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starlit-dreaming · 8 months

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when honestly you can't recall (Baxter Ward/MC) p1

Rating: M

Romantic Ships: Baxter Ward/Original Character(s); Derek Suárez/Leandra "Lee" Last

Platonic Ships: Main Character | Jamie Last & Leandra "Lee" Last, Main Character | Jamie Last & Original Character(s)

Tags: Unplanned Pregnancy

TL;DR: A self-indulgent Single Parent AU. Lee has a better relationship with my MC compared to Liz. I wrote this when the Baxter DLC was still in beta, so I opted to avoid writing spoilers (for now) and to avoid rewriting moments of the Jude/Scott wedding.

A/N: Cross-Posted on AO3 under the same title (@ Starlit_Dreaming). Also, obligatory tag @arcosoffireheart because they deadass made a post yesterday, right after I took a break from editing this first part and just needed to reformat it before posting. This fic is still very much a wip but it's CRAZY that they wanted this au too, even if it's not entirely the same in how they might've imagined it to go.

Links: [1] | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary:

Everyone assumes that Gabby is exactly like her mother, but Rosaline will always see the traces of her daughter’s father. The shape of her eyes, how fussy she gets if there’s even a hint of conflict, every moment her daughter is calm and serene in her arms, the sweet and gentle smiles.

Her daughter does not have her black hair, either. Wavy hair, yes, but it was not fully black and her father has only ever dyed his hair.

It’s a miracle that nobody notices their similarities.

Including Baxter himself.

// In which Rosaline ends up becoming a single mother in the aftermath of her and Baxter’s summer fling. Some things change. Some things don’t.

——————————————————————

Part 1: we're just strangers tonight

——————————————————————

Two Months Ago

Beginning of Summer

Step 4: Age 23

———————————

“How did we even get here?”

She chuckled bitterly, purple eyes flickering up to meet dark brown before averting her gaze from his. Whatever expression he had on his face after the question was asked, she didn’t know, and she didn’t want to know.

Not any more.

They both stayed this way, swaying along to the music and the beat, dancing in tune with one another as they’ve always done. It was a song and dance they’ve been intimately familiar with over the years. Every summer since the first time they kissed, they would meet by pure coincidence, and every summer’s end, they’d say their goodbyes with the belief that they wouldn’t find each other again.

Most would call it romantic. Most would say it’s lovely. Most would claim it to be fate.

She would say it was tiresome.

And he… says nothing to her.

Good. Rosaline is quite certain that she prefers it that way, swallowing down the bitter and the hurt. She’s not sure that she even wants to hear anything he has to say at this point. Even if he claims that he’ll talk to her after the wedding is over, she’s very much doubtful. Avoiding important topics has always been his specialty, and she’s sick of it. Sick of his avoidance, sick of his damn smile, and sick and tired of how he still makes her heart skip a beat.

Rosaline isn’t a lovestruck fresh-out-of-high-school girl any more.

Every time, since she was 13, every meeting she would fall for his charms again. Every time, he would sweep her off her feet like a perfect puzzle piece. Every time, he would leave, again, and again, and again. Every time, she would accept the situation. She would forgive him for cutting contact.

Every single fucking time they meet, she would smile at him and accept it, only to cry and nurse her broken heart the second he left.

And maybe it is better they leave it at that. After everything they’ve been through together, everything they’ve done, she’s tired. Tired of feeling that maybe he’ll change his mind, tired of feeling hopeful and falling for him every single time, tired, tired, tired. She’s tired of crying over him, of accepting his goodbyes, of having her words go in through one ear and out the other.

She was tired of him telling her that they wouldn’t work out, if they were to ever try long-distance. That he was never suited for the long-term. That she shouldn’t be with him.

That he didn’t deserve her.

Maybe, Rosaline thinks solemnly to herself, this should be the last time.

———————————

Then

Mid-Summer

Step 2: Age 13

———————————

The first time they meet is at a summer soirée hosted at The Cypress.

She’s a little bored, because she’s letting her moms have a chance of a little mini-date without her third-wheeling. And while she does want to socialize for a bit, she feels a bit too ansty — dancing it is.

It starts with a tap on her shoulder, putting an abrupt halt from her search for a dance partner to instead focus on the boy with black hair and a boyish smile, with brilliant brown eyes. He was roughly around her age — certainly taller than her, which made her feel less self-conscious about herself — and he was, admittedly, very cute.

(If anyone were to ask, however, she would claim that Mr Holden is the most attractive guy in her life, but that is neither here nor there.)

While she recognized several faces of the teens her age due to accompanying her moms to The Cypress events over the years, she didn’t recognize him. Rosaline quite likes meeting new people, so she smiles back and takes this meeting in strides.

He’s dressed in a typical formal suit, with his hair tousled in a way that made her heart race — like those romance novels that Lee gushes over with pink cheeks and a wide grin. This boy was like a mysterious prince swooping in to steal her heart, and she thinks that she’ll be content with just the thought alone.

(Maybe, she will think, years down the line, this is when she first falls.)

And then, he asks her if she’s going to dance.

And then, she tells him that she was looking for a partner.

And then, he holds out his hand, smiling and asks her to be his partner for a song.

How charming, she thinks, smiling wide as she takes his hand. They dance, with her allowing him to take the lead — she knows how to dance both parts, but likes to follow rather than lead. She enjoys the song and dance, the way they move gracefully and fluidly in time with the music.

Dark brown eyes visibly brightened after they dance for a few seconds, and it’s likely the same reason why she’s vastly enjoying herself in that very moment: he’s a fellow dancer.

By no means was Rosaline a competitor, but she always insisted on dancing with someone when given a chance. Not a lot of people in her life were great at dancing — Cove only knew the basics because of her, meanwhile Elizabeth practically hated being in the same space as her most days and only tolerated her on the other days. Her moms danced, but Ma was too tall and Mom liked to tease her a little too much. Lee was probably the only one who would entertain her dancing demands without teasing.

It was the first time in a long while that she’s had so much fun dancing with another person outside of her classes. Especially someone outside of her social circles.

And it ends just as abruptly as it had started.

He doesn’t really stay for a small conversation, he doesn’t even give her his name. All that happens is him commenting on her legs, and then never turning back.

That’s how their first meeting ends, but it’s her first actual crush.

(Lee is the only person who knows.)

———————————

Then

End of Summer

Step 3: Age 18

———————————

Lee is the only person she calls.

Not Derek, who is literally miles and miles away, who, out of all her friends, is the only one with his life put together apart from needing therapy. The only one who knows how to give some semblance of comfort from a distance.

Not Miranda, who would offer her soothing words of comfort over the phone, who won’t push her to talk, who will be there and offer to listen if she needs it.

Not Terri, who would understand what it’s like, to have someone reject their offer of friendship due to how their personalities can be considered “too much”. She would offer to talk and talk and talk, to help her drown the thoughts away with fun conversations and get her to laugh and smile. A temporary sweep before confronting it later.

Not her moms, who live in the same house as her, who would offer a shoulder to cry on and warm hugs of comfort, with soothing words. And if things were different, if Rosaline had told her moms that she was serious about Baxter, that she was thinking about their relationship in the long-term, maybe she would’ve woken them up.

Not Liz, who had already left on her plane to go back to college, who — Rosaline cannot talk to her, nor does she want to confide in her sister regarding the matter. She can’t, and she loves her sister, she cares for her deeply and keeps her secrets, but Liz was never there for her when she needed her the most, even if her own sister doesn’t know that.

Not Cove, who is, well, the most surprising of them all. The boy who literally lives next door, her best friend for life, her brother in all but blood and official paperwork. Cove, who would literally come rushing to her via climbing in through her window, who would hug her, cry along with her, and tell her that she’s worth it. If she laid out her broken heart and its broken pieces, he would try his best to help her fix it. Even if he’s already asleep and in bed by then, he would come to help in whatever way he could. He would offer to call Baxter, to take it upon himself to try and mend her broken heart and…

It’s Lee. It’s Lee who she calls in the quiet evening in the aftermath of it all. She’s sitting on her bed, her hands trembling as she hugs her pillow, tears dripping down her cheeks and — well, she’s in shock, maybe, the reality finally hitting her. It’s Lee, who Rosaline wants a hug from, who Rosaline wants to hear words of comfort from, who Rosaline needs to talk to.

“Lee,” she sniffed, and that’s all it takes for her cousin.

“I’ll be right there,” was all she said, keeping her phone on. Rosaline isn’t sure why her cousin hasn’t hung up yet, so she can focus on driving, but Rosaline doesn’t make any move to end the call either. At some point, she hears a door opening and closing, the clack of a door being locked, the slam of a car door, the twist of a key inside a car, the rev of a car’s engine, and the clack of her phone being placed down. It was oddly comforting, if she had to be honest.

Lee didn’t live too far away; just a 10-minute drive without any traffic. Maybe she’ll break a few laws if she speeds over to her, but Rosaline doesn’t mention it.

She keeps sniffing, and her eyes are burning from the tears, and her cheeks are uncomfortably warm and cold and wet from the tears. Her pillow’s damp, and it — it sucks. It fucking sucks.

“We broke up,” she croaked. She’s not sure if Lee heard her through the muffled pillow.

All she hears is the sound of a moving car.

(Liz would say “I’m going to kill him,” before coming to hug and comfort Rosaline by saying that he’s not worth it. Cove, her parents, Derek, and Miranda would apologize to her when they all know they’re not to blame, give her a hug and say that things will get better. Terri would ask why, would ask too many questions that she just can’t fucking answer and—)

“I was worried about that,” Lee softly admitted.

Because it’s Lee, who Rosaline had poured countless insecurities that laid bare between them over the years. And Rosaline had been worried that this would happen, that Baxter would leave her, that he would dump her for something else, maybe even somebody else, but the reality is so much worse.

Because it’s Baxter, who decided that their relationship wasn’t worth the long-term hardships. It’s Baxter, who says it’s just a flight of fancy.

It’s Baxter who…

“He doesn’t think we’ll last if… if we went long-distance.”

“…I figured,” Lee gently answered, her voice so soft that Rosaline almost didn’t hear it.

“I… I want to stay with him so bad. I thought we could’ve… I… fuck! Sorry, Lee, I’m— I just—”

“Don’t apologize,” her cousin firmly, yet softly said. “It’s not your fault for feeling the way you do. I’m here for you, Rosa, and if you need time, then take as much time as you need.”

“I just… I love him,” the words come out rushed, a quiet whisper admitted into the dim night. “I fell for him so badly in three months. Fucking hell, Lee, I love him.”

“…I know you do.”

(If she called anyone else, she knows that they would all try to help and help and help, to try and fix her broken heart. Few might think that she’ll move on, after all, it was only three months.

But Lee understands her, she’d see the broken pieces and leave it as is — she won’t sweep it aside, hide it under a rug, or try to patch her heart back together. She’d help her pick up the pieces and set it aside, leaving her to deal with it when she’s ready because her relationship with Baxter was doomed to fail the second he didn’t want it any more. She won’t assure her that she deserves better, that Baxter isn’t worth an ounce of her affections.

Because Rosaline knows this better than anyone else. She knows that she deserves better than being dumped just because Baxter didn’t want to try. She knows that she deserves to have a little bit of happiness.

They would all try to fix her.

Lee would not.)

“I’m here.”

And it’s Lee, who rushes to the house even though it’s far too late in the night for it to be convenient for her, and gives Rosaline a warm and comforting hug the second she opens the door for her cousin, and it’s Lee, who tells her that she’ll get through this, that it wasn’t her fault.

And it’s Rosaline, who breaks down in Lee’s arms at 2 in the morning over a boy who doesn’t want her, who thinks that their relationship isn’t worth the distance.

(She does feel bad that Lee’s plans for the following day were set back by this incident, but the understanding smile and a warm hug goodbye was enough to reassure her that it will be okay. That she will be okay, just as Lee can be okay with this change in plan.

What happens next, however, is a surprise like all the rest.)

———————————

Then

Beginning of Autumn

Step 3: Age 18

———————————

What happens next, strangely, is a surprise unlike all the rest.

She knew that she was going to end up meeting a former friend of her birth mother. Ma and mom both told her that her birth mother did leave her a few things with her friend back then, and that the grief of meeting her deceased friend’s child had been too much at the time for her to meet her.

But Rosaline never expected it to be Carol, the old lady who regularly appears at The Cypress, the country club her moms regularly attended. Even though she’s spoken to the elderly woman a few times, her moms often do, once Rosaline was allowed to leave their side to play or interact with kids her age, she never really gave her a second thought.

“I’m sorry,” Carol softly spoke, giving Rosaline a pained smile. “I know that perhaps I’m overstepping, but I felt that these things needed to be addressed sooner than later.”

“You were… friends with my birth parents?” Rosaline simply asks before taking a seat across from her.

She’s not like Liz, who wants to know everything about her birth family. Rosaline didn’t care, and all she knows is that her parents are dead, and she still has an untouched inheritance that she’s had access to once she turned 18. Frankly, she was content with never touching anything relating to her birth family, but with the future expansion of her family, she might have no choice.

“No, just your birth mother,” Carol shook her head. “I’m also the owner of the company you applied to.”

Well, that made this meeting all the more nerve-wracking.

“I’m not here for a formal meeting as your future boss,” she smiled reassuringly. “However, if my relationship with your moms make you uncomfortable, I would not be hurt if you chose to work with another company. There are some people who knew your mother, back when the company was much more of a small-time business, and that might make you uncomfortable to handle the comparisons that will undoubtedly occur.”

“I used to work part-time at a mall kiosk,” Rosaline stated. “I can handle the discomfort that comes with dealing with strangers.”

That made Carol smile with mirth in her eyes, “That’s good.”

“Um… why did you want to meet me all of a sudden?”

“You’re an adult now,” Carol softly states. “And I… I still have your birth mother’s belongings. I wasn’t sure if I should’ve gotten rid of it, since there isn’t a will discussing an inheritance, or anything like that.”

That felt… odd. Even though she knew her birth mom passed away, and that she found the idea of someone she doesn’t know being her birth mom to be unthinkable, she thought it was unexpected. Didn’t people normally have a will? Sure, Rosaline didn’t have one yet, but she was thinking of it…

It felt a bit awkward to ask, and maybe… maybe her birth mother was younger than she thought.

‘…there’s no will…’

———————————

~1 Year Ago

Beginning of Summer

In-Between Steps 3 & 4: Age 22

———————————

If there’s a will, then there’s a way.

It comes to no surprise to her that the moment she takes her daughter out of her toddler seat, the second she places her daughter down for a moment to rummage through her purse, her daughter darts off. That was negligent of her, she had to admit — no matter how calm Gabrielle was, she was still only three and can act like a hyperactive puppy.

Her daughter was normally well-behaved, but there were only so many people she would run off to. Where’d she learn that behaviour from?

Cove, probably.

“Auntie Lee! Uncle Dare!”

Of course.

Rosaline let out a fond sigh, watching as her toddler fled to her cousin and her friend. She then smiled, watching as Gabrielle cling to Lee’s leg, babbling and rambling about her day and squealing the second Derek swoops in and picks the girl up.

“Hello to you, too, Brielle!” Lee cooed, smiling wide as Derek held her in his arms.

“Heya Gabby,” Derek grinned.

“Hi,” she greeted, purple eyes bright as she giggled.

“Hello lovebirds,” Rosaline greeted with a teasing smile. “You’re lucky that you were there, otherwise I’d be scolding Brielle for running off without me.”

“Uh oh, looks like we saved you, Gabby,” Derek grinned, tapping the toddler on the nose, causing her to giggle.

“Rosa!” Lee squealed, hugging Rosaline right away. “Thanks so much for coming!”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she hummed, pulling back from the hug to look at her cousin happily. “Congratulations on the engagement. You’re both totally lucky to have me in your life,” she grinned, poking Lee’s cheek.

Lee grinned at that, “And you’re as modest as always, Rosa.”

“Never change, gal,” Derek laughed as Rosaline gave him a hug before he handed over Gabrielle.

“Never,” Rosaline agreed, smiling as she looked at her daughter. “Next time, hold mommy’s hand when you leave the car, okay Brielle?”

“Okay, mommy,” Gabrielle nodded.

“That’s my baby!” Rosaline cooed, cuddling her daughter and making her giggle.

“Mommy, you’re smooshing me!”

“Man, she’s looking more and more like you every time I see her,” Derek commented, his arm wrapping around Lee’s shoulder as he watches the mother-daughter interaction with a smile.

“Of course she does, my god-daughter has her mother’s good genes,” Lee stated, straightening her back and puffing up her chest in clear pride.

“Yeah, yeah, no need to rub it in,” Derek laughed.

“With me and Cove as godparent candidates? Yeah, you didn’t stand a chance, babe,” Lee poked his cheek. “You’ll have to settle for godfather-in-law.”

“I think I can accept that,” he softly said, staring at Lee with a warm smile.

Rosaline was used to Derek and her cousin always being the cheerful type of people, but when they were together, there was just this look in their eyes, one that just… it felt like genuine love. Lee’s eyes shined brighter than ever before, while Derek’s eyes softened — not quite closed, but rather his eyes would be half-lidded.

Playing matchmaker for her and Derek was definitely a good move on Rosaline’s part.

(Ignoring how exhausting it was when they were kids. It didn’t help that Derek used to have a crush on her when they were teens.)

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Rosaline smiled softly. “Cove’s bummed out that he couldn’t make it tonight, but he’ll still be able to make it to the engagement party next week.”

“That’s alright, it’s just gonna be dinner with the wedding planner, since Liz, Sofiya, and my brothers can’t make it tonight, either,” Derek smiled. “It’ll just cover the basics — the classic getting to know you stuff, possible wedding themes, things we’ll need to think about for the wedding and all that. He said it was fine if we didn’t have an answer right off the bat, since we’re gonna go into details throughout our meetings. He knows that you’re a single mother, and he’s okay with her tagging along to our meetings as long as she doesn’t cause mayhem.”

“Thanks for accommodating us. You’re prepared as always,” Rosaline grinned, pinching Derek’s cheek. Brielle blinked, reaching out to poke Derek in an attempt to imitate her mother. That made Rosa laugh, causing her to lightly tap her daughter’s nose with a soft, “Boop.” Her daughter giggled.

“He is pretty reliable, isn’t he?” Lee smiled softly, cheeks pink as she looked at Derek with a loving stare. “I’m so lucky.”

“If anything, I’m the lucky one here,” Derek chuckled, sounding awfully bashful as he held Lee’s hand.

“Well, at least I’m not the only one third wheeling this time,” Rosaline laughed, looking at Brielle who tilted her head. “Isn’t that right?” she cooed at her daughter. “I’m not alone.”

“Not alone!” Brielle cheered.

Rosaline then follows Lee and Derek into the restaurant. It vaguely reminded her of The Cypress, if she had to be honest, bordering on almost casual and formal.

“He said he already grabbed a table for us close to the windows,” Derek explained, leading them down the restaurant as they weaved between the tables.

“Oh! Is that him?” Lee asked, nudging Derek as she looked at a lone man sitting at a table, staring out the window.

“Sure is,” Derek answered before calling out to the young man. “Hey, Baxter! Thanks for waiting.”

“Wait…” Lee froze, abruptly halting as she narrowed her eyes at the man, scrutinizing him. “Did you just say Baxter?”

“Huh? Yeah, I guess I forgot to tell you, huh,” Derek blinked as they both finally approached the table. “Lemme introduce you guys. Baxter, this is my fiancée and—”

“Oh my god!” Lee exclaimed, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah… of course. A pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Leandra. Admittedly, I should’ve put two and two together when I saw your name.”

“Wait, you already know each other?” Derek looked at the two back and forth, surprised.

“Do I know him?!” Lee looked at Derek, looking downright panicked and still in blatant disbelief. Rosaline understood that pretty well, but she’s gotten over the shock relatively quickly unlike her cousin. “Of course I do! He’s the guy who—!”

“Lee.”

Her cousin stops, glancing at Rosaline for a brief moment before calming down and taking in a deep breath in and out. When her shoulders relax, she shoots Rosaline an apologetic look before looking at Derek. She mouthed, “Later,” to which Derek frowned at.

Baxter abruptly stands up from his chair, his hand gripping the table as he looked at Rosaline with wide eyes.

Rosaline stared back at him, her expression softening for a moment.

“Mommy?” Brielle owlishly blinked, reaching a hand to tug on her mother’s hair and abruptly interrupting the quiet moment. “Do you know that purple mister?” she tilted her head, her eyes flickering back and forth between Baxter and her mother.

Rosaline winced before gently prying her hair from her daughter’s grip. “Careful, baby, it hurts mommy if you tug on mommy’s hair like that.”

“Sorry mommy.”

“It’s okay, baby. And yes, my Brielle is so smart!” Rosaline kissed her daughter’s forehead, making her giggle happily. “That’s Mr Baxter Ward. He’s the wedding planner for your Auntie Lee and Uncle Derek’s wedding.”

“Mr Batter?”

“Baxter,” she corrected with a laugh. “And he’s going to help your auntie and uncle get married,” Rosaline smiled at her daughter before looking at Lee and Derek. “He’s a fantastic planner — your wedding’s in good hands with him.”

“Are you sure?” Lee softened, completely ignoring the man in question. “You’re my maid of honour. You’ll be interacting with each other a lot, especially because you’re my dress designer…”

And, comes the unspoken words. Memories briefly flash through Rosaline’s mind, memories of sobbing into Lee’s arms, crying over a boy who left without knowing anything of her broken heart. Part of her thinks that maybe she should be enraged at him for ignoring her phone calls, but he did give her the greatest joy of her life.

Rosaline chose to become a parent.

Baxter did not.

“Lee, it’s okay. Really, don’t sweat it,” Rosaline turned to look at Baxter with a smile. “Welcome back, Baxter. Looks like we’ll be working together.”

And when she looks back at him, there’s something different in his posture. The way he looked at her was a clear indication that this was only business, that he wasn’t here for a reunion like she had once dreamt of. Yet, as his eyes land on her hand, as if searching for something, he says nothing about her, about Gabrielle.

If she were hopeful, if she was still that fresh-out-of-high-school girl, she would’ve thought that maybe he was trying to see if she had a ring on her finger. Maybe then, she could believe that maybe, just maybe they could…

He only gives her a grateful smile, an awfully hollow smile, and Rosaline drowns the thought away, smiling back at him with an equally hollow smile.

What a frightening situation she’s in.

#wynter writes #fic: when honestly you can't recall #baxter ward #our life beginnings & always #baxter x mc

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wynters-writings · 4 months

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OC Kiss Week Day One — Almost

Jet (he/him) and Evander (they/them) are at the music venue with Averi (he/him), who took this picture of them both. At this point Evander is getting to the point where they can't hide their feelings for Jet and behaving a lot more timid than normal. He feels the same and waiting for a good time to tell them just as they are. That leaves them both in a cycle of being obvious to everyone else but not each other until it can't be helped and leaving their friends/family wanting them to just say it to the other.

This is a scene planned for a chapter in my WIP J&E.

#oc kiss week #ockiss24 #wynter's art #wynter isn't writing

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annabellewynter · 1 year

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Wild Lavender

Chapter One

Summary: Everett Greenwood never expected to be the Duke of Rorchester, that was a job for his older brother. But when sudden tragedy strikes, he finds himself thrust into a life he never wanted. Then he sees Melina delivering honey to the grand hall. The girl who lives in a shack in the woods becomes the only love his heart has ever known, but can society accept the simple woman as his choice? And will secrets from her past destroy their chance at love? Find out in Wild Lavender.

Note: This story is intended to be a Regency Romance and I have attempted to stay historically accurate, however, I am not a historian, so please excuse any errors.

Everett Greenwood sipped on a glass of brandy as stared out the window of his office. The small flat he called his home for the last several years was perched above a main thoroughfare in London and gave him the perfect vantage point to watch the bustling streets below. It was evening, and the sky was slowly darkening the way it does in the early days of spring. Many were on the street, the unusually fine weather pulling ladies and gentlemen alike from their homes to enjoy the fresh air. There were elegantly dressed couples in carriages, others strolling home from dinner parties and some just enjoying an evening stroll.

London

Everett did not consider himself to be a nostalgic sort, but he had to admit that he felt a pang of sadness at the realization that this would be the last night he would take in this view.

His thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched giggle coming from down the hall, followed by the low moan of a male's voice. Everett shook his head moving towards the door to close it when the door down the hall flung open. A woman furiously stomped down the hall while Phillip Matthews, still only partially dressed and holding his trousers up with one hand, shouted after her.

“Is it Anne? Lily! It must be Lily.” He faltered as the woman reached the bottom of the stairs and he made one final attempt. “Ruth?”

Her head snapped back to Philip's.

"It's Beatrix, you prat."

And with that, she was out the door.

Everett watched as Phil ambled into his office and slumped onto the couch. He poured him a brandy and refilled his own before he took the seat opposite him.

“That didn’t quite go as planned, I imagine.”

Phil shook his head and poured back the brandy.

“Not even one bit,” he sucked the air in through his teeth. “I certainly hope you have more forgiving women in Rorchester.

Everett shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been there since I was six years old.”

Phil's dark eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Since you were six? But your father was the Duke!"

"Yes, but we never lived there. He kept the London home and we lived here where Mother could be a more central part of society. Occasionally he had to go to Rorchester, but he never brought me. George was the oldest and would become Duke, so I didn't have to be there."

"Well, this is great news then!" Phil slapped his knee in excitement. "You can just do the same and we don't need to leave London and head out into the middle of the countryside where nothing and no one exists."

The stare Everett issued to Phil said plenty and he once again reiterated, "You do not have to come Phil. I will be just fine on my own. Besides, I've been thinking of asking Kipley to join me in Rorchester to help get things in order."

Phil's mouth fell open in shock. "First, you are not doing this without me. You need me. Secondly, why on earth would you invite Kip? He has got to be the most extraordinary dull human being in all of England!"

Everett did his best to hide his smirk. "Kip happens to be extremely good at arithmetic. I understand he was a great help to his uncle in organizing his books."

"Of course, you understand that!" He was standing now, pacing the room, still holding his trousers up with his fist. "He told us no less than three hundred times what a big help he was!"

Everett knew this line of conversation would irritate Phil and he was rather enjoying goading his closest friend. Still, asking for assistance from Kipling Stromwell was an intriguing idea. The truth was that Everett had no idea how to run a Duchy. Not only had his father neglected to teach him, but Everett had little interest in such dealings. He had spent his years after university in His Majesty's Navy. That was how second-born sons were meant to bring their families pride. But now, with both his father and brother killed in a sudden accident, he became responsible for his mother, his two younger sisters, and an enormous quantity of land and the people living on it. He knew absolutely nothing about how to successfully do this. The only thing he did know was that he didn’t want to do it the way his father did. Everett didn’t take things lightly, so although it was not the position he wanted or imagined himself in, he would do it to the best of his ability, nonetheless. So, he packed up his life, sold his flat, and sent all his father's records to Rorchester. His mother and sisters could stay in the London home. There was no need to further disrupt their lives. But Everett knew the only way to learn about his duty and to do it well, was to be in Rorchester.

"Tell me you are kidding about Kip, Everett" Phil pleaded.

"He would be useful. I'm not certain you could claim the same" Everett challenged.

Phil scoffed. "My uses are far and beyond bookkeeping."

"Oh really? Such as…"

Phil stood thinking and then snapped his fingers in delight. "Entertainment. Who else will make sure you don't become some stuffy old Duke, wasting away in his grand estate? I'll keep you young and having fun…and getting laid" he smirked.

"You didn't seem to do such a great job of it for yourself."

Phil scoffed. "I've had to bid farewell to far too many women this week. I was bound to make a mistake here or there."

Everett chuckled. He adored Phil from the moment they met at University and he convinced him to cheat at a game of cards. They were both quite inebriated and their attempts did not go unnoticed. It only took a few hands before they were discovered, but Phil, keen as he was, noticed a split second before they were confronted. He shoved a fistful of winnings into his waistcoat, grabbed a bottle of scotch off a nearby table, and tugged Everett out the door.

They ran as fast as they could, twisting through alleyways and side streets. Everett can still remember how much his lungs burned with the exertion and how his cheeks ached with laughter. Eventually, they ducked into an empty doorway and hid out of sight until they were sure they were safe. It was then they opened the scotch and each took a long pull on the bottle. Phil emptied his pockets and they counted their winnings.

“You do realize that my father is a Duke, Philip. Money is not hard to come by. I easily could have bought a bottle of liquor,” Everett chuckled.

Phil shook his head, still counting their loot. “My father is the Earl of Barlington” His voice became low and stern, mimicking his father. “We’ve always been able to buy whatever we please, Everett. The point is”, he looked up meeting Everett’s eyes. “Liquor tastes better when stolen and a muff feels better when borrowed.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Now come on, Everett. Let's go to the brothel. I think we have just enough.”

“What is it?” Phil asked, taking in the faraway look on Everett’s face.

“Nothing. I was just remembering the day we met.”

Phil smirked, “Damn, I still have dreams about that blonde.”

“You do have a way of entertaining, I suppose. Although I’m rather shocked we made it without ever getting into trouble. Especially in the Navy.”

“We were officers in the Navy, Rett. The son of a Duke and an Earl at that. How much could they do to us?”

Everett shook his head, “The second son of a Duke and the third of an Earl. It may have gotten us out of a few jams at University but His Majesty’s Navy is an entirely different story.”

“Fair enough,” Phil stood, setting down his empty glass with a clang. “Now it’s our last night out in London for a good while. And you, my friend, are no longer the second son, but a Duke in his own right. Let's go out in the city and see how much we can get away with, eh?”

The following morning, Everett woke with a start. To be clear, it was not his first time waking that day, nor was it morning. Everett had already rose, dressed, and poured himself into a carriage headed for Rorchester. He remembered very little of this, other than his head throbbing painfully and the sun seeming exceedingly bright for the hour. It took only a moment before he was, once again fast asleep to the rumbling of the carriage.

The second time he woke, was half a day later when the carriage stopped at Greenwood Hall. Everett peeled his eyes open, taking a moment to adjust to the lack of movement, and ran his hands through his thick brown hair. His large hand rubbed the scruff on his chiseled jaw that he had neglected to shave before departing. It was not the impression he had intended to make but when he recalled the night of revelry he enjoyed in his final night living in London, he could not say that he regretted his carelessness with his appearance. Everett’s muscles felt tight from the long journey and he took a moment to stretch his limbs. As he did so, he attempted to rouse Philip.

“We’re here, Phil”

Phil rolled over with a groan and buried his face.

Everett harshly nudged his leg. “We’re here. Get up!”

“Alright, alright. Clearly what the Duke says, goes.” He lifted his head with a gruff.

“Have you finished mocking me?”

Phil stretched with a smirk.

“I’m insulted! I would never challenge the commands of the Master of the House.”

“You are an ass,” Everett growled and exited the vehicle. He walked towards the house, taking in the staff waiting outside to meet him. It was a skeleton staff at this point, only the bare minimum until Phil had adjusted to what was needed and arranged for the necessary hiring.

Everett and Phil had brought their valets from London which would be plenty for the time being. In addition, there was a butler and housekeeper, cook, and several general maids together performing the tasks that a dozen or more staff would normally do. However, since the great house had remained closed up, outside the servants' quarters, that was enough.

Greenwood Hall was a grand hall of dark red brick accented with white stone entryways and windows. The hall was wide and flanked by a clock tower on one side and an orangery on the other. Behind the estate was one of the grandest gardens in all of England. It had been designed by Everett’s great-grandmother who deeply loved Rorchester and Greenwood Hall. He grew up hearing the stories, but never fully understood why his father had abandoned the hall. It’s true, this area was not wealthy. Everett had heard his father complain for years that the farmers were not successful in this area and the villages were poverty-stricken. It seemed an odd revelation to behold this grand empty hall presiding over it all.

Everett took a few moments to introduce himself to the staff and allowed the housekeeper, Edna Baker to show him through the parts of the hall that had been reopened for him.

“Unfortunately, due to the unexpected passing of the late Duke, we did not anticipate that the hall would be opening again so soon. I apologize that we were unable to have it ready for you, Your Grace.”

Everett shook his head. “No need to apologize, Ms. Baker. It was quite unexpected.”

The estate felt oddly familiar to Everett, but not recognizable. Almost the way you remember a dream immediately after waking but you can never quite get the full picture clear. It felt odd and he found himself drifting into a sort of daydream when Philip finally arrived from the car and joined them.

“This is quite a place, Rett.”

Everett nodded, taking in the scene as they strode up the stairs of the grand hall. The floors below were a bold black and white marble and the rich mahogany wood of the railings was shiny and smelled of fresh polish. They had made sure to clean and polish this area of the home so that it was presentable for his arrival. As the light shone through the rows of windows lining the front of the house, however, he could see the particles of dust floating through the air from years of inactivity. When they reached the second floor, Everett and Phil were each taken to their respective rooms where their valets had stored their belongings. Everett had asked not to be placed in the Duke’s former chambers. It felt odd to him to take over the bed his father and mother slept in, even if it was so many years ago.

“Is there anything I can get you, Your Grace?” Edna inquired.

“No thank you, Ms. Baker. I believe I will wash up and perhaps take a stroll in the gardens before dinner.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

Phil stretched beside him. “I think I am going to rest a bit longer. I’ll be down for dinner.”

Everett nodded and turned to go but then stopped. “Thank you, Phil.”

Phil shrugged, “What for?”

“You’re a good friend, Phil. I know the decision to move out here and help me to get settled into….all of this. It was not an easy choice.”

“Sure it was.” Phil clapped Everett on the shoulder. “That’s what friends do, Everett.”

And with that, Everett and Phil parted ways, into their rooms.

After getting washed and shaved, Everett felt like a new man. He once again, wandered through Greenwood Hall, this time with fresh eyes. It wasn’t time for dinner and the weather was fine, so he exited onto the veranda to look out at the gardens.

The gardens covered acres of land and included a hedge maze, a pergola covered with roses and wisteria, flowering bushes, and a glass greenhouse for a winter garden.

Everett closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air, lightly scented with the early spring buds beginning to blossom. He opened his eyes and looked out at the sky. It was startling the colors that he could pick up when he looked. There was orange and yellow, but red, pink, and purple too. He couldn't remember the last time he had paid any mind to the sky at dusk and realized just how lovely it truly is. But when he heard the screech of the old back door open, his eyes easily left the sky to study the woman exiting below.

She was wearing a long flowing dress and he could see she was thin but strong. Her hair was strawberry blonde and pulled back into a braid, although several strands had escaped and were flying wildly around her as an evening breeze blew in.

Everett was mesmerized by her, watching her walk purposefully across the narrow garden path and towards the forest. He had not even seen her face, but with each step she took away from him, a feeling of panic began to rise in his chest. He stared, fighting the urge to call out or run after her. He needed to stop her, but no words came. So he simply watched, until she was gone, disappearing into the trees.

Everett exhaled, realizing he had been holding his breath. He instinctively clapped his large hand over his chest, feeling his heart wake up like a bear hibernating for a long winter and suddenly coming alive with the spring. Everett did not know exactly what this strange feeling of longing and regret was, but he knew one thing. He needed to find her.

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#regency romance #romance writing #romance fiction #romancewriters #writerscommunity #writing #creative writing #original writing #writers on tumblr #writerblr #original work #annabelle wynter #historical fiction #historical romance #fiction #womens fiction

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wynterhxney · 3 months

Text

Alice Lee & Landon Wynter On A Wynter Night

#edits. // lanlee #and it's my whole heart burned but not buried this time. // landon x alice ! au #on a wynter night. // plot aesthetic #not for reblogging outside writing partner

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kangaracha · 2 years

Note

If you’re taking fic prompts: how the wolves dynamic changes after the elders take back the pack

“This is so unfair,” Wynter huffs as they scale the rocks, braids swaying to and fro above him.

“They’re the elders,” Willa says from somewhere above her, somehow not out of breath at all. “They were always in charge. Nothing’s changed.”

“Oh, everything’s changed.” Wynter stops, one hand clinging to the boulder while the other reaches down to tug at her boot, jamming her heel further into the sole. “We found the moonstone and stopped the humans from attacking us. What did they ever do?”

“You can’t talk like that, Wynter.”

“Only if you tell me not to, because you’re the Alpha.”

Their argument fades into background noise as they climb, the wind picking their voices up off the rock and carrying them out into the open air. Wyatt lets them go ahead, lingering as if searching for better footholds, or enjoying the view that slowly expands around them as they get higher and higher up the mountain.

It’s a glorious day despite the circumstances, perfectly warm with the smallest breeze to tug at them as they climb, cooling the sweat as it drips down their brows. The forest is verdantly blooming around them, the mountain’s peak clean-cut against the sky above. If he squints, Seabrook glistens in the distance, perched on the edge of the sea like a jewel washed up from the ocean.

It’s just a pity that there’s a hole in his stomach a mile deep, that his limbs burn with the kind of ache that he will pay for later, and that the ink still drying on his cheek is set in a foreign pattern, itching like an old skin that doesn’t fit him anymore.

“Wyatt!” Wynter shrieks from the top of the outcrop, her voice rising higher with every syllable. He tugs himself over the edge reluctantly, sparing a glance at Willa as his knees hit the level ground. “Tell her that this isn’t fair.”

His sister shakes her head, her mouth pressed into a thin, unhappy line.

Right. He’s the pacifier. Beta – except that he isn’t anymore. So easy to forget for a moment, and so crushing when the memory returns.

“There’s not much we can do about it,” he says in what he hopes is a mollifying voice, rubbing the back of his neck subconsciously. “Even if it isn’t fair, it’s what the pack wants.”

Willa’s eyes are like knives digging into the back of his neck. It would almost be intimidating, if he hadn’t shared a womb with her, and everything since.

“It is not,” Wynter scoffs, and draws herself up to her full height, hands on her hips. “I’ve heard them talking. No one is happy about it.”

“Just shut up, Wynter,” Willa snaps, and collapses flat on her back on the stone.

They stare at her – Wynter in shock, Wyatt in…something else. He’s too numb to name the feeling that stirs in his gut; only the answers to the look on his sister’s face spring to his mind. Embarrassment, and the cold, bitter anger that just stung Wynter. Doubt, maybe, that unease that creeps in when someone looks you in the eye and tells you that you are not good enough.

He’d thought Willa was immune to that one, but she’d placed most of her heart into the pack, and that vulnerability was where they’d struck her the hardest.

“Don’t you guys want to lead the pack anymore?” Wynter asks in the silence that follows.

Willa ignores her. Wyatt ignores the urge to roll his eyes at her (to worry about her). “We were only the leaders while the real Alpha was sick, Wynter,” he says instead. “We don’t have any claim to the title now.”

“But what about Seabrook, and our friends? If we can’t go-”

“We’re werewolves, not humans,” Willa says, glaring at the sky. “We shouldn’t be in that town at all.”

“Speak for yourself,” Wynter grumbles. “I liked froyo! And football! Tell her, Wyatt.”

“Willa,” Wyatt sighs obediently. They are equals now, after all.

His sister sits up, leveling her gaze at him.

She’s got that look on her face now, he realises, the one that means cajoling and playing nice with her isn’t going to work – her opinion is her opinion, and nothing is going to change her mind. “You can just say that you’re angry about their decision,” he says instead, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know that I know that you don’t think that you were a bad alpha. And I know you liked Seabrook, even when you said you hated it.”

“So?” Willa spits.

“So,” Wyatt sighs in response. “Just admit that you’re sad so that we can move on to the next argument.”

Willa glares at him. He stares back, unflinching, waiting patiently for her composure to wear thin.

“Fine,” she exclaims, throwing her hands into the air. “Maybe I’m sad because I’m not the alpha. And angry at them. And maybe I miss Addison and our friends a little bit. But I don’t see how talking about it is going to help.”

There’s a pause, and then Wynter asks, “Would doing something help, then?”

“What do you want to do, make our own pack?” Willa snaps. “Move into Seabrook and go to that stupid school and hang out with zombies and humans?”

“Yes!” Wynter exclaims, a little too enthusiastically. Willa’s gaze whips from her to Wyatt, who shrugs noncommittally.

“Froyo is good,” he says, mostly to get a rise out of her.

She stares at them with wild eyes. “You’re both insane,” she says. “The elders would never forgive us. You want to leave the forest forever?”

“The elders wouldn’t exile us forever,” Wyatt replies, reason springing into his mind. “We still have the moonstone. And our pack is too many wolves for them to lose.”

“It’s like another revolution!” Wynter adds.

Slowly, Willa looks between them, and smiles.

#disney zombies #zombies 2 #zombies 3 #z2 #z3 #willa zombies #wyatt lykensen #wyatt zombies #willa lykensen #wynter zombies #wynter barkowitz #why do these always end up at 1k #this was supposed to be short lmfao #roo writes

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wynter-words · 7 months

Text

Matching Burn

Drabble: 1/1

World: FE3H

Characters: Female!Byleth (named Ceres in my playthrough)

[Spoiler warning!!]

Ever since the Goddess departed, Ceres had felt like crying.

At first she'd been worried, thinking something was wrong with her. She'd nearly sought out Manuela for treatment, hoping to soothe the matching burn in her swimming eyes and empty chest.

But as time passed, and the flow of new emotions became more familiar, she realized what the feeling was. It was the same burn she felt when they'd lost Jeralt.

She wiped her face, the still-foreign wetness in her eyes blurring the simple headstone before her. "I miss you every day, old man. Really wish you were here right now."

#fanfic #drabble #wynter writes #fe3h #fire emblem #three houses #female byleth #byleth #byleth OC #ceres eisner

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c-rose2081 · 2 years

Text

Starchild || 12. Control

(Disney Z-O-M-B-I-E-S)

—

With how well everything had been going, Zed should’ve known it was all going to fall apart sooner rather then later.

His plan to keep A-ddison hidden in Seabrook was working far better than he ever expected. She had reunited with her Mom, and was living on the other side of the z-fence. No one seemed to suspect anything from her, and she was becoming more adept at hiding herself amongst the human population. Everything was smooth sailing…which should’ve been Zed’d first clue that something bad was bound to happen any day.

That day came on Friday.

With the thoughts of a promised shopping trip with Mayor Wells and A-ddison on his mind for that weekend, Zed almost forgot about what he’d been dealing with before the UFO ever landed in Seabrook. His z-band wasn’t strong enough to hold back his zombie urges anymore. It was ok during practices when he barely ever broke a sweat, but tensions were high out on the field. Eastside was an aggressive team, and Seabrook’s greatest rivals. Zed knew it was going to be a long, rough game. And he was worried about what would happen.

Eliza was good enough to bring her laptop and monitor his vitals, but there wasn’t much she could do if things went wrong. Zed wished Addy was with him, that always seemed to make him feel more like himself. But she was with Bree getting her uniform fitted, and prepping for her first official football game as a Seabrook Cheerleader. If anything good came out of tonight, it would be seeing A-ddison in one of those beautiful pink and white skirts. Shaking his head, Zed groaned and felt heavy in his padding. He tapped a foot against the locker room’s plastic flooring, worrying himself into a tailspin. He could try to play without the hacking, but he wasn’t as strong or adept that way. They needed every player at their best against Eastside, including him. In fact, the team was practically riding on him to push them through. It felt like he was pulling a train behind him. Just leave it all to Zed; he can carry everything.

“…Zed?”

Glancing up from behind his hand, Zed sat up as a pair of blue eyes peeked around the corner of lockers.

“A-ddison? You’re not supposed to be here,” he whispered, “this is the guys locker room.”

“I know, but everyone else is already out there except you,” she said, “are we alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she released her disguise, letting her tail fall and antennae lift up out of her hairline. The facial markings appeared across her skin, glowing faintly white. As she stepped fully out into the dim lighting, Zed pursed his lips and exhaled heavily. She was all dressed up in her new uniform, “what do you think?”

“You look great,” he croaked, mouth suddenly dry as a desert.

“I’m a little nervous to cheer in front of so many people,” A-ddison admitted to him, taking a few steps closer and sitting on the bench beside him, “you look a bit nervous, too. Are you alright?”

“It’s nothing,” Zed huffed, “don’t worry about it.”

“You know, I don’t have to ask permission to find out what’s on your mind,” she mumbled, rolling her fingers against the wood beneath her hand, “please tell me?”

Zed frowned again, slumping over his knees.

“I have to hack my z-band in order to win football games,” he told her finally, lifting his wrist to show off the bracelet, “I’ve been doing it for almost four years, since I was a Freshman.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” A-ddison puzzled, “Eliza told me the z-band kept you human.”

“It’s supposed to,” Zed confirmed, “but mine isn’t as strong as it used to be. It can keep me human when I’m not all stressed out. But on that football field, I just…I get so rialed up. It’s hard to control it.”

“Can’t you just get a new one?”

“I could. But I’d lose the ability to play Football. And Football is how Zombies got here in the first place. I win games, Zombies got integrated into society. It’s important.”

“But you’re important too, Zed,” A-ddison whispered, looking awfully concerned as she leaned up against his arm, “sounds like a life of servitude to me.”

“It feels like it,” Zed agreed, grunting as he got to his feet, “I should probably get out there. The Game is about to start.”

“I’ll be cheering for you,” Addy told him, accepting his hand as she was pulled to her feet as well, “good luck. And please be careful?”

“I’ll try,” Zed nodded, picking up his helmet. His undead heart was racing; Addy was beginning to turn away, “A-ddison, hold on.”

“Hm?”

Zed hesitated for a moment. He didn’t have to do this — it would shatter any hope of them staying ‘just friends’. But he wanted to so badly. So, stepping forward, Zed leaned in and kissed her. On the lips. Properly. It sent a thousand volts through him, like he had just kissed a power pole. But she deepened the embrace, pulling him closer by the front of his uniform. Zed ran a hand through her hair, feeling the electric charge between the strands. He was now fully aware that A-ddison wasn’t lying about being made of pure energy. He could feel it thrumming through him.

As they pulled away, A-ddison cradled his cheek with her hand. She ghosted it up his jawline, running a thumb across the lower half of his eye socket.

“That was a very convincing show of affection,” she sputtered out, two pitches higher than normal as he grinned at her.

“You’ve kissed me twice,” he insisted, “I just had to return the favor.”

“You’re going to be late,” Addy laughed, giving him a shove towards the exit. He could see her blushing, tail wrapping tightly around her leg and squeezing the skin, “go, Zed.”

And he did. The run and skip out onto the field had nothing to do with the bleachers cheering his name, or the signs and posters asking for his autograph. It had to do with the excitement rushing through his veins. He had kissed A-ddison, actually kissed her, and she had kissed him back. And yeah it totally blew ‘just friends’ out of the water, but he wasn’t mad about it. In fact, he was charged. It was enough to carry him all the way through the first half without a single incident.

Unfortunately, Eastside didn’t take getting totally pummeled very well.

The second half was far more aggressive and mean spirited. Multiple players on both sides of the field were carted off with injuries. Zed began to feel the stress of the game weigh on him as Seabrook’s lead began to dwindle. He relied on his strength to break through lines like paper ribbons. Zed thought he would be able to make it through. He wanted to make it. But than Eastside began to target his players. Heads down, charging full speed with the crowns of their helmets. No calls made by the refs as his guys began to get pulled out one by one.

The anger in him was bubbling, and his desire for flesh began to rise. He just wanted to rip one of the other guys arms off to see how they liked it. He could absolutely tear them apart, and use their bones as toothpicks. His stomach grumbled. His z-band alarm began to chime. But another one of his players fell, clutching his leg in pain as Eastside celebrated with chest bumps and high-fives.

Anger.

Hunger.

Bite.

Now.

Zed lost grip on it. He felt the change instantly. He wanted to eat. And he wanted it now. Tearing off his helmet, his z-band was sparking from the stress. There was screaming all around him, not screams of excitement, but screams of fear. He roared in irritation, beginning to make his way up the field towards the nearest meal. He could get to the meaty flesh inside the padding like one might open a lobster tail. Fresh, tender, athletic meat. Brains. Blood.

Zed began to tread faster. There were bodies all over the field, it was hard to choose which one to go for. So many options.

“Zed!”

He heard his name, but couldn’t stop. He didn’t even know who it was calling for him, just that they smelled…different. Not human. What was that? “Zed! You have to stop!”

His brain recognized the voice, but his urges were too strong. He lashed out with a hand at whomever was close to him. There was a yelp of pain, and a scramble. The scent of blood reached his nose, and he turned to it. Starving. Hungry. She was sprawled on the ground, staring up at him with gigantic, panicked blue eyes.

Stop.

Zed, stop!

He couldn’t. He couldn’t stop, because he was just so hungry. He reached for her; she moved. But her scent was all over him, and he was intoxicated by it. He wanted it.

“Zed, stop it! This isn’t you!”

He roared at her, once again lashing out with his arm. He missed, as she was slippery and small. But the side of her uniform was coated with blood. A wounded lamb couldn’t evade him for long. He was expecting her to run away, but she didn’t. She actually got closer, and between one second and the next she had both hands grabbing onto his head. He moved to close his arms around her; to take a nice big bite.

BANG!

The shock that vibrated through his head was deafening. It rolled over him, causing his muscles to spasm, and his arms to fall. He stopped.

*Zed! Listen to me!*

She was in his head. She was talking directly through the bleary zombie haze. To him. To Zed…football star, high schooler.

*Zed! Stop fighting me. Let me help you.*

He wanted her to help him. And so he stopped, and he waited. It felt like his head was submerged in a tub of ice. The scent of fresh blood was still in his nose, but it wasn’t making him hungry anymore. It just made him queasy.

*Come back to me.*

And he was back. Between one heartbeat and the next, he opened his eyes and felt sure of where he stood. A-ddison was still clinging onto his head, but she was breathing hard. Her new uniform was shredded up the ribs, revealing three large gouges in her skin. He had done that.

“…no,” he croaked, realizing what he had done.

“Zed…” Addy choked, “it’s you. You’re here.”

He collapsed to his knees at her feet as she released her grip on him. His head felt ready to explode, but the need to bite was gone. She had made it go away…it felt like she had pushed the urges right out of him. But, in his clouded haze of thoughts, he heard her whimper. She staggered backwards, gripping her side. She was hurt. He had hurt her.

“Addy…” he mumbled, lifting his head to see her image flicker.

“I can’t stay here.”

And then she was gone, sprinting the other way as Zed surged forward after her.

“A-ddison, don’t go!”

But she was already gone. Her figure jumped the fence around the track, and her uniform vanished into the indigo of the forest surrounding the school. His heart twisted. His brain stopped working. Everything hurt, like he had just been put through a meat grinder. Even as z-patrol began to surround him, shouting orders his way, he didn’t hear them. He merely dropped his head into his hands, resting his face on the ground as he wept.

Zed would spend only half a night in z-patrol holding. He wasn’t dangerous anymore. His z-band was working again, almost like it had been shocked back into functioning. Yet he still felt numb. Addy’s electricity had fried him, both mentally, and physically. He still wasn’t sure what she had done to stop him from rampaging. That should’ve been impossible. But than again, so was she. He was released under the context of z-band malfunction — odd, seeing as all z-bands were monitored at all times. But he didn’t question it.

He just got into the van and was taken home. All the while it felt as though he were just going through motions. He sat staring forward at the guards who accompanied him, thinking about his mistake. He still didn’t know where Addy was. Had she returned home to her mom? Was she out in the forest somewhere? Would she come back to him after what he’d done to her?

Zed cringed and left the z-patrol van in silence. He didn’t speak to his dad, or to Zoey. Just patted her head as she hugged him tightly. He went straight upstairs, shedded his football uniform for his hoodie, and fell face first onto the bed. No doubt his shopping trip was shot now. No one would even want to be in his presence. He was a monster, just like he’d always been. And Zed continued to wallow in his self pity till near dawn, when he was woken up by the sound of his window opening.

Lifting his head, Zed wasn’t expecting Wyatt. The wolf didn’t look happy about being in his presence either. He was perched on the interior of the sill, silhouette appearing very much of his monstrous canine heritage.

“Hey. Hey, dead guy,” he said, “get up. We need to move.”

“I’m not following you anywhere,” Zed grumbled back at him, “leave me alone.”

“Do you want to see A-ddison or not?”

That got Zed’s attention. He sat up, forgetting the pain he was in and groaning, “hurry up, old man,” Wyatt insisted, “or I’m leaving without you.”

And so Zed blindly followed. Was it wise to follow a werewolf into the woods? Probably not. But, where Addy was involved, he’d go anywhere. And so Zed kept hot on Wyatt’s heels, slowing down a bit when he realized he wasn’t alone. There were others around him too, watching from the shadows and the trees. They were following them, not fully showing themselves, but keeping an eye on things. Surrounded by wolves on all sides, Zed swallowed thickly as they traveled deeper and deeper into the forest. A mist had fallen during the night, settling on his skin and making it feel cold and slick. The sun was just peeking through the trees when Zed saw the entrance to a large cave.

“You’re a guest here,” Wyatt said flatly, “so show some respect.”

“Right. Respect. Where is here, exactly?”

Wyatt didn’t respond, just huffed as he nodded his head. Zed followed the wolf inside, feeling tons of gazed on him from all around. The cave was massive and naturally carved. There were wolves everywhere; crouched on every ledge, and lounged across every smooth surface. Zed knew where he was now, and felt both surprised and confused.

“Isn’t this the Den?” He asked wearily, “I thought outsiders weren’t allowed here?”

“They aren’t. This is an exception,” Wyatt drawled, “follow me.”

Zed nodded, keeping his eyes trailing around the room. Clearly some of these Wolves hadn’t seen any outsiders before, as they were sizing him up like a hunk of fresh meat. Others he recognized from around Seabrook; those who knew him looked weary, or concerned.

“In here,” Wyatt said, guiding him up some naturally carved stairs and towards a private chamber of the cave, “be very quiet.”

Wyatt lifted a finger to his lips as Zed nodded his agreement, ducking under a cloth curtain which hung in front of the doorway. Inside, it smelled distinctly of cinnamon and other spices. Smoke drifted in the air, breaking up a few pale sunbeams filtering through a dense net slung over a hole in the roof. And, in the middle of the room amongst a pile of fur blankets and coverings, Zed recognized the pale, near white curls.

“A-ddison,” he breathed, passing Wyatt as he fell to the ground beside the furry heap. She had been stripped from her cheer uniform, and Zed could still smell fresh blood nearby. The markings on her skin were glowing brightly against washed out, ashy skin, revealing not just the shapes Zed had come to know, but also stripes down her bare collar and continuing down past the blankets. She looked terrible; and — to Zed’s horror — her veins had gone dark, and were tracing out branch like patterns across the front half of her collar and up her neck, “what’s wrong with her?”

“Poison,”

Zed turned at the new voice, seeing Willa appear from another side cave, “yours.”

“Mine?” Zed croaked, “I did this to her?”

“Not on purpose,” Willa shrugged, holding something in her hand as she descended a short flight of steps, “do you remember what happened?”

“I lost control,” Zed managed, his whole body shaking as he gently ran a hand over A-ddison’s cheek. She was burning up, “I scratched her. You’re saying I poisoned her? Is she…”

“She’ll live, don’t worry,” Willa told him, “she’s already much better than when we brought her here.”

“But how could I have poisoned her?” Zed asked, suddenly very conscious about where his hands were as he took them away from A-ddison’s bare skin, “Zombies don’t poison people.”

“Not humans, maybe. But, she’s not human, is she?”

Zed hesitated, than nodded as Willa came over to him. She held an ornate wooden box in one hand, and a bowl in the other.

“It’s been a long night for her, but she’s fighting it off like a champ. Here, make yourself useful and hold that.”

Willa shoved the bowl of reddish-brown liquid into his hands, kneeling down next to him.

“You’ve been taking care of her all night?” Zed asked, watching the elder werewolf open the box in her hands to reveal a Moonstone necklace.

“She was in our territory,” Willa told him, dipping the necklace into the bowl and coating it till the stone wasn’t visible, “pup would’ve died out there on her own. She wasn’t in good shape.”

“But the pack doesn’t take in outsiders.”

Willa said nothing to that, focusing instead on her task as she gently draped the Moonstone across A-ddison’s neck. This immediately caused her body markings to illuminate even brighter, and the sleeping girl gave a heave of air as though something heavy had been lifted off her chest.

“She reacts to the power of the Moonstone,” Willa said, noticing Zed’s puzzled expression, “we found that out last night. Putting it directly on her skin nearly burned her, so we have to coat it first. It helps her breathe. As for why we took her in…”

“She’s important, that’s why,” Wyatt said, reappearing from inside the cave with a few wet cloths, “here Willa.”

Wyatt passed the items to his sister and plopped down beside Zed.

“What do you mean important?” Zed puzzled, “you don’t even know her.”

“There’s a story, told to all pups by the elder Wolves when we are very young,” Wyatt explained, “it speaks of the arrival of a Great Alpha, a leader with a wolf-heart, who will have pale hair the same color as the moon. She will have the power to unite us Wolves to be stronger then ever before.”

“And…you believe A-ddison is your Great Alpha?” Zed drawled, “Willa? Do you believe this to?”

“I didn’t,” Willa admitted with a shrug, “she’s still just a Pup. But she took you — a Zombie three times her size — down to your knees at the football game. And she nearly took us down in the forest.”

“She did what?” Zed gawked as Willa rolled her eyes.

“Wynter got too close when she was spooked and nearly broke a rib. It took all three of us exhausting her before we could bring her here. That’s what this is for.”

Willa dipped her hand into the bowl, coating her fingers in the Auburn mixture, “muscle relaxant. Helps keep the girl sleeping while she heals.”

“And keeps her from attacking us.” Wyatt chuckled, “it’s what we get for underestimating prey,”

“She’s not prey. And A-ddison wouldn’t attack anyone,” Zed insisted, “she probably felt cornered and was defending herself. I know I would if Werewolves were chasing me.”

“Tell that to poor Wynter,” Willa huffed, shaking her head, “Addison should come out of this relatively soon. I brought you here to make sure you didn’t go rampaging through Seabrook searching for her.”

“Thank you,” Zed nodded, reaching under the blankets to find A-ddison’s hand and squeezing it, “I just…I can’t believe I hurt her, she’ll never forgive me.”

“Don’t be so sure, guy,” Wyatt admitted, “you were the first person she called for before we put her down.”

“She was? She…wasn’t scared of me?”

“Not hardly,” Willa agreed, “you’re welcome to stay if you want. Just don’t touch that Moonstone. I need to go check on Wynter and see how she’s holding up. Pup packs a punch, you know.”

“Oh yeah, I know,” Zed chuckled, reaching for his face and rubbing his jaw, “thanks, Willa. Wyatt.”

“Sure. I’ll be back later to check on her.”

Willa stood and left the room with her bowl, leaving only Wyatt behind.

“You know, if you two don’t work out…” the wolf drawled, only to receive an angry growl from Zed as he lifted both hands, “just kidding, just kidding. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Zed nodded his appreciation, watching Wyatt pass through the curtain and pull it closed behind him. This left the den quiet, with only then noises of the main chamber floating through. A-ddison slept soundly under the fur blankets, chest rising and falling at an easier pace with the Moonstone resting on her chest.

“You are just a world of mystery, aren’t you?” He told her, clutching her hand even tighter and running the flat of his thumb across her limp palm, “I’m so sorry, A-ddison,” he whispered, lip wobbling with the threat of tears, “I’m so, so sorry.”

—

Tag List:

@theredrenard

@disneyfan50

@rose-sparks13

@magical-ashley

@kokinu09

@octolingo-writes

@fantasticvoidnerdshoe

@sayorseee

@zeddisonss

@uglyduckling339

@descendantofthesparrow

@mbradshaw1997

#disney zombies #starchild au #alternate universe #zed necrodopolis #addison wells #zeddison #willa lykensen #wyatt lykensen #wynter barkowitz #fanfiction #Disney fanfiction #tw injury #tw blood #disney #dcom #writing

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keepswingin · 2 years

Text

"I can't believe you've never had a s'more," Wynter says with a smile as she carefully cracks a fresh graham cracker in half and places the pieces side by side.

A-li watches from her side, absolutely enthralled by the idea of melting a snack in a burning fire. A-lan and A-spen would never let her do such a thing up on the ship, far too comfortable with their freeze-dried meals.

"I can't believe no other planet has thought of it," the alien replies as the werewolf places a stack of squared chocolate on either cracker. "Is there a particular order in which to make the s'more?"

Wynter turns to her with a laugh, shaking her head as she reaches for the chocolate bar again. "There isn't, technically, but I've always found that using extra chocolate is the way to go." She finishes the sweet snacks off by placing the final cracker on top. "Willa never does enough chocolate, and Wyatt uses too much marshmallow and always makes a mess."

"Seems fitting that he would," A-li says, well versed in the wolves' antics by now, and Wynter grins as she hands over one s'more and then begins to lead the way back to the firepit, weaving through the den's maze of caverns.

The firepit is already crackling as they approach, some werepups running around as a different wolf tends to the flames with a poker that's seen better days. Two pups chase each other right into A-li, who nearly drops her s'more, and she threatens them the whole way to the pit, Wynter stifling smiles from beside her as she reaches for sticks for them both.

"I'm still an alien you know! I could zap you brats to ashes before anyone even realized you were gone!"

"A-li," one of the pups whines, dragging out the syllable, causing her to roll her eyes and grumble under her breath.

"Fine!" she groans, leveling them both with a glare that means business. "But go away before I change my mind!"

They giggle and scamper away, disappearing into the thiner parts of the woods that surrounds them. A-li mutters some choice words under her breath as soon as they're out of earshot, and Wynter pokes her with a stick to stop her stewing.

"I wasn't actually going to zap them into ashes," she grouses, following Wynter as she takes a seat on one of the logs and places her awaiting s'more beside her.

"I know," she says as she grabs a bag from behind the log and moves it in front of them, popping it open. "But I promised A-lan I would keep an eye on your anger levels-"

"I'm in perfect harmony right now," she defends, watching in pure amazement as Wynter masterfully impales a marshmallow before holding it out over the flames.

She turns away from the fire and nods towards the stick waiting patiently at A-li's side. A-li looks between the werewolf and the stick, and then reaches down and picks it up, inspecting it, before lowering it carefully into the bag of marshmallows at their feet. She nabs one of the fluffy menaces with an excited grin before holding it up for Wynter to see and then lowering it into the fire.

"Now, we roast!"

They wait until the marshmallows toast, crisping under the flames, A-li finding more than enough excitement in watching the different colors of the fire twirl and waver, before Wynter tells her to pull her stick out of the fire.

Using her claws, she's able to pick the marshmallows off the sticks before placing them onto their awaiting stacks, A-li following her motions as she presses down until the chocolate is melting and the marshmallow is flat. "And there you have it," she says happily, holding up her finished treat, "s'mores!"

Wynter takes a massive bite, leaving A-li looking down at her own s'more in curiosity. The chocolate is seeping from the sides, cracker nearly crumbling, marshmallow already sticking to her fingers.

It looks way better than anything she's eaten on the ship.

She takes a tentative bite before she can question the bizarre idea of a dessert any further, chewing carefully.

Wynter is smiling when A-li looks over at her, eyes wide. "We can make as many as you want," she offers before A-li can say anything, and breaks off into laughter when she sees the marshmallow smudged across her chin already.

Maybe outsiders weren't so bad after all, Wynter thinks as she watches A-li eat a s'more for the first time in her life, happier than she's ever seen her.

Maybe showing someone the little things to enjoy was all anyone ever needed.

#zombies 3 #wynter barkowitz #a li zombies #a li #zombies 3 spoilers #asks #keepswingin writes #mine #anyway the part i almost tagged on at the end:#'she's so busy watching a-li that she doesn't notice the figure watching from the shadows of the trees #they watch the pair for a moment more before lighting the match they're holding. it falls against the ground #and flames immediately sprout from where it lands.#they wonder if wolves are afraid of anything they can't control as they turn away #leaving the forest to burn everything in their wake.'

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k--havok · 1 year

Note

🏳️‍⚧️ - What Flag do you think has the best color scheme?

So I, of course, am gonna be a little basic bitch and say the bi flag 'cause I mean. Look at it.

There is beauty in simplicity. In the bright, raw pink-and-blue. And when those two shades mix exactly, creates an entirely new color; that exact shade of purple.

I'm also gonna go ahead and say the og pride flag too since... I mean...

Yeah

Also the non-binary pride flag, when I first saw it, I hated it. But it's really grown on me tbh. I just find I like the colors and it lowkey reminds me of bees and I really love bees so-! pride

#about me #bisexual #nonbinary #ask game #pride ask game #wynters-writing #I know its flag and not FLAGS but there are so many now its hard to choose just one ya know #but yes these are my fav flags and in order too so

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a-wynterwonderland · 8 months

Text

Horribly lonely, Rodimus falls into the arms of the deadliest gunslinger the Decepticons had ever produced. Stupid, right? The relationship starts off mutually beneficial, but throw feelings and an accidental bundle of joy into the mix and things are sure to get messy.

AU where Drift never left the Decepticons and sparks up Rodimus, anyone?

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starlit-dreaming · 7 months

Text

when honestly you can't recall (Baxter Ward/MC) p2

Rating: M

Romantic Ships: Baxter Ward/Original Character(s); Derek Suárez/Leandra “Lee” Last

Platonic Ships: Main Character | Jamie Last & Leandra “Lee” Last, Main Character | Jamie Last & Original Character(s)

Tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Single Parent, Angst w/a Happy Ending

A/N: Cross-Posted on AO3 under the same title (@ Starlit_Dreaming). There's gonna be more fluff in the next chapter, but I've also written like... 5% of the next chapter, and I've only been able to finish due to having free time in the last few weeks.

Obligatory Tag: @arcosoffireheart

Links: 1 | [2] | 3 | 4

Summary:

Her daughter does not have her black hair, either. Wavy hair, yes, but it was not fully black and her father has only ever dyed his hair.

It’s a miracle that nobody notices their similarities.

Including Baxter himself.

// In which Rosaline ends up becoming a single mother in the aftermath of her and Baxter’s summer fling. Some things change. Some things don’t.

——————————————————————

Part 2: i don't care (it's taking me apart)

——————————————————————

Then

Mid-Summer

Step 3: Age 18

———————————

“It’s… I don’t know. A frightening situation?”

It felt wrong hearing those words coming from Rosaline of all people. Throughout their childhood, she was always taking things in stride and going with the flow. No matter how scared or anxious she would get, she would always pull herself together and stand tall. Maybe it had to do with Cove, who always relied on her as a shoulder to lean on.

Cove was precious, there was no doubt about that, but Rosa tried so hard to stand tall for his sake that it’s hard for her to rely on him in the same way.

And that’s where Lee came in.

There were some matters that were easier to share between Rosa and Cove, but things like this were easier to share between Rosa and Lee. Lee was Rosa’s shoulder to lean on, the person she cried to. And still, it feels wrong hearing those words coming from her cousin. Her cousin deserved to be happy, to smile without a care in the world.

“Why’s that?” Lee asked, tilting her head back to look at Rosaline, who was sitting on the monkey bars and letting her feet kick back and forth.

They were both honestly too big to be using the park — it used to feel like such a huge place when they were kids, but not any more. Rosaline stares off at the sunset, and Lee simply leans her back against the ladder, watching her cousin.

What a solemn look — it didn’t suit Rosaline at all.

“I’ve only been dating Baxter for two months now,” Rosaline stated. “The honeymoon phase wore off, but… I’m still really into him. Like, thinking about a future, getting married one day, that type of seriousness. It’s just… kinda scary to me. I’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Since you’re dating. You’re not the kind of person to date casually to begin with.”

Not that anyone actually knew that. Lee was the one Rosaline talked to when it came to anything romance-related, and sure, she might’ve mentioned something to Cove, but he wasn’t too interested. Probably on the ace spectrum, if she really wanted to make a guess.

Granted, Rosaline often broke things off with her exes within a month of dating. Either red flags that Lee noticed or because of incompatibility — most of those red flags being some who tried getting her number, despite dating Rosa, and Rosa promptly gave them the boot the second Lee said something. The fact that Baxter never asked Lee for her number when they met on the little boat trip was already a pretty good indication that he’s not interested in getting into somebody’s pants and dipping out after.

In fact, Lee was pretty confident that Baxter was equally head over heels for Rosaline. Is he just not communicating that to her?

“Yeah, that’s true, but still,” Rosaline sighed, wryly smiling. “I get jealous thinking that he’ll find you or somebody else prettier, even when I know that his eyes are almost always on me. I get all insecure, wondering if I’m good enough for him, or wondering when we’ll be breaking up because he finds someone new. What if we can’t handle long-distance? What if he loses interest in me? I just want to hog all his attention.”

“If he’s the type to break up with you because of something like that, then he’s definitely not worth your time and affections, but I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Lee stated rather confidently, moving to stand in front of Rosaline. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Rosa. There’s no way he’ll break up with you for those kinds of reasons. He’s nothing like your exes.”

“…You really think so?”

“I know so,” Lee grinned, reaching to hold her cousin’s hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. “You’re both absolutely smitten with each other. It’s a bummer that Derek won’t be back before summer ends. We could’ve gone on a double date!”

“Yeah,” Rosaline smiled softly. “Maybe next year, unless Baxter has a chance to come back sooner.”

“For you? I think he’d do whatever he can to make you happy.”

———————————

Then

Early Spring

In-Between Steps 3 & 4: Age 19

———————————

“For you, I think she would’ve done anything to make you happy,” Carol murmured softly.

They both stood on the porch, an old envelope in Carol’s hands as she took her hat off, curly grey and white hair revealing itself as she held the hat over her chest. She seemed to be doing some sort of silent prayer, as she looked at Rosaline with a distant look in her blue eyes.

Eventually, she smiled, something sad and soft and gentle as she puts her hat back on and hands her the envelope. “I suppose it isn’t so terrible, in the end. You grew up happy and healthy, Rosaline, something that we all had hoped for,” she said with crinkled eyes. “And while it’s not how she envisioned it, the house is yours.”

“…thank you,” Rosaline awkwardly said, gently taking the letter into her hands. “For coming out here with me. For not selling the house and everything that belonged to… my birth mother.”

“Oh, don’t go thanking me for a silly thing like that,” Carol lightly laughed, waving her off as she approaches the front door, digging through her purse for the key. “Val was like a second daughter to me, and even without renting this house, I make enough money to keep this place. Coming here and showing you the house would be better than leaving you here to handle it on your own.”

“…you mentioned earlier that you stopped renting the house…?” Rosaline questioned as the door opens, and Carol steps aside, gesturing Rosaline to walk inside first. Wordlessly, she enters.

What greets her is a home with cream-coloured walls that appear to be freshly painted over and a stairway with a child gate at the top and bottom. On her left is a small carpet area with bean bags and two regular-sized bookshelves — one filled with minimal and minor decor, and the other half-empty and half-filled with books as if waiting for the next renter to fill in the empty spaces. The right of the stairs shows a short hallway with a door to the garage, and at the end of the hall is an open door, leading through a laundry room which also leads into a bedroom from what she could tell.

“Yeah,” Carol said. “You had just turned 18 when I stopped renting the house to people. All of my renters here were single parents who needed a place until they could find their footing, and the last renter’s lease only finished up recently.”

Rosaline walks towards the bookshelves as Carol closes the door and puts her keys away.

“It’s up to you if you still want to keep that sort of thing up with this house, but I imagine it’d come in handy for your current situation.”

Upon closer inspection of the books, Rosa noticed that on the bottom shelf was an assortment of children’s books. Half appeared to be brand new, and she suspects that it has to do with the fact that actual children had grown up in this house thanks to Carol’s past renters, and Carol’s renters had gone out of their way to buy new ones.

In contrast to the bottom shelf, was the top to middle shelf where an adult would have a much easier time to grab and go. Some books on the top shelf were old and worn, gently gone through multiple times in many years, yet still well-maintained. There was a book of names, with pages marked with pieces of paper that stuck out from between the pages. But most notably were the self-help books, the cookbooks for beginners, recipes to sneak in vegetables for picky eaters, basic first aid, and many more.

This bookshelf was curated to best help a first-time parent, and that fact was evident with how many books didn’t look brand new.

“I… am really sorry. For not talking to you about Valerie back then. You look so much like her, but you’re an awful lot like your moms,” Carol said, walking over and standing beside Rosaline. “I couldn’t bring myself to properly meet you back then. I lost both of my daughters and just couldn’t let go of my grief. Valerie, who died in an accident, and Veronica, who died in childbirth.”

“I see… I’m sorry that I can’t really understand how you feel.”

“Nonsense. Yes, you do look like Valerie, and who knows, maybe you’ll share similarities with her, but you take after your mom and mother. I can see that you have such a light-hearted and joyful approach to life just like Pamela, and you are a sympathetic and comforting sort of soul like Noelani.”

“…what was she like?”

“Valerie was an orphan who started working part-time as a receptionist at Lacework Lenders. She didn’t have anyone else, just me and the others, but she and Veronica were sisters in everything but paperwork. No boyfriend or husband either — her ex ran off the second he found out that she was pregnant, but Val was very stubborn. Nothing stopped her from wanting to keep you and have a family of her own.”

She tried not to feel guilty over a woman that she might never consider as anything more than a birth mother.

“What happened to her?”

“A car accident,” Carol shook her head. “I don’t know all the details, but you were born early, and she was alive long enough to give you a name. Nobody knew your father, so we couldn’t contact him, we couldn’t do anything about him, really. I don’t think Val wanted him to know about you, either.”

“Well, that’s fine. I’m not interested in finding a father figure — I already have two in my life.”

Gregorio Suárez and Cliff Holden were the only dads in her life, and she didn’t care to find someone who never wanted the title to begin with. Men who didn’t want to own up to the consequences of their actions weren’t worth an ounce of her time, anyway.

“Good,” Carol nodded, pretty much agreeing with the unspoken thought. “Past this room and the stairs is the kitchen. My daughters worked on redesigning it to be a spacious kitchen — unfortunately it’s also been baby proofed, so some things might be difficult to open.”

Rosaline nodded along as they moved into the kitchen. The edges of the counters all had edge guards, making it less likely for children to get hurt from it. That… was actually fairly smart. She never considered doing that with counters, so it really was a good choice for her to come see the house. If she doesn’t move in, she’ll keep that in mind the next time she shops for her future baby.

Past the kitchen and dining area was a wide living room with carpeting and an L-shaped sofa set. There was a TV mounted above an electric fireplace, with an empty toy box in the corner.

“You’ll have to buy the toys yourself for your child,” Carol said. “The children of the previous renters often took the toys with them, but they usually buy some starting toys for the next renters. The previous renters did buy you a few baby blankets, though.”

“They left me stuff…?” Rosaline blinked.

“It’s only polite that they did,” Carol smiled at her warmly. “They went through similar problems like you, and a small bit of kindness can go a long way. They wanted to help you in a way that they were able to, just as the previous renters have done for them. You’d still have to buy some things of your own, of course, like milk formula and baby wipes. Val’s things were left untouched in the back shed, but we can go over that later since we’re just here to look at the house today. I know that it can be… a lot.”

It felt… strange. Despite the fact that there were renters before her, everything about this house just seemed to be done for her and her birth mother the more she looked around.

But her birth mother never had the chance.

The idea of using it for herself just felt unsettling. It felt wrong, as if she was stomping on her birth mother’s dreams.

“Why don’t you have a seat on the sofa and I fix us up with some water, hmm?” Carol kindly smiled, gently placing a hand on Rosaline’s shoulder as she guided her over to the sofa, sitting her done. “And don’t go feeling sorry for Valerie. She would’ve been furious that I didn’t come help you in your time of need. I think it would let her rest easy, too, knowing that her own preparations would help out not just strangers in a similar situation, but also help you out with your own child.”

Rosaline rubbed her eyes, her other hand resting on her swollen belly as Carol wordlessly walked towards the kitchen, getting them both a glass of water.

Once, when she and Liz talked about their birth parents, she told her that she didn’t understand. Because the life she lived is hers, and that she could never imagine anything else. She loves her moms so much, and the idea of having different parents from childhood was unthinkable. The very idea of never being Cove’s neighbour hurts too much, the idea of never knowing the people in her life now.

And yet, this house was proof of a life that could’ve been, but never was. She could’ve been an only child, she could’ve been in a family of two. Maybe she would’ve acted like Derek had once thought she would when Father’s Day came around, maybe Father's Day would’ve become a sore topic of conversation.

Living here, she would’ve gone to the same school as Lee and Derek, she would’ve known them, but would she have been just as good friends with them? Maybe, maybe not.

(Would she have met Baxter, still?)

But here she is now, with all of that being only what-ifs.

“Do you have a name for them?” Carol asked, placing the cups of water onto the table and handing Rosa a packet of tissues from her purse.

“Gregory for a boy, Gabrielle for a girl,” Rosaline sniffed, taking the packet of tissues. “Gray or Gabby for nicknames. Maybe Greg or Brielle — I’m not sure which nickname to use. I just… their father doesn’t know, and I want him to see this child and understand that they are a symbol of the love we shared.”

She was being sentimental, and she was just thankful that everyone thought that she was just naming her child after Gregorio. It was dumb, and maybe she’d cringe in a normal situation, because Baxter had the whole black and white theme, and already she thought of their child as gray.

“Those are good names,” Carol smiled kindly, rubbing her back reassuringly. “And if he has an ounce of love for you, he’ll grow to care for your unborn child, if he ever meets them.”

“…would… Valerie really be okay with this?” With me, goes unsaid.

“Positive.”

———————————

Then

Mid-Autumn

Step 3: Age 18

———————————

“…positive.”

Rosaline let out a shaky breath, looking at the test before tossing it into the small wastebasket.

Her purple eyes stared off into space, lost in her thoughts. And when she turns to look at Lee, standing at the doorway of the bathroom, she looked as if she were looking for something. For someone. She hugs herself, looking small and even more fragile than she’s ever been.

And Lee knows that it’s not her who Rosaline is looking for, but she’s here, nevertheless. She’s the only one who’s here for her right now.

So, she does the only thing that she can do. Lee hugs her, warm and careful as if Rosaline were precious. She rubs her cousin’s back, hoping to give her as much comfort that she was willing to accept at this moment.

“Whatever you decide, I’m here for you.”

Rosaline doesn’t need assurance for anyone else. Lee knows her cousin, and she knows that Rosaline needs her assurance, because she’s here, she’s here and everyone else isn’t because of various reasons outside of her control. She’ll need their individual reassurances later, but Lee doesn’t need to wait to voice her own.

And then, Rosaline relaxes her tense shoulders, returning the hug tightly. Her eyes were watering, Lee noticed, and soon, it dampens the shoulder of her shirt where Rosaline laid her head against.

“I… I want to keep it.”

And unlike everyone else who would ask and showcase their disbelief, Lee nods, accepting it without question, “Okay.”

Because she knows better than anyone how much Rosaline gets stuck in her own head. She must’ve thought it over hundreds of times before the confirmation, before telling Lee, before asking her to be here tonight.

“And… I… I want you to be their godmother.”

“Of course,” she nods, knowing that she was going to be the godmother from the very start. Liz might feel hurt by that fact, but Liz also wasn’t always there for Rosaline throughout their lives. Lee was. Lee always was. “We’ll love and support you,” she adds, before Rosaline starts panicking over reactions next.

Everyone will spoil Rosaline’s unborn child, she just knows it.

Rosaline sniffed, eyes watering. “Will… will you be there…? When I—when I talk to my moms?”

“Always.”

———————————

Two Months Ago

Beginning of Summer

Step 4: Age 23

———————————

“Always,” Lee murmured, eyes glimmering with unshed tears in the dazzling lights.

Her gaze never leaves Derek’s as she speaks into the microphone, phone in hand as she says her vows. “Somehow, some way, fate brought us here today. When we reunited in high school of our sophomore year, after losing contact for that previous year due to conflicting schedules and busy lives, I thought it was a miracle that we managed to pick our friendship up right where we left it. When you had that summer training camp in the year after our graduation, our relationship was tested by distance when we decided to become more than friends. When you had to move to a different city for college, I stayed local, and still I wanted to be with you. Despite the distance, I knew that you were the one for me.”

Cove was definitely crying among all of Derek’s grooms men, as evident when one of Derek’s brothers grins, quietly giving him a packet of tissues. Rosaline just smiled softly at the scene before her among Lee’s bridesmaids. Her maid of honour, naturally.

“When you asked me to move in with you, I was excited — I wanted to fall asleep in your arms and wake up to your smile, and that’s how I knew that I was and still am head over heels for you, after all of our time being together.”

Derek started to tear up, holding her free hand as he stared at her as if she hung the stars in the night sky.

“I love you, so much more than what words can describe, and I swear to you that I will always love you. I’ll hold your hand through the good and bad, I’ll love you for who you are now and who you have yet to be, and I’ll stay with you, side by side, no matter the challenges that may come our way.”

She slips her phone into the pocket of her wedding dress, seamlessly hidden, a detail that Rosaline included in the design.

“I love you, Derek Suárez, and I can’t wait to build our future together.”

———————————

~1 Year Ago

Mid-Summer

In-Between Steps 3 & 4: Age 22

———————————

“…and I can’t wait to build our future together,” Lee read, eyes trained on her phone screen as she squinted at the screen.

Rosaline stared at her sketchbook, sketching potential design patterns. They’re in Rosaline’s living room, with her sitting at the dining table sketching out potential designs for the dresses.

“Well?” Lee prompted, looking up at her cousin from her spot on the L-shaped sofa. “What do you think?”

“I think you’ve been rereading your vows a little too much,” Rosaline sighed, smiling wryly at Lee as she placed her pencil down. “It’s perfectly fine. You talked about your relationship, that you’ll both overcome the challenges together, and that you love him. Add more, and it’ll be a long presentation-level speech. Cut it too much, and it’ll be incredibly short for a vow. I think it’s fine the way it is, especially because it’s your feelings for him.”

“Mm…” Lee frowned, looking unconvinced. And nervous, Rosaline noticed. “And… it’s okay? You really think so?”

“Why would I think otherwise?” Rosaline raised a brow, picking her pencil up again to draw a purse. “Do you want your purse to match your reception dress? Or should I make it be a pop of colour like a flower bouquet, so it stands out?”

“Matching. I want people to see the dresses I wear and be wowed instead of focusing on my purse, and if I want the purse to stand out, I’ll just use it with a different outfit,” Lee leaned back into the sofa, frowning. “And I… that’s not what I meant, I mean,” she groaned, flopping down, lying around as she looked at her, almost guiltily. “You know I love you, right?”

“Uh, yeah? Where are you going with this?” Rosaline smiled, feeling downright confused.

“How uh… how are you and Baxter doing?”

Oh. It was then that Rosaline realized what Lee was getting at. The wedding is meant to be a heartfelt occasion, filled with happy tears and bright smiles all around. And here Lee was, concerned for Rosaline and Baxter, who both broke up because Baxter refused to try a long distance relationship.

And Lee was especially worried about hitting on a nerve with that speech.

Well, she admits that she’s a bit… sad that Baxter wasn’t willing to have an LDR like Lee and Derek, but she feels vindicated knowing that he’s now working for a couple that he expected to have broken up. It evened out on that front, and frankly the petty side of her thinks that Lee ought to emphasize that distance meant nothing to a couple who worked together.

Although Baxter had yet to ask her about Gabrielle. A fact that enrages her more than upsets her, but she understood why he feigns indifference.

Not everyone wanted to tackle the hurdles of parenthood.

“Nothing new,” she simply said. Honestly, Baxter was the same as ever. Only he of all people could confidently keep her at arms length even when they were technically in contact. “Apart from the group chat, he doesn’t directly text me. Assuming that he still has my number.”

And what did she expect? For him to step up, to talk to her about Gabrielle after he saw her for the first time? Did he even want to see the child beyond that initial first meeting?

“Not even about…?”

“Nope, but that’s okay,” Rosaline smiled. It did hurt, but Rosaline could deal with it. Her birth mother and her had shit taste in men judging from what she knew from Carol. “Besides, I don’t think Gabby cares about not having a dad. She’s already getting spoiled rotten by everybody, and seriously, it’s a bit funny.”

Lee barks out a laugh at that, “That’s true! Gabby practically has four grandmas and two grandpas, several uncles, and several aunties. Has Liz been gifting her more presents?”

“Mhmm, but Brielle still loves you and your pink hair more than she loves Liz, but that’s a secret,” Rosaline teasingly stated before humming much more thoughtfully to herself. “Honestly, worse comes to worst, I can always ask Cove if he’s fine with doing that whole second parent adoption thing, if she really wants a dad. Cove’s a sucker for her anyway, so he would cry happily if that happened, even if he’s never thought of it.”

“True, he really takes good care of her,” Lee smiled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were a thing.”

“Maybe in another life,” she laughed. “But Cove’s definitely my brother.”

———————————

Then

Beginning of Summer

Step 3: Age 18

———————————

“Cove’s definitely my brother,” Rosaline laughed.

“That’s reassuring,” Baxter commented, smiling as they strolled through the boardwalk. “And here I thought that perhaps he was your first love.”

She doesn’t miss a step, her smile remains, as she watches Baxter from the corner of her eyes. But her heart skips a beat, her gut freezes, her mind reeling with imposing thoughts. Why would he say that? Naturally, there’s only one reason as to why he’d wonder, and why he’d look at her with incredible interest.

Her first love is Baxter Ward, back when she only knew him as the enchanting boy who swept her off her feet. That was an undeniable fact.

Rosaline, however, doesn’t admit it.

“Nope, that honour belongs to Mr Cliff Holden, Cove’s father!”

It wasn’t a lie, technically. She did think that Cove’s father was cute, but not to a point where she was romantically interested. The idea of it was plain weird, and she and Lee both got a kick out of it when she mentioned it, meanwhile Cove was mortified that she ever thought of his father as “cute” and “attractive”.

Cove was even more horrified (which she never thought was possible) when she told him that his mother was super cute, because she actually did develop a minor crush on Kyra back then. Now she’s just “mom three” to her. She’s not afraid to admit that someone’s attractive, but it’s a rather fun embarrassment, one that only gets mentioned as a tease from Lee, when it’s just her and her cousin, since Cove prefers to forget it entirely.

He had smiled, at first, in disbelief, before cackling at it, grinning when she mentioned Cove’s reaction to her minor childhood infatuation. Afterwards, Baxter was laughing, a reaction that she both expected and wanted. The tale is a fun exaggeration, and it safely tucks away the fact of her first love.

After all, it’s a bit much to confess to your first love, especially one you still had affections for.

Still, he was absolutely adorable…

———————————

~1 Year Ago

Mid-Summer

In-Between Steps 3 & 4: Age 22

———————————

“She’s rather adorable,” Baxter absentmindedly comments.

Rosaline blinks, glancing over at him, but his eyes remain on the road. She thinks, for a moment, before realizing that maybe he finally wants to talk about Gabrielle.

“Yeah, Brielle is the cutest person in my life,” she smiled, thinking of her daughter.

“I would’ve expected her to come along, to be truthful.” It’s just small talk, but he’s finally showing interest.

“Well, my job can get rather hectic, and Carol keeps an eye on her for me until Cove gets off work. He normally watches over her whenever he’s home.”

“Ah… so you and Cove?”

“We live together, yeah.”

His hand grips the wheel tightly. Was he jealous that Cove spent more time with Gabrielle than him? He should just be honest about that, honestly. If he asked, she would’ve been happy to let him slowly build up a relationship with their daughter.

“I see…” he sounded rather… dejected. Almost accepting of the situation.

“I can always bring her along next time,” Rosaline offered. “She’ll be disappointed that I’m going to a bakery without her,” she chuckled.

“If that’s what you’d like,” he smiled, fake just like all the other smiles.

Even now, he was still holding back.

———————————

Several Days Ago

End of Summer

Step 4: Age 23

———————————

Even now, she felt like she was holding back.

“It’s okay, we can handle the clean-up,” Cove reassured her, his hand a warm comfort on her shoulder. “Take a break, Rosa,” he smiled. “Gabby’s with Lee; she came by to drop her off with your moms. So it’s fine, just… take a breather? You deserve it after all that’s happened.”

“The wedding’s over, so you can just leave it to us,” Terry grinned, and Miranda smiles, nodding along with him encouragingly.

She relaxes her tense shoulders, and she manages to smile back at them, feeling a bit weak.

“Yeah… you’re right. I need a break,” she took in a shaky breath and stands up. Eyes searching around the mostly empty room, spotting Baxter’s distant figure. She walks, her heels tapping against the marble floor as she deliberately bridges the gap between them.

And it’s Baxter, who keeps his back turned, whose back shifts as if tensing as her footsteps draw closer and closer. And it’s Baxter, and it’s always been Baxter, who draws her attention.

“Baxter,” she says, breathing, and steeling her expression.

He’s going to run away from her again, and if he does, she’s not quite sure how she’ll be able to handle it. Would it result in another night, crying in Lee’s arms like back then? She supposes that it’s a good thing Lee texted her earlier, saying to call her whenever she gets home. They both didn’t expect him to stay and talk.

“Ah, Rosaline,” he greets, turning to face her with that infuriatingly familiar smile. It was the same smile he used to maintain his professionalism, the same smile that showed her that he was just going to keep pulling away from her. His posture shows a clear desire to leave ASAP.

And her heart drops. Because even now, she was hoping that he would just… turn around and change his mind. That maybe he would give himself another chance with her.

But no, she supposes that was just a dream, and this was just her fulfilling a promise.

It’s just a dance, she tells herself and tries not to cry.

#wynter writes #fic: when honestly you can't recall #baxter ward #our life: beginnings & always #baxter x mc

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