#he wraps everything that she’s grown to love up in a bow and gives it back to her but now it’s from HIM it’s a sign of HIS love

[francesderwent]

the first Anne of Green Gables book is all about Anne being given a home and a family, people who love her and aren’t merely using her, someplace she belongs. and Gilbert is on the outside of that for the whole story, just this funny little rivalry that Anne hangs onto, someone who wants the privilege of belonging with Anne in some way, but whom she ignores, and ignores pretty easily. but at the very end he places himself at the center of the main story, no longer avoidable, by trading schools with her, so that she can keep everything that she’s grown to love—he claims his place in her heart by giving her Green Gables again, as a gift.

[danikamariewrites]

could i request one with rhys x reader where he is so incredibly in love with her it’s ridiculous. He is such a simp for her, she literally only has to ask and he gets her anything she wants. one day she jokes about him being very generous and says

” i’m sure if i ask for a golden pony, you’ll find a way”

next day he’s visiting Helion and asks for a golden pony.

The ic even makes fun of how much he simps for reader. One day they’re all walking in velaris to go to ritas and readers strap on her heel slips. Rhys gets on his knees to fix it with no hesitation. The inner circle looks at him with incredible shock and their jaws are dropped. Bc in acomaf it says that he has sacred tattoos on his knees and will never bow for no one and nothing but his crown. it’s the first time they ever see rhys on his knees for someone. Reader doesn’t know ab it and just says thank you and they continue walking. After a while he confesses to her and she feels the same and live happy forever 😁😁

Only For You

Rhys x reader

A/n: this is so freakin cute and writing this had me kicking my feet giggling

Warnings: none

You and Rhys had grown up together, so his kindness and generosity was nothing new to you. Whenever you needed or even just wanted something Rhys would get it for you. New shoes? Done, he knows what style you like. Need new clothes? He has your size and his tailor knows exactly what to make you.

You had always insisted on paying you back but he never let you. Rhys would always say, “Nonsense y/n. I like biting you things so please let me get this for you.” You’d breathe out a sigh of defeat and cup his cheek. “Thank you Rhys. I swear if I asked for a golden Pegasus you’d find me one.”

Rhys cherished your warm touch. He loved your soft skin and how gentle you are with him. The High Lord was so clearly in love with you but he was too afraid to admit it. If Rhys lost you as a friend because of his feelings he doesn’t know how he’d go on.

And he didn’t forget about that golden Pegasus. It was your 450th birthday present and you named her Sunny.

Tonight you were all headed to Rita’s to unwind after a busy work week. Mor had teased you about Rhys while you got ready together. “He’s completely and utterly in love with you! How can you not see he is wrapped around your finger.”

You had just rolled your eyes and laughed at your friend. “We’ve been friends for centuries Mor. Rhys would’ve said something by now. I just have to deal with that.” Deep down you were mad,y in love with Rhys. You just kept telling yourself he didn’t feel the same way. It made everything easier. You two were just friends after all.

Walking to Rita’s you and Cassian were hanging on each other crying laughing at something Mor said about Amren. Your heel caught in a crack of the cobblestone, causing the strap of your shoe to come undone. “Oops, hold on a second, my shoe.”

The group stopped as you lifted your dress a little to asses the damage. Before you could fix it, Rhys was on his knees looking up at you with a small smile. “I got it for you darling.”

His fingers gently grazed your ankle, sending a shiver up your body. You watched as Rhys carefully buckled the strap around your ankle again. Without thinking he caressed your calf and looked up at you. You swear you saw hearts in his eyes.

You run your fingers through his soft raven locks, bringing your hand down to caress his face, holding his chin. Giving it a small squeeze you say, “Thanks Rhys.” Mor giggles and takes your arm, pulling you ahead of the boys.

Cassian and Azriel stare at their brother with their jaws on the ground. Rhys stands, brushing off his pants. “I thought you said-“ Cassian started. Rhys cut him off, “Only for my equal.” Cassian didn’t think it was possible but he felt his jaw unhinge more at Rhys’s confession.

Rhys started to follow you and Mor while Cassian stood frozen. Azriel came up next to him closing his mouth and patting him on the back. “I can’t believe I knew before you.” He said with a smug look on his face.

When you woke up the next morning something felt different. You felt a light in your chest, pulling you out of your room.

Getting ready you follow that pull down the hall all the way to Rhys’s office. You find him sitting in his armchair, seemingly contemplating something. You felt nervousness radiating off him. Not only could you hear his heartbeat, but you swore you felt it in your own chest.

Pausing, you place your hand over your heart. You slowly approach him. Resting a hand on his shoulder Rhys leans back into the cushioned seat, placing his hand over yours. Rhys looked up at you with a hope on his beautiful face. The light of the fire in the hearth before him highlighting his high cheekbones and perfect jawline.

Closing your eyes you took a chance and reached out down that new glowing bond. Towards Rhys. Towards unconditional love. Rhys gripped your hand tighter as he let out a shaky breath.

Opening your eyes you found Rhys’s line with silver. You blinked your own tears away as you looked at him with adoration. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispered. “I said I’d never bow before anyone or anything but my crown. That changed when I found you, my equal in every sense of the word.”

Rhys pulled you onto his lap. “I love you too Rhys,” you whispered back, “I’ll share that crown with you for the rest of our lives.”

[sweetcollywobbles]

yandere! leon kennedy x reader

helloo! this is my first ever one-shot. i'm not great at writing so forgive me if this is bad lmao

tw: usual trigger warnings for yanderes, idk if this is a dead dove; don't eat fic since it's not that dark(?)

ALL AROUND ME by flyleaf

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 2:26

yet she made him feel so ugly.

leon tried his best to keep his shaking hands firm on the wheel. to keep his drifting eyes on the road in front of him instead of her, his beating heart personified. but he couldn’t help it. not when she was sprawled out in the backseat of his jeep, hair in disarray, soft snores coming out of her pretty lips. even in her sleep, she still managed to be the prettiest sight leon ever laid eyes on. all without trying, without even knowing. 

‘it’ll be fine, she’ll adjust. she’ll be happy.’ it was reassurance within an ugly lie.

leon’s cobalt eyes drift to her sleeping form for the umpteenth time the whole drive. attempting to sync up his short, uneven breaths with the pattern of her soft rising, and falling chest. he was panicking, this isn't how leon wanted everything to go down. he had hoped to be taking her home under better circumstances.

leon had never thought himself capable of doing this. of ever being this kind of person. having the ability to strip someone’s freedom away for his gain willingly. yet here he was, feeling like the guiltiest, ugliest man on earth. but what is done, is done.

leon s. kennedy has kidnapped her. 

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

she’s had a secret admirer for a while now. sadly, she wasn’t sure when it all began, she just knew someone had grown smitten with her. but if the office gossip was right, that someone has been swooning over her for a little after her first two weeks as a receptionist.

she’s a hopeless romantic; so much to a very concerning fault. not ever considering any issues that could come from someone anonymously doting on her. she couldn't help it, not when it felt so good to be wanted. 

the snacks that would randomly show up on days when she forgot meals. the small flowers that littered her desk, delicately hand-picked from some random spot outside. small foreign knick-knacks always wrapped in a pretty bow. love notes that were written with the pleas and desperations of a lovesick puppy, every line confessing borderline obsession. 

in a sick way, it all meant so much to her. 

so, she started writing love notes back to reciprocate their adoration. every letter filled with honey-dripped words so sweet it could make anyone’s teeth rot. this little office fling wasn't a game to her. she was willing to say anything and everything to keep them fixated, to make this person stay.

it was a dangerous game she was playing, she knew that. but if she was being honest, she never wanted to consider the repercussions of it all. the nasty reality of the consequences that will come from these delusions she was spoon-feeding this person. 

she thought it was a little nice to finally have someone in her life. someone to give her the illusion of not being alone. it was nice to finally feel wanted. to finally be seen by another person for once in her life. especially since she was never great at making friends and her parents had a rocky relationship.

nothing ever seemed to last long for her. at least from her track record, nothing good ever seemed to last. no matter how hard she fought and clung to whatever it was. something always got in the way.

this time it was a just letter in the mail. a letter that felt like a gunshot to the heart. quick and straight to the point. her father had passed and her mom was asking for her to come home.

what she felt should've been straight to the point, but it wasn't. she'd always had a difficult relationship with her father. she wasn't a son, so he despised her. yet she still loved him, still craved for his approval. even if she knew she would never get it.

her mom, on the other hand, she shined like the sun. loved and cared for her in the moments she was allowed to. the last time she ever spoke to her mom was on her eighteenth birthday. that was two years ago, and she’s missed her mom every day.

she cried. she cried as if forcefully evicting the heavy weight that had found home in her chest all these years. the sobs came out strained and sharp, sounding foreign as if she had never done this before. like a dog that was never allowed to bark. her hands laid on her chest, cradling her heart begging for it not to break. not to give up on her. attempting to ease the screaming and kicking child that manifested itself through her exhausted wails. re-reading the last line over and over again like it was a prayer. a saving grace.

she'd be able to see her mom again. her mom wanted her to come home. to make amends and move on with a new life together. and who was she to deny the opportunity? the moment she had been waiting for her whole life. nothing was going to stop this from happening now,

the next day at the office, she put in a resignation notice for the next two days, giving her time to get what little affairs she had in order before taking the bus to her hometown.

it only took an afternoon for her abrupt resignation to get back to leon. at first, he hoped that it was a lie, just some office gossip that fell victim to the telephone effect. ‘she isn't leaving,’ leon told himself. ‘just taking a few days off.’ but seeing everyone wish her well, leon knew it wasn't a lie.

the after party was nothing but a parade of his loss. leon stood by the drink table watching her smile and laugh like there was nothing wrong. leon grew more agitated as the clock ticked by. he couldn't understand why she would want to leave him. she didn't even bother to mention it in any of her recent letters. leon made you happy, you told him that many times. so why would you ever want to leave? why wouldn't she tell him?

which led to this, a planned conversation turned into an ambush. 

leon waited for her in the parking lot for two hours, going over a multitude of strategies to make this as fast as possible. how to get her alone if someone was with her. what to do if she fought back. if she screamed. if she ran. everything was in place to bring her home.

there was absolutely no hesitation when he saw her walking through the parking lot alone. leon couldn't help but smile at that.

did she not want anyone to walk her to the bus stop? or was this her way of begging him to take her. leon is going to choose to believe what makes him happier. 

it was quicker than what leon thought, but then again he's had training for this sort of thing. 

he waited until she had passed the car he was waiting behind, using the lack of light to his advantage. then he struck from behind, she never had a chance to think of her next move. to comprehend what was even happening. 

leon held a tight hand over mouth to silence her, using his other hand to squeeze her windpipe. she struggled for what seemed to be a few minutes until her body laid limp in his arms. leon carried her to his vehicle, placing her limp body in the backseat.

this would teach her not to be such a tease.

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

she woke up with a feeling of a severe hangover. a migraine that sharply, pounded in the back of her eyes. which didn’t help when the world was spinning like an out-of-control tea cup ride. needless to say, she wasn’t feeling too well. 

she tried her best to stand, having difficulty digging herself out of the seemingly endless pile of blankets and pillows, but it seemed like the moment her feet touched the ground, so did her whole body. she felt like a baby deer learning to stand for the first time. every wobbly limb felt as if it were made of lead. 

sounds of footsteps came from another room, then the quiet creak of the door. whoever it was spoke up, voice seemingly soft. she couldn't make out the words due to it all sounding muffled. like they were talking through a styrofoam cup.

big, calloused hands grabbed onto her weak form to hold her close to them. she whined at the sudden action, head still feeling heavy and dizzy. "it's okay, sweet girl. it's alright, i'm here." a male voice sweetly cooing, but still foggy. 

warm, is what she thought. whoever this someone is felt warm like laundry right out of the dryer. it felt good. it felt comfortable. 

he swayed a little as he held her, feeling the soft vibrations of his voice through their chest as they spoke soft affirmations. “you’re doing so well, pretty girl. everything’s okay, just go to sleep.”

this moment made her think of her mom, a time before everything kinda went to shit between them. she missed her. she missed her cooking. she missed her voice. she missed her soothing touch. she missed her laugh. she just really missed her mom.

she tried her best not to cry as she melted into the person's touch. instead allowing herself to be lulled by the feeling of his calloused pads smoothing over the surface of her skin. 

she could've fallen back asleep in this person's arms if she hadn't realized this whole thing was wrong. this is not where she is supposed to be. she was supposed to be on a bus heading back home, not in some random man’s arms. and this is not home. 

her eyes widened, her muscles tensed and her heart felt like it stopped. the migraine suddenly not as blaring as it was when she woke up. whoever this was no longer felt soothing and inviting, but invasive and perverted. 

she tried her best to push herself away and get a view of her surroundings, anything that could help her understand where she was, but this man just wouldn’t let go. instead pressing her body closer to his, almost smothering her, feeling like a puppy being held hostage by some snobby kid. she was panicking and wanted out badly, but she was out of options. not much a person can do with blurry vision and a heavy body. 

so once again she let herself fall into them, slowly wrapping her heavy arms around them, gripping their shirt for more stability. she rested her head in the crook of their neck and her kidnapper seemed pleased, letting out a relieved sigh. that’s when she struck, with as much strength her sleepy limbs could muster, she kneed them in the groin. 

her kidnapper released a painful groan and pushed her away from him. the second she felt her body hit the ground for the second time in the span of a few minutes, she was scrambling to the door. but just as she was about to make it past the threshold, she was once again met with the floor. there was a painful grip on her ankle, she looked down, shocked at who she saw. 

there he was, leon kennedy, gripping like a vice onto her ankle. but she didn’t have time to question him, the police could do that for her. the minute they both locked eyes, she planted her foot as hard as she could on his face, making contact with his nose. leon groaned and released her again, trying his hardest to calm himself as blood now dripped from his nose, watching her scurry off.

"———," his voice was scarily calm as he called from somewhere behind her. "you need to stop." leon's words fell on death's ears as he watched her clumsily navigate the house. 

in her hurry and confusion, she stumbled to the first window she saw, but it wouldn't budge. neither did the next one or the next one and the one after that. all the windows seem to be fixed, designed to never open. 

"no, no, please," she mumbled to no one but herself, banging on the windows. she grabbed whatever object was closer to her, chucking it at the glass, but nothing happened. she would’ve continued if she hadn’t heard leon coming down the stairs. 

the floorplan of the house was pretty simple, so it didn’t take her long to find the front door. her face drained of color when she saw a keypad on the handle. that didn’t stop her from banging, yanking, and scratching at the door with everything she had. she did that until her throat felt like it was on fire and her legs couldn’t hold her up anymore. there was no hope for her, he’s trapped her here.

big hands gripped her arms as they forced her down on a chair, she tried fighting but her efforts seemed pointless. leon harshly glared down, looking scarier with his bodied nose, her name coming out of his mouth like a warning. "stop." was all he said. 

"you can't keep me here, leon." she looked up at him, pleading while trying to hide the discomfort of leon's hands on her shoulders. "please, leon. ya' gotta let me go." the words came out strained, choking on the air she was trying to let in. "you have to."

as much as it pained him to see her like this, leon almost wanted to laugh. no, he didn't have to let her go. he wasn't going to let her go. not when she was already here, nice and safe at home with him. leon just shook his head, rejecting the notion of her words. “if i did,” leon stated, “who would you run to?” 

“what?” was all you could say, not expecting that question. “i have people that care about me, leon. they’ll wonder where i am.”

leon shook his head, telling her that her answer was wrong. “no, they won’t.” what he said next took what little hope she had. “you’re supposed to be on a bus heading home. everybody knows where you are.” he stayed quiet for a while before starting up again.

"so think hard about it." leon leaned in close to her face, crouching at eye level, hands on his knees. he huffed a laugh in her face. 

"even if you somehow leave me, somehow ditch it outta here," leon was closer than he was before, closer than what she was comfortable with. he just watched as she cried, shaking her head as she pleaded with him. in a taunting way, he squints his eyes and tilts his head. "who would you go to, hm?" he pauses, waiting for her to answer. she doesn't have one. leon can't help but huff out a small laugh at the lack of response. 

he was right. she’s the same as him. she has no one, just like him. and that helps leon get a little more comfortable with the situation. getting a little more cocky. so he leans in more, breath fanning the shell of her ear. 

"the wilderness isn't the only terrifying thing out there, ya'know. just beyond those doors." leon's nose slightly nudging the space before her ear. "the people," she could feel leon's smirk grow without even needing to see it. she didn't want to make eye contact with him. "they'll fucking eat you alive." leon's cobalt eyes peered at her, waiting for any response. again, she never gives him one. instead she just opted to silently side-eye him back, eyes wide in disbelief at the words coming out of his mouth.

"so i would suggest you being my good girl," he mutters into her cheek, his chapped lips brushing softly against her skin, looking at her through his lashes. "and just stay here at home." finally he presses a few chaste kisses to her cheek.

with that he stands, stretching a little before turning around and heading to the kitchen. she didn't move, blankly watching him walk over to the fridge. trying to catch her breathing from all the crying.

"how about a snack, after all of that?" he asked with a smile, eyes warm as if nothing happened between the two of them. like moments ago she wasn't just trying to claw the door off its hinges. like if she wasn't sitting there, tied up, terrified of the man in front of her. 

the air was tense as she watched leon move around the kitchen without a care in the world. as if all was well.

'he's a fucking freak.' she thought.

₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡. 𓂃

note: i am no writer. please, have mercy. this is all purely self-indulgent. a silly little thought.

[beepbeep-lettuce]

Never Enough pt.2

*kinda angst but not? lol*

This is part 2 of this angst.

☆.。.：*゜☆ﾞ.。.：*゜☆.。.：*゜☆ .。.：*゜☆

It’s a beautiful thing. Love I mean. It often comes unexpectedly, forcing you through many emotions and challenges. Suddenly, it’s no longer just you, it’s you and I. Gone are the days where you only think about yourself, where you can do whatever you want without having to worry about how it affects another. It’s a big change and it won’t always be easy. But nobody said love was easy, right? Certainly not Satoru.

☆.。.：*゜☆ﾞ.。.：*゜☆.。.：*゜☆ .。.：*゜☆

*FLASHBACK*

When you came into his life, everything wasn’t so complicated. He had his looks, his charm, his six eyes, his friends.. but he didn’t have you. Not yet anyway. Gojo had always said that you were the missing puzzle piece in his life. Existence just felt right with you around. Even Shoko and Suguru liked you! Life was just… well, perfect! Not a day went by where he didn’t remind you how lucky he was to have caught you (coincidentally) that day on the sidewalk. You were breathtaking. Of course he had been captivated by your beauty the moment he laid eyes on you. Him and his friends had been walking around and enjoying their free time which seemed few and far between these days when a gorgeous sight befell Gojo’s eye sight. You, so beautiful in your flowy sundress that rested upon your figure so delicately. You, who were currently walking towards him and not paying attention to a rock on ground while you snickered with your friends about something irrelevant. And as your- not so graceful- form stumbled towards the rough pavement, two strong arms caught you. Your disoriented eyes flickering up to meet his that looked at you from behind his dark sunglasses, and in that moment Satoru knew that he had found his missing piece.

“Oh god- I am so sorry!” You blurted as you scrambled back onto your feet. Bowing down slightly as some sort of an apology.

“No worries! I’m just glad you didn’t fall and hurt yourself!” Satoru chuckled, his voice smooth and confident as he smiled down at you. Your friends laughing softly behind you as they watched this awkward yet- admittedly cute interaction. His friends looking at him like he’d grown a second head.

“I should have looked where I was stepping I am really sorry! Thank you so much for catching me!” You giggled nervously as you looked anywhere but this extremely handsome stranger’s face. Wanting to find a way to repay him, you remembered the bag of sweet treats that you had picked up a few minutes ago.

“Oh here! Take this, it’s the least I can do!” You said cheerfully as you reached for the fluffy slice of cake that was delicately wrapped in the bag you were holding.

“No no! You don’t need to repay me doll. I was just trying to save your pretty dress from getting dirty.” He replied- pulling his glasses slightly down and giving you a wink. His friends still watching this exchange with amusement and slight disgust at how unlike him Gojo was acting. And once you saw his piercing blue eyes, you were hooked.

“Please! Take it! It’s a thank you for saving my dress- and my pride!” You replied with a grimace as you shoved the little box into his hands. Giving him no choice but to take it.

“Anyway, thank you again!” You said hurriedly as you turned back to your friends and quickly walking away before he could say anything. You were hoping he hadn’t noticed the redness that had spread across your face.

“He was cuteeee!” One of your girlfriends squealed.

“Yeah! If you don’t want him, can I have him?” The other one smiled as she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“H-hey wait!” Satoru said loudly, perhaps a bit too loud. As he took two long strides towards you, grabbing one of your wrists gently to stop you from leaving. Your girlfriends quickly walking away as they turned back to give you a thumbs up, silently signaling that they’d wait for you further ahead.

“Can I at least get your name?” He spoke in a tone a bit more desperate than he was used to.

“L/n Y/n. And what about you, mysterious stranger?” you retorted with a smile. The redness in your cheeks only intensifying as he looked at you.

“Gojo Satoru, at your service.” He said as he released your wrist and bowed like an old timey gentleman which made you snicker.

“Well Gojo Satoru, it was nice to meet you.” You curtsied awkwardly in return before you began to turn away once more. Oh yeah, he was gonna marry you.

“Wait, can I uhh.. take you out some time?” His voice faltered nervously, taking him by surprise again. Who were you? Why was he so nervous? He’s Gojo Satoru!

“I’d like that.” You smiled.

☆.。.：*゜☆ﾞ.。.：*゜☆.。.：*゜☆ .。.：*゜☆

“She’s pregnant, right?” Shoko asked in her normal monotone voice.

“H-how do you-“ He sputtered.

“I was with her when she found out.” She said.

When-“ he began.

“Look, if I was you I’d go back home and do whatever it is you do after work. Shes safe, but she doesn’t want to see nor talk to you.” She spoke coldly into the phone.

“Shoko, tell me where she is. I need to talk to her. I need to clear things up please!” He almost screamed desperately.

“Why now? Why don’t you go back to ignoring her like you’ve been doing for the past 6 months? Seems like you were doing just fine not talking to her then. You’ll be fine now.” She continued. How did Shoko know? Had he missed something? He never thought to ask if you’d been spending time anywhere else and beside your bakery.

“What are you talking about? Are you best friends now or what? What did I miss” He babbled.

“Maybe if you got your head out of your ass for two seconds you’d realize what the hell you were putting your wife through. Maybe she needed a friend to lean on while her husband was absent in their marriage. Regardless, you’re still my friend so I’ll tell you this. She is safe, her and the baby will okay and you need to give her space and get your shit together before you come looking for her.” She said sternly before cutting the call.

“What the fuck just happened.” He asked himself incredulously, letting the shock set in. Shoko was right, he’d been so caught up in his own little brooding world that he didn’t realize how horridly he was treating you at home.

☆.。.：*゜☆ﾞ.。.：*゜☆.。.：*゜☆ .。.：*゜☆

“What did I just do Shoko?! I just left him! Just like that! The father of my future child!” You sobbed as your friend set a warm cup of tea down on the coffee table, rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you. Comforting didn’t really come naturally to her but for you, her unexpected close friend, she’d suck it up.

“He didn’t deny that he was cheating or anything! He just sputtered as I walked out the door! I don’t know what’s going on! He’s so different now- it’s like I don’t even know who he is anymore!” You continued to sob into your hands.

“Like I’ve said before, as much as I hate him right now, I have to admit that I don’t think he’d cheat on you. He’s been head over heels for you since he laid his stupid blue eyes on you. I was literally there.” Shoko sighed as she grabbed the cup of tea and offered it towards your trembling hands. Taking a deep breath in you sniffled as you grabbed it.

“Then what else could it be? Why does he spend so much time at “work”? The Satoru I know would take any chance he got to get away from work to come back home to me!It just doesn’t make any sense! Why does he come back smelling of perfume?” You ranted as you sipped at your tea. A sudden wave of nausea coming over you forcing you to run towards Shoko’s bathroom, immediately throwing up into the toilet. You didn’t know if it was the pregnancy hormones or the overwhelming emotions swirling in your head that were the cause.

“Well, I did mention that there’s been a lot of talk about some special grade curses that have been popping up more frequently. Maybe he’s just been getting caught up with that? I mean there’s been a lot of injured sorcerers coming in lately.” She said as she held your hair up. Once you’d finish emptying your stomach, you shakily got up to rinse your mouth with a cup of water that Shoko had placed on the sink.

“As for the perfume, there’s a lot of different sorcerers that have been coming around and joining meetings about those special grades, maybe one of them just wears a lot of perfume?” She tried to rationalize. She hated Satoru right now sure- but did she think he’d cheat on you? No. Not for a second. If she was honest, she hadn’t seen much of him for months. But what she did know was that special grades were becoming a problem, and nobody was better at exorcising them than Gojo Satoru.

“I don’t know what to think! He’s the love of my life, I want to believe that it’s anything but infidelity. I just can’t think of anything else that it could be! He’s made it so difficult these last few months.” You signed defeatedly. However, before you could even leave the bathroom there was a frantic knocking coming from the front door. Your breath hitched as the knocking continued, causing the both of you to freeze. Of course you knew who it was, but you weren’t sure you had the strength to face him right now.

“Go into the guest room, okay? I’ll deal with him.” She said reassuringly. Nodding, you made your way to her guest room. However, being unable to stop yourself, you walked back to the end of the hallway so you could eavesdrop on their exchange.

“What do you want?” She asked bluntly, looking up at her disheveled friend. His blindfold had been pulled down around his neck and the rain falling behind him.

“I know she’s in here, Shoko. Let me in” he said in a much calmer tone than she had anticipated.

“She doesn’t want to see you. Go away.” She stated coldly.

“I’m not asking. Let me see my wife.” He said in a stern yet controlled demeanor.

“I said she doesn’t want to see you, just leave her alone. Haven’t you done enough? You had your chance.” Her voice rising slightly, uncharacteristically.

“I’m getting in there one way or another Shoko.” He said, no longer looking down at his only remaining friend. Instead, he focused on a familiar figure behind her walking towards the door.

“I said no-“ she began, but before she could continue she felt your delicate hand on her shoulder. Her head spun around to look at you in an expression that said “what the hell are you doing?”.

“It’s okay Shoko.” You said quietly, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Fine, but I’m gonna be right inside if you need me. And don’t step too far from the door.” She agreed as she handed you an umbrella. Not sparing a glance at Satoru before retreating back inside and shutting the door softly.

“Baby please, let me explain. I promise it’ll all make sense.” he spoke gently, his hands reaching towards yours, not expecting you to flinch away slightly. His eyes widening in shock.

“What do you want, Satoru? Did you come to yell at me and call me useless some more?” You spat, looking directly into his cerulean eyes that searched yours in silent desperation.

“Darling, please let me explain.” He said in almost a whisper, anticipating your response which came in only a slight nod. And with a nervous gulp, he began.

“6 months ago, there was an uptick in special grade curse sightings. Of course I was sent to exorcise them, but when I went on a mission one night, I saw..” he sighed, closing his eyes before resuming.

“I saw Suguru..” he said.

“S-Suguru? But Suguru is..” your words faded.

“I know. He- he looked like him, he spoke like him. Or- it tried to but something was off. Once I really got a look, I realized it wasn’t him. And in that moment, he- it took stitches out of his forehead and showed me what it really was. A curse that transferred its brain into his body. My best friend’s body. He- he was using his body like his puppet.” Satoru let out a mix of a sigh and a laugh in disbelief. Your eyes widened in shock as he continued, his own beginning to water and a desperate hand gripping his snow white hair. You desperately fought back the urge to reach up and stroke his face to comfort him, like you tended to do when he was in distress. Your beloved Satoru, he’d been going through so much and you were none the wiser. But that doesn’t change the way he hurt you.

“He tried to capture me in the prison realm but he was unsuccessful. And as more sorcerers came he was forced to leave before they could arrive. Ever since then I’ve been going insane trying to find him and get my best friend’s body back. The late nights aren’t me going to “get dinner” they’re me trying to find where this fucking curse is and getting my best friend back, so his body can rest in peace. I never meant to put up so many barriers between us. A-As for the perfume- I’ve been spending more time around other sorcerers to help with the search, one of them being Mei Mei. I paid her to help me look for him and she won’t stop spraying that stuff every 30 fucking minutes. But that’s irrelevant. I promise you I would never be and have never been unfaithful to you. I adore you, y/n.” He said, his hand finally taking a hold of yours as you tried to process everything he’d just dumped onto you. Your shocked eyes searching his for any sign of dishonesty, but his expression never wavered. His eyes only looking back at yours with intense sincerity.

“I know that nothing I say will ever make up for what I put you through these past months, but if you’ll have me I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you are the love of my life. I’ll spend the rest of my days slowly gaining your trust back. I’d give up my six eyes if it meant that you’d give me another chance, my love.” He said as he slowly brought your hand up to to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of it.

“I-I don’t know what to say..” you stuttered. And you truly didn’t. You had no reason not to believe your husband, it all tracked. I mean who wouldn’t lose their minds after seeing their best friend being used as a flesh puppet after their supposed death.

“I know that you deserve better, my darling. I will never forgive myself for hurting you. But I promise- I swear to you that I’ll be a better husband to you. I’ll be the best husband you could ask for. I’ll be the best father I can be to our little one. I’d do anything for you, y/n.” He professed.

“I don’t need you to be “the best husband”, I need you to be the Satoru that I met all those years ago. The Satoru that vowed to be with me in sickness and in health, I love you too- more than you’ll ever know. But how can I go back so easily? I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but why did you shut yourself away from me? I’m your wife, Satoru! I’m supposed to be your support! How can I be there for you if you don’t let me? How can I know that you won’t just go back to the way you’ve been for half a year?” You said, your voice trembling and the tears that welled up in your lash line now falling down your cheeks once more. Satoru’s hands gently cupped your face as he wiped at your tears, like he always did. His expression softening.

“That’s a risk that you have to take, baby. And I know that you have no reason to take it, but I want you to know that whatever you choose- I’ll be here for you and the baby. Until the day I die.” His eyes staring back into your own with the love that you hadn’t felt for 6 arduous months. This was your Satoru, the father of your unborn child. And after a moment that felt like eternity for the both of you..

“I- Yes!” You choked out in a sob. Your free hand reaching up to cup his cheek causing him to let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

“Thank you.. thank you so much, Y/n. I promise you that I will make up for it till the last of my days. I will never let any form of harm come to you or our baby.” Satoru spoke earnestly. He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off of the ground and kissing you like he did the day he married you.

“I love you, Y/n Gojo.” He whispered into your kiss.

It didn’t have to be instant and it would certainly be a very long and very emotionally painful process. But with your Satoru by your side, your little family would make it. Because, that’s what love is. There will be ups and there will be downs. It’ll be difficult and sometimes painful, but there isn’t a manual you can read that tells you how to navigate love gracefully. Bumps in the road will always happen. Some worse than others, but if you’re willing to work on it- there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel. After all, nobody said love was easy.

☆.。.：*゜☆ﾞ.。.：*゜☆.。.：*゜☆ .。.：*゜☆

I didn’t expect such positive reactions on my last post! Thank you sooo much for that! Anyway I didn’t know what direction I wanted to take with this part so I just decided to wing it. I’m not completely happy with it but I hope you guys liked it. :3 *this does not follow the cannon story like %100!*

Disclaimer: very much not edited, I finished this at 5:30AM ˁ῁̬ˀ

@chilichopsticks @kaetheii @kalopsia-flaneur @angelina7890

[jfpstarchaser]

James' in a hurry, running the corridors of the castle without much attention. He's terribly late to his class with McGonagall. His breathing is already a bit labored, he's been running quite a bit, the place he was and his class are on completely opposite sides of the castle.

And James forgot all about when he went there, but fuck if he's not remembering next time.

He bursts through the classroom's door, his wand thrown hastily somewhere in his backpack, alongside his books. His glasses are a little bit crooked from all the running, he sets them right and looks up to Minnie's stern gaze. He throws at her a little, sheepish grin. And her gaze softens just a little.

"I'm really sorry, Professor!" He says, and remembers the rest of his clothes, they're messy just like his hair. He tries to fix his tie, while putting his things on his seat next to Sirius. Sirius, who's looking at him like he's grown a second head, but amused all the same. It makes James frown a little, confused. Then, he hears Minnie's voice again, in the dead silent classroom:

"Mr. Potter, I was not aware of your resort into another House." She says, and looks pointedly to his tie, and James looks down with her. And— oh. It's a green tie. Slytherin tie. He can feel his face heating up the more she looks. He bites his lips and hears his classmates laugh a little, sees Sirius at his side laughing too, and he already knows he will never live it down.

"I—" James starts, but never finishes. There's another commotion on the classroom door he just came through, he looks up and it's him.

Regulus. He and his friends are standing at the door, James' red, Gryffindor's tie clutched tight in his hands. His face is also red, just like James' and his tie, and his beautiful curly hair is a mess. James can also see Barty, Evan, Pandora and Dorcas behind him. They're laughing just like everyone, and Evan gives Regulus a little push that makes him completely enter the room. He gets even more red.

"Excuse me, Professor. I came to get my— my tie." He stutters a little, and says it in a small voice. He's looking everywhere but James and Minnie. Regulus' blushing is already spreading down his pale neck, and James can't take his eyes off him. He's so bloody pretty, James thinks. There's a love bite escaping the collar of his uniform shirt, his top buttons still undone from where James' hands and mouth passed through earlier.

"May as well, Mr. Black. And make sure this will not happen again." Minnie says, waving her wand hand in James' direction. James, who hasn't moved since he saw Regulus again. He bites his bottom lip again, waiting as if rooted in his place for Regulus to come to him. And he does.

He brings his hands to James' tie— no, his tie—, and slides it off James' neck, and looks at him in the eyes, then. And he fixes James' shirt, smooths it down, buttons it up, and wraps James' tie on him correctly, instead of just throwing the red tie back to James, like he could've done. But no. He did it with the same care he does everything when it comes to James, like he needs to be careful or he'll ruin them. He already has, James thinks. Regulus does it naturally, quickly, presses his lips into a flat line and then he looks away. Oh. He seems to have done it unconsciously, James realizes.

James' blushes harder, if that's possible.

Then, Regulus takes a step back. Clears his throat, and looks at the Minnie, red like a strawberry, he bows politely.

"I apologize for interrupting your lesson, Professor. And yes, I shall make sure it won't happen again." He says in his posh, polite way. Even if he's embarrassed, he's still the most polite and composed boy he always is. And, Merlin, James loves him so much. Regulus wets his lips, looks up, clears his throat again and looks at James, eyes full of mischief. "We shall make sure it won't happen again, shall we not, James?"

Damn him. Only calling James his first name in public in a situation like this. It steals James' breath away. No, Regulus does. He wants everything from James, and James hands it over willingly.

"I— Yeah. Yeah, love. Whatever you say." James says back, still feeling inebriated by this boy. James' absolutely weak for the way his name rolls out of Regulus' bitten red lips. It's absolutely happening again. All of it. He just knows. And Regulus does, too. He smirks at James, even if his blush, that was going away, comes back brighter, acts like it's nothing, and looks away from James again.

James sighs. He wants him so much. All of him.

"Then, please excuse us, Professor. I'll be on the way to my own class. Apologies again." Regulus says, all polite again to Minnie, who nods at him, and then he's going for the door. He doesn't say anything else, even if he swats his hands at his laughing friends, who were waiting for him outside the classroom. He glances back to James once, and closes the door. James sighs again, quietly.

He's still looking at the door when he's startled by a voice that he knows all too well, coming from beside him.

"This is the most put-together your uniform has been all year, Prongs. Enjoying my little brother doing your tie now, are we?" Sirius drawls, very much like his brother likes to do and glares at James.

Fuck. Fuck.

[newtonsheffield]

Is Princess Kate a bit spoilt? She kinda has to be, right? Do she and Anthony clash over that, even after they are properly together?

I think she is, yeah. She’s grown up with the best of everything and it’s not really a secret that she has her Appa (you know, the king of the entire country) wrapped firmly around her pinky. She’s pretty well used to getting whatever she wants whenever she wants it. And I think sometimes that frustrates Anthony.

Because there are rarely any consequences to the things she does, not really. Not the way there are for normal people. Anthony’s family is fairly well off, they weren’t poor growing up but he definitely couldn’t afford to walk into a store and buy whatever he wanted. Unless that store was a Primark.

So it’s a little uncomfortable for him when they’re first officially together and he says he needs to get a new suit for an event they’re attending. He wants to look his best, because the public’s still very much getting used to the idea of them together and this is their first big event. A dinner for a charity Kate’s the chair of. He already feels self conscious about the fact that the nerves in his Left arm will never properly heal to give him any great motor function and now here he is, being greeted at the door of Tom Ford like he’s an old friend.

“Your Royal Highness.” The sales associate greets Kate with an awkward bow before turning to him, “Mr Bridgerton.”

It’s still odd to him, that he can stand beside Kate now, rather than three steps behind. That he can feel her fingers knotted with his as she takes off her sunglasses, her eyes flicking down to read the associate’s name tag with a smile.

“Carrie, it’s lovely to meet you. I wonder if you can help Anthony and me. We’re looking for a suit.”

“Of-of course.” Carrie said quickly ushering in my them over to the section, asking an under questions none of which Anthony is really listening too because he’s so busy wondering if he can afford this. And even if he could it dawns on him that it won’t be just this suit. It’ll never be just this suit. There’ll be hundreds more just like it that he’s expected to wear. When already felt uncomfortably out of place here with the sleeves rolled up on his rugby jersey and his slightly muddy sneakers squeaking against the floor.

“Anthony?” Kate caught his attention, her face frowning and he realised he had no idea what she was asking. “Are you alright, babe?”

Anthony nodded, swallowing. “Sorry, I- what was that?”

“I said I like the Royal blue, or the grey and white tweed sort of pattern. Though tweed’s not very traditional for this sort of thing.”

He wouldn’t have even known that. He glanced around, “Ah, I like the blue.”

They were ushered away into the kind of changing room that Anthony had spent the last few years waiting outside for Kate. One that’s not just a curtain and a partition. There’s champagne and a bonafide snack table, while a person flits around you, checking the fit of everything.

It’s a nice suit. Anthony even likes the way he feels in it, he likes the fact that the man in this suit looks like he belongs beside the woman sipping champagne on the sofa beside him, in the way the man wearing a Harlequins jersey his baby sister had bought him didn’t. But he still feels awkward and out of place as Carrie hums,

“Do you prefer a waistcoat?”

Anthony blinked at her, “I… didn’t when I was… when I usually wore a suit.” He stopped short of saying it wasn’t his uniform. Something everyone in the room must have known. And swallowed thickly, “I don’t know if I need one.”

He hated that he had to look to Kate who shook her head, “It’s not very formal. No waistcoat, no tie if you don’t want.”

He suddenly just wanted everyone else gone. He wanted to be alone to figure out how the hell he was supposed to get out of buying a £5500 suit. He swallowed, “I think the blue shirt’s too much. Could I try another few colours, please?”

Carrie nodded and left the room and Anthony stared at his reflection panic building in his chest.

Kate wrapped her arm around his waist and kissed his cheek, sighing, “Handsome.”

That wasn’t helping. That made him want to buy this and spend the next few months of his life living on tinned beans and cereal. Just to make her happy.

Anthony tried to smile, but it looked like a grimace when he caught sight of it in the mirror. “Thanks.”

Kate’s brow furrowed, “You don’t like it?”

“I… it’s a nice suit.”

“Do you want to try something else? Do you want to go somewhere else? We could try Dolce?”

Anthony nearly laughed, “Kate, honey, I can’t…” he bit it off, “I don’t want to trouble anyone.”

Kate chuckled, “It’s not any trouble.”

He sighed, leaning away from her touch, “Kate, I don’t want to go there because I can’t afford it. I can’t even really afford this suit.”

He’d thought her face would form the sort of uncomfortable expression people’s normally did when they discussed money but it didn’t. She raised her eyebrows in amusement and let out a chuckle, and somehow that was worse.

“You don’t have to pay for it. I am, well, Appa is.”

Anthony’s heart sank, and he didn’t want it to but something in him snapped. “No! He’s not!”

Kate frowned at him, “I… it’s really fine. He won’t… care. He won’t even notice.”

He knew Kate lived in a different world. Well, maybe that wasn’t fair, she was much less out of touch than some people much less wealthy when it came to so many things. But this seemed like something she hadn’t grasped yet. And maybe she never would. Money. When you had so much of it it seemed inconsequential. She hadn’t quite understood why Anthony had laughed when she said she’d bought herself a little treat and a goddamned Ferrari had been delivered the next day. She was used to getting what she wanted. To someone giving her what she wanted, and he would never be able to do that. And he hated it.

“Kate for God’s sake! Do you think this is what your father wants for you?! Do you think he wants you to be with someone like me who can’t even fucking tie their shoes properly anymore?!”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“Do you think he wants to clothe me as well?!” He hated how bitter it sounded, how sad. “You’re just so…”

“Spoilt.” She finished for him, her chin tilted in defiance, “That’s what you wanted to say right?”

Anthony clenched his jaw, “I… didn’t.”

She still hadn’t let go of his waist, and she pulled him closer. “I know this is uncomfortable for you. I know you… struggle with this but I love you. And I promise, Appa only wants me to be happy. I know I’m used to getting what I want, and I’m difficult but just… this doesn’t need to be difficult. If you don’t let me buy this for you it’ll show up at your house tomorrow anyway.”

Anthony sighed, leaning against her touch, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just… I don’t know how to be this person. I like my stupid old sneakers and my rugby jersey and my jeans that cost £20. I don’t even know how to own a £6000 suit. It’ll get wrecked in my closet.”

Kate chuckled, “It comes with a suit bag, babe. And besides,you’re doing fine with that coat I gave you a few weeks ago.”

Anthony squawked, “You said it was on sale.”

Kate blinked at him innocently, “It was on sale.”

“I… what am I supposed to do with you?”

“I can think of quite a few things.” She ran her hands over his shoulders, “First you need to decide if this is the suit for you though.”

Anthony sighed looking at himself in the mirror, “I like it. The sleeves are a bit long though.”

She kissed his cheek again before she moved away and ducked her head out the door, “Carrie, we’d like to make a few adjustments to the tailoring if that’s alright.”

[loosingmoreletters]

After sending the knights to their lodgings, Aurel locked himself up in the nursery, dismissing all servants attending to his son. Lurian was so quiet and cheerful, it nearly made up for how strenuous his birth had been. Aurel could not imagine any circumstances under which he would not love his son. If this child were to ask for a star, Aurel would travel to the skies himself to deliver them.

Wrapped up in a thick blanket, Lurian sleeping soundly in his arms, Aurel wished he could rest as well. Today he was relieved from his duties, but tomorrow they have to stay preparing for the funeral and inheritance ceremony. For twelve years, Aurel had lived for this moment only, yet he felt wholly unprepared for it.

A slight knock at the door interrupted the otherwise quiet night.

“Come in.”

The door opened, revealing the woman he loved like a mother.

“My Lord,” she greeted him and bowed his neck - a sign of respect he long stopped asking her to perform, and she yet steadily executed to perfection. “I can take care of the young Master if you want to rest.”

Aurel shook his head. “I prefer keeping Lurian by my side. Have the Knights settled?”

“Yes, Sir Ahst managed everything.” His nanny paused, her expression falling. “Sir Ahst also informed me about the circumstances of the Count’s passing.”

Aurel clicked his tongue. “Father passed due to a battle injury. It is a honorable death.”

His nanny didn’t say anything in disagreement, but Aurel also got the sense that she didn’t approve. She had seen him grown up, wrapped his wounds in bandages and let him cry into her apron; she had probably hoped his father’s fate would be a different one.

“He left last words for you.”

Aurel frowned and adjust his hold on his son. “The knights didn’t report any.”

“I assume they did not want to hurt you. The Count’s last words were for Aurelia. He apologized to her.”

Aurel was glad to be sitting down.

His father had not spoken that name in a decade. Everyone knew that even just mentioning it around him would see him fly into fit of rage, Aurel most often his victim.

“What did he apologize for?” Aurel asked. “My failure to be a better son?”

His nanny closed her eyes as though in pain. “The late Count apologized for failing to be the father Aurelia needed.”

Nanny paused. “The father you needed.”

Lurian yawned and opened his eyes. The newborn blue had turned into a light purple, reminiscent of lilac blooms in summer. It was the only obvious trait Lurian had inherited from his other parent. His dark hair was just like Aurel’s, the shape of his eyebrows too if Aurel’s childhood portrait could be trusted.

“So what? Does he regret putting me in my brother’s clothes now?” Aurel asked. “Raising me in his name? Telling me to have a son in case his scheme is discovered!?”

With his one free hand, Aurel ran his fingers through his hair, thinking back to a year ago, his father’s cold voice demanding yet another heir of a child, the vulgar words spoken, giving him money to hire a good quality prostitute—

“He didn’t even care about me when I was bleeding out on child bed, only if Lurian was a boy! Why does he apologize to a girl he told me to bury—“

Lurian started to cry, surprised at Aurel’s raised voice. Guilt immediately rose within him and Aurel started soothing his son. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t mean to upset Lurian, not when he loved him so much. He wouldn’t raise Lurian the way his own father had raised Aurel.

“You do not have to forgive him, Aurel.”

Aurel looked up to his nanny, softly watching over him even as Lurian still cried.

“And even if you will, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

His nanny smiled at him. “Do you wish for me to look after Lurian now so you can collect your thoughts? The wet nurse ought to feed him soon.”

“Would be nice if I could do it myself, wouldn’t it?” Aurel asked. It was supposed to be a joke, but it fell rather flat considering his nanny had been the one changing his bandages day and night after that particular organ was removed. They had to wait after his last growth spurt was over, which kept being delayed, a matter his father was as relieved about as annoyed.

“You can take him,” Aurel decided and carefully handed his squirming son over to his nanny. “I will go visit Lius’s grave.”

His nanny inclined her head again. “As you wish.”

“Thank you, Nanny.” Aurel’s gaze lingered on Lurian. “Behave for nanny.”

His nanny feigned outrage. “The young master is the most well-behaved boy in the land. Very different from how you and your brother used to be.”

Aurel grinned. “That isn’t particularly difficult.”

And even if Lurian were the most troublesome child on the continent, Aurel would still love him wholeheartedly.

[stesierra]

Since I'm trying to share something every day to motivate myself to write again, here's the first chapter of one of my adult fantasy books. At one point I loved it but I had a critique partner read the whole thing and now it embarrasses me. So this is probably terrible but give it a chance maybe? Trigger warning: magical seizures.

Please tell me if you want to be removed from the taglist. Or added, I guess.

Stitches and Memories

(WHY DID I PICK SUCH A TERRIBLE TITLE?)

Chapter One

The 4th Day of Spring, 502 King's Rule

Antea didn't spend her thirtieth birthday celebrating with the few people who called her acquaintance. She spent it dying. Again.

A normal woman wouldn't be on the floor of her bathroom, occasionally spasming hard enough to slam her head into the wooden tub. All she was doing was reliving her first kiss at age seventeen. It was just a memory. It was just a memory, brain, get it together.

But her brain did not get it together. It flooded her with memories of the boy's pink lips -- too wet and too large -- at the same time as it slammed a pickax through her eyes over and over again. She'd blacked out too much to see the room around her, but she felt it when her legs spiked straight and slammed her into the wall. She came away with splinters in her arm and cheek.

"Shut up over there!" her neighbor bellowed from the next apartment over. "Keep pounding on the walls and I'll report this to the constables!"

He probably would, too, the bastard.

In her mind, the boy drew back and beamed at her. The memory ended there, but the pickax didn't stop for another twenty minutes.

When the agony died down, she dragged herself over to the chamber pot and threw up.

When she finally eased her eyes open, a partly digested pasty stared up at her. The pounding on her door registered then. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound raised dread in her heart. Only one type of person knocked like that in Drazen. With that terrible implacability.

When she wrenched the door open, hinges squealing, a broad man in green stared down at her over his posh black mustache. Some seamstress had embroidered his doublet with the king's symbol, a golden lion biting its tail. The gold thread was real, which meant she'd gotten an up-city constable somehow, which was deeply unfair since she lived in the slums.

He frowned at her. She could guess what he was seeing: a barefoot, brown-skinned woman who had just grown out of being pretty, wearing a dress that had been mended too many times. Her golden hair was mashed in a nest on one side of her head. She smelled of a few days of sweat and dirt.

Her black hair had turned metallic gold when she was eighteen. No, she didn't know why. There was a lot about being eighteen that she didn't know.

She bowed deeply. "May I help you, sir?"

He said, "I've had a noise complaint here. Pounding on the walls. Disrupting the peace."

"I had a fit of convulsions in my bathroom."

He frowned at her, his whole face drooping. "We have had a lot of complaints about these convulsions."

Antea resisted the urge to wrap her hands around his fat neck. "Yes. That's because it's a medical condition." And it was true, even if they weren't the normal sort of fits, not normal at all. As far as she understood it, normal people with convulsions thrashed around less and passed out and sometimes forgot the whole thing. She wasn't normal. She was awake through the fire in her head and every twitch and spasm, and she remembered everything.

The constable leaned in close. "Have you been praying for healing?"

"Yes."

"If I go and check your records, will I find you tithing regularly to at least one of the gods?"

"Yes," she lied.

"Because if I check and you haven't, then you aren't really trying to be healed, and you will be held wholly responsible for remaining ill."

"Which entails?"

He sniffed. "After all this commotion, I would think eviction, at least."

Her rentals always ended in eviction, but she had hoped this one would last out the year. "Sir, the Stag God teaches mercy to the infirm and poor. Seeing as I'm both, I would be most grateful for your understanding."

"There are many such deserving citizens in Drazen. But with your extensive record--"

"Of what? Running into walls in the night? That's not even a crime."

The man straightened to his full height, towering over her like the Eagle God over his foes. "If a constable of the law says you have committed a crime, then you have. Gather your things if you have any. I will speak with your landlord, and it will go poorly for you if you are still here tonight."

Antea sagged against the doorframe. "Yes, sir."

He smiled at her, wide and smug. "Oh, and remember the curfew."

It took all her willpower not to punch him. She turned sharply instead and shut the door in his face.

She didn't have much to gather. Her ragged haversack weighed nothing when she slung it over her shoulder. Her leather shoes were hiding under the bed. Even though the seams on the sides were giving way, they covered her toes at least. One change of clothes and a wool blanket lay on the mattress. The blanket served as a blanket, but her extra dress was her only pillow. She wrapped one inside the other and tied them to the bottom of her haversack.

One last thing remained. A letter. When she'd moved in, she had shoved it under the mattress where she wouldn't have to look at it. She pulled it out now and thought about throwing it on the fire. It would burst into flames, burning fast and hot, the dry paper shrinking into black curls before they crumbled away into white ash. If she burnt the letter, she would never have to read those words again. The pain in her head might always be with her, but that pain she could leave behind.

She read the letter. It said:

"My beloved daughter, I write this for my own sake, for you will never read it. Forgive me. What I tore from your mind was necessary, but with that wound, I know that I have killed you. May the gods have mercy on my soul."

She ran her fingertips over his signature. Then she put the letter in her bag and walked out of the tenement never to return.

--

It was two hours before the doleful tones of the curfew bell would ring across the city, two hours for Antea to find shelter for the night. She didn't have the coin for an inn. She had just paid the damn landlord the next month's rent money, not that he would ever consider a refund. If she asked he would laugh in her face, and the law would be on his side, too, like it always was.

With no other option, she headed for the nice part of the city. Not the nicest because that was up near the royal castle and the queen's spire, and people like her weren't allowed there. No, she went to the parts frequented by merchants and the new rich, where no one would care that she was there.

In the dimming light, the nice quarter was all faded stone edges and empty streets. Even the rich had to follow curfew. But even in the twilight, the library stood out as the biggest building in the district. Pilgrims that followed the Crow God visited from all over Ritalia. Its marble facade was hidden under red leather prayer offerings. When it rained the entire building stank like a wet dog.

She slipped between the leaving patrons and headed for the front desk. Zoren, the head librarian, raised his eyebrows at her. He was a pleasantly overweight man in a long black robe, with large spectacles sitting on top of his bulbous nose. The blue mage light beside him shone off his bald head. "Antea? This is quite the departure from the norm. What's going on, then?"

She flushed and hiked her haversack higher on her shoulder. "I got evicted. I was wondering--

"If you can sleep in one of the back rooms tonight?"

She nodded.

The librarian's voice was gentle but unyielding. "If we were caught housing people in a building not zoned for it, we could get into a great deal of trouble with the constables."

"That's a no?"

"I'm sorry, Antea. Good luck finding shelter tonight."

She bowed to him and slumped out of the library. But she stopped on the front steps and straightened up. She wasn't giving up that easily. The constable who had evicted her thought he'd catch her for breaking curfew, and that he'd see her locked up and the key thrown away. But Antea had planned for this, even if she had hoped the day would never come.

All her worldly possessions on her shoulder, she walked half a mile to the Shrine of the Gods.

The Shrine of the Gods was not one shrine but many, all marked by white marble columns that thrust up from the city streets. At its base, each pillar bore the painted statue of one of the gods. When you approached a statue, you were isolated from the others by head-high circular walls around each column. They carved out a little bubble of space so that it was just you and whatever god you had chosen, and anyone else who wanted to pray had to wait in line. Those lines sometimes stretched out for miles, but at this time of night, every statue she passed was alone.

An overnight vigil was the one thing the constables couldn't complain about. She wouldn't get any sleep that night, but she wouldn't end up in jail.

Antea paced around, refreshing her memory about which god's statue stood where. There were thirty-two gods to choose from. Some of them were so minor no one worshipped them, but the Shrine represented all gods. Leaving one out just because they were as popular as moldy cheese was unthinkable.

Antea picked the Dog Goddess because she'd always been fond of bitches, and who didn't need a little guidance in their lives? She sat cross-legged on the braided wool mat spread out before the goddess's marble toes. The Dog Goddess stood in two forms next to herself. One was a rearing limer with floppy ears, painted black and brown, the other a small-breasted naked woman, painted with dark skin and white hair. The woman's hand was outstretched in benediction. It shone white at the tips, the details of her fingers worn smooth from the touch of too many worshipers.

Antea leaned close and said, "Hi."

The goddess did not reply.

"It's been a while since I talked to one of you gods. I'm not very pious, I know."

The dog statue of the goddess had its head tilted as if Antea had done something peculiar.

Antea drew her knees up to her chest. "It's funny, you know. I used to be very pious. Ready to do anything any god asked of me. Thirteen years ago." Thirteen years ago, she'd been a lot of things.

In the twilight, the goddess's expression looked sympathetic, but Antea had had twelve years to learn how little the gods cared.

She said, "I think I'm supposed to ask you for a gift. It's traditional, or something."

Someone passed by outside, and Antea forced herself to stay relaxed. Go away. She was communing with her god, like a good little citizen. Go away.

She stayed silent until the footsteps had faded. Then she said, "So, demanding things. I can't think of what I want. I mean, I want to be healed. But you've all said no to that." Thousands upon thousands of prayers, all unanswered. She'd even tried the gods no one prayed to anymore. And nothing.

Beyond the shelter of the shrine walls, the constables were ringing curfew. They'd start searching the streets soon, looking for beggars and troublemakers and other unwanteds. People like her who hadn't been smart enough to hide out at the Shrine. She needed to look prayerful, but it was early enough spring that the nights were still cold. Surely it couldn't hurt to pull out her blanket and cover her lap. The devout didn't have to freeze, did they?

"I'll ask for food and a place to sleep. That's nice and humble, right?" She undid the ties at the bottom of her haversack and yanked her blanket loose. When her spare dress clung to it, she stuffed it in the bag. And the letter fell out and fluttered to the stones.

Antea froze. She stared down at where it lay, heavy with its words. When she sat back down, blanket hugged against her chest, her movement bumped the letter a few inches away, but it didn't disappear.

She buried her face in wool and said, "You can't be serious. That's not a reasonable suggestion."

It wasn't, but the Dog Goddess wasn't suggesting anything. Antea was just talking to herself again. If the goddess had actually been present, the statue would have lit up with bright light, perfectly white the way mage lights never managed. Antea had seen the gods answer petitioners before. She used to watch her father-- Never mind. Forget it.

But she didn't forget it in time. Stabbing pains made her squeeze her eyes shut.

Someone cleared his throat behind her. She spun around, and the headache and the motion nearly made her vomit.

A Shrine worker stood there in his modest tunic and apron, both glowing white. He bowed his curly head and said, "You're here very late, daughter."

Antea kept her head high and clasped her hands together on her lap. "I'm keeping a vigil."

"I thought that perhaps that was the case. We do permit vigils, despite the curfew, but I must ask what you pray for tonight. The constabulary has us keep records, you see."

Of course they did. And if she didn't tell him something worthy of a goddess's guidance, he would call the constables. And she couldn't say she was asking for healing because the Dog Goddess wasn't a healer.

The letter lay innocently on the stone beside her. She picked it up and held it in her hand. Words flowed from her lips as if someone else was doing the talking. "My father hurt me and left me for dead, twelve years ago. I don't know what happened to him after that. He never came back to the city."

The worker's brows lifted, and his lips pursed as he took a step towards her. "That is... troubling. What guidance do you hope the Dog Goddess will grant you?"

Antea slumped, letting the letter trail against the ground. "I just... I need to know why. Why he did it. But he's the only one who knows, and there's no way I could afford a passport to even leave the city, much less to go to all the places he might be. That's why I've never found him."

The Shrine worker nodded. "That is a difficult problem, and one I fear I cannot help you with. But keep your vigil, daughter, and perhaps the goddess will grant you her wisdom." He swept his hands in a sign of blessing, and he walked on.

Antea let her breath out in a rush. She shoved the letter back in her haversack with shaky hands and wrapped herself up in the blanket.

"Close one, huh?" she said to the goddess's statue. "Maybe give me some guidance if you feel like it. Because I would like to know what he ruined my life for."

The goddess's statues stayed dark. If the goddess intended to guide her, it wouldn't be directly.

She sighed and rocked back and forth. "I know I'm very stupid. What am I hoping for? To remember? Trying to remember makes it worse." Even remembering something near to that day threatened to tear her mind apart.

The cloudy heavens overhead split and spilled out a thousand stars, winking and sparkling like candlelight seen from far away. Her brain throbbing with its usual rhythm, Antea sank down in her blanket, shut her mouth, and closed her eyes.

@anonymousfoz

@moremysteriesthantragedies

@elizababie

@sm-writes-chaos

@bellascarousel

@palebdot

@Hyba

[elysiangroundsforall]

Love & War

"Everything is fair in love and war."

Ch-17

As the night deepened, Seonghwa and Y/N found themselves sitting by the hearth, the warmth of the fire a stark contrast to the cold anxiety that had gripped them both. The flickering flames cast shadows on their faces, illuminating the determination and unspoken bond that had grown between them.

"We have to be prepared for anything," Seonghwa said, his voice steady but soft. "Baekje won't give up easily."

Y/N nodded, her gaze fixed on the flames. "I know. But with you by my side, I feel like we can handle whatever comes our way."

Seonghwa looked at her, his stern demeanor softening as he saw the courage in her eyes. He reached out, taking her hand in his. "We will. Together."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his touch, the connection between them palpable. She met his gaze, the intensity of his dark eyes drawing her in. "Thank you, Seonghwa. For everything."

Without another word, Seonghwa leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was a moment of vulnerability, a break from the constant fear and uncertainty that surrounded them. Y/N responded, her hand moving to the back of his neck as she deepened the kiss, finding solace and strength in the closeness they shared.

When they finally pulled away, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. "I…" Seonghwa began, but Y/N placed a finger on his lips.

"You don't have to say anything," she whispered. "I understand."

In that moment, the walls Seonghwa had built around himself began to crumble, replaced by a newfound sense of connection and trust. They sat together, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside their small sanctuary momentarily forgotten.

As the dawn approached, they both knew that the battles ahead would be fierce and unforgiving. But with each other's support, they felt a renewed sense of hope and determination. Together, they would face the challenges and dangers that awaited them, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.

The next morning, Seonghwa and Y/N awoke to a flurry of activity in the House of Gladiolus. The staff were busy preparing for another day, and the sense of urgency was palpable. The news of Baekje’s plans had cast a shadow over their lives, but there was no time to dwell on it.

Seonghwa dressed quickly, his mind already racing through strategies and plans to ensure Y/N’s safety. Y/N, meanwhile, felt a renewed sense of purpose. She was no longer just a bride; she was a partner in the struggle to protect their home and their lives.

“Y/N,” Seonghwa said, his voice firm but gentle. “Today, we need to meet with Yeosang and Hyunjin to discuss our next steps. It’s crucial that we’re all on the same page.”

Y/N nodded, her resolve clear in her eyes. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

They made their way to Yeosang’s office, where Yeosang and Hyunjin were already deep in discussion. The atmosphere was tense but focused.

“General, Princess,” Yeosang greeted them, bowing slightly. “We’ve received intelligence that Baekje is moving their forces closer to our borders. We need to act swiftly.”

Hyunjin nodded in agreement. “We have to fortify our defenses and ensure that the palace is secure. Our spies have also reported unusual activity around Baekje’s capital. They might be planning something big.”

Seonghwa’s expression hardened. “We need to prepare for the worst. Y/N, your knowledge of Baekje could be invaluable. We need to understand their tactics and strategies.”

Y/N stepped forward, her voice steady. “I’ll do whatever I can to help. Baekje’s military is strong, but they have weaknesses. We just need to find and exploit them.”

As they delved into their plans, the gravity of the situation became increasingly clear. They discussed fortifications, troop movements, and potential alliances with neighboring kingdoms. Each decision was critical, each move potentially life-saving.

Hours passed as they worked tirelessly, their commitment unwavering. By the time they finished, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the palace. The sense of urgency had not diminished, but there was a newfound sense of unity and purpose.

As they left the office, Seonghwa turned to Y/N. “You were incredible today. Your insights could make all the difference.”

Y/N smiled, though her eyes were weary. “We’re in this together, Seonghwa. We’ll find a way to protect our home.”

The days that followed were filled with preparation and planning. Seonghwa and Y/N worked side by side, their bond strengthening with each passing moment. They trained together, strategized together, and supported each other through the growing tension.

One evening, as they stood on the palace balcony overlooking the city, Seonghwa took Y/N’s hand. “I never thought I could feel this way,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve changed everything.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the warmth of his words. “And you’ve given me a reason to believe in a future,” she replied softly.

As they shared another kiss, the stars above seemed to shine brighter, casting a gentle light over the palace. In that moment, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, united by love and determination.

Their reconciliation was not just a personal victory but a symbol of hope and resilience. As the kingdom braced for the impending threat, the bond between Seonghwa and Y/N stood as a testament to the power of love in the face of adversity. Together, they would protect their home and their people, forging a future built on trust, courage, and unwavering commitment to each other.

Ch 18>>

[blackjackkent]

OK, Day 2 of Moonrise Tower Adventures.

Yesterday's explorations mostly consisted of Hector almost getting absorbed by a tentacle hivemind, Astarion getting creeped on by a drow monsterfucker, and then us all watching Ketheric Thorm do his party tricks called Be Voiced By JK Simmons and Take An Axe In The Neck. Let's see what trouble we can get into today.

Everyone around keeps kowtowing and bowing to Hector because they think he's a True Soul, which is making him tremendously uncomfortable.

Interestingly, though, that bugbear back in the entrance hall seems to know Karlach!

"Well, Flo didn't tell a lie! She said you'd find me, and here you are. Karlach, isn't it?"

"Now there's a name I'd hoped never to hear again. What was Flo doing here?"

"Didn't think to quiz her about her business," the bugbear grunts casually.

"Karlach, who's Flo?" Hector asks, keeping his tone deliberately just as casual.

"Florenta the Garrotter. A cambion I knew back in Avernus," Karlach answers, sounding more than a little tired. Some complicated expression works its way around her eyes. "She was the closest thing I had to a friend. That said, she would've choked the life out of me if I ever turned my back on her. The fact that she knows where I am - where I might be going - doesn't exactly delight me."

Hector frowns worriedly. Karlach has a way of casually dropping these comments about her time in Avernus that makes him want to put everything else aside and just hold her and protect her for roughly a year. She was so alone - and her closest friend would have killed her given a chance. Better to have no friends at all than that, in his opinion. And even better that she has him now, and the others of their little band - people she can rely on.

(He doesn't think about it at this exact moment, but it is a sign of how he's grown. In the early days after the nautiloid crash, he thought it impossible that he would be able to rely on and trust such violent, secretive, difficult people - but he would trust them with his life now, and the life of the woman he loves. Many things have changed...)

"What does she want with you?" he asks.

Karlach shrugs. "Nothing would surprise me. Maybe she wants to live up to her name and wrap a cord around my neck. Or maybe she just wants to say hello."

Something of Hector's disdain for the cold cruelty she describes must show on his face, because she frowns almost apologetically. "I wouldn't have given her the time of day, but even I needed a laugh once in a while. And what can I say? The bitch had good jokes."

"Enough chatter," the bugbear puts in irritably. "Your friend gave me three soul coins. Said I could sell 'em if I wanted, but if I kept 'em for you, she'd consider it a favor owed."

Karlach blinks, perking up slightly. "Soul coins, huh? Those could come in handy."

Hector considers this for a moment in silence. They've found a few of these Soul Coins already; Karlach described them as, more or less, fuel for the infernal engine - inserting them during a fight will give her extra power. They're also receptacles for actual living souls; between that and the fact that her engine doesn't need any help being overpowered, the whole thing makes Hector distinctly uncomfortable, and he hasn't actually brought them up during a fight, although he knows Karlach wants him to. She likes the feeling of energy they give her - but she hasn't forced the issue, at least not yet.

He can see, too, that she wants to accept this addition to their stock of them - which also doesn't make him super comfortable. "We shouldn't take anything offered by a devil," he points out. "Too risky."

"Cambion," she corrects absently. "But you're right." A pause. She fidgets her weight back and forth from one foot to the other and looks at him sideways. "Then again...they could *really* come in handy."

He can't help a slight smile. It is, perhaps, a good thing that Karlach is on their side and a fundamentally very good person, because she could convince him to do anything with just a glance like that. Besides, she's still letting him decide when to use them; perhaps he owes it to her to at least let her accept the gift.

"Let's have the soul coins, then," he says ruefully, sticking a hand out.

"Sure." The bugbear sneers unpleasantly. "But she did have a condition."

Of course she did, Hector thinks with an inward sigh.

"For every coin you take, you've got to hear the story of the soul trapped inside."

Karlach goes very still. Her eyes flash and her mouth sets into a tight line; it's supposed to be a sardonic grin but doesn't quite manage it. "There you have it," she mutters. "Flo came all this way just to try to make me feel like shit. Clever use of her time. Memorized a bunch of sad stories on her behalf, did you?"

"Didn't need to," the bugbear says coolly. "Your Flo did some devil woo-woo and stuck 'em in my head. Couldn't forget now if I wanted to." He reaches into his pocket, pulls out one of the charred black disks, and spins it in his fingers. "D'you want the coins or not?"

Hector shifts uncomfortably. He likes the idea of this gift even less now - and this 'Flo' is now firmly on the list of people he will happily put a fist through, given the chance. Were it only his decision, he'd walk away right now. But he can see Karlach's expression and knows she would see that as capitulation to the cruelty being thrown at her, and she wouldn't appreciate it.

So he closes his eyes, squares his shoulders, and prepares to ride out this storm with her. "Fine. Get on with it, then."

The bugbear's smile tightens maliciously. "First coin's got the soul of a woman named Mavery. She was born to a cruel mother and a violent father and three evil brothers, all named Baldur. She never knew a day of love in all her life. When she was a girl of fifteen, she sold her soul to Tiamat in exchange for someone who would love her unconditionally. She got what she asked for - a fellow named Clint, destined to be her soul mate. Struck by a cart and died a few moments after clapping eyes on our Mavery. Poor guy. The scud of her soul is yours now."

Karlach's expression is unreadable as she takes the coin. "Thanks, I guess."

"We'll put that coin to better use than Tiamat would've," Hector says firmly.

The bugbear laughs. "Sure you will." He pulls out another disc, flat in the palm of his hand. "This'n has got the soul of a man named Frakes. Lived in a village near Neverwinter, hit hard by the worst hunger in a thousand years. Frakes called out for help - prayed for his children to have meat to eat. Zariel answered. Made old Frakes grow flesh upon flesh after flesh. His wee ones had all the meat they could stomach."

Karlach looks slightly ill. "He shouldn've known," she mutters. "Better to die a thousand deaths than let Zariel into your life."

"That's absolutely vile," Hector says, his skin prickling uncomfortably. "Unsurprising of Zariel, but vile all the same."

The bugbear looks at him pointedly and shrugs. "*Karlach's* the one set to consume his soul, I hear." He pulls the last coin from his pocket, tosses it on the floor at Karlach's feet. "Last one's got the soul of a little boy named Ongir. Eight years old. He liked playing in the sun with his friends. That's all I know."

Karlach, retrieving the coin, squints at him warily. "That's all?"

The bugbear smirks. "That's all - oh, and this slip of scratch." He thrusts a folded paper at her, which she takes without looking at it.

"Well, thanks, Flo," she says bitterly. "Hearing a bunch of desperate horror has ruined my day, which I suppose was the point."

The bugbear smirks. "You got three soul coins out of the bargain, didn't you? I'd quit whinging, if I were you. I did my part - that means our business is done, unless you've got actual gold to hand."

He waits hopefully, then turns and stalks away when he receives no response.

-----

"All right, Karlach?" Hector asks her gently when they are (more or less) alone again.

She shrugs, handing the last coin over to him. "Been better, Soldier. I won't lie to you."

He takes the coin, then catches her hand before she can pull it away. "You didn't deserve that."

"I bloody well know I didn't," she snaps. "Just another bit of bullshit for them to torment me with." A pause. "Sorry, I just..." She trails off. "They're a tool. And we need all the tools we can get. We didn't put them in the damn things."

"You're right," he says softly. "And if you want me to, I'll keep them."

"I don't know what I want." She frowns and looks away; for a moment it's clear she wants to yank her hand out of his grip, but then she hesitates, and gives his fingers a slight, desperate squeeze.

"What did the note say?" Shadowheart asks, leaning against a nearby pillar.

Karlach glances at the folded up piece of paper in her other hand, then shoves it at the cleric. Shadowheart, raising an eyebrow, takes it, unfolds it, and reads it aloud.

"To whom it may concern. Fruug got his head stuck in a butter barrel and when his little imp thing tried to help him, they both fell off a ledge into a volcano. I laughed so hard Zariel sent me out of the room. Other than that, you haven't missed much, though I've sure as hell missed you. XO, Flo."

There's a long silence. The temperature around them has climbed several degrees and Hector can see the light of Karlach's engine stuttering with agitation.

"Well," Gale says cautiously. "Allow me to be the first, Karlach, to commend you on the absolutely astonishing improvement you have made to your social circle by leaving all that behind."

The comment startles a soft laugh out of Karlach, and the surge of heat eases a little. "I do seem to be doing better with you lot, don't I?" she says. "Gods...Hec, let's just...keep moving. Sooner we're through here the better."

[contrivedcoincidences6]

mulder and scully 26 for the kiss prompt 👀

Thank you!!!!! Ngl I'm so excited you sent me this you know it's my intention to drag you into my current obsession 🤣 sorry for any errors I forwent a beta for such a short story and wrote it all in like 20 mins.

26. kissing to make sure others know they’re taken

---

Me: God I hate the Diana arc so much Also me: Writing yet another fic about it because I love how intense Scully gets

---

Her first reaction to seeing Diana holding Mulder’s hand was an immense sense of loss and jealousy. She could tell they had some sort of history but she hadn’t had the chance to talk to Mulder since the meeting that morning. The Scully of just a few months ago would have walked away, head bowed, tears in her eyes. But she knew her place in Mulder’s life and by his side.

She’d woken up just that morning with Mulder in her bed, his arms and legs wrapped around her like she was his source of life. It was just three months ago when Mulder had driven her home from the hospital after the incident at Ruskin dam and things changed. He’d been getting ready to leave after making sure she was comfortable but he’d stopped at the door and just stared at her before pulling her into an embrace that morphed into a kiss.

As they’d laid in her bed later that evening, Mulder held her close and told her he loved her and everything changed. Most nights Scully found herself asking Mulder to come home with her, on evenings when they were exhausted or injured from the day they would sleep huddled together.

The incident with the New Spartans had tested them but afterwards they’d grown even stronger so as Scully entered the room where Mulder and Diana stood talking closely she tamped down her insecurity.

Mulder smiled as she entered the room in a way that made it impossible not to smile back. He drops Diana’s hand casually and takes the folder Scully holds out to him. She can feel Diana’s eyes on them as Scully explains Gibson’s test results and the amazing developments there that could explain Gibson’s gift. After reading over the results and listening Mulder looks up at her in amazement.

“We will need to run more tests, of course, but if these results are correct this could be quantifiable scientific proof of all of our work,” Scully couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice. The way Mulder looked at her made her heart flutter and she suddenly wanted to be alone in their basement office more than anything.

“How do you quantify the spiritual? It can’t be done,” Diana said, breaking the spell.

Scully sized up the woman next to her, a woman who had once been Mulder’s partner in more than just the X Files.

“Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only in contradiction to what we know of it,” Scully repeats the words she said to Mulder years before as they had stood before his mother’s hospital bed thinking all hope was lost.

Diana’s eyes narrowed but before she could say anything Mulder spoke up, “Scully’s right, this could be the key to everything in the X Files. We need to bring this to Skinner, this is leverage, let’s go.”

In true Mulder fashion he began to gather his things in a rush, ready to move onto the next thing but Diana reached forward to grab his hand.

“Fox, it’s unwise to use this information widely. You don’t want to draw too much attention to the X Files,” she said as she rubbed his hand with her thumb in a way that made Scully feel sick.

Mulder pursed his lips and shook his head. “We need to pursue this lead, it’s the answer to everything we’ve been searching for.”

Gently, Mulder pulled his hand from Diana’s and moved into Scully’s space, handing her back the folder containing the EEG results.

He squeezed her arm and smiled at her. “Ready?”

The admiration in his eyes and the ridiculous need to stake her claim gave Scully courage and she pushed up on her toes to give Mulder a quick, but more than friendly kiss.

Mulder seemed stunned but shot her a goofy grin before throwing his jacket over his arm and heading out the door.

Before leaving the room herself Scully turned to give Diana a long look. “See you back in the city Agent Fowley.”

[grey-gazania-fic]

Chess

Fingolfin enjoys what will be his last moment of peace with his family. Part of my Woman King AU. Rated G.

It was a cold, quiet night at Barad Eithel, a few days into the new year, and I was enjoying a peaceful evening with my family in the warmth and comfort of my parlor. Fingon, Ianneth, and Ereiniel had come to visit for the midwinter festival, as they often did. It was a joy to have them here. I missed Argon and Aredhel, both lost so long ago, and Turgon and Idril, hidden away in their secret city. Fingon was the only one of my children who remained in my life, and I treasured him and his wife and daughter all the more for it.

He sat across from me, frowning as he concentrated on the chessboard that lay between us. While he was brilliant on the battlefield, the finer points of chess still eluded him, though he had played countless games in his life -- not only against me, but also against his cousins and his brothers. Among his generation in our family, it was Argon and Caranthir who had truly mastered the game, not my eldest child.

Ereiniel was cross-legged on the thick carpet near our feet, amusing herself with her doll and a trio of painted wooden horses. Lalwen was keeping half an eye on her as she relaxed by the fire, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. Ianneth sat beside my sister, letting out the hem of one of Ereiniel’s skirts, for my granddaughter had grown another few inches. It seemed she was destined to be tall. That was unsurprising; physically, she took after Fingon in everything but her nose, and while he was the shortest of my three sons, he was still of an imposing height.

I moved my castle across the board. “Check and mate,” I said.

Fingon leaned back and groaned good-naturedly. “Best out of three?” he suggested.

“In a moment.” I looked down at Ereiniel. “I have something for you, starshine,” I said. When she laid her doll down and turned to look at me, I added, “I know it’s still two weeks till your begetting day, but you and your parents will be home by then, so I’d like to give it to you now.”

Over by the fire, Lalwen hid a smile behind her hand. She knew what the gift was; in fact, she had helped me think of the idea. But Fingon and Ianneth did not, and my sister and I were looking forward to seeing Fingon’s reaction almost as much as Ereiniel’s. I drew the present out from behind my chair and placed it in my granddaughter’s hands.

“Is it a book?” she asked, examining the rectangular package.

“Open it and see, love,” Ianneth said, setting her work aside.

Slowly, Ereiniel pulled the wrappings away with her small fingers. It was indeed a book, one I had had made just for her, a slim volume with a cover of blue leather and the title embossed in gold letters.

“Prince Fingon and the Fire-Drake,” she read aloud. Then she looked up at her father with wide, shining eyes. “Ada, it’s about you! It’s about the time you fought the dragon.”

My son glanced at me with raised eyebrows before seating himself on the carpet beside his daughter. “So it is,” he said, not quite managing to conceal his own surprise. But Ereiniel didn’t notice; she had opened the book, and now she gasped with delight.

“Look!” she said. “It’s you and Pilin.”

The artist I had commissioned had done a superb job. There on the title page was a picture of Fingon, rendered in vivid colors, mounted and holding his bow. Pilin, his horse, was drawn in full detail, from the blaze on his face down to the pasterns on his back legs. Ereiniel stared at the illustration a moment longer and then, very carefully, closed the book and set it aside. Then she clambered to her feet and rushed towards me, throwing her arms around me in an enthusiastic hug. “Thank you, Haru,” she said. “It’s beautiful.”

I returned her embrace and then lifted her up to sit upon my knee. “You’re welcome. Your father tells me it’s your favorite bedtime story,” I said. “Now you can read it for yourself whenever you like.”

Beaming, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. She was a delight, this child, and her presence eased the ache I felt in my heart when I thought of my lost children and grandchildren.

“Pass it here, Fingon,” I said, reaching out for the book. “Ereiniel and I can read it together.”

He complied, seeming half embarrassed and half amused -- unlike Ianneth, whose amusement was clearly not leavened by any other emotions. When I glanced her way, she grinned, her green eyes sparkling with humor.

Pushing the chessmen aside, I set the book down on the table, opened it to the first page, and began to read. Though Ereiniel knew the story well, she still glowed with delight as I read, and she gasped in wonder at each sumptuous illustration.

“It’s my favorite story, Haru,” she said when I had finished, leaning back to rest her head against my chest. “Thank you.”

I kissed the top of her head and said, “Anything for my granddaughter. I love you very much, starshine.”

“I love you, too,” she said, looking up at me with adoring eyes. “Ada is very brave, isn’t he?”

“He is,” I agreed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Fingon’s cheeks turn pink. “The bravest of all the Noldor, I’d say.”

Though amusement still gleamed in her eyes, Ianneth took pity on my son. “I think it’s time for bed, love,” she said, standing and crossing the room. “Say goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Haru,” Ereiniel said. “Goodnight, Aunt Lalwen. Goodnight, Ada.”

Fingon scooped her up from my lap and kissed the tip of her nose, making her giggle. “Sweet dreams, mírë,” he said, before passing her into Ianneth’s arms.

“I think I’ll turn in as well,” Lalwen said, setting down her empty teacup with a gentle clink and lifting her hand to cover a yawn.

I raised my eyebrows at Fingon in a silent query, but he shook his head. “Best two out of three,” he said with a grin, claiming his seat at the table once more.

I returned his smile. “Very well,” I said. Once we both had bade Ianneth and Lalwen goodnight, I began setting up my chessmen once more. But Fingon did not join me immediately.

“‘Fingon and the Fire-Drake’? Really, Atto?” he said, mingled amusement and embarrassment once more taking up residence on his face.

“Ah, but did you see her expression?” I said, smiling at the memory. “She truly is a treasure.”

“She is,” he agreed. He lifted his queen and rolled it back and forth between his fingers. Though he was staring at the board, his mind seemed to be elsewhere, and I waited in silence for him to continue.

“You know, this wasn’t something I thought my life would hold, back in Valinor,” he finally said. “Marriage. Fatherhood. But… I am happy. Ereiniel is everything to me. I can’t imagine life without her and Ianneth.”

“I’m glad,” I said, watching him begin to set up his game pieces. I knew that marriage would not have been his choice, had we been at true peace. It was for my sake and the sake of our alliance with the Sindar that he had agreed to meet the eligible women of Hithlum. But Ianneth had stolen his heart. She was an admirable woman, wise and kind. I was glad that she was at my son’s side, and that they were happy together.

Fingon set his last piece in its place and looked up at me. “Did you feel this way about us when we were small?” he asked. “As though there would never be anything in the world more perfect than your child?”

“I still feel that way,” I said, giving him a gentle smile.

He smiled back, his cheeks turning pink once more beneath his dusting of freckles, and moved his pawn across the board, beginning the game. He played better than he had during our last match, but all the same, two hours later I had won once more, so we wished each other goodnight and sought out the warmth of our respective beds.

I was roused by a frantic pounding on my door, which crashed open before I had even finished climbing to my feet. I saw Henthael, my scribe, standing in the doorway, his face ashen in the light from the corridor.

“Sire,” he gasped, “Ard-galen is burning.”

“What?” In an instant, I was on my feet and halfway into my trousers.

“It’s burning,” Henthael repeated. “The whole plain is aflame, and there are fires and fumes pouring from Thangorodrim.”

As he spoke, I realized that I could already detect a whiff of smoke in the air. “Wake Fingon,” I said. I didn’t bother to change my nightshirt for a tunic, but simply pulled on my cloak.

“I’m awake,” I heard, and a moment later Fingon stumbled into view behind Henthael.

“Wake Lalwen, then,” I ordered. “Tell her to muster the archers.”

Henthael nodded and rushed away, and Fingon and I hurried together to the fortress walls. We found the air outside already thick with acrid fumes, and I could hear the guards coughing. The horizon was lit by an ominous glow. It was difficult to tell through the smoke, but the fires seemed to be coming closer at an unnaturally rapid pace.

Morgoth had made his next move on the chessboard of Beleriand, and it was dire, as I had long feared it would be. Our long peace was broken.

[aajjks]

choice!JK

“h-hi mrs. min” minho greets while bowing to show his respect to the elderly woman. she can’t believe it, jungkook really went out to go get your little brother. however, when you make your appearance you aren’t too happy to see jungkook walking in with minho. of course you missed your little brother but now you’re more vulnerable than and jungkook could use that vulnerability against you.

“y/n!!!!” yells minho who runs towards you and wraps his arms around your legs.

“hi min min. are you okay? he didn’t hurt you right?”

“huh? no! jungkookie and i got ice cream, see? we got some for you too, noona!”

you check for scratches on minho’s face, arms, tummy, his legs, everywhere and you shamelessly do it in front of jungkook. you don’t trust him anymore and since he made his choice to bring your brother then you’ve made yours too. you’ll tell minho the truth about his ‘jungkookie.’

“i’m not hungry for ice cream, min. c’mon, let’s go to my room” you say.

you pick your brother up and go upstairs to your bedroom, again, not paying any mind to jungkook who follows behind you. he tells you that minho has a lot of homework to do and whatever you have ‘planned’ can wait.

“oh? then you want me to tell minho right now? minho, you know what jungkook said he was going to do to you? he said—,”

“HOW about i help you with your homework, minho?” interrupts mrs. min who rushes up the stairs and takes the 6-year old from your arms.

“b-but i want you y/n-noona to help me”

“she’ll join us later. c’mon~ jungkook and y/n have some ‘grown up’ stuff they need to talk about”

you’ve just shown jungkook that you were going to tell your brother his empty threat and he’s not too pleased to see you go through with your choice upon the matter. since he’s sure you both will end up yelling at each other, he insists you both talk in your bedroom which you agree.

“i told you to leave him alone and you bring him here anyways. are you forgetting where you threatened to KILL him? because i didn’t. i don’t give a fuck if you didn’t mean it, jungkook. how am i supposed trust you with minho when you threw it in my goddamn face! call his aunt right now and tell her to pick him up. he is NOT staying here. you can manipulate me all you want but minho? no. you will not manipulate, hurt, or lie to him”

You have the audacity to act like a saint in front of him after making him this way.

“you have a dumb little fucking brain yn. I am never going to hurt him. What will I get after hurting him? You had pissed me off and hurt me too so I wanted to hurt you back.” he rolls his eyes. “Come on. I haven’t manipulated him against you and what will I get out of it? I want you back.” He says, looking into your eyes.

You are fuming, and he can’t blame you because yes, he literally threatened to hurt your brother yeah

Dumb move and he’s ashamed of it.

“He should stay here with us because I had my people investigate the whereabouts of your brothers aunt and she’s up to no good. He will be safe here with you and I, I promise yn.”

You have no idea.

Jungkook takes in a deep breath to calm himself down. “Stop this- you have no right to be angry at me- I never want to hurt your family yn. I love you and I want us back together.”

You’re going to think that he’s pathetic but he doesn’t care. “What was I supposed to do huh? You fuckin abandoned me! You broke my fuckin heart yn.”

Don’t you feel any guilt? Or remorse? “I loved you! I love you- but you just left me like my feelings didn’t matter to you at all! Why? Is it because of my reality? You knew everything from the beginning!”

[hookedonapirate]

Lady Cassidy's Lover

Summary: 1919 England, Emma Cassidy, wife of a baronet, finds herself trapped in a loveless marriage after the war leaves her husband, Neal, paralyzed from the waist down and unable to produce an heir.

Despite the obstacles, she sticks by her husband's side at Goldby Hall, his family's estate, but when she meets former army lieutenant and Neal's aloof gamekeeper, Killian Jones, she feels curiously drawn to his distant blue eyes and quiet demeanor.

At first, she seeks him out for reprieve from her soulless, mundane existence at Goldby Hall, but what starts out as purely physical quickly turns into more than either of them expects.

But Emma is a baronetess, wife of an aristocrat and Killian is a working class servant. Their love affair is frowned upon, and she risks losing her title, her wealth and her position in the world by being with him. But she is determined to get her happy ending with the man she loves. Even if it means losing everything else in the process.

A/N: Thank you everyone so much for sticking with me, and I hope you have enjoyed this fic!

Thank you Ultraluckycatnd for being an amazing beta reader!

Based on Lady Chatterley's Lover for @captainswanmoviemarathon

Catch up: Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4 I Ch 5 I Ch 6 I Ch 7 I Ch 8 I Ch 9 I Ch 10 I Ch 11 I Ch 12 I Epilogue

Epilogue

It’s been two months since Hope Swan-Jones was born, yet Killian is still mesmerized by her impossible beauty. Those dazzling, big blue eyes gazing up at him, her bright, gummy smile, her chubby cheeks. Mesmerized but not shocked. She gets her looks from her mother after all. Today, Hope is wearing her pink baby bonnet and a lacy frock adorned with a silk bow at the neckline that her mother had sewn. The color matches the stockings Emma still wears with her dresses.

He could hold Hope forever, his sweet baby girl cute and tiny and soft, snuggled up against his chest with her hand tightly wrapped around his finger as he gently rocks her in his arms. He’s weak when it comes to his baby girl, and he often wonders how such a tiny little being has so much power over him, a grown-ass man. From the outside, it may look like he has her wrapped around his finger, but in truth, it’s entirely the other way around.

He lowers his head to drop a gentle kiss on her head.

She’s so precious to him, just as her mother is, and he’d do anything for his two beauties. Their smiles are infectious, and his face hurts from smiling so much. That’s how happy they both have made him.

Jolly is roaming around the yard as Killian looks around, taking stock of everything he has been blessed with since Emma entered his life. He may have lost his job and cottage back in Misthaven but all of that was nothing compared to what he has gained in return. Now he has Emma all to himself instead of having to watch her leave him every day and return to another man who couldn’t even bother to make sure she was happy. He gets to sleep with her in their bed, wakes up next to her every morning and holds her in his arms. He may have to leave for work early but he does so, knowing he’ll get to return to his darling fiancé and adorable baby girl and the life they’ve made together. And yes, he replaced the stem ring he gave her a year ago with a real one. They may not be able to get married yet but that doesn’t mean he can’t think of her as his wife. She and Hope are his family.

His home.

And he’d do anything for them.

He’s not even sure how he’d left Emma and didn’t see her for those two months she was in Venice. They were the worst two months of his life, and that’s saying a lot since he’s been to war. But when she fled from London after he’d been sacked and wanted to leave with him right there and then, all he could do was hear Mary Margaret’s words in his head.

“Mr. Jones, how do you expect to take care of her and the child once you’ve lost your job? Do you actually believe you can give them both a chance at happiness?”

He didn’t think he could at the time, given the circumstances. He had nothing. And Emma and their child deserved so much better than what he had to offer. He had all of his love to give, yes, but he wanted to give them so much more than that. He still does. He wants to give them the entire world. Because they’re his world. They’re his everything.

After a while, Hope stirs in his arms restlessly, and the high-pitched wail that pours from her mouth makes his heart crack into a million pieces. He hates when she has anything but a smile on her face.

Jolly is sitting in the grass as she looks at the crying baby with concern. She rises and strides over to make sure Hope is okay. She adores Hope and is very protective of her.

“It’s okay, princess,” Killian coos to his baby girl, gently rubbing her small back and swaying her softly. “Mum’s just inside to feed you.” He stands from his chair and carries her into the house, Jolly following behind him.

The kettle is singing by the fire, the sun streaming into the windows as Emma places two cups on the table. Hearing the soft cries from their daughter, she turns around and comes over to them, scooping the wee baby into her arms and kissing Killian on the lips.

“I think she’s hungry.” He unties Hope’s bonnet and removes it from her head, pressing his lips to her golden wisps of hair.

Emma smiles and speaks to their daughter in a sweet voice, her emerald eyes so soft and warm as she looks at the adorable baby girl in her arms. 

Killian melts, as he always does, when he sees the interactions between them.

“Is Hope hungry?”

She answers with an even louder cry.

Emma can't help but laugh a little as she kisses Hope's forehead. “I think she is.” She rocks her gently as she walks over to the wooden chair and sits down, untying the front of her dress and releasing one of her breasts. Hope’s cries quickly abate as she fumbles for her mother’s breast and latches on to her nipple, suckling quietly.

He adds some more wood to the fire and returns to his wife and daughter. “How did you sleep, love?” He places a hand on Emma’s shoulder and drops a kiss to the top of her head.

I will protect both of them with my life , he thinks to himself as he admires his two loves.

“It was good, thank you.” She smiles up at him. “I needed that.” She definitely looks more rested than she did before she took a nap.

Hope may be cute and small, but she keeps them up most nights. Only once in a while does she sleep through the night until morning. When he’s home, he does as much as he can so Emma can get some rest, but today, Hope has been particularly fussy and refuses to sleep, so Killian took her out in the garden with Jolly while Emma rested.

After Hope is done eating and burping, Emma stands up and carries their daughter to her bassinet. Perhaps now she’ll be tired enough to sleep.

Killian gives his daughter a featherlight kiss on the forehead, whispering, “Goodnight, little love.”

Emma also gives Hope a kiss before lowering her into the bassinet. “I love you very much. Pleasant dreams, kiddo.”

He goes behind his fiancée and wraps his arms around her as they watch their tiny precious daughter breathe softly, drifting off into baby dreamworld. “Fuck, she’s beautiful.” Killian tightens his arms around Emma and lowers his head, kissing her neck. “Just like her mother.” He kisses her blushing cheeks and grins against her soft skin. “What do you say we make another one of those?”

She turns around in his arms so they’re facing each other and wraps her arms around the back of his neck, arching a brow. “Another girl?” One of her breasts is still out, and he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself by thinking she left it out on purpose but a lad can dream, can’t he?

“Or a boy.” He flashes a smirk. “I’ll love whatever we make together.”

Emma giggles and leans in to give him an eager kiss of approval. When they turn their heads back to look at Hope, she’s sleeping soundly. Neither of them can help but have smiles on their faces.

When they turn to look at each other again, Emma’s eyes sparkle as she rises on her tiptoes and captures his lips with hers. She swallows his groan as she rests her hands on his chest, his heart speeding up rapidly under her palms.

He draws her closer in his arms, their bodies flush against each other as he strokes her tongue with his, getting lost in the kiss. He growls into her mouth when he reaches up and feels her naked breast against his palm and lets his hand linger there, his cock stirring to life. It’s been months since they’ve kissed like this or made love. He has been patient and would never pressure her into anything before she’s ready. But judging by the soft moans she’s making as he caresses her bare breast, the way her body molds into his, he’d guess she’s ready. But still, he has to be sure.

He breaks the kiss, leaving them both gasping for air. “Is this okay?” he wheezes, his voice completely wrecked.

She nods fervently and licks her lips. “More than okay.” Her voice is also wrecked as she slides her hands up to his shoulders, squeezing them firmly. “I want you inside me.”

Her words and the lust in her eyes are all the confirmation he needs. “Fuck,” he whispers huskily and kisses her soundly on the lips. He pushes down the other sleeve of her dress and lets the top fall below her hips. 

She tugs at his sweater and he raises his hands so she can lift it over his head, and soon all their clothes are on the floor and he’s carrying her to the bed. He kisses every inch of her, his lips worshiping the goddess she is. The mother of his child. His lover. His everything.

He takes his time exploring her body, tracing her stretch marks with his lips and gently kissing her breasts and stroking her tender nipples with his soft tongue. She writhes underneath him and spreads her legs wide.

Killian growls, his cock hard as a rock as he gets settled in the cradle of her lovely thighs and dips his head into the crook of her neck, kissing her there, whispering sweet nothings against her skin.

Emma answers with heady sounds of her own as she reaches between them and wraps her hand around his cock, stroking him. They both moan, panting heavily as he rocks into her fist, Killian’s voice gravelly when he says, “I can’t wait to have you, love.”

“Killian…” She’s breathless, her eyes gleaming with so much want and need and love. She moves the tip of his cock to her entrance and inhales sharply at the sensation, different but so familiar.

Killian groans at the feeling of having Emma around him again, even if only around the tip. He waits patiently for her to give him the signal to go deeper, and she pulls him closer, wrapping her legs around his back. He moves achingly slow, pushing himself steadily into her and then retreating.

As he thrusts into her warmth gently and sweat pools on his forehead, he exhales ragged breaths over her face. “Fuck, Emma,” he growls. “You feel so good.”

She answers with a low moan.

His hand migrates up the swell of her tender breast and he moves his thumb over her nipple, making it pebble beneath the pads of his fingers.

Emma continues urging him on as his hips roll against her, his pace languid but pleasing. He reaches between them, pressing lightly against her clit and drawing circles on her. She throws her head back as their escalating cries blend together.

When Emma’s climax overtakes her, she cries out in ecstasy.

He picks up the pace, heat spreading through him as he chases his own orgasm. “Does this hurt?” he asks, even though he can’t detect a hint of pain in her eyes. But he has to be sure.

She shakes her head. “Not at all. It feels good,” she breathes. “Don’t stop.” Framing his cheeks in her warm hands, she seizes his lips with hers as he pounds into her. Soon, he can feel her walls flutter around him once more and they both orgasm together, swallowing each other’s moans so they don’t wake their daughter. He stills, her name heavy on his lips as he explodes inside his sweet goddess, his muscles tense and his grip firm.

Moments after they come down from their highs, he’s lying beside her, and she’s in his arms, their limbs intertwined as they lay there in bed, the duvet swaddling them in warmth and security.

“Do you think we woke her?” Emma asks, her face clouding concern once she comes back to reality and sits up.

“I will check, love.” He kisses her forehead and climbs out of bed to check on Hope, who’s still sleeping like an angel. He returns to his fiancée and pulls her into his arms. “Still sleeping.”

Emma breathes a sigh of relief and lays her head on Killian’s chest. “Sorry, I know I worry about her far too much.”

He chuckles and moves some stray hairs from her face. “You’re just being a mum.” He smirks. “A great one at that.”

“And you’re a great papa. I am so glad you’re in our lives. I’m so glad Neal didn’t try to keep our baby. He would’ve been sorely disappointed she’s not a boy anyway.”

Killian tenses at the mention of him. After they burned the wedding photo of him and Emma, they have barely mentioned him, neither of them wanting the past to darken their bright, happy sky. They only want to be reminded of the good parts. So they framed the key from the hut and the letter he wrote her and hung it on the wall.

He’ll never forget the times they met in the hut. Especially the first time they made love. It wasn’t exactly making love that time—it was more like animalistic fucking—and he might have done things a little differently if he could but he'd never take back the time they spent together and their blossoming relationship. He is so proud of her for telling Neal she wanted a divorce, and of course he told her he wouldn’t grant her one, but that was expected.

“He’d only succeed over my dead body,” Killian snarls.

“Mine too. I’m so glad I never wanted to go along with Neal’s plan.” She looks up at him, her fingers teasing his chest hair. “I may not have planned on you, but I would never want it any other way.” She flashes him a smile. “It still surprises me how happy I am. When I was with Neal, I never thought I would be.”

He grins from ear to ear, his heart bursting as he kisses her lips. “Aye, love. Me too.” He gazes deeply into her eyes, stroking her cheek. “Would you change anything? Anything at all?” he asks, knowing the life they have now is vastly different from the one she once had. She went from living on a large estate with servants to living in this small cottage with just the two of them raising a child together. 

She gives a firm shake of her head, her eyes glistening with tears. But they’re not sad tears. She rests her forehead against his, cupping his cheek in her hand and caressing her thumb over his stubble. “No. Only I wish to be married to you instead of Neal. But I wouldn’t trade the life we have here for anything in the world.”

Neither would he. He also wishes he could be married to her instead of Milah.

It still amazes him how much different things are now than they were when they first met. Emma was just as beautiful but he could tell she was a little broken, and to him, she was untouchable. He never thought in a million years she would fall for a fellow like him. She was out of his league. She had wealth and the rarest of beauty and a title. Maybe that’s why he was so quick to believe she had only wanted him for a child after she confessed she was pregnant. Thank God he was wrong.

He was foolish for thinking such a thing. He knew better than that. But he couldn’t think of a reasonable explanation as to why she liked him. And during those two months they were apart, he had time to reflect and he knew what they have between them was deeper than any class difference or what society thought of the two of them together. Emma felt the flame burning between them just as he did. The flame that still burns between them and always will.

~*~

A year later, they both get their wish.

It turns out Milah attracted some fool at the tavern the night she played victim and was spreading all those lies about Killian and how he’s the one who abandoned her for someone else, and how he never took care of her. Some sap devoured every word she said, took pity on her and promised to give her a better life. Killian doubts the bloke made good on that promise.

And Neal—well, the irony of this all is that he ended up falling in love with one of the servants he hired after Emma had left. Her name is Tamara, and Johanna is sure she is only after his wealth and title. But Johanna didn’t stick around long enough to see what came of them. After she left, Emma and Killian hired her as Hope’s nurse, and since Emma gave birth to a boy shortly before they married, Johanna is Liam’s nurse as well. Emma also invested some of the money her mother left her to start a farm with Killian where they raise cattle, sheep, pigs, horses and livestock feed. Now there is rarely a quiet moment at the Swan-Jones Farm, with two rambunctious children, animals to take care of and visitors always coming over.

It took some time for Leopold to warm up to Killian after what happened in Goldby but considering he adores his grandchildren as if they were his own children, he’s not bitter about it. He knows Killian is a hardworking man who loves his family more than anything in the world. And Killian and David eventually became good mates. He and Mary Margaret had a son of their own named after Leopold. So whenever they go on holidays, it’s the four of them plus their children. 

Emma can't believe how much her life has changed in only a few years. She thought she was stuck in a loveless marriage with a man she would never love, with a man who would never give her what she needed or craved. She thought she would never get to experience a real married life with someone kind and caring and affectionate. With someone who put her and their children before himself. Now she has a loving family, a loving husband she wakes up to every morning, a man she would do anything for. She would do anything to keep this life. She would die for her family. She can't believe she was ever with Neal, that she ever settled for a life with him. It's surreal how unhappy and desolate she was because now she is so extremely happy and her heart is so unbelievably full.

Her days may be filled with crying babies, changing diapers, cleaning up messes and running a farm with her husband, and she may not live on a large estate with servants and fancy things, but in her eyes, she is living the life of luxury she has always dreamed of.

[whostoblaine]

“ Boys.”

One visit did not mean another would not be granted. To Robert, surprise, he turned to see James was standing nearby, and strolling down the sides was their father. Both boys, rejoice as they ran towards their father smiling.

James was the first to approach, as Matthew wrapped his arms around him, hugging him tenderly.

“ Look how much you’ve grown, let me look at you.” He noticed the chin hairs already on James, as he would soon have a beard. “ You’ve been quite busy, I heard. Weaving in and out of the court room.” As Matthew placed a hand on James chest “ Ambitious, and determination , just as you were as young boy. Do you remember when you little you wanted to learn how to use the bow and arrow. How you were upset how quickly the others boys were so good at it. What did your uncle Jacob tell you?”

James lowered his head “ Patience and practice would be my friends. I could be just as good, I just needed to learn patience, and practice more.” James head would begin to sink, missing his time in Wexford when they were younger. As Matthew slowly nodded “ You can achieve many things my son, if you are willing to be patient and to practice your skills. You want the world underneath your feet, but you need time to experience things and understand things. I had set you up as a squire to a knight, to learn things. Now, I hear you have a council sit. You are running before you can crawl. I want you to turn down the council position.”

“ But, father I am ready.” James jolted his shoulder back, not understanding. “ Father I can do this please, don’t make me give it up. They barely acknowledge me as it is, Did mother send you?”

A firm hand would meet James shoulder as he would meet his father stern eyes. “ All it takes is one fault, one mistake and you will fall from the kings mercy’s and I will not always be there to save you. Start slowly and climb yourself to the position you want. Your mother did not send me, but heed her warnings when she gives them. She loves you and she equally cares about your safety and happiness. I have written to the knight in tulia he will be expecting your answer soon, that’s is my wish for you Michael” he called him by his real name and not middle name he had been running around with. James would give a silent nod, as he stepped to the side allowing Robert to now greet their father.

As Robert approached Matthew, the two would begin to circle each other. As Robert expanded his left arm to attempt to tackle his father jilting to the side, as laughed escaped Matthew lips, bending his knees as he easily tossed Robert over his shoulder-blades into the sand. “ Still slow.” As helped Robert off his feet, and embraced him in a hug.

“ Your grandfather tells me you’ve been hanging around Aurora, is everything okay” he would wrap his arm around Robert, actively listening to the tale. How Aurora had been in a cell, and how he was attempting to get her to gain favor .Matthew understood his concerns and patted his chest softly “ You have a big heart my son, as does your stepmother leta. I know you want what’s best for her, and want to protect her. All I can advise you is to give her advice, but don’t try to fix her problems yourself. You will pulled down a hole, you might not be able to come back from. Your grandfather also informed me you’ve been around some of the Remingtons.”

Roberts expressions changed as his cheeks caved in, he wasn’t exactly sure how he should handle his half twin sisters. As he looked to his father for guidance. They walked together side by side for a few minutes in silence, until Matthew found the right words “ I don’t think I can ever forgive what happen, because your mother deserved better. But that doesn’t mean I want you to have a life filled of what-if. I think you should consider doing what this tells you too” he pointed to Robert heart “ If you want to get to know them, it’s okay. If you don’t want to get to know them, that’s okay. It’s not my job to limit you on your relations. Remember I had a stepsister whom I loved very much, your Aunt Layla was strange and magical, but she was also difficult and frustrating. I wouldn’t change our relationship for anything. You just need to determine if you want something.. “ Robert nodded silently as his father guidance as they both strolled back to the bonfire.

“ I want you boys to stay out of trouble, and come home often. Your siblings miss you, as does your stepmother Leta. Please boys I ask you, to not make enemies of each other. Do I make myself clear?”

Both boys would nod and in sync say “ yes sir.”

@thedawnbeauty

[piraticalwit]

 @twistedwit sent me a meme and i’m in love with him for it.

There’s a groove in the table, it curves in the corner and deepens like some sort of trench between the minuscule pieces of salt that have fallen on each side. He’s traced it with his eyes for the past ten minutes, brows furrowed as he imagines the battle that might be taking place on the scarred wood, imagines the dying screams of salt as they fall into the roughly carved ditch one by one, pushed by some errant patron’s thumb.

Weird thing to imagine, yeah?

His own ringed fingers stay wrapped around the mug of coffee he had ordered. Their waitress had smiled while he asked for it, had traced the line of his neck and shoulders with hungry green eyes that darkened with disappointment when the Irishman didn’t look up and faded into a haughty disinterest at the way his companion had steadily eyed her as she returned and set it upon the table. Killian doesn’t know what this is about - he has theories, aye .. each one worse than the last - but he does know that even if it took every ounce of the strength he felt he no longer had, he would drag himself to this diner ten times over. A cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, the top of The Tower .. it didn’t matter. As long as Guy Gisborne calls, Killian Jones will answer.

“ i need you to live... cause if you’re gone i don’t know what the point of it all is anymore. ”

A sigh chases the statement - ringed fingers tightening around the cup as if he’s trying to chase a warmth he can no longer feel and weight shifting as if he’s suddenly grown uncomfortable. There’s an itch behind his left ear and Killian moves to scratch it, wrist leaving his lap and making it halfway through the air before he remembers...

Oh.

He furrows his brow again, giving a bit of a stretch as if the movement had been intentional, and allowing the wrist to fall back into place against his lap once again. The Irishman’s shoulders are bowed under a weight only he can feel and he shifts in his seat once again, tongue pressing against the side of one cheek as he searches for the words that will help put the man he loves at ease. 

“Starkey talked to you.” It’s not the argument he had meant it to be, not that goofy grin and well thrown jest that convinced everyone he was fine. It had taken everything in him to fool his best friend, to smile every time they crossed paths in the hall and laugh at jokes with a fervor he’d never had before ... and apparently it hadn’t been enough. “I’m not ... “ His mind fumbles, searching for the word his therapist had used before he’d stopped seeing her, before he’d written her off as another know it all that didn’t properly listen, and he finally settles upon it, letting it fall between them like a bark of shame. “... depressed. I’m just tired.” Fingers release their hold of the cup to run through already tousled hair and scratch absently at the stubble on his chin. 

One brow quirks as if by instinct, forget-me-not blues finally meeting his boyfriend’s stormy own. “You’re a doctor, yeah? You gotta know what it’s like being tired.” He tries for the grin that apparently hadn’t fooled Starkey, puts a bit more effort behind it, a flash of teeth and a crinkle around his eyes. “Aye, buy me a few more rounds of coffee and I’ll be back to annoying you in no time. You’ll see.”