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rubysunnday · 3 years

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your song | c.b

Summary: Being in love with Colin Bridgerton is hard when the man keeps running off to different continents for months at a time. But the letters he writes and the songs he sends keep the romance alive.

It had been six, long months since Y/N had last seen Colin Bridgerton.

He had gone off travelling again, disappearing off one night with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek goodbye and a promise to write.

The romance between Y/N and Colin had struck out of nowhere. One night they'd been dancing as nothing more than friends and the next moment, there was something more. The way his hands tightened on her waist whenever Cressida said something mean felt different. The way he wrote her notes with every bunch of flowers he sent read differently.

The way he took her hand as she stepped out a carriage, his fingers gently entwining with hers, felt different.

Y/N had fallen head over heels for a man who hated staying in the same place for more than a week. And it was annoying.

He'd written to her more than he had his own family. He wrote to her everyday, judging from the dates on his letters and they arrived in bundles from the postman, all tied with a ribbon that somehow managed to match the dress she was wearing that day.

In the dozens of letters Colin had sent her, he wrote down every detail of the place he was in from the sunsets to the colour of the postboxes. The friends he was traveling with were both music students, desperate for either a career break or to find a new purpose in life.

One of them, Freddy, has been teaching me about the beauty of song writing and how all great pieces of music begin. I'm nowhere near the grandure of Mozart or the beauty of Beethoven or any musicale we've ever attended, but I'm enjoying it nonetheless.

I've found that in my writings there's always one thing I can never quite describe correctly. I search through books for the right words that could even begin to do you justice, my dear Y/N, but I find none. There's no word for describing the way you watch a musicale, or the way you talk about art and reading. There's no word on earth that could do you justice.

So, I hope this poor man's attempt at a song, written under strict guidance and a watchful eye, will begin to convey, just how much I love you.

Y/N had read the letter over and over, her eyes scouring each and every line, taking in the sloppy slant of Colin's handwriting and how he smudged the ink in his desperation to write and write and write.

She pulled out the final sheet of the letter and let out a small surprised gasp. It was a piece of music, the notes written precisely and intricately, the lyrics written messily and scrunched up underneath it. It was obvious which part Colin had been trusted with.

To Y/N

Your Song - by Colin Bridgerton

Y/N stood up from her desk and walked over to the pianoforte that sat in the corner of her room, covered in a thin layer of dust. Y/N wasn't an expert on the pianoforte, her and Colin had bonded over their failed attempts at playing. Colin could sing, though. And as Y/N read through the lyrics, tentatively playing a couple of notes on her dust keys, she could hear him singing it, his hand in her hair as they watched the sunset from the garden bench at Bridgerton House.

Their romance had been kept quiet. The ton was used to the two being openly affectionate with each other, constantly hugging or holding hands and none of them realised when it turned from friendship to romance.

Y/N and Colin had sat in the rose garden of Aubrey Hall one summer night, the sounds of the ball drifting over to them along the gentle breeze. Colin had quietly begun singing along to the song, his hands gently tracing a dance on Y/N's bare arm as she rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes shut.

Colin's singing voice was beautiful. And as Y/N played the song he'd written for her, she could imagine him sitting beside her and singing along, his hands over hers as she slowly played the notes.

Attending the opera without him felt bizarre. They'd begun a routine of sitting next to each other in the box, sharing the opera glasses and softly commenting on the music, the costumes, the lighting.

Y/N sat down in the box, scooting her chair close to the balcony. Her mother sat down next to her and sighed happily as she took in the view.

"Isn't this lovely?" She asked, picking up her opera glasses and looking through them at the stage. "I do love a concert."

Y/N said nothing, merely nodded. She kept thinking back to Colin's letter, of his promised return home in time for the concert. In time for him to sit down next to her, take her hand, and whisper about the music.

Y/N glanced up at the box the Bridgerton's sat in and tried not to let out a defeated sigh - still no Colin. Francesca caught her looking and gave her a sympathetic smile along with a shake of her head and Y/N turned back to the stage, trying not to let the disappointment sink in.

The orchestra began warming up, the music notes blending in with the quiet chatter of the audience. Y/N couldn't stop her eyes from constantly scanning the audience, the stage, the boxes, for any sign of Colin.

An excited whisper went over the audience as the lights were dimmed and the lights on the stage that illuminated the thick, red curtain were turned on.

For a minute there was silence. And then the orchestra began playing as the curtain flew up, revealing the actors on the stage.

My gift is my song, and this one's for you

And you can tell everybody

Y/N felt her heart do a bizarre skip. She recognised those words. She'd read them over and over again each night before she went to sleep. The piece of paper they had arrived on was now well worn and creased and she'd meticulously copied out the notes and the lyrics for fear of loosing them.

She scanned the audience again and felt her heart stop. The concert faded away as she focused on the man standing in the corner near the side door, a tiny smile on his face.

Colin Bridgerton stood with his hands behind his back, smiling up at her, his chin covered in the stubble of a beard. He was tanner then before and his hair had gotten lighter but it was still Colin.

Her Colin.

You see I've forgotten, if they're green or they're blue Anyway the thing is, what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Y/N giggled and felt a smile appear on her face as she gave Colin the smallest wave possible, not wanting to attract attention. Colin waved back and nodded to the door that led to the auditorium. Y/N nodded in return and watched Colin disappear out the side door.

"Go on, then," Y/N's mother said, tapping her daughter's knee. "Go find him."

Y/N quietly slipped from her seat and pushed open the curtain, blinking at the bright lights in the corridor.

As she made her way down to the auditorium, she could hear angry voices that were trying not to yell. She rounded the corner and saw Anthony, Violet and Benedict Bridgerton all standing in front of a bemused looking Colin.

"You said you'd be back by the concert!" Anthony hissed, clearly irritated by Colin's lateness.

"It's hardly my fault the train got stuck by a tree, is it, Anthony?" Colin asked, sighing. "I'm here now, however, am I not? Stop fussing."

Anthony went off again, flailing his limbs around as he tried to knock some sense into Colin, his mother trying to be the peace maker between the two as Benedict tried, and failed, not to laugh.

"This isn't funny, Benedict!" Anthony snapped, turning to face his other brother as he snorted.

Benedict's smirk faded as he realised he was about to be on the end of Anthony's rant. He sighed and crossed his arms, physically bracing himself as Anthony went off again.

Colin, looking both bemused and annoyed at his family, turned and spotted Y/N, hovering at the stop of the stairs. His face fell from an annoyed smirk into a stunned smile as he stared up at her.

"They're actually both," Y/N said to Colin, her voice quiet enough that the three other Bridgerton's present had yet to realise she was there.

"What are?" Colin asked, walking up to meet her, taking each step slowly.

"My eyes," Y/N replied, smiling, dropping the skirt of her dress. "They're both colours."

Colin chuckled and looked like he was blushing. "I told you I wasn't good at song writing."

"Everyone else seemed to enjoy it," she replied as she heard the audience applaud loudly.

"Because Freddy worked on it for months until tonight," Colin replied. "Even then he wasn't sure about performing it. If he'd performed the version I'd written the ton would be complaining. I'm not very good at it."

"I think you're better at it than you believe, Mr Bridgerton," Y/N said as she continued walking down until they were both on the large step that broke up the stairs. "I'm not sure about the beard, however."

"Why?" Colin asked, a hand subconsciously flying to his chin and running across the stubble.

"Well, it just means that every time I go to kiss you, I will have to be tickled and scratched by it," she replied, her hand covering the one resting on his chin. She entwined her fingers with his. "But I can live with that."

Colin laughed and leant forward, kissing Y/N with the passion and desperation of not seeing her for six months. His hand rested on the back of her head, carefully minding her hair as his thumb stroked her skin.

"I think I'm going to stay here for now," Colin said softly, breaking apart from her, resting his forehead on hers. "Stay with you."

Y/N looked up at him, feeling his breath on her cheeks. "Colin Bridgerton, are you -"

"Yes," Colin said, cutting her off. "I am. Because it took being apart from you for six months to realise what I was missing. To realise that I travel the world searching for purpose and reason, when, in reality, my reason is you. The purpose of my entire being is you.

"Without you, I'm half a man. Without you, the travelling begins to feel like running away and I don't want to run from you. I want to take your hand and run with you. Forever if we wanted. I can run until you can't run anymore. And when you can't run anymore, I'll carry you."

Y/N smiled, pressing her lips together as she savoured the taste of his kiss. "Words are your forte, Mr Bridgerton," she said softly, stroking the side of his head, threading her fingers through his curls. "I'll run with you to the end of the world and back again. I'll take your hand in mine and I will never let you go. Not again."

Colin pressed his lips to her and Y/N smiled against his lips before returning the kiss. He smelt of his cologne, the sweet caramel biscuits he loved and, somehow, the floral, homely scent of Bridgerton House

He smelt of home. He was her home. Simply being in his arms was enough.

"I've just realised something," Colin whispered in her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, staring into his eyes. "What?"

"My family is watching us."

Y/N glanced behind him and saw the three Bridgerton's pretending to occupy themselves with anything else. Benedict was investigating a painting, Anthony was admiring the ceiling and Violet had been reading the program but glanced up at them with a smile.

And despite it all, Y/N let out a snort of laughter and dropped her head on to Colin's shoulder. "Of course they are."

Colin giggled, actually giggled, and rested his head on top of hers. "Better get used to it, love, I doubt they'll ever stop staring."

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton #bridgerton imagines

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cafecourage · 3 years

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The moment they realized they loved you. (Isekai Au Edition) Part 3

If you want more information on this AU here is the Link!

Hyrule:

- It confusing and full of yearning.

- The Fae Folk are very affectionate in nature. Physical touches and platonic kisses are just normal. Hyrule growing up briefly with them had adopted this habit.

- You are like that as well so you’re the one to take care of Hyrule when he wanted affection. Since other then Legend, it’s awkward to ask the others.

- He finds however while he still asks/gives you affection. He gets more flustered and embarrassed when you initiated contact.

___________________________________

Admittedly Hyrule never had a clear understanding of Hylian social norms. Some things were easy to pick up when he was just traveling by himself. However, there was a lot that conflicted with Fae social norms. While yes, the Fae were more mischievous and could be borderline malicious, they are very affectionate creatures. Which was the one of many things Hyrule picked up when he was being raised by the Great Fairy.

Before you join the chain, he had to hold himself back from being overly affectionate with the group. Yes, when he had chances, he would give a quick side hug or ruffling of the hair for the younger Link’s. But nothing on the level of cuddles or small peaks on the cheek and forehead. You though! You were the one to lay the affection on everyone thick. Most if not every Hero has melted from all the complements and physical affection.

Hyrule was living his best life now with you! Cuddles are a must for the two of you. Especially when one another has been having a rough day. You’ve also gotten the others involved with this newly formed ritual. He just over all feeling comfortable and loved.

Which then leads to Hyrule’s issue. Slowly he began to feel embarrassed with every peak after he heals you. Then his heart begins to race when he is cuddled up resting his head against your chest. Even holding your hands became hard for him to stand! It felt so warm but also made him fearful. He was scared of losing you. Losing this warmth. This comfort. He wanted to keep it but scared that this feeling was to good for him.

“-and that’s what happen so far.” He was visiting the Great Fairy Cotera of Wild’s Era. He had visited her each time they visited Kakariko. Cotera gently hummed messing with his hair. “What should I do?” He looks up to the giantess worriedly. His small sisters surround him ether sitting on top of him or by his side.

Their mother hummed as she thought about his problem. “My dear sweet child.” She started after a long pause “this human… do you feel different compared to your other friends? Or with your siblings in the forest?”

Hyrule thought about it after a while shook his head. “No… I did used to feel embarrassed with the others but it was different. This is more… warm?”

“Warm?” She urges him gently to continue. “Do you hate it?”

“No…” he sounded like a child, fidgeting in his seat “I hate how anxious it makes me now.” You meant a lot to him. Hyrule knew you meant a lot to everyone too, but that normal! You’ve helped them all in some sort of way! Yet he was deep in that unidentifiable emotion towards you. He adores you. All of you. Even during your more impulsive actions he didn’t mind having to heal you. Of course, he would truly rather not heal anyone with his magic. Yet… with you giving his payment in kisses on the cheek or forehead… he can’t stay mad at you.

“Chin up little one.” Cotera lifted up his head “your feelings are valid and has a simple explanation.” Hyrule pouted slightly making her giggle a bit tapping lightly on his nose. “You my dear seem to love your sweet human.”

It was like a lanterned was just lit in a dark cave he was wandering in. Finally revealing a path out. Everything thing slowly explaining itself. “Oh…” was all he could say as he was comprehending it. His sisters were giggling at their brother’s expense causing him to blush. It all made to much sense.

“Roolie! Are you nearby?” He and the Great Fairy both perk up when they heard your voice. He stared up at the Great Fairy expectingly.

“Well?” Cotera nudged him off of the petals of her fountain. “What are you waiting for little one?”

___________________________________

- Well, that was embarrassing and he knows once he starts perusing you. The more his siblings of the forest will start to tease him. Not only that but the chain also catches on pretty quickly.

- He becomes a blushing and stuttering mess around you, not pulling away from your touch but leaning more into him.

- It will be a miracle if he confesses but he will! And he will do it in a more intimate manner though, with or without help.

___________________________________

Four:

- It took long to accept but filled with soft cotton fluff.

- Isn’t canon in the manga that the colors (minus Vio) straight up try to impress a girl they just met?

- Now I’m not saying he is like that now a days, but old habits die hard right. He probably doesn’t even recognize that he still does it.

- Honest to God the resident brain cell is the only one that new point blank what was happening. Having a “not again” moment.

___________________________________

It’s been a while since Four was back in his forage. He missed every second of it. The smithing process was the one hobby each color had in common. As Link they found it relaxing, something to get their mind off of things.

That morning was no different. Traveling on the road was stressful even for a seasoned adventurer. Traveling alone was boring which was the upside according to Red. It relieved them of responsibility Green was used to taking upon himself to carry. Blue was at least a lot calmer with having to be on alert all the time. Vio had pointed out this was mainly because of You.

The chaos came back full force. The same argument has been happening recently, it was about his feelings towards you. Now they all liked you as a friend. Four knew that for a fact. He was only six when he felt your presence and this situation, he was in was as if an imaginary friend became real! At least that’s what Red felt.

No matter if they were unified or separated, Four could trust you to help him out of even the messiest situations. So, what if some of those situations were caused by him trying to impress you? That doesn’t mean anything!

Just because Blue became a stuttering mess when you surprised Four with a flower crown just meant he was taken aback at your kindness! He isn’t good at showing his emotions. Yeah, so what about Green becoming a soft mess when you first showered him in praise and affection. Wouldn’t any person do that from someone that been through hell and back with them? It doesn’t count that Red craves your affection! He is like that with everybody and just because it makes him feel different it doesn’t count. Someone saves Vio from this.

Four was conflicted which is why he was working so early in the morning. They wouldn’t shut up about their own feelings. It was a chaotic mess inside his head as soon as he woke up. A weight on his back clued him back into reality “Good morning!” You while looking down at him smiling still holding on lazily. “How is the most beautiful person here doing?”

Ah. There goes most of composure out the window. Vio was the last one standing with Green and Blue almost hanging on. You loved to tease him and he was never able to get you back. “Don’t know how are you?” Four was really struggling to keep unified and calm. He was shaking because of the other three’s nerves. You stared at him wide eyed.

“Jeez look at you!” You give him a squeeze before finally let go of him “you’ve grown! If only you were that smooth towards Erune.” You teased.

The blush he was so desperately trying to beat down started to flare up this time out embarrassment. “Can we not talk about that?” Four could only cringe when he thought back at that bit in his adventure. Him and Erune have been close friends since then, but the colors were really trying to play the hero in front of the poor girl back then. Their antics truly were really not impressing anyone.

Green was really happy he grew out of it. Seriously it‘s not like Blue really cared about it anyway he was just a kid! Red was just happy that he got a long-term friend out of it! The audacity the others had was killing Vio. They are still just as bad and it seems like no one was listening to reason.

An explosion of emotions and thoughts collided in Four’s skull. Three denying their logical side’s claim all while getting thrown every instant in their faces by the odd one out. “Whatcha making anyway?” You were observing the short knife blade curiosity not seeing the other’s internal debate. Vio felt like he had to spell it out to each of them. Pulling up memories of their actions towards the outlander. Four struggled to focus on what you were saying but it was too loud!

“Woah there.” You turn him away from his project letting it sit safely on a cooler section of the work top. “Breath Link.” You where kneeling down in-front of him holding his hand. He focused on your warmth. The way you rubbed small circles on the back of his hand. On your voice that instructed him to breathe. In for four, hold for seven, let out for eight. Repeat. Slowly the divide melded back together. Soon the voices faded out. “There we go.” You whispered “good job Link.” Four stared back at you still tired from everything but nonetheless happy that your here with him.

Man, he loved you so much.

Wait-

___________________________________

- It was definitely an I told you so moment.

- Four as a whole though is still struggling to come to terms with it, even though he had already admitted his feelings.

- Another case of: drown him in affection until he realized. Not because of him not believing you! It’s just you have four people in a trench coat here! If one is conflicted then four as a whole will feel that subtly.

___________________________________

Bonus (just Headcanons):

Wind (finding out that a Link has a crush on you)

- The little gremlin is going to have a field day! He was thinking about messing around but the other hero is doing his work for him!

- The only one saved from this Black Mail harvest is you. He does have a few things but you mostly let him off the hook when he gets in trouble anyway sooooo…

- Not the best wing man but he honestly isn’t trying. He is just enjoying the journey.

- He might be tempted to help if he was asked but there isn’t much he could do. You are his right hand after all! Why would he let your secrets go so easily?

- Imagine Wind just vibes with you when the other Link is trying their best and you literally ask if the other hero was ok since they are acting weird around you. It would take Wind a minute to get an answer because all he is thinking is: ‘are you dense?’

- Or on the flip side. If you know about their feelings. He would definitely be on board of helping you out. Again, you’re his right hand! Of course, he’ll help you! (Favoritism)

- Wind: “Don't worry. He likes your butt and fancy hair. I know. I read their diary.” (Y/n): “He thinks it's fancy?”

(Part 1) and (Part 2)

My First Request is now done :D! That was fun. Thank you Pinky and Star for the request <3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #london fog tea #Lu Hyrule #Lu Four #Lu Wind #WIND THE PIRATE BROTHER!#thats the tag for just wind stuff lol #isekai au

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headaching · 3 years

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more titanic au?? 👀

Azula scrutinized Sokka with squinted eyes causing uneasiness flashed across his face. “For the record,” she jeered, “next time you want to stage an accidental falling, maybe keep your boots and jacket on.”

Sokka shot a panicked look at Zuko, who only shook his head. Sokka sputtered, “We…We were…”

“You don’t have to answer to her,” Zuko told Sokka apologetically.

“I don’t really care,” Azula snapped. “In fact, I think it’s sweet you made a friend.” Zuko crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t dare look at Sokka. “I’m just saying, you might want to get your story straight.” She winked at Zuko before turning on her heel. Zuko’s blush was furious and so quick it sickened him. For that, he was thankful Sokka stood behind him. “Are you coming?”

“Leave without me,” Zuko growled, and she cocked her head in his direction.

“What if you get lost on the way there, and there isn’t a third-class passenger to guide you back?” Azula’s voice was both sharp and cold, cutting and dull.

Zuko conjured his most menacing tone and said, “Azula, stop talking. Leave. Now.” Slowly, Azula’s head straightened, and she walked away without a word. Zuko watched her go, slightly impressed with himself.

When Zuko turned back to face Sokka, he was lacing up his boots. “I’m sorry about her,” Zuko apologized, and Sokka looked up from his shoes to grin at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sokka said as he finished tying his laces. On went his jacket, and he turned toward the water while he adjusted it. His gaze remained on the ocean as he leaned his elbows against the railing. “I’d like to see you tomorrow,” Sokka announced, not a demand, but a wish. Zuko approached Sokka, though he maintained a good distance from the ledge.

“You will, at dinner,” Zuko replied, and noticed his own rapid blinking. Sokka shot him a playful look over his shoulder, then turned around and occupied the remaining space between them.

He stood an inch or two taller than Zuko, and his head bowed forward. Though Zuko’s head tilted upward, he was only brave enough to stare at Sokka’s lips, which were full and soft-looking and slightly parted.

“I meant besides dinner.” This was the closest they’d been face to face without the impending threat of treacherous death, and the air seemed harder to take in because of it. “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Sokka added, and Zuko noted a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“No,” Zuko croaked, “I do.”

Sokka smiled. “Okay. Meet me here tomorrow, say, two o’clock?”

“Sure.”

“It’s a date.” Sokka’s voice was quiet, but it rang through Zuko’s ears and spiked his blood, churning it hot through his veins.

As Sokka turned to leave, Zuko found himself saying, “Sokka, wait,” with an outstretched hand. It suspended in the air with his index finger pointed at Sokka’s chest. Sokka’s eyes darted from Zuko’s hand to his eyes inquisitively. Zuko straightened his fingers to offer Sokka a handshake.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Zuko said formally with a stiff nod. Sokka laughed, and a few strands of hair fell around his temples. For an isolating moment, Zuko felt like an idiot, until Sokka’s hand closed around his. They shook hands with a firm grip, and it seemed to last longer than a usual handshake.

“Thank you for not jumping,” Sokka murmured, and stilled their hands, but didn’t pull away. The fingers on Sokka’s opposite hand caressed Zuko’s wrist, and Zuko tried to remember if he’d ever been touched so gently.

Eventually, Sokka stepped back, and their hold was broken. He slipped his hands into his pockets and eyed Zuko, then exhaled through his nose in a quick laugh.

“Is something funny?” Zuko asked reflexively, then cleared his throat at the sound of his raspy voice.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Do you always have to know all the answers?” Sokka teased, and Zuko crossed his arms. Sokka had no idea how few answers Zuko actually received, or how long ago he gave up the pursuit of seeking them.

Zuko couldn’t manage a response. He realized he was shivering; he must have left his coat on his chair at dinner. Sokka noticed, too, and questioned, “Are you cold?” He didn’t wait for Zuko to answer before taking his jacket off.

“No, I don’t need—” Zuko began to protest through chattering teeth, but was interrupted by Sokka draping his jacket across his trembling shoulders.

“You’re shaking,” Sokka dismissed quietly, practically affectionate. He pulled the opening of the jacket closer together in an attempt to insulate Zuko, then placed both hands over his crossed arms when they were exposed to the cold air despite the effort.

As Zuko watched carefully, Sokka unfolded his arms and brought Zuko’s clenched fists to his mouth. Sokka exhaled a heated breath onto Zuko’s hands, while his own drifted down to cup Zuko’s elbows. Their eyes met, honey and pale blue, and neither averted their gaze.

Zuko imagined breaking one hand free to caress Sokka’s cheek, and when Sokka’s lower lip just barely brushed against his finger, the fantasy morphed into one where they were kissing.

Zuko’s heart raced at the possibility of gliding his fingers along Sokka’s toned bare arms, the nape of his neck, the sharp angle of his jaw. Maybe Sokka’s hands would hold Zuko’s waist, draw him in, entice him to step closer. Sokka’s jacket might plummet to the deck floor if their hands were frantic, or stay perfectly in place if the embrace was slow and peaceful.

Though Zuko had little romantic experience, the image of kissing Sokka was easy, dangerously so, and the possibilities were endless.

“Zuko?” brought him back to reality, where Sokka’s hands had shifted. Sokka seemed to be holding him in place with a firm grip and one foot braced forward. Zuko blinked and noticed his fingers had fallen from their clenched position to grip Sokka’s forearms. He considered pulling away, but stayed still.

“I’m sorry. W-What happened?” Zuko’s face was smoldering, and he desperately wished to conceal it.

“You checked out for a second, then seemed like you were gonna fall,” Sokka explained, and though he sounded concerned, Zuko detected a smirk on his face.

“Oh,” Zuko mumbled, and looked away pointedly.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Sokka asked, the happy traces in his face replaced with worry. Zuko sighed, inwardly cursing his inability to play anything cool. “I mean, you just had a near death experience. Of course you’re not okay.”

“That wasn't my first near death experience,” Zuko replied before thinking better of it. His throat constricted when Sokka’s eyes flickered to his scar, but he found solace in the gentle squeeze Sokka gave his arms. Sokka looked down and nodded slowly. “I’m just clumsy, like Azula said,” Zuko added, gratefully getting him to crack a smile.

“I’d hesitate to take anything she says to heart,” Sokka laughed, and Zuko breathed a silent sigh of relief. Sokka stared at him for a moment with a twinkle of amusement still in his eyes, then said, “Maybe I should walk you back, though. You seem out of it.”

“You have no frame of reference,” Zuko retorted, and though his voice was agitated, Sokka took a small step forward, somehow still possible with their close proximity.

“Not yet.” His reply was an easy, clear indication that he intended to find out. Zuko focused on the dreaded task of evening his breath, but his mind inevitably wandered to their hold on one another and how it still had not ended.

“Not yet, but not tonight,” Zuko said eventually, as gently as he could. “My father will be expecting me soon.” Sokka nodded, and glanced at their arms pointedly, then back into Zuko’s eyes with raised eyebrows. “I can walk myself,” Zuko scoffed with an eye roll. He took the opportunity to remove Sokka’s jacket, but a firm hand halted his own.

“Keep it,” he insisted, and Zuko shook his head.

“I don’t need your jacket,” Zuko responded stubbornly, but drew the garment closer together in an attempt to disguise his shivering.

Sokka’s eyes glanced down, and somehow, the grin that spread across his face left Zuko wishing he could disappear and never leave Sokka’s sight all at once. “You contradict yourself a lot,” Sokka noted. Zuko decided disappearing would be better.

“And you’re infuriating,” Zuko muttered, his eyes on the deck.

“Is that any way to thank a kind stranger for his hospitality?” Sokka teased, and Zuko brushed past him with a hard jab of his elbow.

“Thanks,” Zuko said sarcastically.

He grinned to himself when Sokka yelped, “Ow!” followed by an airy laugh. When Zuko reached the gate, he glanced over his shoulder past the fabric of Sokka’s jacket to give him a smug smile. Sokka’s laugh faded into a closed-mouth dreamy grin complete with squinted, glistening eyes, and for that Zuko’s nerve was almost wasted.

“You’re not a stranger anymore,” Zuko said quietly, unfamiliar with the flirtatiousness of his voice. Sokka’s face fell, but with a focus that made Zuko wish he could read his mind. “Goodnight, Sokka,” he mumbled and turned away before Sokka could notice any further blushing.

“Goodnight, Zuko,” Sokka called after him. “See you tomorrow.” It was much quieter, and so light Zuko wondered if the wind had tricked him. Before leaving the gate, Zuko stole one more look to find Sokka splayed across a bench with his hands padding the back of his head. He looked up at the stars with a peaceful grin.

After watching Sokka longer than Zuko would have cared to admit, he finally left the deck. As he entered the interior of the ship, the warmth of whirlwind excitement began to fade. The farther he got from Sokka, the more he wanted to turn around, occupy the space next to him on the bench, and outstretch luxuriously with his palms resting under his head. How simple it would have been, to watch the stars.

To be free.

send me the title of a wip for an excerpt!

#thank you anon mwah mwah #zukka #zukka titanic au #zuko #sokka #azula #zukka fic #becks #my work #asks #anon

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annabethy · 4 years

Text

doctor, doctor

in which Annabeth is pregnant and Percy is a super hot sexy doctor,, percabeth

Annabeth isn’t entirely sure what’s her imagination and what’s reality anymore. To be quite honest, she doesn’t care to decipher between the two either because her stomach is protruding far enough from her body that her sleep is scarce, and she’s not about to ruin that just to see if Percy got out of bed.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes and check anyways because he’s pressing a kiss to her forehead a second later. It causes her to stir, and she kicks up one leg to her side, stretching her arms.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Annabeth cracks open an eye and a lazy smile morphs onto her lips. The sun still hasn’t popped over the horizon – she estimates it’s around six in the morning. She yawns. “Why are you up?”

Percy brushes her hair out of her face before his hand trails down to circle around her bump where her shirt has ridden up. His fingers tickle the skin lightly. “I have to go to work.”

Annabeth frowns. It’s dark in the room and her vision is still blurry, but she can see the backpack he’s holding that she knows contains the things he’ll need throughout the day. It makes her unjustifiably sad because she knows the backpack means he’ll be gone for a long time. She’s so close to her due date that she can’t go to work herself, and all she really wants to do is snuggle up against him and sleep, which she can’t do if Percy’s at the hospital until she’s asleep again.

“Stay with me,” she pleads, hands blindly reaching out to grab him by the shirt. He concedes and leans down next to her so he’s on his knees facing her. He kisses her a few more times and nudges her with his nose.

“I wish I could,” he says softly. “But I have to saves some lives first.”

Annabeth groans, rolling over so that her back is to him.

“Hello?” Percy pokes her back playfully. “Anyone home?”

“Not you,” she deadpans.

“Aw.” Annabeth hears Percy stand back up and grab the bag by his feet. “Sick people need me to help them feel better.”

“What if I’m sick and need you to make me feel better?” she questions.

“Are you sick?”

Annabeth pauses. “Yes.” She pointedly coughs.

“Cute.”

She looks over her shoulder and finds him staring at her lovingly.

“I shouldn’t be gone too long,” he promises, rubbing her back soothingly. “Three in the afternoon.”

“You love your job more than me,” she breathes dramatically.

Percy laughs lightly. “That’s not possible. Now I have to leave now, so are you going to give me a kiss?”

“No.”

“Please?’

Annabeth pouts but flips back over. It’s actually quite mortifying the way she struggles to face him, her stomach proving to be an obstacle, but Percy helps her sit up. The kiss is short and sweet, and when he pulls away, he brushes her face affectionately. “I love you,” he says.

“Love you too,” she says back, but she’s pouting. Percy kisses her once more.

“I won’t be gone long. Go back to sleep, okay? You need the rest.”

She rolls her eyes and nods, laying back down. Percy helps lift the covers around her, and he disappears for a moment to refill the glass of water by her nightstand. It makes her roll her eyes fondly when he comments on how thirsty she is, but it also makes her feel warm that he’s noticed. It’s something he’s been doing recently, bringing her water in the middle of the night because he cares about her.

Annabeth feels oddly deflated when she hears the front door shut behind Percy when he leaves for work. She lays in bed for at least an hour, just watching the sun slowly begin to rise through the closed blinds of the window. Sleep doesn’t come for a while, and she blames Percy for waking her up in the first place. But she’s also glad he woke her up because as disappointed as she is that he left, she’d be even more upset if she just woke up with him gone.

He’s going to be such a good dad, she thinks. A hot dad, too. She’s sure she’s told him a million times but there’s just something about him in scrubs that gets her going. When he was in his residency, she didn’t think he could get any more attractive than in those light blue scrubs, but then…

Those navy blue attending scrubs makes her a bit more hot and bothered than she cares to admit.

At some point, she thankfully does fall back asleep. It’s some of the best sleep too because after being awake for hours in the early hours of the morning, there’s something otherworldly about sleeping in. She’s content sleeping until Percy gets home actually, but all hope goes flying out the window when she wakes up and feels overbearingly nauseous.

She stares at the ceiling trying to figure out what exactly woke her up, but it takes a few seconds of fighting the urge to pass out before she realizes her phone is ringing beside her head.

"Hello?"

Percy’s voice appears over the line. “I’ve been calling you. Are you okay?”

“I’m great.” Annabeth’s following cough says otherwise. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” he says, laughing. “I’ll be home in an hour. Do you want anything to eat?”

Annabeth groans, the sound of any food disgusting. “No thank you.”

“I’ll get you something for later then.” Percy pauses, and Annabeth closes her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound sick.”

“Because you jinxed it by leaving,” she tells him. “I told you to stay and play doctor with me.”

“I’ll come play doctor in a little bit,” he says jokingly. “See you soon. I love you.”

She barely musters the energy to repeat the three words back before he hangs up, leaving her to wallow in pain and misery. Realistically, she just kicks her blanket off in a sudden wave of heat and she falls back asleep.

When her eyes decide they’re ready to blink back open, it’s to Percy sitting next to her, a hand pressed to her bare stomach.

She smiles lazily, taking in the sight of him. He’s still in his scrubs, much to her delight. “Hey, sexy doctor.”

Percy purses his lips to suppress a grin at the comment. “Hey, you. You’re sick.”

“Nah.”

Percy raises an eyebrow. “Nah?”

“Mhm.” “You have a fever,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “You wanted to go see your work wife,” she accuses. “I don’t have a work wife,” he tells her.

“Sure you don’t.”

Percy looks at her as though to say, really?

“I’m okay,” she assures, “I’ve just been sleeping all day.”

“Did you take anything to help?”

“No,” she admits. “I was waiting for my personal doctor to come help.”

“Where is he?”

Annabeth pokes Percy’s neck, and he grabs her finger to press the tip to his lips. “Right here.”

“Yeah? You want me to take care of you?”

“What’s the point of dating a doctor otherwise?”

“We’re married, you doofus.”

Annabeth snickers. “I forgot.”

Percy’s hand is still rubbing her stomach as he stares into space blankly.

“What does the doctor prescribe?”

“Lots of cuddles,” is his answer.

Annabeth opens her arms, smiling when Percy settles into them. He rests his head on her chest gently, and it makes her heart feel full. He’s usually the one to hold her, so moments like this are rare. It just makes her wish she could live in this moment forever.

“You’re too warm,” Percy mutters against her neck. He kisses the skin softly, nuzzling against her. He tries to move a second later, no doubt going to grab her some medicine, but she tightens her grasp on him.

“Stay here,” she complains.

He gives in, resting against her once more. “Only for five more minutes, then I’m going to take care of you.”

“You’re taking very good care of me.”

“I don’t want the baby to be too warm inside your tummy,” he says.

She makes a sound of agreement but doesn’t move to let him go. “I wish we could listen to her.”

He stays silent for a while, and she thinks nothing of it until he lifts his head suddenly so that he can lock eyes with her. “Do you want to?”

“Is that possible?”

Percy smiles widely, wiggling off of her. “Let me show you something I learned not too long ago.”

As he runs out of their bedroom, she watches him in his childlike excitement. He bangs around the kitchen for too long, and it has her calling out, “Hurry up.”

When he does pop back in the door, his arms are entirely full. He’s holding a cup and a stethoscope, and of course, there is a fresh glass of water in his hands.

“You’re going to love this,” he says, nudging her over on the bed. She reaches out to mess with the fabric of his scrubs as he sets the water down on the table.

“What are you doing?” she asks when he lifts her shirt up and the top of her pants down right below her stomach.

He places the stethoscope tips into his ears, gentle fingers pressing the bell to her lower stomach. He places the cup over the stethoscope, moving it around slightly, and then a soft smile breaks out across his face. “Here,” he says, taking the stethoscope out of his ears and handing them to her. He helps her put the ear tips in, and she suddenly can’t wipe the smile off of her own face.

There’s a steady thumping in her ears that she knows is her baby’s heartbeat. It’s subtle, but it’s there. She begins to feel overwhelmed with love as her eyes tear up and her hand presses against the bump.

“You hear it?” he asks.

She nods, unable to speak.

Percy kisses below her belly button. “That’s our baby.”

“I still can’t believe we’re going to be a family,” she whispers.

“Mh-hm. You’re going to be the best mama.”

She laughs wetly, tossing her head back. “God, I love you.”

Percy kisses her stomach for a few long seconds. “It sounds like our baby girl is nice and safe inside of there right now, so why don’t we take care of you now?”

Annabeth’s hand darts down to press over his, preventing him from moving. “Just a few more minutes? Please?”

They fall into a silence, and Annabeth continues listening to the beating heart. It blows her mind that in only a few more weeks, she’s going to get to meet this baby, and they’re going to be a family. She can already see it, Percy holding their baby, maybe even dressed in a pair of clean scrubs, while she watches him talk to the baby like she’s the only thing that matters.

“You’re going to be such a good dad,” she tells him.

“Yeah?”

“And a super hot one.”

Percy snorts.

“A dilf.” “Oh my god, please never call me that again.”

“Thank you for marrying me,” she says.

Percy softens. “Of course I married you. I love you more than anything.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she admits. “You wouldn’t be listening to your baby’s heartbeat with a stethoscope and a cup.”

She smiles. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“You also wouldn’t have a super sexy, smart, funny doctor husband.”

She shoots him a look.

“You said it, not me.” “I didn’t say that.”

“Well, you called me a dilf, so.” He shrugs. “Same thing.”

Annabeth shakes her head at him, amused.

“Come on,” he says, sitting up. He pats her on the stomach and drags her up as she complains. “I want to make sure you’re okay, and then we can keep intruding on our daughter’s womb.”

“Is that a pun?”

“What?”

“Room? Womb?”

“Shut up,” he says fondly, kissing her on the forehead. “Let me take care of you. I’ll even keep the scrubs on.”

“Now that I can live with,” she says teasingly, pushing him away with her foot. “Go on, then. Play doctor.”

He does, but she can’t help grabbing his butt when he turns. He looks at her over his shoulder as he leaves, and she smiles into a pillow.

Yeah, she’s pretty lucky she married a super sexy, smart, funny doctor.

Percy’s words, not hers.

(Not that she doesn’t agree.)

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo #percabeth #percy jackson and the olympians #my writing

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mermaidenisaacs · 4 years

Text

isaac has a fwb

it’s all fun and games until isaac catches feelings for his sneaky link. he’s certain she doesn’t feel the same and it’s killing him not to tell her. but he’s fine with pretending he’s fine. he’ll take what he can get, and anything is better than nothing at all.

friends with benefits, secret pining, workplace au, isaac’s a lawyer and he hates theo

warnings: graphic sexual language

“I just don’t understand why you have to wear tight skirts all the time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love me in tight skirts.”

“I like the view, yes. But they’re hard to take off. And the stupid zippers always get stuck.”

“Fair enough. But you’re cute when you’re frustrated, Lahey.”

She swiveled around, thwarting Isaac’s efforts to slide her respectably tight skirt down her legs. Grabbing a fistful of his curly hair, she mushed their lips together, effectively cutting off the beginning of his next verbal jab, triumphing in his muffled “mmph.”

“So, that’s it then?” Isaac mumbled, pulling away and redoubling his efforts on her neck, sucking on the tender flesh there. “You like torturing me? Walking around the office all day, teasing me in your absurdly tight clothes, just to get me riled up?”

“They’re not that tight,” she muttered. “And I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

Isaac snorted. “Such a lawyer response.”

She scratched her nails across the breadth of Isaac’s broad shoulders before sliding her hands down his subtly defined chest. She began slowly undoing his Oxford blue button-down.

“Besides,” she continued, ignoring his quip, “you do the same thing. It’s really endearing how you strut around in fake glasses just to look smarter.”

Isaac didn’t even bother acting embarrassed; he knew he looked good in those glasses. He had decided to try on non-prescription glasses one day just as an accessory to switch up his look, but the positive reception from everyone was incentive to keep wearing them. He was in his late 20s but he still had a bit of a baby face, so the glasses also helped him come off older and more competent to potential clients.

Those were the only reasons he wore fake glasses. It had absolutely nothing to do with the time y/n came over to his apartment and drank three glasses of wine and drunkenly confessed to finding his glasses sexy.

“So what if I strut around in fake glasses?” he said. “Do they do something for you?”

She paused. “I plead the fifth.”

Isaac chuckled in amusement. He watched her undo his shirt and huffed in annoyance at her leisurely pace. He adored the woman in front of him, but few things frustrated Isaac as much as she did, from her parading around the law firm in her form-fitting pencil skirts and sweaters to her pulling him into storage closets and viciously attacking his lips minutes before really important staff meetings.

“If you keep going at this pace, we’re gonna miss Derek’s meeting,” Isaac complained. His squirming did not go unnoticed by her, who seized any chance to get under his skin.

“What’s the matter? Worried you won’t have enough time to kiss the boss’s ass?” she said, smirking at Isaac’s eye-roll. “Just so you know, it would be useless. Derek likes me better.”

And just like that, she had literally pushed Isaac’s last button. His hands found her hips and he spun her around. They were sandwiched between two tall shelves with Isaac pressed into her back. He aligned her with his cock, his arousal prominent against her ass.

“Someone’s excited to see me,” she teased.

Isaac swept away her hair from her neck and bit the supple flesh of her shoulder, eliciting a soft gasp that rang like music to his ears. He bunched up her skirt around her waist and was pleasantly surprised to see she wasn’t wearing any underwear, her bare ass exposed and already leaning into his touch.

“Fuck, really?” he said in disbelief. His mind went blank and he swiftly slapped her ass, evoking a surprised yelp from her. It was then that realized he had never done that before. He should’ve made sure it was okay first. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I liked it, actually,” she said, breathless, reaching behind her to tug on his hand. “But you should probably hurry up and get inside me before we miss the entire meeting, yeah?”

Isaac was taken aback for a moment. He had lost count of how many times he’d succumbed to her, fell unapologetically victim to her allure. Despite this, it floored him every time that she could be so assertive, so unabashedly direct about her desires. She used to be so shy and unsure when they first started hooking up.

It should be noted that the first time they fucked, it was by mistake (or so they told themselves).

It happened last year at Derek’s Christmas party. It involved mistletoe, Erica’s spiked eggnog, incoherently babbling her address to a cab driver, making out in the backseat, giggling between sloppy kisses, undressing each other, falling into her bed, sleeping in a tangle of bare limbs, blinding morning sunlight, throbbing hangovers, the crushing weight of reality.

And regret, or, “Let’s just forget this ever happened?” “Deal.”

That first time, they could blame it on the alcohol. Every other time after that--when Isaac texted her to come over and play girlfriend to get rid of a clingy one-night stand, when she let his fingers wander up her thigh during late nights at the office, and all the other times--they had nothing to blame but their own desires.

“Turn around,” Isaac murmured. “I need to see your eyes.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. Every once in a while, Isaac would catch her off guard and say something unexpectedly sweet and romantic. It unnerved her. The last person who said sweet things to her was her ex boyfriend Theo. She believed all his sweet words, but in the end, he abandoned her and left her with nothing but trust issues and a broken heart.

Isaac got impatient and turned her around by her elbow, looking into her eyes and affectionately tucking some loose strands of hair behind her ear. She tried her best not to squirm under his warm gaze. He looked like he was torn between wanting to worship her and devour her.

He cupped her cheek and placed a soft kiss on her lips. He used his other hand to palm her ass. He firmly squeezed the soft flesh and pulled her body flush against him. She wound her arms around his neck and squealed in surprise when Isaac swooped down to scoop her thighs and lock them around his waist.

“That’s better,” he murmured affectionately against her bruised lips. “You ready?”

She was having trouble finding her voice and managed to give him a meek nod.

“I need you to say it out loud, baby,” Isaac gently reminded her. He always asked her permission and it always surprised her. Her past involved a lot of men taking rather than asking.

“Yeah, I’m ready, please,” she whined.

Isaac kissed her once more and moistened the tip of his cock with her wetness, making her clench her thighs tighter around his hips. He buried his face into her neck and sponged kisses into her skin as he pushed in slowly, allowing her to acclimate to his size.

He pushed in deep, all the way to the hilt, trying to savor the feeling of being inside her. To Isaac, she felt like heaven. She was warm and wet and velvet and exquisite and he had to measure his movements for fear of accidentally hurting her.

She dug her nails into Isaac’s shoulder as he stretched her out, helplessly whimpering for him to start moving faster.

Isaac complied, retracting his hips just to slide back in again, cock freshly slick with her juices. As much as he wanted to take his time with her and make this moment last, he knew they were on the clock at work. He set up a faster rhythm, snapping his hips repeatedly into her warmth.

At one point, he had to clamp his hand over her mouth to contain her satisfied noises. Isaac loved hearing her moan knowing he was the reason, but they couldn’t afford to be loud lest a nosy co-worker should discover them in their compromising position.

“God, you feel incredible,” Isaac grunted into her ear. “You’re so fucking hot. I couldn’t even tell you all the filthy things I’ve imagined doing to you all day.”

“Really?” she panted breathlessly.

“Fuck yeah.” Isaac tightly gripped her ass as he pounded into her from below. “Please don’t stop wearing tight skirts. You look so sexy in them. You look so fucking sexy all the time,” he muttered.

She clung to the curls at the nape of his neck, clawed at his back, all but bit down on his shoulder to keep from moaning loudly as he whispered sinful things into her ear.

“Fuck, Isaac,” she whimpered. “I can’t--I’m gonna--”

“Me too.”

After she came, she untangled herself from Isaac and kneeled in front of him. She swiveled her comparably small fist around his cock and kitten-licked the bright red head.

“Fuck,” Isaac breathed.

“I don’t want to make a mess,” she said matter-of-factly, grinning at his incredulous expression. “So come in my mouth, okay?”

Isaac groaned reflexively as her words sent him into euphoria. He released down her throat, coating her esophagus and her tongue with thick, gooey residue. He had to white-knuckle the shelf in front of him to avoid violently bucking his hips into her mouth. When he pulled out, he helped her back to her feet.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Isaac leaned against the shelf behind her. He observed her as she busied herself with pulling down her skirt and smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric. Her gaze darted back and forth to anything that wasn’t Isaac as she combed through her disheveled hair and adjusted her clothing. Isaac grew concerned at her distracted behavior.

“Hey,” he said quietly. When she didn’t respond, he took hold of her elbow and stilled her. He gently brushed the sweat-damp hair away from her face. “You okay?”

It took her a second to process his concern. The truth was, she wasn’t really okay, and she was surprised that he could sense that. It had been a long, stressful morning, and coming down from the high of her pleasure brought on a fresh wave of dread: the end of her time with Isaac would mean having to return to work.

She was trying to hide it, but Isaac had picked up on her change in mood. She often forgot how incredibly sensitive he could be. They worked in a realm of cutthroat professionals who cared only about their own well-being, but he was different.

Isaac had once mentioned that he wished he was less sensitive. Being caring wasn’t the best quality for a lawyer to have. He viewed it as a weakness, but she disagreed. She knew that his being sensitive and observant and caring made him a better lawyer. His ability to connect with clients and the jury was the reason he was so successful.

Unfortunately, these same qualities helped him sift through her carefully curated exterior and know what she was really feeling. It was unnerving. She wasn’t used to being seen.

“Of course I’m alright,” she responded casually. She chuckled and shooed his hand away. “I’m just not looking forward to going back to work. Okay, how do I look?”

“Freshly fucked.” He laughed at the scandalized expression on her face.

“Isaac!” She playfully swatted his arm. “God, we’re gonna be so late.”

Isaac shrugged. “Probably.” He buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his pants while she reapplied her nude lipstick.

“Okay, I’m gonna head to the conference room,” she announced. “Wait a couple of minutes before you follow. I’ll cya in there--”

She was cut off by Isaac, who had reeled her in by her waist to give her a searing kiss, one that fogged her newly found bearings. He slipped in his tongue and curiously grazed her teeth, and just as she began to reciprocate, he abruptly pulled away.

“I’ll cya in there,” Isaac said, grinning at her dazed expression. She let out an offended scoff before she turned on her heel and exited the storage closet.

Isaac smiled to himself as he heard the clicking of her heels fade away. He tried to remember his life before she entered it. He found nothing in his memory except a lukewarm existence filled with meaningless affairs with women who only cared about his looks or his money, the endless monotony of work that didn’t interest him anymore, and a sinking loneliness.

Isaac remembered the first time he saw her. It was on her first day of work. He remembered hearing her laugh, soft and melodious, drifting through the cubicles. He saw her surrounded by the other associates, who stared at her with glitter in their eyes and hung onto her every word. Even Derek found her charming.

Her voice, her eloquence, her warm honey eyes, her aura. He found it all captivating. She was beautiful.

More than all of that, he loved her mind. She had joked that Derek liked her better, but he knew she was right. She was better in every sense of the word: smarter, funnier, wittier, and more ambitious. In point of fact, Isaac started caring more about his job after she showed up. It was her drive that sparked his, her passion that geared them into an unspoken competition of who could win more cases.

She changed his life without even knowing it, and somewhere along the way, Isaac started to fall for her.

But Theo got to her first. He approached her with his smarmy smile and slithered his way into her affections. Isaac watched their relationship unfold over the course of eight months. He watched her fawn over him like all the other women in the office, watched her eyes light up when he entered the room. He even walked in on them making out in the break room and lost his appetite for the rest of that dreadful day.

He watched Theo dump her in a heartbeat when he was offered higher pay and cushier benefits at a competing law firm in the city. He watched her fall apart.

By that point, Isaac had convinced himself that he could never have her and his feelings went stale. But as soon as he saw her heartbroken, he didn’t even hesitate to race to her side and give her his shoulder to cry on.

Isaac was there for her. He absorbed her pain and her sadness. He helped her find her drive again and worked on cases with her. The late nights and deep conversations turned into friendship. His feelings returned. He considered confessing, but everything changed the night of their drunken hook up.

She was the one who suggested they should forget that it happened, and then when things continued, she seemed satisfied with being just friends with benefits. It seemed like that was all she could want from him.

So, Isaac kept his feelings to himself and let her use him. It’s not like he didn’t do the same.

He knew she deserved better than casual hook-ups, but he couldn’t confess his feelings or set her free. He couldn’t get enough of her. He selfishly wanted her, in any capacity she would allow.

She had no idea how much power she held over him. He was completely in love with her and slowly being crushed by the weight of his own feelings, but for her, he could endure it.

Pushing his thoughts aside, Isaac adjusted his tie one final time and took a deep breath. He made sure to smooth down his hair as he walked into the conference room; she always had a thing for tugging on his curls and messing them up. Not that he minded.

“Lahey,” Derek announced as Isaac walked in. “Good of you to grace us with your presence.”

Isaac inwardly cursed. The meeting had already started. He took the empty seat besides Boyd and coughed out an apology to Derek. Isaac saw y/n smirking from across the room.

“As I was saying, this meeting concerns tonight’s Christmas party at my house,” Derek said. “Normally I wouldn’t call a meeting for this since I host one every year. But this time, I’ve decided to do things differently. Instead of Christmas sweaters and eggnog, I’ve decided that this year, it will be a formal, black tie event. I’ve also decided to invite the other firms from around the city as a show of goodwill.”

A round of groans ensued.

“But they’re all assholes!” Erica complained, then shrank back at Derek’s miffed expression. “I’m sorry, but they are. The Christmas party is supposed to be for us. It’s supposed to be fun. And they’ll ruin it.”

“I disagree,” Derek said. “I’m sure that if we try to make peace, so will they. I’m hoping to have a good year, one where competing firms won’t try to steal my associates out from under my nose.” Isaac scowled at Derek’s implication: he was talking about Theo. “Anyway, I want everyone to be on their best behavior. As I said, it’s a black tie event, so everyone should dress formally, and--”

Stiles hand shot up in the air.

Derek sighed. “Yes, Stiles?”

“Uh, sorry,” Stiles said, smiling guiltily. “By dress formally, just how fancy are we talking here?”

“It’s a black tie event,” Derek repeated, enunciating every syllable in annoyance. “Do I have to teach you how to dress now?”

“I mean, not now, but if you wanna come over later and help me get dressed...” Stiles grinned as Derek turned red and coughed away Stiles’s flirting. A chorus of faint giggles ensued. It was well known that Stiles had a crush on Derek and made it his mission to mess with their boss.

“Okay, that’s it everyone,” Derek said stiffly. “I’ll see everyone at my house at eight. Don’t be late.”

~*~*~*~*~

Later that night, y/n stared at herself in the mirror.

She had decided on the red, curve-hugging dress that Isaac had once pointed out in her closet. He’d asked her why she’d never worn it before and suggested she should. She had merely shrugged in response.

The truth was, she bought the dress thinking she could be brave enough to wear it one day, but every time she came close, she got scared and put it back. She thought it was too bold. She was scared of the attention the dress would draw in.

That was then. These days, she had no reservations about wearing form-fitting clothing. She didn’t fear attention. Isaac had played a large part in boosting her confidence: he always told her how much he loved her body. It wasn’t like he was the first man to ever call her sexy; Theo had done that plenty of times.

The difference was that Isaac didn’t make her feel like an object when he said it. He made her feel like she was something holy, a deity to be worshipped. The way he touched her sometimes, so careful and so tender, made her feel like she was the answer to his prayers.

But that was just wishful thinking on her part. They were just friends, after all.

Isaac was there for her when she was completely alone after her breakup and he never even let her thank him for it. He swooped in like the knight in shining armor she was taught not to believe in and rescued her from her own grief.

It was embarrassing really, how deeply entrenched he had become in her life. She thought about him all the time. She thought about him when she got dressed in the morning, about what outfits would make his head spin at work. She thought about him when she accepted pro-bono cases, especially those that concerned abusive parents and broken childhoods.

Before Theo approached her, it was Isaac who had filled her thoughts. His smile, his eyes, his laugh when she was lucky enough to hear it. It was Isaac she thought about in the shower while she touched herself, pretending it was him.

Even after she got together with Theo, every once in a while when they were intimate, she’d catch her thoughts drifting to Isaac’s sharp jawline and his pretty blue eyes and imagine that it was his large hands all over her body instead of her boyfriend.

She thought about Isaac tonight while getting ready for Derek’s party, spent a little extra time styling her hair into loose waves and obsessed over the precision of her makeup and wore something she knew he would like. Underneath her dress, she had on the lacy lingerie he brought her back from his trip to Paris, just in case.

She wanted to show Isaac that it was all for him. That she was finally over Theo. Isaac was the only one she wanted.

~*~*~*~*~

Isaac arrived at the party promptly at 8 o’clock. He didn’t want to be late for Derek twice in one day.

He entered Derek’s sizable estate and immediately made a beeline for the open bar. He ordered a scotch on the rocks and exchanged pleasantries with the pretty bartender, passing time until y/n showed up.

Isaac adjusted his collar and scanned the room. Most of his co-workers were already present, but she was nowhere to be seen. Knowing her, she’d probably be a little late.

Isaac remained at the bar, not feeling compelled to interact with his coworkers. He didn’t have issues with them, and he wasn’t typically the anti-social loner who avoided the chattering crowd, but tonight was different. He felt restless.

It was at this time last year that everything changed between y/n and Isaac. The last time they had attended one of Derek’s Christmas parties, it was the first time they were ever intimate.

Even though a year had passed, the memory was still fresh in his mind. He even remembered what she had worn: a black skirt and a red sweater that had a reindeer on it, and a Santa hat. She looked downright adorable. He remembered that she smelled like vanilla and tasted like cinnamon and sugar when he kissed her.

Isaac winced after taking a particularly large sip of his drink. He was feeling sentimental tonight. It was nice to think about the past. Back then, things weren’t so complicated. He didn’t have to worry about whether having casual sex with someone he was in love with did more harm than good.

It was then that a man with a familiar style of perfectly coiffed hair had made his way over to the bar and was sitting about five feet away from Isaac.

“One whiskey sour, please,” he said.

Isaac could recognize that voice anywhere.

“Theo,” Isaac said flatly.

Theo smirked at the sight of his former associate.

“Lahey! It’s good to see you.” Theo extended his hand, a gesture Isaac pointedly ignored. His blood boiled at the sight of Theo standing there so casually, like he could just waltz into Derek’s house after turning his back on everyone there.

“What are you doing here?” Isaac said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Derek invited me. Well, he invited my firm. I figured since it’s the holidays, I should probably come, maybe clear the air.”

“Clear the air?” Isaac repeated. “Oh, you mean after you left with no warning and took all your clients’ accounts with you? Yeah, you could probably make a few apologies.”

Theo raised his brow at Isaac’s defensive response.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t glad I left,” Theo said. “I basically did you a favor.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My ex girlfriend. I know you always had a thing for her.” Isaac’s stomach lurched at Theo mentioning her. As far as he was concerned, Theo lost all right to talk about her when he left her crushed and devastated.

“You know,” Theo continued, “I’m actually amazed she never figured out you had feelings for her. She was pretty naive though. And in her defense, I kept her occupied with other things.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Isaac seethed.

“Why, what’s wrong? After I left, you had her all to yourself. Don’t tell me you didn’t man up and make a move, especially since she was so broken after I dumped her. You had the perfect chance to swoop in.”

“I don’t really do the whole, preying on vulnerable women thing. That’s more your style.”

Theo scoffed. “Please. You make it sound like I tricked her into dating me. Everyone knows she was all over me. I actually kinda miss her being all over me. Who knows, maybe if I see her tonight, I might try to get back into her good graces, you feel me?”

Rage swelled in Isaac’s chest at the idea of her and Theo together again. All the pain of the past came rushing back in one all-consuming wave and he was pretty sure he heard his glass crack a little bit when he slammed it down on the counter.

“I swear,” Isaac muttered, “if you even look at her--”

“Theo?”

It was her. Too caught up in their verbal stand-off, Isaac and Theo didn’t notice she was standing behind them.

Theo didn’t miss a beat, flashing her his signature dazzling smile.

“It’s so good to see you,” Theo said. “Wow, you look amazing.” He approached her with open arms. To Isaac’s relief, she ignored his attempt at a hug. “How long have you been standing there?”

“I just got here. But… you’re here,” she stated in disbelief. “Why are you here?”

Isaac tried to meet her eye, but she seemed transfixed by Theo. He silently watched them interact, ready to jump into action if Theo made a wrong move.

“I’d like to say I came for the party, but,” Theo paused, then plastered on the phoniest somber expression Isaac had ever seen. “I was actually hoping to run into you.”

Theo’s eyes flitted back to Isaac for a brief moment, catching his gaze and sending a silent message of victory.

“You were hoping to run into me?” she asked, flustered. “Why?”

“Because I miss you, baby,” Theo drawled. “Can we go somewhere to talk in private? There are some things I need to tell you.” Theo reached forward and caressed her arm, and Isaac had finally had enough.

“Don’t listen to him,” Isaac said, catching flickers of indecision in her eyes. “Come on,” he pleaded with nervous laughter.

“I...” she began hesitantly. Isaac’s heart sank when she answered, “I’ll go with you, Theo.”

Isaac was taken aback. Her words felt like a betrayal. “He’s not worth it. You don’t need to do this,” Isaac said, his self-assuredness tapering off.

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry! I’ll be right back. Come on, Theo.”

Isaac watched Theo lead her into a nearby empty room. He downed the rest of his drink in one throat-scorching swig.

~*~*~*~*~

Isaac checked his watch for the eighteenth time that night. Or maybe nineteenth. He’d lost count. He had been sitting at the bar for the past twenty minutes, waiting for her to return. Isaac hung his head at his own naivety, mentally berating himself for holding out hope for the impossible fantasy that she would reject Theo.

He was stupid to think she could ever want him the way he wanted her. She would always choose Theo over him.

A light tap on his shoulder broke him out of his thoughts. He ignored it. He wasn’t much in the mood for dinner party chatter. The tapping on his shoulder persisted and Isaac turned around to confront the agitator. It was her.

“Hey,” she said.

He faltered in surprise, scanning her face for signs of distress, but she looked more relaxed than when she had left. Theo had worked his magic after all.

Isaac snorted. “Hey back.”

She frowned quizzically. “What’s up?” she prodded.

“Nothing. I’d ask how things went with Theo, but judging by the look on your face, I take it everything went well. But I get it. He’s pretty fucking dreamy, isn’t he? Makes you forget all about the past.”

Isaac’s words were an assault, denting her pleasant mood with accusations. He’d never spoken to her like this before, so scathing and condescending. Her eyes drifted to the glass of scotch in his hand.

She gently placed her hand over his and pried the drink away.

“I think you’ve had enough,” she said softly.

“Of you.”

She visibly flinched. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” Isaac threw back the rest of his scotch, ignoring its stinging path down his throat.

She took a steadying breath and her lawyer instincts to kick in. She reminded herself to be calm and rational when dealing with distraught and combative clients. Or in Isaac’s case, indignant crybabies.

She dismissed the bartender when Isaac called her over for another drink. She tightly clasped his forearm, pulling him out of his seat.

“Let go,” he grunted. “What are you doing?”

“You’re going to embarrass the both of us if you don’t stop struggling. We’re going upstairs.”

After a couple more attempts to shake her off, Isaac stopped resisting and let her lead him up Derek’s staircase, which was no easy task. He was a large man who was half-intoxicated, but he was sobering up with every step he took.

She led him into a random room and slammed the door behind them. He took in the lavish surroundings and photographs capturing Derek and what looked like his family. They were in their boss’s bedroom.

“You’re mad at me,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Tell me why.”

Isaac scoffed, shuffling over to sit at the edge of Derek’s bed. He leaned on his elbows and rubbed his face. He was so tired of it all.

“It’s always gonna be Theo, isn’t it?” he said.

She faltered at the mention of her ex-boyfriend’s name and the undercurrent of defeat in Isaac’s voice. “What’s always gonna be Theo?” she asked.

“You’re always gonna go back to him. It’s you and Theo forever, the way it’s always been. The way it’ll always be.”

She scrunched her brows in confusion and crossed her arms defensively.

“Okay, seriously. What are you talking about? Nothing happened with me and Theo. We just talked.”

“For twenty minutes? I don’t think so. Don’t lie to me. I’m a lawyer.” Isaac chuckled emotionlessly.

“I’m not lying to you. I’ve never lied to you. Why are you acting like this? Do you seriously think I ditched you to go hook up with Theo in the middle of Derek’s Christmas party?”

“You did ditch me. Like I meant nothing to you.”

“Meant nothing to me? God, Isaac,” she groaned frustratedly. “Do you really believe that?”

Isaac shrugged noncommittally.

“Isaac.”

Nothing.

She sighed. “Look at what I’m wearing, you idiot.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. He scanned the length of her body. He realized that the color of her dress looked familiar, as well as the cut and length. He finally recognized it as the same dress he had asked her to wear a few months back. She had refused to put it on that day. She didn’t say it, but he knew she felt too insecure to wear it, which he thought was ridiculous. She could look beautiful wearing a trash bag.

He blatantly ogled her, taking in the way the delicate fabric draped over her body. She grinned at his reaction. The dress had achieved its intended effect.

“You’re staring, Lahey,” she pointed out.

“You’re wearing the dress,” he said dumbly.

“Good observation. I wore it for you, you know. I wanted to look good for you.”

“For me,” he repeated, awestruck. “But... what about Theo?”

“What about him? He just went on and on about how much he missed me and how letting me go was the biggest mistake in his life, blah blah blah. His little soliloquy was pretty entertaining, but he’s so full of shit. I can’t believe I ever let him touch me. He’s repulsive.” She grimaced.

Isaac felt the suffocating weight lift off his chest. He was finally able to breathe.

“What did you say to him?” he asked.

“I basically told him to go fuck himself a million different ways. It was great.”

“So, does that mean you’re over him?” Isaac asked timidly, still afraid to believe that Theo was a relic of her past.

“Yep. I’m into someone else now. You might know him. He’s tall, got curly hair, gets crazy jealous around my exes, likes to wear fake glasses...”

Isaac covered his face and laughed. She watched him fondly, relieved that he was back to his usual self.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just care about you so much, and the way Theo was talking about you, like he owned you. I just got so angry.”

“It’s fine, I get it. But it’s over between me and him, and that’s because of you. I wanted to tell you that tonight. You made everything better. I wouldn’t have been able to face Theo without your voice in my head, telling me that I was strong,” she confessed shyly. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Isaac silently nodded, letting her words wash over him. “I’m glad you stood up for yourself. You deserve so much better than him.”

“Thanks,” she said, blushing at his praise.

Isaac nodded. “So… did you really drag me up to Derek’s bedroom?”

She laughed. “I didn’t realize it until we were already inside. My bad.”

Isaac smiled and extended his hand, which she gladly accepted. He tugged and pulled her down to the bed. She sat beside him, their fingers still interlocked.

“I have to confess something,” she said quietly, piquing Isaac’s curiosity.

“What is it?”

She ducked her head, letting her hair curtain her face and shield her from Isaac’s questioning, attentive gaze. “Before Theo came into the picture, it was gonna be you. I think I knew even back then that it was always you.”

Isaac froze. “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to contain the nervousness in his voice.

She looked up at him. “I think I always knew that the person I wanted to be with was you. I should’ve broken up with Theo a long time ago.”

“You... you wanted to be with me?”

She nodded. “Before Theo, I used to like you. Even when I was with him, you were still in the back of my mind. And I thought I would be okay with just hooking up and being your friend, but I want more. I was just scared to tell you because I was so traumatized from my past relationships. But I don’t feel scared when I’m with you. You make me feel so safe. I... I love you, Isaac.”

Isaac was floored. Here she was, telling him everything he ever wanted to hear, and he couldn’t believe it. He was at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to express how much he wanted her. He didn’t know how to tell her she could do anything she wanted to him and he would let her. She could carve up his heart into a million jagged pieces and he would just thank her in return.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” Isaac said, voice shaky with feeling. “I love you too. I love you so much.”

He leaned forward and gently kissed her, savoring the feeling of her soft lips. Her pretty mouth, her honey skin. He laid her backwards onto Derek’s bed. He undressed her to find that she was wearing the lingerie he brought her back from France.

They made love. Afterwards, Isaac zipped up her dress and she helped him with his tie. In the silence, they knew they didn’t need to speak. They couldn’t if they tried. There were no words that could contribute anything else to the moment. It was perfect.

They went back downstairs and rejoined the party, walking in holding hands. The stares of their coworkers were hard to ignore; subtlety wasn’t their thing. Derek gave his annual end of the year speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and wishing everyone health and happiness. Derek’s gaze drifted over to them mid-speech. He glanced at their joined hands and rolled his eyes fondly.

Across the room, Isaac caught Theo looking at them. He pulled y/n closer into his side and kissed her forehead, grinning in Theo’s direction.

One whole year of secret pining later, Isaac finally got what he wanted.

fin.

author’s note: this fic was initially posted on my old blog that got terminated. i wrote it for a mutual named addison. i modified it to take out her name and sadly had to leave it in 3rd person. otherwise i would’ve had to edit way too much. as a result, sadly there are a couple of y/n mentions in there lol.

this original fic also had a very different ending that was extremely graphic and sexual, and it made me v uncomfy, so i edited it out completely.

if this fic or any of my other writing makes it seem like i hate theo, it’s because i do. i feel like if isaac had ever met theo, they would’ve loathed each other. it’s fun imagining their dynamic.

anyway pls let me know what you think and interact with me bc i am sad ahaa <3

#isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey smut #daniel sharman imagine #daniel sharman smut #daniel sharman #isaac lahey #sneaky link is my new fav expression lmfao #mermaidenisaacs

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photiniainsummer · 3 years

Text

Something Worth Celebrating

Rating: General Audiences (basically GenFic)

Summary: Dark admits he sort of, kind of has a birthday. And then he sort of, kind of asks you to throw him a party.

I know. Pinch me, I must be dreaming.

(Basically a purely indulgent fic where Dark gets to be happy for 0.2 seconds. Yes, it's late, please forgive me, Mr. Darkiplier sir.)

(second person POV, gender neutral reader)

Word Count: 4906

Author’s Note: No warnings. Honestly just tooth-rotting tenderness. This is a super-late birthday 'present' for our favorite spooky ego that I just couldn't get out of my head. Also posted to AO3!

The thought strikes you in the midst of your weekly scan of Mark’s content. While Dark makes sure to check his uploads and social media presence moment-to-moment, you often join his weekly wrap-up review sessions as a second, fresh set of eyes. It’s usually a silent and uneventful affair, with Dark sitting at his desk and you to one side of it, both focused on the week’s batch of content as it projects on the opposite wall. Hooking up the projector was easier than hunching over Dark’s laptop, the two of you bunched together around the screen, and it usually meant you could catch and examine any irregularities with greater accuracy. Not that there had been any for months. Mark’s content has become suspiciously unsuspicious, with no odd shot changes in the middle of playthroughs, no sideways comments in food reviews… and so your mind has started wandering during your viewings.

It’s not that his content is boring. But it’s hard to enjoy Mark’s lighthearted commentary, really, knowing the man for what he is: a manipulative, body-snatching, undead creature bent on conquering the hearts and minds of the world. That kind of imposing terror makes it hard to kick back and enjoy him goofing through a new horror game.

And, yet, despite that same terror, it’s difficult to stay fully focused on the task at hand. Maybe it’s the lack of weirdness lulling you into being unobservant - maybe that’s Mark’s goal. Regardless, he makes a jokey comment, surprised by a new onslaught of enemies so soon after receiving a new weapon - “What, is it my birthday?” - and though he proceeds to casually mow down a fresh flood of zombies, your mind is nowhere near his running monologue. No, you’re off on a tangent of wonderings - When exactly is his birthday, anyway? Is it soon? Do the egos share his, or do they have their own, if they know it? When would they celebrate it, anyway? Did Mark build in birthdays for them when he summoned them up, or was it whatever day they were formed from some strange, shadowy process you still don’t know the specifics of? It’s a strange and vaguely sad thing to ponder, your mouth turning down at the corners as you roll it around in your mind. To your side, Dark sighs softly, reaching out to pause the current video. Mark’s face freezes in an unflattering expression, and you turn to look at the entity.

“What, think of something?”

“No,” he demurs, scrubbing the video back. “But you are distracted. What do you last remember?” He doesn’t sound annoyed, which is a little surprising. Where a few months ago he would have bitten off a sharp comment about your wandering attention, he just gives you a mild look when you don’t immediately respond, hands hovering at his computer. It speaks to how routine this has become for you both, how each of you has grown accustomed to the other - the ringing of his aura barely registers for you now, although you were certain when you arrived that investing in a lifetime supply of ibuprofen was a basic requirement for working in close proximity to Dark for any extended period of time.

That’s when the thought strikes you - you meandering thoughts crystallizing around his presence, centering on him. You have to wonder how much of your thought process Dark actually heard, if your idle thoughts are loud enough for him to pick up. But seeing as he’s not making any attempt to immediately answer, nor chide you for thinking about such unimportant things, the thought, as a question, easily tumbles out between you.

“Do you have a birthday?”

He immediately furrows his brow, blinking in surprise. “What?”

“I said, do you have a birthday?” you repeat, committing to this line of questioning. You go so far as to turn slightly in your chair to look at him better, attention fully directed at him. Dark sighs and turns back to the computer, picking a spot in the video a couple of minutes ago, certainly farther back than necessary.

“I heard what you said,” he clarifies. “I am attempting to understand what could have possibly brought that up.”

“He said something about his birthday. It just got me thinking, that’s all.” Dark pauses, squinting his eyes ever so slightly at the screen. His cursor hovers over the playback bar, obviously considering his next move. You pause with him, then a smile tugs at your mouth. “You missed that, didn’t you.”

“I did not. It was merely an inane comment, so I did not take note of it.” He’s a little too indignant, too quick with that response, and it makes you laugh. He shoots you a patented glare, although it carries very little true malice. “When did he say that.”

“A couple minutes forward, it’s right after he gets that new gun.” Dark hums in response, clearly still miffed at having been successfully teased, but in a good-natured sort of way. You watch him scrub for the right spot, lulling back into a comfortable silence for a few moments before you remember what brought all this up and press on. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Don’t be obtuse, come on. Do you have a birthday?”

“They had birthdays,” he remarks. You recall them, or, at least, a picture of them, the only one you’ve seen that isn’t a staged portrait. You like it better than the stiff, properly posed photographs Dark hesitantly showed you once, when he had finally explained his origins to you. In the one you preferred to remember, a well-dressed woman and man hug each other close as they smile warmly into the camera. It’s some holiday, or just an excuse to get together - there are garlands blurred in the background - and the woman is holding a fancy-looking drink in the hand that isn’t wrapped around behind her brother, tugging him into frame. He looks a bit put-upon, smiling almost embarrassedly as if the woman has cajoled him in front of the cameraperson into taking a picture with her. But his expression, for all it implies, is still warm. His body curls close to his sister, his hold on her obviously affectionate. The woman is beaming like she’s won, squeezing her brother close as her cheeks apple, her painted lips curled in such pride. Her eyes dance, catching the light of the camera’s flash. They look comfortable, happy, beautiful. Full of life. The woman’s smile had pulled one out of you, when you saw it.

Dark’s explanation of how he had come to be makes the memory all the sadder, the melancholia curling around your throat even as you remember it now.

“I, on the other hand, was not born,” he explains, and for a moment you begin to regret bringing it up. But the shadow-bathed man doesn’t seem bothered, his tone matter-of-fact, simple. You know it pains him still, you saw the look on his face as he described how he had come to be, how his aura had raged around him like he was going to pull apart. How their faces had appeared in agonized red and blue flashes behind him - now that you knew what you were looking for, you could see them as themselves, not just as Dark.

Which makes the fact he can say something that directly referential without threatening to rip through existence sort of comforting. Is he just comfortable with you, now, knowing that you know? Whatever it is, you decide it’s a good thing, and settle back in your chair. “Well, sure, not as such, but… do you celebrate theirs?” you ask, as gently as you can.

“I do not.” Dark finds the proper place in the video, advancing to it.

“So you don’t celebrate you… coming into being, on any particular day?”

“I do not.” You squint slightly.

“You don’t,” you repeat. Dark sighs once more, bringing a hand to his brow in the way he does when Wilford is being particularly taxing.

“No. I do not. But the… fans. Do.” It’s an answer given through gritted teeth - the man finds the celebration of him and his many appearances in Mark’s work frustrating, to put it simply. Of course, he’s completely committed to his role as the villain the actor dreamed of, and won’t lie and say he doesn’t find it utterly amusing how Mark’s own fans seem to like him more than the actor himself. But all that is tinged with the truth of his conscription into this role, the indignity of being painted as the wicked mirror image of the man who took everything from him. It is particularly insulting, particularly painful. So to have some false version of him celebrated and adored, is…

Well, to use his words: Disgusting.

You would go for complicated, instead. It does feels strange to have them celebrate a fictionalized version of the entity next to you, given the reality of the situation, but it’s not like you can fault them for what they don’t know. They’re caught up in Mark’s game - it isn’t their fault. Still, you aren’t really surprised they found a whole day to put aside for the man.

“What day did they pick?”

“Hm?” Dark seems caught up in some internal brooding, set off by the memories of the fanart he’s seen. You prod again.

“What day is it? That they made your ‘birthday’?”

He pauses a moment, considering. You can tell he knows, he’s just debating whether or not to tell you. Whether or not this will have unintended consequences. “June 19th. It was the first time Mark posted something… strange enough to be counted as my first ‘appearance.’ So it is my birthday, by their reckoning.” He pauses again. “I suppose it is as good a day as any. Although I do not understand it - why would someone want to celebrate my existence?”

His tone takes this bitter, harsh edge, and you instinctively want to cringe against it. But you also know how Dark hates you trying to be delicate with him. It’s better to be honest, to know his reactions are not for you, but for his situation. For Mark. So you suppress the desire to turn away from it, instead reaching across the bit of desk between you to touch his arm. He doesn’t react, apart from flicking his eyes to rest on your hand. Touching him like this, yours fades to take on the same black-and-white cast as his own.

“For what it’s worth, I’d want to celebrate it. I’m glad you’re here.” You squeeze him very gently, as if trying to impress that more fully into his mind. “And… they don’t really know you, but, I mean. I think they’d like you even more, want to celebrate you more, if they did.”

Dark is silent, gaze falling to a whorl of wood in his polished desk as he considers your words. He doesn’t immediately reply and you take your hand away, not wanting to be overly touchy-feely about the whole thing. Or, at least, you don’t want to be if that’s not what Dark wants. You’d be the first to console him, if you could, but it’s hard to get a read on what might help the man most. He lives in his head, unaccustomed to sharing much with the other egos, let alone someone who hasn’t directly been through what they have. Your position on the outside imposes a distance that even having worked so closely with him for so long hasn’t yet bridged. Still, you leave that door open for him whenever you gracefully can, whenever it doesn’t feel like you’re opening it to force him through.

You try show him he can walk through whenever he likes. If he likes.

The man shifts slightly, reaching out to adjust a small pile of papers. He puts them to rights, even though they’re already perfectly in line with each other. When he finally speaks, his voice is almost covered by its own deep echo.

“If I am honest, I meant more… why would they celebrate the man they see, the ‘Darkiplier’ in his works? He is not a good man, by any means. He tells the truth, Mark’s confidence in himself sees to that. But they do not know it. He seems to seek to trap the audience through lies, manipulation… I simply do not understand the appeal.” You feel a little caught out, wondering if you jumped a bit too eagerly on his statement as a chance to comfort him. “However…”

He stops, realizing he’s run out of papers to arrange, things to fidget with. Folding his colorless hands in front of him, he finally and intentionally turns to look your way. It’s a slow, steady motion, heavy with purpose. When you meet his intensely contrasted eyes, they fall gently on you. His expression is open, almost bare. Devoid of any bitterness, frustration - his usual armor.

“...it is incredibly kind of you to say that. About me. I. I sincerely appreciate it.”

The hesitancy in his voice, yet how honestly he continues on, intent on telling you this… It’s enough to break your heart. You give him a tender smile.

“You’re not exactly that man in those videos, Dark. Not the way he has you play it, know you well enough to tell that… But even if you were, you have reason enough for it, I’d wager.”

That gets you a wry smile from the man. “Enough reason to pull ourselves back from the dead?”

You laugh, softly. “Yeah, something like that.” At your mirth, the lines of his body begin to relax, and he eases back into his seat somewhat. It’s a rare sight, Dark letting himself relax, be still for a moment. Even his aura, ever-roiling, merely seems to ebb and flow around him in gentle pulses. His mouth stays gently turned up as he looks at nothing in particular, gaze easy on some middle distance. You can tell he’s thinking, even at minor peace like this, but has no real intention to speak again. Sensing the Big Heart-To-Heart Moment™ has passed, you sigh and look back over your sparse notes. “Should we get back to it, though? I totally derailed us.”

Dark pauses a bit longer in the moment before he idly waves a hand and reaches out to close the lid of his computer. “There is nothing interesting this week, really. I think we can call it there, unless you are especially invested in head-exploding physics.” You pull a face.

“Not particularly. I can finish going over it later, anyway. Just in case.” You stretch and twist in your chair with a sigh. “Think I’ll make some coffee - can I get you a cup?”

“Are you going to use the cafetiere?”

“No, I thought the Mr. Coffee would be better. Really gets it nice and watery, just like you like.” Dark scrunches up his nose in the most totally undignified way, and god that makes you belly-laugh, bending slightly over the desk to support yourself. It breaks him, getting a real smile to curl over his face. He can be such a goofball, when he wants to be. “Of course I was gonna use the cafetiere. Who do you take me for?”

“I have to check, I have had many a disappointing cup after agreeing too eagerly. But yes, I will take one, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“None at all,” you hum, coming down from your laughing fit. You make your way out of his office but before you can turn the corner, Dark calls your name, stopping you in the doorway. You look back to him, and he seems… at ease. His hands are folded across his middle, he’s resting back in his desk chair. The ghost of a smile is still on his face. You try to bottle that moment, preserve it mentally. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. Again. And…” He hesitates for a beat, making some decision. “If you or the others would like to do something. On the day. My… sort-of birthday… I would not be opposed.”

You force your jaw to stay in place and not hit the floor. Wilford will go ballistic. You don’t know if the mustachioed ego will be able to handle the thought of throwing Dark a real birthday party - he might just explode in a haze of confetti and glitter stars. Blinking, you right yourself, finding your head nodding before you even know what it’s doing.

“I. Y-Yeah! Sure, we. We could definitely do that. Do… something.” Dark just smiles a little more fully, exhaling a laugh. “I’ll. I’ll talk to them about it.”

Holy shit.

“Wonderful. It will be nice to have a reason to have a proper party. Something to celebrate. Don’t you think?” You’re nodding again, agreeing wholeheartedly, but dazedly, too. You don’t realize you’re just standing there sort of staring until Dark tilts his head thoughtfully to one side. “Is… coffee still happening?”

“Huh?” You remember. “Oh. Oh! Shi- I mean, shoot. I mean. Yes. Yeah. I. Coffee, yes. I’m… gonna do that.”

As you beat a hasty and red-faced retreat to the kitchen, bursting with ideas, you can just make out the man giving the faintest, echoing chuckle.

---

You don’t think you’ve ever felt such pure excitement in the Manor before. The air is practically buzzing with pure, unbridled energy as you approach Dark’s office door. Downstairs, you can hear the egos making final preparations underneath Wilford’s speaking in an overly dramatic tone, giving some kind of grand speech. Likely a rallying of the troops into being on their best behavior for their de facto leader. You can’t help a smile and a shake of your head - maybe he’d take his own advice tonight.

Either way, everything is ready, so you rap on the birthday boy’s outer office door. He’d graciously locked himself away after retrieving his morning coffee so you would all have the space to prepare. Of course, he hadn’t escaped early-morning birthday wishes from you and the Host, nor a fresh-cut bouquet of flowers you two had collected for him. You’d even carried them up to his office for him, just so he wouldn’t have to touch them himself and risk draining their color. The memory of how sort of bashful he’d looked, the you really shouldn’t have energy that had rolled off him as he directed you to set them on his desk - it makes you grin in anticipation for this evening as he calls for you to enter, now.

He’s sitting by the fireplace, apparently killing time with a book which he looks up from as you enter. An inquiring look pulls his brow. “All prepared?”

“Oh yes. Your party awaits you, sir.” Dark huffs a laugh and rises, setting his book aside. He’s dressed a bit differently, still in slacks and a tie but with the addition of a waistcoat closely fit over his dress shirt, which is slightly rolled up over his forearms. Then he begins to fix them, going for his jacket, and you have to interject. “Are you really going to wear a full suit to your party?”

Dark stops, looking confused. And a little concerned. “I. Was intending to, yes.”

Oops. “I mean, you always wear a suit,” you chide as gently as you can. “They look nice, but the whole point is celebrating, relaxing a little? Besides, you look nice just like that.” Dark pauses, casting a look over himself. He absently adjusts his waistcoat, and you notice a thin chain connected to one of the buttons loops into one pocket. Has he always had a pocket watch?

“You are certain it is not too… casual.” He almost sounds worried, the poor thing. You give him a reassuring smile as you approach, picking up his jacket and folding it with care before hanging it over your arm.

“I’ll bring it down, but I think you’ll be more comfortable like that. Though you aren’t totally dressed, yet.” The man gives you an utterly baffled look, and you grin in response, bringing out a brightly colored party hat. His look sours immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No. I am already being made to go down undressed, I will not go with bells on.”

Sometimes you forget he’s just a grumpy grandpa. You pull out the big guns. “Well… we’re all wearing them,” you hum, your own firmly in place. “Besides, Wilford insisted. And he’s the Decoration Czar. Self-proclaimed, but he rules with an iron fist.” Dark makes a valiant effort to hold onto his resolve, but it weakens in the face of you invoking the mustachioed man. With a soft, amorphous grumble, he pulls the elastic band of the hat under his chin.

Now that you understand a little more about how Dark and Wilford had come to be, their bond makes a lot more sense, even for all Dark’s frustrated looks shot the more light-hearted man’s way in the midst of meetings. Even before you knew the depth of their bond, Dark had always seemed surprisingly willing to go along with Wilford’s more doable requests, less inclined to irritatedly snip at him for his foolishness. As Dark adjusts his party hat in a nearby mirror (making sure his well-coiffed hair isn’t too disturbed by his headwear), you’re glad that, although Wilford may not fully be aware of it, the two of them have each other.

He drops his hands with a sigh. “I look ridiculous.” He’s positioned the cone-shaped hat directly pointing up in the middle of his head, and. Well. It looks way too proper, but very Dark all at once. You chuckle, coming close to help.

“You should see the den. It’s a wreck,” you tease, reaching for his hat, giving the man enough time to wave you off. But he doesn’t, just watching you in the mirror as you adjust it (careful of his curls) to a more jaunty angle. His aura has already absorbed the color from it, but it looks party-appropriate. More importantly, Dark seems a bit more at ease as he gets used to how it looks. You wonder if he’s ever worn a party hat in his life. “There, much better.”

“Hm. Then I suppose I am ready.”

“As you’ll ever be. C’mon, they’re all waiting.” When he turns from the mirror, you playfully offer him your arm. You think you’ll get an eyeroll, a dismissive but amused huff at best. You aren’t anticipating him looping his arm in yours and giving you this little smile that warms his eyes and has you pulling up short. He chuckles somewhat at your reaction, your lack of movement.

“I thought I was being escorted.”

“Uh. You. You are, oh, you definitely are, hold on to your socks, you’re about to experience the best escorting of your life.” Dark’s free hand comes up to help suppress the grin that threatens to split his face as you lead him from the office and down to the almost overwhelmingly decorated den. While the room is comfortably illuminated by a variety of the Manor’s most colorful lamps, the light is somewhat low and catches on the sparkling garlands heavily draped on the walls. Matching balloons bob at varying intervals and a rousing cheer goes up as you and Dark enter, a flood of grins turning your way. Music cuts on - something upbeat and jazzy - and the flock of egos quickly descends on the object of celebration, Wilford leading the charge and pressing a drink into the man’s hand after a massive bear hug. You release Dark’s arm to let the crowd of other egos at him, covering him in birthday wishes and affectionate pats on the back (their boldness inspired by Wilford, no doubt), before eagerly showing off all their preparations.

While Yancy explains the variety of possible games he’s worked up, getting a horribly wry grin out of the shadowy man at his creation of ‘pin the cravat on the Actor,’ you step back a bit to make sure Dark’s suit jacket is safely out of the way of the night’s oncoming revelry. Clearly, he’s already forgotten it, much to your pleasure. The bar is lined up with a few drink options, pre-made cocktails and bottles of wine opened to breathe, a number of elegantly arranged finger foods courtesy of resident chef Google Alpha. Carefully, you tuck Dark’s jacket under the bar in an empty shelf and before scooping up a drink of your own and tossing yourself back into the fray.

It goes a lot more smoothly than you had anticipated - everyone quickly falls into comfortable conversation, dipping into the snacks and games when it lulls. Wilford manages to keep his pants on despite threatening to provide a different kind of ‘entertainment’ at one point (and in spite of encouraging whistles from Bing and the Jims, who are quick to shove a camera in Wil’s direction). Further, Dark survives having ‘Happy Birthday’ sung to him, even blowing out the single candle in the middle of the complicated-looking tiramisu Alpha crafted.

It’s a rousing success, by all measures.

By the time you finally get a chance to sidle back up to Dark, the easy hum of the party has kicked up to a bit more of an excitable buzz as the jazz records have turned more and more swinging. Yandere and Illinois clearly know what they’re doing, beating a quick step around the open dance floor and grinning like bandits as Yancy does his best to help poor Eric get over the hurdle of not staring at your feet when you dance. The Manor feels more full than it usually does, with all of you crowded in the one room together, and you can see the warm, pure energy of it all is having a similar effect on Dark as it is on you - you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so much, small as they are.

Another thought hits you, even better than the one that prompted this whole affair. Grinning, you quickly gesture over the nearest Google. With the music like it is, it’s hard to speak over the ruckus, but you mime taking a picture and Green gets the idea, his glasses getting a particular sheen to them so you know he’s flipping through his interface. Once he gives you a thumbs up, you gently tug Dark down by the arm and gesture in Green’s direction. “Say ‘cheese,’” you prompt, and the shadowy man pulls a face.

“I don’t think-”

“Oh, just one, Dark, c’mon,” you poke. “He’s set up and everything.” With a sort of resigned huff, the man twists and gets his free arm around you, hand resting carefully on your back as you get yours around him, bringing him in closer.

Then, almost in your ear, you hear his very dour voice say, “Cheese...” and it breaks you. You’re busting out laughing, forcing yourself not to double over or spill your drink, and over the music and your own laughter, you can hear Dark chuckling, the subsequent snap of Green’s camera feature. The latter catches the most attention, the gathered egos coming running as soon as they realize pictures are happening.

Suddenly, everyone wants in, smushing in as close as they can get to you and Dark, bickering when elbows ‘accidentally’ find soft sides and someone worms in front of someone else, Green taking pictures all the while of the ensuing chaos. Dark’s aura is starting to rouse from its relatively peaceful state when you decide it’s gone on long enough. You quickly clap and break up the worst of the infighting, getting folks arranged as best you can. By the time you finish and most everyone is settled, Dark is wearing a very betrayed look and Wilford’s heavy arm, which is hugging him quite close to his side. With a playful shrug, you pick your way back to your spot.

“I thought you said one,” he grumps softly even as you both get your arms situated comfortably around the other.

“You believed me?” His eyes get a bit wide - you trick Dark? You trick him into photograph like the child? - but you turn away with a triumphant smile. “Green, set your glasses on the bar, get in!”

The android quickly obliges, setting the timer and sliding in among his copies as he counts you down. “Okay,” you call, “everyone say ‘Darkling!’”

The cacophony of laughter and broken-up attempts at the word is something you’ll never forget.

---

Google sends you the photos the next morning, as the Manor collectively attempts to nurse minor to severe hangovers. Flipping through and marking the best ones to print and frame, you get to see the first one of the two of you.

In it, you’re hugging each other close, smiling warmly into the camera. There are garlands blurred in the background and you’re holding a fancy drink, tugging Dark into frame. That slightly embarrassed tinge is gone from his smile, but he still looks cajoled, still smiles as affectionately as he ever has. There’s no doubt he’s changed - the photo warps to try to capture his existence, red and blue fragments breaking up the image - but his expression is still warm. And you look so pleased with yourself, so amused, eyes dancing with success and joy.

Full of life.

It pulls a smile out of you.

#markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #darkiplier #ego fanfiction #happy birthday mister man light of my life #sorry it is late i was a pile of mental goop after exams #mad market pliers ramblings #fanfiction

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acahope311 · 4 years

Text

I Promise

A/N: Amari, Queen of Erebor and wife of Thorin Oakenshield, spends a day exploring the secret tunnels with their son, Arnel. But when a friendly and peaceful mother-son outing turns deadly in a heartbeat, can she keep her family and home safe? This is my first ever fic, so I hope you like enjoy it :) Also the lullabye I reference is “Hushabye Mountain” from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Warnings: blood, angst, tears

Words: 6547 (it’s a doozy)

I wanted to say thank you so much to everyone for taking the time to look at the story and reassuring, supporting, and hyping me up through the whole process! ^-^

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Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, in the walls of a secret tunnel, the quiet calm was broken by childish giggles and squeaks. Amari, Queen of Erebor, and her son, Arnel, explored secret tunnels that snaked in and out of Erebor with excitement. Initially, Amari was reluctant to venture into such a dangerous expedition with her son, but even she could not stand against a cherub face framed with a hint of dark peach fuzz. Preparing for this outing, she decided to move her queenly duties aside and trade her gown for a borrowed tunic and trousers from her husband's wardrobe, her bladed tonfas sheathed in her hip holsters. Although still in their home, it was best to always be prepared when entering unknown areas of the mountain.

"Amad, hurry!" the squeal of a child reverberated down the abandoned walls of an ancient tunnel that wound around the base of the Lonely Mountain. Amari smiled fondly at her son as he pulled at her hand, urging her to quicken her pace.

"Calm down, ibinê. We have all day, sweetheart. If you keep pulling, you'll run out of energy, then we'd need to return." The queen warned as she gently pulled the young prince into her arms. Whining, he tried to pull away from her grasp.

"Maaaa, I'm not a baby, I'm almost seven! I'm a warrior!" Arnel scowled as he fended off his mother's affection, but failing as he too started to giggle at her kisses.

"Of course, my warrior prince. Now let's just walk a bit further, then go and save your father from those boring councilmen, hm? I’m sure your sister is there too." She gently placed him down and ruffled his hair affectionately.

The dwarf prince was about to object, when suddenly a low growl came from his stomach. Embarrassed, Arnel looked down. "That wasn't me…"

Amari laughed heartily at his expense, further annoying the child prince.

"S’ not funny!" He whined, stomping his tiny foot. Looking up indignantly at his mother, his ocean blue eyes flashed a storm. Although a Durin worthy scowl took place on his face, little tears formed in his eyes, threatening to fall from embarrassment. Amari held her laugh in as she picked up her son again and wiped them from his face.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Of course it didn't come from you. Now, why don't we head back? I am getting a bit hungry…" Arnel took this opportunity to divert the blame to someone else; he stroked his non-existing beard mischievously and looked away for a moment.

So much like his father. She thought as she studied his face.

"Well if you are tired, it is only right for a warrior to keep the Queen safe and well fed. Right, Mama?" He asked, unsure but firm in his thinking. Amari nodded and put him down.

"Right you are! Spoken like a true prince. Now, let's head straight to the kitchen and make some pizza, then I'll tell you a story from my world while we cook. I think we will need to make a BIIIIG pizza for your father and sister. What do you say, kiddo?" Arnel perked up at that; he always loved hearing tales of your life before coming to Middle Earth.

"Yes please! Can you tell me the story of your amad and namad? I like hearing that story." Reaching up to her, she picked him up and cradled him to her hip.

"Of course, my-"

Suddenly a rock tumbled across the flat ground towards them, as if kicked by an unseen being. Its sound echoing through the darkness making the hairs on Amari’s neck stand on end. Instinctively she hugged her son tighter to her chest. A menacing laugh surrounded them, thickening the air with fear and anxiety.

"I'd like to hear that story too. Can I join you?" A deep, rasping voice came from the end of the tunnel, shattering the safe haven of mother and son. Amari turned protectively to the source. Stepping out of the shadows, a group of orcs emerged.

Orcs?!?! Here in Erebor?! Adrenaline started to course through the woman's body. Looking more closely at the creatures, she realized these were not orcs. Uruk Hai. Amari's face paled at the realization. It was no wonder, though, she thought them to be orcs at first sight. However these creatures were taller, more muscular, and oozed evil- so much so that even the eternal torches that lined the tunnel cowered before them. She hadn't even realized that she started to back away until they moved forward menacingly. Stained with blood and hair, they gripped a black sword in one hand, and in the other…

Oh no…

A large body was being dragged, no bigger than a dwarf.

Frode…

The young guard’s uniform was torn and tattered, soiled with dirt and blood. Amari had wondered where her assigned guard was that morning, but never in her life would she have anticipated this. Her flight or fight reaction kicked into fight mode, but in her arms, she could feel Arnel's shaking body, eyes brimming with fear and tears. Gently, but quickly, she brought her hand to shield his view of the carnage and threat looming over them.

"How did you get into our home? Get out!" She yelled with such fierceness that it startled both herself and Arnel. The leader chuckled maliciously before dropping the body with a sickening thud.

"I don't think so. We like it here, you see. But even more so! Boys look, this isn't any human. The queen under the mountain has graced us with her presence." He sneered, his companions growling like a pride of lions, eyeing their prey. "And look… she brought a snack. How thoughtful your majesty." Amari tightened her hold on Arnel. Not breaking eye contact from the advancing Uruk hai, she spoke to her son softly and calmly in their secret language.

"Sweetheart. I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me?" Arnel looked at his mother, her brown eyes looking away from his, but he could see her panic. He had never seen his father, nor his mother afraid, but witnessing her fear, he let out a small whimper, but he knew that he had to be strong. Gulping audibly, he nodded. "Yes, mama." He whispered as bravely as he could.

"Thank you, my brave, brave warrior. Now, I need you to hold on tight, and hide your face to my neck. Don't look up, no matter what ok? It'll be like when we play peek-a-boo with adad. Remember? It'll be just like a game!" Amari says the last part as lightheartedly as she could, but a quiver in her voice betrayed her. She was terrified; under normal circumstances, the Queen would never back down from a fight, but with such precious cargo in her arms, she did the next best thing. She ran.

----------------------

How did they get in?! How the fuck did this happen?!

Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, the quiet calm was broken by the sounds of quick and light footsteps, rapidly outrunning the thundering and heavy footfalls of evil.

Amari ran as fast as she could down the tunnel, retracing her steps to break out of this hellish nightmare turned reality and back into the safety of the open halls of Erebor.

A little more! Mahal please! The queen begged the gods for the chance to escape. She could feel her son's quivering and whimpers, her shirt already wet from his silent sobs as he kept his head tucked into her neck.

"Amad I'm scared! I want adad!" He whispered fiercely. Her heart breaks with every word. "I know ibinê. I'll get us back safely, I promise. But please, don't look up, keep your eyes down!" she begged between each hard breath she took, her lungs burning from running for what seemed to be an eternity. However she saw the familiar light of the main hall, where they entered. Yes!

"Oh no you don't! It’s rude to abandon your guest, your majesty" the cruel voice raked down her back, but she didn't care. She just needed to get Arnel out. At whatever cost.

"MAMA LOOK OUT!" Arnel's shriek broke her concentration as she felt a sharp pain in the back of her thigh. Suddenly the ground came up to her face, instinctively she shielded Arnel with her body as they tumbled forward. Her arms held him close, however her body tumbled further and jostled on the floor, losing her grip on him, he rolled out of her arms and into the hall. Luckily, her training kicked in and she steadied herself and corrected her stance, pulling out her tonfas. Battle ready to defend her son and herself. The advancing Uruk hai halted in their tracks and grinned cruelly.

"Tired your majesty?" They taunted, eliciting a menacing growl from her.

"On the contrary, scum, I have never felt more invigorated." She retorted. Her mind is running a million miles a second. She knew if she left with Arnel, the Uruk hai would follow them into the mountain, truly threatening the lives of innocents. However if she stayed, she and Arnel would never make it…

No… not Arnel. Not him.

Calling to him, she yelled in their secret language.

"Sweetheart, are you ok?" Silence. "Arnel!" She barked. More silence, just as she was about to risk a glance, she heard his little sobs.

"I want adad… Amad I'm scared…" His quiet cries were starting to grow louder as he saw his mother’s leg pierced with a silver dagger, blood dripping and pooling at her heel. Amari took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It wouldn't do anyone any good if they were in hysterics. Without looking at him, she continued talking.

"Arnel, everything will be alright!! I promise, sweetheart...I need you to do something for me. I know you are tired and scared, my love, but I need you to run as fast as you can and get adad-"

"Mama-"

-He is in the room where he meets with the important people. Do you remember where, sweetheart?"

"Mama I don't wanna leave you! I'm scared- "

"I know." By now, Amari's tears fell freely down her face, but she made sure her fear and sadness would not reach her words.

She could see them inching forward, growling and grinning at the prospect of hurting the Queen herself.

"I know you are afraid, ghivashel. I am too my love… but you need to be brave and bring adad here. And then everything will be alright. Can you do that, my brave warrior? C-can you do that for mama?" Arnel sat for a second, processing what she was asking him. She was asking him to leave her… and get help. The prince stood as tall as he could but he kept his eyes on his mother’s back; he could see her shoulders shake- he hesitated. And that was all that the enemy needed.

In that second, a dagger flew to the face prince of Erebor.

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"Adad! Look! Troll!" Darna squeaked as she held up the King's notes to his face, obscuring his line of sight to his councilmen. She could feel his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he took the piece from her small chubby hands.

"Hmmm, who is this supposed to be ghivashel?" He inquired, tilting his head to the side as he studied it with such scrutiny, you'd think he was looking to buy it with a whole bag of gold. Darna mirrored her father's expression and stroked her non existent beard.

"Its Unca Dain!" She proclaimed. The King's booming laugh echoed through the room, pausing the meeting and aggravating the council. The dwarf in question strode into the room and stood next to them, looking at the picture, then nodded.

"Not bad lass, I guess you take after yer amad." Placing two glass chalices on the table that glittered and cast beautiful shapes light that captivated the princess. Thorin took them and gave Darna hers before turning his attention back to the meeting, drinking his ale. Darna, looking up in awe at her father as he chugged the liquid down in one go, tried to mimic him and did the same with her milk, only to start coughing. Her coughing fit halted the meeting once again and Thorin gently patted her back.

“It went up my nose adad…” She whined, pushing her glass away. Thorin wiped her tears and milk on his sleeve, staining his royal robes.

“That’s why we do not rush when drinking, men uzbadnâtha.” Taking a handkerchief from his pocket- a parting gift from Bilbo- to clean up her mess. Fili smiled at the sight, never would he have thought that his uncle, Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, would be a doting father- wrapped around a little girl’s finger like a ring- then again even he could not be spared from the princess’ charms, nor her brother’s. Kili frowned, as he noted the queen’s empty seat thirty minutes into the meeting.

“Uncle, where is auntie?” He inquired.

“Your auntie took a break to spend time with Arnel, something about exploring.” Thorin, without breaking from his fatherly task, answered. Worried glances were thrown across the table, the silence made him look up. “What?”

Balin cleared his throat and looked nervously at him. “Laddie, there have been some reports of our people going missing in the mountain. I thought you told her?”

“I did, and I assigned Frode to be her guard.” Thorin replied. Dwalin- who had not been paying attention to the meeting- suddenly sat up. “Thorin, Frode has been missing since last night.”

A chill ran down his back as his mind ran a mile a minute thinking of the worst scenarios that could happen to them. Fili and Kili stood, knowing how their uncle’s mind worked, and headed to the door.

“Do not worry uncle. We will look for them and make sure they are safe” Fili reassured.

“Not that she’ll need it- You know how auntie is with her tonfas. Mahal help the assailant! Remember when the assassin at their wedding tried to- ” the dark haired prince’s conversation was cut short by the heavy door being thrown open, banging against the stone walls. The sound startled everyone in the room- Darna nearly fell off her father’s lap. In turn, the King stood- holding his daughter protectively against his chest- and angrily turned to the door.

“What in Durin’s name-” He stopped, staring in horror as the image of his six year old son, blood dripping down his face from a cut, breathlessly gripped the door.

"ADAD! ADAD HELP!" His shrieks echoed in the room as he tried to rush further into the room to the safety of his father, but fell onto the floor, breathless. Fili bent down to catch him as the little prince’s legs gave way. Blood stained the golden dwarf’s hands as he tried to look for other injuries. Gently putting Darna down, Thorin rushed to his son.

“Inùdoy! What happened?! Who did this!” He howled, causing Darna to whimper.

“Adad…” The little girl walked slowly to her brother and father, fearful of her brother’s situation.

“Do not move! Stay there... sweetheart!” He yelled, making her sob softly. Kili saw her distress and went to comfort her. “Uncle please…” But it fell on deaf ears as Thorin tended to Arnel.

The young prince gasped for air as he tried to stand again. Everyone stared in horror at the child prince- disheveled, bleeding.

"AMAD! FIGHTING MONSTERS IN THE GWEAT HALL! ADAD PLEASE SAVE MAMA! MONSTERS COMING!" Arnel gasped as he stood up, only to collapse in on himself. He hated how he looked right now, he needed to be brave. He promised amad. Looking, pleading with his father. Without thinking Thorin ran out the room, flanked by his nephews. The company who attended the meeting raced after him. Except for one; Bofur stopped mid stride, grabbed the prince and placed him in the arms of Balin.

"Keep the lad company, we'll be back.” Bofur ordered before swiveling on his heel and running out the room. The walls rumbled from the heavy footsteps of a Company of dwarves running down the hall. The dwarves’ protective instinct drove them to run to the Queen’s side but Thorin’s mind set on one task: Save his One.

Unbeknownst to him, two pairs of little feet followed the men, just as determined to save their mother, the Queen.

---------------------------

"Hurry up Arny!" Darna squeaked as she tried to keep a safe distance from the group of dwarrows running to their mother's aid. Her brother wheezed as he tried to keep up.

"Darny, I cant… my legs hurt so much! My chest is hurting!" The young prince whined, slowing to a halt and falling on his hands and knees. Darna stopped and worriedly toddled back to her twin. As she got closer, she was finally able to get a good look at him; his hair was sticking up in different directions and his braids, always so neat and in place, were falling out of its plait. What really scared her, however, was his cut; even though she knew it was shallow, the gash would scar and leave him and his family a lasting memory of today. The weight of the danger weighed heavily on the young princess, the reality that she could have lost her beloved brother shook her to her core. Darna kneeled next to him and gently placed her hand on his sweat soaked shoulder.

"Nadad… are you ok?"

Arnel looked at his sister's face but quickly turned away in shame; although young, they were told often that they were the spitting image of their parents- and it wasn't until he looked at his sister's face did he believe them- for he saw their mother's scared face in hers. Arnel looked down in shame.

"Namad… I'm so sorry." He whispered, watching as his tears fell onto the stone floor. Each drop seemed to weigh a ton and echo through the hall. Arnel hated feeling like this; he felt weak. He couldn't protect his mother, he can barely keep up with his sister. "I couldn't help amad." He hiccups as his crying increases. Darna hugged her brother tightly, her own tears cascading down her chubby cheeks. "And she could be dead. Mama… mama she told me to run and get help. I couldn't do anything else." Darna rubbed his back, starting to hiccup herself. "I'm weak, Darny…"

"Nadad, you're not! You're able to get adad! You're hurt, but you still did it! You're so b-brave, brother. I bet even braver unca Dwalin.” Darna pulled back and watched his hunched figure shaking.

“ Were they orcs? Were they like how adad said they were in the stories?” Darna couldn’t help but ask- little did she know the loaded question she’d just asked. A heavy silence descended on the children as memories of the recent events flashed through Arnel’s mind- huge creatures with eyes as dark as night, hands and skin stained red, gnashing mouths with sharpened teeth… their strong and lithe mother taking on the menacing evil with shaking shoulders that he knew she tried to control for his sake. A sudden wave of bravery and adrenaline washed over the young prince. Standing up, he stumbled a bit before Darna could steady him. Looking at his face, she notices the shift in his resolve- looking more like their father during his meetings on topics of war.

“We need to go help mama, Darny.”

“But you’re hurt! We need to go back, I’m sorry I made us leave but-”

“No, you don’t understand namad. Mama is very hurt and we have to help her and adad!” His blue eyes flashing like an ocean storm.

“Will you follow me, sister?” Darna couldn’t help but be moved by his determination. Returning his intense gaze, she nodded.

“Anywhere you go, I’ll follow, brother.” Hand in hand, they ran down the hall to their parents.

---------------------------

The mountain thundered as news of the danger spread like wildfire. Every available dwarrow dropped their task and took arms to defend their home and beloved queen- for although she was no dwarf, let alone from Middle Earth, she had been blessed by their Maker to bring hope and happiness to her people. She cared for them as though they were her kin. Amari could feel a shift in the air, as though someone opened a window to let fresh air into a stuffy room, but she could not be distracted- not when she was fighting for her life.

Left. Right. Parry. Dodge. Repeat.

Is Arnel alright…

Please hurry Thorin! Fucking King under the mountain my ass! I always have to clean up the mess here!

Amari’s mind jumped from indignation, anger, annoyance, worry, then ran her mind back to her training as she took on a mini legion of Uruk hai. Her tonfas cutting a path slowly but surely through her enemy. Her mind set on making sure none would make it through the threshold of her home- she is Queen under the Mountain, born in a modern world, a mother to two blessings of Mahal, wife of Thorin Oakenshield- if she could not defend her home and family, then the burden would fall on others and she would have failed. So lost in thought, she failed to register a pair of assailants and landed deep wounds on her back, raking down from shoulder to hips. Her pained scream echoed through the hall, suddenly she felt cold air hit her bare back as the uneasy feeling of warm scarlet liquid trickled down. Nonetheless, she persisted. Pushing back even harder, one by one they fell to her attacks until there were only two.

“Tired your majesty? You seem to have left quite a mess in your wake.” One of the beasts taunted. Her enemy cracked his whip dangerously close to her. Dodging it, she failed to realize the feint and dove straight into the path of his waiting ally. Amari stared in horror at her mistake and did her best to regain her footing to dodge once again, but was ultimately unsuccessful. The uruk hai brought down his blade across her torso, slicing her chest open. At first, Amari thought it was the end, but upon second thought she realized her three doublet undergarments saved her life.

Thank freaking Mahal! I knew it was a good idea to wear these!

Taking advantage of her enemy’s false victory, she took her tonfas and cut his head off, watching as it rolled to the side. Breathless, she turned to the last one standing- his face bared the anger and hatred that was unleashed upon her new world.

“Tired already?” She taunted, throwing his words back at him. The queen slowly slunk into a dangerous prowel. She exuded grace and ferocity, elegance and power. No longer was she prey, she was the predator. This was her territory and he was her victim. Quick as lightning, Amari lunged. Her eyes set for her target, no hesitation. One slice was all it took for her to incapacitate the beast. The uruk hai was wailing in pain on the ground helpless, however she did not kill him- one thing Dwalin taught her was to always keep one alive for questioning. As the monster lay on the ground bleeding, his wails subsided to malicious cackling. Amari’s fury flared again.

“What’s so funny? Does death seem like a joke to you?” She grit through clenched teeth as she painfully approached the helpless form- every step like a burning wave through her body. Her injuries finally catching up with her as the adrenaline subsided. She knew she had a little over an hour to get help before it would be fatal. The uruk hai seemed to know this too, noting her pale face and scarlet pool gathering at her feet.

“You don’t look too well, your majesty” he taunted, another cackle followed by a coughing fit echoed through the hall. “I suppose there is some prize to this whole ordeal. If I am going down, I made sure you are coming down with me, foreign queen.” With every word spoken from the vile creature’s mouth, Amari’s blood boiled another degree. “It’s just a shame we couldn’t take the half-breed down. But we will. And your husband will be none the wiser.”

“Wanna bet.” a booming baritone voice echoed down the hall as the dwarf King descended on the evil creature- maiming him with his bare hands. After a moment, a group of dwarves pulled the king back.

“Let me go! That scum deserves to die!” Thorin roared as he fought off his kin. Dwalin pulled him back, fury raging in his eyes.

“Thorin, I know. But we need to interrogate him for information. You know this.” Dwalin growled so low, it surprised even himself. Shoving off the hands pulling him back, Thorin had no choice but to agree. Nodding, he turned to his friend. “Make sure he suffers.”

A thud to his right brought his attention to Amari, laying on her side, facing them. Thorin’s blood ran cold as he swiftly gathered his beloved carefully into his arms. He noticed the gash on her torso but felt the wounds on her back to know that those were the worst.

“Amralime, I am here. You’ll be alright.” He softly reassured his queen. Amari’s eyes started to close, worrying the King. “SOMEBODY BRING A HEALER HERE NOW!” Thorin ordered. “Look at me, Amari. Keep those eyes open…” He begged. “You cannot leave us, my love… you cannot leave ME.” He shook her gently, making sure that she stayed awake. Amari fought with every ounce of strength she had to keep her eyes open, not because she knew she was going to be alright. But to make sure to burn into her memory the face of her most beloved. If this was to be last view, she was glad it was her husband. The thought calmed her enough to smile. Reaching up, she pushed his hair behind his ear, before caressing his cheek.

“If you keep frowning, you’ll get wrinkles, your majesty,” she teased. Even in her weakest moments, she lived to see her loved ones smile. Managing to pull a brief and soft chuckle from the distraught king.

“Thorin, Frode… he’s dead. He- in the tunnel. The Uruk hai-”

“Shhhhh. Ghivashel, please. We can look into this later but right now, we need to get you to Oin.” Thorin began to pull her up, only to stumble when she yelped in pain. His knees buckled at her pained voice

"It hurts so much, love" Amari whispered. Every word is a knife to her husband's heart.

"I know, my love I know." Thorin kissed her forehead and brought her closer, ignoring the warm wetness staining his sleeve. "But Oin will be here, and you'll be fine. Everything will be fine, ghivashel so please…" the king's voice broke. Trying to keep face, he took a deep, shaky breath. Amari could see his resolve break. She'd only ever seen her King let his walls down in their chambers. Her heart broke at the first tear that fell from his ocean blue eyes. Amari wiped it away, smiling.

"Don't cry, my love." Thorin leaned into her touch, "Oh Amari..." Another tear. "Please, just a little while longer, ibinê. Talk to me, my love… Don't leave me." Thorin begged, and he didn't care. He didn't care that his royal garment was being stained red. He didn't care that his eyes watered his lover's face with tears. He didn't give a damn when his body shook with grief and he whispered soft prayers to his Maker to save his One.

"My love, our people are here… you need to be strong.” She whispered, gently stroking his bearded cheek. Thorin in turn leaned into her touch. “If not for me, kurduwe, then stay strong for Darna and Arnel.” The names of their children brought a minute wave of strength.

“Arnel…” Amari gripped his coat tightly. “Did he-”

“Mama?” two tiny soft voices rang through the halls, like bells in a steeple.

----------------------

It was my fault.

Arnel looked at the small figure in their father’s arms. Frozen in place, as Darna sprinted to them.

“MAMA! MAMA! DON’T GO! DON’T LEAVE ME PLEASE!” Falling on her knees and vigorously shaking her mother’s arm. Amari turned her head and moved her hand to caress her daughter’s face.

“Darling, I didn’t pick your clothes today but you look so pretty.” Amari noted, smiling warmly. She was determined to make sure that she showed no pain or sadness to her cherished treasures.

Darna looked down, a tiny flicker of pride flashed within. She always worked hard to get praises from her parents, even for the smallest task like closing the door to keep the draft out. She smiled and tugged on her garments.

“I… I picked it myself, amad...But I don’t- I don’t wanna pick my clothes anymore, so- so you have to pick them for me forever, amad. And you promised we would go out again next time, and you said princess and queens don’t break promises.” The princess of Erebor weeps as she wraps her little pinky finger around her mother’s pinky, her fragile voice breaking every heart in the hall. “Mama you promised- you pinky swore.” She whispers, giving up and curling into her side. The whole time, Thorin tries to keep his tears at bay, keeping a mask of hopefulness and stoicness but failing as each tear drop trails down his aged face, the facade is breaking. Amari chuckles

“I did, didn’t I…” Frowning, she moves her head slightly- hissing.

“Amari.”

“Mama no…”

“Where’s your brother?” Arnel, still as a statue, flinches. Thorin’s blue gaze reaches his own. Arnel has never seen his father so broken- he always saw him like the statues of his forefathers: grand, big, immovable, majestic. But here… Arnel saw a scared and heart broken dwarf.

“Come, inùdoy.” To the ears of those around, it sounded just like any command the dwarven king would give. To the ears of his closest friends and family… it was the plea of a broken husband. Slowly, the young prince walked to his family. The hall was silent except for the sound of his little shuffling feet and the quiet whimpers of their kin. When Arnel reaches his mother’s side, he breaks. Falling to his knees, he places his head tucked in his arms on her belly, weeps heavy tears and wails. The cry shakes the halls that even the mountain itself seems to weep with the prince, not soon after the wails of his sister follows, amplifying the pain of the inevitable possibility that the Lonely Mountain could lose a queen, that a husband could lose his wife, that two little children could lose their mother.

“I’m sorry… amad, I'm so sorry…” a hiccup. “I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve fought with you. I should’ve protected you.” Arnel grips his mother’s clothing. “I promise I’ll get stronger but- but you have to help me, amad...I don’t wanna be weak anymore. So promise you will help me mama… A queen keeps her promises- so you have to mama!” The prince raises his little finger and wraps it around his mother’s finger. Amari is quiet. She knows what they’re doing, trying to buy time for her. As much as they can.

Little rascals. She smiles.

“Mama…” Darna pulls her attention back to them. A soft chuckle escapes her. Thorin can see she's trying- holding on as long as she can. But even she has limits, just as he does, and right now his heart is pushing past its own to make sure to be strong for their children.

“I promise sweetheart. When I’m… better, we can train together. After, your sister and I go to Dale. Do we have a deal, my lovelies?” She shifts so that now she is leaning on her husband's strong arms- trembling arms. Not from tiredness of holding the weight of his family- Mahal knows he will hold that weight forever in his arms if could. No, they trembled from sadness and fear. Amari gathers her son and daughter in her arms, inwardly wincing at the pain, but Thorin feels her flinch.

“Kurduwe, don’t overexert yourself.” He warns, readjusting his hold. Amari ignores his warning and starts to sway a little.

“My loves, I will be fine… I did say I will be with you, no?” She asks playfully, the two whimpers and grip their mother’s clothing, placing their head onto her torso- ignoring the moist feeling on their cheeks that they know aren't their tears. Thorin embraces his queen tightly and sways along with her, he turns his head and pushes his nose into her hair- inhaling her scent. Turning to the group, he sees the Company in tears, all their heads slightly bowed, giving the family the privacy they need. Only Balin is holding his head high- taking in the sight of the Queen Under the Mountain caring for her husband and children, and sending fervent silent prayers to Mahal, to Manwe, to any of the Valar to hear the plea of an old dwarf to save this woman beloved by dwarf, man, and elf.

Amari hums a quiet lullaby that calms the room, Arnel and Darna’s cries have quieted and only the uneven breathing of sorrowed children escapes their mouths. Minutes go by and they yawn.

“Sleep my darlings.” Amari whispers, her voice weak and light. The twins shake their heads, they do not want to lose a second without their mother.

“M’not sleepy.”

“Me too.”

Another yawn spills from them. Darna’s eyelids begin to droop as her mother strokes her hair

“How about a lullaby then?” Amari moves so both children are safe within her and their father’s arms.

“Don’t wanna sleep… Don’t wanna lose you mama.” Arnel whimpers, another bout of crying threatening to envelop him. At that comment, Darna’s little chubby hands grip Amari's clothing.

“You won’t lose me, sweetheart. I’ll be here, I promise.” Thorin exhales sharply, his heart breaks at her promise; he knows that even though she is answering their son, she is also reassuring him.

“Promise, you’ll be here when we wake up…?” Darna asks, her eyes closed and Arnel close to follow.

Silence.

“I promise, I will be with you when you wake…” Thorin grips his wife tighter- the implication heavy on his heart.

“Adad you too? You’ll be here too?” Arnel asks sleepily. Thorin nods.

“Yes, ibine, I will always be here with you.” A promise verbally etches into the walls of his mountain. I will always be with you. I promise. Amari sniffles, moving so her hand is cradling Arnel, and the other arm moves and caresses the back of Thorin’s neck to bring his forehead to her’s.

“I promise, I will be here when you wake.” She promises again to her king. Closing their eyes, Amari sings.

“A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain

Softly blows over Lullaby Bay,

It fills the sails of boats that are waiting,

Waiting to sail your worries away.

It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain,

And your boat waits down by the quay.

The winds of night sdo softly are sighing,

Soon they will fly your troubles to sea.

So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain,

Wave goodbye to cares of the day,

And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain

Sail far away from Lullaby Bay.”

A heavy silence falls. Thorin opens his eyes and sees his children softly snoring, looking up he looks at his queen.

“Amari..” he shakes her gently. “Amari!” His voice makes Darna shift.

“Mama…” she whispers in her sleep. Arnel is gripping his mother’s ripped tunic tightly in one hand, while his other is to his face as he is sucking his thumb in comfort. Amari doesn’t move, nor does she open her eyes, her breathing is shallow and weak, her face pale, but her grasp on their children does not falter or weaken.

“Mahal please…” Thorin begs. “Anything, please… just save her.” The king quietly sobs into his lover’s hair. He opens his deep blue eyes and pleads to the surrounding dwarrows. In the distance, he sees two tall men walking toward the group quickly. The crowd parts and rushing to their side, Gandalf the Grey and Thranduil, king of Mirkwood, urgently looks at the queen.

“Thranduil, take the twins. I need to look at Amari.” Gandalf orders, immediately, the elven king reaches out to the children. Thorin growls and pulls his family closer to his chest, his eyes glaring at the elf. The wizard heaved an exasperated sigh at the gesture.

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves! Thorin if you do not give them to Thranduil, I cannot see Amari, and she will die.” Begrudgingly, he loosens his grip and Thranduil carefully cradles the small bundles in his arms- a peaceful tenderness befalls the face of the elven king, reminiscent of when his own son was at this tender age.

Gandalf’s hand hovers over the small frame of the queen, when he comes back to her face, he whisper’s a spell. Thorin watches the mage with bated breath, praying that he can save his beloved. After the incantation, Amari gasps a heavy breath, but her eyes stay close. Thorin had witnessed his life saving magic, he himself experienced it during the quest for his home, but never had he seen the victim not open their eyes. He started to panic again.

“Gandalf-”

“She needs urgent help. Thranduil-”

“Say no more, Mithrandir.” The elvish king gently deposits the twins into the gray wizard’s arms. Then tenderly, he lifts the wounded queen into his arms and without another word, turns on his heel and strides to the healer’s wing. Thorin is just about to protest when Gandalf gently places Arnel and Darna’s sleeping forms into his arms- he notes the huge change of weight in his grasps and begins to show distress.

“Thranduil is gifted with healing- you know this. If anyone can save your queen, it will be the King of Mirkwood.”

“But-”

“Stay with your children, Thorin. They need you more than ever now.” The wizard’s eyes fall on the sleeping pair and he gently touches their head, whispering another spell. Thorin looks at him questioningly.

“To sleep soundly and peacefully, for they deserve happy dreams away from this living nightmare.” With that, Gandalf hastens out the hall, towards the halls of healing, joining Thranduil.

Deep in the heart of the Lonely Mountain, the quiet calm was thick with the smell of blood, and sorrow as the King Under the Mountain, held his slumbering precious treasures, staring helplessly at the direction that his beloved was taken, tears endlessly streaming down into his beard as his closest friends and family reassure him of her safety, but even they are unsure. Thorin exhales a breath he did not realize he was holding and sends another endless plea to the gods.

Mahal please… Keep my One safe.... Amari, come back to me, to us...I promise I will wait for you.

To be continued?

Taglist: @cassiabaggins @guardianofrivendell @elles-writing @lathalea (thank you so so much for reading and double checking me :) )

Thank you for hyping me up! :D @luna-xial @fizzyxcustard @tschrist1

#thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield #angst #uruk hai #the hobbit #tolkien #im sorry #first fic #thorin x reader #thorin's company

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awritingtree · 4 years

Text

Here On Now and Forever

Sirius Black x reader

Summary: Y/N fondly remembers delivering some special news in response to Sirius’ proposal as she relaxes and listens to him fumbling around in their new home.

@weasleysflowr‘s 300 follower writing challenge: Fluff prompt 5. ““You’re an idiot” ... “I’m your idiot”” and miscellaneous prompt 5. “This is why we can’t have nice things.” The prompts have been bolded :)

Words: ~1.6k

Warnings: swearing, fluff, pregnancy, a bit of angst I think?

A/N: this is my first Sirius fic and I really do hope I did him justice. I originally wrote one the parts for a Fred Weasley fic but it fitted so perfectly in this one that I just had to include it (let’s see if you can guess which part this is - I had to adjust it to fit Sirius and his life). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy reading this xx

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Y/N had recently moved into a new cottage with her fiancé. The cottage was located on the edge of a lake, a dense forest surrounding the other side of the lake. The water washing over the shore and birds chirping in the forest provided a calming and soothing sound, one that was welcomed in the silence of the cottage when her fiancé was off on Auror missions. The cottage itself was small, enough for a small family of three, which is exactly the amount of people that would be dwelling in it in a few months.

On a particular day, a breeze that made the cornflower blue curtains in the living room fly was pleasant, creating the perfect atmosphere to sit near the window and watch the lake water wash ashore. That’s where Y/N was currently, with her eyes closed listening to Sirius move around in the kitchen, making some lunch for them both. Her hand was placed on her slightly swollen belly, as she fondly recalled when she told Sirius about their little future.

Y/N shoved her shaking hand into her coat, hoping the effortlessly beautiful raven-haired boy couldn’t feel the other hand shaking in his. How was she supposed to tell him this? Yes, they had been dating for approximately seven years, but they had never talked about kids. Starting their own family together had been a sensitive topic due to Sirius’ past with his own family. Y/N and Sirius had been out of Hogwarts for five years now. The war ended two years ago, You-Know-Who defeated at the hands of Dumbledore as Harry and Neville stayed hidden well for the first three years of their life. But still, Sirius had not shown any signs of proposing. Y/N had thought about doing it herself several times, but she knew this was a decision Sirius needed to make because it was him who had to decide, to commit, to the familial life which would not be easy for him due to his experiences.

Unbeknownst to her, Sirius could feel their intertwined hands shaking, but he mistook it as a reflection of his nerves. He wasn’t sure if he should carry out his plan. Would she want to start a life with him? Someone so broken, someone who never had a proper family until the Potters took him in. He had no idea if he was capable of providing Y/N the domestic life she deserved and wanted. He was known to fuck things up quickly. It was a surprise to him he hadn’t fucked anything up yet in their relationship (other than the time he almost lost her when he told Snape about how to make his way to Shrieking Shack on a full moon). What if this was the point where he did fuck up and lost Y/N for good? He couldn’t live without her. As absurd as it sounded, it was true. He could never imagine a life, a Sirius Black, without Y/N Y/L/N by his side.

“Ri, I need to tell you something,” Y/N said as she stopped in the middle of their walk through the park, her voice trembling.

“Before you do, I need to tell you something too. But let me go first because I don’t think I’ll have the courage if I wait any longer.”

Y/N was scared. Did he already know? Was he going to leave her? Wait, how did he know already? She knew she was very careful in making sure no one, and she meant no one, found out. Well except the Healer she visited in St. Mungo’s.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N didn’t see Sirius getting a small velvet black box from his pocket and kneeling down on one knee until his voice broke her out of her inner turmoil.

“Y/N/N. My love. The day I first met you, I never thought we would end up here. It took us three years to become friends and a year of subtle glances and dancing around each other before you asked me to accompany you on a date to Hogsmeade. Falling in love with you was sudden. It was like falling off the edge of a cliff and hitting the water below. Next thing I knew, I was drowning in you. The day I realized I was in love with you was the day I knew I wouldn’t feel such a love again. When we became friends, I knew it was a friendship I hoped would last as long as possible; but when I fell in love with you, I knew I wanted us to last a lifetime and hopefully longer than that. You are my other half, Y/N/N. You have shown me kindness and have always been patient with me no matter how reckless or brash I act. You have been by my side each time my mother has sent me a letter, held me through all of my panic attacks, and shown me what true love really is. I never thought I would ever have a family, that I would ever want a family with anyone. But you came along and changed everything; you make me want to have a family with you, a life with you. I want to be with you; from here on now and forever. So, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honour of giving me a lifetime and more by marrying me?”

Y/N gulped. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time, but now that it was here, she didn’t want it to be. Not when she was just about to tell him-

“I’m pregnant.”

The anxious grin fell off from an awaiting Sirius’ face. His eyes widened with shock as he stared at his girlfriend. Time passed but he did not move, he didn’t even blink. Y/n chewed on her bottom lip nervously, his lack of response not helping with slowing down her racing mind. ‘He really is going to leave you,’ she thought, holding in the tears that tried to run free. But as time went on, without the man kneeling in front of her showing any emotion, Y/N couldn’t hold down the fort any longer. Tears streamed down her face as her bottom lip quivered. She had assumed the worst; of course he didn’t want her around anymore, he wasn’t ready for this - maybe he didn’t even want this, a kid, a baby.

“I- I’m going to be a father?” Sirius whispered, finally breaking out of his state of shock.

Y/N nodded slowly, holding back a sob.

“I understand if you want nothing to do with him or her, nothing with us. I- we didn’t expect this. I won’t-,” Y/N took a deep breath, “No one will blame you if you decide to leave.”

Sirius quickly got up and cupped Y/N’s face between his hands. His silver-grey eyes, glistening with unshed tears, looked into her Y/E/C eyes.

“Never, my love. I could never leave you. I could never leave you, him or her. I can’t believe this. I- how long have you known?”

“A few days. I went to St. Mungo’s on Monday when I told you I was going to Diagon Alley to run some errands. I had my doubts for a while, the vomiting, the soreness and the fact that I was over two weeks late,” Y/N explained.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sirius asked softly.

“I didn’t know what your reaction would be. I still don’t exactly know what it is,” she said, a forced joking smile on her face. She was trying to diffuse the tension that still hung in the air from his silence, not very successfully though.

Sirius chuckled and leaned down pressing his lips against hers in a tender kiss.

“Like I said, my love. I want you from here on now and forever. And that includes our baby. I love you; I am never leaving.”

Y/N smiled widely through her tears and leaned forward to kiss the love of her life.

A loud crash snapped Y/N back to reality. She spun around to see a black dog transforming into her fiancé, a guilty expression adorning his handsome face. An overturned stand and broken flower vase lay on the floor next to him; water and wildflowers you’d freshly picked together this morning spilled over.

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” muttered Y/N.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I completely forgot we’d placed that there. We can get a new one. I’ll go right away and buy another one, one much prettier and more expensive than this. You’ll be glad I broke this. In fact, you’ll forget all about this one.”

Y/N shook her head slightly with an affectionate smile on her face, standing up and walking towards him, “What were you even doing as Padfoot? Weren’t you supposed to be making us lunch right now?”

“Well um,” started Sirius, grinning at her sheepishly as he wrapped his arms around her waist once she was close enough, “I thought I’d come and call you as Padfoot, as a surprise. You do seem to love him more nowadays since we found out about our little future here,” he slid one of his hands to lie gently on her stomach, “But I got a tad bit excited.”

“You’re an idiot,” said Y/N, looking at him endearingly, her arms moving from his forearms to wrap themselves around his neck.

“Maybe. But I’m your idiot,” Sirius countered cheekily.

Y/N laughed softly. She stood up on her tiptoes to steal a kiss from her fiancé.

“My idiot,” she whispered against his lips before pressing their lips together again in a sweet loving, yet passionate kiss.

“I love you,” she spoke quietly.

“I love you too, my love. From here on now and forever.”

“From here on now and forever.”

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If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @kashishwrites @remmyswritings @angelinathebook @idont-knowrn @coffee--writes

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xpao-bearx · 4 years

Text

《Original post here》

Part 2 HERE

SUMMARY: [Supernatural TWD AU] In which Negan is a kinky incubus, Rick Grimes is your secret guardian angel, and Daryl Dixon is a gruff monster/demon hunter. Three drastically different men who can only agree on one thing: making you theirs.

PAIRINGS: Reader x Negan, Reader x Rick Grimes, Reader x Daryl Dixon (Polyamorous Ships)

RATING: Mature/18+/Romance & Smut. Please be prepared and do NOT report.

NOTE: This is actually my first time ever writing an xReader story series as well as writing on Tumblr (I usually only write on Wattpad). As such, it probs won't be perfect though I would SERIOUSLY appreciate your *respectful* feedback and support!

I understand writing xReader content can get a lil tricky, so please just keep in mind that not everything Y/N says or does would be something that you'd do IRL or even approve of. Also, sometimes I may not help but put a teeny bit of myself in Y/N...

Lastly, I recently got back into the TWD fandom after a looong ass time and I'm taking a while re-watching the whole show. So I apologize in advance if my portrayal of any of the characters are rusty or I may not remember too much of the events from the show, but I promise to do my very best and hope y'all enjoy~!! \(^o^)/

DEDICATED TO: The wonderful @blccdyknuckles and @negans-attagirl 💖

"Heavenly Sins"

Part 1

The sounds of laughter and easygoing chatter filled your ears as you walked closer to the church, a light breeze blowing through your F/C floral dress and the sun blinding your eyes. It was Sunday, most residents of the small town of Alexandria having gathered for mass.

It was a day like any other; peaceful and happy, children giggling and chasing each other around as their parents socialized outside before church could start.

Your heels clacking rhythmically on the pavement, you were just about to enter the building before a familiar voice called out.

"Y/N!"

Spinning, a huge smile instantly reached your ears as you saw none other than Carl Grimes waving enthusiastically at you as he jumped out of a car. From the driver's seat, his father soon followed as he stepped out.

Rick Grimes--dedicated sheriff of this fine town. His usual uniform forgone, instead replaced with a casual navy coloured suit. His baby blues met your E/C, flashing you a bright smile of his own that rivalled the sun itself.

Carl was running towards you now, and once in front he gave you a big hug.

"Settle down, cowboy! It's as if you haven't seen me in forever." You chuckled, ruffling Carl's hair affectionately.

"That's 'cause it did feel like forever." Carl pouted, eventually letting go as he looked up at you.

Before you can reply, Rick patted Carl's head and greeted you. "Hey, Y/N. How are things?" He asked in that endearing Southern accent of his.

"Just fine." You nodded, grinning before you couldn't help but let your gaze wander around a bit. "No Judith?"

It was then that Rick's smile faltered, but just barely. You nearly didn't catch it. "No. She's with her mom."

Rick was divorced from his ex-wife, Lori, after he discovered her cheating on him with his also now ex-bestfriend Shane Walsh. After the divorce, Shane and Lori quickly moved to the neighbouring community of Woodbury together and agreed on joint custody of the kids.

It really made your blood boil; you've interacted with Lori only a few times before so you didn't really have much of an opinion on her...that is, until, you learned what had happened between her and Rick. You knew it wasn't any of your business, but you cared about Rick a lot and he sure as hell didn't deserve to get cheated on.

"Oh." Was all you could say, quite stupidly. Your cheeks reddened, mentally slapping yourself before clearing your throat. "Will I see her in the daycare tomorrow, though?" You were a daycare teacher and even though you loved all of the kids, Judith was your favourite. She was simply such a sweetheart.

Rick nodded, his smile softening. "You got it."

You couldn't continue the conversation as the bells rang, making you jump out of your skin. Carl, noticing this, laughed which made you playfully roll your eyes before slinging an arm around him as all of you went inside.

♡♡♡

You took your place near the back of the church with Carl and Rick. Once everyone was settled and done singing, the service began and Father Gabriel stood on top of the podium. A few minutes into his sermon, the interruption of a motorcycle revving loudly outside sliced through the air. Gabriel flinched in surprise, and it was obvious he was desperately trying to keep his cool. Finally, when it was silent again, you found yourself biting back a smile knowing all too well who had caused the ruckus.

It seems Rick knew, too, judging from how his jaw clenched and his hands turned into tight fists.

The doors were thrown open, making Gabriel flinch once more and some of the congregation turning in the pews to look. But poor Gabriel quickly fumbled with his Bible, raising his voice just a tad to regain their attention.

There was a low whistle accompanying the approaching footsteps, but the congregation did their damn hardest to ignore the latest visitor.

"Damn... I assumed the church would be a lot more welcoming than this." A husky voice whispered, and you at last couldn't hold back as a smile broke through.

"Negan." You whispered back, turning slightly in your seat to see he has taken the spot behind you. His leather clad arms lackadaisically resting on your chair, the musky scent of his cologne invading your senses oh so wonderfully. "Fancy seeing you here."

"What? Is it really that surprising, darlin'?" He grinned, presenting a row of perfectly straight white teeth. "I go to church."

"Not all the time." You pointed out.

"Ah..." He chuckled softly, hazel eyes twinkling. "That's 'cause Father Creepy McGee over there is just that. Creepy. As. Shit."

You bit the inside of your cheeks, suppressing your laughter. True, Gabriel did have his moments, but he wasn't that bad. That didn't change the fact that Negan knew exactly how to tickle your funny bone, though.

He was new to Alexandria. It was a lovely town, but since it was relatively small not a lot of people want to move here not unless it was families looking for their children to grow up in a safe environment. Which was why it was quite a shock to find out that a single man like Negan chose this destination, and even more so when he took everyone aback with his infamous pottymouth and rather inappropriate charisma.

He had moved just a couple of houses down from yours, and you made it your mission to befriend him. Right from the get-go, he had piqued your interest and curiousity. He was different from everyone else--even possessing an air of mystery about him--and that definitely intrigued you. And also, perhaps you were just too nice and didn't want him to feel outcasted. Although, that didn't seem like an issue to him at all.

"Want one?" You were brought back to reality when you saw Negan's hand outstretched with a pack of cigarettes.

"Dude, we're in church." You reprimanded, frowning.

Negan didn't say anything, only cocking a brow and still with that same shit-eating grin. You sighed, finally giving in as you swiftly grabbed one and stashed it away in your purse for later.

"Y/N." You turned to the left, Rick's icy gaze piercing you. "Pay attention."

"R-Right. Sorry..." You mumbled sheepishly.

Carl, who was sitting in the middle of you and Rick, had dozed off. Rick nudged him, but the brunette only groaned softly and snuggled into Rick's chest. Defeated, the sheriff sighed and was just about to listen again to Gabriel before Negan cut in.

"Rick!" Negan purposely raised his voice, knowing it would get a rise out of the other man. "Didn't even see ya there. Howdy, cowboy!"

Rick grimaced, and it looked like he was just going to ignore Negan though he knew that if he did that then Negan would just irritate him even further. "Good to see you, Negan." He forced himself to say.

"Only you can say that while giving me such a deadly side eye, Grimes." Negan snickered. "How have you been? How's the wife?"

Rick flushed, his fists in a tight ball again and it looked like his nails would be digging into his skin. You abruptly swung into action, placing a hand on Rick's own.

"Rick..." You said gently. "It's okay. Calm down."

Rick did, his shoulders drooping as if a heavy weight had been lifted. He can barely pay any attention to Gabriel now, then you suddenly stood up and grabbed Negan's arm.

"We need to talk. Now."

"What, we going for a quickie?" Negan smirked, but that soon faded when he saw your serious expression. He sighed dramatically, reaching his full height as he towered over you before following you out.

At this point, you didn't care if people saw what transpired or would even start gossiping. No one, not even Negan, was allowed to harass Rick. He has helped you through so much shit--more than you'd like to admit--and you at least owed him this much.

Once outside, next to where Negan parked his motorcycle, you exploded. "What the fuck is with you?! You leave Rick alone, or I swear to fucking Christ I will--"

"Woah, woah, woah! Hold your horses, missy!" Negan guffawed, his hands up in mock surrender. "I mean, I like 'em feisty, but goddamn! Watch your fucking language."

"Tch. You're one to talk."

"Did you just scoff at me?" He raised his brows, putting his hands in his pockets as he slowly drew closer to you. A devilish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, tilting his head slightly. "No one's ever fucking scoffed at me and didn't regret it soon after."

You frowned, letting out a huff as you met his gaze challengingly. "As if you'd do anything to me."

He was silent for several moments before chuckling, leaning back against his motorcycle. "You're right. I have too much of a soft spot for ya." He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it then taking a drag. He drew his head upwards, puffing out the smoke. "Whaddya say we just forgive and forget? I truly am sorry. You can even tell Rick that I am metaphorically down on my goddamn knees begging for forgiveness~"

"I'm not forgiving or forgetting anything until you actually face Rick and apologize yourself." You muttered. And without another word, you spun on your heel and strutted back inside the church with your head held high.

Negan's intent stare lingered where your ass had just been, taking another long drag and letting out a small laugh to himself.

His eyes suddenly glowed a crimson red, a smirk playing on his lips.

Oh, he really did pick a GREAT one.

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dottiechan · 3 years

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Tempest (Pt. 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Read on AO3

Pairing: Ava Du Mortain x f!Detective

Wordcount: 4048

Warnings: mourning, mentions of death and torture, smoking

Summary: The private detective must work through the sudden and unexpected disappearance of Ava - quite literally, as she embarks on solving her greatest mystery yet. But she is not the only one who's been busy...

A/N: This chapter is a rather long one as there's much to unpack at this point of the story, and there is much to explain. Sorry for the long wait, and thanks for being so patient and supportive of me!

The Private Detective’s Office, London, 1898

5 months after Ava’s disappearance

The key turns in the lock with ease. The door creaks as it gives way to the dark office. The lights flicker in the corridor outside, and the entrance gapes like a mouth ready to swallow her whole.

She steps inside, unaware of her fingers skittering across the glass pane that has the name of her detective agency painted on it. Some have great bloodlines to look back on, and nobles and kings to proudly call their ancestors. Her legacy is this stuffy little office, her sigil is a hand painted business logo. But her ancestor - her father - was a warrior too, noble of heart, even if not of blood.

She hangs her coat and hat, and proceeds to smooth down her hair before locking the door and switching on the lights. The old pieces of furniture that would have been regarded fashionable 20 years ago are dimly illuminated, and the sight of them makes her heart ache. They belonged to her late father, and in a way he lives on through them. The dent in the cushion of his chair where he always used to sit, the scuff marks on his desk he carelessly carved into the polished surface with books and folders, the medical and law tomes he hoarded lining the bookshelves that hug the dark green walls... As a child, she was afraid of coming here in the evenings - something they often did after her mother passed away and her father tried his best to raise her alone. The heavy nailhead leather armchairs looked like hunched monsters in the dark, the looming mahogany desk with its long curving legs resembled a giant spider, and the serious wallpaper enveloped this macabre scene like some sinister forest. “The real monsters are in here, my darling,” her father would ruffle her hair affectionately, pointing at the files he came to pick up.

It is late, but the office no longer feels scary. Her rational mind knows she should have gone home to her empty bed and her unread books and the cold supper awaiting her. And yet she’s here because hardly anything matters anymore. Because no place ever really feels like home ever since her father left. Well, her small house felt like home for a while when she was still here. But she left as well, and with her she took the last tattered shreds of joy the detective had somehow managed to cling to. She is submerged in saturnine reticence now, and ironically it helps her stay focused, even though it makes her more and more like the person she tried to thaw out. More and more like Ava.

One should only embrace the iciness of a statue if they’re willing to risk turning into marble themselves.

The Commissioner would be lucky to have a detective such as myself, she thinks bitterly as she glances down at the neatly kept files piled on her desk. Most are petty cases, even she has to admit - cheating husbands, unanswered invitations and letters, and the likes. But she takes all the work she can, and she prides herself on her ability to solve them with the proficiency of a man. Ava used to praise her for that. Now she whispers praises to herself even if the words turn sour in her mouth, because she will not let anyone ruin her. She will not. (Even though Ava has, because the world feels different without her in it.)

Her sudden disappearance left her on the precipice of panic at first. Ava, along with her partner Nate, simply vanished into thin air as if they never even existed at all, as if they were a pleasant reverie she used to lull herself to sleep at night. No trace, no item that belonged to them was left behind. If not for the spare key to her house being gone - the one she gave to Ava - she wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference between reality and her mad suspicions. But oh, she was here. She was. Missing her is a malady burrowed in her heart, but it is also the testament of her existence.

She opens the file on top, and hums in bitter satisfaction. Right. The aching of her heart isn’t the only testament anymore. It took her months, but she’s finally one step closer to the solution, planting her foot firmly and holding her crumbling sanity together with a determination she didn’t know she had. Ava was probably never meant to be in the background of a photograph taken during the opening night of the National Gallery of British Art.

But she was. And it really only takes one mistake.

The private detective picks up the photograph gingerly, giving herself one second to lose herself in the whirlwind of emotions Ava’s angular silhouette awakens in her.

One step closer.

She leans back in her chair, her gaze gliding over the photograph and landing on her personal little project. The blackboard is filled with dates, locations and places with a map pinned to the middle of it - by now, it is practically a blueprint of Ava’s and Nate’s every activity over the past two years. The deeper she digs, the more unknowns she unearths about the people she once thought she knew.

But there’s still time to get to know them - first impressions are overrated anyway.

Train station, Wayhaven, 1899

7 months after Ava’s disappearance

January quickly set to work and changed the countryside. It swooped down from the heavens and gently buried the forests and the hills under a heavy blanket of snow, concealing the detective’s childhood home from her as she exits the train, the handle of her heavy bag already digging into her gloved fingers. The shapes are still visible though underneath all the snow and ice - she sees the old station with the crumbling roof, the road leading into town, the bell tower of the small church peeking out just above the treeline. She recognises them all, though she sorely wishes she didn’t.

Because with the recognition comes the inevitable sting of her memories. Faces emerge in her conscious she hasn’t seen in years. The kindness of her mother’s eyes and the curve of his father’s lips, both lost forever now, never to be seen again, cutting deeper than a knife ever could.

An old woman is prating about her insufferable nephew, a business man is constantly checking his pocket watch with a disdainful look from across the station, three young women gossip, a man is rubbing his hands together in an effort to stimulate his circulation in the cold weather. The detective tunes out the comfortable commotion of the small town station, imagining she is still in London and not here. Anywhere but here. People brush past her, the train whistles and whirs to motion, and before she knows it, she is alone, paralysed in one spot, snowflakes catching softly on her fetching ensemble of a royal blue travelling dress and matching hat.

She takes a shaky breath, almost already on the verge of tears.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

No.

“Of course,” she turns with a slight smile. “Just admiring the view. I used to live here.”

“Ah, then the gossip about you was true,” the man nods, his eyes glinting intelligently under his bushy brows. There’s an apologetic smile sitting on his lips, and a twinge of regret spoiling the beauty of his otherwise handsome square jaw and bold features. “I apologise, I couldn’t help but overhear some women on the train talking about your father. About you.”

“I didn’t know our name carried such weight,” the detective admits cautiously, one hand reaching up to fix her hat self-consciously. The man seems to notice the way her fingers linger over the hat pin, and he almost cracks a grin. It would be a highly inappropriate moment to joke, and besides, he’d rather befriend this interesting person than anger her to a point where he’d end up being skewered by the hat pin in question. After all, her friendship and assistance is why he’s here.

“Your father served in India with Sir Edward Bardford, the current Police Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police,” he adds gently. “You were betrothed to Montagu Edward Bradford.”

“How do you know about that?” the woman asks, her eyes widened by shock as she takes a step closer to him.

“Who didn’t Montagu tell?”

The strained grin the stranger allows himself seems to put her momentarily at ease. Montagu did tell everyone, God rest his soul. In a way, she could never really begrudge him for the betrothal - it was their fathers’ scheming, even if Montagu really didn’t seem to mind. She always wanted a way out, but she never wished for his death. He was in India when it had happened, and she was in London. In a way, even 9 years after, it feels surreal. She never saw the body. For years afterwards, she sincerely thought he would turn up one day unexpectedly as if nothing had happened.

He never did.

“How awfully rude of me to not even introduce myself!” he exclaims suddenly, sheepishly sticking out his hand. “Dr Van Helsing. Abraham Van Helsing.”

“I believe Mont had spoken about you,” she nods as she shakes his hand, deliberately squeezing his fingers with more force than a mere handshake would warrant. Yet another trick she learned from Ava.

“I hope so. We were... we were quite close. I know it’s been a while since he...” Van Helsing pauses as he withdraws his hand and waves it in the air before drawing it up to his ginger curls. “Please accept deepest my condolences.”

“Thank you, Dr Van Helsing.”

Her tone signals the end of the conversation, and she nods her head stiffly before turning. She knew coming back here would unearth the loss of her parents, but she is not ready to speak of Montagu yet. She bared her soul once regarding the matter, and only to one person, but she will not repeat the experience again. As liberating as it had been to tell Ava everything, she wishes to leave this heartache and guilt where it belongs - in the past.

“Please wait. We got off on the wrong foot! I didn’t come here to ask you personal questions - in fact, it is a disappearance that I was hoping to discuss with you.”

“You are a physician, not an inspector, correct?” she asks over her shoulder, not bothering to slow down her steps as she strides towards an unclaimed hansom.

“Yes, but-”

“Are you here to hire me?”

“No-”

“Then we have nothing to talk about, Dr Van Helsing. Good day.”

The driver, smelling a wealthy client who’s just arrived from London, clambers down from his seat quickly to open the door for her to get in. Just before she could disappear inside, the physician speaks again.

“I’m trying to find Miss Ava Du Mortain and Mr Nathaniel Sewell. I was hoping we could help each other out, but more importantly, I was hoping to warn you.”

“Warn me?” the detective pauses, looking back at Van Helsing with genuine shock on her prepossessing features.

“They’re not who you think they are - what you think they are.”

There’s a stretch of silence between them as her eyes assess the tall, lanky man as he stands just before the hansom, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, his breath fogging in the chill air as he looks back at her expectantly. The nerve on this man alone is making the private detective want to leave him high and dry in the snow, but her insides twist and her pulse quickens at the mention of Ava’s name. She’s all but given up hope - for months now, she could find nothing regarding the woman and her partner, or the Agency they claimed to work for. She knows virtually nothing about this man, but her need to find Ava outweighs her better judgement.

“Are you hungry, Dr Van Helsing?” she asks, scooting further down the seat to make room for the man.

“Is eating and working on disappearance cases simultaneously a habit of yours, Miss?” the physician asks as he climbs in next to her.

“And here I was trying to be nice. I suppose I will not offer to pay for your lunch then.”

“I take it all back! I am positively famished.”

Meanwhile, across the train station

Lucille Licht twirls her cane, lips pressed into a disdainful frown. Cities at least have crowds upon crowds of people to distract her, but small towns such as Wayhaven hold no entertainment value whatsoever. She isn’t here on pleasant business anyway, she thinks to herself as she sighs, pulling her fur coat tighter around the expensive suit she’s wearing. No, she is here on ghastly business indeed, even by demon standards. But the prophecy was clear - though irritatingly vague too, no doubt to account for the rather large margin of error witches have these days in their prophecies. They’re more lawyers than soothsayers by now, their profession diluted by those who hunger for nothing but profit and security, and who are willing to sacrifice quality for those two aforementioned gains. Lucille finds sordid business such as this distasteful, even in her line of work. Falling from grace is one thing, but living in the Agency’s ever growing shadow is no excuse not to have honour among thieves. Or rogues. Or both, when it comes to the social circles she frequents.

A small voice in the back of her head whispers sadly, poisoning the faux assuredness she’s lulled herself into on the train. She’s just like I was, in a strange way. Before it all happened. And now I’m about to do the same horrible things to her that were done to me.

But the private detective is the one she’s been waiting for. She has to be. It all fits - the dead father, the career, the place where she was born. Lucille can’t smell anything strange about her blood yet, but she is sure she can bring about the power that was promised to reside in her veins. She has her ways, and her old magic, and her knife. And most importantly, her determination.

It was centuries ago, when she was stripped and bound and the curse was carved into her flesh. Strange, how vividly one can remember a single terrible moment, even centuries later. Even though the ancient magic rendered her undead, she can still feel the searing pain all over her body, red lines raging like fire in the form of symbols and Echolian text. It made her immortal, but it also bound her to her creator. He is the reason why she’s on the hunt. Why she is desperate to gain power beyond what she could achieve alone. Even as a human, as a meagre farmer’s child, she was roaming the fields of her father as she pleased. She was free. It was so long ago that she can’t even remember the name her parents gave her, but her freedom she remembers.

And nobody enslaves Lucille Licht and gets away with it.

Her slow burn vendetta must be coming to an end soon. There’s only so much of the supernatural underworld she can bring under her control - what she has will have to suffice. She already runs a widespread rogue organisation, with its key leadership positions held by her loyal Daughters, as she eloquently calls the women she’s bound to her service over the centuries the same way she was bound once. A necessary evil. Pawns in the game she plays with the Ancient One. There is nothing she wouldn’t do to ensure her victory in the coming battle. I will not be outwitted again by that Echolian bastard, she thinks, whacking away at a nearby bush with her cane. Specks of snow and ice glitter where her hits land. And yet she always finds herself hesitating before turning another human.

The abhorred feeling of helplessness always comes creeping back. As well as the pain, and the panic of thinking your life is about to end. She has to push it all down. Grit her teeth and get it over with. Months of preparation leading up to the final act that barely lasts ten minutes. And then you wait, and 3 days later their pain and mortality will be but a distant memory.

But she’s slipping. She no longer only hesitates before, now the intrusive self-doubt catches up to her after the rituals too. The Ancient One is still the centre of her nightmares, but the dream has changed. She is no longer the helpless little lamb brought to the slaughter. She is one with the Ancient One, his hand is hers too as it raises the knife, their voices merging together as they chant the same curse together.

She knew this victory would cost her everything. But she never imagined the real price to pay would be stepping up to fill the void the Ancient One’s death will create.

Lucille never wanted to be like him. She only ever wanted to kill him. But it seems those two things are one and the same.

She awakens from her thoughts when the man joins the private detective in the hansom. An annoying little man, that Dr Van Helsing is, though harmless in the grand scheme of things. It doesn’t matter that he’s taken care of a Transylvanian rogue vampire with his entourage, it would take far more to stop her plans now. Lucille focuses on the woman instead, letting her will force itself into her mind. All too easy, she raises her eyebrows in an unimpressed fashion as she flicks through her thoughts as if she were reading the latest issue of The Times. She thought she would be more difficult to read. To control. But alas, she is just like everyone else, aside from the love that seems to seep out of her every thought for none other than Agent Du Mortain.

She grins, remembering her failed attempt at getting to the private detective earlier. She’s learned several invaluable lessons in those two years. One, you can’t trust dark elf mercenaries, no matter how much you pay them. Two, it’s better to divert the attention of the Agency first before you try to kidnap someone who has important connections in the London Metropolitan Police. Three, love makes people do really, really stupid things.

Thankfully, Lucille Licht is a smart woman, and an even better strategist - not to mention a quite powerful demon with telepathic abilities and her boot firmly planted on the supernatural underground’s neck - and this time, she has learned from all three of her mistakes. This time, there will be no Agent Du Mortain rushing to the rescue. (But that doesn’t mean she can’t use her name as bait, yes?)

Cemetery, Wayhaven, 1900

1 year and 8 months after Ava’s disappearance

He doesn’t appreciate being jerked around the way he has been lately, but he isn’t a man to grumble too much either. He was closest to the backwater little town, he gets to check out the possible supernatural case. Everyone draws the short straw sometimes, and he’s learned to cope with it. He has certainly lived long enough to do so.

The wind shifts, and suddenly Agent Fuller’s nostrils are invaded by the stench of magic. Things finally start looking up for him, and that thought alone is enough to make him pick up his pace, excitement coursing through his body. He lights a cigarette to conceal the smirk threatening to overtake his lips when he sees the pallid looks of the constables as they pass him by. One stops him to ask what his business is out here, but the Agency has already notified the meagre Wayhaven police force, and he is soon on his way again to the centre of the commotion. Cemetery of the commotion would be a more accurate description though - the little town was as dead in the mid-February frost as a place could get, and aside from the bored stationmaster who gave him directions, these men are the first living beings he’s encountered since his arrival.

“Name’s Agent Fuller. What can you tell me about the crime scene, constable?” Fuller asks as he exhales a lungful of smoke, turning to the least disturbed looking man surveying the scene.

“Welcome to the middle of nowhere, sir. Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

A handshake and a suppressed grin later Fuller follows the young man down a row of tombs. They take a sharp turn to the left, and immediately it is clear why he was called here. The sight is confirmation enough, but the smell of potent and ancient magic is the real giveaway.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a walker,” Fuller snorts as he crouches down, picking up a piece of the crumbled marble.

“The poor woman was buried only 3 days ago,” the constable mutters, rubbing his hands together before bringing them to his lips and blowing hot air onto them, desperately attempting to revitalise his frozen fingers. “Who could do such a monstrous thing?”

“Indeed, who could...” the agent mutters, too focused to really pay attention to the human on his right. The tomb was torn open, the coffin deserted, the body missing. It coincides with many reports made over the centuries - it’s unfortunately not rare for the dead to be taken and repurposed again for magic, but this particular pattern is characteristic of demonic rogues having too much time on their necromantic little hands. He will need to consult a few colleagues to confirm it, but the 3 days and the apparent magic hanging in the air is all the evidence he needs right now.

He stands, the lapels of his dark coat flapping in the chilly wind ominously. There’s a page typed up about the busy life of his missing body in his pocket, crumpled around the edges from being handled carelessly, but he takes it out to skim over it again. That’s when he spots the little detail about the private detective’s history with the Agency that he seemed to have missed the first time around.

‘1896-1898: under Agency protection

Threat: classified

Agents on the case: A. Du Mortain, N. Sewell’

The Agency gossips like there’s no tomorrow, and ever since Lady Ashbury’s return to the main facility, the gossip about the ‘Ice Queen’ and her pet detective have been the most fashionable thing to blabber on about. And since Fuller has been to the scene, it will be him who will have to provide all the answers when Du Mortain comes with her demanding questions, no doubt breaking down doors in the process as it is in her nature. Fuller is by no means a man who shies away from conflict or hard work, but he’s never been particularly good with emotions. Explaining to a lovesick elder vampire that her alleged lover is now very dead, and also quite probably the plaything of a very bored and elusive demon who likes to play with necromancy is not a task he would gladly carry out.

“Well, shit.”

Fuller shoves the page back into his pocket and sighs. He should retire and buy a house in the wilderness. Get a cat. Maybe try some cocaine - he once saw Heinrich Quincke use it for spinal anaesthesia before one of his surgeries, and have been meaning to try it out ever since. But he does none of those things - he never does.

He walks back the way he came, trying to prepare himself for the most awkward conversation of the century.

Needless to say, he couldn’t prepare himself for what was to come. But for once, he couldn’t feel mad about a messy situations. He just felt a little more hollow afterwards. And then he got another case as this one was closed and the woman was declared dead once more. And he moved on.

But, like with all his cases ending in death, he never forgot.

#dottiechan writes #ava du mortain x detective #a du mortain x detective #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc detective #ava du mortain #a du mortain #a lot to unpack here #i know a lot might still appear strange but i promise it will all make sense soon haha

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frogsmulder · 3 years

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Maybe There’s Hope: chpt 7 Together Towards Entropy

Starting from the final events of 09x20 The Truth, Mulder and Scully tackle their new reality as fugatives. When they finally settle into things, Scully finds out she is pregnant again. A canon divergent AU where I thought, what if Scully got pregnant whilst on the run instead of at the end of season 11?

3.6k words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic; read on ao3

With the last box packed, Margaret Scully locked the door to her daughter's apartment for the final time and handed the key over to the landlord, who mumbled his appreciation and ambled back down the hall. Maggie was left there, standing by the shut door like it was the final page turned and the chapter ending. She shook the thought from her head, knowing it was a silly one. It was never over: God has his way of bringing people back together.

Back in her own home, Maggie put the final boxes into the guest room all of their things safe under her roof. All of the furniture had been sold-- that was mostly inconsequential-- but everything else was here. Taking a final look at the room, she hummed. It was like she could feel the physical presence of Dana in everything she had loved, cherished, and lived with.

Closing the door, she padded down the stairs and into the living room where the glow from the fishtank illuminated the room. She checked the temperature of the tank water, watching the mollies swim around in the bag that floated on top. She could tell they were eager to return. To their familiar surroundings, but the water wasn't warm enough just yet, but soon.

----------

Scully quietly mused the breakfast menu, feeling calm and content sat in the booth of a Mexican restaurant. Mulder was sat on the other side of the table looking out of the window to the sun-speckled bay. His hand had been grasping hers under the table the entire time; his thumb traversing the mountain range of her knuckles repetitively.

"You seem happy," she commented, turning the page of the menu awkwardly with one hand.

"I am." He turned his attention to her, his smile fading slightly as his mind began to race ahead with implications. "Are you not?"

"No, I am," she sighed, continuing to puzzle over some of the dish names. Mulder lowered his head to try and get under her fixed gaze and her eyes flicked up to meet him. "What? I am happy."

Mulder sat back and nodded, smirking to himself.

Scully looked up from the menu, bringing their hands to rest on top of the table. "Have you had any more hallucinations?"

"No, I haven't actually." His head had been surprisingly clear since that night on the beach like his words had freed him when he'd finally shared them. He hoped it was the case.

A refreshing smile turned the corner of her mouth upwards and she subconsciously held his hand slightly tighter. "That's good."

"Hmm," he agreed, lost in her smile. Her hand was soft under his thumb, sparking gentle memories of her surrounding him and the bed sheets the last few days they had given in and spent every night in a motel, comfort of waking with her head laid against his chest a luxury beyond compare. It made a difference to the cold sweats she used to wake in, lurching from her position to escape the night terrors. On restless nights he had witnessed it, when only his arms could wrap around her and anchor her to this world as she gasped to gain control.

But not the last few days. She had woken as peacefully as he had slept, usually with a tiny speck of drool decorating his bare chest, which he didn't dare tease her about.

"And you've not had your nightmares for a while...Unless?"

She had rushed to the bathroom again this morning, although she had told him it was nothing to worry about.

"No, I haven't," she reassured him.

"Maybe we're finally getting it right then."

Scully laughed and shook her head. "I used to think we'd never get it right."

The past few months she'd forgotten what right felt like until she saw the familiar glimmer on the horizon that meant the sea and she'd persuaded Mulder to make a stop-off. That night, with the water at her feet, she felt something click, like the reassuring words of her father existed in the sea spray, telling her that she was loved and trusted. Being close to him had put her soul at ease. She still worried for her child in the world, for Mulder, for her mother so far away but that anxiety had eroded into a constant ebb of care for all of them.

"I saw a little place down the road that does postcards, I thought we could pick one up later. We could start a collection. Maybe even do a scrapbook."

She licked her lip and bit back a smile. Of course, Mulder had found the one she had taken. It was impossible to keep secrets from him, especially given their current circumstances.

"Yes, that would be nice."

Giving the menu one final look over she handed it to Mulder as she stood up and moved out of the booth.

"Can't find anything?"

He looked up at her and she stroked his hair affectionately as she walked past, making him grin.

"Just order for me whatever you're having. I'm going to the restroom."

Taking her hand, he kissed her palm, and gently let her go.

"Okay."

Scully moved through the bar to the back, pushing against the door to the restroom. It was quiet inside, a welcoming contrast to the constant hum of conversation. She brushed her hair out of her face, holding her palm to her forehead, trying to quieten the loud ache that resided there. Standing in front of the mirror, she considered herself and smiled. Once again, she could recognise the person in the mirror, despite the unfamiliarity still of her longer blonde hair. The dark rings from under her eyes had disappeared and there was a warmth to her cheeks again underneath her dusting of freckles. She shook her head, foolish thoughts of happiness flooding her mind. But they were good. She was good.

And then she felt the clenching in her gut again, not as powerful as this morning, but enough to make her lurch. Splashing some cold water to her face, she refreshed herself, sweeping other thoughts under the carpet. She cupped her hands under the water and brought it to her mouth to drink, tempering her queasiness and headache.

By the time she got back, Mulder had already ordered and a glass of orange juice was waiting for her on the table.

"I chose the huevos rancheros. It's the specialty dish and I thought you deserve a treat for putting up with me this last couple of months." He smirked mischievously and then he turned sombre. "I know I haven't always been there for you when you needed, Dana, and you're still here for me–"

She brought his hand to hold it against her cheek.

"Of course, I am," she interrupted, which made his smile reappear.

They waited in companionable silence for their brunch, never deciding whether to gaze out at the bay or at each other. When the food came, Scully made her way through the large portion of fried eggs, which Mulder raised his eyebrows at but didn't question.

----------

Midday and they were back on the road driving to nowhere, an appetising silence filling the space. Mulder's hand rested on her leg and Scully had her fingers twined through his. He kept stealing frequent glances at her, smiling every time he caught a glimpse of the freckles that dusted her rosy cheeks, or the curl of her lips, or her red roots showing through her blonde hair-- the Scully he loved reappearing from behind the cracks in her walls.

"Do you ever think about him? Our son?" She broke his spell of reverie and looked at him inquisitively. "What he might be doing at this very moment whilst we are miles away?"

He sighed and gently squeezed her hand. "Dana, you know the answer to that."

"I know... I wanted to hear it from someone else."

She continued to look at him with a softness that almost broke him and he paused for a moment, remembering holding his tiny baby. It seemed so long ago and wished there was more to remember, but he held them with fondness, the phantom feeling of his tiny fingers wrapped around his little one, never letting him forget. Those fingers would be bigger now, stronger, but he could still feel them. He clenched his fists on the steering wheel reflexively.

"Not a day goes by when I don't think of how well he'll be doing and how proud I am of him."

"Not a day goes by where I don't think the same." She looked out towards the glistening of the sea with a frown knitted into her brow. "It... It's strange... learning to love someone from afar... Accepting... that we only a small part of his life now takes some getting used to."

Mulder swallowed apprehensively, his heart clenching around her words pinning precisely how he had felt out in the desert and now.

"Dana?" His voice was pricked with worry. "What's brought this on?"

"I don't know," she sighed.

Pressing the cool flesh of her fingers to her forehead, she sucked in a breath. Every lump in the road seemed amplified with the motion of the car. The churning of the tires over asphalt mimicked the churning in her stomach.

"Stop the car. I need to get out," she whispered.

"Scully?"

She gulped a breath and managed to raise her voice a little. "Stop the car!"

As soon as Mulder had pulled over to the side of the road, Scully was out of the car and doubled over, the contents of her brunch returning. Initially, shock had caught him like a deer in headlights, but Mulder rushed to her side and swept the hair from her face, anxiously clenching his jaw.

"Jeez Scully," he breathed, rubbing her back.

Coughing, she stood up and brushed away his hand.

"It's okay, Mulder. I'm fine."

He cupped her cheeks, wiping some spittle from the corner of her mouth with his thumb, and gazed into her welling, blue eyes. Back-dropped by the ocean, they glistened surrendering to something solemn deep inside. He sighed and pulled her into his chest.

"You forget I know what 'I'm fine' means."

She let his words hang in the air, trying to avoid them but only hurtling towards inevitable admittance. With her head cradled between his hand and chest, she let the tiniest tear form and fall.

He stood still for her like that, absorbing her sniffs, stroking her hair, never questioning her need to let go and have control over herself. She tried to stay rigid and unmoving and he feared that she was drawing into herself again, hiding from him to protect herself again. That their rhythm was out of sync again after things felt like they were falling into place. In reality, he knew it had only been a couple of months since they had started this journey: no time at all. He couldn't expect deep wounds to heal with one plaster of good fortune. But it had already felt like years of waiting, and he was tired, exhausted from the grief, wanting to move on. Maybe they weren't ready to move on yet.

"I feel fine, Mulder." She pressed the words muffled into his chest. "Better than I have in a while but... I-- I don't think I am... fine."

"What do you mean?"

She lifted her head from his chest but still couldn't look him in the eye, ashamed that she might have kept something so important from him. "I think I might be ill. From either stress or a virus, I don't know. But I've had migraines and nausea for some time now."

She watched as his eyes softened with compassion, and she felt more guilty for ever thinking he shouldn't know.

"Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

He brought his hands to her face more gently this time as if he were holding delicate china, his thumbs soothing over the pattern of her cheeks. Scully placed her hands on his arms, pulling them away.

"I didn't want you to worry, especially with your own condition. And I thought it would pass."

"Scully, you need to let me worry." He wanted to cup her cheeks again, to feel the reassuring weight of her press against his skin. He looked down at where their hands slowly swung like a cradle between them, all their worry turned to motion as it tried to escape. "What do you need?"

"Some ginger ale and some painkillers for the symptoms." Her tone took on a cold and measured value, detached from feeling and from herself as doctor Scully took over.

"For the cause?"

"I should probably see a doctor."

He nodded solemnly. "Okay. Let's get you some ginger ale and pain killers first."

Mulder guided her back to the car, his hand like it always had been, a rudder at her back. She didn't shy away from his touch and even gave him a smile from one corner of her mouth. She sat down clumsily in the passenger seat, grasping onto Mulder's arm to steady herself.

"We'll get through this." Scully looked up at him earnestly. "Us both."

"I should be the one saying that to you, Scully."

She gave him an honest smile, letting him know that what she had said was true: she did feel fine. Even better than that, she felt good-- great-- until another wave of nausea hit, but it never lasted long. She was more worried about him than she was herself.

Time seemed to drag along with each steady revolution of the wheels. Mulder was driving extra slowly, conscious of Scully who had the window wound down and the fresh air blowing in to keep her nausea at bay. She looked radiant even though she was struggling to keep the rest of her breakfast down. The sun danced through her golden hair and over her skin, lighting little kisses of freckles across the flush of her cheeks.

He felt her small hand reach across and squeeze his knee, and although he was focusing on the road, he could tell she was smiling, gazing at the city they were driving through. Her index finger was probably over her lips, her arm resting on the door like she did whenever she was quietly happy. Mulder kissed the back of her hand before pulling into a grocery store parking lot.

"You coming?" she asked as she got out of the car, hope sprung in her voice.

He grinned. "I wouldn't dream of leaving."

Inside, the ginger ale and tablets were easy enough to find, but it was something else in the health aisle that had made Mulder stop. He felt like his heart had stopped and the air had stopped moving in his lungs. The only thing that hadn't stopped was his mind whirring at a million miles an hour, escaping down a rabbit hole without him and he was left to chase after the implications.

"Mulder? Are you okay?" She tugged on his arm.

"Yeah. I'm good..." He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Have you thought..."

Scully stepped in front of his gaze,

"Have I thought what?"

She turned around and followed his line of sight like a red piece of string held in the air, connected to him stretched out beyond her. It was almost tangible the way he was focused so intensely like she could trail it with her fingers. She too stopped when she caught sight of what held his attention, the breath knocked out of her.

"Mulder don't be ridiculous. You and I both know it's impossible," she breathed.

He reached for the innocuous box, holding it tentatively.

"When was the last time you got your period? You haven't used any of the tampons we bought. It's been almost two months."

Anger broiled in her gut, wanting so desperately for him not to be correct. She hadn't thought about the tampons, why hadn't she thought about the tampons? She pushed aside all rationality in denial, feeding that fire that she might not recognise the pain.

"Mulder, just because I missed my period does not mean I am pregnant." Her voice was shaky with restrained emotion. "It's normal to miss a month once in a while, and with the stress of our current situa--"

"Just, please. And then we can rule it out for definite."

He looked mellowly at her, eyes soft with a mix of affection and concern, and she felt her resolve puddle.

"Fine," she sighed, half snatching the kit from him in her frustration.

He felt her rip at his heart as she grabbed it and he wanted to take it back, wish he never thought of it himself. She was frightened, he could tell in the way she projected her strength. But her strength only pushed him away from where he wanted to be most. He blamed himself for bringing this upon her, that he couldn't help her without harming her. He gently took her hand back and she looked at him, holding back tears that threatened to fall, holding back a heaviness in her breathing like cries threatening to spill. It made him queasy seeing the look that had haunted him the last couple of months return. Like a ghost, he saw her desperately cling onto everything familiar whilst inside she was starting to strip herself empty, using numbness as a defence. He wanted to give her back the smile that she had had earlier, fill her back up with laughter and love. He looked at the box.

Scully turned, slipping out of his hands to find the checkout. "You coming?"

Yeah, he thought.

Scully was silent in an all too familiar, daunting way. She stood in front of him, strong but rigid, confident but scared as she paid for the ginger ale, the paracetamol... the pregnancy test. He winced as she reached her hand back to touch his, felt the tremours brush through her fingertips as she stayed rigid.

She reached her hand back to ground herself in him, control the dizzying, drunk feeling of floating in a void of uncertainty. She was burning up from the inside with an injustice she tried to ignore, and the feel of his skin was cool enough to douse her and keep her anchored. Whatever happened she wanted him there, and she wanted him to know that. Whatever happened it was for both of them. She only hoped to god it wouldn't be true.

----------

Her fate was already sealed, she knew that, but if she prayed hard enough she felt like she could twist reality in her favour. Mulder was waiting outside the restroom and she was alone inside, holding the test between her fingers. The cap clicked loudly as she removed it from the tip of the test. Suddenly, her heart started to thump in her throat and her stomach tried to work its way up to meet it. Taking deep breaths, she did her best to push that anxious part of herself down. Her fate was sealed, and she wanted to trust God, whatever he had decided for her, but she wasn't sure she could. She wasn't sure he was still there for her. The only thing she could do was take the test.

----------

Mulder heard the toilet flush and, tipping his head back against the wall, he held his breath. He was leaning against the wall that separated him from Scully, waiting for the verdict. He didn't know what he wanted, except for Scully to be okay. He held onto that idea lest he start thinking of futures that could never be.

The restroom door opened and he stood up, watching Scully as she quietly walked out.

"Do we know yet?"

"No, we'll have to wait a few minutes."

She kept her head hung low, avoiding his gaze.

"Do you want to go and wait in the car?"

He touched her cheek and she startled, offering a weak smile when she saw his.

"Umm, yeah."

Mulder held the test level as they walked out, Scully clutching his other hand. She took a sip of the ginger ale, but it did nothing to quell the nerves brewing in her. Her walk was unsteady as she tried to ignore the other people around her. There was only her and Mulder in the world, but the loud intrusions of other people talking, of traffic, tested her to her limits.

Mulder leaned down to whisper in her ear, "It's okay: no one is watching us." and Scully smiled, reassured that his uncanny ability to read her was still strong. She leaned into his arm. Us, she thought, together in spite of the outcome.

They both sat in an itchy silence waiting for the time to pass, Scully stock still and Mulder fidgeting with his fingers. It was only a few minutes but it felt like hours, constantly checking the radio clock. The illuminated digits didn't change quick enough, every time they looked back at them they were the same as if time was standing still. Or at least time was going slower, edging towards entropy, the final moments before the answer closer and incrementally closer like Schrodinger's cat finally getting a diagnosis. Until she reached to turn the test over.

Scully looked at the stick and sat back, putting it back face down on the dashboard.

Mulder picked it up and a sudden surge of joy infected him, a grin spreading across his features. Two lines. Until he looked at Scully, whose eyebrows were pinched together as she stared up at the sunroof. Slowly she closed her eyes and let a single tear fall.

#maybe there's hope #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #on the run #Okay all caught up now 😊#xf fanfic

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roseworth · 4 years

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mind trap one shot :^)

heyo here's a little bit of mind trap angst just because im bored idk

honestly theres almost no context to this, basically i just wanted him to be controlled by the mind trap lol. the reason he can be controlled is that as a member of the royal bloodline of the dark kingdom hes automatically sworn to the moonstone (tbh i didnt put a lot of thought into it but neither did the writers when they wrote the mind trap so its fine lol)

(ps im gonna be real with you guys i dont really know the difference between a drabble, a ficlet, and a oneshot. i was gonna call this a ficlet but i was scared of being wrong so i figured oneshot is the safest option)

word count: 1873

characters: eugene & rapunzel

description: Eugene gets taken over by the Mind Trap. Rapunzel needs to find a way to get him back before it’s too late.

note: this takes place sometime during plus est en vous. theyre in the throne room alone. idk just dont think about it too hard

Everything seemed to stop for a moment. Rapunzel felt like her body was frozen in place as Eugene turned around, his eyes glowing electric blue.

“Eugene?” she whispered hesitantly as he stepped closer. Something in her brain was telling her to back away, but it was like her feet were frozen to the ground. He took another step closer and drew his sword.

She released her hair from her braid and held it up just in time to block his sword from hitting her. He glared at her wordlessly and went to swing again, which she once again blocked.

“Eugene, I- I don’t know what to- you- how…” she stuttered helplessly as she started to stumble backwards. His gaze didn’t change at all.

“Tell you what,” he said finally, crossing his arms. “If you give up now, I’ll give you a quick and painless death.”

She felt her eyes fill with tears as she shook her head. “I won’t give up, you know that.”

He smirked. “I know, but it was worth a shot.”

This made her feel even worse. She couldn’t even tell herself that he didn’t know her or didn’t recognize her. Now she knew that he still remembered her even as he was attacking her.

Maybe that means there’s a chance to get through to him, she thought, but quickly shoved it away. She didn’t want to bother getting her hopes up like that while he was still trying to hurt her.

She didn’t really know anything about the Mind Trap or how to free someone from it. Heck, she didn’t even know why Eugene was being controlled by it, but she didn’t exactly have the opportunity to figure that out right now.

She dodged another attack from him and backed away to put distance in between the two of them, trying to think of some semblance of a plan. She couldn’t keep blocking and dodging him forever, but there was no way she could let herself even try to hurt him. The Mind Trap was still all the way in Cassandra’s tower, and she wasn’t sure if she would even be able to get out of the castle, let alone all the way to the tower.

“Aw, Sunshine, I’m almost disappointed,” he sneered. The nickname that she normally loved now felt like a punch in the gut as he said it. “I’ve seen you do better than this. I mean, come on, you’ve hit me with your frying pan more times normally than you are now.” She didn’t respond as she brought up her hair to block yet another one of his hits.

Even if she did fight back, there was no way she could win. She assumed they might be evenly matched ordinarily, but ordinarily he wasn’t fighting to kill.

Thinking about that made her feel almost nauseous. The person she loved more than anything else was now trying to kill her (or at least being used as a vessel to kill her).

“One of us is going to have to stop eventually,” he remarked. His voice had the cadence of a joke, but his expression said otherwise.

“And I’ve never been one to give up,” Rapunzel retorted.

“I know. I think under normal circumstances I would like that about you. Right now, though, it’s already getting to be a pain.”

It felt like her heart had been torn out of her chest the more he said things like that. It felt like he was already killing her knowing that something in him recognized her right now and still chose to attack. Not chose, she reminded herself. He has no control over this.

Looking into his glowing blue eyes, she thought about the way they usually were. His warm brown eyes and his soft expressions seemed like a distant memory compared to what was staring back at her now.

Just moments ago she had kissed him, and somewhere in the back of her mind wondered if that had been the last time she ever would. “No,” she whispered aloud. That wouldn’t be the last, she could fix this.

She just needed a plan. The Mind Trap reacted to the Moonstone, and she had the power of the Sundrop, there had to be something she could do. Worth a shot.

Her eyes fell shut as she channeled the Sundrop’s power. There was a burst of light around her as her hair lit up, causing a wave of energy.

She opened her eyes to see Eugene had been knocked to the floor. She wanted to run to him, but opted to keep her distance. She watched as he sat up and rubbed his head, his eyes closed.

And she felt her heart sink as he opened them and they were still just as blue as before.

“Nice to see you’re finally on the attack, Blondie,” he mocked. “Too bad it wasn’t enough.”

He lifted himself back onto his feet and scowled. She wished this would all stop. She wished everything could just go back to normal. She wanted so badly to hold out hope, but she was out of ideas.

“I’m not going to fight you,” she insisted, trying to ignore the way tears were starting to spill out of her eyes. She met his intense stare with one of her own as he moved towards her.

“I can’t say I’m surprised, Sunshine,” he grinned coolly. Again, the usually affectionate nickname made her stomach churn as her tears continued to stream down her face. He stood inches away from her, neither of them moving. It was taking everything to keep herself from running towards him, looking for comfort that she wouldn’t find.

As he tightened his grip on his sword once more, she reached for her hair only to find out that he was pressing his foot on it, keeping it in place. He smirked at her. “You lost your defense,” he taunted callously. She tried to tug her hair away, but he was keeping a firm hold on it.

“Eugene…” she said quietly. Everything felt numb as she imagined him as the man he really was instead of the one who was about to kill her. The man who was always there for her no matter what happened. The man who had saved her in more ways than anyone could understand. That man wasn’t the person standing over her right now, lifting his sword above his head to strike.

“Eugene,” she said again, louder this time. “I don’t know if the real you can hear me, but I just need you to know that I know this isn’t you. And I love you so much.”

She thought for a moment that she saw him falter, but gave up her wishful thinking as the sword came closer to her. She squeezed her eyes shut as the love of her life was about to end it.

Nothing happened.

For a split second, she wondered why she was never hit.

Then she heard him cry out in pain.

Her eyes shot open to see that he was crumpled on the ground, his own sword stabbed through his leg. He pulled the sword out and threw it across the room.

“Eugene!” she yelled, dropping to her knees next to him. She looked at his face and was beyond relieved to be met with brown eyes looking back at her affectionately. “Eugene, you’re… you’re back,” she sighed happily, getting lost in his eyes and forgetting for a moment about his leg that was still bleeding out.

He tried to smile back at her, but it ended up as more of a grimace in pain, bringing both of them back into reality. “I just- I couldn’t let myself hurt you,” he said, holding back tears. “I’m so sorry.”

She wiped away her own tears and nodded. “I know, I know. It’s okay,” she reassured him, turning her attention back to his leg. He took his jacket off and wrapped it around the wound to try to stop the bleeding. She helped secure it in place and applied pressure on the wound, and he let out a groan as he instinctively tried to move away. She gave him an apologetic look, but continued pressing her hand down on his leg.

“Hey, look at me, it’s gonna be okay,” she soothed, putting her other hand on his cheek. She tried as hard as she could to distract him from the pain. He grabbed her hand and smiled gently.

“I’m so sorry, Sunshine, I couldn’t-”

“It’s okay, I understand. It was the Mind Trap, I know,” she whispered, though she felt a rush of relief in her chest after hearing him say “Sunshine” in a loving way again.

“I don’t know what happened, I just… I suddenly didn’t have control of my body. It was like I was feeling myself move and hearing myself talk and I couldn’t do anything about it. I kept trying to fight it, but…” he trailed off, his eyes starting to fill.

“Don’t worry about it, just focus on me, it’s gonna be okay,” she said as his entire body shuddered from another wave of pain.

“Rapunzel, you have to go,” he urged suddenly. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold the Mind Trap off for.”

She looked deeply into his eyes, doing her best to stay strong and help him. It was taking all her effort not to break down right then, and she finally gave in. Before she could even think to try to stop herself, she was sobbing into Eugene’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. “I won’t leave you,” she choked out. He squeezed her tighter towards him, his leg now numb to the pain.

“I can’t watch myself hurt you, Sunshine,” he said brokenly as he started to cry too. “It’ll be okay soon, I promise.”

Rapunzel lifted herself up and wiped her tears away. “It’ll be okay,” she repeated through tears. “I’m going to destroy the Mind Trap, then I’ll come right back here.”

He gave her a weak smile, then brought her closer to him again to kiss her. She closed her eyes as she kissed him, hoping that she would be able to keep her word and destroy it. Not just for Eugene, but for everyone. For the members of the Brotherhood that had lost control over their own thoughts. For the others that had loved ones being taken over.

She moved away slightly as she felt Eugene shift in her grasp. She opened her eyes, and her heart shattered as she was once again met with his glowing electric blue eyes. She stood up and backed away from him.

He made an effort to stand up and go after her, but his wounded leg wasn’t doing him any good. Not to mention, even if he could get up, his weapon was still on the other side of the room. He yelled at Rapunzel as she started to run away, but she did her best to tune out what she was saying. She only had one goal in mind now.

“I’ll be back,” she promised quietly, rubbing her eyes as she ran out of the castle. “It’s gonna be okay.”

#rapunzel as everything is falling apart: its gonna be fine :) im fine :)#this was gonna be like half the size it is but i got carried away #also i was gonna post this for fitzfriday but i was busy all day yesterday and couldnt edit it #and i didnt feel like waiting another week bc im impatient #so this is for fitzsaturday 😌#alright bye love u all #tangled #fanfic #my writing #new dream

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justallamaimaginingthings · 4 years

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Life And Death Part 2 {Klaus Hargreeves x Reader}

A/n: I’ve been checking out the Umbrella Academy comics and I was SHOOKETH to found out about Klaus’ powers so I decided to explore the topic and things kinda went their own way from there on (hence why this is kinda off canon). Hope you like it and please don’t hesitate to leave a comment!

Words: 1880ish II TUA Masterlist

Part 1 II Part 2

Previously

“What are you waiting for?” She whispered against his lips and that was all he needed to hear. Almost instinctively, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest right before his lips crashed into hers. His eyes shut in bliss as he felt her tangle her fingers in his hair only to hold him closer.

At first the kiss was slow and sensual as they explored each other, but it didn’t take long until desperation got the best of them and soon enough their movements became needy and feverish. She nipped on his lower lip and Klaus couldn’t help the groan that escaped him as he melted under her touch. One of his hands found its way on the back of her neck and he decided to deepen the kiss. He tasted like nicotine and was just as addictive making her feel like she could never let him go. Her skin seemed to light on fire under the slightest of his touch and the way his soft lips were moving against her felt like heaven.

Klaus could feel control slipping away from him with every passing moment and he surrendered to her touch, unaware of the stream of blue light that had almost encircled the two of them. When the lack of oxygen became too much she hesitantly pulled away without leaving his embrace. Looking at him through half-lidded eyes, she could see the affectionate and dared she say loving look he was giving her, sending a shiver down her spine. He looked disheveled with an adorable smile gracing his swollen lips and she couldn’t help reciprocating the action as she continued playing with his curly locks.

"I think I'm in love with you" He blurted before he could hold himself back and then everything happened all at once. She could feel her breath getting caught in her throat as the reality of his words sunk in before realizing something. She was breathing, she was actually breathing like a living person. Her eyes blew wide open in shock as she tried to comprehend what was going on.

Upon seeing her panicked reaction, he thought it was his fault and cursed his recklessness once again before looking down, only for him to realize they were floating over the ground. He couldn’t understand how, but deep down he knew he was making all this happen and it freaked him out, breaking his concentration and causing the both of them to stumble back to the ground. She ended up landing on top of him and the two of them exchanged a worried glance.

"What the hell was that?" He exclaimed as his thoughts raced, trying to find some sense into what had just happened. She jumped up, seemingly having ignored him, as she took in her surroundings. For the first time in years she could feel the sun hitting her face and smell the grass and her heart was beating like crazy. She gasped at that. Her heart was beating.

"Klaus, I have a heartbeat. I-I can feel my heart beating" She stuttered, turning back to look at him.

"Trust me, love, I feel the sa- wait WHAT?" He stopped his sentence midway, only then realizing the true meaning of her sentence. It couldn’t be possible, she was dead and she had been dead for years. She grasped his hand and brought it to her wrist, letting him feel the pulse throbbing in her veins and he gaped at her. The whole situation was impossible and Klaus found himself unable to wrap his head around what was happening. Out of all the crazy things he had witnessed in his life that was by far the most absurd.

"Prophet we need your advice." A voice interrupted Klaus' thoughts. The short man with the glasses they had come to know as Keechi looked at her for a moment before turning back to Klaus "I'm sorry for interrupting your conversation"

"You can see her?" Klaus almost yelled at the man.

"Of course, Prophet. However, I think it's not a good moment so I'll leave you two alone" The short man replied before making his exit from the garden, leaving the pair even more confused than before.

"Okay, this sounds insane even as I say it, but I think you're alive" Klaus said slowly and even though the thought sounded ridiculous, it was the only reasonable explanation to the situation. He expected her to roll her eyes and tell him he was talking nonsense. What he did not expect, however, was for her to start running around the garden, touching, smelling and tasting fruits and flowers with an awestruck expression on her face as she started to rediscover everything death had so cruelly taken away from her. Laughing loudly out of pure happiness, she kicked off her shoes so that she could feel the grass tickling her feet.

Turning around she saw Klaus watching her, his confusion having given way to a small grin and she made her way towards him, jumping into his arms with such speed she nearly knocked him down. He didn’t miss a second before wrapping his arms around her just like he had a few minutes before, only this time he could hear the beating of her heart against his chest as she hugged him tightly. He gently kissed her forehead and she hummed in satisfaction as she reveled in his warmth. Suddenly, she looked up at him, a mischievous smirk on her lips. "The pool" She stated simply, before grabbing his hand and nearly dragging him across the estate.

A few hours later they returned in the mansion and they fell back into a couch. They were both exhausted to the core but only realizing it then as the adrenaline was finally fading away. She leaned her head on his shoulder, letting out a long breath as they both sunk in a thoughtful silence.

"I still can't believe this is happening" Her voice broke the tense silence a while later "You literally brought me back to life. Do you realize what this means?" She asked a little more seriously, but with excitement still evident in her tone.

"That I’ll get pushed into pools all the time?" He replied playfully in reference to the incident that had taken place earlier that day, causing her to gently slap his arm in fake annoyance while she chuckled lightly.

"No, you dork. Well maybe, but that's not the point I was going for. What I meant is that your powers are way more than we could have imagined" She explained and even though he knew she was right, he felt weird talking about it. Finding out he was able to do so much more than he expected had been terrifying at first and it had taken him a long while to accept that he could physically interact with the dead even with resurrection out of the game, but now the stakes were even higher and the mere thought of what this power really was scared the living hell out of him.

"Yeah, we don’t really have to talk about this" He was quick to dismiss the subject causing her to raise an eyebrow at him. Maybe he just wasn't in a mood to talk, she thought but he had answered way too quickly for it to be random. Suddenly she felt a pang of guilt hitting her. She had been so preoccupied with herself she hadn’t even thought about how he must have been feeling.

"We don't have to, but it would be good to talk about it" She said trying not to push him. Over time she had come to understand he never talked about his feelings when he could avoid it and even though she had tried really hard to respect that, she knew that bottling everything up ended up hurting him much worse.

"I know it’s just that…" He paused for a moment taking a deep breath. It was extremely rare for Klaus to find someone he could be honest with, let alone trust his secrets to and even though he knew she was that person sometimes honesty was just too hard. "All this power and responsibility, that's hero stuff and in case you haven’t noticed I'm anything but one" He admitted, trying and failing to hide his fear behind yet another sarcastic remark.

"To me you are" She started softly, taking his hands in hers and turning so that she could look into his eyes "Sure, you've made mistakes, but who hasn't? You are still kind and brave and strong even after all the shit you've been through. Hell, I wouldn’t be here if it weren't for you. No matter what, Klaus, you'll always be my hero"

By the time she was done talking, his eyes were shining with unshed tears and he was grasping her hands so tight it was almost hurting but she didn't let go. Instead she pulled him into a hug and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her closer so that she was almost sitting on his lap, but still it was not enough. He wanted, no he needed her as close as she could get and she complied by lacing her hands around his shoulders and gently stroking his back. They stayed like this for a while, enjoying each other's embrace and trying to show everything they couldn't bring themselves to say.

I think I'm in love with you. His words kept echoing in her mind and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get them out of her mind. It was everything she wanted to hear and at the same time everything she never expected. Every time she closed her eyes she could feel his lips against hers and she can't take this anymore. She had been in love with him longer than she could even remember and she had to know if he felt the same way.

"Klaus, there's something I need to ask you" She whispered in his ear and he could feel her hot breath fanning on his face, making his heart race. Instead of replying he hummed lowly, not trusting his voice to remain steady. "What you said this morning, did you mean it?"

She doesn't have to say another word because he knows what she's talking about. His whole body stiffens and he pulls away from her in a matter of seconds as if her touch burned him. He looks up at her and she can see the fear in his eyes. She had always been able to somehow keep his demons at bay, but right now he can feel doubt crushing him and not even she can stop it. He loves her more than words can express but he knows he doesn't deserve her and it's killing him. This time, however, he can't hide from the truth, so he takes a shaky breath and forces himself to speak.

"I meant every word" His voice is hoarse and unsteady but it doesn’t stop him "And I know I don't-" She knows what's following and she has heard more than enough. She shushes him by gently placing a finger over his lips before slowly moving her hand to cup the side of his face.

"I love you" Her voice is steady and soft and she's looking at him with such affection that for the first time in his life, Klaus Hargreeves is at a complete loss of words. It takes a moment for her words to sink in. He can’t understand how someone as pure as her could love someone as broken as him, but right now it doesn't matter. All that matters is her as he crashes his lips to hers for the second time that day. The kiss has nothing to do with their first one, it's rushed and hungry as they cling into each other holding on for dear life. She tugs on his hair and he desperately whimpers against her lips, his grip on her waist tightening even more.

"I love you. I love you. I love you" She keeps whispering after they break apart, leaving tender kisses along his jaw line with every word and his eyes flutter shut in bliss before he pulls her back in for another passionate kiss. They spend the rest of the night like this, snuggled in each other's arms and whispering sweet nothings until the sun comes up. Klaus has spent his entire life running away from things and for the first time he feels like he actually belongs somewhere and that is by her side. He knows he's lucky to have her and he's prepared to try anything in order to become worthy of her love, unaware that all she’ll ever ask for is him. They fall asleep after dawn, still holding on to each other and determined never to let go.

Tags: @twigleektribute23 💘💘

A/n: Y’all can always message me if you wish to be tagged in anything specific (fic or character or whatev), it always brightens my day.

#tua #tua klaus #tua imagine #tua x reader #tua x you #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x you #klaus hargreeves imagine

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babybackstage · 3 years

Text

someone like you..

{wrote a fanfic after ages, im rusty so its average}

‘I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited.

but I couldn’t stay away, I couldn’t fight it,

I had hoped you’d see my face and that

you’d be reminded that for me,

it wasn’t over’.

-----

I opened the door to a drunk Simon.

For 6/7 years we hadn’t had a proper conversation and suddenly here he was, at my doorstep. I let him in and led him to the couch. He looked like he had just come from an event – AGT auditions had started, he must’ve come from there. His Tom Ford perfume brought back memories from what feels like a lifetime ago.

I gave him a cup of coffee and sat down next to him. As I sat down, I found myself shifting - aware that the spot next to him was no longer mine. He drank slowly and looked around my apartment, it was his first time here.

I didn’t know what to say, it was so like him to show up like this, well it was so like the Simon I once knew. I snapped out of my nostalgia as he put his cup on the table and started to lie down on the sofa, I suddenly realised that she must be wondering where he is.

‘Si, shouldn’t you go home? Lauren must be wondering where you are.’

‘She won’t be wondering’. He mumbled; it was barely audible but I was sure of what I heard.

It took a moment for me to register that he and Lauren may have broken up. Finally. Not finally. What am I thinking? What would happen to Eric? Surely Simon wouldn’t do that to him, that little boy means the world to him. All these years of knowing that he was going home to her and now here he is, in my house, falling asleep on my sofa once again causing a storm in my life.

I realised that a part of me was happy that he was here, on my sofa.

It was not that we hadn't communicated in the past few years, we would talk every now and then - birthdays, holiday wishes etc but over the years our communication gradually became more and more formal.

we hadn’t gone many to the same parties – if I knew there was even a possibility of him being at the same place as me, I wouldn’t go. I couldn't bear seeing him with her. Its how I’ve managed for the past few years and yes I know it sounds pathetic.

It’s not that I completely stopped living my life – a lot has happened in my life. Both my parents passed away, I had barely started processing my mother’s death when my father passed away and since then my heart has been broken in a way that it’s never been broken before.

I’ve had relationships here and there. John Caprio and I briefly got together again. He is a total gentleman but I never deserved him. If I told him to wait 5 or even 10 years, he would wait for me but it wouldn’t be fair on him. I was never prepared for the kind of relationship he offered. John is a mature and solid man but I never felt quite solid with him.

I always felt solid with Simon, the 5 years we spent together – even if it was on and off, were honestly the best 5 years of my life. He was centred and affectionate both physically and emotionally, he knew that I didn’t like to be spoilt with materialistic items but made me feel like a princess anyway. I know that I was the only woman that he willingly introduced to his family, we weren’t even official when he introduced me to his mother and dare I say I was his mother’s favourite.

I moved to a new neighbourhood recently. After my father passed away, I thought a new home would give me the perspective I needed. I had gone on holiday but it hadn’t helped and instead of dealing with my emotions I decided to buy a new home. It’s not like me to splurge without really thinking about it but I didn’t want people to worry about me and buying a new home would make it seem like I’m doing okay.

Simon had come to the funeral of both my parents and both times he stayed till the end of the service. I still remember the hug he gave me at my father’s funeral. I melted into his chest, he smelt like the woody perfume he likes to wear when he gets tired of the orangey smelling one. From a distance, he had hovered around me. We didn’t talk about it but we both knew it wouldn’t have been appropriate if we interacted, I knew Lauren wouldn't have been agreed to him coming to the funeral. I’ve never asked Simon if he told her our history but I’m pretty sure she knows - everyone knows, people I’ve never met know our history. Our pda was never for publicity - we never discussed that we would hold hands or kiss or cuddle when we went out to a show or to dinner and neither was there anyone telling us to do so. He’s always been protective of me and I always reach out to him when I need someone to lean on. I just haven’t done it recently.

I’m not trying to be a saint with this ‘keeping distance’ thing, I’ve just been trying to do the right thing. Simon’s health and lifestyle has improved and I’m happy that it has. The past few years haven’t been easy for him either. I remember telling him some 10 years ago that he needed to give his health serious thought but I didn’t make that conversation as serious as I should have as given his working hours I didn’t want whatever time we had to be tainted by conversations about health and calories.

The beautiful thing about us was that when we were together it was because we chose to be together. Not because we had to be. We both had an even playing ground. To set the record, Simon never cheated on me. After he let me go from x factor – which is a story for another time, I had ceased contact with him and didn’t want him to contact me unless I said so and it was during that time that he well, got another woman pregnant. Did I ever think or expect that to happen, no. Lauren getting pregnant and seeing him have the happy family that I always wanted with him hurt more then I explain. In a way it hurt like a death. I tried to seem as if it didn’t bother me by keeping busy – I went on tour and kept working but in reality, I worked so much because I didn’t want to have time to think or feel anything. I made out enough time to be with my family and that was it.

Moving houses meant I met Tim. A tall stud of a gentleman who offered me a solid relationship that was tempting but he saw me and Simon together at my mother’s funeral and understood that I still had feelings for Simon. I could never really commit to anyone else after Si. As much as I tried I just couldn’t and it would feel fake when I tried. With Simon I didn’t have to try so hard, it was natural. Sure, I would make an effort for him but making an effort for Simon came easy and I know it came easy for him to make an effort for me. It was wholly organic. He was fire and I was ice.

'You know how the time flies,

only yesterday was the time of our lives

we were born and raised in a summer haze

bound by the surprise of our glory days’.

I came down to see Simon on the balcony, looking at the view. His coat neatly folded on the sofa, his once crisp white shirt now wrinkled with the sleeves rolled up. He seems to have washed up in the guest bathroom, typical of him to make himself at home without being given an invite. He looked sad and I wanted to go hug him from behind and comfort him, cup his scruffy face in my hands and tell him everything will be okay but I still wasn’t sure if it was my place. I need to ascertain what he remembered from last nite.

‘Hey you.’

‘Hey you too.’ He turned and smiled fondly at me but I could still see the sadness in his eyes.

‘Slept well?’

‘Like a log. Thanks for letting me crash here last night, I know it wasn’t right of me to show up the way I did, I didn’t realise I even showed up here..’

I smiled, nodded and looked into the distance, not wanting to say it was okay because I didn’t know if it was.

‘You have a nice place here, cosy but spacious. Very you’.

‘Thank you, I needed the change after dad passed away.’

‘How have you been doing?’

‘How have you been doing Simon?’ I said as gently as I could, I could tell from his body language that he’s broken and he wasn’t hiding it with his usual energetic demeanour and egoic boosts.

He sighed. ‘I’m guessing I said something last night?’ He looked at me and it filled me up in such a strange yet familiar way that I had to look away. ‘What did I say?’

I took a sip of my coffee and gripped my cup a little harder. ‘You basically said Lauren wouldn’t be waiting for you at home.’

‘Ah.’ He looked down at his hands and clasped them together. He still hadn’t touched his coffee.

‘We don’t have to talk about it but I am worried about you.’ He looked at me, questioning me with his eyes. ‘It’s been a while since you’ve done something like this..shown up at my place unannounced. I didn’t mind it then but now things are different.’

‘How are they different? Things are the same now. I’m single again unsurprisingly.’

‘Eric..?’

‘With Lauren.’ He looked away but I saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes.

‘Are you okay?’

He sighed and took a sip of coffee. ‘As fine as I can be, I guess. I think you and I both knew this was gonna happen. I genuinely tried to make it work but I never felt much for her. Eric is everything to me but he happened.. suddenly, and what me and Lauren had was well..a one-night stand that I didn’t think much of. She almost begged me not to tell her husband.’

‘She’s the mother of your child’.

‘And she’s a brilliant mother. I'll always be in Eric’s life – he’ll never have to worry about anything but the past few years have been tiring. I’m tired of putting up this act of a happy family when we've been sleeping in different rooms for the past few years.’

I didn’t know how to respond and looked into the distance. He turned to me, leaning on the railing. ‘Won’t you say something Paula?’

I combed my hair with my fingers. ‘I don’t know what to say Si. I’m sad for you, you know I always wanted you to have a family of your own.’

‘And maybe I always wanted to have a family with you.’

‘And you know I could never give you that.’

‘I want you to be in Eric’s life.’

‘As what Simon? As the woman you once used to work with and fired from your show because you didn’t have the guts to stick up for me or as the woman you left him and your mother for?’ It all came blurting out and I instantly regretted it. I walked inside and pretended to be busy tidying up the kitchen though it was already spotless. He put his cup down on the counter and watched me as I pretended to tidy up.

'Just tell me what you want Si. I'm really sorry that you’re hurting right now but you can’t just rock up here and expect me to take care of you while you wallow. Its not my place anymore.’

‘Paula, I've made a lot of bad decisions but there are two things I don’t regret, Eric and you. Those 10 years that we spent sitting next to each other on Idol then the 5 we spent together as a couple were the best Goddamn years in my life and I've always regretted hurting you and not standing up for you. I know no matter what I do, you won’t forgive me and neither can I undo the hurt I’ve done. I’m not sure what I want, Paula. I was upset and drunk and my house hasn’t felt like home in a really long time and the one person that feels like home is you.’

If he had said that to me 10 years ago, I would’ve kissed him straight away but I’m a different woman now. The pain he caused me has changed me.

‘What do you want Simon?’ I asked him again.

‘I don’t know. I guess I need to know if you’re still in my life.’

‘I’m here, where I’ve always been - at the fringes of your life when you’ve always been at the centre of mine even when I don’t feel comfortable with you being the centre. Every relationship I’ve had hasn’t worked because every guy I date just knows I still have feelings for you even after all these years. I gave you everything and you treated me like shit. You don’t own me.’

He looked surprised. Surprised that I could say something like that to him. I know he’s heard it from other women but I don’t think he ever expected to hear it from me.

‘Would you like me to leave’?

---

‘Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead...’

#saula #paula abdul #paula #abdul #simon cowell #simon #cowell #american idol #adele #someone like you

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