#most people get married as teenagers to their childhood sweethearts

[twopenguinsinabox]

Quietly thinking about how Wizarding Britain is a straight-up dystopia tn. Like, even in the "good" years prior to Voldemort's resurrection, it would be such a nightmarish and fucked-up place to actually live that I feel like every time I read a fanfic where the characters conclude "hey, maybe we should just move back to the Muggle world which has neat things like rule of law and sexual consent" I feel like I want to applaud.

[venerawrites]

I swear your writing is the best, and your depiction of the Naruto guys as dads really warms my heart and gives me such baby fever. Could I please have something with Kiba x female reader where you're married and bring your new babies (I really love your headcannon that Kiba would have twins) home, and the babies meet Akamaru for the first time? Your headcannons for him were so beautiful and really made me want more of your husband / dad Kiba. I hope you're having the best week <3

author's note: aw, this message is so cute! I love that recently I have so many requests for Kiba - my boy deserves so much love and I am pretty sure he would be amazing dad! I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for requesting! <3

Getting pregnant was an unexpected event in your mid-twenties. You've always imagined that you would build a solid career, get a nice house in the outskirts of Konoha and marry your childhood sweetheart before you have any children. But life was full with surprises and you only accomplished becoming Mrs. Inuzuka before finding out that you are carrying the fruit of your love inside of you.

Or more precisely - fruits.

You still remember clearly the moment both you and Kiba heard the two heartbeats for the first time. Holding hands, you stared at the little monitor where you could see two blurry blobs, before your wide eyes found each other's.

"Congratulations!", Sakura enthusiastically patted your knee, giving you a wide smile, "You are having twins!"

Too shocked to say anything, you just blinked at her a few times with unreadable expression. Kiba, on the other hand, kept opening and closing his mouth, unsure of how to voice his thoughts.

"If you need some more time to process this, I can leave the room for a bit...", the kunoichi offered, her brows furrowing at your weird reactions. Before she can even stand up, however, the man next to you finally found his voice.

"TWINS?", the word came out almost like a yell making you and her cringe at the loudness, "Like.. like two people?"

Sakura closed her eyes, obviously holding herself back from rolling them, before her lips stretched into the most polite smile she could offer to a question like this.

"Yes, Kiba", she said slowly, emphasizing each word, "Twins means TWO babies."

She twirled on her chair tapping the edge of her pen on the little screen showing you each baby, but her explanation fell on deaf ears. For you it felt like the whole world has stopped and you couldn't really focus neither on the woman's voice or your husband's questions.

Since being a teenager, you have imagined yourself with multiple kids in the future. But two at once? Kiba and you were still living with his mother and sister while saving for your own house. On top of that while you were doing pretty well job wise, having two kids at home meant that your career would surely be halted at least for a few years.

The feeling of your husband's fingers on your cheek brought you out of your trance and you looked around, only to find that you were now alone in the room. Taking a seat next to you, he gently grabbed your chin, turning you toward him.

"Hey", he softly said, "What's wrong, baby?"

Letting out a sigh, you tried to turn your head to the side, but his grip was firm. Why did it feel so hard to voice your worries to him? You have been together for years and best friends for twice as many. There were thousands of secrets you have shared with each other before, some of them way more embarrassing and bad than what you were currently feeling.

"C'mon, talk to me", this time he brough your hand to his lips, landing a small kiss on the back of it. You stared at him for few more seconds, before finally finding the courage to speak.

"What are we going to do, Kiba?"

His brows scrunched, a confusion written all over his face.

"What do you mean?"

You laid your free hand on your stomach, rubbing small circles on it and suddenly your eyes started to burn with tears. In your best try to blink them away, a few of them fell down your cheeks, catching your lover's attention. With one swift move, he was on the bed next to you, holding you in his arms, while your body kept shaking with sobs.

"I am just... so scared! I never thought I would be having twins... two babies! How are we going to manage with two babies? We can barely keep up with Akamaru! Oh my, I am alread-"

The rant was interrupted by Kiba, who pressed his finger against your mouth silencing you. Expecting a more defensive reaction from him, you were taken aback when he pressed his lips against your forehead, letting them linger for a while.

"Baby, we are in this together, yeah? We are going to manage, just like we always do", his eyes found yours while saying this and it was enough for all your racing thoughts to stop, allowing you to look realistically at the situation.

Your husband was right. It was hard to think of a time when you were not side by side - knowing each other since you were little kids, you've experienced everything together. Your first day at school, your first mission, your first kiss, your first party, your first promotion, your first intimacy, your first (and hopefully last) war... The list was long, yet there was still much to be added to it.

Your first pregnancy included.

"Stop doing that!", he scolded you, flicking you with his middle finger on the tip of your nose. Your brows immediately furrowed, a frown forming on your lips once you felt him do it a second time.

"Doing what?"

"Stressing about stuff", he grinned, reaching toward your face for a third time, which you manage to dodge by leaning back, "We are going to be fine, baby, I promise!"

Unable to stop the warmth from spreading inside your chest at the sound of his words, you leaned forward, softly capturing his lips with yours. The kiss was short and sweet, very different from the intense make out sessions you usually shared and which eventually got you to your current situation.

"I love you, Kiba", the words came out as a whisper once you pulled away from him and pressed your forehead against his.

"I love you too, baby", he said back, rubbing his nose against yours lovingly. Moments like these were rare - not only because living in the Inuzuka compound meant you rarely had any moments of privacy when you can allow yourself to be vulnerable, but also because you relationship was better described as flirty and teasing, rather than sweet and romantic.

True to himself, your husband let you enjoy this side of him just for a bit, before he ruined the moment once again.

"Damn, your hormones must be going crazy right now! You're changing moods faster than- OW!"

He rubbed his shoulder when you just hit him, sticking his tongue out when he noticed the unimpressed glare you gave him.

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

"One more step... Here you go! Almost there!"

Following Kiba's voice, you gripped your lover's hand so hard in yours, he tried his best not to wince in pain. But hey, it was his idea to blindfold you when he picked you and your babies from the hospital, so he couldn't really complain, right?

"Kiba, I swear to Kami, if I fall down these stairs...", there was no need for you to finish the sentence for him to nervously gulp, letting out a nervous chuckle. Placing his palm on your lower back, he supported your body, making sure there is no risk for you to trip or lean backwards.

"Do you think I am going to let you fall down the stairs, silly?", he tried to joke, but he could tell by the low grumble that left your lips that you were not really amused by it.

When he first tried to put the cloth over your eyes, you refused to entertain his gimmicks. Being in a hospital for over two weeks after giving birth to your twin boys had mentally drained you and more than anything you just wanted to go home. Thankfully there was nothing wrong with you or your sons, but as this was the first pair of twins Sakura had treated, she insisted on keeping you for supervision longer than was really needed.

One thing about your husband, however, was that he was so stubborn it was almost impossible to fight him when he had his mind set on something. So after nearly half an hour of him whining he wanted to surprise you, you finally agreed to be blindfolded. He insisted carrying the twins on the clothed baby carrier his mother had handmade for you, placing one of the children in front of his chest, while the other one was comfortably resting on his back.

Much to your dismay and Kiba's happiness, your twin boys were an exact replica of their dad. Save for the eyes, which they both took from you, their brown hair, red cheek markings and face features were a clear indicator to which clan they belonged. This was a big stroke to your husband's ego and he never missed a chance to point out to you how they were going to grow up just like him.

"Okay, okay!", the man excitedly said after he let you through, what you assumed was, a door, "I am going to remove the blindfold now... Are you ready?"

"Yes, baby, I'm ready", you replied with a tired voice, yet there was a note of excitement in it. Your beloved was not usually one for surprises, so you were eager to see what he had prepared for you.

Without wasting a second, he moved behind you, untying the piece of cloth and sliding it from your head. Taking a few seconds to adjust to the light, you blinked a few times, before letting out a loud gasp.

Looking around, you found yourself in a completely new house... YOUR new house. It had most of the furniture from the home you shared with his mother, but you had noticed he intentionally left some of the interior to be finished by you.

So this is what he must have been doing during the past two months, when he kept having to leave the hospital early because he had "work to do". With a small laugh, your turned to him, carefully circling your arms around him, so you don't hurt any of the babies, who were curiously examining their new surrounding.

"Do you like it? I know for how long we've been talking about getting a house and now it felt like the right moment.."

"Like it? Baby, I love it!", you pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth, small tears of happiness forming in the corners of your eyes. Before you could say anything else, your attention was caught by the sound of distant barking. Turning around, you could see Akamaru running toward you, while wiggling his tail in excitement.

"Akamaru! Hi, my favourite boy!", you crouched down to his level, laughing once he attacked your face with wet kisses, "Yes, I'm excited to see you too! I missed you!"

"I thought I was your favourite boy...", Kiba muttered next to you and you playfully rolled your eyes, getting up to your feet.

"Aw, don't be jealous now! He is my favourite boy... with fur!"

Losing his interest in you, Akamaru start sniffing Kiba, circling his form, while letting out a bark at the new, unfamiliar family members. Carefully taking out the baby that was placed in the front of his chest, Kiba felt your hands doing the same with your second son strapped to his back.

Holding one baby each, both of you kneeled down, letting Akamaru take a sniff. Surprisingly, instead of being scared, the twins found the big white dog intriguing, as they tried to reach toward his face and grab his nose.

"Careful, boy!", Kiba warned, as he noticed Akamaru trying to lick one of the children, who in return wriggled uncomfortably in his arms, "They are too little for kisses like that... Be gentle!"

Understanding his owner's warning, the dog stepped back before sitting down, his eyes still traveling between both boys, studying them.

"Good boy", you praised him, before putting your hand out for him to put his paw in. Once he did, you let the baby in your arms reach toward the paw as well, smiling as you saw Akamaru wiggle his tail at the touch, "Oh, you already love each other, huh?"

"Of course they do, they are all Inuzuka, after all", Kiba said smugly, bouncing one of your twins on his knee. Clicking your togue, you stood up, eager to explore the rest of the house.

Your husband swiftly followed, taking it upon himself to give you a tour of the project he has been working on for months. To say you were impressed would be too weak of a description of how you were feeling right now - you were absolutely amazed at the amount of effort he put into making this place your own.

He had already prepared a nursery for the babies, with its own bathroom and closet, as well as two empty rooms, which would turn into your children's rooms once they grow old enough to be separated. There were a big bathroom, kitchen and a dining room, all of which were looking over the nearby forest.

At the end of the corridor and next to the nursery was your own bedroom, which was spacious and light, with a backdoor leading to a small garden.

"And this is our room... You know, where I will make sure you carry another set of twins soon!"

Gasping, you lightly hit his arm, your face going bright red at his words. He only laughed, smacking your bum with his free hand, before heading to the twins' room to put the one he was holding to sleep.

Looking at the baby in your arms, who was looking at you curiously, you shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Please don't turn out to have your dad's personality or I may actually go crazy."

cc artwork: Joanne Tran

[thenugking]

Perseverance “Percy” Ashton (she/her)

(Percy's costume evolution throughout the game. She's getting her Hot Girl makeover! The fact that she's losing every trace of individuality isn't important!!)

Race: Asmodeus Tiefling Class: Cleric of Ilmater (Life Domain) Background: Acolyte

Personality: Percy is a Good Person. She’d like everyone to be aware of this. She’s a Good Person and therefore all her actions are Good things a Good Person would do, and if those Good Actions result in the deaths and suffering of hundreds of people, it wasn’t that bad and they deserved it and it wasn’t actually Percy’s fault anyway!!

Percy is a conflict-averse doormat who doesn’t want to cause problems and supports her friends unconditionally. Unfortunately, her friends are the kind of people who want to do things like serve evil goddesses, become gods themselves, and kill thousands of people. But hey, they’d totally have done all that anyway, there was nothing Percy could have possibly said to stop them! She was just being a good friend!

She believes strongly in not giving up and continuing in your beliefs and actions, no matter what kind of odds (or common sense) are stacked against you (this being why she named herself Perseverance). She’s extremely ambitious, though she’d never admit it, and desperately wants to be held up as a paragon of virtue in front of the entire Ilmater church. She’s smart, though lacking the wisdom score she really needs as a cleric, and a great lover of reading.

And, of course, she is deep in self-delusions. Ilmater finally stops lending Percy divine power after she helps Astarion ascend, and she completely refuses to notice that the god she spent decades worshipping has gone, and Loviatar’s stepped in instead.

Backstory: Percy grew up in the Outer City, where poverty and anti-tiefling racism were often issues. Fortunately, she found support at the Open Hand Temple and was grateful enough to that as a teenager, she started working there herself, wanting to be able to help others as she’d been helped. Unfortunately, she slowly started taking on a lot of shitty doctrine and a huge martyr complex.

Despite Father Lorgan attempting to gently suggest otherwise, Percy believes that suffering is holy, and by suffering in the service of others, or even just generally Going Through it, she’s a better person. She dedicated her life to helping as much as she possibly can, eagerly going without meals, forcing herself up after only a few hours sleep, and refusing to ever take a day off, in the hope that eventually someone would look at her and say, “Wow you’re so much more selfless than everyone else here, you’re truly the greatest person I’ve ever met, I can’t believe no one’s noticed how incredible you are before!!” And while she was far too nice to say anything, she spent years stewing in resentment over anyone who stopped to take care of their own needs, and clearly weren’t as good people as she is. 

Her home life wasn’t much better. Percy married her childhood sweetheart, Kairon, at 19. When Baldur’s Gate starts, they’ve been married for twenty years, have two kids together, and the spark has gone out completely. Kairon… wasn’t an amazing husband, and should probably have noticed how discontented his wife was, but Percy sure did love to repress her negative feelings and constantly insist she was fine and refuse to actually ask for anything she needed. They’d probably both be a lot happier if they’d broken up ten years ago.

Anyway, by the start of the game, Percy’s worrying that she’s wasted her life on a man who never really appreciated her, and that she’s old enough now that no one ever will. Her sex life, which had dried up completely in the past few years, was never very satisfying because she’s a Good Christian Girl who just wants to please her husband and can’t admit to having any desires of her own. The most joy she’s felt in the past several years is secretly reading steamy romance novels and the occasional piece of Loviatan literature. For, yknow, research into the enemy!

Also, I decided she’s the person who wrote this.

Relationships: When Astarion suggests he can do more for Percy than her husband ever has, she takes a long, thoughtful, angst-ridden two minutes to consider it before jumping into bed with him. She’s not thrilled when the sex break happens, but he’s sweet and broken and he cares about her, so she’s willing to do anything for him as long as it doesn’t mean tearing her family apart! They’re both very much trying to be the person the other wants them to be and oh boy does that not go well. She eventually lets Astarion ascend and becomes his spawn, and the two of them spend the next several years being miserable.

After Astarion, Percy is closest to Gale during the game. They drift apart afterwards, as Gale focuses on being a god, during which time Percy becomes closer to Shadowheart, leaning on her more for advice, and begging regular access to the Mirror of Loss so she can forget everything that makes her worry she might not be a great person. None of them see Lae’zel again, after she goes to serve Vlaakith. 

Percy always secretly disliked Wyll a little. Nothing to do with jealousy over his reputation as a folk hero constantly helping others, or publicly being made to Suffer when Mizora turned him into a devil! He wasn’t immediately fine with suddenly growing horns as part of a violent non consensual body modification, so he’s probably racist against tieflings and therefore awful!! She and Karlach are friends for a while, but things fall apart in Act 3, after Karlach “betrays” Percy by telling her husband about the affair, and makes a fuss over her allying with Gortash. Neither Wyll nor Karlach survive the events of Percy’s game, but that’s a whole thing that we don’t have room for here.

Percy never recruited Jaheira or Minsc, due to supporting Shadowheart in her dreams of becoming a Dark Justiciar, and let the Mistresses of Souls wipe Minthara’s mind. (She was a Bad Person, why would Percy ever think of rescuing her?) Halsin eventually quietly separates himself from the group, after growing discontent with the paths a lot of them are taking, and Percy’s constant attempts to get his endorsement over her cheating because she can’t tell the difference between that and polyamory.Speaking of which, Percy cheats on Astarion with Mizora while he’s still a vampire spawn and the sex pause is ongoing (so really it was his fault--). As much as Mizora’s main aim was causing trouble, she does find herself a little bit enamoured by Percy’s absolute dedication to twisting the truth, and their shared passion in being a massive asshole to Wyll. She turns up again a few years after the events of the game, when Percy’s really starting to want out of her relationship with Astarion, offering protection and freedom from him in return for Percy’s services as her warlock. The two of them eventually begin a relationship which is practically healthy by Percy’s standards! For her, anyway, not for anyone else who has the misfortune of being around the two of them.

[talktomeinclexa]

The Marriage Pact

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warning: None

Status: WIP

Summary: Two childhood best friends swear to marry each other if they are still single by 34. As the years pass and no one else seems good enough, the deadline approaches. Will they go through with it? Can one marry their best friend and truly be happy?

***

Chapter 2: Teenagers Get Confused

The music projected by the subwoofers made the windows of Jasper’s house tremble, announcing the party within a two-hundred-yard radius.

“Jeez,” Lexa said with an amused smirk at the sight of the other teenagers singing and dancing in the front and backyard. “I hope Mr. and Mrs. Jordan are on good terms with their neighbors. It would be a shame if the police came to shut it all down before we get to party.”

Clarke shrugged, her hand already on the front door handle. “Jasp said it’s cool. They are mostly old and a bit hard of hearing. Plus, his parents invite them to barbecues and whatnot regularly, so we should be fine.”

“I can’t believe they let Jasp have a party. Don’t they know him at all?”

Everybody would agree Jasper was a sweetheart with his heart on his sleeve. One of those humans who had to have been a labrador in their past life. Unfortunately, he also retained some of their puppy overexcitement and mischief. A school year wasn’t a school year at Arkadia without him and Monty — his best friend and the other school’s official cinnamon roll — being sent to the principal’s office over a prank.

“I guess they would rather we all party here and stay over than hear about someone getting into an accident on the way back. And don’t forget he roped us all into cleaning tomorrow.”

“Still, I wish my mom were that lax.”

Clarke offered her best friend a sympathetic smile as they zigzagged through the people standing in the living room. Since the divorce seven years before and Drogo’s return to Europe, Dani had raised Lexa alone. And although she trusted Lexa and gave her a fair amount of freedom, as long as her grades didn’t slip, Dani would always be stricter than the Jordans. But then, most parents were, Clarke’s included.

“I know what you mean. I had to bargain with Mom for hours before she let me come. Remind me to buy Dad his favorite cake the next time we go to the mall, by the way. To be honest, I’m surprised Dani allowed you to go to a party knowing there aren’t any adults around.”

Lexa offered Clarke a red cup before grabbing one for herself from the kitchen counter. “Cheers. Honestly, she tried to see if Anya would tag along and keep an eye on us first. But I survived three weeks in Europe with Dad without getting in trouble. And she knows many people drink alcohol below 18 there.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me about those three weeks. It was the longest summer ever without you. Next time, I’ll hide in your suitcase.”

Clarke leaned against Lexa’s side, a pout firmly in place. She was glad her friend had a good relationship with her father. Despite the ocean separating them, Drogo made sure to keep in touch with his only child and often video called and texted. Of course, when he invited her to spend part of the summer with him, Lexa went. But selfishly, Clarke had wished time would move faster — a heresy during the holidays. Nothing was the same without her best friend by her side, and she carried a Lexa-shaped hole in her heart until her return.

“Hey, you know I missed you too.” Lexa wrapped one arm around Clarke’s shoulders and pulled her closer. Between Clarke’s heels and her flats, the size difference wasn’t in her favor, and instead of the kisses she loved to leave on Clarke’s forehead, she placed a peck on her cheek before nuzzling her hair. “I’ll bring you along next time; I promise. Dad won’t mind. He loves you too.”

Keep reading

[kraeki]

aww might be a wedding ring uno! omg i’m happy for cody. and with cody and ibou (they’re 24) and even kostas, they’re so young it’s crazy how they’re married (allegedly). that’s really nice to see cause nowadays i only see men getting married laterrrr in life which isn’t bad. but in the football world men get into committed relationships and have kids so early i find it so interesting , especially with the spotlight on them. they’re rich handsome talented and famous i’d imagine they wouldn’t wanna settle just yet cause of all the girls flocking to them but yeah…i hope i make sense lol

First of all, thank you for not being a weird anon lol, I've started to expect that if there is an anon in my inbox it's a weird anon 😭

I know it's crazy how early footballers get settled down! I'm older than most of the squad and I'm just a child still so..

I think there are varied reasons for why they get married/have kids so early. A lot of them have been in relationships forever, with their childhood sweetheart and then it makes sense to take the relationship to the next level after having been together for so long. Why so many footballers are with their childhood sweethearts is a matter for another post though 😅

But when you think about it, even though footballers get transferred between clubs, they still have a generally stable life. They're set for life and they know they will be playing football for 15ish years. Their girlfriends/wives often don't have full time jobs so they can focus on raising their children. While normal people in their twenties are navigating the complexities of life, figuring out what they want to do for the rest of their lives while maybe going to uni, working various jobs, traveling the world etc etc.

Also, I think if you have a crazy life like those footballers, it's nice to come home to your family and get a break from the outside world.

My less charitable take on why some of those men have wives... (and again this only applies to SOME) is that those men basically never had to grow up. They've had extremely abnormal lives since they were teenagers and started showing a lot of promise. They don't know how to navigate life beyond a football pitch so they basically need a caretaker! I think that's what some of the wives are. Just there to be supportive at home and arrange their lives for them. And then it's nice to have someone on your arm at events. I truly feel like this must be the case for some of them that constantly cheat. They want the supportive partner at home that's raising their children for them while they can also go alone to parties and meet other girls. In their mind, why would you either have a loving family or have the fun that the fame and fortune allows you when you can do both?

Anyway, the wedding ring spotted on Cody prompted me to think once again how few single men are in our squad! I think Liverpool is especially family oriented and Klopp probably plays a part in that. I'm sure he prefers signing players that are settled. I think that currently our only senior players that are single are Trent and Dom, and Dom was even in a longterm relationship when he was signed, maybe he pulled a fast one on Klopp 🤭

[insertpoetryhere]

Can you do yuuichi ootori for the 20 hc thing 🤗

My boy!!! My favorite Ootori!!!

Fun fact I’ve tried to post this twice and the app crashed both times. 🤞.

1.) Like I said with Kyoya, the Ootoris are new money. Yoshio’s grandparents were farmers prior to WW1 and then stumbled into a fortune. Yuichi is the only sibling old enough to remember their great grandparents, who died when he was 7.

2.) Yuichi is the most down to earth Ootori, mostly because his Great Grandma Kyoko would come back from the dead and bitch slap him if he started acting high and mighty.

3.) Yuichi is a dog person in a house full of cat people.

4.) Yuichi is Akito, Fuyumi, and Kyoya’s half brother from Yoshio’s first marriage to his childhood sweetheart. He inherited the company shortly after Yuichi was born and decided his wife wasn’t fitting of his status. He quietly divorced her and married a richer woman, who had Akito and Fuyumi two years later. None of the siblings know that Yuichi has a different mother.

5.) Yuichi has always been Fuyumi’s partner in crime, with her getting them into trouble and him talking them out of it. This dynamic continued into adulthood, but now almost exclusively applies to their father.

6.) Even though he loves his siblings, Yuichi can never remember how old Kyoya is. Every time he guesses, he’s always a few years younger than the actual answer. It’s the oldest to youngest child dynamic (speaking as the oldest of four myself)

7.) Yuichi is bad at lying but very good at bending the truth. He can omit information like a pro but if you ask him to tell a bold faced lie he will immediately start sweating.

8.) While he was in university, Yuichi fell in love with a Psychology student a year above him. The feeling was mutual and he wanted to marry her, but knew his father wouldn’t approve because (while wealthy) she wasn’t rich enough for the Ootoris. The relationship never went anywhere, but the two are still in contact and at 29, Yuichi Ootori remains suspiciously unmarried.

9.) Up until Kyoya’s mall trip, Yuichi was undefeated as the only Ootori siblings to have ever eaten a meal from McDonald’s.

10.) Yuichi has a one sided tension with Akito. While has adored Yuichi practically since birth, Yuichi sometimes feels resentment for Akito solely based on the pressure his father put on both of them to compete for the title of being the heir to the Ootori name. He feels awful for this resentment, especially considering how Akito comes to him with everything.

11.) The rest of the Ootori siblings come to him for advice on everything since he is the least likely out of all of them to tell their father.

12.) Yuichi’s policy on what Kyoya does is a lot more lax than the other members of the family. If he sees Kyoya doing something “unfitting of his status” he will immediately turn around so he can deny he ever saw him. It’s the unspoken “go ahead, I saw nothing” when he very obviously caught him sneaking out to do teenager bullshit. And, true to his word, he will keep his mouth shut. That is unless he finds out it’s illegal, dangerous, or stupid in a way that isn’t funny. Even then he doesn’t tell their dad or say anything to Kyoya himself. Instead he will run his mouth to Tachibana. He knows who Kyoya actually listens to.

13.) His approach to his other siblings in adulthood is “did you add or subtract from the population? No? Then please don’t tell me”. He will help them out of a situation but for the love of god please don’t give him ALL the details. As long as no one gets arrested and dad isn’t pissed, then all is well.

14.) As shown above, Yuichi actively hates being in the know about most topics that don’t concern him. It makes him feel out of control.

15.) Yuichi’s third year at ouran was also Akito and Fuyumi’s first. He spent most of the year keeping them out of trouble.

16.) Mr. Ootori’s computer password is Yuichi’s birthdate in numerical order.

17.) Yuichi is 6’4 and is the tallest Ootori.

18.) Yuichi minored in history in college, which is the field he wanted to go into before his father had him go to medical school instead.

19.) A lot of people have described Yuichi as “too gentle” for the line of work he is in.

20.) When Kyoya was born, Tachibana would sneak Yuichi into the nursery so he could see his baby brother. He was the only Ootori sibling interested in doing so.

[iwadori]

Why you and the haikyu boys broke up (Atsumu,Oikawa,Kageyama,Kenma,Akaashi,Sugawara)

Part two: Osamu, Iwaizumi, Daichi, Ushijima

Genre:angst

masterlist

Atsumu: “god yer so clingy and annoying”

You and Atsumu have been dating for years and every year was worse then the last. Atsumu became more distant and standoffish as your relationship progressed.

“‘Tsumu, where were you said that you’d be back by-“

“Gosh Y/N, just leave me alone, I don’t need you doting all over me like your my mum or something” he said harshly making you flinch

“Well I wouldn’t keep acting like your mum if you weren’t being such a child, you dick”

“God Y/N, yer so cling and annoying”

That was the last thing he said to you, well the last thing you heard, since after that you were gone. You definitely didn’t care for Atsumu anymore and you definitely didn’t care about his mutiple messages and calls asking begging you to talk to him.

You were done and you silently asked yourself the question “who’s the clingy and annoying one now ‘tsumu”

Oikawa: “If only you supported me like she did then..”

You and Oikawa, the classic ‘highschool sweethearts,’ with him being the athletic trailblazer with you at his side through it all, always known as “Oikawa’s girlfriend”

Being known as that, at first you didn’t mind, since being attached to the Oikawa name in any aspect was something to brag about (especially when you’re a teenage girl.)

But as you got older you didn’t want to be just somebody’s “girlfriend,” you wanted to be Y/N The doctor or Y/N the lawyer, journalist or whatever.

And Oikawa wasn’t particularly fond of the idea.

As the time went on, with you now studying and preparing for your new found dream job (which you were over the moon about.) Oikawa became unbearable, late nights out, always hiding his phone when you were about, he had this odd scent about him one that was different to usual.

He was cheating on you. You knew it, but since there was no physical proof and because you loved him so much accusing him of such a thing could ruin everything.

You didn’t need too though. Since one night, when Oikawa was supposedly meant to be at an away game. He was away, but in someone else’s pants... in your bedroom.

After being caught he pleaded for you to hear him out and when you wouldn’t he said “if only you supported me like she did then I wouldn’t be cheating on you”

That was definitely the final straw, you became the best doctor that Japan had ever seen, and you didn’t know what happen to Oikawa and that girl.

You may of heard through the grapevine that she definitely cheated on him a month into their relationship, but what do you care anyways.

Kenma: “gosh y/n I’m not your therapist”

Kenma and you were childhood friends before you started dating. You were two peas in a pods.

You worked perfectly as you being the talkative one always talked and him being quiet just always listened.

That’s how you worked and it was fine, right?

Well of course it wasn’t, well at least till when you were a few years into your relationship it wasn’t. Kenma was obviously a popular gamer and kind of a businessman, he wasn’t as free as he used to be and neither were you and you both knew that.

So when you did have time to hang out you most certainly made the most of it, doing what you normally did: you talk, he ‘listens.’

Even though Kenma wasn’t listening anymore, who knows when he stopped listening but he probably hasn’t heard nor cared for a thing you’ve said since you were 5.

“Gosh Y/N I’m not your therapist” he said after you were telling him about a terrible day you had “ I don’t even know why we’re still together, or together at all... “

“Fine, if that’s how you feel I’m gone”

“Wait Y/N I didn’t mea-“

You slam the door blocking out the rest of speech which you didn’t need to hear since obviously ‘you aren’t his therapist.’

Akaashi: you’re just too much of an idiot too understand.

When you and Akaashi met, it was in one of your classes, and you first noticed him when he was answering in a question in class.

Hot and smart was what you thought when you first laid eyes on him

What you didn’t know by the time you got together was that ‘hot and smart’ translates to the biggest patronising mansplainer ever.

Akaashi has a way of belittling you and dumbing you down, you didn’t know why he was doing it. Heck, you didn’t know he was actually doing it until he actually said “you’re just too much of an idiot to understand.”

The other times it was subtle, but obvious enough to leave you sad and uncomfortable afterwards questioning every aspect of yourself.

One night, you don’t tell him what your doing, you pack up your crap leave the rest of the months rent on the kitchen counter along with a note saying ‘I’m breaking up with you,’

You knew that sooner or later that day you’d get a text from him and you did which read:

Akaashi: what do you mean I’m breaking up with. Why ?

Y/N: oh I guess you’re too much of an idiot to understand.

Kageyama: you don’t work hard enough Y/N

You were dating the best setter in Japan. It always felt surreal when you said that to yourself, or when someone said that to you.

Since ‘how could you’ get ‘someone like that.’

That was the question that many people asked, since of course ‘Tobio Kageyama was only worth the best of the best,’ and to them you most certainly wasn’t that.

You got comments like that all the time online, but you didn’t care but one time you were scrolling through Twitter and so a post about you and the comments were all talking about your body.

This crushed your heart, as the comments they were making were vile so this definitely hit a tough spot.

When Kageyama came home and saw your distressed state he rushed to your side to see if he could help. However once you showed him what you were crying over, his tone of voice changed as he said,

“They aren’t wrong Y/N, ever since we got together you’ve definitely not really been looking after yourself lately”

“What is that supposed to mean” you retort

“ I mean, you don’t work hard Y/N, you don’t work at all... as of lately you’ve just been bitching and complaining and mooching off of my success whilst you let yourself go.”

Ouch.

“If that’s how you see me, then so be it” you say gracefully standing up and exciting the building. You were done with Kageyama and you both knew that, there was no going back after what he said, especially since you could tell he was thinking that for a while now.

Sugawara: your not the girl I fell in love with

Sugawara and you were described as the “perfect couple” by people that didn’t know you. Which you always faked a smile a compliment, knowing certainly well you weren’t.

You’ve loved sugawara ever since you met him in your first year. But you knew, you always knew he didn’t love you back.

Kiyoko Shimuzu, her name was. A pretty name for a pretty girl. All the boys were in love with her (some more vocal about it then others) but sugawara even though he wasn’t shouting his love from the rooftops, you caught the looks of adoration he gave her when she was simply walking by.

You dated him anyways, maybe he could sense your desperation or maybe he needed a distraction. You didn’t know why he decided to ask you out and you didn’t care, he was yours and you finally ‘won.’

Well you were winning up till you got a certain invite in the Mail:

You are invited to the wedding of Tanka Ryunnsoke and Kiyoko Shimuzu.

Even though sugawara looked happy at the idea of his two dearest friends marrying, you could tell he was heartbroken. And he knew that you knew.

That is why, on the day before the wedding as you were packing your bags to go, it turns out he was packing his bags too. But for a completely different reason.

“I’m leaving” was all he said at first heading for the door.

“Where? Why?” You aksed

“You know why Y/N, you’ve always known why And itll do more harm then good if we keep this charade up any longer”

“But I love you” you cried latching on to him

“And I love you, but you were not the girl I fell in love with and I don’t think that love will ever stop”

You knew he was right and you let him go, crying over your one true love.

An: I kinda heavily like this one, (maybe because it’s hard to write on my phone and this style is definitely not what I’m used too so I’m appreciating my efforts.) what do you guys think ??

ALSO MY PHONE WONT LET ME DO READ ORE AND ONCE MY LAPTOP WORKS TOMMOROW I WILL DO IT SO SORRY!!

Taglist[bold can’t be tagged]: @sakuxxi @iimoonii @hamdehlesmis @Shoyosupremacy @meadowsinjapan @iambashfulperson

[misteria247]

I posted 9,248 times in 2022

That's 3,436 more posts than 2021!

1,684 posts created (18%)

7,564 posts reblogged (82%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@endless-exhaustion

@spongebobssquarepants

@misteria247

@takashi0

I tagged 4,901 of my posts in 2022

Only 47% of my posts had no tags

#oli talks - 1,786 posts

#ooc - 1,785 posts

#muns ramblings - 1,785 posts

#mindless ramblings of a madman - 1,780 posts

#tmnt - 1,342 posts

#ops tags - 1,320 posts

#rottmnt - 1,268 posts

#teenage mutant ninja turtles - 1,144 posts

#rise of the tmnt - 992 posts

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles - 961 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

12 Raph: Ya know you've been kinda babying the other Donnie lately.

12 Leo slightly confused: What?? No I haven't??? I treat him like I do everyone else-

Rise Donnie coming up excitedly: Lee! Leo!! You gotta see the thing I've been working on!!!

12 Leo instantly turns his attention from 12 Raph and to Rise Donnie

12 Leo with motherly pride: That looks amazing Dee, I can't wait to see how it turns out!!

Rise Donnie beaming: You'll be the first one to see it once it's finished I promise!!!

Rise Donnie skips away somewhat leaving 12 Leo and 12 Raph be

12 Raph eyebrow quirked: You were saying.....?

12 Leo:........okay you know what don't talk to me or my son-

1,944 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

#4

12 Leo getting attacked: Someone call an ambulance!

12 Leo unsheathing his swords: But not for me-

Literally the entire group of alternate turtles: LEO N O-!

12 Leo: LEO Y E S.

2,075 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

#3

2003 Kranng: Terrifying aliens.

2012 Kranng: Terrifying aliens who kidnap people to experiment on and mutate them.

2018 Kranng: TURNS PEOPLE INTO FLESH PUPPETS LIKE A FUCKED UP VERSION OF THE MUPPETS.

2,240 notes - Posted August 8, 2022

#2

What Ace Attorney is supposedly: A game where you play as a lawyer who fights for justice and meeting old friends and new foes along the way, making sure that those who are innocent receive the justice they deserve.

What Ace Attorney actually is: A game where you become a lawyer to find your long lost childhood sweetheart/best friend and along the way you fight for justice as well as awkwardly flirt with your childhood sweetheart/best friend who also happens to be a lawyer and somewhere along the way you end up being basically married with like three or four kids.

3,443 notes - Posted July 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I love how in the Tmnt franchise it's always an indisputable fact that Splinter will always take care of the boys. Like he'll literally have his life turned completely upside down by being mutated into a rat and then he'll see these four infant mutated turtles and literally go-

"Babies?? Babies for me?? Babies for me to adopt and cherish and teach??? Yes???? Guess I'm a dad now."

And he just rolls with it, no questions asked he just becomes their dad and honestly it's quite sweet and wonderful when you think about it.

4,512 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[wiypt-writes]

Leave No One Behind

Chapter 16: Endings Beginnings

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary: Ari and Hannah settle into life back home, but it isn’t all as smooth as they’d have hoped…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairings:  Ari Levinson x OFC Hannah Horowitz

Word Count- 4.5k

A/N: It was recently brought to our attention that in a few other chapters there have been a couple of things that Ari has said/done that are not technically accurate for someone of Jewish heritage. First up, it was reference to Ari observing a ‘Sunday Roast’ when he visited Mama Navon. We just wanted to remind people that Hannah is of Catholic Christian and Jewish heritage (Spanish Catholic Mother, American Jewish Father) and her and Sammy’s upbringing has always been a combination of the two. So, when Ari visited Mama Navon when he was home from Sudan, clearly this was her tradition he was observing. Secondly, in another chapter Ari was praying to the ‘God and the Saints’. Of course, Judaism does not have saints, so there’s a slip up on our part with that one. As with the third point, when we described Ari rushing Sarah to the alter. He would have rushed her to the hoopa.

Regarding all of the above, we would hasten to add, that Ari grew up in the USA, leaving when he was 18. From what little we learn of him in the film, we know was taken by a British Soldier, who married an American Nurse. From the way he talks about it, we don’t get the impression his ‘adoptive’ parents were Jewish, so that alludes us to suspect he had a largely Christian upbringing, whilst clearly  being aware of his heritage. Therefore, we don’t think it is beyond the realms of possibility that he would pick up the odd little thing such as the above three points.  

That aside, we hope the above didn’t distract anyone else from the narrative as it did the reader who brought it to our attention.

Now, just a personal plea from myself in general. Myself and Storm do this for free, and not being a person who pays much attention to religion at all (that’s another debate in itself) it is for this reason I was VERY nervous about continuing this storyline beyond the plot of the film. We certainly don’t have the time, nor brain capacity to be researching things into any kind of huge depth. It’s why most of my story lines centre along similar types of things that I have a good background in. This fic was never supposed to focus on the ins and outs of a particular race of people, just the lives of two dumbasses in love. As all writers on here, we do this for free, and the moment it becomes hard work or unenjoyable, we won’t be continuing. So any other little slip ups, please, unless they’re offensive, give us a little leeway and put it down to Ari being exceptionally Westernised as pointed out above.

Sorry if this comes across as being a little harsh, but this has been playing on my mind a lot over the past few days, to the point I was seriously considering if we ended the fic where it currently stood. That said, I think we have a lot left to tell of Hannah and Ari’s story so, I’ll shut up now and let you read it…if you want that is.

Leave No One Behind Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 15

“You haven’t forgotten tomorrow?” Hannah heard her mother ask, as the woman stood up from the table while holding the teacup and saucer to place them in the sink. “You do remember you have to pick Sammy up from the airport tomorrow afternoon, right?”

 Hannah rolled her eyes at her mother’s back. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she sighed as she played with the crumbles of the pastry she had been nibbling on, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve got anything else going on, is it? Seeing as Ari is with Maya and according to Sarah’s stupid rules I can’t be there with them…”

 At that, Maria Navon turned, giving her daughter a sympathetic look and Hannah snorted in anger.

 It had been four months since they arrived back in Tel Aviv, and Hannah had to concede that for the first few weeks it was fine. She and Ari settled nicely in the apartment Mossad rented in Ari’s name once all the paperwork following the end of the mission had been sorted. Ari had asked Isaacs for an upgrade of his living quarters, given he was now having Maya over to stay every other weekend, plus numerous nights of the week. Not to mention the fact Hannah was moving with him. When Isaacs had asked Ari to put a justification forward, he had simply shrugged, “I fucking earned it, Isaacs.”

 So he got it. Just like he usually got what he wanted, one way or another.

 Hannah was back working at the clinic. Her hands and the experience she had acquired while in Africa were needed more than ever now that it was only her mother and her to run it, although how long it was before her mom decided to retire fully was anyone’s guess. It had been a couple of busy months, what with interviewing for new nurses and locum staff, but Hannah would be lying if she denied having enjoyed every minute of it. She might have Mossad secret agent skills, obviously passed down by her father, but she was a doctor at heart. And that hadn’t changed in the two years she had been away.

 The team had split up within a month of arrival back in Tel Aviv.  Ari and Max had been working to help the refugees. Many of them had simply melted away post their arrival, still not trusting the mysterious white men who had come to their aid. However, some had stuck round; being housed temporarily in hostels, and was those who Ari and Max were tirelessly working for. They focussed their efforts on obtaining them permanent, legal status along with finding them better places to live and jobs of sorts to help them fit in their new reality. 

 Jake had headed back overseas to continue work as a diving instructor, this time in Jamaica, whilst Sammy had been in the States with Rachel for almost two and a half months now, and was, as Maria just reminded Hannah, due back the following day. Hannah suspected, however, not for long, fully expecting him to move there permanently to be with Rachel.

“Sammy is lucky, you know? He has none of this shit with Rachel’s ex.” Hannah grumbled, “Sarah is just being a pain in the ass. And I know for a fact it’s because we told her we got engaged. She was fine with me being there when Maya was until that point.” Hannah finished her rant as she placed her teacup and saucer on her mother’s extended hand. 

“You can’t be sure about that, sweetheart. Maybe there’s something else."

“No, she’s being a bitch.” Hannah quickly stopped her mother’s attempts at justifying Sarah’s behaviour. “She seems perfectly fine with us having dinner during the week and going out and stuff but won’t let Maya stay when I’m there on a weekend, basically just preventing us from spending those days together, for no reason other than she’s bitter.”

Maria Navon sighed. She knew where her daughter was coming from but, being the gentle and caring woman she was, she couldn’t help but try to put herself in the other woman’s shoes. She saw Hannah bite her lip and twirl her engagement ring round her finger, a rounded blue sapphire as deep as the ocean set against a halo of smaller white diamonds on a white gold band, before she spoke again.

 “I wouldn’t mind mama but they’ve been legally separated for years! The terms of their divorce are basically already been agreed. All they need to do is sign the damned papers but recently, well, Ari seems afraid to even raise the issue in case Sarah starts making it all awkward again and stops him seeing Munch.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Listen to me.” Hannah’s mother caught her attention as she pulled out a chair to sit next to her. “Everything is going to be ok, she’ll sign eventually. She knows there isn’t anything she can do about it, she’s just grieving.”

 Hannah’s brow creased at her mother’s choice of words. “Grieving for what? She left him, years ago!”

“She left him because she couldn’t cope with his lifestyle anymore, and he wasn’t winning any awards for being husband of the year, Han. That doesn’t mean she didn’t love him,” Maria woman spoke softly as if to appease her daughter’s raging tone.

“So, basically, I’m just stuck here waiting until she gets her head out of her ass?” 

“Have a little patience, honey. You two have waited over a decade, one way or another, to be together. You sure can wait a few weeks more.” Maria smiled as she reached out for Hannah’s hands who were fiddling with a teaspoon. 

“That’s the thing, Mama.” Hannah sighed as she looked up to meet her mom’s eyes. “I don’t think it’s just going to be weeks.”

“You don’t?” The woman frowned. “Well maybe she’s more stubborn than I thought.”

Hannah shook her head and then noticed her mother’s features had suddenly softened into a smile and she was looking straight over her shoulder. Hannah turned to see Ethan walking into the kitchen in his signature crisp work suit.

“Hi Ethan,” Hannah smiled at him and then looked up at the clock over the fridge before standing up and shrugging. “I should go. Spend the night with my fiancée before I’m banished back to my childhood home for the weekend like a love sick teenager.”

As she left the kitchen dramatically, she heard Ethan ask Maria. “That bad?”

“She’s pissed off,” Hannah heard her mom whisper back, “can’t say I blame her but she needs to make an attempt to see this from the other side, so to speak.”

With an angry growl, Hannah slammed the door and set off walking back to their apartment, in even more of  bad mood than she’d been in when she arrived at her mother’s. 

 Why was anyone treating her like she was the spoiled brat?

****

Ari was getting ready for Hannah’s arrival. He had been cooking, or sort of, making an attempt at dinner for a while and was now setting the table for two. He wanted to make tonight special as he knew this week was going to be the third weekend out of six that he and Hannah would be apart thanks to Sarah and her fucking rules. 

He was finding it hard himself. He’d gotten used to sleeping besides his Firefly since they had got together in Sudan, especially at night. But he knew Hannah was finding it harder. He was sacrificing their time together so that he could spend his allotted weekends with his daughter, which lessened the blow a little, but Hannah was basically being banned from living her life as it was for two days every two weeks, and that make his heart ache. 

And the worst bit about it all, was that he had seen it coming a mile off, and had been powerless to prevent it.

It was a bright Friday morning when they told Maya about their engagement. The previous evening Ari had proposed to Hannah for a second time after buying her a lavish ring. Thus, they had decided to take Maya for a walk and ice cream to break the news to her.  The little girl had been over the moon with the idea of her dad and Hannah getting married, which hadn’t surprised Ari seeing as his daughter had been all over his fiancé ever since they had met at Mossad headquarters the morning they had arrived home.

Now, as he approached Sarah’s apartment to take Maya back, he was about to tell his ex-wife and he was not particularly looking forward to it. But, he was being cautiously optimistic. Sarah had, after all, been amendable since they’d gotten home and seemed okay with Hannah being a part of Maya’s life.

Still, he felt his stomach churn as Maya walked up the apartment they had all shared once upon a time, and rang the doorbell.  No sooner had Sarah opened the door, Maya bounced in blurting the news out without hesitation.

 “Mom, guess what? Dad and Han are getting married! He asked her yesterday and she said yes!”

Ari groaned internally to himself, “Sarah, I didn’t ask her last night,” he smiled bashfully as he explained himself, “and I certainly didn’t do it in front of Maya.”

Sarah shook her head and brushed it off.  “Don’t worry, Ari and … erm, congratulations, I guess.”

“Erm… thanks.” Ari blinked. “I just thought you should hear it from me first… even if you technically did hear it from Munch.”

Despite the civil exchange, Ari could tell that Sarah was hating she didn’t have time nor the privacy to digest the news, and that wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He’d wanted to tell her, quickly, and leave, but Maya had put paid to his plans. Ari could feel coldness of his estranged wife’s stare, along with the tell-tale faint twitch of her nose and upper lip. He knew Sarah well and he, also knew how she deep down felt about him and Hannah. 

“She seemed cool about it but I know her, Han. Too cool for Sarah.” Ari told Hannah that night over dinner. “I can’t help feeling this is going to be bad…”

For once, Ari wished to God he’d been proven wrong. But, Sarah ended up doing what he feared, reverting back to being petty and petulant. She called him the next day to announce from that moment on, when Maya stayed with him, be it during the week or on her agreed weekends, Hannah wasn’t to be there overnight because, as Sarah had put it, it wasn’t appropriate for Maya to be around when they were… well, “up to stuff.

Hannah went ballistic, telling Ari his estranged wife was being ridiculous and she could go to hell, but Ari knew Sarah well enough to know she needed to get this out of her system. He tried his best to explain to Hannah that until she did, there was nothing he could do but roll with it, certainly for the time being. Making Sarah angry would not only risk her going back on terms of the divorce they’d set out in their separation degree, but also, he feared, make her get pissy about him seeing Maya. And that simply wasn’t something he was prepared to risk. He’d already missed too much of Maya over the years, admittedly through his own fault, but he didn’t want to miss a single second more than he had to.

Just as Ari was turning down the heat under their dinner, Simon’s ears pricked up and a second later Hannah’s key was heard in the door. Air smiled at the dog, who let out an excited whine, and leaned to give him a scratch behind his ears.

“Mama’s home, buddy.”

The pooch looked up at his master almost like he was pondering his words and Ari scoffed. 

Yeah, home. Bar the weekends when she’s banished to her mother's…

 Simon trotted off and soon after Ari heard Hannah greeting him. A moment later she walked into the living area and gave him a tired, but genuine smile. 

“Hey Lobo.”

 Ari beamed at his fiancé as he walked to meet her and without warning, he grabbed her face with both hands and stamped his lips on her plump ones, kissing the hell out of her. Hannah moaned in surprise but melted into his hold, her hands instantly reaching for Ari’s bearded cheeks.

“Hey Firefly.” He whispered when he broke the kiss.

She smiled at him as her hands travelled upwards and tangled in his hair. “Something smells good.”

“Thanks, I just showered.” Ari drawled, a cheeky smile on his face.

“I meant the food, you ass.” Hannah laughed as one of her hands slapped Ari shoulder, but his grin never faded.

“I’m a whole meal, honey.” He continued, playfully. Hannah rolled her eyes and stepped back. “But yeah, I’ve been cooking or rather mixing things in pots and pans.”

“Hmmm should I be worried?” She shrugged off the light jacket she was wearing to shield her from the summer showers.

“Well, Simon tasted everything and he’s still breathing.”

“Simon used to eat jellyfish, Ari. That’s not a bar to measure your cooking with.”

“Hey, I tried, okay? Give me some credit. I’ve never cooked for a woman before.” He grabbed her hips and pressed her to his body, one of his big hands splaying over her back.

At that Hannah smiled at him lovingly. He was right. She suspected he had never cooked for Sarah and he certainly hadn’t cooked for her, not once. Never in the brief amount of time they had been secretly dating, and at the resort it had been Chef Aziz's job to cook for everyone.

“I’m honoured, and I’m sure it’ll be great. Give me five to go wash up okay?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll plate the food and open the wine.” He winked at her and Hannah stood on her toes and gave him another quick peck before she headed into the bedroom, Simon following her.

True to his word Ari had done a pretty good job and thirty minutes later they were both sat at the table after having enjoyed a dammed passable and tasty attempt at a beef stroganoff on Ari’s part that left Hannah pleasantly surprised. 

She sighed with satisfaction as she left her fork on her plate and when she looked up she noticed Ari was looking at her intently, his eyes shining under those long eyelashes.

“You trying to seduce me before my carriage turns into a pumpkin tomorrow, Levinson?” Hannah asked before bringing her glass of wine to her lips.

“Hannah...” he sighed.

“What?”

“Please don’t, sweetheart. I don’t want to argue.” 

It was her turn to sigh, heavily. Ari’s words were more of a plea than a warning to her, but she couldn’t help the way she was feeling. Granted, she wasn’t quite as pissed as when she had left her mother’s house, but she still had a sour feeling which was nagging at her. 

“I don’t want to either, Ari. I just don’t like the prospect of spending my weekend away from you. Again.”

“And you think I do?” He asked, reaching for her hand over the table. “Honey, this won’t be forever. Sarah just needs to get her stupid tantrum out of her system.”

“Yeah, I know and I don’t want you having trouble with Maya because of me, I wouldn’t keep you from Munch, ever. But you’re my fiancé and I just...” she trailed off, shrugging, “I don’t want us to be apart.”

Ari licked his lips and pondered for a moment as he looked at their entwined hands. “Okay, I’ll talk to her when I pick Maya up tomorrow.” He nodded with determination when he looked up at her. “See if I can reason with her and...”

“Don’t Ari. You’ll only set her off.” Hannah rapidly cut him off.

Ari groaned and let go of her hand, his look and voice growing harder. “Well then, what do you want me to do? You literally just said-“

“I know, but I don’t want you to poke the bear! I just want this fucking ridiculous situation to be over.” Hannah shook her head. She knew she was riling Air up, but she was sick of everyone trying to get her to accept the situation they were in without so much as a word of complaint. “I’m not blaming you, it’s just…forget it, can we just pretend we are a normal couple who are having a normal evening dinner?”

“We are a normal couple. Well, as normal as most anyway.” Ari took her hand again, his features softening. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am. I just don’t know what I can do.”

“Love me.” Hannah stated after a while.

Now that puzzled Ari. Was that a request or was she doubting him. She couldn’t be doubting him, right? With concern written all over his face he pushed his chair back to stand up and hurriedly crouched beside Hannah, his hands grabbing her thighs firmly as his eyes searched for something in hers. 

“Firefly, I do love you. You know this… I mean, at least, I hope you do.”

“I do.” She nodded as she looked down to him. “Just don’t stop loving me, no matter what crazy ideas Sarah comes up with.” 

“Hannah, that’s not gonna happen.” He assured her after swallowing hard. “I promise you. Nothing she says or does is gonna change the way I feel about you.” 

****

Ari meant what he said and took it upon himself to make sure his Firefly was left with no doubt as to his feelings for her all through the night. And then again he made sure she hadn’t forgotten the following morning too before she left to pick Sammy up from the airport.

Ari collected Maya, as arranged, from the summer holiday camp run by her school and then, throwing caution to the wind, took her to Maria’s to see not only Hannah, but Sammy and the family. Hannah was surprised, but pleased to see them both and hugged Maya tight as the girl threw herself at her, chatting away about her day. They ate a lovely dinner, courtesy of Maria, and later, retired to the shared garden in the warm, July air. 

As Maya sat with Sammy, who was telling her stories about the states and Rachel’s kids, Ari found himself watching Hannah. She was sat with her mom and Ethan, the three of them sipping wine as the dusk drew in. It wasn’t long before the first little twinkles around the tree flashed through the darkness, signalling the fireflies had come out to play. 

Ari’s mind quickly travelled back to when he first met Hannah, how those little bugs had been present in the garden, earning her the nickname. His nickname for her, which had stuck and become a term of his love for her, symbolised by the pendant round her neck. It was that pendant, or more specifically how he had given her that pendant, which had fixed the idea on how to present her with the sparkling sapphire and diamond ring on her finger…

It was a Thursday morning, and Hannah walked into the bedroom after her morning shower. Ari looked up from where he was fastening up his short sleeved shirt and smiled as she grinned back at him. 

“You really do suit that colour, pretty sure Ethan’s secretary will approve.”

“Ethan’s secretary?” Ari continued, stopping two buttons under the collar.

“Yeah, that’s what I said Lobo.” 

“Ethan’s secretary is nearly a hundred years old, Firefly.” Ari rolled his eyes with a chuckle, his hands on his hips as Hannah frowned.

“Well who was the young, blonde girl at her desk the other day when I called in?” She picked up her hairbrush from the top of the chest of drawers that served as her vanity unit.

“Lorraine? She’s an intern, Mrs Goldman is training her.”

“She likes you. I can tell.” Hannah hummed, combing out her locks which had been piled on top of her head to prevent them getting wet.

Ari rolled his eyes as Hannah pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail. “Whatever.”

“You can whatever me all you want,” Hannah sang as she picked up a bottle of lotion and sat on the bed, “I can sense these things.”

Ari snorted, looking down at his girl as she sat on the bed applying lotion to her legs. “You getting all territorial on me?”

“Do I need to?”

“Don’t be an ass!” Ari snorted, leaning down to kiss her. 

As they moved around the room, Ari took his time, a lot longer than usual, dragging his morning routine out as long as possible. If Hannah noticed he was making a meal out of tidying his beard up, something he had taken to doing since returning to civilisation, she didn’t notice.

He was stalling for one reason, and one reason only. The surprise that was waiting for her in her underwear drawer.

After what seemed like an age, she crossed the room and pulled it open. Ari held his breath as she reached in for a pair of panties, but instead she gasped, he hand flying to her mouth.

Bingo.

When Hannah spun around, the red, velvet box in her hand, Ari was waiting on one knee, beaming up at her. “Still wanna marry me, Firefly?”

Tears brimmed in her eyes and she nodded, her voice thick with emotion, “yes, you know I do!”

“Had to ask with a ring, sweetheart.”

He watched as she opened it, her mouth dropping open once more as she stared at the ring. 

“Lobo, it’s gorgeous… I… I love it!”

As Ari rose to his feet, he sighed with relief, “good, ‘cause I had a hard time finding something worthy of my girl.”

“It reminds me of the ocean,” she smiled up at him, “and your eyes.”

“Kinda why I bought it, the ocean that is.” Ari smiled as he took the ring from the box, slipping it over her knuckle, watching as the sapphire settled at the base of her finger. “Hannah Maria Navon, I love you, baby girl.”

Hannah glanced at the ring before she beamed, her hands cupping his cheeks, “and I love you, Ari David Levinson.”

Ari smirked a little at the memory, they were totally late for work after getting a little ‘distracted’ so to speak celebrating their engagement once more, only this time in a bed and not the back of a shitty jeep in the Sudanese desert. 

“Dad?” Maya bounced into his lap, drawing a huff from him as she accidentally elbowed him in the ribs, “Are those fireflies?”

“They are Munch.” He nodded, kissing her head as she watched them zipping around. “Can you see now why I call Hannah my Firefly?”

She grinned, “yip!”

Hannah, who had been watching them, cleared her throat. “Ari, it’s getting late. Shouldn’t you two be heading back to your apartment?”

Ari looked at her pointedly. “Our apartment, sweetheart.”

Hannah was about to shoot a response back but then remembered Maya was there so she merely sighed. “Ari, look, you shouldn’t even be here now anyway. It’s not worth the argument if she finds out.”

“Why can’t we stay here, dad? I wanna stay with Han!” Maya piped up and Hannah groaned a little, shooting Ari a look.

“Because Han needs to stay with Sammy tonight, she’s not seen him for a while. You can stay some other time, okay?”

“I’m not gonna say anything to Mom if that’s what you scared of.”

At that, Ari and Hannah exchanged a look. “Why do you say that? Why would we be scared?” He asked and Maya shrugged.

“I heard Mom say some things.”

“What things, Munchkin?” Ari smoothed her long hair back and waited for her to reply.

“Well, I was upset, because at first I thought Hannah didn’t like me anymore as she always left when I stayed over. But one day last week, I heard Mom tell Grandma on the phone she had made you and Hannah spend the weekends apart because I was with you.” Maya paused and looked at Hannah, “Is that why you don’t stay with us at the apartment?”

Hannah blinked, she was stuck. She didn’t want to lie but also didn’t want to start bad mouthing Sarah in front of Maya, no matter how tempting. “Erm, it’s, well it’s complicated, sweetie. You and your dad need to spend time together. But I promise you it’s absolutely not because I don’t like you. I do, I love you very much.”

At that Maya stood up and launched herself at Hannah.  “I love you too, Han.”

Ari and Hannah could do nothing but exchange a look, which Hannah broke as she leaned down to hug Maya, tears visible in her eyes.

And it left Ari feeling even more like shit than he already did.

No, he had to fix this, even if it meant pulling Sarah up on her attitude despite Hannah asking him not to. Whilst he understood Sarah’s anger, and that she had every right to direct it at him, the fact that it was clearly having an impact on Maya was something he couldn’t let slide.

With a sigh, he stood up, instructing Maya to bid everyone good night. Before he left, he pulled Hannah into a kiss, his hands cupping her face.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he whispered against her lips, “trust me, baby.”

“I do.” She sniffed a little, her nose bumping his. “Go, go on. I’ll see you Sunday.”

As they walked the few blocks home, Maya’s hand locked in Ari’s, he was only partially listening to his daughter as she spoke. 

“Dad!” Her voice drew him from his thoughts about how exactly he was going to approach the subject with his soon to be ex-wife. He glanced down at her.

“What?”

“We’re you listening to a word I just said?”

“Honestly, no!”

“Daaaaaad!” She whined and Ari chuckled.

 “I’m sorry baby, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I should get Hannah something for luck.”

“What do you mean?”

 “Well, Mom was talking to Auntie Louisa, and she said that Hannah was going to need plenty of luck being married to you so…”

Ari took a deep breath, anger flashing through his system, rolling his eyes. “Oh, did she?”

“Yup.” Maya nodded.

“And, do you think Hannah’s gonna need luck?”

Maya looked at him, and grinned cheekily. “Well, you are an idiot!”

“Rude!” Ari narrowed his eyes playfully, “mind you, technically, you might look more like your mom but you’re half me. Guess that makes you half an idiot, huh?”

Maya went to dig him in the ribs and with a chuckle, Ari swung her up and onto his shoulders. Her hands tangled in his hair as she giggled, before she leaned down, fingers threading into his beard.

“Han’s right, you do look like a wolf.”

Ari laughed, his hands tightening around his daughter’s ankles as her heels lightly bounced against his chest with each step he took.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: anything with Jiang Yanli, I’d love to see more of her PoV

part 2 of whumptober 20 (JYL/LXC field medicine)

ao3 link

-

It wasn’t that Jiang Yanli never thought about other men.

After all, she was a female cultivator, and her opinion was therefore one of the ones that was rather eagerly solicited when it came to naming the most attractive young masters in the cultivation world; it was only that it had never seemed to matter. After all, she was engaged, and always had been, to her mother’s dearest friend’s only son, and that, it had seemed at the time, was that.

Oh, her father spoke warmly about marrying for love and not for obligation, but Jiang Yanli had never quite understood what he meant. Even if she didn’t love Jin Zixuan, she loved her mother enough to want to respect her wishes, and it was easy enough to dismiss what negative things she’d heard about him – arrogant, self-centered, impetuous, but of course he was still young, and weren’t most teenage boys like that? – and instead daydream about the life she would have in the future.

When she was young, it was mostly daydreams of having some faceless man (she couldn’t imagine little Jin Zixuan, who at three years younger was barely more than a baby) bring her gifts and tease her and kiss her, then say she was the prettiest person he’d ever seen. The way she’d always heard was supposed to be how lovers talked, the way people said that a marriage ought to be like - the way her parents’ marriage had never been.

When she was a bit older, her thoughts drifted away from retreading romantic stories and to the actual work of being married, of being the mistress of Lanling Jin. In the beginning, her duty would be to first and foremost produce an heir and a spare, to remain healthy throughout the process, and to support her husband as he slowly began to take on the duties that would eventually become his, but later on it would get more interesting. A sect leader could not be everywhere, and his wife would often be left in charge when he was not at home – she would have to know everything about the sect, same as him, enough to make decisions in his absence; she would have to answer correspondence, make decisions, negotiate with traders, collect duties, enforce the peace, and she’d also have to manage the sect’s social scene on top of it all.

She probably wouldn’t have much time to cook, Jiang Yanli thought wistfully, thinking about how Lanling women prided themselves on never having to lift a finger for themselves, and threw herself into her favorite hobby now, while she still could. If she was clever about it, she might be able to get good enough at it that her future husband would find some dish of hers that he liked, something that only she could make, and then her cooking would be something done at his request – a charming idiosyncrasy, an indulgence of sweethearts.

When she got older still, and learned about Sect Leader Jin’s philandering and the iron grip of control Madame Jin imposed on Lanling in order to keep her position in the face of all the backstabbing and politics, she thought to herself that that sounded exhausting. But by that point, all of her childhood daydreams had Jin Zixuan’s name on them – although admittedly not his face, for all that he had grown up into one of the most handsome young men of his generation, and certainly not his mannerisms – and it was far too late to raise a fuss now. So Jiang Yanli studied willpower in addition to trade routes, learned how to exploit social norms in addition to how to manage a dinner party, taught herself how to play people just as well as she played the guqin, absorbed the lessons of both murder and mathematics, and above all figured out how to stand up for herself and what she believed in no matter what overwhelming pressure she might face.

Even though Jiang Yanli was pretty sure that Madame Jin wouldn’t appreciate that last part in a daughter-in-law, especially not one reputed to be as easygoing as her father.

(“Let her be upset,” her own mother had snorted when Jiang Yanli had tentatively raised the issue. “Are you supposed to ruin your own future because she’s a bitter old mother-in-law that’d rather not give up control so early? I may have agreed to marry you to her son, A-Li, but she agreed to marry him to my daughter. If she wanted easy and pliable, she should have thought again.”

“But she’s your friend,” Jiang Yanli had said, frowning a little. “Don’t you want her to be happy?”

Her mother had looked tired. “Once, more than anything,” she’d said. “But the chance for that passed long ago.”)

So it wasn’t that she didn’t notice other men. It was just that there was no point in allowing herself to look, and she knew enough of her parents’ marriage, and of Madame Jin’s, to not want to look.

And then, suddenly, there was.

Her engagement was broken. One could say that it happened at her own beloved brothers’ hands, at her father’s blind dislike of arrangements even when it was one his own daughter had long ago accepted and had even learned to long for, but in truth Jin Zixuan was a proper young master, old enough to make decisions for himself, to exercise some control over his own life, and the first bit of control he’d taken into his own hands was to decide that he didn’t want her.

It was – not fine, no. She spent some time crying over it, and yet more time comforting Wei Wuxian who was distraught at having caused her pain, and the most time of all quietly wondering what the point of her existence was now that she was no longer useful as a marriage tool. She’d never been much of a cultivator, never been especially pretty, never been anything more than average – what was the point of her?

Maybe that was when she’d decided to pick up medicine.

Field medicine was womanly enough to satisfy critics, and yet it was something useful in a practical sense: she could save people’s lives, if she only learned enough, and studying she could do.

Sometimes, she even got the chance to save the lives of very attractive people, like when the First Jade of Lan lay crumpled in the cot before her as she patched him up. So this is the one they ranked first, she thought, examining him with her eyes even as she kept her hands busy, and she was forced to admit that the other female cultivators of her generation had good taste. He was devastatingly handsome.

Kind, too, she soon learned; gentle and courteous in his mannerisms. He smiled often, which she appreciated in a person (if one interpreted Jiang Cheng’s scowls as smiles, he smiled nearly as much!), and he seemed to genuinely admire her efforts at medicine, however rudimentary. Over dinner, which he insisted on sharing with her even after he was well on his road to recovery, the conversation between them flowed easily and well: they both had brothers they loved, which was a conversation topic of which neither of them would ever tire, and they both enjoyed art and music. He didn’t know the first thing about cooking, but enjoyed asking questions (especially after she’d made him a meal he particularly enjoyed, which was often), while she enjoyed the way he blushed when she teased him.

She didn’t think much of it, of course. If she couldn’t keep the husband that had been promised to her since before she could walk – if she was too dull, too plain, too weak, too average to be worthy of an untried young man like him – then she definitely had no hope of catching the most attractive and capable young master of their generation, a dashing war hero and sect leader in his own right.

And then, when they were both laughing over an especially hair-brained scheme they’d concocted to try to get Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to spend more time together – Jiang Yanli had noticed how much Wei Wuxian talked about Lan Wangji once he’d returned to the Lotus Pier, and Lan Xichen swore up and down that Lan Wangji had been no better – he turned to her and said, “If you were in Gusu, your brothers would be sure to come to visit you.”

“Me, in Gusu?” Jiang Yanli was startled into a laugh. “Why would I be in Gusu? As your guest?”

Lan Xichen coughed. “I had been hoping for something – a bit more permanent than that. If that would be something you would be open to.”

It actually took her a moment to understand, and then she had to raise her hands to cover her suddenly burning cheeks.

“You don’t have to say anything now,” he said hastily. “Just something to think about, if you’re interested…and of course, if your heart is elsewhere –”

“It isn’t,” she blurted out, and had to turn away.

“I’d hoped that was the case,” he said quietly, his voice warm. “I’ll take my leave, Mistress Jiang.”

Jiang Yanli had grown up thinking of herself as the future mistress of Lanling Jin, with its riches and its beauty and its poisonous heart, and then she’d assumed she’d be nothing at all, an old maid that helped Jiang Cheng manage his sect until he finally found a wife to suit him.

She’d never thought about being the mistress of Gusu Lan.

Gusu Lan, which was not as wealthy as Lanling Jin but just as complex – with its own trade routes and subordinate sects and business to manage – with its beautiful and serene landscape, its culture that emphasized harmony and unity rather than backstabbing – with no overbearing mother-in-law that would have barely been tolerable even when her own mother would have been there to hold her back, but would have been impossible without such protection –

She hadn’t dreamt of Lan Xichen as a child, or even as a teenager, but when she thought about all those dreams with a faceless man that she’d named Jin Zixuan regardless of any similarity to the real thing…

Lan Xichen fit in much better to the idea in her head than the real Jin Zixuan ever had.

“I won’t live separately,” she told him when he came over the next day, before he could even say a word; it had been just about the only problem she could see with his proposal. “In another house, certainly, but not an entirely different dwelling, and if I have any children, I would want them to live with me regardless of their gender.”

“I wouldn’t dream of having you so far away,” he said, and he was smiling again, broad and bright and – somehow, impossibly – hers. “Might I kiss you?”

“You may,” she said, and he did.

“Mistress Jiang,” Lan Xichen said a moment later, “you’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.”

Remarkable, Jiang Yanli thought to herself, was better than pretty any day.

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

jacqueline wilson’s ‘love lessons’

tw: abuse, pedophilia, characters making Bad Decisions, long unnecessary spiel about my childhood like I’m running a recipe blog

It’s funny how loads of the authors who helped shaped me into the vaguely humanoid being I am today have names beginning with the letter ‘J’; Judy Blume, Jeff Kinney, John Green, J.K. Rowling (yikes, I know) … and Jacqueline Wilson.

I’ve never owned a Jacqueline Wilson book of my own; they were always borrowed from a friend, or from a friend of a friend, or from a friend of a cousin- you get the gist. Her books, for me, come with an entire aesthetic: something reminiscent of yard sales, and reading under the covers with a flashlight, and being lulled into a false sense of security by the deceptively innocent Nick Sharratt illustration on the cover until someone’s best friend gets mowed over.

So I knew what I was getting into when I picked up Love Lessons. I knew this was going to be Fucked Up; and boy, was I right.

(Here’s the part where I warn you about spoilers.)

From an abusive dad to creepy child predator teachers to slut-shaming and victim blaming, this book has it all.

The main character is Prudence ‘Prue’ King, who is homeschooled at the beginning of the book, along with her sister, Grace. Their parents remain rooted in the early twentieth century, and are very strict about- well, everything. No TV, no computers, not a single mobile phone in the house; their clothing worse than the orphans’ from Annie; and their father remains distinctly distrustful of modern institutions like the school and the hospital; and so on, and so forth.

Daddy King suffers a stroke, and has to be taken to the hospital. Meanwhile, Mrs. King (a floppy, spineless woman who lives in fear and awe of her, frankly horrid, husband) sends the girls to school, behind the then invalid Mr. King’s back. Cue Prue and Grace being the freakshows of the school, with their strange clothing and overbearing mother.

Grace manages to make friends, but Prue remains alone. The kids are dicks, the teachers are dicks… well, all of them but one. And that’s the art teacher, Mr. Raxberry (I just couldn’t get over that name; it seems like something you’d name a mythical plant from Pixie Hollow or some shit. I’m assuming it isn’t an actual name, since the spelling & grammar check on my computer doesn’t seem to recognize it), or Rax, as he’s called.

Oh, yeah; Prudence’s favorite subject in school is art, and she’s a whiz at it. This is relevant, because reasons.

And here’s where stuff gets murky. Prue develops a crush on Rax- which is perfectly normal. I’m definitely no stranger to it; I’ve had crushes on my teachers, my mum admitted she used to think one of her professors was cute. And yeah, as I grew older, I grew out of those crushes and now have a markedly more refined taste in men (unless he’s 5’ 7’’, born in ’97 and named Bang Chan, I don’t want him); and my mum married my dad, so I’m assuming she did, too. Admittedly, now that my dad teaches at a university, it’s icky to think that there might be students who have crushes on him- but I digress.

My point is, loads of us have liked our teachers. But I doubt the majority of us have acted on it.

And Prue actively showing her interest in Rax isn’t the worst part. That’s a spot reserved for Rax reciprocating her feelings.

Guess Ezra Fitz and Ms. Grundy (yes, I watched Riverdale; please don’t cancel me) have a new addition to the Creep Club.

The age of consent in the UK is 16, if I’m not mistaken. Prue is 14. She’s just barely become a teenager, and she’s being preyed upon.

Because that is what Rax is. He’s a predator; he preys upon this vulnerable girl who’s never been in a relationship before- hell, she’s never even had friends- her father’s abusive, so she obviously doesn’t have the best experience when it comes to men- she’s unpopular at school, with the students and staff alike- and he lures her in. I don’t care how bloody nice he is to Sarah, or what a good dad he is (well, he’s really not, seeing as he cheated on the mother of his children WITH A BLOODY FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD CHILD)- the guy’s a fucking pedophile.

I was staunchly stuck at a yellow light with him; like, sure, maybe Prue thinks he’s flirting with her- maybe she’s looking at this all wrong, she doesn’t know how relationships work- see, he drew a picture of Sarah, too, in his secret notebook- Prue’s just reading into this too much- up until he says he loves her.

Dude. Humbert fucking Humbert. She’s fourteen, for Christ’s sake, and you’re married. You have two children. She’s a child. She’s probably closer to your son’s age than she is to yours.

(This is the part where I bury my head in my pillow. And scream. Extensively, and with passion.)

The book does make some genuinely good commentary on slut-shaming and victim blaming and abusive parenting. And on one hand, I can see why so many people find issue with the romanticization of the when I kissed the teacher trope- but I can defend it, too.

The book is in Prue’s perspective. She thinks she’s in love with Rax, so obviously, she’s not going to throw in some valuable moral at the end- because she’s too young and inexperienced to think otherwise. And sadly, there are loads of instances of child abuse that go unreported because the victims just don’t know better.

What I have issue with is how the school dealt with it, ultimately. Prudence, a child, has to deal with the consequences of the actions of a literal child predator. Sure, Rax ‘clears his name’ by cooking up some bullshit story about how it was only a crush and he didn’t encourage it, but you’d think other adults would know better and, oh, I dunno- dig deeper into it, instead of blaming it on a child?

“She says you told Mr. Raxberry you loved him and he held you in his arms and fondled you.”

Which Prudence denies, because, again, she doesn’t know better. She then goes on to say that they did nothing wrong. To which the adult speaking to her, in this case, the principal, Miss Wilmott, goes on to say:

“I’m not sure that’s entirely true… I feel that there are some aspects of your friendship that could be considered inappropriate.”

FYI, lady, he kissed her- multiple times (not that kissing her once makes him any more redeemable), and told her he loved her, and admitted to fantasizing about running away with her and leaving his family behind. Fun fact: do you know Prudence is underage?

You’d think that Miss Wilmott would maybe give this whole fiasco a favorable ending, but it turns out she listens to school gossip;

“I haven’t been at all happy with your attitude. You don’t seem to understand how to behave in school. I’ve heard tales of unsuitable underwear and then a silly romance with one of the boys in your class. I feel that in the space of a few short weeks you’ve made rather a bad name for yourself… I don’t know whether you intend to be deliberately insolent but you certainly come across as an unpleasantly opinionated and arrogant girl… I can’t help feeling that you’ll be much better off elsewhere. I shall try hard to engineer a suitable transfer to another school.”

And then she comes out with this gem:

“If you won’t leave, then I shall have to ensure that Mr. Raxberry finds another position.”

“No, you can’t do that! He’s a brilliant teacher.”

“You should have thought of that before you started acting in this ridiculous and precocious manner. If I were another kind of headteacher, I would have Mr. Raxberry instantly suspended. There could even be a court case. He would not only lose his job, he could find himself in very serious trouble. Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Girlboss, gaslight and gatekeep. The fucking trifecta.

Also, by ‘another kind of headteacher’, does she mean the kind of headteacher WHO DOESN’T LET CHILD PREDATORS ROAM FREELY WITHIN THEIR HALLS?

This bitch is out here blaming a child, a literal child, for the crimes of an adult man.

The only time Prue seems aware of the fact that Mr. Raxberry is actually a very shit person is her immediate thoughts that follow after she tells Miss Wilmott she’ll take the fall;

I so wanted to save darling Rax- and yet why hadn’t he wanted to save me? Had he told Miss Wilmott it was all my fault, that I’d got a ridiculous crush on him, that I’d made ludicrous advances to him? … I wanted to tell this horrible, patronizing woman how hungrily he’d kissed me, but I couldn’t do it. I loved him. I had to help him.

NO, SWEETHEART; YOU MOST DEFINITELY DO NOT.

And maybe I’m going overboard with all these excerpts, but here’s what Rax has to tell Prue, after school, following her expulsion:

“I let her think the worst of you, the best of me, just to save my skin. I said it was ridiculous talking about a love affair between us. I said you simply had a crush on me, and that I was just trying to be kind… You were brave enough to stand up to me and force me to acknowledge the truth… I love you… That’s why I had to take a risk and see you this one last time. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t care… Every night when I close my eyes, I’ll think of us together in this car and how badly I wanted to drive off with you. I’ll imagine us walking hand in hand at the water’s edge… I wish I wasn’t such a coward.”

(I burrow into the pillow further. I’m trying to suffocate myself.)

And that’s where I think Wilson went wrong. Sure, Prudence getting expelled for something that was completely out of her hands is unfair, and horrible, but it’s real. That shit can happen.

What’s bad is showing Rax in a positive light after all that. If only Wilson had written Rax to not be the Romeo he thinks he is. Make him ignore Prudence, throw her under the bus in front of her face, instead of this star-crossed lovers bullshit it’s made out to be. Show your younger audience that Rax is not a good man. I’ve got a little over two weeks left for my twentieth; I can see why this is unacceptable. But I was a little younger than Prue when I watched Pretty Little Liars, and my only gripe with Aria dating Ezra was that Noel Kahn was so much cuter.

It shows when you scroll down the Goodreads reviews; you’ve got adults giving it one or two stars, and teenagers giving it four or five, with their biggest complaints being, “but Toby was cuter!!!”

Other non-pedophilia related complaints regarding the book include: Prudence being unlikable- which I didn’t really notice, considering she reacted to some people way better than I would’ve, even at 19 (which probably says a lot more about me than it does about Prue, but oh well). Still, Prudence obviously isn’t the most prudent of people- and again, she’s fourteen. Look me in eye and tell me you weren’t an arsehole at that age (unless you’re fourteen now, in which case, I assure you that you’ll look back on yourself someday and go ‘wtf was I thinking’). Bringing up Toby’s dyslexia in an argument was low, though.

There were people who thought the Kings’ almost-Amish lifestyle was exaggerated and unrealistic, but I assure you, it may very well be real. There are 8 billion people on the world- it’s fair to assume that several of them are complete weirdos.

Grace was a sweet character, and I adored her with every fiber of my being. As were her friends Iggy and Figgy. Honestly, I would’ve loved a book about Iggy, Figgy and Piggy’s (mis)adventures too.

[autumn-simz]

for my first ever actual post here’s a legacy challenge for you all if interested.Keep in mind i promise more generations will be coming!

the jane doe legacy challenge.

*Stating funds $1000

*you can start on any lot using

testingcheats true and than freerealestate on

*must start out with a female sim.

*complete all goals of each generation.

*mods are allowed 🙂

* And have fun😌

Generation One 😈:

Most of your life you’ve been really secretive. After running away from your home as a teenager, you developed changing your name a lot and covering your tracks, also developed being a criminal but that’s fine right? from stealing stuff to running from the cops. No one really knows you until you meet that special someone.

Aspiration and traits:

• Public enemy (finish) and (start on the soulmate aspiration)

Traits:

-Kleptomaniac

-Slob

-Paranoid(bc your running from the “cops”)

Career:

Criminal(you’ll see why in generation two)

Goals:

-complete the criminal career

-steal atleast one item from the landgrab household, the goths, and the pancakes (bc no one likes eliza let’s face it).

-complete the master enemy aspiration and start on the Soulmate aspiration.

Generation two :👮‍♀️

All your childhood you wondered what your mom did for a living to have all of the luxurious things. Your parents always told them they’re just wealthy. until you find out your mothers skeletons in her closet, when you become an undercover cop.

Aspiration:

Body builder

Traits:

-Ambitious

-perfectionist.

-Active

Career:

A detective(for the cop)

Goals:

-completele the detective career.(get to work)

- finish the aspiration and work out every morning.

- max the charisma and the athletic skill.

- now you choose, turn your mother in or hide her little secret?

Generation three:

Unlike your grandmother, you want all of the spotlight you can get. But with fame people are always watching right?

Traits:

-snob

-Materialistic

-Self Absorbed.

Aspiration:

-world famous celebrity.

Career: Actor.

Goals:

-master charisma skill.

-become a global superstar.

-have 5 meet and greets

-place your star on the boulevard.

-live in the hills🤑

-have one kid.

Generation 4: Growing up you’ve never been close to your parent or parents, however you’ve been raised by nanny’s and the butlers. It must be nice right? most of the time you just stayed to yourself always with your head in a book, you’ve dreamt about being a writer.

Traits:

-Bookworm.

-Geek.

-Neat.

Aspiration:

-Bestselling author

Career: Author.

Goals:

-master writing skill.

-reach level ten in the job.

-master your aspiration.

-have atleast 3 kids with perfect relationships.

-marry a highschool sweetheart.

[karasunology]

⸙ ˚₊ ➷ BOKUTO KOUTARO BEING A DAD HEADCANONS! ❞

✎ . . . will you please write about oikawa, bokuto, and sugawara as dads?? :>

❝ ― submitted by @ nonnie <3 ❞

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ bokuto koutaro <3

[ trigger warnings ━ slight manga spoilers !! ]

✎ . . . DAD HEADCANONS.

[ SUGAWARA KOUSHI & OIKAWA VERSION. ] [ MIYA ATUSMU VERSION. ] [ KUROO TETSURO & KOZUKE KENMA VERSION. ] [ IWAIZUMI HAJIME VERSION. ]

-ˏˋ playing soleil's tape ˊˎ-

[ 📼 ] . . . no thoughts, head and heart full of bokuto koutaro

BOKUTO KOUTARO.

➜ bokuto wanted to have a baby with you

➜ that's it that's the tweet thank you for reading😌💅

➜ i'm kidding don't leave, i have abandonment issues

➜ just like oikawa, kou ─ your husband, has gotten baby fever and it wasn't going down any minute until bb boy gets his way

➜ phew, i'd let him get his way with me✋😳

➜ bokuto was great with kids, always playing around with them in a park as if he was one of them, and both of you knew that

➜ and when bokuto sees that you're also good with kids, mans knew he wanted to build a family with you

➜ he wanted not just one, because seeing what both of you created taking in different forms and pieces of their parents would leave him so proud

➜ would very much take it as a sign from the universe saying to him that the both of you were meant to be patents

➜ the day he lets you awknowledge his little daydream, was when the both of you were sitting down on the coach re-watching his match last week after babysitting one of your guys' friend's kid

➜ mans couldn't TAKE IT ANYMORE

➜ the way you coo at the child, you cooked with the child and just the way you tenderly supported the kid with your arms as you helped him reach a toy from the shelf

➜ and of course, you accepted it; there wasn't any other man other than kou that you wanted to start a family with

➜ let's just say mans wanted to make one right then and there after you confessed to him that you wanted to start a family with him as well

➜ and y'all did just that💀

➜ after receiving the news of your pregnancy, bokuto has never been more happy, aside from those times he won a match on nationals and, well ─ marrying you

➜ but in the white noise of excitement and joyfulness, there was a lingering thought and it was terrifying; what if he doesn't make enough time for both you and his child because of volleyball? will he have to take a break from it? would your child love him?

➜ bokuto was now down to emo mode just with the thought of your guys' children hating him

➜ and when the thoughts became to unbearable, he contacts akaashi.

“ bokuto-san, ” koutaro could tell akaashi was thinking about it before saying something,

“ you're one of the best men i know that's good with children; don't waste your time sulking about nonsensical what if's, when the present is right there in front of you ”

➜ akaashi was, to say the least, your one of your children's godfather.

➜ but the day your babies was going to arrive, it was as if your husband had a switch and unlike the usual ─ he was the one supporting you

➜ he held your hand, squeezing them to let you be aware that he's right there by your side, knowing that you needed all the support right now and he gave it to you

➜ tenfolds the support you gave him

➜ and when be first saw the first triplet being born, he knew right there that he fell in love once again, but with the child he has co-produced with the love of his life !!

➜ i just wanted to say that y'all's kids are NIGHT OWLS, literally, gets the biggest bursts of energy at ungodly hours

➜ koutaro would still get anxious and terrified, but there was something about your triplets that puts him at ease ─ like, one thing he'd be doubting himself and then the next thing, he'd be all fuzzy inside when his three triplets just looked like a litter of puppies asking for his attention on his lap

➜ and he'd just, revert back to reality seeing how blessed he was and stopped doubting himself and just live in the present

➜ EYE ─ I'M SO SOFT I CAN'T😭✋

“ now say dada ” he encouraged the little sunshines on his lamp as a youthful giggle serenated from his son's lips

“ dawa ─ ” the baby tried to copy his words, before shreiking of laughter when kosuke saw the defeated look on his father's face, somehow bringing him joy

➜ while his baby girl, kouzumi, was peacefully attached to him as the most interesting in her golden eyes were his hair ─ attempting to reach her arms to his hair, making grabby arms

➜ after a few months, you've noticed how much your triplets were in sync with their father ─ all together, being balls of sunshine

“ you've been trying for hours kou, take a break. ” you laugh, as you looked up from the book you were holding seeing your husband housing an offended look, and of course ─ a weird sound, a scoff? you didn't know, until, your other son imitated him

➜ almost perfecting the one he made

➜ and bokuto was ECSTATIC

“ hONEY, HONEY, OH MY GOD DID YOU HEAR THAT? ” he squealed, as his son imitated his sound again

“ he's responding to me !! ”

“ dO IT AGAIN KOSUKE ” he says as he takes out his phone

➜ the type of father to do the peek-a-boo game with his triplets and doing it perfectly as they're just enamured by his father as if he was doing some avada kedevra shit 😭🗿

➜ hey queen!! 🙆👑 GIRL, YOU HAVE DONE IT AGAIN, CONSTANTLY RAISING📈📉 THE BAR🔝 FOR US AND DOING IT F L A W L E S S  L Y

➜ the type of father that would never miss any important moments with his children, even though he's a busy with volleyball especially since it's his profession

➜ the type of father that has too many videos of his children on his phone saying papa in different ways, trying to imitate him, first steps, first laugh & JUST EVERYTHING

➜ has a whole usb of his children, three folders for each of them

➜ has a whole ass frame of his daughter's drawing from five years old of him and her and he would NOT let anyone touch it other than him and maybe you when you when you need to dust off the frames because it's getting too dusty

➜ you guys would always be there to support him no matter what, either in the stands of at home

➜ but when you guys do visit his games and cheer him on, MANS WILL BE UNSTOPPABLE

“ mommy !! look, daddy's coming ” kaoru, the youngest of your triplets, tugged softly on your coat

➜ you smiled as you saw your husband running up to you and your kids after his matches as a few reporters, in respect, stood a few meters away from you guys, taking kosuke on his right arm, the other with kaoru and on top of his shoulders was kouzumi tugging on her father's spiked hair she could never seem to get over with

“ ahH ─ my hair baby girl, you're kinda hurting daddy ” koutaru laughed as your daughter tried processing his words before wrapping her arms around his head softly to not fall off a small gasp escaping her lips

“ i'm sowry for hurting you daddy! ” she exclaimed as her brothers tried telling her off while the reporters just watched in awe at her

“ don't hurt daddy just because he lets you on top of there ─ ” kosuke scolded her, slightly jealous that she had the highest view

“ ─ yeah! ” your youngest vigorously nodded his head as he agreed to his brother, both obviously pouting that she had the chance to be ontop of their father's shoulders

“ uh kou, i can take them now since there's a few people wanting to interview you. ” you offered as you jerked your head onto the reporters directions smiling at them

“ oh no ma'am !! it's alright, we also kinda wanted to interview your children as well, since a lot of netizens are curious about them, seeing them everywhere on his socials. ”

➜ you guys agreed as they start asking you guys questions, but more to the triplets as they responded cutely, their identical amber eyes looking at them like an owl in curiousity

➜ JUST IMAGINE THREE ADORABLE OWL LOOKING KIDS HANGING ON TO THEIR MOTHER OWL AND BOKUTO JUST LOOKS LIKES A MONKEY BAR LMAO

➜ like these kids just attached to him lmao

➜ but there are times where he has to go on tournaments, training camps, olympics & probably photoshoots/commercials ngl and these three owls he left in your care are in EMO MODE LMAOO😭✋

➜ they got it from their dad, and you were now stuck with three emo bokutos but times three

➜ wow multiplication

➜ when she's a mathematician😍

➜ but bokuto would honestly also miss his children clinging to him for dear life

➜ like they would never be separated without having facetime calls every five hours

➜ but your kids understood that he has other things to do and theg try not to complain that much for your sake

➜ your kids are actually sweethearts okay 🥺

➜ when they grew up, his sons were still attached to him but they weren't as clingey as when they were in their childhood days ─ but your daughter phew, your daughter used to be the clingiest of them all and now it's just none, nonexistent, vanished, obliviated, avada kedevra LMAO

➜ like you know how teenagers be

➜ and your husband was DEPRESSED ABOUT IT

➜ his bb girl won't touch his hair anymore :(

➜ his bb girl won't be a little girl no more :(

➜ especially when kouzumi starts having boyfriends😭 MANS WAS SAD THAT THERE ARE ALREADY BOYS OTHER HIM IN HER LIFE

➜ it felt as if it wasn't even yesterday that kouzumi said that she don't need no prince, she'll be both a fucking princess and knight in shinning armor

➜ ugh periodt💅

➜ and koutaro's nows just like

“ WHERE DID ALL THAT TALK GO ?? ”💀💀💀

➜ ALSO BOKUTO GIVES THE BEST ADIVCES NO CAP

➜ gives volleyball advices, relationship advices better than u could ever

➜ this is getting too long but, even if some of his kids may not show it anymore, they still love their father so much and won't let anyone replace him because he's basically the ace of their hearts.

[ms-march]

Old Hollywood AU- The Lucky One

Here is the first chapter/one shot of this AU that is a collab and crossover that @tolstoyamericanrevolution and I have been working on it since November! Please keep an open mind to character interpretation because this is AU territory and a lot of a character who isn't necessarily the focus of the AU can be warped for plot and time accuracy purposes over character accuracy! So let's get to it and happy last day of TURN WEEK 2021!!!!

Global media was in a buzz, Today was the Hollywood equivalent of a royal wedding. With all the bells and whistles belonging to the West Coast set. New & old money all united around the superficialities of silver screens and unions and dubious desert deals. All neatly swallowed down with a glass of wedding champagne- the same brand as Buckingham palace yet here it looked slightly gaudy, American.

The media was here to adore, this was a decade before your Grace Kelly’s and other exports could wear centuries-old crowns.

Here it was harsh, fiscal, temporary, silver over platinum yet it was royal, majestic, lovely- every bit worth the soundbite.

This was the American monarchy, all a blend of the finest breeds and worst mongrels.

Dressed up in such a lovely, splendid crowd that Philadelphia, New York, Houston, Los Angeles & Chicago would all be running titles.

“Adoring Crowds rewarded at last! The Marriage of America’s Sweetheart”

“Hollywood Royalty! Adrienne Fairfax & John Laurens tie the Knot”

“ Media Heiress & Tobacco Heir; Los Angeles’s Marriage of The Decade”

Those picking up the papers would all sigh the same thing; how lovely.

The crowd was lovely.

At least, she was sure it was. Adrienne Fairfax had not yet been seen by a single member of the crowd, anxiously sitting before a vanity in a wedding gown three times her size, wringing satin gloved hands until the gloves began to crease. Her hands shook with the same fear that was responsible for the turning of her stomach as she removed them.

Today was her wedding day and it was exactly as she had always dreamed. Every detail was perfect and precisely to her liking.

Every detail was impressive.

Every detail would impress them.

The crowd was lovely.

The crowd had cheered for her, applauding her on the engagement just as they did when she was on the movie screen. Adrienne had been just as shocked as them to hear of her engagement. She would certainly remember being proposed to at the ripe age of seventeen. She certainly would have remembered if the man who did so was twenty-three years old, making him five years her senior.

The crowd had buzzed with conversation, just as they did now, outside of the open windows that were meant to cool her down. The cool breeze in the mountains this time of year should have corrected the heat filling her face and chest as it billowed through the open windows of the room, carrying the sounds of society in with it.

Her wedding was exactly as she had always dreamed.

It was in the mountains, away from the pollution of the billboard lights and American mile cars. She could see the stars from here, the real ones, in the sky. Not the ones in the velvet curtains in the ballroom, or the ones on the tule that coated the tablecloth in the grand dining room of the house she had barely spent a night in since she was a very young girl. Not the ones taking their seats in a church to watch Adrienne make the most irreversibly horrible decision of her life.

The crowd was lovely.

She was sure it was, and she was grateful for them. Their own chatter drowned out the echoes of old ghosts that still haunted this house’s halls. Adrienne’s eyes fluttered down to the picture frame propped up on the vanity in her childhood bedroom. She had been watching it like the smiling couple in the photo would decide to leave their seats on the terrace and walk away.

It was impressive.

The woman had light-colored hair, and the man’s was some odd form of grey in the yellowing black and white photo. She wore the most beautiful gown of pearly ivory layers and lace, the very same gloves Adrienne had just pulled from her own clammy hands graced the woman’s hands, the tiara atop her head in the photo matching the one atop the pile of blonde curls that she had just arranged in the vanity mirror.

It was just as she had imagined it.

Adrienne had found her mother’s wedding planning book years ago, and she fell in love with it the moment she first laid her eyes upon the beautiful fair-haired woman, leaning happily into the man in a finely tailored tuxedo and a wide smile in his eyes with an odd grey color to his hair.

Adrienne had not stepped foot over the threshold of this impressive Georgian English Manor style house since the last time she was dressed head to toe in black.

Adrienne had not crossed the threshold since the day of their funeral when she crossed from the foyer to the stairs down the drive with her belongings in tow.

She had gone home with a family friend that her parents had entrusted with her care and upbringing. The Washingtons were more superficial people than her parents had been. Not to say that they consumed more, that much was about the same. Rather, they were more concerned about success than they ever were with her. Growing up with the Washingtons, Adrienne had so many nannies, nurses, and governesses she often forgot their names. Not that it was important really, none of them integrated with her more than they absolutely had to.

Martha Washington had been insistent that she was to be the only maternal figure to the young heiress. Which would have been perfectly alright if she did not despise Adrienne’s own mother so deeply, making her maternal affection very few and far between.

Today is her wedding day.

It was Martha that had opened the door without a word, simply raising her brow, impatient with the blonde girl before the vanity. Adrienne managed one last look in the mirror before rising from the small chair she had sat on, donning her gloves over the clamminess of her sweaty hands, and breathed.

She breathed carefully as Martha pulled the veil to cover her face.

In and out.

In and out and suddenly she could pretend she was not being made to act as a witness as George signed over all she was to gain upon her 18th birthday to a man named John Laurens. He had shown up to sign the papers himself, a courtesy to George, she was sure. He was to be her husband, or so she had been told.

He had not even looked at her.

He did not greet her when he came through the door, only George. He did not converse with her, only George. She could have gotten up, smacked him, and walked out of the room and he would still not have noticed her.

He was to be her husband and she had not met him but once before. She knew who he was, vaguely. He worked at the studio as an actor. He was the son of an influential South Carolina politician who had a family fortune in the tobacco trade. But she had only met John Laurens once before her wedding day was set for the day of her 18th birthday and not a single day later. A week after watching her life be signed away into his hands he had paid her a visit.

Another courtesy to George, she was sure.

He had arrived with no specific plan, and walked through the gardens with her, talking now to her for almost an hour straight. She had even tried placing both tea and whiskey before him to shut his ramblings, both attempts failing miserably as he continued on about himself. He visited for almost two hours and had not asked her a single thing about herself.

He was to be her husband and he did not know a thing about her.

They met four other times during the short engagement, most of which were public niceties, another courtesy to George. There was not a single newspaper, magazine, or television hour that did not wish to have some kind of word with her on the topic of her wedding. None of them dared to advise her, she had been out planning the very best in the country since her earliest teenage years. A popular anecdote she had heard more in the past few months than she had anything else in the rest of her life went as following:

The Pope had come to visit the re-elected Franklin Delano Roosevelt in the White House but found the most pleasant time in the company of the most eligible girl in America, all the way on the West Coast.

The crowd was lovely.

That is what George had told her with a peck of a kiss to her cheek before he took his seat. She would walk herself down the aisle.

The harp and violins played as the grand doors to the ballroom opened on her, exposing her to the crowd and their whispers. The ceremony looked stunning. It was just as she had imagined it when she was little.

She only now began to wish that she had imagined the man at the end of the aisle so that there might be at least something she could find fault with.

There were familiar faces among the crowd that she passed on her long and slow walk to the man at the other end of the grand room. The clicking echo of her heels on the floor being the only thing keeping her trembling legs on course, but even worse was searching as discreetly as possible for those familiar faces. Anything to not have to face the harsh reality of who— no, of what— waited for her at the end of the crowd.

Among the crowd, her eyes locked with another blonde-haired man and she begged herself not to look desperate. He saw her looking too, but he managed far more composure than Adrienne did. Of course he did.

He must be thrilled.

Adrienne had the thought before she could stop herself. John Andre was another executive at the studio alongside George. Before her engagement, there had been pressures from all around for the two of them to marry. It would be a fitting trade, they justified, the daughter of an executive to the wife of an executive. It was a natural transition.

Perhaps that is why he had not spoken out about her engagement and marriage being written into her contract. He stood there, pretending he was not looking at her in his black tailored tuxedo, hair done in the most fashionable way with a small wave curl to it. He pretended that she was not on a death march.

He pretended far better than her.

He had his vices, that much she knew, but he was respectful. He spoke with her, not just to her. She knew him. She knew him and even though she had never found him more than physically attractive she found herself wishing it was him at the end of the aisle, and not for the first time since her engagement.

Today was her wedding day.

In a few minutes, she won’t be engaged anymore.

In a few minutes, she would be married.

In a few minutes, she would be married to a man that did not know a single thing about her.

She would be married to a man in less than a few minutes, and suddenly Adrienne understood all those runaway brides, leaving their fiance’s at the altar. Her heart pounded, hammering in her chest as she composed herself with a warm indifference. She had been doing so well. Then she saw him.

John Andre was an executive at the studio with George. There was pressure from all around for them to get married.

It was a fair trade.

He remained silent for his own sake. One cannot be forced to marry a woman who already belongs to a husband of her own.

She would be married and he would remain a bachelor till the end of his days, just as he wanted, receiving pity for her engagement everywhere he looked, exempting him from the very idea of marriage. Exempting him from being held accountable for his vices.

He must be thrilled, signing her life away to a man who doesn’t know a single thing about her for his own peace of mind.

It was a fair trade.

He had played the game and played it well.

He had won. And it was fair.

This will all be over soon, and she could find solstice in the stars over the sleepy Manor estate, talking to a ghost from the lawn as if he never left her. He had never left her, calling her to look up and scour the sky for stars whenever she felt lonely.

He had called her “my star.”

She was his star, and soon it would all be over. She could disappear into the night and be with the stars, chatting with ghosts from a happier past.

It will all be over soon.

She was looking through the crowd for familiar faces.

She was doing so well. And then she saw him, in the doorway she had just come from, a man in a finely tailored tuxedo and a wide smile in his eyes with an odd grey color to his hair. “It will all be over soon.”

And she heard him from the other end of the aisle, loud and clear, as if he were right beside her, as he should be.

Executive’s daughter married,

Media magnet meets Southern industry

John Andre: Hollywood’s Most Wanted Bachelor Remains Unwed

It was easy to feel remorseful, heroically guilty when you had nothing at stake.

No real risk to gamble.

It was the prisoner that escaped the hanging and looked sympathetically to the damned, fingers crossed behind their back. That was John Andre on this fine nuptial day.

If it had been him standing at the end of the aisle, where another John stood, he would be less prone to sympathy and instead resentment. Resentment of having his wings clipped and arranged around him, in exchange for a slip of a girl whom he felt no connection with.

By no connection, he meant romantic or intimate or lustful- none of the trilogy of connections worth considering matrimony.

Instead, he felt an observer's connection, a connection of pity, of sympathy- lightly powdered amusement and a genuine kindness that came from recognizing another piece on the chessboard of the older generation.

You could have as much power or success as you wanted in this city, as an executive you would assume John had made it to the top, and yet you would always be a puppet on someone else’s string.

Ask any man and it would be a woman, a mafia deal, a boss, an older competitor, or simply the moths that floated around the sparkles of fame ready to consume you if you stepped out of line.

[thejollyroger-writer]

Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home (1/1)

Just a simple little reunited childhood sweethearts one-shot that’s been on my mind for a while and begged to be let out recently. Title taken from TSwift’s “Everything Has Changed,” and the title of his book is from Sylvia Plath’s poem “The Rival”

Also on AO3

------

Emma Swan sits at the table of her favorite restaurant, eyes wide on the dessert plate sitting in front of her. It's not what she should be looking at, of course, but it's the only thing she can focus on without her mind spiraling out of control. 

Again. 

She thought they were happy. She thought they had a really great thing going, and didn't want to mess all that up. In her head, it all made sense. Just because she wasn't ready to marry him didn't mean they couldn't still be together, right? 

Apparently not. According to him, if she didn't want to marry him now, she was never going to change her mind and therefore there was no reason for them to be together anymore. 

It made no sense to her. Lots of things about him made no sense to her, but she always thought that was one of the things she liked about him — his excitement over a particular piece of furniture, his love of the opera, his desire to rinse his hair with cold water. But all of those things were… quirks. Things that made him Walsh. 

It's not like she just dropped this on him, either. They had talked before about the future, about buying a house outside the city and having a family and all of those things, and every time, Emma assured him that, though she's not ready for it now, she will be someday. 

When he decided that someday meant right now, she wasn't sure. 

So she said no. It shouldn't have been a surprise. She said, just as she had during those other conversations, that she just isn't really ready for that kind of commitment. Yes, she loves him, yes, she wants to be with him, but she just isn't ready for that. 

What was so hard for him to understand about that? 

" This doesn't have to be an ultimatum," she told him, staring only at the ring in his hand, refusing to even look in his eyes. She believed what she was saying… right? "This isn't a make-or-break for us." 

"It is for me." 

There was a coldness in his voice that she never heard before, a side of him that he had somehow managed to hide from her for the last three years. 

Why wasn't she upset?

"Really? This is — this is it for you? Either I say I want to marry you, which you already know isn't the truth, or we end everything, right now?" 

He dropped the ring on the table, folding his hands in front of him. Finally, she pulled her focus up to his face, as emotionless as she has ever seen it, his brown eyes dark with what she can only describe as rage. "Yes."  

She said nothing. There's nothing for her to say, really, staring at the words "Marry me" written so beautifully across the plate next to her slice of cheesecake. 

The silence closes around them. She should find something to say, should tell him that she wants him to stay, but her voice is gone. She doesn't even know for sure if the words would come from a place of truth, or a place of fear, simply trying to hold on to the only good thing that has happened to her recently. So much in her life had gone wrong, her parents leaving her and leaving Storybrooke and fucking Neal in the years after that. Compared to him, Walsh was a breath of fresh air, a soft summer breeze to Neal's tropical storm, and it was the warmth she clung to more than anything else. 

"Really?" he says, breaking the silence, his voice much louder than it needs to be in the quiet restaurant. Everyone has to know what's going on by now, a fact that Emma tries to ignore as best she can. 

Tries to push down, like every other emotion. 

"You're not going to say anything? Nothing at all." 

She swallows, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. 

And decides. 

"I have nothing to say," she breathes, feeling a warmth — her own fire, her own power — raging up inside of her. "If you can't respect my wishes and see this from my point of view, then no, I don't want to marry you." 

This is, apparently, all he needs to hear and, with a huff and a fist slammed on the table and a very expensive-looking ring stuffed back into the pocket of his dress coat, he leaves her there, staring down at her cheesecake and trying not to think about how many people just witnessed one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. 

It takes a bit, but the regular din of the restaurant starts to rise up around her, people turning back to their own conversations, their own lives, and leaving her behind. 

Just like everyone else has. 

With a sarcastic grin, she takes her pointer finger and runs it through the chocolate words on the plate, crossing out the words, then sticks her finger in her mouth. Another moment of contemplation, and a shrug, and she picks up her fork and begins to eat the dessert sitting in front of her. 

Walsh probably left the bill with her, too, so she might as well enjoy the dessert she will have to pay for.

So she eats his spumoni, too. 

  It's a cool spring night in Boston, and there's just enough chill in the air for her to slide her old leather jacket over her shoulders. It may not be the most appropriate with her black dress, but something about the softness of the red leather always reminded her of peace and of happiness and of home. 

The only home she ever had, really. A home she had found herself thinking about more and more recently, though she could never figure out why. 

Thinking of everything she left behind when she drove off for the last time, all those years ago. As a teenaged girl who had never known a real home before, Storybrooke was as welcoming as anywhere had ever been, and the friendships that she made there were the strongest she had ever known, even if she did only still talk to Ruby with a phone call or a text from Mary Margaret on holidays. 

Nothing in her life had been the same since she left that small town, but it was a change that she had convinced herself was a good thing. 

A change that was necessary, even if not on the best terms. 

God, she wonders if he was as embarrassed as she was tonight, the last person she said she couldn't marry. Did he feel this humiliated when she said she couldn't go to England with him? They had been so happy — possibly the happiest she had ever been, though her life was much easier at eighteen than it was now. 

She can't help herself: as her tired feet take her down the right blocks to her apartment — separate from Walsh as another way to protect herself from getting hurt — she thinks about what her life might have been like if she said yes that first time, if she had followed her heart instead of being overwhelmed by her fear. 

If she had gone to Oxford with him…  

Would they still be there? Happily roaming the streets of England, hand in hand, while she supported his dreams? What would she be doing? Certainly not living out her days as a bail bondsman, luring men into honey traps to get them to pay their debts? 

And, perhaps most importantly, would she be happy? Would she want to marry him, never having experienced the life-shattering heartbreak that came from telling him they couldn't be together? 

  Before she even realizes she has walked eight blocks, she's standing in front of the door to her apartment — but something in the shop window next to it catches her eye. 

It catches more than that, once she realizes what she is looking at, and for a moment, she can barely breathe. 

She never thought she would see him again, those bright blue eyes and charming smile. Sure, it's been ten years since she last saw him, since she said goodbye, but she would recognize him anywhere. 

She figures that would be true with any first love, but especially someone as stunning as him, and someone who left as much of an impact on her life as he did. 

For a moment, she tries to convince herself that it isn't him, that it can't be him, because that would be insane. But, more telling than his blue eyes, are the words written in block letters under his picture on the poster: "Up-and-Coming Author Killian Jones, Book Signing April 23" 

April 23. That's just a few days away. How long was this poster hanging here? Did she really pass by it all those times without noticing it? She knows that she was spending a lot of nights at Walsh's apartment, trying to appease his desire to live with her. She needed her own space, told him this all the time, but it was just another thing about her that he never tried to understand. That has to be why she is just noticing this for the first time. 

Dorothy, one of the girls that works in the bookstore, sees her staring at the poster and waves through the window, and even with all the turmoil going through Emma's mind, she can't help but smile at her braided pigtails and plaid button-down shirt tied around her waist. Dorothy always did know how to make Emma smile, always offered her a cup of coffee or a donut from the back room when Emma needed to come in to talk to August, her landlord and owner of the bookstore — or when Emma just needed a quiet place to stay for a bit, a book in her hands as she curled up on the couch in the back corner of the store, hiding from the demons in her head that came for her sometimes when she was alone. 

Emma waves back, trying her best to smile, and takes one more look at the poster on the window before climbing the steps to unlock the door. 

  His eyes greet her every time she leaves her apartment for the next few days, bright and welcoming and smiling as they have been since she was sixteen, lost and alone with nowhere to go, new to Storybrooke and small-town life. Besides Ruby, he was her first real friend (before he became something more), and she is pulled back into those memories with each glance at the bookstore window. 

On Thursday, the day before his book signing, she dares to walk into the store, deciding to gather as much intel as she can from August and Dorothy without seeming too suspicious. 

They already have books piled on the table in the back of the store and are working on lining the few folding chairs they keep in storage around the table when she comes in, exhausted from a day of chasing skips but needing to know the answers to some of the questions that have been eating away at her. 

She wanders around the shop for a bit, perusing the bookshelves and trying not to give herself away, until she finally winds up in front of the display set up next to the table. His picture on the back cover takes her breath away, even though it is the same one from the poster in the window, and she runs her thumb across his cheek before turning her attention to the summary on the back of the book: 

At just nineteen, Nathaniel Rogers has left everything he has ever known to move across the world to his dream school, only for everything he has left behind to crumble around him. Heart broken and alone, he wanders the streets of London mourning the loss of the only family he has ever known, only to be pulled back to his feet by a mysterious older man and his crew of poets. 

"It's almost based on real life, you know," Dorothy says, pulling her out of her mind before it can spiral again. "Maybe not the band of poets thing, but he's said that everything that happens to the main character in the beginning happened to him when he went to college." 

"You've read this?" 

"Yeah, and it's incredible. The way he weaves together storytelling and poetry and heartache and pain and happiness? I could read it over and over again and still love it as much as the first time." 

His writing has always been like that, she almost says, but catches herself at the last second. "Wow," she says instead. "Sounds really good. Can I buy a copy tonight and bring it back tomorrow for the signing?" 

With a smile, Dorothy obliges. 

  It's been a very long time since Emma has stayed up all night to read a book, but with Killian's book, Emma just can't help herself. The tale that he weaves, blending the present with heartbreaking flashbacks all mixed with a poetic voice so similar to what Emma remembers, is one that she gets so engulfed in that, before she even realizes it, it's 2 o'clock in the morning and she has less than 50 pages left. 

Home . That's what reading his book reminds her of, the warm feeling of life in Storybrooke, the welcoming atmosphere of Granny's diner and the comfort of walking the trail around the lake. But there's more to it, too, the obvious growth that his writing has gone through since he was a teenager, honed to an almost unfair perfection during his time as Oxford and his adulthood. 

Since she left him. 

  Showing up the next day is both the hardest and easiest decision she has made in a while. She wants to see him, she realizes, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail. She wants to see how he has grown, wants to catch up with him and learn all the things she has missed by staying behind. 

But she’s also terrified of both of those things. What if he doesn’t want to see her? 

No. That’s not what she’s afraid of. It’s stupid , really, to feel like this, to have butterflies for the first time since… 

She can’t remember the last time she had butterflies. She doesn’t think it was with Walsh, and it certainly wasn’t with Neal. It had to have been with him. Ten years since she’s felt like this, her heart pounding quickly in her chest as she grips her copy of The Great Light Borrowers against her, walking slowly down the steps from her apartment. She’s a few minutes late, just as she planned, hoping to show up after he has already started reading to avoid any chance of smalltalk. 

But seeing him there, his hair longer than it ever was when they were kids, his light blue dress shirt under a dark grey vest and unbuttoned enough to reveal a shock of dark hair on his chest, she feels something much more than nervousness. There is a tightness under the butterflies, a turning of her stomach just listening to his voice as he reads from one of the first pages of the book, and she has to lean back against one of the shelves to keep herself upright. 

“The details of that night are a haze, even now, years later,” he reads, his voice perfect and lilting and exactly as she imagined it as she read through the same narration the night before. “Certain things come back as clear as day: the sweet smell of the patisserie as I made my way down the street; the hum of the lights and the cars mixed with that patient quiet of the middle of the night, present even in the middle of the city; the feel of each rain drop as they began to fall softly from above. But I cannot recall where I was, even after all these years of searching for that patisserie. I know quite a few people made comments about my appearance as I stumbled down the sidewalk, but I cannot tell you what any of them said, what they looked like or how they looked at me. 

“But the heartbreak that I was feeling, returned back home to London for the first time since I was boy just to learn that everything I left at home was no more, is a feeling that I was unable to run or drive or swim away from, on my feet or in bottles of whatever I could get my hands on.” 

Emma doesn’t realize he has looked up from the book until she opens her own eyes, having closed them to both experience the words being told as they were meant to be, and to keep herself from running away as fast as she can. But when she opens them and finds him staring directly at her, his mouth half-agape and his bright eyes wide behind his glasses, his gaze is the only anchor that keeps her in the bookstore. 

But she knows he has to keep reading, knows that he is being paid to read for a certain amount of time, so he cannot simply choose to stop where he is and talk to her — or run from her, whichever feeling he is currently overwhelmed by. A flush rises to his cheeks, and Emma realizes he must be feeling one of them — but as quickly as it started, he clears his throat and continues to read. 

“To say I was at my lowest is an understatement of the worst kind, but in retrospect, I truly believe that I had to be drowning to that extent in order to move through the grates at the bottom of life to find the men who would pull me back to normalcy. 

“So this, dear readers, is the story of how I got there, and how I got back.” 

But this time, when he looks up, she is gone. 

  — — — 

  He’s read the words so many times, in his head and out loud, that he practically has them memorized. But, despite all his practice with public speaking, it’s something completely different when it’s his own words, words that he has stressed and worried and practically bled over, he’s learned, so he keeps his eyes down, focusing on the pages in front of him, the feel of them against his fingers and the smell of the newly-printed ink. 

“Certain things come back as clear as day: the sweet smell of the patisserie as I made my way down the street; the hum of the lights and the cars mixed with that patient quiet of the middle of the night, present even in the middle of the city; the feel of each rain drop as they began to fall softly from above. ”

His greatest struggle with this, he’s learned, is separating himself from the very personal words of his prologue. Because, while veiled in fiction, he does remember the night that started all of it, the night he learned his brother never made it home from helping him move across the ocean, and it destroyed him. There was no patisserie, there was no rain, but he was drowning in his own way, drowning in his own grief, just as Nathaniel is at the beginning of his story.

“But I cannot recall where I was, even after all these years of searching for that patisserie. I know quite a few people made comments about my appearance as I stumbled down the sidewalk, but I cannot tell you what any of them said, what they looked like or how they looked at me. 

“But the heartbreak that I was feeling, returned back home to London for the first time since I was boy just to learn that everything I left at home was no more, is a feeling that I was unable to run or drive or swim away from, on my feet or in bottles of whatever I could get my hands on.” 

As he finishes this sentence, he hears the voice of Robin, his agent, in his head: “I understand the nervousness, but you have to look at your crowd sometimes. Take a breath, look up, and continue.” 

So that’s what he does. 

Inhale. 

Look up.

Holy fuck. 

He can’t breathe. Literally, his lungs won’t move, every part of his chest is keeping him from exhaling, completely stuck. Except his already-quickened heart, working overtime through his nervousness, which takes to pounding at the sight of her. 

Emma Swan, as he lives and breathes. Almost definitely not a figment of his imagination, since his mind is already working hard enough to read in front of an audience. 

No, he takes that back. She’s definitely not a figment of his imagination, because she is somehow more beautiful than he has imagined her to be, in all the times he has imagined her in the last ten years. Her few pictures on social media do her no justice, because the angel standing in front of him, gripping a copy of his book against her chest and staring at him, takes his breath away. 

No. No, he can’t lose track of where he is supposed to be. For some reason, this small bookstore wanted to have him read while in Boston for his book tour, and wanted to offer him more money than usual — so he has to follow through with what he has promised them. 

So he clears his throat, tries to calm the pounding of his heart in his chest, and turns back to the words. 

Focusing on them is harder than it has ever been before, though, and her green eyes haunt him in a way somehow different than the way they had before, staring deeper into his soul now that he has seen her for the first time in ten years. She has always been real, has always been a ghost from the past, a mistake he constantly wished he never made. He’s dreamt about being reunited with her, probably even daydreamed about it, but he never imagined it would actually happen. For the first time in a while, he feels hopeful, a warmth in his chest that he vaguely remembers from the nights they used to fall asleep next to each other. 

But when he looks up again, the warmth is torn away, and it takes all his strength not to choke out a sob between the words. 

Because when he looks up again, she is not there. 

He goes through the rest of the reading hoping that maybe she is just out of sight, maybe she just went to the bathroom or to get a refreshment, but when he finishes the excerpt and she still has not reappeared, he realizes that his hope has, once again, dwindled away. 

Does she know how much he regrets leaving her behind? Giving in to her demand for an ultimatum and starting a new chapter of his life without her? As hard as he has tried to move on, he’s always found himself thinking about her, wondering where she is and if she is doing okay. He even went so far as to add her on social media a few years back, hoping it would offer a glimpse into her life now, but she barely posted anything — which really should not have been that much of a surprise, since she had always been so closed off. 

His few phone calls with Dave had proven just a fruitful, offering the barest trace of her, mostly through updates from Ruby. She was no longer in Storybrooke, had left around the same time he had — and, just like him, had never returned. 

But — Boston. She must be in Boston now, because he can’t imagine a scenario where she found out he was here any other way, nonetheless traveled to see him just to disappear. 

He hopes she’s happy. He has so many questions, wants to learn every little thing that has happened since he last saw her, but, more than anything else, he wants her to be happy. If she wanted to talk to him, she would have stuck around — it just makes sense. And since she hasn’t reached out at all over the last ten years, why would that change just because they’re in the same town for the first time since they broke up. 

And since she hasn’t reached out in ten years, it would just be wrong to try to find her. Right? Plus, it’s not like anyone around here even has to know her. He could ask questions to every Bostonian he sees and learn nothing. It would be wrong. It would be an invasion of privacy. It would be absolutely inappropriate. 

Yet, somehow, the question leaves his lips before he can stop it: “There was a woman here earlier, a blonde. Her name is Emma. Do you happen to have any idea where I can find her?” 

But the owner just shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid not.” 

Killian sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, nodding his head. It was a long shot, a totally impossible shot, and he knew that when he asked, but he still can’t help but feel — 

“Wait, you mean Emma Swan?” Killian vaguely recognizes the girl that asks the question, knows that she has been in the bookstore since he got there earlier that day — an employee, he thinks. 

“Yes!” He is maybe a bit too excited. “Why? Do you know her?” 

A beat passes, the girl on the receiving end of a glance from her boss, and Killian can’t help but notice the slump of her shoulders that follows it. 

“Uh, yeah,” she mumbles, turning her eyes to the floor. “She… comes in here a lot. I sold her your book last night.” 

His earlier thoughts rattle through his head again: an invasion of privacy. Absolutely inappropriate. Of course this girl can’t tell him where he can find Emma, there are laws against that. 

But maybe, just maybe , someone else can. 

  He waits until the next day, knowing that Dave lives a domestic life that includes things like small children and bedtimes , but hopes that the late morning is an appropriate time to call. 

Unsurprisingly, the voice on the other end of the phone is obviously shocked to hear from him. Usually they only talk on holidays, and Dave has always been the one to call, so simply seeing his name pop up on his phone must have been a bit of a shock. “Killian? Hello?” 

Only then does he realize how awkward this is. “Uh, hey, Dave.” 

“Is everything okay? You never call me.” 

“Ask him how his book tour is going!” Mary Margaret calls in the background, her voice growing ever-louder as she approaches him. 

“Yes, of course, everything is — everything is fine. The tour is going fine, thank you. I was, uh, actually hoping you could help me with something?” 

Dave, of course, agrees, so Killian gives him a small rundown of the situation. Book tour, Boston, Emma. 

“She showed up to your reading?” Mary Margaret’s voice in the background sounds just as surprised by this as he was. 

“You can imagine how surprised I was.” 

At this, Dave laughs. 

“So, how can we help you with this?” Mary Margaret asks. 

Killian clears his throat, nervous even for this. “Do you… happen to know where I can find her? She ran out before I was done, but I would really like to… to see her again.” 

“Do you think she would be okay with that?” Dave mumbles, most definitely asking his wife and not him, but he can’t help but answer. 

“She wouldn’t have shown up if she didn’t want to see me, right?” 

“Killian?” Mary Margaret yells, though absolutely unnecessary since he can hear her just fine. 

“Yes, love?” 

“I’m going to text Emma and make sure she’s okay with that, and then I’ll have Dave text you her address, okay?” 

His only option is to agree. He’s thankful even for the opportunity to talk to her again, and for the work the Nolans have to do to help him here, so of course he agrees, passes on a million thanks, and tells them he has an event to get to  — not totally a lie, but that event is only lunch with Robin, nothing too important. 

He doesn’t realize how nervous he is until he finds himself pacing across his hotel room, running his hands through his hair and fixing the collar of his unbuttoned shirt. It only takes a few minutes to hear from him, thankfully gifting him an address and a phone number, but he does not sit still for a moment between hanging up with Dave and receiving the message. 

He barely sits still through lunch with Robin, updating him with the newest part of his adventure, starting with her appearing before him last night and ending with the address from David — which he looked up on the way here, only to learn that it is the apartment above the bookstore from yesterday, most likely the reason the owner was unable to help him find her. 

“Did you text her yet? That’s why Dave sent you her number, right?” 

“And what am I supposed to say? ‘I’ve thought of you every moment since I got on the plane to England ten years ago, and seeing you last night made me realize that I’ve never stopped loving you, even if it doesn’t make sense’ ?” 

Robin barks out a loud laugh, rolling his eyes when Killian groans. "Yes," he chuckles. "Please, say exactly that." 

"Yeah, no." 

"Well, you have to send her something." 

Killian sets his phone down on the table, then runs his fingers through his hair. “I mean, really,” he says, letting out a soft laugh. “I don’t. Maybe we don’t get another chance.” 

“That’s not what you want, though.” It’s not a question, not even a little bit. Robin may be his agent now, but their friendship goes back further than that, all the way back to Oxford. Killian would probably even call Robin his best friend, if anyone ever cared to ask, though they usually didn’t. Most of his communication with others anymore was through book tours and the very sparse date he accepts, though they rarely make it to a second date. He has always known why, in the back of his mind, has known that none of them are her , though he doesn’t think he’s ever gone so far as to admit it out loud. 

But if he did, it would have been to Robin. 

“No,” he breathes, tapping his phone to light up the screen. 

“Then text her.” A beat passes silently, Killian allowing his screen to go dark again. “What’s the worst that can happen, really?” 

“She can do what she did ten years ago and tell me she doesn’t want to be with me.” 

“Alright, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. What if she does do that?”

Killian’s eyes jump to his friend. “Pardon?”

“What if she says that? Then what’s going to happen?” 

“I’ll probably never set foot on this bloody continent again.” 

“Okay. We’ll go back to England. We’ll cancel the rest of your book tour so you can wallow in sadness, is that what you want?” 

Killian sighs. “No,” he mumbles. “That’s not — that’s not what I want.” 

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen if she rejects you again. We don’t have to be in New York for a few days, so we’ll get terribly, raging, mad at the world drunk. Maybe we’ll go dance naked under the moon in Salem, or dive into the Boston Harbor. You will, undoubtedly, do something terribly stupid. Then the next day, we’ll nurse our headaches, eat greasy diner food, and move on , yeah?” 

“I’ve been trying to move on for ten years, Rob. You really think that’s going to happen in one night?” 

“You’ve been convincing yourself for ten years that if you come back to her, show her the person you’ve become, that she’ll take you back. Once she rejects you again, then you won’t be able to convince yourself of that anymore, and you’ll be free. Free to do whatever you want.” 

“Like dance naked with the witches.” 

“Yes.” Robin raises his cup of coffee to his lips, his eyebrows moving in sync. “Exactly like that.” 

  It takes him the rest of their lunch to decide what he was going to send her — because of course he’s going to text her. There’s a reason she showed up at his reading last night, a reason she showed up in his life again, he’s very sure of that. 

That doesn’t mean his hands aren’t shaking as he writes out his message, or that his heart isn’t pounding as his finger hovers over the send button. He reads over it again, taking yet another deep breath as he tries to slow the pounding of his heart: Hello, Emma, it’s Killian. I’m in the states for a book tour, so I reached out to David on a whim, and he told me that you were in Boston. As it turns out, I am also in Boston, though I think you may have known that. I was wondering if you would like to meet while I’m here, maybe go to dinner? 

“Really, that’s what you sent?” Robin asks, incredibly unhelpfully, but Killian’s thumb has already pressed the send button. 

Robin is still holding his phone when it goes off, and Killian convinces himself in that moment that it’s something else, it’s Facebook or email, a new Youtube video or a football update from ESPN — but watching Robin’s eyes go wide, the beginnings of a smile on his lips, ensures him otherwise, even before his phone is back in his hand. 

“Looks like you have a date, mate.”

  The next day . She asks if he wants to meet the next day . Which, yes, of course he does, but he certainly hasn’t prepared himself enough for it. He starts the day with a run, trying to work off some of his energy. 

(It doesn’t work.) 

A hot shower. A few hours of work. Lunch. He even tries to sit down and try to read, but his mind is running too hard, too fast, and he cannot focus on the words. He almost takes another shower, but convinces himself otherwise. They decided to meet at a seafood restaurant by the harbor at 5, so he doesn't let himself start to get ready until 3:30, giving himself enough time to walk the few blocks — but he still finds himself in front of the mirror twenty minutes before he wanted to leave, dressed and ready to go, but far from prepared. He's not sure his heart has slowed from it's pounding since… when did it even start? When he sent Emma the text the night before? When David sent him her number? Maybe even when he looked up from the words he wrote to ease the pain left behind by her to see her standing there, watching him. 

That can't be healthy. 

He gulps down a bottle of water, only realizing how thirsty he is when he pulls it from the fridge, runs his comb through his hair once more. Straightening the collar of his unbuttoned grey dress shirt, he takes one last look in the mirror, checks his pockets for everything he needs, and grabs his jacket before practically running out of his hotel room, not giving himself enough time to overthink the decision again and change his mind again. 

He is, of course, half an hour early to their reservation, having walked a little faster than usual, and the hostess offers him a seat at the bar while he waits for their table to be ready. A drink is the very last thing he needs right now, could possibly make him feel even more jittery, so he orders a higher-end whiskey for something to sip in place of his usual rum on the rocks, knowing he could easily down that in a single gulp. 

As he lets the soft burn of the liquid settle into his stomach, he begins to overthink everything once more, though at least now he can't run away. What if she only agreed to this to be polite? What if she just wants to catch up, or — worse, perhaps, what if she's in a relationship, happy and in love with someone who is not him? 

How is this the first time this has crossed his mind? 

Just as he's spiraling into his thoughts once more, she walks through the doorway and into the bar, a soft pink dress hugging her curves under a bright red leather jacket. Her long hair — longer than she ever kept it when she was young — is pulled into a high ponytail, falling in golden curls past her shoulders. But when she smiles at him, quickly crossing the room to join him at the bar, he forgets all of his worries, every anxiety he's felt since he saw her again melting into the comfortable heat of the restaurant. Because she's here , and she looks like that, more beautiful than any of his memories or daydreams of her have been. She's here, smiling at him, sitting beside him at the bar, and nothing else in the world matters. 

  ——— 

  Taking a deep breath, she sits down beside him at the bar. "It seems I'm not the only one who showed up early," she quips, then orders a glass of sweet red wine. 

He smiles. "I may have been a little nervous." He takes another small sip of his rum, hoping to hide the blush that rises to his cheeks. 

"You aren't the only one," she says with a chuckle of her own. 

"Oddly, that doesn't make me feel any better." 

"What do we have to be nervous about, anyway?" she asks, then takes a big gulp of her wine before smiling at him — neither of which help calm his still-pounding heart. "It's not like this is our first date." 

He leans back on the barstool, covering his face with his free hand. "Oh, god," he groans. "That was certainly terrible, wasn't it?" 

"I don't know that terrible is how I would describe it…" She pauses, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "Anymore, at least." 

"I think it's worse in hindsight for me, love." 

She didn't think she would be this affected by him. Honestly, she didn't know how she was going to feel, coming back to him after all their time apart. Nervous, she expected. Unsure of what to do. But butterflies , at twenty-one, just from being called 'love' ? That was certainly unexpected. 

( No wonder no one has measured up to him in the last ten years , she thinks to herself, trying to cover up her smile with another sip from her wine glass.) 

"I made a right fool of myself that night, and I crashed your car? I thought David was never going to speak to me again." 

She laughs. Out loud. If he couldn't still feel it pounding away in his chest, he would have sworn his heart had fallen to the floor. "Yeah, okay, Dave was beyond pissed. But not as much as when I told him I didn't have insurance for it because I stole it before I left New York City." 

"I've heard recounts of that conversation from both him and you, but I can still only imagine what he's like when he gets that angry." 

"Not to mention Ruth." 

"Oh, Ruth ," Killian breathes, falling back in his seat once more. "It's been a lifetime since I've spoken to that wonderful lady. Do you know how she's doing?" 

Emma's shoulders fall, slouching over the bar. She doesn't look up from her glass as she mumbles, "She passed. It couldn't have been more than a few months after you left for Oxford. Definitely within that first year." 

"Fuck me," he mumbles. "I'm so sorry, Emma. How did she — what did — what happened?" 

"Cancer. It was months between the diagnosis and losing her. It happened so quickly." 

"Why did no one tell me?" he asks, not even thinking about the words. 

But at this, she turns to him, full of rage. "Why did no one tell you? Really? You think any of us wanted to go through that? We had already lost Ruth, and you ran halfway around the world to get away from me." 

No!, he wants to yell, wants to remind her. I wasn't running from any of you! I asked you to come with me! 

But — thankfully — he is able to bite back the words. 

"You're right, love, I'm sorry," he says instead. "I can't imagine what you went through." 

"No," she snaps, her eyes cast down on the bar again. "No, you can't." 

He wants to correct her again. Because he does know. He knows exactly how it feels to lose the only family you have, and unlike Emma, he went through it alone, by himself in England. Does Emma even know that Liam died? Surely someone would have told David. But this isn't the place to bring it up. 

He lets the silence settle between them, taking another sip from his glass. Great job, Jones , the voice in his head scolds him — a voice that has always sounded like Liam. You've already managed to piss her off. 

Thankfully, the hostess walks over to them, a wide smile across her face. "Jones, party of 2? Your table is ready for you." 

"Thank you," Emma says softly, sliding off the barstool, her glass of wine in her hand. 

The hostess holds up a drink tray in one hand. "Please, let me take those for you." 

This time when Emma turns to him, she is obviously impressed, her eyebrows high on her forehead. "Thank you," she says again, setting her glass on the tray as Killian does the same with his. 

She leads them across the restaurant, back through the entrance and up a small set of steps before seating them at a table beside one of the large windows looking out over the harbor — a request made when Killian placed the reservation, suggested by more than a few happy internet reviewers. 

"Quite a place you picked for us here, Swan," Killian says, pulling out her chair for her to sit down. "I take it you've been here before?" 

"Yeah, Walsh brought me here once or twice, but we always just got a table on the first floor, not one with a view like this." 

He swallows, pushing his heart back down his throat as he sits across from her. "Walsh?" 

Her head snaps up, eyes meeting his and full of surprise. "Yeah, he was my…" She pulls her bottom lip up between her teeth. "We were together for a while, but we… broke up. We didn't agree on a few important things." 

"I'm sorry, Swan. When was that?" 

At this, she smiles, letting out a soft laugh as she takes a small sip of her wine. "Just a few days ago. I was on my way home from that when I saw your picture at the bookstore. Mary Margaret would have called it a sign." 

"You wouldn't?" 

“Nope. Just a mere coincidence. Why? Would you call it a sign?” 

“I would be remiss not to.” 

Emma laughs, a breathy thing that catches Killian’s breath in his throat. If he had any doubts about his feelings for her still being true after all this time apart, this moment, a soft chuckle under her breath as she smiles across the table at him, proves that he has truly never stopped loving her, not for a single moment. 

They’re both thankful for the appearance of their waitress at this moment, a redhead with a wide smile named Ariel, who stops Killian from confessing his love and keeps Emma from making a fool of herself by calling Killian dumb. She shares the specials, a pan-seared Ahi tuna and something about steak and lump crab, but though they are both looking right at her, neither of them are really listening. Emma’s been here before and knows their seafood manicotti is the best thing on the menu — the best thing she’s ever eaten, probably — and Killian could care less about specials or even the regular menu items; he’s just happy to be in the presence of Emma Swan once more. 

“Will your checks be together or separate?” she asks, looking back and forth between them. 

Emma glances at Killian, but answers the question anyway: “Separate.” 

“Together,” he says at the same time, then repeats it when he sees Emma staring at him. “It’s been ten years, Emma, the least you can do is let me pay for your dinner.” 

She rolls her eyes, but smiles as she agrees. 

They spend some time catching up, Emma recounting how she left Storybrooke not long after he did, trying her hand in a few cities, becoming a bailbonds-woman. She even includes Neal in her story, glassing over as much as she can. 

But their salads haven’t even arrived yet when she asks the question he’s been dreading the most: “How’s your brother? You haven’t mentioned him yet.” 

His groan has to be louder than he expected. Liam . How does he even tell her? 

“I, uh,” he mutters, coughing as his hand flies to scratch the spot behind his ear that has a penchant for itching when he’s nervous. “There’s no easy way to say this, love, but Liam died almost ten years ago now.” Emma’s hand flies to her mouth, stifling a gasp. “He flew to England with me, stayed for a few weeks with some people he knew, and was on a small flight to meet some of his friends in Germany that failed halfway through and crashed. He didn’t make it.” 

“Oh, Killian,” she whispers, her hand still covering her mouth, but she reaches the other one across the table and places it atop his, squeezing his fingers. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I would have throughout for sure David would have told you,” he says, refusing to meet her eyes, instead watching the slow movement of her thumb on the back of his hand. 

“I must have… I must have left by then, and I didn’t talk to anyone from home for a year or two after that, except Ruby.” 

He nods at this, unsure of how to respond, but the way she referred to Storybrooke as home made something in his blood sing. All he wanted when they were younger was to give Emma a home, somewhere she could be safe and comfortable, something she had stopped searching for before she was adopted by Ruth. ‘Just another stop ,’ she used to call it, not believing she would find anywhere to accept her for more than a few months, since that had been how the rest of her life went. He only wished he could take her back to those days, if only to tell sixteen-year-old Emma that everything was going to turn out okay. 

“So, wait,” she says, breaking the silence but also breaking their physical connection, pulling her hand back to cross her arms on the table in front of her. “How much of your book is real, then?” 

Killian can’t help but laugh. “The loss and heartbreak was real, obviously. I had just moved to England, back for the first time since I was just a boy, but in a different place as lonelier than I had ever been. I was hurt, and I was drunk, and I did meet a group of men in Oxford, wandering down a side-street not far from my flat. But that’s really the end of the fact in the fiction.”

“So they weren’t prolific poets?” she laughs. 

“Poets, sort of. They liked to write drinking songs and liked to read poems and tear them apart, but they were rather terrible at both of those things.” 

Emma laughs again, their conversation momentarily pausing as their waitress drops off their salads. 

Their conversation continues like this, pausing for refills, clearing plates, and — finally — the deliverance of the meal. Emma tries to convince herself that the conversation comes so easily because they have ten years’ of information to work with, but she knows that’s not the truth. There has always been something between them, an easiness unlike anything Emma has experienced with anyone else, and she knows that it’s simply being back with him that makes talking so easy. 

Though it lasts almost two hours, dinner feels like mere moments, and in the blink of an eye, Emma has eaten the last bite of her cheesecake, watched Killian hand his credit card to the waitress, and slid her jacket over her shoulders. A heartbeat more, and they are back in the cool Boston air, the smell of the harbor harsh in comparison to the euphoric smells in the restaurant. Emma pulls her jacket tighter around her. 

“You would think I would be used to the chill by now, especially given that it gets much colder than this,” she says, not sure in which direction to go. “It would help to buy a heavier jacket, but as soon as the snow disappears, I find myself in this one again.” 

“Well, red is certainly your color, Swan,” he says, feeling his face grow to the sameshade as her coat as he realizes this is the first compliment he’s paid her. 

“Thanks,” she laughs. “Maybe one day I’ll even learn that it gets colder once the sun sets, so I shouldn’t always walk everywhere.” 

“You walked here?” he asks, perhaps a bit more excited than necessary. “As did I. And I believe we’re heading in the same direction?” 

The night is quiet, dotted with car horns and engines and the regular hustle-and-bustle in a small city like this — and their conversation continues, Killian sharing more about Nemo and the men he met in England that helped him back on his feet, his schooling, the semester he spent studying in Madrid. Emma listens intently, quipping every few minutes but mostly silent, just as Killian remembers her to be. When asked, she shares more about her time in Boston, her best honeytraps, and she even shares a little more about Walsh when Killian asks, though she brushes any questions about Neal away faster than he can ask. 

Lost in conversation, it takes no time to walk the few blocks between the harbor and Emma’s apartment, and before either of them realize it, they are standing in front of the bookstore, looking at the same picture of Killian that started all of this. 

“Do you… want to come up? Have a cup of tea? I probably have some snacks somewhere,” she asks, the words coming out so fast she almost trips over them. 

Yes , every bone in his body sings, yet somehow, the words that escape his lips are, “I should get back to my hotel, we have to leave in the morning.” 

Her entire countenance falls, her shoulders slumping forward, eyes turning to the ground. “Oh,” she mutters, digging through her purse to find her keys. “I guess this is… goodbye, then?” 

Not this again , he thinks, desperately trying to find a way to fix the mistake he just made. “No,” he says, and her head snaps up, her eyes meeting his. “No, I’m a sodding idiot. Of course I want to come up, because I certainly don’t want this to be goodbye. Not again. I’ll even go out on a limb and bare more of my heart to you, Emma, because today has only confirmed what I’ve been trying to bury down for years. I tried to move on, tried to find a new life in England where I didn’t love you with every fiber of my being, but everything dulls in comparison to you.” 

She doesn’t care that her mouth is hanging open. She doesn’t care that her keys are still somewhere in her purse, that the April air is chilling her to the bone. All she cares about is him , saying the words she’s wanted to hear for years, the words but better , adding a poetry that so perfectly fits the new, updated version of the man she has loved since she was sixteen. 

She fills the space between them, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck while the other fists the collar of his jacket, slamming her lips into his. He is just as she remembered, warm and lovely and wonderful, the closest thing to a home that she has ever found, welcoming her back with his hand on her hip and his tongue quickly gliding along hers. 

Home . 

Her fingers in his hair, his breath on her neck, her name barely a whisper on his lips. 

Home . 

Everything she has ever wanted. Dreamed about. 

Home . 

Tagging: @shireness-says @let-it-raines @kmomof4 @pirateprincessofpizza @elizabeethan @hollyethecurious @teamhook @itsfabianadocarmo @spartanguard @ohmightydevviepuu @capswantrue @imlaxdris71 @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @scientificapricot @kday426 @snowbellewells @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @carpedzem @superchocovian

[sweetness47]

Fixing His Regret

Pairing Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1731

Warnings: not many, sex scene, mentions of losing a loved one, being widowed while pregnant, pining, I think there might be one or two swear words? Rated 18+ just in case

This is for @idreamofplaid and her They Belong To Us Now challenge

Prompt #30: “Stay here tonight.” (paired with) Time travel/fix it

Also for SPN Fluff Bingo 2021 square: Childhood sweethearts

And for SPN Kink Bingo 2021 square: Saran Wrap

📷

Dean smiled down from heaven as he watched Sam have a family and enjoy life. It was what he always wanted for his brother. Truth be told, it was what he’d always wished for himself, but the one person he’d wanted for that role was the one person he’d run from long ago.

YN had been one of his friends growing up. Even with all the shit that had stormed through his life, she was the one thing that always kept him going. When his dad would drag them all over, he always wrote to her, and she would write back. When they were close enough to visit in person, she would often keep him company while he was watching Sam.

He'd run because she’d confessed to having feelings for him one night. They were 16. Instead of coming clean and confessing he was in love with her, he’d turned and run away. He stopped communicating with her. Stopped writing to her. All because he was afraid of his feelings. He was afraid that he would make her a widow from hunting. That was no life for someone as amazing as YN. She deserved better. She deserved stability. Marriage to a hunter wouldn’t give her that. She was better off without him. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

But he always thought about her. About the hurt look on her face when he’d walked away from her confession. He could clearly remember the tears pooling in her eyes, and for one second his resolve nearly crumbled. But he maintained that he was doing the right thing, and shut the door on that part of his life forever.

That time he’d tried playing house with Lisa, when Sam had died, it was ok. He filled the emptiness that Sam’s death had left in his chest, but often he wished he’d been able to find YN, beg for her forgiveness, praying that she wasn’t married to someone else.

But he never pursued her. He’d hurt her. He hated himself for destroying her heart like that.

“What are you thinking about Dean?”

Jack’s voice startled Dean. He jumped, then relaxed when he saw Jack approach. “A girl I once knew. She was amazing. Smart, funny, talented, and one of the few friends I had growing up.”

Jack was intrigued. “What happened to her?”

Dean hung his head in shame. “I walked away from her confession of love. I didn’t want her wrapped up in the life of a hunter.”

“Did you tell her that? Did you even ask her if that was a deal breaker? Or did you just assume she was better off.”

Jack’s words stopped Dean in his thoughts. He really hadn’t asked YN how she felt. She knew what his dad did, she’d always known since the first day. But she was too good for this life. She deserved better, didn’t she? He’d done the right thing when he’d walked away, right?

Jack shook his head. “You didn’t ask her. Do you want that chance back? I can give you a second chance Dean. If you want it.”

Dean’s jaw dropped at Jack’s offer. “Seriously?”

Jack nodded.

Dean thought about it. How many times had he wished for a second chance? How many times had he wished he could go back and change that moment? Too many to count, that’s for certain.

“Do it.” Dean turned to Jack, who nodded again, and snapped his fingers.

**

Dean blinked, and as his eyesight adjusted, he found himself at a local diner he frequented a lot as a teenager, especially with YN, who happened to be sitting across from him. He remembered this day. It was the day before her confession to him.

He promised himself that this time, no matter what, he was not walking away. He was determined to stay, to keep her close, to cherish every moment he had with YN. She had been his world, and he would be an idiot to let her go a second time.

So the next evening, when she confessed she had feelings for him, he took her in his arms and admitted, “I love you too YN. A lot more than I ever thought possible.”

That was the moment they shared their first kiss. They became near inseparable after that night. When Dean dropped out of high school to keep his focus on Sam, he made sure to keep YN a part of their lives. She asked him to prom, stating there was no one else she’d rather spend the night with, and he happily said yes.

The first time they spent the night together, it was new for both of them, both physically, and mentally. Their relationship hit new heights. Dean never pushed YN, always the perfect gentleman. It was she who made the suggestion for him to stay.

The night of prom, after the dancing and celebrating were done, Dean had taken her home, like he always did after a date. She invited him in, and he accepted. Her dad was out for the weekend, having accompanied Dean’s dad on a hunt, so it was just the two of them. They cuddled and kissed, till the wee hours of the morning.

When Dean suggested he call it a night, and stood to leave, she caught his arm. “Dean? Don’t go. Stay here tonight. With me.”

Dean swallowed hard. “You sure?” he rasped.

YN nodded. “Definitely.”

Not another word was spoken as she took his hand and lead him to her bedroom. The frilly pink décor hardly occupied his thoughts. Instead, he moved to undress her, his hands shaking, mouth suddenly dry. YN was mirroring his movements, her own nerves showing as she fumbled with his clothes. When they finally free of the offending garments, he let out a low whistle.

“Beautiful.” He whispered.

YN blushed. “Back at ya.” She countered.

Dean leaned down to kiss her then, the passion burning through them as they slowly began to explore each other. Dean’s hand travelled to the sweet junction between her legs, and growled at the wetness he found. YN got a similar reaction when her hand brushed up against his rock solid erection.

Tumbling on to the bed, Dean began stroking YN’s core. She bucked and moaned as his fingers worked her sensitive nub, then slipped inside her tight channel. Her cries echoed off the walls as her walls clamped down on his fingers, her juices spilling free, coating the bed and his hand.

He moved over her. That’s when they both wondered the same thing. Protection.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked.

Dean shook his head. Shit!

YN’s face lit up suddenly. “Wait here. I have an idea.”

She raced out of the room, only to return moments later with a roll of Saran Wrap from the kitchen. Dean chuckled. “Nice.”

She tore off a piece and brazenly took initiative, wrapping his thick cock in the plastic. Then she was back on the bed, and Dean brought her legs up to wrap around his waist. She felt the blunt head as it pushed and stretched at her slick channel, past the virgin barrier, filling her. He kissed away her tears that silently fell, then he stilled, letting her get used to the feeling of him being inside.

When he moved again, she gasped as she came hard, the sensations overwhelming her. Dean thrust in and out, consuming and owning every part of her, body and soul, vowing that from this moment on, she was his, and only his.

The night and most of the next morning, Dean and YN explored their newfound status, making good use of the plastic wrap. They both giggled at the half gone roll as they finally placed it back into the kitchen pantry.

The following week, they spent near every moment together they could find, mostly because they couldn’t get enough of each other. For a graduation present, Dean managed to acquire the most stunning engagement ring, and presented it to her during the grad dinner. People cheered and clapped for the couple, but most importantly, YN’s father and Dean’s dad approved.

They married the following year. YN hunted with the boys, lived with them (obviously), sharing in their triumphs and their sorrows.

Their third year of marriage, YN presented Dean with a gift, their first child, a revelation she’d made known on Father’s day. It was the only child they chose to bring into the world before it was righted again by the brothers, and Jack.

Shortly after that day, YN found herself with child again. Her son was 12 now, and she was thrilled with the idea of surprising him again.

But that day never came.

YN was found herself widowed, and pregnant, after losing the love of her life in what should have been an easy outing for the boys. Sam and YN hugged and cried, as did John, Dean’s son, and made sure to give him a proper funeral fitting for a hunter.

Sam filled in as a male role model for John, while also finding love for himself. YN’s children, and Sam’s, were good friends as well as cousins.

Sam outlived YN by two years. He was there to keep her company when her son and daughter couldn’t. But the entire family were present when YN took her final breath. Both her son and daughter told her it was ok, that she could go and finally be with Dean.

When Dean saw his YN standing on the bridge, he ran to her and picked her up into his arms, swinging her around and showering her with kisses and tears. He praised her over and over about how well she’d done raising John and Mary, but more important, he let her know how happy he was to have her to hold again.

When Dean saw Jack standing there, looking at the two embracing, Dean smiled and hugged Jack, thanking him for giving him his heart back.

Jack just smiled and faded away, leaving the lovebirds to do some serious catching up.

@idreamofplaid @akshi8278 @drkcnry67 @lyarr24