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[pretzel-box]

I need Sebastian's reaction to some divers flashing little octo boy🙏🏼🙏🏼

SQUIDDLE ME THAT

words: 2,1k

tags: octopus hybrid reader, platonic relationship with sebastian, sebastian gets protective

authors note: I wrote the part before the flashing scene yesterday and had to add your request at the end, hope you don't mind some extra content!

Having a little octopus hybrid running loose was a challenge on its own. God forbid that Sebastian take his three eyes off you for even a second—you'd either wilt from loneliness or start creating a mess in a bid to reclaim his attention.

One such instance involved you folding his newly sorted files into funny little paper boats, which you then gently rocked over a random puddle that had started to develop in the corner of his shop. The first time you did this, Sebastian was initially impressed that you'd found something to do on your own. He even joined in, taking a sheet of printed paper and folding it into a rather shoddy boat, chuckling until he realized—these were his important assets!

Sebastian learned quickly from that incident. He made it his mission to keep you occupied, providing you with paper and pencils to draw pictures instead. Soon, his shop was filled with your artwork, pinned up on every wall. He couldn’t help but find your efforts endearing—most of your drawings were of the two of you, and they filled his heart with a warmth he wasn't accustomed to feeling.

“You know, I think you're starting to develop an eye for ar—” Sebastian began to say, but as he turned around, you were gone. You had simply vanished from sight. However, the trail of suction-cup marks on the floor was a clear indicator that you'd slipped through the vent and were now somewhere outside the shop.

Panic surged through him as he quickly made his way out, calling your name and checking every room. You were small and had a short attention span—surely, you couldn’t have gotten far.

And then he saw it. You were standing face-to-face with a Squiddle. The scene was bizarre: the Squid Monster hovered slightly above the ground, its ‘eyes’ locked onto you with what could only be described as confusion. You, on the other hand, were trying to mimic the creature, leaping up and attempting to hover in the air, only to be defeated by gravity each time.

Sebastian froze for a moment, his panic shifting to a mix of concern and disbelief. The Squiddle seemed more perplexed than hostile, perhaps unsure of what to make of this smaller, more enthusiastic "squid" that was now mimicking its every move. You, in your innocent curiosity, were completely absorbed in your game of imitation, oblivious to the potential danger.

Sebastian approached cautiously, not wanting to startle either of you. “Hey, buddy,” he called softly, trying to get your attention without alarming the Squiddle. “What are you doing over there?”

You turned to him, eyes wide and full of excitement, as if proud of your new friend. Sebastian's heart skipped a beat seeing how happy you were, but he knew he had to get you away from the creature before anything went wrong.

“Come on,” he coaxed, holding out his hand. “Let’s leave the big guy alone, okay? We’ve got plenty of drawing to do back at the shop.”

Reluctantly, you took his hand, casting one last curious glance at the Squiddle before allowing Sebastian to lead you away. The creature watched you go, still floating in place, before it finally drifted off, no longer interested in the odd encounter.

Back at the shop, Sebastian let out a deep sigh of relief. He knelt down to your level, ruffling the top of your head gently. “You’ve really got a knack for finding trouble, you know that?”

You gave him a sheepish grin, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Alright, how about we stick to drawing for a while, huh? Maybe we can work on some more pictures of us. Just... let’s keep the paper boats on hold for now, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, and Sebastian led you back inside, silently vowing to keep an even closer eye on you from now on.

Sebastian! You there?” a male voice called out as a customer clambered through the vent. Sebastian, already familiar with the type of people who usually wandered into his shop—rude pricks deserving their prison sentences—acted quickly. Without a second thought, he wrapped you in a blanket and gently but hurriedly stuffed you into a spacious locker, hiding you from the potentially mean human.

“Ah, welcome~” he greeted the customer with an air of nonchalance, shifting into his usual role as a shopkeeper. He led the man through a small conversation, maintaining his outward calm even though his thoughts were with you.

Meanwhile, inside the locker, you pressed your arms and tentacles against the metal walls, trying to push your way back to Sebastian. The dark, cramped space fueled a growing sense of anxiety. You didn’t understand why he’d suddenly hidden you away like this. Did you do something wrong? Did he stop liking you?

Fear and confusion spiraled in your little head until they became too much to bear. The only logical response, as far as you were concerned, was to scream. Tears streamed down your face as you wailed loudly, feeling abandoned and terrified. The darkness was cold, and being alone felt like the worst punishment imaginable.

Sebastian, who was busy trying to offload some junk onto the prisoner, froze when your piercing scream cut through the conversation. The customer blinked in surprise, glancing toward the sound. “What the hell was that?”

Sebastian’s mind raced as he tried to think of a plausible excuse. “Uh, faulty alarm system,” he lied, forcing a smile. “This place is falling apart, you know? I’ll get it fixed. Now, about that flashlight you were interested in…”

But the scream came again, louder this time, filled with pure distress. Sebastian’s heart clenched with guilt. The customer raised an eyebrow but seemed more annoyed than concerned. “You might want to take care of that. Sounds like something’s dying in there.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll handle it,” Sebastian muttered, barely containing his irritation as he hurried the man toward the exit. “Thanks for stopping by, and don’t forget to tell your non-existing friends about the shop!”

As soon as the customer was out of sight, Sebastian practically “sprinted” back to the locker. Your cries were breaking his heart—he hadn’t meant to scare you, but in his haste to protect you, he’d overlooked how you’d feel being stuffed in there.

He flung the locker door open and immediately pulled you out, wrapping you in his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, holding you close as you continued to sob. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You clung to him desperately, burying your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. Sebastian felt like the worst person in the world for making you feel this way. “I was just trying to keep you safe,” he explained softly, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I didn’t want that guy to see you. But I shouldn’t have locked you up like that. I’m sorry.”

Gradually, your sobs began to quiet, though you still held onto him tightly, afraid he might push you away again. Sebastian continued to whisper apologies and reassurances, promising that he would never do something like that again.

Finally, you lifted your head, looking at him with tear-streaked eyes. “You’re okay,” he said gently, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I’m not mad at you. I could never be mad at you.”

Your grip on him tightened, and Sebastian could feel the tremble in your small body slowly subside. He stood there for a long moment, holding you close, letting you know through his actions that you were safe and loved.

After a while, he carried you over to a cushioned seat, sitting down with you still wrapped in his arms. “You’re my little partner, okay?” he said, his voice softer than usual. “I’m always going to take care of you. Just… no more screaming like that, alright? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

You nodded weakly, sniffling but feeling a bit better now that you were back in his comforting embrace. Sebastian gave a small, relieved smile, brushing your hair away from your face. “That’s better,” he said, rocking you gently. “Let’s just stay here for a while. No more hiding, I promise.”

——

It was an unusually busy day in the shop, with a steady stream of prisoners coming through the vents, all of them more obnoxious than the last. Sebastian had been on edge, keeping a close eye on you as you busied yourself with drawing on a scrap of paper behind some boxes to hide you out of the sight from the visitors. He didn’t want a repeat of the locker incident, so he made sure you were always within arm’s reach.

But even Sebastian couldn’t anticipate everything.

As a particularly rough-looking prisoner stomped into the shop, his eyes darting around suspiciously, you instinctively curled a little closer to Sebastian. The man was big, with a scarred face and a sneer that made your skin crawl. Sebastian noticed your discomfort and subtly shifted his body to block the prisoner’s view of you.

“What do you want?” Sebastian asked, his tone curt and to the point.

The prisoner didn’t answer right away, his gaze flicking over the various items on the shelves. “Just browsing,” he muttered, though there was a malicious glint in his eyes that set off alarm bells in Sebastian’s head.

Sebastian’s grip tightened on the counter. “We don’t have all day. Either buy something or get out.”

The prisoner’s sneer widened, clearly enjoying the tension he was causing. As if on a whim, he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device—a flashbeacon. Before Sebastian could react, the prisoner activated it, directing the blinding flash of light straight at you.

You let out a terrified yelp, your sensitive eyes overwhelmed by the sudden burst of light. Instinctively, you tried to shield yourself, curling up and covering your eyes with your tentacles as best as you could. But the damage was done—the intense flash had disoriented you, leaving you scared and vulnerable.

Sebastian’s protective instincts kicked in instantly. Without a second thought, he lunged forward, shoving the prisoner hard against the nearest wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he snarled, his voice dripping with fury.

The prisoner barely had time to register what was happening before Sebastian’s hand was around his throat, pinning him to the wall with a strength that belied his usually calm demeanor. “You think you can just walk in here and pull something like that?” Sebastian growled, his three eyes narrowing dangerously. “You’ve got some nerve.”

The prisoner, now realizing he’d severely miscalculated, struggled to speak, his face turning red as he choked out, “It… it was just a joke!”

Sebastian’s grip tightened, making it clear he wasn’t amused. “That ‘joke’ could have seriously hurt them,” he spat, nodding toward you. “You don’t mess with my shop, and you sure as hell don’t mess with them.”

With a final shove, Sebastian released the prisoner, who staggered back, clutching his throat and gasping for air. “Get out,” Sebastian ordered, his voice low and menacing. “And if I ever see you here again, you’ll regret it.”

The prisoner didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled for the vent, shooting one last fearful glance at Sebastian before disappearing as quickly as he’d come.

Sebastian took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger still coursing through his veins. Then he turned to you, his expression softening as he saw you huddled on the floor, still reeling from the flash.

He rushed over to you, kneeling down and gently pulling your tentacles away from your eyes. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, his heart aching at the sight of you trembling. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry, but you could see the concern etched on his face. Slowly, you uncurled from your protective ball, reaching out for him. Sebastian didn’t hesitate—he scooped you up into his arms, holding you close against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I should’ve protected you better. But I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

You clung to him, your small body still trembling slightly, but his warmth and the steady beat of his heart began to calm you down. You knew Sebastian was strong, and as long as you were with him, you felt safe.

[lilacs-stars]

a night to remember

this is part 2, recommended you read part 1 first! (to avoid confusion) pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is glinda the good witch's daughter) SUMMARY: one day, you find a mysterious note in your locker from a certain pirate. who knows where it'll end up taking you—and your interesting relationship with him. GENRE: very wholesome despite the intro (I swear), fluff, some teasing and banter, reader being oblivious, mutual pining, just relationship cuteness overall CW: not much, mentions getting tipsy (not from alcohol), one little dirty joke if you squint hard enough WC: 7.5k

A/N: the title was inspired by the song of the same name by beabadoobee and laufey (I recommend listening to it while reading, as it sets the mood nicely!) james hook is literally so gentleman coded you can’t convince me otherwise. also I randomly thought of male characters using "m'lady" and now I'm obsessed...this was made to be pure, feet-kicking and giggling inducing fluff, so enjoy! thanks again to the anon who requested this, hope you like it! please leave feedback and suggestions, hearing your thoughts makes me so happy! :))

You stare down at the drink in your hand, the realization of what it is slowly dawning upon you. 

Mouth agape in pure disbelief, you glance up at the man sitting in front of you. The devilish glint in his eyes, rivaled only by the shine of his metal hook, sends chills down your spine—making it terribly clear why he brought you. 

Oh god, you think. How in the world did I get here?

You make your way through the bustling halls of Merlin Academy, trying your best to not get jostled by the ruckus of the crowd. 

Honestly, who puts people’s classes on the sixth floor and their lockers on the first? you mentally grumble, finally reaching the dreaded staircase that you climb up and down dozens of times each day.

After descending the five flights of stairs, you’re completely out of breath by the time you reach your locker. You tap the lock with your pointer finger three times, a magical device inside reading your fingerprint. It clicks open, and your locker door swings out towards you.

Reaching to place your books inside and take out some new ones for the rest of the day's classes, you’re shocked by something that slips out as soon as the door opens. A white piece of paper sways back and forth as it falls to the floor, right next to your feet.

You bend down to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, you learn that it’s not a piece of paper; it’s a small packet, stapled in the corner. At the top, in neat, printed letters, are the words “ENCHANTMENT OF MAGICAL OBJECTS: UNIT 3 WRITTEN TEST.”

Below it, a line is provided for the student's name. Scribbled down in a fancy, yet somehow still messy and barely legible font, is the name “James Hook.”

He left me his test? you question. You don’t even bother wondering how he broke into your locker; after that little incident where he stole your ring, you have resigned yourself to not being surprised at his so-called “bad boy” antics. He is a villain, after all.

This test was one that your class had been preparing for quite some time. It mainly centered the theory of enchantments, with the most difficult one being the Aiming Spell. Thankfully, you had taught Hook most of the material during your study session last week, specifically focusing on helping him improve his Aiming Spell (although maybe he got a little too good, considering how he pulled off that ring trick).

Your confusion regarding the test placed in your locker lasts only a second longer, until you notice that in the top right corner, a big, circled "87%" is written in bright red pen.

The number stays for a brief moment, before the red ink rearranges itself on the page, morphing into a “B+”.

Wait…that’s really good. For him, at least, you think. Is this really all because of your one tutoring session? You have always thought that you’re pretty good at teaching other people, but you never considered yourself a miracle worker. He must think it is because of me, I guess. Otherwise, he wouldn't have left this in here.

Even though you know you’re probably not supposed to, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you flip back the front cover to check what he got wrong.

As soon as you lift the top page, another piece of paper falls out of the test. This time, it’s smaller, a faint beige color tinting the sheet.

You reach down once again to pick it up as you notice that this one is actually an envelope. Glancing at the back, which appears to be empty, you flip it over to the front side. It bears a wax seal embossed with an emblem of two crossed pirate swords.

Carefully peeling back the top of the envelope so as to not rip the delicate paper, you pull out the note inside. There isn’t much writing on the plain paper, but it’s in the same handwriting as before. Very intrigued at this unusual occurrence of events, you read the few lines of text keenly.

“Friday, 6 pm. The Rogers Place.

Make sure to wear your fanciest dress.

Meet me there. I’ll be waiting.”

...What? You’re too stunned to even think. What is this? There’s no way he’s actually asking you out…on a date.

This has to be a joke, right? A study session was one thing, but this, this, meetup, is something entirely different. He even asked to meet you outside of school. You've heard before of the restaurant he mentioned, although you've never actually gone there yourself. Based on what you've gathered, it's a popular, rather formal place run by Eudora Rogers and her young daughter, Tiana, in memory of her beloved husband. 

So why in the name of the heavens would James Hook ask you, someone who has no dating experience whatsoever, of all people, to go with him to dinner? “Wear your fanciest dress”? What is this guy thinking?

In utter disbelief, you flip over the note, checking the back to make sure you haven’t missed something. To your surprise, there is some writing scrawled on the back, which reads: “Your payment for helping me pass my test.”

Right…so…he’s asking you out on a—no, it’s not a date, you remind yourself, yet again. He’s simply doing a nice act to return the favor. This was probably the only thing that came to his mind. Silencing the little voice in your head that whispers, “Why would the first thing that came to his mind be asking you out to dinner?”, you stuff the envelope and note in your bookbag, holding on to the test to give back to him sometime.

As you walk down the hallway, rushing to get to your next class, you don’t see the figure lurking behind the corner at the other end of the corridor.

He smirks, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

This one? No, it’s too casual.

How about this one? No, it’s not fancy enough.

This? Too sparkly.

That? Not sparkly enough.

You sigh, flopping onto your bed amidst a pile of dresses. It’s a few hours after school let out, on the day you’ve been anticipating all week long. And, not surprisingly, you can’t decide what in the world to wear. After all, it’s not like you’ve been out on lots of not-dates to know what a typical outfit would be like.

You stare up at the ceiling, sighing again for what must be the hundredth time this night. At times like this, you seriously wish you had a roommate. You've always had your dorm all to yourself, and sure, it is really nice most of the time. You can relax and unwind in solitude, with no one distracting you or pestering you with trivial matters while you study. However, there are the rare few occasions where you long to have someone close, to help you out or give you advice.

After holding up quite a few more dresses in the mirror, you finally decide on the one with the fewest number of cons, from the mental list you made for each dress. Slipping it on—albeit with much difficulty, since who designed dresses to be so frilly to the point where you can't even find where to put your head?—you stare at your reflection, completely enamored by the person you see staring back at you. You’re not really used to wearing fancy things like this, which is probably the reason why you barely recognize yourself.

Twirling around, head over your shoulder as you keep your gaze locked on the mirror, you realize why people have always told you that you have a striking resemblance to your mother. Your outfit consists of a ballgown-style dress, which really is the only type you have in your closet. Even though it’s a bit uncomfortable, the fitted bodice making it rather hard to take a full breath and the off-the-shoulder neckline compelling you to constantly tug it up to prevent it from slipping, it still is absolutely gorgeous. The short sleeves complement the torso, and the full skirt, all puffed up with layers of tulle, swishes elegantly as you move around. The bodice is densely embellished with small rhinestones, mostly at the top, with the gems growing sparser farther down the dress. A few crystals are set into the skirt just below the waistline, creating a scattered, shimmering effect reminiscent of the stars in a night sky.

Even though you aren’t a fan of fancy dresses, you must admit, you absolutely adore this one.

Finishing off the look with some jewelry and accessories, you take one last look at yourself in the mirror. You've never been one to be arrogant, but it's still hard not to think that even though this is certainly not a date, maybe, just maybe, Hook might be a little more interested in you after tonight.

“Um…hi?” you say, timid voice rising into a question from your uncertainty.

After getting dressed, you made your way to the restaurant. Fighting the deep-rooted urge to get there early as possible, you took the long route, not wanting to be the first to arrive. I’ll make him wait for me this time, you decided with an evil little smirk, thinking back to the day of your study session and the long minutes you had agonizingly spent wondering if he was going to show up.

Now, you stand in front of the reception desk, peering up at a waiter ordering papers. Fiddling with the lace gloves covering your hands, you add, “I don’t know if my name is ion the reservation or anything…”

Honestly, you’re not quite sure what to do at this point. All Hook had instructed you was to show up at the restaurant at this time. Part of you had expected him to be waiting by the door, but now that you see he isn't, your nervousness rises.

“Are you Y/N?” the server questions, glancing down at something on the small podium-like stand.

“Uh, yes, I am,” you reply.

“A young man has made a reservation for the two of you. He’s already waiting for you out on the patio. If you’ll follow me,” the waiter informs you, grabbing a menu from his stack and leading you through the bustling restaurant.

You follow him, feeling incredibly bashful as you swerve around tables and people alike. You finally reach a large set of doors in one of the seating areas, which the waiter opens for you.

Stepping through the threshold, you sense the cool rush of the evening air welcome you out. The sky has already begun to dim, a few faint stars gleaming against the dark backdrop. Spread out in front of you is an array of tables, most of them small enough for only two people. The low lighting, coming solely from flickering candles and glowing lanterns strung throughout the area, paired with the singular rose set in a vase at the center each table and a faint, slow jazz song playing somewhere in the background, makes for the most romantic of settings you could have possibly imagined.

Your breath is completely taken away as the server leads you through the arrangements of seats. It’s sparsely crowded, with only a few couples seated here and there, each enjoying an amorous dinner.

The server stops at a circular, two-seated table close to the edge, overlooking a magnificent view of the city down below. A few feet in front ahead and sitting with his back towards you, the only object of your thoughts for these past few hours turns his head in your direction, probably upon hearing the clacking of your high-heeled shoes.

Although you’ve tried your best to convince yourself that this, in fact, is not a date, you simply can’t deny the way his entire expression light up at the mere sight of you. Hook stands up, unabashedly eyeing you up and down slowly, taking all of you in.

A small smile tugs at his lips as he takes your hand in his, once again bowing down to place a kiss on your ring—it appears that this has become a routine, which you can't exactly say you mind.

You don't miss how he pauses for just a moment, noticing the way your ring is still on your ring finger, unchanged from the place he left it. Holding your breath, your heart beats faster as you worry about what he thinks of it. To your relief, he doesn’t say anything, instead kissing the gemstone and straightening back up again, but not before ever so softly—yet still with obvious intentionality—brushing his lips against your finger, deliberately tracing your skin with an agonizingly slow pace as his warm breath sets your every nerve on fire.

“M’lady,” he breathes, standing to meet your gaze. His casual nonchalance is a stark difference from the way you struggle to regain your composure, hating how even the smallest of actions from him can elicit such a reaction from you.

As you study him, you notice that he had a significant wardrobe change too; instead of his usual pirate attire, he dons a dark maroon frock coat, embroidered with intricate swirls and designs. He definitely made an attempt at looking a bit more classy, with his hair neater than usual and the collar of his shirt tidily done. You could even swear that his hook looked more polished than usual, and that he carried the faint, odd trace of expensive cologne.

The server leaves the menu on your table and walks away with a polite nod of his head. Hook steps over to the chair opposite the one he had been sitting in, pulling it out for you in a manner that is far too gentlemanly for what you're used to seeing from him, gesturing at you to sit down with a wave of his shiny metal hook. 

Overwhelmingly flattered, you walk over, smoothing your skirt beneath you as you take your seat. Hook pushes your chair in, before going back to the other side of the table to take his own seat.

Not sure what else to do, you pick up your menu and glance over it. “Decide what you’re going to order yet?” Hook asks you.

“No, you?”

“They already took my order, but I told them to wait on preparing my food until you had ordered as well.”

They already took his order? How long has he been here? you wonder. You glance at your wristwatch, seeing that it’s only a few minutes past six o’clock. Deciding to shrug it off, you go back to looking at your menu, despite not being able to fight the voice in your head that whispers about how you should've gotten here earlier, that he had probably been waiting for you, all alone, for quite some time.

“It’s so hard to decide,” you say with a halfhearted laugh, trying to fill up the heavy silence. You peruse the menu more carefully this time, marveling at how many different dishes are listed. Finally, after reading through the entire thing a few more times, you settle on the one that sounds the best.

After only a few moments, the server comes back around and takes your order. “A fine choice, ma’am,” he comments as you tell him your choice of entrée. You notice that all of the waiters here wear fancy black suits and come with a pristine white cloth draped over their arm. Huh, how fancy, you think to yourself. I never knew this place was so formal.

“So, Hook,” you begin, “Why did you bring me here?”

“Didn’t you read my note? It’s a thank-you for helping me pass my test. The teacher was very impressed with my score, you know,” he responds indifferently.

You give him a small sigh, paired with a gentle smile—your attempt at hiding the twinge of disappointment dancing in your eyes. “I did, but you didn’t have to treat me to dinner. A simple note would have sufficed.”

Hook looks at you, dark brown eyes wide and holding your gaze with an intensity you’ve never known. “Sufficed? I don’t want to just suffice. I want to give you a memorable night. An unforgettable experience.” “I don’t think I could ever forget a charming pirate with a hook for a hand,” you laugh, teasing him lightly. Instead of laughing along with you, Hook stares at you for another moment, studying you with slightly scrunched brows and an indecipherable expression on his face. You grow uneasy at his burning look, shifting in your seat as you wonder why he’s watching you so intently.

However, the tense awkwardness in the air lasts for only a minute, before Hook breaks into one of his famous smirks as he replies, “Oh, charming, am I? I know you can’t stop thinking about me, love.”

“Th-that’s not what I meant!” you cry, leaning across the table to give him a small push. He breaks into a laugh, his lips curling up into yet another genuine smile as he leans back just out of your reach. His mirthful expression makes you realize that he had been simply joking, causing your face to burn up as your mind replays your rather dramatic reaction. Honestly, you can never really tell whether he’s being serious or just messing with you.

“Settle down, love. Wouldn’t want you ruining that pretty dress of yours,” he responds, twisting to the side again to prevent getting smacked by you.

You two continue making small talk, still partaking in your teasing, only slightly annoying banter. Before you know it, a waiter is walking towards your table with two platters, one in each hand.

The server sets down the plates on your table, the dishes both looking absolutely delectable. Along with the food, he places two matching beverages in front of you two.

You thank him, and he bows again before leaving. Turning back to Hook, you watch with a slight arch of your eyebrows as he raises his drink in the air.

“A toast,” he says. “To continuing our little dates.”

You roll your eyes, not bothering to correct him this time. Lifting your own glass, you add, “And to you continuing to get good grades.” He smiles at this, before lifting the drink to his lips. Perceptive as always, you notice how his eyes follow your hand as you bring the glass to your mouth.

A sudden, fleeting doubt crosses your mind at his suspicious behavior. Glancing down at the drink skeptically, you notice its unique bright red color. You lower +it slightly and sniff it, then bring it down from your face, fixing a glare at Hook. “You think I don’t know what this is?”

“Oh, I know you do. That’s what I was counting on, at least.”

You persist with your glare. You've spent many hours reading up on different potions and elixirs, so you're no stranger to the drink in your hand. It's a popular one known as the Lovers' Lascivious Lure, a beverage with a fruit punch-like taste, plus a little kick. The real reason for its fame, however, is the touch of love potion that gets mixed in. Not enough to truly make someone fall in love with you or intoxicate them, but rather something that is favored by couples looking to get a little tipsy in love on their night out.

You set the glass down on the table, not breaking your gaze away for a second as you continue to glower at the person sitting across you.

“It’s rude to not drink after a toast, darling,” Hook says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I don’t care, I’m not drinking that,” you reply irritatedly. 

“Fine. Your loss, love.”

You watch in complete shock, eyes blown wide and mouth agape as Hook brings his drink up to his lips again, tipping back his head as he gulps the entire thing down in one go.

“I’d drink yours as well, darling, but I’d hate for you to be forced to walk me home, instead of the other way around,” Hook spouts with a bit too much added expression, slightly swaying as the effects of the potion kick in. 

You continue to stare at him, concern etched into your features, knowing full well that this drink is designed to be sipped slowly throughout a leisurely dinner, one with much idle conversation and flirtatious looks. Not to be downed all at once. You honestly don’t know what the side effects are to consuming a large amount very quickly, but you pray that the potion is weak enough so as to not cause actual harm—or any other effects—to him.

“So, love,” Hook drawls in a low tone, leaning in. “Anything you feel like telling me?”

“You’re the one who drank the liquid courage, not me,” you point out, fixing him with another look. “Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer you’re going to last like this.”

At your words, Hook’s dazed expression suddenly disappears, instead replaced by a very serious, stern face. “Oh, I assure you, love, I can last very long.”

You blink, a tad confused at why he said that with such a strong conviction. Brushing it off, you look down at your food again, your mouth already watering. “Come on, our food’s going to get cold, and it looks far too delicious to waste.”

Hook agrees, unrolling his utensils instead of shooting back a one-liner, much to your surprise. You’re even more taken aback at the way he drapes the white cloth, which previously held his cutlery, over his legs as he begins to eat, keeping up with his very proper etiquette. He does everything with utterly perfect decorum, from holding his fork and knife in the correct positions to cutting all his food into little pieces. You honestly don't know why this comes as such a shock to you; he has been employing rather polite manners all evening, after all. It appears, you realize, that you’ve always subconsciously believed the stereotypes that pirates are unruly creatures, which therefore must mean they eat messily.

Apparently, this pirate doesn’t.

You both make small talk as you enjoy your food, which is every bit as delicious and succulent as it looked. All the different components are cooked to a perfect degree; not raw or difficult to chew, but not burnt, either. Rich, deep, aromatic spices have always been the staple of this restaurant, and for good reason. You have no clue what flavorings they used, but whatever they are, they taste unlike anything you've ever eaten in your entire life, like an otherworldly meal sent from the heavens. To top it all off, the food also comes with piquant side dishes, followed by desserts that are absolutely decadent and make you melt with every bite you take.

After you both have had your share, Hook motions to the waiter for the check. You had slipped some extra cash into your handbag before coming, not sure what the expectation would be for who paid. As the waiter returns with the small black book in his hand, you turn to Hook.

“I can pay, if you want,” you offer. 

Hook quirks his brow as he gives you a look, before reaching into his coat pocket. “Come now, don’t be ridiculous, love. What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t pay for you? Especially considering that I was the one who asked you out.”

You blink hard, barely aware of your small nod towards him, your mind racing as the waiter gives Hook the check. You blankly watch him scribble a signature before handing it back, trying to process what he just said. “...asked you out…” Does that mean he actually considers this as a date? Especially since he offered to pay for you…Heavens, what is going on?

Your eyes trail the waiter as he leaves, just as Hook turns back to you. “All finished?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “So…what now?” You aren't quite sure whether or not he's planning on walking you home like he mentioned earlier, but you do know that you're not ready to part quite so soon. Averting his gaze, you instead choose to look down at the candle flickering in the middle of your table. It is now very dark outside, to the point where the flame’s meager light shines with a bright luminosity. Entranced by the fire, you stare intently at its dancing movements, attention fully consumed by how the flame appears to be practically alive.

“Now,” Hook says with a glint in his eyes, causing your head to snap back up, “I have something to show you.”

“Something to show me?” you repeat. “Show me what?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see once we get there, love.”

“Once we get there? Hook, where are we going?”

He gives a smug, knowing grin. “You’ll see. Just be patient, darling.” He notices the skeptical look you still have, so he adds, “Trusting me last time turned out good, right? So trust me one more time. I promise you’ll like your surprise.”

You consider his words, hating how he had a point. “Fine,” you huff. “Lead the way, I guess.”

You start to push your chair back to get up, but Hook chides, “Ah ah ah, no you don’t,” standing up himself before walking behind you. He grips the back of your chair and pulls it out for you, before offering his good hand to help you stand too.

Once again, you’re rather shocked at his well-mannered behaviors and courteous gestures. As you accept his outstretched arm, you wonder how in the world this is the same person who was, only a few days ago, leaning back in his chair with his feet up, flinging magical disks across the room.

Getting up, you hesitate for a moment, freezing in place now that you’re level with his eyes. You haven’t been this close to him since that pivotal day during your study session, and your breath gets taken away once again by the proximity.

His angular features and sharp jawline catch your attention, causing your legs to stagger as your gaze wanders down to his soft, plush lips, which definitely stand out amidst the rest of his chiseled face. You had never noticed how his eyeliner also traces his bottom lash line, making his eyes pop whenever he widens them, or how part of his hair swoops to the side and slightly covers his forehead. It dawns on you that you’ve always overlooked the two small silver earrings that dangle from his ears, or the chain around his neck with a cross on it, usually hidden by the collar of his shirt.

Not aware of how you’re just standing there paralyzed, you commit to memory the small details about him you’ve never really seen before. Even though the inside of your head is alive and bustling with a plethora of thoughts, outside, you two stand in terribly awkward silence.

Hook clears his throat, snapping you back to reality. “Come along, darling. We wouldn’t want to be interrupted by curfew again.”

Tightening his grip on your hand, which still holds yours, he leads you through the entrance you had used not so long ago while bidding farewell to the waiter. You continue up the hill to the woods behind the restaurant, Hook refusing to give even a single hint as to what big surprise awaits you.

The trail through the trees starts off easy enough, although still rather difficult for you to traverse in your tight dress and voluminous skirt. If I had known I’d be taking a hike, I’d have worn something more suitable, and much more comfortable, you think, but ultimately decide to keep your mouth shut. After all, Hook had been spoiling you all evening. The least you could do was not nag him about every last thing.

The farther you go, the thicker the branches that block your path and scratch at your arms with their sharp claws get, and the denser the underbrush that tries to trap your feet and swallow you whole grows. After a quarter hour of consistent walking, the trail all but disappears, until only a small path carved by the footsteps of a few brave souls remains. You have to hold up the edge of your full-length skirt the whole way to ensure it doesn’t get all dirty and muddy; by the time you’re nearly done, your arms ache just as much, if not more, than your legs.

You and Hook travel mostly in silence, the sounds of your heavy panting and the crunches of leaves and branches underfoot filling up the empty air. You trail behind him, sometimes struggling to keep up, although he does happen to notice this and slows down his pace after the first few minutes.

Occasionally, Hook gives a short, crisp, “Watch out for the rock there, love,” or “The branches here are really low, I’ll hold them up for you.” You always respond with a clipped “Yeah,” or “Okay, thanks,” trying to mask just how out of breath you've gotten from the difficult climb. Early on in the beginning of the hike, you had to let go of his hand, favoring holding up your skirt instead. Still, in areas where the ground is rough or rocky, or the footing becomes difficult or rather steep, Hook always turns around and offers his hand to you and helps pull you up, or reaches out his hook from overhead for you to grab on to.

The noises of the night accompany you the entire time: the soft chirps of crickets, a few croaks from a frog somewhere out of sight, a creature or other scampering through the bushes, a rare call from an owl, and the whispering of the leaves above as a cool breeze passes through them. After a few more minutes of walking through a maze of nature with trees so thick—their only rival being the velvety blackness of the night—the pace of the trek finally slows down. You've long tired of always having to hold one arm ahead to ensure that you don’t get smacked in the face by an unsuspecting branch, so you're overwhelmingly relieved when Hook finally says, “We’re almost there.” “Finally,” you mumble between breaths. “I think my limbs are just about to fall off.” You can’t really tell in the pitch-black darkness, but you could have sworn that Hook gave a small smile at your words.

Once you reach a thick tangle of branches and vines that completely block your path, you both come to a stop. You watch as he pulls them back and to the side, even slicing through some with his hook. He beckons you forward with a courteous, “Ladies first,” a grin dancing on his features.

You walk through the clearing and onto a wide ledge overlooking the entire city. The view knocks the breath out of your lungs, despite your body already screaming at you for more oxygen. All thoughts of your strenuous hike vanish from your head, except for one that reminds you the arduous journey was absolutely and totally worth it.

From all the way up here, you can see the entire land. The shimmering lights of the large cityscape below you steal your heart, while the small village houses and mountains beyond them, creating the faintest of outlines against the horizon, capture your soul. This vantage point allows you to see everything; every bustling street filled with people rushing to get home after a long week, or frolicking around on a night out. Every house, every drawn-back curtain, but a mere speck in the constellation of human activity, a testament to the splendor of life. Twinkling lights sprawled below you paint a shimmering mosaic, reflecting the celestial canvas of stars hanging above you.

You stare in pure awe, almost forgetting about Hook as he approaches you from behind. “Enjoying the view, love?” he whispers softly, his voice closer to you than you expected.

You startle, turning backwards with a sharp inhale. “Oh…yeah, it’s just…breathtaking.” Unable to think of the right words to describe it, you decide to settle for an almost shameful understatement of the view's beauty.

You’re not quite sure if you imagined it, too caught up in your head, but you hear something that almost sounds like a soft, “Just like you.”

“Huh?” you ask, turning back around to face him. 

“I said, I told you you’d like it,” Hook repeats, although you still hold your suspicions. “All you had to do was trust me.”

“And how can I be sure you aren’t planning to push me off the edge?” you question, teasing him.

“Well, you can’t,” he replies, walking over to the ledge. “But if I do, I’ll let you drag me down with you. If we go down, then we go down together.”

You giggle, choosing to take his words at face value only and not read into them too much. After all, your heart can only take so much in one night.

Hook crouches down, using his good hand to support him as he sits down in front of you, keeping one foot hugged to his chest as he dangles the other off the side of the cliff.

He glances over his shoulder at you, patting the space besides him. Cautiously, you walk over to the ledge, joining him on the ground. 

You both sit there for a moment in silence, looking over the magnificent scene. You can tell that Hook finds comfort in the lack of conversation, but it feels too heavy for you, and so you decide to finally break it with the question that’s been on your mind this whole night.

“Hook?” you ask gently.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you bring me here?”

He turns his head slightly to glance at you. “I thought you’d like the view,” he replies, looking at you with a confused expression.

You take a quick breath, preparing yourself for the difficult words you’re planning to speak next. “No, I mean, why did you really bring me here tonight?” He opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off, adding, “And don’t lie to me.”

His mouth closes shut again and he hesitates for a moment, contemplating his next sentence carefully, before responding, “I’ve already told you.”

“What, that you wanted to thank me for helping you get a B-plus on your test? Yeah, that excuse won’t work on me anymore.”

“No, not that.” He turns his head back and runs his good hand through his hair, making his neatly combed style look a bit more windswept than before. “I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

“…What?”

“I already told you that it was a date, love. You just chose not to believe me.”

It’s your turn to whip your head to the side this time, now facing directly towards Hook, who’s still looking straight ahead at the scenery.

“I-I didn’t…truly…I thought you were just joking when you said that.”

He glances at you again, a roguish grin forming on his lips. “Oh, darling, I don’t joke about much. Especially not with you.”

Again, you choose not to read too deeply into his words, trying to break your awful habit of overthinking. Instead, you press on, wanting to gain as much information as you can from him. If nothing else, at least a few answers might help put your mind at a little more ease. “Why’d you want to ask me out? I’m not exactly…”

Your voice fades away as your brain catches up with your far-too-fast mouth, realizing that saying “I’m not exactly the most desirable person to date” may not do you any favors.

Hook turns to look at you with an expectant gaze, and you know that you can’t sweep your little slip-up under the carpet that easily. Gods, he’s observant. “…the most popular person at our school,” you finish.

“Hmm, true,” Hook concurs, tilting his head with a tone as if he’s never considered that point before. You were half-expecting him to disagree, more out of courtesy than honesty, so you’re a bit taken aback when he agrees with you.

“But I don’t care about popularity.” Ah, so there’s that socially obligatory politeness. You don't really believe his words at first, yet the way he says it so sincerely, so genuinely, makes you wonder if he truly is being honest.

“So why’d you want to take me out on a date?”

“Because, love, you’re different from what I’m used to,” he replies. “You’re kind, soft, pure. You intrigued me.”

You recoil at his words, a deep, writhing anger rising out of you. “What, you only went out with me because I’m so pure and innocent? So you could corrupt me?” you spit, having heard this little skit far too many times before.

“No, not like that. Not at all.” Hook twists his body to face you more, and although you’re still mad at him, you can’t deny the hurt and pain that swirls in his voice and eyes at your accusations. “You’re…you’re always trying to help others. You always speak softly, always smile. You’re untainted by the evils I've witnessed. You’re like an angel sent down from the heavens. You’re not like me, love."

Hook continues, “And I don’t want to change that. I don’t want to corrupt or hurt you. I want to preserve that. Every time I’m with you, you make me want to keep you safe from the troubles of the world, the cruel things I’ve seen.

"You make me want to be around you. I can't explain how, or why, but your presence alone compels me to change my ways. To be kinder, gentler, softer. For you. It's as if you're contagious, and well, I think you've infected me, love. Whenever I see you, or even think of you, everything feels just a little bit better. The weight on my shoulders feels a bit lighter, and nothing seems as bad as it used to, as it was when I was on my own.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...you've made me feel things that I haven't felt in a long, long time. Things that I thought my blackened heart couldn't even experience anymore. You make me feel like there's still goodness in the world...like there's still hope. Like I still have hope." You blink slowly, your mind and heart spinning alike as everything around you, as time itself, seems to slow down. You're unable to process all his words, unable to even begin to consider the implications of what this all means. “So, what you’re saying is…you only like me because I’m good?” you ask, touched by his sentiment, yet a little sad at the underlying meaning. Does this mean that if you want to stay with Hook, to maybe even be something in the future, you can't have any darkness to your soul? That you'll have to continue to be as righteous and morally correct as ever?

He gives a small chuckle. “Of course not, darling. I love when I make you snap, when you get angry at me. I love when the fierce part of you comes out. Just like it did now.” He reaches out his good hand to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, brushing against your cheek as he keeps it there, not pulling back quite yet.

You can see the hesitance swirling in his eyes, the uncertainty in the way his hand lingers by your face. By some sudden stroke of courage, the origins of which are a complete mystery to you—maybe he had the love potion added to your food too?—you shift your whole body towards Hook, keeping your legs tucked together and off to one side. 

“Kiss me,” you breathe.

“I'm sorry, love, wh-what?”

It feels strange to take command for once, but it sure is nice. “You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His lingering hand cups your cheek as you both lean in, meeting each other in the middle. Hook’s lips are as soft and plump as you imagined, almost like brushing your mouth against the petals of a rose. Placing one of your hands on the ground beside you, you put your weight on it as you move even closer.

You’ve read of intense kisses, filled with passion and fueled by lust. But this isn't like that. It is slow, sweet, intoxicating you with only the purest of adorations. Your lips hover over his as you tilt your head to the side to prolong the embrace, getting swept up in the moment whilst being completely and blissfully unaware of anything and everything besides how his lips feel against yours, how his hook traces your body as he devours you like a starved man given his last meal. How he breathes you in like you're the very air that fills his lungs, like your sheer essence is the only oxygen he needs. You bring your hand up to his shoulder, leaning further into him as he moves his good hand back and tangles it in your hair.

It ends rather quickly, the entire kiss lasting but a moment, yet still filling you with the sweetest pleasure. In that moment, you realize why people spend their whole lives searching for love; it’s one of the most endearing, profound forms of joy that one can feel, and you're certain that you just felt it.

You pull away, noticing how his gaze lingers on your lips, before looking back up at you. He gives you a captivating, yet genuine smile, one that makes your heart to ache at how perfect he is, yet simultaneously yearning for his touch, his lips, him being wrapped up in another embrace with you and never breaking away. The newfound euphoria coursing through your veins and making your mind fuzzy causes you to return his smile with a wide, love-drunk grin of your own, a deep, wholehearted devotion emanating through your gaze as you study his features.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whisper, staring into his eyes—eyes that reflect your own.

“Always, love.”

“You were my first kiss,” you confess.

Hook brings his hand back up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. His grin grows, an endless affection swirling in his dark eyes as he replies, “I guess this really is a night to remember.”

You give a small laugh, lowering your forehead to lean it against his shoulder, seeking comfort in his hold. “You did want to give me an unforgettable night, after all.”

“Can I tell you a secret, too?”

You raise your head again to peer up at him with wide eyes, curious as to what he has to admit.

“That day, in class,” he confides, “I was enchanting those disks and sending them across the room so you’d come and talk to me. I saw how you went over to help that other kid who was struggling. So, I figured that if I struggled too, you'd come over and I could get a conversation with you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “So you could cast the spell right?”

“Oh, no, not even close, love. That was all your work. Although I might have put in a bit more effort just to impress you,” he adds with a small smirk.

You move one of your hands closer to him, placing it on top of his and intertwining your fingers together. “Well, I suppose it worked.”

You lean back into him, kissing him blissfully yet again under the watchful smile of the moon glowing high in the sky, the stars glimmering and winking down at your young love. As you embrace, the city below bustles with the joys and despairs of human life unbeknownst to you, each person a thread in the tapestry of the world. Every soul but a speck of stardust in a cosmic dance.

And perhaps that is the greatest folly of human life. All the weight of one’s burdens, all the battles fought, all the hearts and souls that love and cry, together composing of but a fleeting second amidst the vastness of forever. And yet, each person gets lost in the preeminence of their own narrative, joyfully unaware of every grain of sand that disappears into the abyss as we shuffle closer to the edge of this mortal coil. But oftentimes, one’s deepest flaw is their greatest feat, as no imperfection comes without its own merit.

So maybe that very feature is, instead, the greatest feat of humanity. To love like you’ll live forever, and to weep like there’s no tomorrow. Maybe our ignorance gives us strength, the strength to keep going every day, pretending as if we somehow have an authority and power over the galactic strings of thread that weave together the fate of our universe.

The city below you, the world outside of the little bubble the two of you have created, moves on, unknown and unknowing of you both. But in this moment, nothing else matters. Nothing besides the love and affection you and him have grown to share.

end x

<- back to part 1

taglist: @4ng3l-ch1ld @astrynyx @0strawberrysorbet0 @ljaylmaoo @maggiecc @elltheawkward @eretsupremacy89 @dreamerofasgard @mabs04

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a/n: I just had to end this with some philosophical musings haha (hey google, how do you write beginnings and endings?) anyways hope you liked this, I love making fluff like this :D I love seeing everyone's comments and reactions, all feedback is highly appreciated! until next time :))

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Have you heard of the term "patterns mills"? These are shopfronts that quickly produce a pattern without any sort of testing or vetting, and then put it on the market with an AI-generated or stolen image for a very tempting price. Patterns produced this way are rampant in the cross-stitching world. However, I've recently noticed an uptick in these types of storefronts in the quilting and foundation paper piecing world. Since I'm well versed in FPP patterns, I would like to describe what an AI-generated quilt pattern looks like as well as provide other suspicious giveaways. AI will only get better, so while these mistakes are dead giveaways now, they might be fixed in the future. FPP patterns seem to be easier to replicate in AI than traditionally pieced patterns, which is why I will focus on FPP in this blogpost. However, you can apply the same clues to any sort of craft pattern (or really anything) you can buy online. Important: AI-generated images are not prohibited on Etsy. However, within their policies they state that you must disclose if you used AI within your listing, and these shops do not have that disclosure.

Below is a listing for a wolf face FPP pattern. When you first look at it, does anything seem suspicious?

First, I would like to draw your attention to the scissors in the bottom left of the photo. These scissors are physically impossible to use and are literally melting into the yellow cutting mat. The lines of this cutting mat are unresolved, as are the lines on the green cutting mat in the bottom right corner. These are your first giveaways. However, not all images have background sewing items that look a little funny. Let's take a look at the actual "completed quilt."

The first thing I notice is that the only background seam line (from this apparently foundation paper pieced quilt) is the one in the top left corner. The seam is merely hinted at and does not go all the way to the edge. Additionally, I notice that the eye is too round. One could argue that the cover photo is merely an enhanced version of the completed quilt, but there are no completed quilt photos in the listing. Another clue for identifying AI generated quilt images is that there are a ton of colors/prints used. The prints in this image seem nebulous and the prints around the eye whiskers (?) lose a lot of fidelity. The individual fabrics themselves do not have consistency.

In the image above, the things I notice are that there are curved seams within the gray and white colors. A typical FPP pattern would not have curved piecing interspersed between regular straight seam piecing. Also, piecing lines that are useless, especially visible in the bluish-gray piece on the left. The amount of piecing within that patch does not make sense. Below you will see another listing from a different Etsy seller.

From afar, it looks really good. Plus, the seller has great reviews! And it's a Bestseller! But let us take a closer look…

The first thing that sticks out to me is how the whiskers of the lion are resolved. You can see where they fade into the muzzle of the lion without a realistic piecing line. Some of the patches are straight up "smeary" and wrinkly, a telltale sign of AI. The program does not know how to accurately render the design so it creates an approximation. These are things that are hard to see unless you zoom in. Below is a listing for a legitimate lion FPP pattern from designer Pride and Joy Quilting so you can see the difference. It is clear that the first image is an actual completed quilt top.

Beyond the AI-generated cover quilts, I'd also like to cover other signs of a pattern generated from a pattern mill.

For the lion pattern, the cost is only $8.63. This is very cheap for what is supposed to be a full sized quilt pattern with a multitude of templates.

Both of these sellers have very generic names. While not an immediate cause for concern, I recommend being skeptical.

There are no actual completed quilt images within the listing.

Both of them are considered "Bestsellers" on Etsy, but the shop with the wolf pattern only has 10 reviews. It makes me wonder about the disparity between "buyers" and reviewers.

The 5 star reviews for the lion pattern are extremely generic and talk only about "how much their friend Lisa will enjoy the pattern" or "how easy it was to download." These are not helpful for understanding the quality of the actual product. The 1 star reviews are way more descriptive about the issues the pattern has. This makes me wonder about fake reviews.

Both of these patterns include a full layout of the FPP diagram within the listing. I personally would never do this and I don't know many designers who would.

The lion pattern says this within its description: "Before making a purchase, we'd like to inform you about some important aspects. The product stands out for its template, design, and print quality, serving as a valuable tool for sewing projects. The instructions include two techniques: direct fabric marking (with visible stitches) and invisible stitches. Both are general guidelines and not step-by-step instructions. You can choose these techniques or any other that you consider suitable based on your experience and preference. There are no refunds for the digital file. We appreciate your understanding and are available for any questions." This demonstrates to me that the pictures are not accurate because they are clearly attempting to depict FPP and are hoping that you won't read the description until it is too late.

Why is every lowercase i in the wolf pattern missing its dot? Like, why? I find that strange and off putting.

So, how do you avoid accidentally purchasing a pattern like this?

The first step is gaining experience in recognizing listings that seem a bit fishy. Use the bullet points listed above to see what kind of feeling you get when looking over a listing. I also recommend finding out more about the designer from their website or from their social media. Not all legitimate designers have these necessarily, but it's a great place to start. Try messaging the shop owner on Etsy. Does it sound like they know what they are even talking about? You'll then build a good list of designers and shops you trust. A big and worrisome thing to remember is that AI will only get better and produce better looking images. This will make it harder to identify pattern mills by the image alone. However, the clues that I've listed will help if you put them all together and come to a conclusion. I suggest using them for all your online shopping. I hope this helps!

[autumnalmess]

the CAFE MUSAIN BOOKNOOK is officially finished !!!!

This one that I began ages ago and completely forgot about (pt1 ↓)

But here is the final steps of the process

I added the front faces made of cardboard and lollipop sticks, painted with watercolour paint. And I added little splashes of dirt to the bottom of the wood with black paint and a sponge. On the underside of the upper floor panel I got glued fairy lights to provide lighting

Added some posters on the walls and aged them with paint and water

For the top floor I made a floor panel out of painted lollipop sticks, then I added a chair and table I made out of wood and cardboard (very messily) hot glued together and painted. Then I found some print out book covers online and cut them out and stuck them around the edges of little pieces of cardboard. The sheets of paper are tissues. I think the globe is an old dollhouse toy that I found and painted. Then I added a lamp in the corner using one of the fairy lights and a cardboard cover.

Front face!!! I painted some cardboard after LOTS of measuring and eyeballing. Then I made the shutters out of lollipop sticks and cocktail sticks hot glued together which caused me SO much grief and took fucking forever. But they're pretty cute

Then I added a Musain sign I made earlier with (you guessed it!) lollipop sticks and paint

Here's the final look along with the fairy lights added to the ceiling panel:

Hope you enjoyed x

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 28 - In My Dreams | ‘Ours’

word count - 10.7 k

You were sitting at the kitchen table on your Mac starting to figure out some semblance of a plan for how Teddy’s schooling would work. Of course the club provided a lot of assistance with this because it was slightly an abnormal dynamic but also Trent and more specifically Dianne obviously knew the area and school system well. Regardless of all of this help… you did not. You didn’t go to school ever in the uk. You didn’t even study abroad in England because you already ‘knew it’ well because of your dad. Now you were regretting that and kicking yourself for believing that having an English passport meant you knew anything. Needless to say you found yourself in a wormhole of information about dos and don’t, public, private, religious affiliation, all sorts of things fueling your anxiety and worry about making sure you’re little girl got the best but most normal experience she could. You definitely had access to a lot more opportunities than most given your situation but the anxiety was still high. You were entranced in an article until a large ‘whap’ sound echoed scaring the shit out of you.

“Holy shit!” You exclaimed really not expecting the sudden loud noise. You laid your hand over your heart to make sure it was still beating normally. A pile of 10 glossy magazines slapped down on the table next to you. You looked up to see a cheeky grin plastered to Trent’s face.

“Heard there’s an absolute sort in this issue ya know.” He cooed with a slight giggle. You rolled your eyes at him and pulled the stack to you across the slick table top. “Go on. Open one! I’ve been waiting for you. I haven’t seen it officially yet!” He exclaimed. You grabbed one copy and flicked through the magazine to find your published article.

“See that is a fucking good looking lad.” Trent continued to laugh at himself pointing to one picture with him in it. You sighed, inspecting your own appearance ignoring his lighthearted joke. He wrapped his arms tight around your shoulder from behind your chair. “Baby, you look fucking unreal. Please. You’re so beautiful. This is so exciting. Come on.” He tried to get you to be happy about the feature but you just felt critical.

“I look okay? I’m scared to even turn the page to see the rest.” You mumbled out leaning your head back into Trent.

“Y/N… UN fucking believable. I want these framed in the house also. This is so cool, baby. Please just be excited, at least for me. I’m so proud of you, yeah?” He cooed smushing his cheek to yours. You knew if he was calling you your first name he was being serious.

“Okay. It is kind of cool.” You mumbled out hating you were admitting that Trent was right but he was. This was actually a dream of yours. You were in British GQ. You were in British GQ and not just some small blurb, this was a full article, multiple pages. Photos of you and your family blown up printed on glossy paper and typed quotes of yours.you smiled reading the headline Bentley Brown actually used a that you’d mentioned to Trent before.

‘From Manhattan to Merseyside.’

From a whirlwind romance struck on a Manhattan street corner Y/N Alexander-Arnold née Y/L/N and her husband, one of football’s brightest stars, England’s Trent Alexander-Arnold captivated both sides of the Atlantic when they first were spotted galavanting in Manchester late into the night. The couple tied the knot this past summer in an equally lavish as it was relaxed ceremony on Y/N’s home soil. Family and friends only… and us. Y/N Alexander-Arnold, the epitome of glamour and high society, seamlessly blended their luxurious lifestyles, trading the bustling streets of Manhattan to a sprawling estate in the English countryside. Their story, marked by years of quiet cuddles hidden in the stands of the worlds biggest stages, designer wardrobes, and high-profile circles, has become the talk of the town, showcasing a perfect fusion of American charm and British elegance. Curious who the woman is with the pearly white smile and model figure sporting the number 66 every match week, we were too.

“Damn fucking right it’s cool. Baby look. You look so sexy in this, you sound so intelligent, the whole thing. It’s massive and you deserve recognition like this.” Trent was your biggest cheerleader and it made your heart want to leap out of your chest. He was so sweet. He pulled one of the chairs out from your kitchen table and sat down, legs spread wide, relaxing back into it picking up a copy of the magazine. He opened it to the page where the article began. He picked his head up with a devastatingly handsome smirk and patted his thigh for you to come sit. You obliged by standing up and moving to him. You sat on his strong muscular thigh in Dior silk pants and a white bralette. Trent’s big warm hands quick to wrap around your small waist squeezing you. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You look so fucking good. Ooff baby, I’ll tell you what that Trent Alexander-Arnold’s lad, he’s pretty fucking lucky, huh?” He joked dragging his finger over your body’s frame in one of the photos. He kissed your head with a hum.

“Thank you for being there for me, T. Really. It means so much to me like I know I would never be in a magazine if it weren’t for you.” You began to talk with a bit of a frown reflecting on the circumstances at which this feature came. Yes, it was about you but it was because you were Trent’s wife. You were proud to be his wife but of course it wasn’t the first time you’d felt like this tinge of insignificance. The magazine feature should have been 100% a good, positive, exciting thing but instead it felt like there would always be this bit of you, this percentile you couldn’t quite ever dwindle down that felt lesser than him. You remembered the fight you had before you went to New York after the FA Cup.

‘It felt like you could never measure up to the golden boy that was in the room with you. No matter where you went or what you did he was always going to look sparkly and new, fantastical and interesting and you couldn’t feel more opposite. You had been stripped of a sense of individualisation and identity. You were Teddy’s mum and Trent’s fiance. Y/N didn’t matter, anyone could fill in the blank of your name. The icing on the cake was the image you were trying to uphold all the while.’

“You know what, beautiful? I really don’t believe that. You could be a fucking centerfold.” Trent cut you off with a sincere smile as he flipped to the next page seeing arguably your favorite photo from the entire shoot. It was Trent carrying you thrown over his shoulder, Teddy chasing after you two out in your back garden. You could practically hear her giggle through the page. The photographer really captured your family beautifully. Even in your moments of feeling most insecure there would always be that silver lining, the most shiny gorgeous silver lining that was Trent and the little girl you made together.

“T…” You whined quietly trying to let him know you were attempting to be serious. “I just… I appreciate what you’ve given to me and I don’t mean the tangible things. I mean I love them.” You paused to giggle because let’s be honest the house, the cars, the holidays, the clothes, the jewelry were lovely. You smiled playing with one of the gold clovers of your Van Cleef necklace. “I just mean for how you make me feel, what you’ve done for me. Not to like get serious on you but you know I still have a hard time sometimes but it’s always okay because I have you. I have you and you made it so for the first time in my life I know that even as dark as it gets you’re there and that’s all I need.” You sighed hiding your face in the nape of his neck feeling bad that you just unloaded on him.

“You have me in the darkest and brightest moments of your life baby. I’m here for it all. And the best part about that is we got our little bestie along for the ride now too. Call me biased but that, and I'm not exaggerating, that is the cutest most perfect little girl I’ve ever seen.” Trent smiled inspecting the photo of the three of you. Ironic considering Teddy was a copy paste of him but you did agree.

“I think you’re right. You know what? I think we don’t tell Ted about this and just let her flip through till she sees us.” You laughed, turning your gaze from the magazine pages to Trent who was mindless licking over his lips. You hummed appreciating the view.

“That’s jokes, baby. Yeah, what time is it? When we wake her up we’ll show her. I want to see her reaction so don’t do it without me.” Trent cooed cupping your cheek. He stroked his thumb over your cheek looking deep into your eyes. “‘I’m proud of you baby. I know this was new and difficult for you. I am so proud of you, don’t forget that, okay?” He gently spoke, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Thank you, baby. That means so much to me. So huh? You’re nice, you’re cute, you’re supportive, you’re sexy, arent you just perfect?” You teased kissing his forehead. He rolled his eyes.

“I am and so are you. Don’t forget that either.” He laughed squeezing your side.

“Look who's awake. My sleepy girl, want to go give daddy a cuddle?” You cooed to a very tired Teddy snuggling into you as you held her walking into the living room from upstairs after her nap. She pouted but you put her down anyway knowing that she would want a cuddle from Trent. She was just too tired to answer you.

“C’mere, baby bear.” Trent smiled big at her and grunted dramatically picking up her light weight body when she finally made it over to where he was sitting on the couch. “My beautiful girl.” Trent cooed, kissing her. You watched Teddy’s pink lips curl into an adorable smile. “Want to show me how smart you are? Can you tell me what this says.” Trent asked Teddy, flashing your eyes to you and pulling her further into his lap whilst he leaned forward to grab a copy of the issue of British GQ off the coffee table. On the cover off to the side there was the list of cover lines featured in the magazine, one of which read ‘Meet Mrs. Alexander-Arnold’ to lead into your interview. Trent traced his finger under the headline. Teddy couldn’t really read just yet. She could get words but it wasn’t like she was going to be reading the full article or anything but Trent knew she’d be able to read her surname.

“Alszander Arnal.” Teddy tried her best to pronounce your surname. To be fair, it was a little tricky and she was getting there. Honestly though, you liked the way she kind of stumbled her way through it. It was really really cute. As she said the double barreled last name aloud though she turned her head befuddled to Trent at why she was reading her surname for him and why it was on this magazine.

“Yeah, good girl! Alexander-Arnold. What do you think is in the magazine?” You applauded her effort and then asked her. She just furrowed her brow. Trent flicked through the magazine until he got near the feature and then made Teddy turn page by page. She got to the one before and Trent started to laugh preemptively.

“Mama!” Teddy screamed as she peeled the page back. There it was the first image of you covering an entire page. “Dada! Look is Mama!!! My mama!” She yelled with a massive smile on her face. Bewildered, surprised, and ecstatic.

“And who’s that? Is that my baby bear with daddy and mummy.” Trent turned the page for her once more and there was the photo of the three of you. She just squealed, picking the magazine up to have a closer look at herself chasing after you and Trent on the turf pitch with a football.

“Is that my pretty girl?” You cooed, coming to sit next to them. Trent pulled you by the waist of your trousers closer to him and Teddy.

“Das me, Mama!!! Teddy!” Teddy shrieked whilst trying to finagle her way out of Trent’s hold handing over the copy. She climbed off the couch and stood in front of you two. She reached out with grabby hands and pulled on Trent’s joggers. “Dada go ‘side like in piture. Footie ‘side now, tay?” She incessantly pulled and pulled on the fabric until he finally sat up some more and let go of his hold of you dropping the magazine into your lap, going to live the printed picture in real life.

“Okay, okay! The Teddy Alexander- Arnold wants to play footie with me? I can’t say no to that, can I?” Trent laughed, at her greedy smile pulling himself to get up with another grunt and a kiss to her forehead. “Alright, yeah it’s my day off but yeah, I’ll play footie.” He said more to you then to Teddy. He’d do anything for her. Was he exhausted and not in the mood to chase after your toddler outside in the freezing weather? Most definitely not but he would bundle Teddy up, throw on a pair of trainers and have a little kick about if it made his little girl smile. Every single time.

“Can you imagine if there were two of her.” You giggled watching Teddy pull on Trent’s facial hair as he zipped up her tan Moncler jacket. He removed her hand from his face for her with a laugh.

“Yeah, well then mummy would also have to go outside in the freezing cold because we’d need to have even numbers. 2 v 2. Right, Ted? Would you be on mummy’s team or daddy’s?” Trent asked Teddy.

“Erm… dada.” She was quick with her response gigging cheekily. You rolled your eyes kneeing before she even responded that would be her answer. Trent stayed bent over tying Teddy’s tiny brown Adidas campers that he had gotten her so they could match. If it was possible, in anyway, Teddy wanted to be like Trent. Naturally, Trent was flattered so anytime he got PR or grabbed anything from Adidas or really any brand he’d make sure to ask if they had a size for her. It didn’t bother you the way you thought it might have. Initially after you had Teddy you were so offended by her preference but now if she latched to him and gave you a minute alone it wasn’t always the worst thing. Lately, though you hadn’t really wanted that moment alone. You liked that she was so enamored with him. You definitely understand the attachment but you also knew when it came to certain things she’d quickly drop her daddy’s girl persona and come running to you. Needs her hair done? Mama. Is tired? Mama. A Cuddle? Definitely mama. Is Hungry? Mama. And hungry you knew the two TAA’s in your back garden would be when they came back in. They played for what felt like ages outside in the freezing cold while you got started on dinner. You could hear Teddy’s squeals, giggles, and ‘dada’s’ from inside. You were thrilled knowing that she’d be exhausted after Trent ran her ragged and would fall right to sleep tonight.

When you woke up the following morning Trent was feeling particularly handsy with you. Before you had fully even come to his big hands were kneading your boobs his thumbs lightly brushing over your nipples under the lacey blue pajamas you were in.

“Well good morning to you to baby.” You breathily giggled pushing your ass back into his morning hard on thinly covered by his boxers. You turned around still keeping yourself wrapped in his arms and pushed your nose against his. Trent’s hands drifted down your body to your hips and he pulled you tighter into him.

“Good morning to the sexiest girl in the world. I had a dream about you last night and let me tell you… wow.” He spoke with a morning raspiness in his voice that was unintentionally really turning you on.

“Really? Better than in real life?” You responded back, flickering your eyes between his sleepy brown ones and his perfectly plump lips silently suggesting that you play out whatever happened in his wet dream right now.

“Well…” Trent began speaking and your eyes shot open ready to be offended. “Relax…” he squeezed you. “Hold on, was just trying to say that sometimes I’m not entirely sure I’m not just dreaming every time I’m in bed with you. I don’t think it’s possible for someone to be so good, skin to be this soft,” he dragged his fingers purposefully up and down your side sending a shiver of anticipation up your spine. “ lips be so pillowy, god..” He groaned, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as his other hand began to wander all over your body with much more intention. “These tits, just there's no way this is real life. You can’t possibly be real.” He rattled on with a more serious tone than you would’ve expected. You thought maybe he would have fallen into a joking manner but Trent was serious. He really felt that way. He was in a trance looking at you this morning.

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m only just for you, made for you.” You teased wrapping your hands around the back of his head and gently pulling him into you for a kiss.

“Made for me. Just my real life angel, yeah?” He whispered, ghosting his lips over yours. Your lips falling into open mouth kisses. You moaned into his mouth when one of his hands dropped towards your panty covered pussy. He dragged his finger teasingly over the dampening fabric.

“If I’m your angel, baby then what does that make you?” You asked him almost out of breath pulling away from the vulgar kiss moving your lips and kisses over his jaw and down onto his neck.

“I don’t know but hell, baby you make me want to fucking sin.” Trent groaned as he rolled his head to the side giving you more room to nip away at his sensitive skin. He was in a mood the morning and you were onto it.

“I need you” You murmured against his skin desperately. You could feel your pussy pulsating and growing hot just from his teasing touch. Trent was salivating at the thought of you long before you’d even woken up. You could’ve had some sort of gradual build up or foreplay but you both were too hasty, too eager, you needed each other, you couldn’t wait. He fucked the daylights out of you. Orgasm after orgasm and yet you craved more.

“You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” Trent smirked at you as he lined his cock up with your sopping wet entrance for round two. The sheets of your bed were practically damp sticking to your skin. You had no idea how long you and Trent had been going at for but you were thanking your lucky stars that Teddy had yet to wake up because you didn’t want this to end.

“I just want more and more of you, baby.” You begged pulling Trent by his hips into you again. He slowly pushed himself into your warm velvety pussy. You wrapped your legs around him greedily. You dragged him into a messy kiss moaning into his mouth when his cock hit deeper inside of you.

“Good, because I can’t get enough. Be a good girl and take all of me.” He pulled away from the kiss and whispered back, a soft smile lining his lips. “Fuck, baby you feel so good.” He muttered out as you did as instructed, taking every inch of him to the hilt. His voice still plagued by a morning raspiness that had you a mess beneath him. Trent bottomed out with a grunt as you clenched around him.

“T…baby.” You whined feeling euphoric in a way that it felt like you were fucking him for the very first time. You’d been so horny for him lately. Your emotions were all over the place. You were sad one minute or stressed the next hour and then happy the following day, it was constantly changing but the one thing that never shook, never faltered and would probably never change was how fucking bad you wanted Trent.he was addicting. He could see the emotions play out on your face; love, lust, pleasure, and your pure vulnerability with him. You’d let him do anything, you trusted his love for you.

“I know, baby. I’m right here. Doing so good f’me.” He whispered, leaning his forehead down against your shoulder. He slid his face up into your neck and placed gentle kisses to your skin as he began to thrust into you, creating the perfect rhythm, the symphony of your moans, his groans, the sound of your skin, pornographic. Both of you were incredibly sensitive after your orgasmic first round. You tightened your pussy’s grip around Trent’s length and he shivered. Your face falling into an ‘o’ as your brows pinched. Something about this felt different. He felt so good despite you being so sore so sensitive. You weren’t sure sex had ever felt this good, you had no idea why, it was a random weekday morning, but you were not complaining. “I know, I know, baby. So good f’me.” Trent continued coaching you through stretching you out more and more as his soft plump lips grazed over your slick skin. He breathed you in with a groan. Your scent drove him crazy. He was so in love with you. Every bit of you. Every feature had him down terribly bad. No amount of time together would ever be enough for either of you. He needed all of you all the time. As desperate as you had been feeling, you had dragged Trent into the depths of the emotion with you and right now you were both benefiting from its repercussions. Your eyes began to water from the pleasurable feeling of his strokes but more so from the eye contact you two were holding, the emotion behind his eyes had you having a hard time swallowing. “I love you so much, baby. I love you. You have no idea, so fucking much.” Trent babbled away getting lost in you, his voice certain in his words. “I love you so much it could kill me.” Trent’s thrust faltered a little. He meant that. You were all consuming to him.

“I love you, T. I love you so much. I couldn’t live without you. I love you, I love you, I… I…” You babbled back to him just the same, lost in your feelings, tears streaming down your face . Your words only halted by the gasp and sudden intake of air you sucked in when Trent’s hand dropped in between you two working his fingers in tight circles over your clit. He was pounding into you aggressively and yet he never felt more loving. He gripped your thigh with his free hand, his fingers digging into the plushness of you pushing it up to your chest. He dropped his face down simultaneously and began to suck on one of your nipples. He was doing so much at once you couldn’t focus. You were completely at his mercy, submissive to any way he folded your body and you loved every single second of it.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. I’m gonna cum again. Fuck you feel so good. Can you cum with me?” Trent’s words were muffled by his face buried in your tits. You could barely respond. All you could do was moan and whine out his name. “Hmm? Can you cum f’me?” He asked again as your thighs shook. You weren’t sure how many times you had orgasmed this morning. You nodded pathetically unable to even identify where you were. You were holding it together by the flimsiest of threads. It wasn’t exactly a big ask to let it snap. Your orgasm came before his, crashing over you, your pleasure always his priority. You squirmed under him as you creamed all on his throbbing cock. Trent groaned as you clenched tighter around him. He drew out his high thrusting into you still. He didn’t let you come down, he just layered a secondary orgasm on top of the last. You felt a type of blissful delirium you could never articulate with words, it was indescribably good. Trent let out a filthy groan as he hit his own climax. Your eyes rolled back and your heels dragged down his muscular back as you felt him fill you up as promised, pumping you full. His warm release leaking out between you two still connected. Trent lazily kissed you as he stilled, laying his body weight onto you. If you could, you wished he could just stay inside you forever. It was like this was the safest, most comfortable you could be. It was what you had been craving. Him. You needed him. At the beginning of your relationship with him, day one in fact Trent was adamant telling you that you were his. He’d tell you ‘you’re mine’ on repeat and you had a hard time believing it. How he knew that, thought that so early on. Sometimes you wondered how he had such foresight because right now as he rolled over and pulled you to lay on top of him you stared into your husband’s beautiful mahogany puppy dog eyes that you hard time wrapping your head around that they could also do all the dirty things he had just done with you, you knew he was right from the start. You were his and he was yours. You cupped his cheeks with your hands and rested your slightly slick forehead against his. The glow on your face had Trent pink lips curling into a tired smirk. His hands caressed your bare back up and down your spine with a hum as your erratic breaths slowly began to even out. You ran one hand over his hair and smiled.

“Even after all this time, no matter how many years go by, lifetimes we could live in, it will always be you.” You quietly told him. He hummed and kissed the bridge of your nose.

“In this lifetime and the next and even in my dreams. It’s you.” He hushly spoke with a stoic expression. “I used to build dreams about you. You’ve made my life a dream, baby. I’m not sure I’ve woken up since I met you.” He mused and you felt your heart falter.

“I will always find you, T. In each one, I’m meant to be yours.” You cooed, brushing your nose back and forth over his. “I’ve been missing this…” you sighed. “Missing you so much lately. Sometimes I feel like I was missing you before we even met.” You confessed imagining the same warm honey hue his eyes had on 78th street that they did right now.

“You are mine. My baby, my angel, my pretty girl, my everything, my whole world, my forever. You, Y/N are it.” He kept his eyes fixed on you, confirming his sincerity. He was right, you weren’t sure it was possible to be anything but a dream. This was a love you could only dream of.

“Annnndd she’s ours.” You giggled hearing a stir come from a monitor off on your bedside table. You turned the screen towards you and kissed Trent’s nose.

“I’m holding Teddy, relaxxxx.” Trent laughed as you slipped your hands under his t-shirt running your nails over his abs. He was stood holding your little girl as you stood in your laundry room on a mission to find a very specific shirt that Teddy was very clear she needed to wear today. You followed Trent around all day after that dream like morning sex.

“I can’t stop thinking about this morning.” You whispered behind the shell of his ear, pushing your body into his from behind. He rolled his eyes and moved Teddy from his hip to sit on the machine. He turned and grabbed your face rashly and you giggled uncontrollably when he began to nuzzle himself against your neck, nipping at your skin.

“I will take care of you tonight, alright? Don’t I always?” He cooed to you sliding his big hands over the curve of your ass. You hummed.

“Dada me too!” Teddy without fail felt left out. She saw the beaming smile on your face left by her dad and she was jealous. Trent turned around quickly, letting go of you, completely smitten with him, and scooped Teddy up blowing raspberries against her skin sillily.

“T… baby.” You whined, squeezing him as tight as you could, nuzzling your face into his cotton t-shirt under you. You’d been so clingy to Trent and especially after the type of sex you’d been having lately you were practically glued to him.

“Come gimme a kiss, baby.” Trent cooed as you laid in bed that night. He pulled you tight to him with a kiss to your lips first and then he kissed your temple. You wiggled your body into him to be as physically close as possible. You whined his name hiding your face in his neck. “So needy for me, huh? You promise everything’s okay, sweet girl? You’re making me a little nervous. I'm not gonna lie. I mean you’ve been eating fine I thought. You’ve been doing so well with Ted, you and I’ve been fine but it just feels…” he paused, taking a deep breath not sure how to quite articulate how you’ve been acting and why it was giving him a bit of anxiety without upsetting you. Although to be fair, he had every right to be worried after the year and half you’d had with your health.

“I just… I don’t know. You’re right everything is okay I guess. I just feel really needy like you said. Like I just want to be with you all the time and then today I just felt so nauseous all day. I’ve been waking up so fatigued. Ted has so much more energy now as well and all I want to do is just squish her and hold her with me all day and it’s kind of sad she doesn’t want that anymore. She wants to run and play which is amazing and I’m glad she’s happy and goofy but like I’m tired.” You cooed sadly to Trent wallowing in the fact that your baby girl was getting older whether you liked it or not.

“Baby, she does want that. Ted loves a cuddle with her mummy. She just also wants to learn and explore. It’s good that she’s independent and curious. You know if you really asked her she’d always come and give you a big cuddle and in between those times where maybe she just wants to mess about, you always have me. I’m here. I love a cuddle with mummy.” He kissed your lips gently with a hum. “I’m sorry you haven’t been feeling well, baby. I’ll keep my eye on you, alright? Just tell me whenever you need me. I’m always here for you.” He whispered, keeping his lips tight to you ghosting over yours.

“I know. I love you, T. Can you just hold me all night? I don’t want to be apart.” You asked him fairly sadly, feeling a bit pathetic with yourself. He hummed with his eyes closed pulling you tighter into him. “Thank you. Night, baby.” You kissed his bare chest squishing your face into him. He mumbled a ‘night, beautiful’ into your hair.

“Hey, baby, what are you doing awake so early?” Trent grumbled with a raspy voice sitting himself up in bed moving back to lean onto your headboard seeing you sneak out of the bathroom back towards bed. He frowned at you. You were an early riser but it was really fucking early, this was abnormal. He pulled the blankets down for you to get back in. “Good morning, beautiful girl. How we feeling today?” He cooed more gently watching you cautiously and slowly bring your body back onto the mattress. He pulled you back into him, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

“I’ve gotten sick twice this morning already. I didn’t want to wake you. I think I caught a bug or something.” You pouted nuzzling into Trent. “T, I feel horrible. I feel so sick. Every day I feel like I’ve gotten worse this week. I… I just..” You stuttered, getting your words out and started to cry unable to hold back the emotion. “I can’t keep up with her today. I can’t do it. I feel so exhausted I can’t manage her on my own. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m the worst. It’s my only job and I can’t do it” You started crying more and more, feeling horrible, admitting to the fact that taking care of Teddy seemed like it would be an impossible task.

“Beautiful, you’re doing amazing. You’re such an incredible mum. Baby, this is not your only job, you do so much. Also, this is one of the hardest jobs in the world. It is really hard. Please don’t say you’re sorry to me. I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. What can I do?” He spoke gently to you feeling like if he raised his volume even a little above a whisper it would bruise you.

“T… I’m failing.” You croaked out embarrassed by the fear you’d be unable to take care of your daughter today.

“You’re not. Come here, sweetheart. Can you stay in bed for me today? I’ll make Ted breakfast and call my mum. I’ll ask her to take her today. She can handle that very cute bundle of energy. Just take today to rest please. I’ll make sure you’re okay, head to training a little late, and if you need me, even to just get you a tea, you call me and I’ll come right home. If not, then I’ll be home as fast as I can right after training back to my beautiful girl. Hmm?” He cooed and you sighed a sad ‘ok.’ Trent did as he said, he got himself dressed for training, he woke Teddy up, got her changed and downstairs for breakfast, then came knocking at your door a little while later.

“Mummy’s a little sleepy so we have to be quiet, okay?” You could hear Trent whisper to Teddy as they walked into your bedroom. Teddy trailed Trent clinging to his joggers as he carried a water and a cup of tea in his hands for you.

“Baby, how do ya feel?” He spoke softly rubbing his hand over your head after putting the drinks down on your bedside table. You rolled over more onto your side to get a better look at them. You just hummed with a soft smile as Teddy haphazardly climbed up into your bed and squirmed her way into your embrace.

“Mama, morning time. Why still sleepy?” She asked you and you didn’t even have the energy to try to get into your current state so you just kissed her forehead. “Know I lub you most.” She said to you with a dramatic whisper. She was trying hard to whisper the best she knew how but it was more like just speaking more breathy at regular volume.

“I know Ted. Thank you, baby. I love you the most. Mummy’s just a little extra sleepy.” You cooed meekly, kissing her cheek. “You’re going to have such a good day with Nana today though. That’ll be much more fun.” You told her hoping you could convince her that it’d be fun and you knew it would be once she got there. Dianne was amazing with Teddy, of course, but you knew Teddy well enough to know that no matter how fun something like this would be, if there was no mummy or daddy it was going to be a hard sell.

“Want stay with you, tay?” She informed you as anticipated. You gave her a sympathetic grin appreciating how attentive she was to you but you needed her to go to Dianne’s so you mustered all the strength you had to sit up a little in bed. Trent moved quickly to grab Teddy from you and plop her off the bed onto her own two feet. Your weakness and what you assumed to be a run down body was apparent to him.

“No, no, you want to go play and sing and dance, you don’t want to lay with me all day, silly girl. Plus you haven’t gotten to tell Nana all about how well you’ve been taking care of the doggies too, right?” You cooed to her cupping her cheek as she leaned her body goofily onto the bed to stay close to you. She gave you a disappointed nod of the head. Teddy had been taking it upon herself to help out more and more with your two dogs. It was sweet and she was very very proud of herself. It didn’t really relieve any of the actual duties of care from you or Trent but it was cute. “And then when you come home you have to tell me every single fun thing you did with Nana. I want to hear every bit, cute girl.” You smiled at her trying to reinforce the idea that her day would be well worth her going and leaving you.

“Will miss. Mama know I lub, tay?” She told you once more. It was cute. You knew she did but again, getting her to leave you was not an easy task. Frankly, you would have loved to cuddle up with your baby girl all day right now but that is definitely not something she had the attention span for. Your energy levels at the minute couldn’t have been more opposite.

“Okay, baby. I know, I’ll miss you too. Go ahead please. Have fun.” You cooed gently and quietly as you laid back down defeated into your pillow feeling another wave of nausea wash over you again. You had a horrible migraine that not even closing your eyes was making it dark enough for you to feel more at ease. Before Trent went downstairs you scribbled on a post it note in your room and had told him to pack something for Teddy as an aid to get her to be a bit more happy once they got to Diannes.

“Thanks mum for watching her. I told you Y/N thinks she just caught a bug or something. She was up early sick so really appreciate you taking Ted.” Trent spoke to Dianne in the foyer of her house as Teddy clung to his leg in an effort to not let him get to training. He was attempting to drop Teddy off and make it to training on time, to avoid a team fine but Teddy was being stubborn.

“No problem, hun. Everything alright? I haven’t heard that anything is going around.” Dianne brushed her hand over Teddy’s curls but kept her gaze on Trent with a raised brow. Trent gave her a confused look in return not sure what her suspicious face was for. Dianne dropped it though and smiled with a shake of the head. “We’re going to have a fun day, right my Teddy girl? What do you want to do today?” She asked sweetly to Teddy.

“Be with my mama, nana.” Teddy answered her sadly with a signature pout and puppy dog eyes Dianne was now enduring the second generation of. Teddy had inherited Trent’s beautiful face and certainly the same face that had people around them crumbling.

“Oh, I know. Mummy is the best but you’ll see her soon. How about we go play outside, we can watch a movie, we can make you some yummy food.” Dianne paused seeing Teddy’s face unchanged. Nothing she offered her was going to be better than being with you but she’d try one last effort she knew was Teddy’s latest fixation “We can color.” She drew out the word with a smile, squinting her eyes a little seeing Teddy’s face immediately respond to the option.

“Oh I know that look… I think you heard something you like, huh?” Trent cooed, coming to squat down next to Teddy, their faces now level. Teddy loved coloring and she was getting better and better at it. ‘Better’ is subjective but her progress had Trent singing her praises and she was eating it up. It was a nice activity for her and you liked how careful she was with all the markers and supplies you’d get her. She took care of it all and put everything back neatly. Trent said it was bizarre but you loved that she inherited a sense of organization and meticulousness from you. It was adorable. “Did you check in your bag we brought yet? I think there’s something special in there” He asked her as he reached behind him to grab her pink Stoney Clover backpack with her own ‘TAA’ initials on it and bring it towards them. She unzipped it slowly not understanding that this was something to be excited about. But there it was inside, a brand new pack of markers you had gotten for her, you had planned to give her at some point but no time like the present. Trent had stuck the post it note you’d written on to the packaging.

‘Show Nana how well you color, my Teddy bear. I love you so so much. Love mummy xx’

“Wow Teddy! Your mummy must love you so much! I think we should color today then if mummy gave those to you.” Dianne cooed excitedly watching Teddy’s smile grow and grow on her face and her eyes go wide, absolutely gassed about the markers.

“C’mere baby. Let’s read what mummy wrote on this little note for you.” Trent pulled Teddy into him and held the sticky note in front of them and helped her work through the worlds, essentially just Trent reading to her. When they finished, Teddy giggled and hugged the pack of markers to her chest. “Aw baby, you’re so excited. So you have to do what mummy said, yeah? Gonna show Nana how good you are at coloring with your new markers?” Trent cooed before kissing her cheek. Teddy nodded and for the first time since they entered the house took steps away from Trent. They said goodbye and Teddy took off to a little table and chairs for toddlers Dianne had at her house for her. Teddy knew exactly where it was and she couldn’t wait any longer to get there.

Trent drove home after a long fairly thought provoking training session. All day at AXA he couldn’t shake the thought of his mum’s questioning look when he said you were sick. As he was stopped at the traffic light before he entered your neighborhood, the possibility smacked him in the face. He gasped and leant his head back onto the headrest of his seat in the car, eyes wide. Trent puffed out some air and shook his head with a stupid grin. He couldn’t wait to get home.

“Beautiful, can I ask you something and please don’t take it the wrong way.” Trent asked you about an hour after he’d gotten home. He had checked in and made sure you were okay before he began his probe. You hummed not thinking about anything other than how shitty you felt today. “Ermm…” Trent paused, getting a little nervous to ask his question, beginning to second guess himself but he mustered up the courage after he took a deep breath and looked at you. He looked deep in your eyes and he sighed. He knew you. He knew you so well, he couldn’t be wrong. “When was the last time you got your period?” He asked you and you tilted your head confused and then you felt your stomach sink.

“Oh my fucking god…” You gasped and felt your soul just about leave your body. You were not being careful in the slightest in bed but it wasn’t like you’d been actively trying. You were more shocked that you hadn’t thought about this possibility though. You couldn’t help it, you just started balling your eyes out. Your tears felt like they were just endlessly flowing.”I… I… I can’t be. No.” You stuttered out the words. Trent was a little confused because, just as well as he knew you, he could tell these were not tears of joy or excitement, this was fear. Your emotions were all over the map lately and uncontrollable, it should’ve been obvious.

“Baby… Are you okay? C’mere please.” Trent sat down on the bed and pulled you into his embrace. He was holding your body up for you. You were in a completely blanked state. You couldn’t think. “Let’s just take a test alright? Let’s find out. It could just be a bug, I could be wrong. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.” Trent tried to comfort you.

“I can’t know…” You muttered out. You felt the words leave your mouth and you knew that wasn’t possible so you sighed. You squeezed Trent. “Can you come with me?” You looked up at him with teary eyes, water clumping in your eyelashes. Your bottom lip rolled into a quivering pout.

“Yeah, baby, of course. I’ll be there the whole time.” Trent cooed and helped you up from the bed. You had a few extra pregnancy tests in the cupboard of the bathroom stashed away for a situation like this but you kind of thought you’d be more prepared to take them when the time came. Trent got one out for you and handed it to you. When you took it he grabbed your hand and pulled it to him. He kissed your hand. “Whatever, absolutely whatever any test says. I love you and you will be okay.”

“Can you turn around?” You mumbled out embarrassed. Trent gave you a cheeky smirk silently saying ‘really, baby… I’ve seen you in labor. I don’t think you peeing is going to be all that big of a deal.’ It lightened your stone heart momentarily but when he did what you asked and turned around, you lost eye contact with his support and your heart hardened again. The thing was it’s not that you were massively opposed to another baby, it just was so overwhelming. There were a lot of factors at play. You were so stressed by how you would manage two babies so little when Trent had to be away for football. Today you couldn’t even get out of bed. What would happen if you had two babies and he was out of the country? Another reason, god, what if a postpartum depression came back worse this time around. Last time you were borderline suicidal.

“T, baby, I can’t… I’m sorry I’m so scared.” Tears began to fill your lash line again you stood up and Trent turned around. You placed the cap back onto the test and hugged Trent. In a backwards way his comfort triggered your tears to begin to fall again more rapidly.

“My beautiful girl, put this here.” He grabbed the test and put it on your sink counter. “You, my amazing wife, Teddy’s amazing mummy, you come with me. I got the timer. All you need to do is come and give me the best cuddle you’ve ever given me in your whole life, okay?” He moved you to come lay on top of your bed and pulled you into his embrace. He held you securely but gently whispering ‘I love you’ on repeat again and again quietly into your hair. After the alotted 5 minutes or so the sound of the alarm blaring from Trent's phone made you jump, wince, and your heart stop all at once. You were about to find out if you’d be a family of 4 and you also felt like you were about to be sick..

“Can you look? Sorry I’m being such a… I don't know I’m such a mess. I’m sorry baby.” You mumbled into his cotton t-shirt that you had now soaked with your tears.

“Baby shhh. Shhh, okay? You stay right here. I will go get it. Just you stay here and be my beautiful dream girl.” Trent let go of you and you felt like you could cry more just losing his comforting hold momentarily. He picked up the test in the ensuite and stifled his gasp. His smile was massive but he shook it off his face and looked down at a very clear positive pregnancy test. He came back into the room and he had a smile you usually hated to see one that was sympathetic and a little sad. “Y/N…” He whispered, stroking his hand over your head. “You’re pregnant. It says we’re pregnant. It’s positive, baby.” As the words rolled off his tongue Trent couldn’t suppress the smile he really felt. He was beaming, ecstatic but as you heard the words fall out his mouth you felt sick.

“Oh…” You sighed with disappointment in your voice. “Oh my god. Look how happy you are. I should be. I’m the worst fucking mum in the world. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” You looked up at Trent with swollen red eyes from all your tears. “T…How did you know?” You croaked out curious what made him think of this when you hadn’t. You felt so stupid honesty. How could you not see it. You were beating yourself up internally.

“Don’t know, baby. Just instinct. I think I know you pretty well.” He laughed shyly, running his hand behind his neck. “You were so cuddly and getting sick and It just felt like last time a little bit and baby… we…” Trent started to laugh with a gentle smile coming to give you a cuddle. “We fuck a lot.” He continued his laugh. You couldn’t help but at least crack a small smile.

“I guess better than I know myself.” You sighed realizing that Trent probably did know you better than you knew yourself. “T… it’s just… I just got my body back to a place I wasn't grossed out by.” You whimpered pushing your face into his chest upset by the idea of going through the lovely bodily changes of pregnancy again. You’d been working so hard in the gym to get fit and with your care team to get healthy.

“Baby, we’ll do whatever you need.” Trent unexpectedly told you. He was calm with his words but the sentiment was kind of insane. You wouldn’t dream of not having this baby because of something so selfish like appearance. Trent didn’t see it as selfish he saw it as your mental wellbeing. But you thought you wanted babies with Trent, plural.

“T, stop.. it’s not just my decision.” You lashed out at him pulling yourself off him in a flustered state. You felt your tears fill your eyes again. You pulled your legs up onto the bed and wrapped your arms around them, pulling your knees tight to your chest.

“I know, I know but baby we’re going to do what’s best for you though.” Trent sighed, rubbing his hand over your smooth leg. He meant it. He did. He wanted to do what was best for you but the thought of getting pregnant and then deciding not to go through with it made him a little sick.

“I need a minute alone.” You snapped standing up prioritizing your own feelings, unable to look at him. You knew the expression you could imagine was on his face would be heartbreaking. It was a really emotionally conflicting thing. He tried to call out to you but knew better and just let you go. You locked the door of the en suite and slid down the back of it, seating yourself on the floor. You cried and cried raking your brain if you were ready for this. Were you an okay mum? Would you be disappointing Trent if you decided not to have another baby? Would you be doing a disservice to this unborn baby by having him or her? You were terrified of falling back into a depressive state but as you rested your forehead onto your knees in front of you, you clocked a tiny silver frame on the marble countertop above you out of the corner of your eye. You sighed seeing matching toothy grins of the two people you loved more than anything in the world. More than yourself. You could almost hear the photo of Trent telling Teddy to say cheese. Her babbling out her attempt, something like a ‘cheebs.’ You kept crying but not because you were questioning yourself, or your abilities but because of how in love you were with being a mum, having this family. Your family was everything to you, the three of you and now the possibility of a fourth didn’t sound so bad. Another cute voice learning to ‘cheese’ in photos with the best husband and dad in the world, the love of your life didn’t sound so bad. It took you a bit of time but you eventually pulled it together.

“T…” you whispered coming back into the bedroom. You sighed and ran your hands over your face feeling guilty inspecting Trent’s body language. He was more upset than you anticipated. He wasn’t pouting intentionally, he just really wanted this. This was the best news ever for him but he was trying to talk himself down and to the fact you might want to get rid of the pregnancy. “I want this…” you cooed hugging him from behind as he laid curled up on the bed.

“C’mere, baby.” You could audibly hear him let out a deep breath. He turned to face you and pulled you tight into an embrace, tucking your head under his chin. “If you…” he began to talk.

“I want this, okay? This baby… I do.” You interrupted him, stopping what he was going to tell you, clarifying that you were certain about this.

“If it’s not the right time for us or it’s too much.” Trent was persistent with his thoughts. He kissed your head trying to tell you that no matter what he’d be there but it was breaking his heart and you could hear it in his voice.

“Stop… I really do.” You pulled your head out from against him to look him in the eyes. You were serious. You wouldn’t change your mind. You wanted a second baby.

“Yeah? You’re sure you can? You can’t do this for me.” He haphazardly got the words out not sure how to express what he was feeling. The last thing Trent wanted to do was put pressure on you.

“It’s not for you. It’s for us.” You hummed with a soft smile. Your lips began to curl more and more. Both you and Trent could feel the tension in the room evaporating. He gave you a questioning look silently so you spoke again. “I always thought we’d have like multiple kids. I don’t know. Right? Wasn’t that what we wanted?” You giggled a little trying to recall the exact plans or discussions you had had in the past. It all felt a little blurry thought. “Like not in a weird way but don’t you think it’d be silly for us to not at least try for a boy.” You smiled at him imagining a little boy.

“I think it’ll be another girl but I get your sentiment. C’mere, baby. I love you so much.” Trent cupped your face and gently pulled you into a kiss that felt like heaven. It felt like relief. You smiled into it, starting to laugh imagining another baby in the house. “Let’s have Ted sleep at my mum’s. Just need to be with my favorite girl tonight.” Trent cooed and although you wanted to correct him with a tease telling him you knew Teddy had replaced you as favorite you just hummed. “Baby… I’m really really happy. I love being a dad. I love our family.” Trent whispered into your hair kissing your head a few times.

“You’re the best daddy. Just the best, baby. It looks good on you too.” You giggled a little more picturing how good he looked carrying Teddy around, you assumed a second would only double the attraction. You were only able to kiss at his neck from your close proximity and his hold of you, limiting any movement. “T… I’m a little scared though.” You got out the obvious fear you were harboring after a couple quiet minutes embraced in a hug.

“I know, beautiful. You can be scared but you got me the whole way. You’re so strong. You can do this.” Trent tried to put you at ease with encouragement.

“Are you excited?” You meekly and sheepishly asked him, trying to divert from a more serious conversation and confessional about your fears. You could guess the answer but you wanted to hear him say it.

“I am gassed right now, seriously? Creating a life with you, having a family? It’s an absolute dream.” Trent looked at you confused with a furrowed brow. How could you not know that he thought that.

“You’re such a good daddy.” You sighed hugging him. You breathed him in. His scent wrapped around you, calming all your fears by just simply being there with you.

“Think I do okay?” He asked you with a bit of smugness in his tone. You smiled with your face still hidden pressed against his neck. You loved Trent’s cheek.

“Yeah, really the best. Ted… and I guess this little baby here are so lucky.” You cooed, moving your hand to your still flat stomach. Trent let his eyes flutter closed and moved his hand to lay over top of yours. He kissed your forehead as a silent ‘thank you.’ He could never properly thank you for giving him a family of his dreams but you were just the same. There were no words.

Trent was fucking beaming when he picked up Teddy from Dianne’s the next day. Call it a mother’s intuition but Dianne knew something was up. She easily put two and two together but bit her tongue letting you two have your privacy. You had called your doctors and made the appointment to find out for real how far along you might’ve been. Like Trent said, you had sex a lot you had no idea when this could’ve happened.

“I missed you baby bear. You had so much fun with Nana huh?” Trent cooed to Teddy looking through his rearview mirror back to her tucked in her carseat in his big car.

“Told dada.” She quipped fairly sassily. Teddy inheriting Trent’s own personality traits was biting him in the ass. His eyes widened.

“Well, I know but I’m just asking sheesh, Ted. Are you going to give Mama your pretty drawing when we get back home? She’ll be so happy to see you. I know she’ll love it” Trent continued on. When Dianne had handed over all of Teddy’s things from her impromptu sleepover to Trent she had to make sure, per Teddy’s instructions, that her artwork she’d made was kept nice and safe because it had to get to it’s recipient, you, safely. You had a museum full of Teddy drawings, each one priceless… to you. Likes squiggles on a paper to a stranger.

“Yeah huh, for my mama.” She mumbled getting distracted fixating on the little tray of her car seat filled with cheerios just moving them around. She had complained that she was hungry and couldn’t wait till she got home but evidently not enough to eat said cereal. Trent winced every time he heard Teddy crumble one up littering his car with crumbs. Anyone else… he’d be fuming.

“We’re gonna stop at the shop first, okays?” Trent told Teddy. She just gave him a ��tay’ as expected. Trent parked his car in your local town shopping center ahead of getting back home because he wanted to get you some flowers. He held Teddy’s hand as they fumbled around the florist letting her decide the color of flowers. He knew chrysanthemums weren’t your favorite flower but Teddy was adamant that you would like the pink color which she was sort of right. In her defense, she did have the experience Trent did. She hadn’t been buying you flowers just about every month for the past 5 plus years.

“You know what, Ted? You get mummy the pink flowers, okay? And dada will get her white ones.” Trent decided two bouquets would work then, one from your babies, Teddy and your new addition, and one from your baby, Trent.

“Tay, mama like pink doe.” Teddy stayed set on the fact that you’d want the pink and Trent was wrong. It was a battle of two of the same people. Neither would concede but Trent realized he was in his mid twenties and Teddy hadn’t even hit three, so he compromised despite a tinge of confidence that he knew you liked the bouquets he usually got for you, luxurious, lavish, chic. Teddy did have the advantage of her handing over her pink cute flowers with chubby cheeks raised in a smile indented with dimples. To be fair though Trent had those dimples too. As they left the shop walking to the car two excited young men stopped them asking for a selfie with Trent. Trent was hesitant, shy, and protective of Teddy, moving his hand to her back pushing her to him but of course he obliged. “Yeah, no worries mate.” Trent ushered the kids away from him after they got the photo as Teddy stood wrapped around his leg swinging her tiny body back and forth impatiently.

“Dada, how come piture?” Teddy asked inquisitively, confused why people were stopping her daddy in the car park.

“Erm… they just know daddy from footie.” Trent answered her as simply as possible. She gave him a ponderous ‘oh’ and then went quiet as he put her into her car seat.

“Why?” Teddy pipped up again, still pressed about what just happened. You had officially entered the ‘why’ stage of toddlerhood.

“You know when you watch daddy at Anfield or when you and mummy watch the matches on the telly?” Trent cooed gently pushing a fallen curl behind her ear. “They like the way daddy plays the game so they watch dada on tv too.” Trent further elaborated for her.

“Ohs cause my dada bests.” She adorably tacked on to his explanation. Trent hummed in agreement with a soft smile. “But, dada…” Teddy cooed, continuing her thought looking to Trent who was getting into the drivers side. “Mine and mama’s, tay?” She spoke up, wanting to just cement and confirm that those guys could appreciate Trent and take a photo but Trent was in fact hers.

“Yeah, course. Only yours, baby bear.” Trent smiled back at her, kissing his hand and pressing it to her little legs dangling in her seat. He liked her possessiveness over him. “Let's go give mama her flowers and your drawing.” he cooed with a smile and a wink back in the mirror to her.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 29 xx

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 11: On Begged And Borrowed Time

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Handjobs, Mirrors, Party, Semi-Public Sex, Quickies, Unsafe Sex, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: sorry this took so long! Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay@nn-hh192 @photo1030 @just-pure-trash @julialoopeezz @hqxee @salientseraph Chapter List

Failed Robbery in Saint Denis: 2 Dead, 1 Arrested, 6 Missing

You’d lost track of how many times you’d reread the article, the newspaper creased where your hands gripped it. You already knew what the article stated, yet you reread it at every free moment.

The Van Der Linde’s bank robbery had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. Pinkertons had been quick to arrive on the scene, resulting in a shootout that killed two members of the gang, as well as arresting John. 

There was a pang in your chest when you saw the sketch of Hosea provided. You hadn’t been close with him, not like Arthur was, but you respected him deeply and were quite thankful for him. To see him listed as nothing more than a failed bank robber and lowlife was disheartening; you knew better. 

There was another man pictured alongside Hosea, someone you didn’t recognize. You had been shocked when you first saw him, as he looked barely old enough to be an adult, let alone a part of the gang. Leonard “Lenny” Summers, his name read, and you took a mental note to ask Arthur about him later. 

A deep sadness washed over you when you thought of Arthur. Unimaginable relief had flooded you when you hadn’t seen his picture in the newspaper article, meaning he was one of the six on the run. You just hoped that wherever he was, he was alright. 

Glancing at the date at the top of the newspaper, you sighed deeply. It had been printed three weeks ago. Three weeks since you last saw Arthur, and possibly for the last time.

You quickly shook that thought from your mind. You refused to even entertain the idea that Arthur might’ve died. Until you saw his body, you didn’t let yourself think that he was anything other than alive. Worse for wear, but alive. 

“You reading that damn newspaper again?” Hans’ voice startled you, and you dropped the paper like it burned you. He stood in the doorway of your bedroom, arms crossed over his chest, staring disapprovingly at the newspaper that had fallen back onto the nightstand.

Hans’ demeanor had turned sour over the past three weeks. He was more irritable, a constant scowl on his face, barking at you instead of speaking evenly. You figured it was the stress of his moonshine operation falling apart, and from nearly entrusting his operation’s security into the hands of the failed robbers of Saint Denis.

“Sorry, it’s just…” you sighed. “It’s just so shocking. They seemed so nice!” 

“That’s what they want you to think. Can’t fault you for falling right into their trap.” 

You’re the one who fell into their trap, you fool. You nearly rolled your eyes, but you forced them to remain still. “It makes me wonder how many liars I’ve trusted.” Like you. 

Hans remained silent for a moment, the furrow in his brow deepening, making it almost look like he was glaring at you. “A thought that has passed my mind as well,” he finally said, sounding more like a threat than anything. He didn’t get to see your bewildered expression, though, because he disappeared from the doorway. 

His words unsettled you deeply, anxiety brewing in your mind. Did he know? Was he suspicious? Or was he just speaking in an angry tone, with no idea what you were up to?

Grabbing the newspaper, you decided to hide it from your sight, realizing it was doing you more harm than good. Out of the clear of your husband, you grabbed the lockbox, and it took quite a bit of forcing to fit both newspapers in there. Next time Hans left, you’d have to clip out the important parts and discard the rest. 

Your mother’s letter appeared as you were messing with the papers, a mixed sense of dread and happiness washing over you. You hadn’t told Hans about your letter. You couldn’t. You weren’t supposed to have reached out to your family, and a part of you dreaded that your mother was coming over because then you’d have to explain yourself to him. 

You had no idea when she was coming over, but you knew it had to be sometime soon. Ever since that letter arrived, you’d been expecting her arrival daily, just adding to the stress you were feeling because of Arthur. To say the last few weeks had been difficult would be an understatement, but you pushed through. 

Tucking the box away, you headed downstairs, the bedroom causing too many emotions for you to handle right now. You didn’t have to knock to know that Hans was in his office, the door locked shut when you passed.

Sitting on the couch, you picked up the embroidery you were working on, a hobby you’d taken up over the past two weeks to try and distract yourself, Hans permitting, of course. It barely worked, operating as more of a means to pass the time than anything. 

Your thoughts were always occupied with Arthur, your stomach constantly in knots. You hadn’t had much of an appetite, and it was starting to wear you down, the bags under your eyes prominent. 

It had been a startling discovery, seeing yourself in the mirror after these weeks. You looked how you did when you met Arthur, the sparkle of joy in your eyes that he brought vanishing. Your cheeks were gaunt, and you just looked exhausted. 

A light knock at the door startled you, nearly stabbing yourself with your needle. You waited for Hans to emerge from his office; maybe he was expecting someone today. 

But when a minute passed and he didn’t emerge, your heart hammered in your chest. Another light knock made you move, setting your embroidery on the couch. Shakily, you made your way to the front door, and you took a deep breath before opening it. 

On the other side stood your mother, looking a few years older, yet still the same woman all the same. People always joked when you were a child that you were just a younger version of your mother, but as your eyes fell on her, you realized how right they had been. 

A warm smile appeared on her face when she saw you, a smile that had brought you so much comfort. Even now, you feel like all the weight on your shoulders has been lifted. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to move, emotions rendering your legs useless, staring at your mother like you’d just seen a ghost. 

It was when she said your name softly that the spell you were under finally broke. A sob tore from your throat, and she had barely opened her arms before you were crashing into her, your own arms clinging to her. Right now, you weren’t Mrs. Kerrigan. You were just someone who needed the comfort of their mother. 

Immediately her hands were soothing you, one running through your hair, the other rubbing circles into your back. Your tears were staining her dress, but neither of you cared. For the first time in weeks, you finally let go of all the emotions that had bottled up inside of you, stress and sadness and grief pouring out, unable to hide them any longer. 

You’re not sure how long she held you for, letting you cry on her shoulder. You’re sure your commotion caught the attention of Hans, but that was an afterthought. Eventually, your sobs receded, and you pulled away, your eyes puffy and cheeks red.

Tears of her own flowed down her face, and you felt her gently wipe your cheeks. “My beautiful daughter…” she murmured, and your bottom lip trembled. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” you sighed. “How… how is everyone?”

“They’re well. But sweetheart, are you well?” You felt one of her thumbs brush beneath your eyes. “You don’t look it.”

“These past weeks have been… tough,” you admitted. “But that’s a conversation for later.” Where Hans won’t be able to hear me. “Oh, where are my manners? Please, come inside.” You took a step back, gesturing to the still-open door. 

“Since when have you worried about manners?” Your mother teased, but you missed the slight bit of concern in her voice. “Before we head in, there is someone else who would like to see you. Margaret?” Your mother shouted to the carriage that you now saw behind her, and an even larger smile appeared on your face as you watched your sister step out.

If you looked exactly like your mother, then she was a carbon copy of your father. But when she smiled back at you, you swore you saw yourself. Her excitement was contagious as she practically ran to you, skirts bunched up in her hands as she bound up the stairs. YOu nearly toppled over as she barreled into you, and a fresh stream of tears poured down your face as you held her.

“Maggie!” You exclaimed, partially in shock. “You’ve grown so much!” It was true. Long gone was the young teenager you’d left back at home. In front of you was a grown woman, a maturity in her eyes that you weren’t expecting when she pulled away. But it was astounding to see she hadn’t lost her energy, her joy for life. A part of you almost felt envious, as much as you hated to admit. 

Your name was barely audible, muffled as she hugged you, making you laugh. “You should’ve seen her when she saw your letter,” your mother smiled. “We haven’t had a moment of peace since.” She didn’t sound upset about it. 

“Is that true?” 

Maggie nodded her head, leaning back to look at you, her arms still wrapped around your body. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“It ain’t a competition, but I think I’ve missed you more.” Maggie playfully rolled her eyes, and you pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She was still shorter than you, but you weren’t about to comment about that now. “Let’s get inside. We’ve got a lot to discuss!”

With your arm around Maggie, you led her and your mother into your house for the first time. Their eyes danced around the spacious downstairs, and although they were used to seeing wealth, they could still appreciate the beauty of your home. If only you felt the same. Even with your family in it, it still felt foreign. 

You led them to the living room, letting them sit on the couch before excusing yourself to the kitchen, going to grab drinks. Or at least you tried to until your mother stopped you with a gentle grasp of your hand. “Sit, sweetheart.”

“But-”

“You don’t have to bring out the formalities for us. We just want you, improper and perfect.”

Biting your trembling lip, you nodded, letting her sit you between her and Maggie. She didn’t let go of your hand, her other hand resting atop yours, and Maggie adjusted so that she was sitting closer to you. “You’ve got a beautiful house.” You nodded, an empty thanks leaving your lips. “Although it’s quite… empty.”

“If you’re asking about children,” you laughed, albeit bitterly, “I’m afraid me and my husband haven’t been blessed in that department.” Thank God. You weren’t opposed to children, no, but you did not want them with Hans. He’d make a terrible father, and you’d be stuck managing them by yourself. 

“Is your husband around?” Maggie asked, and you struggled to come up with a response. How could you say that he was, but he locked himself away in his office at every spare moment?

You didn’t have to respond, though, because a loud cough from the staircase behind you answered for you, all three of you turning to face the noise. “Her husband is around and is quite confused. Care to explain, dear?” The endearment was dripping with vitriol.

You instinctively grasped your mother’s hand tighter. Confusion and concern were written across her face, already not liking the confrontational tone Hans had adopted. “Hans, this is my mother, Irene, and my little sister Margarete. Mother, sister, this is my husband, Hans Kerrigan.”

“I know who they are,” Hans interjected, slowly stepping towards you all. You failed to notice the slight panic in his voice. “What are they doing here?”

Your mother opened her mouth to respond, but you cut her off, afraid that she would mention the letters. “I don’t know,” you lied, and you missed the look Maggie and Irene shared. “They just showed up. Isn’t it great?” 

If Hans believed you, you couldn’t tell. A forced smile found its way beneath his beard. “Great, yes.” If you thought your lying ability was terrible, his was even worse. “A pleasure, ladies.”

“Mr. Kerrigan, as lovely as it is to meet you, I’m afraid that we have… business in the city we must attend to.” Panic gripped you. “All three of us must attend to.” 

Your husband's expression was unreadable, and you had no idea if he’d let you go. “Can I?” You asked, hating that you sounded like a child asking their parents if they could play with their friends. This was your family, you didn’t have to ask anyone’s permission to be with them. 

It seemed your mother felt the same way, cutting your husband off before he could agree or disagree. “No daughter of mine needs permission from anyone. She’s going with me.”

A tense silence filled the room, making you shift uncomfortably. The look Irene gave Hans was deadly, her head cocked to the side like she was daring him to say something against it. Her actions confused you, though. She was advocating for your independence, yet she had no protest against a marriage against your will. Yet again, she had seemed surprised about your marriage, so maybe she didn’t have as much say as you thought. Just another thing you needed to ask her.

Hans’ eyes flicked to you, almost disbelieving. He didn’t respond, merely scoffing before retreating upstairs. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, and you knew you were in for it later. 

Your mother stood, rather abruptly, yanking you to your feet as well. “We’re leaving,” was all she said. 

You knew there was no room for argument, but you tried anyway. “But we just sat down-”

“We are leaving.” You didn’t offer any further protests. The house was suffocating right now, and you needed to escape. After putting on your shoes, Irene brought you back outside, Maggie hot on your heels. The tense silence still hung in the air, even as you sat in the carriage, your sister sliding in beside you, your mother across you.

Even as the carriage began to move, heading anywhere but here, no one spoke for a good five minutes. You were the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry,” you began, “he’s usually more… amicable than that.” It wasn’t a complete lie. 

“You don’t need to apologize-”

“You left us for him?” Your sister interjected, not bothering to hide the hurt in her voice.

“Maggie,” your mother warned, but she just shook her head.

“No, I can’t believe it. You left us for him?” Her voice rose in anger. “Here I thought you ran away because you were in love, because you found someone who treated you well. But you ran away from us, from… me, for him? You ran away when I… I needed you. I needed my sister.”

So she also thought you ran away, and was rightfully angry at you for something you didn’t do. “I’m not sure I know what you’re sayin’. I didn’t run away.”

“Don’t lie to me. I found your note.”

“What note?” You were truly bewildered now, looking to your mother for clarification. You hated that she looked upset at you as well. 

“The night you disappeared, you left a note on your bed, detailing why you were leaving. That was the last time we ever heard from you. You don’t remember?”

You felt like you were losing it. “I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about.” You scoffed, “You of all people should know that I didn’t run away.”

Now it was her turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“You think I wanted this? To be stuck with a man that hates everything to do with me, who controls me like I’m just his goddamn toy? In no world would I run away from my family to be with someone like him.”

“Then why did you leave?” Maggie asked, her voice surprisingly soft. 

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Father set up this marriage to save the family from falling into financial ruin. I did this to help us. You know this, mother!”

You didn’t know if you should be relieved or concerned when you saw her shake her head, pure shock on her face. “He did what?” Her words were clipped, upset, but not at you anymore.

“You… you didn’t know? He officiated it and everything!”

She continued to shake her head, leaning back against her seat. “He wouldn’t…”

“But he did. He did it easily.”

Tears had begun to pool in her eyes, and a hand came to cover her mouth. “But why? How?”

So you told them. You told them how your father had woken you early in the morning, barely letting you get dressed before escorting you to the carriage that sat outside. Your belongings had already been packed, but he had not explained anything, not even during the few days of travel south. When you finally reached your destination, you had been whisked away, stuffed into a dress, and sent to the altar, where you met Hans for the first time, and then married. You realized now that the reason it had just been you, Hans, and your father at the wedding was because he wanted to keep the rest of the family in the dark. “I found out later it was done for financial security. We were about to lose everything.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either.”

“No, I mean I don’t understand why.” Her next words made you pale. “We’ve never had financial troubles. At least not severe enough to warrant… this.”

“Maybe he didn’t tell you?” If your father had withheld the details of your marriage, then it was likely he kept the details of the family’s finances from them as well. But maybe you were desperate for the last two years to have any sort of meaning, for it to not all be in vain. 

“He couldn’t have hidden financial troubles from us. Not as well as he hid, well, you.”

“Then what was it all for?” You whispered, your voice on the verge of breaking. “These past two years, what were they for?”

“I wish I could tell you, sweetheart.”

“So I didn’t have to leave? So I could’ve stayed at home, where I was happy, where I would’ve taken over the family business, where my dreams wouldn’t have been put on hold?” You were rambling, but you didn’t care. Tears poured down your cheeks, mourning a life you could’ve had. “I could’ve had that?”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Your sister asked, her hand finding its way to yours. 

“I couldn’t. Mainly because I was under the impression that my marriage was what was keeping you well, and I couldn’t jeopardize that. But I didn’t have the means to leave either. And where would I go?”

“You could’ve come home!”

“I had no idea where you moved to, though. The only reason I was able to write to you was because I had a… friend find your new address. Why did you move, by the way?”

“Father didn’t say, although I’m beginning to suspect it was to keep you from finding us.”

“Why would he do that though? What would require such secrecy?”

“I have no idea.” Those words seemed to be the running theme of this conversation, and you sighed, your cheeks still damp. You had no idea how to process all this new information, anger and betrayal clouding your thoughts.

“You said you had a friend,” your mother began. She was trying to distract you, which you were grateful for, but thinking of Arthur just made your heart heavier. “Who’s she?”

“Well, he…” your mother and sister shared looks, “he’s kind. He’s helped me a lot over the past months. But… But I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Do we know him?”

“How often do you read the newspaper?” You joked, with no humor in your voice. 

“Every Sunday. Why?” Maggie asked, hesitantly. 

“You’ll know him then. His name’s-”

Shouting from the carriage driver announcing you’d arrived in Saint Denis cut you off. It felt like no time had passed, and you weren’t expecting to be in the city already. The rest of your family seemed to be feeling the same way, a sense of wariness shared between the three of you. 

“Come. Let us forget about this, if just for a moment,” your mother wiped at her face, forcing a smile on her face. “Terrible revelations aside, I wish to spend the afternoon with my daughters.” She got out of the carriage first, a gentleman escorting her out. Maggie was next, and you took a moment to compose yourself before stepping out. 

The sound of the city hit you first, shouting and bells and whistles assaulting your ears. The stench was next, and your sister had a poorly hidden expression of disgust. “You’ll get used to it,” you whispered to her, remembering that she’d never been to Saint Denis. Glancing around, you saw that you were near the outskirts of the city, close to where Bronte lived.

Your mother extended an arm to each of you, and you both linked your arms with hers, walking beside her as she led you further into the city. You tried to distract yourself with the colorful imagery around you, yet your mind kept wandering to the words that had been spoken in the carriage.

You truly had no idea why your father would marry you off. You were his eldest daughter, set to be the heir of his business, his pride and joy second to his children. Your entire life, that is what you were led to believe would happen, and he seemed to believe it too. Why would he disrupt everything by sending you away? 

So caught up in your thoughts, you failed to notice the different atmosphere the city held today. It was lively, sure, but it seemed almost on edge. No one greeted you as you passed, even if they recognized you, and people seemed to be almost somber. 

“You’d think someone just died,” you heard Maggie mutter, pulling you from your mind. 

She hadn’t been quiet, though, and the couple walking in front of you shot her each a dirty look. “That’s because someone has, girl.”

Her eyes widened. “My apologies,” she stammered, embarrassed. “Who?”

“Angelo Bronte.” Your responding gasp didn’t deter them. “They found his body in the swamp, eaten by gators. Maybe read the paper before spewing such ignorant things.” 

Your mother and Maggie weren’t affected by their words, their attention was immediately on you and your reaction. “Did you know him?” Your sister asked, and you nodded.

“Not personally, but I’ve been to plenty of his parties. He was a prominent figure here, a rich one at that. He practically runs… ran this city.” You lowered your voice so only they could hear, “I’d say he got what was comin’ for him, though.”

“That bad?”

“That bad.” You sighed. “But let’s just hope the city doesn’t collapse without him.”

Your mother turned down a street, not having joined in on the conversation yet, but she was paying attention. You and Maggie continued to chat lightly, and for a moment you’d managed to successfully forget the worries in your mind. That was until you passed a wooden board, something you didn’t pay attention to until a familiar sketch caught your eye. 

You suddenly stopped, much to the confusion of your sister and mother. But you didn’t hear their concerned questions; the only thing you could focus on was the bounty poster in front of you, which contained a sketch of someone you now saw to be Arthur. His features were almost shaper, the artist making him look as intimidating as possible. He was depicted like he’d been described in the papers, a bloodthirsty bank robber, a ruthless vagrant, pure evil in the public eye. 

Yet even this depiction could not lessen the love you felt for him. 

“Sweetheart, what is it?” You finally heard your mother, who was shaking your arm gently.

“I… I know him.” You shook your head. “Sorry, it’s nothin’.”

“Arthur?” It was incredibly strange hearing his name from your mother’s mouth. Recognition flashed across her face, most likely having read about him in the paper. “Did he hurt you?”

“What? No! Never!” You rushed to say. “He’s my… friend that I was takin’ about.” You were certainly more than that, but you were not about to explain that to your mother.

That surprised her, and she didn’t have any words. Maggie stepped in for her. “The outlaw with the five-thousand-dollar bounty is your friend?” She was in just as much disbelief as your mother, and you shushed her. 

“Just tell the whole damn city while you’re at it,” you hissed. “Yes, he is my friend. Yes, I know it’s ridiculous. No, I will not go into further detail.” You spared one last glance at the poster before continuing down the road, dragging your family along beside you. Seeing him, even as just a sketch, made your heart ache. Maybe Arthur had hurt you, just not in the way you thought. 

You hoped your mother didn’t see the way you reacted when you saw him, an expression you’re sure that filled his longing. An expression that wouldn’t be appropriate for “just a friend”. You hoped your sister hadn’t seen the tears that had sprung to your eyes as you read Wanted: Dead or Alive sprawled across the top.

They both didn’t question you about it, even though you knew they were dying to. They left you in silence, letting you process your emotions, which you were grateful for. If they made you talk about him, you were certain you’d burst into barely contained tears. 

Your mother let you lead the way for a few more minutes, but she eventually took the reins again, steering you and a very curious Maggie to a tailor. She ushered your sister inside first but halted you when you tried to follow. Any protest died in your throat when you saw the adamant expression on her face, and so you let her take you by the arm to the narrow alleyway adjacent to the building. 

“Talk to me.” Her voice was demanding yet kind.

“Mother-”

“You love him, don’t you? Your ‘friend’.” You cast your gaze to the ground, fighting tears. Were you that easy to read? Hesitantly, you nodded, and she softened. “Sweetheart…”

That broke the dam, a stifled sob leaving you as she pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry,” you managed to get out, and you felt her shake her head.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I love him.”

“That is nothing to be sorry about,” she nearly laughed, pulling you back to look you in the eye.

“But I’m married. I’m… we’ve… it’s not right.”

“Maybe not,” she agreed, “but perhaps it’s what’s best. You’re miserable with Hans, and I can’t blame you. Why your father would ever agree to marry you to him is beyond me…”

“Are you sayin’ I should leave him?”

“Yes,” she responded with no hesitation. “You’ve no reason to be married to him any longer, no? It’s terrifying, but is it not scarier to imagine a life where you’re stuck by Hans’ side for years to come?”

The idea did make you shudder, especially now that you had Arthur. How long would you be able to keep your affair hidden? How long would you be able to pretend like Hans’ very presence didn’t revolt you? You guessed a few more months, tops. “Would he even agree to a divorce?” You whispered.

“I can’t answer that. But when you’re ready to ask,” she took your hands, “I’ll be right there by your side. We all will.”

“And if I don’t ask?” You blurted out. “What if I just… ran?”

“Then you’ll be running for the rest of the time Hans is on this Earth. Although, it seems like you’d have someone beside you who is quite good at not getting caught.” She sighed. “I can’t tell you what would be the best decision. But just know that whatever choice you make, I’ll support you. All I wish is to see you happy.”

You nodded, a new sense of hope growing within, something that had been lacking for a while. “If Arthur returns, I’ll do it.”

“When he returns,” your mother corrected. “Have some faith. If he cares about you nearly as much as you do him, he’ll make his way back to you.”

“He always has…” you muttered under your breath. “When he returns, I’ll do it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She smiled warmly at you after planting a kiss on your damp cheek. “Now, let us join your sister before she comes looking. If you couldn’t tell, she’s not the best at being subtle.”

You laughed, wiping away your tears, letting your mother lead you to the store. “I’ve noticed.” 

The bell chimed as you stepped in, Maggie rushing to your sides as soon as you did. “What took you so long?” She whisper-shouted, making you laugh harder. She was as inconspicuous as a bull in a china shop. “What?”

“I told you.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

By the time the three of you had returned to the carriage, the sun had long since set, the moon washing the world in a cool white light. The vehicle was not only stuffed with you, Maggie, and your mother, but various bags and gowns from a successful shopping trip to the city. Your mother had not been lying when she said the family was not struggling financially, as she had easily paid for your new dresses and other items. Laughter flowed easily from the three of you, your minds fully distracted from the information of the morning. 

That cheery mood lasted the whole ride, up until the driver turned down the familiar road leading to your house. Your smile fell, and you felt your mother grab your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “You won’t have to deal with him for much longer, sweetheart. You’ve got this.”

“Can it be over now?” You practically whined, anxiety bubbling in you. 

“Why can’t you just come home with us?” Maggie asked, having been informed about the conversation you’d had with your mother. 

“I’m not leavin’ without Arthur. Once he comes back, I’m gone.” You weren’t sure if you were convincing them or yourself. 

She didn’t let go of your hand, not until the carriage came to a halt. “It’s been wonderful seeing you both,” you began. “If I’m not gone in the next few weeks, come and get me. Please.”

“Gladly,” your mother responded. “If you and Arthur need a place to stay, to lie low, just know that our, your house is available. With or without your father’s permission.”

“Get some answers from him. And give my regards to everyone else.”

“I love you, sweetheart. Always remember that.” She kissed your cheek. “We’ll see you soon. That’s a promise.”

Hugging Maggie, at least as best you could, you left the carriage before your nerves rooted you in place. With your arms full of items, it took some careful steps, but you eventually made your way up the porch. You watched as the carriage drove away, smiling as brightly as you could at your sister through the window, before letting it fall away completely.

Taking a deep breath, you walked into your home, heading straight to the staircase. Climbing up the stairs with all the stuff was also difficult, cursing under your breath when you kept stepping on the skirts of your new dresses. It took longer than necessary, but you managed to stumble into your room. You’d only taken a single step in until an unseen force hit the back of your head. 

Your vision went black before you made contact with the floor. 

[no-name-publishing]

Tiny Book? Tiny Book. Pt1.

Idk yall I just felt like writing a little how-to of how-I-do my tiny A9 books! So if you've ever been interested, I hope this will be helpful. This will be neither a beginner typesetting nor beginner bookbinding tutorial; as I go through my process I will only be showing my process and providing a few tips, assuming you already have the basics understood. We can worry about the rougher technical skills in another post.

Also keep in mind that this guide includes images of fic I've bound, and you're zooming into these fics at your own discretion. I am not responsible if you read something yucky. I know you have a lot of options out there but thank you for flying No-Name Publishing.

Tiny books part 2; Tiny books part 3

Just like with regular ficbinding, there are layers, and they are:

1 - Typesetting and Imposing 2 - Printing 3 - Cutting, Folding, and Sewing 4 - Gluing, Rounding/Backing, Endbands 5 - Building the Case and casing in 6 - BOOK

In this part we will be focusing on steps 1 and 2. Please feel free to skip to the area you're interested in most.

1 - Typesetting and Imposing

Okay, so this area has some nuances that you don't have to consider so closely with typesetting for more traditionally sized books. To me, these tiny books are not about readability, they are about novelty. As such, I do not prioritize readability. Instead, I try to achieve something that is closer to scale. That said, neither do I want these illegible. But we'll begin from the top.

You want to make a tiny book, but you're wondering, what would be an appropriate word count for a tiny book? Tiny books are the perfect medium for the ficlettes, the shorties, the one-shots. They are also perfect for the mid-sized, 10-15-20k fics, in my opinion. Here we can see,

On the left we have a fic that is exactly 12,771 words, typeset on a 1.5" x 2" (37 × 52 mm) document, with .3" margins, 6pt Garamond font, and 5pt line spacing. This book is only approaching 1/2" (13mm) wide, and only took 5 sheets of Letter paper to print. On the right we have a fic that is exactly 1,939 words, typeset to the same specifications. This book is only 4-5mm wide, and took only 1 sheet of Letter paper.

In my opinion this format of book begins getting unruly around the 300-page mark. However, making any combination of margins, fonts size, and line spacing will yield different page results for different word counts. For example:

Like the above, in each of these examples I typeset in Garamond font @ 6pt size and 5pt line spacing. Typesetting on an A9 page, this is about as small as I felt comfortable sizing my font while still being legible. But notice the rivers between the words--the rivers of white space bisecting the lines, due to the Justified alignment battling the admittedly tiny work surface. At this scale, with the font at this size and alignment, those will be unavoidable. Over time I began disliking this in my own work, so I pursued a different method, which was typesetting on a quarter letter page (4.25" x 5.5" / 108mm x 140mm), and allowing my imposer to scale the PDF down.

Have you ever seen anything sexier. THIS looks like a tiny book. Little to no rivers, still legible (hand-wobble), and preserves the novelty feel that I desire from a tiny book. This method of scaling down (specifically from quarter letter to A9) does change the final shape of the book, from A9 to A9-ish in this case. Specifically, from 1.5"X2" (37 × 52 mm) to 1.625"X2" (41.3mmX52mm). You're achieving something closer to a square shape, which is delightful to hold. All this to say, you have some freedom with word count, with font size, with page size. I've done as many pages as 376 and as few as 17. The fantastic thing about tiny books--their structure will not be load-bearing, meaning--the only thing stopping you are your tastes.

Quickly, some more examples of features in a regularly sized typeset and their tiny counterpart after the imposer has scaled them down. First, scaling half-letter down to A9, a little-over 4X shrinkage:

And from B6 to B9, smaller by 3x:

You notice the compression of every element, and too how entirely unparcable the text in the first example is, sometimes not horrible, sometimes very. Make your decisions dependent on your tastes!

You have decided on the fic you'd like to bind into a tiny book. I will be using my own fic as the typesetting example, and I will be using Word 365 for PC. I'm sure many of my pointers during this process might not apply 1-to-1 if you are using a different word processing software, but hopefully you can adapt the concepts to your program of your choosing.

Kay, next you will do your typesetting. Since this is not a typesetting guide I'm trusting that you have your preferred methods, but I will go through my key steps for setting up a tiny typeset:

First, for every typeset I delete each default Style, create mine own, and dictate the document size. For this example I will be doing my preferred quarter letter method, setting the custom page size to 4.25" wide and 5.5" tall, and .5" page margins all around (except Gutter; leave 0"). On the Multiple pages dropdown I will select Mirror margins (however, as all my margins are the same size, this is redundant, though may not be the case for you). My body text style will be Cardo font @ 11pt size and Exactly 15pt line spacing, with a .2" first line indent and Justified alignment.

You can use whatever body font you like, I only encourage you to do many many test prints to refine your preferences. Your favorite font for half-letter books might not translate to tiny books. After ~30 tiny books I've found I like Cardo at this size and spacing. And if you're using A-paper sizes, consider doing quarter A4 instead of quarter letter, which is technically A6--4.1"X5.8", or 105mmX148mm. Follow your heart~~nyah 🐱♥

Now I will go to my fic and download the HTML file. I hugely prefer copying from the HTML file rather than the browser itself. It kind of standardizes any goofy formatting that might try to make its way over otherwise, while still preserving the italics and bolds, etc, and makes for an easier editing process. It was important I made my body Style in Word first, so that once I paste the text into my document that Style is automatically applied in one fell swoop (if not, you can change that in your Word settings. Advanced -> Cut, copy and paste -> Merge Formatting. It is a huge time saver.)

Now you've gone through your typesetting process, you have a liddle quarter letter Word document that you're happy with. Gets real close to you. Listen to me--listen, you're going to Export as PDF. Not Save As PDF. Not Print to PDF. Export. It's in--listen--it's in File, then Export, then Create PDF/XPS. You need to Export. Especially if you selected Bookfold instead of Mirror margins in your page settings because we need an unimposed PDF in order for this to work right and exporting to PDF is going to solve 99% of your pdf formatting woes with Word. Okay, I love you 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

Now, your EXPORTED pdf should look something like mine. Straight, unimposed.

Now what we're going to do is take this PDF back to my penthouse and freak it. Go to this link for the Renegade Bindery-created and -curated imposition tool. This has been will be is such an incredible FREE asset to you, maintained by a crew of intelligent, skilled Renegade Bindery members who understand the importance of community and accessibility. If you find someone hiding this link behind a paywall of any kind it is not with the creators' permission, so shame on them.

Anyway I will be assuming that you know what imposing your document means. If you've never used this site before, it's very straight forward, and here are my settings for making Tiny Books.

1 - Upload your unimposed exported pdf. 2 - ignore 3 - Select the paper size you will be printing on. This is not the FINAL size of the book, this is what paper you are printing on. These instructions are for Letter sized paper. Don't change any of the other settings right now, I will explain more about the Single-sided vs Duplex option in a bit. 4 - Skip aaalllll the way down to Signature Format. Under Wacky Small Layouts, click on the bubble next to Little. You'll notice there are a lot of options here. I encourage you to play with these settings later on as well, there are so many things you can make with this tool.

Once that's done, scroll down to the very bottom. You'll see the Signature Info area, telling you the results of your imposition. In the case of using the Little option we've selected, 1 sheet of our paper will make 40 book pages. 3-signature-sets of 3/3/4 folio configuration. That's a lot of pages per page.

Anyway for our document today it will cost us 2 sheets of Letter paper, and will make 6 signatures. Math says that's 80 pages. Now, you may be concerned because your typeset PDF is not formatted in a number equally divisible by 40. And why would it be. The imposer is doing that math for you in the background, organizing your pages regardless. In my case, my finished typeset is 62 pages, which means that from my second page, I will only be using my 3 folio segments, and discarding the 4 folio segment. This will make more sense later. Click the Generate button, and save the zipped folder wherever you want. Don't change the name of it.

Unzip that baby, and inside you'll notice 2 files--(filename).pdf_little_packed_backs, and .pdf_little_packed_fronts. Appropriately named as one file contains one side of the sheet that will be printed, and the other file the other side.

And when you open them up, they will look like:

2 - Printing

We are manually duplexing this bad boy, because working at this scale amplifies and compounds every millimeter of difference. Manual duplexing will keep printer skew to a minimum, as the printer will not have to perform gymnastics in order to print on the reverse side of your page. Here are some examples:

Two auto-duplexing examples of skew, one horizontal and one vertical, dependent on which direction my paper was loaded into the feeder. There is significant skew. Not a horrible issue on full-sized books but these will matter much more on our tiny books, the key issue being that we do not have much to work with in the margins department. Trimming 5-6-7mm of margins of your half-letter sized textblocks might not be much of an issue; however, here, in order to remove all the trim lines during the cutting process, you will be significantly impacting the margins of your tiny textblock.

Now here is an example of the skew from manual duplexing:

MUCH subtler. Your skew with manual duplexing will range from this--less than .5mm--to no skew at all, and you will have to cut off far less of each page to remove the trim lines, maintaining the consistency of appearance of your tiny, beautiful pages. This is why during step 3 of the imposing process we selected Single-sided (which is MANUAL duplexing), and not Duplex (which is AUTO duplexing) appropriately. This will result in you either getting two files for manual duplexing, or one auto duplexing file.

Your next consideration when it comes to printing your liddle book will be whether you want to use an inkjet printer or a laser printer. I've until recently only had a laser printer available to me. I can say after about 6 or 7 little books on an inkjet printer that I prefer the laser printing on tiny books. Here is an example of why:

On the left you have a tiny book printed from an inkjet printer printed on the highest quality setting, and on the right is a tiny book printed from a laser printer. These were both printed at the same scaling, same font size, same line spacing, everything. The inkjet printer, printing at this scale, introduces pretty glaring feathering on the letters, whereas the laser printer is crisp as can be. I've said before that to me tiny books are more for novelty rather than readability, however I do still want to make out the word I'm looking at, you know what I mean? For this reason I prefer printing my tiny books from a laser printer. Use what you got though, you'll get a tiny book regardless. Make sure you're flipping on the short edge with these tiny books too, and double check to make sure your page numbers line up. And when you're done you got...

BOOK(-adjacent).

Continue on to part duex.

[belabellissima]

Hello everyone!!! I really wasn't expecting to create anything for @officialfeysandweek this year but I am so happy I just managed to fit something in! Behold my Day 7 - AU submission, lovingly called the GetFlocked!AU in my heart.

Pairing: Feysand

Warnings: none at the moment but subject to change

Summary: Rhys finally looked at the door, coming face to face with a paper flyer taped to the glass. There was a hot pink cartoon flamingo wearing black sunglasses on it, with the words “GET FLOCKED” curled over the top in rainbow block lettering. Beneath the flamingo, it read “Contact Feyre at the number below for information. All proceeds to help the Starry Night Children’s Art Center.” Below even that, the bottom of the paper was divided into a row of tear-away tabs with a phone number printed on each.

Or: Rhys finds a new way to mess with Tamlin and flirt with Feyre at the same time

Read on AO3 or below:

The sun was hot on his head when Rhys stepped out of his car, immediately chasing away the comforting chill his air conditioner had kept him in for his drive. The brightness would have been blinding if not for his sunglasses, but Rhys still held up a hand to block it as he jogged around to the curb and stepped up, clicking the lock button on his fob even though the car automatically locked when he stepped more than a foot away.

Mor was already inside the coffee shop. Rhys could see her through the floor to ceiling window, perched on her stool and flirting with the girl wiping down tables. He was so focused on watching her for anything he could tease her with later that he didn’t expect to walk into the right side of the double doors, not realizing the employees had kept one side of them locked.

Startled, Rhys finally looked at the door, coming face to face with a paper flyer taped to the glass. There was a hot pink cartoon flamingo wearing black sunglasses on it, with the words “GET FLOCKED” curled over the top in rainbow block lettering. Beneath the flamingo, it read “Contact Feyre at the number below for information. All proceeds to help the Starry Night Children’s Art Center.” Below even that, the bottom of the paper was divided into a row of tear-away tabs with a phone number printed on each.

Rhys had never heard of the center, which coming from him, meant he was slipping. His family had been funding the arts for decades in their city, their name well known from how often it was stamped across galleries and performance halls and rec centers. His father had always wanted more of the name recognition of high class arts, but his mother hadn’t come from money. She’d grown up having nearly no access to the arts other than in community centers and whatever her school could provide, which had helped her apply for and receive a scholarship to a fashion institute. She’d instilled in Rhys and his sister an appreciation for such small community centers, who both knew what it meant to her to give back to the very thing that had given so much to her.

Even now, years after the accident that had taken them all from Rhys, he kept up with his knowledge, carrying out her legacy in the only way he knew would matter to her should she have been there to see it.

Rhys searched the name of the center on his phone with one hand, the other still clinging to the door handle for several seconds until he realized his stall out. The result pulled up an address, and when Rhys clicked on it, the map showed it to be a mere minutes walk away, in the same exact shopping center he stood in. Rhys spun, his plans with Mor forgotten, as he scanned the strip plaza. He spotted it almost immediately, not 300 feet away, charming and cozy between a beauty supply store and an optometrist office. He could even see the bright paint on the walls inside, a cheery assortment of bright yellow and vivid blues compared to the more bland eggshell interior of its neighbors.

Rhys tore the little slip with the phone number off the flyer and walked over with only a quick glance at Mor, who was still all too happily flirting and hadn’t even noticed his arrival yet.

As he approached the art center, he could see a balloon arch as well, with a cheap banner reading “Grand Opening” secured to the wall. On another, a TV was playing advertisements. Inside, a woman in jeans, a tie-dye purple and blue t-shirt, and black half-apron was crouched next to a child, facing away from the door so that only her golden brown hair - put up in a bun and secured with an apparently used paintbrush - was visible to him.

Rhys slipped inside, breathing in deep the chemical smell of wall paint mixed with acrylic, the two just different enough he could distinguish between them. There was a stack of flyers on the front desk, and Rhys spotted the same flamingo with sunglasses. As he meandered closer to see if it was the same, the woman stood and turned to Rhys. When he met her stunningly blue eyes, it was like time itself stopped, holding him hostage until she released him.

She was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. Her clothes were splattered with dry paint, and bits of it clung to the underside of her nails. A few wisps of hair freed from her bun framed her face perfectly in combo with her bangs. Freckles dotted her face like constellations, and Rhys had to crush the urge to reach out and trace the designs.

Feyre, read the little name tag pinned to her shirt.

“There you are,” he said, the words slipping from his tongue before he could pull them back. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Feyre faltered, puzzlement furrowing her brows. Rhys handed her the little slip with her phone number he’d pulled from the flyer on the coffee shop and passed it over, hoping it would cover his slip up. Feyre’s face cleared and she smiled at him.

“You saw the flyer.”

Rhys blinked a few times and bit the inside of his lip. Even her voice was beautiful. “Yeah, but I’m not sure I know what getting ‘flocked’ means.”

“It’s pretty simple. I’ll show you.” Feyre led him further into the center, slipping around to the other side of the front desk and bending down out of sight for a moment to retrieve something. When she appeared again, she held a plastic lawn flamingo in her hands. “Getting ‘flocked’ means that someone paid us to drive to your house before dawn and stick a bunch of these things into your front lawn. Or, if you live in an apartment or walkup, three to five of them at your door. We leave them there for a week, then come pick them up to reuse on the next ‘flocking.’”

Rhys couldn’t stop the smile that overtook his face. He could already see his friends’ reactions to getting their places flocked. Mor and Cassian would be shocked at first, but find it hilarious and delightful quickly. Azriel wouldn’t give any physical reaction, but he would absolutely be loving the chaos of it. And Amren… Amren was just fun to mess with. She was old money like Rhys and Mor, but where Rhys and Mor at least had each other and their respective siblings growing up, Amren had been the only child and heir to a fortune that had passed to her early enough she never had the chance for even pretending at a normal life. She would look out at a flock covering her yard and immediately contemplate homicide, most likely.

It would absolutely be worth it.

“Do you tell them who paid for it to happen?”

Feyre shook her head. “You can write a message to the recipient if you want, but if not, it’s anonymous.”

Rhys thought next of people other than his family and friends. Could he Flock the other art centers he supported? The auditoriums and performance halls? Probably not. Security was good at those and he wasn’t willing to risk Feyre or whoever did placements getting in trouble over a practical joke.

Behind Feyre, the television finally stopped its run of ads, melting back into a formatted-for-tv movie. It took him a second to recognize the actor on the screen, but once he did, he couldn’t let the idea go.

There Tamlin was, his blond hair slicked back, fake leather jacket stained, and garish tattoos showing through a strategic rip in his shirt. He was fighting with glowing daggers, trying to protect some redhead girl behind him.

Rhys had forgotten about his old friend. Mostly on purpose after their fallout, in the wake of his family’s deaths when Tamlin had been more concerned with what Rhys’ name could get him than that Rhys was grieving his life upending. Rhys had gotten him the audition that led to him being cast in the movie, and when it ended up bombing at the box office several months after the accident, it cemented Tamlin as a mediocre and bland B-grade actor. Tamlin had accused Rhys of sabotaging his career, and then that was it. A decade long friendship gone.

He imagined how Tamlin might react to getting flocked and the grin on his face grew.

“How much is it?”

“We set it at a dollar per bird.”

“Wonderful. Is there a limit?”

Feyre’s mouth parted like she didn’t know how to answer that. “Um, well. We only have about fifty of these in stock, so I guess fifty. They’re not exactly cheap so even buying in bulk we had to limit.”

“If I buy you a larger stock, will you place around two hundred of them?”

Her eyes widened. “I suppose? But we wouldn’t be able to do it immediately. They would need time to arrive at our store first.”

“That’s absolutely fine,” Rhys assured her. “In the meantime, can I flock some other people a more reasonable amount?”

“Of course.” Her voice was faint as she spoke, and it didn’t get any stronger as he filled out the forms and paid for his purchase.

“If that last one catches you, don’t be afraid to tell her it was me that paid you. The others will probably guess. Can you also text me some photos of it when it’s done?”

“I would need your number,” she said numbly.

“If you insist,” Rhys purred, handing her his phone and enjoying the way the tips of her ears went a little pink as she took it from him and sent herself a text. He saved her number to his contacts, putting the ring emoji into the company line on a whim. He didn’t want to think too closely about that, not when she was still watching him like she couldn’t believe he was real.

“Thank you for your support, sir.”

“Rhys, please. It’s only fair given I knew your name before I even walked in here.”

“Rhys, then. I- look I wasn’t really expecting anyone to do this, and it honestly means so much to me. Thank you, truly.”

“No thanks are necessary,” he said. “I think what this place could become is worth supporting.”

This time, her cheeks turned pink.

Rhys rapped his knuckles on the counter once. “Well, I better get going. My cousin is probably wondering why im late to coffee by now. Don’t forget to send me those pictures, yeah?”

Feyre nodded once, lifting her hand in a slight wave as Rhys backed away. He left with a spring in his step, turning back only once to see Feyre had moved back to the child and was once again helping them with their painting.

He was grinning when he made it back to the coffee shop, and when he slipped into the open seat across the table from Mor, she raised an intrigued eyebrow.

“You look happy,” she commented, contented to see it after so long seeing him still caught in the worst of his grief. “What’s got you smiling?”

“I think,” he started to say, mulling over the words, tasting them on his tongue before setting them free, “that I just met the woman I’m going to marry one day.”

[hotwaterandmilk]

My extremely brief review of Sailor Moon Raisonné Art Works 1991~2023 book is as follows: fantastic as something akin to an exhibition catalogue, disappointing as an art book.

Longer version:

Takeuchi is a great artist, Sailor Moon has some extremely memorable illustrations, there hasn't been a new art book in decades... this should have been a slam dunk in terms of meeting fan expectations. Unfortunately I think the portrayal of this as a preserved "art collection" is a bit disingenous given the format of the book, the number of art revisions, and its overall quality are pretty standard for exhibition catalogues rather than actual art books.

In saying this I absolutely love art work catalogues, particularly when they provide context on how the illustrations were originally used. "Raisonné" shines in this regard, it gives revision notes and context to the original uses of all images from Nakayoshi colour pages through to furoku. Loooooove this:

It even features a comprehensive account of furoku and zen'in for the manga, which is another thing I appreciate in these types of publications.

The main problem, as countless people have pointed out, is that the actual art work in this book is extremely tiny. Many of the rarer images fans were excited to see in decent resoluton (like the colour art from Codename wa Sailor V) are a few cms across here, piled up crammed from a couple to a dozen a page.

The character designs presented exquisitely in full in the "Materials Collection" art book are condensed to a handful of pages rendering Takeuchi's chracter notes unreadable and the gorgeous sketches lacklustre at best. Why are they included at all when some designs are barely visible here? The paper quality too is fine for a catalogue but there's just no comparison to the paper and print quality found in the original Sailor Moon art books.

I think it also has some very standard art collection flaws on top of this, including baffling choices when it comes to putting artworks partially across two pages (will never not hate this in any art book, it's particularly egregious here where the cover illustrations from THE BOOK ITSELF are about the third of a page in size and placed across a page spread).

There's already been plenty of dissatisfaction expressed about this book and I'm not here to give it an additional kick around because I do feel it has value as an art work catalogue. I just think there was a definite divide in what Kodansha produced vs. fan expectations and if you purchase the book knowing this then at least you'll be aware of what you're getting.

[bejeweledblondie]

Peggy, The Pin Up

-

A/N: I apologize for being MIA I’ve had a lot of very great but time consuming things take over my life! I’ve started a 1940s vintage clothing blog & I’m shocked at how successful it has become. On top of that I’ve got promotions at work & it’s opened so many doors for me. I’m hoping to write a bit more!

Warnings: classic 1940’s sexism, mentions of nudity, female pronouns

Summary: Y/N never expected for her pin up prints to be put out… it causes some disruption on Abbott-Thorpe & one dark curly haired aviator comes to her rescue

It all happened on a Thursday morning at breakfast. Y/N sat there in her crisp white uniform shoveling the chalky yellow substance the army called eggs in her mouth. A dark shadow appeared above her plate & a magazine was plopped down in front of her.

“Don’t even try to deny it, this is you isn’t it?” He asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. Speechless she looked away & noticed that the Army’s shipment of Esquire hit the shelves. “God who knew? We knew you were a tease, but this is just another level.” He started. “Do you know what everyone says about you?” She shook her head shamefully, lying to herself. She had heard rumblings in the sick bay from time to time. Sometimes while fixing a patients IV bag or a even helping move a patient a hemline might rise causing a stir.

Before the pilot could continue his chauvinistic teasing session she immediately grabbed her belongings & swiftly exited. Little did she know a dark curly haired pilot was watching the torment happen. Due to rank he couldn’t intervene but oh he so badly wanted to bury the man six feet under. He had grown fond of the nurse, she was always so kind with his men. Incredibly soft spoken & nurturing when it came to the care she provided. He had walked in on her reading a copy of John Steinbeck’s, “Of Mice & Men” to the wounded pilots one evening. She didn’t have to do that, she could’ve been out dancing at the Officer’s Club. But she voluntarily chose to stay after her shift to read to them. He could tell the men greatly appreciated it too, it gave them a small window of comfort during an incredibly traumatic moment in their lives.

Douglass, also watching the debacle rolled his eyes & sipped his coffee.

“These men act like they’ve never seen tits before it’s insane.” He scoffed. Rosie almost choked on the toast he was eating.

“I mean some are freshly turned eighteen.” Blakely reminded him.

“Still, this is going to cause a huge fucking problem.” He swore. “Rosenthal, you okay?” Rosie had been staring off into the space during the duration of the conversation.

“Go to her,” Douglass sighed. “She may be oblivious but I’m not. You’ll also want to scoop her before someone like Egan does.” With that Rosie excused himself & started to head towards the medical ward. The sterile white environment contrasted heavily from the drab olive green darkness of the mess hall. Injured pilots laid in beds reading the paper, being fed their morning breakfast, or having their vitals taken. Valerie, a nurse he knew was friendly with Y/N was checking the vitals on a young sergeant.

“Val!” He said getting her attention & started over to her. “Have you seen Y/N?” He asked.

“Yeah, she seemed a bit off,” She started. “She begged Major to allow her to just work in supply today. You might wanna try there.”

“Thank you.” Rosie replied & made his way to the supply room. There she stood sniffling & rolling gauze. Her eyes were clouded with a melancholy look as she completed the mundane task. He knocked on the door frame causing her to look up slightly startled.

“Oh Major Rosenthal it’s you,” She said with a slight tremble in her voice. “What can I do for you?” He cringed at her using his rank, usually it would make his blood pressure rise & heart race. But this circumstance was entirely different.

“I saw what happened in the chow hall,” He started. She’s started to wipe away tears. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” He said wringing anxiously. She sighed deeply & looked away.

“I’ll be alright,” She stated. “I’m just going to lay low for a few weeks.” It broke his heart to see her this way. She was always a little jumpy & anxious to begin with. This situation just poured gasoline on a oil fire.

“No,” Rosie stated. “You shouldn’t let some asshole make you feel uncomfortable.” She stared him with big wide eyes. “If it makes you feel any better I’ll escort you places.” Her eyes softened as she listened to him. A small crimson warmth crept onto her cheeks at the mere mention of him escorting her.

After a few weeks, the heat died out about the pin up nurse. Rosie & Y/N had become closer over the weeks. His protection meant no one would even try to touch a hair on her head. From lingering touches, longing gazes, & of course Rosie sitting on her nightly readings to the wounded pilots. He (like every man on post who took a liking to her) did keep a copy of the pin up photo.

On missions he’d keep the folded piece of paper tucked into the pocket of his sheepskin. A reminder of what he was protecting & fighting for. His calloused thumb would graze over her innocent smile as he admired the image. Even in his bunk, he’d spend some alone time with it after everyone had fallen asleep. During one night after the pin up photo was brought up by a rookie pilot, & in turn making Y/N uncomfortable. Rosie knew he had to make her see what he saw in the photo. After some discussions with Ken Lemmons, he decided to really make sure he was reminded everyday was he was fighting for.

With hands covering her eyes he directed her to the airstrip.

“Rosie I can’t see!” Y/N giggled, tripping over her own feet. He chuckled at her natural clumsiness. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see, you’re so impatient.” He said. He lead her right up the nose to his beloved bomber. “Okay now you can see.” With the removal of his hands & a adjustment to the sunlight she was staring at herself painted on the side of his bomber. The same pin up that graced Esquire months ago that brought them together. She gasped in pure shock at the artwork.

“Oh, Rosie.” She gasped unable to speak. “Did you paint this?”

“With a little help from Lemmons.” He replied. “I want you to see what I see. A beautiful woman. Do you like it?”

“I-wow,” She smiled. “I love it.” She turned around to face him. He was staring down her, admiring the way the sun light reflected off her hair. He brushed stray strands of hair behind her ear. His hand lightly danced across her cheek bone as he stared adoringly into her eyes. He leaned down & placed a tender kiss onto her lips. She reciprocated & kissed back. Her arms wrapped around his neck & his slowly gravitated to her waist pulling her in closer. After pulling a part they rested foreheads against one another.

“God you have no idea how long I’ve always wanted to do that,” He admitted.

[kulapti]

Bookbinding (2 copies) of This Thing of Darkness by @maggieandthedragon, spring 2023.

This Thing of Darkness (Fantastic Beasts, Percival Graves x Credence Barebone) is a serious but hopeful look at the difficulties of helping someone face depression, whether it be for intervening in a crisis or the providing support in the long slog of continuing to get up every day. People are messy and difficult, but it is good to be together. As dark as it might be, we can receive help, and sometimes the help we offer each other is the most important thing in the world. It's no wonder this is one of the most popular works in the pairing tag. Recommended also for compelling side characters and interesting magic system additions.

-------------------------------About this project under the cut

This is one of the first fanfics I bound for myself when I started ficbinding last year. TTOD is one of my top ten favorite fics of all time and when I realized I could learn to do typesetting and bind fics I immediately knew I wanted to make a hard copy of this novel. My personal copy has a different spine because it’s part of a matching set of my favorite Percival x Credence fanfics; the set is almost complete.

Materials: text laser printed on archival paper; Italian rayon bookcloth, purple batik-pattern cotton backed with handmade wood pulp paper, bookboard, PVA glue, cotton cheesecloth used as mull. Stitched with cotton thread, beeswax, and linen tapes, plus embroidery thread and hemp cord for the endbands. Endpapers are marbled Italian paper by London-based artist Stephan Parenti (Peacock Paper studio) which I got on Etsy specially for this binding because I wanted it to be fancy.

I learned how to stitch endbands for this book as well. The bindings aren't perfect but I’m still quite pleased with the result. The whole time it’s been on my bookshelf I keep looking at it and going heehee I made a book ✨✨✨✨ Author copy has been mailed to maggiedragon.

[corgate-epistolary]

May 5th, 624

(Transcript under the cut) (Read on Ao3 HERE)

[Delivered to Corgate May 6th, 624 – Received by Elowen Vance on May 14th, 624)

[Front of Envelope: Letter was mailed in a brown craft paper envelope tied with natural twine, addressed to:

Elowen Vance Corgate Post Office May 5th, 624

With the return address of:

Eris Mirrows 87 Lancedragon Strt. Avalon

In the top right, there is a sticker depicting an black engraving-style ice cream bowl on a white background, below which are the words “FOR YOUR HEART”.

Back of Envelope: The letter was sealed in mottled red & white sealing wax, with a wax seal depicting a crescent moon surrounded by orbital shapes & stars. Letter was tied with craft twine, with a small treble clef & key tied to the cord. In the bottom left there is a sticker depicting a black engraving-style steaming cup on a white background, below which is the word “BONJOUR”.

Interior pages: Written on mottled medium brown paper. It is lightly, almost invisibly, lined with slightly darker brown lines. In the top center, approximately 1 inch from the top, the words “THANKS FOR LIVING YEARS” can be seen on the paper. The writing is tidy, slightly rounded print in black ink.]

Eris Mirrows, A.Mg. 87 Lancedragon Strt. Avalon

May 5th, 624

Dear Ms. Vance, It is with great pleasure and a hint of surprise that I receive your letter. I did not expect the Corgate post system to be so quick to get your words to me. The simple fact that they have railroad tracks still amaze [sic] me. I do not know how Mg. Hawkins convinced you to move with him to this backwater part of the country without so much as a raise. What you would do for him, I wonder… Or rather, what he would do without you. I am pleased to read that Mg. Hawkins is in his element in the countryside and having a great time. Meanwhile, I have rarely heard Mg. Equlee complain so much as in the past few days. Something about how they will succomb [sic] to boredom without the most entertaining clown in town. I am divided between patting him on the back for the loss of his favorite pastime of picking a fight with your mage, or believing his condescending tone and idly nodding along. I have no doubt that they will

[End of Page 1] [Eris Mirrow’s address & the date appears on all pages, and have been eliminated for clarity]

find a way to piss each other off despite the distance, but I would never dare ruin the sulking of Mg. Equlee; which is the reason I have passed your most sincere apologies with as much dramatics as I could muster. You would, without a doubt, have been a better performer of this trick than I was. I do not know which shocked Mg. Equlee the most; to hear an apology from my mouth or that Mg. Hawkins did not leave a message for them through your letter. Either way, they resumed their theatrics a little less loudly so I suppose it must have worked. For what it is worth, I do share your reservation on this assignment. The Council does not make a habit of sending their greater mages away from Avalon without a reason. I remember on Kathrina Devolee, a good five years back or so, who’s [sic] name had been sullied by dirty rumors of unconventional use of magic, to which the Council had answered with a swift assignment to the North. I do not believe anyone has heard much from her since. (Writing these words, I realize it was indeed you who told me this tale. It goes to show, once again, that you are the ever flowing source of gossip in this part of town. I will do my best to fill the role in your absence, but do not keep your hopes up.)

[End of Page 2]

I have been around Vimes Place to get your satchel back. It was, as you have so helpfully provided, propped on the front table. You will forgive my curiosity as I could not help but wonder exactly what novels you would put alongside such ever-so-important notes. I am unsurprised to find there your classic Aliyah Prestance. I do not remember a time of our lives where you did not carry at least one of [scratch out - “your”] her works. I might’ve shipped a few recommendations of my own in your satchel, so do not be offput [sic] if it seems heavier than you remember it to be. Mg. Equlee was glad to put some complex lock on the whole package, no doubt just a tad more complex than necessary, just to be annoying. I hope you will be able to retrieve the contents fast enough. I will, of course, keep a watchfull [sic] eye on your plants. My green thumb might not be as good as yours but how hard could it be, right? Your plants are safe with me. I hope the countryside treats you well and

[End of Page 3]

that you will keep describing its people and sights in your letter. The world always seems brighter through your eyes, though I ever so wonder where that enthusiasm keeps coming from. I am hopeful that the Coucil [sic] will call you back soon enough. In the meantime, have my good wishes and thoughts.Awaiting your reply, Eris.

[To the right of the signature is a sticker depicting a tiger, a small girl, and a rabbit. The small girl is pulling clothes out of a suitcase the rabbit is sitting on. The art is done in an engraving style, with black lines on a white background.]

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14C: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go?

- Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (1987)

Tucson || July 1988

AA met every Thursday in a church hall not far from the studio. She’d borrowed Bobby’s Trans Am to drive Jamie, holding his hand the whole way, hearing about his chat with Alec – who had graciously agreed during their January trip to New York to be Jamie’s sponsor.

She kissed him when he went inside. Needing some peace and quiet of her own, in the car, as she waited.

She had tried NA off and on, but it hadn’t really clicked. She was so very happy that AA really worked for Jamie – it was always much easier for him to open up to perfect strangers – and she was grateful that he could get the support he needed, at a moment’s notice, in any city.

Not to mention that the Friends of Bill took the “anonymous” in Alcoholics Anonymous quite seriously – meaning, in those meetings Jamie was just Jamie the alcoholic, not Jamie Fraser the frontman of Print, not the rock star. Just a man who fought daily battles with addiction, who was trying to be better, who just so happened to have the number six record in the country today.

It was hard. It was always going to be hard. But he was worth it. The life they had together was worth it.

She pulled out the folded envelope. Smoothed the creases against the steering wheel. Reading and reading and re-reading the return address.

Listening to Guns N’ Roses and Def Leppard and Poison and Cheap Trick on the radio.

She didn’t see Jamie cross the parking lot. Jumped when he slid into the passenger seat, smiling, with a kiss.

“Hey.��

She offered a tight smile. “Hey. How are you?”

“Much better.”

His gaze found the envelope.

He didn’t need to say anything.

She couldn’t say anything.

But now that he was here, she opened it.

Held out the single sheet of paper.

They read.

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

via Colum Laird, Broch Productions

Dear Dr. Beauchamp,

Thank you for your letter and providing a forwarding address. Three months ago, the BMC board unanimously voted to terminate your employment. For legal reasons we will not provide further details, and the board’s decision is final.

However, we have communicated to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts that your medical license should be restored, with the provision that you no longer practice medicine in any kind of high-stress environment. You may contact the medical board at the below address to request a copy of…

Jamie watched Claire read and re-read and re-read.

“Sweet Child O’ Mine” played softly on the radio.

A long, long moment.

The song shifted to the bridge.

Where do we go now, sweet child? Axl Rose murmured.

Jamie took a breath. “Where do we go now, Claire?” he whispered.

She folded the paper and put it back in the envelope. Laid it on the dash. Reached beneath her shirt to pull the long chain up over her neck. Settled her left hand on Jamie’s thigh, skin hot through his jeans.

Jamie unclasped the chain, letting his grandmother’s engagement ring slide free. He slipped the ring onto her finger. Brought her hand to his lips, kissing so softly.

“I’d like us to have an extra day in Boston when we’re there next week. So that we can pack up my apartment.”

She was looking through the windshield, face turned to him in profile.

“Yes. What else?”

“I’d like a little house in the mountains of North Carolina. Not too far from The Ridge. It’s so beautiful and peaceful there. I’m sure Dougal and Gillian can help us find something.”

Gently he bit her knuckles. “Something small. Kitchen and living room. Bedroom for us. A room I can use for music. And a room for your medicine.”

She nodded. “I’ll transfer my license – I’ve already looked into how to do that. I can file the paperwork when we get to Boston. I don’t know if I want to be in a private practice, or just volunteer in a clinic, or maybe something else. We’ll get settled, and then we’ll decide.”

“We will. I – are you happy, Claire?”

She smiled tightly. “More…relieved. And yes, I’m happy, Jamie. Happy to be free. Happy to be marrying you.”

They sat in silence for a long while. Listening to the final notes of Slash’s guitar. And then the first two minutes of INXS and “New Sensation”.

Memory flared – the last time she heard this song was the one time she’d seen Jamie nude, changing into his leather pants backstage in Orlando, when she’d entered his dressing room without knocking.

She swallowed. “I want the house to have at least one spare bedroom.”

He laced their fingers. “Of course – for guests.”

She flushed. Finally met his eyes.

“Yes. And for children.”

He released a suddenly shaky breath. “Oh, my love. Yes.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m never taking this ring off again.”

He leaned across the console and kissed her. Kissed her. Kissed her.

[vinnies-invasion]

🍁 Fall-Themed Activities 🍂

These hands-on activities are ones I actually use as an educator! They can be a ton of fun, great for age regression, and can apply to different age groups! Some may require some adult help, others could be done by yourself. Some of these are super simple, some require a bit more effort, but this list should provide different options!

🍁 Googly Eye Sensory Bag - Sensory bags can be fun, interesting, and easy to cleanup and reuse! For this one, fill a plastic ziplock bag with green slime and googly eyes! With this, you can push the googly eyes around, squish the slime, whatever feels right.

🍂 Fall-Themed Sensory Bins - Like the sensory bags, this is all about doing what feels right and playing on sensory. For bins, you can buy a box at the dollar store and just use that. For fall themed, you can fill bins with colored rice, plastic spiders, tiny plastic pumpkins, fake leaves, small plastic bones - go with the flow. You can then play with these bins using small shovels, buckets, tweezers, or just your hands!

🍁 Washing My Pumpkin - This is really easy! If you have a pumpkin, you can put it in the sink or bathtub and give your pumpkin its own bath! Pumpkins need to be washed, too :3

🍂 Pumpkin Painting - Buy yourself a small (or big!) pumpkin and paint anything you want on it! You can also buy plastic pumpkins!

🍁 Nature Art - You just need a paper plate or piece of paper and some glue! Go outside, collect leaves, sticks, pinecones, acorns, and glue them down to make art from nature!

🍂 Pinecone Bird Feeder - This is great if you have big pinecones where you live! You only need a pinecone, some peanut butter, and bird seed. Cover the pinecone in peanut butter and roll it in the bird seed! You can tie yarn around it to hang it up or just set it outside somewhere - watch out! This is messy!!

🍁 Corn Shakers - For a fun and noisy activity you can do, take an empty plastic bottle, can be big or small, and fill it with dry corn OR popcorn kernels. Close the top and shake! shake! shake! You now have a little musical instrument you can shake around for fun! And the best part, if you use popcorn kernels, you can always take them out and make them into popcorn (just ask for help :3)!

🍂 Shaving Cream Art - You will want a tray, maybe a baking sheet, just something big enough to cover a piece of paper, shaving cream, and paint. Pour the shaving cream onto the tray, then take your paints, could be red, yellow, orange, black, fall themed colors, and drizzle them over the shaving cream however you would like. Next, take the paper and gently press it ontop. When you lift the paper up, your colors and designs will be on the other side! You could also do this with something that is already printed on the paper.

🍁 Make a Treat Bag - All you need is a paper bag and anything you want to decorate it with! This can include paint, markers, crayons, googly eyes, glitter, pom poms, feathers, glue, and more. Make a pretty bag for holding some of your candy for Halloween!

🍂 Paper Plate Crafts - You can do so much with paper plates, like paint them into pumpkins, add tons of eyes and pipe cleaners and make them into spooky spiders, or give them pieces of cut paper to make into a scarecrow, there are many possibilities.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Hollywood’s Angel 🎬 | Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado Imagine

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado x actress!reader (romantic)

Content warnings: slight profanity, fluff | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 5k

Requested 📨 Yes/no (for @stephthestallion 🤍)

Premise: Lights. Camera. Action!! Whether it be on the big screen in movie theaters across the globe or at home streaming the latest hit show, the name Y/n L/n would forever be known one of the world’s greatest entertainers. From humble beginnings the odds didn’t appear in her favor at first, but sometimes taking a risk could lead to endless opportunities. And maybe even love along the way…..

Note: This was so fun to write and I’m so sorry it took so long. I’ve been so busy lately with work and trying to get stuff settled. I hope I did this work justice for you 🥹 Also Y/Z/S stands for your zodiac sign.

—————————

“Hello, my name is Y/n L/n,” A beaming smile was sent to the camera once the producer gave a thumbs up. “And I’m here to do the Wired autocomplete interview.” She clapped her hands, “Let’s do this.” Handed a card stock with a printed google web search filled with blanks save for the, ‘Who Y/n L/n….’, her eyebrows rose with curiosity.

“You know I’ve watched dozens of these interviews in my free time. My favorite being the one with Ryan Renolds and Jake Gyllenhaal.”

“Have you ever searched yourself?” The producer asked off screen. Y/n’s response was a cheeky smirk.

“A long time ago when I was teenager and social media was first becoming a thing—you know when we had MySpace, but since then I have not. While I love the internet sometimes it can be a little,” she makes a face, “too much you know.” Focusing back on the card stock, Y/n takes a deep breath as the nerves start to arise. “I’m starting to feel a little worried but what I’m gonna discover is searched about me on Google.”

Her fingers grip the first piece of paper, reading off the statement as it peels away, “Who is Y/n L/n?” An instant chuckle leaves her lip, turning to the camera. “Y/n L/n is um…,” she shrugs, not sure how to really answer the question, “a 28-year-old woman who started out as a child actress in the mid 2000s. She’s a Y/Z/S, a newly-wedded wife, producer, and sometimes sings and dances or models in her free time.”

In truth, Y/n L/n was so much beyond that. Her name and legacy was embedded into history at such a young age the whole world knew who she was by the time she was 14.

Born to a middle class family in 1995 in New York City, Y/n’s parents were hardworking people who raised her and her siblings to appreciate the beauty in life. Though there were times of struggle, living paycheck to paycheck and having to sacrifice the lights in order to have food on the table, there was always love, support, and care in their family. Y/n witnessed her parents do everything they could to provide for them, her mom working double shifts at the hospital and dad on the road thirty weeks out of the year as a truck driver, and made the vow to repay them. Whether it be working her ass off in school in order to graduate from a prestigious university with a degree that would get her a stable career, or succeed in her dreams of breaking through in the entertainment industry.

Acting, singing, dancing. One could consider it the love of her life. Being on stage to a crowd made Y/n feel on top of the world. Playing dress up and house with her friends and family, pretending to be someone else was so much fun to the little girl. Y/n loved the little school plays she would do in preschool and kindergarten.

“One day,” she said to her childhood best friend while they swung on the swing set, “I’m gonna be on Tv like Disney Channel,” a squeal left her when she leaned back a little too far. “In front of cameras where I get to be someone else.”

Little kids always tend to dream big. Their desires and goals often shift. One day they wanna be a popstar. The next a veterinarian or an astronaut. But Y/n always knew what she wanted in life. To be in Hollywood with her face on the big screen for the world to see. To give back to her parents and support her family so they could accomplish their own dreams and aspirations.

She was destined for greatness. Now fast forward to the present, and Y/n is celebrating 20 years of being in Hollywood.

“Who was Y/n L/n’s first TV role?” The next question read, mentally traveling the actress back to the year 2003 when she was eight years old. She had been in Los Angeles to visit her grandparents and practically begged her grandma to take her to open auditions. Whether it was for a commercial or as an extra in a show, Y/n simply wanted to at least try despite being so young. She’d maybe auditioned for six roles in various media before getting a call back.

“My first role,” she begins with a grin at the memory, “was Rosie Whittman on Law & Order: SVU. Season five, episode 25 which was the season finale and the most viewed episode of the season,” Y/n remembered how intimidating the whole experience was, but loved every minute of it. “I was eight-years-old. No agent, no experience in Hollywood and was only in town to visit my grandparents for the summer. My grandmother took me to auditions that were open—because I didn’t have an agent and was a nobody,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “My parents obviously let me watch SVU as a child, but I wanted to audition for every open casting I saw so it took a lot of convincing on my part for my parents to allow my grandma to take me.” Boy it sure was a lot. Y/n was fighting for her life on the phone while her mother voiced disapproval.

“I was a pretty confident child,” a smirk takes her features, “I went in and did my thing—impressing the casting director, the producers, and Mariska Hargitay who happened to be there to do a chemistry read— since the character I was auditioning for was being questioned by Olivia Benson for what she witnessed.” Y/n pauses for a brief moment. “And yeah, Mariska was very impressed with me, going as far as to set me up with my first agent. I really owe my entire career to her and I love any chance we get to work together. She took a chance on me when I was just a child with big dreams with little connections and,” Y/n lifts her hands, “look where it got me. Here with Wired to see what people have been searching for about me over the years.”

After a few more questions about her personal life before she was an Emmy winning actress, Y/n moved to the next card. “What was Y/n L/n’s breakthrough role?”

Y/n made a face to the camera, “This is an interesting question. And I say this because depending on who you ask, the answer might be different.” She tilted her head back and forth, “Most would say Wren Stone—after all I played that role for nearly a decade. I got quite a bit of recognition in the 2000s as Viper in the X-Men films and of course as Padaline in the Hunger Games franchise—you could say people who grew up with those films know me best by that. But,” she licks her lip, “I would consider my run as Jodie Pip to be my breakthrough role.”

Jodie Pip, the longest running companion to the Tenth Doctor in the BBC hit series Doctor Who threw Y/n into worldwide recognition. After appearing in episodes of television hits like Criminal Minds, Grey’s Anatomy, Gossip Girl, and Dexter, Y/n took a risk by traveling to England in hopes of securing a main role in a show rather than a supporting one. She was itching to play a character for longer than one episode. And sadly, Hollywood just wasn’t doing it for her.

Therefore going across the Atlantic seemed to be the solution. A decision which would change her life for the better.

“Picture this: you’re twelve-years-old in a country you’ve only been to maybe once and this time around you’re looking to permanently move there. Your family is back in America waiting for the call from your Agent, who’s your legal guardian at this point, to tell them you’ve got a contract and will be there for God knows how long.” Y/n lets out a sign, reliving the nerve racking first few months in England with only her agent and Godmother with her. “It was a stressful time. I was losing hope while waiting patiently for a sign. Getting the call that I got the part—I was going to be the companion to one of the most iconic television characters of all time…” she shrugs as if it was obvious, “Getting to work with David Tennant, Freema Agyemen, Catherine Tate, and Alex Kingston….It was the best day of my life.” Placing her hand on the next slip, she adds, “I cried for a good couple hours—pure happiness.”

“Is Y/n L/n British?” A full blown laugh escapes, hand flying up to muffle the sound. “Oh my Gosh this is too funny. The amount of people I meet every year—whether it be costars, colleagues, or fans at cons—who are so surprised to discover I’m not British,” she raises a hand in defense, “It doesn’t happen quite as often as it did ten-fifteen years ago. And I understand why people assumed I was because for so long I played characters who were.” Making herself comfortable in the chair, Y/n explains her career further in depth.

“First was Jodie, who I played for three years from 2007 to 2010 and then again in 2013 for the Doctor Who 50th anniversary special. Playing her put me on the map in the UK. I was on Skins for several episodes, one season of Merlin. I had supporting roles in the Golden Compass and Nowhere Boy. And because I had worked with Steven Moffat and Chris Chibnall on Doctor Who, I booked Eurydice on Sherlock and Shania on Broadchurch years later—getting to work with the lovely, talented, and amazing David Tennant for a second time.” Y/n’s face turns semi serious, “I love that man. He’s like my work dad for real—he was at my wedding,” she counts off on her finger, “I was at his. I’m Godmother to his daughters..he’s my ride or die.”

Getting back to the original point, Y/n snaps her fingers twice, “But back on track. Jodie, Eurydice, Shania..then of course playing Wren Stone on Game of Thrones for eight years had everyone on the planet believing I was British.” Wren Stone was the bastard of Jon Arryn in HBO’s critically acclaimed series Game of Thrones based on the books by George R. R. Martin. A ward of the Arryn family due to her status, Wren was introduced in the first season and went on to become a close ally to the Starks as well as a one of the longest running characters on the show when she appeared in all eight seasons. A fan favorite, her surviving the last season was one of the only good things to come out of it.

Cause…well we don’t talk about season 8.

“The last BBC show I did, what had me move back to the U.S permanently, was Killing Eve since it was with BBC America. By the time I booked Hunger Games and Ellie,” she corrects herself, “Negasonic Teenage Warhead in Deadpool, people were like, ‘you do a great American accent.’ And I just smile and nod, going, ‘yeah, I’m from New York.’ Their reaction,” she laughs, “every time was priceless.” Going to remove the next strip, Y/n pauses and looks back at the camera, ending with a wink, “Considering I’m joining Bridgerton this upcoming season as Sophie Beckett, I feel I will be having this question come up again a lot.”

‘What are some movies Y/n L/n has been in?’

“Well,” the actress rubs her chin with a knuckle, deep in thought. “I’ve been in a few—give or take,” she winks again. “My first movie role was X-2 in 2003, playing Viper although the role was minor compared to what it was in The Last Stand and Days of Future Past. In Spider-Man 2 I was in the train scene for a brief moment,” she pauses to laugh, “now that I think about it I have been in several projects related to Marvel. X-Men, Spider-Man and Deadpool. Not to mention I'll be taking on the role of Felicia Hardy in the MCU—that I’m really excited for. Umm what else,” she clicks her tongue to think.

“I had a small part in Constantine with Keanu Reeves, who along with David Tennant is someone I’ve worked with several times and love him to death,” she points a finger up, “The Golden Compass and Nowhere Boy as I mentioned earlier. In the 2010s I was in several features like Snow White and the Huntsman, The Help, New Year’s Day, Furious 7. I was in Catching Fire and parts 1 and 2 of Mockingjay—again I would say is one of my most recognizable roles. John Wick Chapters 2 & 3. In 2017 I was in The Greatest Showman. Oh!” She exclaimed with a grin, “Can’t forget I was in three Bond films: Skyfall, Spectre and the most recent No Time To Die. Another example of why the whole world believes I’m from England. Honestly England is my second home and where my career initially took off. I miss it there terribly, but coming back to the States has been a blessing—being close to my family and getting to do projects in Hollywood which was my dream since I was a little girl.”

Biting her lip the actress finishes up with, “my most recent movie roles have been Annihilation in 2018, Knives Out, Dune, The King’s Man, Uncharted, and Mortal Kombat—both of which are based on popular video games.” If she were being honest, playing Mileena in Mortal Kombat was one of her favorite movie roles to date—especially after having to fight with the studio to give the character justice when they were the ones calling her for the role. As a fan of the game and character, Y/n wasn’t going to settle for a small cameo. Ed Boon loved her interpretation of the character so much he asked her to voice Mileena in the next installments of the game.

Not to mention in the last several years any project with Y/n attached to it already had support and a loyal fan base to promote the show/film. After winning five Emmy’s—for her roles in Doctor Who, Game of Thrones, Sherlock, and Euphoria—Y/n was a household name.

So yeah, she wasn’t gonna be cheated out.

“Last year I was in Elvis plus back to back features with A24. X and Pearl were a lot of fun—and we’re currently filming the final installment to the trilogy, maXXXine.” Moving on she revealed the next statement, “Who was Y/n L/n in Euphoria?”

“In Euphoria,” she clears her throat, trying not to physically cringe at the thought of its creator, “I played Rue’s cousin Reece, who like every character on the show was dealing with difficult issues. I did a lot of research into my role so I could remain authentic and true to the character and the real life struggles people like her face.” Y/n softly smiled, “I won the Supporting Emmy next to Zenday’s leading—and it was a wonderful feeling to be recognized for a fifth time by the Academy while next to one of my best friends. Zendaya and I met when we were teenagers and have been so close. Working together on Euphoria was a wonderful experience and I’m so blessed to have received the honor alongside her.”

‘What episode of Black Mirror is Y/n L/n in?’

“Nosedive,” she turned to the camera, “it was in season three with Bryce Dallas Howard and Michaela Coel—both whom I adore. Aaaaand the episode was terrifying.” She simply said with a blank expression. “Watching it back gave me actual chills because one day technology will be so advanced that what took place in the episode could become our reality. And when I read the script my immediate reaction was like, ‘this is gonna be intense,’ and sure enough it was.”

‘Does Y/n L/n sing?’

A childlike grin appeared once again, “I do sing! Anytime I get a chance to sing I immediately say yes. It’s something I love. All the time on set I’ll be humming a tune or belting out lyrics to whatever music is playing. I got to sing a lot in The Greatest Showman so I was very happy about that. It’s my actual voice in the karaoke scene in season 2 of Euphoria. The one at Maddy’s birthday party—I had to beg them to let me do it live and not pre recorded. So when you see Lexi, Maddy and Kate filming me it’s actually Maude, Alexa, and Barbie using their personal phones, not the ones their characters use.” Offering a smirk she finishes with, “A little BTS you may have not known.”

‘Who does Y/n L/n model for?’

“Hmmmm” the actress puckers her lips. “As someone who was a fashionista growing up, I am filled with gratitude at being able to answer this.” Where could she really start with this? Having been labeled a fashion icon in 2020 Y/n had a long resume of working with brands and designers. “To start, I am an ambassador for Prada as well as its subsidiarie Miu Miu. We’ve partnered together for years and I’ve gone to the Met Gala with them a few times—most recent being in 2022. I’ve done campaigns for Calvin Klein and Stella McCartney. I recently did a collaboration with Dior. This year I went to the Met with Chanel—wearing vintage Chanel and ended up doing a campaign with them. Donatella Vesache and I have worked together.” Y/n scrunches her nose, “Every year I look forward to fashion week as you can imagine.”

‘Does Y/n L/n have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame?’

“If you asked me this the other day I would’ve said no,” she replies cheekily, “But….if you’ve seen the news recently then you would know that I’ve been selected to receive one this year and I….can’t even put into words the feeling. I better stop before I get emotional,” she felt her eyes well up slightly. “I’m extremely honored and blessed to receive such recognition. All I dreamed about as a kid was to have my name on one of those stars and now it’s coming true. I’m overjoyed.”

‘What did Y/n L/n win the Tony for?’

“I won the Tony back in 2018 for my role in Wicked.”

“Will Y/n L/n be in DW 60th special?” Throwing a look to the camera, smirk threatening to appear on her lips she goes, “I don’t know…you’ll have to watch and find out.”

“Is Y/n L/n in Stranger Things?”

“I am not, but I would love to be,” she shrugs with a smile. “I love that show and everyone is so talented. I can’t wait for season five—it needs to hurry up before I lose my mind.”

‘Who is Y/n L/n in Star Wars?”

“So I voiced the absolute badass and Jedi master Ahsoka Tano during Clone Wars from 2008 to 2014, returning for the Rebels series form 2014 to 2018,” she pauses to cross her legs to make herself more comfortable. This was one of her favorite characters to play and despite the criticism and dislike for Ashoka in the beginning, she grew to become a fan favorite in the Star Wars fandom. “I was thirteen when I first voiced Ashoka and I got the privilege to bring her to life again by playing her in live-action for the Mandalorian and Book of Boba Fett—not to mention getting to have a voice cameo in The Rise of Skywalker.” Y/n gets ready to move on, “Now you’re about to see Ashoka again for her spin off show coming this summer on Disney plus.”

‘What all has Y/n L/n and David Tennant worked on?’ The question made her chuckle, surprised it was a top search on Google.

“David Tennant—the man, the myth, the legend. I’ve been lucky to work with him on several projects over the years,” the memories appear in her mind as she recalls them. “We first met in 2006 after I got the role of Jodie Pip opposite his Tenth Doctor. That lasted almost three years but during that time we both did Clone Wars—he voiced Huyang and he actually will be retuning as Huyang for the Ashoka series.” The moment she got the news the woman had FaceTimed him screaming. Although he was only voicing the droid they still made plans to reunite since they hadn’t seen each other since before Covid when Y/n moved back to the states.

“Broadchurch happened a few years after we both left Doctor Who—around the same time as the anniversary special—and then I got to work with him again when I appeared in an episode of Good Omens as one of the demons passing judgement on Crowley. Finally I wanna say before the Ashoka series the last thing we did was Staged back when quarantine was a thing.” Y/n’s face turns serious, “Anytime I get to work with David I take it. Like I said, he’s my ride or die,” she crosses her fingers, “we like this. And I love when people send me those YouTube videos where it’s like, ‘Jodie Pip and The Doctor sharing a brain cell for 10 minutes straight,’ or ‘David Tennant and Y/n L/n being a father-daughter duo on and off screen.’ Really brightens up my day.”

A few more questions went on, Y/n answering as best as she could with details. Doing this interview really gave viewers a more personal outlook on the actress. She was known for being reserved and private in her career expanding two decades. As a child star, her agent really shielded her from a lot due to the cruel nature of Hollywood and the media. And as a result of criticisms Y/n only was active on social media when it came time to promote projects and events.

She had a large and loyal fan base. Probably one of the largest for a celebrity due to her being in so many popular shows and high-grossing movies. On TikTok she & her characters were the most edited when it came to fancams. Pinterest had its own board dedicated to all the outfits Y/n wore.

She was Hollywoods Angel. Fans loved her, celebrities adored her. Before joining the cast of Bridgerton she met them at the Bafta’s the year prior and had them all starstruck when she approached. Nicola Couglan, who plays Penelope Featherington, even mentioned in an interview how the cast pretty much lost their minds when they found out she would be coming onto the show.

“No one knew about the end credit scene at the end of series three,” she told Graham Norton, seated alongside her costar/leading man, Luke Newton aka Colin Bridgerton on the show. “It was a big secret between Shonda and the crew. After we wrapped up, they went ahead and secretly filmed the scene with Sophie getting ready for the masquerade ball,” Nicola raises her hands, grinning from ear to ear, “and when I tell you we all were freaking out.” The audience laughed, Graham leaning foward in his seat with an awe-struck expression.

“So how did you find out? Was it when you watched the finale?”

Luke was the one to answer. “When I watched the episode,” he points to Nicola, “and I think you said you did this too—same with some of the others, I exited Netflix once the credits started to roll. Not thining much of it,” he shrugs, “then later that night Claudia Jessie who plays Eloise FaceTimes the iMessage group chat we have—.”

Nicole gently cuts in, “I’m surprised so many picked up.” That ignites a laugh from everyone.

“Yeah,” Luke agrees as he sits up. “Luke Thompson, Johnny Bailey, Simone, Nicola, Bessie, and I all answer—one after the other—and Claudia is shouting, ‘Did you see the end credit scene!?!’ Of course I’m confused because I’m like, ‘what is this, the MCU?’” Nicola bursts into laughter along with Graham. “Everyone’s asking what the hell she’s talking about because we’ve all seen the finale and were texting about it—but nobody mentioned an end credit scene. It completely went over our head. So…as you can imagine we all turn our tv, still on FaceTime mind you, and low and behold not only is there end credit scene….but Y/n L/n is gonna be Sophie Beckett.” Just the name alone ignites eruption from the crowd.

“Wow,” Graham exhales, “And you guys met her at the Bafta’s last year, yes? I remember seeing a picture of you two and other cast mates from Bridgerton with her.” Nicola nods excitedly.

“We did. It was such a surreal moment. She was with her then fiancee and the Euphoria cast—it kinda looked like a school mixed with Euphoria cast on one side and us on the other. But she came over and we were all buzzing in the corner, ‘Y/n L/n is coming over here. Oh my God-oh my God.’ Most of us have been watching her since she was on Doctor Who so this was like meeting your childhood idol,” Nicola used her hands to emphasize the point, “And she expressed how she was a fan of the books and loved the show. She even made a joke like, ‘Tell Shonda to call my line.’”

“And did you?” Graham asks for the audience and viewers at home, on the edge of his seat. “Cause didn’t they work together before on Grey’s Anatomy and Scandal?”

Luke nods, “we brought it up during press for series 2. I forgot Y/n was on those shows actually so when I told Shonda I thought ‘there’s no way they’re gonna get her’.” He glances at Nicola, excitment on his features, “I think everyone is ready to get back to set and start filming series four. I know I’m already missing everyone and I’m excited to pass the torch to Luke and Y/n.”

Coming down to the final cardstock, Y/n was sad to end the interview. It was fun seeing what people searched on the web and giving a more in-depth look at her life.

Peeling back the paper on the final card, the statement read, “Who is Y/n L/n’s husband?” Cue the butterflies in her stomach, picturing the man’s gorgeous face. “My husband is Lieutenant Commander Javy Machado. Although he is known to his colleagues as ‘Coyote’.” Lowering the cardstock she went on to say, “Javy and I met four years ago in 2019, he’s a fighter pilot for the Navy and was stationed in San Diego for an assignment. It happened to coincide at the time I was filming a small part in ‘Friend of the World’.” A small independent film her friend was producing and asked if she would take a small role to help promote the project. It’d been the first film Y/n had taken on after moving back to the States following her nearly 12 year residence in the United Kingdom.

If she thought hard enough, Y/n could feel the warmth of the sun on her arms and smell of the ocean salt water as her eyes landed on a group of people playing football with two balls. Instantly drawn to the man sticking his tongue out at his friends when running backwards to the end line. “My costars and I had wrapped up for the day and decided to go to the beach. We were waiting for this bar to open at five so we strolled for a good bit to pass time. That’s where I saw him playing football with his colleagues,” a shy smile stayed on her lips the entire time Y/n relayed the story.

“And then when the bar opened that night we formally met.” Man what a night it was. Every social media platform was buzzing with pictures and videos of Y/n behind the bar of The Hard Deck surrounded by patrons. The bartender, Penny, was so cool and didn’t mind the actors coming in despite the madhouse they caused. She did, however, have to close the doors once it got too packed due to locals sending word the five-time Emmy award winning actress was there. Before she knew it, Y/n was making drinks with her while taking pictures and signing autographs to everyone who approached. Y/n even rang the bell a couple times and bought the first round for those in attendance.

And when Javy appeared in front of her, it was like time had stopped. The noise eloping them was muffled, movement slowed to where the only clear focus was on each other.

“Hi,” he beamed, looking at her like she was the only person on the planet. “I know you’ve heard this all night, but is it alright if I get a photo with you?”

“Of course,” Y/n found her voice after a second, smiling wide as she inched closer to the bar counter. Javy thanked her, moving so his back was to the surface since the bar stood in between them and positioned his phone so it captured both of them. They posed, Javy snapping a couple pictures with Y/n making a kissy face at one point. When it ended Y/n motioned to the draft beers beside her, “Can I get you anything? Round is on me.”

Well Javy couldn’t say no could he? Pocketing his phone he replied, “Whatever you recommend, I’ll take.” Had he been to the hard deck several times in the past two weeks? Yes. Did he know what all was on draft and bottled? Sure did. But he wasn’t gonna pass on the chance to flirt with one of the greatest actors Hollywood had ever produced.

It was Y/n L/n for Christ’s sake. Hollywood’s Angel as they called her.

But what the pilot didn’t expect was to have found the love of his life. The same went for Y/n. Sure they had a moment movies often depicted as ‘love at first sight’ but c’mon, that was only in the movies…right?

Well perhaps it wasn’t just in the movies.

“Okay I see you!” Javy hollered from the side, standing on the red carpet a few paces away from where Y/n was posing for the cameras. Dressed to the nines in a black tux, Javy hyped up his fiancée like he always did at premieres and carpet events. This one happened to be at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival for the premiere of Elvis. “Give me face—yes ma’am! Work it-work it! Mmmh.”

Giggling the whole time, Y/n reaches out with her hand for him. He skips over, stopping to snap a picture on his phone. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, the two embrace for the photographers—who eat up every second they get with the couple. Ever since they announced their relationship in 2020 they were the it couple of Hollywood despite Javy not being in the industry. But his energy, personality, and of course his adoration for Y/n, made him well liked by her fans.

He worshiped the ground she walked on. Never did he give any indication he was with her for malice. Social media accounts he had were private and mostly to keep in touch with people he worked with. Her family loved him and his loved her. Whenever reporters approached him to try and ask invasive questions Javy would redirect to whatever project was staring in. “Isn’t the show amazing? I would say this is her best work yet—and the cast was amazing throughout.” He was definitely a keeper.

With similar personalities, though Y/n was more reserved in the public eye, the two were like a lock and key. Fitting together with a love so natural they couldn’t believe they got to experience it. They enjoyed going to concerts and the movies—getting into disguise whenever they didn't want the paparazzi following them. Sang and danced in the kitchen while they cooked, having their own karaoke parties with friends.

At one point in their relationship Y/n was to play a fighter pilot. So, what better way to prepare for the role than to shadow her partner and his colleagues. Once they got the green light from the Navy, Y/n had to do all the necessary training a pilot did to get into a jet. From there she was allowed to get in the backseat with either Javy or Natasha flying.

Flying with Natasha went smoothly….but her boyfriend was a different story. Of course she trusted him with her life and knew he would never put her in harm's way, but damn did he unlock his inner Maverick when she got in the plane with him.

“Javy Machado!!” She screamed, holding onto her seat for dear life when he flipped them upside down. “I swear I will kick your ass in the afterlife if you kill us!”

“Relax, baby,” he laughed, earning a groan from his girl. “I promise we’ll have a graceful landing.”

“It won’t be graceful when I’m puking my guts out!” She actually did vomit in the bag he provided her with before they took off. Instead of embarrassment she was just annoyed with him, but still enjoyed the ride no less. “I’m sticking with Natasha from now on.”

When it came to the squad, they were Y/n’s biggest supporters. After the initial shock and fangirl/fanboying—nearly shitting their pants at the fact their best friend was dating an absolute Icon—Y/n became part of their family. They pre-orders tickets to her movies, attending midnight premieres and after parties the actress invited them too. Sunday nights were reserved for watching her HBO shows, while Netflix series that were to binge watch were planned accordingly.

Nat loved having another gal in the group. It was a breath of fresh air and the two would go to lunch or have their own movie nights. “I’m surprised Machado hasn’t crashed in yet,” the pilot commented with a mouthful of popcorn as they sat in Y/n’s living room. Javy was in his office playing COD with the guys after pouting when Y/n said no to him joining in on their girl time.

“He’s occupied with his game. I’m surprised we haven’t heard any screaming at the tv yet.”

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, JAKE??”

“Spoke to soon.”

The couple were stars at award shows. It was no surprise they were always the best dressed. People constantly tweeted their excitement to see them attend, and expressed disappointment when they would not. And often the two’s reactions to cringe/unexpected moments resulted in them becoming popular memes—something Y/n already had a reputation of long before they got together.

2022 Oscars? Y/n’s Twitter froze due to the amount of tags from the snapshot of her and Javy’s expressions to Will Smith slapping the shit out of Chris Rock. “Did he just—?” “he did.” “Holy shit. Where’s the popcorn—I feel I need some right now.”

2023 Met Gala? People kept replaying the moment the couple did a double take at seeing Doja Cat dressed up as Karl Lagerfields cat. “What the actual…” “now that’s what camp should’ve been.”

And of course they couldn’t forget the most recent one of their unimpressed look from Jimmy Kimmel’s monologue at the most recent Oscars. “Should I go up there and pull a—.” “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Machado.”

Expect YouTube to be filled with videos complications titled, “Y/n L/n & Javy Machado being flabbergasted at award shows for 15 minutes straight,” and, “Y/n L/n & her husband Javy being Hollywoods favorite couple.”

Then there was Javy’s to die for reaction to Y/n recieving her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at only 29 years old. The only other day besides their wedding day where the man was in a heap of tears. “I’m just—,” he sniffed, “so proud of you, baby. You’ve earned this.”

When it came to live reactions at events years after getting married and Y/n embedding her legacy as the greatest actress of her generation, let’s just say Hollywood’s Angel and the Navy’s Coyote would always be its champions.

………….

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