#i'd do prompts but- wait actually i'm getting a train tomorrow

[alittlebitgoofy]

i'm working tonight but it's gonna be hella quiet so, send me asks and i'll answer them at like 1/2am

[violetmuses]

Not Without You - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Title: Not Without You - A. Aretas ❤️‍🩹

Fandom: Bad Boys Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: You help Armando identify James McGrath. @nelo0wesker

====

2024

“Got a package deal or something?” Detective Mike Lowrey questioned his estranged son Armando Aretas when you joined Dorn's boathouse.

“We trained together.” Aretas clipped his own words. “Let us both help, or I'm backing out.”

“Damn.” Mike shook his head while glancing between you and Armando. “All right, but if she's cold here, I'll know.”

Reviewing various files, you corner some part of the living room and start working.

“Hey! Uh-uh.” Mike noticed when Armando sat beside you and nearly placed his head on your shoulder, still looking through printouts.

“So you left out the relationship part, too?” Mike stepped toward Armando, pissed off.

“None of your business.” Aretas defended his bond with you.

AMMO weapons expert Kelly and tech genius Dorn, now dating, shrugged though.

“D, plug this one.” You lifted one flash drive and ignored the drama.

Dorn took the flash drive with speed, revealing this grayscale picture.

“Oh, shit! We got 'em.” You say, grounded by reality.

“Told you…” Armando stepped away from Mike and pointed to the large screen. “That's who ordered the hit on Captain.”

“James McGrath: Former Army Ranger turned DEA agent. Tortured before joining the cartel himself.” Dorn offered main highlights.

“It's a wrap. Let's reconvene tomorrow and get this fool. Trust no one.” Mike took charge with the next plan and finally prompted everyone to rest.

______

“Can't sleep. C'mere.” Armando shared the living room sofa-bed with you.

“Will you tell Mike the truth?” You've laid on your back while covers veiled Armando's waist.

“Not until we get James.” Armando referenced McGrath. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You promise, watching Armando finally take peace in your embrace.

*****

“Hello, Beautiful. Didn't think I'd actually see you again.” Despite giving all the hard work to keep Christine and Callie safe, you stand on this plotted beach, facing the barrel of McGrath’s gun.

“Close your eyes, Callie…” You lifted both hands while dressed in the tactical uniform.

“No, please don't do this! Armando saved me with her.” Callie shouted over your defense, terrified.

“I'll take the bullet, move!” Even Armando snapped, but Marcus quickly grounded footsteps.

“Let me go, baby….” You don't fight this truth anymore and have prepared your entire life for the one moment. “It's the only way.”

“No!” Armando yelled in the distance and you waited for McGrath to pull his lethal trigger.

Just when you mingled with death, gunshots fired elsewhere and James McGrath fell backwards near the ocean.

Detective Mike Lowrey just spared your life.

====

2025

“Armando, where you at, man?” At home, Detective Mike Lowrey looked for his son one afternoon. Timing offered Aretas this safe return to Miami, Florida.

“Shit!” Knocking echoed from outside the bedroom and you scrambled with clothes, knowing that Aretas set his lips between your thighs.

“We gotta go.” You playfully swatted near Armando and left, heading to the family cookout.

You survived, no matter what.

[king-of-men]

StableDiffusion is still massively terrible at poetry; or alternatively I don't know the first thing about prompt engineering. Having gotten the thing running on my desktop - although I'm a little worried: The Python script has a progress bar in the command line, and every time it advances I can literally hear the GPU fans going tchh-tchh-tchh - is that supposed to happen? It's actually kind of cool in a steampunk sort of way, to hear the coupling between the massive amount of processing happening and the heat being output. But I digress. As I was saying, I decided to use a poem as the prompt just to see what would happen, As One Does. So I took the first three lines, thus:

Oh yesterday the cutting edge drank thirstily and deep, The upland outlaws ringed us in and herded us as sheep, They drove us from the stricken field and bayed us into keep;

a neat little encapsulation of a Border raid gone wrong, as it might be, or of some Imperial patrol on a godforsaken highland frontier getting the worst of some forgotten skirmish; and StableDiffusion gave me back

...sheep. Whose detailed anatomy is perhaps best not inspected too closely; but at any rate, very sheep-ish sheep. Presumably the one word other than "upland" that those four gigs had a weight for in the nodes.

Helping the algorithm along a little, I added the words "illustration to a poem by John Masefield" at the end. That gave me:

Spooky sheep, I guess? In some sort of upland landscape, sure. Again, clearly the training data have not included combinations of image with the actual lines of the poem, at least not enough to form an assocation.

Indeed the training data must presumably be descriptions of the images from which an artist could work, as in "some ghostly sheep standing about an upland meadow"; a poetic phrasing is essentially random words as far as the AI is concerned. But maybe I can do better by leaning into that:

A group of defeated, dejected warriors huddling around a fire, cleaning their battered weapons and armour. Their resident bard is reciting a poem to encourage them to renewed effort; the first three lines are "Oh yesterday the cutting edge drank thirstily and deep, The upland outlaws ringed us in and herded us as sheep, They drove us from the stricken field and bayed us into keep". Illustration to a poem by John Masefield, black and white line drawing.

Oh, max 77 tokens, great. Hum. Well at any rate it's not sheep this time:

Eh... now it's just bad at faces. No wait, by dog, there's still a goddam sheep in the background! I didn't even notice until I'd uploaded. (For the record I'm making four images for each prompt and picking the one I like best; they're all pretty similar though, otherwise I'd show the outliers.) Anyway I guess I could see this as a starting point for a "yeah wait until tomorrow" defiant painting. Although one of those soldiers has the face of a pig? Possibly because many images have farm animals together?

Anyway let's just drop two lines of the poem to get the prompting bits within the limit, which also removes the dang sheep (along with, it's true, most of the actual poem I wanted to quote, which does somewhat defeat the exercise):

A group of defeated, dejected warriors huddling around a fire, cleaning their battered weapons and armour. Their resident bard is reciting a poem to encourage them to renewed effort, beginning 'Oh yesterday the cutting edge drank thirstily and deep'. Illustration to a poem by John Masefield, black and white line drawing.

Eh, I guess. Now it just has the usual flaws of StableDiffusion art. I could use it for a by-the-by illustration if I were translating the poem and wanted something to fill up the empty bits of the screen, as one does. But there's no very obvious connection to the original "upland outlaws", "stricken field", "cutting edge" imagery, as I might have been able to get out of a human artist. At a nonzero cost in money, of course.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Well, I'd love to read Phileas saving Will, because, as shown from time to time and especially in the last episode, he can be someone you don't want to mess with, if he wants to be and suddenly let's go of his anxieties. Though I don't have a specific prompt, I'd like that side of him to become part of the story, because characters being unexpectedly badass is always a gem and I think it's what made me love the train episode so much (with Phileas wanting to give up but then doing the maths amd being confident and in charge when he wants to save Alberto). 🥺

But, aside from that, thinking about basic prompts: I'd love to read something sort of domestic?? Maybe with all the characters, but where it becomes clear that Will and Phileas have great chemistry? Just having drinks together or playing cards together, some relaxed fluff, with lots of smiles and stolen glances and all that? 🥰

I actually really want to write something with this, ever since I've seen gifs of Phileas from the western episode, but I want to wait until I've seen that one to see how I can make a story out of Will being saved or defended by Phileas. Or if someone gives me a prompt, we'll see what comes first, haha.

But I do like the idea of the prompt you gave me, I can write something with this, I'm sure! :D Again, I haven't seen much past episode five (though tomorrow is episode six, so you guys will probably get some more content based on official stuff after that), so let's just say that this one-shot takes place after the events of episode seven, with them on their way to New York.

This takes place in the big crossover au, so Aziraphale and Crowley are here too. May or may not be canon to the actual fic though.

On with the fic!

--

Phileas hadn't had much of a break since this adventure began, but there were rare moments, where things were at peace, where he could just sit and relax. This was one of those moments, with him and his group of friends all together on a train, enjoying the travel without worry.

Yes, anything could happen, but right now Phileas was more focused on the task at hand, of trying to win this game of cards between himself, Will, Crowley, and Passepartout.

Aziraphale and Abigail were watching, having decided earlier on that they weren't going to be fools and lose 'chips' to this lot. They weren't really playing with chips, actually, it was mixed nuts that Aziraphale had miracled up for them.

Miracled up, that still surprised him, knowing that his dear friend was actually an angel, and that said angel seemed to be courting a demon, who didn't really act all that demonic.

Speaking of courting, he looked away from his cards for just a moment, to see Abigail sitting close to Passepartout, her eyes on him. He seemed to be fine with how close she was, and even spoke quietly with her in French from time to time throughout the game.

Phileas wasn't going to say anything, what they had going on was between them, and was still clearly developing into something lovely. Same could be said of Aziraphale and Crowley, though they clearly had been dancing around things for nearly six millennium.

As for himself...

He felt a warm hand brush his own as it reached for a drink close by, and Phileas looked to his left, where Will sat. He caught warm, hazel eyes, and just the slightly quirk of his lips.

Ever since the island, when Will had chased Phileas down after he became fed up with everyone, when he had held Phileas close when he had a break down and made him feel so much better with a kiss, whatever was between them had shifted. And Phileas had felt it was for the better.

From that moment on, he knew that what he had been feeling when he looked at Will in recent days before being lost at sea, it had been love. And that love was returned, had been for weeks even, neither just didn't know how to express it.

He had never thought that there would be anyone outside of Estella that could make him feel like this. Yes, he had thought about things with Aziraphale months ago, but realized it wasn't anything like this, it had just been the joy of an honest friendship. No, with Will it was... it was like his broken heart was mending itself, like it could move on finally.

Oh, he still felt an ache, still felt love for Estella, but it had been so long now, it was time for him to find someone else. Phileas hadn't expected it to be Will, but something about the captain made things better in his life. He felt like he was with her again, and more, so much more.

He set his hand off of the table, down by his side as he sighed, folding his hand, knowing he wouldn't win this round. A hand covered his own moments later, hidden from sight. Brown eyes looked to his left, seeing Will present his hand to the other two players, a wild grin coming to his face as he won this round.

Phileas gave his hand a gentle squeeze, which was returned.

Yes, this trip had been filled with so much stress, so much heartbreak and anger, but there were also moments of joy, of peace, of little moments to remember positively forever and a day.

He found that this was one of those moments, even if it wasn't much, it meant everything to him.

[boxofbadaddiction]

Nothing's More Important Than Quidditch

Fred Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Some Swearing. Highly Suggestive. Someone gets hurt.

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List.

Using Prompts two and three: "OH...MY...GOOOOD!"/"MY EYES! MY EEYEES!"

Fred and George Weasley were men of simple tastes. They liked pranks, food and Quidditch. Though if you were to ask Fred he would argue that there were nothing more important than Quidditch.

He'd never missed a game. Never missed a practice, and had been able to afford it he'd never miss a Cup. So that being said, you can imagine how shocked his team were when he told them he wasn't feeling well enough to train tonight.

"You're dying aren't you?"

"What? No, Lee. I'm not dying!"

"Then I'm sorry I mustn't have heard right when, the Fredrick Gideon Weasley, just said he wasn't well enough to play Quidditch?"

"Piss off."

It was Sunday lunch in the Great Hall and Angelina had the whole Gryffindor team huddled together. She was discussing her newest game strategies when Fred spoke abruptly, all eyes bulging at his words. Expressions a mixture of confusion and concern. Fred never. Missed. A. Game.

"Hey!" [Y/N] had arrived and happily sat her self amongst her close group of friends. "What's with the faces?" Her brows furrowed as she filled a Goblet with her favourite drink.

"Fred says he's not training Tonight." Angelina answered, still gawking at the Redhead in question.

[Y/N] choked on her drink. "He's what!?" She coughed, hand on her chest in shock.

"It's not a big deal!" Fred groaned. "I've just got one cracker of a headache. Need to sleep it off and I'll be right as rain." He forced a smile, though to the group it appeared more as a painful grimace.

"Well, I do hope you feel better." [Y/N] leant over the table, placing her hand atop of his to offer some comfort with a reassuring smile. "What about the rest of you?" She straightened herself, taking a pastry from the bowl infront of them as she did so.

"We're still training" George replied, "Not all of us roll over because of a wittle headache" he pouted at his brother, trying to stir him up. Fred retaliated, through the light laughter of his friends, by throwing a bread roll at his brother.

"Coming to watch, [Y/N]?" George spoke, still laughing as he brushed crumbs from his clothes.

"Afraid I can't, tonight."

"What!?" Lee groaned, "come on! I'm going!"

"Yes, well as tempting as it may be to spend more time by your side Lee", she leant into him with doey eyes batting her eyelashes flirtatiously, hands cupping his bicep. Returning to her previous position she continued, "I have so much Homework to do it's not funny. I'll find myself joining the next Headless Hunt if I don't hand Snape his Most Potent Poisons Assessment tomorrow."

"Barrell of fun you two are, today" George rolled his eyes.

"Right, well the rest of you. We've got training to do!" Angelina stood, gesturing for the Quidditch team to follow. Somewhat begrudgingly, with various disapproving moans escaping their lips, they made for the Pitch.

"Positive you'll be okay, Freddie?" George lagged behind in a final ditch effort to convince his brother to join them. "You could always just watch from the stands."

"I'm positive, Georgie. I'm just not right at the moment."

"Do you want me to stay? I will if that's what you'd prefer..."

"Who are you? Mum now?" Fred joked "Get out of here you sap!" He waved his arm as if trying to shoo him from the hall.

"Don't worry, George. I'll look after him" [Y/N] assured.

"Such a faithful little bestie you are." He said while ruffling her hair. "Alright then, see you two in a couple hours" he waved to them as he ran to catch up with his team.

"Come on you. Let's get you to bed." [Y/N] spoke to Fred and they made their way to the common room.

---

So much for a couple hours. Mere forty minutes later saw the same team arriving back through the Fat Lady.

"How was I supposed to know she was right behind me!?" George complained loudly, followed closely into the room by the light giggles of Lee and Harry. No such laughter, however, could be heard from the mouth of the Gryffindor Captain.

"A concussion George! You gave Katie a concussion!" She was near shouting at the boy.

"I SAID I WAS SORRY! I didn't see her!" He threw his arms up in defence. "Pomfrey says she'll be right in a few days, what's the fuss?"

"The fuss, George, is that we just lost a whole night's training! You're just lucky our next game isn't for another fortnight, Weasley. I have to take Katie some things for her stay in the Hospital Wing, YOU! had better think fast about how to make this up to her." With a final menacing point of her finger Angelina stormed off towards the dormitory she shared with Katie.

"Should we check on Fred?" Lee spoke to break the guilty silence.

"Yeah, hey - don't forget to tell him how his Golden Boy brother sent our best chaser to the infirmary!" Harry goaded making his way over to Hermione and Ron by the fire.

"Little prat" George grumbled as he and Lee made their way to the dormitory. Lee was laughing hard at his friends remark."He doesn't watch it he won't be 'The Boy who lived' for much longer. Might pick up where You-Know-Who left off." George went on as he leant his back against the door, pushing it open as his hand twisted the door knob. Lee's laughter only increased.

"I'd like to see you- OH...MY...GOOOOD!!" laughter and smiles faded instantly as his eyes fell on the tangled mess of sheets and the bodies of his two close friends in place of where Fred should have been resting.

The sudden exclamations catching the attention of [Y/N] and Fred, their eyes shooting directly across the, should have been empty, bedroom.

"SHIT!" Fred yelled as he pulled off of [Y/N] and covered her with his blanket. "YOU WEREN'T MEANT TO BE BACK FOR A COUPLE HOURS!"

"MY EYES! MY EEYYEES!!" George screamed dramatically. Turning away from the scene he covered his face by his hands, desperately trying to lose the imagine of his brothers and best friends mostly naked bodies.

"It's not what you think!" [Y/N] began, throwing Fred's jumper on over her head which could very well have been a dress on her. She stood, tugging at the material willing it to stay in place before fixing her hair.

"It doesn't look like you were napping!" Lee snapped sarcastically, "nor does it look much like a POTIONS ASSIGNMENT!"

"[Y/N]" George began, not turning to face the two - rather speaking to the ceiling as his back faced them. "I know you said you'd look after my brother but MERLIN I should have laid out some guidelines, that is not how you handle a headache."

Fred had put on a pair of trousers and a singlet and quickly made his way to stand infront of the two boys, arms out pleadingly, "I know you're both a little shocked right now and this is going to take some time to process but for the love of GODRICK!" He clenched his teeth and spoke in a low growl, "would you keep your voices down before the entire bloody common room hears yo-"

"WHAT'S GOING ON!?" Ron had burst through the door. "Oh God" Fred groaned throwing his head back walking away from the door.

"We heard shouting, is everything okay?" Hermione asked frantic, as Harry followed her in.

"Yes, Hermione everything's fine -" [Y/N] went to explain.

"NO!" Lee interrupted "NO! THEY'RE DOING IT!" He screamed pointing his finger accusingly at the two red-faced teens. Harrys eyes were wide with shock.

"It's not what you all think! Please just listen to me..." Fred begged as [Y/N] stood beside him. Looking to one another defeatedly.

Everyone, aside from George, turned to face them. Awaiting the explanation as to why these two had been...doing what they were.

"Uhmmm..." seeing the group stare before him suddenly ran Freds mind blank. "This isn't the first time this has happened. Actually it happens a lot." Not the best opener. The group grimaced, looking very uncomfortable at their friends confession. [Y/N] dropped her head into her hand. "What I mean is" he tried to recover, "this isn't a one time deal. We're not just fooling around, we're..." the words caught in his throat.

What were they? A couple? Was he wrong and they were just friends with benefits? What was this?

They looked at one another, Fred's eyes searching [Y/N]'s face for the answer. She smiled, grabbing his hand gently.

"We're together" she spoke. Eyes not leaving Fred.

"That's great and all. But this is still traumatising." Lee deadpanned as he gestured between the couple and Fred's bed.

George cleared his throat, "umm, yeah. I'm really happy for you two."

"That'd be more convincing, had you actually said it to us rather than the wall." [Y/N] laughed. Fred threw his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. Georges head turned slightly, eyeing the two in his peripheral before shutting his eyes tightly. Trying to muster the courage. "Yeah, sorry bout that just...it may be difficult to look at you the same for a while. I saw a lot more than I'd had like to." Everyone laughed at the comment. The light atmosphere helping him to relax a bit he turned to face them. Even if his eyes fixed to anything but them.

"Wait a minute." Harrys laughter had stopped completely. "Did you two plan this whole thing?"

"I guarantee we never planned on getting caught" Fred replied.

Rolling his eyes Harry continued "ditching practice I mean."

Lee and George both looked at each other before slowly turning to glare at the couple.

"Well. Yeah" [Y/N] answered.

A slow clap started to sound throughout the room as Lee and George mockingly applauded the two. "Well done. Truly you two that was quite the convincing performance." George smirked. "Honestly, [Y/N], that spit take really sold the whole thing. Couldn't have done better myself." Lee nodded as she playfully curtsied with her hand on the seam of Fred's jumper.

"WELL!" Lee clapped once loudly, rubbing his hands together. "This calls for a celebration. Shall we?" He bowed to the door, ushering everyone from the room.

"Ummm Lee. Mind if I put some pants on first?"

"If you-OH! right. Yeah. Meet you two down there!" He was the last to leave, closing the door with a quick wink.

Fred and [Y/N] looked shyly back to one another before breaking into fits of side splitting laughter. Fred wrapping his arms around her waist as they calmed down.

"So...we're together, huh?" He grinned resting their foreheads against one another.

"Only if that's what you want." [Y/N] placed her hands on his chest, eyes nervously searching his.

"That's all I've ever wanted" he moved a hand to the back of her neck, pulling her lips into his. Kissing her like he never had before.

Fred and George Weasley were simple men. They liked pranks, food and Quidditch. Though if you were to ask Fred, he would argue there were nothing more important than Quidditch. Well...maybe one thing.

[harmonizingsunsets]

I'd Rather Go Blind & Let My Body Go Numb Than To Lose You Or The Weight Of Your Love

Prompt: Jealousy and all its cousins. Fanart Credit here.

Read on Archive here.

Anthony never thought he'd be the kind of husband who needs to know where his wife is at every moment of every day.

(To be fair, he never thought about being a husband much at all until the season he'd pursued Edwina only to fall maddeningly in love with Kate).

But here he is, sitting on the couch with his feet drumming loudly against the floor, staring intensely at the door.

On the table beside the couch sits a cup of tea, cold and untouched. Anthony had someone from the kitchens prepare it for him, but his nerves made him unable to stomach anything.

Anthony looks a mess. He'd been raking his hands through his hair for the past two hours. He'd also slapped his cheeks once or twice to stay awake.

His jacket lay discarded and wrinkled on the ground near the door. He feels guilty, knowing one of the maids would have to press it. However, he can't gather the desire to move from the couch and retrieve it. 

Instead, he's glued to the couch as he considers where Kate is. A hundred different scenarios run through his mind—each scenario worse than the last.

For the past month, Kate has been disappearing at night. He hears her footsteps tiptoeing past his study when he stays up to work. He feels the weight from her side of the bed lessen as she stands and departs from their bedroom when she thinks he's fallen asleep.

At first, Anthony questioned her about it. Kate would always make up an excuse about needing fresh air or going to see Edwina. But he knows her well enough to know when she's lying.

However, Anthony hadn't ever called Kate out on her deceit. He feared the truth, especially how it might crush him to hear it.

But he couldn't take the not knowing anymore. So when he heard the door close after Kate told him five minutes prior that she was retiring to bed, he made his way towards the front of the house. Anthony watched at the window as a carriage rode away. A hole had formed in his stomach, making him feel hollow. He then sat down on the couch so he could catch her when she returned.

Finally, after what felt like ages passed, he hears footsteps approaching the door. He quickly jumps up from the couch and makes his way to the foyer. When Kate steps through the door, her eyes widen.

"Anthony!" she exclaims in surprise, putting a hand to her chest to steady her breath. "You're up late."

"So are you," Anthony says, crossing his arms and blocking her way.

"I was only walking around to get some fresh air."

Anthony raises a brow. "Really, for two hours?"

Her eyes shift anxiously from his stare. "Has it really been that long?"

"Yes," he answers through gritted teeth, anger rising within him.

"Oh well, it was such a lovely night the time got away from me." Kate stands on her toes, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "Sorry for worrying you."

As she tries to retreat, Anthony's hand lurches out to grab her elbow, pulling her back to face him.

"I've had enough, Kate," he sighs tiredly. "Where were you?"

"I just told you, I was—."

"You've been going out for fresh air at odd hours of the day for the past month. You'd think you'd have your fill by now."

Kate fidgets. "Well, it hasn't just been out to get fresh air. I've been attending engagements. I have a life outside you and this household, you know."

"Oh, I know that, but your engagements don't usually take place after dark and don't require you sneaking out of the house to attend."

"Darling, everything is fine," Kate says, pulling her arm out of his reach and giving him a nervous smile. "You've probably been working too hard. Let's go to bed."

As she tries to walk away again, Anthony pulls her back. But this time, he holds onto both of her arms, forcing her to meet his eye.

"Kate, I know you—perhaps more than you know yourself, and I know when you're lying to me," he says, his voice turning softer—more fragile. It's as if he's a vase that could shatter at any moment. "What I don't know is why."

"I promise that what I have been going out and doing is not anything scandalous or dangerous." After letting out a long breath, a laugh bubbles from her throat in amusement. "Honestly, where I've been going to is nothing to fret over. You're acting as if I'm having an affair or something."

Anthony's heart sinks in his chest. No matter how ridiculous the prospect sounds, he can't help but whisper the question that's been plaguing his mind these past few weeks.

"Are you?"

Kate's mouth falls open, her face paling. "Anthony, how could you think that?"

"It's the only explanation I can think of," he says, stepping away from her and beginning to pace. "It explains why you've been coming back so late and being so evasive these past few weeks."

"Anthony—."

His legs go weak at the affection in her voice. Anthony falls to his knees in front of her and takes hold of her hands.

"Just tell me, Kate, I cannot bear it," Anthony says, hating the way his voice wavers. "I cannot bear the thought of you finding pleasure in someone else's arms. I cannot bear you leaving our bed because you'd rather be in another's. I cannot bear the idea of someone else touching you, loving you, or kissing you."

He brushes his lips against Kate's knuckles, causing her breath to hitch. Anthony pulls his lips away, but just so his fingertips can swirl circles on her palm. When his thumb skims over her pulse, he feels her heartbeat quicken.

"Most of all, I cannot bear the thought of you loving someone else." Anthony swallows thickly, feeling a lump forming in his throat. "I'd die right now if you told me all of this was true."

Anthony has always feared time. He used to compulsively reach into his pocket to grasp his father's watch. Each time a hand on the clock ticked forward, he felt as if an ounce of his soul got sucked away.

But since Kate came into his life, that fear has dissipated. Suddenly, he didn't spend each moment of his life calculating how much time he had left. Instead, Anthony began counting things other than seconds.

He counts the number of Kate's smiles. He counts the number of laughs they share next to one another at the table surrounded by his family. Anthony counts the number of kisses that were slow, stirring an aching feeling in his chest. He also counts each hungry and passionate kiss that sets every inch of his skin aflame.

Most of all, Anthony counts how many times he's lost count around her. He gets lost in the timeless and wonderful enigma that is Kate Sharma.

Anthony feels that fear of time creeping up on him again. But now, he's not afraid of time passing and leading to his demise. Instead, he's terrified that Kate's time of loving him has run out. Maybe, she's found a more deserving man to spend the minutes with than him.

When Anthony braves a glance up at Kate, he expects to see pity. But instead, he's surprised to see an entirely different emotion reflected in her eyes.

Love.

Pure, unconditional, steadfast love.

Kate gets down to her knees in front of him. But she doesn't let go of his hands, holding them tighter.

"None of that is true, Anthony," she says firmly. "I love you, have only loved you, and will only love you."

Her words release a breath of relief from him. But, he still can't help doubting this, not knowing how else to explain her odd disappearances.

Kate must sense his train of thoughts. She smiles gently, moving one of her hands up to graze his cheek.

"I love you so much that I've been waking up in the middle of the night so I can give you the perfect present."

Anthony blinks in confusion, feeling the room that had been spinning become still.

"What?"

Kate laughs, and she rests her forehead against his. "Do you know what tomorrow is?"

It hits Anthony like a whip. All the clues that he'd gathered up to form a horrible conclusion were, in fact, clues that lead to a more justifiable and pleasant one.

"Our anniversary," he answers dumbly.

"Yes," she nods, her face beaming with a giddy kind of delight. Anthony feels lucky that he gets to see it. Her expressions are free without restraint only when she's comfortable with someone. He's glad to be one of those treasured few. "We've made it a year, can you believe it? It seems like only yesterday, I was stepping on your toes at a ball, and you acted like a madman when I got stung by a bee."

Anthony frowns, his forehead creasing. "I did not act like a madman."

"You did, but it led us to where we are now," Kate says, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "Married and happy."

"I'd like to think it would've happened with the bee or not."

"I'm not sure. You were quite thick-headed about how in love with me you were."

"Oh, I'm the thick-headed one?" he scoffs. "After the night you fell in love with me, you gave your approval for me to marry your sister. How thick-headed is that?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd ever feel that way about me," Kate defends, rolling her eyes. "But I know very well now that you do. You show me with every kind word, every touch, every…" her words drift, cheeks reddening, "Well, you know."

Anthony smirks. "No, I do not know. Please elaborate on everything I do to you that gives you pleasure in vivid detail."

"You're insufferable," she grumbles and puts her hands on her hips. "I have a good mind not to tell you the true reason for my disappearing and keep you stewing in jealousy."

"I don't think you'd like the result of my increased jealousy."

"I don't know, your scowl was fierce, and the fire in your eyes was quite the sight," Kate teases, tracing her thumb over his furrowed brows. "Very becoming, actually."

Anthony stands and pulls her up with him, leading her to the couch. "Why have you been disappearing?"

"As I said, our anniversary is tomorrow, and I was getting your gift ready," she explains. "It's almost midnight. Perhaps I can give it to you a little bit early. I had one of the servants waiting outside for my return. They came in through the back entrance and have already snuck it into your study to reveal as a surprise for tomorrow."

"How sinister of you, plotting with our staff against me."

"Nothing sinister about it. I asked, and they agreed to help me. Unlike you, they think I'm perfectly agreeable."

"Obviously, they don't know you well enough to fear the wicked inner workings of your mind as I do."

Kate stands, gracefully sticking out her tongue and making him laugh. Anthony follows her down the hall into his study. She makes him close his eyes. He feels like a fool, stumbling into the room with Kate chuckling behind him. But, he feels guilty for thinking Kate could ever be unfaithful and indulges her wishes.

He waits for a few moments, hearing her moving something across the floor, before he asks, "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Alright, you bloody impatient man, open your eyes."

As Anthony takes his hands away from his eyes, his heart stops in his chest. He gawks at the painting on a canvas stand in front of him.

"Kate," he utters breathlessly.

Kate chews on her bottom lip, hesitantly watching him observe the painting—no, "painting" doesn't seem like the right word for what it is.

It's a masterpiece, an almost perfect depiction of Kate.

The artist captured the exact fraction that Kate's lips tilt up when she smiles in amusement. Anthony often sees that expression pointed towards him when they're engaged in one of their bantering matches. The color of her brown eyes is just as deep in the painting. They're full of so much that Anthony still wants to explore even after a year of marriage.

In the portrait, Kate's shoulders are bare, the sleeves resting low on her arm. The bottom of the picture shows the scarlet bodice of her dress. But the most alluring part is how the brown curls of her hair flow freely down her neck, cascading like a waterfall.

Anthony has a strong distaste for her bonnets and how society demands she wears her hair up in public. Anthony loves running his fingers through her hair, which probably is why she posed for the painting with it down. That minx knew it would stir a feeling within him that no one else but her has been able to elicit.

"I hired Sir Granville to paint it," Kate blurts out, nervous from how long he's remained silent. "I wanted him to paint it in a private setting because it's a bit…."

"Breathtaking," Anthony answers.

"I was going to say suggestive, but breathtaking is a good adjective," Kate grins bashfully. She steps towards him, her eyes glowing through the dim light of the room. "It's a portrait for your eyes only, no one else's."

Anthony ducks his head. "I'm sorry that I thought you were...I just—."

"Foolishly got jealous of a person who doesn't exist? Yes, yes, you did."

He runs his fingers against the frame of the painting. "I have a mind to hang this in the common area, so everyone can see how lucky I am."

Kate's eyebrows snap together. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he asks playfully.

"It might encourage some men to meet the woman behind the painting," Kate notes with a mischievous glint in her eyes, pretending to consider his proposal. "Who am I to oppose admirers?"

Anthony's smirk fades. "You wouldn't dare."

"Ah, there's that handsome scowl," Kate points at him in triumph.

He swoops forward, his arms going around her waist. "You're maddening."

Kate's smile widens as she looks up at him, looping her hands around his neck. "You love it."

"You're right. I do love you. And, I love this portrait," Anthony adds, bobbing his head towards the painting. "Perhaps I should hang it in here. It can serve as a reminder of what's waiting for me when I finish my work."

She leans up a bit on her toes, her hands traveling lower down his back. "You know, I could come down to your study to remind you."

Anthony begins moving his hands as well. As they skim up her body, brushing her breast, he relishes in the sound of her moan. Anthony leans closer, pressing kisses down her neck until he gets to just the right spot. Kate's fingers curl tighter onto his back as his lips apply pressure there, and her body gravitates further against him.

"You're far too distracting," Anthony murmurs against her skin. "Perhaps, the portrait is too dangerous to be in here. I'd get nothing done."

"Exactly." She leans her face back a margin, so Anthony can see that enchanting tilt of her lips the artist depicted. "Why do you think I commissioned the painting in the first place?"

"To torture me?"

"All is fair in love and war," Kate says, grinning at him. "And hasn't our relationship always been a bit of both?"

In response, Anthony kisses her deeply and thoroughly. The sound of his pocket watch ticking starts to fade away. It gets replaced with the sound of his heart, which beats for Kate more than himself these days.