1/2

Unoriginal Idea : what if Polites and Odysseus ate the lotus fruit?

Slight NSFW (dw the smut is in chap 2 if i ever write it)

@jugganautism you wanted to see it here it is

1051 words (was losing motivation sorry)

“Here you go!” The lotus eater pushed fruit to their feet and Polites’s eyes lit up. “See? This life is amazing when we greet it with open arms!” Both Polites and Odysseus bit into the fruit as the Lotus eating creatures sang with Polites. “Whatever we face, we'll be fine if were leading from the heart!” Polites hugged Odysseus as he continued singing. “No matter the place, we can light up the world here's how to start!” Polites smiled as he looked Odysseus in the eyes. “Greet the world with open arms, greet the world with open arms!” Both men sang in unison.

They took a bunch of Lotus fruit, thanking the Lotus eaters as they left. Though after a few minutes, they fell, their heads were dizzy as they went unconscious. Waking up an hour later their minds were relaxed and… empty. “Ody!” Polites hugged Odysseus, kissing him on the neck and nuzzling him. Odysseus couldn't think any thoughts, it was so hard to think, but… why think when there was a pretty boy right infront of him.

Odysseus grabbed Polites’s face and started kissing it, guiding his tongue deep in his mouth. Polites almost started choking if they hadn't pulled apart, though, he was quick getting on top of Odysseus. They were very sticky since they fell on top of the Lotus fruit, that caused Polites's top to fall leaving his chest bare.

Odysseus quickly started to lick the fruit’s jam(?) off of Polites's peck. Feeling Ody’s tongue playing with his nipples made him whimper, he gasped when he started sucking. Moans could be heard as Polites slowly hump Ody, he started to warrant blood in his mouth due to the Lotus, but he felt too good to care. When Ody bit down, it caused Polites to jump away. Ody immediately went back onto Polites, kissing him once more. As they passionately made out, the crew wondered where they were.

“It's only hours away from sunrise, I should go look for them” Eurylochus announced, “disobeying captain? Really?” Perimedes replied. “Captain said to wait for him, it might be dangerous” Elpenor said behind Perimedes, causes him to respond with, “Obviously, its dangerous!”. “Ody is like a brother I cannot live without, knowing I could've save him from death is a worse pain then never going home” Eurylochus reasoned, Perimedes only tsked, “this is why you shouldn't have connections, you're getting yourself killed!”. “For the lives of my friends!” Eurylochus said, “As second to command you have no right to talk back, if I am not back when the sun directly above you, you have my permission to burn the island” he commanded the crew.

“If you don't return who will be the next captain?” Perimedes lit up, “I would suggest votings, though if Choosing one was obligated, my vote goes out to Menelaus” Eurylochus’s words caused an argument among the crew while he left, he heard Agamemnon shout “I SHOULD BE CAPTAIN, OBVIOUSLY!”.

Ody and Polites were cuddling up, Polites was nuzzling, kissing and lightly sucking Ody’s neck as he held him tight. They were surrounded by crushed Lotus fruit, a bit of blood stains from Ody’s bite and from a few scraps they got from rustling around in the grass. When Eurylochus found them he was horrified, “ODY! POLI! ARE YOU TWO OKAY??” He immediately went to their side.

“Eury!” Polites smiled and pulled him into the hug, Eurylochus sat up, and made sure the two followed. “What happened?” He asked, “Oh! Uhhhh… I don't know” Odysseus shrugged, Eury was scared that a witch had erased his memories. “Eury you should have some food!” Polites offered some Lotus fruit to Eury and he knew what happened. “Ody, Poli, please tell me you did not eat that” “why?” “Ody, look at the way the fruit is glowing and filled with glowing seeds” the gestured to the fruit in his hands “ it's a Lotus, it controls your minds and… never… lets you… leave…” Eurylochus realized what he was saying. Odysseus and Polites couldn't leave the spell of the fruit, they’re trapped.

No no no no no, he couldn't lose his friends… there- there has to be something they can do. “Ody, Poli, follow me” Eurylochus said though the two men showed no rush in getting up. “Why? Come on it's so relaxing here!” Polites smiled, leaning into Odysseus. Eurylochus needed to get going before their men lit the island up, so in desperation he picked both of them up and carried them to the ship. The crew was very surprised to see them. “Woah, what happened?” Menelaus asked, tears already prickling his eyes Eurylochus said “Th-they ate Lotus fruit! They're minds are trapped!”. “Lotus fruit…” the crew echoed, “told you they were gonna-” Elpenor shoved Peremides to stop him from continuing.

“Oh gods what am I gonna do-- how does one even undo a lotuses magic?? do we wait for it to wash off?? oh dear-” Eurylochus was panicking, while he was panicking Ody and Poli was back to making out. “WOULD YOU TWO STOP MAKING OUT SO LOUD I'M TRYING TO THINK HERE!” Eurylochus snapped at them. “Captain.. what's the funny man saying there?” Poli asked resting his head on Ody’s shoulder. “I’unno but I don't like his tone” Ody replied looking at Eurylochus.

Eurylochus couldn't care less, he was so worried that his friends were trapped like that, the he would have to explain to his sister in law, mother in law, and wife that Ody was like… THAT. Not to mention how devastated Polites’s family would be. The haven't left the island as they tried to hatch a plan, before someone pipes up “why don't we just lock them in the captain cabin”. “And what good would that do exactly?” Another asked, “Buddy, look at them” the first replied gesturing at the two men who were making out. Ody hd his hands on Polites's hips, guiding him back and forth as he deepens their kiss.

“Yup throw them in the cabin” Perimedes says already grabbing Polites off Odysseus, Elpenor followed with Odysseus.

#epic the musical #epic odysseus #polites #odysseus #eurylochus #odypoli

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leonw4nter · 9 months ago

Note

Cool thanks for answering! In that case, can I ask for some headcanons about Leon and a younger sibling reader that has to work as an agent with him? Poor guy needs a bit of company in his misery.

Leon Headcanons on working with his agent sibling…

Any version of Leon + GN!Youngersibling (3 year gap) (TW : Mentions of alcoholism and smoking)

Had you not followed your older sibling into Raccoon City, desperately trying to get him from going in there after hearing reports of a mysterious yet lethal outbreak only to get tangled in this mess, you wouldn’t be standing in the dark office of the president of the United States, standing alongside your older brother.

You were just 19, like the other girl you and Leon came across in the city. Nineteen with big dreams of becoming a nurse and helping people take better care of their health, just like how Leon wanted to help people and keep them safe when he joined the police academy. Neither of you expected your lives to turn out this way, as lap dogs for the government’s fight against bioterrorism.

For missions, you and Leon were usually separated because they deemed him better than you. Of course, you wanted to be with your brother and same went for him but he had missions he couldn’t say no to or else Sherry and Claire would be in danger. You trained hard and proved yourself to the bigwigs of USSTRATCOM but they continued to send you on missions different from Leon’s. Leon felt slight relief at that; his missions were far more taxing and demanding and getting you endangered would be too much for him to handle.

Leon would usually frequent nearby bars to drink after a particularly harsh mission, often falling drunk inside the bars and needing to be picked up by you. It broke your heart to see him like this, getting drunk and relying on bottles of alcohol to escape whatever was plaguing his mind. Most nights involved you taking care of him, tucking him in and placing medicine along with a glass of water for his hangover the next morning.

You would quietly cry to yourself when you saw Leon this way because it reminded you of how Leon took care of you when you were sick, your older sibling doing his best to make you feel better and get back to full health back in the orphanage. You rarely got to express what you truly felt since your line of work required you to appear strong and unbreaking. You knew how exhausted and miserable Leon is so you usually kept thoughts and feelings to yourself.

Leon didn’t mind eating anything that was edible but not nutritious; as long as he had something to eat in order to sustain himself for the next few days in the mission, he considered himself lucky. Seeing you eat what he usually ate made him feel horrible; you were trying not to gag on the snake meat, not even chewing the raw meat and just straight up swallowing it to avoid having the taste in your mouth. He tried his best to make sure you had better food so you wouldn’t look even more miserable than you already are.

You were who Leon first thought of when Shen Mei refused to leave her younger brother as her mansion blew up and slowly crumbled down to the ground. As much as he wanted to save Jun See and her, all of his efforts would be futile so he had no choice but to rush her out. He saw the state Jun See was in and that further strengthened his resolve on making sure that nothing ever happens to you.

Your and his early life was difficult, usually having to move and end friendships with schoolmates and neighbors because your family had connections to crime syndicates. You don’t remember much about the death of your parents, except that Leon refused to have you look at them until they were ready for a burial and made sure that they looked less unsettling with their lifeless eyes and pale skin tainted with blood. From then on, he took on a parental role in your life.

When he asked Hunnigan if she could fake his and Helena’s deaths, he also requested that she tell him the exact way you reacted. Of course, you didn’t take it well; you had just gotten off of a physically-demanding mission in Serbia and badly needed sleep.

“Y/N. There’s something I have to tell you,” Hunnigan’s voice came from the other end of the line. Adjusting the phone to your other hand and tucking the one that previously held the phone into the pocket of your trousers, you leaned against the wall. Your tired gaze drifted over to the wall-mounted TV, playing the news. Suddenly, the broadcast was interrupted and news of the President’s death was publicised. There were also other deaths reported, specifically deaths of agents close to the President, one of those names being your older brother’s. “Your brother’s dead.” Hunnigan somberly disclosed. “I’m sorry for your loss.” The phone almost slips from your hands, your grip faltering as they tremor. The room is spinning and even breathing feels like a chore, tears wetting your eyes before they leave salty trails on your bruised cheeks. “No he’s not,” you assert in denial. “No, Hunnigan. He’s not– they just misidentified a body, right?” Hunnigan’s silence spoke volumes. In a culmination of the lack of sleep, the flurry of emotions, and the denial of the fact that the last person keeping you connected to your family is dead, you ended up snapping and losing your composure, screaming into the television and crying.

In order to cope with his death, you picked up a habit of his: drinking. Worse, you tried smoking. The smoke tasted horrible but the tar drying up your throat felt better compared to the dryness caused by endless crying and screaming at God for taking him away from you– if there even was one to begin with.

Despite having practically begged your superiors to not be placed in a mission because you couldn’t do it, they didn’t heed your requests and still sent you to missions overseas. Many times you contemplated not returning home, just going MIA or dying in a country unknown to you– foreign blood on foreign soil. Leon wasn’t alive anymore, there was no one to live for, and the government wants you to keep working for them until a BOW eventually snuffs the life out of you so what was the point of even living?

Six months later, Leon managed to come back to you in one piece. You thought that it was a cruel hallucination induced by the ungodly lack of sleep and the drunken state you were in after having finished a myriad of bitter drinks. Heavy footfalls neared you before stopping at your side, a warm and very much alive Leon giving you a tight hug. Of course, you slowly snapped out of the habit and started taking care of yourself again, even if it was hard to stem a vice.

After a certain mission and being laid off for a little bit, you attempted to knock some sense back into him. You tried to get him to stop drinking, though it was no use. It upset you to see him do the same things you did when you thought that he died, knowing how self-destructive this can get if no one is there to get him out of it. Luckily for you, Chris and Rebecca managed to help you get him back on his feet and start his journey towards sobriety.

Fortunately, you and him were transferred under the DSO and have been sent on missions together, much to your relief. Though it was still a misery doing these things with no definite end in sight, it felt comforting to be with your brother. The latest mission in Alcatraz was a partial success: Dylan Blake being dead but Antonio Taylor, the man you two were sent to retrieve, is also dead.

Leon groans as he rolls his shoulder, a hand coming up to where the bullet scar in his shoulder to ease the tension in his muscles. “God, we’re getting too old for this,” he jokingly mumbles as he continues to stretch his limbs on the way to the helicopter that will pick everyone up. “Who’s ‘we’? That’s just you, pops. I’m still relatively young,” you cockily respond with a mischievous smirk. He just rolls his eyes and scoffs, walking in silence to the elevator. You see Claire in front of you and you wave with a small smile, Leon averting his gaze to elsewhere and Claire following suit. “You should seriously set things right with her again,” you softly suggest. You knew about the falling out between her and Leon, the two never having spoken to each other in a long time due to their differences. Claire had her reasons to be upset but Leon didn’t act on it because he wanted to keep defending the government and their questionable stances regarding the war against BOWs; he simply wanted to keep Claire safe, make sure that the government wouldn’t hurt her. “Yeah. I’ll… I’ll think about it,” Leon quietly mutters. You give him a small pat, adding an encouraging squeeze to his shoulder (more like giving the shoulder strap of his compact bullet-proof vest a squeeze).

NOTE - I finally managed to do this request!!!! A bunch of requests have been marinating in my inbox so to be able to accomplish this one feels heavenly. I hope that the anon who requested this headcanons (that sorta turned into drabbles... sorry I got carried away) would like this :)) Anyways, I got a weird ass request but declined to write it (i replied to it) and I came across another blog who also got a request where the reader is also itchy so this is... interesting... Be careful out there, there's weirdos lurking :/ Umm that's it, I hope you enjoyed this and TYSMMM for reading my works!!!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!

The hanging star divider is made by @benkeibear , the images are from Pinterest.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #fluff #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy fluff #biohazard #resident evil headcanons #leon kennedy headcanons #slight angst

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klbwriting · 9 months ago

Text

Finally Home - Jason Todd Blurbs

Jason Is Sick

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Jason has the flu so you spend the evening taking care of him

Note: These just keep getting cuter to me

You were shocked that Jason was actually taking a night off, at least you were when he called you at work. He seemed fine, telling you that Bruce and the others were going out and that he was staying in. It worried you, why would he stay in? He loved patrolling, protecting the city, taking out the bad guys, and even sometimes, he liked hanging out with his brothers, even if he wouldn’t admit that. So you were expecting the worst when you got home from your day job. And it was smart for you to be suspicious.

Jason was on the couch, three blankets over him, head on a pillow and the normally neat coffee table was covered in tissues. You closed the door, and he looked up, eyes red and watery, nose rubbed raw from tissues, his face pale and sweating. He looked terrible and your heart ached.

“Jaybabe, what happened, you were fine earlier?” you asked, setting your stuff from work aside and going over to kneel by the couch. He sniffled and shrugged. “Did you take anything?”

“Nah, nothing’s in the house to take and I can’t move, everything hurts,” he groaned. You sighed and kissed his head. He had a little fever; you assumed the flu was running roughshot through his system.

“I’m going out, I’m going to get you some flu meds and then I’m coming back and making you soup, ok?” you said. Normally Jason would get up, say he was fine, and he would do it, so when he just stayed there and nodded you knew he was going to be laid up for at least another day. Jason Todd was one of the strongest men you had ever met, and you hated seeing him like this, completely unlike himself. You kissed his head again and ran out to the corner store, getting everything you needed. You were met halfway home by a costumed Dick Grayson.

“How is he?” Dick asked. You could see his concern despite his mask.

“He is fine Nightwing, I’ve got meds and soup stuff, and he will be back patrolling soon,” you said. Dick nodded and handed you a bag.

“Batman thought he might want this,” he said. You took the bag and peeked in, smiling softly.

“That was thoughtful, I told him he shouldn’t have left it behind,” you said. Nightwing hopped back on his bike and took off and you headed home.

After giving Jason his meds, you went about making soup as Jason fell asleep watching Food Network. You finished and tasted it, still a little peeved it never would taste as good as Jason’s did when you were sick, but you got him a bowl and some crackers, along with water and set it on the coffee table, gently coaxing him awake.

“Come on baby, let’s sit you up,” you said, gently helping him sit. He crossed his legs and tried draping the blankets over him still. You laughed and set the soup in his hands and then wrapped the blankets around him yourself before going and getting what Dick had given you.

“Bruce sent this over, thought you might want it,” you said, gently offering him the stuffed Teddy Bear. He stared at it for a moment before reaching out and taking it, setting it in his lap as he ate your soup. You sat down on the end of the couch, putting on The Lord of the Rings, knowing that Jason would love a good comfort movie. He ate silently, almost finishing the soup before setting it down. He scooched and laid his head in your lap, and you started gently petting his hair, glad to feel that he was no longer warm to the touch. You hoped the meds worked overnight and he would be back to normal in the morning.

“Your soup was good,” he said softly. You smiled. “Not as good as mine though.”

“Bat brat,” you called him, gently smacking his shoulder. He laughed and snuggled into your lap more.

“I love you YN,” he whispered sleepily, eyes closing. You leaned down and kissed his head again.

“I love you too Jason.”

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jasontoddblurbs

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according2thelore · 8 months ago

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omg i love that es sam post!!! imagine him “taking a break” from the three of them. he’s a jealous bitch and feels like they don’t even WANT him around, they all like each other better anyway!! cue Flagstaff Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

gosh!

if sam ran away, it would be an absolute shitshow, lol. i don't know if i think he would full-stop run away. i think maybe it would be a miscommunication--especially since for ES!Dean, stanford is so fresh and raw.

in my head, i'm picturing maybe ES!Sam steps out because he found a lead on a surprisingly non-BS book on time travel at a new-age bookshop a town over and gets stuck out overnight. and honestly, he's not that mad about it. he could do with a fresh night at a motel away from the Sammy and Dean show (and will not admit that it stings that he's not the 'sammy' in question). plus! sunlight! he hadn't realized how dark and damp everything is underground until he actually has a room with a window.

at first, as much as it sucks to admit, no one really notices at first. ES!Sam has really tried to distance himself from everyone (much more at the beginning of this ordeal than a few weeks in), and spends most days either archiving a storage room that LS!Sam told him about just to have something to do or in he and ES!Dean’s room avoiding them.

so LS!Dean is the first to notice. he's just had the idea to maybe reach out and offer the kid a grilled cheese for lunch. but...he can't find him. anywhere.

he goes to ask ES!Dean&LS!Sam who are tucked in next to each other in one of the armories, giggling, and LS!Dean gets distracted for a bit at how irritating--and honestly?? kind of arousing--they are together.

they "split up and look for clues" as LS!Dean puts it, quite excitedly, and ES!Dean kind of flushes like 'wow you're such a dork' but he's practically skipping down the hallway and LS!Sam rolls his eyes.

once their search turns up no sam...it's Hit Every Alarm Bell Time.

ES!Dean is the most freaked out. what if ES!Sam got taken back to the past without him? what if ES!Dean's stuck here? what if whatever brought them both to the present kidnapped him? he's guilty because he should've noticed it sooner. he's been spending so much time with LS!Sam that he didn't even notice his own little brother was missing for what? hours? dean's little brother is his whole thing! and he didn't even notice! not to mention stanford is still so fresh for ES!Dean that he's absolutely the most freaked out about the Lack of Sam, and therefore absolutely the least helpful.

LS!Dean is in the middle. that is to say, on a scale of 0 to rip the building apart brick by brick ("hey, stop it kiddo, he's not in the fucking walls." "shut up, old man!") he's a 7. a Missing Sam is a Missing Sam, okay? you could bring any dean (even squirrel dean) in and tell him this, and that's a category five disaster. and this sam is small!!!! and alone in the world!!!!!!! he's calling local hospitals and jails, before widening the search. he's probably even on "foot" patrol (patrolling motels and town with Baby) which he drags ES!Dean into, because that poor kid's fourteen seconds away from having three concurrent heart attacks.

LS!Sam checks ES!Sam's search history. he promises to do a more thorough up-and-down of the bunker, including investigating if any of their artifacts that they've got spilling out of old boxes in almost every room, have the power to transport people. but then, he sees the laptop in ES!Sam's room (kid has a FASCINATION, and LS!Sam cringes to think of a time before laptops were widely available). and okay, yeah. let's check his search history. after 'curious college twink gets ass ate large hunky man hunk bearded middle aged' and oh. okay. ES!Sam found internet porn. cool. (LS!Sam does not notice that the 'hunky man hunk bearded middle aged' has light brown hair and a strong jaw and does not remember the website and thumbnail. because that would be weird!) LS!Sam sees the bookshop.

he calls LS!Dean, and he comes back so they can all hop the town over to go collect him.

they find him immediately under "dean plant" at a motel on the edge of town closest to lebanon.

he's groggy because it's five in the morning. the storm from the night before has barely cleared, and the smell of wet concrete hits him before he's even full awake as the door slams open.

he's got three guns pointed at him (two identical ones, one significantly less scratched than the other; and the third is very familiar) and an ES!Dean that immediately falls upon him like a regency woman reuniting with her long-estranged husband returned after years of war.

LS!Sam keeps trying to calm the situation down with calm words and an annoyed glance at ES!Sam but mostly calm. and LS!Dean is just pissed.

"where'd you go? why'd you go? why are you here? the storm? yeah i guess it was kind of bad. but that's no excuse! oh they closed the bridge because of the flooding. well you could have called! no phone. hm. well. you can't go disappearing like that, kid."

and ES!Sam is kind of equally pleased and annoyed. because honestly, he didn't think they would really notice. he didn't think he was an integral part of this machine that they occupy. he thought he was the weakest link, but they chased him down (even if it was only twelve miles) and—

(and ES!Sam tries not to think it, but it reminds him of a sermon at the church he visited once a month with brady, before brady stopped going to church (the church that made sam's feet tingle as in his shoes as soon as he stepped on hallowed ground); about the shepherd chasing down the wandering lamb, and how fucked is it that sam's thinking, in part, about himself? some bigger, stronger, wiser version of himself bringing him back into the fold? it makes sam shudder a little, bc sam didn't even question the part about dean being god, just himself.)

and later that night is when ES!Sam gets his first "we"--LS!Sam pulls him aside after dinner, and says quietly,

"we can't disappear on dean, okay?" he's quick to continue, because he can see the beginning of ES!Sam's indignant protest. "it was an accident. and they shouldn't've freaked out like that. but we go through...a lot. and he needs us. even in 2006. and he's glad we're here."

ES!Sam shrugs him off, but later that night, when he says goodbye to ES!Dean, he says "goodnight jerk," and dean relaxes against the doorframe. and sam thinks, maybe this isn't the worst thing that's happened to them. not as long as they're all in it together.

every time i say "oh this ran away from me" and UGH! every time it's TRUE! flagstaff pt 2: electric boogaloo would end with a lot less tears and anguish on all parts involved, i think. but like any good sequel, it would increase the stakes (TWO deans losing their minds + a bonus sam!).

thanks for this ask, anon! my brain really took to it, lol!

-lizzy <3

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #anon <3

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giselberts · 1 year ago

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HELLO Greedfall nation i bring you an absolute mess of headcanons that are kind of out of character but it's more about the possibilities. the potential.

vasco pretends that he doesn't care for kids, but he's always the first one in line to tell them about his adventures to impress them. he wants that clout so bad 😤

he also looks like the kind of guy who enjoys a nice hat? what kind of boat captain would he be if he didn't have a hat.

hat collector vasco who gets a new hat every time he's got a little personal victory… but also he has nowhere to store his hats. his tiny little cabin? all full of hats. send him help.

when siora finds out about his hat hobby, she sometimes gives him cool feathers to put in his hat!! and also to the hat wearers in the team, everyone gets cool feathers

when the gang is taking a little rest while there's still light in the sky, siora sometimes gives fun facts about the plant that surround them :)

kurt tries to do the same but instead of plant facts it's just stories about how his good army pal once tried to eat raw nettles. or how another good pal tried to wipe his ass with a leaf that looked exactly like that one over there. "kurt that's poison ivy" "oh. that explains why he wanted to die"

actually. kurt traumatises everyone with cursed army stories. they're not even about stuff he fought in, it's just stuff he witnessed among his fellow soldiers. "i knew a guy called 3-bean john. named that because on the 4th bean he ate he died of allergies" "kurt what"

ok this is diving more into DS territory (one that doesn't romance kurt) BUT HEAR ME OUT. constantin and DS clinging onto kurt when they're kids bc he's just sooo cool and sooo strong… he's their idol but also they don't like how he bosses them around even though that's literally his job? there's a fun little elder brother/younger siblings dynamic between them :)

which means that even when DS and constantin are older, they still do their best to be little shits around kurt. kurt looks at someone? "oooh kurt's got a little crush!" kurt tries to do something nice with his hair? "why do you have a bird's nest on your head. dumbass" kurt buys a new hat? "that is the ugliest thing we've ever seen. please pretend that you don't know us this is so embarrassing"

it annoys kurt but also he does the same in return. DS is flirting with someone on the team? "haha did you know that DS can't tie their shoelaces? do you really want to be seen kissing someone who doesn't know how to tie their shoelaces." (i have nothing against people who cant tie their shoelaces im just bad at coming up with stuff)

siora loves that dynamic between kurt and DS 😭kurt probably teaches her a thing or two on how to harmlessly clown on DS

wait going back to siora and plants. in my heart she teaches DS how to make little flower rings. bonus points if they're in a romance and DS goes "bro if you give me a ring that means we're married in my culture 😳" "bro😳"

#this is a mess to read im sorry #greedfall #siora greedfall #kurt greedfall #captain kurt #captain vasco #vasco greedfall #de sardet #in my heart. they are de sardine #unrelated i need to find the motivation to start this oc/kurt fic where everyone on the DS team clowns on kurt for not admitting #that he's got a crush.#also yes that 3 bean john thing is very much inspired by that one reddit post about army names

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autism-autobot · 4 months ago

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Flower of a Poisonous Seed Part 10

Wow! Double digits!

Tw: Pica, blood, self harm, (let me know if I missed anything)

Part 9:

To say Sun Wukong was stressed would be an understatement, but it hadn't gotten this bad in public before.

He didn't even entirely understand the reasoning behind his stress, although it could be because Nezha was taking a little bit too much time in his most recent meeting. And as usual, he was sitting on the couch in the Demon Bull Family's home.

Whenever Wukong was stressed, he had the most terrible cravings. It was the mixture of a trauma and a sorry attempt at coping with it. At least he thought it was sorry.

He was an emotional eater for as long as he could remember. Peaches usually did the trick. But there were no peaches for him to eat after Macaque left him starving under the mountain.

So he settled for eating himself.

Apparently, there was a word for his compulsive cravings: Pica, as one of his relatives has described it. Wukong ate his own hair often, it was satisfactory enough...

...usually.

But he was too stressed now. Hair wasn't enough. Not enough to satisfy his tastes at the moment.

So he started biting his hand, hard.

Wukong heard his bones snap and the felt the pain that followed soon after, but he didn't stop there. It took a few bites before he ripped off a whole chunk of his hand: the thumb and index fingers, and a good chunk of the palm, too.

Blood sprayed from the open wound. He swallowed as much of it as he could. With the whole chunk now thoroughly chewed up, he swallowed that too.

Luckily he had locked himself in one of many bathrooms in DBK's place, so no one would be able to find him like this.

Almost no one.

~~~

The Demon Bull King could smell his little brother a mile away, and it would serve him well now. He had the slightest bit of worry at finding the room he left Wukong to rest in empty. DBK didn't show it, of course. It was only when he picked up the unmistakable scent of blood mixed with his brother's natural odor did he really begin to panic.

He ripped the bathroom door clean off its hinges to find his peach-loving compatriot eating anything but that.

Demon Bull King scooped up Wukong while he was still shocked by the sudden arrival. Noticing his scared, teary, and regretful eyes and remembering the illness Nezha had informed him of, Demon Bull King decided not to lecture him now.

It was clear this was the result of a mentally unwell and quite sickly individual.

Oh, his poor brother.

~~~

The Demon Bull Family carefully inspected all of Sun Wukong's wounds: patches of raw flesh (the result of hair ripped to the scalp) , half a hand and a whole foot bitten (almost) clean off, and bleeding teeth and gums from eating through the aforementioned body parts.

None of them had the heart to lecture him. A strange occurrence, really, to have them of all people self-silenced on the matter. Wukong honestly preferred the yelling.

The family bandaged him up, put him in fresh clothes, and wrapped him up in a blanket. Demon Bull King held Wukong in his arms like a swaddled infant. Neither of them minded. It had been a long enough day as is.

~Some hours later~

SWK: I'm sorry.

DBK: It's alright, little brother.

SWK: I was stressed and scared.

DBK: I know, brother. Nezha should be returning soon. He has never taken this long before, has he?

SWK: No... what if something happened to him?

DBK: I doubt anything did.

PIF: Celestial meetings can take an unreasonable amount of time. I know from experience.

DBK: Even if something were to happen, he is a fierce opponent! All in this room know as much.

SWK: Yeah, I just get anxious without him around. He's been looking out for me for a while now, it's crazy to think that I ever managed alone.

RS: But you didn't manage alone, isn't that the whole point of the four of us acting as a support system?

PIF: Indeed, not to mention you have been getting sicker.

DBK: What even is the cause of your illness? And how far will this continue to progress before you show signs of recovery?

SWK: Honestly? I don't know. It might be purely mental. But it's affecting my body to such an extent that I'm not sure if it really is just my mental health going in a downward spiral.

RS: So we just do nothing?!

SWK: Nezha said he'd get to the bottom of this, his says he doesn't want me worrying any more than I have to in case it really is about my mental health alone.

DBK: So it is being dealt with?

SWK: Yeah, I think.

DBK: Better than waiting for something worse to happen to you.

PIF: Nezha is a very capable man, he'll get to the bottom of this.

RS: And speak of the devil! Look who's here!

Nezha: I apologize for my tardiness. I was setting up an appointment for Wu- *gets full body tackled by Wukong*

SWK: Hi!

Nezha: *pinned to the ground by Wukong's body weight* Hello Wukong.

SWK: I MISSED YOU!!!!!

Nezha: I missed you too. Setting up that appointment for you took longer than expected and that meeting took ages!

SWK: Setting up the what-

Nezha: We'll discuss it at home. For now... CAN YOU PLEASE GET OFF OF ME!!!!!

SWK: Sorry *gets off of him*

Nezha: You definitely lost weight since falling ill, but you still weight enough to feel like you'd crush my ribs in.

SWK: Can we go home now?

Nezha: Yes, yes we ca- WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU HANDS???!!!!

SWK: I had another pica incident.

The Demon Bull Family: ANOTHER????!!!!

Part 11:

Masterpost

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ann-writes-universes · 2 years ago

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Memento Vivere (Azriel x Reader)

A/N: I wasn't going to give a part 2 to "Memento Mori" but here we are. Hope this mends the heart ache a tad <3

Warnings: Angst (ish)

W/C: 2.2k (short and sweet <33)

Pain had never been so palpable, so real.

You had experienced grief, had felt those inky tendrils wrap around your heart and squeeze until you were sure you too would die. But never, never had you grieved for someone that was still attainable, still sitting here in front of you scooping peas and lamb onto their plate. Dinner was going as it always did. Wine was flowing and laughter was echoing amongst the walls of the river house dining room. Yet it was so different, so raw. Azriel sat across from you, silent and unnervingly still as he ate.

From her spot near the end of the table, Mor watched, watched as you watched him and bit your tongue. She had heard the argument in the kitchen days before, they all had heard it. Yet no one commented, no one pried. What could they have even said?

“(Y/N)?” She spoke, everyone quieting a bit when she addressed you. You hummed as you looked up, peering at her over the rim of your crystal glass. Smiling softly, she cut into her food and watched it as she continued speaking.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

Clearing your throat you glanced at Azriel who was now staring at you, and placed your glass down.

“Uhm. Yes, I have actually. I’ll go.” You nodded with a smile, pushing the carrots around on your plate. Everyone else was smiling, nodding softly. Azriel just looked confused.

“What offer?” He spoke around a bite, looking at his food once more. He was cutting the lamb with a stiffness that was foreign to him.

Everyone watched the two of you with bated breaths, poised to up and run if you erupted once more.

“Mor asked me to travel with her to the Steeps to survey some camps. Make sure they are following the laws.” You replied, not once looking at him as you replenished your glass and quietly asked Elain to pass the potatoes. His silverware clattered to the table top and his hands were clasped in front of him, squeezing together so hard his knuckles were white.

Rhysand let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, effectively pushing away from the firing zone if you decided to throw something at his brother.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Azriel grit out through clenched teeth. Raising a brow you looked up at him, twirling the dark liquid in your glass.

“Excuse me?”

“I said absolutely not. You won't be going with her.”

“Since when are you making decisions for me Azriel?”

“Maybe we should step outside.”

“No.” You replied firmly, setting the glass down and staring straight at him. He held your gaze as you flattened your palms on the table and leaned towards him, highly aware of the eyes on you, “I’m going with her to the steeps, because it is my job. Lest you forget I have one.”

“(y/n)...” Elain called softly, reaching to gently grab one of your flattened hands. You shook it off, perhaps a bit too violently. The Archeron sucked in a breath and retreated into her seat, you made a mental note to apologize later.

“What was it you thought I did again?” You asked, getting some sick form of satisfaction from the way his eyes shuddered and he leaned backwards in his seat. Scoffing, you stood from your seat and began to clean up your plate. Without bothering to ask if he was through you snatched his plate and glass from in front of him stacking them with your own.

“Oh thats right!” You laughed, fighting off the angry tears that burned your eyes. They were all watching you, looking utterly defeated. “Play Housewife. That's what you said I do. Well let me just do my fucking job then.” You growled before exiting the dining room with a slamming door that had Feyre jumping in her seat. Azriel sighed and slumped in his chair, rubbing his temples to ward off some imaginary migraine. Cassian whistled slowly with his brows raised as he and Nesta stood and made their leave, Elain following shortly after.

Mor watched him with narrowed eyes, absolutely itching to take her dinner knife and lodge it in his thigh if the pain would just open his eyes. Had he not heard the hurt and anger laced in your words? You had been practically pleading for him to listen to you, to fight back, to do something.

“Youre a fucking asshole.” She whispered, meeting his gaze for a moment before stalking off to find you. He watched her go through the corner of his eye, and stiffened as Rhysand and Feyre leaned impossibly closer.

“On with it then.” He spoke with a sigh. Rhysand’s lips thinned into a tight line and Feyre smiled sadly at her friend. The trio sat in silence for a moment before Rhysand spoke.

“Have you spoken to her?”

“The other day, yes.”

“No Az…” Feyre butted in, her voice urging his eyes to meet her own. The look she was giving him reminded him much of a sorrowful mother, unsure of how to help her child. “Have you spoken to her.” She urged, folding her arms on the table. The spymaster made to retort when Rhysand cleared his throat and fixed him with a pointed look.

“Speaking at her and speaking to her are two very different things brother,” Rhysand looked to Feyre then with a soft smile “Take it from me.”

Mor had found you in your room, and had stayed with you until she was sure you wouldn't break into sobs or begin to break the nearest items you could set your hands on. When she had left you weren't sure those options were entirely out of the picture.

How could he opt out of your life for months and then be upset that you were finally picking it up again?

Going to the steeps with Mor was risky, yes, but enforcing laws set by Rhysand was your job. A job you hadn't done in full capacity since the end of the war. It had been too hard, too heartbreaking to go into those camps and see those girls be brutalized and maimed. Agreeing to go and seek out wrong doings was a step in the right direction. A step in living your life again instead of taking the backseat position you had reduced yourself to.

After the argument you had in the kitchen with Azriel you had begun to lose hope that he would ever be present again, found it useless to keep mourning someone who had no interest in coming back despite how badly you craved him.

You curled further into your sheets, let their silky coolness envelope you and wrap around you tightly. Perhaps if you crawled far enough beneath them they would swallow you whole and the issues of the months past would cease to exist.

He had told you no.

Azriel had never been a fan of you dealing with the Illyrians. He had hated it before you were mated, before you loved. He knew you could handle yourself but hated the idea of you being caught off guard nonetheless. You wanted to cling to the anger he had shown tonight, the concern. But it had been so fleeting, so semipermanente that you shrugged it off and closed your eyes.

“You can't go.” Azriel spoke into the darkness of your bedroom, effectively having you sit up right with a gasp. He was leaned against the door, watching you through hooded lids. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his trousers and his wings were pulled tight. He looked nervous.

“I'm not doing this right now.” You muttered, rolling away from him to watch the stars outside of your window. You heard him move towards the bed, felt his side dip as he sat with his back to you, hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Just talk to me. Please?” He whispered.

“I have been trying to talk to you, Azriel. I'm beyond talking now.” You whispered, eyes racing between constellations beyond your room and the floor, unable to turn and look at him. He took in a shuddering breath and reached a hand backwards, resting it mere inches from your body.

“I know.”

“Why did you leave?” You asked, letting the question slip through. Your breaths were coming in achingly fast and the cavity in your chest was twisting with anxiety thick as tar. His hand retreated and if at all possible he sank further into himself, his wings falling around him. Rolling over you tucked your own hands beneath your head and watched him. Studied him.

Azriel swallowed thickly and turned his head to watch you over his shoulder, his eyes were roving over your own looking for something.

“Because I was terrified.” He breathed, eyes open wide and glistening. You swallowed your words and sucked in a breath. Terrified? Had you not all been? The fear that permeated the river house for weeks after the war had been so fresh. You had all been terrified that it wasn't over, that Hybern was not truly dead but laying in wait for the world to settle. Yet-... yet none of you had left each other.

He frowned knowingly. He had watched as your family stuck around for one another, laid awake with each other at night when the nightmares were brutal and the sobbing was too strong to handle alone.

“We all were Az.” You sat up then, tucking your knees into your chest. Suddenly you reminded him of a wounded fawn, retreating into the corner of the bed and beholding him with such wide eyes that he felt nasty and horrifying.

“I didn't want…” He trailed off, brows furrowing and mouth falling open as he searched for the right thing to say. “I didn't want you to see me terrified. I'm not supposed to be that for you.”

He straightened and a muscle in his jaw ticked. You realized then that he was still terrified.

Slumping forward you gently grabbed the hand he had laid out once more, noted the shuddering of his arm as you touched him for the first time in months. His eyes fell to your intertwined hands, and stayed there, studying.

He let it rope its way down the bond then, those inky tendrils of fear that had been wrapping around him for so long. It was hurt and despair so thick it nearly threatened to suffocate you. When you gasped in surprise the feelings faded completely, and his fingers tightened around your own.

“That's why I closed it off. I couldn't-” He looked away from you, towards the wall but kept his grip on your hand firm “I couldn't control it. I didn't want you to feel that.” His voice was hardly a whisper in the dark of your shared room. Barely breaking over the sound of the wind beyond your window.

“This isnt about me going to the Steppes is it?” You muttered then, refusing to break eye contact when his amber eyes found yours once more. Lips thinned into a tight line he shook his head ‘no’ and you only nodded. Using the grip you had on his hand you pulled him towards you. He relented but relaxed, allowing you to pull his body into your own. Legs still planted firmly on the ground you cradled his head against your chest, wrapped both arms around his shoulders and rested your chin in his inky black hair. He shuddered as your breath fanned his forehead and your fingers traced the patterns of his tattoos.

“We were made for one another shadowsinger. And that doesn't just mean we were made for the good of one another-” You silenced the words he threatened to speak with a hand gently pressed to his lips. “We were made for it all. And I promised you that much ten years ago.” You let the bond crack open on your end, let the love and aching pain you had felt leak through and wash over him. Highly aware of the tears spilling down his cheeks you pressed a firm kiss to the crown of his head and hugged him close. He wrapped his arms around your own and sucked in a shuddering breath, letting his fear crash like a tidal wave into the bond once more.

“I dont know how to come back from this.” He whispered into your arms, his words cracked with a sob. You stretched your legs and wrapped your body around him, curling your limbs until they were twisted safely around his large frame. He too pulled his aching body onto the bed and melted into you, allowing you to be his safety.

“We’ll figure that part out together, Azriel.” You pressed into his hair and squeezed your arms impossibly tighter around him. “For now we rest.”

And you reveled in the feeling of him relaxing against your body, in the thud of his boots hitting the floor as he kicked them off, and the slow thrum of his heart as he fell into sleep for the first time in months. Tucked into one another you laid awake, watching the moon pass over the Velaris and the stars twinkle brightly beyond your curtains. You pet his hair and whispered to his sleeping form for what felt like hours before you too fell into sleep. And for the first time in months you were blissfully unaware of the humming sidra outside. Replacing its harrowing melody was the steady beating of Azriel’s heart and the soft rise and fall of his chest pressed into your own.

TAGS:

@brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @younxii @momlo @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @highladyofillyria @crimsonandwhiteprincess @purplevitagen @isthataknuck

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kmomof4 · 6 months ago

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A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? Ch. 2

We are back with a new chapter!! Y'all!!!!! I am BLOWN AWAY by your enthusiasm for this fic!!!! Thank you all so very VERY much!!!! I hope you enjoy this new chapter and let me know what you think!!!

Thank you again to @jrob64 for her beta services and to @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 for listening to me whine. And I can't forget @motherkatereloyshipper for her beautiful artwork she did for the fic!!! Thank you all, ladies!!!

Chapter summary: Four years after Liam's death and Killian runs away to India, Emma and Killian both arrive in London for the new social season.

Words: Approx 7800 of approx 59,5k

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's Story, Smut in Later Chs.

On ao3 Current ch / From the beginning

On Tumblr Prologue

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

4yrs. later

It had been too long. Killian knew that. Four years in India. But, according to the letters his mother religiously sent, everything was fine back home. Emma excelled in the running of the earldom, so there was nothing to feel guilty about for staying away so long.

But he couldn’t stay away forever. When he’d come to India four years before - oh, hell, let’s be honest. When he’d run away to India four years before - it was with no more purpose than to get away from Emma. He couldn’t be near her. With her complete ignorance of his feelings for her, it wasn’t necessarily better for him to put eight thousand miles between them, but it was certainly easier. But once he arrived, to his great surprise, he found another purpose. He could see now why Liam had taken his seat in Parliament so seriously. When he arrived four years ago, he’d only had a name of a Royal Navy buddy who’d moved to Madras three years earlier. But within a month, he’d been appointed to a governmental post and was making decisions that actually mattered. It had given him a new purpose and a new outlook on life. Of course, it did nothing to curb his rakish tendencies, but over the years it had given him a sense of balance. It had given him time to actually make something of himself. And now… now that he was used to being addressed as Kilmartin - without looking over his shoulder for his beloved brother - it was time to actually return home and take up the duties of the earl.

He’d have to face her, of course. Maybe four years was enough time away from her that his heart could handle the rigors of being in close proximity with the one he loved. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he no longer loved her. He was quite sure he’d love her until the day he departed this earth. But maybe now - with the grief no longer so raw - maybe now he could be Emma’s friend, as she so ardently desired in those dark days after Liam’s death.

Either way, he was glad it would be March when he disembarked. Too early for Emma to have arrived in London for the season. Because honestly, there was truly nothing more frightening - not war, not an Indian tiger - than facing Emma Nolan Jones.

Decision made, he instructed a quite relieved Smee to book them passage on the Princess Amelia. He was going home.

~*~*~

Emma wanted a baby.

It wasn’t a new desire, but it had rather snuck up on her and it was only now that she could actually say it… out loud… to herself. Or not exactly say it, but at least think it… out loud… to herself. In a manner of speaking. Pun not intended.

It had begun innocently enough. A pang in her heart when she read a missive from her sister-in-law Mary Margaret, married to her eldest brother David, telling her all about their son, Leo’s latest escapades. He was nearly three and already giving them fits.

Then when her elder sister, Regina, descended upon Kilmartin Estate in Scotland with her brood of three - Richard age eight, Roland age five, and little Rebekah only eighteen months - she’d been amazed at how the Locksley children transformed Kilmartin. There was noise, and laughter, that had been sorely lacking for years. Likely since Liam and Killian were boys.

When they left, it was quiet. Not peaceful. Just silent.

And Emma was changed.

Now, when she saw a nursemaid pushing a pram, her heart ached. If she saw a rabbit cross a path, she missed a small someone beside her to point it out to. When she visited her family in London, and all her nieces and nephews finally left for the evening, she lay in her bed and realized that if she didn’t do something to change it, her life never would change. She’d live this life and eventually die.

Alone.

Not unhappy - her life was far too full and enjoyable for that - but alone. In the four years that Liam and Killian had been gone, she’d grown into her role as Countess Kilmartin, the sole caretaker of the holdings and land. Killian had never married after leaving for India, so she had retained all her duties as Countess. He’d left instructions for her to run the earldom as she saw fit and hadn’t interfered since. It was a precious gift that Killian had given her. She realized that now, even if it took her a long time to forgive him for leaving her in the first place. It gave her a purpose. A goal. A reason to stop staring at the ceiling.

She had friends and a wonderful family, both the Nolan and Jones sides, but the only thing missing, the one thing that would make her truly happy, was a baby. Which meant, of course, that she’d have to remarry.

Emma sighed as she considered it. It seemed a bit strange to imagine herself married to anyone but Liam. Potentially bearing a child that wouldn’t look like him. But if she wanted a baby, there was really no way around it. Even four years later, her wardrobe still consisted mostly of the grays and lavenders of half-mourning. She was going to need a whole new wardrobe for the approaching season if she was going to put herself on the marriage mart. She’d buy green, to match her eyes. She’d buy blue, pink, and yellow, her favorite color. She might even buy - she shivered in anticipation just thinking about it - red.

The decision was made. She’d go down to London a month early and prepare to find herself a husband.

And that was that.

~*~*~

It was absolutely frigid. And it was entirely her fault. She’d forgotten to send notice that she’d be arriving early for the London season, so when she arrived at Kilmartin House, she found only the skeleton crew of staff and the stores of coal and candles perilously low.

She’d been assured that all would be rectified on the morrow, once the housekeeper and butler made a mad dash to Bond St, but for now, she shivered under the blankets on her bed. The housekeeper had offered to collect all the coal she could find for Emma’s bedchamber, but Countess or no, she wasn’t so high and mighty that she’d condemn the staff to a freezing night just so she could be comfortable. And anyway, the room was so large, it was always difficult to heat properly unless the rest of the house was warm as well.

The library. The library was small enough and with the door closed, a fire in the grate would keep the room quite cozy indeed. Plus there was a small settee she could lay on. She climbed out of bed and wrapped her robe around herself before peeking out into the quiet hallway.

She tiptoed down the hall and then the stairs, the heavy wool socks she wore slipping on the polished surface. She opened the door to the library and stifled a scream. A man stood in front of a cheery fire, warming his hands. Her head darted left and right, searching for anything she might use as a weapon when the man turned. Emma gasped.

“Killian?”

~*~*~

He hadn’t known she was in London. He hadn’t even considered she might be in London. Dammit, what was she doing in London? Not that it would have made any difference in whether he came back or not, but he at least might have been prepared. Prepared to be the charming and irredeemable rake she knew him to be.

But no. Here he was just gaping at her, trying desperately not to notice she wore nothing more than a sheer red gown and night robe, where he could just see the outline of the curve of her… don’t look, Don’t Look, DON’T LOOK…

“Killian?” she asked again.

“Emma,” he greeted, because he had to say something, “what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” she asked, her whisper a bit more strident this time. “What are you doing here? I’m not the one supposed to be in India.”

Killian shrugged as casually as he could manage it and turned back to the fire. “Thought it was time to come home, was all.”

“Couldn’t you have written? Informing us you were coming?”

He raised an eyebrow sardonically before he replied. “To you?” It was a direct hit and he knew it. He only felt a little dismayed at her hard swallow of guilt. He’d written to her a few times after he left for India, but when it became clear that she wasn’t going to reply, he maintained his correspondence through his mother.

“To anyone.” Her whisper was hushed now and Killian brushed aside the guilt her quiet accusation engendered. “We could have had the house ready for you.”

He shrugged again. “It’s ready enough.”

“Someone could have been here to meet you.”

He couldn’t help the smirk that lifted the corner of his lips. “You’re here.”

She huffed indignantly. “You still could have written. It’s only courteous.”

“Emma,” he said, exasperated. “Do you have any idea how long it takes a letter to get here from India?”

“Five months,” she answered, promptly. “Four, with favorable winds.”

“By the time I decided to come, it wouldn’t have done any good. The letter would have gone out on the same ship I was on.” He paused for a moment. “And does it really matter?”

Now it was Emma’s turn to shrug. “I suppose not.” She smiled gently at him and that damned place behind his ear itched. “It is good to have you back. Your mother will be thrilled.” He turned back to the fire, the better to hide the grim smile on his face.

“Yes,” he murmured, “I’m sure she will be.”

“As am I-I,” she stammered, “of course.”

She didn’t really sound as if she meant her words, but he decided to be a gentleman and not point it out.

“Are you cold?” he asked, instead.

“No,” she said quickly. Perhaps too quickly.

“You’re lying.”

She shrugged and looked sheepish. “Maybe?”

“For heaven's sake, Emma. If you’re cold, come warm yourself by the fire. I won’t bite.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, in a move to put him firmly back on the solid ground of their relationship four years ago. “Unless you ask me to.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she approached and Killian’s smile became more genuine. After a few moments of companionable silence, Emma spoke.

“You look well.”

“As do you.”

“It’s been a long time.”

He sighed before replying. “It has. Four years.”

He sounded sad to her ears. Regretful almost. Perhaps he was sorry he’d stayed away so long. Perhaps he’d missed her… home, rather. But she couldn’t ask him. Not now. Not here. Not with this tension between them. When they’d parted badly four years ago, they’d both been wounded animals, lashing out at those closest to them, but she had hoped that seeing him again would be easier than this. She’d certainly imagined it enough times. He couldn’t stay away forever. She’d always known there would come a day when he returned, and the reality of what she was experiencing now was the furthest from what she expected when he did. She wanted nothing more than her best friend back.

“So what are your plans?” she asked.

“Beyond getting warm?” he muttered.

She couldn’t help the small smile that touched her lips. “It is indeed chilly for this time of year.”

“I came home because I couldn’t stand the blasted heat anymore,” he said. “And here I am about to perish from the cold.”

“But it will be spring soon,” she tried to placate him.

“Ah, yes,” he replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Where the winds will merely be frigid instead of icy.”

She turned to look at him then. The light from the fire danced across his visage, creating shadows that made his features difficult to decipher. But this close to him, she could see that he had changed, however subtly. He was deeply tanned, of course, scandalously so, and the hair at his temples had just a touch of silver. But beyond that, he held himself differently. The smooth, effortless grace with which he moved was gone and now he seemed rigid. Tight. Like he was preparing himself for a blow.

The corner of her lips twisted into a smirk. “I suppose so. But Miss Blue has assured me the house will be restocked tomorrow. I only just arrived this evening as well, after failing to give notice.”

They were quiet for a few more moments. “So what are you doing here?” he asked again.

She turned to him, surprised. But then realized she’d never answered his initial question.

“I live here.”

“But you don’t usually come down until April.” Her jaw dropped and he realized he’d need to explain how he knew that information. “Mother’s letters were remarkably detailed.”

“I see.” She moved closer to the fire and Killian sighed in agitation. She really didn’t need to be standing so close to him.

“Soooo?” he repeated.

She turned to him again, shocked to see how very close they were now standing. She pulled her robe more closely around herself and took a step away. She wasn’t ready to share her true reasons for coming to London early. Goodness, she’d only just recently admitted them to herself. But he was waiting and she couldn’t just let the question linger between them.

“I felt like it,” she said with a shrug, and with as much haughtiness as she could muster.

Killian nodded. He was glad she’d stepped away from him, however small the step might be. She was now out of his reach, and that was a very good thing. She was going to have to be the one to establish their boundaries, because there was no way he’d be up to the task.

They were silent for a few more minutes in front of the grate before he excused himself and adjourned to his bedchamber.

Once he was cocooned in more blankets than he’d ever remembered needing before, sleep was elusive. She was different, he realized. Not in her appearance. She hadn’t changed at all. She was still his beautiful Emma with eyes as green as the jungles of India, porcelain skin, and golden hair that seemed to capture what little sunshine England saw in a year. But inside, she was changed. Killian had always prided himself on being able to read Emma like an open book, and what he saw in her now terrified him.

There was an air of availability surrounding her, as if she had truly moved on from his brother. And the only thing keeping him from reaching out right now and touching her was the physical distance between them and his own conscience.

Four years was obviously not enough time away from Emma for his heart to handle being this close to her again. And he had no idea what he was to do with that knowledge. He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.

~*~*~

The next morning, when Killian finally arose, the house was fully back in order, as befit the home of an earl. There was a fire in every grate and a splendid proper English breakfast was prepared - coddled eggs, ham, bacon, sausage, toast with butter and marmalade, as well as his personal favorite, boiled mackerel. Even if it did make him realize he missed the yogurts and dosas of his Indian morning meal.

Emma was nowhere to be seen and he realized why when he opened the folded note handed to him by Smee as he sat down to eat. Concerned about the wagging tongues of the ton, Emma had removed herself to her mother’s house at 5 Bruton St, until such time as Alice Jones arrived from Scotland. She did invite him to visit her there, as there was much for them to discuss.

As soon as he finished his quite excellent breakfast, he walked to the dowager viscountess’ house. It felt good to reacquaint himself with the rhythm of London - the sights of the city, the smells of roasted nuts and soot in the air, the sounds of his boots on the street, the shouts of the flower sellers, the clip clop of horses hooves. It was strange, but no more strange than when he’d first arrived in India. It all wove together in a symphony that was uniquely London. It was going to take some getting used to.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the window of a shop along the way. The tan he now sported would take weeks to fade. Maybe months. His mother would be positively scandalized. The thought made a cheeky smirk bloom across his face. He was quite sure he’d never outgrow the enjoyment of scandalizing his mother.

He arrived at Number 5 and climbed the steps to the front door. He was obviously expected because he hadn’t even the chance to rap on the door before it swung open. The dowager viscountess was already in her receiving room, pouring herself tea when he entered the room.

“Killian!” she exclaimed, rising from her chair beneath the window. “How wonderful to see you in London again!”

She greeted him with all the affection she would shower on a wayward son, which, given her very wide definition of “family”, was not at all unexpected. She considered Liam a son, and since he was his brother and such a frequent companion to Liam and Emma, Killian was automatically invited to anything they were invited to. Which, of course, was everything. He took her outstretched hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

“Lady Nolan,” he murmured.

She smiled as if she knew all the secrets in the world, and couldn’t wait to share them. “No one does that the way you do,” she said, approvingly.

“One must always take care to practice one’s maneuvers,” he replied, rakish smirk set upon his lips.

“And I can’t tell you how we ladies of a certain age appreciate you doing so.”

His grin widened. “A certain age being… one and thirty?”

Lady Nolan was the sort of woman who only grew lovelier with age, but the smile she graced him with now made her positively radiant. “You are always welcome in this house, Killian Jones.” His smile turned genuine as he took his seat. “Oh, dear,” she continued, “I do apologize. I suppose I should call you Kilmartin now.”

“Killian is just fine,” he assured her.

“I know it's been four years, but since I haven’t seen you…”

“You may call me anything you wish.” It was strange, and not exactly pleasant, to hear his title on Lady Nolan’s lips. He’d finally become used to it down in India, but here, it was rather unnerving. He didn’t mean to interrupt her, but he truly didn’t want to hear his title coming out of her mouth.

If she was aware of his discomfort with the conversation, she gave no indication. “Well, if you are to be so accommodating, then I must be as well. Please call me Ruth.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…” he began. And he meant it. This was Lady Nolan, and he could never call her by her Christian name.

“I insist, Killian,” she said, “and I’m sure you’re aware that I almost always get my way.”

He sighed, very much aware of the veracity of that statement. “I don’t know that I could kiss the hand of a Ruth. It seems scandalously intimate.”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Tongues will wag,” he tried again.

“I’m certain my reputation could withstand it.”

“Ah, but could mine?” he asked.

“You are a scoundrel,” she laughed.

He sat back in his chair, a smile on his face. “It serves me well.”

“Would you care for tea?” she asked, motioning to the pot she’d just been about to pour when he arrived. “Mine has gone cold, I’m sure, but I’ll gladly ring for more.”

“I’d love some.”

She pulled the rope, summoning the butler. “I’m sure you’re spoiled for it now, after four years of tea in India.”

“There’s nothing quite like English tea,” he assured her.

“The quality of the water, do you think?” she asked.

“The quality of the woman pouring,” he replied, a soft smile on his lips.

She laughed, delightedly. “Oh, my lord, you need a wife. Immediately.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?”

“Because you are clearly a danger to every unmarried woman in England.”

“I do hope you are including yourself in that number,” he said, eyebrows waggling.

“Are you flirting with my mother?” a new voice asked.

Killian looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, looking exquisite in a lavender morning dress, trimmed with remarkably intricate lace that, if he had to guess, probably came from the finest lace maker in France. She was trying to look stern, but the twisting of the corner of her lips belied her countenance. Killian rose and took the hand she offered him, brushing his lips across her knuckles, the same way he’d done with her mother a few minutes earlier.

“Emma,” he began, “I have traveled all over the world, and I can truly say there are very few women with whom I’d rather flirt than your mother.”

“You are expected for dinner this evening, Killian Jones,” Ruth interjected. “And I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

He chuckled as he resumed his seat. “I’d be delighted.”

Emma sat across from the pair. “You’re incorrigible,” she murmured.

Killian flashed her a grin. This was good. They were falling right back into their respective roles. He as the dashing and charming rapscallion, she as the proper lady pretending to scold him. Exactly the way it’d been before Liam died. The night before, he’d been surprised to see her and hadn’t had time to make sure his public persona was firmly in place. And it was of utmost importance that it was in place around Emma, because he could never allow her to see what simmered just below the surface.

“What plans do you have now that you’ve returned?” Ruth asked as a maid arrived with the tea tray.

“My goodness, that was quick,” Killian commented, as Emma prepared his tea. She remembered how he took it - milk, no sugar - and for some reason that pleased him immensely. He took it from her hands and then addressed Ruth’s question. “I’m not sure, actually. I’ve been gone so long, I imagine it will take some time to fully understand what is expected of me in my new role.”

“I’m sure Emma will be invaluable to you in that quarter,” Ruth assured him. Killian’s eyes cut to Emma, who was now pouring her own tea and studiously avoiding his gaze. “No one knows Kilmartin like Emma does,” she continued, pride in every word.

“Of course,” Emma murmured, still not looking at him. “I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can.”

Killian took a sip of his tea before speaking. “I owe you a debt I could never repay, Emma.” She turned her head sharply toward him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. “For four years you’ve not only been the countess, but the earl as well. In everything but name. I’d never have been able to stay away for so long if the earldom had not been in such capable hands.”

Emma blushed at his praise, which surprised him greatly. In all the years he’d known her, he could count on one hand the number of times her cheeks had turned pink.

“Thank you,” she murmured, before taking a sip of her tea. “It was no difficulty, I assure you.”

“Perhaps, but it is truly appreciated all the same.” He took another sip and sat back as the ladies directed the conversation.

Soon, Killian found himself telling the ladies about his time in India - his experiences, the atmosphere, the food he ate, the job he had. He left out his romantic exploits, the marauders, and malaria, deciding they weren’t suitable for tea time conversation. He enjoyed himself immensely and realized that yes, it was good to be home.

~*~*~

An hour later, Emma found herself on Killian’s arm as they strolled through Hyde Park. The sun had come out and she’d declared that they simply must take advantage of the lovely weather. Killian, ever the gentleman, offered to accompany her.

“It’s just like old times, isn’t it?” she asked.

“What?” he replied. “Walking through Hyde Park with me, or how you cleverly arranged for me to accompany you?”

A satisfied smirk touched her lips. “Why, both, of course.” They continued to walk in silence for a few moments. “I hope you understand my reasons for leaving ,” she said quietly. “I didn’t want to. I really do enjoy being my own woman and mistress of the house, and moving back under my mother’s roof with Ruby in residence as well, just makes me feel a child again.”

“Would you like me to take up residence elsewhere?” he asked.

“Oh, heavens, no! You’re the earl! Kilmartin House is yours,” she asserted. “Besides, Alice will be here any day, I’m sure. She said she’d be a week behind me, but we both know a week means four days, at most. And as soon as she is here, I’ll move back in.”

“I’m sure you will survive,” he chuckled.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course I will,” she agreed. “It’s just it makes me feel like I’m in my debut season, with all its rules and expectations.”

Killian shrugged. “Well, not all of them, obviously. If that were true, you wouldn’t be out walking with me.”

“True,” she allowed. She subtly bumped his shoulder, an amused smirk on her face. “Especially with you.”

“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?” He almost sounded indignant, and Emma had to quickly disguise her laugh as a cough.

She cut her eyes over to him, to see his jaw clenched and the small muscle jumping in irritation. Did her statement really bother him so much?

“Come now, Killian,” she tried to appease him. “You didn’t really think your reputation would suddenly become whiter than snow just because you were gone for so long, did you?”

“Emma…”

“Killian, you are a legend. Women still talk about you.”

He looked absolutely shocked at her words, with no small amount of dismay also circulating in his cerulean gaze.

“Not to you, I hope.”

“Oh, to me above all others,” she informed him, haughtily. “I’m the closest family you have here in London and they all want to know when you will be returning. Which, of course, now that you have… let the feeding frenzy begin!” She couldn’t help it, she was feeling quite pleased with herself for apparently striking terror into the heart of her dearest friend. He’d always been known as a dashing rapscallion without a care in the world, and now that he’d arrived home and seemed ready to take up his duties, his rank would undoubtedly make him the catch of the season.

“Yes, you will have to marry,” she continued, thoroughly enjoying his apparent discomfort, “You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

Killian sputtered indignantly. “I’m two and thirty!”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “But as the earl, you need to marry and beget an heir. The mamas will be falling all over themselves trying to introduce you to their whiney and insipid daughters.”

“I feel very afraid.” His resigned but somehow completely expressionless face made her giggle.

“Oh, you should be,” she assured him. “You’re quite fortunate that I told my mother this morning before you arrived that she was not to push Ruby on you. Because she’d do it. In a heartbeat. Not that Ruby is whiney and insipid, but…” she trailed away meaningfully.

“Heaven forbid if any Nolan female was anything less than witty and engaging.” She shot him a look, not entirely sure if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Hmmmmm,” she mused. “I believe I shall introduce you to…”

“Emma Nolan Jones,” he interrupted, bringing them to a stop near the Serpentine and turning to face her. “You are not to play matchmaker for me. Is that understood?” She opened her mouth to respond but he spoke again before she could get a word out. “And don’t you say that someone has to. I am a grown man and can handle myself when it comes to all that.”

Really, he thought with amusement, she hadn’t changed a bit. Always wanting to manage the people around her. She was quite the open book to him, and that hadn’t changed either.

“Killiannn,” she began, drawing out the final sound so she sounded like a petulant teen rather than the grown woman she was.

“I have been back in town for less than one day. One day,” he repeated, as he led them to a small bench next to the path. “It doesn’t matter that the sun is out, I am cold, I am tired, and not a single thing has been unpacked from my journey. Please give me at least a week before you start planning my wedding.”

“A week then,” she said slyly as she took her seat, looking far too pleased with herself.

“Emma,” he said, warning lacing his tone.

“Oh, very well,” she conceded. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Once you attend your first society function and the mamas are circling like sharks before coming in for the kill, you’ll be begging for my help.”

He shuddered at the image, and the knowledge that she was probably quite correct.

“I’m sure I will,” he placated, with a patronizing smile on his face he knew she’d detest. “And when it happens, I promise that I shall be duly prostrate with apologies and will beseech almighty God that according to your tender mercies, you will not leave me to the sharks of the ton.”

She laughed then and his smile turned genuine. He could always make her laugh, and it brought him far more joy and comfort at the moment than he should have allowed it to.

“It’s good to have you back, Killian.”

“It’s good to be back.” He said the words without thinking, automatically, but as soon as they left his lips, he realized he meant them. It was good to be back. It might be difficult, yes, but it wasn’t any more than what it had been before he left. Her smile was soft and genuine, none of the sly mischievousness that was such a part of her. She really was glad to have him back and that did more to warm his heart than any of their interactions so far.

She turned toward the Serpentine and focused her attention there, nodding her head absently. He looked in the same direction and couldn’t see anything that might have attracted and held her attention like that. He only saw a rather sour faced nursemaid pushing a pram.

“What are you looking at?” he asked. She didn’t speak, but continued to nod absently. He wasn’t even sure she realized she was doing it. “Emma?”

She turned to him suddenly, her green eyes bright. “I want a baby.”

“I beg your pardon?” If she had suddenly announced that she planned to run away to America, he could not have been more surprised.

“A baby,” she repeated. “Lots of women want to have children,” she insisted. “Is it truly a surprise that I would as well?”

“W-well,” he stammered, quite at a loss of what to say in response. “I- I don’t suppose so…”

“I’m not getting any younger, either,” she continued. “Why, my mother was on her third child when she was my age.”

“Yes,” he interjected, finally pulling himself together enough to reply to her babbling, “but your mother was also married.”

“Well, of course she was,” she replied. “Why do you think I came down to London early? I’m looking for a husband.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he knew his face reflected that utter and complete surprise.

“Do you have a particular gentleman in mind?”

“Not at the moment, no,” she allowed with a shrug of her shoulders, “but I’d imagine someone suitable would present themselves relatively quickly…” She trailed off and her face looked a bit pensive. He was still reeling from her pronouncement or he might have realized she was as shocked as he was that she’d actually said the words out loud.

“And that’s if I can even conceive in the first place,” she said softly, almost too softly to hear. “It took me two years with Liam, and look how I mucked that up.”

That got his attention. “Emma,” he said fiercely, facing her, “You cannot blame yourself for the miscarriage.”

“Can you imagine,” she said, a watery laugh bursting from her lips that she was helpless to keep inside, “marrying so that I might have a baby and then being unable to actually have one?”

“It happens all the time,” he said softly.

“I know!” she exclaimed. “But it’s my choice. I don’t have to remarry. I’d be able to remain independent, I am well provided for, I wouldn’t have to leave Kilmartin…” but her heart would have this ache for the rest of her life. And she wasn’t sure she could survive that. But was it worth marrying someone simply for the chance of being a mother? Because she certainly wouldn’t be marrying for love. She loved Liam with everything that was in her. One simply did not find two loves like that in a lifetime.

She sighed, and it sounded utterly forlorn to her ears. She was going to marry for a baby. And there was no guarantee she would get one.

“Emma?”

She didn’t look at him, but sat staring straight ahead, furiously blinking away the tears in her eyes. Killian held out his handkerchief, but she didn’t take it. If she did, the dam would break. There’d be no stopping it.

“I must move on,” she asserted. “Liam has been gone for four years, and I…” She turned to him then and the words stopped. They simply disintegrated. She was caught completely unawares, the kind of shock that makes it hard to breathe.

Of course she knew what Killian looked like. Of course she knew he was handsome. Of course she knew among all the men of her acquaintance, there was no more perfect specimen of manhood than Killian Jones. Her brothers were all handsome men, but even they didn’t compare to Killian. His eyes were the color of a perfect summer sky, the scruff along his jaw had flecks of ginger among the black that matched his hair. His lips were full and lush, and her own dropped open with a small gasp.

“I must go,” she said, leaping up suddenly, hoping and praying that he didn’t notice the breathiness in her voice that was so apparent to her. “I forgot about an appointment with the modiste.”

“Of course,” he agreed, rising with her.

“All of my clothing is in half-mourning colors.” She knew she was rambling, but she had to say something to make the lie convincing.

Killian frowned in distaste and if she hadn’t been so agitated, it might have made her laugh. “Get blue. And green to match your eyes,” he suggested.

“Yes, yes,” she said, still a bit off balance as she took his offered arm and allowed him to lead her back to Number Five. She had to maintain appearances. She couldn’t possibly allow him to guess what had just transpired on the banks of the Serpentine in her heart and mind.

For when Emma looked at Killian just then, for the very first time, she saw a man. And it scared the very devil out of her.

~*~*~

Emma was never one to sit still, a firm believer in staying busy, that the best course of action was more action. So as soon as she arrived home from her walk with Killian, she found her mother and informed her of her intention to visit the modiste. Immediately. Might as well make truth of her lie as quickly as possible.

Ruth was delighted to join her, of course. She couldn’t hide her joy at the prospect of seeing Emma out of the grays and lavenders of half-mourning. Normally, Emma would have resented shopping with her mother - she was perfectly capable of choosing her own wardrobe after all - but for some reason, the presence of her mother was strangely comforting today.

Emma looked out the window of the carriage as it rolled along towards the exclusive shops of Bond Street.

“Mother?” she asked, before she even realized she intended to speak.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why did you never remarry?”

Surprise colored Ruth’s face, her mouth falling open slightly, her eyes turning suspiciously bright. “That is the first time any of you have asked me that.” Her awe-infused words took Emma aback.

“None of us?” she asked incredulously. “Are you sure?” It seemed impossible. Emma believed her mother, but she couldn’t believe that not one of her five older siblings had ever thought to ask their mother the same question.

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “I’m quite certain. I would have remembered.”

“Yes, of course,” Emma murmured.

Ruth cleared her throat gently. “I don’t know how much you remember - you were very young - but when your father died, it was quite sudden. None of us expected it.” A sad chuckle broke from her lips before she continued. “A bee sting.” Even all these years later, Ruth still sounded surprised when she said the words. “Who would have thought such a strong, vital man would be brought down by something so small. So insignificant.” She paused and pulled out a white handkerchief, holding it close to her mouth as she cleared her throat. “Anyway, it was such a shock.” Then she turned soft and achingly wise eyes on her youngest daughter. “I expect you know better than anyone.”

Emma couldn’t speak and nodded slowly instead.

Ruth took a deep breath, obviously eager to move on from this aspect of the conversation. “Anyway, after Robert was gone, I was just so… stunned. There was no other word for it. I felt as if I was walking in a haze. Barely aware of anything going on around me. I’m not at all certain how I managed that first year. Or even the ones immediately thereafter, for that matter. I couldn’t possibly think of remarriage.”

“I know,” Emma replied, softly. Because, she did.

“And after that… I’m not quite sure why.” She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps I never found someone I wanted to share my life with. Maybe I just loved your father too much. But, you also have to remember, I was in a very different stage of life than you are. I was older, and the mother of six. Your father left our affairs in very good order. I knew we’d never want for anything.”

“Liam left Kilmartin in very good order,” she murmured.

“Of course, he did,” Ruth replied, quickly, reaching over to pat Emma’s hand reassuringly. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Of course not.”

“But you do not have children, Emma,” she continued, gently, “and quite a lot of years ahead of you to spend alone, if you do not remarry.”

“I know, I know,” she breathed, a sense of urgency lending a tone of near panic to her words. “It’s just… it’s just…” she repeated.

“It’s just, what, Emma?” her mother asked.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” The words loomed large in her heart and mind and Emma struggled to give them voice. Ruth remained silent, giving her time to bring her racing thoughts and feelings under control. She looked down and spoke to her hands, her words no louder than a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong. If I’m dishonoring Liam. Dishonoring our marriage.”

“There’s nothing wrong with remarrying, if that’s what you want to do, Emma,” Ruth counseled her. “Liam would want you to be happy. What makes you think you’d be dishonoring him or your marriage by remarrying?”

Emma looked up into her mother’s eyes, searching for something, she wasn’t sure what. Perhaps approval, perhaps love, because there was something supremely comforting about looking for something she knew beyond any doubt she’d immediately find.

“I- I know that I’ll never find anything like what I had with Liam,” she stammered. “You don’t find a love like that twice in a lifetime. I’ve accepted that. But, it feels wrong to marry for anything less.”

“I see,” Ruth replied. “Yes, it’s true, you’ll never find anyone like Liam. But,” she continued, “you might find someone who fits you in a different way. Rather like a puzzle piece you didn’t know you were missing.”

Emma looked sharply at her mother. “What did you say?”

“Just now?” she asked. “I said you might find someone who fits you a different way from Liam. Like a puzzle piece you didn’t know was missing.”

Emma was suddenly back to the night Liam died when she and Killian had taken an evening stroll. She remembered thinking that if Liam understood her like no other, then Killian completed her, like a puzzle piece she didn’t know was missing. Was there any possible way that Ruth could have guessed her earlier epiphany about Killian? Emma scrutinized her mother closely, trying hard not to draw her attention from where she sat looking out the window. She had no clue her words had affected Emma so much, so it would behoove her to redirect the conversation.

“I want a baby,” Emma burst out. “That’s why I want to remarry.”

Ruth turned soft eyes on her. “I thought you might.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

“Why didn’t you ask why I never remarried?” Ruth’s face was utterly serene. No accusation or condemnation in her countenance. Emma shouldn’t have been surprised at the perceptiveness of her mother.

“If you had been either Regina or Ruby, I would have,” Ruth finally answered her question. “But you…” Her smile was soft and nostalgic now, “You were always different. Even as a child you held yourself apart. You needed your independence.”

Emma reached for her mother’s hand and squeezed. “I love you, you know that?”

“Well, I did suspect.”

“Mother!”

Ruth laughed. “Of course I knew it. How could you not love me?” She made a grand sweeping gesture toward herself, her eyes twinkling merrily. “With as wonderful as I clearly am!” They both giggled at the outrageously playful statement. “But truly,” her mother continued once their mutual mirth was under control. “Yes, I know you love me. As I love you. Very, very much.”

Emma’s chagrin showed on her face. “I haven’t told you. Recently anyway.”

“Well, you have been a bit occupied for a while.”

Emma looked down and covered the giggle that wanted to escape with a light cough. “May I ask you another question?”

“Of course, my dear.”

“If I don’t find someone… like the puzzle piece,” she took a gasping breath, “but I did find someone I rather liked, and married him… would that be alright?”

Ruth was silent for a long moment before she answered. “That is something that only you can answer, my love.” The look on her face was full of compassion and Emma felt the tears burning her eyes. “I would never say no, of course. Most of the gentry have marriages exactly like that, and they are perfectly content. But I would hope that my children wouldn’t have that situation as their fate. I would not call it dishonoring exactly to Liam, or to your marriage, but life is too short to settle for a marriage that doesn’t make you deliriously happy. Too short to settle for anything less than a relationship that would complete you. Yes, it will be different than Liam, but I believe you can find it.”

How did she know? How did she know the exact words to say that would bring Killian right back to the front of her mind? Yes, in many ways Killian did complete her, but could she love him? Love him the way she’d loved Liam? It truly didn’t seem possible, but in light of her mother’s words and her own thoughts over the years, perhaps it was worth considering. Even if she wasn’t sure she could live with herself afterward.

~*~*~

After Killian arrived back at Kilmartin House, he shut himself in his room, took off his boots, loosened his cravat, and moved to the window. He looked down to the street to see a nurse holding the hand of a small child. He had no experience with children whatsoever and was quite at a loss to guess the age of the child, but it wasn’t hard to guess that they might be on their way to Hyde Park. He grimaced.

Emma wanted a baby.

He didn’t know why he was surprised. She was a woman. And didn’t all women want to have children? And while he didn’t really think that Emma would pine away for Liam forever, it had never occurred to him that she might desire to remarry, either.

Liam and Emma were always a unit. And while Liam’s death did make it easier to think of one without the other, it was quite different to think of one of them with another.

Then there was the small matter of his skin crawling, his usual reaction to the thought of Emma with another man.

He shuddered. Or was that a shiver? Damn, he hoped it wasn't a shiver.

He supposed he’d have to get used to the idea. Emma wanted a baby. And to have a baby, she’d need a husband. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. If only she’d taken care of that last year. Then it would be over and done with by now. But as it was, he was going to have to watch.

Bloody hell.

He shivered again. Damn. Maybe he was just cold. It was March, after all, and a bloody chilly one, even with a fire in the grate. He pulled his cravat off on account of it feeling suddenly tight. He felt awful. Hot and cold at the same time, and off balance as well. He sat down for a few minutes, but then gave up all pretense of being well, stripped off his clothing and climbed into bed.

It was going to be a long night.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Next chapter will be up on Wednesday.

#a scoundrel... or a gentleman?#krystal writes #inspired by francesca bridgeton's story

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