#I’ve come to find that my mother raised me to be unable to think of a life without her

[cherrysnax]

why do people slam doors when they’re angry. it only hurts the door

[xxchumanixx]

Lilies and conspiracies pt. 1

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Lilies and Conspiracies pt. 1 - Reputation and Decorum

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a bit angst, historical gender roles, nothing more yet, really

Word Count: 3.172

Authors Note: Hello loves! Here it is: My first series! I have to say that I'm a tad bit nervous, considering my lack of motivation to write sometimes... Anyways, let me know what you think! Lots of love!

Series Masterlist -> pt. 2

As always: Enjoy!

Dear reader,

it has come to my notice that a certain young Miss and her brother have recently returned from their rather long stay in France, looking for love in this season. It is said that she has grown into a beautiful young woman, whilst her brother has become a handsome gentleman.

At least that is what this author has been told.

We yet have to examine this young Miss and her brother, but this author is certain that they will make a certain appereance at the second ball this season at the Trowbridge house.

One can only hope that Viscount Bridgerton will not scrutinize her with that checklist of his - the poor one.

One can only hope he will find a wife at all.

- Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, London, April 1814

It was the second ball of your season as a debutante, having only returned from your stay at France a while ago. You had yet to meet some of the Lords and Ladies, yet you could already tell a lot of them were different than you.

You had been standing at the edge of the ballroom, dancing people and burning candles all around you, the smell of perfume and candle wax heavy in the air.

You had noticed how Viscount Anthony Bridgerton stood at the edge of the ballroom as well, grumbling to himself. It hadn't slipped your notice the way he was looking for a wife, his list of potential names at hand.

Yet he seemed rather displeased.

"This is absolute nonsense." Anthony grumbled to himself after yet another girl failed to fulfill his requests and expectations, unable to meet these high standards, the paper in his hand wrinkled already.

That godforsaken list his mother had made.

He wasn't looking for love, no, not after he'd witnessed what love can do, the pain it brought; that simply wasn't in the cards for him. "How is it possible that one cannot find a proper lady in a room full of them?" he added, brows furrowing in bewilderment.

You had heard him, cocking a brow, as you moved towards him. "Trouble, Lord Bridgerton?" you asked, coming to a halt beside him with your hands clasped in front of you.

You had known the Viscount for most of your life, your brother having spend his college years with him, but when you returned from France, he seemed to have become someone else.

Anthony flinched, having been pulled from his reverie, and he raised his head to see you. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning you once before straightening his posture. "Yes, quite." he responded with an annoyed roll of his eyes. "A whole ballroom full of debutantes, and there isn’t a single respectable one in the bunch."

"Ouch." you said playfully, putting a hand above your heart.

Anthony's eyes flickered over you, looking you up and down again. There was something about your sarcastic comment that had intrigued him. He watched as you placed a hand against your chest in feigned hurt and his lips tugged upward in a near smirk. "Well, it’s not as though I’ve been shy about what it is I’m expecting from a wife." he replied, his voice laced with dry amusement.  

Your brows twitched. "Well, the whole ton has its own opinions about that." Lady Whistledown had certainly made sure to pick up on everything the Viscount had said about his search for a suitable wife.

Anthony chuckled at that, a half smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, it’s rather fascinating exactly what gossip the ton can spread, without having their nose in the midst of my affairs." he said. "And it’s not as though I haven’t been clear enough in what I’m looking for, that I’m not looking for love." he added with a sigh, his eyes looking over you again. 

You chuckled to yourself. "Well, most matches made here are not out of love." you pointed out.

Anthony’s smirk tugged ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth at your response "It’s true, most marriages in the ton are not out of love. Perhaps I should be surprised at my difficulty with finding a match. Most of these ladies are far too young and naive and silly to even understand much of love." he said, his eyes still focused on you, watching intently every move you made. 

He couldn't shake the feeling that you had changed during your stay in France, having become a grown-up woman rather than the young and naive little girl he remembered you to be.

You chuckled again. "They are like ducklings thrown into a pond." you said. "They didn't learn how to swim yet, still they are forced to."  

Anthony hummed in agreement, his smirk growing into a full blown smile as he nodded his head. "Exactly that. Their mothers think that because they’re of age, they’ll suddenly find husbands to take care of them. And they’re all the same: sheltered and naive and foolish." he declared. "The women in this room barely know the difference between love and lust."  

You huffed. "Well, how are they expected to be, if they don't know the concept of either?" you asked, fully aware that most young girls knew much less than you did, before they were wed off to some wealthy men. 

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’re right, they don’t know any better. Their mothers have done them a disservice by keeping them from understanding what their purpose is." he said with a shake of his head. "It’s all so silly. Marriage is about duty and family, not love."  

You smiled a small smile at that. "Love can still find a place."  

Anthony’s expression softened as he raised a brow, a scoff leaving his mouth. "I used to believe that, until I realized it was a myth." he said. "All love does is create chaos and heartbreak. It’s easier to focus on duty and family rather than risk the mess that love can bring." His voice was firm, but there was a note of something like sorrow in it.  

Your gaze softened as you tilted your head in silent understanding. "It can be rather ironic, can it not?" you asked. 

Anthony looked at you for a moment, taking in the softening of your gaze and the tilt of your head. He could see the understanding in your eyes, and he couldn't help but be slightly impressed by it. "How is it ironic?" he questioned, his expression becoming guarded as he braced himself to hear your response.  

"Love is said to be the greatest feeling of all." you explained. "Yet it can lead to the worst of all, too." 

Anthony’s gaze remained fixed on you as you spoke, his expression becoming thoughtful. He nodded his head in agreement, a small sigh leaving his lips. "Yes, love is said to be the greatest feeling. But you’re right, it can also lead to the worst pain and heartbreak." he mused as he looked out to the ballroom, watching the couples dancing as if they were perfectly happy and in love. "Is it worth the risk, though?" he added quietly, more to himself than to you.  

"It can be." you spoke softly. "If one is brave enough to take it."  

Anthony looked back at you, a look of contemplation crossing his features as he listened to your words. He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. "You speak as though you’ve experienced it." he said with a slight tilt of his head, his tone laced with curiosity.  

You smiled softly. "No, not yet." you said. "But my parents were deeply in love."  

Anthony’s mouth twitched, somewhat surprised by your response. He was used to a lot of the ladies in the ton declaring how they hoped to fall in love and be loved by their partner in return, but it was rather refreshing to hear someone say they hadn’t yet experienced it.

It further fueled his theory.

He was also somewhat caught off guard by your mention of your parents being in love. It was rare to hear of a love match in the ton, and he couldn’t help but wonder about that. "You come from a love match?" he asked curiously, though something in the back of his head told him you were right. He remembered your parents distantly, remembering how deeply they cared for each other.  

You smiled. "Yes." you responded, smile faltering slightly. "My parents were smitten the moment they shared their first dance. But when my mother died, my father's heart was forever broken." 

Anthony’s expression softened, a pang of sympathy tugging at his heart, as he remembered. He could tell there was a hint of sadness in your expression as you told him of your parents’ love and your mother’s death and your father’s heartbreak that resulted from it. He knew the pain of losing a loved one all too well himself. He was silent for a moment, considering his response before speaking again. "I’m sorry for your loss." he said quietly, his voice gentler than before.

"Thank you." you said. "It's been six years now, but my father said he wouldn't do it differently, even if he knew how it ended."  

Anthony listened intently as you spoke of your father’s love for your mother, even after six years since her death. He couldn't help but be somewhat envious of your parents’ love match. He had never experienced that kind of love, but he had seen the effects of it after his father’s death. He was struck by the strength in your father’s words, the conviction that he wouldn’t change his love for your mother, no matter the outcome. "That’s true love, isn’t it?" he murmured softly, surprising himself with his question, as he was the first to declare not to believe in love as something good.  

You nodded. "It is. And it's even rarer than a compliment from the queen herself." you spoke jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

Anthony chuckled softly at your response, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He found himself strangely drawn to your wit and your understanding in this conversation. He hadn’t expected to find such an engaging companion at this dull event. He couldn’t help but raise a brow at your remark, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Is that supposed to be a high form of praise?" he asked, a hint of a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand, stifling your laughter. You hadn't expected the question, being caught off guard by it.

Anthony’s smirk grew into a grin at your snort of laughter, the sound of your amusement sending a spark of something warm through him. He found himself slightly amused and even impressed by your unabashed laughter, a stark contrast to the fake giggles and smiles of most of the debutantes in the room. He couldn’t help but tease you further, his eyes still glinting with playful amusement. "I take it that’s a no, then?" he questioned, his voice laced with mirth.  

Your eyes widened, shoulders shaking from the stifled laughter. "Stop it!" you scolded him playfully, still laughing to yourself. 

Anthony chuckled heartily, the sound of your laughter only making his own amusement grow. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had such a lighthearted and playful conversation with a member of the ton. It was refreshing and strangely exhilarating.

He raised his hands in a gesture of innocence, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Stop what?" he asked, his voice laced with feigned innocence, his grin widening as he realized he loved seeing you laugh like this.

Strange.

You shook your head, trying to stop laughing, biting your cheek, before taking a deep breath. "Don't-" you were interrupted by another snort of laughter. You turned away from him for a brief moment, calming yourself with a hand pressed over your chest. When you turned back around, you had tears in your eyes from laughing. "You know exactly what I mean, my lord." you said breathlessly. 

You hadn't expected your evening to go like this, yet you enjoyed every second of it.

Anthony’s grin widened further as he watched you struggle to contain your laughter, his own eyes glinting with amusement. He found it utterly adorable that he could reduce you to a fit of laughter so easily. As you turned back around, your eyes still shining with tears from laughing so hard, he couldn’t help but smirk. "Oh, do I?" he teased, his voice laced with mock surprise.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying every moment of it.  

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. "Oh my, some would consider me unheard for laughing so much." 

Anthony chuckled, his smirk softening into a small smile. He couldn’t help but find your carefree attitude and infectious laughter refreshing. Most of the ladies he encountered in the ton were all too poised and proper, always concerned with their reputation and decorum. But here you were, laughing without a care in the world.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of humor in his eyes. "Would they, now?" he questioned, his voice still laced with amusement.  

You wanted to respond something, when another lord stopped in front of you. "Miss Barton, would you give me the honor to have this next dance with you?" he asked, curtsying. You curtsied in return, sending him a fake smile. "Of course, Lord Pendale."

You shot Anthony an apologetic look, as the lord walked you to the dance floor.

Anthony watched with irritation as Lord Pendale approached you and requested a dance. He had been thoroughly enjoying your lighthearted conversation and infectious laughter, and the interruption by this newcomer was unwelcome. He clenched his jaw, trying to quell the envious feeling that bubbled within him as he watched you walk away with the other lord.

Strange, indeed.

Yet, despite his irritation, he couldn’t help but notice your apologetic look as you glanced back at him. He simply nodded slightly in acknowledgment; his expression guarded as he watched you take your place on the dance floor.

You danced with Lord Pendale, making smalltalk with him, but you couldn't help but notice how simple-minded and bland he was compared to Lord Bridgerton.  

Not to mention the way he used to talk down on women.

Anthony took the opportunity to observe you from afar as you danced with Lord Pendale, his eyes fixed onto you. He couldn’t help but compare the interaction with the other lord to the conversation he’d had with you. He could see your polite smile and practiced small talk, but he could also see how bored you were, too. It was easy to spot the lack of depth in Lord Pendale’s conversation and the simplicity of his personality.

He couldn’t help but feel a mix of satisfaction and disappointment as he watched you dance with someone so lacking in comparison to himself.  

When the dance was over, you curtsied to Lord Pendale, before your gaze filtered the crowd for Anthony. Before you could walk over to him, though, your brother stepped beside you.

"We're leaving." Max said. "Why?" you wanted to know. "It's still early." He nodded. "Father wants to go home. Come." Without further ado, he walked you out of the ballroom, not giving you any time to find Anthony again, before you drove home in your carriage.  

Anthony watched as you curtsied to Lord Pendale, but before he could even begin to consider finding an excuse to approach you, he saw your brother appear beside you and then take you away from the ball. He was left feeling dissatisfied and frustrated, his gaze lingering on the spot where you had stood moments earlier.

Without you, the ball seemed to lose its appeal and now he was forced to continue mingling with the other dull and boring party guests again.  

You bit your lip, looking out of the carriage window, even though you didn't see much in the darkness.

"Did you talk to Lord Bridgerton earlier?" your brother wanted to know. You looked over at him, sighing. "Yes, why?" He shook his head. "They call him a rake." he said. "That means he's not worthy of you." You shook your head, but didn't say anything. He wouldn't get to decide who you talked to or not.  

When you arrived home, you made your way into your chambers, telling your maid to dress you for the night. Even though it was still early, you were somehow exhausted, yet energized at the same time.

Your encounter with Anthony had brightened your evening, something you wouldn't have considered before, when you were still young. He was always so out of reach, especially after his father died and he became colder, building a wall around himself.

Meanwhile Anthony sat in his office, a drink in hand as he replayed the events of the night in his mind; having left shortly after you.

He couldn't get the image of you out of his head, how you had talked about love and your parents' love match, how you had laughed at his teasing, how you had looked while dancing with another and then been whisked away.

He had expected to attend the ball and see the usual ton ladies, but you had stood out to him in a way no other had before.  

You were lying in your bed, thinking about the conversation with Lord Bridgerton. You couldn't sleep, at least not until a few hours into the night.

It was strange how he managed to burn himself into your brain so fast, like ivy that slowly grew rampant.

Anthony was also restless, unable to sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, his thoughts consumed by you. He couldn't understand why you had stayed on his mind so heavily.

He had talked to dozens of ladies in his time, why would you be different?

But no matter how much he tried to push away the thoughts of you, your laughter and your words replayed in his mind over and over.  

Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Anthony gave up on trying to sleep. He threw off the covers and got out of bed, dressing in a simple shirt and trousers before heading out of his bedroom.

He walked through the empty halls of Bridgerton House, his thoughts still consumed by you. He wanted to see you again. But it was so early in the morning, and he couldn't simply show up at your house. He was restless, frustrated and yearning for your company yet he didn't know how to get it.  

Or why he yearned for it in the first place.

You had managed to catch a few hours of sleep, but you woke early, lying restless in bed again. You tossed and turned, unable to stop thinking about Anthony.

Him and your brother went to school together, university, he never seemed to be someone to pique your interest. Yet he had managed to, with only one simple conversation.

He truly must have changed during the time you had spent in France, after your mother passed. He seemed more grown-up than you had remembered him, but then it were almost six years you hadn’t seen him.  

Anthony soon couldn't stand it anymore.

The night had passed and now, as the sun rose and the rest of London slowly began to wake, he made an impulsive decision. He dressed in his finest clothes before getting in the carriage and giving the driver a destination: your house.

He had no plan, no idea what he would say, but all he knew was that he had to see you again.  

[bullet-prooflove]

It's me! Hi! 😉

From Midnights prompt list

24)  In the kitchen humming for Terry and Georgia (and if possible baby Sebastian) please 😊

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @mia1653 @kimbergoldess @cortmac1989

You’ve just stepped out of the shower when you realise the baby is missing. There’s an empty space with a towel wrapped around you, your hair tousled and damp as your heart palpitates in your chest.

Sebastian is two months old and can barely raise his head, there is no way he escaped on his own accord. Immediately your brain goes to John Kreese, but you remind yourself he’s dead, that he can’t hurt the two of you anymore.

It’s when you hear Terry’s voice coming from the kitchen that you start to calm. You follow the gentle sound of his humming, not caring that you’re dripping water all over the floor in your haste.

You pause when you reach the doorway, lingering as the relief fills your body at the sight of Sebastian cradled in his arms, half asleep.

“I know your little tummy hurts.” He murmurs, his lips brushing over the baby’s forehead as he sways gently from side to side. “But you’re being a terror for mommy.”

You hate to admit it but he’s right. You suspect it’s the reason that Terry’s home from work early. Colic has been driven you to tears more than once since you had Sebastian and the fact you can’t sooth your son devastates you.

“He hates me.” You’d told Terry last night, after he’d put Sebastian down for the night. “He won’t sleep, he cries all the time. Nothing I do is working. I feel like I’m failing him.”

You’d fallen apart then and Terry had kissed away your tears as he cradled you close, whispering the sweet reassurances into your hair.

“You meant it.” You say softly and Terry turns to face you, his palm resting on Sebastian’s back. “When you said you’d be around to help more. I thought…”

You trail off because you’ve been in a bit of a fog since you had the baby, exhausted, unable to ask for help. You’d seen it as a weakness because mothering, it seems easy for everyone else but not for you. You worry all the time if you’re doing the right thing for Sebastian.

“You thought I was placating you?” He questions as he kisses Sebastian’s tiny fingertips and you nod your head, unable to speak.

“Georgia.” He says softly. “Parenting it’s hard, it’s probably going to be the hardest thing we’re ever going to do. I would never leave you to struggle with it on your own. I’m a fool for not realising how much of a tiny tyrant he was being, for not seeing you needed help.”

“It’s not your fault.” You say quietly as you grip the towel tighter around your body. “I thought it would come naturally to me but I’m finding it hard to connect because he doesn’t want me…”

“He does want you.” Terry reassures you as Sebastian grumbles. “Right now he’s showing preference because I put him to bed at night after work, if we start doing that together he’ll start associating it with the both of us and that preference will slip.”

“Do you really think that’s it?” You ask him, your fingertips caressing the baby’s featherlike dark hair.

“I do.” He tells you with so much surety that it relaxes something deep down inside of you. “I know he’s exhausting you so let me take over for a while, give you a few hours to yourself. Take a nap or a walk on the beach, spend a little time in the studio, just do something for yourself for a while. I’ve got him.”

“You’re sure?” You ask him and Terry gives you a stern look.

“Georgia.” He says, tilting his head towards the closed art studio door. “Go have yourself a little fun.”

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[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

With a kiss we will paint a flawless view (part 2)

Dracule Mihawk x reader. This is part two of two. NSFW!!

This fic is dedicated to @madbadpadawan. 

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series, and the sequel of Come close and whisper my true name.

*****

Tomorrow dawns and Mihawk has disappeared.

You wake up nine hours later, after one of the only nights of interrupted sleep you have been blessed with in the last six months; pleasantly rested, you reach towards the other half of the bed, searching for your lover’s firm and warm body… and you don’t find it. The room is empty save for you, you realise as you open your eyes and slowly, awkwardly sit up on the bed, and no sound that could betray Mihawk’s presence in your study or in the bathroom can be heard. 

A look at the clock on your bedside table makes you realise how late it is; Mihawk, who occasionally treats himself to a morning spent lounging in bed with you, must have raised to make you rest as long as you could. He has probably eaten breakfast already, you think as you stand from the bed, distinctly ungraceful as usual, but after you’ve spoken to your mother regarding a request you have received from the city’s prefect and written a few important letters, you can reach him in the gardens to keep him company as he trains with Yoru, and discuss the matter you have avoided for two months…

You’ve almost reached the bathroom’s door when you notice the folded piece of paper on the chest of drawers, with your name written on it in a calligraphy you would know anywhere. You take the note, open it, and your good mood evaporates.

Beloved (name),

You look so beautiful sleeping in my arms, leaving your bed is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Forgive me, but I have to leave for a few days for a very important matter; I promise I’ll be back soon, before our baby comes, and you will understand everything. 

Please take care of you both. I love you more than I can express in words.

Yours forever,

Mihawk.

The tenderness in those words is intense enough to move you, but the content of the brief message hits you like a metaphorical punch in the belly.

He has left. You can’t believe it… he said he’d remain for the rest of your pregnancy, to make up for the time he had spent away and because he wanted to make sure you’d be alright, well look after, and now this. Where in the world - where the fuck has he gone, and why?!

Your heart is spinning, so much that you have to quickly return to the bed and sit; you know stress could harm your baby, so you force yourself to breathe, slowly and deeply as the doctor has taught you, as you re-read the content of the piece of paper in your shaking hands. A very important matter, he wrote, without explaining further. Is this a Warlord mission? He has been challenged to a duel by another swordsman? Has he returned to Kuraigana to take care of some personal business? Whatever the case you would have supported him, encouraged him to go wherever he needed to; the last thing you want is to keep him chained to you or to stop him from pursuing his interests. Why didn’t he tell you? Didn’t he trust you? Or he simply thought there was no reason for you to know?

You will understand everything, he also wrote, which does comforts you a little in the following days, since apparently Mihawk does intend to tell you where he went in time, but only partially; he means to stay away for a few days, and you know that nothing will ever stop your lover from returning to you, not even the whole Marines army or the end of the world, but sometimes accidents happen, and even the strongest swordsman in the world can get hurt, or sick, unable to ask for help. What if the Marines have recruited your lover for another mission, and find a way to keep him away for longer than he expected? What if something happens to your baby, and Mihawk has no chance to meet them before they…?

You’re now eight months pregnant; still early technically, but many children are born a month in advance, and while you don’t technically need Mihawk to give birth, since your mother has sent for the best midwives of the kingdom and will be there as well, to keep you company, the mere idea of having to go through it without your lover’s solid presence only a door away scares you. You know how excited he is to become a father, and that he has done his utmost to comfort and support you in the last two months; not to have him there feels wrong in some indescribable but persistent way: if your little family is not together at the beginning, who knows what could happen in the future…?

You’ve never felt so alone in your life and, worst of all, you can’t even find comfort in the person who has always been there for you. Your mother is the only person in all the island to know where Mihawk has gone, and why; she admits that on that morning, after leaving your bedroom while you were still fast asleep, your lover spoke to her, a brief but important conversation whose content she has sworn not to reveal to you. “You’re going to know soon enough.” she tells you, deaf to your protestations; while her expression remains serious, her eyes are sparkling with a joy you dearly wish you could share, rather than being tormented by grief and fear “You have no reason to worry, my love; your man is fine, and will return soon enough. Everything will be clear.”

Everything will be clear; you will understand everything. Why do the people around you insist on keeping the truth from you? Don’t they see that, rather than reassuring, their words only serve to frustrate and worry you, in the moment of your life in which you need it the least?!

You know you are overreacting, that you have every reason to trust both Mihawk and your mother, the two people in the world who love you the most, and that it costs you nothing to be patient and wait for them to explain what they are plotting, but you can’t help it; naturally rational and clear-headed as you have always been, ever since you’ve become aware of your pregnancy you feel completely prey of your emotions, afraid of every little thing, unable to find joy in an experience many describe as the happiest of their lives. 

You’ve always been able to take care of yourself; you’ve risked your life countless times, and you’ve always emerged victorious, even when the people trying to make away with you were the worst scum of the sea and outlaws with the blood of dozens of victims on their hands. While aware of the danger, you’ve never trembled; now, on the other hand, you have to force yourself to take a brief walk in the gardens, fearing a few minutes of strolling could harm your baby. You feel fat, and old, and unattractive; no wonder Mihawk decided to leave, you find yourself thinking sometimes, and while you know he would never betray you, you couldn’t fully blame him if he found himself looking at other, younger and fitter, women…

“It’s going to be alright.” you murmur to your child, holding your belly and wishing they were already here, safe and sound in your arms as you try to reassure them like you wish someone were doing with you “Your father will be here soon; he promised, and he never breaks his word. Wait until he’s here before you come out, alright? I know I can do it on my own, but… I don’t want to.”

And in the end Mihawk does come back, as he had promised he would. Today you have awoken alone in your bed for the fourth time; it’s the middle of the afternoon, and sitting on a bench in the gardens you try to focus on the letter you’re writing, the paper placed on a thick book resting on the top of your belly. It is quite an important missive, the answer to a loan request you received from the lord of a nearby island, but you can’t focus, your head hurts and you feel dead tired even if you had just woken up from a three hour nap.  

A sigh escapes your lips, and you’re wondering whether you’re up to finish this little task or you’d better return inside and go back to bed, when suddenly you feel it… you feel him.

He has returned. He hasn’t called your name, nor did you hear the sound of his footsteps; you have simply perceived his presence, like he could perceive yours if your places had been exchanged, not unlike the two opposite poles of a magnet; you naturally react to each other, a shiver on the back of your head that warns you not of an oncoming danger but of the presence of your lover.

And that shiver you feel it now, and a moment later the book with your half-finished letter on it falls to the ground as you grab the backrest of the bench to stand, turn, and finally see him. 

Mihawk is standing maybe three steps from you; he is still, apparently content with just looking at you, but smiles when he sees you turn to face him. “(name).” he murmurs as he moves to approach “My love, are you…?”

“Where the hell have you been?!”

Your lover stops, clearly taken aback; he has seen you upset, angry or worried many times since you first became acquainted, but you have never raised your voice, screaming at him as if he had committed some grave crime. “(name), darling, I…”

“Don’t darling me, Mihawk! Do you have any idea what the last few days have been for me?” you ask when you are finally face to face; you are still screaming, long enough for the residents of the fortress to hear, but you don’t care; you’re beside yourself, relief and irritation fighting inside you, and while you never seriously thought Mihawk had abandoned you, you want him to understand that you needed him by your side, or at least to explain fully the reason for his absence rather than simply leaving a note “I had no idea where you were, and when you would come back! My mother would not tell me anything! Do you realise your child could be born any day? What place in the world could you desire to be at rather than here? You had said you would be by my side, and one day I wake up and you’re not there! Do you realise how it made me feel? Knowing that you could be gone with no explanation the day I simply sleep a little longer?”

You sob, not daring to meet your lover’s eyes. “I’m pregnant, Mihawk.” you add; he obviously knows very well, if only because you’re twenty-five pounds heavier than normal, but you want him to understand that the presence of your child has not only affected your body, but your mind as well “And I know it’s a perfectly natural process and I have received the best care, but I am scared. Terrified. Scared of what could happen to me, and to lose our baby, to discover they are not healthy, or to lose you. I don’t want to sound like a brat, and I know you’ve already reassured me a thousand times… but I’m not at my most rational right now. And now I feel horrible because I’m screaming at you and you don’t deserve it, and…”

And then you start to cry.

Which is terrifying, because you know if there is something Mihawk cannot stand are shows of weakness, and even though your relationship is way too deep and close for his opinion of you to change because of a tantrum, you wish your stoic, cold-blooded lover could respect you as an equal as well as love you. 

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean…” you stammer, and a moment later Mihawk’s hands are resting on your shoulders.

“Don’t; I’m the one who should apologise.” he murmurs softly, his beautiful yellow eyes full of pain “May I?”

You rush to nod, and a moment later you are held in your lover’s comforting embrace, his arms closed around your shoulders as he kisses your forehead. “I’m sorry.” you murmur again, leaning against his chest; you’ve never been so tired, so much that you could fall asleep standing “It was unfair to accuse you; you’ve always been present and attentive to both me and the baby, and I know you will keep to be.”

“Of course I will; I have told you nothing will ever take me away from you, and I intend to keep my promise.” Mihawk points out gently “I… must have underestimated the effect my absence would have; I thought you’d be fine, since it was only for a few days and it’s still a month before the baby comes…”

“I am fine; nothing bad happened, but to wake up and not find you there has been a very unpleasant surprise. I don’t want to keep you chained to me, or on the island; I know you have your life and your duties, and you’re free to pursue them. Just… warn me the next time, alright? For my peace of mind.”

Mihawk promises he will; he’s more handsome than ever, the cut of his black coat emphasising the width of his shoulders, his short hair tousled by the wind, and you smile when he kisses you, not on the forehead this time. “So am I forgiven?”

“You are; and I’ll try to keep the tantrums to a minimum from now on. Are you alright? Did you… do what you had to?”

Your lover nods in response, suddenly tense. “I did. And… it’s something that does concern you. Can we talk for a moment?”

You lead him to the bench, where you and your lover sit (with a bit of an effort on your part) hand in hand; you wait for Mihawk to speak, and in the end he does, not exactly hesitating but oddly careful as he chooses his words.

“I didn’t leave for a Warlord business or any other matter related to piracy; I… I went home, to the house I was born in and lived until I was seven.” he explains “I don’t think I ever told you, but my father threw me and my older sister out of the house; the two of us were left with almost nothing, even though years later Yoru bought the house back from him, and she lived there until… until she passed.”

You nod mutely, only partially surprised; in the many years of your relationship your lover has rarely discussed his childhood and family with you, but you do know how close he and his sister were and, in turn, how much he despised his father. 

“As I said, my father didn’t even grant us an income to live by; as far he was concerned, we could starve to death in the streets, but Yoru did inherit a few things from our mother, things that were legally hers even though our father did try to claim them for himself, to gift the woman he married as soon as he had gotten rid of us.”

The more you hear about the old lord Dracule the less you like him; no wonder your lover doesn’t like to talk about his past, even now that he knows there is no secret he can’t share with you.

“Yoru feared she would have to sell those valuables to support us, but fortunately it was never necessary; her things were still at our old home, where no one has ever been since… since she died. Including me.” 

You take his hands in yours. “She is buried there, is she not?” you ask in a murmur; your lover nods, and he doesn’t tell you how it was, how it felt to see his beloved sister’s grave for the first time in years, to be reminded, as if he needed to, of the fact she might have been alive if he had been there to protect her - a guilt your lover has borne in his heart since he was barely an adult, and that he will never allow anyone to release him from.

“She is. Her rose garden has grown, the vines and the flowers almost completely covering her headstone. I think she would have liked it.”

You remain silent, still completely in the dark regarding the reason for your lover’s sudden absence but confident you’ll know soon; perhaps, you think, he returned to his family’s home to take some memento to gift to your child, some old toy or family keepsake he wants his heir to inherit.

You’re only partially correct. 

“Anyway, I went there to look for something, and I did find it.”

“What is it?”

“Close your eyes.” Mihawk tells you “Please.”

You do, more and more confused, and from the sound that reaches your ears you realise he has moved - stood, perhaps, and of course Mihawk is not the sort of person who would simply depart leaving you there, but you really don’t understand why…

“Open.”

You do, and everything becomes clear.

His having returned to his family home, to retrieve something that had belonged to his mother and sister - two women, like you.

His having spoken to your mother -since your father has passed- before leaving. 

Mihawk is not standing; he is kneeling, in front of you, a tiny velvet box in his raised hands. 

“Lady (full name), wi…”

“Yes!” you exclaim, and then slap a hand on your mouth, blushing furiously. “I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine…”

“No, it’s not.” you stammer, unable to believe your own blunder; this is one of the most important conversations of your life, and you interrupted your lover as he proposed! “I… please, say what you have to, I shouldn’t have, I… I am just so happy…”

Mihawk grins; you can almost physically see tension abandon his body as he is assured of your answer. “(Name).” he starts again; no title, no second names you’ve never used, simply (name), because that is what you’ve always been to him, not a noblewoman, not the future ruler of a wealthy fief, but a woman, a friend, a partner, someone he has come to trust and respect and love, and who he wants to share his future with. He smiles, or at least you think he does, because tears have filled your eyes and your exceptional eyesight is for once failing you… “Body and soul, heart and sword, I am yours and I swear I will be forever. Having you as the mother of my child fills my life with joy; but having you as my wife would make me the happiest man on land and sea. (name), will you marry me?”

You accept.

A moment later you’re embracing, holding each other for a long moment, simply enjoying the feeling of each other’s body in your arms - a feeling of belonging, of pure and perfect syntony between two people who have chosen each other, and who know love is only one of the many things that bind them: trust, loyalty, respect - that is what you feel for Mihawk, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. In the end, your lover finally slips the ring -the ring of his mother, the ring of his sister; you’re the third woman to wear it, and you love him at least as much as the two who came before you did- on your finger; it’s beautiful, a golden band with an elegant oval stone that, Mihawk says, is the same colour as your eyes.

“It fits you perfectly; I knew it.” he murmurs as he kisses your fingers; you have never seen him smile like that “I hope you understand this means I’ll have to move here permanently; married couples do live together after all.”

“Well, I’ll have to put up with it…”

“On second thought, I can always go back to Kuraigana and keep our baby for half the time…”

“Don’t you dare.” you murmur, locking your arms behind his neck “You’re mine now; and I’ll never let you go. Is that alright, lord consort?”

Mihawk assures you that he can work with that, and then he’s kissing you, your first kiss as an engaged couple, which makes it even sweeter and more special than all the ones that preceded it. Blissfully happy, you’re about to tell your lover -your fiancé- how happy his decision to come live with you makes you, but you don’t have the time. Mihawk suddenly breaks the kiss to look at you. “Are you… alright?”

“Of course; never been better.” you answer, somewhat surprised “Why?”

“I think you… had a little accident…”

Your gaze follows his downward, to the small leakage falling between your feet from under your skirt; you blush furiously, unable to believe it had to happen now, that you’ll forever remember this day as the one you got engaged in and then immediately peed on yourself, but this is not a simple accident due to pressure of the baby on your bladder, this is something else…

“Mihawk?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I need you to go call the doctor and tell him to get ready.” you tell him calmly - too calmly, perhaps “It seems your child will celebrate our engagement with us.”

No woman in your family has ever died in childbirth; it was your mother who told you, no doubt in the hope that the thought of being part of such a positive streak would reassure you, and it did… even though you also couldn’t help thinking that a series of successes does have to end sooner or later, it’s a simple matter of probability, and perhaps you are doomed to be the one who fails where all your ancestors have succeeded.

“It’s too early. It can’t happen now… it’s still too early!” you keep saying as Mihawk’s strong arms carry you to your bedroom, as if it changed anything, as if pointing out the untimeliness of their arrival could convince your baby to go back to your womb and remain there for a month more “I can’t do it, I can’t…”

Nobody answers; nobody even pays attention to your words, too focused as they are on the needs of your body. Your mother, who rushed to your side as soon as she was informed of the impending birth of her grandchild, moves away the duvet, making space for Mihawk to gently depose you on the bed, while the doctor places the heavy bag with his tools on the bedside table. It’s only the two of them; your mother had arranged for two other physicians, specialised on childbirth and with extensive experience in delivering healthy babies, to come take care of you, as well as several experienced midwives, but given the fact your child has decided to be born a month earlier than expected, none of them is here at the fortress - or on the island, only a call away. You do trust your doctor, who has taken care of your and your mother’s health for many years, but having only him and his assistants, both younger than you, attending you fills your heart with dread.

“Help the lady (name) with her dress.” the doctor orders, but as the two assistants move to approach, Mihawk stops them with a peremptory gesture of his hand.

“I’m scared.” you murmur; that is not something you admit easily, especially with your lover, whose level-headedness in times of danger you always admired and envied, but this is a moment you’ve never experienced before, and you’re terrified, for your baby and for yourself as well “Mihawk, I can’t do it, I’m sorry…”

“But you have to.” your lover gently points out as he takes your face in his hands “You know it, the delivery of a baby is not something you can’t stop or postpone. Clearly our child is as impatient to meet us as we are to meet them.”

The thought does make you smile - only for a moment; you grasp his hands in yours, feeling like a castaway who clings to a rock in the middle of a stormy sea. “If I were to die…”

“Don’t say it.”

“Not saying it won’t make it less likely. If I were to die, please take care of our baby; it’s not their fault, but sometimes… parents resent them… I know you’re not that sort of man, but I don’t want our child to pay the price for what we have done…”

“Mihawk.” your mother intervenes softly before your lover has time to answer, resting a hand on his back “You need to go now. There’s nothing else you can do for her.”

As he faces your mother’s quiet determination, even your lover, who is not afraid to argue with the Marines’ commanding officers and has faced the most dangerous pirates of the Four Seas without trembling, seems unable to argue. “Take care of her.”

“Of course; I’ve done it since she was born.” your mother points out gently, and your lover nods in thanks before turning to you once more to kiss your forehead.

“I love you.” he tells you “I know how strong you are; please, darling, for our baby.”

Your heart breaks as you see the door of your room close behind him. Your mother, busy thoroughly washing her hands and arms in a basin, returns to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it gently. “Well then, let’s deliver this baby.” she then says briskly “If it’s going to be the same as when I delivered you, we’ll hear them crying in ten minutes.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been here; it feels like days, but the sun has barely begun setting out of the window, which means your delivery has been going on for a few hours at most - the most painful and terrifying of your life. 

You do not hear them crying in ten minutes.

You’re bathed in sweat, your underskirt (the only item of clothing you are wearing at the moment apart from your bra; your mother has offered to help you put a nightgown on, to preserve your modesty, but you were already too in pain to care) soaked in blood and who knows what other bodily fluids as you scream, in pain and fear and frustration, feeling your own cramps-stricken body revolting against you.

At first it seemed like your baby had changed their mind, preferring not to be born after announcing their arrival a month in advance; you have been asked to stand, walk around the room and then return to bed twice already, and while your contractions are closer and closer, nothing has happened. 

Your child is breech, you have heard the doctor whisper to your mother, and then something else that has made the usually calm and self-possessed woman go white in the face, something that has to do with the umbilical cord…

Oh, Gods, you understand after a moment; your baby could end up strangled if you force them to pass through your canal. You order yourself not to push, which is easier said than done, given the fact your body is screaming in pain, begging for permission to release the foreign body that is causing it so much torment. 

You can’t remember the last time you ate; your mother has given you some water to drink with a straw, which helped placate the dryness in your mouth, but you feel weaker by the minute - too weak, perhaps, to help your child, too weak to fight the blood loss that has filled the room with an unpleasant metallic stench.

“Is Mihawk still there?” you ask, your voice reduced to a whisper. You’ve screamed so long, and so loud, your throat hurts, and your mother nods; you have seen her smile when she saw the ring on your finger, but you didn’t have the time to talk about it. You’ll later learn that Mihawk didn’t exactly ask for her permission to propose to you; given how much he respects your strength and independence, the last thing he wanted was to treat you as an object whose ownership your mother would formally hand over him, regardless of your opinion; well aware of how close the two of you are, and that having her oppose your union would have pained you enormously, he simply asked for her blessing, that your mother was happy to grant, knowing equally well how much your lover cares about you. 

You’re engaged. Your child is being born. The most perfect happiness is so close you can almost touch it, but still out of your reach; you don’t want to lose all of it, you’ve never wanted something so avidly and intensely in your life, but you have the distinct feeling that the matter is not fully in your hands, and no matter how much you fight and try to resist, things are about to get very ugly soon…

“He is; he’s walking up and down the corridor like a lion in his cage.” your mother answers in a brave attempt at levity “He has asked me to tell you he can come in, if it pleases you.”

I know how strong you are; please, darling, for our baby.

“No. This is something I have to do by myself; and I don’t want him to see me like this.”

Your mother seems ready to argue, probably to point out the baby is Mihawk’s as well as yours and your lover will not blame you for wanting him close in such a difficult moment, but soon after you’re screaming again, blood pouring out of your body. You know it’s impossible, but you could swear you can feel your childcry in pain, and it’s the most horrifying, heart-breaking sensation you’ve ever experienced. 

It hurts so much, mother. Why are you doing this to me? It’s not my fault, I didn’t ask to be born; why are you making me suffer? Will you not help me?

You do want to help them, you wish you could tell your baby as the doctor and his assistants try desperately to free them of the noose around their neck; there’s nothing you wish more, even if it meant sacrificing your life; you just don’t know how, and maybe you’re not strong enough to fight for them…

You look at your mother, paler than you’ve ever seen her, who holds your hand; simply turning in her direction makes your head spin. “I’m not feeling very…” 

You faint. 

“Hello.”

The man smiles at you, a smile you’re pretty sure you recognise even though you don’t know from where, as he sees you approach, walking unsurely in the void that surrounds you. 

“Where are we? What place is this?” you ask, without returning the greeting - quite unkind of you, probably, but you’ve never been so confused in your life. 

Rather than walking, you feel yourself floating, unable to see a path or a floor under your feet. All around you shadows shift, sinuous and impalpable like the silk veils of a dancer; diaphanous as they are, you still can’t see through them, nor around nor above or under you. They surround you, gently advancing or backing away to make space as you move; you perceive no threat, no danger, as if you were surrounded by waves as you swam into open water, but when one of them brushes against your arm you feel yourself shivering. Cold, your mind supplies vaguely; grey; sick, the sensation too different from anything you’ve ever experienced to compare. 

The man waits until you have reached him before answering; he’s still smiling, even though melancholy fills his eyes. He’s younger than you, dressed as a pirate, a Log Pose on his wrist. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I am not.” you quickly answer, instinctively feeling the need to prove yourself to this stranger “I just want to know where I am, so that I can return home.”

“I’m afraid that might be easier said than done. Do you know what happened to you?”

You struggle to answer, trying to think back to the last thing you remember. “Well… I was giving birth… but there was something wrong with my baby’s position, I felt so weak and I had lost a lot of blood…”

And then the truth hits you. “Oh… I died, didn’t I?” you ask, lowering your gaze to your stomach; you can’t see your body very well, at once not naked and not covered by any specific item of clothing, but your belly feels empty, void - a surprisingly unpleasant sensation. “But my baby is not here, which means…”

“Your baby is alright; for now. And you’re not dead, (name); look here.”

Before you can ask the man how he knows your name (have you met? You’re almost sure you know him, even though you’ve never seen him) his pointed finger draws your gaze towards a structure in front of you, that you had somehow failed to notice until now: it’s a stone arch, perhaps thrice as tall as you and equally wide, deceptively innocuous in its natural immobility, the stone’s surface covered by glyphs. You soon perceive a pull towards it, invisible hands pushing you towards it and the unknown opening at the other side, but you dig in your heels, already aware of its real significance.

“This is the threshold.” the man explains, confirming your fears “To what, there are a thousand names to describe it: afterlife, heaven, hell… you can call it however you like. It’s the place where people go after they die, and since you’re not fully dead, but on the brink between this life and the other, you can see it even though you haven’t passed it.”

“But you did?”

“I did; many years ago. But when I felt you were approaching, I decided to come meet you.”

You’re talking to a dead person, while half-dead yourself; it’s without a doubt the weirdest experience of your life, but at the same time you can’t tarry on it, too focused as you are on the problem at hand.

“If I haven’t passed the threshold… does it mean that I can go back, live?” you inquire, and your interlocutor nods, serious as he regards you. 

“You can.” he concedes “But you need to be aware of what your choice involves. If you let go now, you’ll die, but your baby will live; with the matter of your survival out of the way, the doctor will be able to save them. But if you go back… I can’t tell what is going to happen; they might survive, they might not, and the same can happen to you.”

“I see…”

Silence falls as you consider your options; you can only ensure your child’s survival if you let yourself die now; if you persist, there’s no knowing what is going to happen.

“If I die and they survive… what will become of the baby?” you ask in a whisper, and the man looks at you kindly. His kindness, this is what you remember the most, as well as his smile; this is how you recognise him.

“They will be fine. Your lover will never forget you, and never love again, but the presence of the child in his life will comfort him, and your baby will one day become the ruler of your island, and a great fighter. You’ll be proud of them, (name).”

Mihawk. You hadn’t forgotten about your lover, you never could, but hearing the man mention him brings tears to your eyes. You don’t want to lose him; even if you’re already been together for years you still have so many more in front of you, years you want to spend by his side, as you raise your child together and enjoy the beauty and intimacy of your love. Lines like I can’t live without you and If I lose him my life isn’t worth living belong to romance novels, not real life, but you need him, you need to be with him, because Mihawk is yours and you are his, and perhaps you are not owed a future together, but you’re determined to fight the Gods themselves to earn it.

Unfortunately, your decision doesn’t concern only you and Mihawk. Could you sacrifice your life to save your baby? You certainly can; you’ve wanted this child for so many years, and you know they’ll be looked after. The mere prospect of not seeing them grow, and never seeing Mihawk again, breaks your heart; but you would never forgive yourself if you didn’t put your baby’s well-being before yours, regardless of your chances to conceive again. 

This is what you need to do; you could decide on the spur of the moment or reflect on it for a whole day, you’d know the best thing to do anyway. On the other hand…

I know how strong you are.

He knows, because you are; or at least you can be, if something important is at stake.

Please, darling, for our baby.

Mihawk has asked you to look after your child, and you want the same, now and for every day you have left to live: you will protect them, you decide, ensuring they are born safe and sound and then protecting them from any danger they may meet. Up to now you’ve allowed your fears to control you, the painful memories of the loss of your firstborn and the dread of having to fight a battle in which none of your weapons (including your beloved derringer, as usual hidden behind your pillow) could help you survive; but now you have to be strong, for yourself and for your family. You know that people don’t decide to die on the birthing bed, nor is the matter fully in their hands, and you can be the most headstrong and determined woman who ever lived, that still wouldn’t exempt you from the risk…

“I’ll go back.” you announce, and the shadows around you seem to draw back for a moment “I don’t want to put my baby in danger, but… I can’t abandon them, or Mihawk; I’ll survive for their sake as well as my own.”

Your interlocutor doesn’t seem surprised by your decision; he simply smiles, and moves to keep facing you as you take a step back, away from him, away from the threshold, and then another, at first struggling against the pull and then more and more easily. 

“Thank you.” you murmur; you wish you had more time, but having met him, and that he decided to come talk to you when you needed him the most, counts more than you could express in words “I miss you so much, every day; I wish you were there with me, especially today.”

“I’m always with you, (name); always, even though you can’t see me.” he reassures you; his smile has turned sad as you both prepare to say good-bye, but there is pride in his eyes “Give your mother my love. Farewell, my darling!”

“Good-bye, father!”

Another step back and the shadows no longer envelop you; there is a light behind you, a tiny but persistent spot of brightness towards which you start to run, all too aware the time at your disposal is running out. 

“She’s awake!”

The cry is your mother’s, still by your side as you gasp for air as if you were resurfacing after an immersion of several minutes; you meet her eyes, full of tears for what she expected to be the last minutes of your life, and you can’t blame her for it: you’ve never felt so weak, blood-loss and exhaustion having depleted your strength, but you still manage to smile.

“My love, w…”

“I’ve seen father.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen him, mother; he felt I needed help and he came to see me.” you explain, and your mother, who should perhaps think pain and fear have made you delirious or that you were simply dreaming, smiles “He sends his love.”

“Of course he does. (name); I…”

“I’m dying, aren’t I?”

She doesn’t answer; she doesn’t need to, because the stench of blood -your blood, the blood you have lost- fills the room, and while you can still feel your baby move inside you, struggling to breathe despite the noose around their neck, you can also perceive your own body is about to give in, admitting defeat in the face of prostration and pain.

It’s not too late yet though; at least, you’re not ready to accept it is.

The moon has risen out of the window of your room, not full but almost, a bright crescent in a clear but almost starless sky; as you turn to regard it, everything becomes clear.

“Mother, will you please open the window? I don’t want to smash through it.”

“My lady, don’t.” the doctor warns you as your mother is already moving; your blood covers his arms up to his elbows “It’s folly.”

“It’s the only way.”

“Shifting will not solve anything; your cub will still have the cord around their neck, and at that point you’ll be alone, no one will help you. Please, let us try to…”

But you don’t. You know what you’re feeling is natural: many of your kind feel the urge to shift in moments of danger, instinctively hoping to fight their way out of whatever problem or threat they are facing, but it rarely helps, and it surely wouldn’t help in your situation. What you need is the help of trained physicians, with their tools and medicines…

The window is wide open, the cool night breeze coming in. Your mother stares at you, her eyes full of love, fear, and trust. “Go, my love.” she says “Do what you have to.”

You do.

If you thought standing while weighted down by your pregnant belly was hard, that was nothing compared to this; you grab the headpost and heave yourself from the bed, crying in pain as your entire body protests at the effort, and then the shift envelops you, an only partial relief since the wolf can, after all, suffer as much as a human can, but that you nonetheless welcome. You wait to be steady on your four paws, your tail proudly raised as the fur covers your entire body, before dashing towards the window that you jump over, soon leaving the fortress behind you. 

You can feel your baby, your cub, in your belly, struggling to breathe, fighting to live; you run blindly, crossing the torch-lit empty courtyard as you lift your head to the moon and howl, a piercing, pained but fierce sound that fills the still air of the night. 

No day in this life has ever been as long as this. Mihawk has waited for hours, pacing back and forth in the corridor, unable to ignore his lover’s desperate cries of pain, which got weaker and weaker as she did. One of the doctor’s assistants, who had momentarily left the room to retrieve some tools, told him that the baby (his baby, their baby) was breech and it might be impossible to make them shift in a more favourable position, which in turn would put both them and (name)’s survival at risk. 

His mother died in childbirth. Mihawk doesn’t know exactly what happened, because the matter was too painful for Yoru to discuss, and he has never exactly considered himself guilty of her death, but what if history is repeating itself? His mother first, and then his lover, not considering his sister; are all the women in his life destined to die, either because of him or because he is not there to protect them? Perhaps the baby is a girl as well…

Mihawk sighs, covering his face with his hands as he forces himself to remain lucid. His lover and baby are not going to die simply because his mother and sister have, and while there’s nothing he can do to help, he needs to be strong for both (name) and the child; he knows it’s not unusual for a delivery to last hours, and she is strong and healthy, and well-assisted. Everything is going to be alright…

And then he hears (name) howling. 

He stands quickly and walks to the closest window, out of which he can see a wolf running; despite the darkness, despite the distance, he’d know her anywhere, just like he recognized her call. (name) has turned, but why? Giving birth in human form is surely easier, and he doubts wolf midwives exist…

“You should go.”

The lady Veressa is standing on the door of (name)’s room, both her hands and dress splashed with blood. “You should go after her.” she clarifies “If there’s someone she needs, it’s you.”

“But there’s nothing I can do.” Mihawk points out; he feels helpless, maybe for the first time since that terrible day when he lost Yoru, and it’s destroying him “I can’t help her.”

His lover’s mother looks at him, exhausted but suddenly stern, her head tilted to the side; she has never looked more like (name). “Can’t you?”

Mihawk stares at her; a moment later he has followed his lover’s example in opening the window and jumping over it. He runs like he has never run in his life, plunging in the night’s darkness as his lover’s howling guides him forward. 

Mate, he thinks; he’s still human, but he’s already gotten used to thinking of her like that, at least in the privacy of his heart. Wait for me, mate; I am coming.

He expected (name) to run towards the gardens, since that is a spot she is used to frequent when she feels upset or melancholic, and wolves naturally prefer natural places to man-built constructions, but she didn’t; when Mihawk finally reaches her, his mate has hidden in the small constructions site on the outskirts of the fortress’ borders, where the stables have been recently demolished to make space for a larger building. It’s a highly unsafe place for a pregnant woman, but small, enclosed and dark as it is, it’s probably the closest thing to a den his lover has found, in which to find some safety.

Mihawk lingers out of the building to take care of his clothes and then shifts, fortunately without any hassle; (name) told him he has learned to control the turning quicker than any other adult she has ever met, a compliment Mihaw was secretly flattered by. A year after he and his lover drank each other’s blood, the sensation of his bones changing shape and fur growing all over his body is still peculiar but not painful, and as Mihawk raises his head to look at his moon, his partially colour blind eyes reverently filled with its beauty, he feels alive, and strong, and scared.

He whines softly as he advances into the partially demolished building, his eyes easily adapting to the lack of light, and (name) answers in kind, her voice filled with anguish. She is nestled against the corner of the room, lying on her side to relieve pressure from her belly, as she yelps in shock and pain; she licks Mihawk’s face when he approaches, and gladly lets him do the same to her, but she’s in pain, scared for what she fears is going to happen.

It hurts, mate, she confesses, our cub is leaving. Maybe I am leaving too. I don’t know what to do.

Mihawk lies next to her; when (name)’s rests her head on his back, he can feel her trembling. You will not leave. Nor will our cub, he gently reassures her. I will not allow it.

They huddle together, her pregnant belly safely nestled between their bodies, waiting for the night to pass.

It is so tiny.

He is, Mihawk mentally corrects himself. He’s unquestionably a male, a baby boy who finally decided to be born once his exhausted mother had no longer the strength for a single push more; the shifting has caused his tiny head to slip out of the umbilical cord wrapped around it, and the baby came out naturally, crying with all the strength of his small lungs. He makes others wait for him, rather than the other way around, Mihawk thinks as he gently lulls the baby in his arms, sitting cross-legged on the stables’ dirty floor; just like me.

“Is he alright?” (name) asks weakly; she has shifted back to human after the delivery, they all have, the wolf cub instinctively turning just as his mother did. His eyes are the same colour as (name’s, he hasn’t inherited his father’s hawk-gaze, but Mihawk could swear the baby favours him. He’s the smallest, most fragile creature he has ever seen, and he can’t stop looking at him, at his soft skin and tiny hands, at the way he has screamed and cried loud enough to wake the dead for a few minutes before falling asleep against his father’s chest.

Father. He has known for two months, and still can’t wrap his head around it. He is a father, he is this child’s father, and his life will never be the same again…

“Mihawk?”

“Forgive me. He’s perfectly healthy.” he reassures her; they will have to return to the fortress soon, both to make sure mother and baby receive the proper care and because their den lacks even the most basic standards of hygiene and security, but they deserve this moment for themselves… the three of them, a couple and their child, a mother, a father and a son, a small corner of peace and perfection in an otherwise chaotic world “Ten fingers, ten toes, and he reacts to visual and auditory stimuli. He’s absolutely perfect, my love; you’ve been amazing.”

(name) smiles softly. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Don’t be; I’m sure what you went through was worse.”

They share a smile as Mihawk passes the baby to (name), and the child rests his head against the softness of his mother’s chest, gurgling happily. Mihaws moves to put his arm around his lover’s shoulders; she smiles at him, beautiful and radiant and relieved, as they share a kiss. 

“We have a son, Mihawk.” she murmurs, and he smiles. 

“We do.” he agrees “And I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

“Are you awake, my love?”

“I think so.” you murmur as you cover a yawn behind your hand, feeling finally well-rested after what has probably been the longest day of your life; then, as you immediately perceive the absence of someone who until a few hours ago didn’t exist yet: “Where is the baby?”

“He’s sleeping as well.” your mother explains as she quickly crosses the room in the direction of the window, to once more open it and let fresh air enter; she must be exhausted as well, but the joy that fills her face makes her look ten years younger. She was still here in your room waiting when Mihawk brought you back, you wrapped in his coat with the baby in your arms, and kept you company as you were cleaned and finally allowed to rest “And the doctor saw him; he’s alright, just slightly underweight but perfectly healthy. And he was born in wolf form, just like you! It’s a good omen.”

“So they say…”

Your mother smiles as she sits on the edge of her bed, while you sit up, still a bit sore but clean and warm in your nightgown. “How do you feel, (name)?”

“Well, I think; I just… I can’t believe it really happened.” you confess “I’ve had months to get used to this, but I still fear I will wake up tomorrow morning and discover it was all a dream.”

Your mother reassures this is no dream, it is reality, with your baby safe and sound and real, and Mihawk’s ring at your finger. “I’m very glad you accepted his proposal; I’m sure the two of you will be very happy.”

“We have decided he will move here with me - with us.”

“Of course he will; what sort of family would you be otherwise? And fear not, I’ll be the model of a discreet mother-in-law, keeping your baby as you spend some time together.”

The thought brings a smile to your face, only for a moment. “How am I going to do it?”

“Do what, my love?”

“Being a mother. You took such good care of me, and I know I can hire a dozen nannies and nurses if I want, but… this is something I have no experience in; it’s completely new.” you confess; you have never shied away from a challenge and your heart is full of joy for the birth of your baby boy, but the thought of being responsible for his well-being, for his security and education and readiness to face the world once he’ll be an adult… yes, you have to admit the thought scares you “And I know Mihawk would do his part; this has nothing to do with him, just…”

“You fear you won’t be up to it.”

“I do; I fear I will disappoint you all, our child especially.”

Your mother smiles. “I’ll tell you a secret. You can read a pile of books on child rearing as tall as you are, hire an army of nannies, have your child being educated by the best tutors since he’s two, and at times you’ll still think you are doing a horrible job.” she explains “There is no sure recipe or magic formula, no foolproof remedy to make sure you’ll never make mistakes raising your child; rather, it’s something you’ll learn to do together, and discover through trial and error. Trust your judgement and the people close to you, and everything will be fine. Children can be forgiving when mistakes are made with the best intentions.”

You reflect on her words for a while, just a little less nervous than before, until your mother retrieves her Den Den Mushi from a pocket of her dress.

“I forgot to tell you; Sinead called while you were resting. I told her about the baby and she sent her regards and love, but maybe you should call her. There’s no rush, but…”

“No, you’re right; there’s something important we need to talk about after all.”

With a sigh you take the Den Den Mushi from your mother’s hands; your cousin-in-law answers almost immediately. “Sinead, it’s me.”

“(name)! How are you?” she asks, her excitation clear through the line “Congratulations! How is the baby? Your mother told me it’s a boy. Have you decided on a name?”

“Not yet; but he’s fine, fortunately, even though he took his sweet time being born. How are you? And Caspian?”

They are both fine, she assures you; it’s been a year since Sinead’s husband, your cousin Theon, was killed, and she has finally started recovering, devoting herself to the care of her son and her husband’s property, to keep it until Caspian is old enough to inherit it. Apart from her terrible taste in men, Sinead is a good woman, and you have started growing closer now that Theon’s resentment and envy towards you are no longer keeping you apart.

“I’m sure that you have everything under control, thanks to your mother and your doctor, but… well, if you need help, please call me; I have helped raise six children between Caspian and my brother’s, so I’m quite experienced.”

“I will; thank you, it’s very kind of you to offer.” you answer, sincerely touched… and suddenly a little ill-at-ease, because you hate the thought you’re going to repay her offer to help with bad news “Sinead… I know last year, after Theon died, we had discussed making Caspian my heir, but this baby… well, I want him to become lord of this island after me; it’s his inheritance, and I want to give him the best life I can.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry if this… displeases you. I’m very fond of Caspian, and will always be there for him, but…”

“No, I understand; this child is your son, it is only fair that he inherits your feud.” she points out gently “To be honest, I’m relieved; I know this is not what Theon would have wanted, but I don’t think my son would be happy in your mother’s role. We can already offer him a good start at life, and I want him to be able to choose his destiny.”

You can only approve your cousin-in-law’s decision; Sinead congratulates you again for the birth of your son, and promises she and Caspian will soon come visit. Having said your good-byes, you return the Den Den Mushi to your mother, who notices you’re a bit pensive.

“What are you thinking about, my love?”

“Nothing.” you reassure her; what’s the point of worrying about the future, when the present offers you so much to be happy about? “Only that I feel blessed; and I want to see the baby and Mihawk.”

His son’s hand is too tiny to close around his index finger; Mihawk observes the scene in front of him, fascinated beyond words, a strange emotion that is love, pride, protectiveness and anxiety filling his heart. The baby is not yet aware of the world around him, so small and helpless in the vast, dangerous world, and he doesn’t know how much he is loved, and how his father, and his mother, would be ready to fight the Gods themselves to keep him safe. 

It’s alright, Mihawk thinks as he frees his finger from his son’s gentle grasp; we’ll just have to make sure he learns it and never forgets it.

“Come, my little darling.” he murmurs, his voice soothing, as he bends to lift the child from his cot. Any man or woman who knows him, even just by his fearsome reputation as a pirate and swordsman, would be amazed to hear him talk like that, but Mihawk doesn’t care, and not just because he’s alone; with his son in his arms, the baby’s tiny but steady heartbeat reverberating against his chest, it’s almost impossible to worry or care about anything else “Let us go visit your mother.”

A spacious, well-lit room next to (name)’s apartment has been arranged as a nursery for the baby, even though it’s still empty save for a cradle, the same his mother and grandfather once used, a changing table and a few shelves on the walls. Mihawk keeps the baby against his chest, a hand under his bottom and the other supporting his neck and head like the lady Veressa showed him, as he walks to his fiancée’s bedroom, finding her sitting on her bed, smiling and breath-taking in her joy.

“I was told my lady had asked for us.”

“I most certainly did, lord consort; now come, I want to see my heir, and a kiss.”

He gives her both, more careful than he’s ever been as he lowers the baby on her lap and then presses his mouth to (name)’s. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better; thanks for bringing us back, I felt so weak I really couldn’t walk…”

Mihawk smiles and shakes his head; the baby wakes up suddenly, not crying but with a quiet content sound that reminds his father of the happy chirping of a bird. 

“Do you think it was because I’m also a werewolf?” Mihawk asks suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“You told me that for years your lovers had always been men you met out of the island; they were humans, not werewolves. And we did conceive only three months after you turned me…”

“It… would make sense; people did use to say werewolf blood has magical properties.” (name) admits slowly as she plays with the baby’s hands “But still, it’s impossible; turning into a werewolf doesn’t cure every wound or medical problem one has; Shanks’ arm didn’t grow back, and the same must be valid for me, and my… my womb.”

They reflect silently on the matter for a while, both aware that they might never find an answer to their doubt, and that they don’t need it - not when the result of that unexpected miracle is there with them, crying softly as he shakes his tiny hands.

“Are you hungry, my little love?” (name) asks, and while the baby obviously can’t answer he wastes no time in latching to her breast once she has lowered the neckline of her nightgown and raised her son to her chest, his tears soon forgotten “Here you go…”

Mihawk pulls a chair close to the bed. “We haven’t decided on a name yet.” he points out after a moment “We can’t keep calling him the baby forever. Still unwilling to use your father’s name?”

(name) shakes her head; no matter how much she loves her father, she wants her baby to be his own person, and to love him for him, not because she reminds him of someone else. “I really don’t know, there are so many good names…”

“There is one I have always liked.” Mihawk proposes “Gawain. It has a nice ring to it, does it not?”

“It does. Gawain… do you know what it means?” (name) smiles “Little falcon. I think it’s the perfect name for a son of yours. Do you like it, little one? Your name is lord Dracule Gawain…”

The baby doesn’t comment, too focused on the first meal of his life.

“We’ll always protect you.” Mihawk swears, brushing his fingers against the baby’s soft hair; dark hair, just like his. (name) nods. “And we’ll always be on your side, whatever road you decide to take; we promise.”

The baby gurgles happily as his parents share a smile, and a kiss.

“I will never leave you.” Mihawk murmurs “And I swear I will love you forever.”

[seraphicleanings]

URGENT $3,000 MUTUAL AID NEED DUE TO ERROR IN DISABILITY BENEFITS CASE:

I applied for disability benefits (this is my second time doing so. my first try was when i was 18-19 years old, i have several mental illnesses that are the worst they’ve been in years due to emotional strain and stress, chronic pain disorder and potentially EDS (i’m waiting to see my new neurologist next week to mention that)) in october and was interviewed for my case within a few days. i gave the agent every detail imaginable from financial setbacks, my full disability related medical history and names of every doctor i’ve seen over the years, and my lack of financial income and options. the agent submitted my application incorrectly according to the agent i spoke to yesterday, after MONTHS of being unable to get any answers, and receiving no letters or phone calls or emails. the dates in the attached screenshots show inaccuracies in application VS decision VS current processing. i haven’t received any official denial but was told so on the phone yesterday.

i finally accepted that reapplying was my only option at this point which is something i’ve felt a lot of shame about and hopelessness about, but i’ve started having balance issues and falls which lead me to finally reapply in october. i’m also really struggling mentally and grieving my mother who passed in 2023 and my oldest brother who passed in august. i tried to figure this out on my own but i couldn’t and can’t. i’m $3,000 behind on rent currently and urgently need to raise that amount and i mean AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. I CANT STRESS HOW MUCH OF AN EMERGENCY THIS IS ESPECIALLY AS LIVE IN A STATE AWAY FROM ANY FAMILY!!

i will have to move back to my home state because i am in need of a scope of emotional support and honestly, supervision to an extent, that i just can’t get here. so i’m also ultimately in need of money to move from new york back to georgia (ideally i’d be able to hire state-to-state movers to transport my belongings and i could maybe physically handle a flight but it is more likely i’d need the movers to allow me to travel with them). i don’t think my dad will feel at peace if i stay here, and i know he’s very afraid of my mental health declining even further because i had come very far in comparison to past years.

MY IMMEDIATE URGENT GOAL IS $3,000. I have also been trying to find emergency grants and financial vouchers but am having difficulty finding anything i’m eligible for that actually offers direct, emergency monetary aid. SO YES PLEASE PLEASE HELP & FEEL FREE TO REPOST MY INFOGRAPHIC ON OTHER APPS, I’D ACTUALLY REALLY LIKE FOR PEOPLE TO DO THAT BECAUSE I CAN ONLY COVER SO MUCH GROUND WITH MY SOCIAL MEDIA

🚨GOFUNDME IS HERE (not the best option because it takes fees out of each withdrawal, and transfers take 3 days, up to 7 or so business days for amounts like $70+)

🚨CASH APP IS HERE

🚨VENMO IS HERE

[ofstoriesandstardust]

winner takes all

or: How Ice became Rebel’s godfather

like father, like daughter masterlist

warnings: this takes place during the brief time Ice and Mav worked at Top Gun together, a little angsty, Mav doubts if he’s good enough for his daughter but it’s brief, icemav if you squint because i’ve got an agenda

word count: 1.3k

He raps on the door of his co-instructor’s office. "Ice.” 

The blond lifts his head from the paperwork he’s looking over, grinning when he sees him. “Hey Mitchell. Headed out for the day?” 

He nods, taking a tentative step into the room. “Yeah, I just had a quick question for you about my kiddo.” 

Ice chuckles, putting his pen into the holder on the desk. “How’s she doing?” 

Maverick shrugs. “Pretty good. Lost her first tooth yesterday, so we got a visit from the tooth fairy last night.” 

“Good for the little rascal. Well, what’s your question?” 

“Do you want- Well, would you- Would you be her godfather?” 

He finds himself unable to keep Ice’s eyes, falling to the clock behind him as it falls silent in the room. The longer Ice takes to respond, each second ticking by, he scrambles to pull himself together, to apologize for asking, to forget about it-

“What would she need a godfather for? She’s got you.” Ice says, standing up from his desk. He shrugs, averting his gaze to the floor. 

“You know, I just- I just want to know that if something happens to me-”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you.” Ice says firmly, a finality in his tone he usually can’t argue with. 

He continues on like Ice didn’t say anything. “-and I don’t come back down, she’s got someone on the ground to take care of her and I can’t really put that kind of ask on Carole, not after-” He stops, swallowing. “Well, she loves you anyways, so you felt like the obvious choice.” 

“Where’s her mother? She shouldn’t she be around for this kind of thing?” He says with a wave of his hand. 

That earns Ice his gaze, scowling as he raises his head. “I hope Natalie never comes back into the picture, because if she does it’s going to be because she’s trying to take my daughter from me.” 

Ice is silent again and Maverick watches the minutes tick by, growing more uncomfortable with the time that passes every second. 

“Look, don’t feel pressured to say yes or anything, you don’t even have to- to think about it.” He pauses as his eyes flicker back to Ice, the tall man frowning. “Actually, forget I asked.” 

-

The doorbell rings. 

“Brad, that’s Ice, would you go grab it?” He asks, the vegetables sizzling on the stove. The boy nods, slipping off the chair, Hardy Boys book in hand. It’s only a few more minutes before Ice appears in the kitchen doorway, Bradley’s nose still tucked into his book. 

“Guess, I’m not worth saying hi to anymore.” He chuckles. 

Maverick shakes his head. “Don’t mind him, he’s had his head in that thing since we left the library this afternoon.” 

“Uncle Icee!” His kid screeches and Ice turns, barely catching the toddler barricading into his knee. Ice reaches down, picking her up as a wide grin spreads across his face. 

“Hi kiddo. You’re awfully dirty.” He glances up from the food on the stove to see his kid covered in dirt. Her hands, which look oddly sticky, make messy work of pushing her hair out of her face. 

“Playing pirate outside with Batman.” He hears the dog in question come in through the sliding glass door of the Bradshaw home, Carole following. She appears in the kitchen doorway a moment later. 

“Hi Tom.” She says, offering him a warm smile. 

“Hi Carole. How are you?” 

“Good. Mav, you're burning the broccoli. Move.” She grabs the spatula out of his hand, nudging him away from the stove and he follows, leaning up against the opposite countertop as Ice watches his kid chatter excitedly, an enthusiastic smile on his face he nods along. 

As Carole finishes the food, his daughter tugs Ice to the table, demanding he sit right next to her. 

He quietly observes the way Ice goes willingly, the way Ice listens to everything she has to say, and even eats the broccoli off her plate so she doesn’t have to. 

“He give you an answer yet?” Carole whispers as they watch their kids help Ice clean up dinner, Ice insisting he do the dishes since they cooked for him. 

He shakes his head. “I wish he would. He’d be good for her.” 

Carole sighs, looking at him. “Not any better than you are for her, Mav.” He shrugs and Carole sighs again. “Oh c’mon Mav, that girl loves you and she would be lost without you.”

He tilts his head, conceding to her words. “She needs someone who can look after her and I can’t give her that. You know I don’t want to stay at Miramar-” 

“Mom! Can we have a sleepover?” Bradley asks as Ice lifts him up to sit on the counter next to his daughter. “Please! Tt’s Saturday and I want to stay up watching Scooby Doo cartons.” 

Carole shrugs. “Up to Mav.”

He sighs, shooting the woman a glare. “Why do I have to be the bad guy?” 

“Dad!” His daughter whines, pouting. He sighs as Ice chuckles, all knowing he folds anytime she makes those eyes at him. 

“Honey, you’re filthy.” 

She shrugs. “So?”

“So I’m not going to let you dirty up Carole’s house. Plus, I’m sure Ice wants to get out here.” 

“Don’t drag me into this Mitchell.” Ice says, pointing a soapy fork at him. 

“How about this? We go home and get you a bath and next Saturday you and Brad can have a sleepover then?” 

His daughter sighs, crossing her arms. “Fineee.”

-

There’s a sharp knock on his office door. “Mitchell.” 

He glances up from the box he’s packing. “Hey Ice.” 

“Hear you’re leaving.” 

He shrugs, avoiding eye contact with the man. “You know how it is, head in the clouds, all that.”

“I’ll do it.” 

He pauses, toy airplane Bradley had given him sitting heavy in his hand. “Do what?” 

“I’ll be her godfather.” 

He shakes his head, setting the plane down in the box. “You don’t gotta do that just cause I’m leaving Ice. She’s in good hands, Carole’s watching her. Bradley’s thrilled.” 

“You’re right that she needs someone on the ground looking out for her.” 

He shrugs, setting the lid on top of the box. “It’s still a huge ask. I shouldn’t have asked that of you.” 

“Do you not want me to be her godfather?” Ice says with a frown. 

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes remaining on the wooden desk. Finally, he sighs. “You’re good for her Ice. And she loves you so much.” 

“Maverick, I adore your daughter and I have ever since she dubbed me Uncle Icee at Goose’s funeral.” Ice takes a tentative step into the room. “But I am not her father and I would never take that from you.” 

“I know.” 

Because he does, knows Ice loves his kid, loves Bradley, but he would never overstep. 

But sometimes he wishes he would. Overstep, fight him for his daughter, because Lord knows Ice could give everything he can’t to his daughter. 

“Maverick, raising a kid isn’t just about being the best parent all of time. It's about doing right by your kids, making sure they’re growing up happy and loved and safe.” Ice takes another step closer to him. “Is she happy?” 

“She is.” 

“Is she safe?” 

“Of course.” 

“Is she loved?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Then you’re doing enough for your kid.” 

He gives the man a watery chuckle. “When’d you get so smart about all this parenting shit, huh?” 

Ice claps him on the back. “Gotta stay single to impart all my wisdom on to you.” Ice sighs, his hand falling from his back. “I’ll be her godfather on the condition that you do right by your kid in always coming home.” Ice fixes him with a stare. “Your daughter deserves to grow up with her father. Don’t lose yourself so much up there that you don’t come back down here.” 

Ice’s words stay with him the rest of his life. 

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 27

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.

(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)

masterlist for this series

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Fear of Losing Children

“Do you remember being here?” Saera asked her son - smiling as he began to soak in the scenery of their ancestral home. Dragonstone was beautiful no matter the season or weather. “Not really,” he hummed in return - staring at the beautiful castle in front of them. “You were born here, my dragon.” she informed - leading the small family inside. 

Princess Rhaenyra was the first one to greet them, her hands were wide open - welcoming her sister’s embrace. “Saera, it’s been far too long.” she smiled - knowing that she was unable to attend Alyssa’s wedding. “I agree, mandia. (sister)” Saera replied, breaking their small embrace. 

“We’ve come here because there was a threat to Daegon’s life,” she informed, pressing Daelon closer to her body. “It is horrible - but such is the nature of a lord’s life,” Rhaenyra hums, leading them to their rooms. 

Saera tilted her head in Daegon’s direction. 

“I pray to the gods everyday that he remains a child,” she sighed. When her children were babes, she didn’t need to worry about their safety - but now that they were lords and ladies of their own - the only thing she ever does is worry. “I do the same thing with Jace and Luce, they grow up too fast.” Rhaenyra chuckles, twisting the knob to Daemon and Saera’s shared room. 

“I’ve maintained the cleanliness - we haven’t moved everything. You should rest before dinner.” 

—

Aemond walks around the red-keep, seeking justice for his good-brother. “We will find the culprit, I promise.” he vowed, holding his lady’s hand while walking down the dungeons. “I can’t believe that someone would threaten his life, Daegon hasn’t done anything wrong.” Alyssa whispered, eyes narrowing around the dingy dungeon. “Careful,” Aemond mutters, handing her a piece of cloth to protect her hands with. 

There were two gold cloaks standing in front of the main door. “We’re here on the orders of Princess Saera, ser.” Alyssa clears her throat - and both of the men begin moving away, providing them a clear entrance. It was no secret that Prince Daemon and Princess Saera controlled the kingdom. 

Aemond took a step inside the main dungeon - the smell of mold flooding his senses. “We should make it quick,” he remarked, continuing his march towards the last cell - where a servant was held. He was cowering under the Prince’s stare, covered in blood and grime. 

He pointed his sword at the man’s neck. “Who ordered you to poison Prince Daegon’s drink?” he questioned - glaring at the man with daggers in his eye. The man would not answer - his eyes remained closed and his tongue was null of any words. “Do you not fear me? Do you not fear our house?” Alyssa questioned. “He will be a healthy meal for Bluefyre.” she added - looking at him with a bloodthirsty stare. 

The man pales slightly, but he still would not speak. 

“There are other ways to get his answer, my love.” he breathed - placing the sword closer to the man’s neck. Aemond kneels down to his level, reaching for the man’s hand and placing it on the cold ground. He was merciless when it came to family - merciless when it came to the safety of his wife. 

He swiftly raised his sword, cutting the man’s hand clean. Alyssa flinches as the man screams in agony. “I-I think you’re supposed to ask a question first,” she reminded - the Prince took a deep breath. He needed to be merciless - or else no one would take him seriously. “There’s more to come of him,” he replied, reaching for the man’s second hand. 

Before he could raise his sword - his mother walks into the dungeons. 

“Aemond, stop.” Alicent commands, and the couple turns their head to the Queen. “Mother,” Aemond stood up, ignoring the man who was bleeding on the floor. “- we were seeking justice for Prince Daegon.” he added, wiping his hands on his tunic. 

“But he is not dead, is he?” she replied bitterly, preventing herself from staring at the bleeding man. “No,” Alyssa replied, wiping her hands with the cloth. “Then, you must leave the investigation to the crown.” Alicent reprimanded, quickly ushering the couple away from the cell. 

—

The sisters were more apart than the skies and the seas, the sun and the moon, black and white - but they supported each other, despite the betrayal that ran rampant in their blood. “How was Alyssa’s wedding?” Rhaenyra inquired while passing the food down to her uncle. “As fine as any Westrosi wedding,” he snorted - placing a small portion of the food on Viserra’s plate. 

“I wasn’t invited,” the little girl huffed - and Daemon silences her with a spoonful of beans. “Children are not allowed, my dear.” Rhaenyra chuckled - heart softening at the petulance of her niece. “I wasn’t invited too!” Joffrey raised his voice - earning a soft laugh from Saera. “You poor things,” Daegon shook his head, placing a piece of meat on his mouth. 

“Were you invited?” Viserra turned to her brother and nodded. “Of course I was,” he boasted - and the little girl’s face turned into a pout. “That’s unfair,” she thought to herself, all the while her mother pressed a spoonful of vegetables on her mouth. “Daegon is the same age as Alyssa,” she responded - not wanting her daughter to feel out of place. “Really?” the girl replied, narrowing her eyes. “I always thought that he was older.” she hummed - and the entire room exploded into small chuckles. 

“Muña, did you hear that?” Daegon complained - pointing at his little sister. “She’s adorable,” Daemon replied, squeezing the little girl’s cheeks. 

For the first time, the House of the Dragons found itself in laughter - with the sisters laughing and the cousins joking. It was joyous, almost perfect. 

—

They were made for each other - dragons burning and igniting wildfire. Saera settles on the bed, beside her husband, their children are fast asleep in their own chambers - leaving time for their parents. “I already miss our daughter,” she groans while burying her face on his chest. She could have a thousand children - and still love all of them the same. 

“We made the right choice, no harm will come to her.” he replied, rubbing soft circles on her back. “But we will not see her either.” she bit the inner corners of her lips - gazing up at his face that held a million of emotions in them. “It will be enough to know that she’s safe.” Daemon hummed in return, knowing the grief of not being with the one that you loved. 

He knows the kinds of emotions that are flowing down her body. The feeling of grief, love and happiness, all at the same time. He felt it when she married Ser Harwin - he felt it when he was in the Stepstones, preventing a war while preventing the reckoning of his soul. 

“I fear that we’ll feel it again, after our children leave for their own.” she confessed - not able to bear the thought of losing her babes. “It comes with marriage,” he answered. “I plucked you from your father’s hand, and he could do nothing but watch.” he chuckled bitterly - and she gazed up at him again. 

“Will you say the same thing when our children are plucked from yours?” she teased - he shakes his head. “No one will do such a thing, not when I’m around.” he smiled - and a laugh escapes her mouth. 

All fathers swear the same thing. 

“Whatever you say, my prince.” she replied while pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. 

—

Larys swirls the wine around his goblet, taking a callous sip as he realizes that his plans have dwindled. “Aemond and Alyssa were there, did they find anything?” he asked while gazing at Alicent. 

The woman shook her head. “None, but they’ve maimed the servant.” she informed. “I’ve heard.” he breathed while taking another sip. 

“I killed him, don’t worry.” he added while settling down on the chair. 

next chapter>>

gif credits to the gifmaker (i saw it in my saved pics)

taglist: @watercolorskyy @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @schniiipsel @mirandastuckinthe80s @areaderinlove @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @gracielikegrapes @sweethoneyblossom1 @issybee0611 @tato0od @delaynew @thisbihreadstoomuch @plutoscosmoss @immyowndefender @marvelescvpe @batmans-love @luanasrta @tesha-i-guess @valeridarkness

[sundove88]

DBZ: Waves of Freedom Chapter 3: Making Waves

After work that very day, Vegeta made his way down to the water and immediately perched on the rocky outcrop where he and Goku often had their conversations. As soon as he set foot on the smooth stones that dotted this little part of the beach, a few other merpeople besides the citrus tailed merman where beside him. “Wha- Where did you come from?!”, Vegeta shouted, unable to contain his surprise. “Vegeta, I’d like you to meet some of my family and friends.”, replied Goku as he perched on the rock next to his best buddy. “Well, if you hadn’t noticed, by know, I’m Chi Chi, Goku’s wife, to be exact!”, replied the arowana tailed mermaid as Gohan and Goten surfaced alongside her. As the others came forward and perched on the rocks in their own ways, Vegeta saw how diverse the world of merpeople could be- from Krillin’s weedy seadragon traits to help him hide within the kelp, Yamcha’s octopus tentacles to help him reach into tight spaces, Tien’s koi fins to help him slice through the water, Android 17’s dolphin instincts to help him find lost sailors, Android 18’s lion fish spines to protect her family, and so on, so forth.

It was then that he noticed Bulma and blushed at the sight- her blue hair that matched the seawater to an uncanny extent, and her blue tang inspired tail that sparkled with a radiant pearly finish. But the most beautiful thing about her wasn’t her tail, or her shiny turquoise circuit inspired top, or her aquamarine colored eyes. It was her heart that refused to waver in the face of adversity, and to care for her young son Trunks, who she had brought home from an orphanage under her metaphorical wing. “I see you now realize you feel right at home with us, eh?”, Bulma said as she let her son flick his Siamese fighting fish tail playfully at Vegeta’s face, seawater splashing onto his skin. But that made Vegeta remember something very important- and it wasn’t good. “Now, I don’t want you all to be angry at me, but… I have to attend a work banquet tonight.”, he said as everyone’s jaws dropped in shock. “WHAT?!”, they said in unison.

“Yeah… and it’s apparently to raise funds for the company’s efforts into quote unquote ‘Protecting the Environment’, which Empire Drilling does anything BUT.”, Vegeta replied with a sigh. “But I promise to swim with Kakarot tonight, and even if it takes sneaking out of the work banquet, I’d do anything to get out of that blasted company.”, the young employee said, taking out something from his shirt pocket. In his hands was a lifelike water Lily hairpin, from the petals to the leaves, all elements of it were handcrafted to replicate the look of a beautiful blossom on the water. “Kakarot, this belonged to my mother- I want you to have this. That way you can always think of me even when I’m at work.”, Vegeta said as he placed the hairpin into the merman’s hands. “Aww, Vegeta! You shouldn’t have! And I’ve got something for you as well!”, Goku replied, nudging Chi Chi as she presented a bracelet made from part of an old fishing net, decorated with pearls, shells, and pieces of coral from beneath the waves. “A bracelet like this one is something that merpeople give to show their friendship, kinda like you land dwellers.”, Gohan said as Vegeta placed the bracelet on his wrist, feeling the rough texture of the net and the smoothness of the pearls and shells. He smiled, genuinely touched by the gesture. “Thanks, Kakarot. I’ve gotta get ready for the work banquet, but I promise that I’ll swim with you!”, Vegeta replied as he hurried back to his apartment, smiling.

That night, the work banquet was in full swing as the chatter of work patrons filled the air, and talk of work and the newest opportunities for the company’s newest employees stifled the stuffy atmosphere even more. Vegeta stood at the edge of the hall where the banquet was being held, his black and white suit feeling like a restriction from the freedom that was right in front of his face- the ocean. “What’s wrong, Vegeta? Cat got yer tongue?”, replied Jeice as he passed by the melancholy young man in his red tuxedo, staring bitterly at the water in front of him. “Nevermind what I want.”, replied Vegeta as he gazed out to sea. Guldo, Recoome, Burter, and Ginyu tried to get through to him and strike up a conversation, but there was no trying to sway him. He remembered his promise to Goku, and he was determined to keep it. I’d better sneak away now, while everyone else is busy chatting like there’s no tomorrow., he thought to himself. As soon as he got the chance he dashed away from the hall the party was being held and ran towards his apartment building. And immediately after changing into his much more comfortable swim trunks (Which he hadn’t worn in a while), he raced down to the ocean and saw Goku on the rocks, as if he were waiting for him.

“Ready to go, Best buddy?”, Goku replied, his tail flicking droplets of water into the evening air. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Kakarot.”, Vegeta replied as he waded into the cool ocean water, lapping up against his skin and sending shivers up his spine. “It’s ok. Just let the water embrace you, and you’ll be fine.”, Goku replied as he helped Vegeta into the water. Before he knew it, they both dove into the water, the cool waters enveloping them. Vegeta felt an immediate sense of freedom as he swam beside Goku. The water was alive with color, illuminated by the moonlight that filtered down from the surface. It took a while for Vegeta to catch up with his fishy companion, but when he finally did, he was treated to something he had never before experienced. With his own eyes, he experienced a sensory overload- the good kind, as he looked down at the corals that made up the reefs and the fish that dwelled within their crevices and the various species that called this part of the ocean home. “Look over there, Vegeta! That’s a school of convict tangs. And those are angelfish. Aren’t they beautiful?” Goku explained as he pointed out some of the species on the reef. Vegeta’s eyes widened in awe as a sea turtle gracefully swam by, its chocolate colored shell glinting in the light. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the turtle’s smooth surface. A flame angelfish tagged along, its vibrant red scales glimmering in the moonlit water as he gave kisses to the land dweller before swimming away, while a mandarin dragonet swam by and tickled one of his legs. Even a school of Pajama Cardinalfish thought he was a local merman, even going as far as to make themselves at home in his vicinity.

As they continued deeper into the reef, the marine life began to approach the young land dweller and sense the kindness within him. A clownfish swam through Vegeta’s spiky dark hair, mistaking it for an anemone of sorts. “Hehe! He just wants to say hi.”, Goku replied, allowing the small clownfish to swim towards his anemone home. As they continued their swim, Vegeta could see that the marine life were friendly towards him, even though he didn’t have a fishtail. A small seahorse drifted towards him and latched onto his finger for a bit, a normally timid octopus worked up the courage to emerge from its den and perch on his shoulder, and even a pod of dolphins swam around him, sensing his kind and caring nature. “They can sense your compassion.”, Goku explained as the baby bottlenose nudged Vegeta, making him smile even more. And alongside the colorful marine life and the beautiful coral reefs, the duo also came across ancient ruins with secrets untold, forests of kelp that seemed to reach the sky, and shipwrecks that held treasures from times of old. After quite a bit of swimming, the two boys headed back towards the land, exhausted yet happy after their journey through the coral reef. “You know, Kakarot? I’ve got something to say to you.”, Vegeta replied as they neared the shore. “What would that be?”, asked Goku, always open and thoughtful. “I wanna stay with you- I wanna be part of this world from now on.” Vegeta said as he climbed up onto the sand, the feeling of a natural sugar scrub beneath his feet. “I like that a lot, Vegeta.”, the orange tailed merman said as he perched next to his land bound companion. “And I have a… request for you.”, said Vegeta as he dried himself off. “What would that be? Just get it off your chest if you can.”, Goku replied. Vegeta took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision but also the excitement of a new beginning.

“Can you… turn me into… a merman?”

[geminialchemist]

More Shadow of the Erdtree discussion, because I seriously cannot shut up about it.

God damn, my posts must make it seem like I loathe this dlc, when it’s one of the best I’ve played in my life. Screw this just being a good DLC, this was an amazing Fromsoft GAME with the title of DLC attached to it.

With that said… I still have complaints to air, because I’m a whiner baby, and I find it easier to construct my thoughts around my criticism of things rather than my praise for them.

I’ve seen the idea floating around that some people think that some other people don’t care for the ending because they don’t like that Fromsoft made Miquella a villain. I’d like to utterly dash that idea. I don’t dislike that they made him a villain, I dislike that they made him a bad villain.

What’s Miquella’s motivation? We know his end goal. Become a god, make the world a compassionate place via brainwashing. We know how he put his plans into motion, convoluted and brow raising as the writing choices for that was. But what is his reason for doing it?

Messmer’s motivations, we know. He is, at least outwardly, a brutal tyrant. He leads a genocidal crusade against the Hornsent and any Tarnished he crosses paths with. We also know his motivation. To take the blame off of his mother for these actions. He doesn’t particularly like being so brutal, but has become the figurehead for the worst actions of his country, and has faced a willing exile with his loyal followers to shift the blame way from his mother, who he loves and cherishes, even after she has abandoned him to his fate. His villainy is his complacency in his mother’s conquests. This actually makes him a sympathetic antagonist, which is why everyone paints him as a soft boy in need of hugs. I’m simplifying this a lot, because outside of no plot for Melina, I have no major issues with Messmer’s side of the story in this DLC, it’s good stuff, great writing.

What’s Miq’s motivation? What made him wake up one day and decide he was going to be a god, and use mind control to pacify the entire world? I realized as I was theory crafting that I… don’t really know? I certainly have headcanon and ideas, I just can’t remember it ever being stated in canon. Just that he wants to do it. Did I miss something? I can’t have missed something, could I?

Was he evil all along? Is he doing this to control everyone just for laughs? Is he a broken person, who witnessed the horrors of war during the Shattering, unable and unwilling to fight due to his body and pacifism, showing up after battles to tend to the wounded but knowing that for every living person he found, a hundred more were corpses, and that for every one he did manage to save he was forced to leave a dozen others to die in agony and so decided to end the cycle of violence by any means necessary?

Did he simply want power and a complacent population? Did he want to fix all of his mommy’s mistakes(no, couldn’t be that one, fans would have woobified him to the same level as Messmer)? Or was it overpowering grief that drove him to tear his too-soft heart out and cast it aside? We don’t even know! Or at least I don’t. I’ve scoured the wiki’s for NPC dialogue, and item descriptions, but unfortunately those are still incomplete, and are missing huge chunks. I’m in the middle of my second run of the dlc, too, but haven’t come across anything yet.

Can anyone tell me what I’m missing, if I did miss something? Or is this just another example of the second half of Miquella’s questline being terribly written? If I did miss something, let me know, and make sure to shame me and call me an idiot, it’s the only way I’ll ever learn!

EDIT: Thanks so much for giving me some answers! I’ll go look more into Ymir’s dialogue, I’m curious to if reversing Marika’s Sin is his motivation, or just another endgame goal to add to the pile to ensure “World Peace(tm).” For instance, Hornsent still doesn’t trust or accept anyone in the group for what Marika did, even under Miq’s charm, so fixing that could make his charm sink in easier for the Hornsent population? I’ll go check it out in my NG+ run, I actually haven’t spoken to Ymir yet in that run.

[sebstanaddict]

Too Good To Be True

Sebastian Stan x Reader Story

Summary: A romantic comedy story where Sebastian Stan falls in love with reader but she is not who he thinks she is.

Being back with Sebastian felt so good for reader but her mother's condition made her unable to be completely happy with him. She decided to visit her mother and there she found out from Aurora that there could be a way out of this mess they were involved in. Will she be able to find the answer to their problem and finally goes back to her own body?

Pairings : Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Chapters : 24/28 (Might add more)

Chapter List >

Warning : none I think, let me know if you find anything

Word count : 5.3k words

—

Chapter 24 - Answers

Y/n stirred awake in the soft morning light the next day, blinking sleepily as her eyes adjusted. Her gaze landed on Sebastian, still fast asleep beside her, his face peaceful and softened in the gentle morning sun. His arm was draped over her, anchoring her close. She let herself savor the moment, feeling the warmth of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the simple comfort of waking up next to him.

Not wanting to disturb him, she stayed still, watching him with a quiet smile until his eyes began to flutter open. He glanced at her, a small, sleepy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick and husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” she replied, the words soft but full of warmth.

He pulled her closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before whispering, “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than ever,” she said with a small laugh, nestling into his embrace. “Couldn’t ask for a better way to start the day.”

They lay there for a little while, enjoying the silence and the closeness, neither of them in a hurry to let the day begin. Eventually, though, Sebastian stretched, propping himself up on his elbow as he looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Stay here,” he said. “Breakfast in bed, coming right up.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, amused but grateful. “Is this my reward for waking up so gracefully?”

“Absolutely,” he teased, planting a quick kiss on her nose before slipping out of bed and heading for the kitchen.

As he busied himself in the kitchen, she lay back, feeling blissfully content. Soon enough, he returned with a tray balanced carefully, a smile tugging at his lips as he set it down on the bed. Freshly scrambled eggs, toast, fruit, and two mugs of coffee.

“For the queen,” he said, presenting it with a flourish.

“Thank you, mi rey,” she replied, a shy smile breaking across her face as she reached for her coffee. “You’ve truly outdone yourself.”

They ate together, exchanging glances and quiet laughter over bites of food. Sebastian’s foot found hers under the covers, playfully brushing against her ankle as he talked about their upcoming trip.

“So,” he said, leaning back against the headboard. “Just one week left until Paris. Ready for the City of Lights?”

“More than ready,” she replied, excitement flickering in her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to go. And now, with you.. it’s like a dream.”

“Can’t wait to show you around. I know a few places you’re going to love,” he said, his eyes soft as he watched her. “And I’m excited to see what you bring to the movie. We’re going to make something amazing together.”

They lingered over breakfast, discussing the places they’d visit, the scenes they’d shoot, and the things they’d do. Each word from him made her heart race with anticipation. For a moment, she was swept up in the happiness, forgetting the responsibilities that loomed over her.

But then the familiar weight of worry slipped back in. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever. While Sebastian stepped into the bathroom to shower, she picked up her phone and dialed Aurora.

The phone rang twice before Aurora answered, her voice low and a bit strained. “Hey.”

“Hey. Just wanted to check on my mom.. how is she today?” Y/n asked, her voice soft but laced with worry.

Aurora sighed, and Y/n could hear the tension in her voice. “Not much change.. she’s still lethargic, mostly resting. The doctors aren’t saying much, just that it’s a waiting game.”

Y/n’s heart sank. “I wish I could be there with her,” she murmured, fighting the guilt that rose up inside her. “Is my dad okay?”

“He’s..doing his best,” Aurora replied. “I’m sure it’s hard for him seeing her like this, but he’s always trying to stay positive.”

The words lingered in Y/n’s mind even after she ended the call. She wanted to be there, to be by her mother’s side. And though she’d told herself she was okay with the body-switch, it felt especially hard now, knowing her mother needed her.

Sebastian came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel as he looked over at her with a small smile. But his face fell a bit when he saw her expression.

“Everything alright?” he asked gently, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her.

She managed a nod, tucking her phone away. “Y/n ’s mom isn’t doing well. She’s still in the clinic. I was just thinking.. would it be okay if we visit them before we go to Paris? I’d really like to see her.”

Sebastian didn’t hesitate, taking her hand in his. “Of course. You don’t have to ask - I want to be there with you. We’ll go together.”

Touched by his support, she felt a weight lift slightly from her shoulders. “Thank you, Sebastian,” she whispered, her fingers tightening around his. “It would mean a lot.”

“Anything for you,” he replied, bringing her hand to his lips with a soft kiss.

A gentle warmth spread through her as she looked at him, feeling reassured despite the uncertainties. She knew that with him by her side, facing what lay ahead would be a little less daunting. And as he wrapped his arms around her, she felt a renewed sense of determination to handle the days to come, no matter what they might bring.

She was about to go to the bathroom to take a shower when her cellphone rang. She glanced at her cellphone screen and her eyebrows raised as she saw Aurora’s mother’s name flashing on the screen.

“It’s your mom.” Sebastian commented, “Aren’t you going to pick it up?”

“Uh.. yeah. Excuse me.” She said and Sebastian nodded, leaving her alone on the bed.

“Hello.” She picked up the call, dread filled her stomach.

“Aurora, darling, how are you?” Aurora’s mother’s voice drawled on the other end.

“Umm.. I’m good, mom. How are you?”

“I’m confused, darling. Your father told me that your wedding with Adam is cancelled and that you would take over the company. Is that true?” Aurora’s mother asked.

She took a deep breath, “Yes, mom, it is true.”

“Hmm.. Alright, I need to speak with you in person, darling. Are you available today?”

“Yeah, sure. I can come over today.”

“Great. I have an appointment with Edith at the Los Angeles Country Club. Why don’t you meet us there at 2 this afternoon.”

“Oh, Edith is going to be there?”

“Yes, I need to talk to you both.”

“Alright, I’ll be there.” Y/n replied reluctantly, her stomach filled with dread.

“Good, I’ll see you there, darling.”

“Yes, mom, see you there.” She replied and hung up.

She sighed, wondering what Aurora’s mother was going to talk about with her. Her lips curled in dislike as she remembered she was going to meet Edith again. She hoped Edith wouldn’t be as insufferable as the last time they met but she knew it was unlikely.

She stood up and walked to the bathroom, gathering all her courage and mentally prepared herself for whatever Emily and Edith were going to throw at her.

—

The Los Angeles Country Club, a haven of luxury and refinement, gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. Its manicured lawns and elegant interiors exuded privilege and exclusivity. Y/n stepped out of the car with a sense of dread that had nothing to do with the dazzling Los Angeles sun.

Dressed impeccably in one of Aurora’s pale blue sheath dresses and heels, she knew she looked the part. But her heart was pounding, a mix of nerves and frustration. The truth was, she had no idea how to navigate this family dynamic, let alone manage the expectations piled on Aurora’s shoulders.

Inside the club, Emily and Edith were seated at a private table overlooking the golf course. Emily, poised in an ivory blazer, was sipping tea with an air of detached elegance, while Edith, a younger and more vivacious version of her aunt, scrolled through her phone with a smirk.

“Ah, Aurora,” Emily said coolly, barely glancing up as Y/n approached. “You’re late.”

“Good morning, mom. Edith.” Y/n smiled tightly, slipping into the seat across from them. “Traffic was heavier than I expected. I apologize.”

Edith gave a dismissive laugh, tucking her phone into her designer clutch. “Always an excuse, isn’t it, Aurora? Some things never change.”

Y/n’s jaw tightened, but she forced herself to remain calm. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

Emily set her cup down with a clink, her eyes sharp as they met Y/n’s. “We need to talk about your future, Aurora. Your father has offered to let you work under him, which is generous given your.. inexperience.”

“Yes,” Y/n replied, her voice steady. “I’ve already accepted. I’m ready to prove myself to him and to all of you.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Prove yourself? Darling, this isn’t a charity project or a movie set. Running a hedge fund requires focus, intelligence, and discipline - qualities you’ve never exactly been known for.”

Y/n’s stomach churned, but she kept her composure. “I understand that it’s a challenge. But I’ve been working hard to prepare, and I’m confident I can handle it.”

Edith chuckled, leaning forward. “Aurora, do you even know what a hedge fund does? I mean, really? This isn’t a modeling gig or a photo shoot. It’s late nights, constant pressure, and the weight of knowing you could lose millions with one wrong move.”

“I’m aware of what’s involved,” Y/n replied, her voice firm. “I’ve been learning, and I’m committed to doing whatever it takes to succeed.”

Emily sighed, a look of exasperation crossing her face. “Aurora, don’t be naive. You’ve always had trouble focusing on anything for more than five minutes. Remember when you wanted to join the debate team in high school and forgot your entire speech during the competition? You cried for days.”

The memory wasn’t hers, but the sting felt real. Y/n clenched her hands in her lap, taking a deep breath before responding. “That was a long time ago. People grow, mom. I’ve grown. I’m not the same person I was then.”

Emily shook her head. “And yet, here you are, still clinging to this ridiculous notion that you can run a company. Why not listen to reason and take an easier path? Your father and I have discussed this. You could marry Andrew Blake. He’s everything you need - wealthy, successful, and from a respectable family. With him by your side, you’d be set for life.”

“No,” Y/n said firmly, meeting Emily’s gaze. “I’m not marrying Andrew Blake or anyone else to secure my future. I’m capable of building it on my own.”

Edith’s laugh was sharper this time, almost mocking. “Really, Aurora? You’re going to ‘build your future’? Do you even realize how ridiculous that sounds? You’ve spent your whole life coasting on your looks and your charm. What makes you think you can handle something as serious as running a hedge fund?”

Y/n’s patience was wearing thin, but she refused to let them see her falter. “Because I know I can. I’ve been working hard, studying, and preparing. I’m not afraid of the challenge.”

Emily sighed again, her tone softening slightly, though the doubt remained. “Aurora, you’ve always been headstrong, but this is different. This isn’t just about you. This is about the company, our family, and the legacy your father built. Are you really ready to take on that responsibility?”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, the weight of the question pressing down on her. “I am,” she said finally. “I know I have a lot to prove, but I’m ready to do whatever it takes. I want to make you and dad proud.”

Emily studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she sighed, shaking her head. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that. But don’t think for a second that I’m convinced. If you want to prove yourself, you’ll have to work harder than you ever have in your life. And don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Y/n replied, her voice steady.

Edith smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Well, good luck, Aurora. You’re going to need it.”

Y/n pushed her chair back, standing with a sense of finality. “Thank you for your concern, Edith. And thank you, mom, for your.. advice. But I have to get going. There’s work to be done.”

She turned and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. As she stepped out into the fresh air of the garden, a wave of emotions crashed over her - frustration, anger, and a deep sadness she couldn’t quite shake.

For the first time, she truly understood why Aurora had been the way she was - why she had avoided responsibility, why she had clung to the glamorous, carefree world of modeling and acting. The constant doubt, the subtle jabs, the never-ending need to prove herself to a family that didn’t believe in her - it was exhausting.

Still, Y/n was determined. She wouldn’t let their doubts, or her own, stop her. For Aurora’s sake - and her own - she would see this through and she would prove them all wrong.

—

The steady hum of the airplane’s engines filled the cabin as Y/n stared out of the window the next day on her flight to Berkeley, her reflection ghosting over the soft sea of clouds below. Her fingers toyed nervously with the edge of the blanket draped over her lap. Despite the warm glow of sunlight streaming through the window, a chill sat heavy in her chest, a weight she couldn’t shake.

Sebastian, seated beside her, had been quietly observing her for most of the flight. He’d seen her lost in thought before, but today, there was an unmistakable sadness in her eyes, a vulnerability she rarely let show. Finally, he reached over, gently placing his hand on hers.

“Mi reina,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with concern. “What’s going on?”

She turned to him, startled out of her thoughts. “Hm? Nothing,” she replied too quickly, forcing a small smile.

His brow furrowed, the corners of his mouth tugging downward. “You’ve been like this since we got to the airport. Don’t tell me it’s nothing. Talk to me.”

Her smile faltered as she searched his face. The genuine worry etched into his features made her heart ache. How could she possibly tell him the truth? That she wasn’t Aurora, that she wasn’t who he thought she was? That visiting her mother like this - trapped in someone else’s body - was a cruel reminder of everything she had lost?

“It’s just hard,” she said finally, lowering her gaze. “I’m thinking how hard it must be for Y/n. I.. I can’t imagine if it was my mother who has cancer. I wish I could do more for Y/n and her mother”

Sebastian’s hand tightened around hers, grounding her. “You’re doing what you can, mi reina. Being there, spending time with them - it matters. It’s more than enough.”

She nodded, even as the turmoil in her heart deepened. It wasn’t enough. Not when her mother didn’t recognize her, didn’t see her as her daughter. And not when the man beside her, who so clearly adored her, didn’t even know the real her.

“I just wish I could do more,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engines.

Sebastian cupped her cheek, gently tilting her face toward him. “You’re the most loving, selfless person I know, mi reina. I’ve seen it in the way you care about everyone around you. We’re all lucky to have you in our lives.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she quickly turned back to the window, pretending to admire the view. How could she ever leave him? But she knew deep down that if she and Aurora managed to switch back, that day would come. And it would break her heart into a million pieces.

Sebastian pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering for a moment as if he could sense the storm in her soul. “I’ll be right here with you,” he said softly. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Her heart clenched at his words. She wanted to believe they could stay like this forever, that she wouldn’t have to give him up. But the truth loomed over her, a shadow she couldn’t escape.

As the plane began its descent into Berkeley, Y/n closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She needed to stay focused. For now, she had to be strong - for her mother, for herself, and for the fleeting moments she had left with Sebastian.

—

Hours later they arrived at the clinic in San Francisco where her mother was undergoing her treatment. The clinic had an air of stillness, the kind that pressed down on the shoulders and weighed heavy on the heart. The muted light filtering through frosted windows cast soft shadows on the polished linoleum floors. The faint hum of medical equipment punctuated the quiet, accompanied by the occasional distant murmur of voices or the rhythmic squeak of a nurse's shoes.

Sebastian walked beside Y/n, his hand brushing hers in a silent offer of comfort. She hadn’t spoken much since they landed, her eyes betraying the storm inside her. As they approached the room, her steps slowed, each one more hesitant than the last.

Her father sat on a chair by the window, his posture weary and his gaze fixed on nothing in particular. Her mother was lying still on the bed, sleeping. Aurora was by the bed, a book in her lap, though she didn’t seem to be reading it. Her head turned when Y/n and Sebastian entered, her expression unreadable but not unkind.

“Aurora,” her father said softly, rising to greet her. “Thank you for coming again.”

She nodded, offering a faint smile before her gaze shifted to the bed. Her mother lay there, her once-vibrant complexion pale and her figure frail beneath the thin hospital blanket. The sight struck Y/n like a physical blow, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

“How…. How is she?” Y/n asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her father sighed, his shoulders sagging. “She’s not getting better, but she’s not worse either. It’s a waiting game now. The treatment ends in a week, and then.. we’ll see.”

Y/n swallowed hard, forcing herself to nod. She stepped closer to the bed, her heart aching as she took in every detail - the faint lines of exhaustion etched into her mother’s face, the slight tremble in her breathing.

“She’s been sleeping most of the day,” Y/f/n added. “But she wakes up every now and then.”

Aurora stood and moved to the side, giving Y/n space. Sebastian lingered near the door, his presence a steadying anchor.

Y/n reached out, her fingers brushing against her mother’s hand. The touch was light, tentative, as though afraid to disturb her. Her mother stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

It took a moment for recognition to dawn, and even then, it wasn’t the recognition Y/n longed for. “Aurora,” her mother said, her voice weak but warm. “You’re here.”

A lump formed in Y/n’s throat. She forced a smile, her heart splintering at the name. “Yes, Mrs. Y/l/n. I’m here.”

Her mother’s smile was faint but genuine. “Thank you for coming.”

Y/n squeezed her hand gently. “Of course. I wanted to see you.”

Her mother’s eyes drifted closed again, her breathing evening out. Y/n stayed by her side for a moment longer, fighting the tears that threatened to spill.

“Aurora, can we talk outside?” Aurora asked, gesturing for her to follow her out of the room.

Y/n hesitated, then nodded. She leaned down to whisper to her mother, “Rest well. I’ll be back soon.”

—

The corridor was dimly lit, the pale green walls doing little to dispel the somber atmosphere. They walked further away from her mother's room to make sure Sebastian or her father couldn't hear them. Finally they stopped and Y/n leaned against the wall, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Aurora stood beside her, mirroring her stance.

“How are you holding up?” Aurora asked after a moment.

Y/n let out a bitter laugh. “How do you think? Seeing her like this.. and knowing she doesn’t even see me as her daughter - it’s crushing. I can’t even tell her who I am. She thinks I’m you.”

Aurora looked away, guilt flickering in her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to be there for her, for your father too, but it’s not the same. They miss you, Y/n, the real you. It’s obvious.”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through her hair. “How are you, by the way?”

Aurora hesitated, then gave a small smile. “Surprisingly. good. Your parents are wonderful. Your dad - he’s been so supportive, so.. present. I’ve never had that kind of relationship with my parents.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Really? You think so?”

Aurora nodded. “Yes. They care so much, even if they don’t always know how to show it.

Aurora nodded. “Yes. They care so much, even if they don’t always know how to show it. It’s refreshing.”

Y/n’s expression darkened. “That’s funny, because your mom doesn’t seem to think much of you - or me, in this case. And Edith? She’s insufferable. She talks down to me every chance she gets.”

Aurora grimaced. “That sounds like her. She’s always been like that.”

“She doesn’t just think she’s better than everyone else; she enjoys making everyone else feel small,” Y/n said, shaking her head. “But.. I get it now. Why you are the way you are and how you’ve built those walls. Why you’re so guarded.”

Aurora’s gaze softened. “It’s not easy. But this isn’t just about family drama, Y/n. We need to figure out how to fix this.”

Y/n nodded. “Have you found anything? Anyone who can help?”

Aurora reached into her pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “I’ve been searching online. There’s nothing in Berkeley or San Francisco, but I found some people in LA who claim to be witches or spiritual healers. I’ve called a few of them, but their answers were vague. I think we need to visit them in person.”

Y/n took the paper, scanning the names, numbers, and addresses. “It’s a start,” she said firmly. “I’ll check them out as soon as I’m back in LA.”

Aurora placed a hand on her arm. “We’ll figure this out, Y/n. We have to.”

Y/n nodded, her grip tightening on the paper. “Yeah. We will.”

For a moment, they stood in silence, sharing a rare moment of understanding. Despite everything, they were in this together, bound by a strange twist of fate they couldn’t escape.

---

The clinic felt quieter than ever, the muted hum of its sterile environment amplifying the heaviness in Y/n’s chest. Two days had passed in a blur of silent vigils and fleeting conversations, and now it was time for her and Sebastian to leave.

Y/n stood by her mother’s bedside, her hand resting gently on the frail one beneath the blanket. Her mother’s eyes were half-lidded, the weight of her illness evident in the slow, measured breaths she took. Yet, when Y/n leaned closer, she could see a faint flicker of recognition in her gaze - though it wasn’t for her, but for Aurora.

“Take care of yourself, Aurora,” her mother said softly, her voice barely audible. “And thank you for visiting.”

Y/n swallowed hard, forcing a smile as she brushed her mother’s hand. “Of course, Mrs. Y/l/n. Rest and get better, okay?”

A lump formed in her throat as she straightened. Her father stepped forward, his weary face attempting a smile. “Thank you for coming, Aurora, and thank you both for everything. The money for the treatment.. I don’t know how we would’ve managed without it.”

Sebastian, who had been standing a step behind her, moved closer and extended a hand to Y/f/n. “It’s nothing, Mr. Y/l/n. Really. If you need more, just say the word, and I’ll send it.”

Her father’s eyes lit up, a mix of gratitude and relief washing over his features. “That’s very generous of you, Sebastian. We appreciate it more than you know.”

Y/n glanced at Sebastian, her heart aching at his kindness. She squeezed his hand, and he gave her a reassuring look.

Turning back to her mother, Y/n leaned down once more. “Goodbye, Mom. I’ll see you soon..”

The words had slipped out before she could stop them. Her mother’s eyes widened slightly, and her father froze, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“Mom?” her mother repeated, her tone uncertain.

Her father looked at her curiously. “Aurora, why did you..?”

Y/n quickly cut him off, her cheeks flushing. “Sorry, it just slipped out. Spending so much time with you all.. it’s starting to feel like family,” she said with an awkward laugh, brushing it off as best as she could.

Her father hesitated but nodded, the explanation seeming to placate him for now. Her mother, however, watched her for a moment longer before letting her eyes drift closed again.

As Y/n stepped out of the room, Aurora was waiting in the hallway. She pulled her aside, her expression serious but tinged with a rare softness.

“I’ll look into the list as soon as I’m back in LA,” Y/n promised, holding Aurora’s gaze.

Aurora nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Good. Keep me updated if you find anything. I’ll keep searching here too, though options are slim.”

“Thank you,” Y/n said earnestly. “For.. everything. And for taking care of them.”

Aurora glanced toward the room where Y/n’s parents were. “They’re good people. I wish I’d known them like this before.”

Y/n felt a pang of bittersweet emotion but said nothing, simply nodding. She gave Aurora a small, encouraging smile before turning to join Sebastian.

—

The airplane hummed with the low murmur of passengers and the occasional ding of announcements. Y/n stared out the window, watching the clouds roll past as the plane climbed higher into the sky.

Sebastian’s hand found hers, his thumb brushing soothingly over her knuckles. “You’ve been quiet,” he said gently.

She turned to him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s just hard. Leaving them like this.”

He nodded, his gaze understanding. “You’re doing everything you can. The money, your visits - it all matters. And they know that.”

“I just wish I could do more,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Sebastian leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re doing more than enough, mi reina. And I’m here for you. Whatever you need, we’ll get through this together.”

Her heart swelled with love for him, but at the same time, a pang of guilt twisted in her chest. She couldn’t shake the thought that if she and Aurora ever switched back, this life - this love - might slip away.

As she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes drifted shut, the weight of the past days catching up to her. For now, she let herself take comfort in his presence, knowing the storm inside her would have to wait.

—

Y/n sat in her car, staring at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. The list Aurora had given her had felt like a lifeline, a shred of hope in an otherwise impossible situation. But after days of calling each number, only one person had responded - a woman named Morgana, who claimed to be a practitioner of "ancient arts." They had scheduled an appointment for today, just two days before Y/n was due to fly to Paris for shooting Pumping Black.

The moment Y/n stepped into Morgana’s Enchanted Remedies, she felt as though she had crossed into another world. The scent of sandalwood and lavender mingled with the faint crackle of a record playing soft jazz in the background. The shop’s dim lighting was offset by the cheerful clutter: shelves lined with jars of herbs, dried flowers hanging from the ceiling, and little handwritten signs that read things like “Eye of Newt – Locally Sourced” or “Special Today: Love Potions Half Off!”

“Hello, darling!” a voice sang out from behind the counter.

Y/n turned to see a woman in her mid-thirties with bright red lipstick, wild curly hair tied up in a messy bun, and an oversized black sweater that looked cozy yet fashionable. Her demeanor was warm and lively, her smile infectious.

“You must be the poor thing with the identity crisis!” Morgana chirped, waving her over. “Come, sit! Let’s untangle your mess, shall we?”

Y/n hesitated, but Morgana’s exuberance left little room for refusal. She took a seat at the small, round table Morgana gestured to.

“Tea?” Morgana offered, holding up a teapot adorned with crescent moons.

“No, thank you,” Y/n replied softly, her hands twisting in her lap.

“Suit yourself,” Morgana said, pouring herself a cup. “Now, tell Auntie Morgana everything.”

Y/n recounted the events of the body switch - the gypsy woman, waking up in Aurora’s body, the struggles of pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Morgana listened with rapt attention, occasionally nodding or gasping at the right moments.

“Oh, honey, that is classic switching potion drama!” Morgana said, clapping her hands together when Y/n finished. “I haven’t heard a story this juicy since that time a Wall Street banker swapped bodies with a kindergarten teacher. Now that was a disaster.”

“Switching potion?” Y/n echoed, leaning forward.

“Yep! Rare stuff, though. Not something you can just pick up at the local magic mart,” Morgana said, taking a sip of her tea. “And undoing it? Whew, let’s just say it’s not a walk in the park.”

Y/n’s heart clenched. “How do we undo it?”

Morgana set her cup down and leaned in, her expression turning serious. “Three conditions, sweetheart. First, both of you have to want to switch back. No doubts, no holding on to anything in your new life. You’ve gotta be all-in on going back.”

Y/n’s heart sank. She thought about her love for Sebastian, how deeply she wanted to stay by his side. Could that be holding her back?

“And the second?” she asked, her voice tight.

“Acceptance,” Morgana said, gesturing dramatically as if she were reciting a Shakespearean monologue. “You’ve gotta embrace your original life, warts and all. That means no running from the bad stuff. Same goes for your friend - what’s-her-name, Aurora. She’s gotta be ready to face her own demons too.”

Y/n’s thoughts flashed to Aurora’s newfound connection with her family and the way she seemed to revel in the warmth and love she had always lacked.

“And the third?” Y/n asked, bracing herself.

Morgana hesitated, her cheerful demeanor faltering for the first time. She looked down at her tea, then back up at Y/n with a hint of pity in her eyes. “The original witch who made the potion has to undo it. That’s how the magic works - she created it, so only she can reverse it.”

Y/n’s chest tightened. “But.. the gypsy woman who gave us the potion - she’s dead.”

Morgana blinked, then let out a nervous laugh. “Oh. Well, that’s.. not ideal.”

“What does that mean?” Y/n demanded, her voice rising.

Morgana fidgeted with her rings, avoiding Y/n’s gaze. “It means you’re stuck, darling. Forever.”

The word hit Y/n like a punch to the gut.

Stuck. Forever.

Chapter 25 >

Taglist

@dhoruwolfie @kandis-mom

#sebastianstan #sebastianstanfanfic #sebastianstanfanfiction #sebastianstanimagine #sebastianstanfluff #sebastianstanxreader #sebastianstanxyou #sebastianstanxyn #sebastianstanedit #wattpad #wattpadromance #wattpadstory #wattpadbooks #fanfic #fanfiction

[cosmereplay]

Day 16: Hourglass

Rated Teen, Kaladin/Leshwi, Rhythm of War Part 2 of 4 (Find part 1 on tumblr or ao3)

Kaladin stared at himself in the mirror. Himself? Herself? Either way, he needed a full-length mirror to do this, and the only one he knew about was Adolin’s. Unfortunately, that meant Adolin was examining him critically from over his shoulder. Kaladin was wearing a Thaylen-style skirt and blouse, his (her?) safehand gloved, hair pulled back in his usual utilitarian tail. He looked like an hourglass, and he didn’t like it.

“I look terrible,” she said to the mirror, unable to keep a bitter cynicism out of her voice. She liked the glove, but the rest didn’t look right. He’d thought looking more feminine would make him feel better, but it just felt wrong in a way she hadn’t been expecting.

Adolin tapped his chin in thought. “I know you wanted to try something that was more familiar to you, but just because your mother wears it doesn’t mean it’s what you need. Who else do you admire?”

Kaladin immediately thought of Leshwi. It was her fault he…she…was in this mess. Why not borrow from her? He…she…smiled, taking a moment to picture the femalen he wished to court. Leshwi was beautiful. Alluring, even. Maybe the reason this outfit felt so wrong was that it seemed to exaggerate Kaladin’s proportions in a way that didn’t feel true to her.

“Leshwi has wide shoulders and narrow hips like me,” Kaladin said, “and yet her clothing is still so graceful. What about something like that?”

Adolin raised an eyebrow. “You want to dress like the Fused?”

“Not necessarily, but…” Kaladin waved his hands around fruitlessly, unable to find the words. “Leshwi looks like herself. She likes her body, she respects it, and that comes across in the way she dresses and carries herself. I want to be like that, too. I don’t want to hide my body.” Looking in the mirror, she held out the sides of the long skirt, exaggerating the shape. “This feels like hiding.”

She didn’t feel like she understood herself, let alone getting a point across, but Adolin’s reflection was nodding anyway. “Something graceful. Something true to your proportions. Okay…Yeah, I can work with that. I know a woman…” He wandered off, still muttering to himself.

Kaladin removed the offending clothing down to her underwear, and she looked at her body in the mirror. Her breasts had only grown slightly, and her genitals had only shrunk a little. She’d asked Syl why her body hadn’t changed much, if her identity was female, and Syl hadn’t known the answer. But looking at herself in the mirror, she realized. Just like Leshwi, she was perfect just the way she was. A warmth filled her, realizing she was already home. Without Leshwi, she didn’t think she would have known it was possible.

Adolin returned with what looked like an entire family’s laundry in his arms. “I happen to have a shiqua, so I thought that might be a good place to start. It's all one long piece of fabric, so we can even cut it up if you want. Do you remember when we were in Celebrant? The spren there would mix and match styles from everywhere. It’s giving me some ideas. I bet we can do something just perfect for you, Kaladin.”

In return, she smiled, feeling almost like she was floating. In retrospect, asking Adolin for help had been a great idea. “Okay, let’s try it,” she nodded. “And I’ve decided something else–I’d like you to call me Kaladi.”

“Pronounced like Kalami!”

“Yeah.”

“I would’ve thought you’d choose a completely new name,” Adolin said thoughtfully, “but I really like it. Okay, Kaladi, let’s get you graceful. Just don’t steal Shallan from me after, okay?” he winked.

Kaladi grinned. “Don’t worry, Adolin, I’ve got my eyes on someone else.”

[lemoncrushh]

Too Far From Texas | Chapter Twenty-Seven

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 6987

Harry stared at me, waiting for me to continue. I sat there with my mouth open, unable to speak.

“Baby...please?” He took my hands and rubbed the backs of them with his thumbs, but his eyes never left mine.

“I’m scared, Harry,” I finally admitted.

“About what?”

“That if...if I tell you the truth...how I really feel...you won’t want me anymore.”

“How could I not want you, Stacey? I mean, unless you’re gonna tell me you don’t love me-”

“No,” I shook my head. “No, I love you. I most certainly love you, Harry.”

“Then what is it, baby? Please, don’t be scared with me. Whatever it is, we can work through it together.”

I looked down at our joined hands and felt a tear drop from my eye. I felt another coming and went to wipe it, but Harry held onto me, so the tear fell on my arm. When the third dropped however, Harry let go of one of my hands and wiped my cheek with his thumb.

“Talk to me,” he urged again, his green eyes so sincere.

“I guess I...I didn’t exactly realize how we were living in a bubble until it burst.”

Harry blinked, trying to understand my words. “You mean after the paps and the press got word of you?”

“Not just that,” I shrugged. “Although that’s part of it.”

“I tried to explain, love, that’s part of who I am. It’s not going away as long as I’m...doing what I’m doing.”

“Yes, and I understand that,” I sniffled with a nod. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. It might take some getting used to, but I think I could handle it.”

“Then...I don’t get it. What’s the matter?”

I felt the tears threatening to fall again, but I blinked several times and swallowed them back. With a shaky breath, I continued.

“Do you like kids, Harry?”

Harry raised his brows. “What?”

“I mean...I know I’ve seen photos of you with kids. Some younger fans, friends’ babies. You’ve met mine and were really sweet to them. But...do you really truly like kids?”

Harry shifted his gaze away from me, then gave an incredulous nod and shrug. “Yeah. I do. Kids are great. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I have kids, Harry. I have two. And they are everything to me.”

“Of course they are,” he agreed. “They’re wonderful, and you’re a wonderful mum.”

Letting a deep breath out through my nose, I hesitated. “I’m afraid I wasn’t completely honest before.”

“When?” asked Harry.

“When I had that heart-to-heart talk with your mother.”

Harry frowned. “The baggage comment? She told me she apologized, that she hadn’t meant it the way you took it.”

“I know,” I nodded. “At first, I was hurt by the comment. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized she was right.”

“Stacey…” he said, reaching for me, but I resisted.

“Please. Hear me out. You wanted me to talk.”

With a sigh, Harry sat back in his chair, his expression different from when we’d started the conversation. He looked worried, but also a bit perturbed.

“I agree, maybe the baggage comment was a bad choice of words,” I continued. “But what she told me later made a lot of sense to me. She mentioned how when you and your sister were young and she was single, it was important to find someone willing to accept the fact that she was a mother. My kids and me, we’re a package deal, Harry.”

“I get that,” he held out his arms as though to show defeat.

“As far as that bubble goes,” I said, “I was happy floating along in it with you. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t really worrying about my kids. That sounds shitty hearing it out loud, but it’s true. It’s not that I didn’t care, but I was being selfish. Now…”

I hesitated, trying to find the right words. Harry fidgeted in his seat.

“Now?” he asked.

“Now that the bubble has burst, I’m scared. Like I said, it’s not just you and me anymore. And it’s not just the paparazzi or Jeff or your band or any of your friends. My kids are my life, and you are my life. But I don’t know if…”

I trailed off again when I felt my body tremble. I started to sob, my shoulders shaking. I held my face in my hands, unable to look at Harry. I was afraid of his reaction. I couldn’t face him if he decided he didn’t want me anymore.

“Baby…” I heard him say. He’d leaned forward again and was rubbing my arms. “You don’t know if, what?”

“If…” I sniffed. “If I can do this. I don’t even know if...you want that part of me. I feel like...like I have two lives and…”

“Hey…” he cooed, pulling me by my waist. “C’mere.”

He pulled me onto his lap and rubbed my back, looking up at me with those sincere eyes again. Reaching behind him on the desk, he grabbed the tissue box and handed it to me. I mumbled a thanks as I took a tissue and blew my nose.

“Baby,” he said again. “You shouldn’t have to feel like you’re living two lives. I don’t want that.”

Sniffling, I kept my head down as he kissed the top of it, his arms around me making me feel safe.

“Then what do you want, Harry?” I asked quietly.

I heard him let out a short chortle before he said, “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I replied, lifting my head with tear-stained cheeks.

“I want you. I want us.”

“On what terms?” I choked.

“What do you mean, Stacey? There are no terms.”

He appeared to be on the verge of anger now, his brows knitted and a huge scowl on his face. I felt a sourness in my stomach like I used to get when Tod was angry with me. His arms, however, remained around me and I was reminded once again he was nothing like my ex-husband.

“Remember what I told you?” he asked. “That I don’t have conditions?”

I nodded, my eyes on his chest.

“I mean that, a hundred percent. I have a crazy life; I know I do. But I also know I love you unconditionally. I’m in this for real. I want you. I want you in my life, and I wanna be in yours.”

I sighed, placing my hand on his chest and raising my gaze to his beautiful face, which had now returned to the look of sincerity, though his brows were still furrowed.

“You’re so young, Harry,” I commented.

He rolled his eyes. “Are we going back to that again? I thought we agreed, the age thing doesn’t-”

“But it does matter, Harry,” I interrupted. “It matters more than we wanted to admit. When we’re talking about our connection, our chemistry...no it doesn’t matter at all. We make perfect sense. But when we’re talking about real life…”

“This is real life, baby,” Harry insisted, his hands on my arms as his eyes burned into mine. “It’s not the ideal life perhaps, but it’s ours.”

I pursed my lips and nodded again. He just didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure he was going to. I didn’t want to fight. And I knew that if I said what I really wanted to - what was really in my head, I’d start one. One thing I hated was when I was the reason for a quarrel. My personality made me always want to have my say, to be heard before trying to resolve a situation. But sometimes it was easier to just let it go. I’d learned that in my marriage, or perhaps in spite of it.

“I guess I’m just scared,” I repeated. It was the truth. I was scared of so much, it made me sick to my stomach.

“I know, my love,” he said softly with a sigh as he petted my hair. “But I’m here. I love you. And I believe in us. Don’t you?”

Biting my lip, I ran my hands up to his neck and pulled him closer.

“Yes,” I whispered against his mouth before placing a kiss upon it.

I wanted to believe. And because Harry believed, I felt like I should too. It broke my heart to think otherwise. So, it wasn’t really a lie, I told myself. Not really.

“Wow!” Harry whistled when I descended the stairs.

While I was finishing my hair and makeup, Harry had gotten a phone call, so he’d told me he’d meet me downstairs.

“You look delicious,” he added as I stepped up to him in the living room.

I beamed. “You said that last time.”

“Did I?” he smirked, wounding his arms around my waist, his gaze on my lips. “Can’t help if my girlfriend looks better than dessert.”

I got tingles from the sound of him saying girlfriend. It still felt new, or perhaps renew, because others were now aware of me. But I quickly came up with a witty reply to his comment.

“Good, because I might have to skip dessert if I want to fit into this dress all night.”

“All night?” Harry quipped. “I sincerely hope you don’t.”

I giggled, pinching his bicep. “You’re naughty.”

He countered with a pinch of his own on my ass. I sniffed his intoxicating cologne and told him he looked delicious too before he grabbed his keys, and we left for adventure number two.

I tried my best not to have the car ride be too filled with awkward silence. Despite my uneasiness about our previous conversation, I was determined to have a good time. I would be leaving in the morning, and I didn’t want to fly home to Texas with a heavy heart.

Harry smiled at me and asked if I wanted to choose the music. Scrolling through his phone, I found a playlist titled Dinner.

“What’s this for?” I questioned.

“What do you think?” he quirked a brow.

“Well, either it’s for dinner parties or you’ve listened to it in the car while taking other women to fancy restaurants.”

Harry let out a loud guffaw. “Or perhaps I just made it ten minutes ago.”

I glared at him before opening the playlist to see the tracks included. It was all music I liked, some of the songs I’d introduced him to like Melody Gardot, some Stevie, Adele, the beautiful songs we’d danced to on the yacht in New York, even some of his own work. All of it was on the mellow side, perfect for a romantic car ride to a romantic dinner.

I threaded my fingers through his and sat back as the music began to play through the speakers. The Buble tune was just about over when Harry turned a corner and pulled up into a circular drive, in front of a stunning building. From first glance it looked like a fancy hotel, but when we stopped and the valet walked around to Harry’s side, I soon realized it was a restaurant.

“Holy crap,” I muttered under my breath as I climbed out of the car and looked up at the building which seemed to shimmer, though I wasn’t sure how.

“What was that, love?” Harry asked with a grin when he met me on my side and reached for my hand.

“Uh...just thinking it’s a good thing I went with the blue dress,” I replied.

Most likely sensing the hesitation in my tone (Harry was good at that), he released my hand and placed his on the small of my back, leaning in to whisper in my ear.

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

I looked up at him then, his eyes dancing, and I immediately felt myself relax. With a light push of his hand, I stepped forward and smiled at the door man who greeted us before we walked into a large lobby. Again, I was reminded of a hotel, or perhaps a concert hall, complete with a staircase in the back. A second man greeted us, recognizing Harry and he pointed us to a room to the left. We were seated quickly at a table near the back and to the right. And just like clockwork, a third man switched places with the second and took our drink order.

“Wow, that was fast!” I exclaimed in awe.

Harry shrugged with a smirk. I knew he recognized it to be one of the perks of being...well, him. Never in my life had I been seated at a restaurant so quickly, let alone given the best table in the joint.

I gazed around the room the best I could, without appearing obvious. It was a gorgeous place. The tables were adorned with candles, and there was an overall candlelight-type glow in the room, yet it didn’t seem so dark I couldn’t read the menu. Something to do with the lighting, I supposed.

I perused the menu, choosing a couple things that sounded appetizing to me, but then wondered if I should just get whatever Harry was getting. I quickly laughed at myself though, dismissing the idea because it wasn’t like it was our first date, or even our first meal together. I was letting my nerves get the better of me.

“What sounds good to you?”

Lifting my eyes from the menu, I saw Harry leaning forward. I almost caught a lump in my throat. His face glowed in the candlelight, his eyes a sparkling green, his lips red as cherries. He was definitely the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.

“Um…” I took a breath and gazed down at the list again just as the waiter returned with our cocktails.

“Are we ready to order?” he sang, his hands behind his back. I noticed he had nothing to write with or on, and I had to hold back a laugh as I recalled a stand-up bit with Ellen Degeneres about that very thing.

“Pardon me!” I coughed, taking a sip of water. I eyed Harry over my glass who came to my aid, bless his heart.

“I think we’ll both have the salmon and the mango salad,” he told the waiter.

“Ah, very good,” he bounced on his heels, took our menus and left with a smile.

“Thank you,” I said after I’d managed to get the cough subsided, but not my embarrassment.

Harry chuckled. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I waved my hand away. “Just got tickled.”

“Someone under your dress?” he quirked a brow. “Under the table?”

I laughed harder when he pretended to search for the culprit underneath the table.

“I’ve heard of ants in your pants, but…”

Suddenly, I reached over and grabbed his wrist. “Stop! I can’t breathe!”

Harry laughed with me then, seeing as he’d made me feel at ease once again. I hastily wiped the moisture from underneath my eyes before taking a few sips of my gin and tonic. He watched me with a grin as he lifted his own glass, taking a slow sip of tequila. Then he just as gradually lowered the glass, his eyes still on me.

“I love you,” he declared plainly.

I almost wished I had a tape recorder, or my phone out so I could have snapped a video of him saying it. Not that I didn’t believe it, mind you. Just the opposite in fact. I believed him with all my heart and soul. I just wished I could have captured that moment in time to hold on to forever.

“I love you, too,” I smiled.

The waiter came by again as soon as my glass had emptied with a fresh refill, even though I hadn’t ordered one. Halfway through it, however, I could tell it was already having an effect on me, so I excused myself to the ladies' room.

As I made my way back to the table, I rush came over me. As I unobtrusively scanned the room, other than a couple people who smiled, I made hardly any eye contact. No one was gawking at me, as if to wonder who the redhead having dinner with Harry Styles was. I realized then that I had been unknowingly afraid they would. Once again, I scolded myself for being so paranoid.

My dinner had arrived by the time I sat down, as had a third gin and tonic, despite the fact that I hadn’t finished the second.

“Is the waiter trying to get me drunk, or is that you?” I joked, lifting my half empty glass.

“Well, the intention was mine,” remarked Harry, raising his tequila, “but I reckon he’s helping.”

We clinked glasses as I giggled, clearly already reaping the benefits of the alcohol. Although I wasn’t looking forward to making multiple trips to the bathroom, I felt good.

Dinner was divine, both the food and the company. Harry and I continued to tease each other, both above and under the table. I had just finished my last bite of salad and was almost through my third cocktail when I noticed Harry looking just past me, his eyes focus on something over my shoulder.

“Something wrong?” I asked him, not daring to turn my head to see for myself.

He exhaled and shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Just someone with their phone out, and I can tell they’re taking pictures.”

“Oh no,” I muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s always bound to happen,” Harry remarked. “I’m used to it, honestly. It would just be nice to have complete privacy for once. Just a meal to ourselves.”

I blushed at the sound of “our”, meaning he included me. It was a small thing, but it meant more to me.

“Well, we are still in public,” I commented, “even if it is an upscale restaurant.”

“Yeah,” he said quickly with his jaw set. Then he shifted his gaze back to me. “No worries. Do you want dessert?”

“Not unless you want this dress to pop off right here at this table,” I quipped.

Harry laughed, and I smiled, happy that I’d lightened the mood.

“I actually wouldn’t mind that one bit,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“God, you’re so...what’s the word? Cheeky?”

With a smirk, that was indeed cheeky, he leaned forward. “I believe the word you’re looking for is horny.”

My face flushed as I giggled again and covered my eyes with my hand. “That too.”

I’d expected Harry to take me home after dinner, especially after that horny remark. And the way his fingertips played on my back when I rose from my chair gave me another hint. But when he led me out of the restaurant and we made it back to the large lobby area, he turned to the left and pulled me toward the massive staircase.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we climbed the steps.

“You’ll see,” he said nonchalantly. “Something I thought you might like.”

At the top of the stairs, Harry guided me through another set of doors and into a large room. I gasped when I realized what it was. Several tables were scattered throughout the room where couples and groups sipped on wine and cocktails. Along the left wall was a long bar, and in the back was a stage where a complete jazz band played. In the center was a dancefloor, more couples swaying to the old standard I recognized.

“They still have places like this?” was my immediate reaction. I had dreamed of being taken dancing at a ballroom, the scene vivid in my mind from watching so many old movies and episodes of The Golden Girls.

I felt Harry shake with a chuckle beside me as he held my hand and gave it a squeeze. The band finished the song they were playing and everyone clapped. Letting go of Harry’s hand, I applauded as well. Then just as they began the next song, Harry leaned over with his hand on my back again and whispered in my ear.

“May I have this dance?”

I realized then that his other hand was held out in front of me, awaiting mine when I accepted, which of course I did. Following him to the dancefloor, I slid my left hand up his arm and let him lead me. Despite seeing this scene unfold in many a late-night movie, I felt somewhat awkward at first, not sure how to move my feet. But Harry swiftly took the reins, pulling me to him and swaying like a tall tree in the breeze. The singer sang low, his deep voice warm like honey as he seemed to be singing just for us, the bass plucking just at the right points, the brass instruments whining to accentuate the emotions rolling through my brain and down my body.

Turning me slightly, I took a gander around the room before my eyes locked with Harry’s. He seemed to be watching me intently, waiting for my words, or perhaps trying to read them on my face.

“This is a wonderful surprise,” I finally said.

His mouth twitched as he began to smile. “I knew you’d like it. Reckoned it was better than going to a nightclub.”

I smiled. “Well, that would’ve been fun, too. But a lot more crowded.”

“No, I prefer this,” Harry commented.

“It’s very romantic,” I agreed.

“Didn’t know I had it in me, did you?” he quipped.

“No, I did.”

Harry’s eyes sparkled as he looked at me. His hand brushing my back as he held me close, I could tell he wanted to kiss me but was hesitant. We were still in public after all, and regardless of how open he wanted to be about our relationship, I suspected he was still cautious of who benefitted from getting the goods. However, we were in a half-empty ballroom, and my guess was that everyone in it was even older than I was.

The band stopped then, and Harry released me as we clapped. When they announced they would be taking five, we made our way to the bar.

As Harry handed me my gin and tonic, I made a mental note that it was cocktail number four of the evening. If we kept this up, I was going to have to pace myself if I planned to make it to the car without wobbly knees, or worse, Harry having to carry me with a sick bucket.

We sat at the bar while we nursed our drinks. I felt Harry glide his hand down my thigh to my knee, pushing up the hem of my dress. He rested his hand there, just above my knee while his fingers continued to play on my skin. I watched him as he lifted his glass to his plump lips, taking a generous sip, the rings on his fingers glistening in the candlelight. I was sure it was partially due to the effects of the alcohol, but I found every single thing about him incredibly sexy. Every movement. Every touch. I wanted him to take me home, but at the same time I was enjoying our evening out along with the anticipation.

Harry continued to flirt with me, making me laugh as well as the bartender who had begun to refer to him as “son”. When the band started up again, he lead me back to the dancefloor.

“You know what this makes me think of?” I mused, my fingers tangling in his curls that brushed his shoulders.

“Hmm?” he sounded, his eyelids heavy.

“Italy,” I replied. “Rome or Venice, some romantic film from the forties where the couples dance all night.”

“Does the man take the woman home after and ravage her?”

“They didn’t have smut in forties movies!” I scoffed. “It was only implied. It had to be classy.”

Harry chuckled, the lowered his head to nuzzle my neck, lightly brushing his lips across it.

“Anyway, I just always wanted to go there,” I said with a sigh.

“Mmm, we should go sometime,” he whispered in my ear.

“Italy in the forties?” I teased, knowing what he meant.

“No, now. Well...not right now...but…” he looked me in the eye then, “maybe after I get back from tour. We could take a holiday to Rome or Venice.”

My legs began to feel like butter at the sound of his voice and his words. Quickly, however, I was brought back to reality.

“Next trip I take will have to be with Jaz and Em,” I remarked. “I worry that I’ve spent too much time away from them as it is. And I promised them Disney World forever ago.”

“That sounds fun, too,” Harry grinned.

I must have given him a look then that made him question.

“What? I like Jaz and Em. And I certainly like Disney.”

With another sigh, I looked down at his chest and back up. “Harry…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really prepared for that?”

“Prepare for what?” he asked incredulously.

“For...Disney World. For taking your girlfriend and her kids on vacation. For being part of that kind of life.”

Harry stared at me for a moment, seeming to conjure up the right words for his response. Truth was, I shouldn’t have asked him. I shouldn’t have had to put him in that situation where he even had to think about it. He was so young. It wasn’t fair to him.

The band finished then, giving us both a narrow escape. As the room applauded, I put my hand on his arm.

“I’m going to the ladies' room,” I said.

“Stacey…” he began, but I shook my head.

“I’ll be right back.”

As soon as I was in the stall, I locked the door and leaned my head against it. I could feel the tears coming so I just let them fall as they may, my shoulders shaking.

I hated myself. I hated myself for wanting more, when there was nothing more to get. I’d been having the most wonderful night, my last night with Harry for a long time and I had to go and ruin it. All I wanted was to enjoy our time together before I had to leave. Why did I have to make a mess of it?

I loved him. I loved him so much my heart ached. I loved him so much I was making my own heart break. I was an idiot.

I heard the bathroom door open and a woman took the stall next to mine. Hastily, I wiped my tears and blew my nose. After relieving myself, I washed my hands in the sink and touched up my lipstick.

“Oh, my dear, you looked wonderful!” exclaimed the older woman who’d stepped out of her stall.

“Excuse me?”

“On the dancefloor,” she beamed as she turned on the faucet next to me. “You and that handsome young man with his arms around you.”

“Oh,” I smiled timidly. “Thank you.”

“I was telling my husband, Steven, that it’s nice to see the young couples come out to dance. We don’t see it as often as we used to.”

I grinned wider, quickly remembering Harold and Millicent in England.

“It’s a lot of fun,” I said. “And I enjoy the music.”

“Oh yes. Now, that was my parents’ music, you know. But I grew up listening to it myself. And nothing like a live band to dance to. It’s very romantic.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” I chuckled.

“What’s his name?” the woman asked me as she dried her hands, throwing me for a loop.

“Um...Harry,” I replied.

“Are you married?”

“No, I’m-”

“Oh, there’s time yet,” she giggled. “How long have you been together?”

I bit my lip and thought for a moment. “Not long.”

“Well…” she patted my shoulder, “not to hurry things along, but that Harry’s a keeper if I do say so myself. I was watching the way he looks at you.”

My cheeks blushed pink.

“Of course,” she added, “you did your share of looking at him, too.” Then she leaned forward and whispered, “And I don’t blame you one bit!”

I laughed again as she held the bathroom door open for me. We walked back to the ballroom together where she waved over her husband, Steven and introduced us. Catching his eye at the bar, I grinned at Harry who weaved through the tables to get to us.

“Harry, this is...oh, I’m sorry, I don’t believe I got your name,” I addressed the woman.

“Joanne!” she beamed. “And this is my husband, Steven!”

Harry graciously shook both of their hands before placing his on my back once again, like a magnet snapping into place. I realized then that it was a safe place. As long as we had physical contact, I felt okay.

“And what is your name, dear?” Joanne asked me.

“Stacey.”

“Well, Stacey and Harry,” she sang, taking a hand from each of us and joining them together inside her own, “I wish you nothing but happiness!”

“Thank you,” we said in unison.

Joanne turned to her beloved Steven and they gave one last wave before leaving the ballroom. Harry raised a brow and looked at me.

“We met in the ladies' room,” I shrugged.

“You seem to be in a better mood,” he commented. “What happened in there?”

I giggled. “Nothing. She was just friendly. She said we looked wonderful dancing together. Made me feel good.”

A smile spread across Harry’s face just as the band began to play “Stardust”. I put my hand over my heart and Harry held his out for me.

“Last dance?” he asked.

I nodded, taking his hand. Once on the dancefloor, I laid my head on his shoulder, taking in a deep breath of his cologne. I could feel his heartbeat underneath my palm as I placed it on his chest, my other arm around his neck. His hands tickled my back as he ran them up and down before deciding to rest them on my waist.

“Stacey,” I heard him murmur, “about earlier…”

“Shh,” I sounded. “Forget about it.”

“But see...baby, that’s our problem. We don’t finish our thoughts. We just let them go and forget about it until something comes up again. You asked me a question.”

“Harry…” I lifted my head.

“No, let me answer,” he insisted, his face stern.

I opened my mouth, but quickly shut it. “Okay.”

“Maybe…” he began, our bodies still swaying to the music, “maybe I’m not fully prepared. Not in the way you’re asking.”

I swallowed hard, looking back down at his chest.

“But I am prepared,” he added, lifting my chin with his finger, “to love you the best I can. And whatever that includes to prove to you that I do.”

“Harry,” I said, “I don’t want you to have to prove anything to me. I know you love me.”

“Then why do I sometimes feel like you doubt me?”

I let out a deep breath. “Oh, sugar, I don’t doubt you. I do believe you. It’s just...my crazy mind being stupid and I...seriously, let’s just forget it. At least for tonight. It’s not important. All that’s important is that we have this time together now.”

“Yeah?” he asked, returning his hands to my waist.

“Mmhm. And I don’t want tonight to end. I’m having the most wonderful time with you. You’re so amazing, I feel so in love. I-”

With a slight tilt of his head, Harry interrupted me with a kiss. It was soft at first, a light touch of his lips on mine. But he soon deepened it, our lips intertwined like puzzle pieces fitting perfectly. I felt my entire body ignite when his tongue entered my mouth, and I grabbed hold of his curls on the back of his neck. The song had probably changed by then, but I barely even noticed.

“We um...should probably…” he breathed when he released my lips.

I only nodded.

The car ride home was quiet sans for the music playing at a low volume. Harry’s hand had returned to my knee, tracing non-existent patterns while he drove with the other. I began to play with his fingers and rings, making him smile. I felt chills all over from both his touch and that sexy grin. Lifting his hand, I brought his first digit to my lips. I kissed it lightly at first, then gave it a sweet kitten-like lick before putting it in my mouth. When Harry chuckled low, I shifted in my seat, so I was facing him and did the same to the second finger.

“God, that’s hot,” he groaned.

I continued my finger seduction with each remaining digit. When I made it to his thumb, he cupped my chin.

“We’re almost home, baby,” he announced. “And I’m so hard. Let’s finish this in bed.”

My mouth watered at the idea of his erection, and part of me wanted to reach over to his lap and feel it for myself, but I kept my restraint and sat back in my seat. Besides, I didn’t want to make him drive off the road, though I did giggle to myself at the thought.

“What?” he asked with a smirk.

“Nothing,” I said, my tongue grazing my top lip.

“Now who’s being cheeky?”

“You mean horny?” I teased.

Harry was nearly biting through his bottom lip by the time we pulled into his garage. I hastily unbuckled my seatbelt and hopped out of the car, not waiting for him to fully turn it off. Meeting him at the door, I watched as he unlocked it. My first instinct was to race to the stairs, but then I remembered the full art of seduction is to take one’s time.

Backing into the kitchen as he turned on the light, I leaned against the counter to remove my shoes. Dangling them from my finger by the strap, I eyed Harry who took off his jacket and draped it across a chair. With hungry eyes, he came towards me and pulled me to him.

“Shall we go upstairs?” I inquired as he stared at me. I could tell he was good at this game too.

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, his gaze never leaving mine.

Neither of us made a move, for the stairs nor anywhere else. I was about to pry myself out of his grip and make a run for it when I came to my senses. As much as I loved the idea of a sexy cat and mouse game, this night was supposed to be special. I didn’t want to get emotional right then and start crying, but this could quite possibly be...my last night with Harry. I didn’t want to think that; that we’d never see each other again in this way. But I still didn’t know what the future was going to hold for us. I wanted this night to count.

“Make love to me, Harry,” I said.

He seemed to search my face for a moment, trying to read my eyes until he simply nodded and said, “Yes.”

He guided me to the stairs, turning out the lights on his way. I took his hand again as he led me to the bedroom. He walked around the bed and opened a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a lighter. He lit the candle there, then came back around and lit the candle on the other side.

“Is that enough?” he asked as he flipped the light switch.

I nodded, reaching behind me for the zipper of my dress.

“No, let me,” he insisted.

His amazing hands wound around my waist before they reached the zipper and pulled it down. As my dress fell to my feet, Harry leaned down and kissed my shoulder, his lips sliding up slowly to my neck. My breath caught in my throat when his soft lips met my ear and his fingers found the fastener of my bra. Pushing the straps off my shoulders, Harry let it drop next to my dress.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled when his hands cupped my breasts, his thumbs grazing over my already erect nipples.

Up until then I was reveling in his touch, his eagerness to undress me. But now I was needing to touch his naked skin too.

Tugging on his shirt, I unbuttoned it with determination. Harry grinned at me when I’d finished, my hands quickly roaming up his tattooed torso. Shrugging out of the sleeves, he dropped the shirt on top of my dress.

“Why does it always seem like you have on way more clothes?” I quipped as I pulled on his belt.

“To torture you, obviously,” he smirked.

I chuckled lightly as I finally got his slacks unfastened and he stepped out of his shoes. Then to give me a hand, he removed his own pants while I shimmied out of my panties.

“C’mere, baby,” he beckoned, guiding me to the bed.

The candlelight bounced off the walls as we lay together, side by side. The smell of lavender and something else I couldn’t pinpoint relaxed me, filling my senses. Harry looked into my eyes as his fingers delicately grazed my back.

“I wanna make you feel how much I love you,” he declared. “I don’t want you to ever forget.”

He kissed me then, not waiting for my response which was just as well. I probably would have said something stupid. Rolling me onto my back, he kissed me harder and deeper. I wrapped my legs around him, needing to feel him as closely as possible.

We kissed for a long time until he lifted his head and said, “I love you so much, Stacey.”

“I love you, Harry.”

Then he shifted his weight and slipped himself inside me, completely, my head reeling. I could feel him deep, so deep already. My toes curled as he pulled back and did it again, hitting that spot.

“Holy shit,” I cursed, swallowing hard when he did it a third time.

“You feel me?” he whispered.

I shut my eyes and nodded, the only response I could manage at that moment. I braced myself for another thrust, but instead, Harry began to move inside me more gently and fluidly. I opened my eyes then and saw his looking back at me. He grabbed my thigh and lifted it as he licked his lips. I held onto his arms that were on either side of my head and watched him as he fucked me.

Yes, he was making love to me, because he loved me. But he was also trying to prove something, which I didn’t mind at all. He was an astounding lover, and we both knew it.

When he sped up his movements, I could feel myself getting close to the edge. A moan escaped my lips which only seemed to fuel him. He held my hands down as he kissed me hard, his hips pumping. I moaned again into his mouth before he made his way down my neck.

He pulled out for a little bit, only to bring his lips to my breasts, his tongue swirling over my nipples. I bucked my hips, needing to feel the friction again. Harry sensed my discomfort and chuckled under his breath.

“Missing something, baby?” he teased, gliding his finger across my slit.

“Please,” I begged.

“You want my finger? Or my mouth?”

“Neither,” I shook my head.

Harry raised his brows. “Really? Nothing?”

“Just you,” I whined, reaching for his hips.

With another cheeky laugh, he returned to his post. “God, you’re so sexy,” he said as he took hold of my thighs.

He slid in with ease again, only this time he was the one who shut his eyes. He stalled for a moment before letting a breath out through his nose. Then he began to find a steady rhythm, gliding in and out. Just as I reached the same point I’d reached earlier, his face began to change. He let out a deep groan, and I knew he was close too.

“Harry…” I breathed.

I locked my legs around him again so that he only had a small area of movement to make. He moaned in my ear, and I thought I would come undone.

“Oh my God!” I screamed.

“Fuck yeah, baby, I’m so close.”

We came together after a few more thrusts, my legs shaking and my entire body on fire. With a delicate whine and a final breath of exhaustion, Harry collapsed on top of me.

“Wow,” he breathed. “That was...amazing.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It felt...different,” he added.

I froze. “Um...bad different?”

“Fuck no. Just...different somehow.” He lifted his head to look at me. “Did it to you?”

I chewed on the inside of my lip. “Um... I guess so.”

“Maybe because...you’re leaving.”

“Maybe so.”

He rolled off of me then and onto his pillow. We both stared at the ceiling, catching our breath and watching the flicker of the candles dancing.

“Harry, I’m gonna miss you so-”

“Shh!” he interrupted. “Don’t say it. Not right now. Please.”

I turned my head to look at him. He continued his focus on the ceiling. My eyes began to water, and I blamed it on my fatigue. But when I began to tremble and I sniffled a few times, I couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Hey,” Harry cooed, turning onto his side and taking me in his arms. “Shhh. Don’t cry, baby. It’ll be okay.”

I buried my face in his chest as he soothed me, rubbing my back.

“I love you, Stacey,” he declared with a promise underneath. “We’ll be fine.”

I believed him when he said he loved me. It was the other part I wasn’t so sure about.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK | PATREON

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day fourteen

"Let's try this."

original fiction (power payback) (continuation of yesterday's prompt)

word count: 1059

Sprout tapped her fingers against the paper cup of coffee in her hands. She wasn’t thirsty, but she’d grabbed it when she came in to have something to hold. 

That had been a mistake. It put her gloves on full display in the circle of chairs, unable to hide. In this room, however, she doubted they caught the same glances they had the few times she’d had to leave the house before this. 

Not all the teens in the room showed the mark of their burnouts. The ones who did were kinetics like her; the pyro whose face was covered in partially healed burns, the electro whose arms bore Litchenberg scars up to her neck. She seemed particularly upset to be there, more angry than anything. When Sprout met her eyes, she bared her teeth. 

The counselor took the last empty seat, next to the pyro with the face burns. He looked out at the small selection of teens. “Thank you all for coming today. I see a new face, so I’ll introduce myself. My name is Dr. Lynwood, but you can all call me Jerry.” 

Sprout shrunk in her seat as he turned in her direction. He extended a hand. “Would you mind starting us off?” 

“Um. Hi.” She dropped her hands, still holding the cup, to her lap. God, she hadn’t expected to be put on the spot so soon. “Daisy Marotto. Sprout. That’s what everyone calls me. Botanokinetic. Formerly. Ha.” 

“How long ago was your burnout?” Jerry asked her. 

“It was late February. So about three months ago.”

“You don’t have to talk about what happened if you’re not ready. But can I ask how you’re feeling about it?” 

“Lost.” The word, four little letters, felt like she had to force them out of her throat. “Like I no longer have the one thing that made me me.”

He nodded serenely. “Feelings of loss, especially loss of identity, is common for many Talents who’ve experienced a burnout. But being a Talent is not your whole identity. Let’s try this: what are some other qualities about yourself that you like?” 

“Uh…” As she tried to think, she ignored the electro girl’s chuckle. “I’m a good student. Even though I’ve had to miss school since it happened. My friends think I’m pretty funny. And nice.” Sprout decided not to mention that those friends were just Magni and Basil, who wasn’t even talking to her right now.  

“That’s good,” Jerry said. “Dwelling on the things you still have, that’s a good way to handle those feelings of being lost.” 

The electro girl raised her hand. “Jerry?” 

“You don’t have to raise your hand, Kitty.” 

“Sorry. I always forget.” Kitty smacked her gum in a way that made the therapist flinch. “Aren’t you always telling us that shoving those feelings to the side isn’t good in the long run?” 

“This isn’t me asking Sprout to shove her feelings to the side. I am saying that focusing on the positive can help her move on and find something that she can identify with.”

Kitty flopped back into her chair, scratching back against the floor. “Fine. Doesn’t sound like that to me.” 

“Well, how would you advise Sprout on how to handle those emotions?” Jerry asked. 

She turned to look at Sprout. Her hair was a mess of yellow and red dyed sections, the brown peeking through at the roots. “What you’ve got now, that’s kinda boring. You’re just gonna be miserable if you focus on how good of a student you are. Find something new-” She glanced back at Jerry and added, “Not to try and fill the hole with dangerous behavior or something illegal don’t worry, Jerry-” before looking back at her. Her hazel eyes were intense as she said, “Find something new that will make you wanna keep living life.” 

Something new. It was those scary two words that taunted her. Once, she’d had her future sorted out - following her mother’s footsteps. But Kitty made it sound like it wasn’t some frightening concept, but new fuel - something to keep her going. 

“That was some good advice, Kitty. Thank you.” Jerry chuckled. “Though I’m glad you added the part about not doing anything illegal.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what gets you sent to juvie, so-“ She flashed Sprout a grin, tossing her multicolored hair. 

She was suddenly wishing she’d worn something nicer than sweats. 

At least she was out of the hot seat when Jerry turned to the shy-looking girl two seats from her, who looked like she wanted to vanish into her hoodie. Literally. 

Sprout let the rest of the meeting go by in a blur, listening to the variety of her peers. The shy girl, Cresida, was a camoflaguer who’d burnt herself out hiding too long, while the pyro, Bernie (and she thought her name was bad), was slowly urged by Jerry to open up more about the lead-up to her burnout. 

She was just glad she didn’t have to talk about the incident with Kent yet. Hopefully, Primrose, her mother, and Dr. Merlo would be satisfied by her progress before it had to come to that. 

Finally, the meeting was called to a close. Sprout was ready to duck out and call Primrose that she was ready to leave, but Kitty cut her off. 

“Hey there, newbie,” Kitty said. 

“Hey,” Sprout said, shutting her flip phone. 

Smacking her gum, she grinned. “Don’t look so scared. I’m not gonna take your lunch money.” She looked her up and down. Mostly up, since the girl was half a foot shorter than her. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a nerd.” 

Sprout crossed her arms. “I’m not a nerd.”

“‘My best quality is that I’m a good student’,” Kitty said. “That you?” 

“Okay, maybe I am a bit of a nerd.” 

She extended her phone. “Gimme your phone. Don’t worry, I won’t blow it up.” 

Sprout did so, though reluctantly. “Why?” 

“I’m adding my number. In case you need someone to talk to.” Kitty pressed in her number and handed it back to her. “Or need someone to hotwire a car for you. I’m your girl for either.” 

She chuckled. “Alrighty.” 

Kitty took a cookie from the table near the door, before stepping out into the hall. “See you around, Sprout.” 

Okay. Maybe these meetings wouldn’t be so bad after all.  

[soulofapatrick]

Dance with me - Jesse x reader

Summary: Both Jesse and Y/N decide to dance with each other to make their intended person jealous but find something out about themselves

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: none that I can think of 

Y/N’s POV

“They’re so perfect together, aren’t they?” I say to Jesse with fake disgust in my voice as he joins me, beer in hand and honestly look fine as fuck in a dark grey long sleeved henley and tight jeans. He’s got that swagger of confidence that adds to it all, especially when he leans on one elbow next to me. People always have their eyes on Jesse wherever he goes, being one of the only Asian Americans in Jackson and it always makes me laugh at how every gets surprised at the smooth southern twang in his accent. He takes after his mother more except the darker tone of skin, almost a light caramel in the light of the barn.

“Yeah they are.” His voice is low and full of pain and I notice he’s staring at Dina and Ellie dancing while I was staring at Teddy who is dancing with Emily, both of us seemingly pining for one of them that we can’t have. Dina and Jesse broke up last week and it seems like her and Ellie definitely have a thing for each other while Theo doesn’t even know who I am, “Theo still not paying attention?” 

“Nope,” I pop the ‘p’ and he laughs, his smiles gently and I’m blurting out, “We could dance?” 

“We could.” He nods, neither of us moving as he waits for me to reformulate my thoughts and try again, cognac eyes soft and fond. 

“You want Dina to notice you’re happy so dance with me,” I say and something crosses his face too quickly for me to be able to read before he’s putting his beer down and grabbing my hand. It catches me off guard because Jesse’s always touching me whether it’s shoulder to shoulder or either of our fingers brushing the other’s arm or thigh, it’s never been hand holding. His long fingers curling around my hand before he’s spinning me and catching me by the hips, pulling me close and suddenly we’re dancing. 

It’s freeing, as if this is the first time I’ve been able to relax in such a long time and just let Jesse and the music consume me. The song changing to a slightly slower one has Jesse pulling me closer than before and he begins swaying me instead, hands having a firm but comforting grip on my hips. I snake my arms around his shoulders, taking in the others dancing around us. Most of the friend groups have steps off to leave the couples dancing and I spot Ellie and Dina watching us and talking. They’re smiling and laughing still so turn my attention back to Jesse, raising my eyes to meet his as if he’s been watching me this whole time. 

My face flushes but unable to look away from those hooded eyes, suddenly feeling weak at the knees when I realise we’re so close I can make out the light dusting of freckles across his cheeks and nose that I had never seen before. They blend into his currently tanned complexion so I’ve never noticed them or been close enough to notice them. Strands of his  hair falls in his eyes, curling at the ends and it makes me think he should never get a haircut because this slightly longer than normal look is really fucking hot. I can’t help myself when I reach up and brush it aside slightly, hearing Jesse’s breath hitch as we continue to sway. He’s leaning down, hesitating, until his nose bumps mine but he doesn’t come any closer than that, as if afraid. I’m afraid too, not wanting to ruin our friendship because I’d be lost without Jesse, I really would lose myself if he stopped talking. 

I would lose myself. Oh. 

“Y/N,” My name rolls off of his tongue in a whisper so quiet it sounds like a promise. He’s asking for something, he’s asking for everything. I’m tilting my head to the side and it’s as if we were made for each other the way his lips fit against mine in a hesitant and cautious kiss. It’s nothing like how others have kissed me. No, Jesse’s kiss is all consuming and it’s like nothing else matters more than the gentle movement against my lips or the small smile curved into them. 

“Fuck,” I breathe, as we separate, and I’m watching his face for any signs of regret but there’s only what can be described as being conflicted. We’re bumped into by Ellie and Dina before either of us can say or do anything, the pair beaming at us. I’m suddenly not in Jesse’s arms but Ellie is dragging me away from him so he can talk to Dina, making my heart drop. I guess Jesse gets what he wants: Dina. 

“You two are cute,” Ellie nudges me as we head to the bar to get more drinks pointing a finger in another direction before adding, “You know Tommy is going to be a lot stricter with Jesse now.” 

“What?” I ask, following where she’s pointed to. Dad’s standing with Joel and Maria and he waves at me with that look on his face. He’s going to be up to something, that look only ever means bad news in the form of pranks and teasing. It has me groaning and laying my head on Ellie’s shoulder as she orders our drinks with a light laugh. 

Tommy had me a year before the outbreak with some woman he doesn’t remember. I apparently just appeared on his doorstep with a shitty note but much to everyone who knew Tommy’s surprise he stepped up and raised me. We did lose each other five years after the outbreak when I was ten but Uncle Joel kept me safe and taught me how to survive in this crazy world. He didn’t want to bring me with him and Tess when having to smuggle Ellie but I snuck along and now I’ve very happy I did. If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have found Dad again or found a family in everyone here in Jackson. 

Ellie’s pushing two glasses into my hands and I’m following her to the table Dina and Jesse have migrated to. I sit down between Jesse and Dina, Ellie having pulled her chair between the exes with a wink in my direction, while Dina takes what I’m guessing is her drink from my grasp with a soft smile. A surprisingly smooth hand lands on my thigh, thumb beginning to rub comforting circles there and I take a swig of my drink. Ah, rum and coke. Ellie knows me so well. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, letting the sounds of everyone around me having fun and letting lose relax the tension in my shoulders before I’m opening my eyes again. There’s an anxious feeling in the back of my mind but I can’t grasp what it’s for or if it’s for anything as Jesse’s acting like we’re still best friends and the three of them aren’t acting any different. 

“I’ve gotta get up early so I should be heading off,” Jesse breaks the story Dina and Ellie were telling us, having not actually heard any of it, “Let me walk you home?”

“S-sure.” I can’t help but blush at the look the girls give me as I chug the rest of my drink and climb to feet, saying our goodbyes to the two before I’m following Jesse out. It’s absolutely fucking freezing outside and my dumbass didn’t bring a jacket so I try to act casual as I wrap my arms around myself trying to conserve as much body heat as possible. Beside me Jesse just chuffs fondly and a warm jacket is being place over my shoulders. He doesn’t say anything when I glance at him but there’s a knowing smile in his plump lips as his hand seeks mine. I don’t know why my heart is racing when Jesse is always touching me but this… it feels different, like there’s been a barely noticeable shift. 

“Y/N.” My name sounds like plea when we stop outside mine and he’s tugging me to face him. He’s wearing the same look as earlier before we… He’s ducking down. Sparks fly when his lips connect with mine. They’re warm and welcoming, parting slightly to test new ground and his tongue ghosts over the seam of my lips. My backs against my door and our bodies pressed together, breathing heavily as if this was the most natural thing in the world. It’s as if I can taste our shared breath, feel the thud of our combined heartbeats as we fumble to open the door, practically falling through it. 

“Jesse,” I step away, body immediately yearning to have his firm one pressed against me again, “We can’t… I-“ 

He’s walking towards me and I’m walking backwards until my hips hit the table and he’s crowding me. There’s space between our bodies as one of his hands comes up to cup my cheek while the other rests on the table by my hip, “For someone so smart you really are dumb.” He chuckles lowly, resting his forehead against mine and letting his eyes slip shut as if he’s internally fighting something, “Dina was never the one for me. She…” He sighs, “She was a distraction from who I truly wanted.” 

“W-who did you want?” My voice comes out shaky and barely above a whisper, flicking my eyes up to meet those bright ones as I want to hear him say it before I can believe it. He doesn’t say it but instead captures my lips into a softer kiss that has me pulling his body flush against mine, “I need you to say it.” 

“You,” His strong hands grip under my thighs before I’m suddenly sat on the table with Jesse fitting perfectly between my legs, “It was always you.” 

“I don’t want to rush this. I’m not-“ 

“We’ll take it as slow as you want. As much or as little as you want.” He promises and I’m wrapping my legs around his waist. He laughs sweetly before kissing me again. I never want to stop kissing him, still surprised by this turn of events, but I don’t… I don’t want more than to make out with him yet. I want this to be slow and not rushed like most people have done since it’s ‘the end of the world’. I want it to be special and I think Jesse gets that because he’s pulling away again, trailing sweet kisses down my neck. 

“Jesse,” I love saying his name, especially the way he reacts to it, “You’ve got patrol.” 

“Yeah,” he runs a hand through his hair, before rubbing the back of his neck and trying to step away but my legs are still tightly wrapped around his waist. I don’t want him to go, not yet anyway, “Should I stay?” 

“Please.” I nod, feeling all shy and nervous as if this isn’t my best friend. Nothing’s going to change between us except the fact we can kiss each other whenever we like but it’s as if our friendship was destined to flow into a relationship it’s just we were too blind too see it. 

Jesse pulls me from the table and to the bedroom, knowing exactly where everything is as he’s been around enough times. Some of his own things are around the house, along with Ellie and Dina’s things. My house is always the one we go to because it’s so cosy and everyone knows my doors always open for them. The three of them have a drawer in our room full of their clothes and they have spare backpack in my wardrobe just in case they crash here. It means I don’t even bat an eyelid when Jesse goes over to his drawer, pulling out a shirt but my breath does hitch a little when he hold it out for me. Such a small and simple act meaning so much to me and he knows it. 

I turn away from him, quickly kicking off my jeans and boots, pulling my shirt over my head and sliding my bra off. His eyes are piercing through my back as he tries to keep his head turned away as I pull his shirt over my head but he obviously struggles with that. His shirt reaches just above my knees with how tall he is and it’s perfect, smelling heavenly and just like Jesse. 

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around my waist and pull me flush against his chest as if we haven’t cuddled before. Jesse is always the one I go to if I have a nightmare, I don’t know how he does it but when those well defined arms wrap me up I feel as if nothing in the world could ever touch me. Maybe, I’ve liked Jesse back all this time but it’s been pushed away by my subconscious because he’s my best friend and Ellie was always able to rid me of the nightmares too. I never took the time to tell the difference between my bond with Jesse and with Ellie to tell that there was something more behind Jesse’s actions. 

“I can hear you thinking,” delicate lips brush over the back of my neck, pulling me back to now where Jesse has wrapped his long frame around the back of mine in a spooning cuddle. It makes me wrap Jesse’s other hand that isn’t on my waist around me and I’m covering both his hands with mine knowing I’m safe and I can go to sleep without a worry in the world because Jesse’s there. 

I’m woken by the body stirring behind me, a soft groan leaving his lips as he rolls onto his back and he’s mumbling a sleep filled, “Good morning baby.” 

“GET THE FUCK UP! PATROL STARTS IN TEN!” Ellie’s yelling through the front door, banging her fists against the door to make sure we’re awake and Jesse’s jumping up. He has to talk to Maria before patrol so he knows what to tell his team, being one of the leaders. I just watch as he scrambles about for clothes as he slept in just his boxers. He’s dressed in minutes and I’m climbing out of bed, dressing myself as he runs to the living room and pulls on his boots. His eyes are wide and panicked as he hates to disappoint Maria and I think there’s an added fear now as Tommy and Maria saw us kissing last night which means they probably saw us leave together too. 

“Get going, I’ll bring you pack of things, Maria’s waiting.” I squeeze his arm reassuringly and he nods, heading for the door. He hesitates then comes back, kissing me breathless before he’s swinging the door open and Ellie’s telling him to hurry up. I watch the pair disappear around the corner before going back to finish getting dressed and grabbing one of the spare packs from my wardrobe. It’s already filled with supplies like water and variations of dried foods so all I really have to add is a thermos of hot coffee with extra milk for Jesse and some perishables from my fridge that I know he’ll love. 

The walk from mine to the gates, past the stables is refusing, the cold wind doing a really fucking good job at waking me up fully. Everyones there when I approach, Jesse giving his usual speech, “You all know the drill. Run your routes. Mark your log books. Clear any infected you see. You run into anything you can't handle, you come back. Be smart about it.” He catches my gaze as I make my way over, giving Ellie’s horse - Shimmer - a pat before handing Jesse his pack. He smiles sweetly at me as I take Indiana’s reins from Chase - the stable boy - so Jesse can mount. What I don’t expect is for Jesse to grab my face and press a kiss to my slightly parted lips before he gets on with grace and ease. 

“Come back to me alive.” I squeeze his leg tightly before stepping back as the others gallop off to do their patrol rounds while Jesse lingers a moment longer, sending me a reassuring smile and a hope for more.

“I promise.”

[saintsenara]

enchanter's nightshade merope gaunt/tom riddle sr. teen | 1.4k words

it is hard to come by circaea lutetiana - enchanter’s nightshade - in london, especially as the summer is dying and the trees are preparing to snake-skin shed their greenery. in little hangleton the plant grows everywhere, a woodland carpet ready for the taking, ready to be simmered into that mother-of-pearl liquid, that bewitching elixir, which had brought her a brief glimpse of a happier life the day she ran from the ramshackle prison in which she had been raised, her hand in tom’s long, thin one. 

this piece was written for the incredible @broomsticks [leftsidedown on ao3], a truly admirable indulger of my nonsense and a wonderful fandom friend, as part of @hprarepairshorts summer wishlist event [you can read the other fics in the collection here].

author's notes under the cut

leftsidedown had asked for merope gaunt/tom riddle sr., which naturally brought me running. it would wrong to say that these two are a favourite pairing - that, to me, implies a degree of wholesomeness which is simply not present in the reality of their relationship, and the rape and sexual slavery which defines it - but they are a pairing i find fascinating and very moving to explore.

this fic takes a look at something which i've often wondered about: when and why did the love potion which merope was using to control tom sr. stop working? in canon, dumbledore offers his own speculation, rooted in the idea that merope’s love for her husband made her decide to stop giving him the potion. i take a different view of things here.

because i think that the denial of merope’s agency implicit in a decision to handwave her treatment of tom away as rooted primarily in love is really problematic - not only in how it fails to acknowledge tom’s victimhood [something highly present in the canon narrative, which never treats him as suffering any long-term effects of his experience and which criticises him for failing to take an interest in his son], but in how it fails to acknowledge merope’s own complexity.

after all, she is heavily implied in canon to be the victim of sexual violence herself - morfin’s jealousy of tom sr., and the fact that he tells tom jr. that her relationship with another man "dishonoured" him, suggests this - at the hands of her father and/or brother. she cannot be somebody who can meaningfully understand that what she’s doing is rape - not least because she can be presumed to have no understanding of consent or bodily autonomy herself - and she cannot be somebody who has ever been happy or had the chance to do something of her own volition. i think she must sincerely believe that what she does to tom will make her happy - but i think she must also know that it will not automatically make him so [something i’ve written about in another merope-centric piece the shack at the end of the lane].

i prefer to see her as somebody who is fully aware that her feelings for tom are not reciprocated, who is willing to accept that because of what the relationship gives to her and her only, and who knows that she will have to spend the rest of their marriage keeping him drugged.

except that isn’t as easy as she might have once believed.

i cannot imagine that the elder riddles accepted tom’s sudden marriage - which must also provide an explanation for why he becomes something of a homebody when he returns to his parents. that the riddles’ disapproval would have a material impact is mentioned in canon only after tom leaves merope, when she becomes destitute, with the implication that, when tom was still drugged, they were financially stable. enchanter’s nightshade, in contrast, suggests that tom and merope found themselves on the breadline almost the minute they married - and that it was this running out of money that lead to merope being unable to keep her husband controlled with amortentia.

this is expressed through a theme which runs through the piece - that of tom and merope both feeling disjointed in london. in both the shack at the end of the lane and the snow child [another merope-centric piece], i write little hangleton as a folk-horror setting. the idea that it feels like the sort of place where witches might lurk in hedgerows is key to tom’s bewitchment. in london, with its modernity and excess, he is a very different person. as is merope, who can no longer harvest the flowers needed to mix up her love potion by taking a few short steps from the gaunts’ shack, but instead is forced to buy them from city apothecaries with money she doesn’t have.

there is a second theme which runs through the piece - the unborn tom riddle jr. that tom sr. is very like his son is a favourite trope of mine - and the long hands and colour-changing eyes and arrogance mentioned throughout enchanter’s nightshade are all things shared with the canonical voldemort.

but the piece also explores the idea that tom jr. was wanted and longed for and eagerly anticipated. as i’ve said in the notes to the shack at the end of the lane, and the notes to my tom-centric piece, the velveteen rabbit, i loathe the idea that merope didn’t want to live for her son - and, as a result of this, i also dislike the implication of canon that his conception was a consequence of the marriage, but not necessarily one either of his parents wanted. the merope of enchanter’s nightshade - knitting her son a blanket she will never finish [she will in the afterlife] - wanted to stay alive and raise him, and she wanted his father to love him.

even as she knew he didn’t love her.

[iwriteasfotini]

OLIWITS Excerpt from TBOF Chapter I

Excerpt from Our Love is Written in the Stars: The Bonds of Friendship, Chapter I - Just Another Summer Day

James was airborne. He could tell how fast he was flying by the wind streaming through his hair. He clutched the bright red quaffle under his left arm, steering his Nimbus 1000 with his right. As it always did when he was playing quidditch, time seemed to move both very slowly and extremely fast. James heard a bludger whistling in his direction and rolled at precisely the right moment. 

Another red and gold clad player moved into position on his right and James flung the quaffle in their direction. He could hear the crowd chanting “Gryff-In-Dor Lions-Roar” complete with a chorus of roaring. James dropped then circled to the right as another chaser flew high and moved left. The quaffle flew his direction and he caught it. He was within scoring range. “Gryff-In-Dor Lions-Roar!” 

All of a sudden the keeper of the opposing team shifted in midair, transforming into a huge black dragon which spewed fire directly at him. James shot up like an arrow, then zigged and zagged, looping back around to face the hoops again. The dragon’s wing span blocked all three hoops at once, but if he flew lower and got just the right angle…

The quaffle flew through the left hoop and an ear splitting gong rang through the air. The dragon roared in displeasure, spewing fire which all the players were now swerving to avoid. But the crowd had gone wild at the goal. 

“Potter clap-clap-clap Potter clap-clap-clap.” A new chant filled the stadium. James soared through the air with his fists raised. The dragon emitting three short jets of fire on each clap-clap-clap. And as he looked at the stands James saw the freckled face and bright red hair of Lily Evans. She was shrieking and jumping up and down. He collided with another player and all went dark. 

“Oi! What the hell!” James shouted bolting upright to find himself tangled in bedding and unable to make out anything but fuzzy colorful blurs. Then he received another whap across the face from something puffy and smooth. 

“I woke up bloody freezing you pig, you are lucky I didn’t lose my todger or any toes.” Whap.

Even though he couldn’t see, James grabbed the pillow this time and tugged hard, grunting a bit as Sirius tumbled down on top of him. He lunged forward, attempting to smoosh Sirius into the mattress. 

“You wanker! What did you have to wake me up like that for?”

All he got back was muffled exclamations, so he let Sirius lift his head. 

“Because you stole all the blankets again. I think I have hypothermia!”

“What the hell is hypothermia?” James cried while he grabbed a pillow and attempted to smother Sirius again. 

Sirius kicked and flailed, finally rolling away. 

“It means I nearly froze to death!” he shouted

“Maybe if you wore some pajamas you wouldn’t be so cold!”

“Maybe if you wore some pajamas you wouldn’t have to steal all the covers.”

“Maybe if you didn’t keep falling asleep in my bed you could be toasty warm with all your own covers!”

“Maybe if you didn’t keep making me come into your bed at all hours of the night, I would sleep in my own bed.”

There was a tap at the door and both boys leapt out of bed, scrambling to find clothes. But it was no use. 

The door swung open and Euphemia Potter stuck her head round. 

“I heard you were up! Breakfast is hot. Inta nērattil cila āṭaikaḷai aṇiyuṅkaḷ.” And she retreated. Wear some clothes this time.

“See,” James chided, “even am'mā wants you to put some clothes on.”

“Both of you,” his mother called, “I’m tired of counting your ribs every morning!”

Sirius dashed from the room. “Oi! Mrs P I’ll have you know I’ve gained two pounds this summer.” 

James could hear his mother laughing in the hall, “Sirius, go put some trousers on before Lark mistakes you for a candlestick and tries to set your hair on fire.” 

Sirius grumbled his way back into the room and went to stand in front of the full length mirror near the closet. 

“Are we really that skinny?”

James came to stand beside him. They were nearly the same height, Sirius was a bit taller. And standing in only their pants, their frames looked nearly identical. It was just possible to discern a bit of muscle on Jame’s frame, due to his diligent training regime. And of course Sirius’ skin was alabaster, while James was as dark as a chocolate frog. 

“Look,” said Sirius, turning and pointing to a random spot on his chest. “See there, I’ve got some hair coming in.”

“Wait, I need to get my magnifier,” James said looking around frantically. 

Sirius shoved him, and James shoved him right back. 

“At least my mum didn’t have to sit me down and tell me I’d better shave off that disgusting caterpillar under my nose if I ever wanted to get a girlfriend,” goaded Sirius. 

“As if you will ever need to shave before we graduate!” James threw back.

“I don’t want to be a yeti anyhow.”

 “I am not a yeti! You are jealous because I look more manly than you.”

“I look plenty like a man. I’m sorry if your standards aren’t attuned to the delicate and refined masculinity of the House of Black.”

“Forgive me ‘your majesty.’ Allow me to brush your luscious locks and apply just a hint of  rouge to your sickly pale cheeks.”

“It’s called being fair skinned, and I’ll have you know I have the clearest skin in the entirety of Gryffindor house.” 

This was a point James could not contend. For Sirius truly did have the most incredibly smooth skin and James had never, and he meant never, seen even a hint of a pimple on his best friend's face. If Sirius were a muggle, he could make a career as a child model, though James would never admit this. 

As it was,  Sirius was already expert at putting his good looks to use in the wizarding world. The boys pulled on sweats and shrugged into hooded jumpers which hung off their wiry shoulders. The good thing about being similarly sized was they could share clothes. And they did. Sirius sharing more of James’ things than the other way around, to the point that James himself could not remember who owned some of the garments Sirius wore these days. 

They sped from the room, thundering down the hall before sliding down the stair banister into the lower level of the house. James was in front and as he came around the corner to the kitchens he nearly tripped over what looked to be a full tea spread hovering in midair. The tea tray let out a shriek, as Sirius collided with James and they went tumbling towards the breakfast table. 

But in an instant, they were frozen stiff in a comical display of tangled limbs and frantic faces. 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to run in the house?” said Euphemia in exasperation. She flicked her wand and the boys collapsed onto the floor, but the breakfast spread was spared.

…

More to come next week. Daily posting will begin on AO3 on February 14 :)

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