#“surely you're in agony as much as i am? are you already satisfied with your child and husband if we cannot share our love openly?”

[forzathunder]

"I have many fears, most of them about Lucrezia." — Cesare Borgia (The Borgias, 2011-2013) + hints of insecurity

that she adores someone that much / if she will reject his dark nature and act of love and violence as Ursula did / if he truly is not part of her desires / that she easily forgets him

[wonda-ch]

For a few days I was driving myself crazy with the idea of posting my first short scene and had almost decided against it. Then I heard posting my story would just be the cherry on top of the cake.

Well, I like cherries.

Here is my first little scene.

———

Something woolly

"What am I doing here? When you bought these animals I didn't expect that it would end with me in a stable. Although I must admit that for a stable it has already become a gem."

With a serious face, the future Countess Arendae stands between her animals and waits until the Count's gaze seeks hers.

"Choose one."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You shall choose a lamb."

As if only now noticing the animals, Daeran looks around a bit confused.

"For what?"

"For the feast."

Very slowly, realization creeps into what is just a confused look on the count's face.

"Oh no, now it dawns on me where this trip is going. I keep telling you it was just a provocative joke."

"I know that, my favorite count. After all, I hear this story every time guests are present and there's a piece of lamb on the table. So this decision shouldn't be a problem, should it? Here, hold this."

Before he can object, Daeran finds himself with a snow-white little lamb in his arms. Instinctively, his fingertips dip into the silky white wool to hold the fragile animal.

"Did we buy this walking pile of wool just so you could torture me?"

"Surely not, but it's a nice side effect" 

Tishlia's serious expression gives way to a diabolical grin. She likes it too much to challenge him. Carefully tickling ucarefully until another small part of his already fragile wall collapses.

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Never."

"At what point did I miss you becoming so cruel?"

"Maybe you missed it until now, or maybe it happened when you joined forces with my parents," she replies snappishly. His guilty conscience about this fact is completely unnecessary, but it couldn't hurt here right now.

"So now I have to pass a death sentence on a lamb. Just because I actually like your parents against all odds?"

"No, you will, because I know you and I know when something else resonates in your voice when you make those provocative jokes."

She pauses for a moment, gives him time to pierce her with his wonderful eyes and enjoys every second of it. The suspicion that some wonderful moments they could experience together would never get a chance because he’d continue to hide behind the mask of an anecdote has been smoldering inside her for a long time.

She has carefully planned this moment, time for the final blow.

"You get to make a choice and just walk away again. Or you can tell me you can't. But don't hide from me." This time it's her eyes that pierce him, and as expected, he doesn't withstand them for long.

Audibly sighing, Daeran turns his gaze away and his entire attention to the small animal in his arms.

"Why do you have to be such cute little soft clouds."

Slowly, Tishlia steps closer, places her hand next to his in the soft wool, and looks lovingly at her fiancé before kissing him tenderly over the tiny sheep. When their lips part, he rests his head against her forehead as he gazes dreamily at the contented little animal.

"Very well, perhaps not all of it was a joke after all. But now you want the whole story, right?"

"Later," she replies softly "with a glass of wine, on the divan, in front of the fireplace."

"Is this the reward for the soul-crushing agony I just endured? Then I'll gladly accept it and savor it completely." The cheeky grin she loves so much returns, promising her a wonderful evening.

A hint of skepticism reappears in Daeran's eyes as he realizes what consequences this confession could have for future mandatory events with boring guests.

"You won't tell anyone?"

"Of course not. I promise." The gentle completely sincere promise makes the tension melt away from Daeran and he goes back to cuddling the lamb. Tishlia watches him for a while, completely satisfied with the outcome of her little plot.

"Tisha, could we at least keep this little cloud?"

The future countess steps back, takes a deep breath and looks at the little lamb with a shrewd shepherd's eye.

"Well. There are only six lambs. We will keep all of them, for my project the flock has to grow bigger first. What’s needed for the celebration already is well organized."

Giggling softly to herself, the shepherdess slowly walks backwards towards the gate.

"You sneaky little..."

But before Daeran can set the lamb down, his tormentor has already disappeared from the stable, laughing.

———

@dmagedgoods I can't thank you enough. For your pictures that first caught my attention. Your stories that grabbed me and showed me the way to many other great works that I have already read. And  for your support from the first idea to write something myself to the first little text. Thank you💕

[clubwnderland]

💭 if you're not trying to impress anyone, what exactly is the purpose of this spectacle, chan? what motivates you to engage in such a display? it's clear you want a reaction but sorry to say, i find this rather unamusing. if there's truly no fear, then why squander your time on someone like me? you speak of my lack of knowledge but you forget that knowledge is power. i know everything about you while you know nothing about me. your arrogance only makes you appear more pathetic with every word you utter from that ignorant mouth of yours. there's a stark difference between confidence and arrogance and i hope you realize the perilous path you're treading.

i don't covet your position, not in the slightest. what you fail to grasp is that i want her happiness above all else. the irony of no one being good enough for her is that it also includes you. how are you any different? it seems you're the one holding her back. you claim to encourage her desires but what enjoyment do you derive each time her heart is broken? is it satisfying to know that she'll come to you, seeking comfort after every disappointment? it's not a faceless and nameless stalker with an obsession over her that falls into the category of 'ain't shit’. no, instead, it's the one who enjoys seeing her heartache, claiming to be the protector but chaining her to a cycle of despair.

you can call me a stalker or whatever you please but i'm here to protect and cherish her, not to engage in futile competitions with you. in fact, I urge you to pay closer attention to your ‘doll’. she's already yearning for my presence and that, to me, speaks volumes. as for immortality, it is not a badge of honor. it's a curse that i wouldn't wish upon anyone. the agony of witnessing loved ones slip away while you remain trapped in a timeless existence is a torment one could never truly fathom. i’ve already lived in a hell you could never imagine. i pity you, chan, for your existence must be a lonely one.

Blah, blah, blah, so much talk for someone who can't actually show their face. There isn't any purpose to this, you're right. I simply am protecting her from falling victim to someone who will only disappoint - you all do. No matter what you claim, you'll only disappoint and hurt her - everyone claims the same shit, how they wouldn't do that and yet, time and time again, they do. You say you're different, you want to act like you are but I don't see it. I don't need to know everything or anything about you, mate, you don't know me - you can claim whatever you like about it but you don't but you think you do. You think you know everything about me but if you did then you would know better than to speak the fucking words that you are saying.

You're threatened, I get it. I've been here for years while you are barely a babe in your existence in her life regardless of what you like to say - she only started to know of your existence a few days ago. She'll know me until her final breath because I'll be there making sure she goes to where she deserves.

See now, here is where you cross a line. This is where you are so wrong, it must hurt. You speak as if I think I'm good enough - mate, why do you think I kept her pure? Why do you think I never touched her when I knew how sweet she would have been? Because I knew she deserves better than me, I'm not good enough for her and I never said I was but that also means I know when someone doesn't deserve her and you're on that list regardless of what you like to claim. You haven't proven your worth, just because you think she longs for you or whatever twisted thought you have in your head, doesn't mean you are worthy. You think I like when she's heart broken? You think I like having her in my arms fucking crying? Ha, see how wrong you are. I detest it and if she allowed me to - I would break the legs of those who dared to make her feel such pain. Did you know that? How much I respect her to not harm those she loved when they deserved it more than anything? Nah, you didn't because you think I chain her up and keep her in this cycle when she wouldn't fucking be hurt if she listened. The faceless, nameless, obsessive stalker also thinks he knows it all - what a joke.

Again, no competition, mate. You can do what you want, I couldn't care less because I'm secure enough to know that at the end of every day - I am and always will be there. Oh fuck sakes, you really doing that 'oh being immortal is a curse' bullshit, come off it - talking like everyone views it as such. I know people who are thankful for their immortality, I sure as hell am, your problem is that you're weak. A Hell I could never imagine, goes to show you don't know what you're talking about again.

You pity me? You think my existence is a lonely one? Man, how does it feel to be so wrong about someone that you sound like an idiot?

[kyotarou]

text me now - part 8

previous | masterlist 

title: end of the line; the start of something new

warnings: fluff, angst, cheesiness, mild swearing, making out

word count: 1.1k+

special notes at the end (be warned it’s pretty long)

It felt like the whole world was on your shoulders, pushing you deeper underwater. You couldn't breathe despite the crisp air, your lungs aching with every breath. What would be comforting silence was unbearable, especially when Tendou's eyes refused to meet yours, a hint of a scowl hiding beneath his forced neutral expression. It was a bad idea to invite him out, but he did agree to this. You sat on the soft grass of a park near school, watching the shiny blue ripples of the pond rock back and forth. Spring was supposed to be a time of clarity, but your mind was more muddled than ever. The sweet scent of fresh blossoms made your head spin and your stomach churn. More than anything, your heart felt heavier with each passing second. You were unaware Tendou shared the same weight as well.

With you beside him, he was at a loss for words. He was stuck in a cave of his unspoken thoughts, unable to see the light. He wasn't sure where to start or if he had the courage to speak. He pondered on Semi's words, cursing him for clouding him in that air of mystery. He glanced at you, chest growing tighter upon seeing your pained face. Could he fix things? 

Tendou took a deep breath.

He turned to you and all his thoughts slipped away. The words weighing on his tongue disappeared, leaving him with a blank slate and a frozen mind. You looked perfect like this, the slight flutter of your lashes as the wind kissed your cheeks, your fingers entwined in your lap—how he wished it was his lips on your skin and his hands tangled in yours. His cheeks grew hot in adoration and shame. He couldn’t believe he nearly let you go.

"(Y/N)..." Tendou immediately bit his tongue. He hadn’t mean to say that.

You turned toward him with a pained smile. "Yes, Satori?"

He could've melted right then and there. His name sounded so sweet on your tongue, so soft and fragile. You treated it with delicacy, a treasure to cherish. He wondered if you'd ever say it like that again.

He looked away. "I... I'm sorry."

"For avoiding me."

It wasn't a question, but rather a statement you both knew the answer to. Tendou was sorry for that, and he was sorry for himself for being blinded by his jealousy and rage. He hurt you and you still stuck with him. He was still hurting you now, refusing to give you any hint of the storm brewing within, all his feelings encapsulated in his fragile body, forcing their way out.

"How do you put up with me?" Tendou crushed a handful of grass. “I’m a piece of shit.”

Your eyes widened, brows furrowed in shock. "You’re kidding, right?"

Tendou let out a harsh scoff and shook his head. Of course he wasn’t. He’d rather you push him away, scream at him to leave, than have you toy with his heart. He wasn’t cut out for love, but he was than willing to try for you—no, with you. The question was, did you want that?

Of course you did, but he was oblivious.

Tendou gulped. "I've been terrible to you, (Y/N)."

"You're far from that."

"(Y/N)-"

"Satori." He jumped when your hand landed on top of his, gentle but firm. Despite your warm smile, he saw how frustrated you were. "Stop saying all those things about yourself. You’re a hell of a lot better than I am.”

His lips parted in shock, throat becoming tight while your grip loosened. You looked up to him—it made his chest swell with pride, but he also felt worse. You left him open to your next attack. You stretched him thin, made him soft, cradled his heart in your hands. You had the power to change him, to either create or destroy something great. Tendou had no means to defend himself. What could he do now besides listen? 

You made him vulnerable. You made him happy. You made him feel loved.

The storm inside him was beginning to creep through, the first sign being his thumb wiping the stray eyelash on your cheek. You saw everything—the regret and agony swirling behind his eyes, the slight quiver of his lip. For the first time, Tendou would no longer try to block anything or anyone; he'd bare all his feelings for you.

You let out a shaky breath. Your body had gravitated towards his, shoulders pressed against each other. He sensed the hesitation and fear behind your next words. "You're my first love, Satori. I want you to be my only love."

Tendou lost himself in your gaze, drowning in the endless adoration. Your noses were almost touching now, and he could feel your breath on his cheek. His line of sight flitted to your parted lips. He found himself leaning towards you until his skin was on yours. You kissed him, a wordless conversation shared between two pairs of entwined lips. Tendou didn't need them; his body did all the talking. Your hands snaked into his hair, his gently gripping your wrists. Your kisses were intoxicating, slow and passionate, and leaving him to ache for more. It was ten times sweeter than the accidental kiss now that he knew where your heart lay. 

The storm had finally escaped, but rather than a violent downpour, it was a ray of warm clarity and sunny skies. Your bodies felt lighter ten times than before, the tension on your shoulders lifted. You fit so well in his arms as did he, like the final piece in a complex puzzle. His movements continued to grow bolder until you lightly pushed him away with a grin, forehead resting against his.

A heavy fog clouded his mind, but one thing was clear; he could do this for the rest of his life. He was speechless but satisfied, a grin tugging at his tingling lips. Tendou already craved the feeling of yours on his, and he longed for when he could do it again, though he knew it would be soon. The four words that followed after solidified the warmth that spread within, a sense of content and harmony in his previously nerve-wracking day. 

“I love you, Satori.”

His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you against his chest. He didn’t mind if you could feel his thumping heart. If anything, he wanted you to—only you could make him feel this way. Tendou was glad his guesses had been wrong for once. Your heart belonged to him, and his to you. 

He kept his nose pressed against your cheek, smiling. The tips of your ears grew hot when he placed a featherlight kiss on your jaw, all ounces of shame and uncertainty washed away.

"I love you, too, (Y/N)."

“So-” You murmured against his temple, fingers slotted between his. “Turn this into a real date?”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: okay...where do i begin? i started this smau back in january after i reblogged a fic title game and an anon sent in “text me now with a member of shiratorizwa.” i chose tendou and thought it was a cute idea. i even said that it’d be a great smau but had no intention of doing anything with the idea, until @theuntamedmulti reblogged and said she wanted this potential smau to exist—and out came this series.

tbh i was really excited but also hesitant. the last series i tried to make when i first started my blog ended up being deleted and discontinued. i’m really bad at completing series in general, so to have this one be a success is a huge accomplishment for me.

i remember finishing all of the smau parts within a span of 2-3 days (which is why some of the timestamps are set in january lol).

as cliche as this sounds, this series has a very special place in my heart. i am very thankful that so many of you enjoy this smau, even if it’s quite short compared to several others. thank you so much for your support. thank you to the anon who sent in that ask, this couldn’t have started without you. thank you to vivian, aka @theuntamedmulti​ for giving me that little push to start this.

i love you all <3

taglist (closed): @zozodreamy @theuntamedmulti @tsukkim0on @elianetsantana @dekustowel @aideen00 @justfandomlover @rogueofbullshit @giogama08 @squiddlie @captaincyberqueen @kutozume @nachotrash @ems1des @ish-scribbles @salty-satan @darkmbti @rintarosslut @zbops @dumbb1tc4 @candyyrushh @ro-ro-noa @aghasetzen @fi-chanwrites @tobiosaphrodite @panflowerlii @shinah-satoru @lucacangettathisass @maneazuasahi @bokutosbabyowll @fantasycantasy

series completed.

[txemrn]

Happy (belated) Mother's Day! Book: TNA Warning: THIS IS PURE SELF-INDULGENCE! I decided to take some time and a) make Sam Dalton lovely and b) not kill off a certain handsome king; but fair warning, this is filled with fluffity-fluff-fluff with smidges of angst; discussion of infertility and maternal loss Song Inspiration: "We Thought You'd Be Here" by Wes King A/N: This is part of the Schuyler-Dalton Chronicles (Check out "Once... Always..." the mini-series that started it all); the characters belong to Pixelberry; I stole a quote from one of the greatest Christmas movies of all time 🎄; I am not perfect: I take full responsibility for all of my spelling and grammatical mistakes; I'm hoping you can ignore them and enjoy the story! 💗

Before the brilliant rays of the Sunday morning sun could greet the New York City skyline, Brynn stares aimlessly at the vaulted ceiling of the master suite. Although she physically craves rest, the clattering commotion of her congested thoughts keep her restless and exhausted.

Frustrated with her inability to calm her nerves, she quietly crawls out of bed, being careful not to disturb her peacefully sleeping husband. She retrieves his discarded pinstripe button-up shirt from the floor, and wraps it around her exposed body. After snatching her phone from the nightstand, she tip-toes cautiously across the wooden floor to the ensuite bathroom.

Staring at her abdomen in the mirror, the all-too-familiar excitement laced with sheer dread latches heavily onto her heart. Her breathing labors, loudly thundering in her ears; a sour uneasiness pours through her nerves, settling on her queasy stomach. She tenderly cradles her belly. Her fingers brush across the flattened contours of her healthy physique until they rest curiously on two tiny, flesh-colored scars: the remnants of a pregnancy that simply wasn't meant to be.

"Are you there, little one?" She whispers hopefully. She endearingly hugs her tummy once more fighting back tears from the painful emptiness she has felt many times before.

But, maybe this time was different.

Brynn turns to her digital calendar to ensure that this wasn't in vain, that there was a reason she was doing this today of all days.

She clicks her tongue on the side of her mouth. "The first day… that was the third," she mumbles to herself, "which makes today... one, two, three, ah! Four days late."

She fills a crystal tumbler with water before locking herself into their opulent water closet. Taking one last massive swallow of the room temperature fluid, she tears into the bright pink box. Without giving it another thought, she tosses the printed directions and plastic wrappers into the wastebasket as she places the apparatus between her legs. She knows the routine; this is far from her first pregnancy test.

Before Sam and Brynn married four years ago, the discussion of having more children created much discord between the couple. Entering his forties, Sam was satisfied with having just his twin boys, Mickey and Mason. They were growing older with flourishing social and academic schedules; keeping up with them alone was challenging. Sam's line of work wasn't slowing down anytime soon, especially with the couple's meditated decision to buy out their shares from Dalton Enterprises to start their own company projected during their first year of marriage.

Brynn was still youthful, ending her twenties by becoming a Dalton with her childhood dreams still intact: getting married and starting a family. She adored Sam's boys, quickly and naturally claiming them as her own; but, a large part of her desire was to become a mom biologically, to carry a child created by her and her beloved.

After experiencing a tragic ectopic pregnancy early in their relationship that almost cost Brynn's life, Sam's heart softened to the idea of having another child. He saw the depth of Brynn's broken heart; he felt the depth of his own humanity, facing the possibility of losing the love of his life. Again.

Somehow having the last word about the size of their family didn't matter to Sam anymore. Conceiving would be difficult, but they agreed to cherish the journey together, whether the family expanded or not.

The shattering of crystal startles Sam awake. With one eye peeking open, he inspects the empty disheveled sheets on Brynn's side of the bed.

"Brynn?" he gruffly calls out as he reaches for his eyeglasses on his nightstand. Listening fervently into the silence, he hears a muffled whimper. Throwing on a pair of heather-gray sweatpants, he investigates the tinkering of something sharp being scraped on the floor from the bathroom.

"Babe?"

'"I'm fine--" her voice is dampened by the door. And her tears.

"Brynn baby," he softly knocks. Opening the door to the small area, he reveals his kneeling wife with shards of glass splayed all over the floor. On closer inspection, she's attempting to clean up the mess with her bare hands. "Oh my God--"

"I'm sorry. I'm such a klutz. I-I-I know it was your favorite--" she stutters through her sniffles.

"Baby!" he grabs her wrists, forcing her to drop the broken pieces. "Stop-stop-stop. You're bleeding."

"I'm fine--"

"Come here." Sam grips his wife's arm snuggly, pulling her into a stand before tucking her petite body into an embrace. Pressing his lips against her hairline, he reaches down with his arm, lifting her body into a cradle-hold against his chest.

Sitting her on the sink, he quickly inspects her feet, ensuring no glass had blindly infiltrated her skin.

"I'm sorry--" she silently offers, wiping away the wetness in her eyes.

'Stop," he brushes a wisp of her hair behind her ear. He leans closely towards her, desperately wanting to dive into her stormy blues; but, her eyes stay trained on her hands.

Sam takes her injured hands in his palms, and gingerly rinses them in the sink. After allowing the water to run clear, he finally breaks the pained silenced.

"Was it negative?"

"I-I just needed a sip of water to take some Tylenol, and-and--"

"Baby," he coddles her face, making her look at him. "Did you--did you think that you--? That we were--?"

Brynn drops her head as rivers from her eyes roll down her cheeks. Sam delicately wraps her in a tight hold, peppering her sweetly with kisses.

"I thought for certain," she sniffles. "I was so shocked when nothing popped up on the test that I dropped the tumbler." She sarcastically chuckles through the sadness to herself. "And I thought it would be so sweet to find out today--today of all days. It sounded like a fairy tale, but it's now turning out more like a nightmare." She buries her face into Sam's shoulder as he tightens his arms around her body.

"I think it’s time that we--” Sam lets out a sigh, “--make an appointment--"

"No." She breaks from his hold, turning to leave the room.

"Brynn."

She angrily twirls around to face her husband. "And what, Sam? We've made appointments. What could they possibly tell me that we don't already know?"

"Okay-okay-okay--" Sam stifles the budding fire. “Forget that I mentioned it.” He reaches for his wife, pulling her back assuredly against his chest. "Please don’t cry,�� he whispers into her ear, his hands rubbing her back intimately. “I am your husband, your confident. I am in your corner. Always will be." He looks down, lifting her chin attentively to his eyes, a subtle smirk growing across his face. "You want the moon?"

Brynn chuckles through her sobs resting her hands on his bare chest.

Sam presses his lips to her forehead. "Just say the word," he quietly teases. He nibbles across her cheek, his voice becoming lower, huskier, "and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down--"

Brynn meets Sam's lips in a tender kiss. She slips her arms around his neck, tugging him in closely as their mouths entwine as one.

Pulling back to dance in his sultry chocolate eyes, Brynn casually twirls the wavy locks in the back of Sam's head.

"You are my moon, Samuel."

Sam presses his forehead to hers. "I love you. We'll work through this." Looking back into each other's eyes, he begins to trace small circles on her back.

"We always do," Brynn playfully kisses his nose. "I love you, too."

"Let's head back to bed," he suggests, holding Brynn tightly, escorting her backwards to the bed. "I have a feeling that two eleven-year-old stars in our galaxy have a special surprise for you later this morning."

*****

"Happy Mother's Day, Mom!"

Brynn pops one eye open to a brightly sunlit room, only to be met with two pairs of doting brown eyes crowding her weary face. She lets out a guttural yawn.

"Mmm… thank you, boys." Brynn turns over, pulling the down comforter over her head.

"The subject is still sleeping, but moving, Dr. Dalton!" Mason playfully speaks into his watch. "I think we have a heartbeat!"

"Can't be too sure, Mr. President," Mickey dramatically grabs Mason's arm, keeping in character. "I'm afraid we're going to have to shock her. Or amputate."

Brynn squeezes her eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep as she hides her snickers. She loves listening to the boys play, using their vivid and clever imaginations. Even though they were getting older and 'too cool' for some things, she's pleased to see their dreaming hasn't stopped.

"Charge to fourteen zillion. And-- clear!"

All of a sudden, the boys ambush Brynn, tickling her feet and pinching at her sides.

"No-no-no! Ah!" She yelps, her words caught up into her laughter. "You turkeys!" She breathes heavily as she inadvertently kicks her feet wildly.

"Stop--ohmygod--Sam! Please!" she beckons between snickers, "I can't breathe--"

"Very fine work, doctor!" Mason cackles.

"Thank you, Mr. President!" Mickey mimics his brother, continuing to jovially attack their stepmother with tickles.

"ENOUGH!" Brynn screams. She grabs Mickey by the arm, pulling him into her lap, and starts plastering sloppy kisses all over his face.

"Gross! Mom! No!" he screams in agony, all the while Brynn giggles with each goofy kiss.

"Eww!" sputters Mason as he starts to crawl off the bed.

"Oh, no you don't, mister!" Brynn grabs him by the ankle, gathering him in an embrace as she plants tender kisses on his cheeks.

After a few more minutes of laughter and slathering of kisses, Brynn feels the struggle dissipate in her arms, the boys now cuddling tightly to her body. She rests her cheeks on the tops of their heads, eliciting a gentle, satisfactory moan. Soaking in the moment, Brynn realizes the truth: she is a mom. She already has everything she has ever wanted wrapped up in two beautiful bouncing balls of energy.

As the boys share the plot of the game they were playing, she secretly savors the scent of their warm brandy curls, cherishing the soft texture of their waves against her skin.

My boys. The thought of a life without them terrifies her; though her heart longs to create and deliver a baby with Sam, she would never trade this unexpected, ready-made motherhood she inherited by becoming a Dalton. In her eyes, her family is already perfectly whole. She hopes that with time, her desire for a baby will be silenced.

"Boys?" Sam calls from the kitchen. "Where are my sous chefs? This fruit isn't going cut itself."

"Uh-oh," Mason lowers his voice, "we better go, Dr. Dalton."

"Roger that, Mr. President!" salutes Mickey before turning his attention to Brynn. "Stay right here, Mom. Mother's day is just getting started!"

"I hope it's fluffy with maple syrup on top!" Brynn singsongs as the boys bounce off of the bed. She gleefully tucks herself back under the weighted comforter, glowing from the beautiful moment she shared with her sons.

Moments later, the boys barrel around the corner, this time with Sam in tow, balancing a lap desk with an immaculate breakfast spread; but keeping with tradition, the spread is for everyone. Brynn refuses to eat in bed alone.

The delightful aroma of the feast teases their stepmom's senses, and she quickly steals a strawberry slice. She instantly starts dividing up the pancakes, the grilled sausage and scrambled eggs as all the Daltons climb into bed.

"Mickey, do you want some of this--" she stops mid-sentence, her attention being stolen. Her eyes focus on a white satin jewelry box, tied with a pale pink bow.

"What is this?" She curiously lifts up the box while Mickey and Mason beam with excitement.

"It's a new kind of tradition," Mason coyly answers.

Brynn, clearly touched by the gesture, turns to her husband who's relaxing on his elbow. "Did you know about this?" she whispers. "No gifts--"

Sam raises his hands in defense. "They really wanted to do this. They did this all on their own. Saved up their allowances--"

"Uncle Robin took us to the mall and helped us pick everything out," explains a humbled Mickey. "Can she open it now, Dad?"

"She's the mama," he chuckles, swiping a kiss against the back of her hand.

Brynn meticulously unties the bow and unfastens the delicate pieces of wrapping paper, revealing a simple white box. She takes a moment to soak up her sons' excitement, who are intently watching her.

Biting her bottom lip, she opens the lid, revealing a stunning, white gold charm bracelet, already hosting several ornate charms. Brynn's mouth falls open in shock while her eyes well with tears. Taking it as their cue, the boys crawl into her lap.

"You said you always wanted one growing up--"

"Yeah," interrupts Mickey, "so we thought we could make you a mom charm bracelet."

Taking a few breaths to find the right words, Brynn distraughtly looks to a grinning, elated Sam. She looks back to the boys before fixing her eyes back onto the thoughtful piece of jewelry.

"Here, Mom," Mason takes the chain, and loops it around her wrists to clasp it. "We've been practicing,'' he smiles.

"You're doing it wrong, Mase," whispers a slightly irritated Mickey.

"I am not," Mason huskily rebuttals.

"You are, too."

"Am not!"

Brynn pulls her wrist away as the twins begin to stick their tongues out at each other.

"Guys! C'mon--" chastises Sam as he takes over,, clasping the bracelet to his wife’s arm. "Don't ruin the moment."

"Sorry, Mom," the boys simultaneously apologize, giving Brynn heartfelt looks of remorse.

After squeezing them tightly and thanking them for the very thoughtful gift, Brynn continues to admire the charms they picked. Two identical charms in the shape of a boy silhouette and a tourmaline birthstone catch her attention first.

"'Michael Aaron' and 'Mason Alexander'." A large smile plants securely on her mouth as her fingers trace over the etching of their names.

She tinkers through a few more charms, including a soccer ball, a microscope and a stand mixer. She stops at a simple silver heart with the inscription 'November 18.'

"I thought this was a mom charm bracelet," Brynn jests. "Why is our wedding anniversary on here?"

"Because that's when you officially became our mom."

Unable to control her tears, Brynn pulls them onto her lap, rubbing their backs before caressing their heads in her hands. Sam leans over, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips again and again.

This is all she ever wanted; this was her childhood dream. This is her family.

The four Daltons quickly ate breakfast in bed, laughing at the irregular shapes of the pancakes and the random eggshell in the midst of their scramble.

"Well," Brynn finishes first, "in the spirit of new traditions, I'd like to start a new one now, too. But we have to clean up and get dressed."

"Really?" squeals Mickey.

"Cool! What is it?" inquires Mason.

Brynn shakes her head. "It's a surprise." She hands the boys their empty plates, giving them a knowing wink. They both eagerly grab the dishes, and hurry to clean up the kitchen.

"Should I be worried?" Brynn flashes a sweet smile to an inquisitive Sam.

"Trust me, baby."

***

"Happy Mother's Day, Mrs. Brynn--"

"Oh, Mr. Carter!" Brynn collects a stunning bouquet of lavender tulips from Dalton's longtime driver. She takes a quick sniff of their sweet fragrance, wrapping an arm around endearingly around the older man's neck. "These are lovely! Thank you so much!"

He graciously nods, adjusting his hat with a sweet smile.

"So, the farmer's market?"

"Yes sir--"

"And I have the second address pulled up and ready to go."

"Perfect. Thank you for doing this."

***

Brynn and Sam walk hand-in-hand through the aisles of vendors, the boys remaining close. She has a destination in mind, but Brynn refuses to rush such a lovely sunny Spring day with her special guys.

They make a pit stop to try a few samples of freshly cut mango and dragon fruit. The twins sweetly plead a case for a smore with homemade marshmallows and tempered chocolate.

They finally stumble upon a florist with a delectable selection of gorgeous bulbs and gathered creations.

"We're here, boys," Brynn announces with a big smile.

"You wanted flowers?" Mickey wrinkled up his nose, sharing a confused look with his brother.

"Well," Brynn squats next to her sons, "sorta. I want you two to pick out the biggest, most beautiful bouquet."

"'Biggest'?" echoes Mason. "And 'most beautiful'?"

"Yes," Brynn giggles, "I want the biggest and the most beautiful. When you're finished," she holds up her crossbody purse, "my treat."

Sam gingerly grabs hold of Brynn's elbow, holding her back from the flower search.

"You're up to something," his eyes darken, staring into her stormy grays. A corner of his mouth curls waiting for an answer.

Brynn captures his bottom lip in a tender tug. "Trust me," she whispers, pulling his lips back into hers. His hands naturally find the curves of her rear, massaging her lovingly. "C'mon," Brynn grabs Sam's hand, her fingers intimately lacing with his.

The twins did not disappoint. With the help of the florist, Mickey, true to form, picked out a beautiful bouquet of red, white and blue wildflowers, homage to his favorite football team. Mason was charmed by the long-stemmed sunflowers. He has a stunning arrangement of orange and yellow flowers amongst a cloud of babies' breath.

"Guys, these are absolutely perfect!" A glimmer and sparkle grow in Brynn's eyes as she investigates the colors and smells. "You two did wonderful!"

"Happy Mother's Day!" Proud of their work, Mickey and Mason offer their bouquets to Brynn, but she quickly waves them away.

"Hold them for me, please. We have one more stop to make."

***

Carter picks up the Daltons, and quickly takes a detour, leaving the city. The car remains silent from conversation; the gallop of the wheels plodding against the rubber road lull the boys into a nap. Brynn rests her head against Sam's broad chest. His strong arm wraps tightly around her shoulders, his cheek basking amongst her vibrant almond waves.

"Excuse me? Mr. And Mrs. Dalton? We're here."

Carter kindly opens the door for the family to exit to their new endeavor in the country. There is a brisk chill in the air, but nothing the bold sunshine couldn't cure. Instead of the familiar sounds of people shouting and horns honking, they were surrounded by birds chirping, grass whistling, and leaves gently clapping.

"Where are we, Mom?" whispers a nervous Mickey, the first to file out of the car.

Brynn bends over, kissing his head. "You'll see, baby. You'll see. Did you grab your flowers?"

Mickey nods, handing the other bouquet to Mason.

Sam climbs out of the car, instantly aware of his surroundings. "Um, sweetie," he motions with his finger for her to come closer. "You think they're ready for this?"

"They've been ready for this. Trust me." She touches her hand to his downcast face, offering a tender smile. "How about the boys and I go on ahead?"

Sam soaks in the nature around him as a sweet breeze lingers on his face. Grabbing Brynn's hand, he kisses it delicately before letting go with a squeeze. "Okay."

"C'mon, boys," she reaches out, taking the boys by the hand, "we've got someone to talk to."

They enter the iron gates, walking respectfully on the stony pavement. They wind around on the path, trees gracefully blooming above their heads. They finally come to a fork in their venture.

"Okay, you two," Brynn walks in front of them only to kneel down to stop them. "Do you know where we are?"

"A cemetary?"

"That's right, Mase--"

"So, there are dead people buried underneath us?" Mickey cautiously asks. “Cool.”

"They are buried here," explains Brynn, "but we aren't walking on top of them. Their bodies are marked by those big rocks with writings on them--"

"Headstones!"

"That's right, Mase. They're called headstones."

"Why did you want to bring us to a cemetery for Mother's day?" questions Mickey. "That seems weird."

Brynn chuckles pulling him into a tight embrace. "Cemeteries are a beautiful place to communicate with those who have already passed. Sometimes on special days, like birthdays or anniversaries--”

“Or Christmas!” interjects Mickey.

“‘Or Christmas,’ that’s right.” Brynn stands. “Those days can be sad and lonely for those of us still alive on earth because we miss them so much.” She begins to draw closer to a plot with a large white granite headstone. “Spending time with them where they are buried is a way to remember them and to show them that we still love them.”

“Do they, um, talk back?” nervously asks Mason.

Brynn smiles sweetly at her stepson, hugging him tighter as they continue their saunter. “I’d like to think so, but not in the way we expect them to. Like sometimes, it might be a familiar fragrance, or a familiar song. Something to remind us that they are looking down, watching us, loving us.” Brynn nods in the direction of the breathtaking, large stone. “Go ahead.”

The boys cautiously step towards the monument, laying their flowers on top of the glistening stone.

“Caroline Austin Dalton--” Mason reads out loud, tracing the etching carefully with his fingers.

“That’s mama, right, Mase?”

“I think so, Mick.” The brothers endearingly hold each other’s hands as their eyes focus on her name. Mason’s eyes begin to well with tears first. “I can barely remember her--”

“Me, too.” Mickey quickly turns to Brynn, motioning for her to come closer. “What do we say to her? You’re our Mom--”

“--and she is your mom, just in a different way.”

“How do we talk to her?” shrugs Mickey.

“How do you talk to me?” Brynn smiles warmly, pushing a curl out of Mickey’s face. “Just talk. Talk about your day. Your favorite food. Your soccer game on Thursday.”

The boys raise their eyebrows at each other before returning their gaze back to Brynn.

“Here. Let me show you.” Brynn crawls onto her knees, facing the memorial. She clears her throat. “Caroline? Your boys picked out the most beautiful flowers for you.” Brynn grabs Mason’s hand. “You’d be so proud of them. Mason here is a straight-A student. Loves science, and is quite the little baker.” Brynn wraps an arm around Mickey. “And your first born here loves to play sports, and has a very vivid imagination.”

Brynn clears her throat. “It’s now your turn,” she gently rubs their backs. “Don’t worry; if she is anything like me, she’s dying to have you talk to her. Go ahead.”

Mason steps forward, placing a sincere hand on the headstone. “That’s Brynn, Mama--”

“And she’s a really great Mom,” chimes in Mickey, “she was originally our nanny--”

Brynn slowly backs away, allowing the twins to talk. She casually glances to the side, and notices a man out of the corner of her eye, taking swig from a flask: her husband.

Brynn casually walks up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She kisses the exposed skin of his chest, her lips crawling up his neck to his stiff chin.

“Please don’t be mad at me for this.”

Sam chuckles, avoiding eye-contact. “Some warning would’ve been nice--”

“So you could stop me?”

“Touché.” Sam takes another sip of bourbon, drifting back into a silent watch over the boys.

Brynn tightens her embrace around her husband. Breathing a sigh of satisfaction, she listens to the sweet bursts of giggles amongst the conversation being held by the twins in the distance.

Sam grips tightly to Brynn’s body, his mouth attempting to form words. “They haven’t been here since--” he swallows thickly, “since that day. I always wanted to keep her memory alive and bring them here, I just...” his voice begins to wander.

“Sam?”

“Hrmm?” he glances back down into Brynn’s sparkly blue eyes.

“You’re allowed to miss her, too--”

“Brynn... I--”

“It’s okay, baby--”

Sam caresses Brynn’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you--”

“That’s not what this is about,” she kisses his hand away from her face.

Sam clings tightly to his wife, rubbing his hands up and down her back. Painful tears that he had been holding back for over nine years spill down his cheeks as the floodgates of emotions wash over his body. “You truly are the best thing that has happened to this family,” he purrs in between sniffles.

After a few minutes of holding each other tenderly, Sam joins the boys at the graveside. Sharing sweet memories amongst each other, Mickey and Mason find solace in their father’s lap.

Brynn discovers a nearby bench to watch and wait. Humbled and satisfied by the day that had started so terribly, she smiles brightly as her beautiful family spends time, savoring the precious stories of the past.

A sudden gust of wind barrels across Brynn's face. Drying the rushing rivers from her cheeks, her hair dances carefree in the tumbling breeze. Her eyes flutter close as she lays her hands on her abdomen.

"It's okay, little one," she sweetly hums, "but if you like laughing, and if you like living... and if you like dancing and dreaming," Brynn cradles her abdomen tightly, "we'll be waiting."

The afternoon sun seeks refuge into darkness; the street begins to illuminate with the buzzing of lamps and lightning bugs. The laughter dies down and the conversation quietly stops. Sam slowly rounds up the boys, guiding them back to Brynn.

“I think we’re ready to head back,” Sam suggests, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Anymore surprises?” he chuckles, pecking his lips to hers.

The corners of her mouth curve. “You three go on ahead,” she playfully pats Sam’s rear. “I’ll be right behind you guys.”

Sam raises an eyebrow before nodding his head. Placing his hands on each boy's shoulder, they walk towards the car where Carter is dutifully waiting for them.

Brynn approaches Caroline’s tombstone, graciously sitting next to it. She casually traces over her name, imagining how excited she must’ve been the first time she signed her name 'Mrs. Dalton'--just like her. Brynn finally rests her hand on the cold stone, tears of joy recollecting in her eyes.

”You gave me everything I could’ve possibly wanted,” a sob hitches in her throat. “Thank you for making me a mom. It was never supposed to be like this,” she chuckles to herself. She looks over her shoulder, watching Sam load up their sons into the car. “God, it’s so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. I promise I'll take care of them--"

“Brynn?” Sam calls out from the distance. “Ready, baby?”

“--all three of them.”

***

"Goodnight, boys. We love you," Sam whispers to the boys as he closes their bedroom door.

Brynn's eyes twinkle at her handsome husband, his gaze falling deeply on hers. She effortlessly takes his hand, draping it around her shoulders, pressing her tired cheek against his chest. Kissing the top of her head, he escorts her to their room, switching off lamps along the way.

"I've got one more surprise for you," Sam growls as he shuts their door.

"Mmm…" Brynn begins to tug at his waistband. "I love these kind of surprises," her mouth gently presses into the side of his neck, her teeth gingerly nipping at his pulse point.

"Baby," Sam chuckles, his wandering fingers combing through her golden waves. "I, um--" he clears his throat, "I actually do have something I want to talk with you about."

"Oh?" Brynn suddenly cups her hand over her mouth. "Oh!" she sighs, "I know, I know. I probably should've at least told you about my plan of going out to Caroline's grave--"

"Baby, I--"

"It just made sense in my mind at the time," she interrupts. "I don't want our boys forgetting they have two mothers that love them very much--"

Sam raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin growing.

"What? Is it about the tumbler? I swear, I'll replace--"

"Brynn baby?" Sam takes ahold of both of her hands. "I love you," he places a sweet peck on her lips, "but shut up--" they start laughing at his words before he continues. "--now, come with me."

She follows him into the bathroom where he hands her a bottle of water.

"Wh--what's this about?" she furrows her brow.

"I was taking out the trash this morning after breakfast, and noticed your test--"

"Sam--"

"Your test, baby," he steps closer to her, holding it in his hands. "The box says it expired two years ago. I know you stockpile these things and keep them hidden." Brynn crosses her arms as her neck flushed with embarrassment. "Isn't there supposed to be some kind of line on it to show that the test is still okay to take?"

"A control line, yes. What's your point?"

"Brynn," his eyes pierce into hers, "yours doesn't have one." A playful grin crawls across his face. "And-and-and according to Google, you need one for the test to be even considered valid."

Brynn looks at the test, and realizes it's completely blank from any and all lines. She appreciates her husband's passion and agrees this is peculiar, but the point he is trying to make sounds way too good to be true. This isn't a movie or a fairy tale. And those lines fade after a test has been performed. Or do they?

"Brynn? Did you hear me?"

Brynn nods her head, biting her lip in deep thought. She wants to feel his excitement, but she can't be let down, not even just one more time. It had been the absolute perfect day with the absolute perfect family to where she is mom. Can she just end Mother's day feeling, well, like a mom?

"C'mon," he steals her water, popping the cap. "I bought a new test today while we were at the market--one that wasn't expired. Let's try again."

"Sam, no," she refuses to take the water back. "Besides, it's best to take it first thing in the morning--"

"So, what you're saying is that you want me to wake you up in a few hours to pee--"

"No, I'm saying let's drop it." Growing irritated, Brynn brushes past her husband and back into the bedroom.

Sam drags his fingers down his face. He follows suit, chasing after her. He reaches for her shoulder, but she dodges his touch.

"Brynn baby--"

"No--"

"Answer me this then," he bites back, "why did you take a test in the first place?"

Brynn freezes for a moment, staring at the ground. She doesn't want to argue, and she knows that her husband's questions come from a good place. They had always been open with one another; why not now?

"I thought I was." Brynn crosses her arms, blinking away tears.

Sam sits on the bed in front of her, looking tenderly at his bride. He grazes his finger tips up and down her hips until she finally looks down at him, drying her eyes.

"You might be, baby," he whispers, smiling into her gaze. "That was one test, one test that I'm pretty sure was bad."

Brynn casually combs Sam's waves back with her fingers, curling around his ear. Sam presses his nose to forearm, inhaling deeply the remnants of her floral perfume.

"For me?" Sam grazes his lips up her arm, finally resting them on her bare abdomen.

Touching his chin, Brynn tenderly nods.

***

Sam sits on the side of the garden tub, his elbows resting on his nervously bouncing knees.

After what seems like an eternity, Brynn emerges from the closet bathroom. Uncontrollable tears drench her red, blotchy face.

"Sam--?" her voice panics, her body shaking as she reaches for Sam.

Without missing a beat, he lovingly captures her in his arms. His hands intimately stroke her back as she sobs into his chest.

"Shh... baby. It's okay." Sam presses his lips into her hair, holding her close. "It’s going to be okay--"

"Sam--?" Brynn pulls away from Sam's chest, offering him the test as she cups her mouth.

Sam inquisitively takes the test from Brynn. And his eyes widen, shaking his head in disbelief. And he smiles.

“Happy Mother’s day, baby.”

*****

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