#if anyone has any thought please do tell!!

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 1] Offerings

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

*Just want to preface that this is a historical AU but there will be some historical inaccuracies so if you see something odd, don't point it out. Also this is still a curse AU! if that isn't clear with four-armed Sukuna. Anyway I hope you enjoy!! Any general story warnings can be found in the masterlist!

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna is missing something, he’s not sure what it is but he knows that he’s bored. He’s bored of everything that once thrilled him, tired of the same routine. But no matter what he does, he feels empty. 

He’s done everything possible to soothe that boredom, which has come to the expense of many lives. It entertained him until it didn’t. Occasionally he does find joy in the horrors that he causes but it doesn’t feel like that’s enough anymore. There’s something that he’s missing, but he’s not quite sure what it is. 

He has everything a man could possibly want– Although he isn’t exactly a man so his wants and needs are obviously different. He isn’t going to be fulfilled by the foolish ideals of happiness that men have. He doesn’t have much of a guide though, therefore he’s lost in how to fix his problem. 

“Uraume.” Sukuna’s voice isn’t all that loud, yet Uraume nearly comes running to fulfill his request. The temple is uncomfortably quiet; everyone is ready to fulfill Sukuna’s every request, and their king does not raise his voice unless adrenaline rushes through him, or he’s upset. No one knows which is the worst of the two. 

“My king.” Uraume kneels down before him. He’s quiet, too embarrassed to even bring up this question. It’s unlike him. Uraume is truly the only person that he respects which is why asking the question is hard for him to actually say. He wouldn’t trust anyone else with it though.

“What do men usually do?” He asks, which is odd for Uraume to hear. Sukuna was a man too, once upon a time. But he doesn’t remember that stage of his life, and he’s sure he wasn’t happy either which is the reason why he’s the monster he is now.

“I’m not sure.” They sound reluctant. “If you could be more clear, I can search for an answer.”

“Get out.” He orders, and they bow again before exiting the room. He wants to be left alone to gather his thoughts. He has all the time in the world to figure himself out, but he wants even more time. He doesn’t want to be bothered now of all times at the very least.

“There’s a woman with an offering.” A servant tells him from the other side of the tatami doors, followed by a shrill cry that makes a smirk come to his lips. That’s his answer.

Sukuna wants a successor. 

“Take it to the servants, answer to her needs.” Sukuna answers, not really caring to listen to any requests. His mind is now preoccupied, detailing his next course of action. He needs to find the perfect woman to carry his heir, which he knows will be a hard task– Perhaps the hardest challenge that Sukuna has come by in all of his years of living.

“Please eat, Haru.” You put the bowl beside the young boy’s mat. You’ve been slowly watching your brother’s health deteriorate, slowly watching his death near. Worst of all, you have been looking for a cure that seems impossible to find because it’s not something that’s affecting anyone important. 

It’s not a disease that’s affecting anybody else, really. It’s not infectious, you quickly found that out. You were glad about it at first, but then you realized that there’s no cure yet. Days pass by, and he gets worse. He refuses to eat anything, and when he does, he can’t keep it down for more than a few hours. His death is imminent.

“I did everything I could to get the right ingredients for your favorite food. Auntie made it extra special for you.” You make sure to tell him, but he can barely move. You kneel down beside him, grabbing his utensils and preparing a bite. “Just one bite, Haru.”

“I’m sleepy.” Is all he manages to mutter, and you feel a pull on your heartstrings. Your hand caresses his arm.

“Just one bite, okay? Then you can sleep all day.” You try your best to convince him. All he does is sleep, and no matter how many hours he sleeps, he wakes up tired. He prompts himself up, and you’re fighting back a smile– It’s barely any progress, if you can even call it that. “Open up.”

There’s a smile on your lips as you bring the food to his mouth, and he begins to chew. He takes the utensils from your hand, grabbing the bowl of food and putting it on his lap. You stand up and tell him, “I’ll get you some water.”

“He’s finally eating something.” You share with your aunt, making sure your voice is low since there isn’t all that much space. Her eyes go to him, and she really wants to say that it’s a sign of him getting better but it really doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes he eats everything that’s made for him, but he throws it back up. 

“I really wish this meant he was getting better… But we both know that he’ll get worse tomorrow.” She responds, and you want to curse her for even mentioning it but you know she’s right. You don’t like hearing it though, you’re helpless. There’s nothing more you can do for Haru, you’re just waiting for the day to come. 

“I really think he can get better.” Your eyes begin to feel with tears, knowing that you don’t even believe yourself. You’ve tried everything you possibly can, but you know that his time nears. You can’t just accept that fact though, he’s your baby brother, you can’t let him go. “Let me get his water.”

“I’ll get it… Think about what the medic said.” Your aunt reminds you of the visit from the physician. One that you’ve forgotten because you refuse to consider his one and only suggestion a possibility. The words flow back to your head,

“Your best bet is the deity up north. You have to bring him an offering, and if he deems it worthy enough, he will cure him.” “But if he thinks it’s beneath him, he’ll kill you.”

You don’t want to risk anything, but lately that seems like your only option. He’s not getting any better, even though you so badly want to say that he is. Throwing up everything he eats is not much improvement than not eating at all. You just have to figure out what is considered an offering worthy for the deity to save him, and to save yourself. 

“I’ll be back, I have to figure something out.” You say, smiling back at your aunt and your little brother. They barely acknowledge you before you leave the house, which you’re thankful for. You just need a moment to gather your thoughts, decide what you’ll do next. 

You need to sort out your offering for the deity, an offering that will hopefully sort out all of your problems.

“My king, there’s a woman with an offering.” It feels like the hundredth time that week in which Sukuna hears that sentence. Humans are greedy beings, and they all fucking need something. It’s unnecessary, purely materialistic– It’s a side of humanity that he appreciates though. How much a human is willing to sacrifice for wealth or the promise of good fortune. Sukuna can’t judge, he's the sole winner in the end.

“Let her in.” He says, and the tatami door slides open. A poor maiden with a pale yellow kimono, and a woven basket in hand. You walk in with your head down, following the strict instructions that were given to you. 

You’re trembling as you kneel down in front of the deity, bowing down to him. You remain bowing for however long he pleases, keeping your eyes shut because there’s tears building up. You have never been this terrified. Willingly putting yourself at death’s door is no easy feat.

“Rise.” He orders, and you straighten your upper body, remaining on your knees. You don’t dare look anywhere past his feet, keeping your eyes low and steady. You know that he’s staring you down, studying you. A smirk on his lips, thinking about how he’s found her. “What do you want?”

“My brother…” Your voice is shaky, and you try your best to compose yourself. You can’t start crying in the middle of it, you’ve gotten this far, he’ll surely kill you if you begin to sob at his feet. “He’s sick. The medic can’t cure him, and he told us you were our only choice.”

He’s not really listening. Something about a brother is all he grasped. He’s more into the way your lips move, and the tears of pure fear that well up in your eyes. He can tell that you really made an effort into your look today, even though you don’t look extravagant. Which for some reason he likes, he doesn’t want an arrogant woman in his chambers, he already has enough of them. He especially doesn’t want one of them carrying his heir.

What really draws him in is that certain look in your eyes. The clear innocence that’s written all over your face. You’re the perfect lily that he can’t wait to tear apart, petal by petal. That finalizes his decision.

“What do you have for me? Open the basket.” He orders, and you do as he says. Regret washes over you as you open it, immediately knowing that it’s not enough. You don’t know what came over you when you had the bright idea of picking it. You unfold the cloth with shaky hands, revealing the gift for him. He’s usually furious with these types of gifts, since they hold no value to him but he wants to hear your reasoning since he has other plans with you, “Why do you come to me with this?”

“Pomegranates aren’t native to the land, and they’re scarce this time of season. I found some while searching for an offering and thought it was a sign.” You explain, and he scoffs. A stupid reason, one that should get you killed. If he wanted fruit, he would send Uraume to get it for him. He guesses it’s creative though, especially when almost every person that walks through the temple is willing to sacrifice a life. But you don’t gain points for creativity, no one ever has.

“Pomegranates? What am I supposed to do with that?” He’s mocking you, and you swallow the lump in your throat. He’s right, what is he supposed to do with a pomegranate? He’s not like you, he’s not just going to eat it. You’re usually smart about this type of thing, but you guess desperation got the best of you this time around, and now you have to pay for the consequences. As to be expected, there’s no answer from you, and he orders, “Look up at me.”

Your eyes slowly move up his body to his face, and you’re in awe at the sight. A mix of emotions flow through your body. He really isn’t a human. You were terrified earlier, but now you’re simply astonished. You never really believed the tales that were told about him since you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that a being like him could exist. But now he stands before you.

“Do you really think I’ll do anything with the fruit?” His voice sounds serious, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. You shake your head which irks him. “You have a voice don’t you? Use it.”

“No, my king. My apologies.” It’s strange, but you sound more confident as you look at him compared to before. It brings some sort of satisfaction to Sukuna since usually people that are allowed to look directly at him can barely communicate.  

“I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself.” He’s thinking about how merciful he is– Which isn’t entirely a lie since Sukuna never gives a second chance. Except you have no idea how you can redeem yourself unless he dismisses you. Little do you know what he’s thinking for you. “I have a proposal for you.”

“A what…?” Your eyebrows perk up as curiosity takes over you. A proposal from a deity, it’ll surely be something that you have yet to hear. 

“Bear my child, and I’ll forgive you.” He says, and you almost fall back. Your ears must be deceiving you, there’s no way that the proposal that you just heard is real. Your eyes are wide open, and you hear him laugh. It must be a joke then. 

“Uraume!” Sukuna yells, wanting it to be clear that he doesn’t want to waste a single second. Not even a second later, and they’re in the room, waiting for their king’s command. “Take the maiden and prepare her for me tonight.”

“Wait– You’re serious?” You dare to ask. You haven’t even agreed, yet he’s getting you ready for tonight, to have a baby with him of all things. “You don’t even know my name, why would you want me to carry your baby?”

“What’s your name then?” He asks, clearly irritated by the question, and you have no choice but to answer. If you don’t, you’re screwed. “There we have it. Take her, Uraume.”

“Wait!” You shout, but Sukuna isn’t going to listen to more of it. Uraume guides you outside, a task that they usually do harsher. At any other time, they’d be dragging you outside but you’re not just anybody. 

You’re the woman that will carry King Sukuna’s heir.

#jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna x you #sukuna jujutsu kaisen

[fragileheartbeats]

⌗ 𝘚𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘈𝘠 𝘏𝘊 ⁝ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 ( ♱ )

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language Hope you enjoy!

I can see Sunday as one of the most delusional yanderes in the game. He's not a sadistic person, but he's someone who doesn't see any problem in hurting you if that's what it takes.

The world is gray in his eyes, devoid of color and warmth. But in his bleak existence, you shine brighter than anyone else. Your smile is a gentle sunrise, your eyes are a soft, comforting dusk. You are his beacon, his solace, the only touch of beauty in a life filled with shadows.

You're different in his eyes. Not truly different, but to him, you are extraordinary. He loves everything about you, from the way your hair cascades over your shoulders to the glistening tears that fall from your eyes. Your presence brings a semblance of color and warmth to his otherwise monochrome existence.

He likes to believe that what he's doing is right. He convinces himself that he’s helping you by keeping you close, away from the harshness of the outside world. He thinks he's protecting you, preserving your purity and beauty forever.

It's okay, he tells himself. It's okay if he broke your legs, if he hurt you. It's okay if you bleed, if you cry, if you hate him. It's all okay.

Because in the end, he's doing it for you. It's all for you. It's all because of you.

Look what you made him do! Look at what he has become! Why are you doing this? Why did you make him fall for you? Why did you smile so beautifully at him? Why did you show him what love means? Why? Just why?

He didn't want to take it this far. He only wanted you to listen, to understand, to believe him, to love him.

But you didn’t. And look what happened. Can't you see it hurts him as well? Can't you see he doesn't want to do this? Why do you force him to do it?

He didn't want to break you, to hurt you, to kill you. He never imagined it would lead to something so painfully tragic.

He remembers the first time he saw you, how his heart skipped a beat, how his breath caught in his throat. You were a vision, an angel in his dark world. He wanted to protect that light, to keep it close to him, to never let it fade away.

But as time went on, his love grew darker, more possessive. He couldn't stand the thought of you being with anyone else, of you smiling at someone else the way you smiled at him. He started to see threats everywhere, dangers that could take you away from him.

He wishes he could do better. Love you better. Keep you better. Please come back! He'll change! He'll do anything you ask. He'll give you anything you want.

What do you want? Just name it! Do you want him to beg on his knees like a dog? He will do that!

He won't break your bones anymore. He won't keep you in your cage anymore. He won't put a collar on you anymore. He won't mock you anymore. He won't hurt you anymore. Just please, please smile at him again. Let him see that light once more.

He is willing to destroy himself for you, to become whatever you need, just to see your happiness. His love, warped and twisted, remains boundless. He is lost without you, a soul adrift in the darkness, clinging to the hope that you might yet forgive him.

Please, don’t leave him in this darkness. Let your light guide him back. Even if you can never love him, even if you can never forgive him, just let him see your smile once more. Let him believe, if only for a moment, that there is still beauty in the world.

Just please, please smile at him again.

Please...

He sits in the dark, watching you cry in your sleep, tears streaming down his own face. He whispers to himself, trying to convince himself that what he's doing is right, that it's for your own good. He strokes your hair gently, his touch soft and tender, in stark contrast to the violence he’s inflicted upon you.

Every tear you shed feels like a dagger to his heart, but he tells himself that it’s necessary. He tells himself that he’s saving you from a world that doesn’t deserve you, from people who can’t appreciate you the way he does.

But deep down, he knows. He knows that he’s the monster you need saving from. He knows that his love is twisted and wrong. And it breaks him.

He clings to the hope that one day, you’ll understand. That one day, you’ll see that everything he did was out of love. That one day, you’ll forgive him.

But until then, he’ll keep you safe in the only way he knows how. Even if it means breaking you. Even if it means breaking himself.

Because in the end, he's doing it for you. It's all for you. It's all because of you.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏ #sunday x reader #yandere sunday x reader #yandere sunday #hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #hsr headcanons #hsr imagines #hsr sunday #yandere obsession #yandere #yandere x darling #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr #sunday #hsr angst

[raina-at]

Pride

Omg, you guys, it's the last one! Where did the month go!

A huge, huge thank you to @calaisreno for keeping is going the entire month, and a huge thank you to all of you for reading and writing and gushing and commenting and crying and making this more fun than it had any right to be. I'll miss this!

I did a Pride ficlet last year as a bonus ficlet because I missed two days. I had a lot of ideas for this year's, and maybe I'll post some of them as bonus ficlets through June, but for now, I say goodbye to May with John and Rosie.

--------

"Dad."

"Hmm?"

"Dad!"

John puts down the newspaper. Apparently this is a serious discussion. "Yes, love?"

Rosie throws herself into Sherlock's chair and contorts herself into a pretzel-like shape that can't be comfortable. "I'm...um..." It's apparent she doesn't quite know how to phrase her issue, because she's unnaturally hesitant. Sherlock's influence has made her shockingly blunt, while John's influence has made her shockingly foul-mouthed. Arguing with her is a joy. But now, very untypically, she looks confused and a bit lost.

"Ro, whatever it is, you can tell me," John says, leaning forward, a bit worried now.

"It's..." She sighs, looks down at her hands. "It's a bit personal?"

"Oh my god you're pregnant!" John blurts out, his momentary fear overriding his usually good brain-mouth-filter.

"Dad, what the actual fuck! I'm not fucking pregnant!" Rosie rolls her eyes so hard John wonders if she sprained something. "You know I'm on birth control. You went with me to get my first prescription, for fuck's sake."

"Accidents happen, my dear," John says, gesturing at his lovely daughter, who, light of his life, and joy of his world as she may be, was also very much an unplanned pregnancy.

"Fair enough," Rosie admits, deflating a bit. "Still."

"It wasn't a completely unreasonable assumption. You have a boyfriend, you're twenty, I'm assuming you're having sex."

"Please, dad!" Rosie exclaims, the tips of her ears turning red. "I really don't want to talk about my sex life."

"You think I do?"

Rosie makes a very Sherlock-like  'never mind all that nonsense now' gesture. "Anyway," she says, giving John a glare that tells him to shut up until she's finished. "It's actually kind of about Mark."

John nods, to let her know he's listening, but carefully and deliberately keeps his mouth shut, even as he's thinking, If he hurt you, I'll kill him so fucking dead so quickly he'll never know what hit him.

"It's... you know... he's... well, he's a boy," Rosie finally gets out.

John blinks a few times. Waits a bit. When it's clear Rosie won't be any more forthcoming about the issue, he dares to ask, "And?"

She looks down at her hands, studying them with unwarranted fascination. "I'm..." She sighs. "When did you know you were bisexual?"

John exhales audibly. Now he knows what this is about. In a family of mostly queer people, Rosie seems to have assumed she'd be some kind of queer as well. And if anyone knows how complicated identity can be, especially if it's weighed down by expectation, it's John. "Um. Quite honestly, I'm not sure I am."

Rosie looks up, surprised. "I mean. Mum. And Paps. Um. You know..." she makes a 'please fill in the gaps yourself' gesture.

"Look," John says, leaning forward and taking his daughter's hands. "I personally think labels are vastly overrated. If a word, or a label, or a phrase, helps you to better understand yourself, that's great. Use that label as long as it serves you, and if it doesn't anymore, use another one. As for me, I was raised in an environment where being different was bad. What kind of different you were exactly was completely beside the point. And I saw first-hand how the world treated your aunt, so I thought, best not think about it. I wasn't that attracted to men, it wasn't difficult to ignore. Until I met Paps, and you know how difficult he is to ignore."

Rosie grins. "Oh, yeah. So Paps made you bi?"

"No, you know it doesn't work like that. He made me... " John answers, smiling fondly at the memory. "Well, quite simply, he made me fall in love. He was—still is, of course—the most intriguing, gorgeous, infuriating, exasperating, fascinating person I've ever met, and I fell in love with him so hard, and so fast. But I wasn't ready, and he wasn't ready, and it took us years to get our acts together. And part of that was that we both couldn't accept a fundamental truth: The heart wants what the heart wants. Fighting against it only brings misery and destruction." He squeezes Rosie's hands. "So. Do you love Mark?"

She nods, her eyes shining with the truth of it.

"Is he good to you? Good for you?"

She nods again.

"Then who the fuck cares about anything else?"

Rosie's silent for a bit, apparently mulling over his words, still holding on to his hands. "So," she finally says, looking up from her joint hands with a smile. "You'll love me even if I'm straight?"

"Well, love, I suppose I can overlook this glaring character flaw. Also, you might meet a stunning lesbian when you're forty and she'll rock your entire world and turn everything you thought you knew about yourself upside down. And I want you to remember," he says, leaning in a bit more, looking deeply into her eyes, "I'm fine with everything, as long as you give me some grandkids first."

Rosie laughs and pushes him away. "Fuck off."

John gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. "So, sexual identity crisis over? You want to have some tea now?"

"Of course I want tea. But what you're saying, if I understand you correctly, is not to assume I'm straight just because I fell in love with a man?"

"I'm saying," John says, flicking the kettle on, "is that it doesn't matter, love. Gay, straight, pan, bi, ace, all these labels are useful if they help you understand yourself. But if you feel boxed in by a label, don't use it. Use another one. Use none at all. Let nothing ever keep you from knowing and understanding your own heart. That's the only thing that matters. I might be bi, who knows. The important thing is that I love Sherlock with all my heart, and that I made a commitment to him. Everything else is just noise."

Rosie is quiet for a bit, looking thoughtfully at the fire crackling cherrily in the hearth of 221B. "You're getting soft in your old age, Dad," she finally says, with a grateful smile.

John hands her a mug, drops a kiss on her head. "Love you too, dear," he says, smiling into her hair.

----

Don't forget that I'm collecting these ficlets here on AO3, and don't forget to check out the wonderful collection of May prompt ficlets as well. I know I'm already looking forward to reading all of them again.

Tags under the cut as usual.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #my fic #may prompts 2024 #pride #rosie watson #parentlock

[eveninggstar]

Forever and Always

Ethan going to the aquarium

Summary: Max and you take your autistic son, Ethan, to an aquarium during a rare break from Max’s Formula One schedule. Despite a brief meltdown, the family’s patience and love help them navigate the day, reinforcing their strong bond through shared experiences.

Warnings: autistic child, autism, autism representation (I will remove this if people do not agree with it), sensory overload (not too descriptive)

(Please please please tell me if I have missed any)

A/N: hateful language toward people with autism or anything alike will be not tolerated and will be removed

If I have misinformed or showcased autism as something that is seen as offensive, don’t be afraid to call me out whether it’s in the requests box, messaging me privately, or commenting it. This is a personal experience to me, as I have autism and I heavily based Ethan on myself and my younger cousin who also has autism. I mean no harm or hate to anyone with autism, and I’m sorry if it comes across that way. Feedback is always encouraged whether it is negative or positive.

I have not put autism or anything associated with autism in the tags, seeing as I don’t want to distract people who view the tag with a story that they most likely won’t want to read a story, the only reason it is in the warnings is to inform whoever is reading this (the not warning warnings will be in purple, e.g autistic child)

In addition, I am planning to make this a series with no timeline (unless I state it) hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: dad!Max Verstappen x mum!reader

Mv1 Masterlist. Series Masterlist

The sun was just peeking over the horizon as you and Max guided your five-year-old son, Ethan, toward the entrance of the aquarium. Today was a special day, a rare break from Max’s grueling Formula One schedule, and you wanted to make the most of it.

Ethan bounced excitedly between the two of you, with Max holding his unmistakable racing helmet. The helmet, adorned with the same colors as Max’s Red Bull Racing gear, had become one of Ethan’s security blankets. However, it was more than just a helmet to him; it was a shield against the unpredictability of the world.

“Look, Daddy!” Ethan tugged your hand to point toward the aquarium, shaking the hand holding Max’s to get the attention he already had. “We’re here!” Ethan’s voice was a joyful shout, filled with the boundless energy that defined him. Sea creatures were his passion, and the thought of seeing them up close had him practically vibrating with excitement.

Max smiled down at his son, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Yeah, buddy, we’re here. Are you ready to see some turtles?”

Ethan’s eyes lit up, nodding his head erratically. Then he turned to you, “Mama, Mama!”

“Yes, my love?” You looked down at him, your heart melting all over again—like it had for the past five years.

“Did you see if there are red-eared slider turtles?” He flashed some puppy dog eyes up at you, accompanied by a pouted lip.

“I’m not so sure, baby,” you spoke softly, looking around the car park to make sure no cars were coming. “I’m sure we can ask the receptionist if there are any.” You smiled at him, hoping not to disappoint him. He nodded, puppy dog eyes fading, replaced by a small smile on his lips.

You looked up at Max, seeing practically the exact same face, only with a very love-stricken smile gracing his face. Breaking out of the love trance you had put him under, he looked down at Ethan. “What are you looking forward to seeing the most?”

Ethan’s eyes sparkled at the thought of seeing his favorite creatures. “Oh-oh-oh!” His mind started running, “Otters! And sharks! And dolphins! And—” His words came in a rush, too fast for his little mouth to keep up with.

You looked up again to see Max, the pair of you silently acknowledging the importance of today. Ethan’s world was built on routine and predictability, and outings like this could be challenging. But his love for sea creatures made it worth the effort.

Inside, the aquarium was a wonderland of aquatic life. The scent of saltwater and the soft murmur of flowing water greeted you as the three of you stepped through the doors. When asking the man at the front desk about the—

“Red-eared slider turtles.” Ethan peeked up at you, louder than he would usually be in front of people he didn’t know, causing you to be incredibly proud of your little boy—it may have not been to the worker, but it was a significant change you hoped could aid in social situations.

“They are number six on the map here.” The man helpfully laid down a map with numbered spots for each exhibit. “Next to the otter exhibit.” At the sound of the word “otters,” Ethan squealed and jumped up and down, forcing Max’s arm to jump with him.

After thanking the receptionist, you walked away, going into exhibit number one. Ethan’s hand slipped into yours, his grip squeezing three times as he took in the sights and sounds around him.

The first exhibit was filled with a giant tank of colorful fish darting among coral reefs. Ethan rushed over, leaving yours and Max’s grasp to press his hands harshly against the glass. Shortly realizing it caused him slight pain, he pulled away so only his fingertips grazed the cold glass. His breath fogged up the surface as he watched the fish with rapt attention. Max knelt beside him, pointing out the different species.

“What’s that one?” Max pointed to an orange, black, and white fish. You knew he knew the name of it, yet you weren’t surprised as the only person he wouldn’t ‘Maxsplain’ to was Ethan.

“That’s a clownfish!” Your son briefly looked over to where his dad was pointing. “Like Nemo,” he gave a toothy grin after referencing his favorite movie.

“And what about that one?” He asked again, his voice still carrying the gentleness that was reserved for his son.

Ethan reached up to hold Max’s finger. “The blue one?” He furrowed his brows, seeing a school of fish in the direction Max was pointing. Max nodded, closing his hand to hold Ethan’s as he held Max’s finger. “Oh. That’s a tang fish.”

You took a quick picture of the two as you marveled at the bond between them, strengthened by shared moments like this.

The day progressed smoothly as you moved from one exhibit to the next. Ethan’s excitement was infectious, drawing the attention of other visitors who couldn’t help but smile at the skipping little boy.

But as you approached the otter exhibit, a crackling announcement came over the loudspeaker. “Attention, visitors: Due to unforeseen circumstances, the otter show will be delayed by thirty minutes. We apologize for any inconvenience.”

You felt Ethan stiffen beside you, rapidly placing his hand into your own with an incredibly strong grip for a five-year-old. His eyes darted around, and you could see the beginnings of panic in his expression. Routine was everything to Ethan, and any disruption could lead to a meltdown.

Max immediately noticed the change in Ethan’s demeanor. He crouched down in front of him, placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. We can wait and see the otters a little later.” He began to rub his thumb back and forth. “If you want to, we can wait here for the otters. See the other creatures after?”

Max’s words, although sweet and showcasing his care, were futile. Ethan’s breathing had already quickened, his eyes wide with fear. He dropped to the floor, covering his ears with his hands. The world was too loud, too bright, too overwhelming.

You joined Max and your son on the floor, softly retrieving Ethan’s helmet from Max. “Ethan, it’s okay. We’re here with you. Breathe with me, remember?” You brushed his head softly, bringing your hand down to his own to bring to your chest, breathing in and out. “Helmet?” you brought said helmet clearly into his eye line. Ethan’s arms quickly reached for it and used the same speed to put the helmet on.

You brought his hand back to your chest and began to count, breaths slow and deliberate, hoping he would match your rhythm. Max sat beside you, hand now rubbing Ethan’s back slowly, as he watched the beautiful bond between a mother and her child. Slowly, Ethan’s breathing began to sync with yours, his body relaxing ever so slightly.

“It’s okay, Ethan,” Max murmured, thankful that no one had come over to cause the situation to escalate. “We’ll wait right here with you.”

As the minutes passed, Ethan’s meltdown gradually subsided. He leaned into you, his helmeted head resting against your shoulder. You exchanged a relieved glance with Max, grateful for his patience and understanding.

The three of you had been sitting calmly against a wall marked with various cartoonified sea animals as Ethan watched a YouTube video of multiple Finding Nemo trailers. You and Max were talking quietly about nothing over the concentrated boy, then receiving the news that the delay had finally ended.

The otter show finally began. Ethan’s eyes lit up as the playful creatures performed their tricks, splashing and diving with effortless grace. Laughter bubbled from him underneath the helmet, the earlier distress forgotten in the face of such joy as he couldn’t sit still in the blue seats.

After the show, you guided Ethan to a quieter area of the aquarium where he could watch the sea turtles and his red-eared slider turtles. The sea turtles glided gracefully through the water, their movements slow and deliberate. Ethan was entranced, his fingers tracing the glass as he followed their every move.

Max wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The pair of you didn’t take your eyes off of him, basking in the warmth his joy brought you. “You’re amazing with him,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You smiled, resting your head against his chest as you maneuvered in front of him. “So are you. He’s lucky to have you as his dad.”

Max kissed the top of your head, his eyes swirling with the love he had for you and Ethan. “We make a pretty good team.” He spoke into your hair, quiet enough for it to only be shared by the pair of you.

As the day continued, you found yourselves exploring more exhibits, each one a new adventure for Ethan. His excitement was contagious, and you couldn’t help but be drawn into his world, seeing everything through his eyes.

Later, in the cafeteria, you all sat down for a much-needed break. Luckily, there wasn’t much effort needed for Ethan to remove the helmet so he could munch on his favorite snacks. Max watched him with a proud smile, his own meal forgotten for the moment.

“I think this was a good idea,” Max smiled toward you.

“You think?” You furrowed your brows, joking with your boyfriend.

He rolled his eyes, “I know this was a good idea.” He looked toward Ethan as he crunched on the celery sticks, while kicking his feet and tilting his head side to side. “He’s having a great time.”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I know so too. It’s good for him to have experiences like this when you’re home.”

As the day drew to a close, you found yourselves back at the entrance of the aquarium. Ethan was tired but happy, his head resting on Max’s shoulder as he drifted off to sleep.

You walked beside him, your heart full. Today had been a reminder of the strength of your family, the unbreakable bond that held you together. Autism was a part of your lives, but it didn’t define you. It was just one aspect of the beautiful, complex tapestry that made up your family.

As you reached the car, Max carefully placed Ethan in his seat, tucking a sea life-patterned blanket around him. You leaned to kiss your son’s forehead, whispering a soft goodnight. Max replicated this, his eyes filled with tenderness.

The drive home was quiet, the only sound being the gentle hum of the engine and Ethan’s soft breathing. You reached over to take Max’s hand, your fingers intertwining. He glanced over at you, his eyes filled with love and gratitude.

“We did good today,” he said softly.

You nodded, pressing a long kiss against the back of his hand to showcase your heart swelling with pride and love. “Yeah, we did. We’re a team, forever and always.”

Max smiled, his grip squeezing three times. “Forever and always.”

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #red bull f1 #red bull racing #dad!max Verstappen #mum!reader #mom!reader

[hornychristianprincess]

wasted (leehan x fem reader) | preview

genre: college au, smut, fluff, angst, inspired by summer walker's wasted

pairing: fuckboy!leehan x reader

word count: anticipating 30k, will be split into 4 parts

summary: leehan doesn't usually do two-time hookups, and yet he makes an exception when he meets you. two times bleeds into three times bleeds into all the time, until you're in a full blown friends-with-benefits arrangement. surely this won't end with someone getting their heart broken, right?

estimated release date: TBA

preview below the cut

“I have to tell you, Y/N,” he opens his mouth to suddenly say, pulling away from your lips he goes to rid you of your shorts. “I don’t usually do two time hookups. After the first time, I thought I’d never you see again.”

Your chest rises and falls with the weight of several shaky breaths, desire racing through you as Leehan just plays with the little bow on your underwear, looking up at you as he awaits your response. “And is that what you wanted?” you ask. “To never see me again?”

“Not particularly. Still, that’s usually how these things go,” answers Leehan in an almost unfeeling way, something you don’t dwell on as the yanking of your underwear down your legs brings your attention to more important matters. ”But then you show up here, all pretty and badly-behaved, I couldn’t wait to get you alone.”

You’re not even given a chance to laugh at the words he uses to describe you before he lets a single, bony finger slip into your wetness, the stimulation of which has you already mewling, arching your back. He pushes it in and out of you in slow, teasing movements that are made lewd by the sound of your wetness gushing in and out with his finger. When he goes knuckle deep, curling the digit inside of you, you throw your head back, asking for more.

“I wanna make you come, Y/N. I wanna make you come so bad.”

“So do it,” you mumble in response, once again struck by the intensity of him giving you pleasure like this while keeping his eyes locked on your face. Despite your pleading and his own admitted eagerness to please you, he maintains a steadily slow pace of pushing his finger in and out of you.

“I have to let you know something first,” he says, and although you hear him take on a more serious tone, you don’t pay any mind to it, too focused on your building pleasure to analyze another one of his characteristic changes in disposition. “I’m not interested in being your boyfriend. Or anyone’s boyfriend for that matter.”

You slightly perk up at these words, wondering why it’s so important for him to tell you them now after he’s already took your clothes off and began fingering you into bliss. You don’t say anything in reply, only moan, hoping he’ll add another finger as he continues his languid movements.

“And if that’s an issue for you,” he continues, his voice grave and deep. “If you can’t fuck me knowing that, then we should stop now.”

To perhaps emphasize how serious he’s being, Leehan takes his finger out from you in one sudden movement, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. It has its desired effect because you find yourself sitting up, finally taking real consideration of his words.

“But if you still want me,” he says, the two of you face-to-face in a way that lets you see the absence of amusement in his expression for the first time since he started talking. “Then dare I say that I’ll look forward to this becoming a regular thing between us. Should you want that, of course.”

He runs a hand through his hair, perhaps expressing a bit of nervousness as he awaits your response to this sudden proposition you’ve been given. Finding it hard to take any of his musings serious, you reach a hand up to cup his cheek. “I mean, you’re not wrong,” you assert with a tilt of your head. “Why settle down when you can fuck anyone you want?”

Immediately understanding what you’re referencing, Leehan smirks. “You heard that?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a pitying half-smile, “and it almost made every bit of attraction I had for you dry up.”

Even as Leehan smiles shyly, looking down to avoid your gaze, you still don’t get the feeling that he’s at all regretful about what you overheard him saying. “I mean, was I wrong?” he raises, running his fingers along the skin of your bare leg. “Right now, you’re what I want, and I’m fucking you, aren’t I? Is that not what this is?”

Faced with the reality of Leehan’s advances for the first time, you have a hard time deciding how you feel about the proposition he’s posed. You feel pulled to Leehan in a way you haven’t felt for anyone, ever. And a part of you is disappointed and maybe even a little sad that he’s basically asking you to boil down a dynamic you were curious to watch grow to just detached, casual sex. 

You could say no and remain friends. You’d be able to watch your relationship play out in a platonic manner. But that would be denying yourself of some of the best sex of your adult life, not to mention the pure herione that is feeling sexually desired and wanted by him.

Faced with such a dilemma, you defer to your instincts. And instinctually, you’re inclined to believe that maybe you and Leehan were meant to meet this way. Before now, you don’t think you would have ever went for someone like Leehan with romantic intentions. He’s too wayward, too free-spirited. And yet, your paths were brought together in an unlikely way, and perhaps you should lean into the feeling that caused you to follow him into a stranger’s bedroom just a few weeks ago – the promise of mindblowing sex.

“You’re an enigma, Kim Leehan,” you declare with sincerity. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend either. No offense.”

“None taken,” he replies with breezy indifference, bringing his hand to lay over the one you have on his face. “But don’t say that so easily. You don’t know me well enough yet.”

You roll your eyes at yet another show of cockiness from him. “And are you saying if I did, I would fall for you?”

Even as his expression remains passive, he replies forebodingly, “Isn’t that usually how these things end?”

You’re not sure what to make of that statement, so you decide not to respond. “Like I said, I don’t want to be your girlfriend. I do, however, want you to fuck the shit out of me. You’re capable of that, no?”

Leehan stares at you like he’s only now just capturing you and your essence, and his expression is that of someone in awe. It makes your heart and core flutter at the same time. “I really hope you’re being serious when you say you don’t want to be my girlfriend, Y/N,” he mumbles, and then, he’s leaning in to kiss you

a/n -- send an ask or leave a comment to be added to the taglist for when this fic drops!

#leehan #boynextdoor #leehan smut #boynextdoor smut #leehan x reader #leehan fluff #leehan angst #boynextdoor fics #hornychristianprincess #donghyun boynextdoor #boy next door smut #donghyun smut #donghyun boy next door smut #kpop smut #kpop angst #kpop fluff

[snzleclerc]

REGRET & LOVE (series) 🎹 1/-

previous part next part other parts

: Leonor is a portuguese girl adopted by a portuguese couple living in Monaco. her childhood was difficult, with the orphanage leaving deep scars, but some people in Monaco brought light into her life. unfortunately, not everything lasts forever. people change, and even those closest to us can drift away… even Charles.

ps: in this story, Kika is 25, just like Leonor.

* i have a taglist, just ask and I'll add you!

2015

"Life changes paths very easily, sometimes even faster than expected. Each day presents new challenges, new obstacles, new people, and new choices. Even what we believe to be forever eventually slips away, and there's no avoiding it. It's like a ray of sunshine; when it hits your eyes, you feel good, but when night falls, all that remains is to appreciate the silence and solitude."

I conclude my high school philosophy presentation with these words. The applause reverberates loudly on the school stage, as strong as I try to hold back my tears.

My journey has changed so much over the years.

"Thank you for that, Leonor. You'll definitely be in the running for the prize!" My teacher tells me as I head backstage, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

To avoid any conflict, I rush to the women's restroom. I close the door tightly behind me as I sit on the toilet seat, never having spoken about this with anyone other than my adoptive parents. Not that I've spoken about it directly, but just touching on this subject brings back the same pain I felt last year.

But my thoughts are quickly interrupted when I hear a knock on the door. Doesn't the person realize it's occupied? Anyway, I stand up, wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweater, and open the door.

I'm greeted by a girl from my class whom I've never spoken to before. She has medium brown hair, olive skin, and huge brown eyes that match her hair.

To be honest, I've never spoken to her. We've always been part of different friend groups; maybe our maximum contact was the day her pencil fell on the floor and I picked it up, that's it.

Her friends are... complicated. It seems like they always want to be seen by everyone. From a distance, you can tell she doesn't fit into that group; she's more fun, cooler.

"Hey," I say to her in a low tone, if I'm not mistaken her name is Francisca.

"Hi!" She greets me cheerfully as I exit the stall and head towards the sink, with her by my side. "I saw you running out of the presentation, which was really good by the way!"

I'm happy with her comment; it was honest, sincere.

"And well, you seemed upset, so I came to check on you! How are you?" She asks with her big chocolate eyes looking at me with curiosity, but concern.

"I'm fine, just a little nervous after the presentation." I try to disguise it with a laugh, but it seems to only make it worse.

"I know you're not okay. Come with me, let's go to the cafeteria, and if you want, you can vent." Without hesitation, the brunette pulls me through the school hallways towards the mentioned place.

We sit in the empty cafeteria at a table in the corner and stare at each other for a while to see who speaks first.

She rests her chin on her hands and starts. "I guess I better say something, right?" She looks at me, and we laugh together. "You know that group of friends of mine, right? Well, in the last few days, they've been, well—" She pauses to take a deep breath, and I already know what happened. "Recently, they've been sidelining me; it seems like nothing I do pleases them. I just wish I knew why all of this..."

"Look, it's hard, I've felt that way too..." I start, trying to comfort her. "Last year, my best friend did something terrible to me. It feels like everything started going wrong from that day on, and I've never felt so alone. Despite the sadness, I try to move on. I know crying doesn't solve anything, but it's just a way for me to express myself, and I understand you." I look at her with a reassuring look; this situation isn't easy.

"Well, then, we're both screwed," she says, and I let out the first genuine laugh of the day. She's not wrong. "When you feel like talking about him, you tell me, okay? Let's forget what hurt us together. Next year, we'll go to college and become real adults; it's time for us to forget."

But, oh, Charles, you're unforgettable.

#charles leclerc #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris #carlos sainz #cl16 x reader #f1 x reader #cl16 #carlos sainz masterlist #charles leclerc masterlist #carlos sainz 55 #monaco gp 2024 #max verstappen #oscar piastri #leo leclerc #arthur leclerc #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #fernando alonso #ferrari #fluff #fashion #original character #f1 2024 #mclaren f1 #ferrari f1

[inthedreamatorium01]

God I have so many thoughts about this one. It's going to consume me for the next 2-3 business days.

First of all, Colin is looking FINE. The tousled hair, the open shirt, the relaxed way he's wearing the dress coat. The man is RELAXED. Every time we saw him at home or when he was with his family (the exception being Violet told him Penelope was about to get engaged), he was very buttoned up and dressed properly. He was so tense and wearing his armor. Now, with Penelope, he has shed the armor and he's physically and mentally relaxed. The man has zero worries right now (rip).

Then we have the crinkled up paper? HE IS WRITING!!! Did Penelope motivate him to revisit his journals? Was he inspired to go through them and start editing them because he has the support and love of Pen? He's finally inspired and motivated and can finally be the nerdy loser self he always was. <3

Now, Eloise. I wouldn't be surprised if this is from episode 5, maybe the day after they announced their engagement. I've seen some people speculate she might be trying to tell him Pen is LW. I don't think she's there yet as she's given Pen an ultimatum and I believe El would honor that. What I'm guessing is that she's trying to sus out whether or not Pen hoodwinked him into proposing. Or trying to see how he really feels about Pen. I love Eloise but she's not the most observant person. Her best friend for years was in love with her brother and she had zero inkling. So, to her, the engagement probably seems completely out of left field. Colin never once showed a romantic interest in Pen before (in her eyes. and this goes back to the idea that no one ever considered Penelope a viable love interest for Colin. Like HELLO? How anyone could write off his yearning is beyond me. The ton are a bunch of idiots), so clearly Pen may have done something to force his hand. I'm hoping this is where he tells Eloise that he wants to marry Penelope and that he came to this decision all on his own and to please respect my wife, thank you very much.

(bless you, Eloise, but that man was literally on his knees in front of Pen begging her to love him)

Colin and Eloise are such an interesting pair and I'm looking forward to seeing how their dynamic evolves in part 2. In the book, these two were always super close so it's fun to see that translate into the show. Eloise cares about Colin and I have a feeling she's going to do something that forces Colin to firmly tell her to back off. Luke and Claudia have such natural chemistry and play off each other so well, it's going to be fun watching them.

Basically, I'm excited for any scene where Colin tells anyone and everyone how amazing Penelope is and how he is stupidly in love with her.

#whoops I wrote a novel #I can't help myself I'm feeling so much about this one picture! #part 2 needs to hurry up #bridgerton #Colin bridgerton #spoilers

[spooky-pop]

Hello! First of all, I want to say that I love your artwork, it’s always a pleasure to see it blessing my dash 💖

Secondly, in regard to your post about having to take a break, please make sure you take a long one! Or at the very least please don’t give in to the drawing temptations before you’ve given yourself adequate rest. Take it from someone who didn’t take a proper break when she needed to, I’m 5 years down the line with chronic hand pain that has severely impacted my art and quality of life. Not saying this will happen to you if you don’t rest, but it’s a potential worst case scenario if one were to rush back into things too soon.

I’m sure other fans of your work would agree that we’re happy to wait for you to feel better before you continue making your amazing artwork. So please don’t feel any pressure to rush the process 💖

(Sorry if any of this comes across condescending or not my place to comment. It’s just when I see artists mention their hands hurting, my immediate thought is “Don’t do what I did! Don’t end up like me!” and I never had anyone to tell me about the potential consequences).

Thank you for this!!! It's definitely a good reminder to slow down, I tend to get REALLY into art when I'm feeling my best and my hands just can't keep up as I'm getting older tbh. My hands just aren't what they used to be when I was in my early 20's/college years. Even when I was studying art and working a lot I really didn't take the proper care of my hands and neglected my stretches. I wish I could go back and shake my younger self but all we can do is take care of things the way they are now! <333

But yes, def gonna take some time to rest my hands and get a brace for my drawing hand, at least until I can get into my doc to see what's up. I think today I'm gonna upload some stuff I finished yesterday and then...take a breather haha. Because dang! Joint pain is NO JOKE!!!

#ask

[yuurivoice]

Happy pride month! I was wondering if you would ever make a trans character or if its ok to headcanon any of you characters trans. I really headcanon faust being ftm cuz i relate to him so him

I never mind anyone headcanoning a character as trans. I think it's dope. I think in terms of my content specifically, particularly characters I voice, I shouldn't just make and portray a trans character as most of my boys are particularly geared to sell smut in addition to the plot, and that's a whole additional layer of stuff to consider because it's like...yo why is this cis guy profiting off something that should be handled with thoughtful consideration.

That being said, I'd like to explore my creativity outside of the bounds of just the audio roleplay medium. I'd like to write and tell stories in many ways, some of which absolutely involve creating characters that don't look like me, and have very different experiences from me.

When that time comes, I'll be figuring out a process for sensitivity reads, talking with all sorts of people to gain further insight and understanding before just...making things.

It's something I try to be conscious of. I don't think a creative has to only stick with whatever lived experience they have gone through, but I think it is the bare minimum to do the legwork to understand people and whatever stories you tell, know that you may be waving flags that are not your own, and that comes with responsibility. It might also come with shutting the fuck up. You won't be able to please everyone in a scenario like that, and sometimes you just have to accept it.

I've been very lucky to have spent a pretty significant part of my life getting to know people who aren't like me. That's only scratching the surface, but if I have one strength, it's listening. I don't always get it right, or know all the things, but that awareness is why I'd take those extra steps to grasp wtf I'm about to tackle in my work.

And if I think it's beyond me, I'll also know when to hang my hat up and move along.

All of that being said, I certainly have no issue with a trans Faust headcanon. I've spoken before about how he's about as close as I'll get to publicly exploring my own complicated thoughts on my gender and whatnot. I don't think I'll ever be comfortable enough to delve top deep into that in my public facing work just because while I trust my core audience to be great to me, that's the sort of thing that I don't think I'd want to go out of my regular orbit and leave me explaining myself to strangers on the internet. 😂

[mushhroooms]

Concern (Leon Kennedy x Self harming! Reader)

❥Content warning: depression, panic attacks, and self-harm (cutting on the thighs specifically).

❥ !! Authors note: Depression, self-harm, and Panic attacks are different for everyone, I based this on my personal experiences and what helps me so if someone is going through these things what I wrote may not be helpful to others so please don’t do any of this without making sure they are ok with it and that it would help them first. !!

❥I’ve been feeling horrible so I decided to write comfort for myself.

❥This is a long fic: 1323 words

  /)/)

( . .)

( づ♡     If you are going through any of this please look for help or talk to someone you trust.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Nothing was or went wrong, but it was like a huge weight had been placed on your heart.

You couldn’t feel anything other than the overwhelming sadness that flowed in your veins and swam in your brain.

There was nothing wrong, but you couldn’t shake the pure despair that overtook you.

You found it hard to do stuff and before you knew it, you had a work pile the size of a T-rex.

The added stressor only made you feel worse.

That’s when the thoughts came back.

Your brain spoke despite your heart’s protest and urged you

‘Come on, it won’t be too bad’ ‘Just a little cut won’t be too bad’

‘Just a little cut will make everything feel better’

And you shamefully listened.

Your thighs burned.

But you didn’t say a thing.

You couldn’t and no matter how much you wanted to scream and beg for help.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone.

Due to the utter shame you felt.

Not even your boyfriend, who you trusted with your whole being.

He’s seen hell on earth and didn’t need your problems weighing on him as well.

You sobbed as you tore through your skin.

The small piece of your pencil sharpener razor that you broke off sat in your palm as you watched the droplets come to the surface.

You couldn’t help it, the knives just didn’t give you the right burn.

Your brain had screamed at you that this would make you feel better, but yet. You didn’t.

And you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your world-crushing despair and you panic

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay in there?”

“Yeah Leon! Why?”

“Thought I heard you crying”

“No!”

“Ok”

You sigh in relief when you hear him walking away, that was close. Far too close for your liking.

So as much as everything in you screamed to keep tearing your flesh open, you stopped and cleaned up.

When you walk out Leon is sitting on the bed, looking at you.

His face is covered painfully in concern.

You don’t want him to know, you can’t have him know.

Your weak, so weak.

Leon has seen the worst of the world and yet here you are, breaking slowly for a reason you don’t know.

“What’s really going on?”

“Nothing Leon”

He gets up and walks over to you, your heartbeat speeds up in fear.

Your not scared of Leon, of course not.

Your afraid, no. Terrified of what would happen when he founds out.

“Please, I’m worried about you”

“It’s nothing.” you feel yourself grow annoyed at his concern, but your brain tells you it’s not concern.

It’s pity, he’s looking down on you

“Yes It is-”

You cut him off sharply

“It’s nothing Leon, just drop it already” You snap

And it only fuels your despair.

Here you are snapping at Leon just for caring.

But then your brain corrects you.

You're not doing a single thing wrong.

You're simply snapping at his superiority.

“Ok, fine. I’ll drop it”

You feel your body, your muscles, and your mind, loosen in relief.

You and Leon walk out to the living room

“Do you want to watch a movie”

“Sure.”

You sit down as he puts on the movie.

He pulls you close, sitting you on his lap and resting his head on your shoulder.

You try to hold it back, you try to stop the dam from breaking, but it’s so hard, his warmth, his love, it’s too much.

And you can’t stop it.

You snap. You break.

You sob.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” His voice is laced with concern, fearing that he might have hurt you even with just a simple touch.

You can’t find words.

You don’t deserve him.

You don’t deserve anything.

The air in your lungs is definitely something you don’t deserve.

You collapse into his chest as you wail.

You don’t want him to know, He can’t know.

But at the same time, you want to scream and give your heart and brain to him to see everything wrong with you.

You shake your head violently and Leon wraps his arms around you.

You can’t tell him, He shouldn’t know.

He’d leave, he’d leave you when he saw the disgusting threads that were carved into your skin.

He cups your face gently and looks into your eyes.

“Please sweetheart, I’m worried about you. What’s wrong?” His voice is shaky and his icy blue eyes are teared up.

It only makes you sob harder, makes your brain convince you to be angrier.

You push away from him and begin to run.

You can’t stand his judgment.

His condescendence.

But he grabs you.

“I’m not letting this go on any longer. What’s wrong!?”

He’s not angry, he’s just concerned for your well-being.

Something is very wrong with you and he’s worried.

“I don’t need your pity!” you scream and look at him

You’re angry, your brain tells you. But Leon sees through it.

Your glare is not angry but sorrow-filled.

“I’m not pitying you, I’m concerned!”

You pound and push against his chest.

You want to hide and curl into yourself but his arms around you won’t allow you to do so.

He holds you there, against him till you can’t bring yourself to struggle for freedom anymore and sob against him.

He’s crying as well now, he’s worried about you.

You’re so important to him and he’s so scared.

He’s scared that he’s losing you and he decides to voice it.

“Please just tell me what’s wrong. I can’t lose you”

“I-I can’t”

“Why not?” he begs desperately.

“The words- I can’t find the words” you whisper shakily

He puts his hand gently under your chin and lifts your head.

“No matter what, I love you. I won’t be angry, I will only ever be concerned”

Your mind is clearer now, finally understanding that he’s genuinely concerned and not looking down on you.

But the words still cut your throat up when you try to speak them.

“I can’t”

His expression softens.

“Why?”

“It hurts to say…” You trail off before looking away

“I’m scared. I’m Terrified. I don’t want you to leave”

He makes you look at him again “I won’t, I promise”

You inhale before attempting to speak

“I’ve been-” You choke on the words.

Your mind won’t let you tell him, despite his promise. You're still terrified.

Terrified of being alone.

Your mind won’t let you speak.

So reluctantly you grab his hand.

Your mind stops you, You can’t show him.

He can’t know.

“In the bathroom under my deodorant bottle” You speak

Your mind wasn’t prepared for that, it couldn’t stop you this time.

Leon gets up hesitantly and walks away, In the back of his mind, that nagging voice, he knows what he’ll find.

And he does.

Your brain is screaming

‘How!? How could you tell him!?’ ‘He’ll be gone in an hour now’

You wail and hit yourself in the head.

“Shut up! Shut up!” You scream

You find yourself unable to hit yourself further when Leon gently grabs your wrists.

He pulls you into an embrace and you scream as your body feels like it’s about to shatter.

“I’ve got you”

After an hour, an hour of wailing, screaming, and despair. You finally begin to calm down and fall limp in his arms.

“We’ll get through this together, I won’t leave you alone” He whispers as he picks you up.

He walks to the bedroom before he gently places you on the bed.

He lays next to you and pulls you close to him.

“Tomorrow morning we’ll look for some help, do you want that?”

You shrug, your brain is still in denial and telling you that you don’t need it and you’re too tired to really think about it.

“We can talk about it tomorrow” he whispers as he places a kiss on your forehead

“I love you, sweetheart, I love you more than anything” he cuddles into you further, holding you as close as possible.

“I love you too Leon” You whisper before your body finally rests from exhaustion.

#resident evil x reader #resident evil fluff #resident evil comfort #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy comfort #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy fluff #tw self h4rm #tw sh

[seaoflove07]

Love Planted a Rose 🌹

~ Dark ~

• Artwork by The Drawables •

Full Art Cover and Story Description, Here.

OCXCanon. 🔪 Azusa & Christine’s Story. 🌹

Fan Fiction Written by Me.

Fandom: Diabolik Lovers.

Masterpost.

Christine and Yui as both were walking, they had a bit of conversation before they got to the Garden. Questions like, “How old are you? And, “Where are you from?” Both of them felt easygoing talking to each other.

- They arrive at the Sakamaki Garden -

• Official by Rejet •

Yui: “We are here.”

Christine: “Wow! It's extremely beautiful.”

(The garden is breathtaking! So many beautiful flowers in so many different colors, the sound of the fountain, the statues. It looks straight up from Victorian Era paintings...)

Yui: “It really is beautiful.” She smiles.

Christine: “If I had lived here, I would have visited this garden every single day.”

Yui: “I come here every once in a while with Ayato-kun.”

Christine: “Yui… can I ask you a question?”

Yui: “Yes, of course. What would you like to know?

Christine: “How’s it been for you living with the Sakamaki brothers? They all seem like assholes and I can tell that they are very dangerous. Reiji was a big example.”

Yui: “When I first arrived here it was bad and I was very afraid to know that they were all vampires. They all wanted my blood, especially the triplets who were so forward. So out of spur of the moment, I told them to let me choose the person who can drink my blood.”

Christine: “So you end up choosing Ayato, right?”

(She’s blushing...)

Yui: “H-how you know?”

Christine: “Well… you did walk into the living room with him and you left with him before I left with Reiji. So it seems obvious that you picked Ayato. Why him?”

Yui: “Since I blurted that out so they can stop getting closer to me. I really wasn't sure who to even pick since I didn't know any of them personally. The reason I chose Ayato-kun, was because he was the first one I saw when I walked into the mansion. He was sleeping on the couch and when I touched his skin to wake him up. He was so cold that I thought he was dead.”

Christine: (I see. They all have cold skin because they are vampires. I felt the cold touch with Azusa, Ruki, and Reiji…)

Yui: “Christine-san, who did you pick from the Mukami brothers? Is it Ruki-kun?”

Christine: “Huh? I didn't choose any of them and I don't want to either.”

Yui: “Eh! So you don’t mind them all drinking your blood?”

Christine: !!! I-I do mind but they haven’t even tried to drink my blood. The only one who has sucked my blood is... Azusa. I just hope the other brothers will never try. Azusa is already acting weird as it is.”

Yui: “I see. I wonder in this case if Azusa-kun chose you instead, and that’s why the other brothers haven’t even tried.”

Christine: ... ...

Yui: “Christine-San? You seem sad... I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t.”

Christine: “No you didn’t... But I do feel sad because… I don’t know what will become of me. Azusa has been violent, I fear for my life.”

Yui: “Ayato-kun was violent with me too in the beginning. Then over time, we fell in love with each other. It wasn't easy, but I’m happy being by his side.”

Christine: (How can anyone fall in love with a monster? I truly wanted to ask her this question but I decided not to. I have read many paranormal romance novels of human girls falling in love with the dreamy vampire. But in this case, neither the Mukami’s and Sakamaki’s are dreamy. They are dangerous and sadistic…)

“Even if you are in love with him please stay safe. I know you just met me but if you ever need advice or help or just need someone to talk to, I'll be here to listen.”

Yui: “Thank you, Christine-san. You are so kind.”

She smiled.

“I'll be fine and I’m looking forward to have our girl talk every Friday then. I will be here for you too if you ever want to talk about anything.”

Christine: “I'm glad to know that. Thank you. So should we start grabbing flowers? Can we pick any flowers that we want? Or does Reiji wants a specific flower?”

Yui: “We can choose any flowers we like.”

Christine: “Great. I will pick pink and red roses.”

Yui: “Then while you get the roses, I will get Tulips.”

Ayato: “Chichinashi! I found you!”

Surprising her from behind.

Yui: “Kya!”

Ayato: “Hahaha… Dummy, you should have expected I was coming to get you.”

He kissed Yui’s cheek and wrapped his arms around her.

“What the hell you are doing here in the garden anyway? Let's go do something more fun.”

Yui: “Reiji-san needs fresh flowers to put in the mansion vases.”

Ayato: “That damn four eyes should get the flowers himself!”

Yui: “Is part of Christine-san's task. I’m here to help her and show her around. I promise you once we are done we can do whatever you'd like.”

He smirks.

Ayato: “Then you will entertain me and I will give you all my attention when we go back to your room. Hehe… Look at that happy expression on your face.”

*Smooch*

“Guess I have no choice, but to help you pick up these damn flowers so we can hurry up and leave.”

Christine: (They kinda look cute together…)

Yui: Smiling. “Thank you, Ayato-kun.”

“Christine-san, if you walk straight ahead a little further, you will see all the roses. While you grab some roses, Ayato-kun and I will get Tulips.”

Ayato: “And you better grab a bunch, Chihuahua. Because I want to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”

Christine: “My name is Christine! Not Chihuahua.”

Ayato: “I will call you whatever I want! Come, Chichinashi.”

He takes her hand.

“Let’s go.”

Yui: “We will meet back here, Christine-san.”

She gave Christine an apologetic look and left with Ayato.

Christine: (Asshole! I wished I could have told him that. Anyways, I have to go get roses…)

While she was walking, Christine was admiring the beautiful summer night. The warmth and the scent of the flowers filled the air. The stars looked so shiny she couldn't help thinking about a little piece from John Keats's poem, Bright Star.

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-

Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

And watching, with eternal lids apart.

Once she found the roses, she stopped in her tracks. Christine saw the white-haired vampire, holding and looking at a white rose.

She walks closer to him.

Christine: “Are white roses your favorite flower?”

Subaru: “Che, I thought I smelled you.”

He turns around to face her.

Christine: (He looks upset…)

Subaru: “I hate them!”

He crushed the rose petals with his palms, throwing them to the ground.

“Now get the hell out of here!”

Christine: “I can't. I need to grab roses for the mansion. It’s part of my task.”

Subaru: “I don't care about your stupid task, now leave!”

Christine: “Fine! I'll go grab other flowers then.”

She started walking away.

Subaru: “Wait!”

She stops and turns around, looking at him.

Christine: … …

Subaru: “What’s your favorite flower?”

Christine: (His face is bright red and one of his hands is shaking. Is like he's trying to control his temper…)

“Pink and Red Roses are my favorite.”

Subaru: “Che, not surprised. You smell like a rose.”

He walks closer to her.

Laito: “Fufu~ I see the little kid has a crush on you, Bitch-chan. Nfu~”

Christine Flinch at the sight of Laito.

Subaru: “EXCUSE ME!? TRY SAYIN’ THAT ONE MORE TIME YOU BASTARD!”

Laito: “Nfu~ Isn't she pretty?”

- Laito suddenly embraces Christine from behind -

Christine: “Eww, Let go of me!”

He smells her neck.

Laito: “Haah... you do smell like a lovely rose. Nfu~ I wonder what your blood tastes like.”

He licks her neck.

Christine: “Eww! Please stop!”

Laito: “Nfu~ Subaru, let’s have a sip of her blood and have a little fun together with her.”

Subaru: “Fuck no! You’re just a disgustin’ pervert.”

Laito: “Look at you getting all irritated. This is exactly why I can’t deal with kids. Suit yourself. I will take the first bite then.”

Laito leans closer to her neck and opens his mouth wide.

Ruki: “Laito!! You better let Livestock go right this instant.”

Laito: “Geez! You just had to appear when the good part was about to start.”

He let her go.

Ruki: “Livestock, let's go!”

He pulls her arm.

“I’m done with this night.”

*TimeSkip*

- In the limousine -

Ruki: “You are so troublesome! I feel like I'm babysitting!”

Christine: “It is not my fault!”

Ruki: “Hmph, I told you to be careful and not get yourself into trouble, and yet again, you do the opposite. You are a blonde airhead!”

Christine: “I am not an airhead!! I graduated with excellent grades and I am a Teacher just so you know.”

Ruki: “You teach really young brats that most of them don't know how to read yet. I don't see anything to be proud of.”

Christine: !!!

(This asshole!!!…)

But she held her tongue, she didn't want the same situation that happened with Reiji repeating.

“I love working with children and teaching them the foundational knowledge. Helping them practice problem-solving, pre-academic, and social skills. There is so much more to being a Pre-K Teacher, and I wish we were appreciated more.”

Ruki: “Hmph. I see you are that simple-minded, Livestock.”

Christine: … “How did you know I was a Pre-K Teacher? I've never told you or any of your brothers.”

Ruki: “I know everything about you, Livestock. Once they told me we were having a young woman in our manor for the summer. I had my familiars get every information about you. I know where you live, I know who are your family, friends, and boyfriend. I also know where you work, and I know the car you drive. All the important details about you, I know… So running away would be pointless… and even if you do, my brothers and I would find you in seconds.”

Christine: !!!!

(Chills run down her spine!…)

“I don't have a boyfriend, anymore…”

“So this job was a setup. I knew this was too good to be true. It was all bullshit! And you guys were already spying on me!”

Ruki: “You better watch your mouth! Next time I will punish you for raising your voice at me. Am I clear, Livestock?”

Christine nods.

Ruki: “My brothers have nothing to do with this. I am the one who is in charge of you. My brothers only knew a woman was gonna live with us for the summer, that’s it. They will only help me if I ask them to.”

“So you see Livestock, if you dare escape from us. We will kill your family as punishment.”

- She starts to panic -

Christine: “Please!… I don't know what Karlheinz wants with me, but I beg you! Please don't hurt my family! I promise I won't run away!”

Tears start running down her cheeks.

Ruki: “Well if you are a good woman and don't do anything foolish. I assure you. Your family will be safe. We are back to the manor, this discussion is over.”

As Christine watched Ruki getting out of the limousine, her hands began to shake.

Christine: (Why is this happening!? From what I know, my family and I don't have any enemies. Was she sent here like Yui to be one of the brother's bride?…)

!!!!!

Just thinking about it is making her anxiety way worse.

🎶In the still of the night

I held you

Held you tight

'Cause I love

Love you so

Promise I'll never

Let you go

In the still of the night����

Monologue

As I was walking in the hallway.

I hear music playing.

A 50s song.

I remember this song.

In the Still of the Night by The Five Stains.

My Mom and Dad used to play this song when I was younger.

She followed where the song was coming from…

Christine opens the door and to her surprise, she sees Azusa dancing with a woman.

She Flinch!

Christine: (That woman! Is me…)

I’m looking at myself dancing with Azusa.

We both look in love.

The way Azusa is holding me.

The way I have my arms wrapped around him.

Holding him tight.

• Artwork by MonMonartz •

Azusa: “My treasure… is a beautiful Rose… keep me safe… keep me alive… in your heart… my precious rose.”

Christine: (My heart is racing! Hearing him speak those words to me. Suddenly, I feel dizzy and my vision is blurry…)

Christine opens her eyes and sees that she's in her room and she sits up.

(It was a dream. How drastically different this one was, compared to the ones I had back home...)

She hugs herself with a sad expression.

It was a nice dream,

but it wasn't real,

It will never be real.

My heart is broken

Shattered by Mark

and

I don't trust any man

to put stitches on it.

—TO BE CONTINUED—

• By Me on Picrew •

#diabolik lovers #continuation at the sakamakis #diabolik lovers oc #his rose #christine #fan fiction #azusa mukami #azusa & rose #diabolik lovers fandom #mukami brothers #diaboys #sakamaki brothers #diabolik lovers fanfic #diahell #diabolik lovers fanfiction #love planted a rose

[kmomof4]

A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? Ch. 4

We are back with a new chapter, and this one's a bit of a doozy... but not anything I have to apologize for. I think y'all will like this one! Thank you so much for coming along on this journey with me! I really can't put into words what it means to me 🥹

Thank you again to @jrob64 @hollyethecurious and @winterbaby89 for their advice and being my sounding boards as I worked on this. And also to @snowbellewells and @motherkatereloyshipper for the artwork they did for the fic!!! I STILL can't get over either one!!! 😍

Ch. Summary: Ruth's birthday has arrived and Emma and Killian both come to some realizations.

Words: 8550 of approx 59,5k

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's Story, Smut in Later Chapters.

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

On Tumblr Prologue Ch2 Ch3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

“Is he here?”

“He is not.”

“Are you quite sure?”

It was all Emma could do to keep from rolling her eyes in irritation. “He hadn’t yet left Kilmartin House when I did, and I haven’t seen him since, so yes. I’m as sure as I can be that he hasn’t arrived.”

“But he is coming?”

“Yes. He is coming.”

“Oh.” Mrs. Fisher was quiet for a moment, looking around the Nolan ballroom. “There’s Ariel. I must go see to her. Lovely to see you again, Emma.” With that, the woman - one of the most notorious gossips of the ton - left her alone to interrupt her daughter, who was speaking most animatedly with a handsome, but sadly, untitled gentleman on the other side of the room.

The conversation with the society matron would have been amusing if it hadn’t been the seventh, no, the eighth - one mustn’t forget the conversation with her own mother - she’d had to endure since she arrived. And since Ruth had announced that Killian would be in attendance at her birthday soiree, she didn’t think there was any possible way to avoid the interrogation of the unattached females, and their mamas, of the ton. All trying to find out tidbits about him that might smooth the way for them to charm the dashing earl, as he was now known.

“Lady Kilmartin!” She turned to see Lady Lucas making her way toward her. She was a stern older woman that many in the ton feared, but Emma rather liked her. Not afraid of anything or anyone, she wasn’t hesitant about making her thoughts and opinions known. She was a legend around town and Emma counted herself fortunate to be consistently in the countess’ good graces. The crowd between them parted like the Red Sea, the partygoers removing themselves from Lady Lucas’ line of sight.

“Lovely to see you, Lady Lucas,” Emma greeted the old woman, when she was finally close enough that Emma wouldn’t need to shout to be heard over the din of the party.

“Hmphh,” the old woman replied. “Don’t lie to me. We’re both well aware that no one thinks it’s lovely to see me coming.”

Emma couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement at her bluntness, even if she didn’t fully agree with her. “Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked instead.

“I’d enjoy myself better if someone would tell me how old your mother is.”

Emma gasped in shock. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“And why not?” Lady Lucas asked, indignant. “It’s not as if she’s as old as I am!”

Emma smiled slyly before speaking. “And just how old are you, Lady Lucas?”

The countess shot her an impressed look tinged with a knowing gleam in her eye. “Heh, heh, heh,” she chuckled. “You’re a clever one. But don’t think I’m going to fall for your tricks. You’ll never find out how old I am.”

“Then you must allow the same consideration for my mother.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But what’s the point of a birthday party if we don’t know what we are celebrating?”

“The miracle of life and longevity?” Emma asked, pertly.

Lady Lucas snorted at that. “Where’s that new earl of yours?”

Emma tried not to choke on her drink. “He’s not mine,” she asserted.

Lady Lucas raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re still the countess, are you not?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied. Her heart thundered in her chest and she prayed the woman next to her was unaware of it.

“And he is the earl.” The eyebrow went even higher. “Is he not?”

“Yes, of course he is.”

“That makes him yours,” she insisted with a sharp nod. “And besides, I thought you were friends.”

“W-we are,” she stammered. That much was definitely true, but Emma couldn’t countenance the underlying message the countess seemed determined to get across. “He is my brother-in-law. That is all.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Lady Lucas looked around the crowded room before speaking again. “I do believe you deserve a reprieve. From me,” she continued, in case her meaning had not been abundantly clear. 

“You are my reprieve,” Emma mumbled under her breath. But Lady Lucas gave no indication that she’d heard her, no matter that her hearing was positively wolf-like, able to hone in on anything of interest within a fifteen foot radius.

“I believe I’ll go pester your brother. Isn’t he newly arrived from Cyprus?”

Emma spied August some twenty feet away on the other side of the ballroom, surrounded by his own group of admirers, no doubt hanging on every word of his adventures.

“Why, yes, he is,” Emma acknowledged, a sly grin on her face. August was terrified of Lady Lucas and Emma would rather enjoy watching him try to avoid the countess once she set her eyes on him.

“Mr. Nolan,” she barked. Emma giggled behind her hand to see the terror flash in her brother’s eyes while he tried to pretend he hadn’t heard her. As Lady Lucas moved toward her latest target, Emma realized that she had been a very effective deterrent to the many matrimonial minded mamas who saw her as their only link to Killian. Good heavens, three of them were already heading her way.

It was time to escape. Now. She turned on her heel and marched right over to where her sister Ruby stood conversing with their sister-in-law Mary Margaret, and their brother Will’s intended, Belle French. Ruby was easy to spot in the crush of partygoers, wearing a beautiful red gown. Emma would have rather left the party completely, but if she was serious about finding herself a husband this season, she was going to have to stay visible and let it be known. Not that anyone would take any notice until Killian arrived. She could announce that she planned to move to the dark continent of Africa and take up cannibalism and the only response she’d be likely to garner would be if the earl was going to accompany her.

“Good evening,” Emma said, joining the small group.

“Oh, hello, Emma,” Ruby greeted her. “Where’s…”

“Don’t you start,” Emma growled. “If one more person asks me where Killian is, my head will explode.”

“That would certainly change the tenor of the evening,” Mary Margaret remarked mildly, taking a sip of her lemonade.

“As well as the cleaning duties of the staff,” Belle added.

Emma rolled her eyes.

“Well? Where is he?” Ruby demanded.

Emma sighed. “I don’t know. He said he’d be here.”

“If he’s smart, he’s probably hiding in the hall,” Belle observed.

“Goodness gracious, you’re probably right.” Emma could just see him bypassing the ballroom completely to socialize in the smoking room. In other words, away from all the females. “I wish he would get here so people would stop asking me about him.”

Ruby laughed loudly. “Oh my poor delusional Emma,” she guffawed. “Once he arrives, the questions will double and simply change from where is he to tell us more.”

“I fear she is right,” Mary Margaret said, with Belle nodding in agreement.

“Oh, dear,” Emma breathed, realizing that was exactly what would happen.

“You’re wearing blue!” Mary Margaret exclaimed.

Emma looked down, almost surprised. She’d nearly forgotten. The shade was really quite lovely, a soft sky blue. The comparison to Killian’s eyes couldn’t possibly be avoided.

“Yes, yes I am,” Emma replied, raising her chin just a touch. 

“You’re out of mourning, then?” Belle asked gently.

Emma couldn’t meet her eyes and lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Well, I’ve been out of mourning for quite some time.”

“Does this mean you’re wanting to remarry?” Trust Ruby to get straight to the point.

“It has been four years after all,” Mary Margaret added.

Emma couldn’t hide her wince. But there was no use denying it.

“Yes.” 

For a moment, there was silence from the ladies. Then they all spoke at once offering their congratulations and bits of advice that she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to hear.

“We shall have to spread the news, of course,” Mary Margaret said, excitedly.

Emma gasped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Of course I am! The blue dress is an excellent signal of your intentions, but the only ones astute enough to notice are fellow females. The men of our acquaintance are simply too obtuse. Don’t worry,” she continued, laying her hand on Emma’s arm, who was feeling rather ill at the prospect. “We will be the very model of discretion and tact.”

“Trust us,” Ruby interjected, the smirk on her face inspiring the very opposite. “Oh, look. There’s Killian.”

And so he was. The ladies all looked toward the entrance to the ballroom to see Killian already surrounded by a gaggle of women. Not that Emma was surprised in the least.

“My goodness,” Mary Margaret breathed, “I forgot how handsome he is.” Emma’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“He’s very tanned,” Belle added.

“He was in India for four years. Of course he’s tanned,” Emma snapped.

Ruby’s head jerked toward her. “You’re of rather a short temper tonight, Emma,” she observed.

Emma tried to school her features into a more neutral mask. “I’m just weary of being asked about him all the time. There are so many other more interesting topics of conversation.”

“Did you two have a falling out or something?”

Emma’s breath caught as she realized she’d left the wrong impression. “No, of course not,” she assured her sister. “But he’s been literally the only thing I’ve talked about all evening. At this point, I’d be delighted to comment on the weather.”

“Hmmm.”

“Of course.”

“Yes.”

Emma had no idea who said what as they were all once again staring at Killian and his crowd of admirers - about half pursuing him for marriage, either for themselves or their daughters, while the other half were young and already married, obviously pursuing him for another reason entirely.

“He is very handsome,” Belle commented. “All that black hair.”

“Belle!” Emma exclaimed.

“What?” she replied. “It’s true!”

“You’re to be married!”

“Well, I’m not yet!” she exclaimed. “And even then, I’m not blind!”

“Does that mean that Emma and I are the only ones allowed to comment on how handsome he is? Spinster that I am and unattached as she is…” Ruby asked.

“Killian is the last man you’d want to marry, Ruby,” Emma said.

“And why is that?” she asked. The words had been out of Emma’s mouth before she’d even had a chance to think, and now all three of them had their full attention fixed on her, awaiting her answer.

“‘W- well,” she stammered, her eyes widening as she cast about for something to say. “He’s just a terrible rake, is all. And you know his reputation. He could never remain faithful to one woman.” As she watched him charm the masses, her heart squeezed at her flippant words. He may have been a rake and a scoundrel, with no real responsibility, but the way he’d dutifully stepped into the role of the earl since being restored to health had been unexpected to say the least. She had a feeling that the change she’d sensed in him since their reunion a month ago, may very well extend to matters of the heart, as well. Or, maybe not necessarily matters of the heart - it was still very difficult to imagine Killian falling in love - but matters of duty to crown and country. The duty to marry and produce an heir. And Killian’s heart of honor would likely not allow him to break his marriage vows.

“Rake or not,” Ruby mused. “He’s terribly handsome. No wonder he attracts so much attention.”

“He’s always attracted female attention, but not from the marriage minded,” Emma said. “The fact that he’s an earl is the only reason he’s the catch of the season.” 

“You should go greet him,” Mary Margaret said, nudging Emma with her elbow.

“Why on earth should I do that?”

“Because he’s here.”

Emma gestured around the room as she spoke. “So are a hundred other men,” she replied. “All of which I’d rather marry.”

Ruby turned her shrewd gaze on Emma for a moment, making her want to squirm. “Mmhmmm,” she hummed. “Don’t know why,” she continued, now rolling her eyes. “Killian is far more handsome than any of them.” Emma turned her head sharply at her sister. Of all the Nolan siblings, Emma and Ruby were the closest in age, exactly one year apart. And while, of course, she’d give her life for her sister, more often than not, she felt like strangling her. Like now. Especially right now. “There’s only three here that I’d even consider obeying. And I’m not even sure about them…”

“Be that as it may,” Emma replied, desperate to redirect Ruby’s thoughts, “spending time with Killian will not help my prospects in finding a husband.”

“And I thought we were here to celebrate Mother’s birthday,” her sister quipped with a smirk. Emma glared.

“But Mary Margaret is right,” Belle said. “You should go over and greet Killian. It’s only polite and will signal to the ton that you fully accept him as the earl and that there is no rift between you. Which everyone will think, if you don’t.”

Emma sighed. Belle was right. Killian deserved a proper and formal welcome to London society and if she didn’t do it, it would be gossip fodder for weeks. And that kind of speculation at the moment would not help her. Not when she was trying to find a husband.

She’d always found Killian’s reputation to be amusing. Probably because she was rather removed from it all. What did his reputation matter to her as a happily married woman? But she was no longer a married woman. She was in the market for a new husband and to see Killian flirt and charm so effortlessly irked her for some reason that she didn’t want to look at too closely.  

“I will go greet Killian,” she promised. “Just as soon as I see to myself.” If she was going to fight her way through all the ladies surrounding Killian, she’d rather do it without having to hop from foot to foot.   

As she passed Ruby, she could have sworn her sister whispered coward under her breath. Emma inhaled sharply and walked faster instead of turning and lobbing back a scathing retort. Because Ruby just might be right, and that was terrifying to consider.

~*~*~

He was aware of her from the moment he entered the room. Emma stood on the other side of the ballroom conversing with her sister and sisters-in-law; or nearly, in the case of Belle French, Will’s betrothed. He couldn’t hide the small smile that touched his lips when he saw what she wore. Light blue silk glowed under the light of all the candles, and while she was too far away for him to experience the full effect, he still had to catch his breath at the picture that formed in his mind's eye.

Even four years away from her hadn’t changed that one whit. And he didn’t suppose it ever would. At least in India, she wasn’t around for him to be aware of her. But now that he was back, it was as clear to him as it ever was. He’d never be free of her. And she’d never be his. His heart clenched at the thought.

Within seconds of entering the room, he was surrounded by no less than half a dozen debutantes, and their mamas as well. As he suffered through each introduction, and re-introduction of the ladies, he blessed his ability - gift, really - to charm and appear wholly focussed on those seeking his attention, even if that attention was truly elsewhere. Emma suddenly left her family and was making her way toward the side entrance, no doubt seeking the ladies retiring room. Once she was gone, he announced his intention to locate his hostess to offer his thanks and best wishes, and excused himself.

When Emma arrived back in the ballroom, he hadn’t yet spoken with his hostess, being waylaid by Lady Lucas and Emma’s family. Not that he minded the Nolan ladies, since Ruby was the only one among them unattached, and she was as much a sister to him as anything. Killian immediately changed direction and caught his breath yet again, as the full realization hit him of exactly what it meant for her to be dressed in blue at a social event, even if it was her mother’s birthday fête.

She was out of mourning. Officially. She would flirt. And dance. And laugh. And find herself a husband. And it would probably happen within the space of a month. Because once her intention became clear, she would be flooded with suitors. After all, who wouldn’t want to marry her? She was beautiful, vivacious, witty, and had an air of maturity the younger debutantes didn’t have. And as her highest ranking male relative, he’d have a front row seat.

A soft, knowing smirk adorned her face as she approached him. He responded in kind as he met her halfway.

“Lady Kilmartin,” he murmured with a bow, taking the hand she offered him and brushing his lips across the knuckles.

“Welcome back to London, my lord,” she replied, curtseying properly. The moment they were both upright again, giggles and a full bodied laugh burst from them. The utter ridiculousness of the formality of their greeting was not lost on either of them.

Killian held his arm out for her. “May I have this dance?” She took his arm, the knowing smirk back on her face as he led her to the dance floor. He took her in his arms, his necessary mask when in her presence firmly in place, and began to lead her in a waltz. “You look lovely this evening, Emma. The color looks splendid on you.” 

Her cheeks flushed prettily and she demurely looked down. “Thank you. I see you did make time to see the tailor. You look quite handsome as well.”

They continued the waltz for a few moments before he spoke again. “So, are you enjoying yourself?” he asked.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Ruby, Mary Margaret, and Belle all said I should greet you properly, since this is your formal entry to society. Can’t let the ton think there’s any issue between us.” Killian swallowed hard, as he spun her and then drew her close again. “No matter that we’ve been living in the same house for weeks.”

“What issue could they possibly think may be between us?” he asked, honestly puzzled.

“I haven’t a clue,” she replied, “but that’s never stopped them from wagging their collective tongues, speculating about a non-existent scandal.”

“This is true.” Even in the few minutes he’d been the center of attention, he could plainly see the essence of the ton was unchanged since he’d left four years ago. He wasn’t sure if it was amusing or hell. Amusing, at the moment, he decided. Next week, it’d likely be hell.

“And what about you? Are you enjoying yourself, Killian?”

“Of course.”

“Of course?” She raised her eyebrow as if she didn’t believe him. “Even dancing with me, instead of being surrounded by a whole host of giggling young ladies hanging on your every word?”

“Why, Emma,” he said, waggling his brows, “Is that a note of jealousy I hear in your voice?”

Emma blanched and her eyes widened. He’d only been teasing her, but her response, quite honestly, startled him.

“O-of course not!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flaming again. “Why would you think I was jealous? I’ve never been jealous of your admirers before. Why would you think I am now?”

“Calm down, Emma,” he cajoled. “I was only teasing. I know you’re not jealous.” Even if the most fervent desire of his heart was for her to love him as he loved her, he couldn’t wish the torment of jealousy upon her, not when he himself had lived with it day in and day out for so many years.

She was still flustered and wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Killian couldn’t help the way his heart leapt with hope. “You must be careful though. These ladies are not your usual ladies.”

Killian’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I wasn’t aware I had a usual.”

Emma finally looked at him, though the color was still high on her cheeks. “Oh, come now, Killian. You know what I’m talking about. Four years ago you had standards. You didn’t seduce anyone who’d be irreparably harmed by your actions.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to start now?” The hope that filled his heart moments ago, plummeted. He brought them to a halt in the middle of the dance floor and led her to the edge of the ballroom and out onto the blessedly deserted terrace. He knew exactly what she was saying and he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d been very conscious and purposeful to flirt and seduce where either Emma could see it or she’d hear about it later, all so she’d never know the truth that lay buried in his heart. And now his reputation as a rogue and scoundrel diminished him in her eyes. And that was the last thing he wanted. Bitterness and resentment rose up within him as he turned back to her, and he couldn’t keep their bite out of his words. “Tell me, Emma. Just who do you think I am? Do you really think me so dimwitted or careless that I might accidentally ruin some young lady?”

He didn’t think he’d ever seen her pale so quickly and he immediately regretted what he’d said. “O- of course not,” she stammered. “I’m just afraid…”

“Afraid of what?”

Her chin trembled slightly. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to count the number of hearts you’ll break this spring.”

His voice was quiet but hard. “And why are you so concerned about that? It’s not your job to count them.”

“I know.” Her voice was nearly a whisper and he had to strain to hear her. “But I won’t be able to help myself.”

He had nothing to say to her. Her words and posture had his mind spinning. Why would she concern herself with how many hearts he might break? He certainly didn’t set out to do so. But the fact that she expected it of him hurt. 

“You should dance,” she burst out.

“We just finished a dance,” he informed her, testily.

“I meant with someone eligi…” She cut herself off before finishing the word, and Killian couldn’t help but wonder why. There was no possible way she might have guessed that he’d consider her eligible. He’d kept his feelings too well hidden for that. “Someone you might marry.” 

Someone he might marry, he thought irritably. To her mind, anyone but her.

“As a signal to society that you are looking for a countess.” He made no comment, but he could feel the muscle in his jaw twitching in his agitation. “You are… looking for a countess… are you not?”

He shrugged, flippantly. “If you say so.” 

“Someone who won’t fall in love with you.”

He turned sharply toward her and raised an eyebrow sardonically. “Heaven forbid I fall in love.”

She turned her head more fully toward him, her mouth open in a soft O of surprise. “Is that what you want? To fall in love?” 

The joy and delight on her face was too much. Surely there was no more perfect irony in the universe. God must be sitting on His throne having a good laugh at how tied up in knots he was.

“Killian?” she asked when he didn’t answer right away.

She wanted him to find love. She wanted him to be happy. And all he wanted to do was scream.

“If you will excuse me,” he said, his voice cold and formal, “I must go find someone with whom to dance. Someone I might marry. But someone who will absolutely not fall in love with me.”

“Killian, please,” she said in a whisper. “Don’t be like this. I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, I understand exactly what you mean, Emma,” he stated. “We must preserve the delicate and pure hearts of the ladies of the ton, since my heart is far too black to be helped.” 

With those words, he turned back toward the ballroom and left the terrace.

~*~*~

The next morning, Emma felt perfectly wretched. She couldn’t shake the guilt that clung to her like a blanket, even though Killian was the one who was so cold and heartless the evening before. 

What had she done or said to provoke such an unkind response from him? He’d never been interested in love and marriage before, and while she knew he’d eventually fulfill his duty to marry and beget an heir, when he’d said what he did about falling in love, her heart had beat double time. She wanted that happiness for him, but his cold and callous words towards her, and then his actions the rest of the evening, showed her plainly that his words about love were just that. Words.

When she went back into the ballroom from the terrace, she’d been inundated with dance requests and spent the rest of the evening dancing with this gentleman, or that viscount, and even a marquess. But Killian still commanded her attention. And she was painfully aware of how he charmed every single female in attendance. It got to where she was quite disgusted with herself for not being able to put him out of her mind. 

Every once in a while, his eyes would meet hers and they would turn hard and cold, but with an edge of mocking as he moved on to the next conquest. It was obvious to her that he knew exactly what he was doing. After her whispered confession about counting his broken hearts, he rose to the challenge with alacrity. She still wasn’t sure why she’d said that. Or even what exactly she meant. The words were past her lips before she could really think about it.

But they were true nonetheless. She had counted. But why? What did it matter? She’d never cared before! And it was only going to get worse. The women of the ton were mad for Killian. If the rules of courtship were reversed, the drawing room of Kilmartin house would be overflowing with flowers of every description. All addressed to the Dashing Earl.

But it was still going to be dreadful. She expected numerous female callers today, all hoping that Killian would walk through the drawing room. But even if he didn’t, she’d still have to answer numerous questions about him…

“Good heavens!” she exclaimed, looking into the drawing room. “What’s this?” 

Flowers. Flowers everywhere. Flowers of every description on every available surface.

It was her nightmare come to life! Had someone changed the rules of society and failed to tell her?

Lilies, orchids, tulips, violets. Roses. Roses everywhere. In every color. The scent was overwhelming and nearly sent her running.

“Tom!” she called the butler. She heard a loud sneeze and then he appeared in the doorway of the room holding a vase of daisies, his nose red and eyes watering terribly.

“Oh, Tom! I’m so sorry! All these flowers must be terrible for your allergies! But where did they all come from?”

“They are…” sneeze “for you…” louder sneeze “milady.” three sneezes in remarkably quick succession.

Emma blinked.

“For me?” She couldn’t fathom it. She was a widow. Men didn’t send flowers to widows. Did they?

Tom sniffed loudly and blew his red nose on his ever-present handkerchief. “I left the cards…” sneeze “on each arrangement…” sniff “so you would be able to identify each sender.” More sneezing.

“Here,” she said apologetically, “let me take those and you go take care of yourself.”

He handed the vase over and hurried off, no doubt thankful to be away from all the flora in the room.

Emma walked slowly into the room, and set the vase of daisies down on the nearest empty surface, too overcome by the lavish display. She came to an arrangement of tulips in the brightest of colors. Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady the card read. It was signed Viscount Trevalstam. He’d lost his wife two years ago. Everyone knew he was looking for a new bride to give him an heir. 

A delicate purple orchid was the next vase she came to. From Baron Whale.

“Who could these be from?” she mused, approaching an arrangement of yellow roses. She couldn’t keep the giddiness inside of her hidden as a wide and delighted grin spread across her lips. A Shakespearian sonnet, if she wasn’t mistaken and signed by Earl Stone. They’d only been introduced the evening before and shared a single dance. He was quite handsome, but since she had a full dance card, she hadn’t had the opportunity to converse with him after their turn on the floor. 

“Good heavens!”

Emma turned to see Alice in the doorway. Her mouth hung open slightly, much as hers had been upon discovering the floral display. 

“What is all this?”

“I believe those were my exact words when I came in,” Emma laughed. Alice approached and Emma handed her the cards she’d already read. She watched her mother-in-law carefully. She’d lost her firstborn son when Liam died. How would she react to Emma being pursued by other men?

Alice’s eyes were soft as they rose to meet hers after reading the cards.

“Oh, my,” she breathed. “You seem to be the season’s Incomparable.”

Emma felt her cheeks heat. “Oh, don’t be silly,” she protested. “I’m far too old for that.”

“Apparently not,” Alice replied. “Have you looked at all of the cards?”

“Not yet,” Emma said. “But I imagine…”

“They’re more of the same?” 

Emma met Alice’s gaze and slowly nodded. “Does that bother you?”

Alice’s smile was sad, but her eyes were kind and wise. “Do I wish that you were still married to my son?” she asked. “Of course, I do.” She laid the cards down on the table and took Emma’s hands in her own. “Do I wish for you to remain married to his memory? Of course not. You are my daughter, Emma, and I want you to be happy.”

Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “I would like to have a child,” she said, feeling the need to explain to Alice that she wanted to be a mother, not necessarily a wife. 

Alice nodded and dabbed at her own eyes before turning toward another arrangement, a delicate and lovely arrangement of grape hyacinths and stephanotis. “We must read the rest of these cards. And then prepare ourselves for a flood of afternoon callers,” she said, her tone brisk, clearly communicating her wish to move on from the heavily charged moment.

“I rather think the callers will be women,” she murmured, “inquiring after Killian.”

“You may be right,” she agreed. She held up the card. “May I?”

Emma nodded and Alice opened the card. Her mouth dropped open slightly as she read the words.

“What is it?” Emma asked, almost dreading her response.

“Cheshire.”

Emma gasped. “As in the Duke of?”

“The very one.”

Emma raised a hand to her heart. “The Duke of Cheshire,” she breathed. “Oh, my…”

“Oh my, indeed,” Alice agreed. “You, my dear, are clearly the catch of the season.”

“But…”

“What the devil is all this?” Both ladies turned to see Killian standing in the doorway of the drawing room, looking exceedingly cross.

“Good morning, Killian,” Alice said cheerfully.

He nodded in response then looked at Emma. “You look like you’re about to faint,” he said, waving his hand around aimlessly. Emma dropped her hand back to her side, having forgotten completely she still held it over her heart. He came further into the room and raised his eyebrow. “Are we opening a flower shop, then?”

“We clearly could,” Alice answered him. “They’re for Emma.”

“Of course they’re for Emma,” he replied. “Who else would they be for? But good God, how many roses are there? And who would be idiot enough to send them?”

“I like roses,” Emma protested.

“Everyone sends roses,” Killian groused. “They’re trite and old and… who sent these?” he asked, motioning to a display of white roses she hadn’t yet read the card for.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t seen the card yet.”

He plucked the card from the arrangement and opened it. “Lord Gaston,” he read.

“You will under no circumstances marry him. He hasn’t two shillings to rub together.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open in shock. “And how do you know that?”

He fixed her with an unamused look. “I’ve been to my club.”

“That may be true, but it’s hardly his fault.” She may not have seriously considered marrying him, but she did feel compelled to defend him since everyone knew the young Lord had spent the last year trying to repair the damage his father had done to the family finances.

“You’re not marrying him, and that’s final,” Killian announced.

She should have been annoyed by his arrogance, but in truth, she was only amused.

“Very well,” she replied, a smirk on her lips. “I’ll choose someone else.”

“Good,” he grunted.

“She has many to choose from,” Alice supplied, helpfully.

“Indeed,” he said caustically.

“May I take these daisies to my room?” Alice asked suddenly. “They are my favorite flower.”

“Of course,” Emma agreed quickly. Alice picked up the arrangement and left them alone. It was only a moment later that Killian let out a violent sneeze. As soon as he recovered, he glared at the display of gladiolas next to him that prompted it.

“We shall have to open a window,” he groused.

“And freeze?” Emma asked.

“I’ll put on a coat,” he ground out.

“Are you jealous?” she asked coyly. He snapped his head toward her so fast, she quickly backtracked. “Not over me,” she clarified, mortified to feel her cheeks heat. “Heavens, no. Not that.”

“Over what then?” he asked, his voice quiet and clipped.

“Well… just…” she stammered, gesturing aimlessly toward the ostentatious display around them, “I mean, we’re both after the same goal this season, aren't we?” 

He stared at her blankly.

“Marriage?” Good heavens but he was obtuse this morning.

“What of it?”

She let out an impatient breath. “I don’t know if you’d thought of it or not, but I rather assumed you would be the one to be relentlessly pursued. Not me. I never dreamed that I would…”

“Emerge as a prize to be won?” He lifted his eyebrow at her knowingly.

“Well, yes… I guess.” It wasn’t the nicest way to put it, but she couldn’t argue the point.

For a moment, he was silent. His clear blue eyes never wavering from hers. “Any man who doesn’t want to marry you is a fool.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “Oh… well…” She was quite at a loss for words. “I believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Emma,” he sighed. Emma couldn’t look away from him. He looked tired, and sad, and something else. Regretful, maybe? No, Killian didn’t regret anything.

“I would never begrudge you this, Emma. You…” he cleared his throat, “deserve to be happy.”

She had no idea how to reply. Especially after their words last night.

“We both deserve happiness, Killian. Your turn will come.”

He turned questioning eyes upon her.

“It already has really,” she continued. “Last night. I was besieged by far more of your admirers than my own.”

Killian smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t look angry, just… hollow, almost. And it struck her how odd an observation that was.

“Speaking of…” he began, reaching up and scratching behind his ear, “Last night. I must apologize for my behavior. I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“Everything is fine,” she assured him.

“Nonetheless,” he said gruffly, “I’m sorry.”

She watched him intently. His face was so dear to her and she knew every last detail of it. But something was different about him now. And she wasn’t sure what. And she wasn’t sure how it’d come about. She was also quite sure there was more he wanted to tell her, but couldn’t find the words.

“Everything is fine, Killian,” she repeated. “We’re fine.”

He nodded sharply, turned on his heel, and left the room.

~*~*~

Later, Killian sat in his club, a tumbler of rum in his hand. He grit his teeth, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he reflected on Ruth’s birthday party. He didn’t enjoy acting like an ass, but he truly had, and the guilt ate at him. He couldn’t really blame Emma. She’d always wanted to see him happily married. As happy as she’d been with his brother. But when he’d uttered the L word the previous evening, the joy on her face at the prospect of him finding love was just too much and he’d snapped. At least he’d apologized, and she’d forgiven him, but the maelstrom of the feelings he held for his sister-in-law almost guaranteed that it would happen again.

Once she was married and out of the house, and he wasn’t sitting across from her for every meal, he’d be better. They’d remain friends, of course. Emma wouldn’t allow anything else, but her new husband would certainly not allow her to spend so much time in his presence, brother-in-law or no.

“Jones,” a voice called, before Killian heard a clearing of a throat. “Er, Kilmartin, rather. So sorry.”

Killian looked up to see Baron Victor Whale, an acquaintance from Cambridge. “Think nothing of it,” he said, motioning to the chair across from him.

“Splendid to see you back in London,” Victor said, taking his seat. “I trust your journey home was uneventful.”

“It was,” Killian replied. “Thank you.” 

They exchanged the most basic of pleasantries until Victor got to the point. “I understand Lady Kilmartin is in the market for a husband.”

It was a very good thing Killian was so well versed in keeping his true feelings hidden, because the baron’s words and the gleam in his eyes made the alcohol in his stomach sour, and he had to fight to keep his countenance even. No matter that he thought of little else in the last few days, hearing others speak of it was the very last thing he wanted to hear.

“Er, yes,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I believe she is.”

“Splendid.” The smile on Victor’s face grew and Killian steeled himself for his next words. “Will you dower her?”

Killian’s eyebrows jumped on his head in surprise. “What?” It hadn’t even occurred to him. Good God, he’d probably have to give her away at the wedding.

“Will you dower her?” he repeated.

“Of course,” he bit out, holding on to his temper by the most tenuous of threads.

“Her brother said the same.” Killian feared for his teeth if he ground them any harder. If Victor thought he had any chance of gaining Emma’s hand and her apparently double dowry, he had another thing coming. He’d been a frequent visitor to the track back in their university days, and he doubted that had changed appreciatively since then. He was very likely impoverished and looking for an heiress to save him from ruin.

“The Jones’ will care for her,” Killian replied through grit teeth.

Victor shrugged. “Apparently, the Nolan’s will as well. Well, good seeing you again, Kilmartin,” he said, standing. “I must be off to tell Cheshire the news. Not that I want the competition, but this won’t stay under wraps for long. Might as well be the one to start its spread.” He laughed and Killian glared as he walked away.

Killian looked down at the empty glass in his hand. Damn, he’d already drunk it all. He signaled for another and then heard his name again. He did his best to hide his irritation, but this time wasn’t entirely sure he succeeded.

“Good evening, Kilmartin.” The voice belonged to Earl Arthur Stone. The man was familiar to him, of course, enough that a friendly conversation in the club wouldn’t draw undue attention, but he often reminded Killian of a strutting peacock, and after his floral delivery this morning, there was little doubt why he was seeking Killian out this evening.

“Stone,” he greeted, motioning to the chair Whale had recently vacated. He was only a bit more circumspect than Whale had been, engaging him in pleasantries for a full five minutes before bringing up his true purpose.

“I called upon Lady Kilmartin this afternoon,” he informed Killian.

“Did you?” he replied, nonplussed. He may not have been in the house when Stone called, wanting to spare himself the parade of suitors that seemed inevitable after the floral display that morning, but he wasn’t a fool.

“She’s lovely,” Arthur continued, when it became clear Killian had nothing else to say in light of his revelation.

“She is indeed.” Killian swirled his fresh drink and brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving the man across from him. 

Stone cleared his throat and spoke again. “I intend to court her, you know.”

Killian pierced him with a stare and was gratified to see just a slight bit of discomfort at his scrutiny. 

“Well, if I didn’t, I certainly do now.”

Stone pulled at his cravat. “I wasn’t sure whether to inform you or her brother.”

Killian had no doubt David Nolan, the viscount and Emma’s eldest brother, would have no trouble determining the worth of potential suitors. But as her higher ranking relative, it’d be customary for him to be informed first by those same suitors.

“I am sufficient.”

“Excellent.” He took a sip of his drink and cleared his throat, a bit nervously in Killian’s opinion.

“Stone!” a rather jovial voice called. “And Kilmartin, too! What a surprise to see you!” It was Lord Cassidy. And if he wasn’t drunk yet, he was close to it.

Killian refrained from rolling his eyes at the man’s statement, as he took a seat between himself and Arthur. 

“When did you get back to London?” Cassidy asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“I’ve been back about a month,” Killian replied. He realized his glass was empty again and signaled for another. He was going to need it.

Cassidy nodded several times in quick succession. “And Lady Kilmartin, as well, I see,” he continued. “Finally out of mourning, yes? She wore blue last night,” he said, answering his own question. 

“She looked quite lovely,” Stone added.

“Indeed, indeed,” Cassidy nodded again. “A fine woman. Why, I’d go after her myself if I wasn’t already shackled to Lady Cassidy.”

Small favors, Killian thought, barely able to keep himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance. He couldn’t imagine being faced with a potential suit from the buffoon in front of him.

“How long did she mourn the old earl?” he asked and Killian bristled.

“Four years,” he bit out. “My brother died four years ago.”

“Whatever,” Cassidy replied, blatantly ignoring Killian’s emphasis on his relationship to the old earl. “It was a bloody long time.” He shrugged. “All the same to us though. She wasn’t looking for a husband until now.”

“No,” Killian said. If only because Cassidy had actually stopped to take a breath.

“The men are going to be after her like bees to flowers.” He drew out the s so that it sounded like a long zzzzz. “Beezzzz to honey, I say. And there hasn’t been a hint of scandal about her in all that time.”

“Of course not!” Stone sounded shocked and Killian ground his teeth wondering where Cassidy was going with this.

“Not like some of the widows out and about, eh?” he continued, elbowing Killian and shooting him a significant look. “If you know what I mean.”

Killian looked him square in the face and speared him with a stare that would have sent his underlings back in India scurrying, but which he was afraid Lord Cassidy was a bit too obtuse, or a bit too drunk to notice.

“What, exactly, do you mean, Cassidy?” he asked, a hard edge to his voice.

“It’s like…” He leaned in conspiratorially and his grin turned salacious. “It’s like…”

“Oh, for God’s sake, man. Spit it out,” Killian growled.

“I’ll tell you what it’s like,” he repeated, his grin turning into a leer. “It’s like you’re getting a virgin who knows what to do.”

“What did you say?” Killian’s voice was deadly quiet.

“I said…”

“I would take care to not repeat what you just said, if I were you, Cassidy,” Stone tried to warn him.

“Eh? It’s no insult, I assure you,” Cassidy continued before finishing off his drink. “I mean, she’s been married, so you know she’s not untouched, but she hasn’t gone off and…”

“Stop now,” Killian ground out.

“What? Why? Everyone is saying it.” 

“Not to me, they’re not.” If Cassidy was too dense to take the warning, then Killian was just going to have to cut his tongue out of his head. Or strangle him. “Not if they value their head.”

“Well, it’s better than saying she ain’t like a virgin,” Cassidy chortled, “If you know what I mean.”

Killian lunged.

“Good God, man,” Cassidy choked out, his back on the floor. Killian didn’t know how his hands came to be around the bastard’s neck, but he found he rather liked the way they looked there. “What… the hell… is wrong with you?”

“You will never,” he hissed, his face inches from Cassidy’s, “speak her name again. Do you understand me?” Cassidy tried to nod, but it only cut off his air supply more.

Killian released him and stood, wiping his hands on his pant legs as if wiping away something foul. “I will not tolerate Lady Kilmartin being spoken of in such disrespectful terms. Is that clear?”

Cassidy nodded and so did several onlookers.

“Good.” Killian decided now was a good time to vacate the premises, and so strode out of the room. Once in the hallway, he heard his name yet again and wondered who’d be so idiotic as to approach him when he was this angry. Will Nolan. Emma’s older brother. Damn.

“Kilmartin,” Will said, his customary knowing smirk firmly planted on his face.

“Nolan,” Killian greeted.

“I was having a quiet drink when I heard the commotion,” he said, motioning to the room Killian had just left. “Come join me.”

Killian may have wanted nothing more than to leave, but Will was Emma’s brother, so they were relations of a sort and he couldn’t get away with snubbing his invitation. Will had always unnerved him. They shared the same sort of reputation, that of the devil-may-care-rogue, but where Will was always cooed over by the society mamas because of his charm and wit, Killian had always been treated much more suspect. At least until he came into the title.

But Killian knew the man was sharp as a whip, and he had long suspected there was quite a bit of substance underneath Will’s always jovial exterior. If there was anyone in Emma’s family who might accurately guess Killian’s true feelings for Emma, it was Will.

Killian intended to share one drink with the man and leave.

“Fine evening, don’t you think?” Will asked, motioning for their drinks once Killian was settled in his seat, pretending to be comfortable. “Aside from Cassidy, obviously. He’s nothing but an ass.”

Of course, Killian agreed with the sentiment, but with Will watching him so carefully - even under the guise of friendly conversation - he could manage no more than a terse nod. Will cocked his head to the side just a bit and narrowed his eyes slightly. Almost as if to get a deeper look into his soul. Killian fought the urge to squirm.

“Thank you for defending Emma’s honor,” Will said quietly.

Killian didn’t know what he expected Will to say to him, but it certainly wasn’t that. It was his place to defend her honor, just as it would have been if any of the Nolan brothers had heard Cassidy’s despicable words.

“Emma deserves respect,” Killian replied, equally as quietly as their drinks arrived. Killian gave a nod of appreciation and took a sip. “I will not countenance anything less. From anyone.”

There was silence for a moment between the two men as they sipped their drinks.

“You could marry her, you know,” Will said easily. Killian nearly choked.

“I beg your pardon?” Killian was sputtering. Killian never sputtered.

“Marry her,” he repeated, moving forward just a bit, his gaze intense. 

Killian realized it was too much to hope that Will was referring to anyone else except Emma, but he had to try.

“And who am I supposed to marry?”

The look on Will’s face was condescending in the extreme, mixed with a fair amount of pity as well. “Do we really need to play this game?”

“I can’t marry Emma!” he exclaimed.

“And why not?” He looked honestly puzzled and Killian felt his jaw opening and closing, not a word coming out of it. 

“Because…” he trailed away, completely at a loss. Because that one simple statement made Killian realize that he could marry Emma. There was nothing illegal about it. There was only his own damn conscience. The conscience that maintained there was everything immoral about it. 

She’d been married to his brother. The brother whose death gave him money, power, prestige, and a title. And if he compounded the utter betrayal of his brother - loving his wife - by then stealing her for his own, didn’t that mean he had somehow wished for Liam’s death? 

And how could he possibly live with himself then?

Will sat back in his chair, his dark eyes still on Killian, watching and cataloging every muscle twitch, every eye movement, every emotion Killian was too shocked to keep hidden that worked their way across his face.

Will waved his hand dismissively, but without looking away. “I can see it’s a moot point anyway.” 

That brought Killian’s swirling thoughts to an abrupt halt. There was something in the tone of his voice. Something biting and provoking. He met Will’s stare with his own, searching for clues as to the other man’s agenda. “And why is that?” he bit out.

Will took his time answering. He toyed with his glass, took a small sip, and continued to scrutinize Killian. 

“Why is it a moot point?” Will finally repeated, his eyebrow raising in intrigue, just like Emma’s sometimes did. “Because you’re so clearly not interested in marrying her.”

Killian’s mouth opened for a quick, biting retort, but he shut it just as quickly when he realized he’d been about to say, Of course, I am.

He’d very nearly confessed the deepest desire of his heart to the brother of his beloved. And as he searched Will’s face, he knew that the man had somehow seen into the depths of his heart and mind and knew precisely how Killian felt about his sister.

“I must be going,” Killian blurted out, finishing his drink and rising to his feet.

“Of course,” Will said, affably. As if their conversation had been about nothing more important than the weather. “Think about what I said,” he murmured, as Killian strode purposefully toward the door.

As if he’d be able to think about anything else. For the rest of his life.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! New ch will be up Wednesday!

#a scoundrel... or a gentleman? #krystal writes #inspired by francesca bridgerton's story #banner by snowbellewells #ch art by motherkatereloyshipper

[mugwot]

rotating this crossover in my brain. again. i am not gonna say that the kitty is unlucky Because it is a black cat But. it sure is in situations often. lower are vague end-game Ghost Trick spoilers, go play the game! (or you know, watch a lets play) its short and sweet and has a good resent remaster for pc.

my current thought is that sissel got lost on a road trip? maybe fell through a portal? and is kinda stuck in the middle of nowhere usa. Shenanigans ensue. that happens when you have an increadibly powerful energy source stuck in a kinda defenceless body (not counting the time powers. which i am sure clockwork has nothing to say about and danny specifically doesnt have any negative experience with.)

#ghost trick spoilers #i warned!! #all of my thoughts on this are incredibly vague i am no writer i just draw silly thingies #if anyone has any thought please do tell!! #i think these two fandoms mesh very well #whos after sissel? who isn't is a better question #i think the guys in white would have a field day with an apparently defenceless halfa cat with a nuclear reactor in its gut #vlad would need only a whif of a knowledge of time travel to go ballistic #sissel is generally bullyable methinks #at east he is witty thats something #if sass could kill #by defenceless i mean he relies on stealth and very specific environmental circumstances for self defence #not every bad guy can be standing under a conveniently placed wrecking ball #in the meantime i imagine he is riddled with background worry that the next time he sees lynn (or anyone else really) she will be dead #like shit just happens to his humans while he is not around #danny phantom #danny fenton #danny phantom crossover #ghost trick #my art

[roboyomo]

I'm enabling you now go go go

UOU. SIGNAL UNDERSTOOD. Time for the big kenix and azrael rant under the cut!!!

So to start off, I'll briefly explain Azrael as a character since Kenix technically already had a brief character explanation

Azrael is also one of the "7 Deadly Sins" crew, just like Kenix, with his assigned sin being Envy.

For Azrael's case, Envy would be represented by his failures. Specifically failing his original protecting duties as a soldier in his past life, now envious of 'he' from his fantasies who has succeeded to protect others. The fact that he failed many times to live up to the version of him who has it all, driving him absolutely crazy. And as he does not have any idea how to deal with these feelings of anger and guilt, he only starts to blame everyone else around who had it better than him. Anyone who has managed to live up to their goals, being incredibly envious of them, to the point of purposefully ruining their lives. Ruining what they had so they could experience the same misery he felt this entire time, until it backfired and got him killed instead. (he is in misery but he doesn't want to be drowned in it alone, so he brings others down with him). He has failed himself by not meeting his own expectations, so the thought that there is a version of him out there that has succeeded to meet those same expectations and is now living better than before... makes him want to curse the entire world. Being extremely jealous of anyone who had the great success he wanted originally, now pouring out his misery as revenge on others, just to see them fall down the same way his entire world shattered in his eyes. The same misery now being turned into the poison inside his body, using it as a weapon against his enemy in the Afterlife. Now living as a cursed being that is forever bound to this insufferable nature, he tries to keep mostly to himself after becoming the 4th in line to join the sins crew. No roaming around the land with no end in sight, no contact, no relationships — only him and himself.

That is until Kenix himself has taken interest in Azrael. The interest was ever so the same as it was for the previous members of the crew. Attempting to get on semi-friendly terms with the others that are now just as miserable as him deep inside, since aggravating them would nothing good to both parties and he is aware of how fucked everything is for all of them combined, having the "false" feeling of empathy for them. But Azrael intrigued him the most because of how much he felt that their anguish was similar in a way. Both of their worlds were shattered and took it out on others because they didn't know how to deal with their problems in a healthy way, Azrael's case just got more extreme than Kenix's, who has only took it out on his surronding enviroment, which was very limited ever since he was young (and additionally taking it out on some of the Original timeline crew members/"The Warriors" after he was in the Afterlife). It was then when the suppressed desperation to feel something resurfaced. The wish to know what a connection between people is, the wish to have even someone by his side that would accept him as the awful person he is now. That desperation slipping through the the cracks of his facade of carelessness for others, having no feelings of remorse for his actions — he knows he can't go on for long without any sort of human interaction, that would only drive him more insane and worsen his state which would lead to his end sooner than expected. Not only is it because he knows that there is a higher risk chance if he will forever cut off everyone from his life, it is own wish to have someone finally accept him that has been born from the years of loneliness and isolation. He wants to, he 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 find some sort of companion for his own sake, something he never thought could happen because he truly believed that he would be better off without anyone. He doesn't think that he could ever become better, but the thought that someone, whose just as awful as he is, would accept him as this very same awful being, made him feel something that he has never experienced (Is it hope?? Is it the desperation for affection?? Not even Kenix knows that)

And that's when Azrael comes in. Nothing about Azrael said that the interest was mutual, but Kenix didn't stop attempting to engage in a first conversation with him. Azrael, due to his nature and the decision to distance himself from others, didn't feel like it. In fact, he also felt like Kenix shouldn't be trusted so there was this constant need to be cautious around him. Something about that attitude, that smile, the manner of speaking Kenix has,,, threw him off a few times to be honest. But when Azrael tried to confront Kenix head on about why the one kept trying to get closer to him, Kenix would only make up a shallow lie that Azrael's gradient hair looked interesting. He could 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 ever admit out loud that he desperately longed for someone who understood him, admitting to that would be a sign of showing weakness — and that is prohibited when Kenix's first desire was about being powerful and seem powerful. Additionally, it is not like he would ever take "my carefully built facade is slowly breaking day by day and my true feelings and desperate wishes for human companionship and physical affection have been shown to someone that I thought would finally be the one to help me get through this agony" well. he would probably spiral and worsen everything about his mental state and sanity even more and that means that he would meet his demise sooner. which is unwanted as he still wants to have a chance at life — not the best one, but a life at the very least.

It is where their relationships starts to build off from that point. Azrael slowly starts to show more trust towards Kenix and that made Kenix have this sense of hope, the hope that Azrael will become the one person Kenix wished to have by his side until the end of time. Kenix undeniably always has been fascinated by Azrael and with each interaction, the fascination for him grew only bigger. From Azrael acting annoyed at Kenix for being too bothersome to sincerely enjoying each other's company. Starting all those nice conversations between them about anything they share as interests until Azrael one day decided to hold Kenix's hand without realizing it himself. He pretty much realized it only by seeing Kenix's puzzled face. That is when he found out that Kenix has... almost no concept of what physical affection is shown through. No grasp on the idea of what hand holding is, or no idea about any other displays of affection. Finding out about just how isolated Kenix was that he has no idea about how it feels to be hugged or hug someone else was just shocking to him. Which made him start being curious about what various displays of affection Kenix has no idea about. and is it not surprising that he doesn't know about most of it. this man's past is probably the definition of loneliness and he never knew what it was like to be loved or show love to others so pretty obvious that this stuff will puzzle him as it is just this new thing for him even if he wished for it for a long time.

Azrael just holding his hand actually made Kenix crave that feeling more (because of incredibly touch starved this man is). It is "I never knew of this sensation but please stay with me like this for just a few more minutes I'll provide us with all the time in the world to allow us to just stay closer together for a longer while" kind of craving (at this point he is not able to hide just how badly he needed someone next to him at all times)

Now Azrael is just showing this guy with some serious unaddressed issues™ what it is like to be loved and Kenix tries to show love back with what is left of his heart. Usually successful but sometimes it is just gifting something made out of someone else. it is not fun to hear the screaming of thousands because you wear this ring he gifted you. They have still committed atrocities but now they are able to accidentally "fix" each other without realizing it

#kenix has so many issues that he hides behind a facade it is unreal #he wouldn't even know how to tell if he has romantic feelings for anyone he has never experienced any of this and is therefore #clueless. at least he got someone to help him now #i'd explain more about them but that is too much blocks of text in one post hopefully i can do a part 2 to this someday #anyways. please consider them i hold them very dear to my heart for over a year now #kenix MIGHT be experiencing something more than just fascination for azrael. just a thought though #kenix's heart doesn't have much capacity for love but he can do his best if he tries #his ability to love has been destroyed ever since childhood afterall. it will take a while to restore it back #azrael is patient enough to let kenix get more comfortable about sharing his past with him #yomo ocs?! #yomoart

[thensotty]

honestly feel like a trans interpretation of cairngorm/welegato is still possible without aechmea in the picture. like it feels that all their life they had to be something they weren’t. be similar to ghost quartz. be a place-holder to antarc for phos. be a trophy-wife for aechmea. Lots of these things feel like something they dont want to do in actuality, but they do anyway because they need something to rely on, a person to follow and devote. never really having a chance to be their own being. even in fulfilling winter duties, they experienced suicidal thoughts. these types of tasks, this sort of way of living, isn’t something they want to do. 

it wouldve been sort of cathartic to see cairngorm/welegato break out of aechmea’s grasp. to finally be their own person, separate from anyone and their wishes. to choose who they want to be. 

idk if this makes any sense i hope it does. 

#hnk #lotl #houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #cairngorm #welegato #please please pleaaaaase tell me any of yer thoughts if anyone has any. id really like to see people's viewpoints on trans gorm/gato #outside of whatever aechmea is doing. yknow.

[abyssalreds]

gege needs to retire his character death note and hand it off to asagiri i swear 😭

#my sister (misinformed) told me yuta died in the latest jjk ch and i was so nervous looking at leaks #bc its smthn gege /would/ do and i really like yuta #thankfully he’s fine he just made an appearance in the latest ch thats all #tell me why my first thought after was ‘man that was a thrill i wish new bsd chapters made me feel like this’ 😭 #my biggest gripe w. bsd will forever be how all the characters always come out of battles completely unscathed #nevermind the 500 injuries th​ey sustained #nobody ever dies or gets new battle scars or life changing wounds etc etc it kinda makes the stakes boring when you know the character will #be fine when alls said and done #and honestly this wouldn’t be problem for me if ! asagiri didnt deathbait so damn much ! #he’s allergic to actually killing off a character and thats how i Know fyodor prob isnt dead #and neither is sigma bc fyodors ability is still a big mystery and we need them to reveal it for us #bc asagiri never killed anyone major off in the main manga before its hard to believe that he killed these two off 🤷‍♀️ #and ig fukuchi but all those theories of him being the masked man at the s5 cliffhanger has me squinting suspiciously #tbh idc if its my fav character who dies if it’ll make the plot more interesting then send them to the gallows !! #(okay maybe not lucy but she barely gets any panel time shhh) #like i like fukuzawa but i also think itd be interesting to see what would’ve happened if he died in the battle vs fukuchi #bc the aftermath would be a change in status quo and it would’ve been interesting to see the change in dynamics in the ada and #how they deal w. his loss !! #on the other hand gege killing off his characters too frequently . . . doesnt rlly need an explanation #(jjk spoilers?) now w. yuta going up against sukuna . . . please keep him safe gege i beg 🥲 #anyways. enough rambling now to go back to shoving bsd to the back of my mind lol #ayra croaks