#that re-telling went on longer than i expected | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monzamash · 1 year

Text

it's impossible to win — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 2.5k summary – when you buy concert tickets with your ex but break up a couple of months before the gig, do you go or cut your losses? rating – mature (sexual references, coarse language) a/n – this was inspired by a lovely ask i received during my 2k celebration and based around the band alexisonfire x masterlist

just sent you the AOF tickets.

i told you to keep yours. you love them as much as i do. read

The glow of your phone was too bright, too harsh and so was the reality you didn’t want to face any time soon. You couldn’t keep them. How could you when the reputation of being the ‘notorious ex girlfriend of Daniel Ricciardo’ – man of the people, loved by millions shadowed you everywhere you went?

He was loved more than most and certainly more than you.

She was never good enough anyway; a parasite, they said when the news broke on the petty gossip pages, exposing that you and Daniel were no longer together, itemising every little detail of your downfall for the world to see. Those years of memories, years of loving privately disappeared and in its place were painful ones to heal. They were the best years of your life, or so you thought – blissfully unaware of the distance slowly growing between you and the man you loved more than most – but it wasn’t enough.

You weren't enough to fight for and especially not enough to love more than driving around a racetrack eight months out of the year. He was never there, out of sight and out of mind, leaving you battling for his attention. You weren’t cut out for it, simply put by him while on the other side of the world. It started as a late night phone call to ease the ache in your chest and to keep him close but he couldn’t have been further away. Physically and emotionally. Drifting.

“Babe, this is what you signed up for.”

“No, it’s what I tolerate – it’s what I sacrifice to love you.”

You broke down, knowing this was the end of your relationship and the only thing you could genuinely put your name to. You had lost yourself completely to his life, no longer something you could call your own. Abandoned dreams and forsaken friendships all so you could be there for him; drawn in to his world, naively consumed by his safety and the promise of a life lived together, not divided by oceans – lost to the fishes.

That was until you re-emerged from the lavish hotels and the private planes, sans Daniel – sans your soulmate. The day you ended that phone call, you knew he would be the hardest one to let go of; eternally the one that got away and the one relationship you would have to tell future boyfriends about. And they would probably gasp and ask, not the formula one driver? and you would have to nod and quash their insecurities because everyone loved Daniel.

But nobody loved him more than you do – did. Not even close.

“He said you should use the ticket and honestly, I don’t even think he’ll show up. He hasn’t come to anything we’ve organised since you two broke up – he’s not the kid we knew back in high school anymore… That’s why you dumped his arse, right?”

Right, but you couldn’t say that.

“I didn’t dump him. I just…” Just told him that he’s wasted the best years of my life chasing him around the world.

“… Said that if he couldn’t be there when I needed him or spent more than two seconds a year with me then I couldn’t do it anymore. And that’s it.” Well, not exactly.

“Sounds like a dumping to me and rightfully so. Look, I love Danny but he’s hard to be friends with, let alone pretending to be in domestic bliss with…”

Yes, but you respected Daniel too much to admit that. Hannah was his friend too, all of them were. You were kids all grown up, now adults wading their way through the treacherous seas of the real world, pretending like they had it all figured out. Ungracefully and riddled with anxiety but finally immune to bullshit and aware of what to expect out of an adult relationship.

The standards were higher now than when you were young and in love. Daniel was your childhood best friend, after all. Or more accurately, the boy you met on the first day of high school, all crooked teeth and bundles of frizzy brown curls. You were acne-ridden and shy, the weirdo girl, they called you until you became friends with Danny. He knew everyone and was loved by everyone – that was the one trait that had followed him through life.

He was the class clown and a cute distraction from the torture of high school but you weren’t the only one who thought so. Lunchtime quickly became your favourite part of every day because you got to sit beside him and eat your Vegemite sandwich, knowing all the other girls in your year seethed seeing you with him. 'That weird mole and Riccardo being friends doesn’t make sense' they’d whisper thinking you couldn’t hear them. But you could and they were right about one thing – you were only friends.

The slightest scent of a spring breeze reminded you of the hours you spent sat under the shady gum trees, watching him playing footy with the other boys while you fiddled with your walk-man and scratched the discs beyond repair as you changed them out, battling with the Sony aux chord that was hanging on for dear life by a slither of duct tape. You were fifteen when Daniel handed you a burnt CD with a hand-drawn skull in the shape of a heart and the letters AOF written in bold black sharpie, smudged from his impatience.

“What’s this?” You asked with squinted eyes, looking up at him and the blistering sun.

“The best fucking album you’ll ever hear.”

He told you years later that he was so proud of himself, thrilled that he was showing you new music. His competitive streak wasn’t exclusive to the karting track – no, it snuck its way into everything he did, specifically when it came to album recommendations and especially with you.

“It’s called Watch Out by Alexisonfire… you know, that punk band I said you would love. Give it a try. I promise it’s better than that fuckin’ Offspring album you won’t stop listenin’ to.”

“Well even if I do like it, I wont tell you now dickhead.”

But he was right. So infuriatingly right. You loved it, maybe because you loved him. He was your best friend, your closest confidante, your twin flame – all cheesy grin and beautiful brown eyes. Lips so full that whenever he spoke, you couldn’t look away. Dangerously entranced by your best friend. A label that haunted you every time it slipped from his tongue and one you desperately wanted to rip off like a band-aid.

You thought those feelings would be the kind of ones you'd painfully bury and take to your grave, heartbreakingly unrequited – until you found a hand-written note crumpled up at the bottom of the ripped CD sleeve. The blotchy blue pen and creases in the lined paper made it hard for you to read his distinctive, yet messy boyish cursive.

song 4 – side walk when she walks (made me think of you)

The sound of frantic clicking bounced off your lilac coloured walls as you skipped to track four; a spinning screech filled the anticipated silence before the sound of a melodic guitar filtered through the muffled headset.

Dressed to kill, you look so right I am drunk with lust tonight Your wounds are opening wide And they might be just my size

Warmth rushed to your chest, your neck and up to your cheeks when you realised what it all meant. And it wasn’t the last time Daniel made your body feel like it was on fire, sitting on his messy bedroom floor and kissing until you couldn’t breathe, the soft sounds of your new favourite band playing on his stereo – heart beating so fast you could’ve died, happily in his arms.

But you weren’t horny teenagers anymore and that memory was blurrier now than it had ever been. It had been muddied with all the sad ones, the fights and the tears – the irreversible emotional damage that you had done to each other. You weren’t a saint, god knows and you took full responsibility for your part and so did Daniel. But that was where it ended – in a seemingly amicable split.

No love lost, only misplaced for a while.

It felt like all eyes were watching you as you walked into the small club, ears already tingling with the reverberation bouncing off the blackened walls – if only they could talk. Musky bodies and the hint of cigarettes filled the air while your combat boots stuck to the floor with every step you took into the lion’s den, making your path to closure hard fought. Maybe it was a sign to turn back; anything could’ve convinced you to swing by the exit on your left until you saw him.

He was dressed head to toe in black with a cap securely pulled over his eyes, hiding away from the curious ones. In any other crowd it would’ve been a piss-poor disguise, so obviously him but he blended in with the dark walls and the growing crowd, all wearing the unofficial uniform of an elder emo – baggy sweater, ripped skinny jeans and torn up Vans. And you were no different.

"You made it!!", a friend greeted, pulling you into a rib-crushing hug while you took in the circling faces. There were a few you never thought you would see again, people who were only your friend by proxy and ones he’d picked up along the way. And it was clear by the way everyone greeted you that he hadn’t dragged your name through the mud, maybe he kept the details of the break up quiet like you.

But the reality for Daniel was that he was too broken to even process what had happened. He came home to an empty apartment after a double-header with no way to contact you, to make things right. Years and years of loving someone doesn’t disappear over night and he wasn’t entirely convinced that the couple of months you’d been apart was enough either. And he was right. The sharp pain in his chest and the way his hands shook when he saw you confirmed it. He was fucked.

“Fuck,” Daniel groaned and turned to his mate, “What am I doing here, man…”

All he could do was let out a soft laugh and pat his friend on the shoulder, “You’re an idiot.”

Daniel readjusted his cap and let out a strangled, “I know.”

You promised your friend that you’d be fine, like water off a ducks back. All the side glances and murmurs meant nothing to you anymore, the insecurity you had now was nothing compared to when you were actually dating Daniel. Consumed in his bubble, unable to escape the crushing scrutiny. Another wag bites the dust, they said, gone with no explanation other than your obvious absence in the paddock.

It didn’t matter anymore; nothing could hurt more than losing him.

But you still felt it, bubbling away in the pit of your stomach. Years and years of loving someone doesn’t disappear over night, especially when you thought it would last forever. Nostalgia won the battle against the wound in your chest for a moment, still festering without treatment – knowing the only person who could heal it was miles away emotionally but was now in your line of vision. Seeing him in the flesh hurt more than you’d anticipated, more than you could’ve ever imagined. You still loved him, after everything.

The bubbles of excitement quickly dissipated and twisted into knots when you thought about what you had lost – a wave of anxiety washed over, churning away at any ounce of courage you’d mustered to even turn up to this stupid fucking show. You were cursing yourself, cursing your friend who had convinced you that he probably wouldn’t even turn up and that the odds were in your favour. She was so, so wrong.

“Ignore him and come dance.”

She was in damage control, dragging you away from the small gathering of friends and Daniel, who couldn’t tear his eyes away. His warm stare burned holes through your leather jacket as he watched you walk off into the crowd – and away from him again. It was becoming a habit of yours that he loathed. The house lights felt like a spotlight on your bruised ego but you pushed through the warm bodies, putting as much distance as you could between you and your past. The support band sounded great, mostly because it drowned out the soul-crushing thoughts swirling in your mind and brought you some much needed reprieve from your pity party.

You didn’t feel like yourself at all – you were the shell of the woman you used to be and you certainly weren’t the woman you wanted to show up as either. Strong, independent, single and thriving – you were none of those things, entirely the opposite in every way, so you had to dig deep and fake it. And you were a great actor but not tonight.

Not when you felt a gentle poke to your bicep. The lights rotating and strobing above made it impossible to see who was standing beside you, hand offering an icy bottle of Corona with a wedge of lime. It nearly slipped from your shaky fingers when you grasped it, whispering a soft thank you as the house lights went down and the swell of the surging crowd rumbled under foot.

“I wanted to have a chat but…” Daniel pointed to the stage, yelling over the drummer that had taken his rightful place behind his kit.

“Maybe later?” And you nodded yes, sending him a reassuring smile as the band began to play.

You could be diplomatic and hear him out – you owed yourself that at least and deserved closure from all the unanswered questions.

Daniel kept his distance, knowing he was in the wrong and that letting you go was the biggest mistake of his life. And it wasn’t long until his heart stalled in his chest when he heard that painfully recognisable guitar riff filter through the thick air, the one he couldn’t listen to without thinking of you and he could see the way your eyes glazed with tears when you heard it; the opening chords to the song he had dedicated to you all those years ago on that stupid burnt cd.

Maybe you missed him too.

“This ones called side walk when she walks.”

You reached down, without even looking and grasped his hand that was hanging loosely between your stiff bodies. Daniel interlocked his shaking fingers with yours and squeezed them as your head dropped to his shoulder, resting there while you both swayed to the music. You felt safe for the first time in months, comforted by his presence.

Of course you missed him. He was your person.

And this was your band; the band you shared together for over half your lives, their songs played while you fell in love with one another. They were the band you lost your virginity to, humming softly in the background and wishing that feeling would last forever. You remembered blasting ‘to a friend’ in the car on the way to your graduation and Daniel nearly getting pulled over by the cops, laughing until your sides hurt. And they were the band you would always save for your road trips along the coast, both there in Los Angeles and back home.

These were the songs that soundtracked your life with Daniel.

They were your band – and they’d brought you back together.

a//n – this was wildly self indulgent so if you hated it, let me know lol but also lmk if you liked it because i loved writing it x masterlist | askbox

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 writing #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #monzamashmasterlist #monzamash

694 notes · View notes

outsideratheart · 1 year

Text

Decisions, decisions (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: Chapter 2 in the Legacy series

You wish you could say you had been able to put your departure from Ajax to the back of your mind as you prepared for and played the World Cup with The Netherlands. The team had made base in Paris for the last two games of the tournament. It was a city you had always found peace in whenever you visited.

So far The Netherlands had reached the semi finals after beating Japan in the round of 16 games thanks to two penalties from you and then you beat Italy in the quarter finals with goals coming from you and Viv. Most of the world hadn’t seen you play with you playing in the Dutch league but this tournament it seemed that everyone had eyes on you.

The semi final was something that you found incredible difficult. Madgalena Erikkson did a very good job at marking you, in fact you had less touches in that game that you had in any other game throughout the tournament. It didn’t matter though because Jackie managed to score in the 99th minute, a goal which you somehow assisted. It was a goal that would send you to the World Cup final. As you embraced the woman that had been stuck to your side the entire game, she whispered something in your ear that you didn’t expect.

You’ll make my job hard next season if you go to arsenal.

It wasn’t public knowledge that you planned on leaving Ajax. The fans had doubts every summer transfer window because they knew you deserved to play at a higher level but you never gave then any reason to think you were planning on leaving them.

A few days later the team had a day off and whilst you did spend the day with them, you were ready for some time to relax so you and Viv went back to the hotel with the promise that you will meet back up with the team later for some food.

A couple of hours later you no longer want to be alone so you to go to Viv’s room

“Are you ready for the final?” Viv asked as the two of you took refuge in her room.

The national team were your family but they could be a bit much sometimes and Viv shared your need for peace when things got too hectic. She could also tell something had been bothering you but she wasn’t one to push when you weren’t ready to talk about it.

When Viv gets only a hum in response she notices that you have your attention on the phone in your hands. It was obvious that whatever you were reading made you feel uneasy because your eyebrows furrowed, something that happens when you’re thinking deeply.

“Y/N” Viv’s words fall on deaf ears. It is only when she throws Flip at you do you look up at her before going into the bathroom.

Something was definitely wrong. Your eyes were glassed over.

There on your phone was the headline that sent your thoughts running a hundred miles an hour and led you chest to feel like it was being weighed down by an anvil.

JOHAN CRUYFF’S DAUGHTER TO FOLLOW IN HER FATHER’S FOOTSTEPS. WILL SHE SHINE BRIGHT OR SETTLE IN HIS SHADOW?

Viv knew the struggles you had been facing and whilst Barcelona was a dream she knew you had been struggling with thought of being in a city that held such strong memories of your father.

There was a sense of betrayal in your gut. You wasn’t sure if it was someone within your management team, Barcelona or Arsenal but now the world was talking when you wanted this topic to remain silent.

When you re entered the bedroom it felt smaller than before. Viv didn’t know what to say and within seconds her decision to comfort you is taken away from her because Danielle and Lieke come barging in. Both of them, oblivious to what they were walking into, make it clear that you are to rejoin the team. Viv tries to tell them that you aren’t feeling it but you cut her off.

“Actually I have somewhere else to be but it’s on the way so I’ll walk with you”

The three Dutch women give you a shared look. You didn’t have any media or appearances because today was the mandatory day off so where could you possibly be going.

The four of you walk along the streets of Paris for twenty minutes before you bid your farewells. Viv and Danielle didn’t know the significance of the hotel you were stopping at but Lieke did.

“This is where some of the Spain girls are staying. Are you going to see anyone in particular?” Lieke knew this is where some of her friends are staying. Their World Cup journey may have been over but they were still football fans and they wanted to support their club team mate in what could be one the biggest games of her career. Lieke of course thought there could be other reasons but whenever she brought it up she got shut down very quickly.

“A friend” you reply was short and gave very little away.

It wasn’t a lie. You were going to see a friend, you just wasn’t stating which Spanish player you were going to see. Whilst Danielle had your attention, Viv told Lieke about the article that had changed your mood drastically. Your best friend has a feeling who you were going to see given that you had kept very close eyes on a certain Catalonian during the tournament and said woman had been pestering her for your phone number but she didn’t want to get involved. Lieke knew she would have to let this play out organically even if it would be painful to watch.

It’s save to say Lieke had to do a double take when she saw a group of familiar faces walk past her.

“Lieke!”

“Alexia”

She wasn’t who Lieke expected to see on the streets of Paris. If Alexia was here who had you gone to see at their hotel. It is pure coincidence that her club team mates were on their way to a restaurant close to hers so they walk together.

“I saw the article. How is she?”

Alexia had put herself in a difficult position. She wanted to be your team mate but given her own loss she wanted to make sure you were ok. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have strangers constantly remind you of the person you have lost.

“That depends on why you’re asking. Do you want to know because part of you cares or because you want to know her decision?”

The brunette regretted the way she interrogated you that night is Barcelona. Even though you offered her a fresh start, she hated to think that you saw her as Joan Laporta’s spy. Even if you didn’t sign for Barcelona she hoped that you could be friends.

“Lieke, I told you I’m sorry for what I did in barcelona and to answer your question, I’m asking because well, because I care about her. she—“

“Ale are you talking about Y/N again” Mapi comes out of nowhere “You know if you like her then you should ask her out. Don’t pry Lieke for information”

“That’s not what I’m doing” Flush floods Alexia’s cheeks.

“Y/N’s ok, I think” Lieke ignores Mapi’s teasing and answers Alexia’s question “She‘s actually at your hotel. I thought you might have been going to see you but you’re here”

Alexia wonders why your best friend thought you would be with her?

“Why would she have come to see me?”

“Alexia you are Barcelona and between you and me, I think she is leaning towards joining us. You also know the pain she feels on a daily basis”

Alexia rarely spoke about her father but the loss was known within the team.

“I would be there for her” she barely knew you but this much she was certain on.

“I know you would”

Meanwhile you sat in the lobby of a hotel you had no right to be in. You needed to speak to someone that knew you but that you didn’t have any responsibilities with, at least not yet. You had kept in contact throughout the competition, both been the outside perspective that the other one needed.

Now you had to remember which room she was in and pray that you don’t rub into any of her team mates. You wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

401, 402, 404 and then 405, her room. You knock quietly hoping not to interrupt anything or risk waking her up if for some reason she is asleep. After knocking for the third time with no answer you take it as a sign that you showing up uninvited wasn’t a good idea. When you are half way down the hallway you hear the door opening.

“Y/N is that you?” The Spanish accent is thick but easily understandable.

“I was just leaving, sorry to bother you”

“Don’t be silly, come in”

“Thank you Tana”

It felt strange to be in her hotel room and you didn’t know where you should sit so you choose to stand against the TV unit.

Both of you wait for the other to speak which leads to silence. It’s not exactly comfortable but it’s not awkward either. A few seconds pass and both of you start laughing to fill the empty space.

“It got out”

“I saw. Are you going to say anything” Aitana asks and she gets a shake of a head in response.

“I just want to play football. It’s all i‘ve ever wanted and now I’m a story”

The small Catalonian hands you a bottle of water out of the mini fridge.

“Can I ask you a question as friend and not as a player?” You ask her.

“You mean a player who plays for Barca?” The look she receives gives her the answer “Right now I’m your friend”

“Before I start I want you to know that I haven’t made up my mind yet but if I were to sign for Barcelona would they be able to get over my last name?”

Your team mates up until now had always let you be your own person. Ajax and the National team meant a lot to your father but you were never compared to him within the team. One of the reasons why is because they met him. The got to know Johan the supportive father but in Barcelona they only knew or knew of Johan Cruyff the legend, the man who invented Barcelona football.

“Your last name means something to the club and the team. If you sign for Barcelona you will become a part of our family. Some of the girls may freak out at the beginning. They will ask you questions about him but they mean nothing by it”

“You didn’t. I’ve known you for a few years now and you never asked about him even though I know you are a huge fan. You wear his number for god’s sake”

“I am huge fan of your fathers but when Barcelona first asked me to work with the foundation and work with you, that is what really excited me. I am a Y/N Cruyff fan first and a Johan Cruyff fan second”

“That’s not true” you laugh at her effort to make you feel better.

“It’s an even tie. I guess what I’m trying to say is I got to you know you as a person. At the minute the girls don’t know you like I do but once they do I promise they won’t see you for your last name”

“Ok”

“Ok? So does that mean you’re coming to Barca?” The young midfielder couldn’t help herself. She wanted you to come to the team for more reasons than one.

“Nice try. I have a few weeks to make my decision”

Not wanting to overstay your welcome given that you weren’t invited in the first place, you thank Aitana for listening before bidding her farewell.

“We are going to Ibiza after the final. If you want to you could join us and get to know your my team mates you know just in case you join us. Feel free to invite some of your friends too”

“I just might take you up on that offer Aitana. Thank you again. I’ll see you in a few days, maybe”

“Good luck for the final”

If only her well wishes worked. The Netherlands end up losing 2-0 in the final against the United States. It was a heart breaking loss but you chose to focus on what you could learn from the game and be proud of the fact that you made the World Cup final in the first place. It would hurt for a while but you could think of worse places to wallow than in Ibiza with your closest friends and those that could soon be your new team mates.

#legacy series #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #Barcelona femeni one shot #Barcelona femeni imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt one shot #espwnt imagine

559 notes · View notes

thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 2 months

Text

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

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

This fic is dedicated to @madbadpadawan.

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

*****

Tomorrow dawns and Mihawk has disappeared.

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

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

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

Beloved (name),

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

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

Yours forever,

Mihawk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where the hell have you been?!”

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

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

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

And then you start to cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re only partially correct.

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

“What is it?”

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

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

“Open.”

You do, and everything becomes clear.

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

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

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

“Lady (full name), wi…”

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

“It’s fine…”

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

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

You accept.

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

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

“Well, I’ll have to put up with it…”

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

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

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

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

“I think you… had a little accident…”

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

“Mihawk?”

“Yes, my love?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do not hear them crying in ten minutes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You faint.

“Hello.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you did?”

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

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

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

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

“I see…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know how strong you are.

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

Please, darling, for our baby.

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

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

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

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

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

“Good-bye, father!”

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

“She’s awake!”

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

“My love, w…”

“I’ve seen father.”

“What?”

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

“Of course he does. (name); I…”

“I’m dying, aren’t I?”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s the only way.”

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

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

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

You do.

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

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

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

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

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

And then he hears (name) howling.

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

“You should go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is so tiny.

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

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

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

“Mihawk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you awake, my love?”

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

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

“So they say…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what, my love?”

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

“You fear you won’t be up to it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

“What are you thinking about, my love?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#One Piece #One Piece Livel Action #OPLA #Dracule Mihawk #Mihawk #Dracule Mihawk x reader #Mihawk x reader #Steven John Ward #Bellona's stuff

34 notes · View notes

bellewintersroe · 8 months

Text

Max Verstappen x HornerDaughter!

ahhhh sorry for such a big break!!! I’ve been super busy and had no motivation to write- hopefully this writers block doesn’t last too much longer!! Here’s the LINK for part 17. Part 18 - Leni struggles with the loneliness she didn’t expect when arriving back in England. Without speaking to Max and completely skipping the Las Vegas GP, she thinks she’s hit a low point. Little does she know it’s about to get a whole lot worse when Max spots her with no other than her ex-boyfriend…

Sunday, 19th November 2023 - Las Vegas GP weekend.

The Las Vegas weekend was booming. Parties were happening left right and centre, alcohol was flowing and the advertising was just obnoxious.

Obnoxious that was to me. Whilst the race was occurring I was fast asleep- that quiet Sunday afternoon I sat in a local pub with a handful of my closer friends from my school days. It would’ve been pretty wholesome if my ex boyfriend didn’t just turn up out of the blue. I couldn’t have rolled my eyes any harder, immediately turning back to my phone to scroll past the many pictures of Max celebrating his win.

The sense of separation was straight up depressing. In fact, what happened between Max and I seemed to hurt worse than my breakup with my boyfriend of four years. I very quickly began to realise the overwhelmingly stupid mistake I’d made with Max. I no longer knew how to handle the feelings I had for him- who to tell, who to turn to. I replayed every moment over and over in my head about where it all went wrong- how it all went wrong. I was positive I’d exhausted all my friend’s ears about the topic, yet I still couldn’t rid the ache off my chest, no matter how hard I tried. “Guys let’s get a picture!!” My attention was diverted to my friend holding a phone up at the head of the table. Little did I know, taking that picture was about to make my life 10x more dramatic. It seemed that Max somehow did see a lot of things on social media, including the pictures of me and my friends and, sadly, my ex boyfriend sat right next to me. It’s not like I even talked to him once. So of course when my phone buzzed whilst I was sat at home later that evening, it was like all my prayers had been answered. Max had text. However, reading the message wasn’t so… prayers-being-answered-worthy. “I’m gonna go to bed, night night, you two.” I was very quick to leave the room I was in, my two siblings watching me in confusion as I sheepishly hurried upstairs. I didn’t even make it to my room before I was stood still, rereading the bitter toned text from Max.

Max: you could have told me if there was a reason you didn’t want to be with me

The message was short, sharp, it kinda didn’t make any sense, hence to why I was constantly re-reading it. My heart rate was sky high, and if I didn’t eventually collapse on my bed, I would’ve fainted from the lack of oxygen. I didn’t have it in me to hold the reply for another few minutes. I stared in utter confusion, feeling all the colour drain from my face. Leni: what????

Max: you’re back with your ex already

I momentarily frowned at the text, wincing in utter confusion. It became very clear what he was talking about when I remembered the picture from prior today. I felt borderline frantic, then silly. Max being bothered about this was a punch in the gut, maybe now was my chance to explain myself completely. Leni: he’s still friends with everybody, I didn’t speak to him once but I can’t stop him from going out to the same places as me? Max: ok

Leni: can we talk properly about all this? I let out a sigh, feeling as though my chest was about to literally explode. I couldn’t crucify with myself any longer knowing I’d completely destroyed this. Now Max was being blunt? Borderline petty? I knew how he normally text and this wasn’t right. The tears began to form around the same time my fingers started to tremble over my keypad. Max: I don’t know what there’s to talk about Leni

Leni: the fact you think I didn’t want to be serious with you because of my ex?? Max: I know that’s not the only reason

Leni: no its not a reason at all, me and my ex literally haven’t spoken a word to each other since we broke up, things didn’t work between us and I don’t want them to, I stopped things cos you’ve literally just broken up with Kelly, its way too soon

Max: it’s been months Leni, you know how I felt about that relationship and exactly why it ended, you know I would’ve waited for you, but it was all too immature for me, sleeping with each other and then nothing progresses? I don’t want that with you. Despite my attempts, there was no possible way I could even fathom a response. Anything I typed sounded pathetic or desperate- exactly how I felt. Max thought I was immature, maybe I was, but it still hurt to hear from him. I was torn between begging desperately for his forgiveness or succumbing to my internalised rage- thankfully I decided neither would work.

Instead, I kept myself to myself, using my I phone notes to rant out my dismay about the situation- about myself. I’d played Olivia Rodrigo on repeat, cried myself to sleep and during my showers, most mornings, if not all, I woke up with puffy eyes. I had officially hit rock bottom, and there was nothing I could do. I stared at myself back in the mirror. My eyes were red rimmed and despite my best efforts, the swelling around them hadn’t gone down. It didn’t help I couldn’t stop crying. I was so pathetic and immature, Max was right. I was being so dramatic, treating this like I’d broken up from my decade-long boyfriend. But I soon came to realise that’s exactly what it felt like. I’d been friends with Max for as long as I could remember, even during the awkward teenage days when I was too scared to be around boys. I remembered the prior few years before, when I was so happy to see him at the Grand Prix weekends, how close we’d been. Maybe getting together in the first place was a mistake? No. No that can’t be right.

How could it be when I’d just realised I loved him- and I think I always had.

My forehead dropped against the mirror with a groan, only picking it up when my phone screen lit up from the floor below me. At first my eyebrows knotted together, then they released in surprise.

Dad: I’ve bought your tickets to fly to AUH on Thursday. Geri’s told me you’ve been moping around, we’ll talk about it when you get here but I’m not having you missing the last Grand Prix. Fuck. Don’t get me wrong- anybody should and would be grateful for their dad doing this for them, and I was. But the thought of seeing Max was terrifying- I felt like an outsider, somebody who shouldn’t be there. It dawned on me that everybody’s friends and families would be there- including Max- I’d have to face his mum and sister knowing everything that had happened between us. I proceeded to drop my head against the mirror again. The anxiousness grew in my belly fast, all I wanted these past few days was to see Max, now all I could hope was for not to see him. As much as I hated to admit it, I absolutely dreaded the Grand Prix. Not only was I an angsty mess- I was an ungrateful one too…

————————————————————————

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24@larastark3107 @maxxiemoo @crashingwavesofeuphoria @18754389 @eviethetheatrefreak @rossylightwood @formula1mount @gulphulp @lou-bean28

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x oc

82 notes · View notes

myohmine · 5 months

Text

Song Theory of Taylor Swift’s The Tortured Poets Department: Track 28

Because Matty Healy is a stinky red herring. Let me tell you why Track 28 Peter is actually about Louis Tomlinson whose favorite number is 28, and present the evidence that Taylor Swift really said: forget that guy on the chief coming straight home to me. Goddess Karlie can STEP ON ME.

ps. I blame this entire song analysis on Taylor releasing folklore on One Direction’s 10th HBD.

Peter

Forgive me, Peter, my lost fearless leader

“my lost fearless” could refer to Taylor’s second studio album. She lost that masters to Big Machine. Before she announced her re-release of Fearless (Taylor’s Version), Louis released his solo debut album Walls, with a song called Fearless, “Cash in your weekend treasure for a suit and tie, a second wife” seemingly referencing her Lover era (ME! mv) as well as her past relationship with Dianna Agron and her present with Karlie Kloss.

“Now I’m not saying that you could’ve done better. Just remember that I, I’ve seen that fire alight.” Louis knew Taylor was planning to come out and was well on her way to execute that plan before it all went wrong. (Re: The 2019 NYC Pride Parade Outfit She Never Wore)

His song was encouraging her to become that fearless again. To tell her that he knew she tried. But why did Louis have to reassure Taylor? Why did Taylor feel the need to apologize to Louis?

In closets like cedar preserved from when we were just kids.

Both Louis and Taylor were queer kids who got stuck in the closets as soon as they stepped foot onto the music industry scene. It’s not a pleasant place to be. Just listen to the anxiety in Taylor’s voice when she asked “Are we out of the woods?”

Was it something I did?

Who could ever forget the Haylor Winter Romance? One Direction dropped their second studio album “Take Me Home”. During that promo season, Harry Styles and Taylor Swift got papped together a lot. The fandoms were divided. Some fans still believed in Larry Stylinson and/or Swiftgron. But the tabloids insisted it gotta be Haylor. Is it Taylor’s fault that they’re still stuck in the closet today? If she hadn’t participated in handholding in Central Park/NYE kiss/Blue Dress on a Boat, would everything be different today?

The goddess of timing once found us beguiling

Both Louis and Taylor were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time for their music career to start like shooting stars (Louis: we were lucky once, I could be lucky again.)

The things about “beguiling” is that it doesn’t only mean enchanting/charming, it has the connotation of being deceptive. The goddess of timing did not find them to be truthful.

She said she was trying.

Actual deity is all powerful and rarely has to try. This is such a human quality. This person is comparable to a Goddess but she’s still just a person. I believe that the Goddess of Timing here is Kali, while the person Taylor is calling a Goddess is Karlie.

Kali is a Goddess from Hinduism aka the same place as the concept of karma (who is Taylor’s boyfriend when she wrote the songs. But once she put it out and performs it for the audience, she no longer thinks of the song Karma as her own. In her mind, it already belongs to the fans. And if that’s the kind of entertainment they’re expecting, she will continue to sing “Karma is the guy on the Chief coming straight home to me.” Because the Goddess already sees her as a liar, what difference adding one more lie is gonna make? (Did she forget about the last straw?))

Peter, was she lying?

For the Goddess of time, this is the same question about fame (what Taylor earned with the help of fortunate timing) that Taylor has been wondering about since her first Speak Now era: Never Grow Up (Keep this line in mind, it will come into play later: It’s so much colder than I thought it would be, so I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on. Wish I’d never grow up. (Such a Peter Pan thing to think.) Continued into RED (Lucky One: Now my name is up in the light. I wonder if I’d make it out alive) All the way to Clara Bow in the tortured poets department. It’s the question that’s been haunting her for ages.

For the person comparable to the Goddess, was Karlie lying? Well, if she really is with Taylor then she’s also very deep in the closet and hiding a core truth about herself. So, yes, she was lying.

My ribs got the feeling she did

This is the line that cements it for me.

This Goddess must be Kali.

And Taylor fancies herself Kali’s consort.

One of the most popular form of Kali is Dakshina Kali. She is typically shown with her right foot on her consort’s chest. It’s a show of his devotion to her.

I got the information of Kali legend from Wikipedia, and this is what THE POETS got to say about the guy at her feet.

Here’s the thing, those who worship Kali are said to be able to overcome death itself. (Honey, I rose up from the death I do it all the time. Reputation is a Karlie album confirmed by a Goddess.)

Another thing about Kali is that she is not just a Goddess of Time. She is also known as Mother Goddess; Goddess of Time, Change, Creation, Power, Destruction and Death. (So basically, the entire theme of the Tortured Poets Department. Damn, girl. Way to talk about devotion.)

Another form of Goddess Karlie Kali with her left foot on her consort, Shiva, is much more violent. She was in uncontrollable rage. To stop her from destroying the entire universe, Taylor Shiva laid down on her warpath. When she stomped on him (and likely hurt his ribs in the process, ouch), she realized with horror that she had gone too far. (Taylor’s The Great War: The worst was over…I vowed, I will always be yours.)

And I didn’t want to come down.

I thought it was just goodbye for now.

The pre-chorus subject will later change from I to We, but the theme of thinking they would have more time keeps coming back around. Taylor still wanted her name up in the light. She thought she would have more time. She thought hiding crucial part of herself was just a temporary thing.

You said you were gonna grow up and you were gonna come find me.

This chorus is why I think the YOU in this song is Louis/Harry. The anxiety-inducing repetition is reminiscent of Out Of The Woods aka the song I believe was written from Louis’s perspective, and also contained one of her earliest blatantly queer-coded lyrics: The rest of the world was black and white but we were in screaming colors.

Said you were gonna grow up and you were gonna come find me.

In the early One Direction days, Louis once admitted that growing old is one of his worst fears. Isn’t that the most Peter Pan thing you’ve ever heard? Taylor be like “I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending” This is one of the many reasons why I think William Bowery has never, ever, ever been Joe, but rather was actually Louis William Tomlinson (who curses like a sailer so much that infects Taylor. She never dropped f-bomb before she started writing with WB). The ships passing in the night imagery is such a Louis and Harry thing, and Taylor started using it heavily from 1989 onwards. Aka the album she wrote Style and invited the fella over there with a hella good hair to come shake it off.

Said you were gonna grow up and you were gonna come find me.

But can they really shake off the tumultuous emotions of hiding the love of your life like a skeleton in your closets? No matter how many hiding places she knew?

Words from the mouth of babes

Exhibit A to infinity: baby boyfriends

Promises oceans deep

Rope & Anchor, Ship & Compass, Pirates and nautical theme couple tattoos. You name it, they got it. Louis’s Strong and Harry’s Happily lethal combo: My hand, your hand tied up like two ships. I don’t care what people say when we’re together.

But never to keep

Exhibit crying in a cool way:

1D’s Something Great: The script was written and I could not change a thing.

1D’s Story of My Life: Written on these walls are the stories that I can’t explain

Harry horse-noises-and-i-would-lean-towards-no Styles, Sweet Creature who? Never heard of her.

Louis doesn’t-know-what-tattoo-he-got Tomlinson, but this compass is so sweet for pointing home, innit?

Never to keep

How many times are they going to have to deny their love? How many times do they have to parade around with someone else for the camera? How many times do they have to bring up conspiracies and how unfair it is for their loved ones? They keep doing things that practically break a promise of ALWAYS IN MY HEART. Are they doomed to never keeping their promises?

Are you still a mind reader?

It’s not just Louis’s Fearless song before she unlocked the vault to Fearless (Taylor’s Version), just look at the way he wrote lyrics that Taylor clearly had in mind:

Louis in Don’t Let It Break Your Heart: I know you left a part of you in New York

Taylor in Hoax: You knew I left a part of me back in New York

Louis for 1D’s Love You Goodbye: Baby, go on, twist the knife

Taylor in Hoax: my twisted knife, my winless fight

Louis for 1D’s Midnight Memories first leaked: Diana, let me be the one to lift your heart up and save your life. I don’t think you even realize, but, baby, you’d be saving mine.

Taylor in reputation’s Call It What You Want: You don’t have to save me. But would you run away with me? Yes. And keep this line in mind: My baby’s fly like a jet stream.

A natural scene stealer?

I mean, I am very biased. But Louis has always stolen the scene. Whether it be “NO! Jimmy protested” on the staircase, Kevin the Pigeon, it said do not dial 9 so I dialed 9, or when singing/carrying 1D choruses, especially clear in What Makes You Beautiful and Story of My Life a cappella version.

In relation to Taylor, as soon as Haylor officially ended according to tabloid, Louis proceeded to get this giant Swift bird tattoo in his right arm.

And remember the game 1D played for FOUR promo? Louis wasn’t even trying to do anything funny and the universe was like let’s make sure the pulling-words-out-of-hats game has the funniest possible outcomes.

Harry: mine said Louis Tomlinson

Niall: got papped snogging

Zayn: Taylor Swift

*chaos erupts*

Louis: *incredulous laughter*

Harry: *seize the opportunity for the funniest joke ever* I mean, you could’ve told me

Louis: Jesus.

Anyhow, I digress. Niall said without Louis, 1D would be the most boring band in the world.

I’ve heard great things, Peter.

I mean, World Tours/Festivals/Faith in the Future. Yup, great things indeed. But it also implied that they hadn’t seen each other in person for a while. (That’s why I still on the clown train that WB is Louis. They wrote together in lockdown. Nobody was out to see anybody.)

But life was always easier on you than it was on me.

This is where I am extremely dubious of my own clown theory. I don’t believe Louis had it easier than Taylor, especially given how he lost his mom and his sister. But it helps that the next line made it clear which aspect of life she was talking about.

And sometimes it gets me, when crossing your jet stream.

This line really takes Harry out as a contender for being Peter/you. Because he already has his own place here. He’s the “your jet stream”. My baby’s fly like a jet stream. Harry is Louis’s baby. It’s been well-documented in the Larry Stylinson fandom/organization/conspiracy/call it what you want to. 😂

We both did the best we could do underneath the same moon in different galaxies.

Both Taylor and Harry did the best they could do under the same circumstance. From the point of view on earth, there is only one moon. It seems so big and just within reach. But when we zoom out to the level of galaxies, it’s practically impossible to pinpoint the same moon among billions of other celestial bodies. Yet, the dark night cycle for Taylor and Harry is exactly the same. They’re both stuck in the same style of closet from when they were just kids. (Womanizer/Slut aka someone with many different partners, before it shifted to long-term low-key/marriage material themes. Likely due to the songs they kept writing which couldn’t possibly be about one-night stands, no matter which angle anyone look at it. The messages are loud and clear. They are in love and deeply devoted to one person only.) The difference is Taylor didn’t get to meet Karlie before the industry broke her spirit down. (Let all your damage, damage me.) But Louis and Harry have always had each other to rely on. #welivetogetherdealwithit.

Harry was once asked if falling in love is the best part of a relationship. Well, he said he actually believed the best part after that initial rush of infatuation is becoming a team. If that’s not enough to sound like someone in a long-term committed relationship. Harry also has a habit of singing “I’m in love with Lou and all his little things”/ “You’re still the one I run to, the one that I belong to. You’re still the one I want for life.” /“Hopelessly devoted to Lou.”

So, yeah. No wonder Taylor believed life was always easier on Louis and Harry than it was on her. Not even mentioning the things she said on The Man: I’m so sick of running as fast as I can, wondering if I’d get there quicker if I was a man.

And I didn’t wanna hang around.

So Karlie and Harry was seen hanging out once and never again.

We said it was just goodbye for now.

I think Louis/Harry and Taylor/Karlie were always planning to come out at the same time, but that coming out schedule kept getting postponed.

You said you were gonna grow up and you were gonna come find me.

Said you were gonna grow up and you were gonna come find me.

Words from the mouth of babes

Promises oceans deep

But never to keep

Never to keep

It’s the same ol’ shit, just different days. The anxious anticipation and fear of consequences for when they finally come out feel oceans deep. They can’t get rid of it. But they still can’t commit to it 100% either. All they could do was making promises after promises with blatant Easter eggs like Harry running around with rainbow flags on stage, Louis wearing a giant golden H on his chest for his livestream during COVID-19 lockdown, Taylor’s entire Lover era. The list goes on and on.

And I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn.

I’m gonna let the burning of Lover house in the Eras tour speak for itself. Their plan to come out was a failure time and time again.

As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return.

As Taylor kept switching out these Kens, while stuck in the same ol’ closet, she still hoped Louis won’t give up on their plan.

Well, here’s Louis in Just Like You aka the song he announced on National Coming Out Day saying: 25 and it’s all planned.

Did that plan include dropping his album Walls with Come so far from Princess Park & For every question why, you were my because on the last day that Harry was 25 years old? Because that happened.

And here’s Taylor in Lover for Death By A Thousand Cuts: Paper cuts sting from our paper thin plans.

Did that paper thin plan include Taylor releasing ME! on Lesbian’s Visibility Day? Because that happened.

Soon we will see the reason why Taylor would be asking for forgiveness from Louis. But let’s see first what she was hoping for and didn’t get.

With your feet on the ground, tell me all that you'd learned.

Remember Cloud lyrics from 1D: Some days you’re gonna see the things that I see… Never coming back down.

And from Louis’s Walls in We Made It: Never coming down with your hand in mine.

Because the thing about We Made It, is Louis still had to throw in a line for his girlfriend Eleanor. Yes, Harry and Louis made it. But they’re still stuck in the closet, anyway.

'Cause love's never lost when perspective is earned

This is when I realize that Taylor has been tracing the stepping stones, starting from most recent events and making her way back to the start in a non-linear manner. Well, she certainly did called this album a post-mortem study. But exactly whose death are we mourning in this particular song right here?

And you said you'd come and get me, but you were twenty-five

And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired

Lost to the "Lost Boys" chapter of your life

Remember Harry’s “Not That Important”? Or all the Rainbow Bondage Bear and Sugar Baby Bear RBB/SBB shenanigans? Louis and Harry were throwing themselves at the closet door, banging against it and making such loud noises. They wanted so badly to show the world that they’re together while still in the band. That fantasy was one hell of a drug. Especially after Zayn left and they felt like they’ve got nothing left to lose. That was, until Belfast (where a Victorian-styles woodvale park is located, remember that not-an-Easter-Egg-I-promise! in Taylor’s hide-and-seek edition of folklore? Uh huh.) and babygate caged them into ironclad closet. But it wasn’t only just those events and One Direction going on hiatus that ensured Louis was completely and utterly lost.

Louis was trying so hard to make everyone sees that he’s not the father. He was so, so loud about it. So loud that it’s still causing troubles every time he brings up Freddie TODAY. Way too loud to ever be shut down, basically.

Louis was doing everything he could to leave the closet. But in December 2016, he lost his mom and turned twenty-five.

How could anyone expect a grieving boy to have another fight left in him?

Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried to hold on (hold on) to the days (to the days) when you were mine.

Louis performed Just Hold On for the first time only days after his mom passing. In front of the person who made damn sure he couldn’t be himself under the spotlight. It’s a testament to his strength and I will never stop admiring his resilience. And although Taylor didn’t come through with their coming out plan, someone else made sure to have done the leg work.

Before her passing, Johannah, Louis’s mother, took the time to delete all of Freddie pictures off of her instagram, two weeks after she told Louis that she had terminal cancer.

(How do I know this? Well, it’s a hindsight is 20/20 thing. When Jay did that, fans had no clue she was sick and dying.

Years later, Louis talked about his mom breaking the bad news when he was at Jamie Vardy’s wedding.

And that wedding happened a fortnight before Jay removed all of Freddie pictures.)

Louis’s mom took out the rose thorns and made damn sure her baby boy could walk down their memory lane with the least pain possible. Louis had a great mom who taught him how to get through the darkest nights.

And though it’s not acknowledged so publicly, Louis has had Harry by his side all this time. I don’t think Louis ever needed an apology from Taylor just because they couldn’t complete their plan to come out/“Speak Now” in time for his mom to hear it, too.

Regardless, it’s possible that Taylor still felt really, really shitty for failing to execute their coming out plan as grief-stricken Louis ran out of time. By the time her scathing reputation prologue letter came around (as if inspiration for music is as simple and basic as a paternity test), it seemed Louis was in too deep with the conspiracy from One Direction days to ever be rid of it now. Quite literally lost to the lost boys chapter of his life

But the woman who sits by the window has turned out the light.

And I’m not gonna lie, the sudden reappearance of present tense in descriptive lyrics here gave me a jolt of anxiety. Taylor already released Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) in which she repeated “So I tuck myself in and turn my nightlight on. Wish I’d never grow up.”

See, if we’re sticking with the original story of Peter Pan, Wendy grew up and Peter Pan didn’t. But in this version of the story, our Peter Pan aka Louis had been through such grief that pushed him to grow up first. He’s actually the one waiting now. Wendy aka Taylor had been playing catch up. (Fuck 🛴 for that.) Hence, this present tense about the woman who has turned out the light is the continuation of wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark.

By the way, how does the intro sequence of The Eras Tour go again?

It’s been a long time coming. It’s you and me. It’s Fearless. Big reputation. And they said Speak Now. Into folklore. My name is Taylor and I was born in 1989. Hey! evermore. Loving him was red. Meet me at midnight. Nice! Lover.

It’s you and me that’s my whole world. They whisper in the hallway she’s a bad, bad girl.

Taylor started her Eras Tour with Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince. The song I believe was written to Louis from Harry’s perspective. “You know I adore you. I’m crazier for you than I was at sixteen.” Corresponding nicely with the song 18 that one of her best friends, Ed Sheeran, wrote for One Direction. The one Louis used to sing as “I have loved him since we were eighteen.” And Harry immediately followed up by screaming “Sixteen!” at the crowd.

You said you were gonna grow up