#perfect autumn lad

[webwingalpha]

New den slots = new dragon!!

I can't believe I found this pretty G1 for 20 gems. I would so expect a colour combo like that to be a little more!

[blujayonthewing]

tornnn between lavender ink or high-shading orange ink or dark red innnnk

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that are cozy and take place in autumn as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🍂 domestic monsters (series) by g_uttertrash / @g-uttertrash

(E, 234k, supernatural) Harry is a witch who carries around a stuffed pumpkin, Louis is a vampire with too much time on his hands, and their best mates Zayn & Niall aren't exactly what they seem

🍂 Loving with a Little Twist by @hrrytomlinson

(E, 29k, fake relationship) “I don’t know Niall! I just promised my mother I’m bringing my boyfriend - a boyfriend I don’t have - to Thanksgiving dinner. What should I do?"

🍂 Float Down Like Autumn Leaves (Stay Now) by hopelesswriter / @getmesometacos

(M, 16k, kid fic) The AU in which Louis has a 6 year old daughter with a costume emergency that puts her school's annual Halloween party at risk, Halloween decorated cupcakes are hard to find and tall men look absolutely ridiculously cute in giant vegetables costumes.

🍂 Breathe me in, breathe me out by @lunarheslwt

(G, 14k, omegaverse) Louis is drawn into a quaint candle shop in his desire to find ways to soothe himself while struggling with touch depri.

🍂 Pumpkin Family by @snowy38

(M, 10k, fluff) "I don't like to scare children," the lanky man defended lightly. "I'm doing a pumpkin family and I have sweets ready for trick-or-treaters."

🍂 Rainy Days and Leaves by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

(E, 9k, coffee shop) Louis works at a coffee shop and spells Harry's name wrong on his cups.

🍂 it's all my love (you got all my love) by tippitytap 

(T, 8k, omegaverse) A pumpkin-filled (literally), fluffy one-shot.

🍂 With You I Am Never Alone by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(T, 6k, canon) Louis comes up with the idea of holding a Thanksgiving dinner for their families. Harry loves it. And him.

🍂 Wish We Had More Time by @berzerkshires

(M, 5k, famous/not famous) Harry meets Louis's siblings for the first time on their annual pumpkin carving night.

🍂 You're The Pumpkin Of My Eye by @rockstarlwt28

(G, 4k, date) Harry and Louis go on a seasonal date, that is sweeter than the confectionery in a trick or treat bucket. It’s filled with sweet snuggles, cute kisses and pumpkin picking.

🍂 make this feel like home by orphan_account

(G, 4k, high school) He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be graced with a sight cuter than his boyfriend standing in the middle of a pumpkin patch in October, holding the pumpkin version of him against his hip.

🍂 and if i may just take your breath away by orphan_account

(G, 4k, kid fic) Single Parent Harry loses his six year old daughter in a corn maze and embarks on an adventurous adventure with single parent Louis to find her. Also, Harper is a matchmaker in disguise.

🍂 May The Gourds Be With You by BayouSexual

(NR, 3k, established relationship) that one fic with where Harry can't read maps, and Louis hates pumpkins.

🍂 Made Just For Me by @angelichl

(NR, 2k, established relationship) Harry and Louis carve a pumpkin.

🍂 Carving Company by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(G, 1k, omegaverse) Louis and Harry have the lads over for an evening of pumpkin carving, soup and fun

🍂 Just One More by @neondiamond

(G, 666 words, mpreg) Every October, Harry and Louis plan an annual family outing to the pumpkin patch. This year, Harry has a surprise for Louis.

🍂 perfect pumpkins by shiptattou / @wecantalktomorrow

(G, 666 words, mpreg) Harry decides a pumpkin carving 'contest' is the best way to tell Louis.

- Rare Pairs -

🍂 with every last breath, i feel you on my skin by lovely_ziam

(G, 24k, Zayn/Liam) Autumn is his favourite time of year, the soft colours inspiring new sketches in his mind and marking out mental images of distinct paintings.

🍂 Welcome to My Candy Store by mmaree / @zqua1d

(E, 9k, Zayn/Liam) “This is no ordinary toffee apple,” the woman dressed as a witch tells them. “It's a magic wishing toffee apple.”

[siriuslychessi]

Day 20

@jilytoberfest

🎶Try to move on, it's back to you that all my roads keep leading 🎶 - Before I Fall Apart by Elle Coves

Claudia was a lovely Hufflepuff, she was nice, polite, and absolutely boring. James thought it might have been cruel of him to think this, but the date with Claudia was as fun as watching paint dry. It wasn’t that she was dumb, or that she lacked any interest, but she was just the dull perfect version of a girl should be. 

James couldn’t hold it against her, most people liked those types of women, who seemed to never fight, and always say exactly the right thing. And that was exactly what James found extremely boring. 

She agreed to everything, she pursed her lips when she found something a bit unsettling, but turned it out and agreed with you all the same. Like principles were less important than a boyfriend, and that was a deal breaker. 

They were having tea at Madam Puddifoot's, the pink was making James’ head hurt. He thought he could excuse himself and let Claudia down easily, and still catch his friends at the Three Broomsticks, and he was right. Claudia seemed as relieved to be off the date as he was and they went their separate ways. 

“Did I just see you leaving Puddifoot’s?” he heard a teasing voice behind him, he didn’t need to turn to know exactly who it was.

“Jealous, Evans?” he said in the same teasing voice, turning to the redhead, a smirk on his face. 

Lily looked gorgeous under the autumn sun, James knew that he shouldn’t be thinking like that, that she had made it perfectly clear that she was not interested, but he couldn’t help to find her gorgeous. Even when she was teasing him about her choice of date spots.

Lily made a face, “I’m not sure you’d catch me dead in the middle of so much pink.” she admitted. James just laughed, because that was exactly what he would have said before that date.

“I didn’t choose the place.” he replied with a shrug, “She seemed to enjoy it.”

Lily looked at James, there was something behind her stare, she was sort of frowning, maybe deciding what her next tease would be.

“I didn’t leave her there, if that is what you are wondering.” his reply was more instinctive than anything else, making Lily shake her head. 

“I didn’t think you had.” she shrugged. 

James blushed a bit, he knew he was about to put his foot in his mouth, but he didn’t think it would be like that. Why couldn’t he just be his normal self around Lily? Why did he always sounded like a complete arse? He wasn’t sure. 

“Were you going back to the castle?” The redhead naked him, and he saw a chance to redeem himself, at least just a bit. 

James shook his head and pointed in the direction of the centre, “I was looking for the lads, grabbing a butterbeer or two, care to join?”

Lily looked at the street and then back at James, she was pondering something, but she didn’t mention exactly what was going through her mind. She just nodded, “I will, but you are buying.”

James chuckled, “How come?”

“Because I had a rotten date, and I need someone to make me believe chivalry is not dead.” 

“Fair enough.” he said with a smile, and moved through the street, opening the door of the Three Broomsticks, not eager to find his friends. 

[bruhstation]

actually screaming at the little gresleys,, theyre so smal. so tiny. omg theyre so little. gordons litl fluffy boots im actually gonna cry. theyre perfect. THEYRE ONLY LITTLE hdbfjshhf

they were kids being kids…. still tight knit before the bad things struck. little baby gordon was just a quiet tiny little lad……. his cheeks….. all cozy in his oversized hand-me-down coat and scarf and fluffy boots…. ready for the chilling autumn…..

look….. Look at him ……… full of love and coziness. take a look at the public’s reception to him and his brother scott

and to hater baby spencer.

[iridescentdove]

Hey hey!! Can I request a Nikolai and fyodor (separate) x reader who’s really into photography and takes a lot of photos of them! Then gets super embarrassed if they catch them?

Nikolai & Fyodor x Photographer! Reader

The serene sound of a camera clicking as you relish in the peaceful autumn breeze. It was quiet, and calm – just as you always liked it. The scene was beautiful.

There was nothing better than you, your beloved, and your precious camera as you took photos under the warm sun.

NIKOLAI GOGOL:

For quite a while now, Nikolai has been seeing you with your precious phone or camera all the time. He hasn't seen you without it nowadays.

Well, it sparked his curiosity – but he did know you had a knack for these kind of things now.

And honestly, he really likes your shots! It's always taken beautifully and the photo is clear as day. Most of the time you don't really show him, but special occassions you do.

You took a little photo of a bird eating once!

Nikolai was ecstatic when looking through them. There's a small sparkle in his eyes no one would have ever seen.

The fluffy, rare white birdies that flock around as you fed them. He loves it. Jing Yuan??

One day, you both decided to have a picnic. Just for fun, and to value the precious time you guys had while still free. Lots of snacks and ice cream!

Of course, pictures. You took lots of them. From the birds in the sky to the food you had made yourself.

Although they were beautiful, nothing compares to Nikolai.

The soft, golden glow around his body – the sun making his features similar to that of an angels. Oh! How handsome he is. The genuine, warm smile on his face blooming in joy.

You were at a loss for words. He was just too pretty to be true. All you could do...was raise your camera.

Well, you did try to be sneaky. Try.

Seeing him staring at the vast blue of the sky was a perfect angle in all honesty. But he looked the moment you took it.

And i now present to you, a teasing Nikolai.

He is downright DISRESPECTFUL when it comes to being a teasing, pretty boy of a lad like him. He stares at you with a glint of his green eyes, and you were dead right then since.

"Oh! Does my sweet birdy find me a photograph-worthy sight? Hm~?" He inches closer, face full of mischief.

You're just...flaming red. He's not even flirting man, that's overrated. Dazai crying in the corner

Although he does pester you to show him the glorious photo, you do so either way. And both of you enjoy looking at them all, smiles on your faces.

Since irl he's inspired by a writer, i headcanon he points to each photo and creates a small little story for it <3 cute!

And for the meme worthy photos...

Let's just say both of your stomachs hurt for laughing so much at his jokes. Uses random Gen Z humor he learned

"The bird shat respectfully. The manz was too stunned to speak, poo-poo on his rizz-worthy head."

In other words, it was a successful picnic ;)

FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY:

You'd never catch this mf off guard, EVER. It's so rare if you actually do, super incredibly rare.

Once in a blue moon.

But he appreciates it. Your love language is almost just sending him cute photos at this point, whether it be of you both or just him.

He's a hacker. I'd bet he hacks into your camera just to look at the shots himself bitch

Then again, you never fail to make his heart boom-boom. For a special occassion like his birthday or christmas, you'd prepare the gift wholeheartedly.

You'll print out the most prettiest photos of him you could find, and design it with aesthetic stickers and notes <3

It was the fanciest photo-card + letter he's ever seen.

Obviously rat, that's our gn kween (y/n)

And you may think he never appreciates it due to his calm and sadistic demeanor, but this man keeps it in his room and looks at it everyday with an actual genuine smile.

He'll never admit it, only when he probably feels romantic which is uh...let's countdown to 2738282 years /j

When you're just hanging out with him while he works, you just take photos for fun. His office may seem dark but your camera brings justice good phone? couldn't be me

But one particular time, you decided to attempt and be sneaky to take his photo.

The position he was in was perfect, so it was time.

You really thought you had it in the bag too. He just chuckles the moment you put the camera on him, and he turns around as you click.

You wanna strangle his ass <3

But oh hell, he's gonna be sly. Smirking at you all the while seeing your cute face turn completely red.

"милый, you seem to be enjoying yourself. Why not do a photo face-to-face?" He whispers, looking straight into your eyes as you nesrly die in fluster.

He's definitely having his fun teasing you, playing it out and making you look like a simp.

But the moment he stands up, fucking run

You're not making out of it alive the moment he gets his hands on that camera. He's merciless when it comes to teasing his bbg (ew /j)

Then again, at times he'll lie down with you peacefully, looking at the photos in silence.

He'll love every shot taken because it's you.

[justmeinatree]

Black And White Film Camera

Summary : photography student harry x reader autumn themed meet cute

Word Count : 1.5k

A/N : fall is in the air where i live and i really couldn’t help myself ✌️

autumn was here. finally. the heat of the summer had thankfully broken, the leaves were turning a mix of bright reds, muted oranges, and golden yellows, and pumpkin spice lattes were in full swing.

you were ecstatic to take out all of your cozy knit sweaters, cute boots, and colourful scarves. going for walks in the park, hot coffee, or hot cider, in hand, an extra skip in your step as you crunch your way through the early fallen leaves.

it was your favourite season, and it was no secret. you’re almost certain the people around you can tell that there’s a new twinkle in your eye, an added sparkle to your rosy cheeks, and a brighter smile gracing your lips.

as you lightly twirl under a tree, having turned to get a better view of the vivid orange colour that this tree specifically seems to embrace every season, you hear a faint, but deep, “excuse me.”

the voice catches your attention, making you twirl a little more than you were expecting, your feet stumbling a bit before catching your footing. a small “oop,” escapes your slightly cold chapped lips, followed by a giggle at the mere thought of yourself falling.

your eyes fall on the tall frame of a young lad, bundled up in a scarf, thick, loose fitted knitted sweater, and perfectly tailored corduroy pants, brown curls tousled from the wind, and what seems to be a fairly vintage appearing camera hanging around his neck.

you note that he seems a bit shy, the rosy tinge of chilly air on his cheeks having darkened significantly as your eyes shamelessly rake over his frame, a friendly smile gracing your lips, “yes ?”

he smiles at the sweet tone of your voice, biting his lip and furrowing his eyebrows, looking down at his camera, “umm,” he hums, taking a breath, “m’not too sure how to say this without sounding like a total creep.”

you giggle, because really, not a single ounce of this man screams creep. his demeanour is more that of a cuddly teddybear that’s much too shy to actually have a snuggle. but you don’t want to put him off, so following that giggle, your eyes flick to his camera as well, eyebrows furrowing in question, “do you want to take a photo ?”

“well, actually,” he bites his lip harder, his gaze falling on yours, cheeks turning a deeper red, if it was even at all possible. “i swear i didn’t know at the time, hadn’t realized at all, i was much too preoccupied trying to work this camera, and trying to get the perfect angle of the tree, and the lighting and such,” he rambles on, clearly a nervous habit of his. “but umm, you were here yesterday, weren’t you ?”

your eyebrows furrow again, a bit confused now as to where this was headed, but you catch yourself nodding, “yeah, m’here almost every day in the fall. it’s my favourite season, love spending it outside,” your face lights up as you have an opportunity to gush over your favourite time of year.

seeing your passion radiating through every bit of you, his smile grows wide, genuine, as he goes on, “right, so, again, i don’t mean to sound creepy, i swear i didn’t know. but i was right over there taking some photos yesterday,” he explains, nodding further away in the park. “when i got home, and sat to go through all of the pictures, i noticed that you seemed to be the focus of all of them.”

the more he tries to explain, in the least weird stalker man way that he can muster, the more you notice the strong blush on his cheeks is not going anywhere, anytime soon.

“i’m a photography student,” he explains further, not wanting to put you off, needing to explain so you don’t end up getting a restraining order against this random stranger, and so that you don’t have an opportunity to speak and shut him out completely. “i have this assignment, i wont bore you with the details, but you ended up in all of my photos. you were absolutely glowing, by the way. not a single bad angle on you, i reckon. and as much as i’d love to keep the photos, and submit them for my assignment, they’re really not fitting to the guidelines. but i also felt a bit weird hoarding all these photos of such a lovely stranger. so,” he trails off, reaching into the small bag that’s slung over his shoulder, pulling out a few papers.

as he hands them to you, you notice that he’s handed you some photo paper, the pictures from yesterday, edited and printed. and he was right, you appear to be the focus in all of them. 

flicking through the images in your hands, it seems to be your turn to blush. you’d never seen such beautifully captured snapshots, much less of yourself. he had obviously done some cropping and zooming on your frame in the editing process, the sparkle visible in your eye as you look at the trees, a slight twirl in the flowy skirt you’d worn yesterday, “these are beautiful,” you whisper, a growing fluttery warmth expanding in your chest.

“you think so ?” he smiles, biting his lip. “wasn’t sure what you’d think of it. was all pure coincidence, i swear. but you just looked so pretty,” his blush spreading down his neck, “i really wanted to meet the lovely lady that seemingly made her way into all of my pictures.”

you giggle, biting your lip, as your gaze finally leaves the photos in your hands, flicking up to meet his eyes, “m’y/n.”

“harry,” he smiles, reaching out to shake your hand, a task that you stumble your way through, both of you laughing at the slight awkwardness, as you try to juggle the stack of photos, and his greeting.

his hand held a welcomed warmth despite the nip in the air, fingers wrapped lightly, yet having a firm hold all around, “swear you dont think it’s weird ?” he asks, wanting to confirm, needing to confirm, really. he would never want to make anyone uncomfortable, it was absolutely not his intention at all.

“i swear,” you smile softly, “these are honestly breathtaking, harry. i almost can’t believe they’re of me. you’re an amazing photographer, and i’m honoured you’d go through all this trouble just for me.”

“no trouble at all,” he chuckles easily, the nerves seemingly at bay now that the conversation is flowing easily, and you don’t want to run off to the nearest police station. “m’just happy that i found you again. came back to try and take some proper photos for the assignment, and here you were again.”

your eyes grow wide, “oh, i’m sorry ! let me get out of your way. i just love this tree so much, i’ll move, i’ll move,” you rush out, gathering yourself, but harry’s quick to cut you off, “please don’t,” he blushes again. “i can take assignment photos any time. can even find myself another tree. i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i took you away from your favourite fall spot.”

you giggle breathily, intrigued and slightly infatuated with the man you’d just met, every bit curious to learn more about him. so with a rush of confidence that you’ve no idea where you managed to find, “would you be interested in-“ you cut yourself off, the confidence waning, eyes flicked down to your boots, feet scuffing together through the leaves, as you shake your now empty coffee cup, “m’out of coffee. want to join me for another ? my treat. as a thank you for the gorgeous photos. and then i can maybe show you an even better spot for photos.”

you watch as harry’s lips quirk up into a wide smile, teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he nods, “on one condition.”

“what’s that ?” you hum, growing a bit nervous. had you misjudged this man ? was he about to turn creepy on you ?

“i need to work on my assignment, but-“ it’s his turn to cut himself off, weighing out whether this crosses that creep line he’s been flirting with. taking a deep breath, figuring you seem a lot more accepting than he’d originally wrongfully assumed, “will you let me take a few more photos of you on the way ? you’re so lovely, completely glowing in the midst of your favourite season.” 

he watches you blush, nodding shyly. and if it was an excuse to see you again, with the ruse of wanting to share his work, well, that can be his little secret.

……

Masterlist

tags : @gorlsinmultifandoms

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Thanksgiving Reruns 2024--Chapter 1: The Thanksgiving Dinner

It’s that time again; the holidays!  I would like to wish all my followers who celebrate it a very happy Thanksgiving.  As a thank you to you (as well as my followers who DON’T celebrate), I present you with 3 Thanksgiving related stories I’ve written in the past.  Enjoy!

Title: The Thanksgiving Dinner

Rating: G

Words: 1573

Summary: When Emma and Killian host Thanksgiving dinner at their home for the first time, they want everything to be perfect, but things don’t always go the way we want.

Other Chapters: 2 3 4 5

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Thanksgiving Dinner

***originally written sometime during season 5***

CS genre: (at the time) future fic

Killian shivered as he walked along the sidewalk that led to the house he shared with his wife, Emma Swan-Jones.  A pleasant thrill shot through him at the thought.  Emma was his wife!  Against all odds, against death itself, they’d prevailed, and they’d finally been given the chance to embark on their future together.

The past few months had been difficult, to say the least, but the happiness he now enjoyed with his true love and her son in their house by the sea made every last moment of the agony worth it.

The cold, late autumn breeze picked up, scattering fallen leaves and chilling Killian to the bone.  He took the stairs to his home two at a time, wondering idly if they were in for a snowstorm.  He hoped so.  Perhaps he could engage in a snowball fight with the lad.  Perhaps he and Swan and Henry could build a snowman.  Killian let himself daydream about a day spent with his family in the snow—not to mention the ways he and Swan could find to warm each other up after the lad went off to bed.

In fact…speaking of more enjoyable activities…the lad was staying with his other mother tonight,  perhaps he and Swan should take advantage of the alone time.  Smile draping his lips, Killian opened the door, prepared to call out an enthusiastic “Hello, love!”

But the greeting died on his lips.

No sooner had he pulled the front door open than his ears were assaulted with a piercing, pulsating shriek, and thick, black smoke slapped him in the face.  Faintly, underneath the shrill noise, he detected the sound of crying.  Emma crying.

Sprinting forward, his heart in his throat, he made for the kitchen.  “Swan!” he shouted fearing the scene he might find.

He found her sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, crying as though her heart were breaking.  A sauce pan sat on the stove, smoking merrily away, apparently causing the device Swan had called a “smoke detector” to protest vigorously.  As Swan didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger, Killian jogged to the stove, turned off the burner, and threw the offending pan into the sink, dousing it’s charred, lumpy contents with water.

Immediate crisis over (and alarm finally blessedly silent) Killian returned to his disconsolate wife.  Kneeling before her, he put a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “Emma, love, what’s the matter?” 

She raised a red, tear-stained face toward him, and then fell into his arms, the tears continuing.  He held her for long moments, rubbing her back, whispering comforting nothings into her ear, brushing kisses against her hair, the top of her head.  Finally, the worst of her emotion seemed to pass, and she pulled back, scrubbed at her face and then resumed her seat. 

“Killian, I can’t do this!  It’s an utter disaster!” she said, vaguely gesturing toward their kitchen. 

“What is it you can’t do love?” he asked, taking a seat beside her and putting his arm around her shoulders.

Emma sighed deeply and then leaned her head against his shoulder.  “This.  Cook.”

Killian chuckled softly.  “Not to put too fine a point on it, love, but you never could cook.  Beyond the realm of breakfast provisions, you are hopeless, darling.  Your lad and I have taken to learning the culinary arts out of sheer self-preservation.”

Emma sat up and glared at him, crossing her arms with a huff.  After a moment, she wilted, dropping her eyes to the table before them.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

She looked so sad, so dejected that Killian leaned over and kissed her tenderly, slowly.  Her arms wound around him as she returned the embrace, seeming to take strength from their intimacy.

Finally, he pulled back, looking into her red-rimmed eyes.  “What is this truly about, my love?  Your proficiency in this particular domestic art has never before been an issue that affected your happiness.” 

“It’s just…” she said, getting up to pace, “I invited everyone over for Thanksgiving tomorrow.  The whole crazy family.  I told them I would make the Turkey and stuffing, the whole nine yards.” 

Killian vaguely recalled people throughout the town referring to an autumn holiday called Thanksgiving.  From what he’d gleaned from various conversations, the holiday consisted of eating gluttonous amounts of food and then viewing a sporting event called “football”. 

Emma gestured toward the blackened pot in the sink.  “I have to make the whole dinner, and I can’t even figure out how to make mashed potatoes!” 

“Potatoes?” Killian asked as he poked at the congealed mess with his hook.  “Is that what these once were?  It would seem you didn’t add enough water when you set about to boil them.”

“I needed to add water?” 

Killian shot her an incredulous look.  “Aye…boiling requires liquid, love.” 

The tears started flowing again.  “I don’t even know how to boil potatoes.  I’m so screwed.” 

Killian took her into his arms once more, rocking her gently.  “Again, what is this really about, love?  If it were merely a matter of preparing a meal, I’ve no doubt your mother would be thrilled to assist you.” 

Emma pulled back enough to look at him.  “It’s just…it’s Thanksgiving, you know?  I wanted to make this holiday perfect.  I wanted to…I don’t know…try to make it up to everyone for the damage I caused when I was the Dark One.  Say thank you for standing by me.  That kind of thing.” 

Killian smiled tenderly and reached up to catch a tear with his thumb.  “None blame you, Emma.  None hold it against you.  I more than any know what you’re going through; the guilt and shame.  I did far worse than you under the curse.  But you’ve put all to rights; you’ve nothing left to atone for.” 

She tossed him a watery smile.  “It’s been quite a year, hasn’t it?” 

He barked out a laugh.  “Truer words were never spoken.” 

Emma dropped back into her chair at the table and sighed again.  “Regardless, we still have a whole freaking Thanksgiving dinner to host.  What are we going to do?” 

“We deal with it as we deal with everything, my love,” Killian said, sitting beside her, “together.  You’re no longer alone; you’ll never be alone again.  Henry and I would be honored to help you prepare this special repast.”

Emma leaned forward and kissed him slow and deep.  “Thank you.  What would I do without you?” 

“Certainly not any edible cooking,” he said with a quirk of his brow. 

Emma hit him playfully.  He captured her hand and brought it to his lips, pleased to see the smile blooming once again on her lovely face. 

“Killian, there was one more reason I was hoping this holiday would be perfect,” she said, looking at him shyly from beneath her long lashes. 

“Aye, love?  What’s that?” 

“This is your first Thanksgiving, and I wanted to make it special because…”

“Because why?” 

Emma abruptly got to her feet and darted toward the powder room off the kitchen.  A moment later she returned holding a small, white wand of sorts.  “Because, well, I have news, and I was planning to share it after everyone went home on Thanksgiving, but I guess now’s as good a time as any.” 

Killian took the device she held out to him, peering in confusion at the tiny display showing two pink lines.  Was this supposed to be meaningful to him?  “My apologies love.  I’m afraid I don’t understand…” 

Emma took his hand and looked into his eyes.  “This is a special test, Killian.  One that can tell me…what’s going on in my body.  Those two lines there?  They mean I’m pregnant.” 

It took him a moment to catch up to what she’d said, but when he did his heart stuttered and then began racing.  “You’re with child?  I’m to be a father?”

She nodded, her lower lip between her teeth.  “Yeah.  I just found out today.  We’re going to have a baby!” 

Killian whooped then took her into his arms, swinging her around as she laughed and the tears flowed once more.  Finally he put her down and kissed her as he felt the tears prick his own eyes.  A father!  He was going to be a father!  It was something for which he’d never allowed himself to hope. 

“I hope this means you’re happy,” Emma said. 

“Happy!  Emma, nothing on this earth could bring me more joy.” 

She smiled beatifically.  “I hoped you’d react like that.  But, I mean, we hadn’t really talked about kids yet, and I didn’t know how you felt, and…I don’t know.” 

He chuckled.  “Why do you think I selected such a large house, love?  Of course I want to have a family with you.  What better way to overcome our painful pasts than to share our love with a family of our own?” 

As Killian and Emma celebrated their happy news and began planning for their upcoming Thanksgiving dinner, Killian couldn’t keep the smile off his lips.  Though he’d never before heard of the custom, he very much looked forward to this holiday called Thanksgiving.  With a wife he loved beyond all reason, a teenage son he adored, an entire family to care for and now a tiny son or daughter on the way, he had more blessings than he could count in three lifetimes.

There was much for which to be thankful.

Next Chapter–>

[gollancz]

That's right lads. Indomitable word-machine Branderson is at it again and we have the joy, pleasure and privilege of bringing you TAILORED REALITIES.

Tailored Realities includes the never-before-published novella Moment Zero. It spans the genres of fantasy and science fiction, and features stories from beyond Sanderson’s Cosmere universe. Tailored Realities will also include "Snapshot", "Perfect State", Defending Elysium(a novella set within the world of Skyward) and five other previously published stories. Several of them have never before been available in print. Each story will be accompanied by a new black and white illustration.

It's out Autumn 2025, and keep an eye on our channels for cover reveals!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Love Potion

@lordoftherazzles my friend, my saviour, has been so good to provide me with a request right away and I am diligent.

So...here we go...Week 2 (There are still plenty of prompts open :) )

Words: 1154

Characters: Dwalin x Nori, Ori

Prompt: Ice-cold drinks

Warnings: Alcohol, a kiss, reference to trauma

Nori looked over at his younger brother dubitatively—he had a lot riding on this afternoon picnic, and he wanted everything to be just perfect.

"Didn't you say that you were going to the river with Fíli and Kíli?" he asked in a slightly unnerved tone as Ori kept fidgeting with the checkered tablecloth as if he had all the time in the world at his disposal.

"Do you want to get rid of me?" Ori shot back, a vexed, injured expression in his deep, dark eyes as he finally caught on to his brother's evident nervousness and impatience.

"Yes," Nori exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "The last thing I need today is my baby brother bustling around to witness my inevitable shame."

Shaking his head mournfully, Ori gave the decorations a last pat and stepped back from the little table they had erected in the middle of the small meadow behind their cottage.

"Suit yourself," he muttered fondly and gave Nori an encouraging smile. "It looks really nice, you know? You're right though, it's a terribly hot day, and I should be off."

Feeling bad for having chased away Ori—who was inoffensive and helpful by nature—Nori decided to sacrifice a part of his special surprise for his own guest to make amends for his harsh words.

"Here," he called, running after Ori's retreating figure and handed the young lad a battered flask. "Be careful!"

Mahal, Nori thought, he started to sound like Dori.

Shaking himself in disgust, he went back in to swap his worn tunic for a newer, cleaner, and more flattering one and thus began the long waiting.

He had not given his most anxiously awaited guest a clear timeline—it had been important to him to make the whole plan sound as relaxed and spontaneous as possible, despite the meticulous planning that had gone into that insouciant air of careless flirtation—and consequently, he did not know when the other would arrive exactly.

"He'll come," Nori muttered and touched his elaborate hairdo for the umpteenth time to make sure that it was flawless.

It was quite unlike him to be this nervous about what—on the surface at least—was nought but an informal visit from an old friend.

Ori had been right, and the weather had been glorious these last few days so when he had met Dwalin in the square, he had casually invited him to come share a cold drink while sitting in the meadow and laughing about their overly prim and proper siblings.

They had done this a thousand times before so why was his stomach in knots now?

Maybe, Nori had to admit, it was because he now was acutely aware of the effect Dwalin's strong, tattooed arms had on the colony of critters having taken up residence in his stomach or because he could no longer ignore the fact that his breath stuttered every time those seemingly serious eyes glistened with secret glee.

It was entirely foolish, but Nori couldn't help feeling that he didn't want to spend sunny summer days with anybody else. Come to think of it, he could also not imagine a better companion for cold winter days or mellow autumn days or any other season or moment of his life.

"Oi!"

Not one to insist on procedure, Dwalin had simply rounded the house and was presently stomping determinedly towards the small clearing, a box carefully balanced in one of his massive paws.

"The other ones out?" he asked good-humouredly as he let himself fall into one of the chairs Ori and Nori had brought out prior to his arrival. "Just us?"

"Just us," Nori acquiesced—he hated how his voice broke at the end of the sentence as if he was not sure of himself.

Mahal's beard, he had but two brothers and he was well capable of keeping track of them.

"Balin sends his best regards," Dwalin grumbled on complacently, "and his meatloaf."

"Oh, goodie," Nori exclaimed in earnest delight and patted Dwalin's bare shoulder awkwardly.

It was a sign of friendship and trust as much as a concession to the merciless, blistering heat that he had not donned the heavy leathers he was usually clad in.

Instead, he wore a light tunic and a pair of cut-off leggings that would have made Dori blanch with how crooked they looked, spanned taut around Dwalin's impressive calves.

"Let me get the drinks," Nori squeaked and dashed back up to the house to catch his breath before he could do something unpardonably stupid.

Taking out the pitcher from the icebox, he gave a heavy sigh.

No doubt, Dwalin expected some local ale, provided by one of the surrounding breweries but—on this most fateful of days—Nori had taken the enormous risk of baring a part of his soul to his taciturn friend.

He had picked up the recipe for the fruity, summery concoction on one of his most desperate thieving trips—in fact, it had been entrusted to him by a young woman who danced for coin.

Spending all her days in sweltering alleys, she knew how merciless the heat could be and had taught Nori how to stir up a refreshing, reinvigorating drink that would not addle his senses overmuch.

It had been many long years since last he had even tried to emulate her prowess, but today, for Dwalin, he had given it his best try.

Nori's fingers were clasped tight around the cold container as he made his way back slowly, dreading that Dwalin would mock him and the fruit of his labours.

At the sight of the cut-up slices of berries and apples floating in the aromatic liquid, Dwalin cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, but he didn't demure.

Indeed, he took the offered tankard eagerly and drank deep.

"That is delicious!" he cried out, astonishment in his voice, as he sprang up for no apparent reason. "You've got something..."

Leaning over his befuddled host, he cupped one of his bearded cheeks tenderly and bent towards him to kiss away the scrap of blueberry clinging to Nori’s proud moustache.

"There," Dwalin muttered throatily. "Even more delightful than the first mouthful."

Whimpering under his breath, Nori melted into the embrace of those strong arms and gasped when Dwalin's cold cup touched his back, making him jerk forward instinctively straight into Dwalin’s broad chest.

"Now, this," Dwalin purred and took another appreciative sip, "is too good to be kept a secret. In the name of fraternal loyalty, I will have to demand you hand over the recipe so I can present it to Balin as a token of my love."

It was Nori's turn to cock a sceptical eyebrow.

"You'd have to catch me first," he then hooted and, twisting elegantly, he ran off towards the nearby line of trees.

Guffawing loudly, Dwalin drained his glass, poured himself another few swigs, downed those as well, and gave chase.

@fellowshipofthefics Here's the first one for the second week then :)

Thank you @lordoftherazzles for the prompt, you're a lifesaver (and if you ever want one, please feel free to ask me, I never know when people would like any...)

Lots of love <3

[muzaktomyears]

Recollections of Liverpool School of Art 1957 - Pat Jourdan

We all gathered at the front hall that September morning and John Lennon, Tony Carricker and Jeff Mohammed were sitting together on the marble steps. John and Terry were wearing their old school blazers with the pocket-badge removed, while Jeff, already about 25 years old, was wearing a speckled tweed jacket. The office window had the register for us to sign, and a small selection of art materials to buy.

We were never taught how to draw, how to create or handle a line, construct shapes via pencil, pen and ink or charcoal or the dreaded Conte crayon which we bought every Monday from the office by the front door. Two colours of Conte - black or terra cotta. Everyone preferred the terra cotta as it made any scratch look as though it was something by Leonardo da Vinci.

We were plunged into the Life Room, Room 73, with no preparation, just with half-imperial sized paper, 2B pencils or crayons. I conscientiously went round the outline of the model (Mrs Dornan or June Furlong?). We were all skating on thin ice, unassisted, only criticised by the lecturer, Phillip Burton, a small Welshman. Most of the lads were embarrassed, they said later.

So I went carefully round the model's edges and produced something like pale tramlines, week after week. Phillip Burton eventually brought me some of John Lennon's drawings, bold black simple lines. "Look at these definite statements. This is what you should be aiming at. See, here and here." He pointed out how one dashing line completed the top of an arm or the slope of a hip - all in one flow, finished. I looked at them and saw the difference. John was not present, he may have finished and gone down to the canteen.

Mr Wiffen's weekly subjects started off with a cup and saucer, then a teapot, a humpback bridge, painted in black and white special poster colour. We were out drawing the Protestant Cathedral on Friday 4th October 1957 (the Catholic one was not yet built). Thursday 17th October we were in Princes Park, hugging trees, to learn that trees - especially winter trees - were not just flat silhouettes. We each had to put our arms around a tree. It was hilarious. It looked like something from the Goon Show. This was 'Elements of Drawing' with Mr Wiffen, who always wore a white overall like a scientist.

One painter, Tony Byrne, had been to the Tate Gallery show of American abstract painters. He bought sheets of hardboard and decorators' paint, and started painting on the floor. John Lennon made fun of him (as he did of many people) and watched Tony painting on the floor. The next evening, John did one perfect floor-based painting and left it at that. He was quick to absorb whatever was new, and then move on.

When we returned in the autumn term, John was wearing a smart black corduroy jacket and I remarked how good it looked. "I'm wearing it because of my mother, the daft git walked between a tram and a car and got squashed," he said sharply. I did not know if he was being his usual sarcastic self, or if it could possibly be true - no one else had mentioned her death. So, I said, 'What a pity, that was really awful' and other sympathetic remarks, being puzzled about what he meant. It was never discussed again at all.

The college suddenly had also had a sort of investigation about our productivity, and John gave me his more outlandish drawings to hide in my locker on the top corridor. "They won't find them here, I've got to show them all my sketchbooks," John said. They turned out to be the foundation of his book, In His Own Write, in 1964.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Deliciously Dangerous Golden Apples - Prince Frederick X Female Reader

Title: Deliciously Dangerous Golden Apples

Prince Frederick X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Espen (Mentioned), Kristin (Mentioned), and other people like random guards and townspeople (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 7,766

Warnings: Slight spoilers to The Ash Lad (the first movie), canon violence mentioned, Reader is a witch, Reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress, death mentioned, eating bugs and other small animals very briefly mentioned, Reader slaps someone briefly mentioned, angst, injuries mentioned, throwing up very briefly mentioned, slight suggestiveness, name-calling (not bad; ex. idiot, coward, etc.), love at first sight, enemies to lovers, arguing, teasing, banter, tension, blood mentioned, a lot of italics, and fluff

The forest was thick with heavy green brush and tall, wide trees that stretched beautifully into the sky. The world around you was peaceful, with soft chirps from small birds, and the bright sun's light shining through the canopy of leaves, warming you perfectly. Today was indeed a breathtaking, and perfect day for collecting more ingredients that you were running out of. Herbs, mushrooms, berries, you placed all that you could find and needed, carefully in your woven basket. Crouching on the ground, the trim of your brown shirt became slightly damp from the moist moss under your brown leather, booted feet. 

You thought that this day was going to be like any other day, but just as you were going to pick some blueberries, you froze. Slowly, you looked up, turning your head towards the west as a small gust of cold wind blew past you, ruffling your hair under the cloak of your hood slightly. Something was wrong, and your instincts and the cries of Mother Nature were never wrong. And so, you stood, abandoning the lush, purple berries to follow the small gust of wind, which carried some of the dead fallen leaves of the oncoming autumn off the ground; creating hauntingly beautiful swirls of orange, yellow, red, and brown.

Following the swirling wind for what felt like only a couple of minutes, you finally reached a path. It was free from any fallen leaves, fallen branches, or twigs; which led right to a tall rock surface, covered in vines and moss. You tilted your head, stepping close to the stone before placing your palm upon its cold surface. Shutting your eyes, you felt the warmth of your energy flow through your body, reaching from your head to your toes before flowing out of your fingers as a soft, silver light. It sparkled and glowed as gentle little spindles of light emitted from your hand, swirling in an intricate pattern around the stone. Your eyes snapped open again, taking in every single detail of your surroundings. Everything seemed to shift and change; it was mesmerizing.

You took a step back from the rock as it opened, and moved to the side, revealing a dark, hidden cave. You quickly moved forward, feeling a sense of urgency, not knowing what was wrong, or whether someone required your help. Stepping past old sticks, dead leaves, and a low mist that hovered over the ground, you found yourself face to face with a group of Forest Nymphs. Their haggard appearances were enough to make anyone uneasy and their stomachs upset. Their hair was dark, covered in dirt, mud, and whatever else. Their faces, much like any stereotypical witch or hag any guardian would tell their children about as a cautionary tale before slumber; wrinkled faces, long warty noses, grimy teeth. They spoke with high-pitched, scratchy voices, laughing to one another, fawning and buttering up their most recent prey; a young man.

From where you stood, you could tell that he was already deep under their spell, eating the bugs, snails, and such that were illusioned as sweet treats in his eyes. From his mind's view, and from what he could tell while under their spell, he was simply eating delicious strawberries and devouring pleasant pastries. Under this sorcery, instead of somewhat terrifying Forest Nymphs, he simply saw beautiful women; sparkling eyes, breathtaking voices, long, flowing blonde hair, with matching tails of that of a cow. 

You had to act fast to save the man’s life, and so, you went straight into action. Crouching down, you placed your hands on the dirty ground. Shutting your eyes briefly, the palm of your hand shone in the dark hall of the cave, just as it did at the face of the stone. Slowly, you watched as large vines slithered and crawled past you, as if with a mind of their own, towards the evil and vile seductresses. You continued to watch as they began to panic as the vines began to climb and twist around them as they sat at their wooden table, trapping them and encasing them in a thick, vine prison.

“No!” One shrieked, “He’s ours!”

They screeched, and cried, struggling against their only temporary binding as you scurried closer, reaching the man. He continued to laugh, high on the hallucinations, his fingers almost numbly reaching out to try and grab a dead rat from the table. You cringed, instantly pulling the man up from the table's wooden bench before tugging him through the cave's tunnel; his feet stumbling as he fought against your grip to get back to the 'beautiful women.'

"Let go of me." He spoke, his words slightly slurred as he continued to drag his feet, trying to get back to the cave now multiple feet from the both of you. "Let go of me, I say! I want to stay with those beautiful women."

Stopping in your tracks, the man stumbled into your back as you did so. He rubbed at his dirty hair with his free hand, a frown on his equally dirty face as he looked around; hopefully, the spell was fading off, at least his sluggish laughter had stopped. Raising your own hand, the man before you tried to pull away as your hand landed on his cheek harshly. "Snap out of it, you fool." You growled, growing irritated, "What you had seen in there was all just an illusion; a spell."

Immediately, the man glared daggers at you, his free hand rubbing his cheek in which you had slapped, "No one slaps me! Do you know who I am!?"

You narrowed your eyes, though you must have thought that it was unnoticeable with the hood covering most of your face, "No, and I do not care or wish to know who you are until we get to my cottage." You replied sharply, turning around and walking through the forest once more. "And it would be smart to shut your mouth, there are many dangers in these woods that are far worse than what you had recently encountered."

Sighing dramatically, the man followed behind you obediently, muttering curses and harsh words in general under his breath. His legs were weak, tired from the constant movement, but he kept pace with you nonetheless. And finally, after climbing a few cobbly steps and through a tunnel of pink-flowering trees, you reached your cozy, little cottage. 

"You live in this dump? How pathetic." The man sneered as he stared at the hut, his nose wrinkled in disgust. 

You opened your front door before pulling the man inside and shutting the door. "Sit on the bed." You ordered simply, setting down your basket of what you salvaged from your busy morning of saving rude men - which you may or may not have wished you hadn’t saved, but you knew that having your life in the fate of Forest Nymphs was far worse than any death imaginable; in your opinion, nobody should suffer through it.

The man didn't move, eyes wide in shock, “Excuse me!? Normally, I wouldn’t say no to sleeping with-”

“No, you idiot!” You spun around in alarm, “I need to heal you. Now, sit.” You repeated, pointing to the bed as the man continued to stand in the middle of your cottage with his arms crossed, defiant.

"No. I will not take commands from some lowlife peasant.” He practically spat, “I am a Prince, I'll have you know." He spoke, all high and mighty for a man that was covered in layers of dirt and grime.

You scoffed, pivoting your weight to one side, jutting your hip out, and resting your hand there as you stared at him, "And that concerns me why?" You questioned him mockingly, "I'm sure that if you really were a prince, then you'd know better than to be in such a dangerous forest alone, without any guards, protection, food, and all that." You spoke before pointing a finger at the bed once more, "Now, sit, or the longer you wait, the faster the food poisoning will occur, and the sooner you die. But if you think that you are strong enough to deal with it by yourself, then please, be my guest, the door is there. I don't have to waste my precious ingredients on you."

Silently, the so-called prince stared at you, guardedly, before going over and taking a seat on your bed, as he was told. Shifting, he watched you warily as you began moving around your cottage, looking through drawers and shelves to find all the ingredients you needed before grabbing your mortar and pestle. You began to combine the right ingredients, mixing various herbs and roots, and grinding them together in a smooth, dark green powder. He continued to watch as you finished smoothing the powder before grabbing an empty circular bottle. Pouring the powder into the bottle, you then grabbed a secondary vile, which was filled with a purple-ish substance. Combining the two, it sizzled slightly as you swirled the bottle, mixing the liquid and powder together, creating a purply pink foam before it dwindled out.

Walking over, you offered the bottle to the man, who stared at it, up at you, and back. "You don't honestly think I'll drink that do you? You could be poisoning me."

You inwardly sighed, "Why would I drag you out of a cave of hungry Nymphs only to bring you to my cottage to kill you?" You countered, gesturing to the bottle, "And I already said that you are currently dying. So, if you don't drink this, you will die. Your choice.” You shrugged, as you waved the bottle in his face, “Some advice though. I would choose the bottle."

Snatching the bottle, the man slowly brought it up to his lips. He cringed, the overwhelming smell of what he could only describe as rotten eggs engulfed him. He paused briefly before squeezing his eyes shut and chugging the concoction in just a few gulps. Cringing, he pulled the bottle away once it was empty, blindly handing it to you as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That was disgusting, what was that!?"

"I didn't say that it was going to taste good." You spoke, ignoring his question and taking the bottle before setting it in your sink across the small living room. "Now that should take effect in no more than a few moments." You spoke, beginning to untie your thick, green cloak, "It will counter the food poisoning that you have most likely obtained while staying with the Nymphs. Wicked creatures.” You hissed softly to yourself, as the man who said he was a so-called prince, tilted his head to the side like some confused pup. 

"Nymphs?" The man spoke, his eyebrows furrowing, creating a small crease between his brows. 

"What's your name?" You then asked suddenly - again - ignoring his question as you removed your cloak, turning to hang it on the hook near the front door. And the man found himself speechless. As a prince, he had met a lot of people, possibly hundreds of beautiful women, but you... You were something else entirely. You had taken his breath away, completely and utterly, leaving him speechless. Your hair was a perfect shade, complimenting your skin, and framing your face beautifully. His eyes began to look over your features; your soft lips, the slope of your nose, and the bright sparkle of your eyes. He suddenly felt warm, and it wasn't due to the fever raging within his body from the food poisoning. His heart beat quickly like he wanted nothing more than to run his fingertips along your jawline and cup your cheeks, pull you close, and press his lips gently against yours. What was happening to him? Was this your spell? Was it from that potion you gave him? "So?" He heard your voice say, plowing through his daydreaming, "What should I call you?"

His mouth felt dry, as he licked his lips, his eyes narrowing, “What did you do to me?” He asked accusingly, “What was in that bottle?” He demanded, only for you to scoff, the corners of your lips twitching.

“If you think it was anything other than something to stop you from dying from food poisoning, then you are mistaken.” You spoke calmly, crossing your arms over your cream-colored chemise and brown corset. “I understand how it can be difficult to trust me, but I can assure you, I wouldn’t want to kill you.” You paused, running a hand through your hair as you glanced at the fire, “Mhm, but if I did want to kill you, I can assure you once again, I wouldn’t do it here.” You looked back over at the man, “I don’t want blood on my floor.” You smirked lightly, seeing the slightly uneasy expression on his face before finishing, “Now, what’s your name?”

He paused, before clearing his throat, his hand forming a fist at his mouth, "Frederick. Prince Frederick." He answered before clearing his throat again and returning to look at you, "And what should I call you?"

"Y/N." You answered, pleasantly surprised at how it seemed that he had decided to give you a chance and trust you for now as you leaned back against your wooden table with the palms of your hands, "So... You're really a prince then?"

"Of course," Frederick answered quickly, sure of himself before narrowing his eyes, "Now, what are you?"

"What am I?" You repeated, tilting your head to the side, "Quite rude of you to ask me what I am?”

Prince Frederick stood, puffing his chest slightly, making you smirk; amused at how he tried to make himself seem tough. You had no doubt that he could fend for himself, provided that he had a sword in which to use. "I have fought a nasty troll, spoken to an ugly hag, and Nymphs from what you say. What creature are you?" He asked, almost judging as he raked his eyes down and back up your body.

"I'm a witch... A Forest Witch specifically. If you want to get technical." You answered with a sigh, turning to bend over by the fire, checking on the small pot of soup that was bubbling there; cooking, almost ready.

"A witch?" He then asked, seemingly shocked, maybe tense, "But you're not ugly."

That made you laugh, a real one as you turned away from the fire and back around to face the prince, "I'm taking that as a compliment. It's true though. Not all witches are 'ugly.'" You chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully as you walked over to him. "Now, down to business. I will allow you to stay here for no more than three nights, so you can get your strength back. For now, you will eat and sleep - I'll take the extra bed in the other room. And once you are better, I'll lead you back towards the nearest village. Is that clear?"

"You expect me to stay here? In these dirty clothes? Unless you are going to offer to wash them then I demand new, clean clothes, peasant."

Smirking, you hummed, stepping closer to the prince, and bending down slightly to match his height, "Well, your highness, I guess you'll just have to wash them yourself if you don't want to wear them... I do have extra clothing that might fit you, but you won't get them unless you ask nicely."

He stared down at you, his lips parting slightly as his eyes traveled over your face, taking in every bit of beauty that his gaze landed upon. His fingers twitched nervously and his breathing quickened; there was just something so strangely alluring about you. “This is foolish…” He muttered before gulping. It didn’t take long, as he stood, taking in his appearance. His clothes were dirty, covered in dirt, grime, and bits of his blood; along with his face and hands, and his hair was in a similar condition. He smelled foul, and the prince blinked before frowning stubbornly, "Fine. I will take that extra clothing."

"Please?" You prompted, tilting your head to the side slightly, "Gotta use the magic word."

His eyes narrowed, matching your force with his own, fueling the tension that sizzled between the two of you, "Please?" He sneered, his stomach churning as a strange fluttering warmed in the pit of his stomach. "Happy?"

You hummed, allowing yourself the pleasure of admiring the prince before you before humming and leaning back, "Very." You smiled, "Now, I'll go grab those clothes, you can help yourself to the stew. It’s mushroom and potato." You stated nonchalantly, walking past him, "I'll meet you in the kitchen when I return." Frederick felt a sigh leave him as you turned around the corner, only for you to peek your head back around a second later, “And don’t think I forgot the ‘thank you for saving my life’ that you owe me.”

~~~

“I am fine.” Frederick tried to assure you stubbornly, crossing his arms as you made one last elixir, "I do not need another one of those dreadful things."

You hummed softly, flicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth, "These 'dreadful things' are what keep you from becoming more ill." You spoke calmly, pouring a bit of spring water into your circular bottle before mixing the ingredients together with a few twists of your wrist, "This also helps with any stomach issues you may have. You don't want to throw up, do you?" You asked, turning from the table to walk the few steps to the bed where Fredrick sat. 

"No, I would not." He continued to be stubborn, turning up his nose at the drink that you offered.

"Then drink." You said simply, your grin widening when he - again - snatched the potion from your hand and drank the whole thing in a couple of chugs. "There, not that bad, right?" You playfully cooed, only for Fredrick to look up at you with a hardened glare.

"Do not treat me like a child." He scolded, setting the empty vessel down on the nightstand beside the bed with a hard thump, thankfully, the bottle didn't shatter or crack. 

"Then stop acting like one." You answered back, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall, "The faster you drink what I make, the faster you'll get better, and the sooner you can go on your way." You shrugged as you ran a hand through your hair, "I don't know why you have to be so stubborn. I'm just trying to help. I don't need to help, but I do. And it's not weak to need help or ask for help." You watched him carefully as he crossed his arms across his chest and looked away. 

"I hate it here." He grumbled, making you groan frustrated and push off of the wall. “It’s cold, and cramped.”

“Well, I apologize that I don’t live in a castle.” Walking towards the table again, you felt your blood boil slightly as you spun around and leaned against the table, the palms of your hand pressed against the wood, "You just never learn, can you? I'm trying to help, I'm trying to make everything easier for you, but you refuse to accept my help."

"Because you are forcing me to stay here." He growled lowly, "I've told you before, I don't need your assistance. Especially from some lowly witch."

You barked out a sarcastic laugh, narrowing your eyes as you smiled darkly, "A 'lowly witch,' well, I haven't heard that one before." You huffed, "I may be far too kind and generous for my own good, but I am still a witch, and I can still be quite vicious and violent if I feel it is necessary. And this situation certainly qualifies as that, don't you agree?" He kept silent. Sighing, you pushed yourself off the table, with a tired sigh, "If you want to leave, you may, I can't force you to stay here. You can leave whenever you like. As I have said before. I don't have to waste my ingredients on you." Your voice was soft as you walked past him, pausing momentarily at the corner, "You may keep the clothes, I won't need them. I would advise that you bring my extra cloak, it's getting cold. It might rain." You finished before slipping out of the room, and to your storage room that you also used as a small craft room.

For the next hour or so, you stayed in that room, knitting yourself a new scarf from the yarn that you had saved up to buy at the nearby market. It was quiet, far too quiet, and you made up your mind that Fredrick had left. Half of you was disappointed, liking having someone around even when they were a bit of a pain, and the other half of you said 'good riddance.' It was going to be so quiet around the cottage again. You, being a witch and all, couldn't really gain many friends, in reality, you had none. No one took the chance to really get to know you and trust you, and sometimes you found yourself becoming the person in which they hated. You had done terrible things in the past, and you had learned your lesson when it came to doing things without thinking or leading with too much emotion.

But, as you sat in your little, wooden rocking chair, warm, brown spun wool in your lap and needles in hand, you paused. Looking out the window, you found droplets of rain running down your window, the sky was gray as rain continued to fall down from that gray sky. You shivered slightly, tightening your shawl tighter around you. If you were cold, he must have been freezing. But he had been so rude to you, so mean, why should you care if he was cold out in that rain, probably shivering and wandering the dark woods; lost.

You couldn't help but care. You sort of liked the so-called prince, finding him rather attractive, despite him being an utter jerk for most of the time he was with you; only two days. And if he actually was a prince as he said that he was, then you couldn't fully blame him for his nasty behavior. Being born within a royal family, raised to think those who weren't royal or of high status were below you, and therefore to act accordingly; he did have reason to dislike the idea of being in your presence. Still, it wasn't easy to see how you could ever make him change his opinion. It was true that the prince was very difficult to understand. He was rude and stubborn. He was arrogant, conceited, and cruel. He was the definition of a prince with no heart. The only times that you thought you saw something different in him were the few times that you were able to catch him watching you intently, and that, coupled with the fact that you could tell by the way his eyes shone and darkened that he was curious about you, almost fascinated. Those brief glimpses of light that he gave you made you wonder what else there was behind that stoic exterior. There had to be more than what meets the eye, after all. 

Before you knew it, you were standing from your rocking chair, haphazardly setting your knitting down where you had once sat before leaving the room. Turning the corner, you stopped, finding the bed empty, and the extra cloak on the hook was gone. You frowned, swiftly moving through the small cottage to grab your cloak before stepping out the door. The harsh, cold wind blew past you as you hurriedly moved the hood of your cloak over your head before you were totally drenched with the bone-chilling rain. 

The sky was dark, with angry gray clouds covering most - if not all - of the sky; blocking all the stars and the full moon. Shutting your eyes, you began to concentrate, feeling the warm and familiar sensation of magic flowing from your fingertips, and into the ground beneath your feet. Within seconds, the ground below you began to grow as a silver ribbon of light began to snake its way through the woods, creating a path for you to follow. 

Following the light, you held the cloak close to your body with one hand, there free just in case anything were to try and attack you. Sadly, even though you were a powerful being, others would've loved to feast on your flesh if you had given them the chance. 

Twisting around trees, large piles of brush, and stepping over overgrown tree roots, you finally found him. You breathed out heavily, catching your breath, bracing yourself against the trunk of a tree. Frederick sat on a large boulder, shivering with your cloak rung tightly around him as the rain pelted down on him in sheets. You almost felt sorry for him, but you were thankful that nothing had found him. Even though he had every right to leave, you still would've felt a bit guilty if you had come to find that he had been killed. 

Walking over, the sharp snap of a twig under your feet made Frederick turn his head, looking towards the sound, before spotting you walking towards him. He rose to his feet as soon as he spotted you - you could tell that he was trying to put on his tough facade as his green eyes narrowed with confusion. He continued to stare at you, his eyebrows furrowed with suspicion. 

"Come with me," You spoke up, offering your hand out to him, but you could see the hesitance in his eyes as he looked down at your hand, "Please," You practically pleaded, Frederick looking up at you before slowly reaching out to grab your hand, causing your fingers to curl around each other. The walk back to your cottage was a quiet one, as you followed the silver ribbon of light magic. Frederick's eyes widened as his jaw dropped at the sight of it, amazed by your creation, only to then clear his throat and look off into the distance and go back to his stubborn, stoic self. Only once the both of you entered your cottage, did you speak up once more. "You surely would've caught your death out there," Frederick said nothing, collapsing in front of the fire burning in your fireplace, still shivering; trying to warm up. You quickly began working, reaching out to take the soaking cloak only for him to pull away from your touch. "Let me help you, Frederick." You insisted, "We need to get you out of those wet clothes. Thankfully, I have cleaned your old clothes."

Frederick looked at you silently, and you could practically see the gears in his head turning before he began to untie the cloak from around him. Only when he took off the said cloak did a small gasp leave you at the sight of the small gash on his forehead, dirt and mud covering the side of his face; which you did not see when you found him in the forest. He seemed to have noticed that you had noticed his small injury, "I fell."

"That's alright. Everybody falls." You spoke, quickly grabbing a small bowl, and filling it with water before grabbing a small rag and finding your place beside him in front of the fire. Dipping the soft edge corner of the rag in the water, you squeezed out the extra before raising your hand to gently press the rag to Frederick's cut, dabbing away at it to clean the blood, dirt, and drying mud from his face. "We just have to get back up and try again."

"Why are you being so... Nice to me?" He spoke up, unable to look at you as you cupped his cheek to wipe the rest of the dirt and whatnot off.

Your movements slowed until you had wiped everything off his face. You pursed your lips as you lean back on your legs. "Well," You began, reaching up to brush his damp hair from his face, your fingers just ghosting across his jaw; you paused, feeling a tingling sensation on the tips of your fingertips as you dropped your hand, placing it in your lap. "I believe that there is good in everyone. Even princes." You answered, before collecting the bowl and rag, standing, "I'll get the bath ready. It may take a bit, heating the water and all. You just try and rest, I'll let you know when it's ready."

Frederick watched you go, feeling conflicted with emotions. Your words were kind and understanding, and although he couldn't quite figure out why, they brought back feelings inside of him that he hadn't expected to feel again. That fluttered in his stomach, the warmth spreading through his chest. It was strange, but he didn't hate it. Not exactly anyway. He slowly raised his hand, his fingers just brushing against where you had touched him, before dropping it back down, resting his hands in his lap as he went to stare into the fire.

For the next couple of minutes, you went back and forth, heating up a bucket of water that hung over the fireplace before rushing it over to a room in the back of the cottage, one that Frederick assumed was where the bath was located, but before he knew it, he was sat in a large, tin bath; the warm water soothing his aching muscles and soothing his throbbing head as well. The room was small, everything about the cottage was small; far different from his kingdom. He was not used to it. But you had left him a few items before you went to make supper, his princely clothing, washed and dried, and you also had left a large towel, lying folded on top of the table by the tub. He dried himself off before pulling the towel on his head. After dressing, he placed his hand on the doorknob, almost feeling hesitant; and awkward.

You looked up when the door opened, sitting in front of the fire, waiting for the soup to be ready. Fredrick said nothing, entering the room, his feet softly hitting the wooden floor as he found his place beside you. You turned slightly in his presence, gesturing with your hand for him to turn to you as well, "Let me take care of that, okay?" You asked, eyeing the clean cut that was red. "I don't want you to get infected or anything."

"What are you giving me this time?" He asked, only for you to shake your head at his question, your hand raising, palm up. 

"I won't be giving you anything this time." You spoke, your magic flowing through your veins and out of your fingertips, creating swirls of glittering silver; it was mesmerizing. "I know many spells, and one can heal you. Sadly, my magic does not go as far as healing internal injuries. Which was why I gave you those elixirs." You spoke, looking up from your hand to the prince, who was already staring at you. Wordlessly, you raised your hand towards his forehead, small wisps of silver light floating from your fingers and into his cut, instantly healing him as the cut seemed to disappear. You smiled as a small sigh escaped your lips. "There. All good as new." You spoke softly before standing and grabbing two bowls from your little kitchen. "Want some soup? It's rabbit, carrot, and potato."

"Yes, uh, thank you. For... Helping me." Frederick spoke, his words stopping you in your place, with the two bowls in hand.

You seemed pleasantly surprised, your smile widening slightly as you continued your way over, sitting beside him once more before handing him a bowl of steaming soup. "You're very welcome, Frederick."

~~~

The next morning as the sun slowly rose into the sky, Frederick found himself almost wishing that the sun would go back down upon the horizon. Even though he knew himself to be proud, arrogant even, he could admit that he liked spending time alone with you. Spending time with you was easy. Again, he was conflicted. Once he got back to his kingdom, he and you would have to go your separate ways. Breakfast was quiet, eating a simple porridge before he found himself following you through the forest to the market. 

"Well," You began with a sigh as you stopped at the edge of the forest, Frederick could see the market and small town, its people chatting among their friends and merchants trying to sell their goods. "This is where I leave you."

Fredrick felt like blaring alarms were going off in his head, as he snapped his head to look at you, "Come with me to my kingdom." The words left his mouth before he had any time to really think them through, surprising not only you but himself. 

"I can't." You spoke, frowning as you looked out among the people past the trees and bushes, "I'm not like you, or them..." You paused before letting out a sad laugh, "No kingdom will allow me to reside there. Being a witch and all."

"I'm the prince. It does not matter what they think, what I say goes." He tried to insist but you only hummed, giving him that same sad smile.

"Even if I go, stay in that kingdom of yours, I would not be accepted. Wherever I go, prejudice follows. Besides, I have my cottage, here in the woods."

Huffing, Frederick ran a hand through his hair, giving you a glance, "Will I ever see you again?"

"See me again?" You asked with a little laugh, "Only a couple of days ago you were trying to get away from me." You teased lightly, making Frederick roll his eyes playfully, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. And after a slight moment of silence, you continued, "I'll find you."

"Find me?" He asked out loud, turning his head only to see that you were not there. He looked around swiftly, eyes wide in a slight panic as he found himself alone.

"It's the prince! Prince Frederick!" He heard, but he was too distracted, his blue eyes searching for you, only to be swept away from the edge of the forest and into the open market; the bright sun blinding him slightly as he found himself in front of three of his royal guards, along with a handful of curious townspeople. 

"Your highness!" One guard exclaimed, bowing briefly, "We have been searching everywhere for you. Are you injured?"

Frederick raised his hand to his forehead, the ghost of your magic still lingering in his mind before he dropped his hand and shook his head, "No, I am not."

~~~

Sitting on his chair during the large celebratory supper, Frederick led his elbow on the arm of his chair, his cheek resting on his hand. Normally, he was the life of the party, so to speak, and he had been for the first couple of days, recounting his adventure reducing the princess and defeating a giant troll, but even a week into the celebration of his return, he found himself rather quiet; thinking back to what happened while he'd been gone. 

"My prince!" Someone at the table called out to him, raising their glass of red wine, "Tell us again of your adventures, rescuing the princess and killing the troll!"

Frederick sighed, having grown tired of reciting the story, even though once he would have jumped at the opportunity to... Spread the truth. Once he spoke about killing a bear with his bare hands, jumping onto the table to show off his mighty strength when he recounted the tale; when he really never fought a bear, and the only time that he had been close to a bear was when that Ash Lad was dressed up as one.

"You've all heard the story enough times by now, haven't you?" He spoke, causing some of the people around him to look at each other confused before he suddenly stood. "I'm retiring to my quarters for the night. Party on, I don't care." He waved a hand dismissively before leaving the large dining room. Finding himself in his room, he took in a deep breath, leaning against the edge of the stone window. He closed his eyes, taking another breath in before opening them once again. What had gotten into him? Why was he acting like this? Wasn't it supposed to be better? Here? That he should be happy to be home and able to live with his family? He didn’t feel like himself anymore.

You sat on your bed, the one that Frederick occupied, now empty and cold. You almost didn't want to use the bed. You almost believed that he might come back, but you knew that was a foolish dream. Frederick was probably in his castle, in his kingdom, doing whatever a prince was supposed to do; and you... You were just some witch from the woods to him. He was royalty, after all, you were a peasant. There was no reason for him to remember you or come back. Though, it didn't really hurt to dream, to wish that he'd someday come through your cottage door. It didn't hurt to dream. Right?

~~~

One Month Later

~~~

"My liege," Albert, one of Frederick's guards, said, his, Frederick's, and Henry's - the other guard - horses came to a stop. "I do not think it is wise to go this deep into the forest."

"Yeah," Henry spoke up, "I heard a witch lives in these woods."

Frederick scoffed, "If you both are cowards, you can go back. I can handle this myself." He said, urging his horse forward further into the forest, heading deeper into the thicket that surrounded your cottage. The forest had begun to darken, trees and foliage growing thicker with every passing moment; the sun setting in the sky. Frederick, though unnerved, trotted on, his guards following behind as an owl is clearly heard hooting somewhere in the distance. The atmosphere was becoming increasingly eerie. "See? Nothing to be scared of-" Frederick spoke confidently, turning his head only for his smirk to turn into a frown; his guards were gone. Turning back around, Frederick humphed, "Cowards." He muttered, swallowing thickly as he urged his horse to continue forward.

With one hand on his horse's lead, and the other on the hilt of his sword, Frederick surveyed his surroundings, as much as he could anyway; the forest was dark, the moon's light only allowing him to make out vague shapes within the thicket. As he continued forward slowly, his eyes widened as something flew straight toward his face from the darkness. Instinctively ducking, he pulled back sharply on his horse's reins to halt his progress forward, his horse rearing up, knocking him to the ground.

With a grunt and a groan, he pushed himself onto his feet, brushing himself off as he stared into the darkness ahead. A low growl filled the air, drawing the attention of Frederick who turned quickly and held his blade out protectively. Something moved forward out of the shadows, it was tall and bulky and covered in black fur and long claws. It brought its head up, its sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight; a large wolf. 

"Back, you beast!" Frederick yelled, trying to mask his terror as he pointed his sword at the wolf, its teeth growing larger and its snarls growing stronger until Frederick was backed up against a tree, his sword pointed down at the wolf. "Get back!"

The wolf continued to snarl, its saliva dripping from the corners of its mouth as its large paws stepped closer and closer towards Frederick, its tail twitching as it prepared itself to pounce. Frederick was frozen as he watched it approach, staring at those red orbs. Eyes that reminded him of fire, glowing faintly in the darkness. The wolf hunched its back, preparing itself to spring, and the prince shut his eyes. 

The silence was deafening and for a slight moment, Frederick thought he had died. But he felt no pain, no teeth as sharp as daggers ripping into his flesh, nor did he feel the burning sensation in his throat that signified a wolf's attack. Opening his eyes, he watched as the wolf stood still, akin to a statue before his nose turned up to the sky, sniffing; smelling the air. Suddenly, the wolf turned its head to the side, its ears turning, listening before he howled; its shrill piercing howl cut through the air, filling Frederick's ears; his body tensed.

All of a sudden, a familiar silver ribbon of light began to weave around the wolf's body, slowly changing color to match the silver ribbon as its light reflected off its fur before continuing its path through the forest. Turning and running, Frederick saw the wolf run in the same direction, following the light; disappearing into the shadows. He took a deep breath, feeling more safe than he had before. He lowered his sword and leaned against the tree, breathing heavily, he shut his eyes; relief filling his chest.

"I think you owe me another thank you." 

Opening his eyes, Frederick sighed and turned around to find you standing beside him, a grin threatening to appear on his face as you entered the clearing. For a moment, all he could do was stare before he cleared his throat and looked away, puffing his chest a little as he spoke, "A thank you? For what, may I ask?" He asked, still slightly shocked by your sudden appearance.

You tilted your head slightly, a slight smirk on your face as you stepped closer, "For saving your life, again."

"I could've handled it." He insisted, placing his sword back into its sheath.

"Oh, I knew you could." You stated sarcastically, folding your arms across your chest. "I never knew you were such a skilled fighter... I've never seen anyone attempt to fight a wolf with their eyes closed." You continued to playfully taunt him, stopping just inches away from him as he looked up at you, his green eyes glinting in the moonlight. You raised your brows expectantly, waiting for him to respond.

"Well, I was going to kill it, I was just waiting for the right chance to take it," Frederick responded, "I didn't need you."

You hummed, "But you did." Your eyes briefly raked over his face before returning to his eyes, "Admit it, you missed me."

Frederick rolled his eyes, shaking his head lightly, "No, not at all, why would I miss seeing a peasant like you?" He asked, feeling a rating, hot tension that made a shiver crawl down his spine. 

"Oh, I don't know..." You teased, looking away coyly. "Why else would you be in the forest, at night, alone?" You countered, a mischievous smile spreading across your lips as you looked back up at him.

"I am not alone..." He argued, his brow rising slightly as he glanced around. His eyes stopped on yours, his face becoming slightly warm, "I have my guards."

Your smirk grew even wider, "Ah, yes, but where are they?"

Frederick pursed his lips before speaking, wetting his lips, "Ah, uh, we got separated." He spoke, stammering only slightly, hardly noticeable as you raised both of your hands to straighten the collar of his brown, embroidered chemise; the tips of your fingers just barely brushing his burning neck.

"Separated?" You repeated, your hands resting on his chest as you finished fiddling with his collar, Frederick felt an odd shift in the air. "I've told you before... It's dangerous in these woods." You sighed softly, your smirk forming a small, sad frown as you stared at Frederick's chest. "You shouldn't be out here. I'll lead you back to the edge of the forest." You quickly turned away, only getting a couple of steps away before Frederick grabbed your hand. 

Turning your head, you were about to speak when Frederick stopped you by tugging at your hand, pulling you close. Your body was immediately pressed against his, your hands flying to land back on his chest. You blinked, taken aback, watching the way his hair swayed lightly in the wind, the way the moonlight illuminated the contours of his face, his features softening and relaxing as he watched you.

You had guessed right, he had missed you. Your voice, your company; it was addicting. Like the first night that he met you, the night you saved him, Frederick felt a warmth rise from within, a fluttery feeling settling in his stomach. It was an unfamiliar yet exciting feeling, one that made him feel almost giddy inside.

He felt himself begin to lean in. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. You didn't move as he placed his other hand beneath your chin, tilting your face upward slightly, his thumb tracing along your cheekbone, moving to cup your jaw as your eyelids fluttered shut. Leaning in ever so slowly, you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of his touch as he closed the small gap between the two of you.

His lips brushed gently against yours, a gentle pressure, not wanting to push too far but not wanting to leave either. You couldn't help but return the gesture, placing a hand on the back of his neck - gently carding through the short, brown hair there - while the other wrapped around his waist, holding him closer as if you feared that if you let go, he might disappear forever. The kiss lasted a few seconds; neither party was willing nor wanting to pull away. The palpable tension between the two of you was so strong that it almost seemed like it might burst.

Just when you thought you couldn't hold back anymore, the spell broke as you felt his lips part, breaking contact with your own and causing you to open your eyes. Frederick's eyes remained locked on your lips as he leaned backward slightly. After taking in a shaky inhale, his eyes shifted, his gaze traveling from your lips, lingering as a tingle spread throughout his body.

 He gulped, licking his dry lips, before finally looking at your eyes, searching your face before he whispered, "Thank you."

You couldn't help but smile, unable to break your gaze away from his soft, ocean-blue eyes, "You're very welcome, Frederick."

---

Main Masterlist | Misc. Masterlist

[renee-writer]

A Lad or Two

A continuation of A Way

AO3

With two daughters and a baby on the way, her husband a practicing paralegal, and herself a practicing doctor, their life is beyond full.

 

Bree is ten and able to take and pass college courses. She still attends classes with her peer group but more as a teacher’s aide then student. In the summer, she takes classes at Boston University. They have made an exception for her brilliance.

 

“Mr. and Dr. Fraser, in all my years I have never known a individual, no matter the age, as bright as your daughter. She is keeping my professors on their toes.” The dean told them after her first quarter.

 

Julia is in Kindergarten. Bright but not brilliant. It is a relief. “I am not sure I have the energy for another genius.” Claire admitted to Jamie. He had laughed.

 

“Nor do I.” he confessed.

 

Now they are days away from their third or fifth, depending on how you look at it. Faith and Fergus are a part of their family. They talk with the lasses about them along with Auntie Jenny and Uncle Ian. Murtagh, Column, Douglas, Ned, (Grandpa Fredrick ‘s kin). The know of the stones.

 

Bree is writing a thesis on time travel and the legend of the Stones. If anyone can figure out the magic behind them, it will be her.

 

One beautiful autumn day, Claire goes into labor. After a long and arduous labor, she is delivered of a lad! His daddy and sisters are all happy. Mama is just relieved.

 

“Hello William James.” He is named after his father, lost uncle and, his oldest sister favorite writer. She wanted him name Shakespeare . Her parents had quickly vetoed that.

 

He is a perfect mix of both his parents. He has his daddy ‘s red hair, his sisters slanted eyes through they are whiskey colored like his mamas. He also has her curls.

 

“Hello William . I am Brianna Ellen, your oldest sister. I will help you learn whatever you want to know.”

 

“Hi Willie, I am Julia. I will play with you.”

 

Both parents tear up at their greetings. “Your sisters are a lot but they adore you. We all do Willie James.” Jamie cradles his son to his chest. He is Willie James from that point on, despite his eldest sister ‘s attempts to call him William.

 

They decide three is enough. Claire gets on the modern Pill.  Their family is complete until…

 

It is a normal day. A Saturday that sees everyone home. Willie James is a bit over a year. He is toddling around the house to the amusement of his sisters. They follow him around with outstretched arms, ‘in case he falls.’ As Julia explains.

 

Claire is dictating while Jamie works on notes for an upcoming case. There is a knock on the door.  He raises to answer it. His exclamation has his wife and children joining him. Claire keeps them behind her.

 

“Jamie?”

 

“Claire it is…!”

 

“Mílady!” She almost passed out. Her husband supports her, really they support each other.

 

“Mama, who is it?”

 

“Mom cherí, I am Fergus.” He replies to Bree.

 

“You came through like mama and daddy did.” She calmly states. Julia and Willie hide behind her.

 

“Fergus!” She draws her into her arms. “My darling son!”

 

They all evidently find seats and he explains. “They wouldn’t let us marry. Her mam, Mílady, you recall Laoghaire?” She simply nods, “Well she is her daughter. Said, well things about you, things I shall not repeat in front of the bairns.”

 

“So you decided to travel through, you and Marsali?” Jamie looks at the lass holding tight to his hand. He can tell she is with child, though it is early. He also sees Laoghaire in her looks.

 

“Ouí. I didn’t ken what else to do. I knew my wife and coming bairn would be safe here, with you and Mílady.”

 

“So they are. “

 

It is a shock but a welcome one. He tells them about Jenny and Ian and their children. About everyday life after the upraising. They tell them about modern life. About their jobs and children. Bree dazzles them with her brilliance, Julia charms with her sweetness and, Fergus falls hard for his baby brother.

 

Jamie gets Fergus a job at the law office and Claire takes time off to help her daughter -in-law adjust.

 

Five months later, Germaine is born. They are grandparents and their family is… well never say done😁

 

 

A Way, for those who haven't read it or forgot ( I had!😂)

[that-scouse-wizard]

David Willows and the Creeping Cold

Chapter 1: Prologue

A/N: Hey everyone, welcome to the beginning of a story that is long overdue, this first chapter is only short but I’m hoping to get out new chapters consistently from this point. Please, let me know what you think. Without much further ado, hope you enjoy!

31st of August, 1980, Liverpool

It was a dry but cool summer day in the city Liverpool. The weather gave a perfect excuse for making the most of playing outside before the chill of autumn would start to set in. Which is exactly what brothers Jacob and David Hall were doing. The green spaces in the suburb of Allerton where they lived would do nicely.

Just the two of them meant they could do little more than pass a football back and forth between themselves but that wouldn’t stop them enjoying it. Both boys were clad in the red and white of Liverpool Football Club.

“Come on Jake! Bet my team would beat yours if we were in a match!” David playfully sneered as he kicked the ball towards his brother, brown eyes glinting with mischief. A scraggy youngster of just seven, chin-length brown hair dripping with sweat. They had been at it for half an hour and while the young boy was breathing heavily from the exertion, he still felt like going for longer.

“Yeah, in your dreams, Pip!” Jacob fired back, passing the ball with a hard kick. Being the elder brother, Jacob had roughly nine years on David with just as stark a contrast appearance-wise. Though his hair was also brown, his was closely cropped while his eyes were a piercing blue. Being older, he stood over a foot taller than his younger sibling and had a lean, athletic build from his years as a chaser of the Gryffindor quidditch team.

In spite of the obvious differences, the two were close, David being an almost constant companion whenever Jacob was back home from attending Hogwarts. Jacob always found a way to sneak him bits and pieces from the wizarding world, their mother usually seeming apprehensive though allowing it to happen.

Pretending to duel with liquorice wands, Jacob teaching David all about Quidditch with the same fervour he showed for football, and the older of the two always making time for David whenever he was home.

The football curved as it sailed past David, the young boy giving chase. He soon became aware of Jacob starting into a run as well, David knew what was coming. He tried to pick up the pace but being much younger, smaller and less-athletic had its downsides. Jacob’s thundering footfalls closed in and David was scooped up under his older brother’s arm.

The two brother’s laughed together, David loving the feeling of being carried as Jacob chased after the ball. It wasn’t long before they caught up to it though it soon became the last thing on their minds as Jacob set David down on the grass, too caught up enjoying time together that they knew was fleeting.

“Do you really need to go tomorrow?” David asked despondently, a pang of sadness settling in him at the thought of his role model leaving.

Jacob’s look was sympathetic, “I’m afraid I do mate, you know how important it is for me to be there, don’t you?”

“I know,” David said unhappily, “With you, and the-” Jacob held a finger a to his lips, almost frantically, indicating for David to be quiet.

“Not a word about that part, remember, it’s a secret. But you know? When you’re old enough, I’ll take you on all sorts of adventures.” Jacob got down on David’s level , clasping him around the shoulders as he stuck one of his arms out dramatically, “The Hall Brothers: Curse Breaker Extraordinaires! The dynamic duo and their mates take on the world!”

David couldn’t resist the feeling of joy as he laughed at the thought, “There we go! Feelin’ better?” Jacob asked, “Good lad,” He said as David gave a nod, tousling his little brother’s hair affectionately, “Enjoy your classes, make lots of friends, and I know you’ll go far in the school.”

As the two of them made their way from the park, the ball in tow, Jacob had just one last thing to say.

“I promise you, Pip, you’re goin’ to love it at Hogwarts.”

[dizzkook]

EPOCH

dizz

Gradually it twitched and ceased

Loving you was like plucking a flower

Leaving you was like running after a butterfly

Preadolescence shove off fearing them unknowing I would fall for them in my teens

It started with one

Continued with another

And ended with YOU

Cold days of winter touched me like a wraith

Pretty yet sad with a mixture of lad

pleasant with a ting of sadness

The bittersweet JANUARY

The next month was distorted with one

The menace and his advent

They said "menace in a love month"

Irony in one

The caustic FEBRUARY

Little quarrels to big fights ? Not too untimely

A happy ignorance and sad patience

Waiting for peace to touch my mind

The despondent MARCH

The awful month bring blossoms and chill

A bit hope and a bit heartsick

Ponder why this surfaced

The disheartened APRIL

The first day brought life

A wave of fuzzy and questionable thoughts

Wasn't it too early dear to hope me this hard ?

The hypnotic MAY

The hotness of month coincided identically with your temper

Little quarrels to big fights

Pinpointed the feelings and dug a grave to reach the hell

The october heated JUNE

The fair rain that smelled like petriochor

Filled my dehydrated soul with fresh moles

It was you and me paying no heed

The winsome JULY

The trees shed leaves with a tint of autumn

The cozy ether and prominent signs

Oh please it had to be my favorite

The thrilled AUGUST

The most memorable month with fulfilment of hearts

Just you and I in the mistful paths

I swear the euphoric feeling you'd made me feel

Would never go unnoticed

A perfect Wattpad lovestory with every inch of romance

Just you and I in the mistful paths

The ecstatic SEPTEMBER

You draped me with your love

Captivated my mind in your thoughts

Another month devoted to you with hopes to survive

Endless wails that rushed through like flood

Endless insecurities that rushed through my veins

The tender OCTOBER

Held you tight to accord you with love

Even I was a torned rag

Grappled you to stay tight

Even though it created a Cold War in our relation

The hostile NOVEMBER

The bitter cold that brought chills down my spine

The 'fair' rain that I once loved drowned me now

Washed away my fairness and mould me pale

An epilogue to the journey?

The Christmas night you made me cry

The New Year's Eve you made me drunk

Our love demised

The deathblow DECEMBER

Why a pretty bond if not meant to be together ?

Why a sad epilogue if a happy kick off ?

I was the poet and you were my unwritten love letter

~ dizz

[pacifymebby]

🎧 Sam

Ahh again he has some of my favourite songs!!! This is hard to only pick a few haha <3

"Your gold autumnal haze

But something dies inside you

When winter rears its face"

I get that seasonal affective pretty bad and I've got "autumnal" coloured hair that gets dark every winter so it feels like it was written just for me haha

17 going under has loads cause i too grew up in a poverty stricken area of the uk <3

This one i just think is beautiful though

"An embryonic love

The first time that it scarred"

"I see my mother, the DWP see a number.." literally makes me tear up because its the whole injustice of the uk social support crisis in one sentence so it hits hard

"And I armed myself with a grin

'Cause I was always the fuckin' joker

Buried in their humor

Amongst the white noise and boys' boys

Locker-room talkin' lads' lads

Drenched in cheap drink and snide fags

A mirrored picture of my old man

Oh God, the kid's a dab hand

Canny chanter, but he looks sad

God the kid looks so sad."

It just reminds me of B, and my dad, and most of the other men in my life who are such good and lovely pure lads that have suffered so much and don't know how to talk about it. I live in a city with some of the UKs highest suicide rates and I worry about the men i love so much and whenever i hear that wee "canny chanter but he looks sad" it just speaks to me idk.

"every image of perfection starts a goldmine

They gave you bulimia, those marketing masterminds, happens all the time.

And it breaks you up, over time."

I just like that he uses bulimia cause i think its actually more common and most women i know have had it at some point and idk, again, he captures the uk deprived area experience perfectly sometimes.

And Greasy Spoon "she hardly eats she hardly sleeps she hardly breaths when you're in her breathing space"

Its kinda the same in greasy spoon, but in greasy spoon he also just captures womanhood really beautifully which is lowkey v impressive cause its not first hand experience of his u know?

"When an angel fell somewhere in Lothian, I was only a child but I trust my eyes, she burned up like a comet before I could even say Hi..."

So innocent so cute such a beautiful image idk. I love it.

Theres so many more tbh