#josephine my love my beloved i WILL be kissing her

[idyllic-affections]

so. burnout! it's very real. i can't guarantee when i'll be writing again or even regularly posting again, but hopefully it will be soon! in the meantime maybe i'll put more effort into just posting & responding to non-request asks and whatnot..... a hiatus but not really a hiatus! a writing hiatus, because i genuinely have no motivation.

[winniemaywebber]

those “stay with me” prompts I LOVE!!! 🥹🥹 I can’t wait to see what you do with them bestie. I’d love to see:

scene 1, dialogue 17 with Olive & Dougie

scene 13, dialogue 2 with the darling Crosbys?

(and if you could slip a hand kiss anywhere in there I will be forever grateful ahhh love ya bestie!!)

hi my darling!!! thank you so much for the requests!!!

from the "stay with me" prompts list (inbox is still open for more of these!)

both requests are under the cut <3

Scene 1 Dialogue 17 - Dougie x Olive

"eyes lighting up as soon as your significant other enters a room" & "don't go anywhere I can't follow."

“Coffee before you go, Captain?” Olive asks Dougie as she enters the briefing room. She sees his pretty blue eyes light up as he sees her walk in, as he hears her speak to him. It makes her stutter, falter, hoping her knees don’t give out during the exchange. “No sugar,” she says, clearing her throat. “I know you’re–”

“Already sweet enough on you, my girl.” 

“Darling,” she breathes, kissing him gently. “Hello.”

“Hi, honey,” he replies, returning her affections just as sweetly. “How are you?”

“Nervous, as I always am when you have to be up in the sky for hours at a time. But,” she exhales, trying to settle her nerves. “I’ll be okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere I can’t follow,” Olive whispers, holding Dougie tightly. 

“I’ll be back before you know it, my love.” He pulls a final cigarette from the packet, it having been decorated with a cute little heart. She imagines him scrawling it on there during the briefing, Dougie one for always wanting to keep his hands busy. “Saved the last one for you.”

“Oh, you sweet thing. I’d just run out myself.”

“Luckily, I’m always here to save the day.” He pulls her close to him, holding her the way he always does - nuzzling his nose into her neck and breathing her in, her lips touching the exposed skin of his as it peeks out of his sheepskin collar just slightly. Over his shoulder, she sees Everett and Valencia in a similar embrace, whispering sweet nothings to one another. Murmuring her worries into him and him reassuring her. They’d be home and back with their girls in no time. 

“You know I would never, baby.”

“Doug, we’ve gotta run. Jeep is waiting,” Ev calls, his hand clutched in Val’s as he makes his way to the door. “Love you, honey,” he says, quickly planting a kiss on Val’s red lips. 

“You got it, Maude,” Ev calls as he exits, holding the door open for Dougie.

“Love you more.”

“Keep each other safe, for fuck sake,” Olive laughs, kissing Dougie one final time. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I love you, Ollie,” he says, taking her hand and kissing it three times.

“I love you too, darling. To the end of the Earth.”

“And back again.” 

Scene 13 Dialogue 2 - Jean x Harry

Asking the other about their day & "can we cuddle?"

Harry and Jean Crosby are getting settled into a new life - it was decided some weeks ago that Croz would like to be the one staying home with their son while Jean returned to work at the Switchboard with her beloved friend, Josephine Rosenthal, the aforementioned now blissfully married to pilot Robert Rosenthal, Harry’s closest confidant. 

It hadn’t exactly been a tough decision; Croz wasn’t fond of his new job and Jean felt like she was going stir crazy, staying at home with a child that had just begun crawling and getting into absolutely everything possible - anything he could get his cute, chubby little hands on. It was Josephine, in fact, that had made the suggestion, when she had called in to the Crosby home one night after work with an apple pie her mother-in-law had made.

Everybody in the house seemed happier with this plan in place, Bing absolutely adoring his new role. He had taken to it very well, making dinner and tending to the baby, spending some time with Rosie in between his busy schedule as a lawyer and still finding some time alone with a book while his son slept. He seemed lighter, more jovial somehow, the years of stress from war melting away before everyone’s eyes.

“Gee, Mrs Croz,” she had said, a tone of surprise in her voice. “You look frazzled, doll.”

“I am,” she groaned, pulling her son away from the side table in the living room before he tried to stretch himself up on it. “I feel like I’m going round the twist.”

“I can see that,” Jo exhaled, picking her nephew up from any impending danger and cooing all over him, planting kisses on his red cheeks and leaving adorable lipstick marks. “You know, your seat is still empty at the Switchboard. Maybe they’d be happy to take you on again.”

“Do you think?” Jean replied keenly. “I’d have to talk to Bing first, of course, but–”

“Oh, no, how terrible for him. More time with his son and escaping a job he can’t help but be vocal about how much he despises? Whatever shall he do?”

***

“Hey, bud, mama’s home!” Croz cries as Jean opens the door to the living room. 

“Oh, hello my little sunshine,” she greets, taking him from her husband’s arms. “Good day?”

“Tip top as always,” Croz replies, kissing his wife on both her cheeks and then her mouth. “Dinner is ready.”

“Oh, wonderful!” she responds, still somewhat taken aback by his attentiveness. “I’ll put this little fella to bed while you finish up.”

“I’ve got it, my little wife,” he says, making his way to the kitchen. “How was your day?”

“Hm, tough. I’m still not used to using my brain this much. My head hurts a little.”

“Oh, darling,” Harry comforts, pulling her into his arms. “Well, go relax after all this is done. I’ll draw you a warm bath.”

“Lovely.”

***

With their son sound asleep in his crib, Harry decides to join Jean in the bathroom, carefully propped on the edge of the tub. “How are you doing?” she asks, trying to cover the concern in her voice. “Are you still happy with what we’ve decided?”

“My goodness, yes, darling. I love it, staying home and getting as much time with our son as possible. I feel like I missed so much before I returned home, and feel awful you took it all on by yourself. I’m so happy to do this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, my dear. I’m very sure. Now,” he pauses, rubbing her legs with the lavender soap he’d bought for her last time he and Rosie were in the city. “Can we go cuddle after this?”

[ao3feed-kathony]

Tell Me That You Hate Me (Most Ardently)

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54431317 by Murphys_Law1111 “Does the young lady know the Viscount Bridgerton?” “Only a little.” “Do you not think him handsome then, miss? “Yes. Yes, I dare say he is.” or With the untimely passing of her elder sister, Josephine, and the sudden appearance of a long-lost cousin poised to claim her late father's title, Diana's world teetered on uncertainty. Still grappling with the aftermath of her own debut season and the pressures of society's expectations, Diana makes a bold decision: to forsake the notion of love and marriage altogether and focus on her younger sister. With her sister Georgiana’s rising acclaim as the season's foremost diamond, the arrival of Lord Bridgerton derails Diana's carefully laid plans. Despite his undeniable allure and impeccable reputation, Diana harbors a deep-seated disdain for the suitor, convinced that no man, especially not Anthony Bridgerton, could ever be deemed suitable for her beloved sister. or Diana had learnt to never trust a Bridgerton. Anthony seemed intent on making her change her mind. If only she was more forgiving. If only he could remember. If only they could have a real conversation. Kissing does tend to make someone stop talking. Words: 8658, Chapters: 5/?, Language: English Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn, Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen, Multi, Other Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Bridgerton Family (Bridgerton), Original Female Character(s) Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Original Female Character(s), Anthony Bridgerton/Original Character(s), Anthony Bridgerton & Violet Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton & Bridgerton Family, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Penelope Featherington & Original Female Character(s), Bridgerton Siblings (Bridgerton) & Original Female Character(s), Benedict Bridgerton/Original Female Character(s), Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Anthony Bridgerton & Benedict Bridgerton & Colin Bridgerton & Eloise Bridgerton Additional Tags: Protective Anthony Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton Needs A Hug, Anthony Bridgerton Being an Idiot, Jealous Anthony Bridgerton, POV Anthony Bridgerton, POV Original Female Character, Inspired by Bridgerton (TV), Alternate Universe - Bridgerton (TV) Fusion, Pride and Prejudice References, Bridgerton Family Feels, Anthony Bridgerton Being a Gentleman, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, the sharmas/sheffields do not exist, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, sorta - Freeform, hopefully, we'll see, Violet Bridgerton Knows Everything, Scene: Fitzwilliam Darcy Hand Flex (Pride and Prejudice 2005), but anthony, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, you'll have to guess which one, or multiple, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Diana Thrombey hates Anthony Bridgerton, Georgiana is a ray of sunshine, Josephine is dead, like dead dead, yet still affecting plot from the grave, what an icon, Love Confessions, lots of miscommunication, love is real, they just deny deny deny, GET THESE GUYS SOME THERAPY MY GOSH read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54431317

[the-void-writes]

BH x Paradise Crossover

A small gift for @bloodlessheirbyjacques involving her main character, Astrea, and my pirate wives, Pedra and Josephine. I had talked about writing this so long ago and I finally figured out how to do it lol. I really hope you enjoy it, buddy 💖

Warning: 18+ only for explicit content

Astrea was certain that if Elijah knew what she was doing, he would have paid all the money in the world to watch. His beloved queen, in the embrace of his two old friends from the sea— Pedra and Josephine, Las Sirenas de Maros. Deadly, perhaps, but not to Astrea. They loved the young queen dearly, and they were more than eager to prove it when she asked.

Josephine sat beside her on the large pile of cushions in their guest room, courtesy of Gazali. She kissed the soft dark skin of Astrea’s shoulders, brushing her crimson hair aside as she moved to her neck. Astrea could smell her perfume, like fine roses mixed with a hint of the champagne she and Alek would sneak from the kitchens to share in their room.

Astrea sat wide against the cushions so she could see Pedra, radiant in her night dress, as she worked between Astrea’s legs. Her soft lips and gentle tongue felt like heaven to the young queen, who couldn’t help but twist under her touch. Josephine hummed against Astrea’s neck.

“I know, dulzura,” she whispered. “She’s very good at this, isn’t she?”

Pedra’s lips curled into a pleased smile, one that instantly reminded Astrea of her own mischievous pirate. She gasped as Pedra teased a finger along the inner dips of her thighs, making her shiver despite being perfectly warm. Josephine chuckled and caressed Astrea’s face.

“She wants you to sing for her.”

“Sing?” Astrea could barely speak, let alone keep a tune in her current state.

“Your noises, Astrea, your praise— Pedra loves to listen.” Josephine brushed the queen’s lips. “I can help, if you’d like.”

“Please—” Astrea gasped. “Please do.”

Josephine kissed her briefly, but deeply, before bringing her wine-colored lips down to Astrea’s chest. She took the sensitive skin into her mouth, licking and nibbling it tenderly. Astrea cried out in delight.

“Yes—” Another sharp gasp. “Oh gods, please.”

Pedra used her free hand to massage her leg, while the other finally stopped teasing and slid into her with ease. Astrea feared that the other guests could hear her moaning and begging for more, but the music from the grand ballroom was thankfully too loud for anyone outside to hear over. She laid back and let the pleasure drown her mind, caressing Josephine’s raven hair and keeping her close as she kissed her chest.

Her skin felt as though it was on fire— and if she wasn’t careful, it would probably end up that way. The feeling of flames grew hotter in her cheeks, at her fingertips, and beneath her stomach. She reached down and brushed Pedra’s orange hair aside, holding her cheek.

“Don’t stop, please,” Astrea said. “You’re doing so well.”

Obeying her queen, Pedra moved her hand and her tongue firmer and faster. Astrea gripped the cushion beneath her, which started to smoke under her hand. Finally, at the peak of her gasps and moans, the fire in her body rushed through her like a wave. She shook and twitched for a moment more before falling back into the cushions to catch her breath.

Josephine took her hand and laid beside her, brushing her hair gently.

“How was it?” she asked.

“That… was perfect.”

Josephine giggled. “I’m glad.”

Pedra continued to massage Astrea as she laid her head against her stomach.

“I cannot wait to brag about this to your boyfriend, Your Highness.”

Astrea laughed. “Elijah would pay you to do it again, I think, just so he could see it.”

“Ooh, fun.”

“For you two, perhaps,” Josephine said. “Knowing him, he’ll try to join.”

“Elijah knows your tastes, I’m sure.” Pedra smiled and pressed her wife’s hand to her lips. “And he knows you’re all mine, mi alma.”

Josephine hid her face in Astrea’s thick and now-tangled hair. The queen held both of the ladies close to her, with a smile on her face that wouldn’t fade away for a long time.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” she said, “perhaps you can teach me your skills, Pedra. I would love to repay you for your work.”

Pedra grinned and kissed her warm skin. “With pleasure, Your Highness.”

[itsfacedelune]

IN THE GARDEN

Maya had woken up early to enjoy her morning, before heading back to the Council Chamber. Since becoming Inquisitor, she didn't really have time to take a break. Every day, it was necessary to go to various places of Thedas, to collect the maximum of information on Corypheus. Sometimes she and her companions went away for several days and only rested for a few hours.

As soon as they got back to Skyhold, they had to deal with all the problems of the fortress: Reporting to Josephine, training with Iron Bull and Cassandra, dealing with Leliana's depression, checking that Cole hadn't done anything stupid, check that Sera hadn't set the inn on fire and that Dorian and the Reverent Mother hadn't gutted each other. Maya was exhausted.

So this quiet morning at Skyhold was a blessing. She decided to share it with her lover Solas, she wondered if the elf would walk with her in the Fade. As they had done several times already, since their first kiss. But when she arrived in the Rotunda room, where Solas had set up his office, she did not find him. She wondered where could he be, because the elf was not in the habit of leaving his quarters and leaving his studies in plain sight. Especially with Dorian and Sera hanging around the halls, taking every opportunity to steal his stuff and tease him.

She waited a little while on the armchair by the desk, trying to put some order in his disorder, but no one came.

- “ If you're looking for your beloved egg, he is in the garden! " 

Maya looked upstairs. Leaning on the balcony, with an unobstructed view of Solas' office, Dorian smoked his pipe, shrouded in fog. The smell of euphoric elven herbs descended to the young woman's nostrils.

- “ He couldn’t stand the smell of my cigar so he left… What a killjoy that one is! He'd better have a smoke too, it would relax him a bit! ”

The Inquisitor burst out laughing, then walked towards the gardens of Skyhold. It was in a small courtyard, surrounded and protected by the ramparts, with everything he needed to recharge his batteries. Large trees, flowers and various medicinal plants, and at the back a small kiosk where his companions, especially men, came to play chess.

Maya searched for Solas for a little while, before finding him in a remote corner. Under a tree, the elf was sitting and had his eyes closed. He seemed deep in meditation and focused. He had probably gone for a walk in the Fade and she didn't want to disturb him by waking him up. The Inquisitor made a sad face and was about to go back to Skyhold, when Solas called out to her:

- “ Vhenan? … “

She loved it when the elf called her that. She felt a shiver run down her neck and turned to her lover, who had opened his eyes. He looked at her with his intense blue-gray gaze.

- " I… I can come back later if you're busy…"

- " I'm never busy when it’s about you."

He motioned for her to come over and sit in the grass with him. The young woman ran. She didn't dare stick to Solas, she was too shy and impressed. Even though they had been together for a few weeks already, they hadn't really had the opportunity to be alone and hadn't exchanged a kiss for several days. Maya was starting to miss that, and Solas too.

Seeing that the young human dared not approach him, Solas grabbed her by the waist and tipped her against him. He sank into the grass, with Maya on top. She was surprised by this gesture but ended up displaying a big smile at the elf. He caressed her cheek tenderly:

- “ Ma Vhenan, I missed you. Will you stay with me for a bit ? “

Maya nodded approvingly, blushing, Solas was amused by the situation. She was so strong and unfazed when it came to fighting, but in this moment, she seemed so vulnerable.

- “ Is everything alright ? “

- “ Yes... It's just that... You impress me a lot Solas, and I lose my means in front of you... “ She replied, avoiding Solas' eyes.

- “ Mmh? The Inquisitor impressed by an apostate? The reverse would be more logical! “ Solas teased her.

Maya laughed while the elf contemplated her beautiful face.

- “ My Love… You are the most extraordinary person I have met in my entire life. When I'm around you, I feel so vulnerable and stronger than ever. Why do you think I isolate myself in the garden to meditate in the Fade? You make me lose my mind ! “ Solas replied.

Then, the elf kissed her tenderly and embraced her. He nuzzled his head in the crook of the young woman's neck, she could feel his warm breath. Maya breathed in his scent, closing her eyes. Solas enjoyed Maya's arms surrounding him.

They disappeared into the grass, entwined one against the other, not wanting to leave each other, in the little corner of the garden.

[pieman1112]

Life can be quite unexpected and by making just one different choice when it counted can make long lasting chances for better and for worse. As Countess Josephine was cleaning her grandparents’ grave nearby her grandfather’s old manor, she updated her family about the events that happened. “Who would have thought an annoying voice in my head telling me to ‘Get Rinea and Berkut out of the tower’ would change my life so much. Did you know I actually saved Rinea? I also saved Berkut but he was not too happy being carried by Hunter. The look on Fernand’s face as we ran out of there was hilarious, but one yell from me got him moving as well.” She gave a small chuckle. “When we got outside Alm and his friends were so shocked but then those terrors showed up so we had to battle them first. Hunter took those terrors down with no problem and Alm and his friends were happy we weren’t trying to fight them. I did get to talk to them and had Hunter join the deliverance to defeat Jedah. Berkut was not happy about this at all since Hunter was in the Rigel army, but honestly there were way bigger problems to face. I told Berkut that he needed to have a serious long conversation with Rinea about their relationship. So, while my beloved was off saving the world, I had to deal with getting Fernand to an infirmary, a couple that needs better communications skills, and then we find out that Emperor Rudolf is dead which really made things worse.” She always did talk had a habit of talking to family’s graves to make herself miss them slightly less.

“I don’t know all of the details but Jedah got killed and Hunter got to stab him. Oh, and apparently Duma looked like a walking corpse himself and Alm got to kill him from what Hunter told me. So yeah, lot of stuff happened huh? Oh, and since Alm is Rudolf’s son, he’s the new emperor and oh boy that was hard for Berkut to deal with at first.” She moved to clean her Aunt Edith’s grave. “It took some months, but I think Berkut and Rinea got their life sorted out. They have property nearby now so I get to visit them. Hunter is in the new Valentia military but they have him stationed close so he can always come home after work. You know my father finally approved of Hunter fully because he helped the new emperor. So, I will be getting married soon, but not sure where I want the wedding to take place as of yet.” She got up looking at her handy work. Not a bad job and it looked better now.

The sound of familiar footsteps made her realize who was approaching. “Hunter! You came to get me? That’s sweet to you.” She said as she gave him a quick kiss on the lips before looking at the graves. “Well, we better get back to the manor. I’ll come back to visit. Love you always.” She gently touched the tombstones of her grandparents and aunt before taking the path back the manor with her beloved. “Can you believe it’s been about a year since the war ended? Everything just seems to be getting better with time.” It had been about a year since those events happened and the manor had been looking a lot better than it once did. “I know it is my manor now, but it’s still hard to see it that way.” It had been the beloved summer home of her grandparents after all, but her grandfather wanted her to have it. “How was work today at the base?” She knew being in the army was something her father wanted of Hunter, but she knew it might be a while before he could retire.

If you were to tell Hunter that he would have been serving in a medieval army and fighting dragons and other such mystical creatures then he would have called you crazy. Reality was stranger than fiction however and that is exactly how his life became after leaving the UNSC to be with his beloved Josephine. So much had happened in the short time he arrived in this new land. He and Josephine had taken Rinea and Berkut out of Duma Tower and while Rinea went along, Berkut needed some more ‘convincing’. Like a parent carrying their screaming child out of a public area, Hunter had essentially hoisted Berkut over his shoulder and carried him out kicking and screaming. 

Then was when he had to fight the priest Jedah with Alm and his army. As part of the plan to marry Josephine he had to join the army. Originally he felt like he was betraying the UNSC but this army wasn’t going to be in competition with the UNSC and it didn’t really seem like it would be in the future so it alleviated some of his worry. It took him some time to get accustomed to the reduced mobility of the knight armor compared to the Mjolnir armor. He had to remember that he wasn’t going to be as invincible this time round but he still had his augmentations to rely on. It was his augmentations that allowed him to get close to Jedah and stab him. His enhanced reflexes allowed him to evade Jedah’s defenses and when a soldier stood in his way, his enhanced strength allowed him to push through the soldier entirely.

It had been a year since those events and Hunter had made some progress up the army’s ranks. He had just finished for the day and was heading to the manor that Josephine was at. This army had similar things to the UNSC military which was amusing to Hunter. Even with the drastic change in technology there was always the pull of bureaucracy. Files to document and sign. Logistic forms that needed to be filled. He never realized how much harder it was to get without the use of computers.

Entering the cemetery, Hunter was able to find Josephine just by following the sound of her voice. He leaned down a little to receive the kiss that Josephine was offering.

“Hello my love, I heard you talking out here on my way back and figured I would just meet you out here.”

Walking back to the manor with her, he would look over to her after asking her question. His hand gently grabbing hers to hold as they walk back.

“It’s hard to believe we have been at peace for so long. I just hope that it will last. It will come in time, all we need to do is touch up the manor a little bit and it will be better than you remember. As for work it was pretty much the same. Mostly filling out logistic requests for supplies and training the new recruits. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed the systems we had back in the UNSC ha ha.”

@devotedrigelianflower

[murdrdocs]

"I write you, me beloved one, very often, and you write very little. You are wicked and naughty, very naughty, as much as you are fickle. It is unfaithful so to deceive a poor husband, a tender lover! Ought he to lose all his enjoyments because he is so far away, borne down with toil, fatigue, and hardship? Without his Josephine, without the assurance of her love, what is left him upon earth? What can he do?"

"I am going to bed with my heart full of your adorable image… I cannot wait to give you proofs of my ardent love… How happy I would be if I could assist you at your undressing, the little firm white breast, the adorable face, the hair tied up in a scarf a la creole. You know that I will never forget the little visits, you know, the little black forest… I kiss it a thousand times and wait impatiently for the moment I will be in it. To live within Josephine is to live in the Elysian fields. Kisses on your mouth, your eyes, your breast, everywhere, everywhere"

"I am not a man like others and moral laws or the laws that govern conventional behavior do not apply to me. My mistresses do not in the least engage my feelings. Power is my mistress."

oh you're so so so right

coriolanus snow would take a wife he swore to hate only to end up sending her letters akin to those of napoleon when away from her.

[thatonefrenchwitch]

𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖛𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖎𝖑!

"Well, it seems you wish to spend Hallow's Eve with me, my dear. I suppose I could take a break of being the babysitter to my brothers for a while. They are just too much to handle, especially during this holiday. It's quite tiring."

Reiji paused, continuing on, "There's much we can do. We can pull some tricks on my brothers or perhaps see what different types of sweets we could make together. What will it be?"

“Reiji, my beloved!” The witch smiled brightly, taking in his costume. “You’re a reaper, how cute!” She cooed over his costume. “Your scythe is adorable!” Josephine couldn’t contain her giggles. “I’m sure your brother will last a day without you trying to make sure they don’t burn the place down.” She kissed his cheek lovingly.

“As much as I want to torture your brothers I kind of wish for it to be an us night.” She explains. “I’m feeling quite greedy for your attention tonight.” Josephine smiles. “We can bake til our hearts content.” Her eyes shown nothing but pure love in them.

@diabolik-boys

[noire-pandora]

Words are all I have, To take your heart away

My part for an art trade I did with @lavellanvibes Thank you so much for your patience and kindness. I enjoyed writing Josie and Dove together. 

In the velvet darkness shrouding the room, Josephine found peace in counting the slow breaths her lover exhaled, while Dove found refuge in the Fade, far away from the problems that loomed and threatened to engulf her.

At least until tomorrow.

Close to her, Josephine found the peace she craved after a long day of taming the growing rage of various nobles and dignitaries. As her arms wrapped around her beloved's muscular body, Josephine tasted pure joy, warm and safe, far from the sharp eyes ready to judge her every move, her every breath. A bubble of freedom she never wanted to give up, but with each hour, with each part of the candle burned by the small flame, the long shadows of passing time urged her to sleep. To rest before the morning's duties raked their claws into Dove and wrenched her from her rest.

A soft sigh squeezed from her chest, and with it, guilt scratched at the walls of her heart with its bitterness. Guilt for wanting to keep Dove just for herself, away from a world that stood on the cusp between madness and redemption. Who was she to want to keep the saviour of the world just for herself?

The guilt clawed deeper and deeper into her, while part of her hoped that in the morning a letter, a scroll, something, would arrive bearing news of a mission that no longer required Dove's presence. That she would no longer be drawn away for weeks at a time until Josephine's heart filled with fear, horrible dreams of Dove's death waking her in the middle of the night, sweat drenched clothes clinging to her skin.

Another sigh followed, and Josephine bit her lower lip at the thoughts spinning in her mind. How silly of her to be so worried. Dove had proven again and again she did not need anyone to worry about her. No, it was not worry, it was selfishness. The burning need to be with her, to hold her in her arms every night with no distance between them.

If only she could trade places with Blackwall or Vivienne or any of the other companions who always trailed behind Dove. To always be at her side, kissing the soft skin of her cheeks and ... and… and an idea as tantalising as a bright fruit dangling in her face blinked to life in her mind.

A mischievous giggle broke the silence, and Josephine ran a hand over her lips to stifle any further rebellious sound before they shattered the peace. Beside her, Dove murmured in her sleep, words Josephine did not understand. The smile on Josie's lips widened as the idea pulsed, a beacon of hope in a bleak night.

For the first time in many moons, Josephine's heart fluttered in her chest as thoughts of adventure and love flooded into her mind one by one, sweet honey replacing the loneliness growing in the pit of her stomach.

Careful not to wake Dove, Josephine wrapped her arms around her strong waist and pulled her closer to her chest. Loneliness had no right to touch her, and Josephine refused to yield to the black mass of feelings that settled unbidden and unwanted in her mind.

It was time to act, to demand that she accompany the group on their mission. Tomorrow she would raise her rapier to her hip, as she had often done in her youth, and set out with Dove.

READ MORE ON AO3. 

[writer-akihiko]

IkeVamp Boys + MC Similar to Their Wife

PART 2

To put this in context, MC's nationality does not change. Her facial structure and more importantly, her aura is what is similar to their past wives. By being around MC, they are reminded of their wife.

In addition, I have only included the IkeVamp Boys who historically have a wife. This excludes half of them. As for the boys who have more than one wife [Arthur, Napoleon, Dazai], I have chosen the wife that by historical records, they loved the most.

@delicateikemenmemes I said I was gonna do it because I’m just that much of a madlad 

Napoleon Bonaparte

He was on his way to dinner as he passed the door

The sound of the door made him look back on it

And… a woman appeared. No, it wasn't just a woman. It was a woman in strange looking clothes… His gaze moved to your face-

"JOSEPHINE!"

He gathered you in his arms and kissed you fully on the lips, hugging you as if you were going to disappear

Oh how he missed you, if only he knew

His passionate kiss drew out his lonely emotions

You were never kissed in such a way, making you weak at your knees

He held you up as your strength left you, not wanting to let go of his beloved wife

You wanted to push away this foreign man who suddenly kissed you

"Napoleon! Let go of her!"

He pulled away, holding you close as if you were his favourite childhood toy

Comte pulled on Napoleon's shoulder, seeing how you were in trouble

Napoleon quickly grew annoyed, "Why can't I embrace my wife Comte? Didn't you bring her back?!"

"She's not Josephine. Look at her properly."

He did and horror filled his face. He just kissed a woman as if she were his wife

You were much more comforted seeing Comte, but you still had a wild blush with tears in your eyes

Comte brought you away, letting Sebastian consult Napoleon

He avoided you that day

He was afraid that he might lose control around you again

You just… You reminded him of Josephine so much

Without a doubt, he had a wet dream about his beautiful wife

He certainly had his… desires riled up around you

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn't get close to you physically

Arthur Conan Doyle

Sebastian had called everyone to a special dinner by Comte's request

He sat next to Dazai, teasing Isaac about today's events as he downs a bottle of Rouge

"Everyone, please welcome her to the mansion."

He stopped for a moment, dropping the glass bottle

"Jean sweetie…"

He got up from his chair so fast that no one could act on what he was going to do

The chair crashed as he embraced you so gently

"Jean… You've finally came back to me…"

He kissed your forehead lovingly and touched you in a way a husband would

Your little squeaks of panic alerted him of the surrounding

"Arthur what are you doing?" Comte asked calmly. Comte knew what was up

"Did you not bring my wife back?" He said, holding your hand

"Don't you remember your husband-"

As he turned to look at you, he could see his mistake

"I… I apologise."

He left the dining room, clearly not acting like himself

Theo walked out to not so nicely slap Arthur back to your senses

"She… She's so much like Jean-"

"Get yourself together you kl**tz*k! Think about why you accepted Comte in the first place."

He became more civilised when he returned

He couldn't sleep, drinking a ton of coffee throughout the night

He doesn't become his flirty side and even tries to hide his flirty side from you

He feels as if he's soiling his precious Jean with a dirty worthless man such as him

Arthur appreciates watching you from afar, as a person he would never touch

Dazai Osamu

You were being introduced to the Van Gogh brothers

Dazai was about to go through the window next to Vincent

Your tangled hair caught his attention

He stopped, deciding to change the window so he stood behind you

"Michiko..."

He went through the windows in his usual fashion

This time he hugged you from behind, letting out a sigh of sorrowful relief

His voice broke as he called out, "Michiko..."

"My precious wife.. You've come back to me..."

The single tear that trailed down his cheek warmed your face

He took in your scent, wrapping his arms around your

You let out cries of surprise at the man's sudden hands around you

"Please let me go!"

Dazai woke to his senses, releasing you

He bowed to you in apology, leaving you alone

Only the next afternoon was when Sebastian found him in the gardens

Dazai made his intention to avoid you throughout the mansion

Michiko saved him once, but he's unsure if you could save him again

Theodorus Van Gogh

You had entered the mansion in the dead of the night

Comte asked you to take rest then he'd introduce you to the residents

As you chatted with Comte and Sebastian, Vincent had walked out of his artist's room and saw you

"Johanna?..."

He had to tell Theo that Comte brought Johanna back

Theo was out doing business at the time

The next morning, Vincent urgently went to Theo

“Theo, the new resident is Jo. I saw her…"

"Jo?..."

He figured out where you were from seeing Sebastian focus on breakfast. You might be in the garden…

And he saw you… among the sunflowers… His Johanna

He had tears in his eyes knowing he died, leaving you all alone. Oh why, did you chase after him?

He hugged you from behind, letting his waterworks flow.

"Jo, Johanna I'm so sorry my wife… Please forgive me. We can be happy together with Vincent just please forgive me for leaving you…"

The mumbling of Dutch startled you as you turned to meet the crying man in your arms.

"What are you saying?..."

This must be Theodorus Van Gogh, you thought to yourself

You smacked the larger man's shoulder to make him come to his senses

"Sir are you alright?"

He let you go, realising you weren't his wife

"You're not Johanna?" He says in French

You shook your head. "I'm YN, the new maid."

He excused himself, needing to cry out in his brother's room

He treated you coldly afterwards, but in turn blamed himself more for leaving Johanna when he died

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

That morning he played his Grosse Messe in C Minor. He didn't feel like composing, instead reminiscing his past compositions

He had heard of the new maid that came to the mansion. Huh, he doesn’t really care

The knock on his door stopped his playing. You entered with a bottle of Rouge, setting it on the table in the room

"Herr Mozart, your breakfast."

He turned to you, wanting to retort your saying

He dropped the music sheets he was preparing

He stalked closer to you, bringing his arms across your waist

"Tell me if I'm dreaming."

"It's not a dream Herr Mozart! And-"

"And you should call me Wolf, my dear Constanze. Has my music summoned you here?"

Then it dawned on him.

"Did Comte bring you here?"

Still confused, you replied, "Yes but Herr- I mean, Wolf-"

"That man…" His grip on your waist grew tighter, his jealousy clearly seeping through. "How dare he touch my Constanze so carelessly…"

You realised what this is about and pushed his chest away from you

"I'm not a vampire and I am certainly not your wife!" You cried out, asking him to take a good look at you

He did, seeing how you and Constanze Maria shared the same aura

"Out. Get out."

His cold demeanour drew you away, you shutting the door with a thumping heart

He really thought you were his dear Constanze. Oh, to hear her sing once again…

He's almost tempted to make you sing for him.

He's over his mistake, but he can't stop being reminded of Constanze when looking at you

He pushes you away more, being the true ice king he is

The thought of you and Constanze warms his heart, but he'd never admit that

Comte Saint Germain

Comte did not meet you on the first night

It was during breakfast when hell broke loose

Comte knew who you were and knew who you resembled

He kept it to himself, with the exception of Leonardo

He made his presence known, seeing you serve the other residents

"My Comtesse, just a cup of coffee."

This was one of the rare moments he slipped up. You and his Comtesse are so similar he mistakenly called you so

Theo choked on his pancakes and Arthur did a spit take with his coffee

The other residents looked at you, bewildered

"Theo, you should apologise to the Comtesse." Vincent says.

Theo gets up from his chair, bowing to you

The room was in chaos, the residents trying to give you their respect as the supposed lady of the house and you were trying to serve Comte his coffee

He leaves with his coffee, feeling sad about his Comtesse

With him barely being around the mansion, he avoids you so

He does give you the Comtesse's unused bedroom and jewellery

He has no qualms in pampering you and spoiling you with his wealth

Please… It's the only thing keeping him sane.

William Shakespeare

Out of all the boys, he's the most delusional

Comte had invited William back to the mansion for an important chat

You had been walking to the kitchen as you passed the main door

William entered, being greeting by Sebastian

Your eyes met as you looked at the new guest

He however, turned red seeing you

"Anne my muse…"

He wasted no time running up to you, lifting you up in his arms, with eminent tears in his eyes

"Anne, Anne… Oh Anne my love how I missed you!"

His tears flowed as he kissed you on the lips, his gestures and touches romantic in a way you'd never felt

He couldn't control himself, wanting to feel more of you

He broke the kiss, holding you up

"Sir Shakespeare, that is not your-"

William cut him off with a frown

"I am taking Anne to stay with me. Tell Comte that I will not return for his talk and I do not appreciate his secrecy of my Anne."

Sebastian had to call Napoleon and Jean to hold Will down from taking you

Despite the talks, he still thinks you're Anne

He tries to kidnap you on multiple occasions

If he ever succeeds in bringing you back, he will not hesitate to treat you like his wife

First on his priority was to rebuild the family he'd left behind

He doesn't mind this sin of his, after all he had gotten Anne pregnant before marriage

His yandere side only increases, being extremely delusional as he sees you as his beloved Anne

[vonuberwald]

19 - Kiss for Luck for a ship of your choice for DADWC? Please and thank you!

Vespa Cadash waited in the vestibule of the dilapidated chantry in the abandoned mountain village, peering up at the snow-heavy skies through the gaps jn the masonry with no little trepidation. It reminded her of Haven, though superficially; it lacked the hustle and bustle of the pilgrims and refugees that had soothed her, reminded her of the lower parts of Ostwick in the good old days. Home.

Well, home is where the heart is, that's what Ma had always said, and damn if she hadn't been right, Vespa thought, as she spotted a familiar, much beloved figure cross the nearly empty square towards her. Flashes of rich gold showed beneath slits in the figure's outer garments as she walked, elegant coiffure immaculate as usual and cheerful smile ready as ever. Travelling suited Josephine much better than many people would have thought, the former ambassador well in her element as she took in the crumbling architecture all around.

Straightening from her casual lounge against a post, Vespa walked slowly to meet Josephine halfway, a fond smile already lifting the corners of her lips. 

‘What did your bard friend say?’ She whispered, after Josie leaned down to plant a greeting kiss on her lips. She could see it had probably gone well - Josie practically exuded smugness of a job well done and a contract well-negotiated - but she needed the details if she was going to risk herself in following the trail of the last of the Venatori in these parts.

Josie straightened and nodded, smile widening. ‘He gave us the names,’ she said, ‘and the locations he was most sure of. So, my dear,’ she added. ‘All it seems you need to do is show up tonight at the first one and get yourself noticed.’

Vespa cackled. That, she could do. There weren’t many dwarves in this region, she’d noticed, the Carta hadn’t made it out this far either. All she had to do was fall back into bad habits long since given up and cause a scene and their new friend should handle the rest. She looked back up at Josie, suddenly aware that her fiancee was studiously not looking at her whilst slightly worrying a thread on her sleeve with one hand. She grimaced a little. It had been a while since she’d been in combat, after all, and if things went south... 

Even so, they had a job to do. Vespa knew Josie knew that, so she forged on ahead instead of remarking upon it. ‘You know, we passed that lovely inn by the lake on the outskirts of the last big town - you remember, with the flowers all over it - what did you call them?’

Josephine blinked and her face brightened with recollection and then hope, which Vespa had been aiming for, She remembered the wistful look, (swiftly buried), on Josie’s face as they’d had to walk past the villa and away from the idyllic area.

‘I was thinking we spend a week there, once we’re done with the weeding here,; Vespa continued, and then delivered the coup de grace- ‘I saw a sign proclaiming their duchess cakes the best for miles around. With seven kinds of jam.’

Eyes shining, Josie turned and cupped Vespa’s face in her hands, leaning in closer. ‘Seven!?; she said elatedly, her uncontained excitement palpable. ‘We shall have them pack a basket of all varieties and go out onto the lake!’ She stopped and looked down at Vespa. ‘My love, you shall have to trounce those fiends by Tuesday, in time for the spring festival.’ she proclaimed, her tone half-joking.

Her smile fell away as she considered Vespa’s face, still held gently between glove-clad hands. ‘I know you risk much,’ she said seriously. ‘And I believe in you, I do. But let me give you something a little extra for luck.’ 

A kiss, placed gently on Vespa’s lips, whisper-fine, and then another, unheeding of the open area, as sparsely populated as it was anyway. One more, and Josie stepped back, and held out her hand for Vespa to take. ‘Come, my love,’ she said quietly. ‘I believe we have some hours before your rendezvous.’

-----

@dadrunkwriting 

Hi! It’s definitely been a while since you sent this prompt in, haha, but this is the last of my old backlog now and I hope you enjoyed it! I’ve never written for this pairing before, and Vespa isn’t even a character I have in play at the moment. But I think she shall be after this ♥

[todisturbtheuniverse]

FIC: Set All Trappings Aside [9/9] - COMPLETE

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Pairing: f!Adaar/Josephine Montilyet Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Class Differences Word Count: 3500 (this chapter) Summary: After months of flirtation, a contract on Josephine’s life brings Adaar’s feelings for her closer to the surface than ever. It highlights, too, all of their differences, all of the reasons a relationship between them would not last. But Adaar is a hopeful woman at heart; if Josephine can set all trappings aside, then so can she. Also on AO3. Notes: While the context for this story is the Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune questline, some of the conversations within it didn’t quite fit for this Inquisitor. The resulting fic is a twist on the canon romance. This Adaar and Josephine have featured in other fics, so you may miss a little context if you haven’t read Promising or Truth-Telling, which both come before this one.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

It was a good party, but Adaar's mood just wasn't right for it.

She'd drunk enough to set her stomach churning, enough to dull the pain of her superficial wounds, but not enough to muddle her head. No, that seemed dangerous. Everyone in the village, even Hammond, swore up and down that all of Koster's Carvers had been caught up in the tavern and outside of it—but maybe they were mistaken. A cruel voice in the back of her head whispered, Or maybe they're lying. 

She wanted to believe that becoming Inquisitor had made her paranoid, but really, ever since that night in the cellar, ever since someone had taken a saw to one of her horns, it had been there, underlying. Her current circumstances just...exacerbated it.

She didn't like to feel that she needed to watch her back when she came home. Made it feel like it wasn't home anymore.

Maybe it wasn't, little though she wanted to admit it. Before the hole in the sky, she'd returned once a year, maybe twice if the Valo-kas happened to be passing nearby. Was it really home if she spent only a handful of nights there every year? Or was it just a place she went to visit ghosts, ghosts who'd taken home with them when they went?

She made her way down the narrow path in the dark, putting the party at her back: Hammond, merrily passing out the local brew, espousing its virtues to Cassandra; Harriet, playing a jig on the accordion, Dorian and Bull in the midst of the dancing crowd, red with laughter; Marguerite and Wilfred and Lonnie, gathered around a card table, groaning as Josephine took another round with a look of polite glee. Josephine, drinking Hammond's beer like she didn't mind the taste. Josephine, catching Adaar's eye above the heads of the dancers...

There would be time for that. Soon.

She kept the lantern she carried shuttered, unwilling to ruin her night vision, and besides, she'd always liked the fields of Duskfield under the stars. It was a far cry from Skyhold, that was for sure. You could see Skyhold burning miles off, up there in the mountain ahead of you; if she turned back now, the fires of the celebration would already be nearly out of sight. Only the Dancing Star would remain.

She came to the turnstile. Her father's handwriting had faded with the sun, and she hadn't re-inked it in a long while—hadn't had the chance or the time. She trailed her fingers over the word they'd brought with them from Par Vollen, the word that had failed so bitterly in its duty of care to define them, the word she carried. She walked on. 

The house, merely a dark, empty shape among a missing piece of the field, came into view. Every time she returned, she found herself surprised by its size, by the idea that she and two others had fit there. It seemed desperately small now, compared to the world she'd walked, putting holes in her boots.

She veered away, off into the field on the left. The house would be there, when she was ready. But the ghosts could not wait another minute.

Through the waving grains, toward the tree that stood stark and twisted against the starry sky, oddly bleached in the moonlight. The field parted to the little clearing, its careful rock formations intact. She released a breath. Jana had kept care of this place. Even the bench beneath the tree only had a few dead leaves; Adaar carefully brushed them aside.

But she didn't sit on the bench. She stood before the gravemarkers instead, letting a little more light from the lantern out, the better to see.

Hammond had helped her carve them. He'd taken the chisel from her whenever she'd wept too bitterly to continue. Silently offered her a handkerchief when she was ready to press on. She'd seen a few tears sneak down his old face in those hours of labor, too. She'd felt, fiercely, that her parents had been loved—that she had been loved.

"This doesn't change that," she said aloud, though no one was there to hear her. "I know it doesn't. I know that's what you would say. I just wish you were here to say it, dammit." She drew a shaky breath. "Where are my manners? Hi, Ma. Hi, Dad. You would never believe what's happened to me, and I don't think I could explain it if I tried. I just want to sit with you for a while, if you don't mind."

She put the lantern on the ground beside her when she sat. The low breeze rustled in the tree's leaves, in the grain. Here, so far from everything, she could almost believe the world was the same as it had always been, that these past few months had not happened at all. It was unchanged, here, where she'd written Beloved Husband, Beloved Father; Beloved Wife, Beloved Mother on the stones. She was unchanged.

"I'll skip all the nonsense," she said, when she'd been quiet long enough to regain her composure. "But help me get this piece right in my head. I've met someone. She's...hmm. She's not what you'd expect, I think. As different from me as it is possible to be. But she's also brave, and clever, and kind. I think you'd like her." She paused, tipping her head back to let the breeze catch her hair, ruffling up her hair like her father's hand, like her mother's kiss. "I like her. But I'm afraid of her." 

With the words out in the open like that, they seemed very silly. She snorted. "I know it's stupid. But...hell, you both must have been afraid, right? You loved each other so much that you left everything else you knew. Sacrificed everything else you'd ever known. Each of your societies, and your collective society, combined. And you were happy. I saw it. I felt it." She drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't know if it's going to work out the same way for me, but you were right. What's life without a little risk, once in a while? And besides, I think...I think it might be time for me to move my roots somewhere else. For there to be a somewhere else for my roots to go. If there's a somewhere else left, after all my nonsense is through, anyway."

She brushed her fingers over the grave markers, over the words. They weren't here. Of course they weren't. They weren't sleeping forever in the dirt beneath her. Their ashes had been flung wide across these fields, over the place they'd chosen. It was the only place that had made sense to her. Give them back to the earth that had known such love, such care, from their hands.

They weren't here. But she felt them, anyway. The sharp edges of memory had faded, and she knew they would continue to crumble, but even when everything was out of focus, someday, she would still know them. Would know, always, what they wanted for her.

"You dreamed of bigger things," she said, her throat tight. "Guess I got it from somewhere, huh?"

Heartsore but decided, she stayed there, beside the markers, watching the stars, thinking. She wondered if they'd gone through this part, too. If, even when they'd decided, they'd been terrified out of their minds.

Probably. Probably they'd stayed scared for a long time. But it had been worth it.

She'd been there an hour, sore and tired and a little chilled, before she heard a voice call softly in the distance, "Adaar?"

Her heart spasmed painfully. She sat up a little from where she'd been slouched against the bench. The voice came again, closer this time, but the word had changed: "Herah? Are you out here?"

She steadied herself and called back, "Over here." She raised a hand, high enough to be seen above the grain in the slight glow of the lantern light, and waved.

Josephine emerged into the clearing, blinking a little; she carried her own lantern, but almost entirely shuttered, like Adaar's had been. She'd taken her hair out of all of its elaborate braids so that it fell, loose with waves, around her shoulders. There was a worried twist to her mouth, and Adaar felt a surge of guilt; she really ought to have told someone, anyone, that she was slipping away.

"Hammond told me you were probably out this way," Josephine said. Her eyes found the markers. "If I'm intruding—"

"Nah." Adaar waved this off. "I've been moping out here long enough. They'd want me to pull myself together."

Josephine offered a tentative smile, and sat on the ground, tucking her skirts beneath her, not terribly near Adaar but not terribly far, either. "I've never known you to mope."

"I wisely do it out of sight of other people, for the benefit of all." 

Josephine tilted her head a bit to one side. "Except you."

Adaar released a startled laugh. "How do you figure?"

Josephine looked to the markers, her eyes passing slowly over the letters. "If you mope alone, you have no one to comfort you."

"I suppose I'll have to carry on, then," Adaar said, "since you're here to comfort me."

Josephine gave her own breathless laugh, and offered her hand out, across the small distance between them. Adaar took it, intertwining their fingers.

Josephine looked up to the tree's canopy. "This is the oak?"

"Yes," Adaar said, unable to conceal how pleased she was that Josephine had remembered. "They added the bench, not long after they arrived. It felt like the right place for them, after they died. Sometimes, when I was a child, I'd wake up in the middle of the night, and I'd see this glow in the distance, beneath the tree."

"It sounds as if they truly loved one another." Adaar did not think she was imagining the wistfulness in Josephine's voice.

"It was embarrassing to me, back then. Now, I—I see how precious it was, what they had."

Josephine nodded, but didn't say anything more. They sat in a comfortable quiet for a little while; Josephine turned her face into the breeze now and then. The cozy, combined glow of their lanterns created a little pocket in this clearing, as if the rest of the world was held at bay by the shine, just for a little while. A secret, away from everything.

Adaar touched her father's gravemarker one more time, silently asking to borrow his courage. "Want to see the house?" she asked Josephine.

Josephine's face brightened. Surely she'd seen the shape of it as she'd walked past, searching for Adaar. Surely she knew it was nothing special. But she said, "Of course," as though delighted at the prospect.

Adaar got to her feet first, then helped Josephine up. They picked up their lanterns and moved away, back toward the path. As they walked, the backs of their hands brushed; Adaar took Josephine's hand this time, and she didn't pull away.

"Jana built her own place, a little further down the road," Adaar said, and pointed with her lantern past the closer house. Barely visible in the dark was another huddled shape among the fields. "She stayed in my parents' house, at first, but I think it felt too strange to her. Like I would have felt to keep living there, almost."

"Among memories," Josephine said.

"Right. But she comes through every month or so, dusts, airs the place out. I was never able to give much notice before I passed through."

"She wanted you to have a place to come back to."

"Yes," Adaar said, and left it at that.

They'd reached the clearing, the yard; together, they stood before the darkened house. She hesitated, but only for an instant.

"Come see," she said, leading the way toward the door.

The inside was much as it had always been: there, the humble kitchen off to the right with its hearth, shutters closed tight over the windows; there, the old armchair her mother had once sat in to darn socks, where she'd nursed her newborn child; there, the door to a passageway that could barely be called a hall, and two more doors at the end of it, leading to the two bedrooms. One—Adaar's—had been an addition to the original house, built by her parents. Jana and some of the other villagers had helped.

Despite the frequent airing, it still had the faint scent of misuse, of absence. It had always smelled of something delicious, a warm crackling fire, the spring breeze, when her parents had lived. Now it seemed a painful, empty shell.

There was a faint creak; she startled and looked around. Josephine moved systematically shutter to shutter, throwing them open. The night air drifted in, chasing away the stillness of neglect. Josephine leaned against one windowsill with a sigh, the breeze tugging at her hair.

"It's peaceful," she said over her shoulder. "A good place to grow up."

"It was," Adaar agreed, putting her lantern down on the kitchen table beside Josephine's. "Not…not magnificent, or anything, but still good."

Josephine turned to face her with a frown. "Not everything needs to be magnificent."

"Peace." Adaar shifted uneasily. "I know."

Josephine leaned back against the windowsill, her expression softening a little. "What's troubling you, Herah?"

A little of Adaar's anxiety melted away at that gentle voice, speaking her name. She took in a low breath. "You were right," she said. "I was afraid. I am afraid."

Josephine took a hesitant step closer. "Of what?"

"Oh, lots of stupid things." Adaar rubbed at her forehead. "That your family won't approve. That people will make snide remarks to you. That you'll have to work harder to extract what we need from our allies. That it will all add up, in the end, and we'll see that this was doomed from the start, and have only bitterness left for each other."

"Small worries," Josephine said, teasing but not dismissive. "Do not doom us before we've even had the chance to begin."

"You really don't worry about that? Any of it?"

"I can refute your points one by one, if you like."

Adaar gestured for her to go on. "Convince me, Ambassador."

She liked the coy little smile that came onto Josephine's face at those words. It was wonderfully distracting.

"My family, whenever we choose to make public declarations, will be all astonishment," she said thoughtfully. "Scandalized, but delighted. I've always been the pragmatic daughter, with no tendency toward feelings or frivolities. It will be such a relief to them that they'll hardly register who I have chosen, and when they do, they'll fall over themselves thanking you."

Adaar couldn't help but chuckle. Josephine smiled a little wider and continued.

"I have no fear of snide remarks. Frankly, the topics for condescension have been a little stale lately; perhaps this will liven them up. Besides, I have an arsenal of my own. I'm always looking for an excuse to use them. As for our allies...well, turnabout is fair play. They are hiding plenty of things that they think are salacious. I'm not above leaning on those secrets a little harder."

"You make interesting points," Adaar allowed. "And these?"

She unsheathed her daggers, dropping them one by one to the kitchen table. Josephine came forward, stopping just short of Adaar. Lightly, she touched one blade.

"You saved my life with these," she said softly. "You use them to great effect, never without thought, usually in the name of protecting others. But you have not fooled me into thinking they define you. They are only a part of you."

She looked up at Adaar; Adaar looked back, torn, wanting.

"That's the thing," she said. "It used to be simple, and now it's hideously complicated. If I went back to the Valo-kas, I wouldn't fit. Even coming back here, I don't fit. And I don't think I've quite made the leap to your world, either."

"And you don't need to. There is no my world. I do not have the authority to offer you something so abstract. There is just me. For now—to start—I would just ask you for a little time."

Josephine slipped a hand into the pocket of her dress, withdrawing a small, beautiful wooden box, polished to a high shine; even the golden hinges gleamed. She took Adaar's hand, turned it palm-up, and placed the box there. It fit neatly.

"What's this?" Adaar asked, momentarily thrown.

"A gift." Adaar got the feeling that Josephine had bitten her tongue on, Obviously.

"What for?"

She actually rolled her eyes, contrast to her fond smile. "As if you've ever made an excuse for the trinkets you give to me." At Adaar's raised brows, she huffed and said, "Very well, it is technically thanks for helping me with the House of Repose. In reality, though, I commissioned it as soon as you showed me the sketch."

"The sketch?" Adaar repeated, completely bemused now. "What sketch?"

"Open it and see."

Careful not to leave any marks in the varnish, Adaar opened the box. Nestled on a bed of dark green velvet was a delicate hourglass, gleaming in the faint light.

"I'm afraid I could only replicate one of the materials closely," Josephine said. Adaar lifted the dainty golden chain with numb fingers. "Wood, from a tree in Antiva. On the Montilyet estate, in fact. I'm certain it's not the same tree, but based on the sketch and the notes, I believe it's the same species."

Adaar could not have replied even if she'd known what to say; her tongue, usually so given to trip ahead of her thoughts, lay useless in her mouth. All the hair on her neck, her arms, stood on end. A ghost had walked right through her.

"And the gold your father used," Josephine continued, "that, of course, is irreplaceable, but the Valo-kas donated some for the purpose. The sand...Par Vollen is well out of even my reach, but I had some gathered on the shores of Haven. I remember…" Here, at last, she hesitated. "You seemed at home there. More so than in Skyhold. I thought you might like to carry it with you."

"You had the sketch in your hand for all of a moment," Adaar said, finding her voice at last. "How did you...it looks just like…"

"I have a good memory," Josephine said, with a modest smile. 

"I…" Adaar shook her head. "I don't know what to say."

"I have achieved the impossible. Herah Adaar, speechless." Some of Josephine's delight faded. "I hope I haven't overstepped. You do like it?"

Adaar held the hourglass out to Josephine. "Help me put it on?"

Josephine took it, plainly relieved. With deft fingers, she loosed the clasp, then fastened the chain around Adaar's neck; Adaar could feel her breath, just briefly, against her skin. She arranged the hourglass carefully, letting it fall into the V of Adaar's shirt, a little cool against her skin.

"I don't know how I'll ever repay you," Adaar said hoarsely.

"There is nothing to repay. This is a gift without strings. Though perhaps it lends a little weight to my request." Finally, Josephine's voice showed her nerves; it trembled a little. "I only ask for the next turn of the hourglass. That you set aside what you think might come, what might happen. Be with me, and when the sand runs out again, we will take stock of where we stand. Please?"

Adaar scraped a hand through her hair, driving the loose strands back from her face. "As we've established already, I can't say no to you."

Josephine's eyes gleamed. "That's not the same as saying yes."

There was not so much distance left between them now; Josephine had worked at it, chipping away right under Adaar's nose. The last of it fell away as she cupped Josephine's chin in her hand and bent her head to press her lips to Josephine's.

There had been a desperation, a stolen quality, to those other kisses—like a woman taking panicked gulps from the paltry spring she'd found in the desert, afraid that she would never drink again. But this was another thing entirely, a slow delight, something to be savored. She took her time, teased apart Josephine's lips with aching slowness, tangled her hand in Josephine's half-undone hair, lost herself in the sound of pleasure Josephine made in her throat.

When they parted, she drew just enough air to say, emphatically, "Yes."

Josephine did not wait for any further explanation; she, like Adaar, seemed to have decided that the time for conversation was past. She went up on tiptoe to kiss Adaar again, and Adaar picked her up to make it easier for her, arms tight around Josephine's waist. Josephine gave a breathless laugh of delight against her mouth. 

Adaar would still worry, she knew. But for now, she would set the trappings of fear aside. She would see where this turn of the hourglass took them.

[the-void-writes]

Bloodless Heir X Paradise Part 2

@bloodlessheirbyjacques​ Sorry, this got long and kind of self-indulgent 😅 We’ll call this “practicing how to write fight scenes.”

Elijah was the first to see them, sitting at the outdoor bar. He would recognize that head of orange hair anywhere, especially laying on the shoulder of a dark-haired woman. Astrea caught him staring and smirked.

“They’re lovely,” she said, “but I’m still not inviting anyone to our bedroom.”

“No, that’s not it… I know them.” He squinted. “But it can’t be. I thought our worlds were different.”

Astrea shrugged. “The magic here is far beyond comprehension.”

Elijah nodded and got up to approach the couple. He cleared his throat lightly.

“Madam?”

Pedra looked up, eyes sparkling with recognition at his ruby irises. Something about her had changed, though he couldn’t tell what until she spoke.

“It’s you!”

Her voice was much softer, not like the one he had heard when they met. Elijah gestured to her.

“You— you’re—”

 He didn’t know how to say it without being rude. Luckily, she understood him, and she laughed.

“You can thank Gazali and his celestials. They can change anything.”

Elijah had to grin. “Anything, you say?”

Josephine hit his shoulder. “You really are an animal, sir.”

“Elijah, please, and I take that as a compliment.”

Pedra looked over Elijah’s shoulder and smiled. “And who is this?”

He turned and brought Astrea closer. “This is my beloved, Astrea, the Righteous Heir of Pyria.”

Josephine blinked. “A queen, and so young?” 

Pedra shook the young lady’s hand. “I’m Pedra, and this is Josephine. It’s an honor to meet you, your majesty.”

Astrea’s face heated up, and Elijah laughed.

“Sorry, she’s still getting used to the attention.”

“I can imagine. Gazali still blushes when you bow to him.”

Elijah grinned. “I need to meet your king so I can tease him.”

Josephine chuckled. “You’ll have to get in line.”

They sat together, catching up on their lives since the fight. Elijah talked of Astrea’s life and her brilliance in battle, much to her flattery and embarrassment, while Pedra talked of the trip to Paradise, and the years spent with their friends. When Pedra heard of Astrea’s powers, she jumped out of her seat.

“Can we spar?” she asked excitedly. “I don’t get to fight people with powers often. Gazali lets me win, Will is sick, and Dante’s a filthy cheater.”

Astrea chuckled nervously. “If that’s what you want.”

Eager for a show, the surrounding citizens set up a makeshift arena. The women were set up in special combat wear, made by a very-ecstatic Molly. Pedra took her sword, while Astrea had her daggers. She shuffled in place, afraid to make a move, but Pedra smiled at her.

“No hard feelings, honey. It’s just like a colosseum.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Astrea mumbled.

Pedra gave her an easy swing, which she blocked with her daggers. Astrea pushed her away and slashed both blades forward like a pair of tusks. Pedra rolled forward, just barely missing a blade as it flew over her head. The hilt of her sword hit the back of Astrea’s knee, bringing her to the sand. The crowd cheered, and Pedra offered her hand.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said. “You’re good.”

Astrea stood back up, only to feel Elijah kiss the back of her neck.

“There’s no need to hold back, Azzy. Show them all that you’ve learned. They won’t judge you here.”

She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and charged at Pedra. The taller lady blocked the blow, but Astrea spun around and slashed across the back of Pedra’s armor. Their audience cheered, a sound that filled Astrea with slight joy. Her opponent smiled back at her.

“There you go.”

Pedra brought her sword up, but Astrea blocked it with ease. Magic flowed through her body and into her hands, and the blades were bathed in a small fire. The crowd loved it, and they loved her. She smiled as she swung and dodged like a graceful dancer. Finally, she found the perfect position to hook her ankle around Pedra’s leg, bringing her to the ground the way she had earlier. Astrea smiled triumphantly as the crowd cheered her name, the way that no one ever would have years ago.

But before she could help Pedra up, a huge weight slammed into her chest, knocking her to the ground. Elijah rushed to her side, ready to fight this new opponent, but shocked to find a little girl scrambling onto her feet.

“Don’t stab her!” she yelled with an accent that Astrea would have found adorable if she weren’t trying to catch her breath.

Pedra gasped and held the kid to her chest. “Mija, it’s okay. We were just playing.”

The child cried into her shoulder. “She had knives—”

“They’re daggers, many warriors use them. She wasn’t going to kill me, I promise.”

Many people tended to Astrea, another thing she wasn’t used to, before bowing to the child and dispersing to find entertainment elsewhere. Still holding the girl, Pedra got up and approached Astrea as Elijah helped her to her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Sophie was just trying to protect me.”

Astrea couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s very strong.”

Sophie stared at the sand in shame. Josephine rushed over, took her from Pedra’s arms, and kissed her wife’s cheek.

“We’ll be over at the palace for a bit,” she said

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” Pedra kissed Sophie’s head. “You’re not in trouble, frijolito. Don’t beat yourself up, please.”

Sophie nodded, still watching Astrea as Josephine carried her away. Pedra dusted some sand off Astrea’s shoulder.

“Are you okay, hon?”

“Yes, thank you. It’s no problem.”

Elijah kept watching the child. “Yours?”

“Technically. She was left alone for a while, and her new father couldn’t take care of her. Josie and I had wanted a child for so long, so he let us care for her.” She wiped a tear from her eyes. “Her nanny was a terrible person. She sent her army to invade our land, and she tried to behead me. Sophie saved my life.”

Astrea watched Sophie woefully, unable to blame the poor girl. If she had been given the chance to headbutt the Pyrian Usurper as a child, she would have taken it. Elijah, of course, was still reeling from the fact that this ten-year-old had taken down an army general.

“Please,” Astrea said, “let her know I’m not mad at her.”

Pedra smiled. “Thank you, hon. I’m sure she’ll calm down after a while. Maybe Gazali will hold a party, he spoils that girl more than we do.”

Elijah wheezed. “How does it feel to compete with a king for your child’s affection?”

She smirked. “How does it feel to never cut your hair?”

He grumbled, and Astrea brushed his hair to comfort him.

“I have my theories on why he keeps it long,” she said with a wink.

He held her closer to him. “Don’t test me, dear. Not until you’ve caught your breath.”

Her face was a deep red, and Pedra had to laugh.

“I think I’ll leave before she combusts.”

[lavellanvibes]

2 drabbles

Ooooh!! (I wrote too much OOPS) thank you for tagging me @gaymingbinosaur

-Slow dancing💕

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

Suddenly Sadira’s exhaustion from the night all but slipped away as her handsome commander stood before her, offering his hand. “Of course... I thought you didn’t dance” Sadira said, her stomach fluttering. Why was she nervous? It was just Cullen. Perfectly handsome Cullen in a uniform that was tailored to his handsome physique, and that beautiful smile. “For you, I’ll try.” She practically melted into the floor at his sweet voice. Cullen took her hand and wrapped his other around her waist and began to sway. She could smell his cologne and hair pomade and her whole body flushed with the intimacy of their dance. Sadira didn’t know anything about human dancing. The music was nice, it was romantic, and - oh, creators, she stomped on his foot with her boot. She looked up, biting her lip, but Cullen was just smiling down at her. “I think you need more practice, Dira. We should dance more.” he whispered. “Oh, uh, I’ll have to talk to Josephine but yes, I think I can make time for-“ Sadira was cut off as Cullen pulled her in and kissed her. She felt dizzy and warm and she couldn’t think of anything besides this romantic moment with her love.

-Patching wounds 🥺(this trope though) there will be blood and injury and needle mentions in this Drabble, in a medical context, fyi! Under the cut bc its LONG AF SORRY EVERYONE I GOT CARRIED AWAY

“We should stop and take a look at it.” 

“It’s fine, uh, just don’t tell Dira.”

    Sadira turned around at the sound of Samson whispering her name, nearly tripping on a tree root and falling on Varric. Blackwall and Samson were lagging behind her and Varric, apparently discussing something involving her. “Don’t tell me what?” Sadira asked, her scarred brow furrowing in annoyance. Blackwall looked over at Samson in guilt, clearly undecided on what to say. “It’s nothing.” Samson dismissed, shaking his head and looking away. Sadira felt anger rise in her stomach. Everyone was always keeping things from her. Did they think she couldn’t handle the truth, whatever it was? Had she not shown that she was becoming capable of dealing with stress? She took a deep breath. Keep it under control, she thought, take a moment. “Please tell me, Raleigh.” Sadira said, trying to level her voice as she approached the two men. 

      Samson paused a moment, then opened his mouth to speak. “Back there, during the fight... I, ah, was injured. I’m alright. We should keep moving. We can get more potions at camp.” he said. Sadira’s eyes widened, looking him over before spotting a wadded up cloth stuffed in the neck of his armor. “Why didn’t you tell me? Let me see!” She moved to stand on her toes and assess his injury. Sadira pulled him down and looked over his freckled neck, frowning. She could barely see in the cloudy moonlight. “Well? Why keep this secret?” She said, looking at him and demanding an answer, inches from his face. Close enough to kiss him, and not caring that she was in front of Varric and Blackwall. “You used so much magic back there. I didn’t want to push you too far. It’s nothing, Dira. Don’t worry about me.” Samson said. “Did you just tell Pouty not to worry? Bold move.” Varric laughed from behind.

 Before anyone could say anything else, Sadira was pushing Samson down to sit on a damp tree log and unbuckling his armor. Samson didn’t protest and simply plopped on the log with a sigh and allowed his beloved elf to poke and prod at his neck. Sadira removed the cloth and gasped. 

       At Samson’s collar was a gash several inches long and nauseatingly deep. Dried blood stained his undershirt as fresh blood continued to leak from the wound. “It looks worse than it is.” He tried to assure her. Sadira felt worry claw its way up from her stomach. “I didn’t even see you get hurt. I could have done something. If I didn’t drink that last potion...” Her hands began to shake and her vision tunneled. It was happening again, becoming overwhelmed. Samson placed his hand at her waist, grounding her. “Hey,” he said, gently squeezing her side “not your fault, love. Take a breath. I have a kit in my bag, just go grab it.” Sadira nodded, kneeling to rummage around and finding the supplies. She stood there blankly, holding the kit. “I don’t know how to heal you without magic, Raleigh.” Samson beckoned her next to him on the log. “Come ‘ere.” 

      Sadira sat with her legs on either side of the log, sliding up closer to have better access to Samson’s neck. He leaned over to accommodate their drastic height difference, resting his forearm on her knee. It was nice to be so close to him after several days of them avoiding any display of affection. They still didn’t feel comfortable with everyone seeing them together, despite everyone knowing the truth of their relationship. “Just take some water and wash it out first.” he instructed. She noticed that Varric and Blackwall had wandered elsewhere, allowing them this moment together. Sadira slowly poured water onto the wound, glancing up to see Samson wincing slightly. “Is this- are you alright?” she asked. He nodded. His skin broke out in goosebumps as the cool water ran over his neck. The forest was cold, and the water wasn’t helping. She poured more water, which elicited more hisses from Samson. “You’ll have to stitch it. That bastard’s dagger got me good.” He said, gesturing at the needle and thread in the kit. Sadira paused and her eyes went wide. Samson chuckled. “Of course, when you bloody stop shaking. Just relax, Dira.” Samson’s laughter had a calming effect on Sadira. Maybe the situation wasn’t as perilous as she thought. At her relaxation, she started to think about the implications of them being alone together. How long would Varric and Blackwall be gone? He had urged her to relax and perhaps she had overreacted. 

“Don’t you like sewing? Just pretend I’m one of your dresses.” 

He had her smiling, she realized, for the first time that entire day. “Not people, Leigh! But you can be my first.” she couldn’t help from laughing. At her laugh, Samson’s head lifted as if he had heard a long-forgotten melody. “Love hearing that. Think I’m already healed, princess.” Sadira noticed their closeness with a flip in her stomach. His warmth radiated off of him, as it always did, warding off the chill from the damp log. She wanted to kiss him and never stop, but there was work to be done. “Here, let me stitch it before you bleed out.” Sadira picked up the needle and thread. “Just walk me through it. I can do it.” 

The next few minutes were spent with her furiously concentrating as he showed her where to place each stitch, and swearing with every prick of the needle. When she was done, she proudly admired her neat stitch row. “I think this will hold up. No exerting yourself while this heals! Do you think we have to wrap it? Is that a thing?” 

            Sadira looked up for an answer but instead found his moonlight-reflected eyes staring at her intently. “S’fine. Just…” Samson’s hands were suddenly cupping her jaw and he was kissing her like she wanted him to all week. If she wasn’t already sitting her knees would have gone wobbly, and it wasn’t from the sight of blood. She wrapped her arms around him, trying her best to avoid his wound. Sadira squeaked with surprise as Samson lifted her to straddle his lap as if she were weightless. The feeling of being in his strong arms was like no other, and she mentally reminded herself to thank Varric and Blackwall for having some courtesy for their privacy. 

            His lips were warm against the chill of the night as he deepened the kiss, moving his index finger to gently tickle the shell of her ear. Sadira smiled against his lips. “What would I do without you, Vhenan? You need to be more careful!” She pulled back, and realized his eyelashes were wet with tears. “Vhenan?” Samson shook his head and pulled her back in, wordlessly expressing his devotion in the kiss.

[fericita-s]

Epilogue

The end has arrived for the A Mansion House Murder!

Big thanks to all the writers of this quarantine round-robin: @jomiddlemarch, who had the idea to begin with and wrote so many good chapters, @broadwaybaggins and @sagiow who dragged us all across the finish line, and @mercurygray and @tortoisesshells for their wonderful chapters and effusive comments and @the-spaztic-fantastic for the faithful beta-ing. I think this story probably set a record on AO3 for the comments to kudos ratio.  300 comments and 20 kudos?! We are a chatty bunch.  And I love it.

“Thank you, Belinda.  For so much. Not just today,” Emma said from the doorway.  Belinda hadn’t invited her in and Emma didn’t want to assume.  She’d already assumed too much about Belinda’s desires, or discounted them completely. “I’m going to see Mother and explain about Jimmy.  And Frank.”

Belinda looked to Emma’s arm looped through Henry’s, to the pale circle of white around her ring finger where a wedding ring had been.  “Would you like me to go with you?”

“No, Belinda. I won’t ask that of you. I just wanted to tell you all of that myself before you hear it gossiped about.” 

“Well,” said Belinda, a smile turning one corner of her mouth. “I think I’d like to see her take the news.”

“Even if she asks you for laudanum?” Emma asked, matching her smile. It was a sad thing to tell her mother that her brother was arrested, her husband dead, her sister currently in hysterics that Percival was trying to soothe with one arm while signing away the family hotel to Mrs. Morris with the other.  It was sad. But the lightness and laughter kept rising in her chest and she couldn’t stop smiling over the freedom she felt and the relief that she would be leaving soon.

“I can tell her where to find it if she does,” said Belinda, reaching to the peg by the door for a shawl.

***

“It’s a fair price,” Anne said, though she knew it was a bargain. She also knew how desperate they were to sell and she knew what being desperate felt like, so she didn’t push further. Emma, at least, deserved the money and Anne was eager to send it to her.  Anne had more money than she could spend and Charlotte’s idea for a school was the first thing to excite her about the future since Frederick’s death.  They could scrub the blood out of the walls, purge the secrets from each closet.  The Greens had done it once before.  Anne was determined she and Leah and the Diggs would do it even better. Bridget too, if she could persuade her.  

Percival nodded and might have shaken her hand, but his arms were currently around his wife who was crying.  Anne couldn’t tell if Alice was genuinely grief-stricken and whether it was for the loss of property or the loss of life, and she didn’t much care to find out.  She’d had her fill of mysteries. 

***

    They went to Boston before Williamstown and Mary took her shopping.  In Boston, it was easy to find ready-to-wear, though Mary took her to a favorite tailor and dressmaker and insisted on some pieces made to Emma’s own measurements.  They moved slowly through town, at Mary’s normal pace and Emma’s preferred one for seeing a new city. It wasn’t so different from Alexandria, not really, not until people spoke to her or their eyebrows shot up at her accent. The kid gloves were to guard against the cold more than the sun, and she’d never had nor needed a sealskin toque or fur muff.  But the Yankees weren’t the fearsome lot her mother had promised they would be, practically drowning out the vows she and Henry made to one another in the Green family drawing room with a subdued Dr. Hale doing the honors. 

    After a wool cape and fur-trimmed pelisse that Emma bought with Henry’s money (our money he had said, pressing it into her hands that morning as he kissed her forehead), Mary bought her a silk Paisley shawl with fringe, calling it a wedding present.

“If I was really spoiling you it would be Kashmir.  These are going out of fashion now what with everyone’s desperation to show off their bustles.  But I find them the best way to keep warm at home, at least when Jed’s not there.” Mary pulled the shawl around Emma and fiddled with the fringe. “I hope you’ll be happy here.  I know Henry wishes it too. But I know what it is to lose a husband.”

Emma put her hands in Mary’s and smiled at her friend. “I am happy.  Or, I will be. I’m not sure what I am now, but it’s better than I was.”

***

    He married her in Virginia but, all he had offered since then was a chaste kiss or an arm for hers to loop through as they navigated trains and carriages. Their overnight at the Foster’s home was a late night of reminiscences by the fire, mulled wine, and the steady interruptions of Johnny and Daniel and then even Elias coming to complain about the loud ruckus downstairs.  When Mary finally shooed both the boys and the adults to bed with a meaningful “They’re newlyweds after all, Jed,” Emma and Henry had both hesitated when he shut the door behind them.  

    “You’re weary from the travel; I’ll let you - “

    “Henry,” Emma said, her hands already reaching for the buttons of his waistcoat. “Don’t make me wait any longer.  Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

    Henry closed his eyes and reached for her cheek, remembering his first touch there years ago. When he had wiped away a tear and wished he could kiss her. 

    “Is it that you don’t want me this way? That I’m - “

    “No, Emma not that.” He opened his eyes and stepped back so he could see her clearly, reaching for her hands and squeezing. “I want you very much. So much I hardly know how to start.”

    “Then let me show you, Henry,” Emma said, pushing on him gently until they were at the bed and he sat down heavily, off balance and out of breath. She nudged his knees open with her own and stood between them, her hands on his shoulders and his at her waist, leaning in to kiss him behind the ear and to whisper “I am my beloved’s and he is mine.”

***

Henry and Emma continued west to Williamstown, waving from the carriage that took them from the Foster home and promising to return soon for a visit and to write even sooner.  One week later the Foster boys welcomed their much desired puppy, and one year later, a rather less desired sister.  Jed’s apprehension turned to delight when Mary reached for her daughter with eager arms, bringing her to her breast and leaning back into the pillows with a laugh.  “There’s two of us now.  Three if you count the dog.  We’ll be evenly matched soon, Mr. Foster.”

Jed washed his hands in the basin and looked at the brightness in her cheeks and the sweat on her brow, walking to her to check for fever. He kissed her forehead and then the baby’s.  “Oh, I’m very happily outmatched already.”

***

Frank didn’t haunt her.  But sometimes her own inaction did. Her complicity. 

The cold of Williamstown was nothing to the bone-chilling terror of life in Franklin County, the shiver of fear she felt as she heard horses whinny in the dark and hooves pound the dirt as Frank and his most loyal congregants rode off to wreak whatever hateful havoc they could. 

In Williamstown, Henry knew how to stoke the fire just so, and soon afterwards the Rumford fireplace in the house was replaced by a coal furnace, the intricate ironwork and decorative finials as fancy as any etched crystal her mother had been proud to show.

She did not long for her life in Virginia and it took a while before Henry’s encouragement to write letters to her mother and sister and Belinda yielded missives sent south.  She hardly wrote to Mary because they visited so often - heading east for Boston meetings of the American Woman Suffrage Association with Mary and her friend Josephine Bhaer and then later to meet baby Penelope Foster.

Emma taught Sunday School and led sewing circles and an auxiliary chapter of the AWSA. She waved to Henry’s students as they walked by their house and he brought her flowers that Alice might have called weeds but Emma would not.

When Henry’s hands were on her, she never thought of Frank. The way he loosened her corset and spread his hands over her stomach and chest, pulling her to him before it was dark and he could see her best, it was uniquely Henry. He had started hesitant and unsure, but she showed him with her sighs and fingers spread across his shoulders and legs wrapped around his middle that she wanted this too, so much.

In the end, all of her new fitted dresses and smartly tailored coats that Mary helped her buy were useless by her second winter as it became clear the Reverend and Mrs. Hopkins would welcome a baby with the spring.

***

The first students at The Lou Morris School knew there were ghosts, and they knew Ms. Leah Gordon took care of them.  They knew there had been a war and they knew about loss.  In their beds, under clean cotton sheets, they whispered about the cries they heard in the night, the thuds and thumps and rhythmic banging.  Laughter too, though only when patrons Doctor and Mrs. Hale came on their weekly tours and Mrs. Diggs walked them to an upstairs room.  The children decided the ghosts liked ornate bustles and lacy flounces like Mrs. Hale wore and drew elaborate flourishes on the pictures they drew of the spirits they imagined. 

But after a few years, no one spoke of ghosts, even though Ms. Gordon still sang at night to calm them and Jack and Harriet had been there the whole time and remembered.  The children knew people came in different colors; the grown-ups said black and white, but to them, they were all brown and beige, with a few pink, with freckles all over their faces, like Miss Brannan. They also knew people had different skills; some spoke with words, others with their hands, and some, not at all. Some could run and jump over the fence they weren’t supposed to jump over, earning a scowl from Old Mrs. Green who seemed to always walk by when they were at play in the yard.  Some could walk with some help, and others had special chairs with wheels that needed to be pushed - slowly! the teachers always said, Mrs. Morris most of all, her eyes all seeing, her tone sharp but never mean.

When the cries in the night and the thumps and thuds sounded, it wasn’t with fear that the children strained to listen.  They stilled in their beds to listen for Ms. Gordon’s voice floating down the halls.

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen

Nobody knows but Jesus

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen

Glory, Hallelujah

[royalcordelia]

Tell Me About Purple Sunrises (1/1)

Merry Christmas @ladytharen​! I was your Secret Santa this year! I played substitute santa for a few people, but you were the one I was actually assigned to from day 1. It’s been such a pleasure to get to know you a little better and to write this story for you. Here’s a lil snowed in + bedsharing for you, kindred spirit!♥ Sorry I’m posting this with 8 min left in christmas.  

Summary:  Anne can't make it back to Avonlea for Christmas Eve because of record breaking snow and temperatures, but to her delight, neither can Gilbert. (spoilers for awae s3!) 

~~*~~

It was evenings like this when Anne could turn her face toward the warm candlelight and pretend she was a princess locked up in a tower. The nightgown Aunt Jo had loaned her was soft like rose petals and trimmed with lace as intricate as snowflakes, exactly what Cordelia would have worn as she combed her hair by moonlight. Sitting so close to the bay window, Anne could feel a frosty chill emanate from the pane. She shut her eyes and she imagined that the blizzard raging outside was the icy breath of a winter dragon blowing over the entire kingdom. If she wasn’t afraid of her fingers turning to icicles, she would have gone out and bested the beast herself. 

Anne of the present was more than pleased to remain inside and warm. 

“I’ve sent all the attendants home a day early to be with their families before the storm grows too strong.” Aunt Jo announced, sweeping into the room with a wool blanket wrapped around her frail shoulders. “Anne, you did right by coming here. Christmas Eve is meant to be spent with those you love. If I heard you planned to wait out this storm entirely alone in that boarding house, I would’ve marched through the tundra myself to procure you!” 

“No marching through the tundra for you. Remember, it’s the coldest night on record!” Anne replied, meeting Aunt Jo to wrap the blanket more tightly around the older woman’s shoulders. “Still, I’m grateful for your hospitality. I really thought we’d be able to make it back to Avonlea before the storm got too bad.” She plucked a browning petal from the poinsettia flowers on the parlor table with a small smile. “You know, when I have a home of my own, I hope to have ever so many flowers upon every surface. Our gate latch will be forever open to you, of course.” 

“That won’t be for a while yet I hope,” Jo teased lightly, though Anne could hear the truth in the words. 

“Not for a long, long while. Everything with Gilbert is so new that we’ve barely even mentioned the future. All I can say of Gilbert’s plans for the future, aside from his medical aspirations, is that he’d like for me to be there. I can say the same of him in my own plans. Right now, I’m more than content with such hazy views into our crystal ball.” 

“That is quite the way it should be, I think,” Jo agreed. “If you plot out every point in life, how can it take you on a wild adventure? Simple - it cannot. Many people are subjected to a lifetime of miserable mundanity because of it.”

Outside, a gust of wind struck the house with a fury, rattling the old walls with creaks and moans. Anne peeled the curtain away from the window once more, finding a hint of lavender light igniting a break in the clouds somewhere in the distance. She wondered where that little speck of land was where there would be no snow, just a royal hint of dusk on the crystal ground.

“How blessed I am to be awake to all the colors of life,” she breathed. Then, drawing the curtains back closed, Anne spun on her heel. “Enough of my poetical indulgences. We have yet to decide how we want to spend our evening snowed in. Is there, perhaps, a trio of Bronte sisters in our future?”

Aunt Jo was halfway through a hearty assent when an odd sound came from the front hallway. Anne’s laughter froze in her throat as she listened again. Silence fell over the house for another moment before being shattered by an insistent knock at the door. 

Grabbing her robe from the edge of the couch, Anne covered herself and crept toward the door. When she pulled it open, a flurry of snow swept into the foyer like a broken snow globe. A young man stood shivering, half an inch of snow blanketing his person. A scarf wrapped around his face shielded his cheeks, but Anne would have recognized those warm eyes anywhere. 

“Gilbert ? What are you - oh my goodness, you’re freezing. Get in here!” 

Before he could say a word, Gilbert was being dragged into the manse and pulled into Anne’s frantic embrace. She immediately recoiled away from all the snow on coat, and began unwrapping the scarf from his face. He was smiling underneath so tenderly that Anne’s hand froze midair as she moved to grab his hat. The apples of his cheeks were rosy from the cold and some snowflakes still hung from his dark lashes. She sighed, suddenly more lovesick than she ever remembered being. 

“I really missed you,” she whispered truthfully. 

Gilbert, still gently shivering from the cold, shucked off his coat and wrapped Anne in a tight embrace. Anne’s arms were around him immediately, rubbing warmth into his back in gentle circles. Resting his cold cheek against her shoulder, Gilbert heaved a sigh of relief. Her touch felt like fire light, incandescently warm and soft around the edges.

“I missed you too,” he murmured, digging his face closer to her loose hair. Anne could feel him grinning against her shoulder. “You smell nice.” 

Anne hummed in response. She wondered if it would be alright to tell him that he smelled nice too. Even though the scent of winter air stuck on his clothes, he still carried his usual essence of honey sweetness and cologne. But she couldn’t tell him that. It probably wouldn’t be alright, either, to tell him that his shoulders still felt strong, and that she liked the way he’d grown his hair out. Instead, she settled on, “Are you feeling any warmer?” 

Gilbert nodded, pulling back when he caught sight of Aunt Jo standing in the doorway.

“Much, thank you,” he murmured shyly. He couldn’t help how one of his hands had stayed at her waist, nor did he notice. It felt so natural to stay connected to her, and in person, he didn’t have to hide his connection to her anymore.

“Not that I’m not effervescent with happiness to see you, but what are you doing here? I thought you were arriving to Avonlea tomorrow.” Anne’s hand came up to his cheek as she spoke, wiping away a drop of melted snow that had fallen from his hair. 

“I thought I’d surprise you a day early, but then the storm rolled in. Apparently the tracks are all ice, so the last train to Carmody has been cancelled. I, uh..” He glanced up at Aunt Jo. “I didn’t bring enough money to stay anywhere because I was planning on making it home. The only place I could think of was here.”

“Ah, you came seeking refuge,” Aunt Jo chimed in. Gilbert blushed. He wasn’t one to ask for help, but apparently had the capacity to do it when the threat of frostbite loomed. It was a smart move, Anne had to admit, and a brave one. He’d never even met Aunt Jo before.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He straightened his shoulders under Aunt Jo’s appraising gaze. If Anne didn’t know any better, she’d say Aunt Jo delighted in making the poor boy squirm.

“You’ve come to the right place,” she said finally, and Gilbert inhaled a sharp sigh of relief. Then, remembering the manners his father taught him, he peeled off a glove and stuck his hand out. 

“Gilbert Blythe, ma’am. It’s an honor to meet you. I apologize for inviting myself on such short notice.” 

“Our paths were bound to cross at one point or another. You cannot thwart destiny where kindred spirits are involved, and my door is always open to kindred spirits.” Aunt Jo shook Gilbert’s hand with as much regality as he expected, then straightened the blanket on her shoulders. “Well, Anne-girl, I think the Bronte sisters will just have to wait for another night.”

“I don’t want to interfere with an evening with your beloved Charlotte,” Gilbert rushed to say, but Anne waved him away.

“I’ve read Jane Eyre dozens of times already, yet I’ve only spent a handful of minutes with you. And while I love both of those things, there’s just one I love much more than the other.” 

Gilbert had to bite back the grin that threatened to take over his lips. With a glint in his eye, he reached for his hat and scarf. 

“How presumptuous of me to assume I could compete with Charlotte Bronte. I’ll just be heading back into the blizzard, then. Fare thee well. Tell Jane Eyre I concede.” 

Before Gilbert could even think about reaching for the door, Anne interrupted his dramatic speech by grabbing his hand and pulling him to her side. Aunt Jo found the whole display rather amusing, much to Gilbert’s delight. At his side, Anne found herself nearly holding herself back when his face was so close and rosy, practically begging to be kissed. 

“I think I ought to let you two become acquainted while I reacquaint myself with Mr. Dickens and his ghost tales,” Aunt Jo said, darting a glance between them. “Gilbert, I’m sure you and I will have plenty of time to exchange stories on the train ride to Avonlea in the morning.”

It took a split second to realize exactly what Josephine was doing. She was leaving them alone in a house, unchaperoned, with only trust assuring her that nothing too immoral would occur. 

“Oh! Well, I look forward to it. I hear you’ve lived an adventurous life.”

“Funny, I hear the same of you. In fact, I hear a great many things about you on a daily basis,” she replied slyly, lifting a brow at Anne. 

“Goodnight, Aunt Jo,” Anne hissed between her teeth. “There’ll be plenty of time to tease me in the morning.” 

Aunt Jo gave one last appraising look at Gilbert, apparently approving of what she saw, before kissing the crown of Anne’s head. Her careful footsteps up the stairs left silence behind them, and suddenly Anne was entirely too aware of Gilbert’s presence beside her. His gentle fingers moved to hold hers, fitting together even better than she remembered. She peered down at their entwined hands in bewilderment. Was he truly here? 

The quiet was comfortable, giving Anne proper room to eat her heart out over her beloved with as many longing looks as she pleased. Through the thrumming of her heart and the haziness of her focus on him, she was only half aware of his arms wrapping around her waist.

“So, Anne-girl, huh?”

Anne bit her lip to force back a smile, watching his lips with keen interest. 

“I like it when you say it,” she admitted with a smile. 

For a moment, she wondered what exactly was appropriate for this moment. She knew what she wanted to do, but how could she know if it aligned with what she should do. Perhaps it wouldn’t be wise to wrap her arms around his neck and catch his next words with her lips. Perhaps he’d think her strange if she placed her hand above his heart to feel it beating, or if she kissed the line where his jaw met his throat. It was a good thing he was holding her because she was melting. In a few more seconds, she’d dissolve into a puddle right in the middle of the foyer. 

Then again, he only spurred her demise by leaning his cheek against hers. Anne shivered. His skin was still frigid to the touch, but she kissed the icy spot before pulling away.

“You’re still so cold. Come on,” she said, pulling him by his hand into the parlor. 

Heat hit them like a wall, blazing comfortably from the hearthfire. Gilbert’s gaze was just as warm as he watched Anne lay out a blanket and some pillows in front of the fire. She settled on one of the cushions, then reached her hand toward him. He as at her side in an instant, his hand finding her cheek. 

“It doesn’t seem real that you should be here,” Anne said dreamily. 

“Me? You’re the ethereal creature that saved me from a frozen death. I really had no idea you’d be here. I was certain you’d have made it back to Avonlea hours ago.” 

“I tried, but the trains started getting canceled nearly as soon as the storm began. We’re supposed to experience record breaking temperatures tonight, and I knew that if I tried to keep warm all by myself in the boarding house, I’d only make an icicle of myself. So I came here.”

Gilbert nodded in understanding, eyes wandering to the rest of the room. It seemed he was only just realizing how grand the manse was, especially when the lights were dimmed. It also seemed to occur to him that they were completely, utterly alone. 

“Cole has gone to bed for the night?” he asked carefully.

“Cole actually is spending Christmas with a friend of ours. They’re going to see some museums in Montreal. You actually might remember Roy from my letters.” 

Gilbert scowled. “That English major that thought he could convince you to court him instead of me? Yes, I remember.” 

“Fortunately, my convincing abilities are far better than his. Once I assured him that I would never leave you, he quit all of his advances. Besides, I have it on good authority that his affections lay heartily elsewhere.” 

His jaw caught shadows as he nodded. “So, we’re alone?” 

Anne smiled coyly, causing Gilbert to swallow. There was so much overwhelming him all at once - the possibility to have a conversation without any interruptions for hours and hours, the porcelain skin above the lace of her dress where freckles traced a trail up her throat, and the incessant need to kiss her for as long as she would allow him. He feared he would confess these incoherent longings, so he remained silent after she said, “Yes, love, we’re alone.” 

At his speechlessness, Anne situated herself closer before him, grabbing his hands that rested on his knees. Of course she could read his mind, he thought to himself. Either that, or she was feeling the exact same thing. Maybe both? 

“I’m not entirely sure how to go about this,” Anne admitted. “You know I haven’t courted anyone before.” 

Gilbert realized a shaky breath, kneeling before her to bring her as close as possible. 

“This sort of thing shouldn’t have rules or guidelines,” he whispered. Her cheeks took on a strawberry hue when he leaned closer to her. “I don’t want to worry about what hours people say I can see you or how other people think I should or shouldn’t touch you. I want you to tell me when you want to see me.” 

Anne grasped his hand tighter, grounding herself. 

“And how I want you to touch me?” The words almost knocked the air from his lungs. He nodded slowly. “Then can we just stop dancing around each other?” 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

Instead of answering, Anne surged forward and captured her lips against his. He tasted like freshly fallen snow looks, sweet and smooth. Suddenly, they were transported back to a moment on the front lawn of her boarding house where kissing her seemed to make every mystery of the world fall into place. One of his hands held desperately to her waist, the other pressed against the floor to hold them up. All bets were off, though, when she buried her hands into the hair she loved so much and pressed him against her chest. The arm so steadily holding them upright went slack and they fell to the side, almost bumping foreheads. Laughter erupted out of them like champagne bubbles. 

“ Shhh! She’ll hear us!” Anne whispered with a smile, settling on her back to face him. Hovering over her, Gilbert smiled as he watched the firelight flicker over her freckles. He released a shuddering sigh over her lips before running a finger down her face. Would he ever grow accustomed to being with this woman? To holding her? To seeing her grey eyes turn into lightning storms at his touch?

It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he stay in this moment, right here. Anne’s hands found his cheeks, pulling him down with reverence and kissing him with a tenderness he’d always known she possessed.  Lowering himself from his hands to his elbows, Gilbert shuddered into her touch. 

The only thing that could’ve broken the moment for them echoed down the foyer staircase. Thankfully Aunt Jo spared them the embarrassment of coming all the way downstairs.

“Anne! Make sure you feed that man of yours. I’m sure he’s hungry!”  

Breaking away from Gilbert with a jolt, Anne pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing again. 

“Alright! Thank you!” she called back. Then, glancing up at the man above her, she ran her thumb over his lower lip. “Are you hungry?” 

Gilbert collapsed at her side with a sigh. 

“A bit. I haven’t eaten since I left Toronto.”

“Gilbert!” Anne admonished. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

He shrugged. “I guess I just...forgot I was hungry.” 

“Let me make you something to eat. You can tell me all about your trip.” 

Some time later, there was a warm plate in front of Gilbert that he demolished on like a man who’d never had a meal in his life. Anne rested her head on her palm and a little more color return to his face. They talked about everything they could think of - odd students in their classes, old memories from their school days, news from their friends. The one topic they hadn’t broached was that of the “follow up questions” they’d saved for when they reunited in person. That is, until a distracted expression came over Gilbert’s face as he rolled a potato around his plate. 

“Can I ask you something, Anne?” 

“Always,” was her immediate response. 

“You mentioned in your letter that you saw Winifred in town the day that I came and saw you, but you never told me what she said.” 

“She told me you’d decided not to propose,” Anne said easily.

“No, I mean, I knew that. But what did she say?” 

Anne shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She knew that no matter the answer she gave, it wouldn’t change anything that had happened. 

“At first she thought I was there to gloat. She must’ve assumed that you’d gotten right off the train and broken her trust right away. I’m surprised she didn’t know you well enough to know you’d never do that.” And expected you to marry her, was what Anne wanted to say, but bit back. 

Gilbert kept his eyes glued to the wood grain of the table.

“But I did break her trust,” he admitted. “That letter I wrote you revealed everything I promised I’d wait to say. But I couldn’t, and-”

“Hey,” Anne interrupted, reaching across the table for his hand. “I would’ve done the same thing. Besides, even if I had read the letter you wrote, I would have never judged her or told anyone else. I believe it all happened the way it was supposed to.” 

He still wouldn’t meet her eyes, but nodded. 

“What else did she say?” 

Anne took a deep breath. “Once she realized that I really didn’t know anything that happened, she said this to me:  ‘He couldn’t marry me because his unrequited love for you isn’t ever going away .’ I think she figured out right away though that you were mistaken when you told her your feelings were unrequited.” She paused. “Why do you want to know?” 

“Curiosity, mostly. But I also worried that because I’d left her heartbroken, she’d be cruel to you. I’m glad she wasn’t, but the thought of anyone behaving hateful to you because of me makes me feel sick.” 

“Gilbert, there is nothing hateful or cruel about you. No one could ever be anything but good on your behalf.” She smirked. “Besides, I have thick skin and a smart head on my shoulders.”  

A heavy sigh left Gilbert, releasing a heavy burden from his shoulders that he didn’t know he’d been carrying. Anne wiggled his fingers with a smile. 

“It all makes for a good story to tell the kids,” she teased, but they both knew what she was suggesting. 

Gilbert’s throat grew thick. With the burden of his guilt alleviated and the promise of the future resting in the air, his heart grew light with affection. 

“I want that too,” he managed to say sincerely. Anne returned his smile with so much love laced in it that Gilbert’s heart jumped in his chest. 

Later that night, Anne leaned against the doorframe of one of the guest rooms while Gilbert appraised the space with amazement. 

“I don’t know if you brought nightclothes, but Cole is only a little bit taller than you. I’m sure he has some in his room you could borrow. If you get hungry again, the kitchen is well stocked.” 

“You’re wonderful, Anne, but I promise I’m all set.” 

She nodded, not moving a muscle. 

“Alright, then. Goodnight,” she said evenly, a playful glint in flickering in her eyes. Gilbert knew a hint when he saw one. He crossed the length of the room and cupped her face the way he so loved to. Anne had already closed her own in blissful acceptance of the kiss, sighing when it came with tender sweetness. 

“Goodnight, my love,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to her forehead.

When Anne closed her own door behind her, she pressed her back up against it and released a shaky breath. Marilla had told her being with the person you love was worth sacrifice, heartache, and all the tribulations of life, but Anne never shared the perspective until then. The trials of the world didn’t seem so insurmountable now, with the promise of  Gilbert at her side. 

Alone in her room, Anne became aware of all the things she’d been distracted from wrapped in Gilbert’s warm embrace. The first, of course, was that it was freezing. No matter how many blankets she threw on top of the bed or how many pairs of socks she borrowed from the guest dresser, she felt the chill from her fingers all through her body. She tried to focus on the hollowing of the wintry wind outside her window, but it seemed to keep her up even more. How had she been content and warm by the fire only a few hours ago? Certainly by now, the fire had gone out and there would be no warming up. 

Finally, Anne firmly made up her mind that enough was enough. Slipping out of bed, her cold toes met an even colder ground. She slipped one of the wool blankets from her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders to guard her from the hallway’s cold breezes. With astounding stealth, Anne crept down the hallway without creaking any old boards or startling any mice. When she made it to Gilbert’s guest room, she drew in a breath and knocked on the door. 

No answer. Anne sighed. The poor boy was probably exhausted from his traveling, fast asleep. Fortunately, he left the door unlocked, allowing Anne to sneak in before anyone was the wiser. Tightening the blanket around her shoulders, she called out in a strong whisper. 

“Gilbert?” 

Even though he seemed fast asleep, her voice was enough to stir him out of his dream. Hair wild and eyes groggy, he propped himself up on an arm. 

“Anne?” he croaked, voice rough from sleep. “Sweetheart, is everything okay?” 

Suddenly uncertain, she shifted her weight. 

“I’m so cold, I can’t sleep,” she admitted miserably. 

Without hesitating, Gilbert reached for her, opening his own covers up when she was close enough to slide in. He made room for her without complaint, smiling at the relief that washed over her. When she laid down completely, she was right in the warm spot he’d just been in. So comfortable and warm, Anne wondered how they were even in the same house. 

“Better?” he whispered, eyes heavy. 

“Almost.” She reached for him, pulling him so that he was close enough to bury her face into the soft fabric of his shirt. At Gilbert’s hesitation to overstep any boundaries, she pulled his arm to wrap on her waist. Still, it rested there too loosely, as if he was scared to tighten his grip. Moonlight bathed his cheeks when she met his eyes. “Gilbert, you said you wanted to know what I want. I’d like it if you held me. That is, if you’re comfortable.” 

He did not have to be told twice. Suddenly the arm on her waist snaked around even further, and the other one wrapped beneath her, pulling her close to his chest. Anne returned the favor as she ran her hand up and down his back. 

“How’s that?” 

“Perfect,” she breathed. Focusing on the sound of his breath, she leaned forward and kissed where his heart was slowing to a sleeping pace in his chest. The cold which seemed so unavoidable before was completely forgotten. In its place was a clear view of the future as crisp as the stars above the storm clouds. 

In the morning, Anne would take one glance at the sleeping boy in her arms and another out the window, and wonder why she’d thought winter sunrises were always purple. In his sleep, Gilbert would tighten his hold on her, and the dawn would turn into every color her eyes could see. And when he woke up, Gilbert would see them too.