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shmaptainwrites · 1 year

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𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 [𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐙𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐘]

PAIRINGS — Fitzwilliam Darcy x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Referred by a close family friend, reader finds herself a job tutoring a lovely young girl and begins to form an unlikely connection with her older brother

WARNINGS — slight angst, non main character death, breastfeeding (non descriptive, idk if this i need a warning for this but)

NOTE — okay so I know some of my fics in the past got kinda niche with concepts and some characters but honestly I think we’re entering a new era with that, but either way I hope those of you who like P&P enjoy this just as much as I do :) also I wrote this with Colin Firth’s Darcy in mind but I think it could just as well work with Matthew MacFayden’s (This can be considered to happen after his proposal to Lizzie but like if they didn’t end up working out)

You tried desperately to shake off the nerves that overcame you, it was not like this was the first wealthy family you had tutored for, but something about Pemberley just seemed so out of your grasp. You had received the position only through an old colleague who was moving to Scotland to be nearer to his family and had communicated with your employer via mail. From what your friend had shared his former boss wasn’t one who was warm and open, he might even be considered a little standoffish, but all he wanted was what was best for his younger sister who you would be tutoring.

He’s a good man, he’s just maybe not as warm as you’re used to.

And according to friends you were used to a lot warmer than most. Your father was never shy showing his affection to his children and you all loved him more for it, but it seemed to make you just a little off put with the way everyone acted in such a closed off society.

With one final deep breath you knocked and the door was almost immediately opened by one of the servants.

“I-I’m here to see Mr. Darcy,” you explained. “I’m the new tutor for Miss Darcy.”

“Yes, Miss (L/N) is it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you gave her a polite smile.

“Right this way, Mr. Darcy is in his office.”

You followed the housekeeper inside and had to keep yourself from gasping at the beauty of Pemberley’s interior.

After your presence was announced to Mr. Darcy, you were allowed to enter the room and gave a quick curtsey to get the formalities over with.

“Mr. Darcy, it’s nice to finally meet you in person,”

The man nodded, but offered no response.

“I am assuming you have gone over the subjects I would like Georgiana to go over?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. It was your job, why wouldn’t you have done that?

“Very well, then that will be the extent of our dealings today. Someone will take your to Georgiana so you can meet her and being your studies,”

“Thank you, sir,”

Hamish was right, Mr. Darcy was not as warm as you were used to.

The lady who had shown you to Mr. Darcy beckoned you to follow her again and took you down the long halls and up the grand staircase which took you to the young Miss Darcy.

When you saw her she was hunched over what looked like a piece of sheet music, making various annotations and comments in the margins. You remembered a younger version of yourself doing something similar to remind yourself of where there needed to be extra emphasis on things.

Georgiana Darcy had a quiet shyness even just to the way she carried herself, but in that way she reminded you of your younger sister closest to you in age. She was maybe a year or so older than Georgiana and even from having barely known her a few moments you knew if they were ever to meet they would be great friends.

“Ma’am,” Georgiana looked up and noticed you in the room, quickly shuffling away her papers while introductions were made.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled. “I’m close friends with Mr. Morrison, he’s told me a lot about you.”

“You know Mr, Morrison? I was so sad to hear he was moving so far away,” Georgiana sighed. “He was a very engaging tutor,”

“I hope I can live up to his standard,” you chuckled. “Your older brother gave me the impression that you’re prepared to begin your lesson today.”

“I am,” she confirmed. “I was hoping we could start with something a little lighter though, but knowing my brother and his curriculum that might be impossible.”

“He does have very high hopes for you,” you noted. “He mentioned to me in one of his letters he hopes for you to have the tools to be a smart, capable, and independent young lady.”

“As long as being independent doesn’t mean being sad and alone,,” she giggled. “Come, I have a space set up in another room for lessons.”

Georgiana took your hand and dragged you off to her study room, decorated by he you assumed, with flowers, paintings and lots and lots of books. There was even another piano in the corner of the room and she gauged your reaction to the space.

“It’s beautiful,” you grinned. “You did this all yourself?”

“Aside from moving the piano, yes,” she nodded. “But I told them where to put it and my brother helped me pick out the paintings.”

“Well, you both have very good taste,” you praised. “Which might be a rather nice segue into our first lesson,”

“Are we going to paint?” Georgiana asked, she even looked a little excited.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but unfortunately not. It’s a review of art history, but I promise I’ll try to make it as bearable as possible,”

“I trust you,” Georgiana smiled and sat down at the table. “As long as you can keep up with my endless questions we should be in good shape,”

“I’ll try my best.”

You smiled as you set down your papers and lesson plans. You would have to send a letter to Hamish because this may just turn out to be the best job you’d ever have.

—

It had been a few months of you working at Pemberley and you couldn’t have been happier. Your walk to and from the village everyday was a little long, but it was worth it when you had a student like Georgiana. It really felt like you were spending time with your younger sister and you thought she maybe even came to see you as an older sibling.

You had only really spent a handful of moments with Mr. Darcy and most of the pleasant ones involved his younger sister. You hadn’t much inclination to spend time with him although you didn’t complain when he came to sit in Georgiana’s study room to observe or read quietly while you went through your lessons with her.

There was a quiet handsomeness to him and although he was not outwardly warm and fuzzy at least he was like the works of art you would review with Georgiana when discussing sculpting during the Renaissance.

One afternoon during lunch, you noticed Georgiana was sending her brother some sideways glances, as if she wanted him to say something and when he wasn’t understanding her signals she cleared her throat and turned her attention to you.

“(Y/N)-,”

“Georgiana, we’ve spoken about this,” her brother scolded.

“No, it’s quite alright,” you assured Mr. Darcy. “We’ve made a small agreement to refer to each other by our first names,” you explained.

“I am well aware of the agreement, but that doesn not change the fact that it demeans your position as her tutor when she refers to you so plainly,”

“I didn’t think my name was that plain, sir,” you remarked and ate a bite of your salad while Georgiana chuckled. That seemed to silence him so his sister continued.

“Anyways, I was meaning to ask you about your walk to Pemberley every morning, it must be terrible when the weather is poor.”

“I must admit it worries me to catch a cold when I should be fit enough to work, but I don’t mind the walk too much,”

“I believe what my dear sister is trying to express,” Mr. Darcy jumped in. “Is that we’ve cleared a room for you to stay at Pemberley if you wish to do so.”

“A room here?” you confirmed and Georgiana nodded with a wide smile. “You wouldn’t have to get up so early in the morning anymore and if you’d like to walk you can always do it around the grounds.”

“T-That’s an incredibly kind offer Mr. Darcy,” you looked at him. “Are you sure this is something you would be alright with in the long term?”

“I’ve given it extensive thought and it seems to be the best course for Georgiana’s studies and to ensure your continued good health.”

“Well then, in that case I’d be honoured to accept your offer,” you smiled shyly. “I’ll move my things this weekend.”

“Fitzwilliam and I can come and help you,” Georgiana suggested. “Can’t we?”

Mr. Darcy looked at his little sister and you thought you might have caught a flicker of a smile before he nodded his head.

“We can bring a carriage down and help load it up,”

He very well could have people come and do that for him, but there was something interesting about how he was so casual in accepting the suggestion of his sister.

You would have assumed helping his younger sister’s tutor move into his home to be something quite beneath him.

“Thank you, that’s a very kind offer. I’ll be sure to have tea waiting for when you arrive,”

Georgiana clapped her hands together as if having you move to Pemberley was the best news she’d ever heard. You couldn’t help but wonder if the closed off and distant Mr. Darcy was doing all of this to please his younger sister, but when you took a moment to glance at him you saw how his eyes were already fixed on you and maybe it wasn’t just Georgiana’s doing after all.

—

Something you would never come to understand was how the gardens of Pemberley were so pristine no matter the time of year. The hedges were perfectly trimmed, flowers beautifully in bloom and never wilted.

During the summer months it was warm enough to go outside and sit without a jacket by the lake which you enjoyed doing on the weekends, bringing a good book and soaking up as much of the sunlight as you could get.

You were so engrossed in your novel, oftentimes you wouldn’t notice if someone had come to call on you, or anything around you for that matter.

So it came as a shock when you heard a voice that was in very close proximity to you, making you jump with fright.

You placed a hand on your chest to steady your beating heart as you looked up only to find Mr. Darcy there.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, I don’t think I’ve been scared like that since… well, it’s been a long while,” you tried to catch your breath and steady it.

“I apologize,” he said. “Might I ask what has inclined you to sit out here,”

“Well, the sunlight for one,” you noted. “And a good book which I was reading until I was so frightfully interrupted.”

“Right,” he nodded. “I should take my leave so you can continue-,”

“Mr. Darcy I’m afraid you misunderstand me,” you interrupted him with a small chuckle. You were only teasing him, “If you’d like to join me you're most welcome to. This is, after all, your home.”

Mr. Darcy lifted his coattails and sat himself down on the grassy knoll next to you, looking out towards the lake.

“Is your family all in good health?” he inquired.

“Yes, as of last week they are,” you nodded.

“You have how many siblings?”

You took a moment to count on your fingers, whispering the names of each of your sisters and one brother until you had the final count of six.

“Six, sir. I assume it’s just you and Georgiana?”

“You are correct in your assumption,” he nodded.

There was a moment of awkward silence between you both before you figured you would probably have to be the one to break it.

“I do enjoy myself greatly at Pemberley, I’m very thankful for your hospitality.”

Still silence, but as if he wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Mr. Darcy are you alright?” you asked.

“Quite,” he cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes, I’m quite alright,”

His eyes drifted over to your book and noticing its title he pointed to it.

“M-May I?”

“Of course,” you nodded, sliding in your bookmark and handing the novel to him. His fingers brushed over yours and you could feel your breath hitch at his touch.

He examined the binding and structure of the book before its contents, scanning the first few pages, but you were too focused on the burning feeling that he left on your fingertips. You gently massaged it away hoping he wouldn’t notice the way you had reacted to such a simple thing, but desire was nothing to be fooled with.

“H-Has it passed your inspection, Mr. Darcy?” you asked, glancing down at the book, then at him, your hand still folded in your lap.

“I have no objections,” he agreed. “A fine choice.”

“I’ve only just started it,” you told him. “I’m rather anxious to see how it ends,”

He took one last glance at the title as if he wanted to commit it to memory before handing it back to you.

“I shall look forward to hearing your thoughts on it once you finish,”

You smiled when he said that, you knew what Hamish had said when you first came to Pemberley, but now that you had been there the greater part of four months you wished to believe that maybe Mr. Darcy did have a soft side.

“And I shall look forward to conversing with you,”

You noticed the faintest twitch of his lip as if he was fighting away a smile, but he quickly brushed it off and gave you a polite nod before standing up and wishing you a good day.

You opened your book back to where you had left off, but your mind was distracted. It was safe to say you didn’t get much further.

—

“Fitz, you have to help me convince her she’s being very stubborn,” Georgiana eyed you and you tried to focus on eating your dinner.

“I’m sure Miss (L/N) has a very good reason to not be convinced of whatever it is you’re asking of her,” Mr. Darcy came to your defence.

“But-,”

“Georgiana,” her brother warned, but the young lady would not have it.

“Fitzwilliam,” she mimicked him. “She’s planning on staying bolted up in her room during our ball you have to do something,”

Mr. Darcy looked up from his plate to you, his hands holding the utensils relaxing as he eyed your curiously.

“You won’t come to the ball?” he asked.

“No sir, I was not intending to,” you shook your head.

“May inquire as to why?”

“I-I don’t have anything to wear,” you admitted. “And I do not want to make yourselves or myself out of place with the company you shall be hosting,”

“It would be more cumbersome for us if you weren’t there,” Georgiana tried to convince you. “Most of these balls are out of societal obligation and Fitzwilliam and I would be better off with your company, not without it. Lord knows how much he hates small talk,”

“Georgiana, now that’s enough,” Mr. Darcy ended whatever was left of the conversation. “Miss (L/N) is a grown woman and can make the decision herself on whether she will attend the ball or not,”

You thought that would be the end of it and that you would stay in your room with no questions asked, but a few days later when you walked into your room there was an unfamiliar package on the bed.

You picked it up and unwrapped the carefully folded paper packaging to reveal a beautiful dress, one of the latest fashions from London. Something you could never imagine being able to afford.

Attached to the package was a note, you quickly unfolded it and read what was written.

I hope you understand that I only wished to remove any barriers preventing you from joining us next week. The decision is still yours, but I hoped this might help.

Darcy

You looked down and examined the dress again. It was in a colour you remembered having mentioned — perhaps it was to Georgiana — you liked and the detailing was something like you’d never seen.

You closed the door to your room and slipped off the dress you were wearing, replacing it with the one from the package instead.

When you saw your reflection in the mirror you knew then and there you could not let this dress sit away in a closet to be eaten by moths. This dress deserved to be worn. And even though the very thought of it made you sick with nervousness, it deserved to be worn at a ball.

—

“I cannot tell you how happy I am that you’ve decided to come,” Georgiana linked your arm with hers once you entered Pemberley’s ballroom.

“It would have been foolish of me to stay in my room with a dress like this,” you looked down at yourself, still unable to believe you were wearing it.

One of the maids had helped you with your hair, it was in a different style than what you normally wore day to day, but she had done such an amazing job with it you figured it would be hard for people to figure out you didn’t really belong.

Georgiana was your saving grace for a while, helping you start conversations with others and introducing you to their guests, but eventually — just like all good things coming to an end — she was pulled away by one of her friends and you were on your own.

You poured yourself a glass of punch and stood off in a corner, observing everything that was appening in front of you.

Georgiana was now dancing with the others and you realized that the whole night you hadn’t caught a glimpse of Mr. Darcy. Your eyes scanned the room for him, but there were so many new faces it was almost becoming dizzying looking through them all.

“I see you’ve taken my approach to the ball,”

You jumped at the sound of his voice so near making you spill your punch and staining your new dress.

“Mr. Darcy,” you gasped. “I hope after this encounter you come to realize how easily I am frightened,”

“Again, I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to scare you,” he was sincere, but there was a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” you took a deep breath and set down your drink, wiping your hands on a napkin and turning to give him your full attention. “I must say I’m surprised to see you on the sidelines.”

“I believe Georgiana was ever so kind in mentioning that I detest small talk,” he reminded you.

“And dancing?”

“It depends,” he looked straight ahead, his eyes finding Georgiana’s in the crowd.

“On?” you urged him to continue.

“Who I’m dancing with.”

You looked at him thoughtfully before remembering the stain on your dress and you knew there would be no way you could remove it with a little scrub of water alone.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, Mr. Darcy,” you sighed. “It is unfortunately not acceptable to dance in a punch stained dress.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “Although, Miss (L/N),”

You turned your head back and looked up at him.

“Yes?”

“I would be very grateful if you would allow me to accompany you.”

“Accompany me?” you confirmed. “To remove the stain from my dress?”

“Yes… or to perhaps mysteriously disappear from my own ball and not return,” he offered and you quickly lifted a hand to cover your mouth and stifle a laugh which finally revealed to you Mr. Darcy’s smile and what a beautiful sight it was.

“I would be happy for you to accompany me Mr. Darcy,” you nodded and waited a moment for him to catch up the few extra steps to be at the same pace as you while you walked out of the ballroom and towards the bedrooms.

You could still hear the music faintly in the halls and you admired the peacefulness of it all.

“Does it ever feel too big?” you asked.

“Pardon?”

“Pemberley. Does it ever feel like it’s too big?” you asked him.

He took a quiet moment of reflection and you patiently awaited his answer.

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” he admitted. “I’m not sure what smaller would look like.”

“It’s more about what it feels like,” you expressed. “Including my mother and father there were nine of us at home while I was growing up,” you began to explain. “Our home was not as small compared to a lot of the others around us, but in contrast to Pemberley it seems miniscule. When I wanted to get away from everyone I would have to leave the house, go take a walk in the field. Here I can just go to my room and I’ll be left alone,”

“Do you miss your home?” Mr. Darcy asked. “Surely you wouldn’t stay there forever.”

You looked at him curiously and he clarified,

“What I mean is a woman such as yourself will eventually get married, perhaps move away.”

“I do miss home sometimes, but it’s mostly my family. There is something about the quiet here, it’s so serene.” you clasped your hands together to stop them from swinging at your side.

There was another spell of comfortable silence before it was broken again by Mr. Darcy.

“Miss (L/N), if we stopped by my office I may have something that can help remove the stain from your dress,”

“You do?”

“When I was younger I had an awful habit of spilling tea on my white shirts so the maids started to give me something so I could get them cleaned faster,” he explained. “I-I’m not sure if it will work, but it might prove to be useful.”

“Perhaps you should go grab it while I change out of this dress and into another?” you suggested. “You can meet me at my room.”

Mr. Darcy nodded and quickly took the turn to his office while you hurried your pace to the end of the hall where your bedroom was.

As quickly as you could, without damaging the dress, you removed it and laid it on your bed before picking out the nicest clothes you had out of your own belongings, but it came nowhere near even the simplest dress at the ball.

A couple moments after you had gotten dressed there was a knock on your door and you grabbed the dress and opened it.

“We may need an area with better light,” you looked at your dark room only lit by a small candle.

“Bring the candle, if we take it to one of the balconies it should give us enough to work with.”

You nodded and did what he suggested before following him to one of the balconies in question.

Mr. Darcy held out his hand for your dress and you gave it to him seeing the jar he held in his opposite hand.

He hung the dress along the balcony’s ledge and opened the jar, pouring some of its contents on the stain.

“Vinegar?” you asked.

“And lemon juice,” he nodded after placing the jar down on the ground and scrubbing the affected spot.

“Mr. Darcy, if you’d like I can take care of it,” you reached out and offered to take the dress off his hands.

“I-,” he stopped himself as if he was unsure how to word what he wanted to say. “It would mean a great deal if you allowed me to do this for you, Miss (L/N),”

You nodded your head and retracted your hands, holding them against your stomach, watching as he took extra care until, by the warm light of the candle, the stain was almost completely removed.

“Thank you,” you said while taking the dress carefully back in your own hands, folding it and placing it on a table inside before coming back out.

You could hear the music clearly coming from the ballroom, you suspected the windows were open and the sound was travelling. You thought it was a shame you didn’t get to dance, but that was partially your own fault, if you weren’t hidden off in the corner perhaps someone would have asked you.

“Miss (L/N), I know it is just the two of us, but if I noticed correctly you did not dance tonight,”

“I was just thinking about that myself,” you nodded.

“If you would do me the honour of sharing a dance I’m sure we can change that,” he offered his hand. The music was slower, not something one would typically dance to, but maybe Mr. Darcy knew a different style of dance than that which you were familiar with.

You cautiously took his hand and he brought you close to himself. You placed your other hand on his shoulder while he placed his just above your waist.

“Have you ever waltzed before?” he asked.

“Not that I can remember,” your voice was a whisper unable to comprehend how close you were.

“It’s very simple,” he explained softly, “It’s three steps and you just follow my lead-yes like that,”

You kept watch on your feet until you got a hang of the movements, allowing yourself to look up and see Mr. Darcy staring right back at you.

You felt like you couldn’t blink, that if you did the whole moment would vanish.

“I-I’m sorry I ruined the dress you bought me,” you apologized and looked down again at your feet, any excuse to tear away from his burning eyes that you sensed were reading your very soul.

“No, I should be the one to apologize for frightening you,” he said. “With or without the dress you could fit in here, Miss (L/N),”

You could feel your cheeks grow warm and you thanked him quietly for his words.

The music came to a slow close and your movements stopped with it. You stood a moment, in that same waltzing position like you were waiting for another song to start so you could continue, but it didn’t. At least not one you could waltz to.

You let go of Mr. Darcy’s hand and you were about to let your hand drop from his shoulder when you noticed a stray curl had fallen on his forehead, and out of instinct — perhaps from years of caring for your younger sisters or maybe even once or twice with Georgiana — you moved it out of the way, only realizing what you had done when it was too late.

“Oh my-I-I don’t know what came over me,” you quickly stepped away. “I’m so so sorry Mr. Darcy. I should-I think I should take my leave,”

Your movements were almost frantic as you quickly brushed past him and stepped back into Pemberley, grabbing the dress on the table and rushing to your room, overwrought with embarrassment.

As if dancing with him so closely wasn’t enough, you scolded yourself behind closed doors, angrily lighting a spare candle and sitting down on the chair in front of the vanity.

You looked out on yourself, a simple woman, from humble beginnings, desperately wanting something that could never be yours.

—

“(Y/N), I am absolutely utterly restless, must we continue this lesson immediately?” Georgiana asked you as she looked down in dismay at her French grammar assignment.

“I suppose not,” you hummed. “Would you like to go for a short walk perhaps? We can both get some fresh air and come back with a clear mind able to conjugate verbs,”

“That would be amazing,” Georgiana shot up, out of her chair and was already halfway out of the room as you grabbed your things.

You linked arms with her and she eagerly led the way out of Pemberley and towards the lake.

You saw a figure walking from there in your direction and you squinted trying to figure out who it was, but soon became distracted by some of Georgiana’s questions.

She asked about the small town you came from, what it was like there, if you missed your family (the answer to that was yes, but the letter you had recently received from your father helped a little with the homesickness).

You smiled at her curiosity, but your smile disappeared when you looked up and were face to face with a very indecent Mr. Darcy.

Your eyes grew wide as you saw him in nothing but a soaking white undershirt and pants while Georgiana tried to hide a laugh.

“Georgiana, Miss (L/N).” he addressed you both.

You hadn’t spoken to Mr. Darcy — aside from light chatter at the table while you ate your meals — since the ball. You were far too embarrassed to try and converse with him after what you had done, but now here he was in front of you, hardly dressed and making your stomach flutter.

“Mr. Darcy,” you nodded.

“Shouldn’t you be doing a French lesson Georgiana?” he asked his young sister.

“We decided to take a break,” she explained. “We’ll get back to it soon,”

“A-Are you enjoying your walk?” he asked, but his eyes were locked with yours.

“Yes sir,” you nodded.

“And your family is in good health? They are all well? Y-Your mother, father and siblings?”

“Yes, from what I have last heard.” you confirmed.

You stood there the three of you, staring at each other for a moment before Mr. Darcy finally excused himself to go dress more appropriately.

After he was out of earshot Georgiana turned to you and with a quiet chuckle noted that her brother enjoyed swimming in the small lake on the property occasionally in the summer to cool off.

“I don’t think I've seen him quite so flustered before,” she said. “He’s often so composed but I haven’t seen him stutter and stumble like that.”

“I’m sure he was just cold,” you lied, hoping more than anything you could quickly go back inside and forget about the incident all together.

—

Mr. Darcy walked down the halls of Pemberley a couple weeks after the lake incident, simply trying to go to his office, but when he heard a loud shriek come from your room his adrenaline raced and he ran there as quickly as possible, knocking on the door to see what was the matter.

“Miss (L/N)?” he called. “Miss (L/N), are you alright?”

There was no answer so he announced that he was entering the room, worried for your safety, only to see a letter dropped at your feet while you clutched your heart.

“Good God,” he ran up to you, almost offering you the solace and comfort of his arms before remembering that it wouldn’t be appropriate. “What happened?”

“I-I-,” you gagged and covered your mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick!”

Tears were streaming down your face and your heart was racing far faster than it should have been, you wanted to tell Mr. Darcy the terrible news you had received. What made you cry in horror, and withered your very soul, but you felt dizzy, your dress far too constricting and making it harder for you to breathe.

“(Y/N), you must let me call someone, a doctor, you are unwell,”

You shook your head, but not as a sign of refusal, you weren’t even aware of what was happening anymore, everything was becoming fuzzy before your knees buckled and it went black.

You were lucky Mr. Darcy was right next to you as he caught you before you fell and quickly carried you to your bed, laying you down before rushing to the hallway and calling for help.

Georgiana was closest and she came running down the halls wondering what her brother needed.

“Georgiana, I need you to get Evangeline to call a doctor immediately and bring me a towel soaked in cold water and the smelling salts.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “She read something and became distraught by it. She wasn’t well enough to tell me before she fainted.”

“I’ll be quick,” Georgiana nodded and ran back down the hall to do the tasks her brother had requested of her.

Mr. Darcy headed back into the room and kneeled down next to your bed. He couldn’t help but reach out to hold your hand and give it a squeeze, the worry shimmering in his eyes. He could care less about propriety at that moment.

He needed you to be alright, desperately, whatever the news was, when he found out he would do everything in his power to assure your comfort.

Georgiana came back quickly with the requested items and Mr. Darcy sat himself next to you on the bed. gently dabbing the cool towel on your forehead.

Georgiana placed the smelling salts under your nose only getting a slight twitch from you before Mr. Darcy told his younger sister to leave it for a moment before continuing.

“Georgiana perhaps you should be at the door when the doctor arrives,” Mr. Darcy said quietly, his eyes never leaving your still frame.

“Of course, please do call someone if you need anything though,”

“I will,” he nodded and she slipped out of the room leaving only you and Mr. Darcy.

He placed the cold towel on your forehead and gave it a moment before he tried the smelling salts again, this time with more luck seeing you begin to stir and wake, realizing all over again what had happened.

You barely even had a chance to sit up when your body erupted with sobs, your chest heaving and shoulders shaking. Mr. Darcy, again, desperately wanted to offer you comfort in an embrace but giving you any sort of added shock dissuaded him from doing so.

Georgiana, presumably having heard the sound, ran back into the room and fell at your feet her hand tightly grasping yours.

“(Y/N), what happened?” her voice was gentle but carried the pain she knew you were feeling.

“I-It’s my father,” you pressed your lips together and shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, covering your mouth with your free hand.

Mr. Darcy grabbed the letter that was on the ground and with your permission skimmed its contents before passing it on to Georgiana.

“Miss (L/N), given the circumstances I believe I should escort you to your family home,” Mr. Darcy shared. “After the doctor has come and checked on you. I’d like to make sure you’re in good health before I return you to them. They need you in one piece.”

You nodded your head and sniffed, wiping away your tears with the sleeve of your dress.

“A-And Georgiana, what about h-her? Her st-studies?”

“Never mind me,” Georgiana shook her head and looked at you like you were being silly. She sat next to you on the bed and wrapped you in a tight hug. “I’ll manage for a while. Go be with your family, they need you and you need them.”

“I can’t thank you both enough for your continued kindness,” you whispered. “Especially at a time like this.”

“Of course,” Mr. Darcy nodded.

Georgiana offered to help you pack a bag and you accepted it graciously while Mr. Darcy insisted you stay seated until the doctor came around, not wanting to deal with another fainting spell. It was frightening enough the first time.

The doctor arrived around five minutes later and assured Mr. Darcy you were alright, just greatly overwhelmed. He recommended for you to take time to rest and relax, but both you and the Darcys knew that would only come when you were back home with your family.

So with your bag in Mr. Darcy’s hand, you walked up to the prepared carriage. Mr. Darcy helped you inside and he followed shortly after securing your bag, taking the seat next to you, but leaving a decent amount of space between you.

As the carriage began to make its way off the property you stayed quiet. Watching outside of its window at the gardens passing by, thinking about how long it had been since you’d seen your father and how you wished you could have been at his side when he left this world.

Your eyes flicked to the empty spot next to you, noticing the way Mr. Darcy’s hand was resting next to his side. You carefully inched yours closer to his, wanting to ask for comfort, but not knowing what reaction it would bring. He was — after all — a very proper gentleman.

You turned your head again and watched the scenery outside when you felt the faintest brush against your hand, to be sure you looked once more and saw how Mr. Darcy’s hand was now even closer to yours, as if he was making sure it was alright.

You slowly stretched your fingers out slightly to him as he made the last move, placing his hand over your own and giving it a gentle squeeze as you both continued to look out of your respective windows. You didn’t dare turn to look at each other.

When the carriage stopped in front of your home, Mr. Darcy was the one to let go of your hand, but only for a moment until he helped you out of the carriage. He told the driver he would handle your bag and after he handed it to you, you thanked him once more for his kindness.

“And not just this, Mr. Darcy,” you sniffed and wiped away a few remaining tears. “It’s not lost on me what you have done for me in the time I’ve stayed with you at Pemberley. My room, the dress, the small parcels of books you’d leave on my desk every month,” the thought of his generosity was enough to bring a small soft smile to your face.

And if he had the chance to do it again, Mr. Darcy knew he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Thank you for bringing a light back into Pemberley that I haven’t seen in many years. You’ve done me a service just as much as you have claimed I have for you.”

You gave him one last fleeting smile as a goodbye before you knocked at the door of your home, waiting for one of your siblings to let you inside.

—

It had been three weeks since you had left Pemberley and as much as you wanted it to be, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling to return, knowing what was in store.

Once you were let in, you headed straight for Mr. Darcy’s office where Evangeline said he would be. You knocked on the door and as soon as you heard permission to come inside you entered.

“Mr. Darcy, I need to speak with you urgently.”

“Miss (L/N), I-we weren’t expecting your return today. I’ll send someone immediately to prepare your room.”

“There’s no need, sir,” you bit the inside of your cheek. “I’ve come here to hand in my registration.”

“Resignation?” Mr. Darcy was not expecting that. “I-Is this because of the passing of your father?”

“In part,” you nodded. “I’ve been given time to reflect on the matter and I have now realized that during my time here there have been many boundaries of which I have crossed,” you continued to explain. “This has nothing to do with either your or Georgiana, this is completely my own mistake and I wish to own up to it.”

Mr. Darcy was speechless, he wanted to argue with you, tell you how foolish you were being and that nothing of the sort had happened, but he could see your mind was set and if this was something that would make you happy, he didn’t want to be the person who got in the way.

“I understand your decision, and although I do not necessarily agree with it, I will not stop you,” he said quietly.

You pressed your lips together and nodded, “I’ll go pack my things and give the news to Georgiana.”

You left his office without another word and headed to your room to begin packing.

After everything was complete and your belongings were in the carriage you looked around for Georgiana, finding her by the piano playing a quiet melody.

Her playing stopped abruptly when she noticed you were there and she ran over to give you a hug.

“You’re leaving aren’t you,” she mumbled quietly into your shoulder and you nodded as the young girl squeezed you tightly.

“I’m so sorry Georgiana,” you apologized. “Please know that I have loved every moment I have spent with you. And I love you very dearly, as if you were one of my sisters.”

“I love you too,” she cried softly and you held her close, clutching a letter you had written for her in your hand.

You gently pulled away from her, only to be able to wipe her tears and place a soft kiss to her forehead.

“You can come visit me anytime you’d like,” you assured her.

“I will. As much as I can.”

You handed her the letter and she held it close to her heart.

“I’ll see you again, I promise,” you tucked a small strand of her blond hair behind her ear and pulled her in for one last hug goodbye before leaving Pemberley and your heart behind you.

—

Two months later…

“Fitz,”

“Hello, Fitz?”

“Fitzwilliam Darcy,” Georgiana snapped her fingers in front of her brother’s face and he finally blinked out of his trance.

“What is it Georgiana?” his voice almost sounded like a sigh, the past two months at Pemberley had been gloomy to say the very least.

“You’re unhappy, Fitzwilliam,” she stated. “Melancholic, miserable, despondent, however you put it, it doesn’t matter.”

“Why do you think that is,” he sat back in his seat, listening to his sister.

“Because you miss her,”

“Her? Who is her?”

“(Y/N), you miss (Y/N),” she said. “And do not try to deny it. You’ve been grumpy since she’s left and all you’ve done is mope about. You love her, Fitz. Which is why you should go after her because I think she loves you too,”

Mr. Darcy only shook his head at his little sister, but it was more to save his own image than to disregard what she was saying, because he knew it to be the truth. At least for him it was, why would you have left if you loved him.

After lunch he sat in his office and attempted to get some work done and unfortunately his productivity was not particularly fruitful. Evangeline came in later to bring him a cup of tea and he thanked her, hoping maybe a warm drink could get him back on track. Instead, he knocked over the cup and spilled its contents on his white shirt as he cursed himself for his clumsiness.

He grabbed a spare shirt from his room close by and went to try and remove the stain from the dirtied one. As he pulled out his mixture of vinegar and lemon from one of his desk drawers he paused, his mind drifting back to the night of the ball.

He remembered holding your dress in his hands, insisting that he be the one to help remove the stain, it was so simple yet to him it felt incredibly personal, he hoped it showed that he cared. The way you danced together, slowly, close to one another, scandalous by all definitions, but how you had both become lost in each other's eyes and how you hadn’t missed a beat in fixing an unruly curl that had fallen onto his forehead.

Upon a moment of reflection, he realized that perhaps his reading of your behaviour had been wrong, that maybe everything you had done, even leaving, you’d done because of him.

He didn’t want to inflate his own ego, but there was only one way he would be able to get it out of his mind and that was to ask. The worst that could come of it is things would stay the same. Mr. Darcy would be alone while the woman he loved moved on with her life. But if there was even an inkling of a possibility, he wanted to take a chance.

He left his office in haste and asked the driver to prepare the carriage for him. He informed Georgiana that he was going out and that hopefully he would return by nightfall.

The carriage ride seemed to take forever and Mr. Darcy waited impatiently for them to arrive at your home. He knew this was an unannounced visit and it was as rude as one could be, but he had to know, he could not wait even another second.

After he knocked on your door, he had half a mind to leave, to abandon this foolish pursuit completely, but before he could give it another moment’s through the door swung open.

You had to blink a couple times to make sure you were seeing things right. You carried your little brother on your waist and he had his head tucked into your neck, not wanting to expose himself to the stranger in front of him.

To Mr. Darcy you had never looked more beautiful.

“I-I do apologize, I realize how rude it is of me to come unannounced.”

“Yes, quite so,” you nodded, still shocked by his presence.

“(N/N) who is it?” one of your younger sisters ran to the door to come get a look at their visitor.

“Iris,” you hissed quietly. “Go back inside.”

“(Y/N), be nice to your sister,” your mother came to join the three of you by the door all staring at Mr. Darcy. “Sir, you must accept my apology for my daughter’s apparent lack of manners. May I ask who you are?”

“This is Mr. Darcy, mother, my former employer,” you introduced.

“Then what is he doing standing outside, please come in.”

Your mother took no hesitation in pushing you out of the way so that he could enter and by that point, the rest of your sister had gathered around to see what was happening.

Mr. Darcy stepped into your home and he was able to adequately see what you were describing the night of the ball. Your home was obviously much smaller than Pemberley, but comfortable enough to house you, your mother and your six siblings. He could understand how it might easily get loud and boisterous, but it gave him just that much more insight into you.

“Might we offer you some tea Mr. Darcy?” your mother asked and Mr. Darcy shook his head.

“No thank you, but may I ask for a moment of Miss (L/N)’s time? There’s something I wish to discuss with her in private.”

Before you even had an inch of room to answer, Julia, the sister closest in age to you, swooped in to take Peter out of your arms and pushed you in the direction of Mr. Darcy.

“Of course, you both can use the sitting room,” she smiled and motioned for the rest of her sisters to follow her upstairs.

Finding no other option, you led Mr. Darcy into the sitting room. He walked to the opposite side and when you closed the door you crossed your arms over your chest, waiting to hear what he had come all the way from Pemberley to say.

He stayed silent, unsure of how to string the words together and so you tried to prompt him with a question.

“How is Georgiana?”

“She’s well, in good health,” he nodded.

“And Pemberley?”

He opened his mouth to say something then paused.

“It’s not the same.”

“Why not?” you frowned.

“It’s not the same without you,” he finally admitted. “The estate is always quiet, Georgiana isn’t engaged in her studies, she misses you, I… I miss you,”

“Mr. Darcy-,”

“Please, allow me at least to finish and then if you wish me to leave and never come again I will respect that.”

You nodded your head, signalling that you were listening and ready to hear what he had to say.

“When you left you said that it was because you had crossed boundaries and you wanted to own up to your mistakes. I didn’t agree to that from that start, but if that is how you see it then I am just as complicit in crossing those boundaries. I will admit to that, but I crossed those lines because…because…”

“Why Mr. Darcy?” you stepped closer to him, just a few inches, but it was enough to see the hurt glimmering in his eyes.

“Because I had fallen in love with you. I still am in love with you. I wish for nothing more than to have you be the first face I see each morning and the last face I see each night. My heart is in agony, ever since you left us, I only wish for that pain to be soothed.”

Now it was your turn to remain silent. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, in all your time spent with Mr. Darcy you could have never imagined that something like this could occur. He was a gentleman of high status and you were just a girl from the country.

“I know it’s selfish of me to ask of you to come back for this reason, but I would be beside myself if I didn’t ask if you would even consider doing me the honour of becoming my wife.”

“I-” your voice was caught in your throat as a couple tears escaped from your eyes. “I would gladly take that honour,” you nodded with a sniff, wiping away a few tears and walking up to him and taking his hand in yours. “And I will carry that honour with me as gratitude for allowing me the opportunity to marry the man I love.”

Mr. Darcy gently lifted his hand to hold your face tilted towards him as you leaned forward to rest your foreheads against each other. His thumb wiped away a few more stray tears before you moved his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss on his fingers.

“Is there any chance I may convince you to kiss me?” you asked. “If our relationship consists of boundaries crossed we may as well continue to be consistent.”

Mr. Darcy chuckled and tucked a finger under your chin, allowing his lips to meet your own in a soft kiss filled with love and admiration for one another.

When you pulled apart, Mr. Darcy couldn’t help but hold your face in his hands, with a twinge of a smile on his lips.

“My dear, I know it is customary for one to ask for the blessing of the father when getting engaged, but given the circumstances, I would like to ask your family. Would you be alright with that?”

You nodded your head, and held one of his hands that was pressed against your cheek as you turned to kiss it.

“I’ll go get them and make some tea while you talk,” you said.

You didn’t want to let each other go, but you knew for the time being it would be necessary. When you stepped out of the room, as you had predicted your family was gathered around the door, waiting for some sort of news.

“Mr. Darcy would like to speak to you all,” you said. “I’m going to go make some tea.”

“(N/N) what did he say?” Julia asked.

“I’m sure that will come to light soon enough,” you nodded. “Go on.”

You shooed your siblings off into the room and your mother followed closely behind with a slightly skeptical look on her face.

You sat and waited patiently in the kitchen with a cup of tea in your hands until when you looked up at the door you saw Mr. Darcy standing at the entrance.

“Well?” you asked.

He simply nodded his head and you couldn’t help the grin that had become plastered on your face.

You had to contain your excitement and simply stood up to meet him and extend your hand for him to take.

With one look to each other and a simple nod, you were both ready for whatever would come next.

—

The sun peeked through the curtains on a clear Thursday morning, you yawned and stretched, reaching over to your side only to be met with empty covers. As soon as there was a frown on your face you saw your husband emerge from the adjoining room with two glasses of water in his hands and your expression relaxed.

“Good morning, Mrs. Darcy,” he said softly, placing the glasses on the table next to the bed and taking a seat next to you.

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” you yawned with a chuckle. “Have you been up long?”

He shook his head, “Just a few minutes.”

“Could you stay?” you asked while fixing a few of his tousled curls.

“Of course,” he nodded and leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips only to be interrupted by the sound of a soft cry coming from the room next door.

You were in the middle of pushing yourself up to attend to it, but a careful hand was placed on your shoulder and encouraged you to stay down.

“I’ll get him don’t worry,” he assured you and not even a minute later, Mr. Darcy walked back into the room with your son cradled in his arms. “I think he wants his mother,” he said while watching the little boy squirm.

“Oh he’s just hungry,” you pushed yourself into a seated position and held your arms out to take the baby while Mr. Darcy came and sat next to you on the other side of the bed.

Just as you had predicted, the squirming immediately ceased while he was being fed and it made you chuckle.

“What is it?” Mr. Darcy asked.

“Nothing, it’s just you get cranky too when you’re hungry,” you let a laugh escape while your husband shook his head with a smile.

“My darling, you wound me,” he teased and you simply smiled back up at him.

“I’m sorry Fitz, what can I say? Like father like son,” you replied as he wrapped an arm around you and he used his free hand to gently stroke his son’s head, suddenly overcome with overwhelming gratitude that he took a chance to be happy.

#mr darcy #mr darcy x reader #fitzwilliam darcy #fitzwilliam darcy x reader #pride and prejudice #p&p 1995 #bbc pride and prejudice #pride and prejudice fanfiction #mr darcy fanfiction

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augustisonline · 24 days

Text

Too sad to dance - Lucifer Morning star x reader (angst+fluff)

First fic on here!!! I'm a little bit nervous about getting back into writing but, hopefully this is good 😭 this is like, very descriptive and plot heavy so if that's not your thing I'm sorry, but to those who do like that, please enjoy! This is long as fuck.

Summary: Reader struggles with depression and finds themselves at a bar trying to drink their thoughts away. Lucifer goes looking for them and tries to comfort them. (Great summary august)

Warnings: tw for harassment, alcohol, swearing, reader struggles with depression, slight angst, no sexual content but a few sexual comments, implications of suicide, could this be classed as hurt/comfort? Lucifer, gn reader, pre established relationship, minimal use of y/n, fluff. Not proof read.

🎀

Depression. Some people see it as an exaggeration of sadness, some people use it as a joke or some truly struggle with the mental hell that it can be. Today was one of those days. You had found yourself stuck in bed all day, still in your clothes from yesterday. You hadn't moved at all as you were in and out of sleep, trying to shut your mind up so you wouldn't have to think.

Nonetheless, it didn't work. Each time you woke up, it all came flooding back. The existential dread, the numbness and emptiness that your mind was feeling. Depression was your hell whilst living and in the afterlife. You couldn't escape it, even the one thing that you thought would finally free you of this hell, didn't actually end the suffering you had been going through.

So that's how you found yourself wound up at one of the more run down bars in hell, you just wanted to find somewhere where you could forget it all, even if that place was at the bottom of a bottle. You were sat at the bar, the stickiness of the wood beneath your arms really tied together the overall ickiness that this place was making you feel. Even the stool you were sat on felt disgusting.

The bartender made his way over to you, staring at you expectantly as he waited for you to order. "Just give me a glass of the strongest shit you've got." You spoke, your voice monotone as you slid a few bills you pulled from your pocket across the bar, not bothering to count them. A few minutes later the bartender placed the glass in front of you, his scrunched face staring down at you as you chugged the contents of the drink before he turned away to serve someone else.

You placed the glass down on the counter, absentmindedly staring at it, the ice was beginning to melt and although it wasn't very interesting, it kept your mind occupied. As you were deep in thought, your mind wondered to Lucifer. You were supposed to call him this morning. Shit. And you had walked out of the hotel without saying a word, what if you had worried him? You searched your pockets for your phone, only to find out you had forgotten it, a tired sigh escaped your lips as you placed your head in your hands, tears threatening to spill.

You couldn't keep putting him through this, shutting him and everyone else out when you were having a tough time. You felt awful. Lucifer had his own battle with depression and the pressure of being King. He didn't need to be running after you every so often when you disappeared in an attempt to feel better. A few silent tears had fallen from your eyes, you felt like the worst partner in all of Hell.

Caught up in your tears, you didn't notice the man who had sat next to you. Only the sound of him ordering a drink snapped you out of your trance. He looked towards you and smiled before speaking, "Rough day?". You laughed a bit, "When isn't it?" Lifting your head up and straightening your posture as you spoke to the man. He laughed at your words, sipping on his drink as he gave you a smirk.

"I don't think I've ever seen you before. You new around here?" He questioned, setting his drink down, still looking at you as he waited for you to reply. "No, I don't come here often, but I've been around for a few years." You replied, turning to the bartender and signalling for another drink, sliding him the cash as he poured it. The man hummed, staying silent for a moment as he took another swig of what appeared to be whiskey. "I recognise you, what's your name?" He enquired, and you looked at him rather suspiciously. You were surprised it took him this long to recognise you. A lot of guys wouldn't take this long to realise you were Lucifer's partner.

Dating the king of hell was amazing, but it did come with a lot of publicity. Even though Lucifer tried to stay out of the public eye, it did often result in your private dates being crashed by at least one nosey reporter. So, to say you weren't the talk of Hell for a while would be a lie.

"Y/n, but I'm sure you've not seen me before" You dismissed, not feeling up to discussing your relationship with the king to other sinners who would only be friendly to you knowing Lucifer was loaded. The man gasped, his smirk returning to his face as he realised, "Holy shit, you're Lucifers bitch! That's how I knew your face. Damn what you doin' here? He not satisfying ya?". A sigh escaped your lips. Of course the first question would be about his performance in bed. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name. What was it again?" You asked, your tone turning cold as you began to feel disinterested in the man sat beside you.

"Jackson." He smiled before continuing. "I throw some bomb parties. You should come to one sometime." You internally groaned. Honestly, nothing sounded worse. Being in a room full of frat boys who are stuck like this for eternity? No thanks. "I'll pass on that, I gotta go, sorry." You dismissed, quickly getting up from your stool, holding onto the bar due to your slight drunken state. As you walked towards the exit, Jackson calls on you, quickly walking up to you when you exit the bar and enter the street outside.

"Could I at least get your number? Or walk you home, c'mon, I bet I could make you feel so much better than the short stuff you're banging." He smirked, snickering at his own words, and it internally made you cringe. "Again, I'll pass." You responded, walking past him as you began to walk home, either to the hotel or to Lucifer's. You weren't sure, but you were going somewhere. He grabbed your wrist, and you turned to look at him with annoyance in your eyes. "Look, you seem nice, but I have a boyfriend, I'm really not interested and I'd love to go home so, if you could get your hands off me, I'd appreciate that." You snapped, which caused Jacksons demeanour to change.

"Hey, I was being nice, no need to get pissy! Just, why don't you come with me?" He spoke, almost ordering you to go with him. His grip on your wrist got tighter, and you were sure it would bruise. "I said I'm not interested, now will you -" You spoke before being cut off by a familiar voice, which made you want to disappear then and there. "Excuse me, but they said they aren't interested, so please, leave them alone and go back to whatever hole you may have crawled out of." Lucifer's familiar voice spoke, talking to Jackson with a condescending tone to it.

Jackson's hand freed your wrist, and within seconds, you were watching him run down the street and out of sight. Lucifer turned to you, worry and panic in his gaze and voice. "Are you okay? I've been trying to find you for hours, I was worried, you aren't hurt, are you?" His hands came up to your face, like he was inspecting you for any sign of injury. "I'm fine." You spoke, your tone coming off harsher than you intended. "Sweetheart, you don't sound fine." Lucifer replied softly, the tiny height difference between you making him tilt his head up to meet your eyes.

"Lucifer, I'm fine, I promise. I can handle myself." You snapped, moving your gaze to the pavement you were stood on. "That's not the part I'm worried about, I know you can handle yourself, but I know what these people are like, they're awful, I just worry that they'll take advantage of you when you're vulnerable." His tone was still soft and full of worry, contrasting your harsh tone. Lucifer sighed when you stayed silent, reading you're body language and expression to understand how you felt.

"Look, I get that you might not have wanted me to come here, but honey, I worry about you so much and I care about you, i couldn't sit around knowing you were out of reach somewhere in this shit hole whilst having a breakdown." Lucifer added, continuing to look at your face even though you were still focused on the pavement, your eyes glassy as tears welled up in them. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't keep doing this, I-I thought I was getting better." You mumbled as you began to cry. You didn't even care that you were standing in a street anymore. You just wanted to go home.

Lucifer pulled you into his arms, a hand resting on the back of your head as you broke down, crying onto his shoulder. It took a moment before you had stopped, "Can we go home, please?" You croaked out, sniffling as you pulled your head away to look at Lucifer. "Of course." Lucifer smiled, and within seconds, Lucifer had teleported you both back to his Palace. You were now stood in his bedroom, the gold accents bringing out the main theme of red throughout the room.

"Would you like to talk about what's going on?" Lucifer softly asked, his hands resting on your shoulders. "There's nothing that you don't know to talk about, I just woke up and I wanted to disappear. I'm sorry I made you worry. I thought I was getting better..I just, don't want to keep making you this worried about me." You spoke, voice cracking as you began to tear up again. Lucifers hands cupping your face made you look at him, and he looked at you with a loving gaze that made you feel everything you felt today begin to disappear.

"I know, sweetheart, but please don't apologise for that. You've done nothing wrong, and you've not upset me. Sure, you had me pretty worried, but that's because I care, and I couldn't bear to lose you. You don't realise this, but you have truly, and single-handedly, brought a happiness back into my life that I didn't think I'd ever see again." He paused, giving you a chance to take in his words as he wiped a tear that had fallen onto your cheek.

"What I'm trying to say is you are the most beautiful being I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes upon in my immortal life, and I believe that you don't deserve to be down here, you're too sweet and kind and loving for your own good! You make so many people, including myself, smile every day, and I just want to see you smile like that for a change." Lucifer finished, keeping his eyes locked onto yours. You stared at him in awe, eyes widening as you listened to his words, such loving and sweet words that no one had ever spoken to you before.

Feeling lost for words would be an understatement. You were completely taken aback, and for a moment, as you looked into your lovers eyes, it all went quiet. The loving words he spoke were the only things running through your mind, and for the first time in a while, including your time alive and in hell, everything went quiet. "I love you." Those three words were the only words you could put together in response to his, and it was the first time you had said those words in a while. It was Lucifer's turn to be taken aback, as he had already told you he loved you. He was being patient with you and giving you the time you needed to return those words to him. There was no pressure or judgement with him.

"I love you too, my darling, more than I can put into words." Lucifer softly spoke, leaning up to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. You stayed like this for a moment, Lucifer held you close to him, he didn't want to lose you like that again. It was quiet for a moment before the sound of your favourite slow song had begun to play, and Lucifer gently swayed you to the gentle beat. One day you'd figure out how he could do that.

"Dance with me, please," He invited, his tone soft as he held you close. "I'm too sad to dance, Luci." You replied with a small laugh, yet you placed your arms over his shoulders, silently accepting his offer.

"No one is too sad to dance, sweetheart."

🎀

HOLY SHIT THAT TOOK ME A WHILE 😭

anyways, I hope its okay! I kinda get carried away with plot but I'm low-key debating making a part two (no I'm not)

Anyways this was NOT proof read and its 1:36am so, please leave me some constructive criticism.

Thanks bts for inspiring this whole thing 🫶

Word count:??????

Edit: it's been proof read never let me write past 1 am again. Also please say someone got the Jackson Wang joke cuz I'm giggling over my own mind honestly you wouldn't think I'm legally an adult.

#hazbin lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #can you tell i like to write how i feel?#thanks bts for being the soundtrack to this

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just-another-fanfiction-writer · 7 months

Text

The fear of losing you | Sebastian Sallow x fem!Reader | Oneshot

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: You came down with a nasty cold, draining you of all energy and Sebastian wasn't one to let you run around with that for too long. Especially since your state reminds him so much of someone else.

Warnings: angsty, but mostly fluffy, very scared little boy, mentions of injury/death, birth

Hello there! ❤️️

This lovely audio made by @legacygirlingreen inspired me to write this little fic! It's so cute and angsty, I just had to. Please do check her out!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!❤️️

~Mia

“Where’s MC?”

The brunette looked at his blonde friend concerned, knowing he’s none the wiser. By this time usually you would’ve shown up to stuff your face with some breakfast pancakes or porridge, having this cute satisfied smile as soon as you were full.

It was a tradition at this point.

Sebastian was usually the one coming in late into the Great Hall with his best friend. Meanwhile Ominis would be groaning that they again have so little time to get breakfast, because Sebastian just had to read the full chapter of his newest novel the night before and barely got out of bed in the morning. But when his deep brown eyes would scan the large room, he’d always find you in a heartbeat, smiling at him so sweetly. And after he would sit down and start eating himself, you’d always get distracted by the people sitting next to you, conversing happily, which would always be the perfect opportunity to stare at you, which of course Sebastian always used every single morning. And at the end, when everyone was full and supposed to get moving to their classes, you’d look at him again and by gods…the blush on your face, when he smiled at you or he even dared to wink at you. You clearly had no idea how it made him putty in your hands.

But today…no warm “good morning” smile, no unashamed staring, no blush.

“I don’t know. Maybe she had a late night and decided to sleep in and get food later,” Ominis said.

Sebastian let out a grunt, brows furrowing as he tried to think of a reason for you not showing up, already painting the worst cases of you being stuck in a cave, surrounded by enemies, or bleeding out somewhere, your lifeless body at the bottom of the Black Lake - no, he should stop assuming such terrible things, making every heartbeat and breath painful.

The students started to hurry through the large doors towards their classes, so Ominis and Sebastian got up, too.

When he looked to the masses pushing through the doors, he saw a figure standing there, looking towards the tables filled with all kinds of foods. It was you!

And Merlin…you looked awful!

Your face was so pale, the bags under your eyes so deep and visible, your hair not as shiny and soft as it usually was and overall you looked so weak.

His heart clenched and he felt himself worry so much in that moment. But he noticed your tired yet hungry expression, so just a second before the whole food vanished to the kitchens below, he quickly grabbed as many pancakes as he could with one hand.

Walking over to you, you noticed him, trying to give him a smile, but it was so weak. He was about to comment on your appearance, but bit his tongue, not wanting to put his foot in.

“Hey, MC. I’ve managed to grab you some pancakes. I hope you don’t mind my filthy hands,” he laughed a bit awkwardly, holding the food to you. But you simply took it with a grateful little smile.

“Ah, thank you, Sebastian. I overslept.”

You and Sebastian trailed behind Ominis and the brunette couldn’t help but look at you, worry still written all over his face.

“Are you alright, MC? You look a little…”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I just caught a little cold, I’ll be fine.”

Sebastian wasn’t completely convinced, but it was a good sign that you seemed to have an appetite, devouring the pancakes in no time. He would have to trust you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep an eye out for you.

Unfortunately today you barely had any classes together and whenever he saw you rushing to the next class, it seemed you looked weaker and more tired. Especially when so many students again asked for your help with something so ridiculously irrelevant, but you couldn’t say no to even one of them, having a heart that was way too good for this world.

Finally after classes had finished for the day, he caught you running up the stairs in the Astronomy Wing, but every step seemed to be more of a struggle until you finally stopped, pressing your hand against the wall and breathing heavily, a few coughs escaping your lungs.

Quickly Sebastian caught up to you, wrapping his arm around you protectively, as you looked like you were about to fall.

“MC! Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about me,” you tried to brush it off, trying to take another step without Sebastian’s support, but you failed.

“You clearly aren’t. Come on, let me help you.”

Before you could protest, you felt his arm slither behind the back of your knees and the other over your shoulders and with ease he lifted you up, carrying you up the stairs, your arms flinging around his neck, afraid of falling.

“I got you, MC. You’re not going to fall.”

~~~

When you looked at the Slytherin, you wondered if you saw a hint of a smile on his lips, enjoying the closeness of carrying you like this. But you couldn’t be sure, your mind was way too hazy with this damned cold you must’ve caught, exploring one too many cold and dark caves in search for an ancient artifact this old lady was searching for. A family heirloom she told you.

“Where should I bring you to? Your dorm?”

His voice was so soft and warm…yes, he was warm. His chest radiated so much heat to you, and you just wanted to get closer and closer, wrapping yourself in that cozy warmth.

“No, no. You remember my room? The door is closeby. I wanted to go there anyway.”

“Okay,” he nodded, walking straight to the empty wall across the dancing troll tapestry, the door quickly appearing in front of you and he stepped right on through, obviously still a little impressed by the sheer grandness of the room.

“You can let me down now,” you said, pushing against his chest, trying to keep at least some independence in your current state. And maybe because you couldn’t even hear yourself think with the way your heart was beating, being so close to your year-long crush.

It was quite embarrassing to be completely honest, you thought, harboring these feelings for him way too long by now and not being able to just confess. But somehow, whenever you found the courage to tell him, every word of the English language just escaped your brain, when he smiled down to you, waiting expectantly for you to say what important thing you had to tell him. At least you always managed to come up with something else, avoiding the embarrassment of babbling absolute nonsense to him and possibly being rejected. After all, you didn’t want to make things awkward between the two of you; besides, you couldn't even entertain the thought of having a chance.

To even think of it!

Ridiculous!

~~~

Sebastian slowly set you down, though his heart protested loudly, wanting to keep you close…only to make sure, you’re okay, obviously.

You got to your feet and started to make your way towards your many brewing stations. Honestly, who in their right mind needed seven…seven brewing stations with three pots each. And it wasn’t even that just one of them was in use, but all of the spaces had liquids bubbling in cauldrons hovering over a small fire.

The moment your hand reached for the armrest of the large couch to stabilize yourself and you started coughing, Sebastian was quick to hold you again, stopping you from taking a step further.

“Why don’t you lay down right here on the couch and I’ll bring you whatever you need. How does that sound?”

He was happy you didn’t fight the idea like the stubborn person you often were and instead sat down. Sebastian carefully lifted your feet onto the couch, pulling a blanket over you and bringing two of the small pillows from the armchairs behind him to your head, making sure you’d be lying down comfortably. He didn’t mean to (or did he), but his hand brushed over your hair in a comforting way, like he often did with Anne. But you seemed to like it, closing your eyes and relaxing into it, until another coughing fit erupted from you.

Quickly he looked around your room, ignoring the terrible clench of his heart, and instead finding your gardening pots. He knew that the leaves of one of your plants always helped Anne to lessen the urge to cough, so he ripped it off its stem and gave it to you, instructing you to chew it.

“It won’t taste nice, but it should help.”

His hand found its way back to your head, gently stroking it, fingers brushing through your hair and he smiled slightly, when the effect of the leaf took hold. You groaned, obviously hating to feel so helpless and weak. Sebastian knew how awful it felt, but he was just glad to be there for you. To take care of you. For once he could help.

~~~

With a hoarse voice, you called out his name.

“Sebastian? Could you get me my bag? It’s somewhere over there.”

You pointed to the place where you remembered throwing your bag, before rushing to bed in your dorm and luckily Sebastian quickly found it.

“There must be a vial with blue liquid inside.”

He roamed through it, mumbling how there was way too much random stuff inside it, but grabbed the vial and handed it to you, kneeling next to the couch. With one big swig, you downed its contents and were surprised it actually tasted quite decent.

“What did you just drink?”

“This is supposed to be a remedy for all kinds of sickness that a good friend of mine, a vendor near the shore, gifted me. I should be back to health after a good rest.”

A shaky, yet relieved sigh escaped Sebastian lips and you saw his whole body relax a little more. Was he so on edge because of you?

“Good, good. Then I should probably leave you to get some sleep.”

The boy stood up and for some reason you panicked.

“No!”

You were met by a confused look and you couldn’t help the blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I mean…could you maybe stay? Just for a little while?”

By Gods, you sounded so pathetic, but you didn’t want him to leave.

And to your surprise he sat down on the edge of the couch, smiling and nodding.

“Sure, if you want me here, I’ll stay.”

He placed a hand on your arm and gently ran it up and down. Maybe…just maybe…you could push for a little bit more.

“Do you mind laying down next to me?”

You shifted towards the backrest, creating enough space for Sebastian to lie down and for a moment you thought you ruined it, not being able to read the expression on his face, but then he did lie down. He scooted close to you, carefully…almost shyly wrapping his arms around you, but with you guiding his arm, he seemed to grow a little more confident, pulling you close enough so your head was resting against his chest. You didn’t know what was more distracting…the way his legs were slowly intertwining with yours or how his heart hammered against his chest so loudly. But before you could decide, a wave of drowsiness washed over you, lulling you into a deep sleep.

When you awoke, you felt way better. The constant buzzing headache had vanished, the burning in your lungs was gone too and you felt way more ready to face whatever the day brought with it. Though the very cozy warmth you found yourself cocooned in and this musky scent that surrounded you, smelling like home, made you want to stay like this forever. But when you heard soft sniffles, breaking the steady and relaxing rhythm of breathing, you got concerned, moving away to look at the boy still cuddling you.

“Sebastian?”

His deep brown eyes found yours and you almost felt your heart crack, when you noticed the anxiety in them, tears brimming at the edges. Your hand quickly found his cheek, hoping to bring him some comfort.

“What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

You seemed to have caught him off-guard, his mind coming back to reality after clearly having drifted off to some dark places.

“I-I don’t know…” His voice was shaky and unsure, his hands that still held onto you shivering a little, grabbing the fabric of your clothes a little tighter.

“I…I’m just glad you’re okay again. Seeing you ill…so weak and aching…it reminded me of Anne.”

He struggled more and more with every other word, his breathing becoming more shallow and you saw his Adam's apple helplessly bobbing to take care of the dryness in his mouth.

It pained you to see him like this.

You kept on stroking his cheek, your fingers occasionally brushing away the curls from his face, feeling your heart clench more and more.

“I don’t want to lose you, MC. I just…I can’t lose you.”

The tears in his eyes started spilling and quickly you pulled him close, pressing his face to your chest and brushing through his hair, trying to comfort him as best as you could.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m alright. You won’t lose me. You’ll never lose me.”

It just broke your heart feeling him tremble so much in your arms, but at least you seemed to calm him down a little. Yet, you didn’t expect to hear the next few words, muffled against your collar bone.

“I love you, MC. Please don’t leave me.”

Time stood still and a thousand thoughts rushed through your head, rendering you damn near speechless, but at last you were able to open your mouth and say the only words that were important right now.

“I promise, I’ll never leave you, Sebastian. I love you, too.”

~~~

You screamed in pain. Everything seemed to hurt and Sebastian could only watch. He was about to lose his mind, the screams only reminding him of his dear twin sister. But then you pulled on his hand, yanking him out of this trance and his eyes found yours.

“Sebastian, I am okay. I need you here with me right now. I know you are scared and you can worry about this, when it’s over, but right now I need you. Please.”

“Of course, love. I’m sorry. I am with you.”

He quickly kneeled down next to your bed, holding your hand in both of his, kissing your knuckles.

“You are so strong, love. You’re so very strong. I love you so much.”

He placed a hand on your head, kissing your sweaty forehead. His other hand kept securely holding yours and before he knew it, you were squeezing it tightly, screaming out in pain again, doing your very best. And only a couple of moments later, another kind of scream erupted and relief washed over him, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes.

The nurse came around to you and handed you the small red-faced creature. You were crying too, tears of pure happiness rolling down your cheeks as you cradled the little one close to your chest for the first time.

“Sebastian, look at our baby.”

He quickly brushed away his tears and sat down next to you, moving the baby blanket gently to the side to get a better view.

And there she was.

His beautiful and healthy daughter.

Lucky wasn’t even the right term to describe what Sebastian was feeling at that very moment, but he just smiled from ear to ear, welcoming this little bundle of joy to the world and then kissing his beautiful and healthy wife.

“You did so well, MC. I love you so very much.”

“I love you, too, Sebastian.”

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dreamingofep · 9 months

Text

Sinned Awakening

An AU Elvis fic

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis’ full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, mentions of verbal abuse, mentions of drug and alcohol use, blood/gore

Rating: PG-13ish?, will become explicit later on😈

Word Count: 4.2K

A/N: Hello everyone!

As I mentioned before, I had this on the back burner for a while and am very excited to get this out to you. I’ve loved vampires for such a long time and what could be better if you mixed them with Elvis involved🤭 Bit different flow than my other fics in the past but I think you’ll like the mystery behind it all. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs. 🖤

January 25, 1973

Your bones ached after being on your feet for twelve whole hours. You needed to take off this suffocating uniform too while you’re at it. It clung to you uncomfortably and made you feel gross after a long day. You head to the locker room to change and go home, practically shoving everything in your locker and slinging your purse over your shoulder heading for the door.

“Y/n! Tanya wants to see you!” Someone yells from across the room. You huff, annoyed that she couldn’t talk to you any other time of the day and had to wait for the second you were going to get off. Tanya was your supervisor, she was tolerable, but still got on your nerves. You couldn’t completely hate her. She was the one who gave you a chance and gave you this job in the first place when you and Daniel moved out here.

You take a deep breath and quickly make your way to the back office. You knock on the door before entering and peeking your head in.

“You asked to see me?” You say politely, trying to not show the agitation in your voice.

“Ah yes, y/n, sit down I need to talk to you,” Tanya says sternly. Your stomach turns with her tone and your mind scrambles to find something you did wrong in the past few days.

You take a seat in the ripped-up leather chair and straighten out your uniform.

“I just wanted to talk to you about your performance lately,” she pauses and your heart drops to your stomach.

You don’t respond and wait for her to say something next.

“It’s been exceptional. You have no write-ups and haven’t been late once. Everyone compliments you on how the rooms look after you clean them I’m very impressed. You have definitely made a great impression on management here.”

You look at her a bit shocked, like all of this sounds too good to be true. You always put in all of your effort to do a great job but you never thought you’d get noticed for it. There are over a hundred people on the housekeeping staff and you thought no one would ever notice your work.

“Oh thank you. I appreciate you noticing the effort I’ve put in.” You say shyly.

“So management and I have decided to move you to a different position.” Your eyes brows raise and look at her inquisitively.

“Laura is moving away and that means her job is going to need to be taken over.” You try and wrack your brain for who Laura was but she doesn’t ring a bell. She was very quiet and had a different shift than you so you normally didn’t cross paths.

“Laura took care of the penthouse and I would like you to take over that position.” She says matter of factly and not in the form of a question. You were to do this, no ifs ands or buts.

You stare wide-eyed, almost not believing what you just heard.

The penthouse was where Elvis Presley lived.

The private and secluded king of rock and roll.

The man who changed the world with his voice and moves.

He’d become something of a recluse lately. The public didn’t see him very often other than for shows and he was upstairs in the penthouse for days on end. He had a very mysterious side to him with the way he was acting. He wasn’t the vibrant young rock musician like in the 50s, he was much more refined and had a sullen demeanor. You had never met him before even though you’ve worked here for four years now. You wouldn’t dare wander up to the penthouse to get a glimpse of him or you’d sure be fired. It was clear that when you got hired to not make it up to the penthouse under any circumstances.

You really liked him though, you loved how his voice made you feel. You remember having a few pictures of him in your room in the 60s and flocking to the movie theater with your girlfriends to see his latest picture. And the way those hips moved… oh God focus.

“I-i umm thank you, I appreciate you acknowledging my work. How would this exactly work though? Would the penthouse get put into my rotation every few days or…” you question as your mind runs a million miles an hour realizing you were going to meet Elvis Presley.

“Well you see, Mr. Presley is very… particular. He only calls for housekeeping when he wants it or he will be calling every day so it would be easier if you worked full time up there. We’ll pay you a few extra dollars for this since it is a different pace and everything,” she instructs.

You feel so overwhelmed. Your heart jumps at the fact that you’ve been promoted basically and will be catering to Elvis but on the other hand, Tanya’s tone of how she talks about him makes your skin crawl.

Particular?

What exactly does he do to cause people to talk about him like that?

What the hell does he do all day cooped up in there between shows?

“Thank you for the opportunity, I’d be more than happy to take on this role,” you say confidently.

“Wonderful, you’ll start tomorrow at 3 pm,” she says reaching into the drawer to give you a key to the elevator to give you access to the penthouse.

“3 pm? Isn’t that late?” You ask confused.

She chuckles to herself, “Elvis normally doesn’t get up til then so that’s when your shift starts,” she explains.

You take the key and thank her once more and make a beeline for the door before you can embarrass yourself any further. Heading back to the locker room, you realize nerves rattle your bones. Maybe it’s because it’s Elvis Presley you’re going to be catering to that makes you nervous but you wanted to get home as soon as possible to not freak yourself out and give back the job offer.

You get in your dusty car and onto the freeway to head home. You lived with your fiancé, Daniel, in North Las Vegas in a small two-bedroom apartment.

You weren’t the normal couple by any means, for one you lived together before being married and that was frowned upon by everyone. Your abusive father lived in the bottle and you couldn’t handle living in the same house anymore. You and Daniel were getting serious and he asked if you wanted to move in with him. You thought it was a godsend that you could escape your turbulent household and have somewhere safe. It was safe, but the longer you’ve lived there the more you realize the bad habits he has made normal.

It was 1973 and cocaine was running like wildfire in Las Vegas. If you had some kind of elite status, coke was the drug of choice. Even if you were a no body, you would be offered some at any party you showed up to. And while Daniel tried to act coy and politely refuse it, he would disappear in the bathroom for minutes at a time and come out looking higher than a kite.

You couldn’t forget the night you came home from work and he was high out of his mind, he didn’t even recognize you and in a paranoid episode, he threw his scotch glass at you, screaming at the top of his lungs to get out. The glass hit your forearm and shattered at your feet, leaving shards of glass in your ankles and toes. It scared the living hell out of you and for the first time were petrified of him.

The next morning he didn’t remember any of it, gave no apology and moved on as if nothing happened. It still bugged you and you told him you don’t like it when he does drugs. He assured you he only does it every once in a while and he has it under control.

But he definitely didn’t. Part of you wanted to end things because you could see it going down a dark path, but on the other hand, he was the only love you had known. And in the moments that he wasn’t on a substance, you loved him deeply. You felt the love that you two shared and wouldn’t give up on each other. You met in college and the sparks flew instantly. You had never felt serious for anyone ever and liked being around him. The years went on and he asked you to marry him, you couldn't have been more happy and said yes. He promised he’d take care of you always. For a while, he kept his promise, but lately, that hasn’t been true.

He was a bouncer at different clubs in Vegas and with the late nights for him and early morning shifts for you meant you barely ever saw each other. The apartment was almost always empty and cold as your heart felt. You longed for a fiancé that would miss you and be excited when he saw you home. Instead, you both were two ghosts passing each other, barely acknowledging each other’s presence. You didn’t want to give up, but something was going to have to change in order for you to stay.

It was strange to clock into work so late. Normally you start your shift at 6 am, but today you rolled into work at 2:45 pm and found the locker room completely barren and quiet. Putting on your uniform piece by piece, you realize how self-conscious you felt. It finally hits you, you’re going to meet Elvis Presley in the flesh today and you wanted to make a good impression. There wasn’t a wrinkle left on your blouse or your skirt. You starched the hell out of it where it almost looks like it doesn’t move when you walk. Checking your hair in the mirror, you smooth back some of the fly always and take a deep breath.

You couldn’t pinpoint why you were so nervous, management obviously thought you were right for the job considering your current performance. It was probably the name and the image that intimidated you the most. You couldn’t let down Elvis in any way and if Tanya was correct, you were going to have to conform to his “particular” ways that he wanted things and do everything his way.

The shrill ring of the telephone jolts you out of your straying thoughts and jump up to pick the receiver off the wall.

“Hello housekeeping, this is y/n,” Your voice soft and gentle.

“Mr. Presley is requesting your services in the penthouse as soon as possible,” said the voice in a low, unwavering tone. His voice gives you a chill down your spine and you physically shiver as you stand there with the phone’s receiver in your hand.

“Yes absolutely, I’ll be right up,” you try to say quickly before hearing the click of the other line hang up. You take the phone away from your ear and hang it up, taking a long breath in before turning on your heels to the elevator, trying not to let this first interaction bother you.

Placing the key in the elevator to give you access to the penthouse, the ride up to the twenty-ninth floor felt agonizingly long and you take another moment to straighten out your uniform. Your hands tighten on the cleaning cart and sweat begins to form on the palm of your hands. The ding of the elevator makes you jump and you shake your arms at your side, trying to calm your restless nerves.

“Okay here we go,” you mutter to yourself.

The doors open and a tall man is waiting in front of the elevator for you. He’s wearing all black and dark sunglasses where you can barely see the outline of his eyes. He doesn’t move right away and if you were just passing by, you could almost mistake him for a statue.

You try to find the words but feel incredibly intimidated, you’re not sure if this was the man that called but your heart jumps.

“Right this way,” the man finally says in a short low tone. He reaches out his hand to point you in the right direction and you push the cart out in front of you and make slow, careful steps down the hall. On your left, you reach two double doors, framed with gold accents and a plaque in the middle of the door that read, “Elvis Presley.”

You look back at the man that was closely following you and he nods his head for you to go in. Your hand shakily wraps around the gold handle and pushes the door open. With your back against the door, you keep it open as you pull the cleaning cart into the room, being extra careful to not scratch up the door frame.

The heavy door closes behind you once you’re completely in and there is so much to take in.

The living room is very low-lit, only a lamp in the corner of the room was on and the velvety red curtains kept out all the sun from coming in. The stillness of the room kept you on edge, you don’t see Elvis anywhere to give you instructions of where to start made you keep scanning the room for a sign of life. The room looked like a tornado had struck here as you look down at your feet with plates and various alcohol bottles scattered around. There was a black grand piano by the windows and a large mirror by the the door that connected to the next room you presume.

Something else catches your attention; the way the suite smelled. God, it was the most intoxicating smell that you had ever stumbled upon. Something about it was comforting and refreshing all at the same time. You wished you could put this in a bottle and take it home to make your house smell this good. It almost made you want to lay down and take a nap right here, making you engulfed with it.

“About time you showed up,” a gruff, deep voice says in the corner of the room. Your head snaps back to where the lamp is and you see a tall man dressed in black velvet with a white shirt under his jacket buttoned down to the middle of his torso, exposing his white skin and sunglasses on, blocking his eyes. You swallow harshly and make yourself focus on the task at hand rather than obsessing over how good this place smells.

You clear your throat and make your way to him in the corner of the room, “I’m very sorry to keep you waiting Mr. Presley. My name is y/n, I’m your new housekeeper.” You say timidly, placing out your hand in front of you to shake his. He looks down at your hand, and even though you can’t see his eyes that well, you know he’s looking at you in disgust. You quickly retract it and put it at your side, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt nervously.

“Umm, where would you like me to start cleaning?” You ask, your voice upbeat and trying to hide the fact of feeling like this is rejection in some form.

“Where do you think,” he snaps coldly. Being this close to him, his size of stature looms over you and makes you feel incredibly small. Like he could crush you by just looking at you. Your heart starts to beat faster by that thought and you take some steps back.

“Okay, no problem. Do you mind if I open the drapes so I can see what I’m cleaning?” You ask with a smile.

“I don’t care, just get it done,” he says coldly. You quickly turn and go to the window to pull the curtains apart to let the light in. You turn around and you get a better sense of what the state of the room is in. There was so much trash scattered throughout the room and spilled food everywhere. You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and your eyes find Elvis sitting on one of the chairs in the opposite corner of the room.

You can’t help but stare at him, his pale white skin beaming against the sunlight shining on him. His gold chains hanging from his neck looked like golden strands of an angel’s hair on him. He sat with his legs spread open and his hand resting at his crotch, the other arm resting lazily off the side of the chair. His stature made you think of a king’s. The way he could command a room without saying anything. He was distractingly attractive and your body wanted to get closer to him. It made no sense of why you felt this way. He hasn’t said more than two sentences to you but you feel like crumbling at his feet. He was better looking in person, pictures could not do him justice and you felt bad for staring, but you’re sure he gets it all the time.

You walk over to your cart and take a trash bag out to start clearing the floor, trying to collect your thoughts and not let yourself be so distracted by him. It feels daunting to clean all of this by yourself but you assure yourself that you can do this. You work your way from the windows back to the front door. The entire time though as you are picking up wet soggy food and used cups, you get a chill that runs through your body and looks over your shoulder to find Elvis staring crater-sized holes into your back. Your heart thumps wildly, something about him made you incredibly nervous. But another part of you liked it. It was awful you shouldn’t be feeling like this! You were engaged for God's sake and can’t have your mind wander like that when a man gives you an ounce of attention.

At least he gives you attention…

After 4 bags of trash, you start to dust and carefully put back all his miscellaneous items back in their place.

“Make sure you make the bathroom spotless,” he directs.

You nod your head at him, “Yes sir, absolutely. Do your other rooms need to be done today?” You say.

“Yes the other rooms need dusting,” he says, “but under no circumstances do you go in my bedroom without my permission. I forbid it.” He says harshly. You feel goosebumps form on your arms as he says this and stares at you from behind the sunglasses.

You swallow and clear your voice, “yes sir. Thank you for letting me know,” you say without your voice wavering.

He follows you to every room you go in and watches you like a hawk. Silently critiquing your every move, waiting for you to make a mistake you presume. He keeps a safe distance away from you most of the time but other times, he gets so close that you could almost bump into him. The closer he is to you, the more suffocating it feels. Suffocating yet alluring. Like you don't want to leave his side. It’s such a strange feeling to have when you’re around someone. You always avert your eyes when you move around him to clean the next area, it’s the only way you could get things done.

The last room is finished and you pile everything on your cart. It only took four hours but you did it. You start pushing the cart towards the door again when the sudden boom of his voice fills the room.

“There’s a bottle underneath the piano,” he grumbles.

Shit, you think to yourself. He's already ticked off.

You quickly make it to the piano and set the bench aside, kneeling down on your knees to crawl underneath. Your eyes scan for the bottle he said was here but you can’t find it. You reach your hand out and crawl on the floor until you hit the curtain and you hear a clank hit the wall. The bottle had rolled under the curtain and was laying flush against the baseboard. The expensive bottle glimmered when you pulled it away from the curtain and it hit the light, revealing a crack down the middle of it.

How the hell did he see this, you think to yourself annoyed. He probably planted this here to test you and you failed perfectly. Probably is going to make a complaint and ask for another housekeeper. Fucking idiot.

You crawl backward out from underneath the piano and stand back up. You quickly turn around and Elvis is standing inches away from you, his breathing heavy. Your body jumps when you see him and gasp at his close proximity, your hands involuntarily squeezing on the bottle, making it shatter in your hands.

You cry out as you feel shards of glass get pierced into your palms. You drop the remnants of the bottle on the floor and watch the glass fall at your feet. Letting out a frustrated groan, you stare at your palms filled with glass as blood starts to quickly leak out of the wounds, the pain stabbing at you over and over.

Elvis makes a frustrated groan and grabs your wrist, squeezing it uncomfortably tight. You gasp again at not only the pressure around your wrist but how cold and disturbingly strong he was.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He barks loudly, sending another chill through your body. You try to back up and the piano keys hit your thigh, making a tumultuous amount of sounds behind you as you try to get free from his grip. Your balance gets wobbly and you place your other hand on the keys to keep yourself from not topping over. The pressure of this only makes the shards of the glass go deeper inside your hand and you cry out loudly again. Your blood smears onto the keys and tears well in your eyes.

“Ahhh! Please, I'm so sorry about this. Let me clean this up,” you cry. You glance over at the other hand he is holding up and see the trails of blood drip drown your arm, his fingers also covered in your crimson blood. Your eyes grow wide and your breathing becomes uneven. So does his. He can't calm down with what you've just done.

“Get the fuck out,” he growls violently, disgust filling his voice. Your body shakes uncontrollably and he quickly lets go of your wrist. Your feet try to scurry away but they feel like jello as you manage to stumble your way to the door. You pick the large shards out of your palm and throw them on the floor. You don’t care about the mess you’ve made you just need to get away from him.

You’re in too much of a panic to grab your cart and reach for the handle of the door, smearing more of your blood in his suite. You push the door open and bolt past the men that have congregated at the door, having heard Elvis’ outbursts. Slamming the back of your hand on the elevator button, the doors quickly open and you rush in, pushing the basement floor and your chest heaves as you watch the doors close.

Your head spins and you feel like you could puke. The wrath that Elvis exhibited was terrifying. He acted like he was a caged animal watching you stand there bleeding. You knew you were going to get called into the office tomorrow morning and get either demoted or just fired.

You turn on the faucet and let the cool water spread over your wounds, wincing at the pain. You pick out the remaining small shards in your hand and go find the first aid kit. You wrap both of your hands with gauze and the bleeding finally stops. Glancing at the clock it’s past 7 o' clock and you don’t know where to go. You assumed your shift was over since he kicked you out but you didn’t want to go home to Daniel that was surely waking up soon to go to work and get a million questions of where you’ve been.

After you calm yourself down, you go to the parking lot and get in your car where you can feel the tears well in your eyes after a terrible day.

You made Elvis incredibly upset. He yelled at you and kicked you out. You couldn't do the one thing you were supposed to do and you bled all over his suite. Your heart jumped into your throat when you thought of what Tanya was going to say to you tomorrow morning. Resting your head on the steering wheel, you let all the tears come pouring out. Sobs and gasps fill the empty car and you try to calm yourself down but it doesn’t work, you’re too upset at your actions and you feel the world collapsing around you.

Suddenly, you get a chill that runs through your body, the same type you got when Elvis was staring at you intensely. You quickly lift your head off the steering wheel and peer out into the dark garage. There’s not a soul there as sirens go off in the distance. You shake your head at yourself, foolishly thinking Elvis would ever come down from the penthouse and check on you and possibly apologize.

You put the key into the ignition and start the car, driving away from the hotel as you prepare yourself for tomorrow’s firing.

•

Tagging 🖤: @powerofelvis @plasticfantasticIOver @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @Claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jacqueline19997 @returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog

#elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis presley x you #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x y/n #elvis x you #vampire elvis #vampire elvis fic #au fic #samfangirls

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klbwriting · 4 months

Text

Adventures In Atlantean-Sitting

Chapter 1

Fandom: Aquaman

Pairing: Ormxfemale!Reader

Warnings: violence

Summary: Atlanteans have attacked a coastal surface city, framing Orm for the attack. In a bid to keep Orm secret and the council off his back Arthur gets the help of YN, a metahuman with tracking abilities, to track Orm and let him stay with her while they figure out the real attacker. Orm is not too pleased about having a babysitter.

Notes: here is the second fic! I hope you enjoy! This will be posted in the evenings (for me at least), comments/critiques are appreciated

Traveling the US had become almost fun to Orm after the last year. He had explored national park, lakes, even got all the way to Alaska to see the northern lights. Anything that the country had to offer in nature he had done. Now he was ready to try maybe giving the less natural world a shot. That's what first led him to Coast City, shining on the California coast and one of the nicer cities in the country if the magazine Orm had read was correct. Being here he believed it. It was big, but not overwhelming, there was good food, the people were decent, and he even found a cheap place to sleep while he visited, something he didn't always have. For the first few days it was wonderful.

Then the attack happened.

Orm hadn't been exactly where it happened but he had seen the emergency vehicles, saw a green metahuman flying that way. So Orm went the opposite way. He had to keep his head down and out of trouble or else get sent back to Atlantis and that sandy prison he spent four years in. No thank you. Instead, he went back to his room, sat down and watched the news on the television. He had held no great love of the surface but seeing the destruction that was happening did not sit well with him now. Then he saw the attackers clearly. He was sure no one without enhanced eye sight would be seeing this clearly, thank Poseidon, but there were at least three Atlantean highborns with energy rays shooting randomly at buildings, creating as much smoke as they could. It was a confusing strategy. Why just make a mess? Was this some kind of warning? He knew Arthur wasn't the brightest man in the world...or even in a kindergarten class...but he had better sense than to do this. This was rogues, someone sending a message. Orm just couldn't fathom what it could be. He got up, going to the adjoined bathroom to get a drink and noticing the cup he had this morning was gone. Strange, they must replace them daily. How wasteful. He shrugged some and went back to the main room, turning off the TV and deciding on a nap instead.

"You found what at the attack site?" Arthur asked the council, looking at the documentation of evidence. Green Lantern had reported an Atlantean weapon found in some rubble, but the DNA that was on it couldn't be possible.

"The tyrant king Orm Marius's DNA was used to activate the weapon," councilwoman Yavon spoke. She looked pained at the statement. "It appears that he not only escaped his prison, but he also survived the attack against you with the Black Trident." Arthur sighed. This made no sense. Orm was in Coast City, Arthur knew that, but he had spent a year just walking around the country, being completely nonthreatening. He even seemed happy sometimes. What had changed? Arthur frowned more.

"How is his DNA even able to activate these weapons still?" he asked. The council shifted nervously, like they had hoped he wouldn't be smart enough to ask. People underestimating his intelligence would never not be annoying.

"It seems that some of the weapons' caches in that part of the ocean had not been updated to remove his ability to use them," council Horath spoke, sounding bored. Arthur glared at him.

"Are we keeping you from something councilman?" the king asked, wrapping his fingers around Atlan's trident. The councilman sat up a little straighter.

"No, your majesty, I am just glad that finally the escapee slipped up. I have been warning this council that the former king has been living, traveling the North American continent for a year now and everyone ignored my warnings. Well here you are, plan as day, seeing that he is in fact alive and now has found weapons to attack the surface with," he said. Arthur sighed. He couldn't hold off Horvath any longer. This was too much to argue with.

"Yes councilman, I see that we have gravely mistaken your warnings, what we thought was paranoia was insight into a criminal who was cunning enough to hide in plain sight. We will not make that mistake again," Arthur said. Horvath seemed satisfied, a haughty grin on his face. Another councilman, Orlan, stood up.

"Let me send my son after the king, he is a general with the battalion in that part of the ocean, Orvex will be able to find him and bring him to justice," he said. Of all the council member Orlan was the worst. He was constantly trying to undermine Arthur or wrestle just a little more power away from someone else. It was aggravating and unnerving and Arthur knew he had to be careful with the handling of this situation..

"Let us not jump to such things just yet. Sending a general to the surface with a small army may concern the people there. They might take it as an act of war and we don't need them trying to find Atlantis and drop a nuke on us Independence Day style," Arthur said, drawing blank looks from the others. God he missed his wife, Mera at least was starting to understand his references. "I know a metahuman on the surface. She has incredible power, she will be able to track down Orm and even subdue him, all without get the military involved. She lives around where the attack occurred and I'm sure she knows the area enough to know where he might be hiding. I just need the DNA evidence to take to her. She will use that to find and captured my brother." He could see Orlan seething at his son's big moment being taken away but Arthur needed to make sure that Orm didn't do this. If he did Arthur would cart his tantrum having ass back himself, but if he didn't he needed to warn his brother that someone knew he was alive. And was trying to use him to start a war with the surface.

#orm marius #king orm #ormmarius #orm marius x reader #king orm x reader #kingorm #ormmariusxreader #kingormxreader #ormseries5

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floralcyanide · 1 year

Text

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 • 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫

Part One

Roman Bridger x AFAB!Reader

The day Roman first laid eyes on you, he knew he had to have you. There was something about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and usually, he was good at reading people off the bat. But you were a different story. Naturally, you only opened up when necessary, not letting people in if you didn’t have a reason to. So you were guarded, and Roman didn’t like that. He wanted to worm his way into your life, no matter what it took.

If that took delving into his twisted past again in order to get to you, so be it. AFAB - (assigned female at birth) someone who is born female but can identify with she/her or other pronouns. reader pronouns are gender neutral, so people who use any pronouns can read, but female anatomy will be used and described in this fanfiction eventually.

request: Please could you write a Roman x reader where she is only supposed to be an extra in his movie, but he becomes obsessed with her and starts doing whatever it takes to make her part of the main cast so he can get much closer to her. by anon.

Can you do Roman with s/o that's an actor/actress? If you don't I'll cry myself to sleep :) by @hell0r0ck

warnings: none for this part!

word count: 1300

author's note: sorry it's kinda short, but I felt it was a great place to naturally stop. I do want this to be a few parts long, so we shall see how long it gets lol! thank you to those who sent in requests (: I'm happy to be writing for the Scream fandom again <3 if you enjoy this and want me to continue, please reblog/ like/ comment!

series masterlist | masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You’re about to do a simple audition process in order to be an extra in the new Stab movie. There’s not much to it- just getting into hair, makeup, and costume and then blending into the background when ordered to do so. You’re pretty good at becoming invisible already, but you’re still nervous. The movie's director is attractive, in your humble opinion, and he’s the one who conducts the auditions. So you’re most anxious about doing something embarrassing in front of him. In your self-absorbed imagination, you hope, for whatever reason, the director notices you out of everyone here. But the chances of that happening are astronomically low.

You’re in an area full of other random people auditioning to be extras, possibly around fifty people altogether, solidifying why you won’t be so much as blinked at. You managed to snag a seat earlier when you arrived before people began pouring into the studio. You’re squirming in the chair anxiously, switching which leg to cross over the other often, and playing with your hair without noticing.

“Are you okay?” someone from next to you whispers.

You glance over to your right and see a small girl around your age studying you with concern.

You nod, “I’m fine. Just kinda nervous.”

“I can tell,” the girl smiles gently, offering a hand, “I’m Sage.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).”

“Is this your first time auditioning?” Sage asks, her eyes curious of your answer.

“Nope,” you shake your head, “I’ve been in plenty of shows and movies.”

“Then why are you so worried? You’ve got this!” the chipper blonde grins.

You hesitantly chuckle and lean in closer to her to whisper, “I think the director is cute.”

“Roman? He’s alright. Not my type, but he’s really nice! I’ve worked with him before.”

“Really?” you raise your eyebrows, intrigued to learn more about Roman now that you know his name.

“Yeah, he directed some shitty horror movie about a year ago, and I was one of the random bystanders that got killed. He always made sure all the extras were the best they could be. I doubt half of these people here will make it because he’s really picky,” Sage rambles.

“Good to know,” you say, now even more nervous than before.

The room suddenly hushes, and everyone looks in one direction at whoever caused the silence.

“Welcome to Stab 3, everyone! I’m Roman, and I’m the director. Let’s get started.”

Everyone is ordered to a set where we all stand aimlessly and talk to each other or walk around. According to Roman, anyone breaking their character or not looking convincing enough will get booted. Upon his signal to begin, we all take random places around the set and pretend to be nobody. Piece of cake. There are placeholders for the actual main actors reciting lines for the scene we’re practicing to make it more natural. You avoid your eyes from anyone specific other than Sage, pretending to be deep in conversation with her. Roman walks around the set like a ghost, dismissing people here and there. He has a hand on his chin, rubbing it inquisitively as he studies everyone he passes. A group of girls giggles at Roman when he walks by them, to which he then dismisses them off the set. You avert your eyes back to Sage quickly before he notices. In your vision field, you can see him walking in your direction.

Sage notices your staring and looks at you knowingly before learning her throat, “So have you heard?”

“Heard what?” you say, trying to remain in character the best you can as Roman inches ever closer.

“There’s a masked killer on the loose,” Sage looks around nervously, quieting her voice.

“Seriously?” you furrow your eyebrows, half wondering if she was actually serious or if she was just playing her part, “Do they know who it is?”

Sage shrugs as Roman stands by the two of you, watching with a slight gleam in his eye, “No one does. We just have to make sure to stay safe. So if you go anywhere, don’t go alone.”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere alone,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes playfully, “No pun intended.”

Roman stifles a laugh, “Good job, you two. I’ll see you on the real set soon,” he winks.

You look at Sage with wide eyes as he walks away, and she pats your shoulder with a smile, “I told you that you had this in the bag! Besides, I know Roman enough to know that he thinks you’re cute.”

You try not to snort, “And how do you know that?”

“He’s still staring at you.”

Trying your best to look casual, you scratch your neck and turn around slowly, darting your eyes around to avoid direct contact with Roman. Your eyes land beside his face, where you can see him sneaking a peek at you before turning away.

“Told you,” Sage snickers, “Now come on, let’s blow this popsicle stand now that we have the parts.”

The two of you head over to the area where other extras which have been accepted are sitting. There are about 20 of you, while a measly 10 remain on the set. After 15 minutes, 5 more dwindle over to where you and Sage sit and converse.

“Alright, my extras,” Roman smiles as he approaches the group of you, “I’ll see you bright and early on the actual set tomorrow at seven sharp. Don’t be late.”

Everyone cheers and talks amongst themselves as you and Sage stand up from your seats, brushing yourselves off before making your way to the exit.

“You two,” Roman stops you both right at the stage door, “I’ll be keeping an eye on you. You guys seem too good to be extras.”

“Roman, you know good and well your team wouldn’t allow some random extras to be in the main cast. So keep dreaming, pretty boy,” Sage rolls her eyes with a laugh, “We’ve been down this road before. I’m not into major acting.”

“What about them?” Roman points to you, and you nervously cave in on yourself momentarily under his direct gaze.

“Uh,” you stutter, looking between Roman and Sage, “I don’t know. I guess I’ll see how it goes tomorrow first,” you shrug.

“Alright,” Roman grins, “See you tomorrow.”

You nod, suppressing a smile. Once Roman is out of earshot, Sage squeals quietly.

“You two so like each other,” she giggles, pushing the door open.

“Remind me to block your number when I get home,” you say jokingly.

The following morning, you try your best to refrain from rubbing your tired eyes after having makeup applied to them. You’re standing at the coffee cart on set, clutching a cup of hot liquid as your eyes gloss over. Someone walks into your peripheral, waving their hand in front of your face.

“Are you there, sweetheart?”

Snapping out of it, you squeeze your eyes shut quickly before blinking rapidly to clear your vision. Roman is standing in front of you in a flattering button-up, a small smile on his lips.

“Sorry, just a little sleepy this morning,” you laugh nervously, pulling the cup of coffee closer to your chest before taking a cautious sip.

“That’s alright. It’s a slow day today, not much to film with many extras, so if you want, you can chill out on the sidelines,” Roman suggests, and you shake your head.

“Nope, I’m here to work. I’ll wake up here soon,” you take a large gulp of the hot, caffeinated beverage.

“A good attitude to have!” Roman grins, patting your shoulder, “See you on set later, then!”

Little did you know, you’d see Roman more than just on set. And he’d be seeing you everywhere you went. Everywhere all the time.

#Roman Bridger #roman bridger x reader #roman bridger x reader smut #Roman Bridger smut #Ghostface #scream #scream 3 #Ghostface!roman #ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x reader smut #floralcyanide writes

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e-dubbc11 · 4 months

Note

For the sleepover I would really love it if you could write a scene from one of your fics from Billy's POV 😊 It would be great if you could do the scene where Billy saves reader from a drunk in The Rabbit Hole 😍

Thank you in advance!

Lisa, if I could have recorded my reaction to your ask, I would have. I legit squealed and got super excited so I hope you like it, I had fun writing it and thank you for being part of my sleepover! ♥️

Scene from The Rabbit Hole: Billy’s POV

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Word Count: a little over 1K

If you haven’t read The Rabbit Hole, I’ll leave it linked HERE

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Tonight was just what you needed after the long hard day you had. Having a few drinks and dinner with your girl just made everything better.

Seeing her face and beautiful smile always made you smile. Her work stories combined with the inflection she put behind her storytelling made you laugh. It wasn’t easy to do…making you laugh. But she did it with ease.

You loved her.

This was all new to you; forming attachments was considered a sign of weakness and you weren’t weak. You were a marine; you’ve killed people and have done many morally questionable things but she accepted you and you loved her endlessly for it.

Down the long skinny hallway, you made your way to the men's room as the tension eased throughout your body.

Emerging from the hallway after you were finished, you noticed a man standing, and swaying, next to your high top table. You saw him at the corner of the bar when you walked in, pounding back beer like it was his job.

He had his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. The look she had on her face told you she was scared as she tried to pull her wrist free from his grip.

Suddenly your teeth were clenched together. You couldn’t even breathe, you were so angry. The scorching glare you gave the man was intense and could have burned a hole in the back of his head with the rage you felt burning the back of your eyes.

You weren’t going to let anyone put their hands on her without consequences.

Your skin was hot to the touch as the heat rose to your cheeks and your body seized with anger. Being protective was in your nature especially when it came to her. Sometimes you would react without thinking it all the way through but as long as she would be safe, you didn’t care who you had to hurt.

You needed to protect her.

She didn’t even see you coming; your presence took her by surprise as you stalked toward the table. Grabbing the man by the hair, you pulled his head back and slammed it hard into the table. Faintly, you heard empty beer bottles hit the floor and felt pieces of broken glass underneath your shoes.

Y/n hopped up off of her barstool and backed away from the table. You could feel her staring at you; relief and panic flashed in her eyes. She was scared of what you might to do to him.

Still holding the drunk by his hair, you pinned one of his arms against his lower back, slammed him up against the brick wall,and aggressively pulled on his extended arm. You knew you could break it easily if you pulled back just far enough. Your devilish smile curled up enough to reveal gnashed teeth.

You would enjoy breaking his arm.

As you continued to pull back on the man’s arm, he cried out in pain.

“You think you can just put your hands on women whenever you feel like it, you piece of shit.” You said in an angry hushed tone.

She probably tried her hardest to get him to let her go before you returned from the men’s room. She knew how you would react. Shit, you fired a guy at Anvil for staring at her ass too long, let alone someone putting their hands on her.

You hissed in his ear, “Apologize to her or I’m gonna break your arm and make sure it will never be the same after tonight.”

Her voice sounded distant even though she was close by; you were trying to block out all of the excess noise.

“Billy!! He’s not worth it. I’m alright!” You think she said.

The drunk was in agony as you were still forcefully pulling on his arm. If you tugged a little more, it would be broken.

Her words were unclear like she was saying them underwater.

“APOLOGIZE NOW!!” You yelled.

“I’M SORRY!! I’M SORRY!! I’M SORRY!!” He wailed.

The drunk hit the ground hard after you released him and he was promptly thrown out as you rushed to see if y/n was alright.

Looking closely at her wrist, you knew she would eventually have a bruise there. She was ok but her eyes were turned down and sad. Her eyebrows were raised while she gazed at you as if she was looking to see if YOU were alright. After nearly being assaulted by a drunk, she was concerned about you because she loved you.

No one had ever done anything like that for you before. She asked you all the time how you were, she asked how your day was, she would even bring you coffee down to the office sometimes, and so much more.

She actually cared about you and what happened to you.

You knew what it was like to grow up with nothing and not have anyone to count on or protect you. And the one thing you treasured more than anything in this world was threatened tonight.

You finally found someone that you could count on and you didn’t want to let her go. You would fight off every drunk in the city if it meant you could inhale the scent of her perfume every day, see her toothbrush next to yours, and hear her infectious laugh.

Maybe those were selfish reasons; you didn’t care if they were because love was something you had been searching for your entire life so you would go to the ends of the earth to protect her.

The void in your heart was no longer empty. Your scars were permanent but they didn’t hurt anymore, especially the invisible one on your heart because it belonged to her now; it always will and you knew she would protect it, just like you protected her.

She had filled every hollow space, not with temporary fixes like sex but with love and no one was going to take that love away from you. Not now…not ever.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @ittybxttykxttytxtty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n #ericca answers #winter 2024 sleepover

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cookinguptales · 9 months

Text

I almost wrote a small essay in the tags of that "fanwork as content" post but realized that it would probably be better off as its own post. So now it's... a large, rambling essay. lmao

Like... to preface, AO3 is great, it's a great resource for fandom, it feels good to have a centralized location that works well. That said, there has been a steady decline in how I've felt treated as an author since we switched to an archive-only model of fic.

For people who are newer to fandom, pre-AO3 (and even in the early days of AO3), people often crossposted fic. Sometimes to websites, sometimes to journals (particularly LJ/DW), sometimes to communities, sometimes to kink memes...

AO3, while certainly one of the primary places you could upload stuff, wasn't necessarily where you would get most of your primary interaction about your fic. It was always designed to be an archive, not a social media site.

But since we moved to an archive model (and away from LJ/DW) I've noticed that fic gets almost no traction on sites that actually are intended for social interaction. I'm not saying it's easy for any creator in fandom, but god. The numbers on fic posts are just downright demoralizing.

I don't mean to sound arrogant here, but I think I'm a pretty good writer. People seem to really connect with my fic. In multiple fandoms, I've written fic that most people have read and enjoyed, to the point where people have just taken it for granted that if someone reads fic in the fandom, they've probably read something I've written.

All this is to say, I know I've written fics that people like. I know I've written fics that people connect with. And I know those posts still only get like 5 notes sometimes on Tumblr.

I'm proud of my work and I'm happy that it's gotten such a warm welcome on AO3!!! But there are times when I feel like all this means that I could write literally the best fic on earth and still no one would talk to me. People still wouldn't want to interact with me on social media sites.

I wrestled for... honestly, a long time with all this. I had a hard time putting into words why this felt so uh. Bad. Was I just self-conscious about my own writing? Yes, but that's a separate issue. Was I just jealous of others' popularity? Sort of, but it went deeper than that.

I had an issue with a fandom that I don't write in anymore. I got a lot of fanart based on my fic, which was great, which was amazing, there were even fan comics made. Visual media travels better on social media than fic. That's just a fact. And I had to watch as repeatedly, art based on the fic I wrote got thousands of notes while my fic got maybe 12. And I realized the power of social media vs. AO3 because it did get to audiences that weren't familiar with my fic and people started to give those artists credit for my ideas.

I remember watching the tags of those posts because it was occasionally the only way I'd hear feedback on what I'd written (imagine getting one comment and 5 notes on a fic, then seeing dozens of people in the tags of fanart saying that it was their favorite fic in the fandom! it was weird!) and seeing the tags gradually devolve into "oh, this is such a neat idea for an AU, artist OP" or "wow this dialogue is perfect [artist] I love it" and like

It's weird to feel so happy because so many people are enjoying your work in a transformative way but also so unhappy because you have been completely removed from the equation. No one... even knows you wrote those things anymore. You have been removed in favor of a more "marketable" version of your work.

It's uh. It's a bad feeling. I stopped writing in that fandom eventually.

So again, I felt like... idk, like there was no point in me even trying. Because I could write the best fic on earth and still somehow get erased as a person. People would want my "content," but they wouldn't want me.

I think that's what hurt my feelings so much.

What I've realized is this: what I miss is the sense of community. On LJ, you could post a fic, cross-post it to a community, and there would be comments that would become conversations that would become lasting friendships. Not always! But often. I still talk to some people daily who I met through fic on LJ over a decade ago.

In the archive model, there has almost become a death of the author. The me on social media and the me on AO3 are very different; more importantly, it's almost like it's viewed as the "me" is on social media, but the work is on AO3. I am absent. There is only the fic, not the person who created it.

And that's okay, but when you try to combine those two things on social media and it goes over like a lead balloon... idk. There's an odd sense of dehumanization. I don't mean it in like... I don't know, a dramatic human rights violation kind of way. More that I literally feel like less of a human person the way I interact with fandom these days. Like I'm no longer a person who writes fic as a way to connect with my fellow fans and more a "content creator" whose human side is separate from my creation and never the twain shall meet.

(And I'll admit it feels especially galling to be forced into the capitalistic "content creator" box when it's not even a thing I can make money off of, lmao. It's like the worst of both worlds. I feel like if I can't make money off fanfic, I should at least be exempt from capitalistic social trends during its creation.)

I'm not so much complaining about my current fandom; WWDITS has actually been one of the best fandoms for interaction I've been in since the birth of AO3. That's one of the reasons I keep writing stories for fellow fans to read -- many of those fans feel like my friends, and I want to make them happy.

I think that poster was right when they talked about how the pivot from fan to "content creator" has fucked up fandom. There is this sense that we should be treating fandom like a job, often a fast-paced one with no pay. There is this idea that we should be separated from our "content" like you might a worker from their product, and blah blah blah alienation of labor, Marx, I get it, but damn if that isn't a shitty thing to do to your fellow fans who are making art for the love of art.

There are so many things I do love about AO3. I like having a central, organized place to put my fic. I like not having to worry about my work being lost to the ages. I like having an organized comments section I can return to on bad days to cheer myself up.

But I don't like the way that fic has kind of been relegated to a portion of fandom where people aren't particularly social. I don't like the way that authors are separated from their writing. I hear people complain sometimes about A/Ns because god forbid an author leave any trace of their actual personality to distract you from their content.

I can't have DMs with someone on AO3. I can't add someone to my friends list. There are no "beloved mutuals." There is just my work and the people who are kind enough to comment on it, even if they never actually engage with me elsewhere.

It's... a weird feeling, to feel so loved and unloved at the same time. Like you keep writing trying to make something good enough that people will talk to you but like. That's really not how it works. lmao. The best fic in the world won't make you friends anymore. It won't make people see you as a fellow fan rather than a pen name under a title.

My fic is some of the most personal stuff in the entire world, but my personhood is stripped away from it. It's so fucking weird. People like my fic, but they don't like me. They remember my stories but not the person who told them. It's bizarre. It feels like having your life and experiences strip-mined for content, and then the rest of it is just... left behind.

Frankly... I work in the publishing industry IRL and I have had opportunities to write professionally. Real, tangible opportunities. But I turned them down because I've seen it, the way that trying to fit such an intensely personal art form into a capitalistic framework can be exhausting, dehumanizing, and stressful. I don't want that for my work. Fandom has always been an escape from that.

But now fandom is starting to conform to those exact same capitalistic frameworks (and ofc without any kind of capitalistic compensation) and I hate to see it. It's so stressful. I feel like we're losing a lot of what makes fandom fun for writers and we're getting pretty much nothing in return. I'm not surprised that so many writer friends I know in fandom have quit.

like damn, I just wanna have fun with a bunch of dumbshits who love to overanalyze vampires and cry over their dumbshit shenanigans, not take on a second job. one that, I reiterate, I am not being paid for.

(Note: I am not asking for payment, just that I not be treated like a worker. The tradeoff for treating someone like a worker is that they get compensated for it. If I'm not being compensated, no one gets to treat me like this is my fucking job.)

It's a weird thing, because for a lot of people, fandom has become their job. Fanartists at cons selling fanart, youtube essayists making money off videos, professional cosplayers with sponsorships, etc. And so fandom is becoming more corporate, more capitalistic, more marketable. It's frustrating for those who don't want to capitalize on our fannish output, and doubly frustrating for people who are legally unable to do so.

I'm realizing as I write this that I'm most upset about the nonconsensual capitalization of fandom, particularly when imposed on people who are unable to access the very meager benefits of capitalism. I didn't ask for any of this!

Feels like when I'd be forced to go to assemblies for the US military when I was in high school. Like I'm morally opposed to all this but I'm also not physically fit for "service" anyway, so it's doubly insulting. I feel like I've been opted into the, ah, corporatization of fandom when I'm not even eligible for employee benefits. None of this should even apply to me! ;;

Okay!! I'm all het up now so I'm gonna go eat lunch and go for a walk! No monetization of hobbies, only trees.

#I need to go look at a tree lmao #just me #vent post #ask to tag idrk

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xoxothesubwayfugitive · 1 year

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would you hold it against me? (lucissa)

I got a really sweet comment on this fic on AO3 today and I have to say it’s one I often forget about and I don’t think have ever shared here. It’s just a cute teen Lucissa story about them managing to fall in love despite everyone’s wishes for them, and it’s a oneshot so I’ll publish it all here for you.

Summary: Andromeda and Lucius were promised to one another, but he can't keep his eyes off her sister, no matter how hard he tries.

He would have given everything he had for one moment spent alone with Narcissa pressed against him. What he didn't notice during all these nights spent biting his pillow to stop from screaming was his own betrothed sneaking out of the common room and off to the kitchen corridors. The allure of Lucius Malfoy was wearing off quickly for Andromeda, just as she was beginning to wear off of him.

When she was 14, home for Christmas in her 3rd year, her mother explained it all to her. Lucius Malfoy's parents had been over, she said, and they liked her. Everyone liked Andromeda. She had those melting brown eyes and wavy fawn hair that her mother drew back with a huge red bow. She spoke quietly and her laugh pealed. Compared to her sisters she was an absolute plum. Both of them were beautiful, but neither could enchant the way she did. Bellatrix in particular was skipped over by boys and their mothers alike. She was an Andromeda that someone had forgotten to polish. And where Andromeda was pleasant and shy, Narcissa, so different from the other two in looks, shirked to the point of being frigid. Even as a very young child, she had a way of making people feel less than.

So yes, Mrs. Malfoy had very much thought Andromeda the perfect match for her son.

Lucius was fine, Andromeda thought as the conversation went on without her input. He was boastful, but you could not say his boasts were falsehoods. He really was the best Chaser in school, he really was at the top of his class in Potions, and yes, he really did have that much money. And although he did not boast of it, he was attractive, and he knew it.

On the train platform that January, he sought her out.

"I thought we should sit together," he said, eyes dancing, "and talk."

She entered a world that had held no interest for her before. Older students, more popular than she, who read dangerous books in paper covers when no one was looking. Bellatrix was one of them, and she smiled wickedly when Andromeda entered the carriage.

"It's just as it's meant to be now, Andy," she called out.

He did charm her. Lucius did everything he was meant to and Andromeda never once doubted that he was loyal to her. When he started leaning in for kisses she did not fight back. She never wanted to, despite what her future would have you believe. It was like being royalty, sat there on the couch with him, envied by every girl in sight; one in particular, just out of sight, in the shadows. A shirking blonde one, chewing on her quill.

It took Andromeda a long time to pick up on Lucius's head perpetually tilting in the direction of her younger sister. Narcissa did nothing to provoke it, nothing but blush prettily in a way that made Lucius want to go over and feel the warmth on her cheeks himself.

"Andy, you are the luckiest girl in the world," Narcissa told her. They were both up too early on a Saturday, enjoying a long and uninterrupted breakfast together. "Lucius is so perfect."

"No one is perfect, Cissy. Remember that."

"No, but Mother and Father won't do anything for me. Bellatrix will never match with anyone and they won't choose for me until she's a lost cause. I'm 15 now and they've said nothing. I haven't even had new dress robes yet this year."

"Oh, Narcissa, if you're smart you'll find someone with your own brain." Andromeda's eyes wandered very far across the Great Hall at that. "The Lucius Malfoys of the world are not all that's available."

"All I have ever wanted is to be like Mother, and you know that. Babies and a home. I want to know I'm going to be in a family worthy of me."

"That is the most Narcissa Black statement I have ever heard."

"Well, those are really the only kind of statements you could expect me to make."

Narcissa was no longer the wallflower of years before. If she was as bound and determined to end up simply married as she said, she could have been accounted for in a day's quick flirting. Boys were lost in the waterfall of her pale hair, and in the indignity of doing simple tasks for her. But when she dropped her stack of neatly rolled parchment, there was one boy who never seemed to be there on his knees rerolling it for her.

Lucius did not have the comfort of siblings. No one shared any wise words with him, no one explained that if he wanted to marry a different Black girl, everything that had been promised before could all be wiped away in a day's time. The older they all got the more often he went to bed sick to his stomach, sure he would never be happy and sure that he was doing the right thing despite it all.

Narcissa Black swept around the Slytherin common room with such an inborn grace that he had to wonder if she practiced it at night just to make the mere mortals among them feel inferior. What had been unpleasant shyness years earlier was now a haughty shell that cracked easily enough for those who pleased her. And it was not only for those with money or looks; Severus Snape seemed to delight her the most of all. Lucius wished to receive half the smile Severus got each evening when he joined her to study.

But Lucius and Narcissa had grown up together. They were to be family. Small affections were allowable, were they not? A box of candy given with an unnoticeable blush, or one evening spent together far too late in the common room, because Narcissa knew Charms better than Lucius ever would, and he could never have passed his NEWTS without her.

And then, one of those evenings turned to night and then, shockingly, to dawn. Narcissa's hand, the one that wasn't propping her head up, stretched out temptingly before her on the table. Lucius was delirious. She was there, and he was suddenly brave.

"Narcissa…" he began, and suddenly, triggered by the longing in his voice, her head snapped up. Her hand was no longer there, it was furling and unfurling her handkerchief in her lap.

"I am so glad it's Saturday," she yawned. "You owe me for this late night, Lucius Malfoy."

And then she stood up, and disappeared into the girl's corridor.

Ted Tonks was nothing like Lucius. He had never boasted once. He had a wide face that few called handsome. He was a Beater on the Hufflepuff team and he tried his best. Professor Binns said he was remarkably good in History of Magic, mostly because he was the only one who stayed consistently awake. And he promised Andromeda an entire world of similarly low expectations, where the only thing that would be important was their love for one another and those around them. Ted knew nothing of Dark Magic. He said he hardly wanted a job in the Wizarding world, much less anything to do with upholding its bizarre old traditions. He would hold her hand over their homework and smile at her with openness she had never imagined could exist between two people.

After the last Quidditch match of his school days, Lucius could not ignore Narcissa at the party. She was in tight jeans and a turtleneck (did her mother know she owned such things?) and had rimmed her eyes very dark. Her hair was piled up so that it looked like it would tumble imminently, and every few minutes she would glance over and pretend to be shy when she noticed his eyes hadn't moved.

Then she went out into the corridor, and no one noticed but him.

"What are you doing out here?" he breathed, finding her tucked just behind a column a few paces down from the door to the common room.

"Waiting for you."

He dared to put his hand at the waistband of her jeans.

"Really?"

"I shouldn't be," she replied. "And I should feel much more afraid than I do right now."

"Cissy…"

"You're being a coward about it," she told him. No questions, no hedging.

"I tried once. You pulled away."

A smile curled across her face. Another piece of hair fell down across her eyes.

"It's called playing hard to get."

Somehow his other hand found its way to the middle of her back. The clasp of her bra taunted him under her sweater.

"What am to do now that I've got you, then?" he whispered.

Lucius was still in his Quidditch robes, still dusty. His hair was tousled and stiff from the wind. Narcissa was starting to feel completely drunk in his presence.

"I…we shouldn't…" she started to stutter.

"But I want to, Narcissa. I can fix everything. I can do it, if I know you'll be waiting."

Now Lucius had moved in. The hand on her back had gone to twirl through a lock of her hair, and her back had gotten pressed against the wall.

“I’ll wait,” was all she could get out.

"I saw something rather shocking the other night," Bellatrix teased Andromeda, finding her in the library on her off period.

"Hmm." Things had cooled between the sisters lately. Bellatrix received letters almost every morning that she would show to no one except Rodolphus Lestrange, a boy of whom Andromeda had always naturally been leery.

"Yes, I was very late coming back from the Great Hall, and two people were standing in the shadows just down from the common room entrance. You can imagine."

"After a Quidditch match? Yes, Bellatrix, I'm not shocked to hear that someone played fast and loose with curfew to go out and snog in peace."

"Maybe not, but you don't realize who it was. People so well known to us. It was strange, really, how they were both fair enough to almost be glowing in the torch light."

Andromeda's quill broke from sudden pressure.

"Oh."

"Yes, Andy. Oh."

"I suspected it," Andromeda said.

"Lucius is so fond of her," Bellatrix mused. "I just always thought he was showing brotherly pride when he talked about her accomplishments. Although maybe he never went on like that in front of you, Andy."

"No, he did not." Andromeda leaned back in the hard chair and tipped her head back. It was mid-morning, the sun just starting to stream in through the big leaded windows. There was always a haze in the library from a thousand years of dust, unable to be conquered by ordinary or magical means.

"I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you," Bellatrix said. Something attempting to be sympathy crossed her face.

"I don't believe you are, Bella. You could have said nothing easily. Surely you know how many relationships like mine and Lucius's end up like this, and yet go forward."

"Well, I did think as well…never mind."

"Bella, you are being ridiculous!" Andromeda's raised voice earned her a hard shush from the librarian.

"I haven't seen you with Lucius much lately," Bellatrix went on.

"We're both busy. We got older, things are different than when we were barely teenagers. He's in the middle of N.E.W.T.s"

"You're both being idiots," Bellatrix finished, and left.

They all went home for the summer, things the same as always on the surface. Andromeda and Lucius together in a carriage with Bellatrix and her surly group, Narcissa elsewhere with her giggling friends. All of them except Bellatrix entirely out of sorts and lost. Bellatrix knew exactly where she was going next.

An owl arrived to Narcissa's window very late that night.

Dear Narcissa,

I'm home alone, my parents out as always, hating myself for the mess I've made. Everything was wrong. I should have spent the past 3 years with you, I should have spoken up to my mother as soon as they offered Andromeda up to me. Now we will never have the memories together we should have. You should have been at the Yule Ball with me, beside me on the sofa each night, and yes, I should have kissed you a thousand more times than I did. I will sort this out, Narcissa. Please wait for me to fix it.

Love,

Lucius

Narcissa crept down the hall to Andromeda's room. There was light under the door, but she hesitated to knock. When she did, soft entry was called.

"Please, Andy," Narcissa said, peering around the door. "We've been so distant. Let me sleep with you tonight."

"Yes, Cissy," she sighed. "Of course you can."

"Why are you so upset with me?"

Andromeda let her sister settle in the bed and put her head upon her shoulder, as they always did, before speaking.

"Bellatrix saw you and Lucius."

"Oh Andy, no…I…" Narcissa's head rose and Andromeda pushed it back down with her far hand.

"Hush, Narcissa. I am upset. But I've no right to be. I started with someone else long before Lucius did."

Narcissa's eyes grew wide.

"Long before?"

"It's been this entire year. Really sparked at the end of our 5th year, and we wrote over the summer."

"Who –"

"Not tonight, Cissy. Just listen. You are going to help me because otherwise we will all be in very big trouble. Wait through the rest of next year for Lucius. Let us look as if everything is fine, and I swear to you that you will have him when I graduate. I won't kiss him or anything of the sort. Really either of will hardly be able to see him with him out of school."

"Why don't you just tell Mummy and Father, though?" Narcissa pleaded. "It's all going to work out the same."

"I cannot be promised off to some other man now. Lucius is perfect for this, and he will agree." Andromeda took a very deep breath. "He is obviously besotted with you. He will agree if you tell him it's alright. Lucius is so…malleable."

"What could be so bad, Andy, to put us all through a year of this?"

"Good night, Narcissa."

Lucius,

You and I will go on as always throughout my last year of school, and I promise as soon as I leave Hogwarts you will have Narcissa. I expect nothing from you now except a façade. Hold it up well and we will all have what we desire.

Andromeda

Dear Narcissa,

Your sister wrote. I don't understand it entirely, but if it means you and I can end up together without too much fuss, or heartache, then so be it. I only wish it required me to show something of myself. Hopefully a time will come when I can prove myself to you otherwise. I will do my best this year, and think often of the night in the hall.

Love,

Lucius

Narcissa understood on their very first day back at school. A Mudblood. Andromeda glowed when he greeted her on the train, and it was shocking to her sister even after they had planned all this deception together. Andromeda and Ted never appeared romantic together – no matter how well sworn to secrecy Narcissa was, there were a dozen others would report back to the Blacks eagerly – but it was clear. Narcissa was participating in a very great betrayal of her family.

Do you know what we're consenting to? she wrote to Lucius that evening.

I had suspected it. I don't care, came the answer in the morning.

Please check out this and my other Lucissa fics on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/37082863

#lucius malfoy #lucius x narcissa #lucissa #narcissa malfoy #bellatrix lestrange #andromeda tonks #harry potter #lucius malfoy fic #malfoys

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museqmeg · 1 year

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Reporter’s Notes - Chapter Seven: Toast

___________________________________________________________________

A vashmeryl fic

Author’s Note:

A little follow-up chapter to divulge in the aftermath of the Tristamp group’s drunk shenanigans.

___________________________________________________________________

Meryl slowly woke to the feeling of her tongue being unbearably dry and thick. Her head was splitting and while she had a deep thirst, the thought of consuming water made her already sensitive stomach turn. She tried to sit up, but her head hurt too much and the room was slightly spinning. She flopped back down on her pillow, arm flung over her face. Great, she was the one hungover after she admonished her traveling party to not do what she clearly did. Pot, kettle, black.

She groaned and wiped her face, rallying herself to get up. As she did so, her thumbs grazed her ears and a little warning bell went off. One of her earrings was missing! She grabbed at both ears and was surprised to feel a little round shape hugging her right lobe. She got up quickly, the room spinning more, to hobble to the bathroom and look in the mirror. That was Vash’s earring!

She racked her brain to piece the fuzzy details of the previous night together. She remembered taking shots, Roberto’s comment about a leash… leash! She groaned, face and ears turning bright red. She remembered now… She had somehow gotten the brilliant idea to accost poor Vash by sitting in his lap and swapping their earrings. How embarrassing! What he must think of her!

Her face was all red and the blood that had rushed to it was doing nothing for her hangover. She turned the tap on cold and rinsed her face, palming water pat on her neck. That felt a little better. She sighed and turned the tap off as a loud banging was at her door.

“Yo shortie! Gramps is ready to go! Get a hustle on!” barked Wolfwood.

She winced at the loud noise before answering back, “Just give me ten minutes, I’ll be right out. And keep it down! I’m sure there are other people still trying to sleep!” Really, she just wanted peace herself. She heard him reply, “Righto,” as his footsteps dissipated.

She huffed, getting her toothbrush and paste out. It would be nice to get the gross aftertaste of her consumption from the night before out of her mouth. She brushed her teeth, trying to recollect the rest of the evening with no luck. The most she could remember was spinning around. She spat and grabbed her comb to untangle the mess that was now her hair. She looked awful. Today was going to be a day of comfortable clothes.

Meryl gathered her toiletries and pulled a hoodie and some fresh leggings out of her bag. She quickly changed and looked by the door where she usually kept her shoes… they weren’t there. She looked around the room and spotted them placed neatly on the floor by the bed. Odd… she knew she was too drunk to do anything but kick them off, if she had the sense to even take them off before falling asleep. Did someone take her to her room? She racked her brain and couldn’t remember.

Another knock on the door, “Newbie! Let’s go! You should’ve had plenty of beauty rest by now.”

“Yeah, yeah… I’m coming!” She slammed on her shoes and grabbed her packed bag to head out the door with Roberto.

“God, you look like hell,” Roberto said, looking down at her.

“Gee, thanks. You notice when I don’t look good and can’t give me a compliment when things are normal or even call me by my actual name.” She grimaced at him. She was not in the mood for their back and forth this morning.

“What did you kids get up to last night?” He asked. “I took the rest of the bottle with me to my room to keep you three from getting dumber than I left you.”

She just glowered at him and pulled her hood over head, tightening the drawstrings. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and walked ahead.

“I see… so we feel as good as we look this morning,” Roberto chuckled.

Meryl snapped her head back at him. “Enough with the mockery, I really can’t handle it right now.”

“I see that… Go on ahead to the truck then. I gotta grab the Stampede. He’s been downstairs wolfing down breakfast for the past half hour. He seems chipper this morning, so you guys couldn’t have had that much of a time.” He waved her off, going down the stairs.

“Of course Vash would be fine,’ she thought to herself, putting on her sunglasses. He was at least twice as big as her and had the same amount of drinks. She really shouldn’t have taken the bait when he taunted her with the extra shot.

——————————-

She made it out to the truck and tossed her bag in the trailer, when Wolfwood appeared.

“Good Morning, little lady,” he drawled, leaning down to her and sliding her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. She squinted against the harsh morning sun and the sharp pain that hit her temples.

“Ugh! Get off me!” She snapped, swatting his hand away.

He just laughed at her, “You look like shit. Were my dance moves too much for you last night?” He exhaled a plume of cigarette smoke in her face.

Meryl coughed at the smoke and strong smell of nicotine. “Dance moves…?” Meryl thought for a moment, trying to jog her memory. The spinning! “If you call treating your dance partner like a rag doll, then sure…”

“Ouch! I gave you a thrill and that’s the thanks I get?” He put his hand to his chest in mock hurt.

“Mornin’ Meryl!” A vivacious Vash chirped.

Meryl grimaced at the bright sound of his voice and put her hand up to hold her head. Another sharp stab in the temple.

Vash looked down at her concerned, “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, the newbie is hungover,” Roberto said, coming up behind Vash. He put a brown paper bag in Vash’s hands and a to-go coffee cup. “Here, sit in the back with her and make sure she eats this. I guess I’ll have to be the driver today.” He walked to the driver’s side door, “Just another way my newbie found to limit my drinkin’ and smokin’. Talk about shit luck.”

Wolfwood got into the passenger side front seat while Vash followed Meryl to the seat behind him, clearly ready to help her if need be.

“I got it,” she groused and clumsily hauled herself up the truck. Vash didn’t move until he saw that she was seated and shut the door for her. Meryl took off her sunglasses, propped her elbow on the armrest and rested her head in her hand. She felt the rock of the truck as Vash hauled himself in on the others and did his best to quietly shut the door. ‘At least one of them was considerate,’ she thought.

Roberto started the truck up, put it in gear, and they were on their way.

Vash only waited about five minutes before he scooted the brown bag to her and held out the coffee, “You should eat, it’ll help.”

Meryl turned to look at him. He looked so worried and pathetic. She was going to refuse since her stomach didn’t feel up to it, but she got the feeling that saying no to him would be like kicking a puppy.

She silently took the coffee from him and gave it a sip. Her stomach still felt sensitive, but the heat and richness of the black coffee did quell down some of the other symptoms of her hangover. She took one hand and opened the top of the bag. Inside was a couple of pieces of plain toast. Right, hangover breakfast.

Meryl took a piece out and a bite when Roberto asked, “So, what did you three get up to after I left last night?”

“Needle-noggin was playing some honky tonk piano like a madman. I thought he was going to set it on fire, but instead he got everyone dancing.”

Vash gave a bashful grin up at Roberto in the rearview mirror.

“I was there for that part… but this old drunk didn’t want to participate. That’s when I called it a night.” Roberto said.

“Oh yeah…” Wolfwood mused as he knocked the ash end of his cigarette out the truck window.

“Meryl danced with Wolfwood!” Vash piped in, chuckling.

“No…” corrected Meryl, “Wolfwood accosted me and swung me around like a sack of potatoes. I thought I was going to throw up.”

“Nahh… you had a blast, shortie.” Meryl could see his shoulders shaking from silently laughing at her. “What I really enjoyed was your performance, little lady,”

“Performance?” Interjected Roberto, “What did you do, newbie?”

“Oh, Vash got her to sing to the whole crowd. He joined in too, but it sounded like someone was strangling a thomas. The crowd loved our tiny reporter though. That’s when she passed out and Vash had to carry her to bed.” Wolfwood looked into the rearview mirror at Meryl, smirking.

She had finished her toast and most of her coffee at this point in their ‘recollection’ but she got suddenly embarrassed at being called out for her drunk antics. She forgot about the singing! And it was Vash who took her to bed?! She set the bag and cup down on the floor before laying down on the bench and turning to face the back of the seat, pouting.

“Hey now, guys, Let’s take it easy on her… she’s not feeling good,” Vash said, rubbing her shoulder with his prosthetic hand.

“Are you kidding me blondie? Now’s the time to play with her, she’s too out of it to spit her usual fire.” Wolfwood grinned into the mirror at Vash. Vash just countered him with an unamused expression.

Meryl was too out of it to really jab back. She did, however, notice that Vash’s hand on her shoulder wasn’t as hard or uncoordinated as she anticipated, given that it was a prosthesis. It was uncharacteristically light and had the same delicate movements as a normal hand. She knew it was lost technology, but was still perplexed by its movements and material.

Vash lowered his voice to her, “It’s okay, Meryl. I was the biggest fool out of everyone last night. I told you I get silly when I drink!” He took a finger to pull back her hood a little and smile down at her.

Meryl just turned her head more into the seat and let out a big sigh. Vash chuckled a little before proclaiming, “Oh yeah! My earring!”

Meryl had her eyes closed, but felt his real hand gently unclasp it from her ear. “Since we’re not drunk anymore, we don’t need our leashes!” She heard him laugh at his own little joke.

“I guess it worked, though,” Roberto said. “You too managed to stay in the inn all night.”

Meryl felt cold and warm fingers gently attach her earring to her ear. Vash placed her hood back over her face and gave her head a light pat.

“Ugh… you two act sickenly sweet sometimes. Did anyone ever tell you how much alike you are?” Wolfwood complained looking at Vash in the rearview mirror.

“I have,” Roberto answered, “A few times. They’re both bleeding hearts with no regard to their own safety.”

“You got that right, gramps. It’s a good thing they have each of us to babysit them.” Wolfwood said.

“Yeah… I guess, but that wasn’t in my original job description,” Roberto groused.

Wolfwood just chuckled at him.

Meryl decided that rather than listen to them talk about her, or Vash, she was just going to sleep off her hangover. As she drifted off, Vash’s left hand still resting on her shoulder, she thought of all the little instances in their time together that proved how similar her and the Typhoon were.

—————————————————————————————————————

Well shit… that chapter was longer than I planned. Oh well

#vashmeryl #vash x meryl #trigun stampede #trigun #wolfwood #Roberto #meryl stryfe #vash the stampede

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lenna-z · 1 year

Text

Hii! This is the first chapter of my fic that I've been writing for months and still writing.

I've been stuck on chapter seven for a long time... I really wanted to finish a multi-chapter fic so I didn't want to post it until it was done...

The fic doesn't even have a title yet because I was focused on finishing it but naming the chap is much easier 😅

Please feel free to tell me what you think, reading your comments makes my day! The main reason I'm posting the first chapter is because I want to know what you think.

Have a great day/night! Warning: Blood and Injury

What Happened There?

Chap. 1: Blood

As the smell of the hospital filled his nostrils, his eyes immediately searched for doctor or nurse.

The Tracy family was one of this hospital's biggest donors, and it was only a matter of time before someone recognized him and understood what he had come for.

A little further on, he saw two nurses with their backs to him, and he was heading towards them, and with the crowd behind him, they had already caught the attention of other people.

"No, come on! The news reported that local authorities thought she was guilty. Could she-"

"Damn Des, she's part of International Rescue. They save people, not the other way around."

He might kill the nurse called Des right here, but first he needs to find out what the damn media is accusing his sister of.

And most importantly, her situation.

After a hard cough, he got straight to the point. "Excuse me-"

"Mr. Tracy! What an honor to have you here." And the nurse called Des kept talking as if she wasn't blaming his sister thirty seconds ago.

Scott turned to the other nurse as if she weren't there. "I really want to know about my colleague's condition and where she is." He would have preferred 'sister' but had to keep it professional.

"She's in surgery now, Mr. Tracy. Will you allow me to accompany you to the waiting area while I inform you of her situation?"

She was clearly afraid of the guards behind him and the rest of the family because of what had just been said.

Unlike the other nurse, because she was looking at the red-haired nurse with anger in her eyes.

"Sure."

The woman spoke as she pointed in the direction they were going with one hand. "Miss Kyrano had lost a lot of blood when she arrive... but if first aid had not been done, we'd probably be talking about other things right now."

When they reached a corridor divided into three sides in the hospital, the woman again led the way with one arm and continued to talk. "Her heartbeat... had stopped when she was first brought here, but she's back."

She spoke sympathetically, like she understood him. As they approached the elevator at the end of the hall, they both slowed down and she pressed the elevator's call button.

When he took a small glance at the people behind him, he found them listening as carefully as he did.

"There is no information from the operating room yet, but if anything happens, you will be informed immed-" Her face turned serious as the device on the nurse's wrist vibrated and her full attention was on it.

When she looked at him again, she was already ready to go backwards. "I have to leave you here, press -2, turn right when the door opens, the waiting area will be just ahead of you."

"Thank you."

Everyone was quiet when they got into the elevator. After a deep breath, Gordon's voice filled the elevator.

"She will be fine."

"You wouldn't know that, Gordon." The youngest's voice was lower than usual and unsteady.

When they went to the waiting area with the words hanging in the air, the sight they encountered made them even more worried.

They were in an area that cut from a wide corridor to a narrower corridor with a sharp corner.

There were traces of blood on the corner of the corridor, and on one side of the narrow corridor was a Virgil with his back against the wall, his head buried in his knees.

The closer they got to him, the more noticeable the bloodstains on his hands and on his uniform.

It was Virgil who gave Kayo the first aid in question.

They didn't know what situation Kayo was in at the time, but when, like Kayo, communication with Virgil was cut off, and Virgil's frantic voice was suddenly heard...

The rest was complicated. Scott had gathered the rest of the family while John and Virgil were yelling at each other on the comm.

John yelling at Virgil to get him to focus, and their quiet brothers shouting at him even more in response... It wasn't a situation he wanted to relive.

Now yelling at him wasn't even an option, so Scott slowly moved closer to him and slid to the floor with his back against the wall like him.

A small whisper came from his right as Scott tried to think of what to say. "Her heart stopped."

This time his voice was a little louder. "I should have gone there from the start... Why... I-"

Grandma leaned in front of Virgil and put a hand on his shoulder. "Virgil, honey..? Please don't-"

His shoulders tensed even more and he lifted his head. "No... you weren't there... She was bleeding and I-"

"The nurse said-" No, he wouldn't say that. "If it weren't for you, Virg, we wouldn't be standing in front of an OR right now. And just so you know, the same would have been true if I had been there instead of you."

A mocking breath. "It was just luck. It was just luck that I was anywhere near there."

"Then we're so lucky you got the lucky, bro, because you saved our sister."

Grandma muttered to Gordon in approval. Virgil looked more consistent, and the relief was clearly palpable.

"Scott, honey, we brought Virgil some clothes, didn't we?"

"Yes... yes grandma."

Thank god they have Grandma. She had thought of bringing clothes for Virgil, and also created the opportunity for him to talk to him alone now.

He was grateful to her for considering the first, because no matter how comfortable Virgil's IR uniform was, it was covered in Kayo's blood.

And the second, the quicker the better. He might have seen something about why Kayo was accused.

"Virg? Let's get you cleaned up bro."

"I'm not leaving here."

He expected him to protest. If he hadn't protested, he would have thought there was a problem.

"We're not going far, Virgil, Those staying here can let us know if there is any development."

He didn't want to leave for a long time either. And he didn't want to think about what might happen if instead of improvement in their absence.

"OK, but it won't take long."

As he stood up himself and extended a hand to help him, the wounds on the knuckles of the hand that gripped his hand did not go unnoticed.

The bloodstains on the wall were caused by his brother's fist or fists. The trembling of the hand gripping him suggested it must have been more than one fist.

A few steps later, two of the six bodyguards who had followed them like shadows since they set foot here was following them again.

He had met many of them before, knew all of them by name, although not formally, and had read all of their CVs.

Kayo was particularly mindful of the selection of IR bodyguards and, as now, had brought him CVs to approve the guards she had chosen to accompany them in times of emergency. He didn't even need to approve. If Kayo trusted, so was he.

He must have stared at the bodyguard for so long that she felt the need to explain herself.

"As per procedure, you have to be accompanied by someone, sir."

They turned in the direction the sign was pointing.

"I know. Talia, right? You can just call me Scott." He didn't like formality.

Still, Talia and the other bodyguard, Jeremy, followed them, keeping a safe distance between them.

"Are you the one who called them here?" He asked in a low voice that they couldn't hear.

Part of him who wanted to forget what had happened had thought that Kayo had called them here. It was clear that Virgil couldn't think like that.

"No. Standard procedure. I don't know exactly how it works."

"Simple. Even if she's not here, she's protecting us."

He couldn't say anything to that, because that was the truth.

At the end of the corridor, when they came to the toilets with opposite doors on both sides, both slowed down at the same time.

Maybe it was just because there was a waiting room on this floor, maybe it was just luck, but it was empty inside.

"There were bodies there."

"What?!" Of course, he wanted to come to this subject as well, but his priority was his brother. Obviously, Virgil thought the opposite, and it was clear that he was right about that. "Bodies? Are you sure?"

He went to the far end of the room and turned on the tap at the end, trying to clean the blood from his hands. The blood of the person they see as a sister...

"When I got there ... I saw her on the ground and covered in blood- ...I-" The blood looked darker in the darker color of the sink, but the blood still wasn't completely gone from his hands.

He started rubbing his hands harder, but the wounds from punching the wall seemed to be holding him back.

"When I went to her, I thought she was dead- ...I begged John to tell him she was alive, but he wouldn't answer... I thought-"

"Virgil..." He turned off the faucet, for Virgil was now scraping his skin with his nails. "Let me help."

The dark towels in her clothing bag caught his eye, and he reminded himself once again to thank Grandma.

He soaked the towels with warm water and began to clean his hands, noting the wounds on his brother's hand.

"There was a lot of blood, Scott." It wasn't hard to tell when he saw the blood on Virgil's uniform. There was so much blood as if he had injured himself.

"Thank god she had a pulse, otherwise I..." He took a deep breath and continued. "And then I saw the bodies, I'm sure because I scanned them, three people and all three dead." He seemed to be arguing in his own head. "I- I don't remember the rest very clearly, but if John hadn't come back in comm I-"

"Your hands need bandages."

"I'm fine, Scott, these are minor scrapes-"

"Virgil-"

"I don't care if we're in a hospital, I don't need bandages while Kayo is there!"

"Virgil! Did you say John was back in comm?" This question seemed to have stopped his brother.

"Yes?"

Damn.

"John never left comm, we were both there, we- we couldn't reach you..."

OOOOOO

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #kayo kyrano #gordon tracy #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #lenna writes

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