pirate · scottish · hook legacy · mischievous · loyal · first mate · fencing · romantic · wild · neverland
Dawn bled a weak, grey light into the cabin, cutting through the stale haze of rum and sweat left from Uma's party. I shifted on the bed, and a deep, sickening weight rolled through me—a feeling that had been getting heavier, more undeniable, for days. A sour nausea rose in my throat, a brutal counterpoint to the memory of Harry's touch. After two mornings of this, I’d finally broken, trembling as I held the fateful little stick over the basin. The result was there, undeniable: two stark lines. Positive. Harry’s child. The secret settled in the room like a physical thing, dense and suffocating in the quiet. ***Shiiiiit.***