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hellomadamebutterfly · 12 hours ago

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Outpace the Dawn

Summary: Paul, as the new head of House Atreides, visits House Hekau to show support and strengthen ties as their own Duchess just gave birth to her first child.

Pairing: Life’s Perfect Ache!Paul Atreides x Pharao Hekau

A/n: warning, allusion to infidelity/an ongoing affair. Happy to put this one out! Its my favorite of Paul and Pharao’s alternate universes 🥰 it’s actually a mini-series in and of itself. For @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt this week!

Paul entered the birthing room, an extraneous ancestral bedroom in the palace specifically for mothers of the noble line to give birth in.

It had been so long since the two of them were alone together. Their eyes locked for several, poignant breaths before, “Pharao,” he greeted with a nod.

“Paul.”

Their passiveness slips as grins grow slowly on each of their faces. Paul’s eyes slide from hers to the covered bundle in her arms. He strides over, tempering excitement. He sits at the edge of her bed, leaning one arm back on the other side of her legs. And delicately, he nudges the blanket back with a gentle finger.

It falls back to reveal a head full of dark soft curls. Cheeks round and ruddy, lips pouting, and curious hazel eyes already open wide and looking around. Even in its infancy, Paul knew this face. Every inch of it was familiar. Half from the woman who held him.

And half from his own mirror.

“And what am I to call the heir to House Hekau?”

“I’ve not yet named him.”

He met Pharao’s brown eyes, reading them as easily as he always could.

“May I hold him?”

Pharao snorted, leaning up from the pillows with a wince of discomfort to safely deliver the baby to the cradle of his hold.

Emotion settles in his throat as the newborn fretted a bit. Hearing his first noises, seeing his face scrunch like his mother’s. Seeing his chin— his chin— wobble the tiniest bit before getting distracted with one of Paul’s curls that fell forward on his forehead.

A grunt came from his side and Paul frowned as his attention shifted. “Are you still in pain? Have they given you nothing?”

“I will survive. I’m breastfeeding.”

Paul sighed a bit. “Of course you are.”

“He came from me, I’ll be damned if he’s to rely on a wet nurse when I’m able.”

“I should have been here,” Paul murmured as he stared down at the baby. He was so beautiful, he couldn’t look away for long.

“You’re here now, Atreides.”

Pharao’s eyes were closed as she laid back against the pillows. The simple gesture meaning so much. She trusted the newborn with Paul unquestioningly. His heart swelled again, threatened to crowd out his other organs and press against his esophagus if the way he choked up again was any indication.

“Go on, I know you have one. You’ve probably had it for months.”

Paul smirked against his own will. She knew him. Of course she did.

Paul leaned down and pressed his lips against the soft skin of his forehead.

“Mosiah.”

Pharao huffed a little laugh through her nose, eyes still closed as an amused smile spread on her lips.

“Mosiah Hekau.”

“Too obvious?”

“Ha!” She breathed as she lifted an eyebrow at him. “This coming from the man who made my birthday a Caladanian holiday?”

“It’s not my fault Jewel’s Day falls on my planet’s equivalent of your birthday.”

“Except that it is.”

“What am I, the Duke?”

She chuckled and grimaced. “Stop making me laugh, Atreides.”

Paul kept careful time even as he absorbed every second he sat there holding the beautiful babe and at the hip of the dearest person in the Known to him. He didn’t overstay, though he absolutely could have sat there and held Mosiah as Pharao took a nap— he could tell she was so tired. But he reluctantly parted from them to rejoin the gathering of nobles in the nearby parlor room. Paul’s recently retired father and mother were there as was Pharao’s parents.

And… Pharao’s husband.

Paul endeavored to keep the sour thoughts of the man simply in his head and not on his face as he forced a smile entering the room.

“How were they?” Abraxas asked with a proud and caring smile.

“Beautiful,” Paul answered honestly with a grin of his own. “But Pharao seemed a little tired, so I excused myself.”

Her husband chuckled. “Perhaps she’ll let one of us finally hold him then. Pharao hasn’t yet passed him along to anyone who didn’t pull him out of her. I’m eager to snuggle my son!”

A smirk wanted to spread across Paul’s lips but he tamed it into something civil, letting the satisfaction of the clueless man’s admission soothe the jealous parts of Paul that envies him. For peace, Paul could play nice, could play caring ‘uncle’ to little Mosiah, could absolutely keep every secret he and Pharao made together.

He could pull the strings of politics and strict rules of decorum until he wove them into the tapestry of his ideal future. Until then, Paul could put a demure smile on his face and pay the sharp price to the heart of keeping the peace.

“Perhaps so.”

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hellomadamebutterfly · 12 hours ago

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With RFK JR defunding narcan access, I’d like to remind Americans this:

Don’t throw out your expired narcan.

If that’s all you have, use it. It’s better than nothing.

The expiration date was recently extended to have a shelf life from 2 to 3 years.

Studies have shown that the efficacy of narcan can last years if not decades after the expiration date.

Don’t throw out your expired narcan.

Obviously if you have new stuff, use that first but if it’s all you got, use it.

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hellomadamebutterfly · 12 hours ago

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Know Me Too Well

I'm so drunk on you

Baby, you're all that I want

I want you all to myself

Oh, but you know me too well

— You Know Me Too Well by Nothing But Thieves

Pairing: My Super N(ex)t Girlfriend!Yule Havenhurst x Super!Kaye

A/n: ended up thinking something up for these two for the @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt today! Warnings for crassness

“No fuckin’ way you got a brazilian.” Kaye had such a way of putting different and individual emphasis on nearly every word to express her disbelief.

What better way to reacquaint yourself with an ex than playing two truths and a lie? Yule smiled but shrugged theatrically, not giving anything away one way or another.

Sure, he could have offered up much tamer options but what would have been the fun in that? So Yule had laid out his supposed facts for her to discern.

One, that he’d gotten a low low low lower back tattoo— ie- what some would be familiar with as a “tramp stamp”.

Two, that he’d liberated a stop sign in broad daylight.

And three—.

“There’s just no way. That’s the lie. I refuse to believe you got a brazilian wax.”

“Why?!”

“Because you’re a complete fucking baby about pain.”

Yule scoffed in offense. “Oh and you don’t think a tattoo there would hurt?! You know I have no ass, it’s straight needle over bone back there!”

Kaye shook her head. “Nope. Not buying it. ‘Cuz a tattoo, even there, is nowhere near the pain of getting your inner thigh waxed. You wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale.”

There was a stare off for a few beats. “Final answer?” Yule asked.

“Final answer,” she confirmed back. A few more seconds of the wordless standoff and….

Yule sighed. “Fine, you’re right.”

Kaye was the sorest winner he knew. She jumped up, gravel of the rooftop crunching underfoot as she danced around and whooped.

“Yeah, fuckin’, yeah!” Yule waved her off dismissively.

“Alright, show me the goods, loser.”

“What!”

“Tat reveal. C’mon you can’t tease that and not follow-through.”

Yule gasped, hand to his nonexistent pearls. “I am a lady!”

“I’ll respect you in the morning,” Kaye assured him as she flopped back down. He snorted, already rolling over to his knees and silently thanking God for the thickness of cargo pants and the knee patches he’d sewn on with dental floss. The loose rocks under him were cushioned by the rough layers of fabric. He nudged the pants down and lifted his hoodie to show off the ink he knew to be back there.

Five tiny bats looking to be flying out of his crack.

The cackle Kaye rewarded him with made it all worth any embarrassment, as always. She rolled to her back, kicking her feet with a howling laugh.

“You’re gonna set the wolves off with that laugh. Or maybe a roving pack of hyenas.”

“Did you lose a bet? Please tell me who you lost to, I need to shake their hand.”

Yule shoved at her dead bug form, unable to suppress a laugh. “You’re awful, y’know that? I dunno why I wanted to be friends again, actually, get off my roof.”

“This is Morris Grocer and Pharmacy’s roof.”

“Hush with your correct technicalities.”

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hellomadamebutterfly · 13 hours ago

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Strawberriescherrieskiwi Masterlist

Ko-fi

If anyone want to buy me a coffee in Paris.🍵🍵🍵🍵

❤️= fluff

🍼= dad fics

🔥= Smut

🥹= Angst

Timothee Chalamet

Timmy one-shots

Late night seduction 🔥

Friends don’t look at friends that way. 🥹

Overthinking until I’m drunk - part to of FDLAFTA 🔥 🥹

Smoking and Spider-man kisses. ❤️ 🥹

It’s always been you. 🥹❤️

French words and sticky buns 🥹🔥❤️

It’s a romantic comedy thing. ❤️❤️

A Valentines for the books. 🔥❤️

In Doses in the night 🔥

Red suit & deep throating 🔥

Resisting the bite❤️

A Christmas to Remember ❤️ 🔥

Cartier: A boy’s best friend ❤️

Faking it 🔥 🔥

Drowning 🥹 🥹

Desiderium -drowning part 2 🥹

Pluviophile- drowning part 3 🥹❤️

Scars from the Past 🥹❤️

TV Ad 🔥

Valentine on the Town ❤️ 🔥

If you’re feeling down, I just want to make you happier baby. ❤️ 🍼 🔥

Polaroid ❤️ ❤️

Worse secret kept ❤️ 🔥

The most known secret ❤️ 🔥

Extra Extra ❤️ 🔥

Petty 🔥 🔥

Petty: Vacation Edition 🔥 🔥

Costars ❤️ 🔥

Dangerous Nights 🔥 ❤️ 🔥

Interlock 🔥 ❤️ 🔥

An Aussie Christmas ❤️ 🔥

Just let me adore you 🔥 🔥 🔥

Comfort ❤️ ❤️

Friends? 🥹

Expensive gift

Choking

Forgiveness.

Moving in

Dangerous situation

Mrs. Chalamet

Breeding Kink

Exes run in

College distance

Sick

The adventures of Bunny and Timmy

I only want forever if it’s you ❤️ ❤️

Bagels and Strawberry Cream Cheese. ❤️ ❤️

Batman and Robin ❤️ 🔥

Oscars Night 🔥 🔥

Egg hunts and Bunny Ears ❤️ ❤️

My Girl 🔥 🔥

Baking and celebrating ❤️ 🍼

Halloween Baking & Trick or treating ❤️ 🍼

Birthday Breakfast ❤️ 🍼 🔥

A Different Side ❤️ 🔥 🔥

A Very Family Valentine’s Day ❤️ 🍼

A not so Family friendly Valentine’s ❤️ 🔥 🔥

Egg Hunts & Bunny faces ❤️ 🍼

Indulging in fantasy 🔥 🔥 🔥 ❤️

Baby bump & Waffles ❤️ 🍼

Girl Dad & Haircuts ❤️ 🍼

His Little Women ❤️ 🍼

Sister squabble ❤️ 🥹 🍼

Feyd (HC) 🔥 🔥

Happy little family ❤️🍼❤️ 🍼

So don’t become some background noise: An 80s rockstar au

Eyeliner and All of You Tonight. 🔥

Sold out show ❤️ 🔥

Cigarettes, Sex, Rock & Roll ❤️ 🔥 🔥

Mine ❤️ 🔥 🔥

Moment of Impact- Series complete

La Petite Mort- Series- Coming soon.

The Au Pair and the Mobster- Series- Update soon.

Records of Love Series- Coming soon.

Lee

Shadow ❤️

Puzzle Piece 🥹 ❤️ 🔥

Hunger 🥹 ❤️

My You 🥹 ❤️

Kyle

Good Girl ❤️ 🔥 🔥

Sweet Girl 🔥 🔥

His Good Girl ❤️ 🔥 🔥

Needy Girl ❤️ ❤️ 🔥 🔥

The sun in his vicinity

Prince Hal

Broken hearts and swore promises 🥹

Kept promises and mended hearts ❤️ ❤️

Letters and Awkward meetings ❤️ ❤️

Release the angry 🔥

Puppy Love ❤️ ❤️

Know who you are ❤️

Rewrite the stars. 🥹 🔥

Unaccompanied Trope

Unaccompanied Queen 🥹 🔥

Wayward King 🥹 ❤️ 🔥

The Incorrigible Prince-coming soon.

Enceinte Queen 🔥 ❤️ 🍼

Whiny King 🔥

Pregnancy & Sex (HC)

Laurie

I’ll borrow this music and give it to you. (AmyxRederxLaurie) 🥹 🥹 🔥 ❤️

His Eyes is on the Sparrow 🔥 🔥 🔥

Competing for his affection. 🥹 🥹 🍼

Begging for forgiveness 🥹 ❤️ 🍼

How dare you (Micro Fiction)

Our favorite Chocolatier

His Muse 🥹 🔥 ❤️ 🍼

Peppermint Pattie ❤️ ❤️ 🍼

Surprise (Micro Fiction)

Successor 🥹 🥹❤️❤️ 🍼

Gumdrops ❤️ ❤️

How do I love thee? 🥹❤️

Warmth ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Cane (Micro Fiction) 🔥 🔥

Dune

Paul Atreides

Liars: The Choice of Loving an Atreides 🥹 ❤️

Flowers for the Heir ❤️

Devouring the Flower 🔥

Claiming 🔥 🔥

Challenging their claim 🔥 🔥

Claiming HC

Paved with Good intention 🔥 🔥 ❤️

Feyd Rautha

Little Hare 🔥 🔥

Little Hare HC

Claiming 🔥 🔥

Challenging their claim 🔥 🔥

Claiming HC

HC Masterlist

Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton

Some sort of soulmate 🥹 ❤️

A little Bridgerton ❤️ ❤️ 🍼

A little Bridgerton: baby names ❤️ ❤️ 🍼

Ruined ❤️ 🔥 🔥

Forgive me 🥹 ❤️

The most important day ❤️ 🍼

A to Z smut 🔥 🔥

Benedict Bridgerton

kisses in which, we’ve already said goodbye for the day ❤️ ❤️

Because I love you 🥹 ❤️

Harry Styles

Harry one-shots

Want you more than a melody ❤️

Little sick bugs ❤️ 🍼

Lads weekend ❤️ 🍼

Mr. & Mrs. Styles ❤️

Vamparry

Test of my patience ❤️

Professarry/ soulmates

A pity of doves 🥹 🔥 ❤️

Artiarry

Frosting and blowjobs. ❤️ 🔥

Take me back to the light. ❤️

Pistachios and Brownie Batter ❤️ 🍼

Raspberries & Paninis ❤️ 🍼

BTS

Kim Namjoon

Keeping up with the Kims ❤️ 🍼

Kim Seokjin

Chaebol’s First American Thanksgiving ❤️

Min Yoongi

The chronicles of the Min Men ❤️ 🍼

Jung Hoseok

My heart, my love. Happy Birthday ❤️ ❤️

Park Jimin

Birthday Sex & Street Food ❤️ 🔥

Kim Taehyung

I cannot worship anyone but you. ❤️ 🔥

Jeon Jungkook

Cuddling & Jajangmyeon ❤️

Pranks & Pouting ❤️

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hellomadamebutterfly · 13 hours ago

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She Rings Like a Bell Through the Night: Chapter 2

Taglist Form

Series Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Bridgerton Masterlist

Previous Next Chapter

Pairing: Vampire!Anthony Bridgerton x Witch!fem Reader

Summary: In 1695, a young woman is chosen as a sacrifice to appease the will of her village's Protector. The resulting encounter is formative for both of them and though parted, our heroine spends the ensuing years learning about herself, the craft and about the man who still haunts her dreams, over three centuries later

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: 18+ for the overall fic. For this chapter, not much except for flirty banter and a bit of hot kissing. Minors DNI. I will put this up on Ao3 so please do not repost my work elsewhere

Author’s Note: Despite my firm denials, this fic WILL INDEED be a bit of an epic. I’m honestly not sure how many chapters this will be. I’m now aiming for six, but WHO KNOWS? Certainly not me! Thank you to the AWESOME @fayes-fics for betaing 🫶❤️

Later That Night, Somewhere in Rural England, 1695

Fingers entwined, Anthony leads you down a small set of stone steps and into his bedchamber. Though underground and therefore windowless,, the room is beautifully appointed and well-lit by candle sconces adorning the walls and a small fireplace in the corner. But you can only stare open-mouthed at the bed. Back home, you slept on a small, thin straw mattress with a scratchy, barely-serviceable blanket.

But this bed is large, taking up most of the wall it sits against. It is covered in a beautiful dark blue quilt with what must be his family crest embroidered in gold. It is all topped off with an abundance of soft-looking pillows. Without thinking, you brush your hand over the quilt and it is indeed as soft as you imagined.

A quiet chuckle pulls you from your reverie. Embarrassed, you turn to look at Anthony.

“I apologize,” you start to say, but he cuts you off.

“There’s no need. I’m glad it pleases you,” he says quietly before adding, “You’re welcome to lie down and rest for a bit while I go back up and clean.”

You look between him and the bed. You squeeze his fingers, still laced with yours. “You will come join me after you're done, won’t you?”

Anthony smiles softly. “If that is what you desire.”

The way he says the word ‘desire’ brings heat to your belly and you can only nod.

“Very well,” he rumbles before releasing your hand. “Please make yourself as comfortable as you wish. If you’d like to change, there are clothes in the trousseau over there.” He gestures to a place beside the bed to a beautifully carved hardwood chest that you hadn’t noticed before.

Biting your lip, you ask, “Did they belong to the former sacrifices?”

Anthony furrows his brow. “Sacrifices? Is that truly what they call you?”

You nod and Anthony huffs in frustration. “That has never been the intended . . . ,” he stops himself mid-sentence. “I apologize. My desire has always been that whoever crosses the bridge from the village has come over willingly. The fault is mine that it has become muddled over time. Please know that anything that happens tonight, you have every right to either consent to or not and should you say no, I will not fault you for it.”

Now you are the one to furrow your brow. His words are in direct contrast to everything The Elders have drilled into the young women of the village practically from birth. “But what of all the ones who come here? They never return to the village.”

Anthony sits heavily on the bed. “That, too, is their choice. I offer to either lead them back or give them a sack of coins to start a new life elsewhere. For more years than I can count, they have all chosen the coins.

You sit beside him, your view of things wholly changed. Of course they did. It’s a choice you know you’ll make too. Except . . . . .

You take his hand in yours, lightly tracing the lines on his palm with the tips of your fingers. Despite the warmth in the room, his hand remains as cool as it was when you first clasped hands.

Taking a deep breath you say, “There is something else I desire.”

Anthony closes his fingers around yours. His voice is a quiet rumble as he asks, “And what is that?”

You brush your free hand over your pendant, offering up a silent prayer for courage. “Will you teach me what pleasure is?”

His nostrils flare and then, before you can blink, he pulls you into his lap. You gasp as his nose once again goes to your throat, inhaling deeply. Your eyes slide closed as he shifts so you’re sitting facing him. The heat that pools in your belly turns from a flickering candle’s flame to the roar of a bonfire in an instant. He lifts his head to rest his forehead against yours, dark eyes staring deeply into yours.

His voice is rough as he says, “It would be my greatest desire to do so,” he pauses and then muses, “There is something wholly different about you, but I cannot place it just yet. But lucky for us, I have the rest of the evening to figure it out.”

**********

Anthony forgoes returning upstairs to clean up in favor of staying with you. He helps you to stand while he turns down the bed. The gold embroidery catches the light and you run a gentle hand over it. On closer inspection it looks similar to the crest you’ve seen in the village square on a large stone statue of Lord Edmund, the village founder, though long faded by time and weather.

“Is this your family crest?”

Anthony pauses in moving some of the pillows. “It is. My family used to live in the village, but that was before . . . .” he cuts himself off and winces, clearly plagued by a bad memory. He physically shakes it off and resumes clearing the bed.

You slowly put the pieces together in your mind. He must be a descendant of Lord Edmund who founded the village centuries ago and gave the village his surname. Hence the title of The Protector was passed down to Anthony.

Once done, he comes around the side of the bed to stand before you, gently pulling you into his arms. You inhale sharply at the contact, the heat in your belly igniting once more, traveling up and down your spine to settle in your sex.

Anthony’s nostrils flare again. It’s as if he can detect the effect he has on you. And perhaps, as inexperienced as you are, your tells are obvious. The light in the room catches his eyes and sets them glittering. You find it mesmerizing as you gaze up at him.

“Do you still desire me to teach you about pleasure?”

In answer, you lean up on your toes, press your lips to the corner of his mouth and breathe out, “Yes please.”

When you stand back, he stares at you for a long moment and then says, “Well then, let us begin.”

And faster than you can blink, he captures your mouth in a passionate kiss full of heat and flame. He lifts you up and on instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks towards the bed.

Next Chapter

taglist: @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @faye-tale @cosmiclove330 @abridgerton @fiction-is-life @kmc1989 @alexandrainlove @ietss @multi-fandom-lover7667 @turtle-cant-communicate @liliac-dreamer @hottytoddyhistory @laniec03 @queenofmean14 @jtheteenagewitch @sky0401

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hellomadamebutterfly · 14 hours ago

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"I'm feeling nauseous all the time recently"

Bitch, that better be gastroenteritis or the norovirus!!!!

"I notice i start getting nauseous in the morning and my period is a week late"

Girl i need to fantasies with a hot man that i don't have a chance on, not with a baby,please kill that thing

#x reader #don't get me wrong I don't dislike kids at all but damn the pregnancy trope is tiring

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hellomadamebutterfly · 14 hours ago

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She Rings Like a Bell Through the Night: Chapter 10

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Pairing: Vampire!Anthony Bridgerton x Witch!fem Reader

Summary: The Witch returns to England

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+ for the overall fic. For this chapter: warnings for smut, specifically a hand job and oral sex. Minors DNI. I will put this up on Ao3 so please do not repost my work elsewhere

Author’s Note: I apologize for the delay in posting, this chapter took longer to get out than I expected. It was originally meant to just feature Gregory, but well, the story decided otherwise. Also, you read the warning right, we’re back with some smut, about two-thirds of the way through. Thank you as always to @fayes-fics for continuing to be the best and most patient beta reader

London, England 1800-1850

You stand in front of an office on an unassuming side street, looking at the placard beside the door that reads ‘William Mondrich, Esquire’. It’s nearly four o’clock in the afternoon, the time of your appointment with the lawyer. You knock and a moment later are surprised as the man himself, as described to you by your mutual acquaintance, opens the door and leads you inside.

His office, though small, is all elegant hardwood furniture accented by the light blue wallpaper and matching carpet. Mr. Mondrich leads you to a large desk, ushering you into a seat as he moves to the other side. The late afternoon sun filters through a gauzy white curtain that bathes his office in a pleasant glow.

The lawyer watches you with kind, keen eyes as you settle into your chair, your gloved hands folding over the leather folio in your lap. When you are at last in repose, Mr. Mondrich speaks.

“Ms. Y/l/n, as outlined in your letters, what you aim to accomplish here in London is possible, especially with the resources you have available. I have, as you requested, opened both a personal and business bank account for you, as well as started negotiations with the city on your behalf to purchase the land and buildings you wish to acquire.

You nod, impressed with the headway he’s already made. Fingers tapping lightly on the folio, you ask him, “And the progress on obtaining my business license?”

Mr. Mondrich shuffles a stack of paperwork on his desk and hands you a document. “It was approved yesterday.”

With a smile you take it from him and examine it, your approval to run an apothecary shop in the city of London. As you read, you say, “Excellent work, Sir.”

You look up as he nods, a carefully neutral look on his face. He folds his hands on his desk and, after a moment, says, “It’s all going well and I expect to have this business wrapped up in a few months but I must ask you, why did you choose me? There are far more prestigious lawyers in town and with the funds at your disposal, you could easily hire ten men better than me.”

You open the folio in your lap and pull out a calling card and place it on the table between you. He picks it up and studies it for a moment before looking up at you in surprise. One side is blank, but the other has a personal note written to him by your mutual acquaintance.

“You know Agatha,” he says softly as he puts down the card.

“I do,” you tell him, adding, “I spent the last quarter of a century in her company in Bombay.”

Mr. Mondrich stares, face inscrutable as you continue your explanation.

“From what Agatha told me, the three of us have something in common. We all fell in love with,” you pause to find the right words before landing on, “unique individuals who have gifted us with extended lives.”

The lawyer blinks once, then twice, before shaking his head with a wry smile. “My wife Alice certainly is unique. And as for being given the gift of an extended life, that is also true.” He sits back in his chair and seems to view you in a different light. “That’s why you chose to meet so late in the day, isn’t it?”

You nod. “As someone who has had to adjust to life with vampires, I know it’s easier to start the day late so as to be able to spend as much time with them as possible at night.” You lean forward, voice conspiratorial as you add, “I’ve also learned that the power of a good mid-day nap really helps one’s constitution.”

Mr. Mondrich laughs with his whole body. “It does indeed.” After a moment, he leans forward to shake your hand. “Thank you for choosing me, Ms. Y/l/n. Please call me Will from now on.”

You shake his hand in return, knowing that Agatha has steered you to the right man for this job. “Thank you Will. Please call me Y/n.”

Five months later, you’re standing side-by-side on a sunny main thoroughfare, watching as workmen finish hanging the sign above your new shop, Aubrey Apothecary. Once the men are gone, Will turns to you and holds up a ring of keys, newly made, the different keys cast in mismatching gold, silver and copper metal.

He pulls three brass keys off the ring and presses them into your hand. Pointing to them, he says, “These two are for the outer and inner doors of the shop and this one is for your flat above.” He pauses to jangle the rest of the keys. “These are for the businesses and flats on both sides of the street that you are now the landlord for.”

“Landlady,” you correct him with a soft smile.

“Landlady,” he repeats. “I’ve directed all business and rental inquiries to go through my office so that you’re free to run the apothecary without bother. All rent money will be deposited into your accounts bi-weekly.”

You turn to him and offer your hand. “Thank you Will. I couldn’t have done any of this without your help.”

He takes up your hand. “It’s been my pleasure. I look forward to a long and prosperous business and personal relationship.” He releases your hand and reaches into a pocket inside his jacket, pulling out an item wrapped in a handkerchief. “Alice wanted me to give this to you.”

It’s a small, blown-glass lily, a symbol of good luck. You hold it carefully in your free hand. “Please thank her for me. Let her know I will be keeping late hours a few nights a week, so I would be happy to receive her if she wants to stop by.”

Will smiles. “I’ll pass along the message.” He nods and then tips his hat, leaving you to unlock and explore your new shop.”

Once inside, the double-paned glass you had insisted on installing blocks out most of the sounds of busy street noise. The main room is large with pale green wallpaper and light coming in from the front windows as well as from high ones cut out from the walls and ceiling above and behind the counter. You had directed Will to source sturdy wooden pieces from rural artisans, caring more for craftsmanship than cost. The results were worth it. The counter was made from oak and spanned two-thirds the length of the room. Carved into it were symbols that appeared decorative but had personal meaning to you. The wooden knobs were the shape of lilacs and there was a slot carved out for you to place your beloved stained glass bird.

Behind the counter were tall, floor to ceiling wooden shelves, also carved from oak. They were filled with glass containers of all shapes and sizes that held different types of medicinal herbs, tinctures, tea blends, live plants and shelf-stable liquid remedies. You had installed a wooden ladder on wheels that ran on a small brass track that could allow you to reach anything on even the highest shelf with ease.

The back room of the shop held barrels and shelves full of herbs and other medicinal items you had sourced from all over England, as well as those sent to you from China and India by Daphne and Kate, with the assurance from both they would send you more of what you needed.

You make your way upstairs to the flat, your new home. The walls are lined with the same pale green wallpaper as downstairs. The furniture, while sturdy, is not as intricate as what is in the shop below. You enter a sitting room with a cozy settee and bookshelf filled with tomes and trinkets you’ve collected on your travels.

Just beyond, there is a small galley kitchen and three additional rooms. The largest, you made your bedroom, while the others serve as storage for your personal items. Thick, green curtains tied back adorn the sides of your bedroom windows, which face the street below. Your bed is large and luxurious, covered with a quilt Edwina and her daughters made for you. You smooth your hand over the swirl of colors as you think of your friends.

On your nightstand sits the box holding the glass orb that contains the spell Agatha gave you. You’ve faithfully kept up caring for it, but the glow from within the glass remains the same as it did when she first bestowed it upon you. But you remind yourself, with such intricate spellwork, patience, as well as time, are key.

Your opening day is modest with a steady stream of curious people stopping in to check out your selection and to suss out your knowledge. Will stands by watching with quiet support, refilling his cup of Oolong tea and plate of biscuits throughout the day. By the time you close, you’ve handed out many pamphlets and medicinal tea samples and even managed a few sales.

Business starts slow with the people of London unsure of your focus on Eastern medicine, but soon enough, you build a reputation for your knowledge, kind demeanor, and, most importantly, good results. Within a year, business is so booming that it becomes impossible to manage it all on your own so you advertise for a Shop Assistant.

While you vet applicants during the day, Alice Mondrich stops by to help you in the evenings, sorting through your latest shipments from Canton and Bombay and even assisting you in bottling tinctures and pill-making. She regales you with tales from her youth and how she met Will.

After a month of searching for the perfect employee, one quite literally lands on your front step. You’ve just opened the door and are setting out your welcome mat when a young man with bright eyes and chestnut hair, who appears to be about fifteen years old, walks by, staring at your ‘Help Wanted’ sign and trips over the cobblestone. You reach out to catch him, your hand grasping his and you both stare at each other in shock as the feel of Bridgerton magic flows through you. He jumps back, but remains holding your hand. He stares down at your wrist, which is covered by a glove, but all the same, he seems to sense Anthony’s magic within you.

“I’m Gregory,” he croaks out, squeezing your hand like it’s a lifeline.

“You’re hired,” you smile and tell him.

Over cups of tea, Red Clover for you, Chamomile for him, you learn how he came to be in London, his years spent traveling after separating from Violet and his sister Hyacinth and how he’s still young enough to be able to walk in daylight, as well as nighttime. You outline what his responsibilities will be as Shop Assistant, and you offer him one of your spare rooms to stay in. Later, he helps you clear the room out before returning with his possessions in a well-worn travel bag.

Gregory becomes indispensable, not only helping you to take orders and prepare remedies, but he also comes up with the idea of delivering orders to those unable to return to the shop. His preternatural speed allows him to be efficient even as he zig-zags around the vastly growing city, ensuring customers are not without their much-needed medicine.

He seems indefatigable and you’re not sure when he makes time to feed, but you come to cherish him as a little brother, all while trying to remember he is, in fact, older than you.

Some nights, while packing orders with you and Alice, he becomes maudlin, reflecting quietly on how he misses his family, so you tell him stories of your time with his mother and Daphne, as well as a sanitized version of how you met Anthony. If Alice casts you knowing glances, you ignore them.

Business continues to flourish and before you know it, it’s been nearly fifteen years since your doors opened. One particular night, dusk has just settled over the city and you’ve turned the closed sign but are keeping the door unlocked as you wait for Gregory to return from his final delivery run.

You’re in the back, checking on inventory, when you hear the front bell ring. Wiping your hands on your apron, you go out to greet Gregory, only to stop dead in your tracks.

It’s Violet. After nearly sixty-five years since your tearful goodbye, she is standing in your shop. For a long moment, all you can do is stare at each other.

Her eyes fill with tears as she exclaims, “Oh, it is you! I heard people’s description of this place and its proprietress, and I thought, surely it had to be you, and it is!”

Her words wash over you as you, too, begin to cry as you rush over to hug her, holding her in a tight embrace. You’re both sobbing and rocking together, neither of you in any hurry to let go until the front bell rings again and there is a sharp gasp as Gregory enters and takes in the scene.

His voice is small and full of hope as he asks, “Mother, is that you?”

Violet whirls around instantly and looks between Gregory and you and then she’s tugging both of you into a warm embrace, all three of you weeping silently.

Once your tears are dry, you send word for both Alice and Will to join you, which turns your reunion into a merry affair as you introduce your friends to your adopted mother. It’s then you learn that Alice and Violet are already acquainted, having met when Agatha was taking care of her. As they share tales from Violet’s youth, you sit back and marvel at how miraculous the world truly is.

Violet moves in, and your cozy flat truly starts to feel like home. While Violet sleeps by day, you and Gregory continue to run the shop. Your evenings are filled with her calming presence as you take the time to at last explore the city. Together with the Mondriches, you go out to restaurants, attend the opera and even the occasional ball. As the Regency period gives way to Victorian though, you find yourself growing restless, despite your success and happiness.

It’s Alice who sits you down one night over a bottle of excellent brandy, proposing that it’s time for you to move on to your next adventure. You protest, even as you know she’s right. Violet chimes in from the kitchen, asserting that she and Gregory can take over the shop for as long as you wish it to remain open.

You worry about falling out of touch with her again, but Will promises he’s not going anywhere and is happy to be a point of contact, ensuring you won’t lose any of them, no matter how much time passes.

And so you pull out a map and begin to plan.

—

The night before your departure, you ready yourself for bed. The day had been spent going over the final preparations and the release of your excited energy has left you exhausted. You burrow under your blanket and sink into the plush mattress, ready to sleep. That’s when you fall into a dream, your most vivid yet.

You roll over, only to stare into a pair of familiar, dark eyes. Though aware you are asleep, you reach over and are surprised to feel a solid, warm cheek under your hand. Anthony smiles and turns his face to press a kiss into your palm.

After a long moment of staring at you, he shifts and pulls you into his arms, your body held flush against his. You feel his interest as your thighs brush against his hardening cock. You start to place a hand between you, but he takes it, bringing it up to his lips, his mouth opening as his tongue generously laves your fingers and palm, making you moan at the sight.

He releases your hand and you reach down into his sleep pants to take hold of him. Though his mouth remains closed, you can hear his moan reverberating in your mind. The sound makes you suddenly desperate for him, the overwhelming desire to take and be taken making your passion a hurried, needy thing. His face is awash in the pleasure of your touch as you work your slick fingers up and down his length with ease, the memory of the last time you touched him clear in your mind as if it had been mere days ago and not nearly a century.

Anthony throws his head back, bucking as you speed up your movements against his skin, not wanting to delay his pleasure. He presses his face into the crook of your neck as he tips over the edge, the sound of his wanton moans and the scent of him filling your senses.

After he comes, you rub your hands down his back and into his hair as he takes deep breaths, nostrils flaring as he tries to compose himself. This Anthony is just as warm and beautiful as the real one you remember.

Just when you’re sure you’re about to wake up, Anthony pulls the quilt over your head and slides down your body. The memory of his mouth fills you with warmth anew as a familiar dampness floods below. He smiles that sharp, wicked way he does in nearly every dream and then, without warning, lifts up the hem of your nightdress and parts your folds with that talented tongue of his as you grasp the sheets under you.

You feel, rather than hear, him humming against your clit and then you too are bucking against him. He steadies you against the mattress as he sets an agonizingly slow pace, teasing and leaving you impossibly turned on.

It takes all your willpower to gently squeeze your thighs and not crush him as you want to, but he seems to get the message all the same. Raising his face, while still firmly attached to you, his eyes meet yours and you stare into his as he works away at you, his tongue speeding up its wild thrusting and swirling. And then, with a shout, you’re reaching forward to grasp his powerful shoulders, his warm skin still flushed like yours.

After what feels like a blink of an eye, you’re breathing deeply, held in his arms, both of you lying back against your pillows. Anthony traces a gentle finger over the contours of your face, a soft smile on his handsome face. And for the first time in a long time, you speak to him in your dream.

“I want to come find you, before I leave England,” you say softly.

Dream Anthony shakes his head, his face morphing into a look of resigned sadness. His mouth is closed, but his voice reverberates in your mind.

“Not yet, my sweet, clever witch.”

Somehow, you knew this would be his reply. Not wanting to jolt yourself awake, you keep your tone quiet as you ask, “Why not?”

He leans down to nuzzle your cheek as his voice once again sounds in your mind, “I still have so much to do before I’m ready for you to come home. But soon, I promise.”

You turn your face to brush your lips against his. And that is when you awaken.

—

The day dawns bright and clear as you make your way to the Port of London. Will and Gregory are seeing you off, having bade Violet and Alice goodbye the night before at a dinner hosted at Mondrich House.

As Will directs your luggage to your quarters, Gregory pulls you off to the side as people bustle around you. He hands you something small, wrapped tightly in blue tissue paper.

“Thank you for taking me in all those years ago,” he says. “And for helping me reunite with Mother,” he adds solemnly.

You take the small item, unwrapping it to reveal a bead carved from Sapphire, a stone that, among other things, represents strong bonds between friends and family. As you string it onto your necklace, you tell him, “I don’t know that I did anything; I was merely in the right place, at the right time.”

Gregory is quiet for a moment as he helps you put your pendant back on, his bead now sitting beside Daphne’s. You give him a hug and before parting, he says, “I think it’s much more than just coincidence. It feels as if we’re all meant to meet you,” he says thoughtfully, before adding, “I think it’s all leading to something, someday.”

You can only stare at him and think back to that day, so long ago, in the village where you stood beside Lord Edmund’s statue and drew energy from it to cast your reunion spell. Perhaps by asking for his help, it had caused you to become an active participant?

Your thoughts are interrupted by Will’s return. He embraces you warmly and then he and Gregory are bidding you goodbye as the whistle signals departure time is near.

That evening, you’re back in your cabin, studying your travel itinerary. Originally, you weren’t certain why you chose Venice as your destination. But all you know is that something, or rather someone, is calling you there, a name forming on the very air around you.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a sort of anticipation at meeting him.

Benedict.

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